No More Learning

-I saw the new Queene and King proclaim'd
the very next day after her coming to White-hall, Wednesday 13
Feb. , with great acclamation and generall good reception: bon-
fires, bells, guns, etc. It was believ'd that both, especially the
Princesse, would have shew'd some (seeming) reluctance at least
of assuming her father's Crown, and made some apology, testify-
ing by her regret that he should by his mismanagement necessi-
tate the Nation to so extraordinary a proceeding, wch would
have shew'd very handsomely to the world, and according to the
character given of her piety; consonant also to her husband's first
declaration, that there was no intention of deposing the King,
but of succouring the Nation: but nothing of all this appear'd;
she came into White-hall laughing and jolly, as to a wedding, so
as to seem quite transported. She rose early the next morning,
and in her undresse, as it was reported, before her women were
up, went about from roome to roome to see the convenience of
White-hall; lay in the same bed and apartment where the late
Queene lay, and within a night or two sate downe to play at
basset, as the Queene her predecessor used to do.
She
seems to be of a good nature, and that she takes nothing to
heart; whilst the Prince her husband has a thoughtful counte-
nance, is wonderful serious and silent, and seems to treate all
persons alike gravely, and to be very intent on affaires: Holland,
Ireland, and France calling for his care.
1698, 6 Aug. -I dined with Mr. Pepys, where was Capt.
Dampier, who had been a famous Buccaneer, had brought hither
the painted Prince Job, and printed a relation of his very strange
adventure, and his observations. He was now going abroad
again by the King's encouragement, who furnished a ship of 290
tons. He seemed a more modest man than one would imagine
by the relation of the crew he had assorted with.
1699, 25 Nov. -There happen'd this weeke so thick a mist
and fog that people lost their way in the streetes, it being
so intense that no light of candles or torches yielded any (or
but very little) direction. I was in it, and in danger. Rob-
beries were committed between the very lights which were
fix'd between London and Kensington on both sides, and whilst
coaches and travellers were passing. It began about four in the
.


## p. 5604 (#174) ###########################################

5604
JOHN EVELYN
afternoone, and was quite gon by eight, without any wind to dis-
perse it.
At the Thames they beat drums to direct the water-
men to make the shore.
1700, 13 July-I went to Marden, which was originally a
barren warren bought by Sir Robert Clayton, who built there
a pretty house, and made such alteration by planting not only an
infinite store of the best fruite, but so chang'd the natural situa-
tion of the hill, valleys, and solitary mountains about it, that it
rather represented some foreign country which would produce
spontaneously pines, firs, cypress, yew, holly, and juniper; they
were come to their perfect growth, with walks, mazes, &c. ,
amongst them, and were preserv'd with the utmost care, so that
I who had seen it some yeares before in its naked and barren
condition, was in admiration of it. The land was bought of Sir
John Evelyn of Godstone, and was thus improv'd for pleasure
and retirement by the vast charge and industry of this opulent
citizen. He and his lady receiv'd us with greate civility.
1703, 31 Oct. This day, being 83 years of age, upon examin-
ing what concern'd me more particularly the past year, with the
greate mercies of God preserving me, and in some measure
making my infirmities tolerable, I gave God most hearty and
humble thanks, beseeching Him to confirm to me the pardon of
my sins past, and to prepare me for a better life by the virtue
of His grace and mercy, for the sake of my blessed Saviour.
1705, 31 Oct. —I am this day arrived to the 85th year of my
age. Lord, teach me so to number my days to come that I may
apply them to wisdom.


## p. 5605 (#175) ###########################################

5605
EDWARD EVERETT
(1794-1865)
DWARD EVERETT occupies an honorable place in American life.
He was a scholar when exact scholars were rare, he was a
man of letters when devotion to literature was not com-
mon, he was an orator when the school of Chatham was in vogue
and when the finest grace of diction and the studied arts of gesture
and intonation were cultivated, and he was a patriot all his life. In
his day he was on the side of culture for its own sake, of order in
letters as in life, and he was the model in courteous speech and
unexceptionable manners. He began his
life as a student, he passed nearly all of it
in the public service, and in both capaci-
ties he was an ornament to his country;
meeting the demands upon the citizen at
home, and a competent representative of
his country abroad.
EDWARD EVERETT
All that careful study and the cultiva-
tion of his good natural parts, all that in-
dustry, painstaking, and faithfulness to duty
in the matter in hand could do, Everett
did. The psychological student who be-
lieves that genius is only taking pains will
find a profitable study in his successful
career. His life is an interesting one in this point of view: namely,
how much can a man of good natural parts, industry, and ambition
who lacks the creative touch of genius make of himself. His career
is held in grateful memory by a generation that is little curious to
read his elaborate orations or his scholarly reviews, and regards his
statesmanship as too conventional and timid in the national crisis in
which he was an actor.

Edward Everett was born in Dorchester, Massachusetts, November
11th, 1794, and died in Boston, January 15th, 1865. He entered Har-
vard College in 1807, and graduated with the highest honors in 1811,
at the age of seventeen. Two years after, he succeeded the renowned
Joseph Stevens Buckminster as pastor of the Unitarian Brattle Street
Church in Boston, and won an enviable reputation by his polished.
eloquence. A sermon delivered in the House of Representatives
at Washington, in February 1820, gave him a national reputation.


## p. 5606 (#176) ###########################################

5606
EDWARD EVERETT
Immediately after his graduation he was a Latin tutor in Harvard;
in 1814 he was elected to the chair of Greek, and he spent four
years in Europe, two of them at the University of Göttingen, to fully
qualify himself for that position. M. Cousin, whom he met in Ger-
many at this period, spoke of him as one of the best Grecians he
ever knew. On his return, his lectures on the Greek literature
aroused great enthusiasm for that study, - a service to our early
scholarship which ought never to be forgotten. In 1820 he took
upon himself, with his other duties, the editorship of the North
American Review, to which then and for many years he was a pro-
lific contributor. His great learning and his facility made his pen
always in demand. In 1822 he married Charlotte Gray, a daughter
of Peter Chardon Brooks, whose biography he wrote. A man of Mr.
Everett's capacity and distinction as an orator was irresistibly at-
tracted to politics, and in 1824 he represented Boston in Congress as
a Whig, taking the side of John Quincy Adams in politics, and sat
in the House of Representatives for ten years. In 1835 he was
chosen governor of Massachusetts, and served for three successive
terms, failing of election for the fourth by the loss of one vote in
over one hundred thousand. In 1840 he again visited Europe, and
while residing in London was appointed minister to the Court of St.
James. His position as a man of affairs and of uncommon learning
was recognized by the British universities; Oxford gave him the
degree of D. C. L. , and Cambridge and Dublin that of LL. D. Re-
turning, he was President of Harvard College from 1846 to 1849, and
on the death of Webster in 1852 he entered the Cabinet of President
Fillmore as Secretary of State. Always a conservative in politics,
he identified himself at this time with those known as Silver Gray
Whigs, men who for prudential reasons were not disposed to join
the Liberal party in any sturdy opposition to the extension of
slavery. He was a patriot and loved his country, but belonged to
the many who fervently believed that the Union could be served by
compromise. In 1853 he was elected to the United States Senate
from Massachusetts; but his health was so much impaired by his
zeal and fidelity in the work of that important period, which saw
the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, that he was obliged to resign
his seat. Yet it was in 1856 that he undertook one of the most
fatiguing labors of his life, in aid of the plan for purchasing Mount
Vernon by private subscription. He prepared an oration on Wash-
ington, which he delivered between 1856 and 1859 one hundred and
twenty-two times, to vast audiences in all the considerable cities of
the Union, and which was listened to as one of the most impressive
and eloquent addresses of the century. It gained over $58,000 for
the Mt. Vernon fund. This, however, was only one of his orations


## p. 5607 (#177) ###########################################

EDWARD EVERETT
5607
given for charitable purposes; others during this later period pro-
duced over $90,000 for their objects. Collections of his orations and
speeches fill several octavo volumes.
Mr. Everett was always active for the public good, always high-
minded and pure in politics, always lending his aid to raise his
countrymen in education and refinement. Conservative by nature
and training, he did not join the great uprising in 1860, but per-
mitted his name to be used by the Constitutional Union party as a
candidate for Vice-President, with John Bell of Tennessee as can-
didate for President. Mr. Everett's name as a scholar and as a man
of great information and ability is as high as ever. That his fame
as an orator has not survived at the level it stood with his con-
temporaries is due partly to a change in public taste, but mainly to
his own lack of fervor and directness, the want of which were not
compensated by the most finished art, which, when the occasion
that called it forth is past, assumes the character of artificiality.
THE EMIGRATION OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS
From the Oration at Plymouth, December 22d, 1824
I'
T IS sad indeed to reflect on the disasters which this little band
of Pilgrims encountered. Sad to see a portion of them the
prey of unrelenting cupidity, treacherously embarked in an
unseaworthy ship, which they are soon obliged to abandon, and
crowd themselves into one vessel; one hundred persons, besides
the ship's company, in a vessel of one hundred and sixty tons.
One is touched at the story of the long, cold, and weary autumnal
passage; of the landing on the inhospitable rocks at this dismal
season, where they are deserted before long by the ship which
had brought them, and which seemed their only hold upon the
world of fellow-men,- a prey to the elements and to want, and
fearfully ignorant of the numbers, the power, and the temper of
the savage tribes that filled the unexplored continent upon whose
verge they had ventured. But all this wrought together for good.
These trials of wandering and exile, of the ocean, the winter, the
wilderness, and the savage foe, were the final assurance of suc-
cess. It was these that put far away from our fathers' cause all
patrician softness, all hereditary claims to pre-eminence. No ef-
feminate nobility crowded into the dark and austere ranks of the
Pilgrims. No Carr nor Villiers desired to lead on the ill-provided
-


## p. 5608 (#178) ###########################################

5608
EDWARD EVERETT
band of despised Puritans. No well-endowed clergy were on the
alert to quit their cathedrals and set up a pompous hierarchy in
the frozen wilderness. No craving governors were anxious to be
sent over to our cheerless El Dorados of ice and of snow. No;
they could not say they had encouraged, patronized, or helped the
Pilgrims. They could not afterwards fairly pretend to reap where
they had not strewn; and as our fathers reared this broad and
solid fabric with pains and watchfulness, unaided, barely toler-
ated, it did not fall when the arm which had never supported
was raised to destroy.
Methinks I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous vessel,
the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with the prospects of
a future State, and bound across the unknown sea. I behold it
pursuing, with a thousand misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious.
voyage. Suns rise and set, and weeks and months pass, and
winter surprises them on the deep, but brings them not the
sight of the wished-for shore. I see them now scantily supplied
with provisions, crowded almost to suffocation in their ill-stored
prison, delayed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route; and now
driven in fury before the raging tempest, on the high and giddy
waves. The awful voice of the storm howls through the rigging.
The laboring masts seem straining from their base; the dismal
sound of the pumps is heard; the ship leaps as it were madly
from billow to billow; the ocean breaks, and settles with engulf-
ing floods over the floating deck, and beats with deadening weight
against the staggered vessel. I see them, escaped from these
perils, pursuing their all but desperate undertaking, and landed
at last, after five months' passage, on the ice-clad rocks of Plym-
outh,— weak and weary from the voyage, poorly armed, scantily
provisioned, depending on the charity of their shipmaster for a
draught of beer on board, drinking nothing but water on shore,
without shelter, without means, surrounded by hostile tribes.
Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, on any principle of
human probability, what shall be the fate of this handful of ad-
venturers? Tell me, man of military science, in how many months
were they all swept off by the thirty savage tribes enumerated
within the early limits of New England? Tell me, politician, how
long did this shadow of a colony, on which your conventions and
treaties had not smiled, languish on the distant coast? Student
of history, compare for me the baffled projects, the deserted set-
tlements, the abandoned adventures of other times, and find the


## p. 5609 (#179) ###########################################

EDWARD EVERETT
5609
parallel of this. Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the
houseless heads of women and children; was it hard labor and
spare meals; was it disease, was it the tomahawk, was it the deep
malady of a blighted hope, a ruined enterprise, and a broken
heart, aching in its last moments at the recollection of the loved
and left beyond the sea: was it some, or all of these united, that
hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate? And is
it possible that neither of these causes, that not all combined,
were able to blast this bud of hope? Is it possible that from a
beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy not so much of admira-
tion as of pity, there has gone forth a progress so steady, a
growth so wonderful, a reality so important, a promise yet to be
fulfilled so glorious?
THE INEVITABLE MARCH OF IMPROVEMENT
From the Essay compiled from Discourses in Boston, Concord,
Washington, 1827, 1829-1830
and
A
DISCOVERY results in an art; an art produces a comfort; a
comfort made cheaply accessible adds family on family to
the population; and a family is a new creation of thinking,
reasoning, inventing, and discovering beings. Thus, instead of
arriving at the end, we are at the beginning of the series, and
ready to start with recruited numbers on the great and beneficent
career of useful knowledge.
And are the properties of matter all discovered? its laws all
found out? the uses to which they may be applied all detected?
I cannot believe it. We cannot doubt that truths now unknown
are in reserve, to reward the patience and the labors of future
lovers of truth, which will go as far beyond the brilliant discov-
eries of the last generation as these do beyond all that was
known to the ancient world. The pages are infinite in that great
volume which was written by the hand Divine, and they are to
be gradually turned, perused, and announced, to benefited and
grateful generations, by genius and patience; and especially by
patience by untiring, enthusiastic, self-devoting patience. The
progress which has been made in art and science is indeed vast.
We are ready to think a pause must follow; that the goal must
be at hand. But there is no goal; and there can be no pause;


## p. 5610 (#180) ###########################################

5610
EDWARD EVERETT
for art and science are in themselves progressive and infinite.
They are moving powers, animated principles: they are instinct.
with life; they are themselves the intellectual life of man. Noth-
ing can arrest them which does not plunge the entire order of
society into barbarism. There is no end to truth, no bound to
its discovery and application; and a man might as well think
to build a tower from the top of which he could grasp Sirius in
his hand, as prescribe a limit to discovery and invention. Never
do we more evince our arrogant ignorance than when we boast
our knowledge. True Science is modest; for her keen, sagacious
eye discerns that there are deep undeveloped mysteries where
the vain sciolist sees all plain. We call this an age of improve-
ment, as it is. But the Italians in the age of Leo X. , and with
great reason, said the same of their age; the Romans in the
time of Cicero, the same of theirs; the Greeks in the time of
Pericles, the same of theirs; and the Assyrians and Egyptians,
in the flourishing periods of their ancient monarchies, the same
of theirs. In passing from one of these periods to another, pro-
digious strides are often made; and the vanity of the present age
is apt to flatter itself that it has climbed to the very summit of
invention and skill. A wiser posterity at length finds out that
the discovery of one truth, the investigation of one law of
nature, the contrivance of one machine, the perfection of one
art, instead of narrowing has widened the field of knowledge
still to be acquired, and given to those who came after an ampler
space, more numerous data, better instruments, a higher point
of observation, and the encouragement of living and acting in
the presence of a more intelligent age. It is not a century since
the number of fixed stars was estimated at about three thousand.
Newton had counted no more. When Dr. Herschel had com-
pleted his great telescope and turned it to the heavens, he cal-
culated that two hundred and fifty thousand stars passed through
its field in a quarter of an hour!
It may not irreverently be conjectured to be the harmonious
plan of the universe, that its two grand elements of mind and
matter should be accurately adjusted to each other; that there
should be full occupation in the physical world, in its laws and
properties, and in the moral and social relations connected with
it, for the contemplative and active powers of every created in-
tellect. The imperfection of human institutions has, as far as
man is concerned, disturbed the pure harmony of this great


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

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

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

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

## p. 5613 (#183) ###########################################

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

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

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

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


EWALD


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

TH
*CKIN
almost
Ap


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


EWALD
ছ


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

I


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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