No More Learning

"Famine? in Java, the rich and fertile, famine? Yes, reader, a few
years ago whole districts were depopulated by famine; mothers offered to sell
their children for food; mothers ate their own children. But then the mother
country interfered. In the halls of the Dutch Parliament complaints were
made, and the then reigning governor had to give orders that THE EXTENSION
OF THE SO-CALLED EUROPEAN MARKET SHOULD NO LONGER BE PUSHED TO THE
EXTREMITY OF FAMINE. »
The book is an eloquent plea for more humane treatment of these
wretches. In glowing colors Dekker paints the condition of Java,
its scenery, its inhabitants, the extortions of the native regents, and
the rapacity of the European traders. The truth of these accusa-
tions has never been disputed; indeed, it has been said that he kept
on this side of exaggeration. At the International Congress for the
Promotion of Social Science, at Amsterdam in 1863, he challenged his
critics to prove him false, but no one came forward. One high gov-
ernment official indeed said that he could refute 'Max Havelaar,' but
that it was not in his interest to do so.
Despite the sensation the book made, affairs in the East remained
pretty much the same as before. Dekker tried in vain to get some
influence in Holland, but he had killed himself politically by avow-
ing that 'Max Havelaar' was not written in the interests of either
party, but was the utterance of a champion of humanity. Thor-
oughly disappointed in his countrymen, he exiled himself and went
to live in Germany in 1866. But he did not therefore lay down a
pen that had become in his hands a powerful weapon. He published
a number of books on political, social, and philosophic subjects, in the
form of stories, dramas, aphorisms, or polemics. Noteworthy among
these are his fine parables, the novel 'La Sainte Vierge' (The Holy
Virgin); the drama in blank, 'Vorstenschool' (School for Princes), con-
taining many fine thoughts, and still one of the most popular plays
of the day; and the incomplete Geschiedem's van Wontertje Pieterse '
(Story of Wontertje Pieterse), published in 1888 by his widow, who
also brought out his letters, and in 1892 a complete edition of his
works.


## p. 4515 (#293) ###########################################

EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
4515
The writings of Dekker are marked by a fiery yet careful style,
Oriental richness of imagery, and originality and independence of
thought. He wrote as social reformer, and attacked with unrivaled
power of sarcasm all manner of cant, sham, and red-tape. His works
betray the disappointment of a defeated idealist. He was a man of
marked individuality, and strongly attracted or repelled people. For
the last few years of his life he ceased to write, and lived in retire-
ment in Nieder-Ingelheim on the Rhine, where he died February
19th, 1887.
MULTATULI'S LAST WORDS TO THE READER
YES,
I
VES, I, Multatuli, "who have suffered much,”—I take the pen.
I do not make any excuses for the form of my book,— that
form was thought proper to obtain my object.
will be read! Yes, I will be read. I will be read by statesmen
who are obliged to pay attention to the signs of the times; by
men of letters, who must also look into the book of which so
many bad things are said; by merchants, who have an interest
in the coffee auctions; by lady's-maids, who read me for a few
farthings; by governors-general in retirement; by ministers who
have something to do; by the lackeys of these Excellencies; by
mutes, who, more majorum, will say that I attack God Almighty,
when I attack only the god which they made according to their
own image; by the members of the representative chambers,
who must know what happens in the extensive possessions over
the sea which belong to Holland.
Ay, I shall be read!
When I obtain this I shall be content, for I did not intend to
write well.
. I wished to write so as to be heard; and as
one who cries "Stop thief! " does not care about the style of his
impromptu address to the public, I too am indifferent to criti-
cism of the manner in which I cried my «< Stop thief! »
"The book is a medley; there is no order, nothing but a
desire to make a sensation. The style is bad; the author is inex-
perienced; no talent, no method. "
Good! good!
all very well!
but the Javanese
are ill-treated. For the merit of my book is this: that refutation
of its main features is impossible. And the greater the disappro-
bation of my book the better I shall be pleased, for the chance
of being heard will be so much the greater; — and that is what
I desire.
-
•


## p. 4516 (#294) ###########################################

4516
EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
But you whom I dare to interrupt in your business or in
your retirement,-ye ministers and governors-general,—do not
calculate too much upon the inexperience of my pen. I could
exercise it, and perhaps by dint of some exertion, attain to that
skill which would make the truth heard by the people. Then I
should ask of that people a place in the representative cham-
bers, were it only to protest against the certificates which are
given vice versa by Indian functionaries.
To protest against the endless expeditions sent, and heroic
deeds performed against poor miserable creatures, whose ill treat-
ment has driven them to revolt.
To protest against the cowardice of general orders, that brand
the honor of the nation by invoking public charity on behalf of
the victims of inveterate piracy.
It is true those rebels were reduced by starvation to skeletons,
while those pirates could defend themselves.
And if that place were refused me,
if I were still
disbelieved,
then I should translate my book into the
few languages that I know, and the many that I yet can learn,
to put that question to Europe which I have in vain put to
Holland.
•
·
And in every capital such a refrain as this would be heard:
"There is a band of robbers between Germany and the Scheldt! "
And if this were of no avail,
then I should translate
my book into Malay, Javanese, Soudanese, Alfoer, Boegi, and
Battah.
And I should sharpen Klewangs, the scimitars and the sabres,
by rousing with warlike songs the minds of those martyrs whom
I have promised to help-I, Multatuli, would do this!
Yes! delivery and help, lawfully if possible;— lawfully with
violence if need be.
And that would be very pernicious to the COFFEE AUCTIONS
OF THE DUTCH TRADING COMPANY!
For I am no fly-rescuing poet, no rapt dreamer like the
down-trodden Havelaar, who did his duty with the courage of a
lion and endured starvation with the patience of a marmot in
winter.
This book is an introduction.
I shall increase in strength and sharpness of weapons, accord-
ing as it may be necessary.
Heaven grant that it may not be necessary!
·


## p. 4517 (#295) ###########################################

EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
4517
No, it will not be necessary! For it is to thee I dedicate my
book: WILLIAM THE THIRD, King, Grand Duke, Prince,
more than Prince, Grand Duke, and King,
EMPEROR of
the magnificent empire of INSULIND, which winds about the equa-
tor like a garland of emeralds!
I ask THEE if it be thine IMPERIAL will that the Havelaars
should be bespattered with the mud of Slymerings and Dry-
stubbles; and that thy more than thirty millions of SUBJECTS far
away should be ill treated and should suffer extortion in THY
name!
From Max Havelaar. '
IDYLL OF SAÏDJAH AND ADINDA
From Max Havelaar>
SA
AÏDJAH'S father had a buffalo, with which he plowed his
field. When this buffalo was taken away from him by the
district chief at Parang-Koodjang he was very dejected, and
did not speak a word for many a day. For the time for plow-
ing was come, and he had to fear that if the rice field was not
worked in time, the opportunity to sow would be lost, and lastly,
that there would be no paddy to cut, none to keep in the store-
room of the house. He feared that his wife would have no rice,
nor Saïdjah himself, who was still a child, nor his little broth-
ers and sisters. And the district chief too would accuse him to
the Assistant Resident if he was behindhand in the payment of
his land taxes, for this is punished by the law. Saïdjah's father
then took a poniard which was an heirloom from his father.
The poniard was not very handsome, but there were silver bands
round the sheath, and at the end there was a silver plate. He
sold this poniard to a Chinaman who dwelt in the capital, and
came home with twenty-four guilders, for which money he
bought another buffalo.
Saïdjah, who was then about seven years old, soon made
friends with the new buffalo. It is not without meaning that I
say "made friends," for it is indeed touching to see how the
buffalo is attached to the little boy who watches over and feeds
him. The large strong animal bends its heavy head to the
right, to the left, or downward, just as the pressure of the child's
finger, which he knows and understands, directs.


## p. 4518 (#296) ###########################################

4518
EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
Such a friendship little Saïdjah had soon been able to make
with the new-comer. The buffalo turned willingly on reaching
the end of the field, and did not lose an inch of ground when
plowing backwards the new furrow. Quite near were the rice
fields of the father of Adinda (the child that was to marry Saïd-
jah); and when the little brothers of Adinda came to the limit of
their fields just at the same time that the father of Saïdjah was
there with his plow, then the children called out merrily to
each other, and each praised the strength and the docility of his
buffalo. Saïdjah was nine and Adinda six, when this buffalo was
taken by the chief of the district of Parang-Koodjang. Saïdjah's
father, who was very poor, thereupon sold to a Chinaman two
silver curtain-hooks - heirlooms from the parents of his wife—
for eighteen guilders, and bought a new buffalo.
When this buffalo had also been taken away and slaughtered-
(I told you, reader, that my story is monotonous)
Saïdjah's father fled out of the country, for he was
much afraid of being punished for not paying his land taxes, and
he had not another heirloom to sell, that he might buy a new
buffalo. However, he went on for some years after the loss of
his last buffalo, by working with hired animals for plowing; but
that is a very ungrateful labor, and moreover sad for a person
who has had buffaloes of his own.
Saïdjah's mother died of grief; and then it was that his
father, in a moment of dejection, fled from Bantam in order to
endeavor to get labor in the Buitenzorg districts.
But he was punished with stripes because he had left Lebak
without a passport, and was brought back by the police to
Badoer. But he was not long in prison, for he died soon after-
wards. Saïdjah was already fifteen years of age when his father
set out for Buitenzorg; and he did not accompany him hither,
because he had other plans in view. He had been told that there
were at Batavia many gentlemen who drove in two-wheeled
carriages, and that it would be easy for him to get a post as
driver. He would gain much in that way if he behaved well,-
perhaps be able to save in three years enough money to buy
two buffaloes. This was a smiling prospect for him. He en-
tered Adinda's house, and communicated to her his plans.
«< Think of it! when I come back, we shall be old enough to
but if I find you
marry and shall possess two buffaloes:
married? "


## p. 4519 (#297) ###########################################

EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
4519
"Saïdjah, you know very well that I shall marry nobody but
you; my father promised me to your father. "
"And you yourself? "
"I shall marry you, you may be sure of that. "
"When I come back, I will call from afar off. "
"Who shall hear it, if we are stamping rice in the village ? »
"That is true,
oh yes, this is
better; wait for me under the oak wood, under the Retapan. "
"But Saïdjah, how can I know when I am to go to the
Retapan ? »
•
·
but Adinda -
---
•
moons.
"Count the moons; I shall stay away three times twelve
See, Adinda, at every new moon cut a notch in
your rice block. When you have cut three times twelve lines, I
will be under the Retapan the next day:
do you promise
to be there ? »
"Yes, Saïdjah, I will be there under the Retapan, near the
oak wood, when you come back. "
•
•
·
[Saidjah returns with money and trinkets at the appointed time, but does
not find Adinda under the Retapan. ]
But if she were ill or
dead?
Like a wounded stag Saïdjah flew along the path leading
from the Retapan to the village where Adinda lived. But
was it hurry, his eagerness, that prevented him from finding.
Adinda's house? He had already rushed to the end of the road,
through the village, and like one mad he returned and beat his
head because he must have passed her house without seeing it.
But again he was at the entrance to the village, and
O God, was it a dream?
Again he had not found the house of Adinda. Again he flew
back and suddenly stood still. . . . And the women of Badoer
came out of their houses, and saw with sorrow poor Saïdjah
standing there, for they knew him and understood that he was
looking for the house of Adinda, and they knew that there was
no house of Adinda in the village of Badoer.
For when the district chief of Parang-Koodjang had taken
away Adinda's father's buffaloes
(I told you, reader! that my narrative was monotonous. )
Adinda's mother died of grief, and her baby sister
died because she had no mother, and had no one to suckle her.


## p. 4520 (#298) ###########################################

4520
EDUARD DOUWES DEKKER
And Adinda's father, who feared to be punished for not paying
his land taxes
(I know, I know that my tale is monotonous. )
had fled out of the country; he had taken Adinda
and her brother with him. He had gone to Tjilang-Rahan, bor-
dering on the sea. There he had concealed himself in the woods
and waited for some others that had been robbed of their buffa-
loes by the district chief of Parang-Koodjang, and all of whom
feared punishment for not paying their land taxes. Then they
had at night taken possession of a fishing boat, and steered north-
ward to the Lampoons.
[Saïdjah, following their route] arrived in the Lampoons,
where the inhabitants were in insurrection against the Dutch
rule. He joined a troop of Badoer men, not so much to fight as
to seek Adinda; for he had a tender heart, and was more dis
posed to sorrow than to bitterness.
One day that the insurgents had been beaten, he wandered
through a village that had just been taken by the Dutch, and
was therefore in flames. Saïdjah knew that the troop that had
been destroyed there consisted for the most part of Badoer men.
He wandered like a ghost among the houses which were not
yet burned down, and found the corpse of Adinda's father with
a bayonet wound in the breast. Near him Saïdjah saw the three
murdered brothers of Adinda, still only children, and a little fur-
ther lay the corpse of Adinda, naked and horribly mutilated.
Then Saïdjah went to meet some soldiers who were driving,
at the point of the bayonet, the surviving insurgents into the fire
of the burning houses; he embraced the broad bayonets, pressed
forward with all his might, and still repulsed the soldiers with a
last exertion, until their weapons were buried to the sockets in
his breast.


## p. 4521 (#299) ###########################################

4521
THOMAS DEKKER
(1570 ? -1637? )
HOMAS DEKKER, the genial realist, the Dickens of Jacobean
London, has left in his works the impress of a most lovable
personality, but the facts with which to surround that per-
sonality are of the scantiest. He was born about 1570 in London; at
least in 1637 he speaks of himself as over threescore years of age.
This is the only clue we have to the date of his birth.
He came
probably of a tradesman's family, for he describes better than any of
his fellows in art the life of the lower middle class, and enters into
the thoughts and feelings of that class with a heartiness which is
possible only after long and familiar association. He was not a
university man, but absorbed his classical knowledge as Shakespeare
did, through association with the wits of his time.
He is first mentioned in Henslowe's diary in 1597, and after that
his name appears frequently. He was evidently a dramatic hack,
working for that manager, adapting and making over old plays and
writing new ones. He must have been popular too, for his name
appears oftener than that of any of his associates. Yet his industry
and popularity could not always keep him above water. Henslowe
was not a generous paymaster, and the unlucky dramatist knew the
inside of the debtor's prison cell; more than once the manager ad-
vanced sums to bail him out. Oldys says he was in prison from 1613
to 1616. After 1637 we find his name no more.
As a dramatist, Dekker was most active between the years 1598
and 1602. In one of those years alone he was engaged on twelve
plays. Many of these have been lost; of the few that remain, two
of the most characteristic belong to this period. The Shoemaker's
Holiday,' published in 1599, shows Dekker on his genial, realistic
side, with his sense of fun and his hearty sympathy with the life of
the people. It bubbles over with the delight in mere living, and is
full of kindly feeling toward all the world. It was sure to appeal to
its audience, especially to the pit, where the tradesmen and artisans
with their wives applauded, and noisiest of all, the 'prentices shouted
their satisfaction: here they saw themselves and their masters brought
on the stage, somewhat idealized, but still full of frolic and good-
nature. It is one of the brightest and pleasantest of Elizabethan
comedies. Close on its heels followed 'The Pleasant Comedy of Old
Fortunatus. ' Here Dekker the idealist, the poet of luxurious fancy


## p. 4522 (#300) ###########################################

4522
THOMAS DEKKER
and rich yet delicate imagination, is seen at his best. Fortunatus with
his wishing-hat and wonderful purse appealed to the romantic spirit
of the time, when men still sailed in search of the Hesperides, com-
pounded the elixir of youth, and sought for the philosopher's stone.
Dekker worked over an old play of the same name; the subject of
both was taken from the old German volksbuch Fortunatus' of 1519.
Among the collaborators of Dekker at this time was Ben Jonson.
Both these men were realists, but Jonson slashed into life with
bitter satire, whereas Dekker cloaked over its frailties with a tender
humor. Again, Jonson was a conscientious artist, aiming at per-
fection; Dekker, while capable of much higher poetry, was often
careless and slipshod. No wonder that the dictator scorned his some-
what irresponsible co-worker. The precise nature of their quarrel,
one of the most famous among authors, is not known; it culminated
in 1601, when Jonson produced 'The Poetaster,' a play in which
Dekker and Marston were mercilessly ridiculed. Dekker replied
shortly in 'Satiromastix, or the Untrussing of the Humorous Poet,' a
burlesque full of good-natured mockery of his antagonist.
Dekker wrote, in conjunction with Webster, (Westward Ho,'
Northward Ho,' and 'Sir Thomas Wyatt'; with Middleton, The
Roaring Girl'; with Massinger, The Virgin Martyr'; and with Ford,
'The Sun's Darling' and 'The Witch of Edmonton. ' Among the
products of Dekker's old age, 'Match Me in London' is ranked among
his half-dozen best plays, and The Wonder of a Kingdom' is fair
journeyman's work.
One of the most versatile of the later Elizabethans,- prolonging
their style and ideas into the new world of the Stuarts,- Dekker was
also prominent as pamphleteer. He first appeared as such in 1603,
with The Wonderfull Yeare 1603, wherein is showed the picture of
London lying sicke of the Plague,' a vivid description of the pest,
which undoubtedly served Defoe as model in his famous book on the
same subject. The best known of his many pamphlets, however, is
'The Gul's Horne Booke,' a graphic description of the ways and man-
ners of the gallants of the time. These various tracts are invaluable
for the light they throw on the social life of Jacobean London.
Lastly, Dekker as song-writer must not be forgotten. He had the
genuine lyric gift, and poured forth his bird-notes, sweet, fresh, and
spontaneous, full of the singer's joy in his song. He also wrote some
very beautiful prayers.
Varied and unequal as Dekker's work is, he is one of the hardest
among the Elizabethans to classify. He at times rises to the very
heights of poetic inspiration, soaring above most of his contempo-
raries, to drop all of a sudden down to a dead level of prose. But
he makes up for his shortcomings by his whole-hearted, manly view


## p. 4523 (#301) ###########################################

THOMAS DEKKER
4523
of life, his compassion for the weak, his sympathy with the lowly,
his determination to make the best of everything, and to show the
good hidden away under the evil.
"Toil, envy, want, the patron and the jail,»-
these he knew from bitter experience, yet never allowed them to
overcloud his buoyant spirits, but made them serve his artistic pur-
poses. Joyousness is the prevailing note of his work, mingled with a
pathetic undertone of patience.
FROM THE GUL'S HORNE BOOKE'
HOW A GALLANT SHOULD BEHAVE HIMSELF IN POWLES WALK*
NOW
ow for your venturing into the Walke: be circumspect and
wary what piller you come in at, and take heed in any
case (as you love the reputation of your honour) that you
avoide the serving-man's dogg; but bend your course directly in
the middle line, that the whole body of the Church may appear
to be yours; where, in view of all, you may publish your suit
in what manner you affect most, either with the slide of your
cloake from the one shoulder, and then you must (as twere in
anger) suddenly snatch at the middle of the inside (if it be taf-
fata at the least) and so by the meanes your costly lining is
betrayed, or else by the pretty advantage of complement. But
one note by the way do I especially wooe you to, the neglect of
which makes many of our gallants cheape and ordinary; that you
by no means be seen above fowre turnes, but in the fifth make
your selfe away, either in some of the Sempsters' shops, the new
Tobacco-office, or amongst the Bookesellers, where, if you cannot
reade, exercise your smoke, and inquire who has writ against this
divine weede, &c. For this withdrawing yourselfe a little will
much benefite your suit, which else by too long walking would
be stale to the whole spectators: but howsoever, if Powles Jacks
be up with their elbowes, and quarrelling to strike eleven, as soone
as ever the clock has parted them and ended the fray with his
hammer, let not the Duke's gallery conteyne you any longer, but
passe away apace in open view. In which departure, if by chance
you either encounter, or aloofe off throw your inquisitive eye
upon any knight or squire, being your familiar, salute him not
*The middle aisle of St. Paul's in London was the fashionable walk.


## p. 4524 (#302) ###########################################

4524
THOMAS DEKKER
by his name of Sir such a one, or so, but call him Ned or Jack,
&c. This will set off your estimation with great men: and if
(tho there bee a dozen companies betweene you, tis the better)
hee call aloud to you (for thats most gentile), to know where he
shall find you at two a clock, tell him at such an Ordinary, or
such; and bee sure to name those that are deerest; and whither
none but your gallants resort. After dinner you may appeare
againe, having translated yourselfe out of your English cloth
cloak, into a light Turky-grogram (if you have that happiness of
shifting) and then be seene (for a turn or two) to correct your
teeth with some quill or silver instrument, and to cleanse your
gummes with a wrought handkercher: It skilles not whether you
dinde or no (thats best knowne to your stomach) or in what place
you dinde, though it were with cheese (of your owne mother's
making, in your chamber or study).
Suck this humour
up especially. Put off to none, unlesse his hatband be of a
newer fashion than yours, and three degrees quainter; but for
him that wears a trebled cipres about his hatte (though he were
an Alderman's sonne), never move to him; for hees suspected to
be worse than a gull and not worth the putting off to, that can-
not observe the time of his hatband, nor know what fashioned
block is most kin to his head: for in my opinion, ye braine
that cannot choose his felt well (being the head ornament) must
needes powre folly into all the rest of the members, and be an
absolute confirmed foule in Summa Totali.
The great
dyal is your last monument; these bestow some half of the
threescore minutes, to observe the sawciness of the Jaikes that
are above the man in the moone there; the strangenesse of the
motion will quit your labour. Besides you may heere have fit
occasion to discover your watch, by taking it forth and setting
the wheeles to the time of Powles, which, I assure you, goes truer
by five notes then S. Sepulchers chimes. The benefit that will
arise from hence is this, that you publish your charge in main-
taining a gilded clocke; and withall the world shall know that
you are a time-server. By this I imagine you have walkt your
bellyful, and thereupon being weary, or (which rather I believe)
being most gentlemanlike hungry, it is fit that I brought you
in to the Duke; so (because he follows the fashion of great men,
in keeping no house, and that therefore you must go seeke your
dinner) suffer me to take you by the hand, and lead you into an
Ordinary.


## p. 4525 (#303) ###########################################

THOMAS DEKKER
4525
SLEEP
D
O BUT consider what an excellent thing sleep is; it is so in-
estimable a jewel that if a tyrant would give his crown
for an hour's slumber, it cannot be bought; yea, so greatly
are we indebted to this kinsman of death, that we owe the
better tributary half of our life to him; and there is good cause
why we should do so; for sleep is that golden chain that ties
health and our bodies together. Who complains of want, of
wounds, of cares, of great men's oppressions, of captivity, whilst
he sleepeth?
Beggars in their beds take as much pleasure as
kings. Can we therefore surfeit on this delicate ambrosia? Can
we drink too much of that, whereof to taste too little tumbles us
into a churchyard; and to use it but indifferently throws us into
Bedlam? No, no. Look upon Endymion, the moon's minion,
who slept threescore and fifteen years, and was not a hair the
worse for it. Can lying abed till noon then, being not the
threescore and fifteenth thousand part of his nap, be hurtful?
THE PRAISE OF FORTUNE
From Old Fortunatus >
F
ORTUNE smiles, cry holiday!
Dimples on her cheek do dwell.
Fortune frowns, cry well-a-day!
Her love is heaven, her hate is hell.
Since heaven and hell obey her power,—
Tremble when her eyes do lower.
Since heaven and hell her power obey,
When she smiles, cry holiday!
Holiday with joy we cry,
And bend and bend, and merrily
Sing hymns to Fortune's deity,
Sing hymns to Fortune's deity.
Chorus
Let us sing merrily, merrily, merrily,
With our songs let heaven resound.
Fortune's hands our heads have crowned.
Let us sing merrily, merrily, merrily.


## p. 4526 (#304) ###########################################

4526
THOMAS DEKKER
CONTENT
From Patient Grissil'
A
RT thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
O sweet Content!
Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed?
O punishment!
Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed
To add to golden numbers golden numbers?
O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace,
Honest labor bears a lovely face.
Then hey nonny, nonny; hey nonny, nonny.
Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring?
O sweet Content!
Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears?
O Punishment!
Then he that patiently Want's burden bears
No burden bears, but is a king, a king.
O sweet Content, O sweet, O sweet Content!
RUSTIC SONG
From The Sun's Darling'
H
AYMAKERS, rakers, reapers, and mowers,
Wait on your Summer Queen!
Dress up with musk-rose her eglantine bowers,
Daffodils strew the green!
Sing, dance, and play,
'Tis holiday!
The sun does bravely shine
On our ears of corn.
Rich as a pearl
Comes every girl.
This is mine, this is mine, this is mine.
Let us die ere away they be borne.
Bow to our Sun, to our Queen, and that fair one
Come to behold our sports:
Each bonny lass here is counted a rare one,
As those in princes' courts.


## p. 4527 (#305) ###########################################

THOMAS DEKKER
4527
These and we
With country glee,
Will teach the woods to resound,
And the hills with echoes hollow.
Skipping lambs
Their bleating dams
'Mongst kids shall trip it round;
For joy thus our wenches we follow.
Wind, jolly huntsmen, your neat bugles shrilly,
Hounds, make a lusty cry;
Spring up, you falconers, partridges freely,
Then let your brave hawks fly!
Horses amain,
Over ridge, over plain,
The dogs have the stag in chase:
'Tis a sport to content a king.
So ho! ho! through the skies
How the proud birds flies,
And sousing, kills with a grace!
Now the deer falls; hark! how they ring.
LULLABY
From Patient Grissil›
G
OLDEN slumbers kiss your eyes,
Smiles awake you when you rise.
Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.
Rock them, rock them, lullaby.
Care is heavy, therefore sleep you.
You are care, and care must keep you.
Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.
Rock them, rock them, lullaby.


## p. 4528 (#306) ###########################################

4528
JEAN FRANÇOIS CASIMIR DELAVIGNE
(1793-1843)
BY FREDERIC LOLIÉE
HIS French lyrical poet and dramatist, born in Havre in 1793,
and brought up at Paris, was awarded a prize by the
Académie Française in 1811, elected a member of that
illustrious body July 7th, 1825, and died December 11th, 1843. When
hardly twenty years of age he had already made his name famous by
dithyrambs, the form of which, imitated from the ancients, enabled
him to express in sufficiently poetic manner quite modern sentiments.
Possessed of brilliant and easy imagination, moderately enthusiastic,
and more sober than powerful, he hit upon
a lucky vein which promptly led him to
fame. He described the recent disasters of
his country in fine odes entitled 'Messéni-
ennes,' in allusion to the chants in which
the defeated Messenians deplored the hard-
ships inflicted on them by the Spartans.
Those political elegies were named-'La
Bataille de Waterloo' (The Battle of Water-
100); 'La Dévastation du Musée' (The Spolia-
tion of the Museum); Sur le Besoin de
S'unir après le Départ des Étrangers' (On
the Necessity of Union after the Departure
of the Foreigners). They expressed emo-
tions agitating the mind of the country.
At the same time they appealed to the heart of the "liberals» of the
period by uttering their regrets for vanished power, their rancor
against the victorious party, their fears for threatened liberty. The
circumstances, the passions of the day, as also the awakening of
young and new talent, all concurred to favor Casimir Delavigne, who
almost from the very first attained high reputation. In 1819 the
publication of two more Messéniennes, on the life and death of
Joan of Arc,-inspired like the first with deep patriotic fervor,- was
received with enthusiasm.

CASIMIR DELAVIGNE
Earlier even than the day of Lamartine and Victor Hugo, Casimir
Delavigne had the glory of stirring the heart of France. He had the
added merit of maintaining, after Beaumarchais and before Émile


## p. 4529 (#307) ###########################################

JEAN FRANÇOIS CASIMIR DELAVIGNE
4529
Augier, the dignity of high comedy. Ingenious scenes of life, lively
and spirited details, grace and delicacy of style, save from oblivion
such pieces as 'L'École des Vieillards' (The School of Age), first per-
formed by the great artists Mademoiselle Mars and Talma; and 'Don
Juan d'Autriche' (Don John of Austria), a prose comedy. Other
dramas of his 'Marino Faliero,' 'Les Vêpres Siciliennes' (The Sicil-
ian Vespers), 'Louis XI. ,' 'Les Enfants d'Edouard' (The Children of
Edward), and 'La Fille du Cid' (The Daughter of the Cid) — are still
read with admiration, or acted to applauding spectators.
A pure
disciple of Racine at first, Delavigne deftly managed to adopt some
innovations of the romanticist school. 'Marino Faliero' was the first
of his productions in which, relinquishing the so-called classic rules,
he endeavored, as a French critic fitly remarks, to introduce a kind of
eclecticism in stage literature; a bold attempt, tempered with prudent
reserve, in which he wisely combined the processes favored by the
new school with current tradition. That play is indeed a happy
mixture of drama and comedy. It contains familiar dialogues and
noble outbursts, which however do not violate the proprieties of
academic style.
Though he never displayed the genius of Lamartine or of Victor
Hugo, and though some of his pictures have faded since the appear-
ance of the dazzling productions of the great masters of romanticism,
Casimir Delavigne still ranks high in the literature of his country
and century, thanks to the lofty and steady qualities, to the tender
and generous feeling, to the noble independence, which were the
honorable characteristics of his talent and his individuality. His
works, first published in Paris in 1843 in six octavo volumes, went
through many subsequent editions.
Prederic Police
THE CONFESSION OF LOUIS XI.
[On the point of dying, Louis XI. clings desperately to life, and sum-
mons before him a holy monk, Francis de Paula, whom he implores to work
a miracle in his favor and prolong his life. ]
―――――
Dramatis personæ : — King Louis XI. , and Saint Francis de Paula,
founder of the order of the Franciscan friars.
L
OUIS We are alone now.
-
Francis What do you wish of me?
Louis [who has knelt down]—At your knees see me trem-
bling with hope and fear.
VIII-284


## p. 4530 (#308) ###########################################

4530
JEAN FRANÇOIS CASIMIR DELAVIGNE
Francis - What can I do for you?
Louis Everything, Father; you can do everything: you can
call the dead to life again.
Francis-I!
Louis-To the dead you say, "Leave your graves! " and they
leave them.
―――
Francis-Who?
I?
Louis - You bid our ailments to be cured.
-
Francis-I, my son?
Louis-And they are cured. When you command the skies
clear, the wind suddenly blows or likewise abates; the falling
thunderbolt at your command moves back to the clouds. Oh, I
implore you, who in the air can keep up the beneficent dew or
let it pour its welcome freshness on the withering plant, impart
fresh vigor to my old limbs. See me; I am dying; revive my
drooping energy; stretch ye out your arms to me, touch ye those
livid features of mine, and the spell of your hands will cause my
wrinkles to vanish.
Francis - What do you ask of me? You surprise me, my son.
Am I equal to God? From your lips I first learn that I go
abroad rendering oracles, and with my hands working miracles.
Louis-At least ten years, father! grant me ten more years
to live, and upon you I shall lavish honors and presents.
I shall found shrines to your name, in gold and jasper shall have
your relics set; but! -twenty years more life are too little a
reward for so much wealth and incense. I beseech you, work
a whole miracle! Do not cut so short the thread of my life.
A whole miracle! give me new life and prolong my days!
Francis-To do God's work is not in his creature's power.
What! when everything dies, you alone should last! King, such
is not God's will. I his feeble creature cannot alter for you
the course of nature. All that which grows must vanish, all
that which is born must perish, man himself and his works, the
tree and its fruit alike. All that produces does so only for a
time; 'tis the law here below, for eternity death alone shall fruc-
tify.
·
Louis-You wear out my patience. Do your duty, monk!
Work in my favor your marvelous power; for if you refuse, I
shall compel you. Do you forget that I am a king? The holy
oil anointed my forehead. Oh, pardon me! but it is your duty
to do more for kings, for crowned heads, than for those obscure


## p. 4531 (#309) ###########################################

JEAN FRANÇOIS CASIMIR DELAVIGNE
4531
and unfortunate wretches whom, but for your prayers, God in
heaven would never have remembered.
Francis Kings and their subjects are equal in the eyes of
the Lord; he owes you his aid as to the rest of his children; be
more just to yourself, and claim for your soul that help for
which you beg.
Louis [eagerly]-No, not so much at a time: let us now mind
the body; I shall think of the soul by-and-by.
Francis-It is your remorse, O King, 'tis that smarting wound
inflicted by your crimes, which slowly drags your body to final
ruin.
Louis- The priests absolved me.
Francis-Vain hope! The weight of your present alarms is
made up of thirty years of iniquitous life. Confess your shame,
disclose your sins, and let sincere repentance wash away your
defiled soul.
Louis-Should I get cured?
all.
―
Francis- Perhaps.
Louis-Say yes, promise that I shall. I am going to confess
Francis-To me?
Louis-Such is my will. Listen.
Francis [seating himself whilst the King stands up with clasped
hands] - Speak then, sinner, who summon me to perform this
holy ministry.
Louis [after having recited mentally the Confiteor]-I cannot
and dare not refuse.
Francis-What are your sins?
Louis-Through fear of the Dauphin, the late King died of
starvation.
Francis-A son shortened his own father's old age!
Louis I was that Dauphin.
Francis-You were!
-
Louis-My father's weakness was ruining France. A favorite
ruled. France must have perished had not the King done so.
State interests are higher than-
Francis Confess thy sins, thou wicked son; do not excuse
thy wrong-doings.
Louis-I had a brother.
Francis-What of him?
Louis-Who died
____
-
poisoned.


## p. 4532 (#310) ###########################################

4532
JEAN FRANÇOIS CASIMIR DELAVIGNE
Francis-Were you instrumental in his death?
Louis-They suspected me.
Francis-God Almighty!
Louis-If those who said so fell in my power!
Francis-Is it true?
Louis-His ghost rising from the grave can alone with impu-
nity accuse me of his death.
Francis-So you were guilty of it?
Louis-The traitor deserved it!
Francis [rising]-You would escape your just punishment!
Tremble! I was your brother, I am now your judge. Crushed
under your sin, bend low your head. Return to nothingness,
empty Majesty! I no longer see the King, I hear the criminal:
to your knees, fratricide!
Louis [falling on his knees]-I shudder.
Francis-Repent!
Louis [crawling to the monk and catching hold of his gar-
ments]-I own my fault, have pity on me! I beat my breast
and repent another crime. I do not excuse it.
Francis [resuming his seat]-Is this not all?
Louis-Nemours!
He was a conspirator. But his
death . . His crime was proved. But under his scaffold
his children's tears
Thrice against his lord he had
His life-blood spattered them. Yet his death
taken up arms.
was but just.
•
.
Francis-Cruel, cruel King!
Louis-Just, but severe; I confess it: I punished
but
no, I have committed crimes. In mid-air the fatal knot has
strangled my victims; in murderous pits they have been stabbed
with steel; the waters have put an end to them, the earth has
acted as their jailer. Prisoners buried beneath these towers groan
forgotten in their depths.
Francis-Oh! since there are wrongs which you
repair, come!
Louis-Where to?
Francis-Let us set free those prisoners.
Louis-Statecraft forbids.
·
can still
Francis [kneeling before the King]-Charity orders: come, and
save your soul.
Louis-And risk my crown! As a king, I cannot.
Francis-As a Christian, you must.


## p. 4533 (#311) ###########################################

JEAN FRANÇOIS CASIMIR DELAVIGNE
4533
for.
Louis I have repented.