 Section 1 of Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Volume 9. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Catherine Phipps. Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Volume 9. Section 1 Selected Works by Adelbert von Chamiso Adelbert von Chamiso, 1781 to 1838. Louis Charles Adelaide de Chamiso, known as Adelbert von Chamiso, the youngest son of Count Louis-Marie de Chamiso, was born in the paternal castle of Boncor in Champagne, January 30th, 1781. Driven into exile by the Revolution, the family of loyalists sought refuge in the Low Countries and afterward in Germany, settling in Berlin in 1797. In later years, the other members of the family returned to France and established themselves once more as Frenchmen in their native land. But Adelbert von Chamiso, German by nature and characteristics, as well as by virtue of his early education and environment, struck root in Germany and was the genuine product of German soil. In 1796, the young Chamiso became paged to Queen Louise of Prussia and while at court by the Queen's directions, he received the most careful education. He was made ensign in 1798 and left tenant in 1801 in the regiment von Getz. A military career was repugnant to him and his French antecedents did not tend to make his life agreeable among the German officers. That the service was not wholly without interest, however, is shown by the two treaties upon military subjects written by him in 1798 and 1799. As a young officer, he belonged to a romantic brotherhood calling itself the Polar Star, which counted among its members his lifelong friend Hitzig, Alexander Zollipper, Warnhagen and other young writers of the day. He diligently applied himself to the mastery of the German tongue, made translations of poems and dramas, and to relieve the irksomeness of his military life incessantly studied Homer. His most ambitious literary effort of this time was a Faust, 1803, a metaphysical, somewhat sophomoric attempt, but the only one of his early poems that he admitted into his collected works. While still in the Prussian army, he edited with Warnhagen and Neumann, a periodical called the Musenalmanach, 1804, which existed three years. After repeated but vain efforts to obtain release from the uncongenial military service, the capitulation of Hammann at length set him free, 1806. He left Germany and went to France, but disappointed in his hopes and settled and without plans, he returned and several years were lost in profitless and desultory wanderings. From 1810 to 1812, he was again in France. Here he became acquainted with Alexander von Humboldt and Uland and renewed his friendship with Wilhelm Schlegel. With Helmina von Czaisy, he undertook the translation into French of Schlegel's Vienna Lectures upon Art and Literature. Chamiso was indifferent to the task and the translation went on but slowly. To expedite the work, he was invited to stay at Chemin, the residence of Madame de Stahl, where Schlegel was a member of her household. Here, his careless personal habits and his inevitable pipe brought odium upon him in that polished circle. Madame de Stahl was always his friend, and in 1811 he went to her at Coppe where by a happy chance he took up the study of botany with Auguste de Stahl as instructor. Filled with enthusiasm for his new pursuit, he made excursions through Switzerland, collecting and botanising. The period of indecision was at an end and in 1812, at the age of 31, he matriculated as student of medicine at the University of Berlin and applied himself with resolution to the study of the natural sciences. During the war against Napoleon, he sought refuge in Kunersdorf with the Itzenblitz family, where he occupied his time with botany and the instruction of young Itzenblitz. It was during this time, 1813, that Peter Schlegel's Wundersama geschicht, Peter Schlegel's wonderful history, was written, one of the masterpieces of German literature. His Faust and Fortunatus had in some degree foreshadowed his later and more famous work, Faust in the Compact with the Devil, Fortunatus in the Possession of the Magical Wishing Bag. The simple motif of popular superstition, the loss of one's shadow, familiar in folk stories and already developed by Goethe in his tales and by Karna in Der Tufel von Salamanker, the Devil of Salamanker, was treated by Chamiso with admirable simplicity, directness of style and realism of detail. Chamiso's divided allegiance to France and Germany, made the political situation of the times very trying for him and it was with joy that he welcomed an appointment as scientist to a Russian polar expedition, fitted out under the direction of Count Romanov and commanded by Captain Koetsibiu, 1815 to 1818. The record of the scientific results of this expedition, as published by Koetsibiu, was full of misstatements and to correct these, Chamiso wrote the Tagbuch Journal in 1835, a work whose pure and plastic style places it in the first order of books of travel and entitles its author in point of description to rank with von Humboldt among the best writers of travels of the first half of the century. After three years of voyaging, Chamiso returned to Berlin and in 1819 he was made a member of the Society of Natural Sciences and received the degree of PhD from the University of Berlin, was appointed an adjunct custodian of the Botanical Garden in Neu-Schoneberg and in September of the same year he married Antoni Piaste, an indemnity granted by France to the French emigrants put him in possession of the sum of 100,000 francs and in 1825 he again visited Paris where he remained some months among old friends and new interests. The period of his great activity was after this date. His life was now peaceful and domestic. Poetry and botany flourished side by side. Chamiso, to his own astonishment, found himself red and admired and everywhere his songs were sung. To the influence of his wife we owe the cycles of poems Fraun Lieber und Lieben, Woman's Love and Life and Lieben's Lieder und Bilder, Life's Songs and Pictures for without her they would have been impossible. The former cycle inspired Robert Schumann in the first days of his happy married life and the music of these songs has made Woman's Love and Life familiar to all the world. Salas Igómez, a reminiscence of his voyage around the world appeared in the Muzan Almanach in 1830. The theme of this poem was the development of the romantic possibilities suggested by the site of the profound loneliness and grandeur of the South Sea island, Salas Igómez. Chamiso translated Anderson and Berangé made translations from the Chinese and Tonga and his version of the Eddick Song of Trim, Das Lied von Trim, is among the best translations from the Icelandic that have been made. In 1832 he became associate editor of the Berlin Deutsche Muzan Almanach which position he held until his death and in his hands the periodical attained high degree of influence and importance. His health failing, he resigned his position at the botanical garden, retiring upon full pay. He died at Berlin August 21st, 1838. Frenchman though he was, his entire conception of life and the whole character of his writings are purely German and show none of the French characteristics of his time. Chamiso as botanist, traveller, poet and editor made important contributions in each and every field. Although outside of Germany his fame rests chiefly upon his widely known Schlemel which has been translated into all the principle languages of Europe. The bargain from the wonderful history of Peter Schlemel. After a fortunate but for me very troublesome voyage we finally reached the port. The instant that I touched land and the boat I loaded myself with my few effects and passing through the swarming people I entered the first and least house before which I saw a sign hang. I requested a room. The boots measured me with a look and conducted me into the garret. I caused fresh water to be brought and made him exactly describe to me where I should find Mr. Thomas John. Before the north gate, the first country house on the right hand a large new house a red and white marble with many columns. Good! It was still early in the day. I opened up once my bundle took thence my new black cloth coat clad myself cleanly in my best apparel put my letter of introduction into my pocket and set out on the way to the man who was to promote my modest expectations. When I had ascended the long north street and reached the gate I soon saw the pillars glimmer through the foliage. Here it is then, thought I I wiped the dust from my feet with my pocket handkerchief put my neck cloth in order and in God's name rang the bell. The door flew open. In the hall I had an examination to undergo. The porter however permitted me to be announced and I had the honour to be called into the park when Mr. John was walking with a select party. I recognised the man at once by the lustre of his corpulent self complacency. He received me very well as a rich man receives a poor devil even turned towards me without turning from the rest of the company and took the offered letter from my hand. So so from my brother I have heard nothing from him for a long time but he is well. There continued he addressing the company without waiting for an answer and pointing the letter to a hill. There I am going to erect the new building. He broke the seal without breaking off the conversation which turned upon riches. He that is not master of a million at least he observed is pardon me the word a wretch. Oh how true! I exclaimed with a rush of overflowing feeling. That pleased him. He smiled at me and said stay here my good friend in a while I shall perhaps have time to tell you what I think about this. He pointed to the letter which he then thrust into his pocket and turned again to the company. He offered his arm to a young lady the other gentlemen addressed themselves to other fair ones each found what suited him and all proceeded towards the rose blossomed mount. I slid into the rear without troubling anyone for no one troubled himself any further about me. The company was excessively lively there was dalliance and playfulness trifles were sometimes discussed with an important tone but often our important matters with levity and the wit flew with special gaiety over absent friends and their circumstances I was too strange to understand much of all this too anxious and introverted to take an interest in such riddles we had reached the rosary the lovely Fanny who seemed the bell of the day insisted out of obstinacy in breaking off a blossomed stem herself she wounded herself on a thorn and the purple streamed from her tender hand from the dark roses this circumstance put the whole party into a flutter English plaster was sought for a quiet, thin, lanky, longish oldish man who stood near and whom I had not hitherto remarked put his hand instantly into the tight breast pocket of his old grey French taffeta coat produced thence a little pocketbook opened it and presented to the lady with a profound obeisance the required article she took it without notice in the giver and without thanks the wound was bound up and we went forward over the hill from whose back the company could enjoy the wide prospect over the green labyrinth of the park to the boundless ocean the view was in reality vast and splendid a light point appeared on the horizon between the dark flood and the blue of the heaven a telescope here! cried John and already before the servants who appeared at the call were in motion the grey man, modestly bowing had thrust his hand into his coat pocket drawn thence a beautiful dulland and handed it to Mr John bringing it immediately to his eye he informed the company that it was the ship which went out yesterday and was detained in view of port by contrary winds the telescope passed from hand to hand but not again into that of its owner I however gazed in wonder at the man and could not conceive how the great machine had come out of the narrow pocket but this seemed to have struck no one else and nobody troubled himself any further about the grey man than about myself refreshments were handed round the choicest fruits of every zone in the costliest vessels Mr John did the honours with an easy grace and a second time addressed a word to me help yourself! you have not had the like at sea I bowed but he did not see it he was already speaking with someone else the company would feign have reclined upon the sword on the slope of the hill opposite to the outstretched landscape had they not feared the dampness of the earth oh it were divine! observed one of the party had we but a turkey carpet to spread here the wish was scarcely expressed when the man in the grey coat had his hand in his pocket and was busied in drawing fence with a modest and even humble deportment a rich turkey carpet into woven with gold the servants received it as a matter of course and opened it on the required spot the company without ceremony took their places upon it for myself I looked again in amazement on the man at the carpet which measured about twenty paces long and ten in breadth and rubbed my eyes not knowing what to think of it especially as nobody saw anything extraordinary in it I would feign have had some explanation regarding the man and have asked who he was but I knew not to whom to address myself for I was almost more afraid of the gentleman's servants than of the servant gentleman at length I took courage and stepped up to a young man who appeared to me to be of less consideration than the rest and who had often stood alone I begged him softly to tell me what the agreeable man in the grey coat there was he there who looks like an ender thread that escaped out of a tailor's needle yes he stands alone I don't know him he replied and in order to avoid a longer conversation with me apparently he turned away and spoke of indifferent matters to another the sun began now to shine more powerfully and to inconvenience the ladies the lovely fanny addressed carelessly to the grey man whom as far as I am aware no one had yet spoken to the trifling question whether he had not perchance also attend by him he answered her by an obeisance most profound as if an unmerited honour were done him and had already he's hand in his pocket out of which I saw canvas, poles, cordage, ironwork in short everything which belongs to the most splendid pleasure tent the young gentleman helped to expand it and it covered the whole extent of the carpet and nobody found anything remarkable in it I had already become uneasy nay horrified but hard but how completely so as at the very next wish expressed I saw him pull out of his pocket three roadsters I tell you three beautiful great black horses with saddle and comparison take it in for heaven's sake three saddled horses out of the same pocket from which already a pocket book a telescope an embroidered carpet twenty paces long and ten broad a pleasure tent of equal dimensions and all the requisite poles and irons had come forth if I did not protest to you that I saw it myself with my own eyes you could not possibly believe it embarrassed and obsequious as the man himself appeared to be little as was the attention which had been bestowed upon him yet to me his grisly aspect from which I could not turn my eyes became so fearful that I could bear it no longer I resolved to steal away from the company which from the insignificant part I played in it seemed to me an easy affair I proposed myself to return to the city to try my luck again on the morrow with Mr John and if I could muster the necessary courage to question him about the singular grey man had I only had the good fortune to escape so well I had already actually succeeded in stealing through the rosary and on descending the hill found myself on a piece of lawn when fearing to be encountered in crossing the grass out of the path I cast an inquiring glance round me what was my terror to behold the man in the grey coat behind me and making towards me the next moment he took off his hat before me and bowed so low as no one had ever yet done to me there was no doubt but that he wished to address me and without being rude I could not prevent it I also took off my hat bowed also and stood there in the sun with bare head as if rooted to the ground I stared at him full of terror and was like a bird which a serpent has fascinated he himself appeared very much embarrassed he did not raise his eyes again bowed repeatedly drew nearer and addressed me with a soft tremulous voice almost in a tone of supplication may I hope sir that you will pardon my boldness in venturing in so unusual a manner to approach you but I would ask a favour permit me most condescendingly but in God's name exclaimed I in my trepidation what can I do for a man who we both started and as I believe reddened after a moment's silence he again resumed during the short time that I had the happiness to find myself near you I have sir many times allow me to say it to you really contemplated with inexpressible admiration the beautiful beautiful shadow which as it were with a certain noble disdain and without yourself remarking it you cast from you in the sunshine the noble shadow at your feet there I hope pardon me the bold supposition but possibly you might not be indisposed to make this shadow over to me I was silent and a mill wheel seemed to whirl round in my head what was I to make of this singular proposition to sell my own shadow we must be mad thought I with an altered tone which was more assimilated to that of his own humility I answered him thus good friend have not you then enough of your own shadow I take this for a business of a very singular sort he hastily interrupted me I have many things in my pocket which sir might not appear worthless to you and for this inestimable shadow I hold the very highest price too small it struck cold through me again as I was reminded of the pocket I knew not how I could have called him good friend I resumed the conversation and sought to set all right again by excessive politeness if possible but sir pardon your most humble servant I do not understand your meaning how indeed could my shadow he interrupted me I beg your permission only here on the spot to be allowed to take up this noble shadow and put it in my pocket how I shall do that be my care on the other hand as a testimony of my grateful acknowledgement to you I give you the choice of all the treasures which I carry in my pocket the genuine spring root the mandrake root the change penny the rob dollar the napkin of Roland's page a mandrake man at your own price but these probably don't interest you whether Fortunatus' wishing cap newly and stoutly repaired and a lucky bag such as he had the luck purse of Fortunatus I exclaimed, interrupting him and great as my anxiety was with that one word he had taken my whole mind captive a dizziness seized me and double duke hats seemed to glitter before my eyes honoured sir will you do me the favour to view and to make trial of this purse thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out a tolerably large well-sewed purse of stout cordovan leather with two strong strings and handed it to me I plunged my hand into it and drew out ten gold pieces and again ten I extended him eagerly my hand but I agreed the business is done for the purse you have my shadow he closed with me kneeled instantly down before me and I beheld him with an admirable dexterity gently loosened my shadow from top to toe from the grass lifted up, roll it together fold it and finally pocket it he arose made me another obeisance and retreated towards the rosary I fancied that I heard him there softly laughing to himself but I held the purse fast by the strings all round me lay the clear sunshine and within me was yet no power of reflection at length I came to myself and hastened to quit the place where I had nothing more to expect in the first place I filled my pockets with gold then I secured the strings of the purse fast round my neck and concealed the purse itself in my bosom I passed unobserved out of the park reached the highway and took the road to the city as sunk in thought I approached the gate I heard a cry behind me young gentleman young gentleman hear you I looked round an old woman called after me don't take care sir you have lost your shadow thank you good mother I threw her a gold piece for her well-meant intelligence and stopped under the trees at the city gate I was compelled to hear again from the sentinel whereas the gentleman left his shadow and immediately again from some women Jesus Maria the poor fella has no shadow that began to irritate me and I became especially careful not to walk in the sun this could not however be accomplished everywhere for instance over the broad street I must next take actually as mischief would have it at the very moment the boys came out of school a cursed hunchbacked rogue I see him yet spied out instantly that I had no shadow he proclaimed the fact with a loud outcry to the whole assembled literary street youth of the suburb who began forthwith to criticise me and to pelt me with mud decent people are accustomed to take their shadow with them when they go into the sunshine to defend myself from them I threw whole handfuls of gold amongst them and sprang into a hackney coach which some compassionate soul procured for me as soon as I found myself alone in the rolling carriage I began to weep bitterly the presentiment must already have arisen in me that on earth far as gold transcends merit and virtue in estimation so much higher than gold itself is the shadow valued and as I had earlier sacrificed wealth to conscience I had now thrown away the shadow for me a gold what in the world could and would become of me from woman's love and life thou ring upon my finger my little golden ring against my fond bosom I press thee and to thee my fond lips cling my girlhood's dream was ended its peaceful innocent grace for lawn I woke and so lonely in desolate infinite space thou ring upon my finger thou bringest me peace on earth and thou my eyes hast opened to womanhood's infinite worth I'll love and serve him forever and live for him alone I'll give him my life but to find it transfigured in his own thou ring upon my finger my little golden ring against my fond bosom I press thee and to thee my fond lips cling Translation of Charles Harvey Genong End of section 1 For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Chad Jackson Library of the World's Best Literature Ancient and Modern, Volume 9, Section 2 Selected Works by William Ellery Channing William Ellery Channing, 1780-1842 Channing, the recognized leader although not the originator of the Unitarian movement in this country was a man of singular spirituality, sweetness of disposition, purity of life and nobility of character. He was thought by some to be an austere and cold in temperament and timid in action but this was rather a misconception of a life given to conscientious study and an effort to allow due weight to opposing arguments. He was not liable to be swept from his moorings by momentary enthusiasm. As a writer he was clear and direct admirably perspicuous in style without great ornament much addicted to short and simple sentences though singularly enough an admirer of those which were long and involved. A critic in Frasier's magazine wrote of him Channing is unquestionably the first writer of the age from his writings may be extracted some of the richest poetry and richest conceptions clothed in language unfortunately for our literature studied in the day in which we live. He was of Blue Blood the grandson of William Ellery one of the signers of the declaration and was born at Newport Road Island April 7th, 1780. He was graduated at Harvard College with high honors in 1798 and first thought of studying medicine but was inclined to the direction of the ministry. He became a private tutor in Richmond, Virginia where he learned to detest slavery. Here he laid the seeds of subsequent physical troubles by imprudent indulgence in asceticism in a desire to avoid effeminacy. He entered upon a study of theology which he continued in Cambridge he was ordained in 1803 and soon became pastor of the Federal Street Church in Boston in charge of which society he passed his ministerial life. In the following year he was associated with Buckminster and others in the liberal congregational movement this led him into a position of controversy with his own Orthodox brethren one he cordially disliked but he could not refrain from preaching the doctrines of the dignity of human nature the supremacy of reason and religious freedom of whose truth he was profoundly assured. It has been truly said that Channing was too much a lover of free thought and too desirous to hold only what he thought to be true to allow himself to be bound by any party ties I wish he himself said to regard myself as belonging not to a sect but to the community of free minds of lovers of truth and followers of Christ both on earth and in heaven I desire to escape the narrow walls of a particular church and to stand under the open sky in the broad light looking far and wide seeing with my own eyes hearing with my own ears and following truth meekly but resolutely however arduous or solitary be the path in which he leads. He was greatly interested in temperance in the anti-slavery movement in the elevation of the laboring classes and other social reforms and after 1824 when Dr. Gannett became associate pastor he gave much time to the work in these directions his death occurred at Bennington, Vermont April 2nd, 1842 his literary achievements are mainly or wholly in the line of his work sermons, addresses and essays but they were prepared with scrupulous care and have the quality naturally to be expected from a man of broad and Catholic spirit wide interest and a strong love of literature his works in six volumes are issued by the American Unitarian Association which also publishes a memorial by his nephew William Henry Channing in three volumes The Passion for Power from the life and character of Napoleon Bonaparte The Passion for Ruling though most completely developed in despotisms is confined to no forms of government it is the chief peril of free states the natural enemy of free institutions it agitates our own country and still throws an uncertainty over the great experiment we are making here in behalf of liberty it is the distinction of Republican institutions that whilst they compel The Passion for Power to moderate its pretensions and to satisfy itself with more limited gratifications they tend to spread it more widely through the community and to make it a universal principle the doors of office being open to all crowds burn to rush in a thousand hands are stretched out to grasp the reins which are denied to none perhaps in this boasted and boasting land of liberty not a few if called to the state of the chief good of republic would place it in this that every man is eligible to every office and that the highest places of power and trust will rise for universal competition the superiority attributed by many to our institutions is not that they secure the greatest freedom but give every man a chance of ruling not that they reduce the power of government within the narrowest limits which the safety of the state admits but throw it into as many hands as possible the despot's great crime is thought to be that he keeps the delight of dominion to himself that he makes a monopoly of it and thus star more generous institutions by breaking it into parcels and inviting the multitude to scramble for it spread this joy more widely the result is that political ambition infects our country and generates a feverish restlessness and discontent which the monarchist may seem more than a balance for our forms of liberty the spirit of intrigue which in absolute governments is confined to courts walks abroad through the land and as individuals can accomplish political purposes single-handed they ban themselves into parties ostensibly framed for public ends but aiming only at the acquisition of power the nominal sovereign that is the people like all other sovereigns is courted and flattered and told it can do no wrong its pride is pampered its passion is flamed its prejudices made inveterate such are the processes by which other republics have been subverted and he must be blind who cannot trace them among ourselves we mean not to exaggerate our dangers we rejoice to know that the improvements of society oppose many checks to the love of power but every wise man who seeks its workings must dread it as one chief foe this passion derives strength and vehemence in our country from the common idea that political power is the highest prize which society has to offer we know not a more general delusion nor is it the least dangerous instilled as it is in our youth it gives infinite excitement to political ambition it turns the active talents of the country to the public station as the supreme good and makes us restless intriguing and unprincipled it calls out hosts of selfish competitors for comparatively few places and encourages a bold unblushing pursuit of personal elevation which a just moral sense and self-respect in the community would frown upon and cover with shame the causes of war from a discourse delivered before the congregational ministers of massachusetts one of the great springs of war may be found in a very strong and general propensity of human nature in the love of excitement of emotion, of strong interest of propensity which gives charm to those bold and hazardous enterprises which call forth all the energies of our nature no state of mind not even positive suffering is more painful than the want of interesting objects the vacant soul prays on itself and often rushes with impatience from the security which demands no effort to the brink of peril this part of human nature is seen in the kind of pleasures which have always been preferred why has the first rank among sports been given to the chase because it's difficulties hardships, hazards tumults, awaken the mind and give it a new conscience of existence and a deep feeling of its powers what is the charm which attaches the statesman to an office which almost weighs him down with labor and an appalling responsibility he finds much of his compensation in the powerful emotion and interest awakened by the very hardships of his lot by conflict with vigorous minds by the opposition of rivals by the alternations of success and defeat what hurries to the gaming tables the man of prosperous fortune and ample resources the dread of apathy the love of strong feeling and of mental agitation a deeper interest is felt in hazarding than in securing wealth and the temptation is irresistible another powerful principle of our nature which is the spring of war is the passion for superiority for triumph for power the human mind is aspiring impatient of inferiority and eager for control need not enlarge on the predominance of this passion and rulers whose love of power is influenced by its possession and who are ever restless to extend their sway it is more important to observe that were this desire restrained to the breasts of rulers war would move with a sluggish pace but the passion for power and superiority is universal and as every individual from his intimate union with the community is accustomed to appropriate its triumphs to himself to engage in any contest by which the community may obtain an ascendancy over other nations the desire that our country surpass all others would not be criminal did we understand in which respects it is most honorable for a nation to excel did we feel that the glory of the state consists in intellectual and moral superiority in preeminence of knowledge, freedom and purity but to the mass of the people this form of preeminence is too refined and unsubstantial is another kind of triumph which they better understand the triumph of physical power, triumph in battle triumph not over the minds but the territory of another state here is a palpable visible superiority and for this a people are willing to submit to severe privations a victory blots out the memory of their sufferings and in boasting of their extended power they find a compensation for many woes another powerful spring of war is the admiration of the brilliant qualities displayed in war many delight in war not for its carnage and woes but for its valor and apparent magnanimity for the self-command of the hero the fortitude which despises suffering the resolution which courts danger the superiority of the mind to the body to sensation to fear men seldom delight in war considered merely as a source of misery when they hear of battles the picture which rises to their view a picture of extreme wretchedness of the wounded, the mangled, the slain these horrors are hidden under the splendor of those mighty energies which break forth amidst the perils of conflict and which human nature contemplates with an intense and heart-thrilling delight whilst the peaceful sovereign who scatters blessings with the silence and consistency of providence is received with a faint applause men assemble in crowds to hail the conqueror perhaps a monster in human form whose private life is blackened with lust and crime and whose greatness is built on perfidy and usurpation thus war is the surest and speediest way to renown and war will never cease while the field of battle is the field of glory and the most luxuriant laurels grow from a root nourished with blood spiritual freedom from the discourse on spiritual freedom, 1830 I consider the freedom or moral strength of the individual mind as the supreme good and the highest end of government I am aware the other views are often taken it is said that government is intended for the public, for the community not for the individual the idea of a national interest prevails in the minds of statesmen and to this it is thought that the individual may be sacrificed but I would maintain that the individual is not made for the state so much as the state for the individual a man is not created for political relations as his highest end but for indefinite spiritual progress and is placed in political relations as the means of his progress the human soul is greater more sacred than the state and must never be sacrificed to it the human soul is to outlive all earthly institutions the distinction of nations is to pass away thrones which have stood for ages are to meet the doom pronounced upon all man's works but the individual mind survives and the obscurest subject if true to God will rise to power never wielded by earthly potentates a human being is a member of the community not as a limb is a member of the body or as a wheel as a part of a machine intended only to contribute to some general joint result he was created not to be merged in the whole as a drop in the ocean or as a particle of sand on a seashore and to aid only in composing a mass he is an ultimate being made for his own perfection as his highest end made to maintain an individual existence and to serve others only as far as consists with his own virtue and progress hitherto governments have tended greatly to obscure this importance to the individual to depress him in his own eyes to give him the idea of an outward interest more important than the invisible soul and of outward authority more sacred than the voice of God in his own secret conscience rulers have called the private man the property of the state meaning generally by the state themselves and thus the many have been emulated to the few and have even believed that this was their highest destination these views cannot be too earnestly withstood nothing seems to me so needful as to give the mind the consciousness which governments have done so much to suppress of its own separate worth let the individual feel that through his immortality he may concentrate in his own being a greater good than that of nations let him feel that he is placed in the community not to part with his individuality or to become a tool that he should find a sphere for his various powers and a preparation for immortal glory to me the progress of society consists in nothing more than in bringing out the individual and giving him a consciousness of his own being and in quickening him to strengthen and elevate his own mind and thus maintaining that the individual is the end of social institutions I may be thought to discourage public efforts and the sacrifice of private interest to the state far from it no man I affirm will serve his fellow being so effectually, so fervently as he who is not their slave as he who casting off every other yoke subjects himself to the law of duty in his own mind for this law enjoins a disinterested and generous spirit as man's glory and likeness to his maker individuality or moral self-subsistence is the surest foundation of an all-comprehending love no man so multiplies as bonds with the community as he who watches most jealously over his own perfection there is a beautiful harmony between the good of the state and the moral freedom and dignity of the individual were it not so, were these interests in any case discordant were an individual ever called to serve his country by axe debasing his own mind he ought not to waver a moment as the good which he should prefer property, life, he should joyfully surrender to the state but his soul he must never stain or enslave from poverty, pain, the rack, the gibbet he should not recoil but for no good of others ought he to part with self-control or violate the inward law we speak of the patriot as sacrificing himself to the public wheel do we mean that he sacrifices what is most properly himself the principle of piety and virtue do we not feel that however great may be the good which through his sufferings accrues to the state a greater and pure glory redounds to himself and that the most precious fruit of his disinterested services is the strength of resolution and philanthropy which is accumulated in his own soul the advantages of civilization have their peril in such a state of society opinion and law impose solitary restraint and produce general order and security but the power of opinion grows into a despotism which more than all things represses original and free thought subverts individuality of character reduces the community to a spiritless monotony and chills the love of perfection religion considered simply as the principle which balances the power of human opinion which takes man out of the grasp of custom and fashion and teaches him to refer to himself to a higher tribunal is an infinite aid to moral strength and elevation an important benefit of civilization of which we hear much from the political economist is the division of labor by which arts are perfected but this by confining the mind to an unceasing round of petty operations tends to break it into littleness we possess improved fabrics and deteriorated men another advantage of civilization is that manners are refined and accomplishments multiplied but these are continually seen to supplant simplicity of character strength of feeling, the love of nature the love of inward beauty and glory under outward courtesy we see a cold selfishness a spirit of calculation and little energy of love I confess I look round on civilized society with many fears and with more and more earnest desire that a regenerating spirit from heaven, from religion may descend upon and pervade it I particularly fear that various causes are acting powerfully among ourselves to inflame and madden that enslaving and degrading principle the passion for property for example the absence of redditary distinctions in our country gives prominence to the distinction of wealth and holds up this as the chief prize to ambition add to this the Epicurean self-indulgent habits which our prosperity has multiplied and which crave insatiably for enlarging wealth as the only means of gratification this peril is increased by the spirit of our times which is the spirit of commerce, industry, internal improvements mechanical invention, political economy and peace think not that I would disparage commerce, mechanical skill and especially pacific connections among states but there is danger that these blessings may by perversion issue in a slavish love of lucre it seems to me that some of the objects which once moved men most powerfully are gradually losing their sway and thus the mind is left more open to the excitement of wealth for example military distinction is taking the inferior place which it deserves and the consequence will be that energy and ambition which have been exhausted in war will seek new directions and happy shall we be if they do not flow into the channel of gain so I think that political eminence is to be less and less coveted and there is danger that the energies absorbed by it will be spent in seeking another kind of dominion the dominion of property and if such be the result what shall we gain by what is called the progress of society what shall we gain by national peace if men instead of meeting on the field of battle wage with one another the more inglorious strife of dishonest and rapacious traffic what shall we gain by the waning of political ambition if the intrigues of the exchange take place in those of the cabinet and private pomp and luxury be substituted for the splendor of public life I am no foe to civilization I rejoice in its progress but I mean to say that without a pure religion to modify its tendencies to inspire and refine it we shall be corrupted not ennobled by it it is the excellence of the religious principle that aids and carries forward civilization extends science and arts multiplies the conveniences and ornaments of life and at the same time spools them of their enslaving power and even converts them into means and ministers of that spiritual freedom which when left to themselves they endanger and destroy in order however that religion should yield its full and best fruit one thing is necessary and the times require that I should state it with great distinctness it is necessary that religion should be held and professed in a liberal spirit just as far as it assumes an intolerant, exclusive sectarian form it subverts instead of strengthening the soul's freedom and becomes the heaviest and most galling yoke which is laid on the intellect and conscience religion must be viewed not as a monopoly of priests, ministers or sex not as conferring on any man a right to dictate to his fellow beings not as an instrument by which the few may awe the many not as bestowing on one a prerogative which is not enjoyed by all but as the property of every human being and as the great subject for every human mind it must be regarded as the revelation of a common father to whom all have equal access who invites all to the like immediate communion who has no favorites who has appointed no infallible expounders of his will who opens his works and word to every eye and calls upon all to read for themselves and to follow fearlessly best convictions of their own understandings let religion be seized on by individuals or sex as their special province let them clothe themselves with God's prerogative of judgment let them succeed in enforcing their creed by penalties of law or penalties of opinion let them succeed in fixing a brand on virtuous men whose only crime is free investigation and religion becomes the most blighting tyranny which can establish itself over the mind you have all heard of the outward evils which religion when thus turned into tyranny has inflicted how it is dug dreary dungeons kindled fires for the martyr and invented instruments of exquisite torture but to me all this is less fearful than its influence over the mind when I see the superstitions which has fastened on the conscience the spiritual terrors with which it has haunted and subdued the ignorant and susceptible the dark appalling views of God which it has spread far and wide the dread of inquiry which it has struck into superior understandings and the servility of spirit which is made to pass for piety when I see all this the fire the scaffold and the outward inquisition terrible as they are seem to me inferior evils a look with a solemn joy on the heroic spirits who have met freely and fearlessly pain and death in the cause of truth in human rights but there are other victims of intolerance on whom I look with unmixed sorrow they are those who spellbound by early prejudice or by intimidations from the pulpit and the press dare not think who anxiously stifle every doubt or misgiving in regard to their opinions as if to doubt were a crime who shrink from the seekers after truth as from infection who deny all virtue which does not wear the library of their own sect who surrendering to others their best powers receive unresistingly a teaching which wars against reason and conscience and who think it a merit to impose on such as live within their influence the grievous bondage which they bear themselves how much to be deplored is it that religion the very principle which is designed to raise men above the judgment and power of man should become the chief instrument of usurpation over the soul Library of the World's Best Literature Ancient and Modern, Volume 9 Section 3 Selected Works by George Chapman George Chapman 1559-1634 George Chapman, the translator of Homer is of all the Elizabethan dramatists the most undramatic he is akin to Marlowe in being more of an epic poet than a playwright but unlike his young compere of the mighty line who in his successive plays learned how to subdue an essentially epic genius to the demands of the stage Chapman never got near the true secret of dramatic composition yet he witnessed the growth of the glorious Elizabethan drama from its feeble beginning in Gorbeduch and Gamergerton's needle through its very flowering in the immortal masterpieces he was born about 1559 five years before Marlowe, the morning star of the English drama and he died in 1634 surviving Shakespeare in whom it reached its maturity and Beaumont Middleton and Fletcher whose works foreshadowed decay from his native town Hitchin he passed on to Oxford where he distinguished himself as a classical scholar then for sixteen years nothing definite is known about him his life has been called one of the great blanks of English literature he is sometimes sent travelling on the continent as a convenient means of accounting for this gap and also to explain the intimate acquaintance with German manners and customs and the language displayed in his tragedy Alphonsus Emperor of Germany which argues at least for a trip to that country in 1594 he published the two hymns in the Shadow of Night and soon after he must have begun writing for the stage for his first extant comedy, The Blind Beggar of Alexandria was acted in 1596 and two years later he appears in Francis Mears' famous enumeration of the poets and wits of the time hereafter his life is to be dated by his publications he occupies a position unique among the Elizabethans because of his wide culture and the diverse character of his work though held together by his strong personality it yet can be divided into the distinct groups of comedies, tragedies, poems and translations the first of these is the weakest for Chapman was not a comic genius The Blind Beggar of Alexandria and An Humorous Day's Murth deserve but a passing mention in 1605 all Fools was published acted six years earlier under the name The World Runs on Wheels it is a realistic satire with some good scenes and character drawing the Gentleman Usher is full of poetry and ingenious situations Monsieur Dolin contains also some good comedy work The Widow's Tears tells the well-known story of the Ephesian matron in a low course that is handled not without comic talent in his comedy work Chapman is neither new nor original he followed in Johnson's footsteps and suggests moreover Terence, Plaudus, Fletcher and Lily he has wit, satire and sarcasm but along with these poor construction and little invention he was going against his grain and we have here the frankest expression of pot-boiling to be found among the Elizabethan dramatists writing for the stage was the only kind of literature that really paid the playhouse was to the Elizabethan what the paper-covered novel is to a modern reader this accounts for the enormous dramatic productivity of the time and also explains why the most finely endowed minds in need of money produce dramas instead of other imaginative work by the time he wrote his comedies Chapman had already won his place as poet and translator but it earned him no income Poe 125 years later made a fortune by his translation of Homer but then the number of readers had increased and publishers could afford to give large sums to a popular author Chapman takes rank among the dramatists mainly by his four chief tragedies Bosse d'Ambois, the revenge of Bosse d'Ambois the conspiracy of Charles Duke of Byron and the tragedy of Charles Duke of Byron they are unique among the plays of the period in that they deal with almost contemporary events in French history not with the purpose of exciting any feeling for or against the parties introduced but in calm, ignoring of public opinion they bring recent happenings on the stage to suit the dramatist's purpose he drew his material mainly from the Historiae Sui Temporus of Jacques Auguste II but he troubled himself little about following it with accuracy or even painting the characters of the chief actors as true to life in these tragedies more than in the comedies we get sight of Chapman the man indeed it is his great failing as playwright that his own individuality is constantly cropping out he alone of all the great Elizabethan dramatists was unable to go outside of himself and enter into the habits and thoughts of his characters Chapman was too much of a scholar and a thinker to be a successful delineator of men his is the drama of the man who thinks about life not of one who lives it in its fullness he does not get into the hearts of men he has too many theories Homer had become the ruling influence in his life and he looked at things from the Homeric point of view and presented life epically he is at his best in single didactic or narrative passages and exquisite bits of poetry are prodigly scattered up and down the pages of his tragedies next to Shakespeare he is the most sententious of dramatists he sounded the depths of things in thought which therefore only Marlowe had done he is the most metaphysical of dramatists yet his thought is sometimes too much for him and he becomes obscure his words as tight as browning and the sense is often more difficult to unravel he is best in the closet drama Caesar and Pompey published in 1631 but never acted contains some of his finest thoughts Chapman also collaborated with other dramatists Eastward Ho in 1605 written with Marston and Johnson is one of the liveliest and best constructed Elizabethan comedies combining the excellences of the three men without their faults some allusion to the Scottish nation offended King James the authors were confined in fleet prison and barely escaped having their ears and noses slit with Shirley he wrote the comedy The Ball and the tragedy Chabot Admiral of France Chapman wrote comedies to make money and tragedies because it was the fashion of the day and he studied these latter with exquisite passages because he was a poet born but he was above all a scholar with wide and deep learning not only of the classics but also of the Renaissance literature from 1613 to 1631 he does not appear to have written for the stage but was occupied with his translations of Homer he see it Juvenile, Museus, Petrarch and others in 1614 at the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth was performed in the most lavish manner the memorable mask of the two honourable houses or inns of court the Middle Temple and Lincoln Inn Chapman also completed Marlowe's unfinished hero in Leander his fame however rests on his version of Homer the first portion appeared in 1598 seven books of the Iliad of Homer, Prince of Poets translated according to the Greek in judgment of his best commentaries in 1611 the Iliad complete appeared and in 1615 the whole of the Odyssey though he by no means reproduces Homer faithfully he approaches nearest to the original in spirit and grandeur it is a typical product of the English Renaissance full of vigor and passion but also of conceit and fancifulness it lacks the simplicity and the serenity of the Greek but has caught its nobleness and rapidity as has been said it is what Homer might have written before he came to years of discretion yet with all his shortcomings it remains one of the classics of Elizabethan literature Pope consulted it diligently and has been accused of at times reversifying this instead of the Greek Coleridge said of it the Iliad is fine but less equal in the translation than the Odyssey as well as less interesting in itself what has stupidly said of Shakespeare is really true and appropriate of Chapman mighty faults counterpoise by mighty beauties it is as truly an original poem as the fairy queen it will give you small idea of Homer though a far truer one than Pope's epigrams most anti-Homeric miltonisms for Chapman writes and feels as a poet as Homer might have written had he lived in England in the reign of Queen Elizabeth in short it is an exquisite poem in spite of its frequent and perverse quaintnesses and awkwardness which are however amply repaid by almost unexampled sweetness and beauty of language all over spirit and feeling Keats's tribute the sonnet on first looking into Chapman's Homer attests another poet's appreciation of the Elizabethan's paraphrase Keats diligently explored this new planet that swam into his ken and his own poetical diction is at times touched by the quaintness and fancifulness of the elder poet he admired Lamb, that most sympathetic critic of the old dramatists speaks of him as follows Webster has happily characterized the full and heightened style of Chapman who of all the English playwriters perhaps approaches nearest to Shakespeare in the descriptive and didactic in passages which are less purely dramatic he could not go out of himself as Shakespeare could shift at pleasure to inform and animate other existences but in himself he had an eye to perceive and a soul to embrace all forms and modes of being he would have made a great epic poet if indeed he has not abundantly shown himself to be one for his Homer is not so properly a translation as the stories of Achilles and Ulysses rewritten the earnestness and passion which he has put into every part of these poems would be incredible to a reader of more modern translations the great obstacle to Chapman's translations being read is their unconquerable quaintness he pours out in the same breath the most just and natural and the most violent and crude expressions he seems to grasp at whatever words come first to hand while the enthusiasm is upon him as if all others must be inadequate to the divine meaning but passion, the all in all in poetry is everywhere present raising the low dignifying the mean and putting sense into the absurd he makes his readers glow, weep, tremble take any affection which he pleases be moved by words when spite of them be disgusted and overcome their disgust Ulysses and Nausicaa from the translation of Homer's Odyssey straight rose the lovely mourn that up did raise fair veiled Nausicaa whose dream her praise to admiration took who no time spent to give the rapture of her vision vent to her loved parents whom she found within her mother set at fire who had to spin a rock whose tincture with sea purple shined her maids about her but she chanced to find her father going abroad to counsel called by his grave senate and to him exhaled her smothered bosom was loved sire said she will you not now command a coach for me stately and complete fit for me to bear to wash at flood the weeds I cannot wear before repurified yourself it fits to wear fair weeds as every man that sits in place of counsel and five sons you have two wed three bachelors that must be brave in every day's shift that they may go dance for these three last with these things must advance their states in marriage and who else but I their sister should their dancing rights supply this general cause she showed and would not name her mind of nuptials to her sire for shame he understood her yet and thus replied daughter nor these nor any grace beside I either will deny thee or defer mules nor a coach of state and circular fitting at all parts go my servants shall serve thy desires and I command in all the servants then commanded soon obeyed fetched coach and mules joined in it then the maid brought from the chamber her rich weeds and laid all up in coach in which her mother placed a monde the vitals varied well in taste and other junkets wine she likewise filled within a goat skin bottle and distilled sweet and moist oil into a golden cruise both for her daughters and her handmade use to soften their bright bodies when they rose cleansed from their cold baths up to coach then goes the observant maid takes both the scourge and reigns and to her side her handmade straight attains nor these alone but other virgins grace the nuptial chariot the whole bevy placed now Zika a scourge to make the coach mules run that made and paced their usual speed and soon both maids and weeds brought to the riverside where baths for all the year their use supplied whose waters were so pure they would not stain but still ran fair forth and did more remain apt to purge stains for that purge stain within which by the water's pure store was not seen these here arrived the mules uncoached and drave up the gulfy rivers shore that gave sweet grass to them the maids from coach then took their clothes and steeped them in the sable brook then put them into springs and trod them clean with cleanly feet adventuring wagers then who should have soonest and most cleanly done when having thoroughly cleansed they spread them on the flood shore all in order and then where the waves the pebbles washed and ground was clear they bathed themselves and all with glittering oils smoothed their white skins refreshing them their toil with pleasant dinner by the riverside yet still watched when the sun their clothes had dried till which time having dined Nausicaa with other virgins did its stool ball play their shoulder reaching head tires laying by Nausicaa with the wrists of ivory stroke stroke singing first a song as custom ordered and amidst the throng made such a show and so past all was seen as when the chaste-born arrow-loving queen along the mountains gliding either over Spartan Tygettus whose tops far discover or Urimanthus in the wild boars chase or swift-hoved heart and with her jove's fair race the field-nymphs sporting amongst whom to see how far Diana had priority though all were fair for fairness yet of all as both by head and forehead being more tall Latona triumphed since the dullest sight might easily judge whom her pains brought to light Nausicaa so whom never husband tamed above them all in all the beauties flamed but when they now made homewards and arrayed ordering their weeds disordered as they played mules and coach ready them never thought what means to wake Ulysses might be wrought that he might see this lovely sighted maid whom she intended should become his aide bring him to town and his return advance her mean was this though thought a stool-ball chance the queen now for the upstroke struck the ball quite wide off the other maids and made it fall amidst the whirlpools at which out shrieked all and with a shriek did wise Ulysses wake who sitting up was doubtful who should make that sudden outcry and in mind thus strived out of people am I now arrived at civil hospitable men that fear the gods or dwell injurious mortals here unjust and churlish like the female cry of youth that sounds what are they nymphs spread high on tops of hills or in the founts of floods in erby marshes or in levee woods or are they high-spoke men I now am near I'll prove and see with this the wary pier crept forth the thicket and an olive bow broke with his broad hand which he did bestow in covered of his nakedness and then put hasty head out look how from his den a mountain lion looks that all in brood with drops of trees and weather-beaten hewed bold of his strength goes on and in his eye a burning furnace glows all bent to prey on sheep or oxen or the upland heart his belly charging him and he must part stakes with the herdsmen in his beast's attempt the lengths are most exempt so wet, so weather-beat so stung with need even to the home-fields of the country's breed Ulysses was to force forth his access though merely naked and his sight did press the eyes of soft-haired virgins horrid was his rough appearance to them the hard pass he had at sea stuck by him all in flight the virgins scattered frighted with this sight about the prominent windings of the flood all but Nausicaa fled but she fast stood Pallas had put a boldness in her breast and in her fair limbs tender fear compressed and still she stood him as resolved to know what man he was or out of what should grow his strange repair to them the Duke of Byron is condemned to death from the tragedy of Charles Duke of Byron by horror of death let me alone in peace and leave my soul to me whom it concerns you have no charge of it I feel her free how she doth rouse and like a falcon stretch her silver wings a threatening death with death at whom I joyfully will cast her off I know this body but a sink of folly the groundwork and raised frame of woe and frailty the bond and bundle of corruption a quick course only sensible of grief a walking sepulcher household thief a glass of air broken with less than breath a slave bound face to face to death till death and what said all you more I know besides that life is but a dark and stormy night of senseless dreams terrors and broken sleeps a tyranny devising pains to plague and make man long and dying racks his death and death is nothing what can you say more I bring a long globe and a little earth I'm seated like earth between both the heavens that if I rise to heaven I rise if fall I likewise fall to heaven what stronger faith have any of your souls what say you more why lose I time in these things talk of knowledge it serves for inward use I will not die like to a clergyman but like the captain that preyed on horseback and with sword and hand threatened the sun commanding it to stand these are but ropes of sand end of section three section four of the library of the world's best literature ancient and modern vulgarity ancient and modern volume nine this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Matt Bishop library of the world's best literature ancient and modern section four selected works by Francois René Augustus Chateaubriand Visicounts des Chateaubriand the founder of the romantic school in French literature and one of the most brilliant and polished writers in the first half of the 19th century was born at Saint Marlowe in Brittany September 14th 1768 on the paternal side he was a direct descendant of Thierry grandson of Elaine III who was king of Armrica in the 9th century after the church he became a pronounced skeptic and entered the army in his 19th year he was presented at court and became acquainted with men of the letters like Leharp, Lebrun and Fontanis at the outbreak of the revolution he quitted the service and embarked for America in January 1791 tiring of the restraints of civilization civilization changed into the virgin forest of Canada and for several months lived with the savages this remarkable experience inspired his most notable romantic work returning to France in 1792 he cast his lot with the royalist was wounded at Thionville and finally retired to England where for eight years he earned a bear support by teaching and translating his first book was 1797 which displayed some imagination little reflection and an affection for misanthropy and skepticism the subsequent change in his convictions followed on the death of his pious mother in 1798 returning to France he published an idol founded on the loves of two young savages teaming with glowing descriptions of nature and marked by elevation of sentiment combined with sensuousness almost oriental this barbaric Paul in Virginia immediately established the author's fame thus encouraged in the following year he gave the world his genius of Christianity in which the poetic and symbolic features of Christianity are painted in dazzling colors and with great charm and style the enormous success of this book dedicated the century unquestionably did more to revive French interest in religion than the establishment of the concordate itself Napoleon testified his gratitude by appointing the author secretary to the embassy at Rome and afterward minister plenipotentiary to the Velas when the Duke was assassinated March 21st 1804 he signed from diplomatic service although the ink was scarcely dry which the first consul had signed his new commission two years later the successful author departed on a sentimental pilgrimage to the holy land he visited Asia Minor Egypt and Spain where amid the ruins of all Hamra he wrote The Last of the Aben Sereges to this interesting tour the world owes their itinerary The Last of the Aben Sereges to Jerusalem 1811 that book which in St. Spurry's opinion remains the pattern of all the picturesque travels of modern times with the publication of the itinerary the literary career of Chateaubriand virtually closes on the return of bourbons to power the man of letters was tempted to enter the exciting arena of politics becoming successively ambassador at Berlin of St. James delegate to the Congress of Verona and minister of foreign affairs in 1830 unwilling to pledge himself to Louis Philip he relinquished the dignity of the realm accorded to him in 1815 and retired to a life of comparative poverty which was brightened by the friendship and devotion of Madame Rikamir until his death on the 4th of July 1848 Chateaubriand devoted himself to the completion of his Memoirs de Autretum an autobiographical work which was published posthumously and which although diffuse and even purile at times contains much brilliant writing his contemporaries pronounced Chateaubriand the foremost man of letters of France if not of all Europe during the last half of this century his fame has sensibly diminished both at home and abroad and in the history of French literature he is chiefly significant as marking the transition from old classical to the modern romantic school yet while admitting the glaring false exaggerations affectations and egotism of the author of the genius of Christianity a fair criticism admits his best passages are to be unsurpassed for perfection of style and gorgeousness of coloring Attala is a classic with real life in it even yet powerful, interesting and even thrilling in spite of its theatrically and often magnificent indescription in 1811 Chateaubriand was elected to the French Academy as a successor of the poet Chignir among his works not already mentioned Arnais 1807 a sort of sequel to Attala the martyrs 1810 the Nechez 1826 containing collections of America an essay on English literature two volumes and a translation from Milton's Paradise Lost 1836 Christianity vindicated from the genius of Christianity during the reign of Emperor Julian commenced a persecution perhaps more dangerous than violence itself which consisted of loading the Christians with disgrace and contempt Julian began his hostility by plundering the churches he then forbade the faithful to teach or to study the liberal arts and sciences sensible however the important advantages of the institutions of Christianity were determined to establish hospitals and monasteries and after the example of the gospel system to combine morality with religion he ordered a kind of sermons to be delivered in the pagan temples from the time of Julian to that of Luther the church flourishing in full vigor had no occasion for apologists but when the western schism took place with new enemies and new defenders it cannot be denied that at first the Protestants had the superiority at least in regards to forms as Montesquieu has remarked Erasmus himself was weak when opposed to Luther and Theodore Beza had a captivating manner of writing in which his opponents were too often deficient it is natural for schism to lead to infidelity and for hearsay to engender schism Bale and Spinoza arose after Calvin and they found in Clark and Levinet's men of sufficient talents to refute their sophistry Abadi wrote an apology for religion remarkable for method and sound argument unfortunately his style is feeble though his ideas are not destitute of brilliancy if the ancient philosophers observes Abadi adored the virtues their worship was only a beautiful species of idolatry while the church was yet enjoying her triumph Voltaire renewed the persecution of Julian he possessed the bane full art of making infidelity fashionable among capricious but amiable people every species of self-love was pressed into this insensate league religion was attacked with every kind from the pamphlet to the folio from the epigraph to the sophism no sooner did religious book appear than the author was overwhelmed with ridicule while works which Voltaire was first to laugh at among his friends were extolled to the skies such was his superiority over his disciples that he sometimes could not forbear diverting himself with their irreligious enthusiasm the destructive system continued to spread throughout France it was first adopted in those provincial academies each of which was a focus of bad taste and faction women of fashion and grave philosophers alike read lectures on infidelity it was at length concluded that christianity was no better than a barbarous system and that its fall could not happen too soon for the liberty of mankind the promotion of knowledge the involvement of the arts and the general comforts of life to say nothing of the abyss into which we were plunged by this aversion to the religion of the gospel its immediate consequence was a return more effected than sincere to that mythology of Greece and Rome to which all the wonders of antiquity were ascribed people were not ashamed to regret which had transformed mankind into a herd of madmen monsters of indecency or ferocious beast this could not fail to inspire contempt for the writers of the age of Louis XIV who however had reached the high perfection which distinguished them only by being religious if no one ventured to oppose them face to face on account of their firmly established reputation the abyss attacked in a thousand indirect ways it was asserted that they were unbelievers in their hearts or at least they would have been much greater characters had they lived in our times every author blessed his good fortune for having been born in a glorious age of the Dideros and the Alamberts in that age when all the attainments of the human mind were ranged in order in Encyclopedia that babble of the sciences and of reason it was therefore necessary to prove that on the contrary the Christian religion of all the religions that ever existed is the most humane the most favorable to liberty and to the arts and sciences that the modern world is indebted to it for every improvement from agriculture to the abstract sciences from the hospitals for the reception of the unfortunate to the temples reared by the Michelangeloes and embellished by the Raphaels it was necessary to prove that nothing is more divine than its morality nothing more lovely and more sublime than its tenets its doctrine and its worship that it encourages genius corrects the tastes develops the virtuous passions to the ideas presents noble images to the writer and perfect models to the artist that there is no disgrace in being believers with Newton and Basu with Pascal and Racine in a word it was necessary to summon all the charms of the imagination and all the interest of the heart to the assistance of that religion against which they had been set in array who would now have a clear view of the object of our work all the kinds of apologies are exhausted and perhaps they would be uses at the present day who would now sit down to read a work professed theological possibly a few sincere Christians who are already convinced but it may be asked may there not be some danger in considering religion in a merely human point of view does our religion shrink from the light surely one great proof of its divine origin is that it will bear the test of the fullest and severest scrutiny of reason would you have us always open to the reproach of enveloping our tenants in sacred obscurity lest their falsehood should be detected will Christianity be the less true for appearing the more beautiful let us banish our weak apprehensions let us not by an excess of religion leave religion to perish we no longer live in those times when you might say believe without inquiring people will inquire in spite of us and our timid silence in heightening the triumph of the infidel will diminish the number of the believers it is time that the world should know to what all those charges of absurdity vulgarity and meanness that are daily alleged against Christianity may be reduced it is time to demonstrate that instead of debasing the ideas it encourages the soul to take the most daring flights and is capable of enchanting the imagination as divinely as the deities of Homer and Virgil our arguments will at least have this advantage that they will be intelligible and large and will require nothing but common sense to determine their weight and strength in works of this kind authors neglect perhaps rather too much to speak the language of their readers it is necessary to be a scholar with a scholar a poet with a poet the Almighty does not forbid us to tread the flowery path if it serves to lead the wanderer once more to him to the mountain that the lost sheep finds its way back to the fold we think that this mode of considering Christianity displays association of ideas which are but imperfectly known sublime in the antiquity of its recollections which go back to the creation of the world ineffable in its mysteries adorable in its sacraments interesting in its history celestial in its morality rich and attractive in its ceremonial it is fraught with every species of beauty would you follow it in poetry Tasso, Milton Cornu, Racine Voltaire will depict to you its miraculous effects in beletras in oratory, history and philosophy what have not basu, finilu bacon, bascal euler, newton leibniz produced by its inspiration in the arts what masterpieces if you examine in its worship what ideas are suggested by its antique gothic churches its admirable prayers its impressive ceremonies among its clergy behold all those scholars who have handed down to you the languages and the works of Greece and Rome all those anchorits of thebius all those asylums for the unfortunate all those missionaries to china, to canada to parague not forgetting the military orders when shivery derived its origin everything has been engaged in our cause the manners of our ancestors the pictures of days of your poetry even romances themselves we have called smiles from the cradle and tears from the tomb sometimes with the marionite monk we dwell on the summits of carmel and lebanon at others we watched with the daughter of charity at the bedside of the sick here too american lovers summon us to the recesses of their deserts where we listen to the size of the virgin and the solitude of the gloister of the Milton and Virgil besides Tassel the ruins of Athens and Memphis form contrast with the ruins of christian monuments and the tombs of ossean with our rural church charge at santani we visit our ashes of kings and when our subject acquires us to treat of the existence of god we seek our proofs in the wonders of nature alone in short we endeavor to strike down every possible way but we dare not flatter ourselves that we possess the miraculous rod of religion which cause living streams to burst from the flinty rock description of a thunder storm in the forest from atala it was the 27th sun since our departure from the cabins the lundifer monday of july had commenced its course and all signs indicated the approach of a violent storm toward the hour when the indian matrons hang up the plow shares on the branches of the junipers and when the parakeets retire to the hollows of the cypress trees the sky grew overcast the vague sounds of solitude gradually ceased the forest were wrapped in universal calm suddenly the peeling of distant thunder re-echoing through these vast woods as old as the world itself startled the ear with a diapason of noises sublime fearing to be overwhelmed in a flood we hastily disembarked on the river's bank and sought safety in the seclusion of one of the forest glades the ground was swampy we pressed forward with difficulty beneath a roof of smilex among grapevines and climbing plants of all kinds in which our feet were continually entangled the spongy soil trembled all around us and every instant we were in the verge of being engulfed in the quagmires swarms of insects and enormous bats nearly blinded us rattlesnakes were heard on all sides and the wolves bears panthers and badgers which had sought a refuge in this retreat filled the air with their roaring meanwhile the obscurity increased the lowering clouds entered beneath the shadows of the trees the heavens were rent and the lightning traced a flashing zigzag of fire a furious gale from the west piled up the angry clouds in heavy masses the mighty trees bowed their heads to the blast again and again the sky was rent and through the yawning crevices one beheld new heavens and veils of fire what an awful what a magnificent spectacle the trees were struck by lightning and ignited the conflagration spread like a flaming garland the showers of sparks and the columns of smoke ascended to the very heavens which vomited their thunder into the seas of fire then the great spirit enveloped the mountains in utter darkness from the mist of this vast chaos came a confused roaring made by the tumult of many winds the moaning of the trees the howling of ferocious beasts the crackling of the flames and the descent of balls of fire which hissed as they were extinguished into the water the great spirit knows the truth of what I now say at this moment I saw only a tallah I had no thought but for her beneath the bent truck of a birch tree I succeeded in protecting her from the torrents of rain myself under the tree supporting my well-beloved on my knees and choffing her bare feet between my hands I was even happier than the young wife who feels for the first time the consciousness of her motherhood End of Section 4 Recording by Matt Bishop Section 5 of Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern Volume 9 This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Amy Koenig Library of the World's Best Literature Ancient and Modern Volume 9 Section 5 Selected Poems by Thomas Chatterton Thomas Chatterton 1752-1770 To the third quarter of the 18th century belongs the tragedy of the life of Thomas Chatterton who misunderstood and neglected during his brief 17 years of poetic reverie has by the force of his genius and by his actual achievement compelled the 19th century through one of its best critics to acknowledge him as the father of the new romantic school and to accord him thereby a place in his contemporaries. His family and early surroundings serve in a way to explain his development. He was born at Bristol a town rich in the traditions and monuments of bygone times. For nearly two hundred years the office of sexton to the church of St. Mary Redcliffe had been handed down in the family. At the time of the poet's birth it was held by a maternal uncle. For his father a musical genius, somewhat of a poet an antiquarian, dobler and occult was a first to aspire to a position above the hereditary one and had taken charge of the pile free schools in Bristol. He died before his son's birth and left his widow to support her two children by keeping a little school and by needlework. The boy, reserved and given to reverie from his earliest years was at first considered dull but finally learned to spell by means of the illuminated capitals of an old musical folio of the Bible. He spent much of his time with his uncle in and about the church. St. Mary Redcliffe, one of the finest specimens of medieval church architecture in England, is especially rich in altar tombs with recumbent carved figures of knights and ecclesiastic and civic dignitaries of bygone days. These became the boy's familiar associates and he amused himself on his lonely visits by spelling out the old inscriptions on their monuments. There he got hold of some quaint oaken chests in the monument room over the porch filled with parchment's old as the Wars of the Roses and these deeds and charters of the Henry's and Edwards became his primers. In 1760 he entered Colston's Bluecoat Charity School located in a final building of the Tudor Times. The rules of the institution provided for the training of its inmates in the principles of the Christian religion down in the church catechism and in fitting them to be apprenticed in due course to some trade. During the six years of his stay Chatterton received only the rudiments of a common school education and found little to nourish his genius. But being a voracious reader he went on his small allowance through three circulating libraries and became acquainted with the older English poets and also read history in antiquities. He very early entertained dreams of ambition without however finding any sympathy. So he lived in a world of his own conceiving before the age of 12 the romance of Thomas Rowley an imaginary clerk of the 15th century and his patron Master William Caning a former mayor of Bristol whose effigy was familiar to him from the tomb in the church. This fiction which after his death gave rise to the celebrated controversy of the Rowley poems matured at this early age as a boy's life dream he fashioned into a consistent romance and wove into it among the prose fragments the ballads and lyrics on which his famous poet now rests. His earliest literary forgery was a practical joke played on a credulous pewterer at Bristol for whom he fabricated a pedigree dating back to the time of the Norman Conquest which he professed to have collected from ancient manuscripts. It is remarkable as the work of a boy not yet 14. He was rewarded with a crown piece and the success of this hoax encouraged him further to play upon the credulity of his townspeople and to continue writing prose and verse in pseudo-antique style. In 1767 he was bound apprentice to John Lambert attorney. The office duties were light. He spent his spare time in poetising and sent anonymously transcripts from professively old poems to the local papers. After the authorship being traced to him he now claimed that his father had found numerous old poems and other manuscripts in a coffer of the Monument Room at Redcliffe and that he had transcribed them. Under guise of this fiction he produced, within the two years of his apprenticeship, a mass of pseudo-antique dramatic, lyric and descriptive poems and fragments of local and general history connected all with his romance of the clerk of Bristol. A scholarly knowledge of Middle English was discovered a year, 130 years ago and the self-taught boy easily gulled the local antiquaries. He even deceived Horace Walpole who, dabbling in medievalism had opened the way for prose romances with his Castle of Atronto a spurious antique of the same time in which Chatterton had placed his fiction. Walpole at first treated him courteously even offering to print some of the poems. But when Gray and Mason pronounced them modern they escaped Chatterton the cold shoulder entirely forgetting his own imposition on a credulous public. Chatterton now turned to periodical literature and the politics of the day and began to contribute to various London magazines. In the spring of 1770 he finally came up to London to start on the life of a literary adventurer on a capital of less than five pounds. He lived abstemiously and worked incessantly literally day and night. He had a wonderful versatility. He would write in the manner of anyone he chose to imitate and he tried his hand at every species of book work. But even under the strain of this incessant productivity he found time to turn back to his boyhood dreams and produced one of his finest poems, the Ballad of Charity. At first his contributions were freely accepted but he was poorly paid and sometimes not at all. Yet out of his scanty earnings he was scarcely present for his mother and sister as tokens of affection and an earnest of what he hoped to do for them. After scarcely two months in London he was at the end of his resources. He made an attempt to gain a position as surgeon's assistant on board of an African trader but was unsuccessful. He now found himself face to face with famine and too proud to ask for assistance or to accept even the hospitality of a single meal he on the night of August 25th 1770 locked himself into his garret, destroyed all his notebooks and papers and swallowed a dose of arsenic. It is believed that he was privately buried in the churchyard of St. Mary Redcliffe. There a monument has been erected with an inscription from his poem Will. To the memory of Thomas Chatterton, reader judge not, if thou art a Christian believe that he shall be judged by his superior power. To that power alone is he now answerable. His death attracted little notice, for he was regarded merely as the transcriber of the Rowley poems. They were collected after his death from the various persons to whom he had given the manuscripts and occasioned a controversy that has lasted almost down to the present generation. But only an age untrained in philological research could ever have received them as genuine productions of the 15th century. Sir Chatterton, who knew little of the old author's antedating Spencer, constructed with the help of Bailey's and Cursey's English dictionaries a lingo of his own. He strung together old words of all periods and dialects and even coined words himself to suit the meter. His lingo resembles anything rather than middle English. It is supposed that he wrote first in modern English and then translated into his own dialect for the poems do not suffer by retranslation. On the contrary, they are more intelligible and often more rhythmical. Chatterton had a wonderful memory and having read enormously they are frequent though perhaps unconscious plagiarisms from Spencer, Shakespeare, Dryden, Pope, Gray and others. Yet after all has been said against the spurious character of the Rowley poems, Chatterton's two volumes of collected writings produced under the most adverse circumstances are a record of youthful precocity unparalleled in literary history. He wrote Spirited satires at ten and some of his best old verse before sixteen. Ayla is a dramatic poem of sustained power and originality and its songs have the true lyric ring. The ode to liberty, a fragment from the tragedy of Godwin, is with its bold imagery one of the finest martial lyrics in the language. The Ballad of Charity, almost the last poem he wrote, comes in its objectivity and artistic completeness near to some of Keats' best ballad work. But more wonderful perhaps in this early blossoming of his genius is its absolute originality. At a time when Johnson was the literary dictator of London and Pope's manner still paramount, Chatterton, unmindful of their conventionalities and the current French influence, instinctively turned to earlier models and sought his inspiration at the true source of English song. Bishop Percy's Relics of Old English Poetry, published in 1765, first made the people acquainted with their final ballads. But by that year, Chatterton had already planned the story of the Monk of Bristol and written some of the poems. Gifted with a rich vein of romance, he heralded the coming revival of medieval literature. But he not only defined the new movements of poetry, he was also responsible for one side of its development. He had a poet's ear for metrical effects and transmitted this gift to the romantic poets through Coleridge. For the latter, deeply interested in the tragedy of the life of the Bristol boy, studied his work and traces of this study, resulting in freer rhythm and new harmonies are found in Coleridge's own verse. The influence of the author of Christabel on his brother poets is indisputable, hence his indebtedness to Chatterton gives to the latter at once his rightful position as the father of the new romantic school. Keats also shows signs of close acquaintance with Chatterton, and he proves moreover by the dedication of his son that he cherished the memory of the unfortunate young poet with whom he had, as far as the romantic temper on its objective side goes, perhaps the closest spiritual kinship of any poet of his time. But quite apart from his youthful precocity and his influence on later poets Chatterton holds no mean place in English literature because of the intrinsic value of his performance. His work, on the one hand, aside from the rolly poems, shows him a true poet of the 18th century and the best of it entitles him to a fair place among his contemporaries. But on the other hand he stands almost alone in his generation in possessing the highest poetic endowments, originality of thought, a quick eye to see and note, the gift of expression, sustained power of composition, and a fire and intensity of imagination. In how far he would have fulfilled his early promise it is idle to surmise yet what poet in the whole range of English may have all literature at seventeen years and nine months of age has produced work of such excellence as this marvellous boy who, unrecognised and driven by famine, took his own life in a London garret. Final chorus from Godwin When freedom dressed in bloodstained vest to every night her war song sung upon her head wild weeds were spread, a gory unloss by her hung. She dawnsed on the heath, she heard the voice of death, pale-eyed afright his heart of silver hue in vain assailed her bosom to a kale. She heard unflamed the shrieking voice of woe and sadness in the owlet shake the dale. She shook the burled spear, on high she gest her shield, her foaming all appear and flizz along the field. Power with his hefford strought into the skies, his spear a sunbeam and his shield a star, a like twy-brending gronfires rolls his eyes, chaffed with his iron feet and sounds to war. She sits upon a rock, she bends before his spear, she rises from the shock, wielding her own in air. Hard as the thunder does she drive it on, wit skilly wimpled geese it to his crown, his long sharp spear, gone he falls and falling rolleth thousands down. War, gore faced war by Envy Burl'd a wrist, his fury home a nodding to the air, ten bloody arrows in his straining fist. The farewell of Sir Charles Baldwin to his wife from the Bristo Tragedy. And now the bell began to toll and clarions to sound. Sir Charles he heard the horses feet a prawn sing on the ground and just before the officers his loving wife came in weeping, unfainted tears of woe with loud and dismal din. Sweet Florence now I pray for bear in quiet let me die. Pray God that every Christian soul may look on death as I. Sweet Florence, why these briny tears? They wash my soul away and almost make me wish for life with thee, sweet Dane, to stay. To spot a journey I shall go and to the land of bliss. Now as a proof of husband's love receive this holy kiss. Then Florence, faltering in her say trembling these word yes spoke. Ah cruel Edward, bloody king, my heart is well nigh broke. Ah sweet Sir Charles, why wilt thou go without thy loving wife? The cruel axe that cuts thy neck it each shall end my life. And now the officers came in to bring Sir Charles away who turned it to his loving wife and thus to her did say I go to life and not to death. Trust thou in God above and teach thy sons to fear the Lord and in their hearts him love. Teach them to run the noble race that I their father run. Florence, should death thee take, adieu the officers lead on. Then Florence raved as any mad and did her tresses tear oh stay my husband lord and life Sir Charles then dropped a tear till tired out with raving loud she fell in on the floor Sir Charles exerted all his might and marched from out the door upon a sled he mounted then with looks full brave and sweet looks that and shown nay more concern than any in the street. Minstrel's song oh sing unto my round allay oh drop the briny tear with me don't snowmow at holly day like a raining river be my love is dead gone to his death bed all under the willow tree black his crime as the winter night white his road as the summer snow wrought his face as the morning light kale he lies in the grave below my love is dead gone to his death bed all under the willow tree swat his tongue as the throssels note quick and dawns as thought can be deft his taber cudgel stout oh he lies by the willow tree my love is dead gone to his death bed all under the willow tree hark the raven flaps his wing in the bryard dell below death owl loud doth sing to the nightmares as he go my love is dead gone to his death bed all under the willow tree see the white moon sheens on high whiter is my true love shroud whiter in the morning sky whiter in the evening cloud my love is dead gone to his death bed all under the willow tree here upon my true love's grave shall the barren floors be laid near one hally saint to save all the illness of a maid my love is dead gone to his death bed all under the willow tree with my hawns all dent the bryers round his hally course to gray oof and fairy light your fires here my body still shall be my love is dead gone to his death bed all under the willow tree come with acorn cup and thorn drain my heart his blood away life and all it's good I scorn daunts by night or feast by day my love is dead gone to his death bed all under the willow tree water witches crowned with rates bear me to your lethal tide I die I come my true love waits thus the damsel spake and died and ballad of charity as wroughten by the good priest Thomas Rowley 1464 in virginia the sweltery's son Gansheen and hot upon the meese did cast his ray the apple rotted from its pellet green and the mole pear did bend the leafy spray the peed gelandry sung the live long day it was now the pride the manhood of the year and eek the ground was dyed left omere the sun was gleaming in the mid of day dead still the air and eek the welkin blue when from the sea a wrist in drear array a heap of clouds of sable sullen hue the witch full fast onto the woodland drew hiltring atines the sun's fettive face and the black tempest swan and gathered up a pace beneath an ome fast by a pathway side which didn't a saint godwin's covent lead a hapless pilgrim moaning did abide poor in his view ungentle in his weed long breath full of the miseries of need where from the hailstone could the armor fly he had no house in there nay any covent nigh look in his gloomid face his sprite there scan how woe begone how withered for wind dead haste to thy church gleeb house a shrewd man haste to thy kiss thy only daughter bed kale is the clay which will gree on thy head is charity and love among high elves night is in barrens live for pleasure and themselves the gathered storm is ripe the big drops fall the four sweat meadows smee then drench the rain the coming gasness do the cattle pawl and the full flocks are driving or the plain dashed from the clouds the waters float like in opes the yellow leaven flies and the hot fiery smooth and the wide lowings dies list now the thunder's rattling climming sound cheves slowly on and then embollen clangs shakes the high spire and lost dispended drown still on the gallered ear of terror hangs the winds are up the lofty elmen swangs again the leaven and the thunder pours and the full clouds are brassed in stone as showers spurring his palfrey or the watery plain the abbot of saint godwin's convent came his chaperonet was drented with the rain and his pent girdle met with mickle shame he ironward told his bead roll at the same the storm increasing and he drew aside with a mist arms craver near to the home to bide his cope was all of lincoln cloth so fine with a gold button fastened near his chin his otramid was edged with golden twine and his shun pike alovards might have been full well it shone he thought and cost no sin the trammels of the palfrey pleased his sight for the horse milliner his head with roses died an arms surprized the dropping pilgrim said oh let me wait within your covent door till the sun sheeneth high above our head and the loud tempest of the air is o'er helpless and old am I alas and poor no house no friend no money in my pouch all yet I call my own is this my silver crouch varlet replied the abbot cease your din this is no season alms and prayers to give my porter never lets a fater in none touch my ring who not in honour live and now the sun with the black clouds did strive and shedding on the ground his glary ray the abbot spurred his deed and effed soon's rode away once mow the sky was black the thunder rolled fast raining or the plain a priest was seen nidite full proud ne buttoned up in gold his cope and jpe were grey and eek were clean a limiter he was of order seen and from the pathway side then turned he where the poor armor lay beneath the almond tree an arms surprized the dropping pilgrim said for sweet saint mary and your order's sake the limiter then loosened his pouch thread and did there out a groat of silver take the mister pilgrim did for haline shake here take this silver it may ease thy care we are gods stewards all need of our own we bear but ah unhaily pilgrim learn of me scave any give a rent roll to their lord here take my seamcoat the art bear design the saints will give me my reward he left the pilgrim and his way aboard virgin and hally saint who sit in glower or give the mitty will or give the good man power the resignation oh god whose thunder shakes the sky whose eye this adam globe surveys to thee my only rock I fly thy mercy in thy justice praise the mystic mazes of thy will the shadows of celestial night are past the power of human skill but what the eternal acts is right oh teach me in the trying hour when anguish swells the dewy tear to still my sorrows own thy power thy goodness love thy justice fear if in this bosom ought but thee encroaching sought a boundless sway omniscience could the danger see and mercy look the cause away then why my soul does thou complain why drooping seek the dark recess shake off the melancholy chain for God created all to bless but ah my breast is human still the rising sigh the falling tear my languid vitals feeble real the sickness of my soul declare but yet with fortitude resigned I'll thank the inflictor of the blow forbid the sigh compose my mind nor let the gush of misery flow the glimmy mantle of the night which on my sinking spirit steals will vanish at the morning light which God my east my son reveals end of section 5 recording by Amy Canig