Ulysses in his wanderings encountered these terrors, but by prudence and

the counsels of Circe he was enabled to steer clear between them,

although the Sirens strove to lure him on to the rock. The story is too

long; but there are passages which are like pictures, and they have been

illustrated by the genius of Flaxman. The first danger on the Sicilian

side is thus described in the Odyssey:[4]--

"Beneath, Charybdis holds her boisterous reign

Midst roaring whirlpools, and absorbs the main;

Thrice in her gulfs the boiling seas subside,

Thrice in dire thunders she refunds the tide.

Ah, shun the horrid gulf! by Scylla fly!

'T is better six to lose than all to die."

But endeavoring to shun this peril, the navigator encounters the

other:--

"Here Scylla bellows from her dire abodes,

Tremendous pest, abhorred by men and gods!

Six horrid necks she rears, and six terrific heads;

Her jaws grin dreadful with three rows of teeth;

Jaggy they stand, the gaping den of death;

Her parts obscene the raging billows hide;

Her bosom terribly o'erlooks the tide."

Near by were the Sirens, who strove by their music to draw the navigator

to certain doom:--

"Their song is death, and makes destruction please.

Unblest the man whom music wins to stay

Nigh the cursed shore and listen to the lay:

No more the wretch shall view the joys of life,

His blooming offspring, or his beauteous wife!"

Forewarned is forearmed. Ulysses took all precautions against the

opposite perils. Avoiding the Sicilian whirlpool, he did not run upon

the Italian rock or yield to the voice of the charmer. And yet he could

not renounce the opportunity of hearing the melody. Stuffing the ears of

his companions with wax, so that they could not be entranced by the

Sirens, or comprehend any countermanding order which his weakness might

induce him to utter, he caused himself to be tied to the mast,--like

another Farragut,--and directed that the ship should be steered straight

on. It was steered straight on, although he cried out to stop. His

deafened companions heard nothing of the song or the countermand,--

"Till, dying off, the distant sounds decay."

The dangers of both coasts were at length passed, not without the loss

of six men, "chiefs of renown," who became the prey of Scylla. But the

Sirens, humbled by defeat, dashed themselves upon the rocks and

disappeared forever.

There are few stories which have been more popular. It was natural that

it should enter into poetry and become a proverb. Milton more than once

alludes to it. Thus, in the exquisite "Comus," He shows these opposite

terrors subdued by another power:--

"Scylla wept

And chid her barking waves into attention

And fell Charybdis murmured soft applause."

In the "Paradise Lost," while portraying Sin, the terrible portress at

the gates of Hell, the poet repairs to this story for illustration:[5]--

"Far less abhorred than these,

Vexed Scylla, bathing in the sea that parts

Calabria from the hoarse Trinacrian shore."

And then again, when picturing Satan escaping from pursuit, he shows

him[6]

"harder beset

And more endangered than when Argo passed

Through Bosphorus betwixt the justling rocks,

Or when Ulysses on the larboard shunned

Charybdis and by the other whirlpool steered."

Though thus frequently employing the story, Milton did not use the

proverb.

Not only the story but the proverb, was known to Shakspeare, who makes

Launcelot use it in his plain talk with Jessica:[7]--"Truly, then, I

fear you are damned both by father and mother; thus, when I shun Scylla,

your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother: well, you are gone both

ways." Malone, in his note to this passage, written in the last century,

says,--"Alluding to the well-known line of modern Latin poet, Philippe

Gaultier, in his poem entitled 'Alexandreis.'" To this note of Malone's,

another editor, George Steevens, whose early bibliographical tastes

inspired the praise of Dibdin, adds as follows:--"Shakspeare might have

met with a translation of this line in many places; among others in the

Dialogue between _Custom and Veretie_, concerning the use and abuse of

Dancing and Minstrelsie:--

"'While Silla they do seem to shun,

In Charibd they do fall.'"

But this proverb had already passed into tradition and speech. That

Shakspeare should absorb and use it was natural. He was the universal

absorbent.

The history of this verse seemed for a while forgotten. Like the

Wandering Jew, it was a vagrant, unknown in origin, but having perpetual

life. Erasmus, whose learning was so vast, quotes the verse in his great

work on Proverbs, and owns that he does not know the author of it. Here

is this confession:--"_Celebratur apud Latinos_ hic versiculus,

quocunque natus auctore, _nam in presentia non occurrit_."[8] It seems

from these words that this profound scholar regarded the verse as

belonging to antiquity: at least I so interpret the remark, that it was

"celebrated among the Latins." But though ignorant of its origin, it is

clear that the idea which it embodies found much favor with this

representative of moderation. He dwells on it with particular sympathy,

and reproduces it in various forms. Here is the equivalent on which he

hangs his commentary: _Evitata Charybdi, in Scyllam incidi_. It is easy

to see how inferior in form this is to the much-quoted verse. It seems

to be a literal translation of some Greek iambics, also of uncertain

origin, although attributed to Apostolius, one of the learned Greeks

scattered over Europe by the fall of Constantinople. There is also

something like it in the Greek of Lucian.[9] Erasmus quotes words of

kindred sentiment from the "Phormio" of Terence: _Ita fugias ne praeter

casam_, which he tells us means that we should not so fly from any vice

as to be carried into a greater.[10] He quotes also another proverb with

the same signification: _Fumum fugiens, in ignem incidi_, which warns

against running into the fire to avoid the smoke. In his letters the

ancient fable recurs more than once. On one occasion he warns against

the dangers of youth, and says that the ears must be stopped, not, as in

the Homeric story, by wax, but "by the precepts of philosophy."[11] In

another letter he avows a fear lest in shunning Scylla he may fall on

Charybdis:--"_Nunc vereor ne sic vitemus hanc Scyllam, ut incidamus in

Charybdim multo perniciosiorem_."[12] Thus did his instinctive prudence

find expression in this familiar illustration.

If Erasmus had been less illustrious for learning,--perhaps if his

countenance were less interesting, as we now look upon it in the

immortal portraits by two great artists, Hans Holbein and Albert

Duerer,--I should not be tempted to dwell on this confession of

ignorance. And yet it belongs to the history of this verse, which has

had strange ups and downs in the world. The poem from which it is taken,

after enjoying an early renown, was forgotten,--and then again, after a

revival, was forgotten, again to enjoy another revival. The last time it

was revived through this solitary verse, without which, I cannot doubt,

it would have been extinguished in night.

"How far that little candle throws his beams!"

Even before the days of Erasmus, who died in 1536, this verse had been

lost and found. It was circulated as a proverb of unknown origin, when

Galeotto Marzio, an Italian, of infinite wit and learning[13] who

flourished in the latter half of the fifteenth century, and was for some

time the instructor of the children of Matthias Corvinus, King of

Hungary, pointed out its author. In a work of _Ana_, amusing and

instructive, entitled "De Doctrina Promiscua," which first saw the light

in Latin, and was afterwards translated into Italian, the learned author

says,--"Hoc carmen est Gualteri Galli de Gestis Alexandri, et non vagum

proverbium, ut quidam non omnino indocti meminerint." It was not a vague

proverb, as some persons not entirely unlearned have supposed, but a

verse of the "Alexandreis." And yet shortly afterwards the great master

of proverbs, whose learning seemed to know no bounds, could not fix its

origin. At a later day, Pasquier, in his "Recherches de la France,"[14]

I made substantially the same remark as Marzio. After alluding to the

early fame of its author, he says,--"C'est lui dans les oeuvres duquel

nous trouvons un vers, souvent par nous allegue sans que plusieurs

sachent qui en fut l'auteur." In quoting this verse the French author

uses _Decidis_ instead of _Incidis_. The discovery by Marzio, and the

repetition of this discovery by Pasquier, are chronicled at a later day

in the Conversations of Menage, who found a French Boswell before the

Bosweil of Dr. Johnson was born.[15] Jortin, in the elaborate notes to

his Life of Erasmus, borrows from Menage, and gives the same

history.[16]

When Galeotto Marzio made his discovery, this poem was still in

manuscript; but there were several editions before the "Adagia" of

Erasmus. An eminent authority--the "Histoire Litteraire de la

France,"[17] that great work commenced by the Benedictines, and

continued by the French Academy--says that it was printed for the first

time at Strasburg, in 1513. This is a mistake, which has been repeated

by Warton.[18] Brunet, in his "Manuel de Libraire," mentions an edition,

without place or date, with the cipher of Guillaume Le Talleur, who was

a printer at Rouen, in 1487. Panzer, in his "Annales Typographici,"[19]

describes another edition, with the monogram of Richard Pynson, the

London printer, at the close of the fifteenth century. Beloe, in his

"Anecdotes of Literature,"[20] also speaks of an edition with the

imprint of R. Pynson. There appears to have been also an edition under

date of 1496. Then came the Strasburg edition of 1513, by J. Adelphus.

All these are in black letter. Then came the Ingolstadt edition, in

1541, in Italic, or, as it is called by the French, "cursive

characters," with a brief life of the poet, by Sebastian Link. This was

followed, in 1558, by an edition at Lyons, also in Italic, announced as

now for the first time appearing in France, _nunc primum in Gallia_, was

a mistake. This edition seems to have enjoyed peculiar favor. It has

been strangely confounded with imaginary editions which have never

existed; thus, the Italian Quadrio assures us that the best was at

London, in 1558;[21] and the French Millin assures us that the best was

at Leyden, in 1558.[22] No such editions appeared; and the only edition

of that year was at Lyons. After a lapse of a century, in 1659, there

was another edition, by Athanasius Gugger, a monk of the Monastery of

St. Gall, in France, published at the Monastery itself, according to

manuscripts there, and from its own types, _formis ejusdem_. The editor

was ignorant of the previous editions, and in his preface announces the

poem as _a new work_, although ancient; according to his knowledge,

never before printed; impatiently regarded and desired by many; and not

less venerable for antiquity than for erudition:--"En tibi, candide

lector, opus novum, ut sic antiquum, nusquam quod sciam editum, a multis

cupide inspectum et desideratum, non minus antiquitate quam eruditione

venerabile."

This edition seems to have been repeated at St. Gall in 1693; and these

two, which were the last, appear to have been the best. From that time

this poem rested undisturbed until our own day, when an edition was

published at Hanover, in Germany, by W. Mueldener, after the Paris

manuscripts, with the following title:--"Die zehn Gedichte des Walther

von Lille, genannt von Chatillon. Nach der pariser Handschrift

berichtigt, und zum ersten Male vollstaendig herausgegeben von W.

Mueldener." Hanover, 1859, 8vo. Such an edition ought to be useful in

determining the text, for there must be numerous manuscripts in the

Paris libraries. As long ago as 1795 there were no less than nineteen in

the National Library, and also a manuscript at Tours, which had drawn

forth a curious commentary by M. de Forcemagne.[23]

I ought not to forget here that in 1537 a passage from this poem was

rendered into English blank verse, and is an early monument of our

language. This was by Grimoald Nicholas, a native of Huntingdonshire,

whose translation is entitled "The Death of Zoroas, an Egyptian

Astronomer, in the First Fight that Alexander had with Persians."[24]

This is not the only token of the attention it had awakened in England.

Alexander Ross, the Scotch divine and author, made preparations for an

edition. His dedicatory letter was written, bearing date 1644; also two

different sets of dedicatory verses, and verses from his friend David

Eclin, the scholarly physician to the king,[25] who had given him this

"great treasure." But the work failed to appear. The identical copy

presented by Eclin, with many marginal notes from Quintus Curtius and

others, is mentioned as belonging to the Bishop of Ely at the beginning

of the present century.[26] But the homage of the Scotchman still exists

in his dedicatory letter:--"Si materiam consideres, elegantissimam

utilissimamque historiam gestorum Alexandri magni continet; certe sive

stylum, sive subjectum inspicias, dignam invenies quae omnium teratur

manibus, quamque adolescentes nocturna versentque manu, versentque

diurna."[27] It will be observed that he does not hesitate to dwell on

this poem as "most elegant and most useful," and by its style and

subject worthy of the daily and nightly study of youth. In his verses

Ross announces that Alexander was not less fortunate in his poet than

the Greek chieftain in Homer:--

"Si felix praecone fuit dux Graecus Homero,

Felix nonne tuo est carmine dux Macedo?"

There was also another edition planned in France, during the latter part

of the last century, by M. Daire, the librarian of the Celestines in

Paris, founded on the Latin text, according to the various manuscripts,

with a French translation; but this never appeared.[28]

Until the late appearance of an edition in Germany, it was only in

editions shortly after the invention of printing that this poem could be

found. Of course these are rare. The British Museum, in its immense

treasure-house, has the most important, one of which belonged to the

invaluable legacy of the late Mr. Grenville. The copy in the library of

Lord Spencer is the Lyons edition of 1558. By a singular fortune, this

volume was missing some time ago from its place on the shelves; but it

has since been found; and I have now before me a tracing from its

title-page. My own copy--and perhaps the only one this side of the

Atlantic--is the Ingolstadt edition. It once belonged to John Mitford,

and has on the fly-leaves some notes in the autograph of this honored

lover of books.

Bibliography dwells with delight upon this poem, although latterly the

interest centres in a single line. Brunet does full justice to it. So

does his jealous rival, Graesse, except where he blunders. Watt, in his

"Bibliotheca Britannica," mentions only the Lyons edition of 1558, on

which he remarks, that "the typography is very singular." Clarke, in his

"Repertorium Bibliographicum," bearing date 1819, where he gives an

account of the most celebrated British libraries, mentions a copy of the

first edition in the library of Mr. Steevens, who showed his knowledge

of the poem in his notes to Shakspeare;[29] also a copy of the Lyons

edition of 1558 in the library of the Marquis of Blandford, afterwards

Duke of Marlborough. This learned bibliographer has a note calling

attention to the fact that "there are variations in the famous disputed

line in different editions of this poem": that in the first edition the

line begins _Corruis in Scyllam_, but in the Lyons edition, _Incidis in

Scyllam_; while, as we have already seen, Pasquier says, _Decidis in

Scyllam_. Bohn, in his "Bibliographer's Manual," after referring in

general terms to the editions, says of the poem, "In it will be found

that trite verse so often repeated, _Incidis_, &c.,"--words which he

seems to have borrowed from Beloe.[30] "Trite" seems to be hardly

respectful.[31]

Very little is known of the author. He is called in Latin Philippus

Gualterus or Galterus; in French it is sometimes Gaultier and sometimes

Gautier. The French biographical dictionaries, whether of Michaud or of

Didot, attest the number of persons who bore this name, of all degrees

and professions. There was the Norman knight _sans Avoir_, who was one

of the chiefs of the first Crusade. There also was another Gautier,

known as the Sire d'Yvetot, stabbed to death by his sovereign, Clotaire,

who afterwards in penitence erected the lordship of Yvetot into that

kingdom which Beranger has immortalized. And there have been others of

this name in every walk of life. Fabricius, in his "Bibliotheca Latina

Mediae et Infimae AEtatis,"[32] mentions no less than seventy-six Latin

authors of this name. A single verse has saved one of these from the

oblivion which has overtaken the multitude.

He was born at Lille, but at what precise date is uncertain. Speaking

generally, it may be said that he lived and wrote during the last half

of the twelfth century, while Philip Augustus was King of France, and

Henry II. and Richard Coeur-de-Lion ruled England, one century after

Abelard, and one century before Dante. After studying at Paris, he went

to establish himself at Chatillon; but it is not known at which of the

three or four towns of this name in France. Here he was charged with the

direction of schools, and became known by the name of this town, as

appears in the epitaph, somewhat ambitiously Virgilian, which he wrote

for himself:--

"Insula me genuit, rapuit Castellio nomen;

Perstrepuit modulis Gallia tota meis."

But he is known sometimes by his birthplace, and sometimes by his early

residence. The highest French authority calls him Gaultier of Lille or

of Chatillon.[33] He has been sometimes confounded with Gaultier of

Coutances, Archbishop of Rouen, who was born in the island of

Jersey;[34] and sometimes with the Bishop of Maguelonne of the same

name, who was the author of an Exposition of the Psalter, and whose see

was on an island in the Mediterranean, opposite the coast of France.[35]

Not content with his residence at Chatillon, he repaired to Bologna in

Italy, where he studied the civil and canon law. On his return to France

he became the secretary of two successive Archbishops of Rheims, the

latter of whom, by the name of William,--a descendant by his grandmother

from William the Conqueror,--occupied this place of power from 1176 to

1201. The secretary enjoyed the favor of the Archbishop, who seems to

have been fond of letters. It was during this period that he composed,

or at least finished, his poem. Its date is sometimes placed at 1180;

and there is an allusion in its text which makes it near this time.

Thomas a Becket was assassinated before the altar of Canterbury in 1170;

and this event, so important in the history of the age, is mentioned as

recent: "_Nuper--caesum dolet Anglia Thomam_." The poem was dedicated to

the Archbishop, who was to live immortal in companionship with his

secretary:[36]--

"Vivemus pariter, vivet cum vate superstes

Gloria Guillermi nullum moriture per aevum."

The Archbishop was not ungrateful, and he bestowed upon the poet a stall

in the cathedral of Amiens, where he died of the plague at the

commencement of the thirteenth century.[37]

This does not appear to have been his only work. Others are attributed

to him. There are dialogues _adversus Judaeos_, which Oudin publishes in

his collection entitled "Veterum aliquot Galliae et Belgii Scriptorum

Opuscula Sacra nunquam edita." This same Oudin, in another publication,

speaks of a collection, entitled "Opuscula Varia," preserved among the

manuscripts in the Imperial Library of France, as by Gaultier, although

the larger part of these Opuscula have been attributed to a very

different person, Gaultier Mapes, chaplain to Henry II., King of

England, and Archdeacon of Oxford.[38] But more recent researches seem

to restore them to Philip Gaultier. Among these are satirical songs in

Latin on the world, and also on prelates, which, it is said, were sung

in England as well as throughout France. Indeed, the second verse of the

epitaph already quoted seems to point to these satires:--

"Perstrepuit _modulis_ Gallia tota _meis_."

In these pieces, as in the "Alexandreis," we encounter the indignant

sentiments inspired by the assassination of Becket. The victim is called

"the flower of priests," and the king, _Neronior est ipso Nerone_.[39]

But these poems, whether by Walter Mapes or by Philip Gaultier, are now

forgotten. The "Alexandreis" has had a different fortune.

The poem became at once famous. It had the success of Victor Hugo or

Byron. Its author took rank, not only at the head of his contemporaries,

but even among the classics of antiquity, Leyser chronicles no less than

one hundred Latin poets in the twelfth century,[40] but we are assured

that not one of them is comparable to Gaultier.[41] M. Edelestand du

Meril, who has given especial attention to this period, speaks of the

"Alexandreis" as "a great poem," and remarks that its "Latinity is very

elegant for the time."[42] Another authority calls him "the first of the

modern Latin poets who appears to have had a spark of true poetic

genius."[43] And still another says, that, "notwithstanding all its

defects, we must regard this poem, and the 'Philippis' of William of

Brittany, which appeared about sixty years later, as two brilliant

phenomena in the midst of the thick darkness which covered Europe from

the decline of the Roman Empire to the revival of letters in Italy."[44]

Pasquier, to whom I have already referred, goes so far, in his chapter

on the University of Paris, as to illustrate its founder, Peter Lombard,

by saying that he had for a contemporary "one Galterus, an eminent poet,

who wrote in Latin verses, under the title of the 'Alexandreis,' a great

imitator of Lucan"; and the learned writer then adds, that it is in his

work that we find a verse often quoted without knowing the author,[45]

These testimonies show his position among his contemporaries; but there

is something more.

An anonymous Latin poet of the next century, who has left a poem on the

life and miracles of Saint Oswald, calls Homer, Gaultier, and Lucan the

three capital heroic poets. Homer, he says, has celebrated Hercules,

Gaultier the son of Philip, and Lucan has sung the praises of Caesar; but

these heroes deserve to be immortalized in verse much less than the holy

confessor Oswald.[46] In England, the Abbot of Peterborough transcribed

Seneca, Terence, Martial, Claudian, and the "Gesta Alexandri."[47] In

Denmark, Arnas Magnseus made a version in Icelandic of the "Alexandreis

Gualteriana," which has been called "_Incomparabile antiguitatis

septentrionalis monumentum_."[48] It appears that the new poem was

studied, even to the exclusion of ancient masters and of Virgil himself.

Henry of Ghent, who wrote about 1280, says that it "was of such dignity

in the schools, that for it the reading of the ancient poets was

neglected."[49] This testimony is curiously confirmed by the condition

of the manuscripts which have come down to us, most of which are loaded

with glosses and interlinear explanations, doubtless for public use in

the schools.[50] It is sometimes supposed that Dante repaired to Paris.

It is certain that his excellent master, Brunette Latini, passed much

time there. This must have been at the very period when the new poem was

taught in the schools. Perhaps it may be traced in the "Divina

Commedia."

Next after the tale of Troy, the career of Alexander was at this period

the most popular subject for poetry, romance, or chronicle. The Grecian

conqueror filled a vast space in the imagination. He was the centre of

marvel and of history. Every modern literature, according to its

development, testifies to this predominance. Even dialects testify. In

France, the professors of grammar at Toulouse were directed by statutes

of the University, dated 1328, to read to their pupils "De Historiis

Alexandri."[51] In England, during the reign of Henry I., the sheriff

was ordered to procure the Queen's chamber at Nottingham to be painted

with the History of Alexander,--"_Depingi facias Historiam Alexandri

undiquaque_."[52] Chaucer, in his "House of Fame," places Alexander with

Hercules, and then again shows the universality of his renown:--

"Alisaundres storie is so commune,

That everie wight that hath discrecioune

Hath herde somewhat or al of his fortune."

We have the excellent authority of the poet Gray for saying that the

Alexandrine verse, which "like a wounded snake drags its slow length

along," took its name from an early poem in this measure, called "La

View d'Alexandre." There was also the "Roman d'Alexandre," contemporary

with the "Alexandreis," which Gray thinks was borrowed from the latter

poem, apparently because the authors say that they took it from the

Latin.[53] There was also "The Life and Actions of Alexander the

Macedonian," originally written in Greek, by Simeon Seth, magister and

protovestiary or wardrobe-keeper of the palace at Constantinople in

1070, and translated from Greek into Latin, and then into French,

Italian, and German.[54] Arabia also contributed her stories, and the

Grecian conqueror became a hero of romance. Like Charlemagne, he had his

twelve peers; and he also had a horn, through which he gave the word of

command, which took sixty men to blow it, and was heard sixty

miles,--being the same horn which afterwards Orlando sounded at

Roncesvalles. That great career which was one of the epochs of

mankind,--which carried in its victorious march the Greek language and

Greek civilization,--which at the time enlarged the geography of the

world, and opened the way to India,--was overlaid by an incongruous mass

of fable and anachronism, so that the real story was lost. Times,

titles, and places were confounded. Monks and convents, churches and

confessors, were mixed with the achievements of the hero; and in an

early Spanish History of Alexander, by John Lorenzo, we meet such

characters as Don Phoebus, the Emperor Jupiter, and the Count Don

Demosthenes; and we are assured that the mother of Alexander fled to a

convent of Benedictine nuns.

Philip Gaultier, With all his genius, has his incongruities and

anachronisms; but his poem is founded substantially upon the History of

Quintus Curtius, which he has done into Latin hexameters, with the

addition of long speeches and some few inventions. Aristotle is

represented with a hideous exterior, face and body lean, hair neglected,

and the air of a pedant exhausted by study. The soldiers of Alexander

are called _Quirites_, as if they were Romans. The month of June in

Greece is described as if it were in Rome:--

"Mensis erat, cujus juvenum de nimine nomen."

Events connected with the passion of Jesus Christ are treated as having

already passed in the time of Alexander.

The poem is divided into ten books,[55] and the ten initial letters of

these books, when put together like an acrostic, spell the name of the

Archbishop, _Guillermus_, the equivalent for William at that time, who

was the patron of the poet. Besides this conceit, there is a dedication

both at the beginning and at the end. Quantity, especially in Greek or

Asiatic words, is disregarded; and there are affectations in style, of

which the very beginning is an instance:--

"_Gesta_ ducis Macedum totum _digesta_ per orbem

Musa, refer."

In the same vein is the verse,--

"Inclitus ille Clitus," etc.;

and another verse, describing the violence of the soldiers after

victory:--

"Extorquent torques, et inaures perdidit auris."

A rapid analysis of the poem will at least exhibit the order of the

events it narrates, and its topics, with something of its character.

Alexander appears, in the first book, a youth panting for combat with

the Persians, enemies of his country and of his father. There also is

his teacher, Aristotle. Philip dies, and the son repairs to Corinth to

be crowned. Under the counsels of Demosthenes, the Athenians declare

against him. The young King arrives under the walls of Athens.

Demosthenes speaks for war; AEschines for peace. The party of peace

prevails; and the Macedonian turns to Thebes, which he besieges and

captures by assault. The poet Cloades, approaching the conqueror, chants

in lyric verses an appeal for pardon, and reminds him that without

clemency a kingdom is unstable:--

"_Instabile est regnum quod non clementia firmat._"

And the words of this chant are still resounding. But Alexander, angry

and inexorable, refuses to relent. He levels the towers which had first

risen to the music of Amphion, and delivers the city to the flames: thus

adding a new act to that tragic history which made Dante select Thebes

as the synonyme of misfortune.[56] Turning from these smoking ruins, he

gathers men and ships for his expedition against Persia. Traversing the

sea, he lands in Asia; and here the poet describes geographically the

different states of this continent,--Assyria, Media, Persia, Arabia,

with its Sabaean frankincense and its single Phoenix, ending with

Palestine and Jerusalem, where a God was born of a Virgin, at whose

death the world shook with fear. Commencing his march through Cilicia

and Phrygia, the ambitious youth stops at Troy, and visits the tomb of

Achilles, where he makes a long speech.

The second book opens with the impression produced on the mind of

Darius, menaced by his Macedonian enemy. He writes an insolent letter,

which Alexander answers simply by advancing. At Sardes he cuts the

Gordian knot, and then advances rapidly. Darius quits the Euphrates with

his vast army, which is described. Alexander bathes in the cold waters

of the Cydnus, is seized with illness, and shows his generous trust in

the physician that attended him,--drinking the cup handed him, although

it was said to be poisoned. Restored to health, he shows himself to his

troops, who are transported with joy. Meanwhile the Persians advance.

Darius harangues his soldiers. Alexander harangues his. The two armies

prepare for battle.

The third book is of battle and victory at Issus, described with

minuteness and warmth. Here is the death of Zoroas, the Egyptian

astronomer, than whom nobody was more skilled in the stars, the origin

of winter's cold or summer's heat, or in the mystery of squaring the

circle,--_circulus an possit quadrari_.[57] The Persians are overcome.

Darius seeks shelter in Babylon. His treasures are the prey of the

conqueror. Horses are laden with spoils, and the sacks are so full that

they cannot be tied. Rich ornaments are torn from the women, who are

surrendered to the brutality of the soldiers. The royal family alone is

spared. Conducted to the presence of Alexander, they are received with

the regard due to their sex and misfortune. The siege and destruction of

Tyre follow; then the expedition to Egypt and the temple of Jupiter

Ammon. Here is a description of the desert, which is said, like the sea,

to have its perils, with its Scylla and its Charybdis of sand:--

"Hic altera sicco

Scylla mari latrat; hic pulverulenta Charybdis."[58]

Meanwhile Darius assembles new forces. Alexander leaves Egypt and rushes

to meet him. There is an eclipse of the moon, which causes a sedition

among his soldiers, who dare to accuse their king. The phenomenon is

explained by the soothsayers, and the sedition is appeased.

The fourth book opens with a funeral. It is of the queen of the Persian

monarch. Alexander laments her with tears. Darius learns at the same

time her death and the generosity of his enemy. He addresses prayers to

the gods for the latter, and offers propositions of peace. Alexander

refuses these, and proceeds to render funeral honors to the queen of the

king he was about to meet in battle. Then comes an invention of the

poet, which may have suggested afterwards to Dante that most beautiful

passage of the "Purgatorio," where great scenes are sculptured on the

walls. At the summit of a mountain a tomb is constructed by the skilful

Hebrew Apelles, to receive the remains of the Persian queen; and on this

tomb are carved, not only kings and names of Greek renown, but histories

from the beginning of the world:--

"Nec solum reges et nomina gentis Achaeae,

Sed generis notat hisorias, ab origine mundi

Incipiens."

Here in breathing gold is the creation in six days; the fall of man,

seduced by the serpent; Cain a wanderer; the increase of the human race;

vice prevailing over virtue; the deluge; the intoxication of Noah; the

story of Esau, of Jacob, of Joseph; the plagues of Egypt,--

"Hic dolet AEgyptus denis percussa flagellis";

the flight of the Israelites,--

"et puro livescit pontus in auro";

the manna in the wilderness; the giving of the law; the gushing of water

from the rock; and then the succession of Hebrew history, stretching

through a hundred verses, to the reign of Esdras,--

"Totaque picturae series finitur in Esdra."

After these great obsequies Alexander marches at once against Darius.

And here the poet dwells on the scene presented by the Persian army

watching by its camp-fires. Helmets rival the stars; the firmament is

surprised to see fires like its own reflected from bucklers, and fears

lest the earth be changed into sky and the night become day. Instead of

the sun, there is the helmet of Darius, which shines like Phoebus

himself, and at its top a stone of flame, obscuring the stars and

yielding only to the rays of the sun: for, as much as it yields to the

latter, so much does it prevail over the former. The youthful chieftain,

under the protection of a benignant divinity, passes the night in

profound repose. His army is all marshalled for the day, and he still

sleeps. He is waked, gives the order for battle, and harangues his men.

The victory of Arbela is at hand.

The fifth book is occupied by a description of this battle. Here are

episodes in imitation of the ancients, with repetitions or parodies of

Virgil. The poet apostrophizes the unhappy, defeated Darius, as he is

about to flee, saying,--"Whither do you go, O King, about to perish in

useless flight? You do not know, alas! lost one, you do not know from

whom you flee. While you flee from one enemy, you run upon other

enemies. Desiring to escape Charybdis, you run upon Scylla."

"Quo tendis inerti,

Rex, periture, fuga? Nescis, heu! perdite, nescis

Quern fugias; hostesque incurris, dum fugis hostem;

_Incidis in Scyllam, cupiens vitare Charybdim_."[59]

The Persian monarch finds safety at last in Media, and Alexander enters

Babylon in triumph, surpassing all other triumphs, even those of ancient

Rome: and this is merited,--so sings the poet,--for his exploits are

above those of the most celebrated warriors, whether sung by Lucan in

his magnificent style, or by Claudian in his pompous verses. The poet

closes this book by referring to the condition of Christianity in his

own age, and exclaiming, that, if God, touched by the groans and the

longings of his people, would accord to the French such a king, the true

faith would soon shine throughout the universe.

The sixth book exhibits the luxury of Alexander at Babylon, the capture

of Susa, the pillage of Persepolis. Here the poet forgets the recorded

excesses of his hero with Thais by his side, and the final orgy when the

celebrated city was given to the flames at the bidding of a courtesan;

but he dwells on an incident of his own invention, which is calculated

to excite emotions of honor rather than of condemnation. Alexander meets

three thousand Greek prisoners, wretchedly humiliated by the Persians,

and delivers them. He leaves to them the choice of returning to Greece,

or of fixing themselves in the country there on lands which he promises

to distribute. Some propose to return. Others insist, that, in their

hideous condition, they cannot return to the eyes of their families and

friends, when an orator declares that it is always pleasant to see again

one's country, that there is nothing shameful in the condition caused by

a barbarous enemy, and that it is unjust to those who love them to think

that they will not be glad to see them. A few follow the orator; but the

larger part remain behind, and receive from their liberator the land

which he had promised, also money, flocks, and all that was necessary

for a farmer.

The seventh book exhibits the treason of Bessus substantially as in

Quintus Curtius. Darius, with chains of gold on his feet, is carried in

a covered carriage to be delivered up. Alexander, who was still in

pursuit of his enemy, is horror-struck by the crime. He moves with more

rapidity to deliver or to avenge the Persian monarch than he had ever

moved to his defeat. He is aroused against the criminals, like Jupiter

pursuing the giants with his thunder. Darius is found in his carriage

covered with wounds and bathed in his blood. With the little breath that

remains, and while yet struggling on the last confines of life, he makes

a long speech, which the poet follows with bitter ejaculations of his

own against his own age, beginning with venal Simon and his followers,

and ending with the assassins of Thomas a Becket:--

"Non adeo ambiret cathedraae venalis honorem

Jam vetus ille Simon, non incentiva malorum

Pollueret sacras funesta pecunia sedes."

Thus here again the poet precedes Dante, whose terrible condemnation of

Simon has a kindred bitterness:--

"O Simon mago, o miseri seguaci,

Che le cose di Dio, che di bontate

Denno essere spose, voi rapaci

Per oro e per argento adulterate."

These ejaculations are closed by an address to the manes of Darius, and

a promise to immortalize him in the verse of the poet. The grief of

Alexander for the Persian queen is now renewed for the sovereign. The

Hebrew Apelles is charged to erect in his honor a lofty pyramid in white

marble, with sculptures in gold. Four columns of silver, with base and

capitals of gold, support with admirable art a concave vault where are

represented the three continents of the terrestrial globe, with their

rivers, forests, mountains, cities, and people. In the characteristic

description of each nation, France has soldiers and Italy wine:--

"_Francia militibus_, celebri Campania Bacco."

From funeral the poet passes to festival, and portrays the banquets and

indulgence to which Alexander now invites his army. A sedition ensues.

The soldiers ask to return to their country. Alexander makes an

harangue, and awakens in them the love of glory. They swear to affront

all dangers, and to follow him to the end of the world.

The eighth book chronicles the march into Hyrcania; the visit of

Talestris, queen of the Amazons, and her Amazonian life, with one breast

burnt so as to accommodate the bent bow; then the voluntary sacrifice of

all the immense booty of the conqueror, as an example for the troops;

then the conspiracy against Alexander in his own camp; then the

examination and torture of the Son of Parmenio, suspected of complicity;

and then the doom of Bessus, the murderer of Darius, who is delivered by

Alexander to the brother of his victim. Then comes the expedition to

Scythia. The Macedonian, on the banks of the Tanais, receives an

embassy. The ambassador fails to delay him: he crosses the river, and

reduces the deserts and the mountains of Scythia to his dominion. And

here the poet likens this people, which, after resisting so many

powerful nations, now falls under the yoke, to a lofty, star-seeking

Alpine fir, _astra petens abies_, which, after resisting for ages all

the winds of the east, of the west, and of the south, falls under the

blows of Boreas. The name of the conqueror becomes a terror, and other

nations in this distant region submit voluntarily, without a blow.

The ninth book commences with a mild allusion to the murder of Clitus,

and other incidents, teaching that the friendships of kings are not

perennial:--

"Eternim testatur eorum

Finis amicitias regum non esse perennes."

Here comes the march upon India. Kings successively submit. Porus alone

dares to resist. With a numerous army he awaits the Macedonian on the

Hydaspes. The two armies stand face to face on opposite banks. Then

occurs the episode of two youthful Greeks, Nicanor and Symmachus, born

the same day, and intimate, like Nisus and Euryalus. Their perilous

expedition fails, under the pressure of numbers, and the two friends,

cut off and wounded, after prodigies of valor, at last embrace, and die

in each other's arms. Then comes the great battle. Porus, vanquished,

wounded, and a prisoner, is brought before Alexander. His noble spirit

touches the generous heart of the conqueror, who returns to him his

dominions, increases them, and places him in the number of friends,--

"Odium clementia vicit."

The gates of the East are now open. His movement has the terror of

thunder breaking in the middle of the night,--

"Quean sequitur fragor et fractae collisio nubis."

A single city arrests the triumphant march. Alexander besieges it, and

himself mounts the first to the assault. His men are driven back. Then

from the top of the ladder, instead of leaping back, he throws himself

into the city, and alone confronts the enemy. Surrounded, belabored,

wounded, he is about to perish, when his men, learning his peril,

redouble their efforts, burst open the gates, inundate the place, and

massacre the inhabitants. After a painful operation, Alexander is

restored to his army and to his great plans of conquest. The joy of the

soldiers, succeeding their sorrow, is likened to that of sailors, who,

after seeing the pilot overboard, and ready to be ingulfed by the raging

floods, as Boreas dances, _Borea bacchante_, at last behold him rescued

from the abyss and again at the helm. But the army is disturbed by the

preparation for distant maritime expeditions. Alexander avows that the

world is too small for him; that, when it is all conquered, he will push

on to subjugate another universe; that he will lead them to the

Antipodes and to another Nature; and that, if they refuse to accompany

him, he will go forth alone and offer himself as chief to other people.

The army is on fire with this answer, and vow again never to abandon

their king.

The tenth book is the last. Nature, indignant that a mortal should

venture to penetrate her hidden places, suspends her unfinished works,

and descends to the world below for succor against the conqueror.

Before the gates of Erebus, under the walls of the Stygian city,--

"Ante fores Erebi, Stygiae sub moenibus urbis,"--

are sisters, monsters of the earth, representing every vice,--thirst of

gold, drunkenness, gluttony, treachery, detraction, envy, hypocrisy,

adulation. In a distant recess is a perpetual furnace, where crimes are

punished, but not with equal flames, as some are tormented more lightly

and others more severely. Leviathan was in the midst of his furnace, but

he drops his serpent form and assumes that divine aspect which he had

worn when he wished to share the high Olympus,--

"Cum sidere solus

Clarior intumuit, tantamque superbia mentem

Extulit, ut summum partiri vellet Olympum."

To him the stranger appeals against the projects of Alexander, which

extend on one side to the unknown sources of the Nile and the Garden of

Paradise, and on the other to the Antipodes and ancient Chaos. The

infernal monarch convenes his assembly. He calls the victims from their

undying torments,--

"quibus mors

Est non posse mori,"--

where ice and snow are punishments, as well as fire. The satraps of Styx

are collected, and the ancient serpent addresses sibilations from his

hoarse throat:--

"Hie ubi collecti satrapae Stygis et tenebrarum,

Consedere duces, et gutture sibila rauco

Edidit antiquus serpens."

He commands the death of the Macedonian king before his plans can be

executed. Treason rises and proposes poison. All Hell applauds; and

Treason, in disguise, fares forth to instruct the agent. The whole scene

suggests sometimes Dante and sometimes Milton. Each was doubtless

familiar with it. Meanwhile Alexander returns to Babylon. The universe

is in suspense, not knowing to which side he will direct his arms.

Ambassadors from all quarters come to his feet. In the pride of power he

seems to be universal lord. At a feast, surrounded by friends, he drinks

the fatal cup. His end approaches, and he shows to the last his grandeur

and his courage. The poet closes, as he began, with a salutation to his

patron.

* * * * *

Such is the sketch of a curiosity of literature. It is interesting to

look upon this little book, which for a time played so considerable a

part; to imagine the youthful students who were once nurtured by it; to

recognize its relations to an age when darkness was slowly yielding to

light; to note its possible suggestions to great poets who followed,

especially to Dante; and to behold it lost to human knowledge, and

absolutely forgotten, until saved by a single verse, which, from its

completeness of form and its proverbial character, must live as long as

the Latin language endures. The verse does not occupy much room; but it

is a sure fee simple for the poet. And are we not told by an ancient,

that it is something, in whatever place or recess you may be, to have

made yourself master of a single lizard?

"Est aliquid, quocumque loco, quocumque recessu,

Unius sese dominum fecisse lacertae."

A poem of ten books shrinks to a very petty space. There is a balm of a

thousand flowers, and here is a single hexameter which is the express

essence of many times a thousand verses. It was the jest of the

grave-digger, in "Hamlet," that the noble Alexander, returning to dust

and loam, had stopped a bung-hole. But the memorable poem celebrating

him is reduced as much, although it may be put to higher uses.

MORAL.

At the conclusion of a fable there is a moral, or, as it is sometimes

called, the application. There is also a moral now, or, if you please,

the application. And, believe me, in these serious days, I should have

little heart for any literary diversion, if I did not hope to make it

contribute to those just principles which are essential to the

well-being, if not the safety of the Republic. To this end I have now

written. This article is only a long whip with a snapper to it.

Two verses saved from the wreck of a once popular poem have become

proverbs, and one of these is very famous. They inculcate clemency, and

that common sense which is found in not running into one danger to avoid

another. Never was their lesson more needed than now, when, in the name

of clemency to belligerent traitors, the National Government is

preparing to abandon the freedmen, to whom it is bound by the most

sacred ties; is preparing to abandon the national creditor also, with

whose security the national welfare is indissolubly associated; and is

even preparing, without any probation or trial, to invest belligerent

traitors, who for four bloody years have murdered our fellow-citizens,

with those Equal Rights in the Republic which are denied to friends and

allies, so that the former shall rule over the latter. Verily, here is a

case for common sense.

The lesson of clemency is of perpetual obligation. Thanks to the

mediaeval poet for teaching it. Harshness is bad. Cruelty is detestable.

Even justice may relent at the prompting of mercy. Do not fail, then, to

cultivate the grace of clemency. Perhaps no scene in history is more

charming than that of Caesar, who, after vows against an enemy, listened

calmly to the appeal for pardon, and, as he listened, let the guilty

papers fall from his hand. Early in life he had pleaded in the Senate

for the lives of conspirators; and afterwards, when supreme ruler of the

Roman world, he practised the clemency he had once defended, unless

where enemies were incorrigible, and then he knew how to be stern and

positive. It is by example that we are instructed; and we may well learn

from the great master of clemency that the general welfare must not be

sacrificed to this indulgence. And we may learn also from the Divine

Teacher, that, even while forgiving enemies, there are Scribes and

Pharisees who must be exposed, and money-changers who must be scourged

from the temple. But with us there are Scribes and Pharisees, and there

are also criminals, worse than any money-changers, who are now trying to

establish themselves in the very temple of our government.

Cultivate clemency. But consider well what is embraced in this charity.

It is not required that you should surrender the Republic into the hands

of pardoned criminals. It is not required that you should surrender

friends and allies to the tender mercies of these same pardoned

criminals. Clearly not. Clemency has its limitations; and when it

transcends these, it ceases to be a virtue, and is only a mischievous

indulgence. Of course, one of these limitations, never to be

disregarded, is the _general security_, which is the first duty of

government. No pardon can be allowed to imperil the nation; nor can any

pardon be allowed to imperil those who have a right to look to us for

protection. There must be no vengeance upon enemies; but there must be

no sacrifice of friends. And here is the distinction which cannot be

forgotten. _Nothing for vengeance; everything for justice._ Follow this

rule, and the Republic will be safe and glorious. Thus wrote Marcus

Aurelius to his colleague and successor in empire, Lucius Verus. These

words are worthy to be repeated now by the chief of the Republic:--

"Ever since the Fates

Placed me upon the throne, two aims have I

Kept fixed before my eyes; and they are these,--

Not to revenge me on my enemies,

_And not to be ungrateful to my friends_."

It is easy for the individual to forgive. It is easy also for the

Republic to be generous. But forgiveness of offences must not be a

letter of license to crime; it must not be a recognition of an ancient

tyranny, and it must not be a stupendous ingratitude. There is a

familiar saying, with the salt of ages, which is addressed to us

now:--"Be just before you are generous." Be just to all before you are

generous to the few. Be just to the millions _only half rescued_ from

oppression, before you are generous to their cruel taskmasters. Do not

imitate that precious character in the gallery of old Tallemant de

Reaux, of whom it was said, that he built churches without paying his

debts.[60] Our foremost duties now are to pay our debts, and these are

twofold:--first, to the national freedman; and, secondly, to the

national creditor.

Apply these obvious principles practically. A child can do it. No duty

of clemency can justify injustice. Therefore, in exercising the

beautiful power of pardon at this moment in our country, several

conditions must be observed.

(1.) As a general rule, belligerent traitors, who have battled against

the country, must not be permitted _at once_, without probation or

trial, to resume their old places of trust and power. Such a concession

would be clearly against every suggestion of common sense, and President

Johnson clearly saw it so, when, addressing his fellow-citizens of

Tennessee, 10th June, 1864, he said,--"I say that traitors should take a

back seat in the work of restoration. If there be but five thousand men

in Tennessee, loyal to the Constitution, loyal to freedom, loyal to

justice, these true and faithful men should control the work of

reorganization and reformation absolutely."

(2.) Especially are we bound, by every obligation of justice and by

every sentiment of honor, to see to it that belligerent traitors, who

have battled against their country, are not allowed to rule the constant

loyalists, whether white or black, embracing the recent freedmen, who

have been our friends and allies.

(3.) Let belligerent traitors be received slowly and cautiously back

into the sovereignty of citizenship. It is better that they should wait

than that the general security be imperilled, or our solemn obligations,

whether to the national freedman or the national creditor, be impaired.

(4.) Let pardons issue only on satisfactory assurance that the

applicant, who has been engaged for four years in murdering our

fellow-citizens, shall sustain the Equal Rights, civil and political, of

all men, according to the principles of the Declaration of Independence;

that he shall pledge himself to the support of the national debt; and,

if he be among the large holders of land, that he shall set apart

homesteads for all his freedmen.

Following these simple rules, clemency will be a Christian virtue, and

not a perilous folly.

The other proverb has its voice also, saying plainly, Follow common

sense, and do not, while escaping one danger, rush upon another. You are

now escaping from the whirlpool of war, which has threatened to absorb

and ingulf the Republic. Do not rush upon the opposite terror, where

another shipwreck of a different kind awaits you, while Sirens tempt

with their "song of death." Take warning: _Seeking to escape from

Charybdis, do not rush upon Scylla_.

Alas! the Scylla on which our Republic is now driving is that old rock

of _concession and compromise_ which from the beginning of our history

has been a constant peril. It appeared in the convention which framed

the National Constitution, and ever afterwards, from year to year,

showed itself in Congress, until at last the Oligarchy, nursed by our

indulgence, rebelled. And now that the war is over, it is proposed to

invest this same Rebel Oligarchy with a new lease of immense power,

involving the control over loyal citizens, whose fidelity to the

Republic has been beyond question. Here, too, are Sirens, in the shape

of belligerent traitors, suing softly that the Republic may be lured to

the old concession and compromise. _Alas! that, escaping from Charybdis,

we should rush upon Scylla!_

The old Oligarchy conducted all its operations in the name of State

Rights, and in this name it rebelled. And when the Republic sought to

suppress the Rebellion, it was replied, that a State could not be

coerced. Now that the Rebellion is overthrown, and a just effort is made

to obtain that "security for the future" without which the war will have

been in vain, the same cry of State Rights is raised, and we are told

again that a State cannot be coerced,--as if the same mighty power

which directed armies upon the Rebellion could be impotent to exact all

needful safeguards. It was to overcome these pretensions, and stamp _E

Pluribus Unum_ upon the Republic, that we battled in war; and now we

surrender to these tyrannical pretensions again. Escaping from war, we

rush upon the opposite peril,--_as from Charybdis to Scylla_.

Again, we are told gravely, that the national power which decreed

emancipation cannot maintain it by assuring universal enfranchisement,

because an imperial government must be discountenanced,--as if the whole

suggestion of "imperialism" or "centralism" were not out of place, until

the national security is established, and our debts, whether to the

national freedman or the national creditor, are placed where they cannot

be repudiated. A phantom is created, and, to avoid this phantom, we rush

towards concession and compromise,--_as from Charybdis to Scylla_.

Again, we are reminded that military power must yield to the civil power

and to the rights of self-government. Therefore the Rebel States must be

left to themselves, each with full control over all, whether white or

black, within its borders, and empowered to keep alive a Black Code

abhorrent to civilization and dangerous to liberty. Here, again, we rush

from one peril upon another. Every exercise of military power is to be

regretted, and yet there are occasions when it cannot be avoided. War

itself is the transcendent example of this power. But the transition

from war to peace must be assured by all possible safeguards. "Civil

power and self-government cannot be conceded to belligerent enemies

until after the establishment of security for the future." Such security

is an indispensable safeguard, without which there will be new disaster

to the country. Therefore, in escaping from military power, care must be

taken that we do not run upon the opposite danger,--_as from Charybdis

to Scylla_.

Again, it is said solemnly, that "we must trust each other"; which,

being interpreted, means, that the Republic must proceed at once to

trust the belligerent enemies who have for four years murdered our

fellow-citizens. Of course, this is only another form of concession. In

trusting them, we give them political power, including the license to

oppress loyal persons, whether white or black, and especially the

freedman. For four years we have met them in battle; and now we rush to

trust them, and to commit into their keeping the happiness and

well-being of others. There is peril in trusting such an enemy, more

even than in meeting him on the field. God forbid that we rush now upon

this peril,--_as from Charybdis to Scylla_!

The true way is easy. Follow common sense. Seeking to avoid one peril,

do not rush upon another. Consider how everything of worth or honor is

bound up with the national security and the national faith; and that

until these are fixed beyond change, agriculture, commerce, and industry

of all kinds must suffer. Capital cannot stay where justice is denied.

Emigration must avoid a land blasted by the spirit of caste. Cotton

itself will refuse to grow until labor is assured its just reward. By

natural consequence, that same Barbarism which has drenched the land in

blood will continue to prevail, with wrong, outrage, and the

insurrections of an oppressed race; the national name will be

dishonored, and the national power will be weakened. But the way is

plain to avoid these calamities. _Follow common sense; and obtain

guaranties commensurate with the danger._ Do this without delay, so that

security and reconciliation may not be postponed. Every day's delay is a

loss to the national wealth and an injury to the national treasury. But

if adequate guaranties cannot be obtained at once, then at least

_postpone all present surrender to the Oligarchy_, trusting meanwhile to

Providence for protection, and to time for that awakened sense of

justice and humanity which must in the end prevail. And finally, _take

care not to rush from Charybdis to Scylla_.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] _AEneis_, Lib. III. v. 420.

[4] Book XII.

[5] Book II. v. 660.

[6] Ibid. v. 1016.

[7] _Merchant of Venice_, Act III. Sc. 5.

[8] Erasmi _Opera_, Tom. II. p. 183; _Adagiorum_ Chil. I. cent. v. prov.

4.

[9] Erasmi _Adagia_, ubi supra.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Jortin's _Erasmus_, Vol. II. p. 163, note.

[12] _Opera_, Tom. II. p. 645; _Epist._ 574.

[13] For a glimpse of this interesting character, see Tiraboschi,

_Storia della Letteratura Italiana_, Tom. VI. pp 289-294; Michaud,

_Biographie Universelle, nomen_ Galeotto Marzio.

[14] Tom. I. p. 276, Liv. III. cap. 29.

[15] _Menagiana_, Tom. I. p. 177.

[16] Vol. II. 285.

[17] Tom. XV. p. 117.

[18] _History of English Poetry_, Vol. I. p. clxviii.

[19] Vol. I. p. 510.

[20] Vol. V. p. 256.

[21] _Della Storia e della Ragione d' ogni Poesia_, Tom. VI. p. 480.

[22] _Magasin Encyclopedique_, Tom II. p. 52.

[23] Millin, _Magasin Encyclopedique_, Tom. III. p. 181; _Journal des

Savans_, Avril, 1760.

[24] Ritson's _Bibliographia Poetica_, p. 228.

[25] For a list of His works see Watt's _Bibliotheca Britannia_, _nomen_

Echlin.

[26] Beloe's _Anecdotes of Literature_, Vol. V. pp. 255-260.

[27] Ibid. p. 256.

[28] Millin, _Magasin Encyclop._ Tom. III. p. 181.

[29] From a priced catalogue of Mr. Steevens's sale it appears that his

copy, which was the edition of Lyons, brought L2 2_s._ in 1800. _Cat._

No. 514.

[30] _Anecdotes of Literature_, Vol. V. p. 258.

[31] See also Graesse, _Tresor de Livres rares et precieux, ou Nouveau

Dictionnaire Bibliographique_, _nomen_ Galterus; Millin, _Mag. Encyc._

Tom. III. p. 181; Senebier, _MSS. Franc. de la Bibliotheque de Geneve_,

p. 235; _Allg. Lit. Anz._ 1799. pp. 84. 263, 1233, 1858; _Sitzungsber.

der Wien. Acad._ T. XIII. p. 314; Giesebrecht, _Allg. Zeits. fuer Wiss.

und Lit._ 1853, p. 344.

[32] Tom. VI. p. 328.

[33] _Histoire Litteraire_, Tom. XV. p. 100.

[34] Ibid, Tom. XVI. p. 537.

[35] The latter mistake is gravely made by Quadrio, in his great jumble

of literary history, Tom. VI. p. 480; also by Peerlkamp, _De Poetis

Latinis Nederlandorum_, p. 15. See also Edelestand du Meril, _Poesies

Populaires Latines_, p. 149.

[36] _Alexandreis_, Lib. X. _ad finem._

[37] Graesse, in his _Tresor de Livres Rares_, which ought to be

accurate, makes a strange mistake in calling Gualterus _Episcopus

Insulanus_. He was never more than a canon, and held no post at Lille.

Fabricius entitles him simply _Magister_ Philippus Gualterus de

Castellione, Insulanus. _Bibliotheca Lat. Med. et Inf. AEtotis_, Tom. VI.

p. 328. See also Wright's _Latin Poems_, Preface, xviii.

[38] _Histoire Litteraire_, Tom. XV. p. 101

[39] Edelestand du Meril, _Poesies Populaires Latines_, pp. 144-163;

Wright, _Latin Poems commonly attributed to Walter Mapes_.

[40] _Historia Poematum Medii AEvi._

[41] _Histoire Litteraire_, Tom. XVI. p. 183.

[42] _Poesies Latines Populaires_, p. 149.

[43] Millin, _Magasin Encyclop._ Tom. II, p. 52.

[44] Michaud, _Biographie Universelle_, _nomen_ Gaultier.

[45] _Recherches de la France_, Cap. 29, Tom. I. p. 276.

[46] Warton, _English Poetry_, Vol. I. p. clxix.; Dissertation II.

[47] Ibid.

[48] Fabricius, _Bibliotheca_, Tom. IV. c. 2.

[49] Ibid. Tom. VI. p. 328. See also Leyser, _Historia Poematum Medii

AEvi_, _nomen_ Galterus.

[50] _Histoire Litteraire_, Tom. XV. p. 118.

[51] Warton, _History of English Poetry_, Vol. I. p. clxix.; also p.

132.

[52] Madox, _Hist. Exchequer_, pp. 249-259.

[53] Gray, _Observations on English Metre_.

[54] Warton, _History of English Poetry_, Vol. I. p 133.

[55] Vossius, _De Poetis Latinis_, p. 74. is mistaken in saying that it

had nine books instead of ten. See also _Menagiana_, Tom. I. P. 177.

[56] _Inferno_, Canto XXXIII.

[57] This is the passage translated into blank verse by the early

English poet, Grimoald Nicholas.

[58] There is a contemporary poem in leonine verses on the death of

Thomas a Becket, with the same allusion to opposite dangers:--

"Ut post Syrtes mittitur in Charybdim navis,

Flatibus et fluctibus transitis tranquille,

Tutum portus impulit in latratus Scyllae."

Du Meril, _Poesies Populaires Latines_, p. 82.

[59] Some of the expressions of this passage may be compared with other

writers. See Burmanni _Anthologia Latina_, Vol. I. pp. 152, 163; Ovidii

_Metam._ Lib. I. 514.

[60] "C'etait un homme qui battait des eglises sans payer ses dettes."

REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.

_The Works of Epictetus, consisting of his Discourses in

Four Books, the Enchiridion and Fragments._ A Translation

from the Greek, based on that of Elizabeth Carter. By THOMAS

WENTWORTH HIGGINSON. Boston: Little, Brown, & Co.

Happy the youth who has this Stoic repast fresh and untasted before him!

Heaven give him appetite and digestion; for here is food indeed!

Epictetus and Marcus Antoninus, at the two extremes of the social

system,--the one that most helpless of human beings, a Roman slave, the

other that terrestrial god, a Roman Emperor,--are yet so associated in

fame that he who names either thinks of the other also. Neither of them

men of astonishing intellect, though certainly of a high intelligence,

they have yet uttered thoughts that cannot die,--thoughts so simple,

vital, and central, so rich in the purest blood of man's moral being,

that their audience and welcome are perpetual. Without literary

ambition, one of them wrote only for his own eye, merely emphasizing the

faith he lived by, while the other wrote not at all, but, like another

and yet greater, simply spoke with men as he met them, his words being

only the natural respirations of belief. Yet that tide of time which

over so many promising ambitions and brilliant fames has rolled

remorseless, a tide of oblivion, bears the private notes or casual

conversation of these men in meek and grateful service.

A vital word,--how sure is it to be cherished and preserved! All else

may be neglected, all else may perish; but a word true forever to the

heart of humanity will be held too near to its heart to suffer from the

chances of time.

Of these two authors, Epictetus has the more nerve, spirit, and wit,

together with that exquisite homeliness which Thoreau rightly named "a

high art"; while Antoninus is characterized by more of tenderness,

culture, and breadth. The monarch, again, has a grave, almost pensive

tone; the slave is full of breezy health and cheer. One commonly prefers

him whom he has read last or read most. The distinction of both is, that

they hold hard to the central question, How shall man be indeed man? how

shall he be true to the inmost law and possibility of his being? Their

thoughts are, as we have said, respirations, vital processes, pieces of

spiritual function, the soul in every syllable. And hence through their

pages blows a breath of life which one may well name a wind of Heaven.

Our favorite was Antoninus until Mr. Higginson beguiled us with this

admirable version. For it is, indeed, admirable. It would be hard to

name a translation from Greek prose which, while faithful in substance

and tone to the original, is more entirely and charmingly readable.

Of mere correctness we do not speak. Correctness is cheap. It may be had

for money any day. A passage or two we notice, concerning which some

slight question might, perhaps, be opened; but it would be a question of

no importance; and the criticism we should be inclined to make might not

be sustained. Unquestionably the version is true, even nicely true, to

the ideas of the author.

But it is more and better. It is ingenious, felicitous, witty. Mr.

Higginson has the great advantage over too many translators (into

English, at least) of being not only a man of bright and vivid

intelligence, but also a proper proficient in the use of his mother

tongue, melodious in movement, elegant in manner, fortunate in phrase.

Now that Hawthorne is dead, America has not perhaps a writer who is

master of a more graceful prose. His style has that tempered and chaste

vivacity, that firm lightness of step, that quickness at a turn, not

interfering with continuity and momentum, which charms all whom style

can charm. Lowell's best prose--in "Fireside Travels," for example--has

similar qualities, and adds to them a surprising delicacy of wit and

subtilty of phrase, while it has less movement and less of rhythmical

emphasis. Between the two, in the respects mentioned, we are hardly able

to choose.

Mr. Higginson is, indeed, a little fastidious, a little inclined to

purism, a little rigid upon the mint, anise, and cumin of literary law.

But this rendered him only the more fit for his present task. A

translator must bear somewhat hard upon minor obligations to his

vernacular, in order to overcome the resistance of a foreign idiom.

He has succeeded. He has given us Greek thought in English speech, not

merely in English words. It is, indeed, astonishing how modern Epictetus

seems in this version. This is due in part to the translator's tact in

finding modern _equivalents_ for Greek idioms, or for antiquated

allusions and illustrations. Once in a while one is a littled startled

by these; but more often they are so happy that one fancies he must have

thrown dice for them, or obtained them by some other turn of luck.

But he was favored, not only by literary ability, but by a native

affinity with his author and an old love for him. His taste is very

marked for this peculiar form of sanctity and heroism, the simple Stoic

morality, especially in that mature and mellow form which it assumes

with the later Stoic believers. In these first centuries of our era a

suffusion of divine tenderness seems to have crept through the veins of

the world, partly derived from Christianity, and partly contemporaneous

with it. In the case of Epictetus it must have been original. And the

peculiar simplicity with which he represents this tender spirit of love

and duty, while combining it with the utmost iron nerve of the old Stoic

morality,--its comparative disassociation in his pages with the

speculative imaginations which glorify or obscure it elsewhere,--is

deeply grateful, one sees, to the present translator.

He must have enjoyed his task heartily, while its happy completion has

prepared for many others, not only an enjoyment, but more and better

than that. May it, indeed, be for many! What were more wholesome for

this too luxuriant modern life than a little Stoic pruning?

Having mentioned that the book comes forth under the auspices of Little,

Brown, & Co., we have no need to say that it is an elegant volume.

_An Examination of Sir William Hamilton's Philosophy, and of

the Principal Philosophical Questions discussed in his

Writings._ By JOHN STUART MILL. In Two Volumes. Boston:

William V. Spencer.

Mr. Mill in this book defends England from the reproach of indifference

to the higher philosophy. Americans are at least not indifferent to John

Stuart Mill; and for his sake the volumes will no doubt be attempted by

many a respectable citizen who would be seriously puzzled whether to

class the author as a Cosmothetic Idealist or as a Hypothetical Dualist.

And assuming, as such a reader very possibly will, that this last name

designates those who are disposed to fight for their hypotheses, he will

hardly think it in this case a misnomer. Yet Mr. Mill seems very

generous and noble in this attitude. He has consented to put on the

gloves since he fought Professors Whewell and Sedgwick without them; and

there is perhaps no finer passage in the history of controversy than his

simple expression of regret, in his preface, on attacking an antagonist

who can no longer defend himself.

Yet his handling of Sir William is tolerably unflinching, when he

settles to the work; and he will carry the sympathy of most readers in

his criticisms, whatever they may think of his own peculiar views. The

students of his Logic were rather daunted, years ago, on discovering

that a mind so able was content to found upon mere experience its

conviction that two and two make four, and to assume, by implication at

least, that on some other planet two and two may make five. He still

holds to this attitude. But so perfect are his candor and clearness,

that no dissent from his views can seriously impair the value of his

writings; and though no amount of clearness can make such a book

otherwise than abstruse to the general reader, yet there are some

chapters which can be read with pleasure and profit by any intelligent

person,--as, for instance, the closing essay on mathematical study. This

must not, however, be taken for an indorsement of all which that chapter

contains; for it must be pronounced a little inconsistent in Mr. Mill to

criticize Hamilton for underrating mathematics without having studied

them, when this seems to be precisely his critic's attitude towards the

later German metaphysics. He speaks with some slight respect of Kant, to

be sure, but complains of the speculations of his successors as "a

deplorable waste of time and power," though he gives no hint or citation

to indicate that he has read one original sentence of Fichte, Schelling,

or Hegel. Indeed, he heaps contempt in Latin superlatives upon the

last-named thinker, and then completes the insult by quoting him at

second-hand through Mansel, (I. 61,)--that Mansel some of whose

doctrines he elsewhere proclaims to be "the most morally pernicious now

current." (I. 115.) He afterwards makes it a sort of complaint against

Hamilton, that he had read "every fifth-rate German transcendentalist";

but if this was so, surely a competent critic of Hamilton should have

followed him at least through the first-rates. This unfairness,--if,

indeed, these surmises be correct,--although it seems very much like the

Englishman whom our current prejudices represent, seems very unlike John

Stuart Mill.

As the ablest work that modern British philosophy has produced, this

book will doubtless have many American readers, and well deserves them.

_Speeches of Andrew Johnson, President of the United

States._ With a Biographical Introduction, by FRANK MOORE.

Boston: Little, Brown, & Co.

The publishers have done well in placing this volume before the public.

One among the most important results of the war is that of vastly

increasing the practical, however it may be with the theoretical, power

of the executive. It has done this, in the first place, by direct

addition. The "war powers of the President," though beyond question

legitimate, made him for the time being wellnigh absolute; and now that

overt war is ended, it is found impracticable to return immediately to

the ancient limits of executive authority. Exercises of sovereignty,

accordingly, which would once have been called most dangerous

encroachments upon coordinate branches of government, pass without

protest, it be with general approbation. An instance of such is seen in

the appointment of Southern governors who by an explicit law of Congress

are ineligible. But, in the second place, this power is increased,

perhaps, even more by the marked disposition of the people to accept the

initiative of the President. The prodigious bids made by the Democratic

party for his countenance, and the extreme reluctance of the Republicans

to open an issue with him, illustrate this disposition, and are of great

significance.

We are stating facts, not complaining of them. A great change has

undoubtedly taken place in the practical economy of the Government,--a

significant change in the relative importance of its coordinate

branches. It may not be permanent, but it can scarcely be brief.

A the same time the importance of the Government as a whole has been

greatly enhanced. We have reached a point where the nation, for,

perhaps, the first time, is to be saved by statesmanship, and where it

is apparent that only statesmanship of a high order will be equal to the

task. Formerly the Government could be contemptible without being fatal.

When its imbecility led to civil war, the courage, patriotism, and

persistency of the people sufficed to purchase victory; and though the

Government was tasked heavily, its tasks were of a simple kind. But now

a point is reached where must begin a long stretch of wise, far-seeing,

faithful statesman's work, or where, in the want of this, prospects open

which on patriot can contemplate with satisfaction.

A series of able, temperate, true-hearted Presidents has now become

indispensable; but the highest qualities will be needed in no subsequent

administration so much as in the present; and very serious mistakes in

the present would go far to render the highest ability in the future

unavailing. Under these circumstances, there must be a common and

anxious desire to know what may reasonably be expected of President

Johnson.

Hence the timeliness and importance of the volume under notice. An

attentive perusal of these pages will afford ground for some critical

estimate of the man in whose hands so much power is lodged, and whose

use of power so great issues depend. The biographical sketch, though

somewhat vague, and marked by occasional inaccuracies, affords some

tolerable notion of the experience he has passed through; and the

speeches, though covering but few years, exhibit that portion of his

opinions which is most related to existing problems.

We find here the image of a very honest, patriotic man, vigorous in

mind, resolute in will, definite in character, and bearing deeply the

impress of a special and marked experience. Of his honesty, to begin

with, there can be no doubt. His administration may be mistaken, but it

will not be corrupt. And to feel assured of so much is very healthful.

But an honest man, in his position, _must_ be patriotic,--must be

looking to the welfare of the country, rather than casting about to make

bargains for his private advantage; and we gather from this book, that,

if any meditate buying or bribing the President, they will learn a

lesson in due time. He may come to coincide with them, but it will be by

their acquiescence in his judgment, not by his acceptance of their

proffers.

It is when we come to inspect his intellectual position, to consider the

quality of his honest convictions, as determined chiefly by his

peculiar experience, that the real question opens.

Mr. Johnson was a Southern "poor white." He became the ornament, then

the champion of his class; rescued it from political subjection in

Tennessee, and, in his own election to the Governor's chair, and then to

the United States Senate, gave it a first feast of supremacy. In this

long struggle, the peculiar opinion and sentiment of his class--that is,

of its best portion--became with him, though in an enlarged form,

impassioned convictions, deeply incorporated with his character, and

held with somewhat of religious fervor.

In the first speech contained in the present collection, dating so

lately as 1858, he is found still resting upon this experience. His

sympathy is wholly with the simpler forms of country life, with

mechanics and small landholders, "the middle class," as he calls them.

He hates cities; he cannot help showing some mild jealousy of the

commercial and manufacturing interest; literature and science he does

not wish to undervalue, but his whole heart is with the class who live a

well-to-do, honest life, by manual labor in their own shops or on their

own acres. Like his class, he dislikes the cotton lords, but likes

Slavery, and has no faith in the negro; it has not occurred to him to

think of the negro as a man, and he wished that every white man in the

country had a slave to do his "menial" labor.

In the next speech, made two years later, he is confronting the

immediate probability of Secession. He grapples with it sturdily, but

still regards it from a strictly Southern point of view,--that of his

class. The South, he thinks, has real grievances; it has, indeed, been

wronged by the election of a "sectional President and Vice-President";

it is entitled to redress; only it should seek redress in the Union, not

out of it.

Even when what he feared and fought against was become overt and bloody

war, when his own life was vengefully sought, when his own friends were

hunted down, and either murdered without mercy or dragged mercilessly

away to fight an alien battle with a sword behind and cannon in front,

even then he finds great difficulty in changing his point of view. He

speaks no more of wrongs which the South has suffered; but it is because

his feeling of that is overwhelmed by his sense of the horrible wrong it

is committing. He declares, at length, that, if Slavery or the Union

must go down, he will stand by the Union; but he evidently accepts the

alternative with reluctance, though with resolution. When it becomes

apparent that this possible alternative is indeed actual, he is true to

his pledge; but it is a new charge in his mind against the

Secessionists, that they have forced him to such election. They will

have it so, he says, and since they will have it so, be it so; the

necessity is not of his making; the retribution is real, but it is

deserved. His final proclamation of freedom in Tennessee, in advance of

executive warrant, was an intrepid and memorable act, worthy of his

resolute spirit,--but was an act rather directed against the Rebels than

prompted by sympathy with the slaves. His career in Tennessee was

already far advanced before he fairly held forth his hand to the negroes

as men, with the rights and interests of human beings; and it needed all

the roused passion of his soul, all the touching trust of this people in

him as their "Moses," all his intensity of recoil from treason, and all

his sense of personal outrage, to nerve him for that triumph over his

traditional prejudices.

The impression of Andrew Johnson which this book gives us is that of a

deep, powerful, impassioned nature, inflexible, but inflexible rather by

definite determination of character and fixity of conviction than by

obstinacy of will. A man of large ability, he is, so to speak, deeply

immersed in his own past,--limited by the bonds of his earnest, but,

until lately, narrow experience. His power to change his point of view

upon theoretical considerations is small, for he does little but expand

his experience into theory. Facts alone can instruct him; and if these

run counter to his intellectual predilection, they must be impressive to

be effectual. He follows the law of his mind in proceeding to make an

"experiment" in dealing with the South, and in making it as nearly as

possible in accordance with the ancient customs of his thought. There is

danger, we think, that he will look at facts too much with a traditional

eye; but there is no danger that he will not act upon them with vigor,

courage, and honest patriotism so far as he shall see them in their true

light.

It should be said, that, to learn the latest modifications of his

opinions, the reader must consult the Introduction.