No More Learning

,' comprising his
diary from 1641 to 1705-6, and a selection of his familiar letters, was
edited from the original manuscript by William Bray in 1818, and
since then has been several times republished.
FROM EVELYN'S DIARY
1654. 3 Dec. Advent Sunday. There being no office at the
church but extempore prayers after ye Presbyterian way,- for
now all forms are prohibited and most of the preachers were
usurpers,—I seldome went to church upon solemn feasts, but
either went to London, where some of the orthodox sequestred
Divines did privately use ye Common Prayer, administer sacra-
ment, etc. , or else I procur'd one to officiate in my house.
Christmas Day. No public offices in churches, but pen-
alties on observers, so as I was constrain'd to celebrate it at
home.
25.
-
1655, 9 April. —I went to see ye greate ship newly built by
the Usurper Oliver, carrying ninety-six brasse guns and one
thousand tons burthen. In ye prow was Oliver on horseback,
trampling six nations under foote, a Scott, Irishman, Dutchman,
Frenchman, Spaniard, and English, as was easily made out by
their several habits. A Faun held a laurel over his insulting
head; ye word, God with us.
-―
15. I went to London with my family to celebrate ye feast
of Easter. Dr. Wild preach'd at St. Gregorie's, the ruling
powers conniving at ye use of the Liturgy, etc. , in this church.
alone.
27 Nov. To London
to visit honest and learned
Mr. Hartlib [Milton's acquaintance, to whom he addressed his
( Tractate on Education'], a public-spirited and ingenious person,
who had propagated many usefull things and arts. He told me
of the castles which they set for ornament on their stoves in
Germany (he himselfe being a Lithuanian as I remember), which
are furnish'd with small ordinance of silver on the battlements,
out of which they discharge excellent perfumes about the roomes,
charging them with a little powder to set them on fire and dis-
perse the smoke; and in truth no
more than neede, for their
stoves are sufficiently nasty.
1
I


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JOHN EVELYN
5595
This day came forth the Protector's edict or proclamation,
prohibiting all ministers of the Church of England from preach-
ing or teaching any scholes, in which he imitated the apostate
Julian; with ye decimation of all ye royal parties' revenues
throughout England.
14 Dec. I visited Mr. Hobbes, ye famous philosopher of
Malmesbury, with whom I had been long acquainted in France.
There was no more notice taken of Christmas Day in
25.
churches.
-
-
I went to London, where Dr. Wild preach'd the funeral
sermon of Preaching, this being the last day; after which Crom-
well's proclamation was to take place: that none of the Church
of England should dare either to preach or administer Sacra-
ments, teach schoole, etc. , on paine of imprisonment or exile.
So this was ye mournfullest day that in my life I had seene, or
ye Church of England herselfe, since ye Reformation.
1657. 25th Dec. I went with my Wife to celebrate Christ-
mas Day.
The chapel was surrounded with souldiers,
and all the communicants and assembly surpriz'd and kept pris-
oners by them, some in the house, others carried away. It fell
to my share to be confin'd to a roome in the house, where yet I
was permitted to dine with the master of it, ye Countesse of
Dorset, Lady Hatton, and some others of quality who invited
me. In the afternoon came Col. Whaley, Goffe, and others, from
White-hall, to examine us one by one; some they committed to
ye Marshall, some to prison. When I came before them they
tooke my name and abode, examin'd me why-contrary to an
ordinance made that none should any longer observe ye supersti-
tious time of the Nativity (so esteem'd by them) - I durst
offend, and particularly be at Common Prayers, which they told me
was but ye masse in English, and particularly pray for Charles
Stuart, for which we had no Scripture. I told them we did not
pray for Cha. Stuart, but for all Christian Kings, Princes, and
Governors. They replied in so doing we praied for the K. of
Spaine too, who was their enemie and a papist, with other friv-
olous and insnaring questions and much threatning; and finding
no colour to detaine me, they dismiss'd me with much pitty of
my ignorance. These were men of high flight and above ordi-
nances, and spake spiteful things of our Lord's Nativity. As we
went up to receive the Sacrament the miscreants held their
muskets against us as if they would have shot us at the altar.


## p. 5596 (#166) ###########################################

5596
JOHN EVELYN
1660. 3 May. Came the most happy tidings of his Majesty's
gracious declaration and applications to the Parliament, Generall,
and People, and their dutiful acceptance and acknowledgement,
after a most bloudy and unreasonable rebellion of neere 20 yeares.
Praised be forever the Lord of Heaven, who onely doeth won-
drous things, because His mercy endureth for ever!
8. This day was his Majestie proclaim'd in London, etc.
29. —This day his Majestie Charles the Second came to Lon-
don, after a sad and long exile and calamitous suffering both
of the King and Church, being 17 yeares. This was also his
birth-day, and with a triumph of above 20,000 horse and foote,
brandishing their swords and shouting with inexpressible joy; the
wayes strew'd with flowers, the bells ringing, the streetes hung
with tapissry, fountains running with wine; the Maior, Aldermen,
and all the Companies in their liveries, chaines of gold and ban-
ners; Lords and Nobles clad in cloth of silver, gold, and velvet;
the windowes and balconies all set with ladies; trumpets, music,
and myriads of people flocking, even so far as from Rochester,
so as they were seven houres in passing the citty, even from 2
in ye afternoone till 9 at night.
I stood in the Strand and beheld it, and bless'd God. And all
this was done without one drop of bloud shed, and by that very
army which rebell'd against him; but it was ye Lord's doing, for
such a restauration was never mention'd in any history antient
or modern, since the return of the Jews from the Babylonish
captivity; nor so joyfull a day and so bright ever seene in this
nation, this hapning when to expect or effect it was past all
human policy.
4 June. I receiv'd letter of Sir Richard Browne's [his father-
in-law] landing at Dover, and also letters from the Queene, which
I was to deliver at White-hall, not as yet presenting myselfe to
his Majesty by reason of the infinite concourse of people. The
eagerness of men, women, and children to see his Majesty, and
kisse his hands, was so greate that he had scarce leisure to eate
for some dayes, coming as they did from all parts of the nation;
and the King being so willing to give them that satisfaction,
would have none kept out, but gave free accesse to all sorts of
people.
6 July. —His Majestie began first to touch for ye evil, accord-
ing to custome, thus: his Majestie sitting under his state in the
Banquetting House, the chirurgeons cause the sick to be brought


## p. 5597 (#167) ###########################################

JOHN EVELYN
5597
or led up to the throne, where, they kneeling, ye King strokes
their faces or cheekes with both his hands at once, at which
instant a chaplaine in his formalities says, "He put his hands
upon them and he healed them. " This is sayd to every one in
particular. When they have ben all touch'd they come up again
in the same order, and the other chaplaine kneeling, and having
angel gold strung on white ribbon on his arme, delivers them.
one by one to his Majestie, who puts them about the necks of
the touched, as they passe, whilst the first chaplaine repeats,
"That is ye true light who came into ye world. " Then follows
an Epistle (as at first a Gospell) with the Liturgy, prayers for
the sick, with some alteration, lastly ye blessing; and then the
Lo. Chamberlaine and the Comptroller of the Household bring a
basin, ewer, and towell, for his Majestie to wash.
THE GREAT FIRE IN LONDON
1666, 2 Sept. -This fatal night, about ten, began that deplor-
able fire near Fish Streete in London.
3-The fire continuing, after dinner I took coach with my
wife and sonn; went to the Bank side in Southwark, where we
beheld that dismal spectacle, the whole citty in dreadful flames
near ye water side; all the houses from the Bridge, all Thames
Street, and upwards towards Cheapeside, downe to the Three
Cranes, were now consum'd.
The fire having continu'd all this night,-if I may call that
night which was light as day for ten miles round about, after a
dreadful manner,- when conspiring with a fierce eastern wind in
a very drie season, I went on foote to the same place, and saw
the whole south part of ye citty burning from Cheapeside to ye
Thames, and all along Cornehill-for it kindl'd back against ye
wind as well as forward-Tower Streete, Fenchurch Streete,
Gracious Streete, and so along to Bainard's Castle, and was now
taking hold of St. Paule's Church, to which the scaffolds con-
tributed exceedingly. The conflagration was so universal and the
people so astonished, that from the beginning, I know not by
what despondency or fate, they hardly stirr'd to quench it; so
that there was nothing heard or seene but crying out and lamen-
tation, running about like distracted creatures, without at all
attempting to save even their goods, such a strange consternation


## p. 5598 (#168) ###########################################

5598
JOHN EVELYN
there was upon them; so as it burned both in breadth and
length, the churches, publiq halls, exchange, hospitals, monu-
ments, and ornaments, leaping after a prodigious manner from
house to house and streete to streete, at greate distances one
from ye other; for ye heate with a long set of faire and warme
weather had even ignited the air, and prepar'd the materials to
conceive the fire, which devour'd, after an incredible manner,
houses, furniture, and everything. Here we saw the Thames
cover'd with goods floating, all the barges and boates laden with
what some had time and courage to save; as, on ye other, ye
carts, &c. , carrying out to the fields, which for many miles were
strew'd with moveables of all sorts, and tents erecting to shelter
both people and what goods they could get away. Oh the mis-
erable and calamitous spectacle! such as haply the world had not
seene the like since the foundation of it, nor be outdone till the
universal conflagration thereof. All the skie was of a fiery
aspect, like the top of a burning oven, and the light seene above
40 miles round about for many nights. God grant my eyes may
never behold the like, who now saw above 10,000 houses all in
one flame: the noise, and cracking, and thunder of the impetuous
flames, ye shrieking of women and children, the hurry of people,
the fall of towers, houses, and churches, was like an hideous.
storme, and the aire all about so hot and inflam'd, that at last
one was not able to approach it, so that they were forc'd to
stand still and let ye flames burn on, wch they did for neere two
miles in length and one in bredth. The clouds of smoke were
dismall, and reach'd upon computation neer 50 miles in length.
Thus I left it this afternoone burning, a resemblance of Sodom
or the last day. It forcibly called to my mind that passage—
"non enim hic habemus stabilem civitatem": the ruins resem-
bling the picture of Troy. London was, but is no more! Thus,
I returned.
4-The burning still rages, and it is now gotten as far as the
Inner Temple: all Fleete Streete, the Old Bailey, Ludgate Hill,
Warwick Lane, Newgate, Paul's Chain, Watling Streete, now
flaming, and most of it reduc'd to ashes; the stones of Paules
flew like granados, ye mealting lead running downe the streetes
in a streame, and the very pavements glowing with fiery red-
nesse, so as no horse nor man was able to tread on them; and
the demolition had stopp'd all the passages, so that no help could
be applied. The eastern wind still more impetuously drove the


## p. 5599 (#169) ###########################################

JOHN EVELYN
5599
flames forward. Nothing but ye Almighty power of God was
able to stop them, for vaine was ye help of man.
5-It crossed towards Whitehall: but oh! the confusion there
was then at that court! It pleased his May to command me
among ye rest to looke after the quenching of Fetter Lane end,
to preserve, if possible, that part of Holburn, whilst the rest of
ye gentlemen tooke their several posts for now they began to
bestir themselves, and not till now, who hitherto stood as men
intoxicated, with their hands acrosse and began to consider that
nothing was likely to put a stop but the blowing up of so many
houses, as might make a wider gap than any had yet ben made
by the ordinary method of pulling them down with engines; this
some stout seamen propos'd early enough to have sav'd near ye
whole citty, but this some tenacious and avaritious men, alder-
men, &c. , would not permit, because their houses must have ben
of the first. It was therefore now commanded to be practis'd;
and my concern being particularly for the hospital of St. Bar-
tholomew, neere Smithfield, where I had many wounded and sick
men, made me the more diligent to promote it; nor was my care
for the Savoy lesse. It now pleas'd God, by abating the wind,
and by the industrie of ye people, infusing a new spirit into
them, that the fury of it began sensibly to abate about noone;
so as it came no farther than ye Temple westward, nor than ye
entrance of Smithfield north. But continu'd all this day and
night so impetuous towards Cripplegate and the Tower, as made
us all despaire; it also broke out againe in the Temple, but the
courage of the multitude persisting, and many houses being
blown up, such gaps and desolations were soone made, as with
the former three days' consumption, the back fire did not so
vehemently urge upon the rest as formerly. There was yet no
standing neere the burning and glowing ruines by neere a fur-
long's space.
-
The coale and wood wharfes and magazines of oyle, rosin,
&c. , did infinite mischiefe; so as the invective which a little.
before I had dedicated to his May, and publish'd, giving warn-
ing what might probably be the issue of suffering those shops
about to be in the citty, was look'd on as a prophecy.
The poore inhabitants were dispers'd about St. George's
Fields, and Moorefield's, as far as Highgate, and several miles
in circle, some under tents, some under miserable hutts and
hovells, many without a rag or any necessary utensills, bed or


## p. 5600 (#170) ###########################################

5600
JOHN EVELYN
board, who from delicatenesse, riches, and easy accommodations
in stately and well-furnish'd houses, were now reduc'd to extrem-
est misery and poverty.
In this calamitous condition, I return'd with a sad heart to
my house, blessing and adoring the mercy of God to me and
mine, who in the midst of all this ruine was like Lot, in my
little Zoar, safe and sound.
7- I went this morning on foot f" Whitehall as far as
London Bridge, thro' the late Fleete Streete, Ludgate Hill, by
St. Paules, Cheapside, Exchange, Bishopgate, Aldersgate, and
out to Moorefields, thence thro' Cornehill, &c. , with extraordinary
difficulty; clambering over heaps of yet smoking rubbish, and
frequently mistaking where I was. The ground under my feete
was so hot that it even burnt the soles of my shoes. In the mean
time his Ma' got to the Tower by water, to demolish ye houses
about the graff, which being built intirely about it, had they
taken fire and attack'd the White Tower where the magazine of
powder lay, would undoubtedly not only have beaten down and
destroy'd all ye bridge, but sunke and torne the vessells in ye
river, and render'd ye demolition beyond all expression for sev-
eral miles about the countrey.
At my return, I was infinitely concern'd to find that goodly
church St. Paules now a sad ruine, and that beautiful portico —
for structure comparable to any in Europe, as not long before
repair'd by the late King-now rent in pieces, flakes of vast
stones split asunder, and nothing remaining intire but the in-
scription in the architrave, showing by whom it was built, which
had not one letter of it defac'd! It was astonishing to see what
immense stones the heat had in a manner calcin'd, so that all ye
ornaments, columns, freezes, and projectures of massic Portland.
stone flew off, even to ye very roofe, where a sheet of lead cov-
ering a great space was totally mealted; the ruins of the vaulted
roofe falling broken into St. Faith's, which being filled with the
magazines of bookes belonging to ye stationers, and carried thither
for safety, they were all consum'd, burning for a weeke follow-
ing. It is also observable that the lead over ye altar at ye east
end was untouch'd, and among the divers monuments the body
of one bishop remain'd intire. Thus lay in ashes that most ven-
erable church, one of the most ancient pieces of early piety in
ye Christian world, besides neere one hundred more. The lead,
yron worke, bells, plate, &c. , mealted; the exquisitely wrought


## p. 5601 (#171) ###########################################

JOHN EVELYN
5601
Mercers Chapell, the sumptuous Exchange, ye august fabriq of
Christ Church, all ye rest of ye Companies Halls, sumptuous
buildings, arches, all in dust; the fountaines dried up and ruin'd,
whilst the very waters remain'd boiling; the vorago's of subter-
ranean cellars, wells, and dungeons, formerly warehouses, still
burning in stench and dark clouds of smoke, so that in 5 or 6
miles, in traversing about, I did not see one load of timber un-
consum'd, nor many stones but what were calcin'd white as snow.
The people who now walk'd about ye ruines appear'd like men
in a dismal desart, or rather in some greate citty laid waste by
a cruel enemy; to which was added the stench that came from
some poore creatures' bodies, beds, &c. Sir Tho. Gresham's
statue, tho' fallen from its nich in the Royal Exchange, remain'd
intire, when all those of ye kings since ye Conquest were broken
to pieces, also the standard in Cornehill; and Queen Elizabeth's
effigies, with some armes on Ludgate, continued with but little
detriment, whilst the vast yron chaines of the citty streetes,
hinges, barrs, and gates of prisons, were many of them mealted
and reduc'd to cinders by ye vehement heate. I was not able to
passe through any of the narrow streetes, but kept the widest;
the ground and air, smoake and fiery vapour continu'd so intense,
that my haire was almost sing'd and my feete unsufferably sur-
heated. The bie lanes and narrower streetes were quite fill'd up
with rubbish; nor could one have knowne where he was, but by
ye ruines of some church or hall that had some remarkable tower
or pinnacle remaining. I then went towards Islington and High-
gate, where one might have seene 200,000 people of all ranks
and degrees dispers'd and lying along by their heapes of what
they could save from the fire, deploring their losse; and tho'
ready to perish for hunger and destitution, yet not asking one
penny for relief, which to me appear'd a stranger sight than any
I had yet beheld. His Majesty and Council indeede tooke all im-
aginable care for their reliefe, by proclamation for the country to
come in and refresh them with provisions. In ye midst of all
this calamity and confusion, there was, I know not how, an
alarme begun that the French and Dutch, with whom we were
now in hostility, were not only landed but even entering the
citty. There was, in truth, some days before, greate suspicion of
those two nations joining; and now, that they had ben the occa-
sion of firing the towne. This report did so terrifie, that on a
suddaine there was such an uproare and tumult that they ran
X-351


## p. 5602 (#172) ###########################################

5602
JOHN EVELYN
from their goods, and taking what weapons they could come at,
they could not be stopp'd from falling on some of those nations
whom they casually met, without sense or reason. The clamour
and peril grew so excessive that it made the whole court amaz'd,
and they did with infinite paines and greate difficulty reduce and
appease the people, sending troops of soldiers and guards to
cause them to retire into ye fields againe, where they were
watched all this night. I left them pretty quiet, and came home
sufficiently weary and broken. Their spirits thus a little calmed,
and the affright abated, they now began to repaire into ye sub-
urbs about the citty, where such as had friends or opportunity
got shelter for the present, to which his Matys proclamation also
invited them.
1685, 13 Feb. -I can never forget the inexpressible luxury and
profanenesses, gaming, and all dissoluteness, and as it were total
forgetfulness of God,-it being Sunday eve'g,-wh this day se'n-
night I was witness of the King sitting and toying with his
concubines, Portsmouth, Cleveland, and Mazarin, etc. ; a French
boy singing love-songs in that glorious gallerie, whilst about
twenty of ye great courtiers and other dissolute persons were at
basset round a large table, a bank of at least £2,000 in gold
before them, upon wh two gentlemen who attended with me,
made reflections with astonishment. Six days after, all was in
the dust.
-
31 Oct. I din'd at our greate Lord Chancellor Jeffries, who
us'd me with much respect. This was the late Chief Justice who
had newly ben the Western Circuit to try the Monmouth conspir-
ators, and had formerly done such severe justice among the ob-
noxious in Westminster Hall, for which his Majesty dignified him
by creating him first a Baron, and now Lord Chancellor. He had
for some years past ben conversant at Deptford; is of an assur'd
and undaunted spirit, and has serv'd the Court interest on all the
hardiest occasions; is of nature cruel and a slave of the Court.
1688, 18 Sept. -I went to London, where I found the Court
in the utmost consternation on report of the Prince of Orange's
landing, wch put White-hall into so panic a feare, that I could
hardly believe it possible to find such a change.
Writs were issu'd in order to a Parliament, and a declaration
to back the good order of elections, with great professions of


## p. 5603 (#173) ###########################################

JOHN EVELYN
5603
maintaining the Church of England, but without giving any sort.
of satisfaction to the people, who shew'd their high discontent at
several things in the Government.
1689, 21 Feb. -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,


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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


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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.