No More Learning

To multiply examples of the agency of personal considerations
in the production of great national events, either foreign or
domestic, according to their direction, would be an unnecessary
waste of time. Those who have but a superficial acquaintance
with the sources from which they are to be drawn, will them-
selves recollect a variety of instances; and those who have a
tolerable knowledge of human nature will not stand in need of
such lights, to form their opinion either of the reality or extent
of that agency.


## p. 6910 (#294) ###########################################

6910
ALEXANDER HAMILTON
RESULTS OF THE CONFEDERATION
WⓇ
E MAY indeed, with propriety, be said to have reached almost
the last stage of national humiliation. There is scarcely
anything that can wound the pride or degrade the char-
acter of an independent nation, which we do not experience. Are
there engagements to the performance of which we are held by
every tie respectable among men? these are the subjects of con-
stant and unblushing violation. Do we owe debts to foreigners,
and to our own citizens, contracted in a time of imminent peril,
for the preservation of our political existence? these remain
without any proper or satisfactory provision for their discharge.
Have we valuable territories and important posts in the posses-
sion of a foreign power, which, by express stipulations, ought
long since to have been surrendered? these are still retained,
to the prejudice of our interests not less than of our rights. Are
we in a condition to resent or to repel the aggression? we have
neither troops, nor treasury, nor government. Are we even in a
condition to remonstrate with dignity? the just imputations on
our own faith, in respect to the same treaty, ought first to be
removed. Are we entitled by nature and compact to a free par-
ticipation in the navigation of the Mississippi? Spain excludes
us from it. Is public credit an indispensable resource in time of
public danger? we seem to have abandoned its cause as des-
perate and irretrievable. Is commerce of importance to national
wealth? ours is at the lowest point of declension. Is respecta-
bility in the eyes of foreign powers a safeguard against foreign
encroachments? the imbecility of our government even forbids
them to treat with us; our ambassadors abroad are the mere
pageants of mimic sovereignty. Is a violent and unnatural de-
crease in the value of land a symptom of national distress? the
price of improved land in most parts of the country is much lower
than can be accounted for by the quantity of waste land at mar-
ket, and can only be fully explained by that want of private and
public confidence which are so alarmingly prevalent among all
ranks, and which have a direct tendency to depreciate property
of every kind. Is private credit the friend and patron of indus-
try? that most useful kind which relates to borrowing and lend-
ing is reduced within the narrowest limits, and this still more
from an opinion of insecurity than from the scarcity of money.
To shorten an enumeration of particulars which can afford neither


## p. 6911 (#295) ###########################################

ALEXANDER HAMILTON
6911
pleasure nor instruction, it may in general be demanded: What
indication is there of national disorder, poverty, and insignifi-
cance that could befall a community so peculiarly blessed with
natural advantages as we are, which does not form a part of the
dark catalogue of our public misfortunes?
INSTANCES OF THE EVILS OF STATE SOVEREIGNTY
F
ROM such a parade of constitutional powers, in the represent-
atives and head of this [the German] Confederacy, the nat-
ural supposition would be that it must form an exception
to the general character which belongs to its kindred systems.
Nothing would be further from the reality. The fundamental
principle on which it rests, that the Empire is a community of
sovereigns, that the Diet is a representation of sovereigns, and
that the laws are addressed to sovereigns, renders the Empire a
nerveless body, incapable of regulating its own members, insecure
against external dangers, and agitated with unceasing fermenta-
tions in its own bowels.
The history of Germany is a history of wars between the
Emperor and the princes and States themselves; of the licentious-
ness of the strong and the oppression of the weak; of foreign
intrusions and foreign intrigues; of requisitions of men and money
disregarded, or partially complied with; of attempts to enforce
them, altogether abortive, or attended with slaughter and desola-
tion, involving the innocent with the guilty; of general imbecility,
confusion, and misery.
In the sixteenth century, the Emperor, with one part of the
Empire on his side, was seen engaged against the other princes
and States. In one of the conflicts, the Emperor himself was
put to flight and very near being made prisoner by the Elector
of Saxony. The late King of Prussia was more than once pitted
against his imperial sovereign, and commonly proved an over-
match for him. Controversies and wars among the members
themselves have been so common, that the German annals are
crowded with the bloody pages which describe them. Previous
to the peace of Westphalia, Germany was desolated by a war of
thirty years, in which the Emperor with one half of the Empire.
was on one side, and Sweden with the other half on the oppo-
site side. Peace was at length negotiated and dictated by foreign


## p. 6912 (#296) ###########################################

6912
ALEXANDER HAMILTON
powers; and the articles of it, to which foreign powers are parties,
made a fundamental part of the Germanic constitution.
The impossibility of maintaining order and dispensing justice
among these sovereign subjects produced the experiment of divid-
ing the Empire into nine or ten circles or districts; of giving
them an interior organization; and of charging them with the
military execution of the laws against delinquent and contuma-
cious members. This experiment has only served to demonstrate
more fully the radical vice of the constitution. Each circle is
the miniature picture of the deformities of this political monster.
They either fail to execute their commissions, or they do it with
all the devastation and carnage of civil war. Sometimes whole
circles are defaulters; and then they increase the mischief which
they were instituted to remedy.
It may be asked, perhaps, What has so long kept this dis-
jointed machine from falling entirely to pieces? The answer is
obvious. The weakness of most of the members, who are unwill-
ing to expose themselves to the mercy of foreign powers; the
weakness of most of the principal members, compared with the
formidable powers all around them; the vast weight and influence
which the Emperor derives from his separate and hereditary
dominions; and the interest he feels in preserving a system with
which his family pride is connected, and which constitutes him.
the first prince in Europe, these causes support a feeble and
precarious union; whilst the repellent quality incident to the
nature of sovereignty, and which time continually strengthens,
prevents any reform whatever, founded on a proper consolida-
tion. Nor is it to be imagined, if this obstacle could be sur-
mounted, that the neighboring powers would suffer a revolution
to take place which would give to the Empire the force and
pre-eminence to which it is entitled. Foreign nations have long
considered themselves as interested in the changes made by
events in this constitution; and have on various occasions be-
trayed their policy of perpetuating its anarchy and weakness.
If more direct examples were wanting, Poland, as a govern-
ment over local sovereigns, might not improperly be taken notice
of. Nor could any proof more striking be given of the calamities
flowing from such institutions. Equally unfit for self-government
and self-defense, it has long been at the mercy of its powerful
neighbors; who have lately had the mercy to disburden it of one
third of its people and territories.


## p. 6913 (#297) ###########################################

6913
ANTHONY HAMILTON
(1646? -1720)
HE author of 'Gramont's Memoirs,' usually known as Count
Hamilton, was a man without a nationality. Born in Ireland
of Scotch blood, grandson of the Earl of Abercorn, he was
a baby when his parents followed the relics of the royal family to
France after the execution of Charles I. ; and he remained there till
1660, his education and formative influences during childhood being
wholly French, which language was really his mother tongue. At
the Restoration he returned to England and became an ornament of
Charles II. 's court, though debarred from
office for being a Catholic. James II. gave
him command of an Irish regiment and
made him governor of Limerick; but on
James's abdication he returned to France
and remained there, a notable figure in
Louis XIV. 's court, whose wit and elastic
moral atmosphere were alike congenial to
him.

He made good French translation of
Pope's Essay on Man,' cordially acknowl-
edged by the author. He wrote graceful
poems; and in ridicule of the prevalent
craze for Oriental tales, which he declared
quite within the powers of any one with
the slenderest literary faculty, wrote several stories of the Arabian
Nights order, without plot or denouement, usually promising the
finish in "the next volume," which was never written. These stories
are clever and witty enough to be still read, and some of their
expressions have become stock literary quotations, but they are curios
rather than living works.
More can be said for another work, which has permanent vitality,-
the 'Memoirs' of his brother-in-law the Duke of Gramont. The lat-
ter was a conspicuous soldier and courtier during the Regency, and
Hamilton's senior by twenty years. This dashing, witty profligate,
with generous impulses and no conscience, was a true product of
the court of Louis XIV. and of that of the English Charles II. An
aristocrat of long descent, a soldier of renown, with his laughing
XII-433
COUNT DE GRAMONT


## p. 6914 (#298) ###########################################

6914
ANTHONY HAMILTON
eyes, his dimple, and his conversational gift, he was popular every-
where.
Hamilton met him first in England, whither a social imprudence
had led him, and where he became engaged to his biographer's
beautiful sister. Then he was recalled, and started for home, un-
mindful of his promises. The young lady's brothers hurried after
him:
"Chevalier! chevalier! haven't you forgotten something at Lon-
don ? »
"I beg your pardon, gentlemen," said the chevalier. "I have for-
gotten to marry your sister. ”
He went back with them, married Miss Hamilton, and took her to
France. The incident is characteristic of his careless ready wit; and
it did not seem to weaken Hamilton's admiring affection.
Gramont's prime quality was social talent. He loved extravagant
living, intrigue, and bons-mots, and the life that receives most stimulus
from other personalities. To write as he conversed was impossible
to him. Yet he had been told that the record of his life was too
interesting to be lost, and his vanity liked the thought. There was
talk of giving the task to Boileau, who wanted it. But Boileau might
be severe or satiric; so Hamilton was preferred.
Hamilton, in spite of his knowledge of court life in France and
England, and his somewhat malicious wit, was rather taciturn and
unsuccessful as a society man. He loved better the quiet of Saint-
Germain, and solitary, thoughtful constitutionals in its forest. To
write was easier for him than to talk. He appreciated the life in
which he did not shine, and could do justice to the duke's reminis-
cences.
The result is a brilliant picture of the court of Charles II. , of that
pleasure-seeking king and the beauties and fascinations of his mis-
tresses. There are many other scandalous tales as well, involving
the Duke of Buckingham, Lord and Lady Chesterfield, Gramont him-
self, and other celebrities. In spirit and style the work is wholly
French, a long succession of witty, malicious gossip. The author
addresses himself in the opening sentence to those who read for
amusement. To such the memoirs are perennially interesting.


## p. 6915 (#299) ###########################################

ANTHONY HAMILTON
6915
NOTHING VENTURE, NOTHING HAVE
From Gramont's Memoirs >
[De Gramont and his friend M. Matta being much pressed for money, the
Count relates an incident of his early youth, and suggests acting on its
hint, to raise the sum they require. ]
THE
HEY had never yet conferred about the state of their finances,
although the steward had acquainted each separately that
he must either receive money to continue the expenses, or
give in his accounts. One day when the chevalier came home
sooner than usual, he found Matta fast asleep in an easy-chair;
and being unwilling to disturb his rest, he began musing on his
project. Matta awoke without his perceiving it; and having for a
short time observed the deep contemplation he seemed involved
in, and the profound silence between two persons who had never
before held their tongues for a moment when together, he broke
it by a sudden fit of laughter, which increased in proportion as
the other stared at him.
"A merry way of waking, and ludicrous enough," said the
chevalier: what is the matter, and whom do you laugh_at? »
«<
"Faith, chevalier," said Matta, "I am laughing at a dream I
had just now, which is so natural and diverting that I must
make you laugh at it also. I was dreaming that we had dis-
missed our maître-d'hôtel, our cook, and our confectioner, having
resolved for the remainder of the campaign to live upon others
as others have lived upon us: this was my dream. Now tell me,
chevalier, on what were you musing? "
"Poor fellow! " said the chevalier, shrugging his shoulders;
"you are knocked down at once, and thrown into the utmost
consternation and despair, at some silly stories which the maître-
d'hôtel has been telling you as well as me. What! after the
figure we have made in the face of the nobility and foreigners in
the army, shall we give it up and like fools and beggars sneak
off, upon the first failure of our money? Have you no senti-
ments of honor? Where is the dignity of France ? "
"And where is the money? " said Matta; "for my men say
the Devil may take them if there be ten crowns in the house;
and I believe you have not much more, for it is above a week
since I have seen you pull out your purse or count your money,
an amusement you were very fond of in prosperity. "


## p. 6916 (#300) ###########################################

6916
ANTHONY HAMILTON
"I own all this," said the chevalier; "but yet I will force you
to confess that you are but a mean-spirited fellow upon this
occasion. What would have become of you if you had been
reduced to the situation I was in at Lyons, four days before I
arrived here? I will tell you the story.
"When I returned to my mother's house, I had so much the
air of a courtier and a man of the world that she began to
respect me, instead of chiding me for my infatuation towards
the army.
I became her favorite; and finding me inflexible, she
only thought of keeping me with her as long as she could, while
my little equipage was preparing. The faithful Brinon, who was
to attend me as valet-de-chambre, was likewise to discharge the
office of governor and equerry, being perhaps the only Gascon
who was ever possessed of so much gravity and ill-temper. He
passed his word for my good behavior and morality, and prom-
ised my mother that he would give a good account of my person
in the dangers of the war; but I hope he will keep his word
better as to this last article than he has done to the former.
"My equipage was sent away a week before me.
This was
so much time gained by my mother to give me good advice. At
length, after having solemnly enjoined me to have the fear of
God before my eyes and to love my neighbor as myself, she
suffered me to depart under the protection of the Lord and the
sage Brinon. At the second stage we quarreled. He had re-
ceived four hundred louis d'or for the expenses of the campaign;
I wished to have the keeping of them myself, which he strenu-
ously opposed. Thou old scoundrel,' said I, 'is the money
thine, or was it given thee for me? You suppose I must have
a treasurer, and receive no money without his order. ' I know
not whether it was from a presentiment of what afterwards hap-
pened that he grew melancholy: however, it was with the great-
est reluctance and the most poignant anguish that he found
himself obliged to yield; one would have thought that I had
wrested his very soul from him. I found myself more light and
merry after I had eased him of his trust; he on the contrary
appeared so overwhelmed with grief that it seemed as if I had
laid four hundred pounds of lead upon his back, instead of taking
away those four hundred louis. He went on so heavily that
I was forced to whip his horse myself, and turning to me now
and then, 'Ah! sir,' said he, 'my lady did not think it would be
so. His reflections and sorrows were renewed at every stage;


## p. 6917 (#301) ###########################################

ANTHONY HAMILTON
6917
for instead of giving a shilling to the post-boy, I gave him half
a crown.
"Having at last reached Lyons, two soldiers stopped us at
the gate of the city, to carry us before the governor. I took
one of them to conduct me to the best inn, and delivered Brinon
into the hands of the other, to acquaint the commandant with
the particulars of my journey and my future intentions.
"There are as good taverns at Lyons as at Paris; but my
soldier, according to custom, carried me to a friend of his own,
whose house he extolled as having the best accommodations and
the greatest resort of good company in the whole town. The
master of this hotel was as big as a hogshead; his name Cerise,
a Swiss by birth, a poisoner by profession, and a thief by cus-
tom. He showed me into a tolerably neat room, and desired to
know whether I pleased to sup by myself or at the ordinary. I
chose the latter, on account of the beau monde which the soldier
had boasted of.
"Brinon, who was quite out of temper at the many questions
which the governor had asked him, returned more surly than an
old ape; and seeing that I was dressing my hair in order to go
down-stairs, 'What are you about now, sir? ' said he.
'Are you
going to tramp about the town? No, no; have we not had tramp-
ing enough ever since the morning? Eat a bit of supper, and go
to bed betimes, that you may get on horseback by daybreak. '
'Mr. Comptroller,' said I, 'I shall neither tramp about the town,
nor eat alone, nor go to bed early. I intend to sup with the
company below. ' 'At the ordinary! ' cried he; 'I beseech you,
sir, do not think of it! Devil take me if there be not a dozen
brawling fellows playing at cards and dice, who make noise
enough to drown the loudest thunder! '
"I was grown insolent since I had seized the money; and
being desirous to shake off the yoke of a governor, 'Do you
know, Mr. Brinon,' said I, 'that I don't like a blockhead to set
up for a reasoner? Do you go to supper, if you please; but take
care that I have post-horses ready before daybreak. '
"The moment he mentioned cards and dice I felt the money
burn in my pocket. I was somewhat surprised, however, to find
the room where the ordinary was served filled with odd-looking
creatures. My host, after presenting me to the company, assured
me that there were but eighteen or twenty of those gentlemen
who would have the honor to sup with me. I approached one of


## p. 6918 (#302) ###########################################

6918
ANTHONY HAMILTON
the tables where they were playing, and thought that I should
have died with laughing: I expected to have seen good company
and deep play; but I only met with two Germans playing at back-
gammon.
Never did two country boobies play like them; but
their figures beggared all description. The fellow near whom I
stood was short, thick, and fat, and as round as a ball, with a
ruff and a prodigious high-crowned hat. Any one at a moderate
distance would have taken him for the dome of a church, with
the steeple on the top of it. I inquired of the host who he was.
'A merchant from Basle,' said he, 'who comes hither to sell
horses; but from the method he pursues I think he will not dis-
pose of many; for he does nothing but play. ' 'Does he play
deep? said I. 'Not now,' said he; they are only playing for
their reckoning while supper is getting ready: but he has no
objection to play as deep as any one. ' 'Has he money? ' said I.
'As for that,' replied the treacherous Cerise, 'would to God you
had won a thousand pistoles of him, and I went your halves: we
should not be long without our money. ' I wanted no farther
encouragement to meditate the ruin of the high-crowned hat. I
went nearer him, in order to take a closer survey.
Never was
such a bungler; he made blots upon blots: God knows, I began
to feel some remorse at winning of such an ignoramus, who knew
so little of the game. He lost his reckoning; supper was served
up, and I desired him to sit next me. It was a long table, and
there were at least five-and-twenty in company, notwithstanding
the landlord's promise. The most execrable repast that ever was
begun being finished, all the crowd insensibly dispersed except
the little Swiss, who still kept near me, and the landlord, who
placed himself on the other side of me. They both smoked like
dragons; and the Swiss was continually saying in bad French, 'I
ask your pardon, sir, for my great freedom; at the same time.
blowing such whiffs of tobacco in my face as almost suffocated
me. M. Cerise, on the other hand, desired he might take the lib-
erty of asking me whether I had ever been in his country; and
seemed surprised I had so genteel an air, without having traveled
in Switzerland.
"The little chub I had to encounter was full as inquisitive as
the other. He desired to know whether I came from the army
in Piedmont; and having told him I was going thither, he asked
me whether I had a mind to buy any horses? that he had about
two hundred to dispose of, and that he would sell them cheap.


## p. 6919 (#303) ###########################################

ANTHONY HAMILTON
6919
I began to be smoked like a gammon of bacon: and being quite
wearied out, both with their tobacco and their questions, I asked
my companion if he would play for a single pistole at backgam-
mon, while our men were supping; it was not without great
ceremony that he consented, at the same time asking my pardon
for his great freedom.
"I won the game; I gave him his revenge, and won again
We then played double or quit; I won that too, and all in the
twinkling of an eye; for he grew vexed, and suffered himself to
be taken in, so that I began to bless my stars for my good for-
tune. Brinon came in about the end of the third game, to put
me to bed. He made a great sign of the cross, but paid no at-
tention to the signs I made him to retire. I was forced to rise
to give him that order in private. He began to reprimand me
for disgracing myself by keeping company with such a low-bred
wretch. It was in vain that I told him he was a great merchant,
that he had a great deal of money, and that he played like a
child. 'He a merchant! ' cried Brinon. 'Do not believe that,
sir. May the Devil take me, if he is not some conjurer. ' 'Hold
your tongue, old fool,' said I: 'he is no more a conjurer than you
are, and that is decisive; and to prove it to you, I am resolved
to win four or five hundred pistoles of him before I go to bed.
'
With these words I turned him out, strictly enjoining him not
to return or in any manner to disturb us.
"The game being done, the little Swiss unbuttoned his pockets
to pull out a new four-pistole piece, and presenting it to me, he
asked my pardon for his great freedom, and seemed as if he
wished to retire. This was not what I wanted. I told him we
only played for amusement; that I had no designs upon his
money; and that if he pleased I would play him a single game
for his four pistoles. He raised some objections, but consented
at last, and won back his money. I was piqued at it. I played
another game: fortune changed sides; the dice ran for him; he
made no more blots. I lost the game; another game, and double
or quit; we doubled the stake, and played double or quit again.
I was vexed; he like a true gamester took every bet I offered,
and won all before him, without my getting more than six points
in eight or ten games. I asked him to play a single game for
one hundred pistoles; but as he saw I did not stake, he told me
it was late; that he must go and look after his horses; and went
away, still asking my pardon for his great freedom. The cool


## p. 6920 (#304) ###########################################

6920
ANTHONY HAMILTON
manner of his refusal, and the politeness with which he took his
leave, provoked me to such a degree that I almost could have
killed him. I was so confounded at losing my money so fast, even
to the last pistole, that I did not immediately consider the miser-
able situation to which I was reduced.
"I durst not go up to my chamber for fear of Brinon. By
good luck, however, he was tired with waiting for me, and had
gone to bed.
This was some consolation, though but of short
continuance. As soon as I was laid down, all the fatal conse-
quences of my adventure presented themselves to my imagina-
tion. I could not sleep. I saw all the horrors of my misfortune
without being able to find any remedy: in vain did I rack my
brain; it supplied me with no expedient. I feared nothing so
much as daybreak; however, it did come, and the cruel Brinon
along with it. He was booted up to the middle, and cracking a
cursed whip which he held in his hand, 'Up, Monsieur le
Chevalier,' cried he, opening the curtains; 'the horses are at the
door, and you are still asleep. We ought by this time to have
ridden two stages; give me money to pay the reckoning. ' 'Bri-
non,' said I in a dejected tone, 'draw the curtains. ' 'What! '
cried he, 'draw the curtains? Do you intend then to make your
campaign at Lyons? You seem to have taken a liking to the
place. And for the great merchant, you have stripped him, I
suppose. No, no, Monsieur le Chevalier, this money will never
do you any good. This wretch has perhaps a family; and it is
his children's bread that he has been playing with, and that you
have won.
Was this an object to sit up all night for? What
would my lady say, if she knew what a life you lead? ' 'M.
Brinon,' said I, 'pray draw the curtains. ' But instead of obey-
ing me, one would have thought that the Devil had prompted
him to use the most pointed and galling terms to a person under
such misfortunes. 'And how much have you won? ' said he.
'Five hundred pistoles? what must the poor man do? Recollect,
Monsieur le Chevalier, what I have said: this money will never
thrive with you. It is perhaps but four hundred? three? two?
Well, if it be but one hundred louis d'ors,' continued he, seeing
that I shook my head at every sum which he had named, 'there
is no great mischief done; one hundred pistoles will not ruin
him, provided you have won them fairly. ' 'Friend Brinon,' said
I, fetching a deep sigh, 'draw the curtains; I am unworthy to
see daylight. ' Brinon was much affected at these melancholy


## p. 6921 (#305) ###########################################

ANTHONY HAMILTON
6921
words: but I thought he would have fainted when I told him the
whole adventure. He tore his hair, made grievous lamentations,
the burden of which still was, 'What will my lady say? ' and
after having exhausted his unprofitable complaints, 'What will
become of you now, Monsieur le Chevalier? ' said he: 'what do
you intend to do? ' 'Nothing,' said I, 'for I am fit for nothing. '
After this, being somewhat eased after making him my confes-
sion, I thought upon several projects, to none of which could I
gain his approbation. I would have had him post after my
equipage, to have sold some of my clothes; I was for proposing
to the horse-dealer to buy some horses of him at a high price
on credit, to sell again cheap: Brinon laughed at all these
schemes, and after having had the cruelty of keeping me upon
the rack for a long time, he at last extricated me. Parents are
always stingy towards their poor children: my mother intended
to have given me five hundred louis d'ors, but she had kept back
fifty- as well for some little repairs in the abbey as to pay for
praying for me! Brinon had the charge of the other fifty, with
strict injunctions not to speak of them unless upon some urgent
necessity. And this, you see, soon happened.
"Thus you have a brief account of my first adventure. Play
has hitherto favored me; for since my arrival I have had at one
time, after paying all my expenses, fifteen hundred louis d'ors.
Fortune is now again become unfavorable: we must mend her.
Our cash runs low; we must therefore endeavor to recruit. "
"Nothing is more easy," said Matta; "it is only to find out
such another dupe as the horse-dealer at Lyons; but now I think
on it, has not the faithful Brinon some reserve for the last ex-
tremity? Faith, the time is now come, and we cannot do better
than to make use of it. "
"Your raillery would be very seasonable," said the chevalier,
"if you knew how to extricate us out of this difficulty. You
must certainly have an overflow of wit, to be throwing it away
upon every occasion as at present. What the devil! will you
always be bantering, without considering what a serious situation.
we are reduced to? Mind what I say: I will go to-morrow to
the headquarters, I will dine with the Count de Cameran, and I
will invite him to supper. "
"Where? " said Matta.
"Here," said the chevalier.
"You are mad, my poor friend," replied Matta. "This is
some such project as you formed at Lyons: you know we have


## p. 6922 (#306) ###########################################

6922
ANTHONY HAMILTON
neither money nor credit; and to re-establish our circumstances
you intend to give a supper. "
«< Stupid fellow! " said the chevalier: "is it possible that, so
long as we have been acquainted, you should have learned no
more invention? The Count de Cameran plays at quinze, and
so do I: we want money; he has more than he knows what to do
with: I will bespeak a splendid supper; he shall pay for it. Send
your maître-d'hôtel to me, and trouble yourself no farther, except
in some precautions which it is necessary to take on such an
occasion. "
"What are they? " said Matta.
"I will tell you," said the chevalier; "for I find one must
explain to you things that are as clear as noonday. You com-
mand the guards that are here, don't you? As soon as night
comes on, you shall order fifteen or twenty men under the com-
mand of your serjeant La Place to be under arms, and to lay
themselves flat on the ground between this place and the head-
quarters. "
"What the devil! " cried Matta; "an ambuscade? God forgive
me, I believe you intend to rob the poor Savoyard. If that be
your intention, I declare I will have nothing to do with it. "
"Poor devil! " said the chevalier: "the matter is this: it is
very likely that we shall win his money. The Piedmontese,
though otherwise good fellows, are apt to be suspicious and dis-
trustful. He commands the horse; you know you cannot hold
your tongue, and are very likely to let slip some jest or other
that may vex him. Should he take it into his head that he is
cheated, and resent it, who knows what the consequences might
be? for he is commonly attended by eight or ten horsemen.
Therefore, however he may be provoked at his loss, it is proper
to be in such a situation as not to dread his resentment. "
"Embrace me, my dear chevalier," said Matta, holding his
sides and laughing; "embrace me, for thou art not to be matched.
What a fool was I to think, when you talked to me of taking
precautions, that nothing more was necessary than to prepare a
table and cards, or perhaps to provide some false dice! I should
never have thought of supporting a man who plays at quinze by
a detachment of foot; I must indeed confess that you are already
a great soldier. »
The next day everything happened as the Chevalier Gramont
had planned it; the unfortunate Cameran fell into the snare.
They supped in the most agreeable manner possible; Matta drank


## p. 6923 (#307) ###########################################

ANTHONY HAMILTON
6923
five or six bumpers to drown a few scruples which made him.
somewhat uneasy.
The Chevalier de Gramont shone as usual,
and almost made his guest die with laughing, whom he was soon
after to make very serious; and the good-natured Cameran ate
like a
man whose affections were divided between good cheer
and a love of play; - that is to say, he hurried down his victuals,
that he might not lose any of the precious time which he had
devoted to quinze.
Supper being done, the serjeant La Place posted his ambus-
cade and the Chevalier de Gramont engaged his man.
The per-
fidy of Cerise and the high-crowned hat were still fresh in
remembrance, and enabled him to get the better of a few grains
of remorse and conquer some scruples which arose in his mind.
Matta, unwilling to be a spectator of violated hospitality, sat
down in an easy-chair in order to fall asleep, while the chevalier
was stripping the poor count of his money.
They only staked three or four pistoles at first, just for amuse-
ment; but Cameran having lost three or four times, he staked
high, and the game became serious. He still lost, and became
outrageous; the cards flew about the room, and the exclamations
awoke Matta. As his head was heavy with sleep and hot with
wine, he began to laugh at the passion of the Piedmontese instead
of consoling him. "Faith, my poor count," said he, "if I was in
your place, I would play no more. "
"Why so? " said the other.
"I don't know," said he; "but my heart tells me that your
ill luck will continue. "
"I will try that," said Cameran, calling for fresh cards.
"Do so," said Matta, and fell asleep again: it was but for a
short time. All cards were equally unfortunate for the loser.
He held none but tens or court cards; and if by chance he had
quinze, he was sure to be the younger hand, and therefore lost
it. Again he stormed.
"Did not I tell you so? " said Matta, starting out of his sleep:
"all your storming is in vain; as long as you play you will lose.
Believe me, the shortest follies are the best. Leave off, for the
Devil take me if it is possible for you to win. "
«< Why? " said Cameran, who began to be impatient.
"Do you wish to know? " said Matta: "why, faith, it is
because we are cheating you. "
The Chevalier de Gramont, provoked at so ill-timed a jest,
more especially as it carried along with it some appearance of


## p. 6924 (#308) ###########################################

6924
ANTHONY HAMILTON
truth: "M. Matta," said he, "do you think it can be very agree-
able for a man who plays with such ill luck as the count to be
pestered with your insipid jests? For my part, I am so weary
of the game that I would desist immediately, if he was not so
great a loser. " Nothing is more dreaded by a losing gamester
than such a threat; and the count in a softened tone told the
chevalier that M. Matta might say what he pleased, if he did
not offend him; that as to himself, it did not give him the
smallest uneasiness.
The Chevalier de Gramont gave the count far better treat-
ment than he himself had experienced from the Swiss at Lyons,
for he played upon credit as long as he pleased; which Cameran
took so kindly that he lost fifteen hundred pistoles, and paid
them the next morning. As for Matta, he was severely repri
manded for the intemperance of his tongue. All the reason he
gave for his conduct was, that he made it a point of conscience
not to suffer the poor Savoyard to be cheated without informing
him of it. "Besides," said he, "it would have given me pleasure
to have seen my infantry engaged with his horse, if he had been.
inclined to mischief. "
This adventure having recruited their finances, fortune favored
them the remainder of the campaign; and the Chevalier de Gra-
mont, to prove that he had only seized upon the count's effects
by way of reprisal, and to indemnify himself for the losses he
had sustained at Lyons, began from this time to make the same
use of his money that he has been known to do since upon all
occasions. He found out the distressed, in order to relieve them:
officers who had lost their equipage in the war, or their money.
at play; soldiers who were disabled in the trenches; in short,
every one felt the influence of his benevolence, but his manner
of conferring a favor exceeded even the favor itself.
Every man possessed of such amiable qualities must meet
with success in all his undertakings. The soldiers knew his per-
son, and adored him. The generals were sure to meet him in
every scene of action, and sought his company at other times.
As soon as fortune declared for him, his first care was to make
restitution, by desiring Cameran to go his halves in all parties.
where the odds were in his favor.


## p. 6925 (#309) ###########################################

6925
ARTHUR SHERBURNE HARDY
(1847-)
SPECIAL taste for the abstract in mathematics, along with a
practical interest in the military profession, do not generally
enter into the stuff out of which romance-writers and poets
are made.
Mr. Hardy, however, is an interesting example of the
temperament that takes hold of both the real and the ideal. Suc-
cessively a hard-working professor of civil engineering and applied
mathematical science in two or three institutions, he has built up a
reputation in belles-lettres by working in them with an industry that
has given him a distinctive place in what
he once reckoned only an avocation.
Mr. Hardy was born in 1847 at Andover,
Massachusetts. By school life at Neuchâtel,
Switzerland, he was early put into touch
with French letters and French life. After
a single year at Amherst College he entered
the West Point Military Academy, graduat-
ing in 1869. He became a second lieuten-
ant in the Third Artillery Regiment, saw
some soldier life during 1869 and 1870, and
then resigned from the service to become a
professor of civil engineering at Iowa Col-
lege for a brief time. In 1874 he went
abroad, to take a course in scientific bridge-
building and road-constructing in Paris, returning to take a professor-
ship in that line of instruction at the Chandler Scientific School,
connected with Dartmouth College. He assumed a similar professor-
ship in Dartmouth College in 1878. This position (in connection with
which he published at least one established text-book, 'Elements of
Quaternions, followed by his translation of 'Argand's Imaginary
Quantities,' by his own 'Analytical Geometry,' and by other practical
works in applied mathematics) he held until recently, when he be-
came undividedly a man of letters and an editor of a well-known
magazine.
>
Mr. Hardy in literature is a novelist and a poet. His stories are
three in number. The first one, 'But Yet a Woman' (1883), is of
peculiar grace, united with firmness of construction; with a decided

ARTHUR S. HARDY


## p. 6926 (#310) ###########################################

6926
ARTHUR SHERBURNE HARDY
French touch in the style (especially as to its epigrammatic flash);
and with types of careful if delicate definiteness prominent in it, par-
ticularly in the delineation of Father Le Blanc, the philosophic and
kindly curé. A story of more subtle psychologic quality, 'The Wind
of Destiny,' came a little later, its scenery and characters partly
French and partly American, and its little drama a tragic one.
'Passe Rose,' a quasi-historic novel, dealing with the days and court
of Charlemagne,-the heroine of it a dancing-girl, with a princess as
her rival in love,- appeared first as a serial in the Atlantic Monthly
in 1888, to be published as a book in 1889. It is a romance of that
human quality which meets with a response in every novel-reader's
heart. Mr. Hardy's heroines are all charming; but he has presented
us to no more winning type than this flower of a mediæval day, with
"the hues of the Southern sea in her eyes and under the rose-brown
flush of her skin, the sound of its waves in the ripple of her
laughter. "
FATHER LE BLANC MAKES A CALL; AND PREACHES A
SERMON
From But Yet a Woman. ' Copyright 1883 by Arthur S. Hardy, and reprinted
by permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. , publishers, Boston
F
ATHER LE BLANC had a profound belief in human agencies.
He loved to play the ministering angel, for his heart was a
well of sympathy.
There was even a latent chiding of
Providence at the bottom of this well sometimes, when the sight
of the poor and the suffering stirred its depths with pity for
those lonely wayfarers who, neglected by this world, seem for-
gotten also of God. This was but one of those many themes
which this mind, at once simple, honest, and profound, turned
over and over reflectively, never seeing its one aspect except as
on the way to the other. "The difficulty does not lie in believ-
ing the truths of the Church," he once said, "but in those other
things which we must believe also. " Or again, "Belief is an edi-
fice never completed, because we do not yet comprehend its plan,
and every day some workman brings a new stone from the
quarry. " So that while Father Le Blanc was very devout, he was
not a devotee. He flavored his religious belief with the salt of a
good sense against which he endeavored to be on his guard, as
he was even against his charity and compassion. The vision of
Milton's fallen Spirit, beating its wings vainly in a non-resisting
air, drew from his heart a profound sigh.


## p. 6927 (#311) ###########################################

ARTHUR SHERBURNE HARDY
6927
His thoughts turned very naturally to Stéphanie and her
journey that day, for he was on the way to secure the nineteenth
volume of the 'Viaje de España' of Pontz, for which he had been
long on the search, and which awaited him at last on the Quai
Voltaire. Those old books which filled the shelves of his room
in the Rue Tiquetonne had left his purse a light one. "But,"
said Father Le Blanc, "I am not poor, since I have what I
want. "
After possessing himself of his coveted book, he took up his
way along the quai, with his treasure under his arm. "I have a
mind to call on her," he said, still thinking of Stéphanie. "The
art of knowing when one is needed is more difficult than that of
helping;" and he paused on the curbstone to watch a company
of the line coming from the caserne of the Cité. A carriage,
arrested a moment by the passage of the troops, approached the
spot where he was standing, and he recognized M. De Marzac.
The priest was evidently sauntering, and M. De Marzac called to
his driver to stop.
"I see you are out for a promenade," he said. "Accept this
seat beside me, and take a turn with me in the Bois. "
Father Le Blanc was not in his second childhood, for he had
not yet outgrown his first; consequently the temptation was a
strong one. But M. De Marzac was no favorite of his, and not
even the fine day nor this opportunity to enjoy it could counter-
balance M. De Marzac's company. Dislike at first sight is more
common than love, as discord is more common than harmony.
So he excused himself as about to make a visit. "Well, then,
that decides it," he said to himself, as he trudged down the quai
with the gait of a man with an object in view. "Now I must
go.