No More Learning

(? )
LIVED
BY HENRY JAMES
Si Descendero in Infernum, Ades
Hebe
She Came and Went
The Changeling
The Vision of Sir Launfal
SIR JOHN LUBBOCK
1850-
1797-1868
1819-1891
From The Biglow Papers'
What Mr. Robinson Thinks
The Courtin'
Mr. Hosea Biglow to the Editor of the Atlantic Monthly
The Washers of the Shroud
Memoriæ Positum
Uncle Zeb (A Moosehead Journal')
From the Address on 'Democracy'
From Essay On a Certain Condescension in Foreigners'
1834-
The Habits of Ants (The Beauties of Nature')
Savages Compared with Children (Pre-Historic Times')
PAGE
9197
9203
9216
9229
9279


## p. 9018 (#14) ############################################

LUCIAN OF SAMOSATA
Aphrodite and Selene
The Judgment of Paris
The Amateur of Lying
BY EMILY JAMES SMITH
TITUS LUCRETIUS CARUS
viii
LUTHER
BY PAUL SHOREY
On the Evil of Superstition
The Foolishness of Luxury
The Nothingness of Death
The End of All
The Spirituality of Material Things
Spenser's Imitation of the Opening Lines of the 'Nature
of Things' (The Fairy Queen')
Invocation to Venus
98-55? B. C.
Letter to Melanchthon
Letter to his Wife
LIVED
I20? -200?
BY CHESTER D. HARTRANFT
To the Christian Nobles of the German Nation on the
Improvement of the Christian Body
On the Liberty of the Christian
Reply at the Diet of Worms
Psalm CXXX.
Extract from Commentary on Psalm CI.
A Hymn for Children at Christmas
The Value and Power of Music
1483-1546
THE EARL OF LYTTON
Aux Italiens
Lucile's Letter (Lucile')
From Prologue to 'The Wanderer'
Luther's Letter to his Little Son Hans, Aged Six
Luther's Table-Talk
Sayings of Luther
1831-1891
PAGE
9285
9304
9319
9348


## p. 9019 (#15) ############################################

ix
MAARTEN MAARTENS (J. M. W. Van Der Poorten Schwartz)
1858-
THE MABINOGION
Joost Surrenders (The Sin of Joost Avelingh')
The Calm before the Storm ('An Old Maid's Love')
BY WILLIAM SHARP
Knowledge (God's Fool")
Music and Discord (same)
Guilt (same)
The Dawn of the Higher Life (The Greater Glory')
(
The Dream of Rhonabwy
Lludd and Llevelys
Kilhwch and Olwen
From Branwen the Daughter of Llyr'
From The Dream of Maxen Wledig '
BY ERNEST RHYS
THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY
LIVED
BY JOHN BACH MCMASTER
Horatius
The Battle of Ivry
1800-1859
The Coffee-House (History of England')
The Difficulty of Travel in England, 1685 (same)
The Highwayman (same)
The Delusion of Overrating the Happiness of our Ances-
tors (same)
The Puritan (Essay on John Milton')
(
Spain under Philip II. (Essay on Lord Mahon's War of
the Succession in Spain')
The Character of Charles II. of England (Essay on Mack-
intosh's 'Revolution in England')
The Church of Rome (Essay on Ranke's 'History of the
Popes')
Loyola and the Jesuits (same)
The Reign of Terror (Essay on 'Barère')
The Trial of Warren Hastings (Essay on Gleig's 'Warren
Hastings')
PAGE
9357
9373
9381


## p. 9020 (#16) ############################################

JUSTIN MCCARTHY
GEORGE MACDONALD
The King is Dead-Long Live the Queen (History of
Our Own Times')
A Modern English Statesman (same)
JEAN MACÉ
NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI
The Flood (Sir Gibbie')
The Hay-Loft ('At the Back of the North Wind')
X
1815-
The Necklace of Truth (Macé's Fairy Book')
NORMAN MACLEOD
BY CHARLES P. NEILL
JOHN BACH MCMASTER
LIVED
1830-
EMERICH MADÁCH
The Conspiracy against Carlo Galeazzo, Duke of Milan,
1476 (History of Florence')
How a Prince Ought to Avoid Flatterers ('The Prince')
Exhortation to Lorenzo de' Medici to Deliver Italy from
Foreign Domination (same)
1824-
1812-1872
The Home-Coming (The Old Lieutenant and his Son')
Highland Scenery
My Little May
JAMES MADISON
From the Tragedy of Man'
1469-1527
1852-
Town and Country Life in 1800 (History of the People
of the United States')
Effects of the Embargo of 1807 (same)
BY GEORGE ALEXANDER KOHUT
1823-1864
1751-1836
From The Federalist'
Interference to Quell Domestic Insurrection ('The Feder-
alist')
PAGE
9440
9455
9473
9479
9495
9503
9515
9531


## p. 9021 (#17) ############################################

xi
MAURICE MAETERLINCK
DR. WILLIAM MAGINN
Saint Patrick
Song of the Sea
BY WILLIAM SHARP
From
The Death of Tintagiles'
The Inner Beauty ('The Treasure of the Humble')
The Tragical in Daily Life (same)
JOHN PENTLAND MAHAFFY
ALFRED THAYER MAHAN
LIVED
1839-
Childhood in Ancient Life (Old Greek Education')
SIR HENRY MAINE
1864-
1840-
The Importance of Cruisers and of Strong Fleets in War
(The Influence of Sea Power upon History')
MOSES MAIMONIDES
BY RABBI GOTTHEIL
1794-1842
1135-1204
Extract from Maimonides's Will
From the Guide of the Perplexed': A Proof of the Unity
of God; An Argument Concerning the Incorporeality
of God; The Object of Law; True Knowledge of God;
Superfluous Things; Evil Things contrasted with Good
Things; Thought of Sins; Low Speech Condemned;
Control Bodily Desires; The Moral Equipoise
1822-1888
BY D. MACG. MEANS
The Beginnings of the Modern Laws of Real Property
(Village Communities in the East and West')
Importance of a Knowledge of Roman Law: and the
Effect of the Code Napoléon (same)
PAGE
9541
9564
9569
9580
9589
9605


## p. 9022 (#18) ############################################



## p. 9023 (#19) ############################################

LIST OF PORTRAITS
IN VOL. XVI
Charles Lever
George Henry Lewes
Jonas Lie
Abraham Lincoln
Linnæus
Livy (Titus Livius)
John Locke
John Gibson Lockhart
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Pierre Loti
Samuel Lover
James Russell Lowell
Sir John Lubbock
Lucian of Samosata
Titus Lucretius Carus
Luther
The Earl of Lytton
Maarten Maartens
Thomas Babington Macaulay
Justin McCarthy
George Macdonald
Niccolo Machiavelli
John Bach McMaster
Emerich Madách
James Madison
Maurice Maeterlinck
Dr. William Maginn
John Pentland Mahaffy
Alfred Thayer Mahan
Sir Henry Maine
Vignette
Vignette
Vignette
Full page
Full page
Full page
Vignette
Vignette
Full page
Vignette
Vignette
Full page
Vignette
Vignette
Vignette
Full page
Vignette
Vignette
Full page
Vignette
Vignette
Full page
Vignette
Vignette
Full page
Vignette
Vignette
Vignette
Vignette
Vignette


## p. 9024 (#20) ############################################



## p. 9025 (#21) ############################################

9025
—
CHARLES LEVER
(1806-1872)
name ran
HE wonderful flow of animal spirits in Lever's novels is an
expression of the warm vital force of the man, who was
joyous in his childhood and dowered with good things in
his youth. An Irishman,-born August 21st, 1806, in Dublin, -his
folk were of English descent. Charles or Charles James, as his full
was a handsome, merry, and clever lad, who rode his
pony to school and gave his schoolmasters some bad quarters of an
hour by his escapades. Fencing and love-making too he liked, when
the time came. With this temperament and
with his personal attraction, it is easy to
understand that at Trinity College in his
native city, where he took his degree, his
life was a gay one. But along with social
aptitudes, he early developed diligence in
literary work, writing tales and ballads
many during undergraduate days. His par-
ticular literary idols were the Waverley nov-
els. "I can remember the time," he wrote
to a friend, "when as freshmen we went
about talking to each other of Ivanhoe'
and Kenilworth,' and when the glorious
spirit of these novels had so possessed us,
that our romance elevated and warmed us
to unconscious imitation of the noble thoughts and deeds we had
been reading. "

CHARLES LEVER
From Trinity College Lever went to Göttingen for further study,
took a degree there, and saw society so broadly that, writing as
"Cornelius O'Dowd"-his pen-name in Blackwood's-he could say
of himself, with some truth behind the whimsical exaggeration:-
"I know everybody worth knowing in Europe. I have been
everywhere, eaten everything, and seen everything. There's not a
railway guard doesn't give a recognition to me; not a waiter, from the
Trois Frères to the Wilde Mann, doesn't trail his napkin to earth as
he sees me. Ministers speak up when I stroll into the Chamber, and
prima donnas soar above the orchestra as I enter the pit. "
Returning to Dublin, Lever took a medical degree, and practiced
with success in the North of Ireland,- his courage during the cholera
XVI-565
-


## p. 9026 (#22) ############################################

9026
CHARLES LEVER
epidemic of 1832 being widely blazoned. His rating in that profession
is indicated by his nomination to the post of physician to the British
Embassy at Brussels, where he remained three years, coming back in
1842 to be editor of the Dublin University Magazine, which he brought
into prominence. In 1845 he went to live in Florence; leaving that
city in 1858 to accept the consulship at Spezia, and going to Triest
in 1867 to fill the same position there.
Lever's best-known and best-loved novels are those of his younger
manhood, 'Harry Lorrequer' (1837), Charles O'Malley' (1840), and
'Tom Burke of Ours' (1844): they are dashing tales of dare-devil
Irish soldier life of the early century. Martial courage, gallantry,
song, drink, the salt of fun and the zest of life are in them; and they
are told in a straight-away breezy fashion and with an honesty of
character that is winning. Lever's spirit was very sweet and human.
He was a natural story-teller, too; neither of the highest nor deepest,
but sure to be read and kindly remembered. He was a voluminous
and industrious writer; his novels numbering over thirty, and his
last, 'Lord Kilgobbin,' appearing the year he died. A few of them,
the outflow of his prime of vigor, certainly have the marks of a vital
product. Lever died at Triest in 1872; like his contemporary and
friend Thackeray, he passed away in his sleep.
THE BATTLE ON THE DOURO
From Charles O'Malley'
NE
EVER did the morning break more beautifully than on the
12th of May, 1809. Huge masses of fog-like vapor had
succeeded to the starry, cloudless night; but one by one
they moved onward toward the sea, disclosing as they passed
long tracts of lovely country, bathed in a rich golden glow. The
broad Douro, with its transparent current, shone out like a bright-
colored ribbon meandering through the deep garment of fairest
green; the darkly shadowed mountains which closed the back-
ground loomed even larger than they were, while their summits.
were tipped with the yellow glory of the morning. The air was.
calm and still, and the very smoke that arose from the peasant's
cot labored as it ascended through the perfumed air; and save
the ripple of the stream, all was silent as the grave.
The squadron of the 14th, with which I was, had diverged
from the road beside the river, and to obtain a shorter path, had
entered the skirts of a dark pine wood: our pace was a sharp


## p. 9027 (#23) ############################################

CHARLES LEVER
9027
one; an orderly had been already dispatched to hasten our ar-
rival, and we pressed on at a brisk trot. In less than an hour
we reached the verge of the wood; and as we rode out upon the
plain, what a spectacle met our eyes! Before us, in a narrow
valley, separated from the river by a low ridge, were picketed
three cavalry regiments; their noiseless gestures and perfect still-
ness bespeaking at once that they were intended for a surprise
party. Farther down the stream and upon the opposite side rose
the massive towers and tall spires of Oporto, displaying from their
summits the broad ensign of France: while far as the eye could
reach, the broad dark masses of troops might be seen; the inter-
vals between their columns glittering with the bright equipments
of their cavalry, whose steel caps and lances were sparkling in
the sunbeams. The bivouac fires were still smoldering, and mark-
ing where some part of the army had passed the night: for early
as it was, it was evident that their position had been changed;
and even now, the heavy masses of dark infantry might be seen
moving from place to place, while the long line of the road to
Vallonga was marked with a vast cloud of dust. The French
drum and the light infantry bugle told, from time to time, that
orders were passing among the troops; while the glittering uni-
form of a staff officer, as he galloped from the town, bespoke the
note of preparation.
"Dismount. Steady: quietly, my lads," said the colonel as
he alighted upon the grass. "Let the men have their break-
fast. >>>>
The little amphitheatre we occupied hid us entirely from all
observation on the part of the enemy, but equally so excluded us
from perceiving their movements. It may readily be supposed,
then, with what impatience we waited here; while the din and
clangor of the French force, as they marched and countermarched
so near us, were clearly audible. The orders were, however,
strict that none should approach the bank of the river; and we
lay anxiously awaiting the moment when this inactivity should
cease. More than one orderly had arrived among us, bearing
dispatches from headquarters; but where our main body was,
or what the nature of the orders, no one could guess. As
for me, my excitement was at its height; and I could not speak
for the very tension of my nerves. The officers stood in little
groups of two and three, whispering anxiously together; but all
I could collect was, that Soult had already begun his retreat upon


## p. 9028 (#24) ############################################

9028
CHARLES LEVER
Amarante, and that with the broad stream of the Douro between
us he defied our pursuit.
"Well, Charley," said Power, laying his arm upon my shoulder,
"the French have given us the slip this time: they are already
in march, and even if we dared force a passage in the face of
such an enemy, it seems there is not a boat to be found. I have
just seen Hammersley. "
"Indeed! where is he? " said I.
"He's gone back to Villa de Condé; he asked after you most
particularly. Don't blush, man: I'd rather back your chance than
his, notwithstanding the long letter that Lucy sends him. Poor
fellow! he has been badly wounded, but it seems, declines going
back to England. "
"Captain Power,” said an orderly, touching his cap, "General
Murray desires to see you. "
Power hastened away, but returned in a few moments.
"I say, Charley, there's something in the wind here. I have
just been ordered to try where the stream is fordable. I've men-
tioned your name to the General, and I think you'll be sent for
soon. Good-by. "
I buckled on my sword, and looking to my girths, stood watch-
ing the groups around me; when suddenly a dragoon pulled his
horse short up, and asked a man near me if Mr. O'Malley was
there?
"Yes, I am he. ”
"Orders from General Murray, sir," said the man, and rode
off at a canter.
I opened, and saw that the dispatch was addressed to Sir
Arthur Wellesley, with the mere words, "With haste! " on the
envelope.
Now which way to turn I knew not; so springing into the
saddle, I galloped to where Colonel Merivale was standing talking
to the colonel of a heavy dragoon regiment.
"May I ask, sir, by which road I am to proceed with this dis-
patch ? »
"Along the river, sir," said the heavy,-a large dark-browed
man, with a most forbidding look. "You'll soon see the troops;
you'd better stir yourself, sir, or Sir Arthur is not very likely to
be pleased with you. "
Without venturing a reply to what I felt a somewhat unneces-
sary taunt, I dashed spurs into my horse, and turned towards


## p. 9029 (#25) ############################################

CHARLES LEVER
9029
the river. I had not gained the bank above a minute when the
loud ringing of a rifle struck upon my ear; bang went another
and another. I hurried on, however, at the top of my speed,
thinking only of my mission and its pressing haste. As I turned
an angle of the stream, the vast column of the British came in
sight; and scarcely had my eye rested upon them when my horse
staggered forwards, plunged twice with his head nearly to the
earth, and then, rearing madly up, fell backward upon the ground.
Crushed and bruised as I felt by my fall, I was soon aroused to
the necessity of exertion: for as I disengaged myself from the
poor beast, I discovered he had been killed by a bullet in the
counter; and scarcely had I recovered my legs when a shot struck
my chago and grazed my temples. I quickly threw myself to the
ground, and creeping on for some yards, reached at last some
rising ground, from which I rolled gently downwards into a little
declivity, sheltered by the bank from the French fire.
When I arrived at headquarters I was dreadfully fatigued and
heated; but resolving not to rest till I had delivered my dis-
patches, I hastened towards the convent of La Sierra, where I
was told the commander-in-chief was.
As I came into the court of the convent, filled with general
officers and people of the staff, I was turning to ask how I could
proceed, when Hixley caught my eye.
"Well, O'Malley, what brings you here? "
"Dispatches from General Murray. "
"Indeed! Oh, follow me. "
He hurried me rapidly through the buzzing crowd, and as-
cending a large gloomy stair, introduced me into a room where
about a dozen persons in uniform were writing at a long deal
table.
"Captain Gordon," said he, addressing one of them, "dis-
patches requiring immediate attention have just been brought by
this officer. "
Before the sentence was finished the door opened, and a short
slight man in a gray undress coat, with a white cravat and a
cocked hat, entered. The dead silence that ensued was not
necessary to assure me that he was one in authority: the look of
command his bold stern features presented, the sharp piercing
eye, the compressed lip, the impressive expression of the whole.
face, told plainly that he was one who held equally himself and
others in mastery.


## p. 9030 (#26) ############################################

9030
CHARLES LEVER
"Send General Sherbroke here," said he to an aide-de-camp.
"Let the light brigade march into position; " and then turning
suddenly to me:
-
"Whose dispatches are these? "
"General Murray's, sir. "
I needed no more than that look to assure me that this was
he of whom I had heard so much, and of whom the world was
still to hear so much more.
He opened them quickly, and glancing his eye across the
contents, crushed the paper in his hand. Just as he did so, a
spot of blood upon the envelope attracted his attention.
"How's this- are you wounded? »
"No, sir: my horse was killed-»
"Very well, sir; join your brigade. But stay, I shall have
orders for you. Well, Waters, what news? "
This question was addressed to an officer in a staff uniform
who entered at the moment, followed by the short and bulky
figure of a monk, his shaven crown and large cassock strongly
contrasting with the gorgeous glitter of the costumes around him.
"I say, whom have we here? "
"The Prior of Amarante, sir," replied Waters, "who has just
come over. We have already by his aid secured three large
barges — »
"Let the artillery take up position in the convent at once,"
said Sir Arthur, interrupting. "The boats will be brought round
to the small creek beneath the orchard. You, sir," turning to
me, "will convey to General Murray-but you appear weak —
you, Gordon, will desire Murray to effect a crossing at Avintas
with the Germans and the Fourteenth. Sherbroke's division will
occupy the Villa Nuova. What number of men can that semi-
nary take? »
"From three to four hundred, sir. The padre mentions that
all the vigilance of the enemy is limited to the river below the
town. "
"I perceive it," was the short reply of Sir Arthur, as placing
his hands carelessly behind his back, he walked towards the win-
dow, and looked out upon the river.
All was still as death in the chamber; not a lip murmured.
The feeling of respect for him in whose presence we were stand-
ing checked every thought of utterance, while the stupendous
gravity of the events before us engrossed every mind and occupied


## p. 9031 (#27) ############################################

CHARLES LEVER
9031
every heart.
I was standing near the window; the effect of my
fall had stunned me for a time, but I was gradually recovering,
and watched with a thrilling heart the scene before me. Great
and absorbing as was my interest in what was passing without,
it was nothing compared with what I felt as I looked at him
upon whom our destiny was then hanging. I had ample time to
scan his features and canvass their every lineament. Never before
did I look upon such perfect impassibility; the cold determined
expression was crossed by no show of passion or impatience. All
was rigid and motionless; and whatever might have been the
workings of the spirit within, certainly no external sign betrayed
them: and yet what a moment for him must that have been!
Before him, separated by a deep and rapid river, lay the conquer-
ing legions of France, led on by one second alone to him whose
very name had been the prestige of victory. Unprovided with
every regular means of transport, in the broad glare of day, in
open defiance of their serried ranks and thundering artillery,
he dared the deed. What must have been his confidence in the
soldiers he commanded! what must have been his reliance upon
his own genius!
As such thoughts rushed through my mind, the door opened,
and an officer entered hastily, and whispering a few words to
Colonel Waters, left the room.
"One boat is already brought up to the crossing-place, and
entirely concealed by the wall of the orchard. "
"Let the men cross," was the brief reply.
No other word was spoken, as turning from the window he
closed his telescope, and followed by all the others, descended to
the court-yard.
This simple order was enough; an officer with a company of
the Buffs embarked, and thus began the passage of the Douro.
So engrossed was I in my vigilant observation of our leader
that I would gladly have remained at the convent, when I
received an order to join my brigade, to which a detachment of
artillery was already proceeding.
As I reached Avintas all was in motion. The cavalry was in
readiness beside the river, but as yet no boats had been discov-
ered; and such was the impatience of the men to cross, it was
with difficulty they were prevented trying the passage by swim-
ming, when suddenly Power appeared, followed by several fisher-
men. Three or four small skiffs had been found, half sunk in


## p. 9032 (#28) ############################################

CHARLES LEVER
9032
mud among the rushes; and with such frail assistance we com-
menced to cross.
"There will be something to write home to Galway soon,
Charley, or I'm terribly mistaken," said Fred, as he sprang into
the boat beside me. Was I not a true prophet when I told
you we'd meet the French in the morning? ”
"They're at it already," said Hixley, as a wreath of blue smoke
floated across the stream below us, and the loud boom of a large
gun resounded through the air.
Then came a deafening shout, followed by a rattling volley of
small-arms, gradually swelling into a hot sustained fire, through
which the cannon pealed at intervals. Several large meadows
lay along the river-side, where our brigade was drawn up as the
detachments landed from the boats; and here, although nearly a
league distant from the town, we now heard the din and crash of
battle, which increased every moment. The cannonade from the
Sierra convent, which at first was merely the fire of single guns,
now thundered away in one long roll, amid which the sounds of
falling walls and crashing roofs were mingled. It was evident to
us, from the continual fire kept up, that the landing had been
effected; while the swelling tide of musketry told that fresh troops
were momentarily coming up.
In less than twenty minutes our brigade was formed; and we
now only waited for two light four-pounders to be landed, when
an officer galloped up in haste, and called out, "The French are in
retreat! " and pointing at the same moment to the Vallonga road,
we saw a long line of smoke and dust leading from the town,
through which as we gazed the colors of the enemy might be
seen as they defiled; while the unbroken lines of the wagons and
heavy baggage proved that it was no partial movement, but the
army itself retreating.
"Fourteenth, threes about-close up-trot! " called out the
loud and manly voice of our leader; and the heavy tramp of our
squadrons shook the very ground as we advanced towards the
road to Vallonga.
As we came on, the scene became one of overwhelming ex-
citement; the masses of the enemy that poured unceasingly from
the town could now be distinguished more clearly; and amid all
the crash of gun-carriages and caissons, the voices of the staff
officers rose high as they hurried along the retreating battalions.
A troop of flying artillery galloped forth at top speed, and


## p. 9033 (#29) ############################################

CHARLES LEVER
―――
wheeling their guns into position with the speed of lightning
prepared by a flanking fire to cover over the retiring column.
The gunners sprang from their seats, the guns were already un-
limbered, when Sir George Murray, riding up at our left, called
out:
"Forward close up-charge! "
The word was scarcely spoken when the loud cheer answered
the welcome sound; and at the same instant the long line of
shining helmets passed with the speed of a whirlwind. The
pace increased at every stride, the ranks grew closer, and like the
dread force of some mighty engine we fell upon the foe. I have
felt all the glorious enthusiasm of a fox-hunt, when the loud cry
of the hounds, answered by the cheer of the joyous huntsman,
stirred the very heart within; but never till now did I know how
far higher the excitement reaches, when, man to man, sabre to
sabre, arm to arm, we ride forward to the battle-field. On we
went, the loud shout of "Forward! " still ringing in our ears.
One broken, irregular discharge from the French guns shook the
head of our advancing column, but stayed us not as we galloped
madly on.
-
-
9933
-
com-
I remember no more. The din, the smoke, the crash-the
cry for quarter mingled with the shout of victory-the flying
enemy the agonizing shrieks of the wounded-all are
mingled in my mind, but leave no trace of clearness or connec-
tion between them; and it was only when the column wheeled
to re-form behind the advancing squadrons, that I awoke from
my trance of maddening excitement, and perceived that we had
carried the position and cut off the guns of the enemy.
"Well done, Fourteenth! " said an old gray-headed colonel
as he rode along our line,-"gallantly done, lads! " The blood
trickled from a sabre cut on his temple, along his cheek, as he
spoke; but he either knew it not or heeded it not.
"There go the Germans! " said Power, pointing to the re-
mainder of our brigade, as they charged furiously upon the
French infantry and rode them down in masses.
Our guns came up at this time, and a plunging fire was
opened upon the thick and retreating ranks of the enemy. The
carnage must have been terrific; for the long breaches in their
lines showed where the squadrons of the cavalry had passed, or
the most destructive tide of the artillery had swept through them.
The speed of the flying columns grew momentarily more; the


## p. 9034 (#30) ############################################

CHARLES LEVER
9034
road became blocked up too by broken carriages and wounded;
and to add to their discomfiture, a damaging fire was opened
from the town upon the retreating column, while the brigade of
Guards and the Twenty-ninth pressed hotly on their rear.
The scene was now beyond anything maddening in its inter-
est. From the walls of Oporto the English infantry poured forth
in pursuit; while the whole river was covered with boats, as they
still continued to cross over. The artillery thundered from the
Sierra, to protect the landing-for it was even still contested in.
places; and the cavalry, charging in flank, swept the broken ranks
and bore down upon the squares.
It was now, when the full tide of victory ran highest in our
favor, that we were ordered to retire from the road.
Column
after column passed before us, unmolested and unassailed; and
not even a cannon-shot arrested their steps.
Some unaccountable timidity of our leader directed this move-
ment; and while before our very eyes the gallant infantry were
charging the retiring columns, we remained still and inactive.
How little did the sense of praise we had already won repay
us for the shame and indignation we experienced at this moment,
as with burning cheek and compressed lip we watched the re-
treating files. "What can he mean? " "Is there not some mis-
take? " "Are we never to charge? " were the muttered questions
around, as a staff officer galloped up with the order to take
ground still further back and nearer to the river.
The word was scarcely spoken, when a young officer in the
uniform of a general dashed impetuously up: he held his plumed
cap high above his head as he called out, "Fourteenth, follow
me! Left face-wheel-charge! "
So, with the word, we were upon them.
The French rear-
guard was at this moment at the narrowest part of the road
which opened by a bridge upon a large open space; so that
forming with a narrow front, and favored by a declivity in the
ground, we actually rode them down. Twice the French formed,
and twice were they broken. Meanwhile the carnage was dread-
ful on both sides; our fellows dashing madly forward where the
ranks were thickest, the enemy resisting with the stubborn cour-
age of men fighting for their last spot of ground. So impetu-
ous was the charge of our squadrons that we stopped not till,
piercing the dense column of their retreating mass, we reached
the open ground beyond. Here we wheeled, and prepared once


## p. 9035 (#31) ############################################

CHARLES LEVER
9935
more to meet them; when suddenly some squadrons of cuirass-
iers debouched from the road, and supported by a field-piece,
showed front against us. This was the moment that the remain-
der of our brigade should have come to our aid; but not a man
appeared. However, there was not an instant to be lost: already
the plunging fire of the four-pounder had swept through our
files, and every moment increased our danger.
"Once more, my lads, forward! " cried our gallant leader, Sir
Charles Stewart, as waving his sabre, he dashed into the thickest
of the fray.
So sudden was our charge, that we were upon them before
they were prepared. And here ensued a terrific struggle; for as
the cavalry of the enemy gave way before us, we came upon the
close ranks of the infantry, at half-pistol distance, who poured
a withering volley into us as we approached. But what could
arrest the sweeping torrent of our brave fellows, though every
moment falling in numbers?
Harvey, our major, lost his arm near the shoulder. Scarcely
an officer was not wounded. Power received a deep sabre cut in
the cheek, from an aide-de-camp of General Foy, in return for
a wound he gave the General; while I, in my endeavor to save
General Laborde, when unhorsed, was cut down through the hel-
met, and so stunned that I remembered no more around me. I
kept my saddle, it is true, but I lost every sense of consciousness;
my first glimmering of reason coming to my aid as I lay upon
the river bank, and felt my faithful follower Mike bathing my
temples with water, as he kept up a running fire of lamentations
for my being murthered so young.
"Are you better, Mister Charles? Spake to me, alanah: say
that you're not kilt, darling; do now. Oh, wirra! what'll I ever
say to the master? and you doing so beautiful! Wouldn't he
give the best baste in his stable to be looking at you to-day?
There, take a sup: it's only water. Bad luck to them, but it's
hard work beatin' them. They're only gone now. That's right;
now you're coming to. "
"Where am I, Mike? "
"It's here you are, darling, resting yourself. "
"Well, Charley, my poor fellow, you've got sore bones too,"
cried Power, as, his face swathed in bandages and covered with
"It was a gallant
blood, he lay down on the grass beside me.
thing while it lasted, but has cost us dearly.
Poor Hixley — »


## p. 9036 (#32) ############################################

9036
CHARLES LEVER
"What of him? " said I, anxiously.
"Poor fellow! he has seen his last battle-field. He fell across
me as we came out upon the road. I lifted him up in my arms
and bore him along above fifty yards; but he was stone dead.
Not a sigh, not a word escaped him; shot through the forehead. "
As he spoke, his lips trembled, and his voice sank to a mere
whisper at the last words: "You remember what he said last
night. Poor fellow! he was every inch a soldier. "
Such was his epitaph.
I turned my head toward the scene of our late encounter.
Some dismounted guns and broken wagons alone marked the
spot; while far in the distance, the dust of the retreating col-
umns showed the beaten enemy, as they hurried towards the
frontiers of Spain.


## p. 9037 (#33) ############################################

9037
YOG
GEORGE HENRY LEWES
(1817-1878)
HE work of Mr. Lewes admirably illustrates the intellectual
change which characterizes the nineteenth century.
He
was born in London April 18th, 1817, and died at the Priory,
St. John's Wood, November 28th, 1878; so that the active period of
his life covered those years when, consciously or unconsciously, many
thinkers were being strongly affected by the influence of Auguste
Comte, and when the investigations and teachings of Spencer, Darwin,
Huxley, and others were revolutionizing science and philosophy, and
in a large degree theology also. Lewes
reflected the spirit of the time in the most
positive fashion. He was a careful student
of philosophy, but rejected the metaphysi-
cal method. He was as ardent a seeker as
any Gradgrind for "facts, sir! facts! " but
the facts which he sought were those which
seemed capable of use in a larger and more
stable philosophy. He would perhaps have
claimed that the house which is to endure
must be built from the foundation up, and
not from the chimney down. English in
birth and fibre, much of his youth was spent
in France and Germany, so that insular GEORGE HENRY LEWES
prejudices did not control him. Devoted to
investigation and to philosophical speculation, he nevertheless inher-
ited from his grandfather, who had been a prominent actor, a love of
the drama and predilection for the stage which tempered the influ-
ence of his more abstruse studies and broadened his outlook upon
life. He studied medicine, but did not pursue the profession, because
he could not endure the sight of so much pain as he was called upon
to witness. For a time he was an inmate of a notary's office, and
again for a short period he tried commerce and trade in the employ
of a Russian merchant. The attractions of literature were too great
to be exceeded by any other, even by those of the stage, to which
he was greatly drawn. He indeed appeared behind the footlights at
various times, even so late as in 1850, when he sustained a part in a
play of his own called 'The Noble Heart'; and he appears to have



## p. 9038 (#34) ############################################

9038
GEORGE HENRY LEWES
been an actor of some ability. His Shylock was considered especially
good.
As early as in his sixteenth year, Lewes had written a play for
private performance. At nineteen he was discussing Spinoza as a
member of a philosophical debating club. At about this time he
planned a work in which philosophy should be treated from the physi-
ological point of view; and thus began the undertaking which claimed
his most earnest thought for the remainder of his life. His career in
this respect may be divided into three periods. In the first, through
his 'Biographical History of Philosophy,' published in 1845-6, he un-
dertook to show the futility of metaphysics. In it he combined a
history of philosophical theories with entertaining biographical sketches
of those who propounded them; and thus clothed the dry bones, and
gave living interest to what might otherwise have offered little to
attract the ordinary reader. The work was afterward much modified
and extended, and reissued as a 'History of Philosophy from Thales
to Comte. ' In his second period he became a careful investigator of
biological phenomena, and subsequently published the results of his
investigations in a number of interesting and popular works: 'Sea-
side Studies (1858), Physiology of Common Life' (1859-60), 'Studies
in Animal Life' (1862). In the third he combined, as it were, the
results of the work of the two preceding periods, in the 'Problems
of Life and Mind,' in four volumes (1874-1879); in which he sought
to establish the principles of a rational psychology, and to lay the
foundations for a creed. In this series may also be included his
work on 'Comte's Philosophy of the Sciences' (1853); 'Aristotle: A
Chapter from the History of the Sciences' (1864); and 'The Study of
Psychology: Its Object, Scope, and Method' (1879). He was always
deeply interested in the philosophy of Auguste Comte; but criticized
Comte freely, and thereby, he says, lost his friendship.
In 1854, upon uniting his fortunes with those of George Eliot,
he made a visit to Germany; and at Weimar he completed his 'Life
of Goethe,'-next to the 'History of Philosophy,' probably the best
known of his works. He had previously (1849) published a 'Life of
Maximilian Robespierre. ' His early love for the drama, in addition
to the work previously cited, recorded itself in 'The Spanish Drama:
Lope de Vega and Calderon' (1847), and in 'On Actors and the Art
of Acting' (1875). He was also the author of two novels,-'Ran-
thorpe' (written in 1842 but not published until 1847), and Rose,
Blanche, and Violet' (1848). He was not at his best, however, in
fiction.
Mr. Lewes wrote extensively for the reviews, and upon a great
variety of topics. His style is, as Leslie Stephen well says, "bright,
clear, and independent. " His views were positive, and he did not


## p. 9039 (#35) ############################################

GEORGE HENRY LEWES
9939
mince his words. Though the biographer of Goethe, whom he
esteemed very highly, he was not fond of the German literary style;
and he admired Lessing in part, it is said, because he was "the least
German of all Germans. " Von Schlegel he called a philosophical
impostor, and Cousin he thought a charlatan. He was the first editor
of the Leader, and subsequently of the Fortnightly; and as an editor
he was successful, but he disliked the drudgery. In the Fortnightly
he introduced the custom of signed reviews. He was an important
member of a literary circle which included, among others, Carlyle,
Thackeray, and J. S. Mill.
GOETHE AND SCHILLER
HERE are few nobler spectacles than the friendship of two
great men; and the history of literature presents nothing
comparable to the friendship of Goethe and Schiller. The
friendship of Montaigne and Étienne de la Boétie was perhaps
more passionate and entire: but it was the union of two kindred
natures, which from the first moment discovered their affinity;
not the union of two rivals, incessantly contrasted by partisans,
and originally disposed to hold aloof from each other. Rivals
Goethe and Schiller were and are; natures in many respects
directly antagonistic; chiefs of opposing camps, and brought into
brotherly union only by what was highest in their natures and
their aims.
To look on these great rivals was to see at once their pro-
found dissimilarity. Goethe's beautiful head had the calm vic-
torious grandeur of the Greek ideal; Schiller's the earnest beauty
of a Christian looking towards the future. The massive brow
and large-pupiled eyes,-like those given by Raphael to the
infant Christ, in the matchless Madonna di San Sisto; the strong
and well-proportioned features, lined indeed by thought and suf-
fering, which have troubled but not vanquished the strong man;
a certain healthy vigor in the brown skin,—make Goethe a strik-
ing contrast to Schiller, with his eager eyes, narrow brow, tense
and intense; his irregular features, worn by thought and suffer-
ing and weakened by sickness. The one looks, the other looks
out. Both are majestic; but one has the majesty of repose, the
other of conflict. Goethe's frame is massive, imposing: he seems
much taller than he is. Schiller's frame is disproportioned; he


## p. 9040 (#36) ############################################

9040
GEORGE HENRY LEWES
seems less than he is. Goethe holds himself stiffly erect; the
long-necked Schiller "walks like a a camel. " Goethe' chest is
like the torso of the Theseus; Schiller's is bent, and has lost a
lung.
A similar difference is traceable in details. "An air that was
beneficial to Schiller acted on me like poison," Goethe said to
Eckermann. "I called on him one day; and as I did not find
him at home, I seated myself at his writing-table to note down
various matters. I had not been seated long before I felt a
strange indisposition steal over me, which gradually increased,
until at last I nearly fainted. At first I did not know to what
cause I should ascribe this wretched and to me unusual state,
until I discovered that a dreadful odor issued from a drawer near
me.
When I opened it, I found to my astonishment that it was
full of rotten apples. I immediately went to the window and
inhaled the fresh air, by which I was instantly restored. Mean-
while his wife came in, and told me that the drawer was always
filled wit rotten apples, because the scent was beneficial to
Schiller, and he could not live or work without it. "
As another and not unimportant detail, characterizing the
healthy and unhealthy practice of literature, it may be added that
Goethe wrote in the freshness of morning, entirely free from
stimulus; Schiller worked in the feverish hours of night, stimu-
lating his languid brain with coffee and champagne.
In comparing one to a Greek ideal, the other to a Christian
ideal, it has already been implied that one was the representative
of realism, the other of idealism. Goethe has himself indicated
the capital distinction between them: Schiller was animated with
the idea of freedom; Goethe, on the contrary, was animated
with the idea of nature. This distinction runs through their
works: Schiller always pining for something greater than nature,
wishing to make men demigods; Goethe always striving to let
nature have free development, and produce the highest forms of
humanity. The fall of man was to Schiller the happiest of all
events, because thereby men fell away from pure instinct into
conscious freedom; with this sense of freedom came the possibility
of morality. To Goethe this seemed paying a price for morality
which was higher than morality was worth; he preferred the ideal
of a condition wherein morality was unnecessary. Much as he
might prize a good police, he prized still more a society in which.
a police would never be needed.


## p. 9041 (#37) ############################################

GEORGE HENRY LEWES
9041
Goethe and Schiller were certainly different natures; but had
they been so fundamentally opposed as it is the fashion to con-
sider them, they could never have become so intimately united.
They were opposite and allied, with somewhat of the same differ-
ences and resemblances as are traceable in the Greek and Roman
Mars. In the Greek mythology, the god of war had not the
prominent place he attained in Rome; and the Greek sculptors,
when they represented him, represented him as the victor return-
ing after conflict to repose, holding in his hand the olive branch,
while at his feet sat Eros. The Roman sculptors, or those who
worked for Rome, represented Mars as the god of war in all his
terrors, in the very act of leading on to victory. But different as
these two conceptions were, they were both conceptions of the god
of war.
Goethe may be likened to the one, and Schiller to the
other: both were kindred spirits united by a common purpose.
Having touched upon the points of contrast, it will now be
needful to say a word on those points of resemblance which
served as the basis of their union. It will be unnecessary to
instance the obvious points which two such poets must have had
in common; the mention of some less obvious will suffice for our
present purpose. They were both profoundly convinced that art
was no luxury of leisure,- no mere amusement to charm the
idle or relax the careworn,-but a mighty influence, serious in
its aims although pleasurable in its means; a sister of religion,
by whose aid the great world-scheme was wrought into reality.
This was with them no mere sonorous phrase. They were thor-
oughly in earnest. They believed that culture would raise human-
ity to its full powers; and they, as artists, knew no culture equal
to that of art. It was probably a perception of this belief that
made Karl Grün say, «< Goethe was the most ideal idealist the
earth has ever borne; an æsthetic idealist. " And hence the ori-
gin of the wide-spread error that Goethe "only looked at life as
an artist,”—i. e. , cared only for human nature inasmuch as it
afforded him materials for art; a point which will be more fully
examined hereafter. The phases of their development had been.
very similar, and had brought them to a similar standing-point.
They both began rebelliously; they both emerged from titanic
lawlessness in emerging from youth to manhood. In Italy the
sight of ancient masterpieces completed Goethe's metamorphosis.
Schiller had to work through his in the gloomy North, and under
the constant pressure of anxieties. He too pined for Italy, and
XVI-566


## p. 9042 (#38) ############################################

GEORGE HENRY LEWES
9042
thought the climate of Greece would make him a poet. But his
intense and historical mind found neither stimulus nor enjoyment
in plastic art. Noble men and noble deeds were the food which
nourished his great soul. "His poetic purification came from
moral ideas; whereas in Goethe the moral ideal came from the
artistic. " Plutarch was Schiller's Bible. The ancient master-
pieces of poetry came to him in this period of his development,
to lead him gently by the hand onwards to the very point where
Goethe stood. He read the Greek tragedians in wretched French
translations, and with such aid laboriously translated the 'Iphi-
genia' of Euripides. Homer in Voss's faithful version became to
him what Homer long was to Goethe. And how thoroughly he
threw himself into the ancient world may be seen in his poem,
'The Gods of Greece. ' Like Goethe, he had found his religious
opinions gradually separating him more and more from the ortho-
dox Christians; and like Goethe, he had woven for himself a
system out of Spinoza, Kant, and the Grecian sages.
At the time, then, that these two men seemed most opposed
to each other, and were opposed in feeling, they were gradually
drawing closer and closer in the very lines of their development,
and a firm basis was prepared for solid and enduring union.
Goethe was five-and-forty, Schiller five-and-thirty. Goethe had
much to give which Schiller gratefully accepted; and if he could
not in return influence the developed mind of his great friend,
nor add to the vast stores of its knowledge and experience, he
could give him that which was even more valuable, sympathy and
impulse. He excited Goethe to work. He withdrew him from
the engrossing pursuit of science, and restored him once more to
poetry. He urged him to finish what was already commenced,
and not to leave his works all fragments. They worked together
with the same purpose and with the same earnestness; and their
union is the most glorious episode in the lives of both, and re-
mains as an eternal exemplar of a noble friendship.
Of all the tributes to Schiller's greatness which an enthusiastic
people has pronounced, there is perhaps nothing which carries a
greater weight of tenderness and authority than Goethe's noble
praise. It is a very curious fact in the history of Shakespeare,
that he is not known to have written a single line in praise of
any contemporary poet. The fashion of those days was for each
poet to write verses in eulogy of his friends, and the eulogies
written by Shakespeare's friends are such as to satisfy even the


## p. 9043 (#39) ############################################

GEORGE HENRY LEWES
9043
idolatry of admirers in our day; but there exists no eulogy, no
single verse, from him whose eulogy was more worth having than
that of all the rest put together. Had literary gossip, pregnant
with literary malice, produced the absurd impression that Shake-
speare was cold, selfish, and self-idolatrous, this curious fact would.
have been made a damning proof. I have so often in these pages.
used Shakespeare as a contrast to Goethe, that it would be wrong
not to contrast him also on this point. Of all the failings usually
attributed to literary men, Goethe had the least of what could be
called jealousy; of all the qualities which sit gracefully on great-
ness, he had the most of magnanimity. The stream of time will
carry down to after ages the memory of several whose names will
live only in his praise, and the future students of literary history
will have no fact to note of Goethe similar to that noted of
Shakespeare: they will see how enthusiastic was his admiration of
his rivals Schiller, Voss, and Herder, and how quick he was to
perceive the genius of Scott, Byron, Béranger, and Manzoni.
ROBESPIERRE IN PARIS, 1770
HⓇ
E LED a life of honorable poverty, seclusion, and study,-the
life that is led by thousands of young men both in Eng-
land and in France. He occupied a small apartment au
cinquième in the Rue St. Jacques. His slender means admitted of
but very little of that dissipation with which young law students
seek relief from their wearisome studies.
Jurisprudence did not, however, wholly occupy him. He was
in Paris, in the midst of its pleasures, its frivolities, its debates.
Too poor to enjoy many of these delights, of a disposition natur-
ally reserved and unsocial, he had little to interrupt his studies;
so that when not attending lectures or bending over digests, he'
was walking along the quays or down the shady, dusty avenues of
the Tuileries, meditating on the destinies of mankind, and striv-
ing, with the help of Rousseau and others, to solve the vexed
problems which then agitated Europe.
He was in Paris; yet not in its giddy vortex, not among its
brilliant courtiers, not moving amid the rustling hoops of its
court nor adding to the elegant frivolity of its salons. He was
in its dark and narrow streets, amidst its misery and squalid


## p. 9044 (#40) ############################################

9044
GEORGE HENRY LEWES
rage. He fought no duels, sparkled at no suppers, was the hero
of no bonnes fortunes. He was near enough to the court and
the salons to know what passed there; far enough removed from
them to feel some hatred at the distinction. He could see that
the Great were only the Privileged, and had no real title to be an
aristocracy. Any common observer might have seen that; but
the serious, unfriended Robespierre saw it with terrible distinct-
ness.
Aristocracy had indeed fallen more completely than even
kingship. If the nobles ever were the foremost, topmost men,
they long had ceased to be so. A more finished grace of deport-
ment, a more thorough comprehension of the futilities and ele-
gances of luxurious idleness, and perhaps a more perfect code of
dueling, might be conceded to them. If life were as gay and
frivolous a thing as Paris seemed to believe, if its interests were
none other than the ingenious caprices of otiose magnificence,—
then indeed these were the topmost men, and formed a veritable
aristocracy.
But the brilliant fête was drawing to a close; and while the
beams of morning made the rouged and fatigued cheeks of the
giddy dancers look somewhat ghastly, there was heard the distant
tramp of an advancing army, which told them that a conflict was
at hand. Some heard it, and with reckless indifference danced on,
exclaiming like Madame de Pompadour, "Après nous le Déluge!