THE LAST TEN YEARS
While Prescott was still engaged in his Mexican and Peruvian researches,
and, in fact, even before he had undertaken them, another fascinating
subject had found lodgement in his mind. So far back as 1838, only a few
months after the publication of _Ferdinand and Isabella_, he had said:
"Should I succeed in my present collections, who knows what facilities I
may find for making one relative to Philip the Second's reign--a
fruitful theme if discussed under all its relations, civil and literary
as well as military." And again, in 1839, he reverted to the same
subject in his memoranda. Could he have been sure of obtaining access to
the manuscript and other sources, he might at that time have chosen this
theme in preference to the story of the Mexican conquest. He knew,
however, that nothing could be done unless he were able to make a free
use of the Spanish archives preserved at Simancas. To this ancient town,
at the suggestion of Cardinal Ximenes, the most precious historical
documents relating to Spanish history had been removed, in 1536, by
order of Charles V. The old castle of the Admiral of Castile had been
prepared to receive them, and there they still remained, as they do
to-day, filling some fifty large rooms and contained in some eighty
thousand packages. It has been estimated that fully thirty million
separate documents of various kinds are included in this remarkably rich
collection,--not only state papers of a formal character, but private
letters, secret reports, and the confidential correspondence of Spanish
ambassadors in foreign countries.[17] Such a treasure-house of
historical information scarcely exists elsewhere; and Prescott,
therefore, wrote to his friends in Madrid to learn whether he might hope
for access to this Spanish Vatican. In 1839, however, he made the
following memorandum: "By advices from Madrid this week, I learn that
the archives of Simancas are in so disorderly a state that it is next to
impossible to gather material for the reign of Philip II." His friend,
Arthur Middleton, cited to him the instance of a young scholar who had
been permitted to explore these collections for six months, and who had
found that the documents of a date prior to the year 1700 were "all
thrown together without order or index." Furthermore, Prescott's agent
in Spain, Dr. Lembke, had incurred the displeasure of the government,
which expelled him from the country. Prescott was, therefore, obliged
for the time to put aside the project of a history of Philip II., and he
turned instead to the study of the Mexican conquest.
Nevertheless, with that quiet pertinacity which was one of his
conspicuous traits, he still kept the theme in mind, and let it be known
to his friends in Paris and London, as well as in Madrid and elsewhere,
that all materials bearing upon the career of Philip II. were much
desired by him. These friends responded very zealously to his wishes. In
Paris, M. Mignet and M. Ternaux-Compans allowed Dr. Lembke to have their
important manuscript collections copied. In London, Prescott's
correspondent and former reviewer, Don Pascual de Gayangos, searched the
documents in the British Museum and a very rich private collection owned
by Sir Thomas Philips. He also visited Brussels, where he found more
valuable material, and later, having been appointed Professor of Arabic
in the University of Madrid (1842), he used his influence on behalf of
Prescott with very great success. Many noble houses in Spain put at his
disposal their family memorials. The National Library and other public
institutions offered whatever they possessed in the way of books and
papers. Two years later, this indefatigable friend spent some weeks at
Simancas, where he unearthed many an interesting _trouvaille_. Even
these sources, however, were not the only ones which contributed to
Prescott's store of documents. Ferdinand Wolf in Vienna, and Humboldt
and Ranke in Berlin, also aided him, and secured additional material,
not only in Austria and Prussia, but in Tuscany. His collection grew
apace; so that, long before he was ready to take up the subject of
Philip II., he possessed over three hundred and seventy volumes bearing
directly upon the reign of that monarch, while his manuscript copies,
which he caused to be richly bound, came to number in the end some
thirty-eight huge folios. These occupied a position of special honour in
his library, and were playfully called by him his Seraglio.
Thus, in 1847, when about to take up his fourth important work, he was
already richly documented. His health, however, was unsatisfactory. He
had now some ailments that had become chronic,--dyspepsia and a urethral
complication, which often caused him intense suffering. It was not until
July 29, 1849, that he began to write the first chapter of _Philip II._
at Nahant. He makes the laconic note: "Heavy work, this starting. I have
been out of harness too long.... The business of fixing thought is
incredibly difficult." He continued writing at Pepperell, and at his
home in Boston, until he had regained a good deal of his old facility.
His physical strength, however, was waning, and he could no longer
continue to work with his former regularity and method. He lost flesh,
and was threatened for a while with deafness, the fear of which was
almost too much for even his inveterate cheerfulness. In February, 1850,
he wrote: "Increasing interest in the work is hardly to be expected,
considering it has to depend so much on the ear. As I shall have to
depend more and more on this one of my senses as I grow older, it is to
be hoped that Providence will spare me my hearing. It would be a fearful
thing to doubt it." His depression finally became so great that he
suspended for a time his labours and made a short visit to Washington,
where he was received with abundant hospitality. He was entertained by
President Taylor, by Sir Henry Bulwer, the British Minister, by Webster,
and by many other distinguished persons; but he became more and more
convinced that a complete change was necessary to restore his health and
spirits; and so, on May 22d of the same year, he sailed from New York
for Liverpool, where he arrived on the 3d of June.
Prescott's stay in England was perhaps the most delightful episode in
his life. His biographer, Mr. Ticknor, speaks of it as "the most
brilliant visit ever made to England by an American citizen not clothed
with the prestige of official station." The assertion is quite true,
since the cordiality which Lowell met with in that country was, in part,
at any rate, due to his diplomatic rank, while General Grant was
essentially a political personage who was, besides, personally commended
to all foreign courts by his successor in office, President Hayes. But
Prescott, with no credentials save his reputation as a man of letters
and his own charming personality, enjoyed a welcome of boundless
cordiality. It was not merely that he was a literary celebrity and was
received everywhere by his brothers of the pen,--he became the fashion
and was unmistakably the lion of the season. From the moment when he
landed at Liverpool he found himself encircled by friends. The
attentions paid to him were never formal or perfunctory. He was admitted
to the homes of the greatest Englishmen, and was there made free of that
delightful hospitality which Englishmen reserve for the chosen few. No
sooner had he reached London than he was showered with cards of
invitation to the greatest houses, and with letters couched in terms of
personal friendship. Sir Charles Lyell, his old acquaintance, welcomed
him to London a few hours after his arrival. The American Minister, Mr.
Abbott Lawrence,[18] begged him to be present at a diplomatic dinner. In
company of the Lyells he was taken at once to an evening party where he
met Lord Palmerston, then Premier, and other members of the Ministry.
Lord Carlisle greeted him in a fashion strangely foreign to English
reserve, for he threw his arms around Prescott, making the historian
blush like a great girl. It would be tedious to recount the unbroken
series of brilliant entertainments at which Prescott was the guest of
honour. His letters written at this time from England are full of
interesting and often amusing bits of description, and they show that
even his exceptional social honours were very far from turning his head.
In fact, he viewed the whole thing as a diverting show, except when the
warmth of the personal welcome touched his heart. Through it all he was
the self-poised American, never losing his native sense of humour. He
made friends with Sir Robert Peel, who, at their first meeting,
addressed him in French, having taken him for the French dramatist M.
Scribe! He chatted often with the Duke of Wellington, and described him
in a comparison which makes one smile because it is so Yankee-like and
Bostonese.
"In the crowd I saw an old gentleman, very nicely made up, stooping
a good deal, very much decorated with orders, and making his way
easily along, as all, young and old, seemed to treat him with
deference. It was the Duke--the old Iron Duke--and I thought myself
lucky in this opportunity of seeing him.... He paid me some pretty
compliments on which I grew vain at once, and I did my best to
repay him in coin that had no counterfeit in it. He is a striking
figure, reminding me a good deal of Colonel Perkins in his general
air."
Prescott attended the races at Ascot with the American and Swedish
Ministers, was the guest of Sir Robert Peel, and was presented at
Court--a ceremony which he described to Mrs. Prescott in a very lively
letter.
"I was at Lawrence's, at one, in my costume: a chapeau with gold
lace, blue coat, and white trousers, begilded with buttons and
metal,--a sword and patent leather boots. I was a figure indeed!
But I had enough to keep me in countenance. I spent an hour
yesterday with Lady M. getting instructions for demeaning myself.
The greatest danger was that I should be tripped up by my own
sword.... The company were at length permitted one by one to pass
into the presence chamber--a room with a throne and gorgeous canopy
at the farther end, before which stood the little Queen of the
mighty Isle and her Consort, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting.
She was rather simply dressed, but he was in a Field Marshal's
uniform, and covered, I should think, with all the orders of
Europe. He is a good-looking person, but by no means so
good-looking as the portraits of him. The Queen is better-looking
than you might expect. I was presented by our Minister, according
to the directions of the Chamberlain, as the historian of Ferdinand
and Isabella, in due form--and made my profound obeisance to her
Majesty, who made a very dignified curtesy, as she made to some two
hundred others who were presented in like manner. I made the same
low bow to his Princeship to whom I was also presented, and so
bowed myself out of the royal circle, without my sword tripping up
the heels of my nobility.... Lord Carlisle ... said he had come to
the drawing-room to see how I got through the affair, which he
thought I did without any embarrassment. Indeed, to say truth, I
have been more embarrassed a hundred times in my life than I was
here. I don't know why; I suppose because I am getting old."
Somewhat later, while Prescott was a guest at Castle Howard, where the
Queen was also entertained, he had something more to tell about her.
"At eight we went to dinner all in full dress, but mourning for the
Duke of Cambridge; I, of course, for President Taylor! All wore
breeches or tight pantaloons. It was a brilliant show, I assure
you--that immense table with its fruits and flowers and lights
glancing over beautiful plate and in that superb gallery. I was as
near the Queen as at our own family table. She has a good appetite
and laughs merrily. She has fine eyes and teeth, but is short. She
was dressed in black silk and lace with the blue scarf of the Order
of the Garter across her bosom. Her only ornaments were of jet. The
Prince, who is certainly a handsome and very well made man, wore
the Garter with its brilliant buckle round his knee, a showy star
on his breast, and the collar of a foreign order round his neck.
"In the evening we listened to some fine music and the Queen
examined the pictures. Odd enough the etiquette. Lady Carlisle, who
did the honours like a high-bred lady as she is, and the Duchess of
Sutherland, were the only ladies who talked with her Majesty. Lord
Carlisle, her host, was the only gentleman who did so unless she
addressed a person herself. No one can sit a moment when she
chooses to stand. She did me the honour to come and talk with
me--asking me about my coming here, my stay in the Castle, what I
was doing now in the historic way, how Everett was and where he
was--for ten minutes or so; and Prince Albert afterwards a long
while, talking about the houses and ruins in England, and the
churches in Belgium, and the pictures in the room, and I don't know
what. I found myself now and then trenching on the rules by
interrupting, etc.; but I contrived to make it up by a respectful
'Your Royal Highness,' 'Your Majesty,' etc. I told the Queen of the
pleasure I had in finding myself in a land of friends instead of
foreigners--a sort of stereotype with me--and of my particular good
fortune in being under the roof with her. She is certainly very
much of a lady in her manner, with a sweet voice."
At Oxford, Prescott was the guest of the Bishop, the well-known
Wilberforce, popularly known by his sobriquet of "Soapy Sam." The
University conferred upon the American historian the degree of D.C.L. in
spite of the fact that he was a Unitarian. This circumstance was known
and caused some slight difficulty, but possibly the degree given to
Everett, another Unitarian, some years before in spite of great
opposition, was regarded as having established a precedent; and Oxford
cherishes the cult of precedent. At the Bishop's house, however,
Prescott shocked a lady by telling her of his creed. He wrote to
Ticknor: "The term [Unitarian] is absolutely synonymous in a large party
here with Infidel, Jew, Mohammedan; worse even, because regarded as a
wolf in sheep's clothing." The lady, however, succeeded in giving
Prescott a shock in return; for when he happened to mention Dr.
Channing, she told him that she had never even heard the man's name--a
sort of ignorance which to a Bostonian was quite incomprehensible.
Prescott's account of the university ceremonial is given in a letter to
Mr. Ticknor.
"Lord Northampton and I were doctorised in due form. We were both
dressed in flaming red robes (it was the hottest day I have felt
here), and then marched out in solemn procession with the Faculty,
etc., in their black and red gowns through the public streets....
We were marched up the aisle; Professor Phillimore made a long
Latin exposition of our merits, in which each of the adjectives
ended, as Southey said in reference to himself on a like occasion,
in _issimus_; and amidst the cheers of the audience we were
converted into Doctors."
Prescott was much pleased with this Oxford degree, which rightly seemed
to him more significant than the like honours which had come to him from
various American colleges. "Now," said he, "I am a _real_ Doctor."
In the same letter he gives a little picture of Lord Brougham during a
debate in the House of Lords. Brougham was denouncing Baron Bunsen for
his course in the Schleswig-Holstein affair,--Bunsen being in the House
at the time.
"What will interest you is the assault made so brutally by Brougham
on your friend Bunsen. I was present and never saw anything so
coarse as his personalities. He said the individual [Bunsen] took
up the room of two ladies. Bunsen _is_ rather fat as also Madame
and his daughter--all of whom at last marched out of the gallery,
but not until eyes and glasses had been directed to the spot to
make out the unfortunate individuals, while Lord Brougham was
flying up and down, thumping the table with his fists and foaming
at the mouth till all his brother peers, including the old Duke,
were in convulsions of laughter. I dined with Bunsen and Madame the
same day at Ford's."
Prescott met both Disraeli and Gladstone, and, among other more purely
literary men, Macaulay, Lockhart, Hallam, Thirlwall, Milman, and Rogers.
Of Macaulay he tells some interesting things.
"I have met him several times, and breakfasted with him the other
morning. His memory for quotations and illustration is a
miracle--quite disconcerting. He comes to a talk like one specially
crammed. Yet you may start the topic. He told me he should be
delivered of twins on his next publication, which would not be till
'53.... Macaulay's first draught--very unlike Scott's--is
absolutely illegible from erasures and corrections.... He tells me
he has his moods for writing. When not in the vein, he does not
press it.... H---- told me that Lord Jeffrey once told him that,
having tripped up Macaulay in a quotation from _Paradise Lost_, two
days after, Macaulay came to him and said, 'You will not catch me
again in the _Paradise_.' At which Jeffrey opened the volume and
took him up in a great number of passages at random, in all of
which he went on correctly repeating the original. Was it not a
miraculous _tour d'esprit_? Macaulay does not hesitate to say now
that he thinks he could restore the first six or seven books of the
_Paradise_ in case they were lost."
Still again, Prescott expresses his astonishment at Macaulay's memory.
"Macaulay is the most of a miracle. His _tours_ in the way of
memory stagger belief.... His talk is like the laboured, but still
unintermitting, jerks of a pump. But it is anything but
wishy-washy. It keeps the mind, however, on too great a tension for
table-talk."
Writing of Samuel Rogers, who was now a very old man, he records a
characteristic little anecdote.
"I have seen Rogers several times, that is, all that is out of the
bedclothes. His talk is still _sauce piquante_. The best thing on
record of his late sayings is his reply to Lady----, who at a
dinner table, observing him speaking to a lady, said, 'I hope, Mr.
Rogers, you are not attacking me.' 'Attacking you!' he said, 'why,
my dear Lady----, I have been all my life defending you.' Wit could
go no further."
Prescott was the guest of the Duke of Sutherland at Trentham and at
Stafford House. He was invited to Lord Lansdowne's, the Duke of
Northumberland's, the Duke of Argyle's, and to Lord Grey's, and he
describes himself in one letter as up to his ears in dances, dinners,
and breakfasts. This sort of life, with all its glitter and gayety,
suited Prescott wonderfully well, and his health improved daily. He
remarked, however: "It is a life which, were I an Englishman, I should
not desire a great deal of; two months at most; although I think, on the
whole, the knowledge of a very curious state of society and of so many
interesting and remarkable characters, well compensate the bore of a
voyage. Yet I am quite sure, having once had this experience, nothing
would ever induce me to repeat it, as I have heard you say it would not
pay." Some little personal notes and memoranda may also be quoted.
"Everything is drawn into the vortex, and there they swim round and
round, so that you may revolve for weeks and not meet a familiar
face half a dozen times. Yet there is monotony in some things--that
everlasting turbot and shrimp sauce. I shall never abide a turbot
again."
"Do you know, by the way, that I have become a courtier and affect
the royal presence? I wish you could see my gallant costume,
gold-laced coat, white inexpressibles, silk hose, gold-buckled
patent slippers, sword and chapeau. Am I not playing the fool as
well as my betters?"
"A silly woman ... said when I told her it was thirty years since I
was here, 'Pooh! you are not more than thirty years old.' And on my
repeating it, she still insisted on the same flattering
ejaculation. The Bishop of London the other day with his amiable
family told me they had settled my age at forty.... So I am
convinced there has been some error in the calculation. Ask mother
how it is. They say here that gray hair, particularly whiskers, may
happen to anybody even under thirty. On the whole, I am satisfied
that I am the youngest of the family."
Writing to his daughter from Alnwick Castle, the seat of the Duke of
Northumberland, Prescott gave a little instance of his own extreme
sensibility. A great number of children were being entertained by the
Duke and Duchess.
"As they all joined in the beautiful anthem, 'God save the Queen,'
the melody of the little voices rose up so clear and simple in the
open courtyard that everybody was touched. Though I had nothing to
do with the anthem, some of my _opera tears_,[19] dear Lizzie, came
into my eyes, and did me great credit with some of the John and
Jennie Bulls by whom I was surrounded."
When he left Alnwick:--
"My friendly hosts remonstrated on my departure, as they had
requested me to make them a long visit; and 'I never say what I do
not mean,' said the Duke, in an honest way. And when I thanked him
for his hospitable welcome, 'It is no more,' he said, 'than you
should meet in every house in England.' That was hearty."
The letters written by Prescott while in Europe are marked also by
evidences of the beautiful affection which he cherished for his wife, of
whom he once said, many years after their marriage: "Contrary to the
assertion of La Bruyere--who somewhere says that the most fortunate
husband finds reason to regret his condition at least once in
twenty-four hours--I may truly say that I have found no such day in the
quarter of a century that Providence has spared us to each other." In
the letters written by him during this English visit, there remain, even
after the ruthless editing done by Ticknor, passages that are touching
in their unaffected tenderness.
Thus, from London, June 14, 1850:--
"Why have I no letter on my table from home? I trust I shall find
one there this evening, or I shall, after all, have a heavy heart,
which is far from gay in this gayety."
And the following from Antwerp, July 23, 1850:--
"Dear Susan, I never see anything beautiful in nature or art, or
hear heart-stirring music in the churches--the only place where
music does stir my heart--without thinking of you and wishing you
could be by my side, if only for a moment."
When Prescott returned from this, his last visit to Europe, he found
himself at the very zenith of his fame. In every respect, his position
was most enviable. The union of critical approval with popular
applause--a thing which is so rare in the experience of authors--had
been fairly won by him. His books were accepted as authoritative, while
they were read by thousands who never looked into the pages of other
historians. Even a volume of miscellaneous essays[20] which he had
collected from his stray contributions to the _North American_, and
which had been published in England by Bentley in 1845, had succeeded
with the public on both sides of the Atlantic. He had the prestige of a
very flattering foreign recognition, and his friendships embraced some
of the best-known men and women in Great Britain and the United States.
It may seem odd that the letters and other writings of his
contemporaries seldom contain more than a mere casual mention of him;
but the explanation of this is to be found in the disposition of
Prescott himself. As a man, and in his social intercourse outside of his
own family, he was so thoroughly well-bred, so far from anything
resembling eccentricity, and so averse from literary pose, as to afford
no material for gossip or indeed for special comment. In this respect,
his life resembled his writings. There was in each a noticeable absence
of the piquant, or the sensational. He pleased by his manners as by his
pen; but he possessed no mannerisms such as are sometimes supposed to be
the hall-marks of originality. Hence, one finds no mass of striking
anecdotes collected and sent about by those who knew him; any more than
in his writing one chances upon startling strokes of style.
Prescott, however, had his own very definite opinions concerning his
contemporaries, though they were always expressed in kindly words. To
Irving he was especially attracted because of a certain likeness of
temperament between them. His sensitive nature felt all the _nuances_ of
Irving's delicate style, especially when it was used for pathetic
effects. "You have read Irving's _Memoirs of Miss Davidson_," he once
wrote to Miss Ticknor. "Did you ever meet with any novel half so
touching? It is the most painful book I ever listened to. I hear it from
the children and we all cry over it together. What a little flower of
Paradise!" Yet he could accurately criticise his friend's
productions.[21] Longfellow was another of Prescott's associates, and
his ballads of the sea were favourites. Mr. T. W. Higginson quotes
Prescott as saying that _The Skeleton in Armor_ and _The Wreck of the
Hesperus_ were the best imaginative poetry since Coleridge. Of Byron he
wrote, in 1840, some sentences to a friend which condense very happily
the opinion that has finally come to be accepted. Indeed, Prescott shows
in his private letters a critical gift which one seldom finds in his
published essays--a judgment at once shrewd, clear-sighted, and
sensible.
"I think one is apt to talk very extravagantly of his [Byron's]
poetry; for it is the poetry of passion and carries away the sober
judgment. It defies criticism from its very nature, being lawless,
independent of all rules, sometimes of grammar, and even of common
sense. When he means to be strong he is often affected, violent,
morbid.... But then there is, with all this smoke and fustian, a
deep sensibility to the sublime and beautiful in nature, a
wonderful melody, or rather harmony, of language, consisting ... in
a variety--the variety of nature--in which startling ruggedness is
relieved by soft and cultivated graces."
Probably the most pungent bit of literary comment that Prescott ever
wrote is found in a letter of his addressed to Bancroft,[22] who had
sent him a copy of Carlyle's _French Revolution_. The clangour and fury
of this book could hardly fail to jar upon the nerves of so decorously
classical a writer as Prescott.
"I return you Carlyle with my thanks. I have read as much of him as
I could stand. After a very candid desire to relish him, I must say
I do not at all. The French Revolution is a most lamentable comedy
and requires nothing but the simplest statement of facts to freeze
one's blood. To attempt to colour so highly what nature has already
over-coloured is, it appears to me, in very bad taste and produces
a grotesque and ludicrous effect.... Then such ridiculous
affectations of new-fangled words! Carlyle is ever a bungler in his
own business; for his creations or rather combinations are the most
discordant and awkward possible. As he runs altogether for dramatic
or rather picturesque effect, he is not to be challenged, I
suppose, for want of refined views. This forms no part of his plan.
His views, certainly, so far as I can estimate them, are trite
enough. And, in short, the whole thing ... both as to _forme_ and
to _fond_, is perfectly contemptible."
Of Thackeray, Prescott saw quite a little during the novelist's visit to
America in 1852-1853, and several times entertained him. He did not
greatly care for the lectures on the English humorists, which, as
Thackeray confided to Prescott, caused America to "rain dollars." "I do
not think he made much of an impression as a critic, but the Thackeray
vein is rich in what is better than cold criticism." Thackeray on his
side expresses his admiration for Prescott in the opening sentences of
_The Virginians_, though without naming him:--
"On the library wall of one of the most famous writers of America,
there hang two crossed swords, which his relatives wore in the
great war of Independence. The one sword was gallantly drawn in the
service of the King; the other was the weapon of a brave and humane
republican soldier. The possessor of the harmless trophy has earned
for himself a name alike honoured in his ancestor's country and his
own, where genius like his has always a peaceful welcome."
This little tribute pleased Prescott very much, and he wrote to Lady
Lyell asking her to get _The Virginians_ and read the passage, which, as
he says, "was very prettily done." On the whole, however, he seems to
have preferred Dickens to Thackeray, being deceived by the very
superficial cynicism affected by the latter. But in fiction, his prime
favourites were always Scott and Dumas, whose books he never tired of
hearing read. Thus, in mature age, the tastes of his boyhood continued
to declare themselves; and few days ever passed without an hour or two
devoted to the magic of romance.
During the winter following his return from Europe, which he spent in
Boston, he found it difficult to settle down to work again, and not
until the autumn did he wholly resume his life of literary activity.
After doing so, however, he worked rapidly, so that the first volume of
_Philip II._ was completed in April, 1852. It was very well received, in
fact, as warmly as any of his earlier work, and the same was true of the
second volume, which appeared in 1854. Prescott himself said that he was
"a little nervous" about the success of the book, inasmuch as a long
interval had elapsed since the publication of his _Peru_, and he feared
lest the public might have lost its interest in him. The result,
however, showed that he need not have felt any apprehension. Within six
months after the second volume had been published, more than eight
thousand copies were sold in the United States, and probably an equal
number in England. Moreover, interest was revived in Prescott's
preceding histories, so that nearly thirty thousand volumes of them were
taken by the public within a year or two. There was the same favourable
consensus of critical opinion regarding _Philip II._, and it received
the honour of a notice from the pen of M. Guizot in the _Edinburgh
Review_.
In bringing out this last work Prescott had changed his
publishers,--not, however, because of any disagreement with the Messrs.
Harper, with whom his relations had always been most satisfactory, and
of whom he always spoke in terms of high regard. But a Boston firm,
Messrs. Sampson, Phillips and Company, had made him an offer more
advantageous than the Harpers felt themselves justified in doing. In
another sense the change might have been fortunate for Prescott,
inasmuch as the warehouse of the Harpers was destroyed by fire in 1853.
In this fire were consumed several thousand copies of Prescott's earlier
books, for which payment had been already made. Prescott, however, with
his usual generosity, permitted the Harpers to print for their own
account as many copies as had been lost. In England his publishing
arrangements were somewhat less favourable than hitherto. When he had
made his earlier contracts with Bentley, it was supposed that the
English publisher could claim copyright in works written by a foreigner.
A decision of the House of Lords adverse to such a view had now been
rendered, and therefore Mr. Bentley could receive no advantage through
an arrangement with Prescott other than such as might come to him from
securing the advance sheets and from thus being first in the field. As a
matter of fact, _Philip II._ was brought out in four separate editions
in Great Britain. In Germany it was twice reprinted in the original and
once in a German translation. A French version was brought out in Paris
by Didot, and a Spanish one in Madrid. Prescott himself wrote:--
"I have received $17,000 for the _Philip_ and the other works the
last six months.... From the tone of the foreign journals and those
of my own country, it would seem that the work has found quite as
much favour as any of its predecessors, and the sales have been
much greater than any other of them in the same space of time."
Later, writing to Bancroft, he said:--
"The book has gone off very well so far. Indeed, double the
quantity, I think, has been sold of any of my preceding works in
the same time. I have been lucky, too, in getting well on before
Macaulay has come thundering along the track with his hundred
horse-power."
While engaged in the composition of _Philip II._, Prescott had
undertaken to write a continuation of Robertson's _History of Charles
V._ He had been asked to prepare an entirely new work upon the reign of
that monarch, but this seemed too arduous a task. He therefore rewrote
the conclusion of Robertson's book--a matter of some hundred and eighty
pages. This he began in the spring of 1855, and finished it during the
following year. It was published on December 8, 1856, on which day he
wrote to Ticknor: "My _Charles the Fifth_, or rather Robertson's with
my Continuation, made his bow to-day, like a strapping giant with a
little urchin holding on to the tail of his coat."[23] At about the same
time Prescott prepared a brief memoir of Mr. Abbott Lawrence, the father
of his daughter's husband. This was printed for private distribution.
During the year which followed, Prescott's health began steadily to
fail. He suffered from violent pains in the head; so severe as to rob
him of sleep and to make work of any kind impossible. He still, however,
enjoyed intervals when he could laugh and jest in his old careless way,
and even at times indulge in the pleasant little dinners which he loved
to share with his most intimate friends. On February 4th, however, while
walking in the street, he was stricken down by an apoplectic seizure,
which solved the mystery of his severe headaches. When he recovered
consciousness his first words were, "My poor wife! I am so sorry for you
that this has come upon you so soon." The attack was a warning rather
than an instant summons. After a few days he was once more himself,
except that his enunciation never again became absolutely clear. Serious
work, of course, was out of the question. He listened to a good deal of
reading, chiefly fiction. He was put upon a very careful regimen in the
matter of diet, and wrote, with a touch of rueful amusement, of the
vegetarian meals to which he was restricted: "I have been obliged to
exchange my carnivorous propensities for those of a more innocent and
primitive nature, picking up my fare as our good parents did before the
Fall." Improving somewhat, he completed the third volume of _Philip
II._; not so fully as he had intended, but mainly putting together so
much of it as had already been prepared. The book was printed in April,
1858, and the supervision of the proof-sheets afforded him some
occupation, as did also the making of a few additional notes for a new
edition of the _Conquest of Mexico_. The summer of 1858 he spent in
Pepperell, returning to Boston in October, in the hope of once more
taking up his studies. He did, in fact, linger wistfully over his books
and manuscripts, but accomplished very little; for, soon after the New
Year, there came the end of all his labours. On January 27th, his health
was apparently in a satisfactory condition. He listened to his
secretary, Mr. Kirk, read from one of Sala's books of travel, and, in
order to settle a question which arose in the course of the reading, he
left the library to speak to his wife and sister. Leaving them a moment
later with a laugh, he went into an adjoining room, where presently he
was heard to groan. His secretary hurried to his side, and found him
quite unconscious. In the early afternoon he died, without knowing that
the end had come.
Prescott had always dreaded the thought of being buried alive. His vivid
imagination had shown him the appalling horror of a living burial. Again
and again he had demanded of those nearest him that he should be
shielded from the possibility of such a fate. Therefore, when the
physicians had satisfied themselves that life had really left him, a
large vein was severed, to make assurance doubly sure.
On the last day of January he was buried in the family tomb, in the
crypt of St. Paul's. Men and women of every rank and station were
present at the simple ceremony. The Legislature of the State had
adjourned so that its members might pay their tribute of respect to so
distinguished a citizen. The Historical Society was represented among
the mourners. His personal friends and those of humble station, whom he
had so often befriended, filled the body of the church. Before his
burial, his remains, in accordance with a wish of his that was well
known, had been carried to the room in which were his beloved books and
where so many imperishable pages had been written. There, as it were, he
lay in state. It is thus that one may best, in thought, take leave of
him, amid the memorials and records of a past which he had made to live
again.