"Come, old trap-
per, you must acknowledge this is but a slow way of getting
out of danger.
per, you must acknowledge this is but a slow way of getting
out of danger.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v07 - Cic to Cuv
4026 (#396) ###########################################
4026
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
RUNNING THE GAUNTLET
From The Last of the Mohicans'
TH
HERE yet lingered sufficient light in the heavens to exhibit
those bright openings among the tree-tops where different
paths left the clearing to enter the depths of the wilder-
ness. Beneath one of them, a line of warriors issued from the
woods and advanced slowly toward the dwellings. One in front
bore a short pole, on which, as it afterward appeared, were sus-
pended several human scalps. The startling sounds that Duncan
had heard were what the whites have not inappropriately called
the "death-hallo"; and each repetition of the cry was intended to
announce to the tribe the fate of an enemy. Thus far the knowl-
edge of Heyward assisted him in the explanation; and as he
knew that the interruption was caused by the unlooked-for return
of a successful war-party, every disagreeable sensation was quieted
in inward congratulations for the opportune relief and insignifi-
cance it conferred on himself.
When at the distance of a few hundred feet from the lodges,
the newly arrived warriors halted. The plaintive and terrific cry
which was intended to represent equally the wailings of the dead
and the triumph of the victors, had entirely ceased. One of their
number now called aloud, in words that were far from appalling,
though not more intelligible to those for whose ears they were
intended than their expressive yells. It would be difficult to
convey a suitable idea of the savage ecstasy with which the news
thus imparted was received. The whole encampment in a
moment became a scene of the most violent bustle and commo-
tion. The warriors drew their knives, and flourishing them, they
arranged themselves in two lines, forming a lane that extended
from the war-party to the lodges. The squaws seized clubs, axes,
or whatever weapon of offense first offered itself to their hands,
and rushed eagerly to act their part in the cruel game that was
at hand. Even the children would not be excluded; but boys,
little able to wield the instruments, tore the tomahawks from the
belts of their fathers, and stole into the ranks, apt imitators of
the savage traits exhibited by their parents.
Large piles of brush lay scattered about the clearing, and
a wary and aged squaw was occupied firing as many as might
## p. 4027 (#397) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4027
serve to light the coming exhibition. As the flame arose, its
power exceeded that of the parting day, and assisted to render
objects at the same time more distinct and more hideous. The
whole scene formed a striking picture, whose frame was com-
posed of the dark and tall border of pines. The warriors just
arrived were the most distant figures. A little in advance stood
two men, who were apparently selected from the rest as the
principal actors in what was to follow. The light was not strong
enough to render their features distinct, though it was quite evi-
dent that they were governed by very different emotions. While
one stood erect and firm, prepared to meet his fate like a hero,
the other bowed his head, as if palsied by terror or stricken
with shame. The high-spirited Duncan felt a powerful impulse
of admiration and pity toward the former, though no opportunity
could offer to exhibit his generous emotions. He watched his
slightest movement, however, with eager eyes; and as he traced
the fine outline of his admirably proportioned and active frame,
he endeavored to persuade himself that if the powers of man,
seconded by such noble resolution, could bear one harmless.
through so severe a trial, the youthful captive before him might
hope for success in the hazardous race he was about to run.
Insensibly the young man drew nigher to the swarthy lines of
the Hurons, and scarcely breathed, so intense became his inter-
est in the spectacle. Just then the signal yell was given, and
the momentary quiet which had preceded it was broken by a
burst of cries that far exceeded any before heard. The most
abject of the two victims continued motionless; but the other
bounded from the place at the cry, with the activity and swift-
ness of a deer. Instead of rushing through the hostile lines as
had been expected, he just entered the dangerous defile, and
before time was given for a single blow, turned short, and leap-
ing the heads of a row of children, he gained at once the
exterior and safer side of the formidable array. The artifice
was answered by a hundred voices raised in imprecations, and
the whole of the excited multitude broke from their order and
spread themselves about the place in wild confusion.
A dozen blazing piles now shed their lurid brightness on the
place, which resembled some unhallowed and supernatural arena
in which malicious demons had assembled to act their bloody
and lawless rites. The forms in the background looked like un-
earthly beings gliding before the eye and cleaving the air with
## p. 4028 (#398) ###########################################
4028
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
frantic and unmeaning gestures; while the savage passions of
such as passed the flames were rendered fearfully distinct by the
gleams that shot athwart their inflamed visages.
It will easily be understood that amid such a concourse of
vindictive enemies, no breathing-time was allowed the fugitive.
There was a single moment when it seemed as if he would have
reached the forest; but the whole body of his captors threw
themselves before him, and drove him back into the centre of
his relentless persecutors. Turning like a headed deer, he shot
with the swiftness of an arrow through a pillar of forked flame,
and passing the whole multitude harmless he appeared on the
opposite side of the clearing. Here too he was met and turned
by a few of the older and more subtle of the Hurons. Once
more he tried the throng, as if seeking safety in its blindness;
and then several moments succeeded, during which Duncan
believed the active and courageous young stranger was lost.
Nothing could be distinguished but a dark mass of human
forms tossed and involved in inexplicable confusion. Arms,
gleaming knives, and formidable clubs appeared above them,
but the blows were evidently given at random. The awful effect
was heightened by the piercing shrieks of the women and the
fierce yells of the warriors. Now and then Duncan caught a
glimpse of a light form cleaving the air in some desperate
bound, and he rather hoped than believed that the captive yet
retained the command of his astonishing powers of activity.
Suddenly the multitude rolled backward, and approached the
spot where he himself stood. The heavy body in the rear
pressed upon the women and children in front, and bore them
to the earth. The stranger reappeared in the confusion. Human
power could not, however, much longer endure so severe a trial.
Of this the captive seemed conscious. Profiting by the moment-
ary opening, he darted from among the warriors, and made a
desperate, and what seemed to Duncan a final, effort to gain
the wood. As if aware that no danger was to be apprehended
from the young soldier, the fugitive nearly brushed his person
in his flight. A tall and powerful Huron, who had husbanded
his forces, pressed close upon his heels, and with an uplifted
arm menaced a fatal blow. Duncan thrust forth a foot, and the
shock precipitated the eager savage headlong, many feet in ad-
vance of his intended victim. Thought itself is not quicker than
was the motion with which the latter profited by the advantage;
## p. 4029 (#399) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4029
he turned, gleamed like a meteor again before the eyes of Dun-
can, and at the next moment, when the latter recovered his
recollection and gazed around in quest of the captive, he saw
him quietly leaning against a small painted post which stood
before the door of the principal lodge.
Apprehensive that the part he had taken in the escape might
prove fatal to himself, Duncan left the place without delay. He
followed the crowd which drew nigh the lodges, gloomy and sul-
len, like any other multitude that had been disappointed in an
execution. Curiosity, or perhaps a better feeling, induced him to
approach the stranger. He found him standing with one arm
cast about the protecting post, and breathing thick and hard
after his exertions, but disdaining to permit a single sign of
suffering to escape. His person was now protected by imme-
morial and sacred usage, until the tribe in council had deliberated
and determined on his fate. It was not difficult, however, to
foretell the result, if any presage could be drawn from the feel-
ings of those who crowded the place.
There was no term of abuse known to the Huron vocabulary
that the disappointed women did not lavishly expend on the suc-
cessful stranger. They flouted at his efforts, and told him with.
bitter scoffs that his feet were better than his hands, and that
he merited wings, while he knew not the use of an arrow or a
knife. To all this the captive made no reply, but was content to
preserve an attitude in which dignity was singularly blended with
disdain. Exasperated as much by his composure as by his good
fortune, their words became unintelligible, and were succeeded
by shrill piercing yells. Just then the crafty squaw who had
taken the necessary precautions to fire the piles made her way
through the throng, and cleared a place for herself in front of
the captive. The squalid and withered person of this hag might
well have obtained for her the character of possessing more than
human cunning. Throwing back her light vestment, she stretched
forth her long skinny arm in derision, and using the language
of the Lenape, as more intelligible to the subject of her gibes,
she commenced aloud:-
"Look you, Delaware," she said, snapping her fingers in his
face, "your nation is a race of women, and the hoe is better fitted
to your hands than the gun. Your squaws are the mothers of
deer; but if a bear or a wild cat or a serpent were born among
you, ye would flee. The Huron girls shall make you petticoats,
and we will find you a husband. "
## p. 4030 (#400) ###########################################
4030
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
A burst of savage laughter succeeded this attack, during
which the soft and musical merriment of the younger females
strangely chimed with the cracked voice of their older and more
malignant companion. But the stranger was superior to all their
efforts. His head was immovable, nor did he betray the slight-
est consciousness that any were present, except when his haughty
eye rolled toward the dusky forms of the warriors who stalked
in the background, silent and sullen observers of the scene.
Infuriated at the self-command of the captive, the woman
placed her arms akimbo, and throwing herself into a posture of
defiance she broke out anew, in a torrent of words that no art
of ours could commit successfully to paper. Her breath was
however expended in vain; for although distinguished in her
nation as a proficient in the art of abuse, she was permitted to
work herself into such a fury as actually to foam at the mouth,
without causing a muscle to vibrate in the motionless figure of
the stranger.
The effect of his indifference began to extend
itself to the other spectators, and a youngster who was just
quitting the condition of a boy to enter the state of manhood,
attempted to assist the termagant by flourishing his tomahawk
before their victim and adding his empty boasts to the taunts of
the woman. Then indeed the captive turned his face toward
the light, and looked down on the stripling with an expression
that was superior to contempt. At the next moment he resumed
his quiet and reclining attitude against the post. But the change
of posture had permitted Duncan to exchange glances with the
firm and piercing eyes of Uncas.
Breathless with amazement, and heavily oppressed with the
critical situation of his friend, Heyward recoiled before the look,
trembling lest its meaning might in some unknown manner
hasten the prisoner's fate. There was not, however, any instant
cause for such an apprehension. Just then a warrior forced his
way into the exasperated crowd. Motioning the women and
children aside with a stern gesture, he took Uncas by the arm
and led him toward the door of the council lodge. Thither
all the chiefs and most of the distinguished warriors followed,
among whom the anxious Heyward found means to enter with-
out attracting any dangerous attention to himself.
A few minutes were consumed in disposing of those present
in a manner suitable to their rank and influence in the tribe.
An order very similar to that adopted in the preceding interview
was observed, the aged and superior chiefs occupying the area
## p. 4031 (#401) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4031
of the spacious apartment, within the powerful light of a glaring
torch, while their juniors and inferiors were arranged in the
background, presenting a dark outline of swarthy and marked
visages. In the very centre of the lodge, immediately under an
opening that admitted the twinkling light of one or two stars,
stood Uncas, calm, elevated, and collected. His high and haughty
carriage was not lost on his captors, who often bent their looks
on his person with eyes which, while they lost none of their
inflexibility of purpose, plainly betrayed their admiration of the
stranger's daring.
The case was different with the individual whom Duncan had
observed to stand forth with his friend previously to the des-
perate trial of speed; and who, instead of joining in the chase,
had remained throughout its turbulent uproar like a cringing
statue, expressive of shame and disgrace. Though not a hand
had been extended to greet him nor yet an eye had condescended
to watch his movements, he had also entered the lodge, as
though impelled by a fate to whose decrees he submitted, seem-
ingly, without a struggle. Heyward profited by the first oppor-
tunity to gaze in his face, secretly apprehensive he might find
the features of another acquaintance; but they proved to be those
of a stranger, and what was still more inexplicable, of one who
bore all the distinctive marks of a Huron warrior. Instead of
mingling with his tribe, however, he sat apart, a solitary being
in a multitude, his form shrinking into a crouching and abject
attitude, as if anxious to fill as little space as possible. When
each individual had taken his proper station, and silence reigned
in the place, the gray-haired chief already introduced to the
reader spoke aloud, in the language of the Lenni Lenape.
"Delaware," he said, "though one of a nation of women, you
have proved yourself a man. I would give you food; but he
who eats with a Huron should become his friend. Rest in peace
till the morning sun, when our last words shall be spoken. ”
"Seven nights and as many summer days have I fasted on
the trail of the Hurons," Uncas coldly replied; "the children of
the Lenape know how to travel the path of the just without
lingering to eat. "
"Two of my young men are in pursuit of your companion,"
resumed the other, without appearing to regard the boast of his
captive; "when they get back, then will our wise men say to
you, 'Live or die. '»
## p. 4032 (#402) ###########################################
4032
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
«Has a Huron no ears? " scornfully exclaimed Uncas:
"twice since he has been your prisoner has the Delaware heard
a gun that he knows. Your young men will never come back. "
A short and sullen pause succeeded this bold assertion.
Duncan, who understood the Mohican to allude to the fatal rifle
of the scout, bent forward in earnest observation of the effect it
might produce on the conquerors; but the chief was content with
simply retorting: -
"If the Lenape are so skillful, why is one of their bravest
warriors here ? »
"He followed in the steps of a flying coward, and fell into a
The cunning beaver may be caught. "
snare.
As Uncas thus replied, he pointed with his finger toward the
solitary Huron, but without deigning to bestow any other notice
on so unworthy an object. The words of the answer and the air
of the speaker produced a strong sensation among his auditors.
Every eye rolled sullenly toward the individual indicated by the
simple gesture, and a low threatening murmur passed through
the crowd. The ominous sounds reached the outer door, and the
women and children pressing into the throng, no gap had been
left between shoulder and shoulder that was not now filled with
the dark lineaments of some eager and curious human counte-
nance.
In the mean time the more aged chiefs in the centre com-
muned with each other in short and broken sentences. Not
a word was uttered that did not convey the meaning of the
speaker, in the simplest and most energetic form. Again a
long and deeply solemn pause took place. It was known by all
present to be the grave precursor of a weighty and important
judgment. They who composed the outer circle of faces were
on tiptoe to gaze; and even the culprit for an instant forgot
his shame in a deeper emotion, and exposed his abject features
in order to cast an anxious and troubled glance at the dark
assemblage of chiefs. The silence was finally broken by the aged
warrior so often named. He arose from the earth, and moving
past the immovable form of Uncas, placed himself in a digni-
fied attitude before the offender. At that moment the withered
squaw already mentioned moved into the circle in a slow sidling
sort of a dance, holding the torch, and muttering the indistinct
words of what might have been a species of incantation. Though
her presence was altogether an intrusion, it was unheeded
#
## p. 4033 (#403) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4033
Approaching Uncas, she held the blazing brand in such a
manner as to cast its red glare on his person and to expose the
slightest emotion of his countenance. The Mohican maintained
his firm and haughty attitude; and his eye, so far from deigning
to meet her inquisitive look, dwelt steadily on the distance as
though it penetrated the obstacles which impeded the view, and
looked into futurity. Satisfied with her examination, she left him,
with a slight expression of pleasure, and proceeded to practice
the same trying experiment on her delinquent countryman.
The young Huron was in his war-paint, and very little of
a finely molded form was concealed by his attire.
The light
rendered every limb and joint discernible, and Duncan turned
away in horror when he saw they were writhing in inexpressible
agony. The woman was commencing a low and plaintive howl
at the sad and shameful spectacle, when the chief put forth his
hand and gently pushed her aside.
"Reed-that-bends," he said, addressing the young culprit by
name, and in his proper language, "though the Great Spirit has
made you pleasant to the eyes, it would have been better that
you had not been born. Your tongue is loud in the village, but
in battle it is still. None of my young men strike the tomahawk
deeper into the war-post-none of them so lightly on the Yen-
geese. The enemy know the shape of your back, but they have
never seen the color of your eyes. Three times have they called
on you to come, and as often did you forget to answer. Your
name will never be mentioned again in your tribe- it is already
forgotten. "
As the chief slowly uttered these words, pausing impressively
between each sentence, the culprit raised his face, in deference
to the other's rank and years. Shame, horror, and pride struggled
in its lineaments. His eye, which was contracted with inward
anguish, gleamed on the persons of those whose breath was his
fame; and the latter emotion for an instant predominated. He
arose to his feet, and baring his bosom, looked steadily on the
keen glittering knife that was already upheld by his inexorable
judge. As the weapon passed slowly into his heart he even
smiled, as if in joy at having found death less dreadful than he
anticipated, and fell heavily on his face at the feet of the rigid
and unyielding form of Uncas.
The squaw gave a loud and plaintive yell, dashed the torch
to the earth, and buried everything in darkness. The whole
VII-253
## p. 4034 (#404) ###########################################
4034
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
shuddering group of spectators glided from the lodge like
troubled spirits; and Duncan thought that he and the yet throb-
bing body of the victim of an Indian judgment had now become
its only tenants.
THE PRAIRIE FIRE
From The Prairie
"SEE
EE, Middleton," exclaimed Inez in a sudden burst of youth-
ful pleasure, that caused her for a moment to forget her
situation, "how lovely is that sky; surely it contains a
promise of happier times! "
"It is glorious! " returned her husband. "Glorious and heav-
enly is that streak of vivid red, and here is a still brighter
crimson; rarely have I seen a richer rising of the sun. "
"Rising of the sun! " slowly repeated the old man, lifting
his tall person from its seat with a deliberate and abstracted air,
while he kept his eye riveted on the changing and certainly
beautiful tints that were garnishing the vault of heaven. "Ris-
ing of the sun! I like not such risings of the sun. Ah's me!
the imps have circumvented us with a vengeance.
The prairie
is on fire! "
"God in heaven protect us! " cried Middleton, catching Inez
to his bosom, under the instant impression of the imminence of
their danger. "There is no time to lose, old man; each instant
is a day; let us fly! "
"Whither? " demanded the trapper, motioning him, with
calmness and dignity, to arrest his steps. "In this wilderness of
grass and reeds you are like a vessel in the broad lakes without
a compass. A single step on the wrong course might prove the
destruction of us all. It is seldom danger is so pressing that
there is not time enough for reason to do its work, young
officer; therefore let us await its biddings. "
"For my own part," said Paul Hover, looking about him
with no equivocal expression of concern, "I acknowledge that
should this dry bed of weeds get fairly in a flame, a bee would
have to make a flight higher than common to prevent his wings
from scorching. Therefore, old trapper, I agree with the cap-
tain, and say, mount and run. ”
## p. 4035 (#405) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4035
"Ye are wrong-ye are wrong; man is not a beast to follow
the gift of instinct, and to snuff up his knowledge by a taint
in the air or a rumbling in the sound; but he must see and
reason, and then conclude. So follow me a little to the left,
where there is a rise in the ground, whence we may make our
reconnoitrings. "
The old man waved his hand with authority, and led the way
without further parlance to the spot he had indicated, followed
by the whole of his alarmed companions. An eye less practiced
than that of the trapper might have failed in discovering the
gentle elevation to which he alluded, and which looked on the
surface of the meadow like a growth a little taller than common.
When they reached the place, however, the stunted grass itself
announced the absence of that moisture which had fed the rank
weeds of most of the plain, and furnished a clue to the evidence
by which he had judged of the formation of the ground hidden.
beneath. Here a few minutes were lost in breaking down the
tops of the surrounding herbage, which, notwithstanding the ad-
vantage of their position, rose even above the heads of Mid-
dleton and Paul, and in obtaining a lookout that might command
a view of the surrounding sea of fire.
The frightful prospect added nothing to the hopes of those
who had so fearful a stake in the result. Although the day
was beginning to dawn, the vivid colors of the sky contin-
ued to deepen, as if the fierce element were bent on an impious
rivalry of the light of the sun. Bright flashes of flame shot up
here and there along the margin of the waste, like the nimble.
coruscations of the North, but far more angry and threatening
in their color and changes. The anxiety on the rigid features
of the trapper sensibly deepened, as he leisurely traced these
evidences of a conflagration, which spread in a
in a broad belt
about their place of refuge, until he had encircled the whole
horizon.
Shaking his head, as he again turned his face to the point
where the danger seemed nighest and most rapidly approaching,
the old man said:
"Now have we been cheating ourselves with the belief that
we had thrown these Tetons from our trail, while here is proof
enough that they not only know where we lie, but that they
intend to smoke us out, like so many skulking beasts of prey.
See: they have lighted the fire around the whole bottom at the
## p. 4036 (#406) ###########################################
4036
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
same moment, and we are as completely hemmed in by the
devils as an island by its waters. "
"Let us mount and ride! " cried Middleton; "is life not worth
a struggle? "
"Whither would ye go? Is a Teton horse a salamander that
can walk amid fiery flames unhurt, or do you think the Lord
will show his might in your behalf, as in the days of old, and
carry you harmless through such a furnace as you may see
glowing beneath yonder red sky? There are Sioux too hem.
ming the fire with their arrows and knives on every side of us,
or I am no judge of their murderous deviltries. "
"We will ride into the centre of the whole tribe," returned
the youth fiercely, "and put their manhood to the test. "
"Ay, it's well in words, but what would it prove in deeds?
Here is a dealer in bees, who can teach you wisdom in a matter
like this. "
"Now for that matter, old trapper," said Paul, stretching his
athletic form like a mastiff conscious of his strength, "I am on
the side of the captain, and am clearly for a race against the
fire, though it line me into a Teton wigwam. Here is Ellen,
who will »
"Of what use, of what use are your stout hearts, when the
element of the Lord is to be conquered as well as human men?
Look about you, friends; the wreath of smoke that is rising
from the bottoms plainly says that there is no outlet from the
spot, without crossing a belt of fire. Look for yourselves, my
men; look for yourselves: if you can find a single opening, I
will engage to follow. "
The examination which his companions so instantly and so
intently made, rather served to assure them of their desperate
situation than to appease their fears. Huge columns of smoke
were rolling up from the plain and thickening in gloomy masses
around the horizon; the red glow which gleamed upon their
enormous folds, now lighting their volumes with the glare of the
conflagration and now flashing to another point as the flame
beneath glided ahead, leaving all behind enveloped in awful
darkness, and proclaiming louder than words the character of the
imminent and approaching danger.
"This is terrible! " exclaimed Middleton, folding the trembling
Inez to his heart. "At such a time as this, and in such a
manner!
>>>
## p. 4037 (#407) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4037
"The gates of heaven are open to all who truly believe,"
murmured the pious devotee in his bosom.
"This resignation is maddening! But we are men, and will
make a struggle for our lives! How now, my brave and spirited
friend, shall we yet mount and push across the flames, or shall
we stand here, and see those we most love perish in this fright-
ful manner, without an effort? »
"I am for a swarming time and a flight before the hive is
too hot to hold us," said the bee-hunter, to whom it will be at
once seen that Middleton addressed himself.
"Come, old trap-
per, you must acknowledge this is but a slow way of getting
out of danger. If we tarry here much longer, it will be in the
fashion that the bees lie around the straw after the hive has
been smoked for its honey. You may hear the fire begin
to roar already, and I know by experience that when the flames
once get fairly into the prairie grass, it is no sloth that can
outrun it. "
"Think you,” returned the old man, pointing scornfully at
the mazes of the dry and matted grass which environed them,
"that mortal feet can outstrip the speed of fire on such a path?
If I only knew now on which side these miscreants lay! "
"What say you, friend Doctor," cried the bewildered Paul,
turning to the naturalist with that sort of helplessness with
which the strong are often apt to seek aid of the weak, when
human power is baffled by the hand of a mightier Being; "what
say you have you no advice to give away in a case of life and
death? "
The naturalist stood, tablets in hand, looking at the awful
spectacle with as much composure as if the conflagration had
been lighted in order to solve the difficulties of some scientific
problem. Aroused by the question of his companion, he turned
to his equally calm though differently occupied associate, the
trapper, demanding with the most provoking insensibility to the
urgent nature of their situation:
"Venerable hunter, you have often witnessed similar pris-
matic experiments—"
He was rudely interrupted by Paul, who struck the tablets
from his hands with a violence that betrayed the utter intellect-
ual confusion which had overset the equanimity of his mind.
Before time was allowed for remonstrance, the old man, who had
continued during the whole scene like one much at loss how to
## p. 4038 (#408) ###########################################
4038
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
proceed, though also like one who was rather perplexed than
alarmed, suddenly assumed a decided air, as if he no longer
doubted on the course it was most advisable to pursue.
"It is time to be doing," he said, interrupting the controversy
that was about to ensue between the naturalist and the bee-
hunter; "it is time to leave off books and moanings, and to be
doing.
>>
«<
"You have come to your recollections too late, miserable old
man," cried Middleton; the flames are within a quarter of a
mile of us, and the wind is bringing them down in this quarter
with dreadful rapidity. "
"Anan! the flames! I care but little for the flames. If I
only knew how to circumvent the cunning of the Tetons as I
know how to cheat the fire of its prey, there would be nothing
needed but thanks to the Lord for our deliverance. Do you call
this a fire? If you had seen what I have witnessed in the east-
ern hills, when mighty mountains were like the furnace of a
smith, you would have known what it was to fear the flames
and to be thankful that you were spared! Come, lads, come:
'tis time to be doing now, and to cease talking; for yonder curl-
ing flame is truly coming on like a trotting moose. Put hands
upon this short and withered grass where we stand, and lay bare
the 'arth. "
"Would you think to deprive the fire of its victims in this
childish manner? " exclaimed Middleton.
A faint but solemn smile passed over the features of the old
man as he answered:-
:-
"Your gran'ther would have said that when the enemy was
nigh, a soldier could do no better than to obey. "
The captain felt the reproof, and instantly began to imitate
the industry of Paul, who was tearing the decayed herbage from
the ground in a sort of desperate compliance with the trapper's
direction. Even Ellen lent her hands to the labor, nor was it
long before Inez was seen similarly employed, though none
amongst them knew why or wherefore. When life is thought
to be the reward of labor, men are wont to be industrious. A
very few moments sufficed to lay bare a spot of some twenty
feet in diameter. Into one edge of this little area the trapper
brought the females, directing Middleton and Paul to cover their
light and inflammable dresses with the blankets of the party.
So soon as this precaution was observed, the old man approached
## p. 4039 (#409) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4939
the opposite margin of the grass which still environed them in.
a tall and dangerous circle, and selecting a handful of the driest
of the herbage, he placed it over the pan of his rifle. The light
combustible kindled at the flash. Then he placed the little flame
in a bed of the standing fog, and withdrawing from the spot to
the centre of the ring, he patiently awaited the result.
The subtle element seized with avidity upon its new fuel, and
in a moment forked flames were gliding among the grass, as the
tongues of ruminating animals are seen rolling among their food,
apparently in quest of its sweetest portions.
"Now," said the old man, holding up a finger, and laughing
in his peculiarly silent manner, "you shall see fire fight fire!
Ah's me! many is the time I have burnt a smooty path, from
wanton laziness to pick my way across a tangled bottom. "
"But is this not fatal? " cried the amazed Middleton; « are
you not bringing the enemy nigher to us instead of avoiding
it ? »
"Do you scorch so easily? your gran'ther had a tougher skin.
But we shall live to see-we shall all live to see. "
The experience of the trapper was in the right. As the fire
gained strength and heat, it began to spread on three sides, dying
of itself on the fourth for want of aliment. As it increased, and
the sullen roaring announced its power, it cleared everything
before it, leaving the black and smoking soil far more naked
than if the scythe had swept the place. The situation of the
fugitives would have still been hazardous, had not the area en-
larged as the flame encircled them. But by advancing to the
spot where the trapper had kindled the grass, they avoided the
heat, and in a very few moments the flames began to recede in
every quarter, leaving them enveloped in a cloud of smoke, but
perfectly safe from the torrent of fire that was still furiously
rolling onwards.
The spectators regarded the simple expedient of the trapper
with that species of wonder with which the courtiers of Ferdi-
nand are said to have viewed the manner in which Columbus
made his egg stand on its end, though with feelings that were
filled with gratitude instead of envy.
## p. 4040 (#410) ###########################################
4040
COPERNICUS
(1473-1543)
BY EDWARD S. HOLDEN
T HAS been the fortune of other men than Copernicus to
render immense services to science: but it has never before
been given to any philosopher to alter, for every thinking
man, his entire view of the world; to face the whole human race in
a new direction; to lay the foundations for all subsequent intellectual
progress. To comprehend the new universe which he opened to
mankind, it is necessary to understand something of the age in which
he lived, and its critical relations to the past and future.
The life of Copernicus covered the years 1473 to 1543. The
astronomy of the Greeks came to its flower with Ptolemy (circa
A. D. 150), who was followed by a host of able commentators. Their
works were mostly lost in some one of the several destructions of the
Alexandrian library. Many important treatises survived, of course,
though Grecian science was then dead. Bagdad became the seat of
astronomy under the Abbasside Caliphs. It is said that Al Mamun
(circa A. D. 827) stipulated in a treaty with the Emperor for copies
of the manuscripts of Greek philosophers in the Constantinople
libraries, and that these were translated for the benefit of Arabian
scholars. The Arabs carried this learning, improved in many details,
to the lands they conquered. Bagdad, Cordova, Seville, Tangier,
have been successively the homes of exact science. Under the
Moguls the seat of astronomy was transferred to Samarkand (1405).
It was not firmly rooted in Europe until Tycho Brahe built Ura-
nienborg in Denmark in 1576.
The Arabs touched Europe in Spain (711-1492) and through the
Crusaders (1099). The ancient Ptolemaic system of the world, which
counted the earth as the centre of the universe, was successively
amended by new devices,
"With centric and eccentric scribbled o'er,
Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb->
until it had reached a complexity past belief. King Alfonso X. of
Castile expended an enormous sum for the construction of the
Alfonsine Tables (1252), which were designed to give, by a com-
paratively simple calculation, the positions of the sun and planets
for past and future epochs,-employing the theories of Ptolemy as a
## p. 4041 (#411) ###########################################
COPERNICUS
4041
basis. Alfonso's critical remark upon these theories is well known:
to wit, that if he had been present at the creation, he could have
given the Creator much good advice. As the determination of the
places of the planets (their latitudes and longitudes) became more
exact, it was increasingly difficult to account for their observed
movements by the devices introduced by Ptolemy. New contrivances
were required, and each successive epicycle made the system more
complex and cumbrous. It was on the point of breaking by its own
weight.
There is hardly a glimmer of scientific light in the darkness of
the two centuries following. From Roger Bacon (1214-94) to the
birth of Leonardo da Vinci (1452) there is scarcely a single date to
record except that of 1438, when the art of printing was invented –
or re-invented-in Europe.
The writings of Purbach (1460) and of Regiomontanus (1471)
brought astronomy in Germany to the same level as the Arabian
science of five centuries earlier in Spain, and marked the begin-
ning of a new era for Northern lands. In Italy the impulse was
earlier felt, though it manifested itself chiefly in literature. Math-
ematics was not neglected, however, at the ancient University of
Bologna; and it was to Bologna that Copernicus came as a student in
1496.
The voyages of Columbus in 1492 and of Vasco da Gama in 1498
were other signs of the same impulsion which was manifest through
out the Western lands.
Nicolas Copernicus was born in 1473, in the town of Thorn in
Poland. His father was originally from Bohemia, and his mother was
the sister of the Bishop of Ermeland. The father died when the lad
was but ten years old, and left him to the care of his uncle. His
studies were prosecuted at the best schools and at the University of
Cracow, where he followed the courses in medicine, and became in
due time a doctor. Mathematics and astronomy were ardently studied
under learned professors, and the young man also became a skillful
artist in painting. At the termination of his studies he turned his
face towards Italy, entered the universities of Padua and Bologna,
and finally received the appointment of Professor of Mathematics at
Rome in 1499, at the age of twenty-seven years. Here his duties
were to expound the theories of Ptolemy as taught in the 'Almagest,'
and he became entirely familiar with their merits and with their
deficiencies.
Astronomers everywhere were asking themselves if there might
not be simpler methods of accounting for the movements of the
planets and of predicting their situations in the sky than the Ptole-
maic methods, loaded down as they were with new complexities.
## p. 4042 (#412) ###########################################
COPERNICUS
4042
We know that these questions occupied Copernicus during the seven
years of his stay in Italy, 1496 to 1502. made a few astronomical
observations then and subsequently, but he was not a born observer
like his successor Tycho Brahe. His observations were directed
towards determining the positions of the planets, as a test of the
tables by which these positions had been predicted; and they were
sufficient to show the shortcomings of the accepted Ptolemaic theory.
He was a theoretical astronomer, but his theory was controlled by
observation.
In 1502 Copernicus returned to his native land and at once entered
holy orders. In 1510 he became canon of Frauenburg, a small town
not far from Königsberg. Here he divided his time between his re-
ligious duties, the practice of medicine, and the study of astronomy
a peaceful life, one would say, and likely to be free from vexa-
tions.
-
It became necessary for the priest to leave his cloister, however,
to defend the interests of the Church in a lawsuit against the
Knights of the Teutonic Order. The lawsuit was won at last, but
Copernicus had raised up powerful enemies. His conclusions with
regard to the motion of the earth were not yet published, but it was
known that he entertained such opinions. Here was an opportunity
for his enemies to bring him to ridicule and to disgrace, which was
not neglected. Troupes of strolling players were employed to turn
himself and his conclusions into ridicule; and it requires no imagina-
tion to conceive that they were perfectly successful before the audi-
ences of the day. But these annoyances fell away in time. The
reputation of the good physician and the good priest conquered his
townsfolk, while the scholars of Europe were more and more im-
pressed with his learning.
His authority grew apace. He was consulted on practical affairs,
such as the financial conduct of the mint. In 1507 he had begun to
write a treatise on the motion of the heavenly bodies - 'De Revolu-
tionibus Orbium Cœlestium'-and he appears to have brought it to
completion about 1514. It is replete with interest to astronomers,
but there are few passages suitable for quotation in a summary like
the present. The manuscript was touched and retouched from time
to time; and finally in 1541, when he was nearly seventy years of
age, he confided it to a disciple in Nuremberg to be printed. In the
month of May, 1543, the impression was completed, and the final
sheets were sent to the author. They reached him when he was on
his death-bed, a few days before he died.
His epitaph is most humble:-"I do not ask the pardon accorded
to Paul; I do not hope for the grace given to Peter. I beg only
the favor which You have granted to the thief on the cross. " His
## p. 4043 (#413) ###########################################
COPERNICUS
4043
legacy to the world was an upright useful life, and a volume con-
taining an immortal truth:
-
The earth is not the centre of the universe; the earth is in motion
around the sun.
The conception that the earth might revolve about the sun was
no new thing. The ancients had considered this hypothesis among
others. Ptolemy made the earth the centre of all the celestial
motions. As the motions became more precisely known, Ptolemy's
hypothesis required new additions, and it was finally overloaded.
It is the merit of Copernicus that he reversed the ancient process of
thought and inquired what hypothesis would fit observed facts, and
not what additions must be made to an a priori assumption to repre-
sent observations. He showed clearly and beyond a doubt that the
facts were represented far better by the theory that the sun was the
centre of motion of the earth, and not only of the earth, but of all the
planets. He says:-
"By no other combination have I been able to find so admirable a sym-
metry in the separate parts of the great whole, so harmonious a union
between the motions of the celestial bodies, as by placing the torch of the
world that Sun which governs all the family of the planets in their circu-
lar revolutions—on his royal throne, in the midst of Nature's temple. »*
He did not demonstrate this arrangement to be the true one. It
was left to Galileo to prove that Venus had phases like our moon,
and hence that its light was sunlight, and that its motion was helio-
centric. The direct service of Copernicus to pure astronomy lay in
his method. What theory will best fit the facts? How shall we test
the theory by observation? Indirectly he laid the foundations for the
reformation of astronomy by Kepler and Galileo; for Newton's work-
ing out of the conception of the sun as a centre of force as well as
a centre of motion; for the modern ideas of the relations between
force and matter.
The Church, which regarded all sciences as derivatives of the-
ology, placed the work of Copernicus on the Index Expurgatorius at
Rome, 1616. The Reformation maintained an official silence the
But
mooted questions. Luther condemned the theory of Copernicus.
the service of Copernicus to mankind was immense, revolutionary,-
incalculable. For thousands of years the earth, with its inhabitants,
was the centre of a universe created for its benefit. At one step all
this was changed, and man took his modest place. He became a
creature painfully living on a small planet—one of many-revolving
*Quoted from the French of Flammarion's 'Life of Copernicus,' page 122.
## p. 4044 (#414) ###########################################
COPERNICUS
4044
around one of the smaller stars or suns; and that sun was only one of
the millions upon millions shining in the stellar vault. Man's position
in the universe was destroyed. The loss of kingship would seem to
be intolerable, were it not that it was by a man, after all, that Man
was dethroned. All our modern thought, feeling, action, is profoundly
modified by the consequences of the dictum of Copernicus-" The
earth is not the centre of the universe. " Mankind was faced in a new
direction by that pronouncement. Modern life became possible.
Modern views became inevitable. The end is not yet. When in
future ages the entire history of the race is written, many names
now dear to us will be ignored: they have no vital connection with
the progress of the race. But one name is sure of a place of honor:
Copernicus will not be forgotten by our remotest descendants.
Edward S. Holden
## p. 4045 (#415) ###########################################
4045
FRANÇOIS COPPÉE
(1842-)
BY ROBERT SANDERSON
MONG writers of the present day whose influence on French
letters is strongly felt, François Coppée occupies a foremost
rank. Indeed, poets of the new generation look up to him
as a master and take him for a model. Born in 1842, at the age of
twenty-four he first began to draw attention by the publication in 1866
of a number of poems, collected under the name of 'Le Reliquaire'
(The Reliquary or Shrine). Since then he has gone on writing poems,
plays, and novels; but it is on his work as a poet that his fame will
stand. We cannot do better than turn to
one of his books, not for his biography
alone, but also for the manner of thinking
and feeling of this author. Toute une
Jeunesse (An Entire Youth) is not strictly
an autobiography; but Coppée informs us
that the leading character in this work,
Amédée Violette, felt life as he felt it
when a child and young man.
Here we learn that Coppée's father was
a clerk in the War Offices, earning barely
enough to keep his family. The boy was
of weakly constitution, nervous and senti-
mental. The mother died; François grew
up with his three sisters, two of whom painted for a living, while
the third kept house. Then the father died, and his son also ob-
tained employment in the government offices.
FRANÇOIS COPPÉE
François's boyhood and part of his youth were spent in sadness,
almost misery; and the shadow cast over his life by this gloomy
period of his existence is very perceptible in the poet's writings. It
did not however make him a cynic, a pessimist, or a rebel against the
existing social conditions. To be sure, his verse is not unfrequently
ironical; but it is the irony of fate that the poet makes you keenly
feel, although he touches it with a light hand. The recollection of
those joyless days filled Coppée with an immense feeling of sadness
and sympathy for all who suffer on this earth, especially for those
who struggle on, bravely concealing from all eyes their griefs and
## p. 4046 (#416) ###########################################
4046
FRANÇOIS COPPÉE
sorrows. His life, he tells us, was composed of desires and reveries.
His only consolation was in his literary work. He felt the inclina-
tion and the need of expressing in a way both simple and sincere
what passed under his eyes; of extracting what humble ideal there
might be in the small folk with whom he had lived, in the melan-
choly landscapes of the Parisian suburbs where his childhood had
been spent,-in short, to paint from nature. He made the attempt,
felt that he was successful, and lived then the best and noblest
hours of his life; hours in which the artist, already a master of his
instrument and having still that abundance and vivacity of sensations
of youth, writes the first work that he knows to be good, and writes
it with complete disinterestedness, without even thinking that others
will see it; working for himself alone, for the sole joy of producing,
of pouring out his whole imagination and his whole heart. Hours of
pure enthusiasm, Coppée goes on to say, and of perfect happiness,
that he will nevermore find when he shall have bitten into the
savory fruit of success, when he shall be spurred on by the feverish
desire for fame! Delightful and sacred hours, that can be compared
only to the rapture of first love!
Rising at six, Coppée would vigorously begin his battle with
words, ideas, pictures. At nine he left for his office. There, having
blackened with ink a sufficient number of government foolscap
sheets, he would find himself with two or three spare hours, which
he employed in reading and taking notes. Every night found him
up until twelve at his writing-table. The whole of Sunday was
given to his favorite occupation of writing verse. Such a continuous
effort, he says, kept up in his mind that ardor, spirit, and excite-
ment without which no poetical production is possible.
Such was Coppée's life until, his name becoming known, he
earned enough with his pen to give himself up entirely to his art.
Then came his success with 'Le Passant' (The Passer-by: 1869), a
one-act play; and the following year, the war, the siege of Paris,
through which Coppée served in the militia. "Amédée Violette" has
now become famous, and his reputation as a poet rests upon the
sincerity of his work. He is esteemed for the dignity of his life,
wholly taken up with art; and in the world of French letters his
place is in the very first rank. He lives out of the world, in the
close intimacy of those he loves, and knows nothing of the wretch-
edness of vanity and ambition. Like many writers and thinkers of
the present day, he feels the weariness of life, and finds oblivion in
the raptures of poetry and dreams. Such is the man: a wonderfully
delicate organization, of a modest shrinking nature, - notice the
name of Violette he gives himself, -sensitive to a degree of morbid-
ness.
3
E
## p. 4047 (#417) ###########################################
FRANÇOIS COPPÉE
4047
The Academy elected him a member in 1884. Let us now con-
sider the writer. The general character of Coppée's poetry is tender
and melancholy, and the greater part of his work may be summed up
as the glorification of the lowly, the weak, the ill-favored by nature
or fortune; his heroes are chosen by preference among those who
fill the humblest stations in life. One naturally associates poetry
with a higher order of things than those presented to our eyes by
the contemplation of daily events; but Coppée possesses the art of
extracting from the humblest creature, from the meanest occupation,
the beautiful, the poetic, the ideal. In the treatment in familiar
verse of these commonplace subjects, Coppée is an accomplished
master; and therein lies his originality, and there also will be found
his best work. The poems comprised in the collections called 'Les
Humbles,' 'Contes et Poésies,' and certain stanzas of Promenades et
Intérieurs,' contain the best specimens of this familiar and sympa-
thetic style of poetry.
There is another key that Coppée touches in his poems, with a
light and tender hand; a tone difficult to analyze,—the expression of
one's inner emotions, especially that of love; a yearning for an ideal
affection of woman; the feeling buried in the hearts of all who have
lived, loved, and suffered; regret in comparing what is with what
might have been: all these varied emotions more easily felt than
defined, all that the French sum up by the term vécu, have been ren-
dered by Coppée in some of the poems contained in 'Le Reliquaire,'
in 'Intimites,' 'Le Cahier Rouge' (The Red Note-Book), 'Olivier,'
under whose name the poet has portrayed himself; 'L'Exilée'; 'Les
Mois' (The Months), in the collection having for title 'Les Récits et
les Élégies'; 'Arrière-Saison' (Martinmas, or what in this country
might be called Indian Summer).
The patriotic chord resounds in several of Coppée's composi-
tions, usually straightforward, manly; here and there however with
a slight touch of chauvinism. The 'Lettre d'un Mobile Breton,' a
letter written by a Breton soldier to his parents during the siege of
Paris; 'Plus de Sang! ' (No More Blood! ) Aux Amputés de la
Guerre (To the Maimed in Battle), will serve to illustrate Coppée's
treatment of subjects inspired by the events of the war, the siege,
and the Commune.
Among the various well-known poems of this writer, the fame of
which was increased by their being recited in Parisian salons by
skilled artists, should be mentioned 'Les Aïeules' (The Grandmothers);
'La Grève des Forgerons' (The Blacksmiths' Strike); 'Le Naufragé›
(The Shipwrecked Sailor); and 'La Bénédiction,' an episode of the
taking of Saragossa by the French in 1809.
## p. 4048 (#418) ###########################################
4048
FRANÇOIS COPPÉE
one.
François Coppée has written for the stage; but he is too elegiac,
too sentimental a poet to be a first-class playwright, although some
of his plays have met with great success: 'Le Passant' (The
Passer-by: 1869), a one-act comedy whose great charm lies in the
expression of suffering love; 'Le Luthier de Crémone' (The Musical
Instrument Maker of Cremona: 1876), probably the best of his
dramatic compositions, a one-act comedy in which the leading char-
acter is again one of the humble,- Filippo the hunchback, whose
deformity covers a brave heart and a magnanimous spirit; and
'Pour la Couronne' (For the Crown: 1895), a five-act drama with
more action than is usually found in Coppée's plays. The scene is
laid in the Balkans. The character of Constantine Brancomir, who is
falsely accused of selling his country to the Turks and submits to an
ignominious punishment to save his father's memory, is a very noble
With these exceptions, Coppée's plays lack action. Remaining
titles are: 'Deux Douleurs' (Two Sorrows), a one-act drama, the
story of two women who love the same man, and from being rivals
become reconciled at his death; 'Fais ce que Dois' (Do What You
Ought), a dramatic episode in one act, of a patriotic nature, -some-
what commonplace, however; 'L'Abandonnée,' a two-act drama pre-
senting the picture of a young girl abandoned by her lover, who
meets again with him at her death-bed in a hospital ward; 'Les
Bijoux de la Déliverance' (The Jewels of Ransom, Freedom), simply a
scene, in which a lady dressed for the ball suddenly reflects that the
foreigner is still occupying the territory of France until the payment
of the ransom, and removes her glittering jewels to be used for a
nobler purpose.
4026
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
RUNNING THE GAUNTLET
From The Last of the Mohicans'
TH
HERE yet lingered sufficient light in the heavens to exhibit
those bright openings among the tree-tops where different
paths left the clearing to enter the depths of the wilder-
ness. Beneath one of them, a line of warriors issued from the
woods and advanced slowly toward the dwellings. One in front
bore a short pole, on which, as it afterward appeared, were sus-
pended several human scalps. The startling sounds that Duncan
had heard were what the whites have not inappropriately called
the "death-hallo"; and each repetition of the cry was intended to
announce to the tribe the fate of an enemy. Thus far the knowl-
edge of Heyward assisted him in the explanation; and as he
knew that the interruption was caused by the unlooked-for return
of a successful war-party, every disagreeable sensation was quieted
in inward congratulations for the opportune relief and insignifi-
cance it conferred on himself.
When at the distance of a few hundred feet from the lodges,
the newly arrived warriors halted. The plaintive and terrific cry
which was intended to represent equally the wailings of the dead
and the triumph of the victors, had entirely ceased. One of their
number now called aloud, in words that were far from appalling,
though not more intelligible to those for whose ears they were
intended than their expressive yells. It would be difficult to
convey a suitable idea of the savage ecstasy with which the news
thus imparted was received. The whole encampment in a
moment became a scene of the most violent bustle and commo-
tion. The warriors drew their knives, and flourishing them, they
arranged themselves in two lines, forming a lane that extended
from the war-party to the lodges. The squaws seized clubs, axes,
or whatever weapon of offense first offered itself to their hands,
and rushed eagerly to act their part in the cruel game that was
at hand. Even the children would not be excluded; but boys,
little able to wield the instruments, tore the tomahawks from the
belts of their fathers, and stole into the ranks, apt imitators of
the savage traits exhibited by their parents.
Large piles of brush lay scattered about the clearing, and
a wary and aged squaw was occupied firing as many as might
## p. 4027 (#397) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4027
serve to light the coming exhibition. As the flame arose, its
power exceeded that of the parting day, and assisted to render
objects at the same time more distinct and more hideous. The
whole scene formed a striking picture, whose frame was com-
posed of the dark and tall border of pines. The warriors just
arrived were the most distant figures. A little in advance stood
two men, who were apparently selected from the rest as the
principal actors in what was to follow. The light was not strong
enough to render their features distinct, though it was quite evi-
dent that they were governed by very different emotions. While
one stood erect and firm, prepared to meet his fate like a hero,
the other bowed his head, as if palsied by terror or stricken
with shame. The high-spirited Duncan felt a powerful impulse
of admiration and pity toward the former, though no opportunity
could offer to exhibit his generous emotions. He watched his
slightest movement, however, with eager eyes; and as he traced
the fine outline of his admirably proportioned and active frame,
he endeavored to persuade himself that if the powers of man,
seconded by such noble resolution, could bear one harmless.
through so severe a trial, the youthful captive before him might
hope for success in the hazardous race he was about to run.
Insensibly the young man drew nigher to the swarthy lines of
the Hurons, and scarcely breathed, so intense became his inter-
est in the spectacle. Just then the signal yell was given, and
the momentary quiet which had preceded it was broken by a
burst of cries that far exceeded any before heard. The most
abject of the two victims continued motionless; but the other
bounded from the place at the cry, with the activity and swift-
ness of a deer. Instead of rushing through the hostile lines as
had been expected, he just entered the dangerous defile, and
before time was given for a single blow, turned short, and leap-
ing the heads of a row of children, he gained at once the
exterior and safer side of the formidable array. The artifice
was answered by a hundred voices raised in imprecations, and
the whole of the excited multitude broke from their order and
spread themselves about the place in wild confusion.
A dozen blazing piles now shed their lurid brightness on the
place, which resembled some unhallowed and supernatural arena
in which malicious demons had assembled to act their bloody
and lawless rites. The forms in the background looked like un-
earthly beings gliding before the eye and cleaving the air with
## p. 4028 (#398) ###########################################
4028
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
frantic and unmeaning gestures; while the savage passions of
such as passed the flames were rendered fearfully distinct by the
gleams that shot athwart their inflamed visages.
It will easily be understood that amid such a concourse of
vindictive enemies, no breathing-time was allowed the fugitive.
There was a single moment when it seemed as if he would have
reached the forest; but the whole body of his captors threw
themselves before him, and drove him back into the centre of
his relentless persecutors. Turning like a headed deer, he shot
with the swiftness of an arrow through a pillar of forked flame,
and passing the whole multitude harmless he appeared on the
opposite side of the clearing. Here too he was met and turned
by a few of the older and more subtle of the Hurons. Once
more he tried the throng, as if seeking safety in its blindness;
and then several moments succeeded, during which Duncan
believed the active and courageous young stranger was lost.
Nothing could be distinguished but a dark mass of human
forms tossed and involved in inexplicable confusion. Arms,
gleaming knives, and formidable clubs appeared above them,
but the blows were evidently given at random. The awful effect
was heightened by the piercing shrieks of the women and the
fierce yells of the warriors. Now and then Duncan caught a
glimpse of a light form cleaving the air in some desperate
bound, and he rather hoped than believed that the captive yet
retained the command of his astonishing powers of activity.
Suddenly the multitude rolled backward, and approached the
spot where he himself stood. The heavy body in the rear
pressed upon the women and children in front, and bore them
to the earth. The stranger reappeared in the confusion. Human
power could not, however, much longer endure so severe a trial.
Of this the captive seemed conscious. Profiting by the moment-
ary opening, he darted from among the warriors, and made a
desperate, and what seemed to Duncan a final, effort to gain
the wood. As if aware that no danger was to be apprehended
from the young soldier, the fugitive nearly brushed his person
in his flight. A tall and powerful Huron, who had husbanded
his forces, pressed close upon his heels, and with an uplifted
arm menaced a fatal blow. Duncan thrust forth a foot, and the
shock precipitated the eager savage headlong, many feet in ad-
vance of his intended victim. Thought itself is not quicker than
was the motion with which the latter profited by the advantage;
## p. 4029 (#399) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4029
he turned, gleamed like a meteor again before the eyes of Dun-
can, and at the next moment, when the latter recovered his
recollection and gazed around in quest of the captive, he saw
him quietly leaning against a small painted post which stood
before the door of the principal lodge.
Apprehensive that the part he had taken in the escape might
prove fatal to himself, Duncan left the place without delay. He
followed the crowd which drew nigh the lodges, gloomy and sul-
len, like any other multitude that had been disappointed in an
execution. Curiosity, or perhaps a better feeling, induced him to
approach the stranger. He found him standing with one arm
cast about the protecting post, and breathing thick and hard
after his exertions, but disdaining to permit a single sign of
suffering to escape. His person was now protected by imme-
morial and sacred usage, until the tribe in council had deliberated
and determined on his fate. It was not difficult, however, to
foretell the result, if any presage could be drawn from the feel-
ings of those who crowded the place.
There was no term of abuse known to the Huron vocabulary
that the disappointed women did not lavishly expend on the suc-
cessful stranger. They flouted at his efforts, and told him with.
bitter scoffs that his feet were better than his hands, and that
he merited wings, while he knew not the use of an arrow or a
knife. To all this the captive made no reply, but was content to
preserve an attitude in which dignity was singularly blended with
disdain. Exasperated as much by his composure as by his good
fortune, their words became unintelligible, and were succeeded
by shrill piercing yells. Just then the crafty squaw who had
taken the necessary precautions to fire the piles made her way
through the throng, and cleared a place for herself in front of
the captive. The squalid and withered person of this hag might
well have obtained for her the character of possessing more than
human cunning. Throwing back her light vestment, she stretched
forth her long skinny arm in derision, and using the language
of the Lenape, as more intelligible to the subject of her gibes,
she commenced aloud:-
"Look you, Delaware," she said, snapping her fingers in his
face, "your nation is a race of women, and the hoe is better fitted
to your hands than the gun. Your squaws are the mothers of
deer; but if a bear or a wild cat or a serpent were born among
you, ye would flee. The Huron girls shall make you petticoats,
and we will find you a husband. "
## p. 4030 (#400) ###########################################
4030
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
A burst of savage laughter succeeded this attack, during
which the soft and musical merriment of the younger females
strangely chimed with the cracked voice of their older and more
malignant companion. But the stranger was superior to all their
efforts. His head was immovable, nor did he betray the slight-
est consciousness that any were present, except when his haughty
eye rolled toward the dusky forms of the warriors who stalked
in the background, silent and sullen observers of the scene.
Infuriated at the self-command of the captive, the woman
placed her arms akimbo, and throwing herself into a posture of
defiance she broke out anew, in a torrent of words that no art
of ours could commit successfully to paper. Her breath was
however expended in vain; for although distinguished in her
nation as a proficient in the art of abuse, she was permitted to
work herself into such a fury as actually to foam at the mouth,
without causing a muscle to vibrate in the motionless figure of
the stranger.
The effect of his indifference began to extend
itself to the other spectators, and a youngster who was just
quitting the condition of a boy to enter the state of manhood,
attempted to assist the termagant by flourishing his tomahawk
before their victim and adding his empty boasts to the taunts of
the woman. Then indeed the captive turned his face toward
the light, and looked down on the stripling with an expression
that was superior to contempt. At the next moment he resumed
his quiet and reclining attitude against the post. But the change
of posture had permitted Duncan to exchange glances with the
firm and piercing eyes of Uncas.
Breathless with amazement, and heavily oppressed with the
critical situation of his friend, Heyward recoiled before the look,
trembling lest its meaning might in some unknown manner
hasten the prisoner's fate. There was not, however, any instant
cause for such an apprehension. Just then a warrior forced his
way into the exasperated crowd. Motioning the women and
children aside with a stern gesture, he took Uncas by the arm
and led him toward the door of the council lodge. Thither
all the chiefs and most of the distinguished warriors followed,
among whom the anxious Heyward found means to enter with-
out attracting any dangerous attention to himself.
A few minutes were consumed in disposing of those present
in a manner suitable to their rank and influence in the tribe.
An order very similar to that adopted in the preceding interview
was observed, the aged and superior chiefs occupying the area
## p. 4031 (#401) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4031
of the spacious apartment, within the powerful light of a glaring
torch, while their juniors and inferiors were arranged in the
background, presenting a dark outline of swarthy and marked
visages. In the very centre of the lodge, immediately under an
opening that admitted the twinkling light of one or two stars,
stood Uncas, calm, elevated, and collected. His high and haughty
carriage was not lost on his captors, who often bent their looks
on his person with eyes which, while they lost none of their
inflexibility of purpose, plainly betrayed their admiration of the
stranger's daring.
The case was different with the individual whom Duncan had
observed to stand forth with his friend previously to the des-
perate trial of speed; and who, instead of joining in the chase,
had remained throughout its turbulent uproar like a cringing
statue, expressive of shame and disgrace. Though not a hand
had been extended to greet him nor yet an eye had condescended
to watch his movements, he had also entered the lodge, as
though impelled by a fate to whose decrees he submitted, seem-
ingly, without a struggle. Heyward profited by the first oppor-
tunity to gaze in his face, secretly apprehensive he might find
the features of another acquaintance; but they proved to be those
of a stranger, and what was still more inexplicable, of one who
bore all the distinctive marks of a Huron warrior. Instead of
mingling with his tribe, however, he sat apart, a solitary being
in a multitude, his form shrinking into a crouching and abject
attitude, as if anxious to fill as little space as possible. When
each individual had taken his proper station, and silence reigned
in the place, the gray-haired chief already introduced to the
reader spoke aloud, in the language of the Lenni Lenape.
"Delaware," he said, "though one of a nation of women, you
have proved yourself a man. I would give you food; but he
who eats with a Huron should become his friend. Rest in peace
till the morning sun, when our last words shall be spoken. ”
"Seven nights and as many summer days have I fasted on
the trail of the Hurons," Uncas coldly replied; "the children of
the Lenape know how to travel the path of the just without
lingering to eat. "
"Two of my young men are in pursuit of your companion,"
resumed the other, without appearing to regard the boast of his
captive; "when they get back, then will our wise men say to
you, 'Live or die. '»
## p. 4032 (#402) ###########################################
4032
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
«Has a Huron no ears? " scornfully exclaimed Uncas:
"twice since he has been your prisoner has the Delaware heard
a gun that he knows. Your young men will never come back. "
A short and sullen pause succeeded this bold assertion.
Duncan, who understood the Mohican to allude to the fatal rifle
of the scout, bent forward in earnest observation of the effect it
might produce on the conquerors; but the chief was content with
simply retorting: -
"If the Lenape are so skillful, why is one of their bravest
warriors here ? »
"He followed in the steps of a flying coward, and fell into a
The cunning beaver may be caught. "
snare.
As Uncas thus replied, he pointed with his finger toward the
solitary Huron, but without deigning to bestow any other notice
on so unworthy an object. The words of the answer and the air
of the speaker produced a strong sensation among his auditors.
Every eye rolled sullenly toward the individual indicated by the
simple gesture, and a low threatening murmur passed through
the crowd. The ominous sounds reached the outer door, and the
women and children pressing into the throng, no gap had been
left between shoulder and shoulder that was not now filled with
the dark lineaments of some eager and curious human counte-
nance.
In the mean time the more aged chiefs in the centre com-
muned with each other in short and broken sentences. Not
a word was uttered that did not convey the meaning of the
speaker, in the simplest and most energetic form. Again a
long and deeply solemn pause took place. It was known by all
present to be the grave precursor of a weighty and important
judgment. They who composed the outer circle of faces were
on tiptoe to gaze; and even the culprit for an instant forgot
his shame in a deeper emotion, and exposed his abject features
in order to cast an anxious and troubled glance at the dark
assemblage of chiefs. The silence was finally broken by the aged
warrior so often named. He arose from the earth, and moving
past the immovable form of Uncas, placed himself in a digni-
fied attitude before the offender. At that moment the withered
squaw already mentioned moved into the circle in a slow sidling
sort of a dance, holding the torch, and muttering the indistinct
words of what might have been a species of incantation. Though
her presence was altogether an intrusion, it was unheeded
#
## p. 4033 (#403) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4033
Approaching Uncas, she held the blazing brand in such a
manner as to cast its red glare on his person and to expose the
slightest emotion of his countenance. The Mohican maintained
his firm and haughty attitude; and his eye, so far from deigning
to meet her inquisitive look, dwelt steadily on the distance as
though it penetrated the obstacles which impeded the view, and
looked into futurity. Satisfied with her examination, she left him,
with a slight expression of pleasure, and proceeded to practice
the same trying experiment on her delinquent countryman.
The young Huron was in his war-paint, and very little of
a finely molded form was concealed by his attire.
The light
rendered every limb and joint discernible, and Duncan turned
away in horror when he saw they were writhing in inexpressible
agony. The woman was commencing a low and plaintive howl
at the sad and shameful spectacle, when the chief put forth his
hand and gently pushed her aside.
"Reed-that-bends," he said, addressing the young culprit by
name, and in his proper language, "though the Great Spirit has
made you pleasant to the eyes, it would have been better that
you had not been born. Your tongue is loud in the village, but
in battle it is still. None of my young men strike the tomahawk
deeper into the war-post-none of them so lightly on the Yen-
geese. The enemy know the shape of your back, but they have
never seen the color of your eyes. Three times have they called
on you to come, and as often did you forget to answer. Your
name will never be mentioned again in your tribe- it is already
forgotten. "
As the chief slowly uttered these words, pausing impressively
between each sentence, the culprit raised his face, in deference
to the other's rank and years. Shame, horror, and pride struggled
in its lineaments. His eye, which was contracted with inward
anguish, gleamed on the persons of those whose breath was his
fame; and the latter emotion for an instant predominated. He
arose to his feet, and baring his bosom, looked steadily on the
keen glittering knife that was already upheld by his inexorable
judge. As the weapon passed slowly into his heart he even
smiled, as if in joy at having found death less dreadful than he
anticipated, and fell heavily on his face at the feet of the rigid
and unyielding form of Uncas.
The squaw gave a loud and plaintive yell, dashed the torch
to the earth, and buried everything in darkness. The whole
VII-253
## p. 4034 (#404) ###########################################
4034
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
shuddering group of spectators glided from the lodge like
troubled spirits; and Duncan thought that he and the yet throb-
bing body of the victim of an Indian judgment had now become
its only tenants.
THE PRAIRIE FIRE
From The Prairie
"SEE
EE, Middleton," exclaimed Inez in a sudden burst of youth-
ful pleasure, that caused her for a moment to forget her
situation, "how lovely is that sky; surely it contains a
promise of happier times! "
"It is glorious! " returned her husband. "Glorious and heav-
enly is that streak of vivid red, and here is a still brighter
crimson; rarely have I seen a richer rising of the sun. "
"Rising of the sun! " slowly repeated the old man, lifting
his tall person from its seat with a deliberate and abstracted air,
while he kept his eye riveted on the changing and certainly
beautiful tints that were garnishing the vault of heaven. "Ris-
ing of the sun! I like not such risings of the sun. Ah's me!
the imps have circumvented us with a vengeance.
The prairie
is on fire! "
"God in heaven protect us! " cried Middleton, catching Inez
to his bosom, under the instant impression of the imminence of
their danger. "There is no time to lose, old man; each instant
is a day; let us fly! "
"Whither? " demanded the trapper, motioning him, with
calmness and dignity, to arrest his steps. "In this wilderness of
grass and reeds you are like a vessel in the broad lakes without
a compass. A single step on the wrong course might prove the
destruction of us all. It is seldom danger is so pressing that
there is not time enough for reason to do its work, young
officer; therefore let us await its biddings. "
"For my own part," said Paul Hover, looking about him
with no equivocal expression of concern, "I acknowledge that
should this dry bed of weeds get fairly in a flame, a bee would
have to make a flight higher than common to prevent his wings
from scorching. Therefore, old trapper, I agree with the cap-
tain, and say, mount and run. ”
## p. 4035 (#405) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4035
"Ye are wrong-ye are wrong; man is not a beast to follow
the gift of instinct, and to snuff up his knowledge by a taint
in the air or a rumbling in the sound; but he must see and
reason, and then conclude. So follow me a little to the left,
where there is a rise in the ground, whence we may make our
reconnoitrings. "
The old man waved his hand with authority, and led the way
without further parlance to the spot he had indicated, followed
by the whole of his alarmed companions. An eye less practiced
than that of the trapper might have failed in discovering the
gentle elevation to which he alluded, and which looked on the
surface of the meadow like a growth a little taller than common.
When they reached the place, however, the stunted grass itself
announced the absence of that moisture which had fed the rank
weeds of most of the plain, and furnished a clue to the evidence
by which he had judged of the formation of the ground hidden.
beneath. Here a few minutes were lost in breaking down the
tops of the surrounding herbage, which, notwithstanding the ad-
vantage of their position, rose even above the heads of Mid-
dleton and Paul, and in obtaining a lookout that might command
a view of the surrounding sea of fire.
The frightful prospect added nothing to the hopes of those
who had so fearful a stake in the result. Although the day
was beginning to dawn, the vivid colors of the sky contin-
ued to deepen, as if the fierce element were bent on an impious
rivalry of the light of the sun. Bright flashes of flame shot up
here and there along the margin of the waste, like the nimble.
coruscations of the North, but far more angry and threatening
in their color and changes. The anxiety on the rigid features
of the trapper sensibly deepened, as he leisurely traced these
evidences of a conflagration, which spread in a
in a broad belt
about their place of refuge, until he had encircled the whole
horizon.
Shaking his head, as he again turned his face to the point
where the danger seemed nighest and most rapidly approaching,
the old man said:
"Now have we been cheating ourselves with the belief that
we had thrown these Tetons from our trail, while here is proof
enough that they not only know where we lie, but that they
intend to smoke us out, like so many skulking beasts of prey.
See: they have lighted the fire around the whole bottom at the
## p. 4036 (#406) ###########################################
4036
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
same moment, and we are as completely hemmed in by the
devils as an island by its waters. "
"Let us mount and ride! " cried Middleton; "is life not worth
a struggle? "
"Whither would ye go? Is a Teton horse a salamander that
can walk amid fiery flames unhurt, or do you think the Lord
will show his might in your behalf, as in the days of old, and
carry you harmless through such a furnace as you may see
glowing beneath yonder red sky? There are Sioux too hem.
ming the fire with their arrows and knives on every side of us,
or I am no judge of their murderous deviltries. "
"We will ride into the centre of the whole tribe," returned
the youth fiercely, "and put their manhood to the test. "
"Ay, it's well in words, but what would it prove in deeds?
Here is a dealer in bees, who can teach you wisdom in a matter
like this. "
"Now for that matter, old trapper," said Paul, stretching his
athletic form like a mastiff conscious of his strength, "I am on
the side of the captain, and am clearly for a race against the
fire, though it line me into a Teton wigwam. Here is Ellen,
who will »
"Of what use, of what use are your stout hearts, when the
element of the Lord is to be conquered as well as human men?
Look about you, friends; the wreath of smoke that is rising
from the bottoms plainly says that there is no outlet from the
spot, without crossing a belt of fire. Look for yourselves, my
men; look for yourselves: if you can find a single opening, I
will engage to follow. "
The examination which his companions so instantly and so
intently made, rather served to assure them of their desperate
situation than to appease their fears. Huge columns of smoke
were rolling up from the plain and thickening in gloomy masses
around the horizon; the red glow which gleamed upon their
enormous folds, now lighting their volumes with the glare of the
conflagration and now flashing to another point as the flame
beneath glided ahead, leaving all behind enveloped in awful
darkness, and proclaiming louder than words the character of the
imminent and approaching danger.
"This is terrible! " exclaimed Middleton, folding the trembling
Inez to his heart. "At such a time as this, and in such a
manner!
>>>
## p. 4037 (#407) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4037
"The gates of heaven are open to all who truly believe,"
murmured the pious devotee in his bosom.
"This resignation is maddening! But we are men, and will
make a struggle for our lives! How now, my brave and spirited
friend, shall we yet mount and push across the flames, or shall
we stand here, and see those we most love perish in this fright-
ful manner, without an effort? »
"I am for a swarming time and a flight before the hive is
too hot to hold us," said the bee-hunter, to whom it will be at
once seen that Middleton addressed himself.
"Come, old trap-
per, you must acknowledge this is but a slow way of getting
out of danger. If we tarry here much longer, it will be in the
fashion that the bees lie around the straw after the hive has
been smoked for its honey. You may hear the fire begin
to roar already, and I know by experience that when the flames
once get fairly into the prairie grass, it is no sloth that can
outrun it. "
"Think you,” returned the old man, pointing scornfully at
the mazes of the dry and matted grass which environed them,
"that mortal feet can outstrip the speed of fire on such a path?
If I only knew now on which side these miscreants lay! "
"What say you, friend Doctor," cried the bewildered Paul,
turning to the naturalist with that sort of helplessness with
which the strong are often apt to seek aid of the weak, when
human power is baffled by the hand of a mightier Being; "what
say you have you no advice to give away in a case of life and
death? "
The naturalist stood, tablets in hand, looking at the awful
spectacle with as much composure as if the conflagration had
been lighted in order to solve the difficulties of some scientific
problem. Aroused by the question of his companion, he turned
to his equally calm though differently occupied associate, the
trapper, demanding with the most provoking insensibility to the
urgent nature of their situation:
"Venerable hunter, you have often witnessed similar pris-
matic experiments—"
He was rudely interrupted by Paul, who struck the tablets
from his hands with a violence that betrayed the utter intellect-
ual confusion which had overset the equanimity of his mind.
Before time was allowed for remonstrance, the old man, who had
continued during the whole scene like one much at loss how to
## p. 4038 (#408) ###########################################
4038
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
proceed, though also like one who was rather perplexed than
alarmed, suddenly assumed a decided air, as if he no longer
doubted on the course it was most advisable to pursue.
"It is time to be doing," he said, interrupting the controversy
that was about to ensue between the naturalist and the bee-
hunter; "it is time to leave off books and moanings, and to be
doing.
>>
«<
"You have come to your recollections too late, miserable old
man," cried Middleton; the flames are within a quarter of a
mile of us, and the wind is bringing them down in this quarter
with dreadful rapidity. "
"Anan! the flames! I care but little for the flames. If I
only knew how to circumvent the cunning of the Tetons as I
know how to cheat the fire of its prey, there would be nothing
needed but thanks to the Lord for our deliverance. Do you call
this a fire? If you had seen what I have witnessed in the east-
ern hills, when mighty mountains were like the furnace of a
smith, you would have known what it was to fear the flames
and to be thankful that you were spared! Come, lads, come:
'tis time to be doing now, and to cease talking; for yonder curl-
ing flame is truly coming on like a trotting moose. Put hands
upon this short and withered grass where we stand, and lay bare
the 'arth. "
"Would you think to deprive the fire of its victims in this
childish manner? " exclaimed Middleton.
A faint but solemn smile passed over the features of the old
man as he answered:-
:-
"Your gran'ther would have said that when the enemy was
nigh, a soldier could do no better than to obey. "
The captain felt the reproof, and instantly began to imitate
the industry of Paul, who was tearing the decayed herbage from
the ground in a sort of desperate compliance with the trapper's
direction. Even Ellen lent her hands to the labor, nor was it
long before Inez was seen similarly employed, though none
amongst them knew why or wherefore. When life is thought
to be the reward of labor, men are wont to be industrious. A
very few moments sufficed to lay bare a spot of some twenty
feet in diameter. Into one edge of this little area the trapper
brought the females, directing Middleton and Paul to cover their
light and inflammable dresses with the blankets of the party.
So soon as this precaution was observed, the old man approached
## p. 4039 (#409) ###########################################
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
4939
the opposite margin of the grass which still environed them in.
a tall and dangerous circle, and selecting a handful of the driest
of the herbage, he placed it over the pan of his rifle. The light
combustible kindled at the flash. Then he placed the little flame
in a bed of the standing fog, and withdrawing from the spot to
the centre of the ring, he patiently awaited the result.
The subtle element seized with avidity upon its new fuel, and
in a moment forked flames were gliding among the grass, as the
tongues of ruminating animals are seen rolling among their food,
apparently in quest of its sweetest portions.
"Now," said the old man, holding up a finger, and laughing
in his peculiarly silent manner, "you shall see fire fight fire!
Ah's me! many is the time I have burnt a smooty path, from
wanton laziness to pick my way across a tangled bottom. "
"But is this not fatal? " cried the amazed Middleton; « are
you not bringing the enemy nigher to us instead of avoiding
it ? »
"Do you scorch so easily? your gran'ther had a tougher skin.
But we shall live to see-we shall all live to see. "
The experience of the trapper was in the right. As the fire
gained strength and heat, it began to spread on three sides, dying
of itself on the fourth for want of aliment. As it increased, and
the sullen roaring announced its power, it cleared everything
before it, leaving the black and smoking soil far more naked
than if the scythe had swept the place. The situation of the
fugitives would have still been hazardous, had not the area en-
larged as the flame encircled them. But by advancing to the
spot where the trapper had kindled the grass, they avoided the
heat, and in a very few moments the flames began to recede in
every quarter, leaving them enveloped in a cloud of smoke, but
perfectly safe from the torrent of fire that was still furiously
rolling onwards.
The spectators regarded the simple expedient of the trapper
with that species of wonder with which the courtiers of Ferdi-
nand are said to have viewed the manner in which Columbus
made his egg stand on its end, though with feelings that were
filled with gratitude instead of envy.
## p. 4040 (#410) ###########################################
4040
COPERNICUS
(1473-1543)
BY EDWARD S. HOLDEN
T HAS been the fortune of other men than Copernicus to
render immense services to science: but it has never before
been given to any philosopher to alter, for every thinking
man, his entire view of the world; to face the whole human race in
a new direction; to lay the foundations for all subsequent intellectual
progress. To comprehend the new universe which he opened to
mankind, it is necessary to understand something of the age in which
he lived, and its critical relations to the past and future.
The life of Copernicus covered the years 1473 to 1543. The
astronomy of the Greeks came to its flower with Ptolemy (circa
A. D. 150), who was followed by a host of able commentators. Their
works were mostly lost in some one of the several destructions of the
Alexandrian library. Many important treatises survived, of course,
though Grecian science was then dead. Bagdad became the seat of
astronomy under the Abbasside Caliphs. It is said that Al Mamun
(circa A. D. 827) stipulated in a treaty with the Emperor for copies
of the manuscripts of Greek philosophers in the Constantinople
libraries, and that these were translated for the benefit of Arabian
scholars. The Arabs carried this learning, improved in many details,
to the lands they conquered. Bagdad, Cordova, Seville, Tangier,
have been successively the homes of exact science. Under the
Moguls the seat of astronomy was transferred to Samarkand (1405).
It was not firmly rooted in Europe until Tycho Brahe built Ura-
nienborg in Denmark in 1576.
The Arabs touched Europe in Spain (711-1492) and through the
Crusaders (1099). The ancient Ptolemaic system of the world, which
counted the earth as the centre of the universe, was successively
amended by new devices,
"With centric and eccentric scribbled o'er,
Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb->
until it had reached a complexity past belief. King Alfonso X. of
Castile expended an enormous sum for the construction of the
Alfonsine Tables (1252), which were designed to give, by a com-
paratively simple calculation, the positions of the sun and planets
for past and future epochs,-employing the theories of Ptolemy as a
## p. 4041 (#411) ###########################################
COPERNICUS
4041
basis. Alfonso's critical remark upon these theories is well known:
to wit, that if he had been present at the creation, he could have
given the Creator much good advice. As the determination of the
places of the planets (their latitudes and longitudes) became more
exact, it was increasingly difficult to account for their observed
movements by the devices introduced by Ptolemy. New contrivances
were required, and each successive epicycle made the system more
complex and cumbrous. It was on the point of breaking by its own
weight.
There is hardly a glimmer of scientific light in the darkness of
the two centuries following. From Roger Bacon (1214-94) to the
birth of Leonardo da Vinci (1452) there is scarcely a single date to
record except that of 1438, when the art of printing was invented –
or re-invented-in Europe.
The writings of Purbach (1460) and of Regiomontanus (1471)
brought astronomy in Germany to the same level as the Arabian
science of five centuries earlier in Spain, and marked the begin-
ning of a new era for Northern lands. In Italy the impulse was
earlier felt, though it manifested itself chiefly in literature. Math-
ematics was not neglected, however, at the ancient University of
Bologna; and it was to Bologna that Copernicus came as a student in
1496.
The voyages of Columbus in 1492 and of Vasco da Gama in 1498
were other signs of the same impulsion which was manifest through
out the Western lands.
Nicolas Copernicus was born in 1473, in the town of Thorn in
Poland. His father was originally from Bohemia, and his mother was
the sister of the Bishop of Ermeland. The father died when the lad
was but ten years old, and left him to the care of his uncle. His
studies were prosecuted at the best schools and at the University of
Cracow, where he followed the courses in medicine, and became in
due time a doctor. Mathematics and astronomy were ardently studied
under learned professors, and the young man also became a skillful
artist in painting. At the termination of his studies he turned his
face towards Italy, entered the universities of Padua and Bologna,
and finally received the appointment of Professor of Mathematics at
Rome in 1499, at the age of twenty-seven years. Here his duties
were to expound the theories of Ptolemy as taught in the 'Almagest,'
and he became entirely familiar with their merits and with their
deficiencies.
Astronomers everywhere were asking themselves if there might
not be simpler methods of accounting for the movements of the
planets and of predicting their situations in the sky than the Ptole-
maic methods, loaded down as they were with new complexities.
## p. 4042 (#412) ###########################################
COPERNICUS
4042
We know that these questions occupied Copernicus during the seven
years of his stay in Italy, 1496 to 1502. made a few astronomical
observations then and subsequently, but he was not a born observer
like his successor Tycho Brahe. His observations were directed
towards determining the positions of the planets, as a test of the
tables by which these positions had been predicted; and they were
sufficient to show the shortcomings of the accepted Ptolemaic theory.
He was a theoretical astronomer, but his theory was controlled by
observation.
In 1502 Copernicus returned to his native land and at once entered
holy orders. In 1510 he became canon of Frauenburg, a small town
not far from Königsberg. Here he divided his time between his re-
ligious duties, the practice of medicine, and the study of astronomy
a peaceful life, one would say, and likely to be free from vexa-
tions.
-
It became necessary for the priest to leave his cloister, however,
to defend the interests of the Church in a lawsuit against the
Knights of the Teutonic Order. The lawsuit was won at last, but
Copernicus had raised up powerful enemies. His conclusions with
regard to the motion of the earth were not yet published, but it was
known that he entertained such opinions. Here was an opportunity
for his enemies to bring him to ridicule and to disgrace, which was
not neglected. Troupes of strolling players were employed to turn
himself and his conclusions into ridicule; and it requires no imagina-
tion to conceive that they were perfectly successful before the audi-
ences of the day. But these annoyances fell away in time. The
reputation of the good physician and the good priest conquered his
townsfolk, while the scholars of Europe were more and more im-
pressed with his learning.
His authority grew apace. He was consulted on practical affairs,
such as the financial conduct of the mint. In 1507 he had begun to
write a treatise on the motion of the heavenly bodies - 'De Revolu-
tionibus Orbium Cœlestium'-and he appears to have brought it to
completion about 1514. It is replete with interest to astronomers,
but there are few passages suitable for quotation in a summary like
the present. The manuscript was touched and retouched from time
to time; and finally in 1541, when he was nearly seventy years of
age, he confided it to a disciple in Nuremberg to be printed. In the
month of May, 1543, the impression was completed, and the final
sheets were sent to the author. They reached him when he was on
his death-bed, a few days before he died.
His epitaph is most humble:-"I do not ask the pardon accorded
to Paul; I do not hope for the grace given to Peter. I beg only
the favor which You have granted to the thief on the cross. " His
## p. 4043 (#413) ###########################################
COPERNICUS
4043
legacy to the world was an upright useful life, and a volume con-
taining an immortal truth:
-
The earth is not the centre of the universe; the earth is in motion
around the sun.
The conception that the earth might revolve about the sun was
no new thing. The ancients had considered this hypothesis among
others. Ptolemy made the earth the centre of all the celestial
motions. As the motions became more precisely known, Ptolemy's
hypothesis required new additions, and it was finally overloaded.
It is the merit of Copernicus that he reversed the ancient process of
thought and inquired what hypothesis would fit observed facts, and
not what additions must be made to an a priori assumption to repre-
sent observations. He showed clearly and beyond a doubt that the
facts were represented far better by the theory that the sun was the
centre of motion of the earth, and not only of the earth, but of all the
planets. He says:-
"By no other combination have I been able to find so admirable a sym-
metry in the separate parts of the great whole, so harmonious a union
between the motions of the celestial bodies, as by placing the torch of the
world that Sun which governs all the family of the planets in their circu-
lar revolutions—on his royal throne, in the midst of Nature's temple. »*
He did not demonstrate this arrangement to be the true one. It
was left to Galileo to prove that Venus had phases like our moon,
and hence that its light was sunlight, and that its motion was helio-
centric. The direct service of Copernicus to pure astronomy lay in
his method. What theory will best fit the facts? How shall we test
the theory by observation? Indirectly he laid the foundations for the
reformation of astronomy by Kepler and Galileo; for Newton's work-
ing out of the conception of the sun as a centre of force as well as
a centre of motion; for the modern ideas of the relations between
force and matter.
The Church, which regarded all sciences as derivatives of the-
ology, placed the work of Copernicus on the Index Expurgatorius at
Rome, 1616. The Reformation maintained an official silence the
But
mooted questions. Luther condemned the theory of Copernicus.
the service of Copernicus to mankind was immense, revolutionary,-
incalculable. For thousands of years the earth, with its inhabitants,
was the centre of a universe created for its benefit. At one step all
this was changed, and man took his modest place. He became a
creature painfully living on a small planet—one of many-revolving
*Quoted from the French of Flammarion's 'Life of Copernicus,' page 122.
## p. 4044 (#414) ###########################################
COPERNICUS
4044
around one of the smaller stars or suns; and that sun was only one of
the millions upon millions shining in the stellar vault. Man's position
in the universe was destroyed. The loss of kingship would seem to
be intolerable, were it not that it was by a man, after all, that Man
was dethroned. All our modern thought, feeling, action, is profoundly
modified by the consequences of the dictum of Copernicus-" The
earth is not the centre of the universe. " Mankind was faced in a new
direction by that pronouncement. Modern life became possible.
Modern views became inevitable. The end is not yet. When in
future ages the entire history of the race is written, many names
now dear to us will be ignored: they have no vital connection with
the progress of the race. But one name is sure of a place of honor:
Copernicus will not be forgotten by our remotest descendants.
Edward S. Holden
## p. 4045 (#415) ###########################################
4045
FRANÇOIS COPPÉE
(1842-)
BY ROBERT SANDERSON
MONG writers of the present day whose influence on French
letters is strongly felt, François Coppée occupies a foremost
rank. Indeed, poets of the new generation look up to him
as a master and take him for a model. Born in 1842, at the age of
twenty-four he first began to draw attention by the publication in 1866
of a number of poems, collected under the name of 'Le Reliquaire'
(The Reliquary or Shrine). Since then he has gone on writing poems,
plays, and novels; but it is on his work as a poet that his fame will
stand. We cannot do better than turn to
one of his books, not for his biography
alone, but also for the manner of thinking
and feeling of this author. Toute une
Jeunesse (An Entire Youth) is not strictly
an autobiography; but Coppée informs us
that the leading character in this work,
Amédée Violette, felt life as he felt it
when a child and young man.
Here we learn that Coppée's father was
a clerk in the War Offices, earning barely
enough to keep his family. The boy was
of weakly constitution, nervous and senti-
mental. The mother died; François grew
up with his three sisters, two of whom painted for a living, while
the third kept house. Then the father died, and his son also ob-
tained employment in the government offices.
FRANÇOIS COPPÉE
François's boyhood and part of his youth were spent in sadness,
almost misery; and the shadow cast over his life by this gloomy
period of his existence is very perceptible in the poet's writings. It
did not however make him a cynic, a pessimist, or a rebel against the
existing social conditions. To be sure, his verse is not unfrequently
ironical; but it is the irony of fate that the poet makes you keenly
feel, although he touches it with a light hand. The recollection of
those joyless days filled Coppée with an immense feeling of sadness
and sympathy for all who suffer on this earth, especially for those
who struggle on, bravely concealing from all eyes their griefs and
## p. 4046 (#416) ###########################################
4046
FRANÇOIS COPPÉE
sorrows. His life, he tells us, was composed of desires and reveries.
His only consolation was in his literary work. He felt the inclina-
tion and the need of expressing in a way both simple and sincere
what passed under his eyes; of extracting what humble ideal there
might be in the small folk with whom he had lived, in the melan-
choly landscapes of the Parisian suburbs where his childhood had
been spent,-in short, to paint from nature. He made the attempt,
felt that he was successful, and lived then the best and noblest
hours of his life; hours in which the artist, already a master of his
instrument and having still that abundance and vivacity of sensations
of youth, writes the first work that he knows to be good, and writes
it with complete disinterestedness, without even thinking that others
will see it; working for himself alone, for the sole joy of producing,
of pouring out his whole imagination and his whole heart. Hours of
pure enthusiasm, Coppée goes on to say, and of perfect happiness,
that he will nevermore find when he shall have bitten into the
savory fruit of success, when he shall be spurred on by the feverish
desire for fame! Delightful and sacred hours, that can be compared
only to the rapture of first love!
Rising at six, Coppée would vigorously begin his battle with
words, ideas, pictures. At nine he left for his office. There, having
blackened with ink a sufficient number of government foolscap
sheets, he would find himself with two or three spare hours, which
he employed in reading and taking notes. Every night found him
up until twelve at his writing-table. The whole of Sunday was
given to his favorite occupation of writing verse. Such a continuous
effort, he says, kept up in his mind that ardor, spirit, and excite-
ment without which no poetical production is possible.
Such was Coppée's life until, his name becoming known, he
earned enough with his pen to give himself up entirely to his art.
Then came his success with 'Le Passant' (The Passer-by: 1869), a
one-act play; and the following year, the war, the siege of Paris,
through which Coppée served in the militia. "Amédée Violette" has
now become famous, and his reputation as a poet rests upon the
sincerity of his work. He is esteemed for the dignity of his life,
wholly taken up with art; and in the world of French letters his
place is in the very first rank. He lives out of the world, in the
close intimacy of those he loves, and knows nothing of the wretch-
edness of vanity and ambition. Like many writers and thinkers of
the present day, he feels the weariness of life, and finds oblivion in
the raptures of poetry and dreams. Such is the man: a wonderfully
delicate organization, of a modest shrinking nature, - notice the
name of Violette he gives himself, -sensitive to a degree of morbid-
ness.
3
E
## p. 4047 (#417) ###########################################
FRANÇOIS COPPÉE
4047
The Academy elected him a member in 1884. Let us now con-
sider the writer. The general character of Coppée's poetry is tender
and melancholy, and the greater part of his work may be summed up
as the glorification of the lowly, the weak, the ill-favored by nature
or fortune; his heroes are chosen by preference among those who
fill the humblest stations in life. One naturally associates poetry
with a higher order of things than those presented to our eyes by
the contemplation of daily events; but Coppée possesses the art of
extracting from the humblest creature, from the meanest occupation,
the beautiful, the poetic, the ideal. In the treatment in familiar
verse of these commonplace subjects, Coppée is an accomplished
master; and therein lies his originality, and there also will be found
his best work. The poems comprised in the collections called 'Les
Humbles,' 'Contes et Poésies,' and certain stanzas of Promenades et
Intérieurs,' contain the best specimens of this familiar and sympa-
thetic style of poetry.
There is another key that Coppée touches in his poems, with a
light and tender hand; a tone difficult to analyze,—the expression of
one's inner emotions, especially that of love; a yearning for an ideal
affection of woman; the feeling buried in the hearts of all who have
lived, loved, and suffered; regret in comparing what is with what
might have been: all these varied emotions more easily felt than
defined, all that the French sum up by the term vécu, have been ren-
dered by Coppée in some of the poems contained in 'Le Reliquaire,'
in 'Intimites,' 'Le Cahier Rouge' (The Red Note-Book), 'Olivier,'
under whose name the poet has portrayed himself; 'L'Exilée'; 'Les
Mois' (The Months), in the collection having for title 'Les Récits et
les Élégies'; 'Arrière-Saison' (Martinmas, or what in this country
might be called Indian Summer).
The patriotic chord resounds in several of Coppée's composi-
tions, usually straightforward, manly; here and there however with
a slight touch of chauvinism. The 'Lettre d'un Mobile Breton,' a
letter written by a Breton soldier to his parents during the siege of
Paris; 'Plus de Sang! ' (No More Blood! ) Aux Amputés de la
Guerre (To the Maimed in Battle), will serve to illustrate Coppée's
treatment of subjects inspired by the events of the war, the siege,
and the Commune.
Among the various well-known poems of this writer, the fame of
which was increased by their being recited in Parisian salons by
skilled artists, should be mentioned 'Les Aïeules' (The Grandmothers);
'La Grève des Forgerons' (The Blacksmiths' Strike); 'Le Naufragé›
(The Shipwrecked Sailor); and 'La Bénédiction,' an episode of the
taking of Saragossa by the French in 1809.
## p. 4048 (#418) ###########################################
4048
FRANÇOIS COPPÉE
one.
François Coppée has written for the stage; but he is too elegiac,
too sentimental a poet to be a first-class playwright, although some
of his plays have met with great success: 'Le Passant' (The
Passer-by: 1869), a one-act comedy whose great charm lies in the
expression of suffering love; 'Le Luthier de Crémone' (The Musical
Instrument Maker of Cremona: 1876), probably the best of his
dramatic compositions, a one-act comedy in which the leading char-
acter is again one of the humble,- Filippo the hunchback, whose
deformity covers a brave heart and a magnanimous spirit; and
'Pour la Couronne' (For the Crown: 1895), a five-act drama with
more action than is usually found in Coppée's plays. The scene is
laid in the Balkans. The character of Constantine Brancomir, who is
falsely accused of selling his country to the Turks and submits to an
ignominious punishment to save his father's memory, is a very noble
With these exceptions, Coppée's plays lack action. Remaining
titles are: 'Deux Douleurs' (Two Sorrows), a one-act drama, the
story of two women who love the same man, and from being rivals
become reconciled at his death; 'Fais ce que Dois' (Do What You
Ought), a dramatic episode in one act, of a patriotic nature, -some-
what commonplace, however; 'L'Abandonnée,' a two-act drama pre-
senting the picture of a young girl abandoned by her lover, who
meets again with him at her death-bed in a hospital ward; 'Les
Bijoux de la Déliverance' (The Jewels of Ransom, Freedom), simply a
scene, in which a lady dressed for the ball suddenly reflects that the
foreigner is still occupying the territory of France until the payment
of the ransom, and removes her glittering jewels to be used for a
nobler purpose.
