IN MID CAREER
After the publication of _Ferdinand and Isabella_, its author rested on
his oars, treating himself to social relaxation and enjoying thoroughly
the praise which came to him from every quarter. Of course he had no
intention of remaining idle long, but a new subject did not at once
present itself so clearly to him as to make his choice of it inevitable.
For about eighteen months, therefore, he took his ease. His
correspondence, however, shows that he was always thinking of a second
venture in the field of historical composition. His old bent for
literary history led him to consider the writing of a life of Moliere--a
book that should be agreeable and popular rather than profound. Yet
Spain still kept its hold on his imagination, and even before his
_Ferdinand and Isabella_ had won its sure success, he had written in a
letter to Ticknor the following paragraph:--
"My heart is set on a Spanish subject, could I compass the
materials: viz. the conquest of Mexico and the anterior
civilisation of the Mexicans--a beautiful prose epic, for which
rich virgin materials teem in Simancas and Madrid, and probably in
Mexico. I would give a couple of thousand dollars that they lay in
a certain attic in Bedford Street."
This purpose lingered in his mind all through his holidays, which were,
indeed, not wholly given up to idleness, for he listened to a good deal
of general reading at this time, most of it by no means of a superficial
character. Ever since his little daughter's death, Prescott had felt a
peculiar interest in the subject of the immortality of the soul, and had
read all of the most serious treatises to be found upon that subject. He
had also gone carefully through the Gospels, weighing them with all the
acumen which he had brought to bear upon his Castilian chronicles. This
investigation, which he had begun with reference to the single question
of immortality, broadened out into an examination of the whole
evidential basis of orthodox Christianity. In this study he was aided by
his father, who brought to it the keen, impartial judgment of an able
lawyer. Of the conclusions at which he ultimately arrived, he was not
wont to talk except on rare occasions, and his cast of mind was always
reverential. He did, however, reject the doctrines of his Puritan
ancestors. He held fast to the authenticity of the Gospels, but he found
in these no evidence to support the tenets of Calvinism.
Now, in his leisure time, he read over various works of a theological
character, and came to the general conclusion that "the study of
polemics or Biblical critics will tend neither to settle principles nor
clear up doubts, but rather to confuse the former and multiply the
latter." Prescott's whole religious creed was, in fact, summed up by
himself in these words: "To do well and act justly, to fear and to love
God, and to love our neighbour as ourselves--in these is the essence of
religion. For what we can believe, we are not responsible, supposing we
examine candidly and patiently. For what we do, we shall indeed be
accountable. The doctrines of the Saviour unfold the whole code of
morals by which our conduct should be regulated. Who, then, whatever
difficulties he may meet with in particular incidents and opinions
recorded in the Gospels, can hesitate to receive the great religious and
moral truths inculcated by the Saviour as the words of inspiration? I
cannot, certainly. On these, then, I will rest."
In April, 1838, Prescott took the first step toward beginning a study of
the Mexican conquest. He wrote to Madrid in order to discover what
materials were available for his proposed researches. At the same time
he began collecting such books relating to Mexico as could be obtained
in London. Securing personal letters to scholars and officials in Mexico
itself, he wrote to them to enlist their interest in his new
undertaking. By the end of the year it became evident that the wealth of
material bearing upon the Conquest was very great, and a knowledge of
this fact roused in Prescott all the enthusiasm of an historical
investigator who has scented a new and promising trail. Only one thing
now stood in the way. This was an intimation to the effect that
Washington Irving had already planned a similar piece of work. This bit
of news was imparted to Prescott by Mr. J. G. Cogswell, who was then in
charge of the Astor Library in New York, and who was an intimate friend
of both Prescott and Irving. Mr. Cogswell told Prescott that Irving was
intending to write a history of the conquest of Mexico, as a sort of
sequel, or rather pendant, to his life of Columbus. Of course, under the
circumstances, Prescott felt that, in courtesy to one who was then the
most distinguished American man of letters, he could not proceed with
his undertaking so long as Mr. Irving was in the field. He therefore
wrote a long letter to Irving, detailing what he had already done toward
acquiring material, and to say that Mr. Cogswell had intimated that
Irving was willing to relinquish the subject in his favour.
"I have learned from Mr. Cogswell that you had originally proposed
to treat the same subject, and that you requested him to say to me
that you should relinquish it in my favour. I cannot sufficiently
express to you my sense of your courtesy, which I can very well
appreciate, as I know the mortification it would have caused me if,
contrary to my expectations, I had found you on the ground.... I
fear the public will not feel so much pleased as myself by this
liberal conduct on your part, and I am not sure that I should have
a right in their eyes to avail myself of it. But I trust you will
think differently when I accept your proffered courtesy in the same
cordial spirit in which it was given."
To this letter Irving made a long and courteous reply, not only assuring
Prescott that the subject would be willingly abandoned to him, but
offering to send him any books that might be useful and to render any
service in his power. The episode affords a beautiful instance of
literary and scholarly amenities. The sacrifice which Irving made in
giving up his theme was as fine as the manner of it was graceful.
Prescott never knew how much it meant to Irving, who had already not
only made some study of the subject, but had sketched out the
ground-plan of the first volume, and had been actually at work upon the
task of composition for a period of three months. But there was
something more in it than this. Writing to his nephew, Pierre Irving,
who was afterward his biographer, he disclosed his real feeling with
much frankness.
"I doubt whether Mr. Prescott was aware of the extent of the
sacrifice I made. This was a favourite subject which had delighted
my imagination ever since I was a boy. I had brought home books
from Spain to aid me in it, and looked upon it as the pendant to my
Columbus. When I gave it up to him I, in a manner, gave him up my
bread; for I depended upon the profits of it to recruit my waning
finances. I had no other subject at hand to supply its place. I was
dismounted from my _cheval de bataille_ and have never been
completely mounted since. Had I accomplished that work my whole
pecuniary situation would have been altered."[10]
There was no longer any obstacle in Prescott's way, and he set to work
with an interest which grew as the richness of the material revealed
itself. There came to him from Madrid, books, manuscripts, copies of
official documents, and all the _apparatus criticus_ which even the most
exacting scholar could require. The distinguished historian, Navarrete,
placed his entire collection of manuscripts relating to Mexico and Peru
at the disposal of his American _confrere_. The Spanish Academy let him
have copies of the collections made by Munoz and by Vargas y Ponce--a
matter of some five thousand pages. Prescott's friend, Senor Calderon,
who at this time was Spanish Minister to Mexico, aided him in gathering
materials relating to the early Aztec civilisation. Don Pascual de
Gayangos, who had written the favourable notice in the _Edinburgh
Review_, delved among the documents in the British Museum on behalf of
Prescott, and caused copies to be made of whatever seemed to bear upon
the Mexican conquest. A year or two later, he even sent to Prescott the
whole of his own collection of manuscripts. In Spain very valuable
assistance was given by Mr. A. H. Everett, at that time American
Minister to the Spanish court, and by his first Secretary of Legation,
the South Carolinian who had taken his entrance examination to Harvard
in Prescott's company, and who throughout his college life had been a
close and valued friend. A special agent, Dr. Lembke,[11] was also
employed, and he gave a good part of his time to rummaging among the
archives and libraries. Prescott's authorship of _Ferdinand and
Isabella_, however, was the real touchstone which opened all doors to
him, and enlisted in his service enthusiastic purveyors of material in
every quarter. In Spain especially, the prestige of his name was very
great; and more than one traveller from Boston received distinguished
courtesies in that country as being the _conciudadano_ of the American
historian. Mr. Edward Everett Hale, whose acquaintance with Prescott was
very slight, relates an experience which is quite illustrative:--
"I had gone there [to Madrid] to make some studies and collect some
books for the history of the Pacific, which, with a prophetic
instinct, I have always wanted to write. Different friends gave me
letters of introduction, and among others the gentlemen of the
Spanish Embassy here were very kind to me. They gave me four such
letters, and when I was in Madrid and when I was in Seville it
seemed as though every door flew open for me and every facility was
offered me. It was not until I was at home again that I came to
know the secret of these most diligent civilities. I still had one
of my Embassy letters which I had never presented. I read it for
the first time, to learn that I was the coadjutor and friend of the
great historian Prescott through all his life, that I was his
assistant through all his historical work, and, indeed, for these
reasons, no American was more worthy of the consideration of the
gentlemen in charge of the Spanish archives. It was certainly by no
fault of mine that an exaggeration so stupendous had found its way
to the Spanish Legation. Somebody had said, what was true, that
Prescott was always good to me, and that our friendship began when
he engaged me as his reader. And, what with translating this simple
story, what with people's listening rather carelessly and
remembering rather carelessly, by the time my letters were drafted
I had become a sort of 'double' of Mr. Prescott himself. I hope
that I shall never hear that I disgraced him."[12]
Actual work upon the _Conquest_ began early in 1839, though not at first
with a degree of progress which was satisfactory to the investigator. By
May, however, he had warmed to his work. He went back to his old
rigorous regime, giving up again all social pleasures outside of his own
house, and spending in his library at least five hours each day. His
period of rest had done him good, and his eyesight was now better than
at any time since it first became impaired. After three months of
preliminary reading he was able to sketch out the plan of the entire
work, and on October 14, 1839, he began the actual task of composition.
He found the introduction extremely difficult to write, for it dealt
with the pre-historic period of Mexico, obscured as it was by the mist
of myth and by the contradictory assertions of conflicting authorities.
"The whole of that part of the story," wrote Prescott, "is in twilight,
and I fear I shall at least make only moonshine of it. I must hope that
it will be good moonshine. It will go hard with me, however, but that I
can fish something new out of my ocean of manuscripts." He had hoped to
dispose of his introduction in a hundred pages, and to finish it in six
months at the most. It actually extended to two hundred and fifty pages,
and the writing of it took nearly eighteen months. One interruption
occurred which he had not anticipated. The success of _Ferdinand and
Isabella_ had tempted an unscrupulous publisher to undertake an
abridgment of that book. To protect his own interests Prescott decided
to make an abridgment of his own, and thus to forestall the pirate. This
work disheartened and depressed him, but he finished it with great
celerity, only to find that the rival abridgment had been given up. A
brief stay upon the sea-coast put him once more into working condition,
and from that time he went on steadily with the _Conquest_, which he
completed on August 2, 1843, not quite four years from the time when he
began the actual composition. His weariness was lightened by the
confidence which he felt in his own success. He knew that he had
produced a masterpiece.
Naturally, he now had no trouble in securing a publisher and in making
very advantageous terms for the production of the book. It was brought
out by the Harpers of New York, though, as before, Prescott himself
owned the plates. His contract allowed the Harpers to publish five
thousand copies for which they paid the author $7500, with the right of
publishing more copies if required within the period of one year and on
the same general terms. An English edition was simultaneously brought
out by Bentley in London, who purchased the foreign copyright for L650.
Three Spanish translations appeared soon after, one in Madrid in 1847
and two in Mexico in 1844. A French translation was published in Paris,
by Didot in 1846, and a German translation, in Leipzig, by Brockhaus in
1845. A French reprint in English appeared in Paris soon after Bentley
placed the London edition upon the market.
No historical work written by an American has ever been received with so
much enthusiasm alike in America and in Europe. Within a month, four
thousand copies were disposed of by the Harpers, and at the end of four
months the original edition of five thousand had been sold. The
reviewers were unanimous in its praise, and an avalanche of
congratulatory letters descended upon Prescott from admirers, known and
unknown, all over the civilised world. _Ferdinand and Isabella_ had
brought him reputation; the _Conquest of Mexico_ made him famous.
Honours came to him unsought. He was elected a member of the French
Institute[13] and of the Royal Society of Berlin. He had already
accepted membership in the Royal Spanish Academy of History at Madrid
and in the Royal Academy of Sciences in Naples. Harvard conferred upon
him the degree of Doctor of Laws. Perhaps nothing pleased him more,
however, than a personal letter from Humboldt, for whom Prescott had
long entertained a feeling of deep admiration. This eminent scholar, at
that time the President of the Royal Society of Berlin, in which body
Niebuhr, Von Raumer, and Ranke had been enrolled, wrote in French a
letter of which the following sentences form a part:--
"My satisfaction has been very great in studying line by line your
excellent work. One judges with severity, with perhaps a bias
towards injustice, when he has had a vivid impression of the
places, and when the study of ancient history with which I have
been occupied from preference has been pursued on the very soil
itself where a part of these great events took place. My severity,
sir, has been disarmed by the reading of your _Conquest of Mexico_.
You paint with success because you have _seen_ with the eyes of the
spirit and of the inner sense. It is a pleasure to me, a citizen of
Mexico, to have lived long enough to read you and to speak to you
of my appreciation of the kind expressions with which you have done
honour to my name.... Were I not wholly occupied with my _Cosmos_,
which I have had the imprudence to print, I should have wished to
translate your work into the language of my own country."
While gathering the materials for the _Conquest of Mexico_, Prescott had
felt his way toward still another subject which his Mexican researches
naturally suggested. This was the conquest of Peru. Much of his Mexican
reading had borne directly upon this other theme, so that the labour of
preparation was greatly lightened. Moreover, by this time, he had
acquired both an accurate knowledge of sources and also great facility
in composition. Hence the only serious work which was necessary for him
to undertake as a preliminary to composition was the study of Peruvian
antiquities. This occupied him eight months, and proved to be far more
troublesome to him and much less satisfactory than the like
investigation which he had made with reference to the Aztecs. However,
after the work had been commenced it proceeded rapidly,--so rapidly, in
fact, as to cause him a feeling of half-comical dismay. He began to
write on the 12th of August, 1844, and completed his task on November 7,
1846. During its progress he made a note that he had written two
chapters, amounting in all to fifty-one printed pages, in four days,
adding the comment, "I never did up so much yarn in the same time. At
this rate Peru will not hold out six months. Can I finish it in a year?
Alas for the reader!" No doubt he might have finished it in a year had
certain interruptions not occurred. The first of these was the death of
his father, which took place on December 8th, not long after he had
begun the book. His brother Edward had died shortly before, and this
double affliction affected very deeply so sensitive a nature as
Prescott's. To his father, indeed, he owed more than he could ever
express. The two had been true comrades, and had treated one another
with an affectionate familiarity which, between father and son, was as
rare in those days as it was beautiful. Judge Prescott's generosity had
made it possible for the younger man to break through all the barriers
of physical infirmity, and not only to win fame but also the happiness
which comes from a creative activity. They understood each other very
well, and in many points they were much alike both in their friendliness
and in their habits of reserve. One little circumstance illustrates this
likeness rather curiously. Fond as both of them were of their fellows,
and cordial as they both were to all their friends, each wished at times
to be alone, and these times were when they walked or rode. Therefore,
each morning when the two men mounted their horses or when they set out
for a walk, they always parted company when they reached the road, one
turning to the right and the other to the left by a tacit understanding,
and neither ever thought of accompanying the other. Sometimes a friend
not knowing of this trait would join one of them to share the ride or
walk. Whenever such a thing as this took place, that particular route
would be abandoned the next day and another and a lonelier one selected.
A further interruption came from the purchase of a house on Beacon
Street and the necessity of arranging to leave the old mansion on
Bedford Street. The new house was a fine one, overlooking the Mall and
the Common; and the new library, which was planned especially for
Prescott's needs, was much more commodious than the old one. But the
confusion and feeling of unsettlement attendant on the change distracted
Prescott more than it would have done a man less habituated to a
self-imposed routine. "A month of pandemonium," he wrote; "an
unfurnished house coming to order; a library without books; books
without time to open them." It took Prescott quite a while to resume his
methodical habits. His old-time indolence settled down upon him, and it
was some time before his literary momentum had been recovered. Moreover,
he presumed upon the fairly satisfactory condition of his eye and used
it to excess. The result was that his optic nerve was badly over-taxed,
"probably by manuscript digging," as he said. The strain was one from
which his eye never fully recovered; and from this time until the
completion of the _Peru_, he could use it in reading for only a few
minutes every day, sometimes perhaps for ten or fifteen, but never for
more than thirty. As this is the last time that we shall mention this
subject, it may be said that for all purposes of literary work Prescott
was soon afterward reduced to the position of one who was actually
blind. What had before been a merely stationary dimness of vision became
a slowly progressive decay of sight, or, to express it in medical
language, amblyopia had passed into amaurosis. He followed rigorously
his oculist's injunctions, but in the end he had to face the facts
unflinchingly; and a little later he recorded his determination to give
up all use of the eye for the future in his studies, and to be contented
with preserving it for the ordinary purposes of life. The necessity
disheartened him. "It takes the strength out of me," he said.
Nevertheless, neither this nor the fact that his general health was most
unsatisfactory, caused him to abandon work. He could not bring himself
to use what he called "the coward's word, 'impossible.'" And so, after a
little time, he went on as before, studying "by ear-work," and turning
off upon his noctograph from ten to fifteen pages every day. He
continued also his outdoor exercise, and, in fact, one of the
best-written chapters of the _Conquest of Peru_--the last one--was
composed while galloping through the woods at Pepperell. On November 7,
1846, the _Conquest of Peru_ was finished. Like the preceding history,
it was published by the Harper Brothers, who agreed to pay the author
one dollar per copy and to bring out a first edition of seventy-five
hundred copies. This, Mr. Ticknor says, was a more liberal arrangement
than had ever before been made with an historical writer in the United
States. The English copyright was purchased by Bentley for L800.
Prescott's main anxiety about the reception which would be given to the
_Conquest of Peru_ was based upon his doubts as to its literary style.
Neither of his other books had been written so rapidly, and he feared
that he might incur the charge of over-fluency or even slovenliness.
Yet, as a matter of fact, the chorus of praise which greeted the two
volumes was as loud and as spontaneous as it had been over his _Mexico_.
Prescott now stood so firmly on his feet as to look at much of this
praise in a somewhat humorous light. The approbation of the _Edinburgh
Review_ no longer seemed to him the _summa laus_, though he valued it
more highly than the praise given him by American periodicals, of which
he wrote very shrewdly:
"I don't know how it is, but our critics, though not pedantic, have
not the businesslike air, or the air of the man of the world, which
gives manliness and significance to criticism. Their satire, when
they attempt it--which cannot be often laid to their door--has
neither the fine edge of the _Edinburgh_ nor the sledgehammer
stroke of the _Quarterly_. They twaddle out their humour as if they
were afraid of its biting too hard, or else they deliver axioms
with a sort of smart, dapper conceit, like a little parson laying
down the law to his little people.... In England there is a far
greater number of men highly cultivated--whether in public life or
men of leisure--whose intimacy with affairs and with society, as
well as books, affords supplies of a high order for periodical
criticism."
As for newspaper eulogies, he remarked: "I am certainly the cause of
some wit and much folly in others." His latest work, however, brought
him two new honours which he greatly prized,--an election to the Royal
English Society of Literature, and the other an invitation to membership
in the Royal Society of Antiquaries. The former honour he shared with
only one of his fellow-countrymen, Bancroft; the latter had heretofore
been given to no American.
Prescott now indulged himself with a long period of "literary loafing,"
as he described it, broken in upon only by the preparation of a short
memoir of John Pickering, the antiquarian and scholar, who had been one
of Prescott's most devoted friends. This memoir was undertaken at the
request of the Massachusetts Historical Society. It has no general
interest now, but is worthy of note as having been the only one of
Prescott's works which he dictated to an amanuensis. Prescott had an
aversion to writing in this way, although he had before him the example
of his blind contemporary, Thierry. Like Alphonse Daudet, he seems to
have felt that what is written by hand comes more directly from the
author's inner self, and that it represents most truly the tints and
half-tones of his personality. That this is only a fancy is seen clearly
enough from several striking instances which the history of literature
records. Scott dictated to Lockhart the whole of _The Bride of
Lammermoor_. Thackeray dictated a good part of _The Newcomes_ and all of
_Pendennis_, and even _Henry Esmond_, of which the artificial style
might well have made dictation difficult. Prescott, however, had his own
opinion on the subject, and, with the single exception which has just
been cited, he used his noctograph for composition down to the very end,
dictating only his correspondence to his secretary.
His days of "literary loafing" allowed him to enjoy the pleasures of
friendship which during his periods of work were necessarily, to some
extent, intermitted. No man ever had more cordially devoted friends than
Prescott. He knew every one who was worth knowing, and every one was
attracted by the spontaneous charm of his manner and his invincible
kindliness. Never was a man more free from petulance or peevishness,
though these defects at times might well have been excused in one whose
health was such as his. He presented the anomaly of a dyspeptic who was
still an optimist and always amiable. Mr. John Foster Kirk, who was one
of his secretaries, wrote of him:--
"No annoyance, great or small, the most painful illness or the most
intolerable bore, could disturb his equanimity, or render him in
the least degree sullen, or fretful, or discourteous. He was always
gay, good-humoured, and manly. He carried his kindness of
disposition not only into his public, but into his private,
writings. In the hundreds of letters, many of them of the most
confidential character, treating freely of other authors and of a
great variety of persons, which I wrote at his dictation, not a
single unkind or harsh or sneering expression occurs. He was
totally free from the jealousy and envy so common among authors,
and was always eager in conversation, as in print, to point out the
merits of the great contemporary historians whom many men in his
position would have looked upon as rivals to be dreaded if not
detested."
Bancroft the historian has added his testimony to the greatness of
Prescott's personal charm.
"His countenance had something that brought to mind the 'beautiful
disdain' that hovers on that of the Apollo. But while he was
high-spirited, he was tender and gentle and humane. His voice was
like music and one could never hear enough of it. His cheerfulness
reached and animated all about him. He could indulge in playfulness
and could also speak earnestly and profoundly; but he knew not how
to be ungracious or pedantic."
No wonder then that his friends were legion, comprising men and women of
the most different types. Dry and formal scholars such as Jared Sparks;
men of the world like Lord Carlisle; nice old ladies like Maria
Edgeworth and the octogenarian Miss Berry, Walpole's friend; women of
fashion like Lady Lyell, Lady Mary Labouchere, and the Duchess of
Sutherland; Spanish hidalgos like Calderon de la Barca; smooth
politicians like Caleb Cushing; and intense partisans like Charles
Sumner,--all agreed in their affectionate admiration for Prescott. His
friendship with Sumner was indeed quite notable, since no men could have
been more utterly unlike. Sumner was devoid of the slightest gleam of
humour, and his self-consciousness was extreme; yet Prescott sometimes
poked fun at him with impunity. Thus, writing to Sumner about his Phi
Beta Kappa oration (delivered in 1846), he said:--
"Last year you condemned wars _in toto_, making no exception even
for the wars of freedom. This year you condemn the _representation_
of war, whether by the pencil or the pen. Marathon, Salamis, Bunker
Hill, the retreat from Moscow, Waterloo, great and small, are _all_
to be blotted from memory equally with my own wild skirmishes of
barbarians and banditti. Lord deliver us! Where will you bring up?
If the stories are not to be painted or written, such records of
them as have been heedlessly made should by the same rule be
destroyed. I laugh; but I fear you will make the judicious grieve.
But fare thee well, dear Sumner. Whether thou deportest thyself
_sana mente_ or _mente insana_, believe me always truly yours."
But Sumner's arrogance and egoism were always in abeyance where Prescott
was concerned, and even their lack of political sympathy never marred
the warmth of their intercourse. Prescott, in fact, cared very little
about contemporary politics. He had inherited from his fighting
ancestors a sturdy patriotism, but his loyalty was given to the whole
country and not to any faction or party. His cast of mind was
essentially conservative, and down to 1856 he would no doubt have called
himself an old-line Whig. He was always, however, averse to political
discussion which, indeed, led easily to personalities that were
offensive not only to Prescott's taste but to his amiable disposition.
His friend Parsons said of him: "He never sought or originated political
conversation, but he would not decline contributing his share to it; and
the contribution he made was always of good sense, of moderation, and of
forbearance."
Prescott's detachment with regard to politics was partly due, no doubt,
to the nature of the life he led, which kept him isolated from the
bustle of the world about him; yet it was probably due still more to a
lack of combativeness in his nature. Motley once said of him that he
lacked the capacity for _saeva indignatio_. This remark was called forth
by Prescott's tolerant view of Philip II. of Spain, who was in Motley's
eyes little better than a monster. One might fairly, however, give it a
wider application, and we must regard it as an undeniable defect in
Prescott that nothing external could strike fire from him. Thus, when
his intimate friend Sumner had been brutally assaulted in the Senate
chamber by the Southern bully, Brooks, Prescott wrote to him: "You have
escaped the crown of martyrdom by a narrow chance, and have got all the
honours, which are almost as dangerous to one's head as a gutta-percha
cane." There is a tameness about this sentence which one would scarcely
notice had Sumner merely received a black eye, but which offends one's
sense of fitness when we recall that Sumner had been beaten into
insensibility, and that he never fully recovered from the attack. Again,
when, in 1854, Boston was all ablaze over the capture of a fugitive
slave, when the city was filled with troops and muskets were levelled at
the populace, Prescott merely remarked to an English correspondent: "It
is a disagreeable business." To be sure, he also said, "It made my blood
boil," but the general tone of the letter shows that his blood must have
boiled at a very low temperature. Nevertheless, he seems to have been
somewhat stirred by the exciting struggle which took place over Kansas
between the Free-Soil forces and the partisans of slavery. Hence, in
1856, he cast his vote for Fremont, the first Republican candidate for
the Presidency. But, as a rule, the politics of the sixteenth century
were his most serious concern, and in the very year in which he voted
for Fremont, he wrote: "I belong to the sixteenth century and am quite
out of place when I sleep elsewhere." It was this feeling which led him
to decline a tempting invitation to write a history of the modern
conquest of Mexico by the American army under General Scott. The offer
came to him in 1847; and both the theme itself and the terms in which
the offer was made might well have attracted one whose face was set less
resolutely toward the historic past. His comment was characteristic. "I
had rather not meddle with heroes who have not been under ground two
centuries at least." It is interesting to note that the subject which
Prescott then rejected has never been adequately treated; and that the
brilliant exploits of Scott in Mexico still await a worthy chronicler.
It was natural that a writer so popular as Prescott should, in spite of
his methodical life, find his time encroached upon by those who wished
to meet him. He had an instinct for hospitality; and this made it the
more difficult for him to maintain that scholarly seclusion which had
been easy to him in the days of his comparative obscurity. His personal
friends were numerous, and there were many others who sought him out
because of his distinction. Many foreign visitors were entertained by
him, and these he received with genuine pleasure. Their number increased
as the years went by so that once in a single week he entertained, at
Pepperell, Senor Calderon, Stephens the Central American traveller, and
the British General Harlan from Afghanistan. Sir Charles Lyell, Lady
Lyell, Lord Carlisle, and Dickens were also visitors of his. It was as
the guest of Prescott that Thackeray ate his first dinner in
America.[14] Visitors of this sort, of course, he was very glad to see.
Not so much could be said of the strangers who forced themselves upon
him at Nahant, where swarms of summer idlers filled the hotels and
cottages, and with well-meaning but thoughtless interest sought out the
historian in the darkened parlour of his house. "I have lost a clear
month here by company," he wrote in 1840, "company which brings the
worst of all satieties; for the satiety from study brings the
consciousness of improvement. But this dissipation impairs health,
spirit, scholarship. Yet how can I escape it, tied like a bear to a
stake here?"
Prescott's favourite form of social intercourse was found in little
dinners shared with a few chosen friends. These affairs he called
"cronyings," and in them he took much delight, even though they often
tempted him to an over-indulgence in tobacco and sometimes in wine.[15]
One rule, however, he seldom broke, and that was his resolve never to
linger after ten o'clock at any function, however pleasant. An old
friend of his has left an account of one especially convivial occasion
to which Prescott had invited a number of his friends. The dinner was
given at a restaurant, and the guests were mostly young men and fond of
good living. The affair went off so well that, as the hour of ten
approached, no one thought of leaving. Prescott began to fidget in his
chair and even to drop a hint or two, which passed unnoticed, for the
reason that Prescott's ten o'clock rule was quite unknown to his jovial
guests. At last, to the surprise of every one, he rose and made a little
speech to the company, in which he said that he was sorry to leave them,
but that he must return home.
"But," he added, "I am sure you will be very soon in no condition
to miss me,--especially as I leave behind that excellent
representative"--pointing to a basket of uncorked bottles which
stood in a corner. "Then you know you are just as much at home in
this house as I am. You can call for what you like. Don't be
alarmed--I mean on _my_ account. I abandon to you, without reserve,
all my best wines, my credit with the house, and my reputation to
boot. Make free with them all, I beg of you--and if you don't go
home till morning, I wish you a merry night of it."
It is to be hoped that Prescott was not quite accurately reported, and
that he did not speak that little sentence, "Don't be alarmed," which
may have been characteristic of a New Englander, but which certainly
would have induced a different sort of guests to leave the place at
once. If he did say it, however, it was somewhat in keeping with the
tactlessness which he occasionally showed. The habit of frank speech,
which had made him a nuisance as a boy, never quite left him, and he
frequently blurted out things which were of the sort that one would
rather leave unsaid. His wife would often nod and frown at him on these
occasions, and then he would always make the matter worse by asking her,
with the greatest innocence, what the matter was. Mr. Ogden records an
amusing instance of Prescott's _naivete_ during his last visit to
England. Conversing about Americanisms with an English lady of rank, she
criticised the American use of the word "snarl" in the sense of
disorder. "Why, surely," cried Prescott, "you would say that your
ladyship's hair is in a snarl!" Which, unfortunately, it was--a fact
that by no means soothed the lady's temper at being told so. There was a
certain boyishness about Prescott, however, which usually enabled him to
carry these things off without offence, because they were obviously so
natural and so unpremeditated. His boyishness took other forms which
were more generally pleasing. One evidence of it was his fondness for
such games as blindman's buff and puss-in-the-corner, in which he used
to engage with all the zest of a child, even after he had passed his
fiftieth year, and in which the whole household took part, together with
any distinguished foreigners who might be present. Another youthful
trait was his readiness to burst into song on all occasions, even in the
midst of his work. In fact, just before beginning any animated bit of
descriptive writing he would rouse himself up by shouting out some
ballad that had caught his fancy; so that strangers visiting his house
would often be amused when, from the grave historian's study, there came
forth the sonorous musical appeal, "O give me but my Arab steed!"
Boyish, too, was his racy talk, full of colloquialisms and bits of
Yankee dialect, with which also his personal correspondence was
peppered. Even though his rather prim biographer, Ticknor, has gone over
Prescott's letters with a fine-tooth comb, there still remain enough of
these Doric gems to make us wish that all of them had been retained. It
is interesting to find the author of so many volumes of stately and
ornate narration letting himself go in private life, and dropping into
such easy phrases as "whopper-jawed," "cotton to," "quiddle," "book up,"
"crack up," "podder" (a favourite word of his), and "slosh." He retained
all of a young man's delight in his own convivial feats, and we find him
in one of his letters, after describing a rather prolonged and
complicated entertainment, asking gleefully, "Am I not a fast boy?"
His Yankee phrases were the hall-mark of his Yankee nature. Old England,
with all its beauty of landscape and its exquisite finish, never drove
New England from his head or heart. Thus, on his third visit to England,
he wrote to his wife: "I came through the English garden,--lawns of
emerald green, winding streams, light arched bridges, long lines
stretching between hedges of hawthorn all flowering; rustic cottages,
lordly mansions, and sweeping woods--the whole landscape a miracle of
beauty." And then he adds: "I would have given something to see a ragged
fence, or an old stump, or a bit of rock, or even a stone as big as
one's fist, to show that man's hand had not been combing Nature's head
so vigorously. I felt I was not in my own dear, wild America." Prescott
was a true Yankee also in the carefulness of his attention to matters of
business. He did not value money for its own sake. His father had left
him a handsome competence. He spent freely both for himself and for his
friends; but none the less, he made the most minute notes of all his
publishing ventures and analysed the publishers' returns as carefully as
though he were a professional accountant. This was due in part, no
doubt, to a natural desire to measure the popularity of his books by the
standard of financial success. He certainly had no reason to be
dissatisfied. Up to the time of his death, of the _Ferdinand and
Isabella_ there had been sold in the United States and England nearly
eighteen thousand copies; of the _Conquest of Mexico_, twenty-four
thousand copies; and of the _Conquest of Peru_, seventeen thousand
copies--a total, for the three works, of nearly sixty thousand copies.
When we remember that each of these histories was in several volumes and
was expensively printed and bound, and that the reading public was much
smaller in those days than now, this is a very remarkable showing for
three serious historical works. Since his death, the sales have grown
greater with the increase of general readers and the lapse of the
American copyright Prescott made excellent terms with his publishers, as
has already been recorded, and if a decision of the House of Lords had
been favourable to his copyright in England, his literary gains in that
country would have been still larger.[16]
His liking for New England country life led him to maintain in addition
to his Boston house, at 55 Beacon Street, two other places of residence.
One was at Nahant, then, as now, a very popular resort in summer. There
he had an unpretentious wooden cottage of two stories, with a broad
veranda about it, occupying an elevated position at the extremity of a
bold promontory which commanded a wide view of the sea. Nahant is famous
for its cool--almost too cool--sea-breeze, which even in August so
tempers the heat of the sun as to make a shaded spot almost
uncomfortably cold. This bracing air Prescott found admirably tonic, and
beneficial both to his eye and to his digestion, which was weak. On the
other hand, the dampness of the breeze affected unfavourably his
tendency to rheumatism, so that he seldom spent more than eight weeks of
the year upon the sea-shore. He found also that the reflection of the
sun from the water was a thing to be avoided. Therefore, he most
thoroughly enjoyed his other country place at Pepperell, where his
grandmother had lived. The plain little house, known as "The Highlands,"
and shaded by great trees, seemed to him his truest home. Here, more
than elsewhere, he threw off his cares and gave himself up completely to
his drives and rides and walks and social pleasures. The country round
about was then well wooded, and Prescott delighted to gallop through the
forests and over the rich countryside, every inch of which had been
familiar to him since his boyhood days. He felt something of the
English landowner's pride in remembering that his modest estate had been
in the possession of his family for more than a century and a half--"An
uncommon event," he wrote, "among our locomotive people." Behind the
house was a lovely shaded walk with a distant view of Mount Monadnock;
and here Prescott often strolled while composing portions of his
histories before committing them to paper. Beyond the road stood a
picturesque cluster of oak trees, making a thick grove which he called
"the Fairy Grove," for in it he used to tell his children the stories
about elves and gnomes and fairies which delighted them so much.
It was the death of his parents that led him in the last years of his
own life to abandon this home which he so dearly loved. The memories
which associated it with them were painful to him after they had gone.
He missed their faces and their happy converse, and so, in 1853, he
purchased a house on Lynn Bay, some five or six miles distant from his
cottage at Nahant. Here the sea-breeze was cool but never damp; while,
unlike Nahant, the place was surrounded by green meadow-land and
pleasant woods. This new house was much more luxurious than the cottages
at Nahant and Pepperell, and he spent at Lynn nearly all his summers
during his last five years. He added to the place, laying out its
grounds and tastefully decorating its interior, having in view not
merely his own comfort but that of his children and grandchildren, who
now began to gather about him. His daughter Elizabeth, who was married
in 1852 to Mr. James Lawrence of Boston, occupied a delightful country
house near by.
One memorial of Prescott long remained here to recall alike the owner
of the place and the work to which his life had been devoted. This was a
large cherry tree, which afforded the only shade about the house when he
first took possession of it. The state of his eye made it impossible for
him to remain long in the sunshine; and so, in his hours of composition,
he paced around the circle of the shade afforded by this tree, carrying
in his hand a light umbrella, which he raised for a moment when he
passed that portion of the circle on which the sunlight fell. He thus
trod a deep path in the turf; and for years after his death the path
remained still visible,--a touching reminder to those friends of his who
saw it.