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EIGHTH PAGE
THE SUNNY SOUTH
MARCH 22, 1902
* IN THE LITERARY WORLD *
Edited by Lucian L. Knight
IiEN inquiry is made in
_ regard to what people
g g w read, the thought nat-
K M M urally turns at once to
the novels which hap
pen to be popular at the
moment, “Ben Hur,”
“Robert E 1 s m e r e,”
“Trilby,” “David Ha-
rum," “Janice Mere
dith,,” or “The Crisis.”
or “Audrey,” as the case
may be. Yet as John
Cotton Dana forcibly
shows in a statistical
article In the March is
sue of the World’s Work
even these record-break
ers make but an insig
nificant showing when compared with
what the people as a mass really read,
namely, newspapers and periodicals. He
finds that 4.500 new hooks are published
yearly in the United States with a total
sale of perhaps 10,000,000. How they are
overshadowed in the matter of circula
tion by the periodical press Mr. Dana
points out by some interesting tables.
One of the most curious is devoted to
showing how much spare in terms of a
book the size of “David Harum" is giv
en to various topics in the periodicals of
the United States for n given year. The
commercial and financial news equals in
space 270.600,000 copies of “David Ha
rum.” trivial personal news 1(10,200,000, ad
vertisements 159,200,000. politics 15C.fi0O.O0O,
sports 132,000,000, legal 119,000,000, criminal
86.200.000. The list is long, and tapers
down to literature, music, art, e.c.. which
together make 51.000.000, theatrical news
13.400.000, and biblical 3,fi00,000
Tx>rd Ronald Sutherland Gower’s “The
Tower of London” (Macmillan) carries
the record from the Stuarts down to the
present day. Since the tower during most
of this period was a prison, and its most
interesting inmates on the. way to the
block, the story has a distinctly necro
logical flavor and all the melancholy in
terest which that kind of writing affords.
The illustrations are an important fea
ture of the work, and one must imagine
that very few old prints of any value
have escaped the author's vigilance. In
many cases we have the prominent char
acters both with their heads on and—in
mercifully small scale—with their heads
off. As characteristic of the style of
Lord Gower’s narrative, we reprint tlie
paragraph about the notorious Justice
Jeffreys, who was remanded to the tower
not as a prisoner, but for his safe keep
ing *ngainst the mob which was celebrat
ing the flight of the hated James T1.
On the same day that James threw
away the. great seal of England his lord
chancellor, the justly detested Jeffreys,
was taken, in the disguise of a common
tailor, in a small house, at I) apping, as
lie was about to go on board a collier
which would have taken him to Hamburg.
Once in the power of the mob Jeffreys
life was in deadly peril, and he suffered
severely at the hands of the people, hut
was finally rescued and taken before the
lord mayor, who, poor man, died
In a lit soon after the terrible
judge had been brought before him. more
revolting in his abject terror of d |th
than even during the bloody assizes m
the west, when he had condemned shoals
of men and women to tortures and death
with jibes and ghastly pleasantry. Pro
tected by two regiments of the city train
hands. Jeffreys was taken into the tow-i
on the 12th of December and given in
charge of Lord Lucas, the governor. The
warrant of Jeffreys’ arrest, which is
unique, is among the tower records, and
runs as follows: “We, the peers of this
realm, being assembled with some of the
privy council, do hereby will and require
you to take into your custody the body
of George, Lord Jeffreys (herewith sent
to voui, and to keep him safe prisoner
until further order; for which this shall
be vour sufficient warrant.” This war
rant is signed by thirteen peers, including
the bishop of Winchester.
Charles Josselyn s work entitled “The
True Napoleon: A Cyclopedia of Events
in His Life,” will be ri*)dy from the
press of R. II. Russell about A % il * This
volume does not pretend to compete with
the recent biographies by Mr. Rose nor
Mr. Watson, but is rather a digest of the
man’s career, his social and political atti
tude toward his time. The author him
self says: “It is not my purpose to write
a life of Napoleon: this volume is simply
a compilation of anecdotes and opinion j
incident to himself and his times, and. j
like J. T. Headley, author of ’Napoleon '
and His Marshals,’ 1 pretend to no orig- j
inality, except thaj. lPke ahem, 1 have
grouped what l believe to be interesting ^
facts already given to the world and have t
used without hesitation any reliable "au- j
thor that could help me. The book is as l
its title represents, a dictionary of
events.” The illustrations include a re
production of the portrait of the Emperor
Napoleon, drawn by Vixneux and en
graved by Henry. The print belongs to
the Count Primoli. of Rome, and bears the
following testimony written by the
Prince Gabrielli himself, :0 relative of j
the emperor: “Only portrait of the Em- ■
peror Napoleon Bonaparte that resembles ,
him. Bought in Paris by the Prince Don |
Pietro Gabrielli in December. 1S09.”
^ i
According to “The Candid Friend. ' an I
interesting book to be published in Lon- ,
don this month is called “The Guardian '
of Marie Antoinette,” by Lillian C.
Smythe. The work deals with the inner j
life of the Austrian and French courts. ,
and circumstances have permitted the '
author to gather together an amount of
authentic material that has not before
been submitted to the public. The
guardian of the French queen was the
Austrian ambassador to the court of Ver
sailles. the Comte de Mercy-Argenteau. j
He was intrusted with the care of Marie i
Antoinette when as a child of 14 she mar
ried the Dauphin and entered upon her j
life at the court of Louis XV. Miss |
Smvthe has had access to the papers left j
by the Comte de Mercy-Argenteau, now i
in the possession of the present repre
sentative of the family, the Comtesse de
Mercy-Argentefm. Princess de Montglyon,
Duchesse d’Avaroy. It was by the spe
cial permission of the comtesse that the
portraits reproduced in Miss Smythe’s
book were photographed. Among them is
an absolutely unknown portrait of Marie
Antoinette, and another of Louis XVI.
There are also portraits of the Empress
Marie 'Therese of Austria and of Joseph
IT. Mme. de Pompadour, Du Barry and
other celebrities of the famous courts.
Short Reviews of Latest
Books
“The Siege of the Lady Resolute” is an
excellent historical romance, but it fails
to measure fully up to the level of "The
Black Wolf’s Breed.” and
“THE SEIGE OF consequently it may
THE LADY prove somewhat disap-
RESOLUTE’’ pointing to the friends of
By Harris Mr. Dickson; but still
Dickson the reader who merely
wants something to en
tertain him will find much to approve
and little to condemn ij this latest out
put of the author’s clever genius. A very
charming heroine is Lady Resolute,’ who
won her title because of her determined
effort not to forgive the lover who failed
her at the critical moment. Nothing
could be prettier than the tender love
Beenes of the first part of the story, in
her boy lover's shoulder with the
MT» Permanently Cured. No fits or nervousness
HIS after first day’s use of Hr. Kline’s Great Nerve
Restorer. Send for FREE 8’J.OO trial bottle and
treatise. Db. R. H. Kline, Ltd., 931 Arch St., Phil
adelphia, Pa.
faith of
unquestioning
woman. She is a Huguenot and
her guile, lays her head upon
der with the unquestioning faith of a
trusting woman, he is a Huguenot and
he is a soldier in the army of his Cath
olic majesty. For the sake of sport,
boorish friends make it his task to shoot
condemned servants of his sweetheart's
family. He does his duty, despite her
pleadings, and she makes up her mind
never to forgive the cowardly act. which
he has repented in the doing. A second
love story complicates Itself with the
major one. The intrigues of the weak
Louis and his mentor. De Maintenon.
furnish exciting incidents which increase
in interest as the scene is removed to
the new world and the province of Lou
isiana, where Indians make raids and
white men fight duels. Lady Resolute is
always in at the critical moment and
finally, after a most dramatic series of
incidents, acknowledges her lover her
lord and master. (Harper Bros.. New
York.)
“Capt. Jenks. Hero." by Ernest Crosby,
is something of a romantic satire upon
the military history of the United States
since tlie outbreak of the
Spanish-American war
Tlie author, who is a
son of the late Dr. How
ard Crosby, is well known
through his anti-impe
rialistic and socialistic
i the author of a book
of Whitmanesque verso, “Plain Talk in
Psalm and Parable,” which has been
praised liy Tolstoi, Kropotkin. Zangwill
and others. The origin of the present
book is thus described:
In January. 1901, Mr. Crosby lectured at
Tremont Temple, Boston, on tlie “Ab
surdities of Militarism.” He closed tlie
address by expressing the hope that Mark
Twain some other humorist would
write up the ridiculous features of mili
tary life. Two gentlemen who were
present, Ervin-g Winslow and Dr. Lewis
Jones, came up separately at the close
trusting I flight than in any of his earlier novels.
The crimson of love, as
THE CRIMSON well as the crimson of
WING,” By war, colors the pages-
“CAPTAIN
JENKS’ HERO,’
By
Earnest
Crosby.
writint
He
Hobart c.
Chatfleld-
Taylor.
if the meetings and urged tlie lecturer . |t 7 h fhe SC p" rislan" aTtrlss.Phas
to write such a book himself. Mr. Crosby
accepted the suggestion, and in six weeks
finished the novel.
While Mr. Crosby’s purpose is entirely
sincere and commendable, the execution
of the book is what might bo expected
from the overhaste with which it was
written. Tlie theme might have been
treated more effectively with less exag- | of Marcello—she was his faith, his prom-
geration. Thus he makes his hero cime | ise.” but he sees love’s high nobility in
back from the war with broken health j the sweet graciousness
and end bis life in a lunatic asylum
Aphrodite and Mars play
ing alternate parts. The
scene of action is at first
at Ems. The hero is
Count Von Leun-Walram, strange combi
nation of artist, feudal knight and Puri
tan. He was born in Germany. His fath
er was a relative of the Duke of Nassaw
and his mother was an American. His
mother's life had taught him the ideality
of love and because of a promise to her
"he had gone through life a fanatic to
his own heart but a man of the world
to his comrades.” We meet him first
in the questionable company of a pretty
French actress. Marguerite, who in time
develops a unique type of character for
one of her profession. Marguerite al
ready has a lover, and a jealous one, in
Paul Darblay. but she is irresistibly
drawn to Louis, the more because lie
confides to her a belief that a man should
be judged by the same moral standard
as a woman and that some day he will
find the woman for whom he has been
patiently waiting.
He finds this young lady In his cousin,
Maroelle, whom he has not seen since
childhood. She is the daughter of a re
tired French officer whose home
is in Alsace. The war between
Prussia and France is threaten
ing. Louis has no love of war,
hut circumstances compel him to
be a soldier. Again wo have the repeat
ed story of lovers in war time forced to
take different sides. In tlie confusion of
circumstances that follow Ludwig’s
troops ride to an Alsatian farmhouse
where Mareelle is visiting. She quickly
gives the alarm, not knowing that her
lover is one of the number. To save bis
life she contrives his escape. Then,
“womanlike," as many would say. she
is alarmed lest what she has done should
prove serious to her country and she
warns General Douay of (he enemy in
the vicinity. Ludwig rides away repeat
ing to himself again and again, “There
is a love which is deeper than love of
country.”
Marguer-
beoome a
hospital nurse. Ludwig is seriously
wounded and on coming to consciousness
finds himself in a hospital attended by
Marguerite. The strangest part of the
book is found In the closing chapters.
The love of the wounded man for the
woman who has nursed him back to life
is told with singular pathos and effect.
Not that Ludwig l ad failed in thought:
of the woman
who has sacrificed all for love and ox-
pects no return. This dual phase of love
playing with lead soldiers. There ■wasi . mystery he cannot understand. It
surely plenty of room for cutting sar- ; .j. ,' in f a j r to tlie author to give the final
casm without such extravagance. (Funk J SO [ ut j on . Mr. Chatfield-Taylor has evi-
& Wagnalls, New York.) j dently studied carefully the details of the
With the “Crimson Wing” Hobart C. j Fra neo-Prussian war. (Herbert S. Stone
Chatfield-Tnvlor has taken a broader I &. Co., Chicago.)
Thomas E, Watson’s
Bonaparte”
“Napoleon
This Latest Work From the
Author Is the
Thomas E. Watson lias scored another
distinct literary hit!
Since the appearance of his latest pro
duction which deals with the meteoric
career of the Man of Destiny both the
press and the public have caught the
Napoleonic fever to such an extent that
the star of tlie Corsican Ss more than
likely to remain in the ascendant on this
side of the water for some time to
come.
When Mr. Watson published his “Story
of France” some two years ago he aston
ished the world of readers by his audaci
ty in undertaking to thresh over the straw
of French history, but when they began
to read his work they were simply car
ried away with enthusiasm, less, per
haps on account of the racy and tip-to-
dat • style of the writer—whic-h was it
self an innovation upon the conventional
style of the historical composition—than
because of the freshness of the material
which the book contained, and they could
not help vaguely wondering how il was
that an untraveled populist lawyer in
the backwoods of north Georgia could
possibly compass such an extraordinary
achievement in the domain of literature.
However, if Mr. Watson, -in writing his
“Story of France," was successful in
overcoming the seemingly Impossible lie
lias been still more successful in writing
his “Napoleon Bonaparte.” We will, all
of us, perhaps, agree that if there was
any subject in the whole range of human
history which we thought to be thread-
bar il was the subject of Napoleon Bona
parte. Hundreds of writers with varying
degrees of success have been inspired to
write upon the Man of Destiny, and the
libraries of the world are today crowded
with books bearing upon the life of this
wonderful military genius who subdued
the whole continent of Europe only to
fall at last before the prowess of the
Iron Duke at Waterloo. Considering the
number of such volumes and considering,
too, the fact that Lord Rosebery has just
written an exhaustive study of Napoleon
Bonaparte from the British standpoint
it is little short of marvelous that Mr,
Watson should have succeeded so remark
ably well with his ^book and we con
gratulate him ;%ost cordially upon his
success which is certainly all the more
pronounced under the circumstances.
Mr. Watson reviews the career of Napo
leon from first to last, bringing to light
many obscure phases of his character,
and many hitherto overlooked incidents of
his life; and whether portraying his as
soldier or emperor or prisoner the effect
upon the reader is always the same a;d
the interest of the work never lags.
Concerning the youthful habits of Na
poleon when he first began to equip him
self for military life, Mr. Watson says:
Plutarch’s Lives and Caesar's Com
mentaries he had already mastered as a
child; Rousseau had opened a new world
ot mens to him .n P.uls; lie now con
tinued his historical studies by reading
Leiouoius, Snaoo. Kiouorus
Anything relating to India, China,
Arabia, had a peculiar charm for him.
Next he learned all lie could of Germany
and England. French history he studied
minutely, striving to exhaust informa
tion on the subject. In his researches
he was not content merely with ordinary
historical data; fit* sought to understand
the secret meaning of events, and the
origin of institutions. He studied legis
lation, statistics, the history of tlie
church, especially the relation of the
church to the state.
Likewise he read the masterpieces of
French literature and the critical judg
ments which had been passed upon them.
Novels he did not disdain, and for poetry
of the heroic cast he had a great fond
ness.
Ha read, also, the works of Voltaire,
Necker, Flangieri and Adam Smitn. AVith
Napoleon, to read was to study. He made
copious notes, and these notes prove that
he bent every faculty of his mind to the
book in hand. He analyzed, commented,
weighed statements in the balance of Ills
own judgments—in short, doing anything
necessary to the complete Tnastery of his
subject. A paper on which he jotted
down tit that time ideas of the relations
between church and state appear to
show that he had reached the conclusions
lie afterwards embodied in the concordat.
Rousseau he studied again, but the book
that se ms to have taken his fancy more
than any othPr was the Abbe Ravnal’s
famous "History of the Institutions and
Commerce of the Europeans in the Two
Indies.” This book was a miscellany of
essays and extracts treating of super
stition, tyranny, etc., and predicting that
a revtBution was at hand in Franca if
abuses were not reformed.
How was it that Napoleon, with his
meager salary, could command so many
costly books? A recent biographer patly
states that he “subscribed to a public li
brary.” This may be true, but Napoleon
himself explained to an audience of kings
Pen of the Brilliant Georgia
Talk of the Bay
| and princes at Erfurth. in 1808, that he
was indebted to the kindness of one
| Marcus Aurelius, a rich bookseller, “a
most obliging man who placed bis books
at my service.”
The personal appearance of the voting
lieutenant was not imposing. He was
short, painfully thin and awkward. His
legs were so much too small for his,
boots that he looked ridiculous,—at least
(.* one young lady, who nicked-named
him “Puss in Boots.” He wore immense
“tiog's ears.” which fell to his shoulders,
and this style of wearing his hair gave
I is dark Italian face a rather sinister
lc ok. impressing a lady acquaintance
with the thought that he would not be
the kind of man that one world like to
meet near a wood at night. Generally he
was silent, wrapped in his own thoughts,
hut when he spoke his ideas were stick
ing and his expressions energetic. He
rather affected the laconic, oracular style,
and his attitude was somewhat that of i
man posing for effect. In familiar social
intercourse he was different. Ilis smib*
became winning, his voice soft and ten
der and his magnetism irresistible. lie
li ved to joke others and play little pranks
with them, hue he could not relish a joke
at his own expense, nor did lie encourage
familiarity. He had none of the brag,
bluster or roughness of the soldier about
biin. but in a qui *t wav he was imperious,
se’f-confident. self-sufficient. Si little did
his tii pel ranee then, tr at any other time,
conform to the popular ideal of the sol Tier
that one old grenadier of tlie Bourbon
armies, on having Napoleon pointed out
to him after the Italian campaign, could
not believe such a man could possibly be
a great warrior. “That a general!” said
the veteran with contempt; “why, when
he walks he does not even step out \vi.h
the right foot first!”
Extremely egotistic he was. and so re
mained to his last hour. He had no rever
ence, looked for facts in all directions,
had almost unerring judgment and be
lieved himself superior to his fellow-stu
dents. to his teachers and to his brother
officers.
When Napoleon fiist became acquainted
with court life he was exceedingly ill
at ease and failed to attract the favor
of women. But Josephine proved -to be an
exception to the rule of her sex and she
was not only fascinated by Napoleon, but
in turn fascinated him. Says Mr. Wat
son:
Shy, ill at ease, he was not much no
ticed and not much liked hv the ladies
of the directorial court, with one excep
tion—Josephine. Either because of the al
leged return of the sword and the good
impression then made, or because of her
natural tact and kindness of heart. Mme.
Beauharnais paid the uncouth soldier
those little attentions which attract, and
those skillful compliments which flatter,
and almost before he was aware of it
Napoleon was fascinated Here was a
woman to take a man off his feet, to
■inflame him with passion. She was no
longer young, but she was in the glorious
Indian summer of her charms. Her per
fect form 'was trained in movements of
grace. Her musical voice knew its own
melody, and made the most of it. Her
large, dark eyes, with long lashes, were
soft and dreamy. Her month was sweet
and sensuous. Her chestnut hair was
elegantly disordered; her shoulders and
bust hid behind no covering, and of her
little feet and ankles just enough was
seen to please the eye and stimulate the
imagination.
As to her costume and her general toi
let it was all that studied art anil cul
tivated taste could do for generous na
ture.
Mme. Tallien was more beautiful and
more queenly than Josephine, many
others excelled her in wit, accomplish
ments and mere good looks; but it may
be doubted whether any lady of that
court or other courts ever excelled the
gentle Jostvlme in the grace, the tact
the charm, which unites in the make-up
of a fascinating society woman.
Add to this that she was sensual, ele
gantly voluptuous, finished in the sub
tle mysteries of coquetry, fully alive to
the power which the physically tempting
woman exerts over the passions of men,
and it can be better understood how this
languishing but artful w’idow of 33 in
toxicated Napoleon Bonaparte, the raw-
provincial of 2
! That he was madly infatuated there
! can be no doubt. He loved her, and he
I never whollv ceased to love her Never
. before, never afterwards, did he meet
I a woman who inspired him with a feel-
i ing at all like that he felt for her. If
j tie did not know at that time what she
| had been he knew after the marriage
I what she continued to he. and he made
* a desperate effort to break the spell. He
could not completely do so. She might
; betray his confidence, laugh at his love-
i letters, neglect his appeals, squander
■ his money, tell his secrets, tell him all
sorts of falsehoods, underrate his va'ue
misconceive hi--, character, and befoul"
him with shameless sin: but against lmr
repentance and childlike prayers for
pardon, the iron of his nature beeame
as wax. Before those quivering lips
before those tear-filled eyes, before that
tender, sweet voice, all broken with grief
he could rarely stand.
“J will divorce her!” he said fiercely
to his brothers, when they put before
him proofs of her guilt, after the Egyp
tian campaign. But through the locked
door came the sobs of the stricken wife,
came her paintive pleadings. "Mon ami!”
she called softly, called hour after hour,
piteously knocking at the door. It was
too much; the cold resolution melted:
the soldier was once more the lover, and
the door flew open. When the brothers
came next dav to talk further about
the divorce, they found little Josephine,
happy as a bird, sitting on Napoleon’s
knee, and nestling in his a
“Listen. Bourrienne!" exclaimed Napo
leon, joyously, on his return to Paris
from Mar-hen. "Listen to the shouts
of the people! It is sweet to my ears,
this praise of the French—as sweet as
(he voice of Josephine!"
Fv'-in when cold policy demanded the
divorce, it was he who wept the most.
“Josephine! ray noble Josephine! The
few moments of happiness I have ever
enjoyed I owe to you!”
And in the closing scene at St. Helena
it was the same.
The dying man thought no more of
the Austrian woman. Even in his delir
ium. the wandering memory recalled
and the fast freezing lips named “Jo
sephine!”
Mr. Watson gives this portrayal of the
scene which was witnessed at the coro
nation of Napoleon as emperor:
Brilliant as a dream was the coronation
in the great cathedral of Nortre Dame.
Paris never witnessed a civic and mili
tary display more splendid. The church,
the state, princes, foreign and native,
grandees, old and new, blazed forth in
the utmost that wealth and pride and
vanity could display. In a coach, heavy
with gold, Napoleon and Josephine rode,
amid soldiers, to the church, where the
pope had long waited their coming, and
where the great Corsican had been con
ducted through the proper forms, had
prayed, had sworn, had been oiled and
blessed, he proudly took the crown out
id the pope's hands, crowned himself
and then crowned the kneeling Joseph
ine (December, 1804). His mother was not
there; she was in Rome with the revolted
Luoien; but when the artist David paint
ed the picture of the coronation Napo
leon, with ids never-failing eye of ef
fect. had Madame Letitia put in. Just
as he wished for his mother on this the
groat day of his life, he did not forget
his father.
“Joseph. what would father have
said!"
One who had lifted himself from a
cottage to the white house in ttiese
United States drew all hearts to himself,
when, after having taken the oath of
office, he turned to his old mother and
kissed her. Not far distant from the
same creditable feeling was Napoleon's
regret for his father.
Mother Letitia could not be persuaded
to leave Rome and the insurgent Lucien
but the old nurse journeyed from Cor
sica. to see her nursling crowned. Na
poleon hugged and kissed the old woman,
lavished every attention upon her and
kept her in Paris a couple of months.
AY hen she returned to Ajaccio she was
laden with gifts.
Nor could Brienne bo overlooked in the
sunny days of triumph and of happiness.
The emperor must return to the school
grounds of his boyhood, view the old
familiar semios, talk of old times with
such former acquaintances as might still
be there. Behold him, then, soon after
Iiis coronation, arriving at the chateau
of Brienne. at 6 in the evening, wh-’ra
Madame de Brienne and Madame Lo
ttlnii; await him at the foot ot tne steps.
He spends the night at the chateau,
whose kind mistress had so often made
him welcome in thf* forlorn days of his
youth. He walks about the place, point
ing out every spot familiar to him when
at school. He visits the field of La
RothiTfre, a favorite strolling place of
his youth, lie is so affable, so animated,
so interested, that his movements seem
to say, “See where 1 started from and j
where l have arrived.”
"■And what has become of Mother Mar- ;
guerite. th .* peasant woman, who used to ,
sell milk, eggs and bread to the boys?” |
Mother Marguerite is still living, still to |
be found at the thatched cottage in the |
woods. By all means, the emperor must
quit the tin* circle at the chateau and
visit the old peasant in the lint. A man
so gifted with eye to effect could never
miss a point like that. So the horse is
saddled and brought; the emperor
mounts and rides: and at the cottage iu
the woods his majesty alights and enters.
“Good-day, Mother Marguerite!” The
aged eyes are dim. anil they gleam with
no recognition. She knows that the em
peror is' in the neighborhood: she expects
to go to the chateau to see him: she will
carry him a basket of eggs to remind
him of old tim s. Suddenly his majesty
puts himself where the dim eyes can see
him better, draws nearer to her. and
mimicking in voice and manner his
schoolboy tone, and rubbing his hands as
he used to do: “Come, Mother Mar
guerite! Some milk and fresh eggs; we
are dving of "hunger.’’
A little more jogging of the memory,
and the ancient dame, knowing now who
it is, falls at the emperor’s feet. He lifts
her and still insists oil the eggs and milk.
She serves, he eats, both of them happy,
and both of them full of reminiscences
of tin* vears long ago. Though he left
her a purs ■ of gold, Mother Marguerite
was probably prouder of the fact that he
came to her house anil ate.
One more visit the great emperor will
pay Brienne, the year of the last visit
li ing 1S14. Foreign invaders will be en
camped ail round about the play
grounds of his boyhood. Prussian Blu-
cher will be taking his ease and his sup
per iu the chateau. Prussian Blucher
will give him battle at Brienne and will |
rout him at La Rothiere. And to his i
companions, the falling emperor will !
again point out plan *s of interest in the i
old school ground, but not In the happy j
vein of 1S04. , • j
Coming on down to the prisoner s last j
days at St. Helena. Mr. Watson draws '
this pathetic picture:
Landed at St. Helena, he was given
shabby quarters in a renova'ted, repaired i
and amplified cow house. The walls of |
it were thin, the rooms small; the rain
and the wind pierced it. the heat made an |
oven of it. the rats infested it; no shade
trees cast grateful shade about it; no
fruits or flowers relieved its dismal re- |
pulsiveness. To make sure that Napoleon I
coulil not escape off the isolated, prectpi- I
tons rock of St. Helena, a considerable
fleet of cruisers girdle the Island, and
nearly 3.000 troops watched the prisoner.
The eye could not range in any direction
without resting upon a sentinel. During
the day time the emperor had continual
reminders of his fallen condition, and
when night came on tlie line of sentinels
closed in. and no one could pass.
The prisoner and his friends were al
lowed to have books to read; and if Sir
Hudson Lowe in browsing among the
European newspapers and magazines
happened upon some peculiarly bitter
weed of abuse of Napoleon, that particu
lar paper or magazine was sure to be
sent up to Longwood. Napoleon's resi
dence. If books, papers or magazines ar
rived in which the captive was tenderly
handled, such articles became contraband
upon one plea or another, and rarely
reached the lonely man they would have
cheered. The prisoner and his compan
ions were given enough to eat. generally,
and a sufficiency of fuel and water.
The question of title gavt» more trouble
at St. Helena than almost any other. It
was vexatious, it was met at every turn,
and it could never be settled. It angered
Napoleon excessively when Sir Hudson
I,owe persistently continued to shut off
from hint all letters, books or other ar
ticles which came addressed to “The
Emperor.” Great Britain was resolved
that he should not be known by the title
he had worn so long, which a vote of the
French people had confirmed, which the
pope hpd consecrated so far as a pope
can consecrate, which every king on the
continent had recognized, and which Eng
land herself had recognized at the con
gress of Chatillon, if not under the min
istry of Charles Fox. "Genera! Bona
parte” was the highest title that Great
Britain could now allow; and her prisoner
resisted her as stubbornly on this point
as General George Washington resisted
lien right to send him letters addressed
“Mr. George AA’ashington.”
“Let us compromise,” urged Napoleon:
“pall me General Duroc or Colonel Mui-
rnn.” “No!" said Great Britain; “we
will call you General Bonaparte, for that
hurts you.” Tn simple words, such was
England's attitude throughout his cap
tivity to this lonely, broken, most wretch
ed man. A book which an Englishman.
Byron's friend, JTohhousp. wrote on the
Hundred Days, and which would have
given the exile immense pleasure, was
not delivered because in sending U the
author had written on the fly leaf. “To
the Kmneror Napoleon.”
And when the prisoner died and his
friends wished to inscribe on his coffin
lid the word. “Napoleon." Great Britain,
speaking through Sir Hudson Lowe, re
fused the privilege. Napoleon was the im
perial name; it could not be permitted.
The white face of the dead man. the fold
ed hands, the frozen sleen of death, made
no apoeal to his captor which con'd soften
this inexorable enm ! ty. Hounding him
to his verv grave !**ey demanded th"*
“Bonarfhrte” be added to “Napoleon” to
prove to all the world that England, un
generous to the living captive who had
come to her for generosity, had been im
placable even unto death', and after death.
So it was that the coffin of this great
est of men went unmarked to the tomb,
Save in the anonymous burial there was
no escape from the malignancy which
had made h1s last years one long period
of torture.
Mr. AA'atson possesses in an extraordi
nary degree the imaginative faculty for
reconstructing the past so as ta make it
real to present-day readers and the suc
cess of hts “Napoleon Bonaparte” is due
largely to his brilliant powers in this re
spect. The MacmiWian Company, of New
York, are the publishers of the "work, and
the Columbian Book Company, of Atlanta,
are the agents for the state of Georgia.
Handsomely bound in attractive covers
the work Is uniform in appearance with
“The Story of France,” and is complete
in one volume.
The Sale of Ruskin’s Books
An interveew with Mr. George Alien,
Ruskin’s friend and publisher, in Great
Thoughts, throws some interesting light
on the circulation of Ruskin’s books.
Asked as to whether he considered that
the public consideration of Ruskin’s
works was as great as ever, Mr. Allen
replied:
It is even more so. The modern clergy
man buys him frequently, whilst his pre
decessor in the sixties looked unon him
with a doubtful eye. To this day,
“I'nto This Last,” which is by no men ’s
a honk for the man in the street, sells
to the extent of several thousand copies
a year. Of “Sesame and Lilies." I have
sold one hundred thousand copies.
Mr. Allen once said to Ruskin, _^‘Are
you not pleased that your books are sell
ing so well?” “Ah!” he sadly repled, “peo
ple think a great deal more i>f my books
than 1 do myself.”
Mr. Allen told an incident which he
thinks will “horrify staunch Ruskinians,
but which will throw a new light on the
man.”
AA'hen Ruskin was giving lessons at
Great Ormond street, he received a let
ter frr m a friend saying: “I am going
to bring Tom Sayers to see you tonight”
— it was just after Sayers had beaten
Heenan in their celebrated fight. Ruskin
said to me: “Allen, bring some port to the
college tonight, as Sa ver is coming there
and we must drink hjs health.” I did so.
Instead, however, or Stayers coming his
photo came. Ruskin was awfully disap
pointed.
A tittle of the wine was drunk, and
the remainder Mr. Allen took, by Mr.
Ruskin’s orders, to Mrs. Booth, Turner's
old housekeeper, who was then lying ill
at Chelsea.
In the early sixties Mr. All*n and Mr.
Ruskin lived in Switzerland for a couple
of years.
Among other incidents of our Swiss life
(says Mr. Allen) I remember well seeing
him on Easter Sunday, 1863, when we were
high up in the mountains, kneel down and
Pray with a peasant girl at a wayside
cross. He had a wonderful eye for the
beauties of nature. I recollect him once
breaking out into a rhapsody of delight
on coming unexpectedly across a sloping
field of star gentians. He wanted to pur
chase the top of the Brezon Mountain, a
favorite of Turner, and he said he would
build a chalet on it and have Rossetti
out to decorate it. 1 was one day talking
to him about the (in those days inacces
sible) peaks like the Aiguille Dru, the
Aiguille Vorte, and the Aiguille dti Geant.
and he added. “Thank God, they will
nev=*r get up those.”
Ruskin loved to feel that a peak had
not been sullied by human footsteps.
JZ?
The Voice and the Guitar
Lightly it floats through the shadows of
night
Over the marsh, where the fiddlers are
“peeping,”
Going it’s way by the ling-aloes white,
AVaking the (silence the day has been
keeping.
“Open thy window, Querido, for me.
Through the blue wa'lrs my shallop
is plying.
Open thy window. I’m coming to thee.
Soul of my soul, with a love deify
ing!”
Softly the notes of each silver string
plaints.
Vibrant and clear is the lover's low
singing.
Delicate lilies as pure as the saint's.
Swoon in the ecstaev passion is bring
ing.
“Open thy lattice. Querido, and give,
Sweets of thy lips to me, others de
nying;
Open thy arms, that my spirit may
live .
Ever In bliss that i’s swift and un
dying!”
Fondly the lover’s voice melts on the air;
Tenderly, sweet, is the anxious heart
thrilling:
Down by the bend of the brown bayou,
where
Blue titles are bent he can hear this
low trilling:
“Open my window is, love, and I lean
Out on the moonlight, that brightly
is flying
Into the black shadows sweeping be
tween
Me and thee, Sweet; I am waiting
and sighing!”
—LOLLIE BELLE WYLIE.
Flower and Star
Sweet flower! despite thy low estate.
Is not nigh honor due thee?
AA’hy shouldst theu wish to emulate
A'on star’s supremer beauty?
I.ike vond Q r star thou, too. dovt fill
The place which God assigns thee;
Obedient to His sovereign will.
The selfsame purpose binds thee.
The star, whose splendor shines above.
Is Might, in its completeness.
Thou, lowly flower, art type of Love
In its divinest sweetness.
Bright, fair, hiit oh so far away
And cold, yon star is blinking.
Fut thee upon my heart I lay,
Thy grateful fragrance drinking.
Dost thou not teach, oh, lovely one,
AA'isdom a.s true and tender
As any taught by star or sun
In all their glorious splendor?
Nay. rather doth thine artless speech
To simple minds seem dearer,
Through humblest things may AVisdom
reach
To God, and bring Him nearer.
Sweet flower! content thee with thy
place,
Nor dream of stars above thee.
Thou, too, canst turn to heaven thy face.
Assured that God doth lot-e thee.
—CHARLES W. HL'BNER.
Atlanta, Ga»
Ghe literary QutlooK
Rose
Maid of the sunny June,
With heart and lips atune
AVith summer’s song;
Face like a fragran-l bloom,
Arid never a trace of gloom
The whole day long;
With soul as chaste as snow.
And voice like music low.
And eyes divine;
Thou hast ensnared my heart
AA r ith dainty, artless art
And grace benign.
Now let. thy soft embrace
Each sordid thought efface
From heart and brain;
And hushed in rapture's spell,
In love's domain we’ll dwell
And dream, we 'twain.
—LOUISE THREETE HODGES.
ITHIN the next few days?
there will take place in
London a public sale of
some very valuable manu
scripts, three rather
lengthy collections of Wil
liam Morris’ handwriting
and one volume containing
copies of sixty-seven let
ters written by Lord Nel
son, many of which have
never been published. 1
Morris manuscripts com
prise “A Dream of John
Ball,” making ninety-five pages houn in
Kelnscott vellum; “The Frienc s p
Amis and Amile,” nineteen pages
foolscap, and the original autograp i
manuscripts of five lectures on art suo-
jects, covering 137 pages. Morns manu
scripts are very scarce, an occasional au
tograph letter appears, but such an ex
tended lot of Morrisiana has never been
offered before, and. doubtless, the prices
will be high.
Those who are interested in autobio
graphical detail will enjoy reading the
following from Arthur Henry. Mr. Henry
is the author of “A Princess of Arcad.v,
published last year, and "An Island
Cabin,” which will be issued this spring.
“I was born.” he writes, “in 1867 in
Peccatoniea. Ills. M.v father was one of
the early circuit riders. He was killed
in the war and my mother was thrown
on her own resources. She was of a very
poetical temperament, wrote poems for
“The Ladies’ Repository”—now Scrib
ner's Magazine—was an evangelist and
organized the AVoraan's Christian Tem
perance Ui ion. She was a very remarK-
able woman.
“I was very delicate 3s a child and it
was doubtful whether T should ever grow
up. So I never went to school; in fact, I
wouldn’t go. Ard my mother, thinking
I would die from year to year, did not
press the matter. Every summer she
sent me out on a farm where there were
dogs. I can’t remember ever learning to
read. Think I picked it up unconsciously
by sitting beside m.v sister in the evening
and listening while she read aloud, in
terrupted by occasional questions from
me. Knew nothing of arithmetic until
T was 20 years old. when I beeame inter
ested in it as a study and took it up. [
learned everything that way.
“AA'hen T was 14 mother bought a home
in Evanston, Ills. I was sent to the
preparatory school then. T had rend
philosophy, history and everything I could
lay my hands on. but systematic study
1 could not understand, and T left school
for good after three weeks. So I roamed
around Evanston for two years, and
then my sister’s health became poor and
my mother started us for the Rocky
mountains. AA’e got as far as Nebraska,
where mother discovered she had no
more money. Then I felt T must go to
work and went to a family friend to herd
cattle. I used to go out with them every
morning and climb a high plateau, where
T could watch the herd. I did this for
about eight months, going out w|U a
volume of Pope or Emerson every morn
ing. Then I wrote my first poem, know
ing nothing of prosolgy, hut feeling that
verse, must be euphonious.
“T went to Central City after that,
where I split kindling wood for board.
Then I got a. job in Faulkner's book store,
but found the life irksome, and went to
Chicago, where I got a job in S. A.
Kean's bank. He was a friend of moth
er's. He had never read a book outside
of the Bible Then I began to write. My
first story, ‘A Legend of Pastine.’ was
printed by Slason Thompson, who gave
me $40 for It. Then I wrote ‘A Ghost’s
AA ooing.’ This I read to Kean, who^vas
very angry and tried to make me promise
to tend to business and leave literature
alone, and he would take me into the
business. But 1 got a horse with the
money 1 made by these stories and rode
from Chicago to New York, wandering
around the country, dependent on the
kindness of farmers for food and lodging,
until I was 20 years old. I began to take
an interest in politics then and made a
prohibition speech in Rochester. My
horse grew lame and useless and I wan
dered through the Berkshires on foot
and then drifted back to Chicago, where
T went into the newspaper business.
Knowing nothing of life. I would go out
and look around, come in and write about
what I had seen, but could never find it
in the paper. Tlie editor didn’t know
what to make of me. but Elgene Field,
who was on the staff, kept me there
and was interested in me. One day Stone
said to me: ‘AA’hat are jcu trying to do,
anyway? Are you trying to imitate
AA'ashington Irving? This country has
had only one AArashington Irving and that
is enough. Now, you get out 011 the street
and look around you and see what's there 1
and come in and write it.’ I went out. !
came back, wrote a column and a half i
about what happened on the corner, and j
from that time all my stuff was publish- j
ed. AA'rote a novel. ’Nicholas Blood.’ that !
I am ashamed of now, and which was i
never published. Then 1 became city I
editor of The Toledo Blade, and there I i
met Miss Maude Wood, a young news- j
paper woman, whom T married. AVe lived ;
in Toledo for three years. T also became '
interested in an electric road from Miami I
to Toledo, and started in the green house I
business at one time. But I’ve had j
enough of business. Am trying to get |
some understanding of life and not injure !
anybody, if possible. New York has a!- j
ways been a favorite place for me. 1
have since had a novel published, \\
Princess of Arcadv.’ ”
♦
Robert Barr has made ngland his home
Robert Barr has made England his home
that his last book. “The AMctors.” is only
now being issued there, six months after
its publication in this country, comes as
a slight surprise unless one has read the
book and realized the entirely American
nature of it. “The A’ictors’’ is the story
of an American political boss, perhaps
based on Richard Croker as a central
figure, and with the excitement of a New
A'ork city election on last fall, it was not
strange that the American publishers
of the book rushed the volume out then.
AA'hether the newspapers tried every one
with their political news or whether the
interest in the campaign against Tam
many was so great as to keep readers
from taking up a story of political intrigue
or not is hard to say, but certain it is
that the book did not sell as well as the
merit of the story or the fame of the
author would have led one to expect.
However, a book is not published until
the people know about it, a fact which
was amusingly demonstrated the other
day when a New York paper reviewed
“The House AA r ith the Green Shutters”
and called it “the book of the week.”
The story was published early last fall
by a New York firm, but the local paper
had only discovered it.
That book, by the way. has *had a
curious history. It is said that in the
first three months of its life scarcely 309
copies were sold. The head of the firm
which had it returned from abroad dur- j
ing the winter and when he discovered I
the condition of poor sales, exclaimed: !
“AA’hat’s the matter? The book is sell
ing by the thousand in England. AA'e must
get out and tell people what a great story
this is." and then he~*«n over the words
of praise which the leading critics had
given it in London. j
It happened that a week or so later one
of the large weeklies printed an article
calling the book one of the two best of
1901. Up to that time the dealers had
been referring to the volume as “The I
House With the Green Shudders,” but
when the, public began to inquire for it
they looked at the book more hopefully.
Twice already since the boom started t
there has not been a copy on sale, and j
now the editions are going ahead by th s
five thousands.
-*•
For those who are at all interested j„
political situations of th. various power,?,
more particularly of England, a recently
Issued collection of parodies on “A lie- j.,
Wonderland" will prove or interest. Th»y
are called “Clara in Bunderland.” by
Caroline Lewis. Clara is evidently M r .
Arthur Balfour, dressed a.s a little girl
and attended by various nurses, who us.
sist her in making an “Irish stew.’ One
day Clara had a fall down a hole ; n a
putting gretn, where she had -to: * o g-t
her golf ball.
“I do wish,” she cried out, “that J huij
Geraldine (Gerald Balfour) wit r .
Then I cculd hide in some cabinet or
ether where I should never h • ■tie*’),
and, perhaps, when the Aberatnmais hud
eaten her up, they wouldn't be in : y f 0P
me.” When Clara reached the .ttom
she found herself safe and sou .n a
seat in a large hall full of green ha.-j
(the house of commons). A “whit, r >-
bit" sat in front and shouted. q<. r ;
Order!” AA'hen they started to !-■■;,«! a
bill Clara tried to get out. but < r
door was locked; the best she ■
was to get a glimpse of “a beautifa g .
don,’’ carpeted with flowers of in n
Intellect and filled with hundr*): ,? ,
py children, of whom three f-.-mi a
quorum, and of whom some s* n, ! :
more than half awake (the f
lords) The Dalmeny eat is in :
sonation of Lord Rosebery. : A. rd.,rn
and Reknighted deal with S01 > f r j t
and the war office and Dragon ■->
turtle refer to China and Turk
♦
A life of Ellen Terry has just bee
fished in London, and the stage r n ij s .
cences of Clara Morris are issie ■ th-rs
with a very pleasing introduce
Mary Anderson. Ex-Empress Eug* ,
said to be at work upon her ante ,gr, t .
phy, but not for publication, ibi
pose, according to the report, is to piny*
the manuscript in some public h
tion, where it may be consulted
one who desires to refer to it. T ■ jjfl>
of Queen Alexandra will be issued : irt-
ly. The author is Mrs. Sarah Toole;
wrote "The Personal Life of Queen Vic
toria.”
One of the leading literary ehron rs
of England, who is a sturdy defend f
Kipling's point of view in “The is
ers,” is very joyful over the discovery n
“Dooley's Opinions” of the same :-t
of a standpoint in spite of the fact it
Dooley has himself severely critic
Kipling's “wurrukin’ pomes.” It
his dissertation on athletics that Air.
Dooley has committed himself.
“AA’hy is England losin’ her supre
macy. Hinnissy? Because Englishn, a
get down to their jobs at ilivin oV: .. k
figurin’ a goluf scoor on their cuffs -in’
lave at a quarter to twelve on a hi.
- ■ • Ye can’t keep yer eye on the h I
an’ on th’ money at th’ same time. Y
got to be wan thing or another in this
worruld. I niver knew a good card pi a -
or a great sportsman that cud do muc-u
of anr.ythir.g else. . . . Did ye • ' r
hear iv Grant wearin’ any medals Fr a
hundred yard dash? Did annywan l\
tell ye iv th’ number iv base hits m; id
be Abraham Lincoln? Is there anny rk
ord iv George Washin’ton doin’ a turn r
a thrapeze or Thomas Jefferson gettin’ t
money f’r throwin’ th’ hammer? In me
younger days ’twas not considered ru -
spictable f’r to be an athlete. An athi*
was always a man that was not sthr<
enough f’r wurruk. Fractions druv h ,
fr'm school an’ th’ vagrancy laws druv
him to l^aseball."
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