SOUTHEY’S WORK IN LITERATURE.
Southey’s career of authorship falls into two chief periods—a period
during which poetry occupied the higher place and prose the lower, and a
period during which this order was reversed. His translations of romantic
fiction—_Amadis of Gaul_, _Palmerin of England_, and _The Cid_—connect
the work of the earlier with that of the latter period, and serve to mark
the progress of his mind from legend to history, and from the fantastic
to the real. The poet in Southey died young, or, if he did not die, fell
into a numbness and old age like that of which an earlier singer writes:—
“Elde that in my spirit dulleth me,
Hath of endyting all the subtilité
Welnyghe bereft out of my remembraunce.”
After thirty Southey seldom cared to utter himself in occasional verse.
The uniformity of his life, the equable cheerfulness maintained by habits
of regular work, his calm religious faith, his amiable Stoicism, left him
without the material for lyrical poetry; and one so honest and healthy
had no care to feign experiences of the heart which were not his. Still,
he could apply himself to the treatment of large subjects with a calm,
continuous energy; but as time went on his hand grew slack, and wrought
with less ease. Scarcely had he overcome the narrative poet’s chief
difficulty, that of subduing varied materials to an unity of design, when
he put aside verse, and found it more natural to be historian than poet.
The poetry of sober feeling is rare in lyrical verse. This may be
found admirably rendered in some of Southey’s shorter pieces. Although
his temper was ardent and hopeful, his poems of pensive remembrance,
of meditative calm, are perhaps the most characteristic. Among these
his _Inscriptions_ rank high. Some of those in memory of the dead are
remarkable for their fine poise of feeling, all that is excessive and
transitory having been subdued; for the tranquil depths of sorrow and of
hope which lie beneath their clear, melodious words.
Southey’s larger poetical works are fashioned of two materials which
do not always entirely harmonize. First, material brought from his own
moral nature; his admiration of something elevated in the character of
man or woman—generosity, gentleness, loyalty, fortitude, faith. And,
secondly, material gathered from abroad; mediæval pomps of religion and
circumstance of war; Arabian marvels, the work of the enchanters and the
genii; the wild beauties and adventure of life amid New-World tribes;
the monstrous mythology of the Brahman. With such material the poet’s
inventive talent deals freely, rearranges details or adds to them;
still Southey is here rather a _finder_ than a _maker_. His diligence
in collecting and his skill in arranging were so great that it was well
if the central theme did not disappear among manifold accessories. One
who knows Southey, however, can recognize his ethical spirit in every
poem. Thalaba, as he himself confessed, is a male Joan of Arc. Destiny
or Providence has marked alike the hero and the heroine from mankind;
the sheepfold of Domremi, and the palm-grove by old Moath’s tent, alike
nurture virgin purity and lofty aspiration. Thalaba, like Joan, goes
forth a delegated servant of the Highest to war against the powers of
evil; Thalaba, like Joan, is sustained under the trials of the way by
the sole talisman of faith. We are not left in doubt as to where Southey
found his ideal. Mr. Barbauld thought _Joan of Arc_ was modelled on the
Socinian Christ. He was mistaken; Southey’s ideal was native to his soul.
“Early admiration, almost adoration of Leonidas; early principles of
Stoicism derived from the habitual study of Epictetus, and the French
Revolution at its height when I was just eighteen—by these my mind was
moulded.” And from these, absorbed into Southey’s very being, came
Thalaba and Joan.
The word _high-souled_ takes possession of the mind as we think of
Southey’s heroic personages. Poetry, he held, ought rather to elevate
than to affect—a Stoical doctrine transferred to art, which meant that
his own poetry was derived more from admiration of great qualities
than from sympathy with individual men or women. Neither the quick and
passionate tenderness of Burns nor the stringent pathos of Wordsworth
can be found in Southey’s verse. No eye probably ever shed a tear over
the misery of Ladurlad and his persecuted daughter. She, like the lady
in _Comus_, is set above our pity and perhaps our love. In _Kehama_,
a work of Southey’s mature years, the chivalric ardour of his earlier
heroes is transformed into the sterner virtues of fortitude and an almost
despairing constancy. The power of evil, as conceived by the poet,
has grown more despotic; little can be achieved by the light-winged
Glendoveer—a more radiant Thalaba—against the Rajah; only the lidless
eye of Seeva can destroy that tyranny of lust and pride. _Roderick_
marks a higher stage in the development of Southey’s ethical ideal.
Roderick, too, is a delegated champion of right against force and fraud;
he too endures mighty pains. But he is neither such a combatant, pure
and intrepid, as goes forth from the Arab tent, nor such a blameless
martyr as Ladurlad. He is first a sinner enduring just punishment; then a
stricken penitent; and from his shame and remorse he is at last uplifted
by enthusiasm, on behalf of his God and his people, into a warrior saint,
the Gothic Maccabee.
_Madoc_ stands somewhat away from the line of Southey’s other narrative
poems. Though, as Scott objected, the personages in _Madoc_ are too
nearly abstract types, Southey’s ethical spirit dominates this poem less
than any of the others. The narrative flows on more simply. The New-World
portion tells a story full of picturesque incident, with the same skill
and grace that belong to Southey’s best prose writings. Landor highly
esteemed _Madoc_. Scott declared that he had read it three times since
his first cursory perusal, and each time with increased admiration of
the poetry. Fox was in the habit of reading aloud after supper to eleven
o’clock, when it was the rule at St. Ann’s Hill to retire; but while
_Madoc_ was in his hand, he read until after midnight. Those, however,
who opened the bulky quarto were few: the tale was out of relation with
the time; it interpreted no need, no aspiration, no passion of the
dawn of the present century. And the mind of the time was not enough
disengaged to concern itself deeply with the supposed adventures of a
Welsh prince of the twelfth century among the natives of America.
At heart, then, Southey’s poems are in the main the outcome of his moral
nature; this we recognize through all disguises—Mohammedan, Hindoo, or
Catholic. He planned and partly wrote a poem—_Oliver Newman_—which
should associate his characteristic ideal with Puritan principles and
ways of life. The foreign material through which his ethical idea was set
forth went far, with each poem, to determine its reception by the public.
Coleridge has spoken of “the pastoral charm and wild, streaming lights of
the _Thalaba_.” Dewy night moon-mellowed, and the desert-circle girdled
by the sky, the mystic palace of Shedad, the vernal brook, Oneiza’s
favourite kidling, the lamp-light shining rosy through the damsel’s
delicate fingers, the aged Arab in the tent-door—these came with a fresh
charm into English narrative poetry eighty years ago. The landscape and
the manners of Spain, as pictured in _Roderick_, are of marked grandeur
and simplicity. In _Kehama_, Southey attempted a bolder experiment; and
although the poem became popular, even a well-disposed reader may be
allowed to sympathize with the dismay of Charles Lamb among the monstrous
gods: “I never read books of travels, at least not farther than Paris or
Rome. I can just endure Moors, because of their connexion as foes with
Christians; but Abyssinians, Ethiops, Esquimaux, Dervises, and all that
tribe I hate. I believe I fear them in some manner. A Mohammedan turban
on the stage, though enveloping some well-known face, ... does not give
me unalloyed pleasure. I am a Christian, Englishman, Londoner, Templar.
God help me when I come to put off these snug relations, and to get
abroad into the world to come.”
Though his materials are often exotic, in style Southey aimed at the
simplicity and strength of undefiled English. If to these melody was
added, he had attained all he desired. To conversations with William
Taylor about German poetry—certainly not to Taylor’s example—he ascribes
his faith in the power of plain words to express in poetry the highest
thoughts and strongest feelings. He perceived, in his own day, the rise
of the ornate style, which has since been perfected by Tennyson, and
he regarded it as a vice in art. In early years Akenside had been his
instructor; afterwards he owed more to Landor than to any other master of
style. From _Madoc_ and _Roderick_—both in blank-verse—fragments could
be severed which might pass for the work of Landor; but Southey’s free
and facile manner, fostered by early reading of Ariosto, and by constant
study of Spenser, soon reasserts itself; from under the fragment of
monumental marble, white almost as Landor’s, a stream wells out smooth
and clear, and lapses away, never dangerously swift nor mysteriously
deep. On the whole, judged by the highest standards, Southey’s poetry
takes a midmost rank; it neither renders into art a great body of thought
and passion, nor does it give faultless expression to lyrical moments.
But it is the output of a large and vigorous mind, amply stored with
knowledge; its breath of life is the moral ardour of a nature strong and
generous, and therefore it can never cease to be of worth.
Southey is at his best in prose. And here it must be borne in mind
that, though so voluminous a writer, he did not achieve his most
important work, the _History of Portugal_, for which he had gathered
vast collections. It cannot be doubted that this, if completed, would
have taken a place among our chief histories. The splendour of story
and the heroic personages would have lifted Southey into his highest
mood. We cannot speak with equal confidence of his projected work of
second magnitude, the _History of the Monastic Orders_. Learned and
sensible it could not fail to be, and Southey would have recognized the
more substantial services of the founders and the brotherhoods; but he
would have dealt by methods too simple with the psychology of religious
emotions; the words enthusiasm and fraud might have risen too often to
his lips; and at the grotesque humours of the devout, which he would have
exhibited with delight, he might have been too prone to smile.
As it is, Southey’s largest works are not his most admirable. _The
History of Brazil_, indeed, gives evidence of amazing patience, industry,
and skill; but its subject necessarily excludes it from the first rank.
At no time from the sixteenth to the nineteenth century was Brazil a
leader or a banner-bearer among lands. The life of the people crept on
from point to point, and that is all; there are few passages in which
the chronicle can gather itself up, and transform itself into a historic
drama. Southey has done all that was possible; his pages are rich in
facts, and are more entertaining than perhaps any other writer could
have made them. His extraordinary acquaintance with travel gave him
many advantages in narrating the adventures of early explorers; and his
studies in ecclesiastical history led him to treat with peculiar interest
the history of the Jesuit Reductions.
_The History of the Peninsular War_ suffers by comparison with the great
work of Sir William Napier. That heroic man had himself been a portion of
the strife; his senses, singularly keen, were attuned to battle; as he
wrote, the wild bugle-calls, the measured tramp, the peals of musketry,
the dismal clamour, sounded in his ears; he abandoned himself again to
the swiftness and “incredible fury” of the charge. And with his falcon
eye he could discern amid the shock or formless dispersion, wherever
hidden, the fiery heart of victory. Southey wrought in his library as a
man of letters; consulted sources, turned over manuscripts, corresponded
with witnesses, set his material in order. The passion of justice and an
enthusiasm on behalf of Spain give unity to his work. If he estimated too
highly the disinterestedness and courage of the people of the Peninsula,
the illusion was generous. And it may be that enduring spiritual forces
become apparent to a distant observer, which are masked by accidents of
the day and hour from one who is in their midst.
History as written by Southey is narrative rendered spiritual by moral
ardour. There are no new political truths, he said. If there be laws of
a nation’s life other than those connected with elementary principles of
morality, Southey did not discover these. What he has written may go only
a little way towards attaining the ultimate ends of historical study,
but so far as it goes it keeps the direct line. It is not led astray by
will-o’-the-wisp, vague-shining theories that beguile night wanderers.
Its method is an honest method as wholesome as sweet; and simple
narrative, if ripe and sound at first, is none the less so at the end of
a century.
In biography, at least, one may be well pleased with clear and charming
narrative. Here Southey has not been surpassed, and even in this single
province he is versatile; he has written the life of a warrior, of a
poet, and of a saint. His industry was that of a German; his lucidity
and perfect exposition were such as we rarely find outside a French
memoir. There is no style fitter for continuous narrative than the
pedestrian style of Southey. It does not beat upon the ear with hard,
metallic vibration. The sentences are not cast by the thousand in one
mould of cheap rhetoric, nor made brilliant with one cheap colour.
Never dithyrambic, he is never dull; he affects neither the trick of
stateliness nor that of careless ease; he does not seek out curiosities
of refinement, nor caress delicate affectations. Because his style is
natural, it is inimitable, and the only way to write like Southey is to
write well.
“The favourite of my library, among many favourites;” so Coleridge speaks
of the _Life of Wesley_—“the book I can read for the twentieth time, when
I can read nothing else at all.” And yet the schoolboy’s favourite—the
_Life of Nelson_—is of happier inspiration. The simple and chivalric
hero, his splendid achievements, his pride in duty, his patriotism,
roused in Southey all that was most strong and high; but his enthusiasm
does not escape in lyrical speech. “The best eulogy of Nelson,” he says,
“is the faithful history of his actions; the best history that which
shall relate them most perspicuously.” Only when all is over, and the
captain of Trafalgar lies dead, his passion and pride find utterance:—“If
the chariot and the horses of fire had been vouchsafed for Nelson’s
translation, he could scarcely have departed in a brighter blaze of
glory.” From Nelson on the quarter-deck of the _Victory_, to Cowper
caressing his tame hares, the interval is wide; but Southey, the man of
letters, lover of the fireside, and patron of cats, found it natural to
sympathize with his brother poet. His sketches of literary history in
the _Life of Cowper_ are characteristic. The writer’s range is wide, his
judgment sound, his enjoyment of almost everything literary is lively; as
critic he is kindly yet equitable. But the highest criticism is not his.
Southey’s vision was not sufficiently penetrative; he culls beauties, but
he cannot pluck out the heart of a mystery.
His translations of romantic fiction, while faithful to their sources,
aim less at literal exactitude than at giving the English reader the
same pleasure which the Spaniard receives from the originals. From the
destruction of Don Quixote’s library Master Nicholas and the curate
spared _Amadis of Gaul_ and _Palmerin of England_. Second to Malory’s
grouping of the Arthur cycle _Amadis_ may well take its place. Its
chivalric spirit, its wildness, its tenderness and beauty, are carefully
preserved by the translator. But Southey’s chief gift in this kind
to English readers is _The Cid_. The poem he supposed, indeed, to be
a metrical chronicle instead of a metrical romance—no fatal error;
weaving together the best of the poem, the ballads and the chronicle, he
produced more than a mere compilation. “I know no work of the kind in our
language,” wrote Coleridge, “none which, uniting the charms of romance
and history, keeps the imagination so constantly on the wing, and yet
leaves so much for after-reflection.”
Of Southey’s political writings something has been said in a former
chapter. Among works which can be brought under no general head, one
that pleased the public was _Espriella’s Letters_, sketches of English
landscape, life, and manners, by a supposed Spanish traveller. The
letters, giving as they do a lively view of England at the beginning of
the present century, still possess an interest. Apart from Southey’s
other works stands _The Doctor_; nowhere else can one find so much of
his varied erudition, his genial spirits, his meditative wisdom. It asks
for a leisurely reader content to ramble everywhere and no whither, and
still pleased to take another turn because his companion has not yet come
to an end of learning, mirth, or meditation. That the author of a book
so characteristic was not instantly recognized, is strange. “The wit and
humour of _The Doctor_,” says Edgar Poe, a keen critic, “have seldom been
equalled. We cannot think Southey wrote it.” Gratitude is due to Dr.
Daniel Dove from innumerable “good little women and men,” who have been
delighted with his story of _The Three Bears_. To know that he had added
a classic to the nursery would have been the pride of Southey’s heart.
Wide eyes entranced and peals of young laughter still make a triumph for
one whose spirit, grave with a man’s wisdom, was pure as the spirit of a
little child.
THE END.
FOOTNOTES
[1] Recollections of Corston, somewhat in the manner of Goldsmith’s
_Deserted Village_, will be found in Southey’s early poem, _The
Retrospect_.
[2] Carmen Nuptiale: Proem, 18.
[3] I find in a Catalogue of English Poetry, 1862, the following passage
from an autograph letter of S. T. Coleridge, dated Bristol, July 16,
1814, then in Mr. Pickering’s possession: “I looked over the first five
books of the first (quarto) edition of _Joan of Arc_ yesterday, at
Hood’s request, in order to mark the lines written by me. I was really
astonished—1, at the schoolboy, wretched allegoric machinery; 2, at the
transmogrification of the fanatic Virago into a modern Novel-pawing
proselyte of the Age of Reason, a Tom Paine in petticoats, but so lovely!
and in love more dear! ‘_On her rubied cheek hung pity’s crystal gem_;’
3, at the utter want of all rhythm in the verse, the monotony and the
dead plumb down of the pauses, and of the absence of all bone, muscle,
and sinew in the single lines.”
[4] See Southey’s article on “Dr. Sayers’s Works,” _Quarterly Review_,
January, 1827.
[5] Harriet Martineau: Autobiography, i. p. 300.
[6] See her “History of the Peace,” B. vi. chap. xvi.
[7] For Westall’s drawing, and the description of Walla Crag, see “Sir
Thomas More:” Colloquy VI.
[8] _I. e._, to go to Davies’ lodgings; Davies, Dr. Bell’s Secretary,
was engaged in arranging a vast accumulation of papers with a view to
forwarding Southey in his _Life of Bell_.
[9] The words quoted by Southey are his own, written in 1809.
[10] “With the Cape and New Holland I would proceed thus:—‘Govern
yourselves, and we will protect you as long as you need protection;
when that is no longer necessary, remember that though we be different
countries, each independent, we are one people.’”—R. S. to W. S. Landor.
Letters, vol. ii. p. 263.
[11] Sara Coleridge.
[12] Mrs. Wilson—then aged seventy-two.
[13] To certain false allegations of fact made by Byron, Southey replied
in _The Courier_, and reprinted his letters in _Essays, Moral and
Political_, vol. ii. pp. 183-205.
VALUABLE AND INTERESTING WORKS FOR PUBLIC & PRIVATE LIBRARIES,
PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK.
☞ _For a full List of Books suitable for Libraries published by HARPER
& BROTHERS, see HARPER’S CATALOGUE, which may be had gratuitously on
application to the publishers personally, or by letter enclosing Ten
Cents in postage stamps._
☞ _HARPER & BROTHERS will send their publications by mail, postage
prepaid, on receipt of the price._
MACAULAY’S ENGLAND. The History of England from the Accession
of James II. By THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY. New Edition, from
New Electrotype Plates. 5 vols., in a Box, 8vo, Cloth, with
Paper Labels, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $10 00; Sheep, $12 50;
Half Calf, $21 25. Sold only in Sets. Cheap Edition, 5 vols.,
12mo, Cloth, $2 50.
MACAULAY’S MISCELLANEOUS WORKS. The Miscellaneous Works of Lord
Macaulay. From New Electrotype Plates. 5 vols., in a Box, 8vo,
Cloth, with Paper Labels, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $10 00;
Sheep, $12 50; Half Calf, $21 25. Sold only in Sets.
HUME’S ENGLAND. History of England, from the Invasion of Julius
Cæsar to the Abdication of James II., 1688. By DAVID HUME. New
and Elegant Library Edition, from New Electrotype Plates. 6
vols., in a Box, 8vo, Cloth, with Paper Labels, Uncut Edges and
Gilt Tops, $12 00; Sheep, $ 15 00; Half Calf, $25 50. Sold only
in Sets. Popular Edition, 6 vols., in a Box, 12mo, Cloth, $3 00.
GIBBON’S ROME. The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire. By EDWARD GIBBON. With Notes by Dean MILMAN, M. GUIZOT,
and Dr. WILLIAM SMITH. New Edition, from New Electrotype
Plates. 6 vols., 8vo, Cloth, with Paper Labels, Uncut Edges and
Gilt Tops, $12 00; Sheep, $15 00; Half Calf, $25 50. Sold only
in Sets. Popular Edition, 6 vols., in a Box, 12mo, Cloth, $3
00; Sheep, $6 00.
GOLDSMITH’S WORKS. The Works of Oliver Goldsmith, Edited by
PETER CUNNINGHAM, F.S.A. From New Electrotype Plates. 4 vols.,
8vo, Cloth, Paper Labels, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $8 00;
Sheep, $10 00; Half Calf, $17 00.
MOTLEY’S DUTCH REPUBLIC. The Rise of the Dutch Republic. A
History. By JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY, LL.D., D.C.L. With a Portrait
of William of Orange. Cheap Edition, 3 vols., in a Box. 8vo,
Cloth, with Paper Labels, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $6 00;
Sheep, $7 50; Half Calf, $12 75. Sold only in Sets. Original
Library Edition, 3 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $10 50.
MOTLEY’S UNITED NETHERLANDS. History of the United Netherlands:
From the Death of William the Silent to the Twelve Years’
Truce—1584-1609. With a full View of the English-Dutch Struggle
against Spain, and of the Origin and Destruction of the Spanish
Armada. By JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY, LL.D., D.C.L. Portraits. Cheap
Edition, 4 vols., in a Box, 8vo, Cloth, with Paper Labels,
Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $8 00; Sheep, $10 00; Half Calf, $17
00. Sold only in Sets. Original Library Edition, 4 vols., 8vo,
Cloth, $14 00.
MOTLEY’S JOHN OF BARNEVELD. The Life and Death of John of
Barneveld, Advocate of Holland. With a View of the Primary
Causes and Movements of the “Thirty Years’ War.” By JOHN
LOTHROP MOTLEY, LL.D., D.C.L. Illustrated. Cheap Edition, 2
vols., in a Box, 8vo, Cloth, with Paper Labels, Uncut Edges and
Gilt Tops, $4 00; Sheep, $5 00; Half Calf, $8 50. Sold only in
Sets. Original Library Edition, 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $7 00.
HILDRETH’S UNITED STATES. History of the United States. FIRST
SERIES: From the Discovery of the Continent to the Organization
of the Government under the Federal Constitution. SECOND
SERIES: From the Adoption of the Federal Constitution to the
End of the Sixteenth Congress. By RICHARD HILDRETH, Popular
Edition, 6 vols., in a Box, 8vo, Cloth, with Paper Labels,
Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops, $12 00; Sheep, $15 00; Half Calf,
$25 50. Sold only in Sets.
LODGE’S ENGLISH COLONIES IN AMERICA. English Colonies in
America. A Short History of the English Colonies in America. By
HENRY CABOT LODGE. New and Revised Edition. 8vo, Half Leather,
$3 00.
LATEST PUBLICATIONS FROM THE PRESS OF HARPER & BROTHERS.
FRANKLIN SQUARE SONG COLLECTION, No. 4. Two Hundred Favorite
Songs and Hymns for Schools and Homes, Nursery and Fireside.
Selected by J. P. MCCASKEY. pp. 176. 8vo, Paper, 50 cents;
Boards, 60 cents; Cloth, $1 00.
A HUMBLE ROMANCE, and Other Stories. By MARY S. WILKINS. pp.
440. 16mo, Cloth, $1 25.
MANNERS AND SOCIAL USAGES. A Book of Etiquette. By Mrs. JOHN
SHERWOOD. A New and Enlarged Edition, pp. 486. 16mo, Ornamental
Cloth, Gilt Tops, $1 25.
EPISODES IN A LIFE OF ADVENTURE; OR, MOSS FROM A ROLLING STONE.
By LAURENCE OLIPHANT. pp. iv., 344. 12mo, Cloth, $1 25.
RANDOM RECOLLECTIONS. By HENRY B. STANTON. With Portrait, pp.
xvi., 298. 12mo, Cloth, $1 50.
THE WITCH’S HEAD. A Novel. By H. RIDER HAGGARD, pp. iv., 290.
16mo, Half Bound, 75 cents.
THE RUSSIAN CHURCH AND RUSSIAN DISSENT. Comprising Orthodoxy,
Dissent, and Erratic Sects. By ALBERT F. HEARD, formerly
Consul-general for Russia at Shanghai, pp. x., 310. 8vo, Cloth,
$1 75.
CHARLES READE, D.C.L. Dramatist, Novelist, Journalist. A
Memoir. Compiled chiefly from his Literary Remains. By CHARLES
L. READE and the Rev. COMPTON READE. pp. vi., 448. 12mo, Cloth,
$1 25.
SABINA ZEMBRA. A Novel. By WILLIAM BLACK, pp. 438. 12mo, Cloth,
$1 25.
THE WOODLANDERS. A Novel. By THOMAS HARDY, pp. 364. 12mo,
Cloth, 75 cents.
FRANKLIN SQUARE LIBRARY. (_Latest Issues._)
CTS.
DISAPPEARED. A Novel. By Sarah Tytler. With One Illustration 15
TO CALL HER MINE. A Novel. By Walter Besant. Illustrated 20
MARRYING AND GIVING IN MARRIAGE. A Novel. By Mrs. Molesworth 15
NEXT OF KIN—WANTED. A Novel. By Miss M. Betham-Edwards 20
IN THE NAME OF THE TZAR. A Novel. By J. Belford Dayne 15
GLOW-WORM TALES. By James Payn 20
☞ _HARPER & BROTHERS will send any of the above works by mail, postage
prepaid, to any part of the United States or Canada, on receipt of the
price._
HARPER’S PERIODICALS.
HARPER’S MAGAZINE, One Year $4 00
HARPER’S WEEKLY, One Year 4 00
HARPER’S BAZAR, One Year 4 00
HARPER’S YOUNG PEOPLE, One Year 2 00
HARPER’S FRANKLIN SQUARE LIBRARY, One Year, 52 Numbers 10 00
The Volumes of the WEEKLY and BAZAR begin with the first Numbers for
January, the Volumes of the YOUNG PEOPLE with the first Number for
November, and the Volumes of the MAGAZINE with the Numbers for June and
December of each year.
Subscriptions will be commenced with the Number of each Periodical
current at the time of receipt of order, except in cases where the
subscriber otherwise directs.
BOUND VOLUMES.
Bound Volumes of the MAGAZINE for _three years back_, each Volume
containing the Numbers for Six Months, will be sent by mail, postage
prepaid, on receipt of $3 00 per Volume in Cloth, or $5 25 in Half Calf.
Bound Volumes of the WEEKLY or BAZAR for _three years back_, each
containing the Numbers for a year, will be sent by mail, postage prepaid,
on receipt of $7 00 per Volume in Cloth, or $10 50 in Half Morocco.
HARPER’S YOUNG PEOPLE for 1883, 1884, and 1885, handsomely bound in
Illuminated Cloth, will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, on receipt of
$3 50 per Volume.
☞ _The Bound Volumes of HARPER’S YOUNG PEOPLE for 1880, 1881, 1882, and
1886 are out of stock, and will not be reprinted._
ADVERTISING.
The extent and character of the circulation of HARPER’S MAGAZINE,
HARPER’S WEEKLY, HARPER’S BAZAR, and HARPER’S YOUNG PEOPLE render them
advantageous mediums for advertising. A limited number of suitable
advertisements will be inserted at the following rates:—In the MAGAZINE,
Fourth Cover Page, $1500 00; Third Cover Page, or First Page of
advertisement sheet, $500 00; one-half of such page when whole page is
not taken, $300 00; one-quarter of such page when whole page is not
taken, $150 00; an Inside Page of advertisement sheet, $250 00; one-half
of such page, $150 00; one-quarter of such page, $75 00; smaller cards
on an inside page, per line, $2 00; in the WEEKLY, Outside Page, $2
00 a line; Inside Pages, $1 50 a line; in the BAZAR, $1 00 a line; in
the YOUNG PEOPLE, Cover Pages, 50 cents a line. Average: eight words
to a line, twelve lines to an inch. Cuts and display charged the same
rates for space occupied as solid matter. Remittances should be made by
Post-Office Money Order or Draft, to avoid chance of loss.
Address: HARPER & BROTHERS,
FRANKLIN SQUARE, NEW YORK.