text:
Poetical Attempts/Subscribers

 * SIR Gilbert Affleck
 * Mrs. Abbott
 * — Acton
 * Miss C. Acton
 * Mr. Addison
 * Mrs. Alcock
 * Mr. J. Aldrich
 * Mrs. J. Aldrich, Jun.
 * Miss Aldrich
 * — E. Aldrich
 * Mrs. Alkin
 * R. Andrews, Esq.
 * Mrs. Andrews
 * — C. Andrews
 * — T. Andrews
 * Miss Andrews
 * — Andrews
 * Mrs. Anthony
 * — Arbourn
 * — J. Arbourn
 * Miss Ashmall
 * Mrs. Athow
 * Mr. Austin
 * Marchioness of Buckinghamshire, 8 copies
 * Lord Boston
 * Lady Boston
 * Mrs. Bacon
 * — Baggot
 * — Bainbridge
 * Rev. F. H. Barnwell, 2 copies
 * Mr. Bartlett
 * Mrs. Batt
 * — J. Bellamy
 * — Bence
 * C. Berners, jun. Esq.
 * Rev. H. D. Berners
 * Miss Betenson

Page iv

 * Rev. G. Betts
 * Mrs. Bickley
 * — Bicknell
 * Miss Bird
 * Mr. J. Black
 * Miss Bleaden
 * Rev. C. Blofeld
 * Mrs. Blofeld
 * Rev. — Boggis
 * Mrs. Boston
 * W. Boyfield, Esq.
 * Mrs. Bridge
 * G. Bridges, Esq.
 * Mrs. Bridges
 * — Bridges
 * — Brisac
 * Capt. Broke
 * Mrs. P. Broke
 * Mr. H. G. Broke
 * E. Brume, Esq.
 * Miss Brooke
 * Mr. Brown
 * Mrs. Bruce
 * Miss Buchanan
 * — M. A. Buchanan
 * Mr. Bucke
 * — C. Bucke
 * Mrs. S. Burch
 * Miss Burch
 * Miss R. Burcham
 * Mrs. Burrough
 * Capt. Bussche, 2 cop.
 * Marquis of Carmarthen
 * Countess of Cork
 * Lady Eliz. Chaplin, 9 copies
 * — Campbell, Esq.
 * Miss Campbell
 * — E. Campbell
 * — Canning
 * Mrs. Cape
 * — J. Cape
 * Miss Cape
 * — M. Cape
 * Rev. G. Capper
 * Mrs. Carter
 * Miss Carter
 * Mr. J. Carthew
 * Rev. J. Cartwright, 2 copies
 * Mrs. Cautley
 * Miss Chamberlayne
 * — C. Chamberlayne
 * — Chandler Page v

 * Miss Chaplin, 2 copies
 * Mrs. Clark
 * — Clark
 * — Clarke
 * Mr. G. R. Clarke
 * — Clerke, Esq.
 * Mrs. Clerke
 * — Clerke
 * — Close
 * J. Cobbold, Esq.
 * J. Cobbold, jun. Esq.
 * Mr. Savage Cobbold
 * — T. Cobbold
 * — T. Cobbold
 * — W. Cobbold
 * — G. Cobbold
 * — F. Cobbold
 * — R. K. Cobbold
 * Mrs. J. Cobbold
 * — J. Cobbold, jun.
 * Miss H. B. Cobbold
 * — A. Cobbold
 * — H. Cobbold
 * — S. Cobbold
 * Mr. Cock
 * — G. Coe
 * Mrs. Colchester
 * Rev. W. Colchester
 * Mrs. Cole
 * — Collins
 * C. S. Collinson, Esq.
 * Miss Colville
 * Mrs. Constable
 * — Cook
 * —— Cook
 * — Cornwell
 * — Cotton, 4 copies
 * Miss Cotton, 4 copies
 * Mr. H. Cottrell
 * Mrs. C. Cox
 * — A. Cox
 * — Coyte
 * — R. Crawley
 * — Crickett
 * J. Cummings, Esq.
 * Rev. W. Daking
 * Mrs. Daking
 * Mr. J. Daking
 * Rev. C. Dalton
 * Miss Dalton
 * Mr. J. Davies
 * Miss Davies
 * Mrs. Daw
 * Miss Daw
 * — Deak Page vi

 * Miss Dealy
 * Mrs. Demierre, 4 cop.
 * Mr. Dingle
 * Miss E. Dobson
 * Lieut. Dobson
 * Rev. J. Dove
 * Mrs. Duff
 * Rev G. Eddison
 * Mileson Edgar, Esq.
 * Mrs. Edgar
 * — K. Edgar
 * Rev. C. Edge
 * Captain Edge
 * Mrs. Edge
 * R. Edmonds, Esq.
 * Mrs. Edmonds
 * Mr. J. Edwards
 * Rev. J. Ellicott, 2 cop.
 * Mrs. Ellicott, 2 copies
 * Mr. E. Ellicott
 * Capt. H. M. Elmore
 * Rev. J. Estwick
 * Capt. Evans, 4 copies
 * Mr. H. Evans, 4 copies
 * Miss Evans
 * Lady C. Finch
 * Miss A. Fielding
 * Rev. — Fisher
 * — J. Fisher
 * Miss Folkard
 * Rev, J. Ford, 6 copies
 * — Edward Forster
 * Mrs. Forster
 * — Forsyth
 * Miss Foskett
 * Capt. Fothergill
 * Mr. Fox
 * Miss Franks
 * — E. Freeman
 * Mr. T. Fulcher, jun.
 * Mr. Gedge
 * Mrs. Gee
 * Mr. W. Gibbons, jun.
 * Miss M. Goate
 * Mrs. Goddard
 * — Goforth
 * T. S. Gooch, Esq.
 * Mrs. Gooch
 * — J. Gosnall
 * Miss Gosnall
 * Mr. M. Gordon
 * Mrs. Graham
 * Rev. A. Grant, 4 cop . Page vii

 * Mrs. Grant, 2 copies
 * Miss M. Grant
 * T. Green, Esq.
 * Mr. W. Green
 * Miss Grey
 * — Grigby
 * Rev. Dr. Grimwood
 * Capt. Grove, 3 copies
 * Miss Gurdon
 * A Gentleman
 * Countess of Harborough
 * Lady Hammond
 * Sir R. Harland
 * Lady Harland
 * Sir G. Heathcote
 * Lady Heathcote
 * Miss E. Haggitt
 * Dr. W. Hamilton, 2 c.
 * Mrs. Hamilton
 * J. Hanson, Esq. 2 cop.
 * Mrs. Hanson
 * Miss Hanson
 * — Harmer
 * Rev. H. Harris
 * Capt. Harris
 * Mr. W. Harris, 2 cop.
 * Mrs. Hasell
 * J. Heathcote, Esq.
 * Mrs. Hepburn
 * Major Heron
 * Mrs. Heron
 * Dr. Hickes
 * Mrs. Hickes
 * — T. Hickes
 * — N. Hickes
 * Mr. Hodgetts
 * Miss Holder
 * — A Holder
 * Rev. J. Holmes
 * Mrs. Holmes
 * Miss Holmes
 * — Hooker
 * H. Hope, Esq.
 * Mrs. Hopkins
 * Miss Hort
 * T. Hotchkin, Esq.
 * Mrs. Hotchkin
 * R. Hoy, Esq
 * Rev. J. Hurd
 * — J. Hurlock
 * Lady Innes
 * Hon. Mr. Irby
 * Hon. Mrs. Irby Page viii

 * — Miss Irby
 * — Miss A. Irby
 * — Col. Irby
 * Miss Jenkin
 * — Johnson
 * — M. A. Johnson
 * Mrs. Josselyn
 * — J. Josselyn
 * — F. Josselyn
 * Miss Josselyn
 * — M. Josselyn
 * Mrs. Keen
 * — Kennion
 * — Kerridge
 * Miss Kerridge
 * Mrs. Kilderbee
 * — S. Kilderbee
 * — S. King
 * R. Kingsbury, Esq.
 * Mrs. Kinningale
 * Rev. W. Kirby
 * Mrs. Kirby
 * Miss Knight
 * Dutchess of Leeds, 2 c.
 * Miss Lathbury
 * Mr. W. Law
 * Miss Law
 * Mrs. J. Lawton
 * — S. Lawton
 * Mr. E. Lawrence
 * Miss Layley
 * Mrs. Leake
 * Mr. Leatherdale
 * Mr. W. Leggatt
 * Rev. W. Leigh
 * Mrs. Leigh
 * Miss E. Lever
 * — Levis
 * Mrs. Liversedge
 * Capt. Lloyd
 * Miss Lloyd
 * — H. Lloyd
 * Mrs. Longe
 * Miss Longley
 * Mr. Lord
 * Capt. Lynch
 * Mrs. Lynch
 * Mrs. J. Lynn
 * Miss Lynn
 * A Lady
 * Ditto
 * Hon. Mr. Munson
 * Mrs. Maclean Page ix

 * Mr. Malkin
 * J. Manners, Esq.
 * J. Marratt, Esq. 2 cop.
 * Mrs. Marratt, 2 copies
 * Miss Marriott
 * Mrs. Martin
 * — Mathews
 * —— Mathews
 * Miss Mathews
 * Mrs. Maundrell
 * Miss Metcalfe, 2 cop.
 * — M. Metcalfe, 2 c.
 * — J. Metcalfe, 2 c.
 * P. Metcalfe, Esq.
 * P. Metcalfe, jun. Esq.
 * Mrs. Methold
 * Rev. T. Methold
 * Mrs. T. Methold
 * P. Methuen, Esq.
 * Mrs. Methuen
 * — P. Methuen
 * Mr. T. Methuen
 * Miss Methuen
 * — A. Methuen
 * W. Middleton, Esq.
 * Mrs. Middleton, 2 cop.
 * Miss Mill
 * Miss Morris
 * Mr. J. Mure
 * Miss Murray
 * Miss Neale
 * Mrs. G. Newcome, 4 copies
 * Miss Newcome
 * Rev. T. Newman
 * Mrs. Newman
 * Miss Newman
 * G. Nicholls, Esq.
 * Mrs. Nicholls
 * Rev. N. Nicholls
 * Mr. W. Notcutt
 * Mrs. S. Notcutt
 * Miss H. Notcutt
 * — M. Notcutt
 * — Ann Notcutt, 2 copies
 * — A. Notcutt
 * — L. Notcutt
 * — S. W. Notcutt
 * Lady C. Osborne
 * Lady Prescott
 * Miss Prescott
 * Mrs. Parish Page x

 * Col. Parker
 * Mrs. Parkinson
 * Mr. G. H. Parslow
 * Miss F. Parsons
 * — H. Parsons
 * Mrs. Patten
 * Mr. Pearson
 * Mrs. Platt
 * — Plestow
 * Miss Pocock
 * Rev. — Poley
 * J. H. Powell, Esq.
 * Mrs Powell, 2 copies
 * Rev. — Price
 * Miss La Primeaudyes
 * Mr. Prust
 * Miss Prust
 * — Pytches
 * — C. Pytches
 * Mr. T. Pytches
 * — T. P—, jun.
 * Lady Rowley, 4 copies
 * Capt. Ray
 * — P. Ray
 * Mrs. Raymond
 * Mr. J. Raw, 6 copies
 * Mrs. E. Reed
 * Admiral Reeve
 * Mrs. J. Reeve
 * — S. Reeve
 * Mr. J. Reynolds
 * Miss Rodwell
 * Mr. G. Roebuck, 2 c.
 * Miss Roebuck
 * — M. Roebuck
 * Mrs. G. Rolph
 * Miss A. Rolph, 2 cop.
 * — S. Rolph
 * Mrs. Rose
 * Miss Rose
 * Rev. J. Round
 * Mr. C. Round
 * — G. Round
 * Mrs. Rowley
 * Miss L. Russell
 * Mr. J. Rust
 * Literary Society Ipswich, 2 copies
 * Rev. — Sadler
 * Mrs. D. Salisbury
 * — Salmon
 * Mr. E. Salmon
 * Mrs. Sandby
 * Capt. Santer Page xi

 * Miss Scawell
 * Rev. C. L. Scott
 * Mrs. Scott
 * — Sewell
 * Mr. Shave
 * Mrs. Shave
 * Mrs. J. Shepherd
 * Mr. G. Sherman
 * Rev. H. Shield
 * Mrs. Shrapnell
 * Rev. M. Simpson
 * — W. Sims
 * Mrs. Singleton, 2 cop.
 * J. B. Symth, Esq. 8 c.
 * Mrs. Smith
 * — J. E. Smith
 * Miss Smith
 * — Sparrow
 * Mrs. Starkie
 * Capt. Stewart
 * Mrs. Stisted
 * — C. Stisted
 * — Strutt
 * J. Stubbin, Esq.
 * Mr. R. Stubbin
 * Mrs. Stubbin
 * Capt. Studd
 * Mrs. Studd
 * Mrs. Sympson
 * Marchioness Townsend
 * Lady M. Townsend
 * — H. Townsend
 * Rev. Dr. Taite
 * — Talbot
 * Mrs. Talbot
 * — Tatnall
 * Miss Tatnall
 * T. W. Taylor, Esq.
 * Mrs. Taylor
 * — Taylor
 * Rev. T. C. Taylor
 * Miss Taylor
 * — M. A. Taylor
 * Rev. — Tennant
 * Mr. Terman
 * S. Tessier, Esq. 4 cop.
 * C. Tessier, Esq.
 * J. M. Theobald, Esq. 3 copies
 * Mrs. Theobald
 * — Thompson
 * — R. Thompson
 * — Trail
 * — Trotman Page xii

 * Mr. Troughton
 * Mrs. Trower
 * — G. Trower
 * Mr. Trower
 * Mrs. H. Trower
 * Miss Trower
 * — M. Trower
 * Mrs. Turner, 4 copies
 * Miss Turner, 4 copies
 * W. Turner, Esq. 2 cop.
 * M. Turner, Esq. 2 cop.
 * Capt. C. Turner, 2 c.
 * W. Turner, Esq.
 * J. Turner, Esq.
 * Miss Turner
 * Mrs. Tweed
 * Miss Tyler
 * Mrs. J. Vaux, 2 copies
 * Miss Venn
 * W. Vachell, Esq.
 * Earl of Winchelsia
 * Hon. G. Watson
 * Miss Wall
 * — S. Waller
 * J. Wallington, Esq. 8 copies
 * Miss Wallington, 2 c.
 * T. Walmesley, Esq.
 * Miss Walmesley
 * — F. Walmesley
 * Rev. — Ward
 * Mr. H. Warner
 * Mrs. Waters
 * Miss Waters
 * — A. Wathen
 * Rev. J. Weelding
 * Mrs. Whinfield
 * T. White, Esq, 2 cop.
 * Rev. Dr. Whitmore
 * — J. Whitmore, 4 copies
 * — T. Wilkinson
 * J. Willes, Esq
 * Mrs. Willes
 * Rev. M. Willes
 * Mrs. M. Willes
 * — Willett
 * Miss Willett
 * — J. Willett
 * R. Williams, Esq.
 * Mrs. R. Williams
 * — Williams, 2 cop.
 * Dr. Williams
 * Mrs. W. H. Williams Page xiii

 * Mrs. M. Williams
 * Mr. C. F. Williams
 * — Wimper
 * Mrs. A. Wimper
 * Major Wollaston
 * Capt. Wood
 * Mrs. Woodward
 * Lieut. Woodward
 * Mrs. Wordsworth
 * — Wright
 * Miss Wright
 * Mr. A. Wright

title: Poetical Attempts/Subscribers


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/63

Rh noticed for the first time how warm the air was.

"He struck me as being a very beautiful and graceful creature, but indescribably frail. His flushed face reminded me of the more beautiful kind of consumptive—that hectic beauty of which we used to hear so much. At the sight of him I suddenly regained confidence. I took my hands from the machine.

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Johannesburg


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Johannisberg


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/John

title: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/John


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/65

Rh ears, shook it again. He came a step forward, hesitated, and then touched my hand. Then I felt other soft little tentacles upon my back and shoulders. They wanted to make sure I was real. There was nothing in this at all alarming. Indeed, there was something in these pretty little people that inspired confidence—a graceful gentleness, a certain childlike ease. And besides, they looked so frail that I could fancy myself flinging the whole dozen of them about like ninepins. But I made a sudden motion to warn them when I saw their little pink hands feeling at the Time Machine. Happily then, when it was not too late, I thought of a danger I had hitherto forgotten, and reaching over the bars of the machine I unscrewed the little levers that would set it in motion, and put these in my pocket. Then I turned again to see what I could do in the way of communication.

"And then, looking more nearly


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/66

54 into their features, I saw some further peculiarities in their Dresden china type of prettiness. Their hair, which was uniformly curly, came to a sharp end at the neck and cheek; there was not the faintest suggestion of it on the face, and their ears were singularly minute. The mouths were small, with bright red, rather thin lips, and the little chins ran to a point. The eyes were large and mild; and—this may seem egotism on my part—I fancied even then that there was a certain lack of the interest I might have expected in them.

"As they made no effort to communicate with me, but simply stood round me smiling and speaking in soft cooing notes to each other, I began the conversation. I pointed to the Time Machine and to myself. Then, hesitating for a moment how to express Time, I pointed to the sun. At once a quaintly pretty little figure in checkered purple and white, followed my gesture, and then


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/67

Rh me by imitating the sound of thunder.

"For the moment I was staggered, though the import of his gesture was plain enough. The question had come into my mind abruptly: Were these creatures fools? You may hardly understand how it took me. You see I had always anticipated that the people of the year Eight Hundred Thousand odd would be incredibly in front of us in knowledge, art, everything. Then one of them suddenly asked me a question that showed him to be on the intellectual level of one of our five-year-old children—asked me, in fact, if I had come from the sun in a thunderstorm! It let loose the judgment I had suspended upon their clothes, their frail, light limbs, and fragile features. A flow of disappointment rushed across my mind. For a moment I felt that I had built the Time Machine in vain.

"I nodded, pointed to the sun,


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/68

56 and gave them such a vivid rendering of a thunderclap as startled them. They all withdrew a pace or so and bowed. Then came one laughing toward me, carrying a chain of beautiful flowers, altogether new to me, and put it about my neck. The idea was received with melodious applause; and presently they were all running to and fro for flowers, and laughingly flinging them upon me until I was almost smothered with blossom. You who have never seen the like can scarcely imagine what delicate and wonderful flowers countless years of culture had created. Then someone suggested that their plaything should be exhibited in the nearest building, and so I was led past the sphinx of white marble, which had seemed to watch me all the while with a smile at my astonishment, toward a vast gray edifice of fretted stone. As I went with them the memory of my confident anticipations of a profoundly


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/69

Rh grave and intellectual posterity came, with irresistible merriment, to my mind.

"The building had a large entry and was altogether of colossal dimensions. I was naturally most occupied with the growing crowd of little people, and with the big open portals that yawned before me shadowy and mysterious. My general impression of the world I saw over their heads was of a tangled waste of beautiful bushes and flowers, a long neglected and yet weedless garden. I saw a number of tall spikes of strange white flowers, measuring a foot perhaps across the spread of the waxen petals. They grew scattered, as if wild, among the variegated shrubs, but, as I say, I did not examine them closely at this time. The Time Machine was left deserted on the turf among the rhododendrons.

"The arch of the doorway was richly carved, but naturally I did not observe the carving very


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/70

58, though I fancied I saw suggestions of old Phœnician decorations as I passed through, and it struck me that they were very badly broken and weather-worn. Several more brightly clad people met me in the doorway, and so we entered, I, dressed in dingy nineteenth century garments, looking grotesque enough, garlanded with flowers, and surrounded by an eddying mass of bright, soft-colored robes and shining white limbs, in a melodious whirl of laughter and laughing speech.

"The big doorway opened into a proportionately great hall hung with brown. The roof was in shadow, and the windows, partially glazed with colored glass, and partially unglazed, admitted a tempered light. The floor was made up of huge blocks of some very hard white metal, not plates nor slabs—blocks, and it was so much worn, as I judged by the going to and fro of past generations, as to be deeply channeled along the


text:
Page:Nicaraguan Antiquities (1886).djvu/144

Top Centro American Map (1886)


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/71

Rh more frequented ways. Transverse to the length were innumerable tables made of slabs of polished stone, raised, perhaps, a foot from the floor, and upon these were heaps of fruits. Some I recognized as a kind of hypertrophied raspberry and orange, but for the most part they were strange.

"Between the tables were scattered a great number of cushions. Upon these my conductors seated themselves, signing for me to do likewise. With a pretty absence of ceremony they began to eat the fruit with their hands, flinging peel, and stalks, and so forth, into the round openings in the sides of the tables. I was not loth to follow their example, for I felt thirsty and hungry. As I did so I surveyed the hall at my leisure.

"And perhaps the thing that struck me most was its dilapidated look. The stained-glass windows, which displayed only a geometrical pattern, were broken in many place and the curtains that hung across the


text:
Page:Nicaraguan Antiquities (1886).djvu/145

Bottom Centro American Map (1886)


text:
Page:Nicaraguan Antiquities (1886).djvu/147

Zapatera Map


text: United States Statutes at Large/Volume 1/3rd Congress/1st Session/Chapter 48


text: Talk:1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Oregon


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, John (1781-1837)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, John (1805-1890)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, John (1825-1896)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, John William


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, Joshua


text:
Talk:Poetical Attempts

Copyright
The prefatory remarks of the project's transcript contains the following note, "This text may not be not be reproduced as a commercial or non-profit product, in print or from an information server."

This applies the editorial notes, a small amount of which are found throughout the text. Most note textual and page elements not preserved in the transcript, a questionable claim of copyright, nevertheless, they have been omitted. Inclusion of material found in the form [editorial comment] is not recommended. The original text is unquestionably public domain. cygnis insignis 18:02, 11 October 2010 (UTC)

Alternative source
Please also see:

title: Talk:Poetical Attempts


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, Nathaniel (1578-1652)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, Nathaniel Bagshaw


text:
Navy Dentist Stays Busy at Guantanamo Bay Detainee Camp

=Navy Dentist Stays Busy at Guantanamo Bay Detainee Camp=

By Kathleen T. Rhem

American Forces Press Service

NAVAL STATION GUANTANAMO BAY, Cuba, Feb. 18, 2005 -- When Navy Lt. Jennifer Tharp started her current job, her greatest fear was that she'd get bitten. But so far, that fear has proved unfounded.

Tharp is the only dentist assigned to Joint Task Force Guantanamo here. She's responsible for the dental health of the 2,200 JTF personnel as well as the roughly 545 detainees held here.

An active-duty dentist deployed from Naval Air Station Pensacola, Fla., Tharp admits she was nervous about treating detainees. "My biggest fear was that I would get bitten," she said. In reality, she now says she's never even felt threatened while treating a detainee.

"I don't feel unsafe," she said, noting that guards are always present and detainees are shackled while she treats them. Though no detainee has ever become violent during dental treatment, Tharp said she still takes precautions, such as using bite blocks within detainees' mouths. But, she added, she takes similar precautions with other patients as well.

Tharp said the dental health of the detainees varies widely. Some clearly had never seen a dentist before being treated here. Others have had high-quality Western-style dental work.

Working at Guantanamo Bay has brought some interesting experiences as a dentist. "It's very interesting, because a lot of (the detainees) have never had dental work," Tharp said.

Tharp said she also finds it interesting that many in the detainee population "have a major aversion" to having teeth removed, even when it's clearly the best course of action medically. "So even if a tooth is completely nonrestorable and is at risk of infection and the best treatment of choice is to remove the tooth, they will not allow you to remove it," she said.

When she's asked detainees why they feel this way, many have given her religious-based answers. "'God gave you this tooth, so why would you want to take it out of your body,' is one statement I've received from a detainee," she said.

The lieutenant said she's seen things here that she'd likely never see in a typical career as an American dentist, from congenital defects to "amounts of calculus and tartar that I didn't know existed."

The job brings its challenges, as well, one of the most significant being the communications barrier, Tharp said. A translator is always available when needed, but complex medical discussions are sometimes difficult to translate. "You have to explain it first to the translator and hope that they're getting it across the way that you want it to get across," she said.

The sheer workload of providing a high standard of dental care single-handedly to such a large population is also a challenge. Until recently, detainees were provided dental care whenever they had a complaint. Tharp is now working to provide routine dental care on a recurrent basis to each detainee.

"A lot of what they've done up until this time has all been on a sick-call basis, where the detainee requests dental care and then we respond, which is a fairly inefficient system," she said.

To begin with, each detainee needs to be brought up to a dental baseline. Tharp explained that this means she's trying to provide dental care that detainees require to bring them to a certain level of dental health. Then it will be easier to continue on a regular schedule of cleanings and check-ups.

Because she's been working to "baseline" the detainees, a large portion of Tharp's time is dedicated to detainee care. But, she's quick to add, "That in no way means my troopers are being left in the dust." JTF servicemembers always receive an appointment when they require care, she said.

Tharp said the detainees receive excellent care on par with or above typical standards of care American civilians generally receive. JTF Commander Army Brig. Gen. Jay Hood agrees. "Dental care (for detainees) has been first-rate," he said.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, Patience


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, Robert Plumer


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, Seth


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, Thomas (1652-1708)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, Thomas (1809-1858)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, William (1534-1604?)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, William (1769-1823)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, William (1766-1826)


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, William (1787-1849)


text: Collier's New Encyclopedia (1921)/Oregon


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, William George


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ward, William James


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Warde, Henry


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Warde, James Prescott


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Warde, Luke


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Warden, William


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Warder, Joseph


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wardlaw, Elizabeth


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wardlaw, Henry


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wardlaw, Ralph


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wardlaw, Walter


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wardle, Gwyllym Lloyd


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Wardrop, James


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ware, Hugh


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Ware, Isaac


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Fredegond

title: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Fredegond


text:
Page:Messages and Letters of William Henry Harrison Vol. 1.djvu/21

Rh


text:
Page:The Celtic Review volume 5.djvu/98

 And again:—

In Matheson’s Hymns the aspirated and the unaspirated forms are met with sometimes within a single stanza. Where the prepositions are reduced to ‘a,’ North and South do not differ; as Chaidh e a Lunainn, or even Chaidh e Lunainn, he went to—do—London; Am beagan a fhuair thu a ghliocas, the little you have got of—de—wisdom.

Variations in sound of certain aspirated consonants in different forms of the same word occur in Northern Gaelic. In Skye mh sounds v in cnàimh, bone, and u or w in the plural cnàmhan; bh is v in the imperatives eubh, call; gabh, take; falbh, go; leubh, read; sàbh, saw; but is silent in the subjunctive eubhadh, the Future Indicatives gabhaidh, falbhaidh, and the infinitives leubhadh, sàbhadh, and dh is sounded in biadh, feed, but is silent in biadhadh, feeding.

In West Ross mh is v in sgiamh, squeal, and u or w in sgiamhail, squealing; bh is v in sgriòbh, write, sàbh, a saw, leubh, eubh, but u (w) in sgrìobhadh, writing, in the verb ‘sàbhaig,’ saw, and is silent in leubhadh, reading, eubhachd, calling; and dh is sounded dh in luadh, full, but h in luadhadh, fulling.

Conversely in other cases the consonant has the more degraded pronunciation where it is final. In Easter Ross gh in truagh, wretched, has the sound of u, but in truaghan, a wretch, it has that of v. So in Sutherland bh is u in eubh, but v in eubhachd, and mh which is u in cnàimh and is silent in làimh, hand, is sounded v in the plurals cnàmhan and làmhan.

Eclipsis

Traces of eclipsis are found more or less in most dialects. As a prominent feature it is met with in Skye and Lewis, and also, it is said, in the west of Sutherlandshire. Tìr nam beann, nan gleann, ’s nan gaisgeach, land of the bens, the glens, and the heroes, usually pronounced Tìr nam beann nang gleann ’s nang gaisgeach, is in Skye, and presumably in

title: Page:The Celtic Review volume 5.djvu/98


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Frederic, Harold


text:
Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 17).djvu/506

t is a generally accepted fact that, like a poet, a cricketer is born, not made. The art of batting, or of bowling, generally runs in the family: "like father, like son." If this should not be the case, the schoolboy gives promise of the man. The lad who scores freely, or performs the hat trick with the ball, passes on to his county eleven. Sometimes he comes off, as they remark in cricket parlance; more frequently, however, he fails to do himself justice, and is, perhaps, relegated to the second eleven before he is permitted to again pit his strength against his compeers.

There are exceptions to every rule, however. Mr. W. G. Grace never looked back after he had once secured county honours. Mr. A. C. MacLaren may fairly say he has done likewise. He played a great innings for his county when he was first included in the team, and beyond a doubt Lancashire is weakened by more than I care to say when the Old Harrovian is missing from her ranks.

Mr. MacLaren, although he has visited the Antipodes twice, is yet under thirty. To be exact, he was born on December 1st, 1871, so that at the present time he is but twenty-eight years of age. As a schoolboy he displayed remarkable aptitude for the game, but did not come before the public prominently until the Eton v. Harrow match of 1887. Even at that early date Mr. MacLaren displayed all the finish of an experienced batsman: possibly he possessed even more polish then than now, but he lacked generalship and hitting power. Be that as it may, he was the top scorer for his side in either innings with 55 and 67, but despite these individual efforts, Harrow lost by five wickets.

In 1888, however, his school defeated Eton by 156 runs. Curiously enough, Mr. MacLaren had very little to do with this result, for he made but 0 (that dreaded duck!) and 4, while his ill-fortune pursued him a twelve-month later, Harrow gaining an easy victory, while he scored but 17 and 16.

Still, every cloud has its silver lining, and this form was far too bad to be true. In 1890 Mr. MacLaren captained the Harrow eleven against Eton. He was the first to go to the wickets, but he was also the seventh to leave. He hit the bowling to all parts of the field: the spectators of this ultra fashionable fixture were never provided with better value for their time spent round the ring; the young batsman had made 76 before he returned to the pavilion.

This performance naturally placed the seal of excellence upon his play, and he was asked to represent Lancashire in her county fixtures. Mr. MacLaren came, saw, and conquered, for against Sussex at Brighton, on August 14th he hit up what was practically a faultless 108. How many players are there who have effected a similar performance, coming into county cricket from a public school style of play? I can recollect no other.

Following Mr. Hornby and Mr. Crosfield, Mr. MacLaren was elected captain of the Lancashire


text:
Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/169

 CHAPTER 15

on a diagnostician to prescribe a remedy, and it would be quackery for him to do so when he has misgivings as to its curative value. It may be that the struggle between Society and the State is inevitable; it may be in the nature of things for the struggle to continue until mutual destruction clears the ground for the emergence of a new Society, to which a new political establishment attaches itself to effect a new doom. Perhaps the malignancy is inherent in man. It would be silly to suggest that four-footed males, driven by the reproductive urge, ought to know better than engage in deathly battles over possession of females, and it is possible that the historical struggle between the social organization and the political organization is likewise meant to be.

Support for this conclusion is found in the ground we have covered.

Beginning with man—where else can we begin?—we find him impelled by an inner urge to improve his circumstances and widen his horizon; a self-generating capacity for wanting drives him from one gratification to another. Each gratification represents an expenditure of labor, which, because it produces a feeling of weariness, he finds distasteful. His inclination is to by-pass labor as much as possible, but without 145

title: Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/169


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/72

60 lower end were thick with dust. And it caught my eye that the corner of the marble table near me was fractured. Nevertheless, the general effect was extremely rich and picturesque. There were, perhaps, a couple of hundred people dining in the hall, and most of them, seated as near to me as they could come, were watching me with interest, their little eyes shining over the fruit they were eating. All were clad in the same soft, and yet strong, silky material.

"Fruit, by the bye, was all their diet. These people of the remote future were strict vegetarians, and while I was with them, in spite of some carnal cravings, I had to be frugivorous also. Indeed, I found afterward that horses, cattle, sheep, dogs, had followed the ichthyosaurus into extinction. But the fruits were very delightful; one, in particular, that seemed to be in season all the time I was there,—a floury thing in a three-sided husk,—was especially


text:
Page:Triangles of life, and other stories.djvu/237

 Rh Jericho, and known for more than one act of kindness, else the host of that old inn wouldn't have trusted him so readily, as it is inferred he did. For: "And whatsoe'er thou spendest more, when I return I will repay thee."

And there was a certain Nazarene about whom we know so much and so little, and Whose teaching we preach so widely and practise so narrowly, Who was so touched by this little story about the man from Samaria that He told it wherever He could, to the multitude and in high places; saying: "Go thou and do likewise." And certain men have been doing likewise ever since.

For a certain man from anywhere, call him Biljim, journeying out to Hungerford, leaves a sick mate at the Half-way Pub. (A man need only be sick, or a stranger in distress, to be a "mate" in this case.) And Biljim gives the boss of the shanty a couple of quid, and says: "You stick to the poor ——, an' fix him up; an' if it's anything more, I'll pay yer when I come back after shearin'."

And so they pass on: the man from Samaria, with his patched and dusty gown, his sand-worn sandals, and his patient ass, journeying down to Jericho; and the man from anywhere, with his hack and packhorse "trav'lin'" out to Hungerford and beyond; with but two thousand years between them, and little else in the matter of climate or character.

It may be heroic for a drunkard to do a brave deed, and save lives, as drunkards often do. It is certainly picturesque, but there is such a thing as Dutch T.L.


text:
Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/170

 sacrificing his betterment. He brings to bear on this natural modus operandi a peculiarly human gift, the faculty of reason. (It is this faculty that suggests a possible solution of the Society-State conflict, which we will discuss later.) His reason tells him that the business of multiplying satisfactions is best pursued by cooperation with his fellow man. Thus arises Society and its techniques: specialization and exchange, capital accumulations, competition. Society is a labor-saving device, instinctively invented; it is not a contractual arrangement, any more than the family is, but like the family it germinates in the composition of man.

The market-place method yields more for less labor than individual self-sufficiency does, yet the price it always demands is labor. There is no getting away from that. Still, it is a price paid with reluctance, and out of this inner conflict between cost and desires comes the drama of organized man. The impossibility of getting something for nothing, the summum bonum, does not banish hope or intimidate the imagination, and in his effort to realize the dream, man frequently turns to predation: the transference of possession and enjoyment of satisfactions from producer to nonproducer. Since men work only to satisfy their desires, this transference induces a feeling of hurt, and in response to that feeling the producer sets up a protective mechanism. Under primitive conditions, he relies on his own powers of resistance to robbery, his personal strength plus such weapons as he has at his disposal. That is his Government. Since this protective occupation interferes with his primary business of producing satisfactions, and is frequently ineffective, he is quite willing to turn it over to a specialist when the size and opulence of Society call for such a service. Government provides the specialized social service of safeguarding the market place. 146

title: Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/170


text:
Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/171

 The distinctive feature of this service is that it enjoys a monopoly of coercion. That is the necessary condition for the conduct of the business; any division of authority would defeat the purpose for which Government is set up. Yet, the fact remains that Government is a human organization, consisting of men who are exactly like the men they serve. That is, they too seek to satisfy their desires with the minimum of exertion, and they too are insatiable in their appetites. In addition to the run-of-the-mill desires which possess all men, Government personnel acquire one peculiar to their occupation: the adulation showered on them because they alone exercise coercion. They are people apart.

The honorifics that stem from the exercise of power arouse a passion for power, particularly with men whose capacities would go quite unnoticed in the market place, and the temptation is strong to expand the area of power; the negative function of protection is too confining for men of ambition. The tendency then in the world of officialdom is to assume a capacity for positive functions, to invade the market place, to undertake to regulate, control, manage, and manipulate its techniques. In point of fact, it does nothing of the kind, since the techniques are self-operating, and all that political power can accomplish by its interventions is to control human behavior; it effects compliance by the threat of physical punishment. That, indeed, is the be-all and end-all of political power. Yet, such is the makeup of the human that he looks up to, and sometimes worships, the fellow human who dominates his will, and it is this acquired sense of superiority that is the principal profit of officialdom.

The transition from negative Government to positive State is marked by the use of political power for predatory purposes. In its pursuit of power, officialdom takes into 147

title: Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/171


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/73

Rh good, and I made it my staple. At first I was puzzled by all these strange fruits, and by the strange flowers I saw, but later I began to perceive their import.

"However, I am telling you of my fruit dinner in the distant future now. So soon as my appetite was a little checked, I determined to make a resolute attempt to learn the speech of these new men of mine. Clearly that was the next thing to do. The fruits seemed a convenient thing to begin upon, and holding one of these up I began a series of interrogative sounds and gestures. I had some considerable difficulty in conveying my meaning. At first my efforts met with a stare of surprise or inextinguishable laughter, but presently a fair-haired little creature seemed to grasp my intention and repeated a name. They had to chatter and explain their business at great length to each other, and my first attempts to make their exquisite little sounds


text:
Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/172

 the ineluctable something-for-nothing passion, and proceeds to win the support of segments of Society bent on feathering their nests without picking feathers. It is a quid pro quo arrangement, by which the power of compulsion is sublet to favored individuals or groups in return for their acquiescence to the acquisition of power. The State sells privilege, which is nothing but an economic advantage gained by some at the expense of others. In olden times, the privileged group were a land-owning class, who furnished military support for political power, or a mercantilist group, who contributed to the imperial coffers out of their politically generated monopoly profits; with the advent of popular suffrage, making political preferment dependent on wider favor, the business of bribery had to be extended, and so came the subsidization of farmers, tenants, the aged, users of electric power, and so on. Their vested interest in the State makes them amenable to its purposes.

It is this partnership in predation that characterizes the State. Without the support of privileged groups the State would collapse. Without the State the privileged groups would disappear. The contract is rooted in the law of parsimony.

The instrument that puts the State into a bargaining position with its favorites is taxation. In the beginning, when the simple community sets up Government, it is admitted that its operatives cannot be productive and therefore have to be supported by the maketmarket [sic] place. Services must be paid for. But the manner of paying for Government service poses a problem: taxes are compulsory charges, not voluntary payments, and their collection has to be entrusted to the very people who live by them; the compulsory power entrusted to them is used in the collection of their own wages. That this 148

title: Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/172


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/74

62 of the language caused an immense amount of genuine, if uncivil amusement. However, I felt like a schoolmaster amid children, and persisted, and presently I had a score of noun substantives at least, at my command; and then I got to demonstrative pronouns, and even the verb ’to eat.' But it was slow work, and the little people soon tired and wanted to get away from my interrogations, so I determined, rather of necessity, to let them give their lessons in little doses when they felt inclined. And very little doses I found they were before long, for I never met people more indolent or more easily fatigued.


text:
Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/173

 should be pursued with vigor is understandable. Yet, where political power is under the constant surveillance of Society, the urgency to increase taxes for the purpose of enlarging political power can be held in leash. But this restraint loses potency as Society grows in size and in complexity of interests; the preoccupation of its members with productive enterprise dims their interest in public affairs, which tend to become the private concern of officials. Centralization of political power, which is merely its release from the restraint of social sanctions, ensues, and tax levies grow apace. The political establishment—the court of Louis XIV or the equally nonproductive bureaucracy of the modern "welfare" State—thus acquires self-sufficiency; it has the wherewithal to meet its enforcement payroll and to invest in power-accumulating enterprises.

There is always good and sufficient reason for more and more taxes. Solomon's temple, the roads of Rome, the rearing of "infant industries," military preparedness, the regulation of morals, the improvement of the "general welfare"—all call for drafts on the market place, and the end-product of each draft is an increase in the power of the State. Some of the appropriations seep through to some members of Society, thus satisfying the something-for-nothing urge, at least temporarily, and so stimulate a disposition to tolerate the institution and to obliterate understanding of its predatory character. Until the State reaches its ultimate objective, absolutism, its answer to tax-grumbling is that the "other fellow" pays all the levies and that seems to satisfy.

Pushing on fast through the biography of political institutions, the practice of buying the support of privileged and subsidized groups sloughs off when the State becomes self-sufficient; that is, when the market place is completely under 149

title: Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/173


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Collier, Thomas


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von

GOETHE,, Johann Wolfgang , German poet, novelist, playwright, scientist and critic of life: b. Frankfort-on-the-Main, 28 Aug. 1749. From his father, a well-to-do lawyer who practised but little, he inherited methodical ways and a serious attitude toward life. His poetic gift came from his mother, a woman famous for her sprightly letters which have often been edited and translated. The boy Wolfgang grew up in an atmosphere of refinement, his mind duly wrought upon by books, pictures, music and his father's reminiscences of Italy. He never went to school but was taught at home, partly by his father. He early showed a talent for languages; read the usual Latin authors, picked up a good knowledge of French by attending a French theatre that had been started in Frankfort during the occupation of the city by French troops, and learned enough English so that he dared attempt verses in it. As a boy he was very fond of the Bible. His favorite amusement was the puppet-play. He began to make verses before he was 10 years old, soon acquired technical facility and presently came to regard himself as a predestined “thunderer.” At the age of 16 he entered the University of Leipzig to study law, such being his father's wish. The lectures bored him and he failed to find a single appetizing study. The result was a mood of disgust with book-learning: it seemed to him a matter of pretentious verbiage, a floating bog of ignorance, guesswork and prejudice, with no rock-bottom anywhere. Such was the mood from which his masterpiece ‘Faust’ germinated. His poetic efforts met with discouragement, so that he despaired of himself and burned what he had written. Then came a delirious love-affair with his landlady's daughter, whom he tormented with morbid jealousy. This experience revived his poetic ardor and he made a little play out of it — a one-act pastoral in alexandrine verse, wherein an all-too-jealous lover is duly punished for his perversity. This first play is only a trifle, but it is based on real experience. Henceforth “confession” was to be its author's line; do more “thundering” in ambitious projects like the ‘Belshazzar’ that he had been working at but the faithful rendering of the things, however humble, that actually concerned him. Out of this same love-affair — the girl's name was Anna Katherine Schönkopf — grew the collection called ‘Annette,’ consisting of short poems and prose tales which were discovered and published in 1885. They are in the conventional pastoral vein and contain no forewarning of a notable lyric gift Goethe remained at Leipzig nearly three years. While the university gave him nothing that he could assimilate he found satisfaction in Oeser's art-school, where he took lessons in drawing and etching and learned to admire the “noble simplicity” of Greek art. At this time he was often moody and morose and lived imprudently in a morbid resolve to punish his body for the sins of his mind. In the summer of 1768 be was prostrated by a grave internal hæmorrhage which was at first thought to portend consumption. This sent him home without his degree and doomed him for a year and a half to the life of an invalid recluse. At first his life seemed to be in danger. As he slowly grew better he spent his time reading, meditating and debating the way of salvation with a certain Fräulein von Klettenberg, a saintly pietist who was an intimate of the household. Under her influence religion came home to him as a highly personal matter. His was a normal case of conversion save that there was no conviction of sin, no agonizing over the safety of his soul. He remained cheerful but attended the prayer-meetings of the local pietistic circle, took part in their communion service and for a while used the language of the very devout. Later he drifted away from these associations, but his nature had received an indelible impression. In time men called him and he called himself a heathen, but he had been deeply touched by the mystic appeal of religion and remained to the end of his days deeply sensitive to all genuine manifestations of religious feeling. As his convalescence proceeded he took up the study of the occult, reading Paracelsus, Van Helmont, Welling and other writers on magic, alchemy, cabalism and all that sort of thing. He even set up an alchemist's laboratory and performed some experiments in search of the philosopher's stone. All this, too, was soon left behind, but not without lasting effects. He had got hold of the idea of natural magic (magia naturalis), something very different from the vulgar black art and described as the queen of the sciences and the perfect flowering of religion. It was not the art of calling up spirits to do the devil's work, but of getting into communion with planetary beings of a higher order and thus obtaining direct spiritual

illumination and divine power, like that of a god. This is the kind of magic that he was to utilize in ‘Faust.’ Before leaving home to continue his university career he published a small collection of songs which he likened to wild flowers. To-day they hardly make that impression, being a young critic's comment rather than a poet's cry. To this period also belongs, probably, a second play in alexandrines, the ‘Fellow-Culprits.’ It is a three-act comedy in which all the characters are morally tainted and finally unmask one another as poor miserable sinners. The piece is not very edifying, but in after years its author had a certain fondness for it as an acting play. In April 1770, Goethe went to Strassburg, then a French city. His plan was to take his degree in law and then to visit Paris for the perfection of his French. But it was not so fated. Circumstances brought it about that in the French atmosphere of Alsace his mind turned against things French, especially the French drama, and he began to feel pride in his German blood and to seek in the history and traditions of his own country the inspiration for the imaginative projects that were already haunting him. Among these were ‘Faust’ and ‘Götz von Berlichingen,’ After he had been at Strassburg half a year, studying more medicine than law, he made the acquaintance of Herder, who was destined to influence him considerably. Herder was about six years older than Goethe and in the first flush of a budding literary reputation. His temper was that of a radical reformer sharply at variance with the spirit of his age. His mind was teeming with the germinant ideas of a new era in literature, criticism, education and religion. He was an ardent admirer of the folksong and held that genuineness of feeling is the only criterion of good literature. He hated artificiality and imitation and loathed the Frenchified verse of the day. He held that the truly great poets such as Homer, Shakespeare and Ossian — he supposed Macpherson's Ossian to be a genuine old Celtic bard — were admirable mainly because they had expressed the life of their several epochs in its fullness and characteristic flavor. The grand criterion of merit was not correctness or good taste, not artistry of any particular kind, but sincerity and fullness of life. The more smell of the soil the better. In many a talk while he was detained in Strassburg by a tedious surgical operation Herder poured these ideas into the listening ear of Goethe, whose mind was all ready to receive them. The consequence was a new orientation. The young law-student conceived a boundless admiration for Homer, Shakespeare and Ossian, became a zealous collector of Alsatian folksongs and made a careful study of the Gothic minster at Strassburg. He felt himself strangely drawn to the then despised Gothic style which he erroneously believed to represent a national German art. In 1772 he published a short dithyrambic paper on the cathedral — a paper which counts as one of the first bugle-blasts of the coming romantic reaction in favor of the Middle Ages. In short, Goethe became — for a little while in his youth — the prey of a perfervid Germanism. And then there was bis brief summer romance with the country maid, Friederike Brion, who is so charmingly pictured in the tenth book of his autobiography. Under the spell of this passion

he began to indite the songs which usher in a new epoch in the history of German lyric poetry. The characteristic quality of this new lyricism is its power of suggestion. It captivates not so much by what it says as by the overtones of feeling and association that it awakens. It is very simple in form, without any verbal pyrotechnics, true to the elemental feelings of human nature, and based on the old haunting melodies of the folksong. In the summer of 1771 Goethe returned to Frankfort with the title of licentiate (not doctor) and took, up the practice of Holy Roman law. His thoughts were now busy with ‘Autobiography of Götz von Berlichingen,’ whom he idealized as a towering idealist and a “rude self-helper in times of anarchy.” He proceeded to turn some of the more stirring scenes of the old book into dialogue, thus presenting a life-history in a succession of dramatic pictures. Götz was in reality an outlaw, a typical robber-knight of the 16th century, who set himself up against the only forces which were just then making for public order. But Goethe invested him with the halo of a martyr to liberty. In writing he had no thought of the stage or of any rules of play-making. His main artistic purpose was to exhibit the form and pressure of an interesting past epoch. In thus following his instinct in defiance of all conventions he believed that he was Shakespearizing. With some revision the play was published anonymously in 1773 and met with great literary success. Its vigorous realistic prose, its variety of incident, its bluff and hearty life-likeness were very refreshing to a convention-ridden age. In 1774 appeared the ‘Sufferings of Young Werther,’ the most famous of all sentimental novels. The story is told in letters after the manner of Richardson and Rousseau. Werther is a super-sensitive, weak-willed youth, sadly lacking in stamina and self-control, who “suffers” from over-tension of feeling. He is something of an artist, but does not draw because of his overwhelming emotion. A passionate lover of nature, of children, of humble folk and of the simple life, he finds the higher social strata everywhere hard-hearted, selfish and conventional. He falls in love with a betrothed girl whom he can neither win nor renounce. Life becomes meaningless and hopeless. At last he shoots himself. This story grew out of experiences of Goethe at Wetzlar, where he lived for a short time in 1772 for the purpose of studying the practice of the imperial Chamber of Justice. Based to some extent on actual letters and seeming to be a veritable transcript of life, ‘Werther’ took Germany by storm and the fame of it soon spread all over Europe. Essentially it is a morbid book and it loosed a flood of mawkish sentimentalism. Its author himself had suffered from the melancholia of adolescence and had even nursed thoughts of suicide. In writing ‘Werther’ he expelled the poison from his own system but at the same time created a gospel of ‘weltschmerz’ and sentimental pessimism for his contemporaries. People wept copiously over the badness of a world that had done to death such a noble, delicate soul as Werther. Withal the splendid literary art of the book, its hectic tension of feeling, and the unprecedented power with which familiar emotional values are exploited, raised it at once to the position of an immortal classic

in its kind. ‘Werther’ was followed, also in 1774, by ‘Clavigo,’ a prose tragedy of more regular construction than ‘Götz,’ based on the memoirs of Beaumarchais. A Spanish youth Clavigo is engaged to a sickly girl but casts her off in the fear that she will be a clog on his ambitious career. Her brother rushes to Madrid to right her wrong and kills Clavigo in a duel by the girl's coffin. In the original memoirs there is no such tragic ending, but in all his early years Goethe's vision of the tragic always included a girl deserted by her lover for prudential reasons. In 1775 came ‘Stella,’ in which a man deserts his wife out of sheer restlessness, marries another woman and then deserts her too. In the play the two women meet by accident and after painful scenes agree to share the delectable Fernando between them. So far was Goethe willing to go at this time in championing the rights of the afflicted heart against the conventions of society. In a later version he made the play end with the fickle husband's suicide. Several minor works of Goethe's busy adolescence must here be passed by. They are chiefly bagatelles of humorous or satiric import, but one of them is a splendid fragment of a prometheus-tragedy, in which the Titan artist bravely declares war against the ever-living gods. It was not here, however, but in ‘Faust’ that the insurgent spirit of young radicalism found its appointed vehicle. A considerable part of ‘Faust’ was “stormed out” in 1774 and 1775. Out of his own transient disgust with book-learning, his study of the occult and his musings on the old legend Goethe had distilled the conception of a superman who despairs of study, deserts the intellectual life and leagues himself with a demon for a grand sensual debauch. Following hints of the old story he made his hero a searcher after truth, an eager traveler and a passionate lover of antique beauty. But for a man of the 18th century these were of course not the traits of a bad man on the way to hell. As soon as the imaginary Faust became the mouthpiece of Goethe's own struggles and aspirations it was all up with his traditionary badness. At first, however, Goethe did not plan to save his hero any more than to damn him. His scheme was that after many years of varied experience Faust would become reconciled to life by finding some useful work to do — work that would give him the sense of having lived to some purpose and permit him to die in a rapt prevision of the benefit others would get from his performance. From this fundamental plan of his youth Goethe never deviated. In the middle portion of his life he decided not only to “save” his hero but to make his ascension among the saints a part of the dramatic action. Faust was now thought of as a man who had gone grievously wrong while wandering in the dark of passion and instinct, but was essentially a “good man” by virtue of his “striving” and would one day be led out into the “clear” by the Lord in Heaven. Thus the old tragedy of sin and damnation was converted into a symbolic drama of struggle toward the light, ending among the saints in glory. The early scenes of ‘Faust,’ those written before 1776, are mainly occupied with the love-tragedy of Gretchen, which is a terribly drastic comment on the status of the unmarried mother in the Germany of that day. Still another of Goethe's

major works was begun in the days of his youth, namely, the tragedy of 'Egmont,' whom he conceived as a “demonic” character borne on to his doom by a levity of spirit amounting to tragic frivolity. In the midst of work on 'Egmont' he was invited by the young Duke of Weimar, then a youth of 18 who had lately taken the reins of government from his mother's hands, to visit the Weimar court. He arrived toward the end of 1775, expecting to stay but a few weeks, but he remained all the rest of his days. The duke liked him, made a friend of him and presently gave him a seat in the government council with the rank of Councillor of Legation. There were many misgivings over this step, for the new official was not of the nobility, had had no experience of public business and was reputed to be a “genius,” that is, a person of unsteady and unconventional ways. But he took his new duties very seriously and for some time quite neglected the literary projects that he had brought with him from Frankfort. At different times he had to do with the mining interests, military affairs, public improvements and finances of the little duchy, and in 1784 became president of the Council. He had previously received a diploma of nobility. In the new environment he engaged eagerly in the study of mineralogy, geology, botany and zoology, thus preparing the way for a little paper on the metamorphosis of plants and another on the intermaxillary bone in the human skull. These papers and others have given him a modest place in the history of modern evolutionism. Hard work and close scientific study, together with a fresh reading of Spinoza's ‘Ethics,’ exerted a sobering influence on his character and helped to ban the demons of unrest which had never quite ceased to haunt him since the days of ‘Werther.’ On the other hand, the new life gradually starved his artistic nature, for he was a born-dreamer who liked nothing else so well as solitary communing with the creatures of his own imagination. Thus there came into his life a dissonance which finally became so sharp that he could refer to it as a “terrible disease.” From this he sought relief in the autumn of 1786 by a sudden departure for Italy. He remained there nearly two years, undergoing a “spiritual rebirth.” Italy restored his buoyancy of mind, his joy in life. Naturally the poetic achievement of that first decade in Weimar was small. Everything waited for the leisure and the mental serenity that came first in Italy. Most significant are a number of short poems embodying a new ethical philosophy of self-control and high aspiration. He also wrote several dramatic trifles for the amateur actors of the court circle. But his major works made little or no progress. He wrote an ‘Iphigenie’ in rhythmic prose, but was dissatisfied with it. He also began a play on the life of Tasso and worked intermittently on a new novel called ‘Wilhelm Meister's Theatrical Mission,’ which was at first conceived as a sort of antidote to ‘Werther’ in that the hero would be saved by finding a vocation. In these works Goethe appears as the apostle of a refined personal culture based on the equilibrium of feeling and reason. While in Italy he transcribed his prose ‘Iphigenie’ into mellifluous blank verse, making it a tribute to the sanative power of ideal womanhood such as his partial imagination saw in Charlotte von Stein. After his return he finished ‘Tasso’ in the same verse, putting into it much of the conflict he had known between the claims of art and of practical affairs. These poetic plays, together with ‘Egmont,’ which remained unversified, are the finest products of Goethe's art in its second phase. Not highly dramatic they are rich in delicate commentary on human nature. After his return from Italy he did not again put on the harness of an administrative drudge, but devoted himself mainly to letters and scientific study. That emancipation of the sensual man which had taken place in Italy found expression in the frank eroticism of the ‘Roman Elegies,’ which were written in the early days of his conscience-marriage with Christiane Vulpius. This relation began in 1788. She kept his house and bore him several children; but while he always regarded her as his wife they were not wedded in church until 1806. The outbreak of the French Revolution awakened in him hardly any other emotions than those of cynical disgust. The noisy democracy of France seemed to him to consist only of dupers and duped and he wrote two or three weak plays to exploit the humbug of the revolutionary excitement. In 1792 he accompanied the Duke of Weimar on the Austro-Prussian invasion of France, heard the cannonade at Valmy and saw the seamy side of war when the invaders were tumbled back across the Rhine by the republican armies. And then began, in 1794, under the inspiration of Schiller's friendship, a new era of notable creation. In 1796 he published ‘Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship,’ a cultural novel that had quite outgrown the original scheme. Instead of finding a satisfactory ‘mission’ in play-acting and the management of a theatre Wilhelm is made to conclude that the dramatic art is not his true vocation. Another must be found by search and experimentation. Thus the original “theatrical mission” was changed into an “apprenticeship” in the school of life. In due time an occasion was found for sending the hero to Italy. So the tale was brought to an end unfinished, the way having been prepared for a continuation under the name of ‘Wilhelm Meister's Wanderings,’ which was not completed until 1829. Taking both parts together ‘Wilhelm Meister’ is replete with the wisdom of one of the wisest of men, but as prose fiction it is too leisurely and discursive for the modern novel-reader.

A general favorite, on the other hand, is ‘Hermann and Dorothea,’ written in 1797 in heroic hexameters. It is a picture of German still life drawn against the background of the Revolution. Dorothea is a poor refugee who has been compelled to flee eastward across the Rhine with her fellow-villagers. Amid the general distress she is wooed and won by Hermann, the son of a well-to-do innkeeper. The story is charmingly told, the stately Homeric verse applied to such a lowly theme having somewhat the effect of a subtle humor. Incidentally the scheme afforded a place for Goethe's riper views of the Revolution, though he was too close to the great upheaval to see its larger import. Just at the end of the century he planned a trilogy called the ‘Natural Daughter,’ which was to picture phases of the Revolution, but only one of the three parts was ever written, and this is a literary closet-drama quite

lacking in dramatic power and verisimilitude. The most important work of this period was the completion of the first part of ‘Faust.’ Back in 1790 he had published some of the scenes on hand under the title ‘Faust, a Fragment.’ As it ended with the betrayed Gretchen's agony in the cathedral no one could have divined, the plan of the poem as a whole. Resuming work on his masterpiece in June 1797, Goethe first wrote a prologue in which the reader was duly apprised that the new Faust would end in heaven, not in hell. Then, finding the material as it lay in his mind too vast for a simple play, he decided to make two parts of it and to postpone for a second part all that portion of the plot which was to follow Gretchen's death. The publication of the first past in 1808 made it clear that here was the high-water mark in German letters; something altogether incommensurable with aught that had gone before. From this time forth Goethe deserved the name applied to him by Lord Byron — “monarch of European letters.” The death of Schiller in 1805 was a great bereavement. For 11 years he and Goetbe had been close friends, to some extent collaborators. They worked together on the ‘Xenia,’ a collection of stinging and stingless epigrams, and also in editing Schiller's magazine Die Horen. Withal, as director of the Weimar Theatre — a position he held from 1791 to 1817 — Goethe leaned hard on the superior dramatic insight of Schiller when it was a question of telling work for the stage. The correspondence between the two men is of many-sided interest and counts justly among the classics of letter-writing. In the stormy years that followed Schiller's death, while Europe was battling with Napoleon, Goethe kept to his literary work and scientific studies, paying little attention to world-politics. Nationalistic patriotism was never his affair. What he most cared for was the perfection of the individual, and he had seen German culture flourish greatly under a weak and incoherent empire. He had no reason to suppose that it would flourish better through the aggrandisement of Prussia or Austria. He disliked the Prussians, was suspicious of Russia and as a lover of clearness had much sympathy with the French genius. At Erfurt in 1808 Napoleon treated him very handsomely and he was duly grateful. The only path of safety for himself and his beloved Weimar was to acquiesce in Napoleon's regime. He was not a good hater and he acquiesced. The important works of this Napoleonic period are a third novel, the ‘Elective Affinities,’ a bulky treatise on the ‘Theory of Color,’ and the beginning of an autobiography entitled ‘From my Life; Poetry and Truth.’ The novel is a tragic tale of disaster due to the invasion of the marriage relation by lawless passion. It has no specific tendency other than to show the danger of treating moral relations as if they were subject to necessary laws like those of chemical affinity. The heart of the matter is the story of a sensitive girl's suicide from a morbidly acute sense of remorse. In his ‘Theory of Color’ Goethe embodied laborious researches that had extended over nearly 20 years and cost him much vexation of spirit because he could not make the world believe that Sir Isaac Newton had been a teacher of false doctrine. In ‘Poetry and Truth’ we have an elderly man's romanticizing account of his youth. The book

ends with the year 1775 and has much to say of his love-affairs. The “poetry” of the title does not mean that there is an admixture of deliberate fiction. Goethe held that a fact is important not because it is true but because it is significant. To select and record the significant, whether in one's own life, or another man's, or in that of an imaginary hero, is to perform an act of the creative imagination, in other words, to poetize. On the whole ‘Poetry and Truth’ is as accurate as autobiographies are wont to be, and the earlier books at least show Goethe's matured prose style at its very best. To the final phase of his career, his old age, belong, aside from critical and scientific miscellanies, his ‘Divan’ and the completion of ‘Wilhelm Meister’ and ‘Faust.’ In the ‘Divan’ (1819) the septuagenarian poet turned to account his recent studies in Persian poetry. He borrows the imagery and apparatus of Hafiz and uses it to set forth thoughts of his own. ‘Wilhelm Meister’ was completed very inartistically, extraneous matter having been included in order to fill space. The ‘Wanderings’ are most significant for the evidence the book affords of the aging Goethe's interest in the socialistic theories and speculations that were just then beginning to make a noise in the world. From 1824 to 1831 Goethe's principal, but by no means exclusive, occupation was the finishing of the great dramatic poem which he had begun in the nebulous days of his youth. With engaging humor, with no perceptible waning of poetic power, except perhaps in the latter part of the fourth act, and with an astonishing freshness of imaginative vision, he carried his singular hero through a wonderful series of symbolic experiences and finally took leave of him as a divine entelechy mounting heavenward in the train of the Mater Gloriosa, mystically drawn on by the Eternal-womanly. The long task was finished in the summer of 1831 and the aged poet now regarded his life-work as essentially done. He died on 18 March 1832. There is no authentic record of his last words. During the 19th century Goethe's prestige increased enormously, and not merely in his own country, until it became common to link his name with those of Homer, Dante and Shakespeare. Matthew Arnold called him the “clearest, largest and most helpful thinker of modern times”; while Emerson declared that the “old Eternal Genius that built the world had confided itself more to this man than to any other.” Such estimates, and many more of like import might be quoted, imply a larger reverence for personal culture and the contemplative life than accords with the temper of the present age. But, however the opinion of coming generations may shape itself with respect to the “helpfulness” of Goethe's thinking, he will always stand out in the retrospect as the great organ-voice of a unique and memorable epoch. See ; .

Bibliography. — The literature pertaining to Goethe is enormous. Consult Goedeke's ‘Grundriss,’ 3d ed., Vols. IV and V, where 1,424 closely printed octavo pages of it are listed. A large part of this literature consists, however, of what has been called Goethe-philology, i.e., books, brochures and articles written by

specialists for specialists and dealing with relatively small questions of biography, criticism, personal relations, influence, provenience of ideas, etc. The chief repositories for this kind of research are the ‘Goethe-Jahrbuch,’ beginning in 1880, and the ‘Schriften der Weimar Goethe-Gesellschaft’ (28 vols., including numerous portfolios of drawings, facsimiles, etc.). Good periodical reviews of recent Goethe literature are found in the Jahresberichte für neuere deutsche Literaturgeschichte, beginning in 1892 and in the journals Euphorion and Das literarische Echo. Editions, complete and partial, are very numerous since the expiration of the Cotta copyright. The most ambitious is the Weimar edition, 128 vols., comprising 50 vols. of letters and 13 of diaries, together with copious critical apparatus. More convenient is the excellent ‘Jubiläumsausgabe’ (Stuttgart 1907-10). Meritorious are also the ‘Propyläenausgabe’ (Munich 1909-14); the Hempel edition, Berlin 1868-79 (new Goldne Klassiker ed., 1910-14); the Heinemann edition (Leipzig 1900), and that contained in Kürschner's ‘Deutsche Nationalliteratur.’

The conversations have been best edited by W. Biedermann, ‘Goethes Gespräche’ (10 vols., Leipzig 1889-96); for the conversations with Eckermann see also Houben's edition (Leipzig 1911). As before stated, the letters are now available all together in Weimar edition of the works; but special mention may be made of the ‘Goethe-Schiller Correspondence,’ ed. by Graef and Leitzmann (Leipzig 1912); and of the letters to Frau von Stein, ed. by W. Fielitz (Frankfurt 1883-86), and by Fraenkel (Jena 1908). The outstanding biographies are those of Bielschowsky, A. (Munich 1896-1904; trans. by Cooper, New York 1905-08); Brandes, G. (Copenhagen 1915); Carus, P. (Chicago 1915); Chamberlain, H. S. (Munich 1912); Düntzer, H. (Leipzig 1880; trans. by T. W. Lyster, London 1883); Geiger, L. (Berlin 1910); Grimm, H. (Berlin 1875; trans. by S. H. Adams, Boston 1880); Heinemann, K. (Leipzig 1895); Lewes, G. H. (London 1856); McCabe J. (London 1912); Meyer, R. M. (Berlin 1895); Thomas, C. (consisting partly of studies and appreciations; New York 1917); Witkowski, G. (Leipzig 1899). Miscellaneous works of importance are Appell, J. W. ‘Werther und seine Zeit’ (Oldenburg 1855); Bode, W., ‘Goethes Aesthetik’ (Berlin 1901); Boucke, E. A., ‘Goethe's Weltanschauung’ (Stuttgart 1907); Gloël, H., ‘Goethes Wetzlarer Zeit’ (Berlin 1911); Graef, H. G., ‘Goethe über seine Dichtungen’ (9 vols, Frankfort 1901-14); Maass, E., ‘Goethe und die Antike’ (Stuttgart 1912); Magnus, R., ‘Goethe als Naturforscher’ (Leipzig 1906); Mentzel, A., ‘Der Frankfurter Goethe’ (Frankfurt 1900); Morris, M, ‘Der junge Goethe’ (6 vols., Leipzig 1909-12); Schmidt, E., ‘Charak t eristiken’ (Berlin 1896); Scherer, W., ‘Aufsätze über Goethe’ (Berlin 1886); Vogel, J. and Traumann, E., ‘Goethes Studentenjahre’ (Leipzig 1910); Wasilewski, W. von, ‘Goethe und die Descendenztheorie’ (Frankfurt 1903); Weissenfels, R., ‘Der junge Goethe’ (Tübingen 1899).

JOHANN WOLFGANG GOETHE


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/76

64 me a little distance, chatter and laugh about me, and, having smiled and gesticulated in a friendly way, leave me again to my own devises.

"The calm of evening was upon the world as I emerged from the great hall, and the scene was lit by the warm glow of the setting sun. At first things were very confusing. Everything was so entirely different from the world I had known—even the flowers. The big building I had left was situated on the slope of a broad river valley, but the Thames had shifted, perhaps a mile from its present position. I resolved to mount to the summit of a crest, possibly a mile and a half away, from which I could get a wider view of this our planet in the year 802,701, A. D. For that, I should explain, was the date the little dials of my machine recorded.

"As 1 walked I was watchful of every impression that could possibly help to explain the condition of


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/77

Rh ruinous splendor in which I found the world—for ruinous it was. A little way up the hill, for instance, was a great heap of granite, bound together by masses of aluminum, a vast labyrinth of precipitous walls and crumbled heaps, amid which were thick heaps of very beautiful pagoda-like plants—nettles possibly, but wonderfully tinted with brown about the leaves, and incapable of stinging. It was evidently the derelict remains of some vast structure, built to what end I could not determine. It was here that I was destined, at a later date, to have a very strange experience—the first intimation of a still stranger discovery—but of that I will speak in its proper place.

"Looking round, with a sudden thought, from a terrace on which I had rested for a while, I realized that there were no small houses to be seen. Apparently the single house, and possibly even the household, had


text:
Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/174

 its domination. The State then becomes the only privileged class. Custom and necessity reduce Society to a condition of subservience to the bureaucracy and the police, the components of the State. This condition is currently known as totalitarianism, but it is in fact nothing but conquest, the conquest of Society by the State. So that, whether or not the State originated in conquest, as some historians hold, the end result of unchecked political institutions is the same: Society is enslaved.

The end is not yet. The stature of the State grows by predation, the stature of Society shrinks in proportion. For an explanation for this antithesis we return to the composition of man. We find that he works only to satisfy his desires, of which he has a plenitude, that his output of effort is in proportion to his intake of satisfactions. If his investment of labor yields no profit, or if experience tells him none can be expected, his interest in laboring flags. That is, production declines by the amount of expropriation he must endure; if expropriation is severe enough and evasion becomes impossible, so that he learns to accept it as a way of life and forgets what it actually is, his output tends to the minimum of mere existence. But, since the State thrives on what it expropriates, the general decline in production which it induces by its avarice foretells its own doom. Its source of income dries up. Thus, in pulling Society down it pulls itself down. Its ultimate collapse is usually occasioned by a disastrous war, but preceding that event is a history of increasing and discouraging levies on the market place, causing a decline in the aspirations, hopes and self-esteem of its victims.

When we speak of the disappearance of a civilization we do not mean that a people has been extinguished. Every holocaust leaves survivors. What is implied by the fall of a 150

title: Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/174


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/78

66 vanished. Here and there among the greenery were palace-like buildings, but the house and the cottage, which form such characteristic features of our own English landscape, had disappeared.

"’Communism,' said I to myself.

"And on the heels of that came another thought. I looked at the half dozen little figures that were following me. Then, in a flash, I perceived that all had the same form of costume, the same soft hairless visage, and the same girlish rotundity of limb. It may seem strange, perhaps, that I had not noticed this before. But everything was so strange. Now, I saw the fact plainly enough. In costume, and in all the differences of texture and bearing that now mark off the sex from each other, these people of the future were alike. And the children seemed to my eyes to be but the miniatures of their parents. I judged then that children of that time were extremely


text:
Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/175

 is the disappearance from memory of an accumulation of knowledge and of values that once obtained among a people. The prevailing arts and sciences, the religion and manners, the ways of living and of making a living have been forgotten. They have been obliterated not by a pile of dust but by a general lack of interest in marginal satisfactions, in the things men strive to achieve when the struggle for existence is won. One can manage to get along without knives and forks when the getting of food is trouble enough, and the first business of raiment is to provide warmth, not adornment. Contrariwise, as the primary necessaries accumulate, the human begins to dream of new worlds to conquer, including the world of the mind—culture, ideas, values. The accumulating conquests become the indicia of a civilization. The loss of a civilization is the reverse of that process of cultural accumulation. It is the giving up, as a matter of necessity, of those satisfactions that are not essential to existence. It is a process of forgetting through force of circumstance; it is abstinence imposed by environment. Sometimes nature will for a while impose abstinence, but the record shows that man is quite capable of overcoming such obstacles to his ambitions. The obstacle he does not seem able to overcome is his inclination to predation, which gives rise to the institution of the State; it is this institution that ultimately induces a climate of uselessness, of lack of interest in striving, and thus destroys the civilization it feeds upon. Or so the record shows: every civilization that declined or was lost carried an all-powerful State on its back.

Collapse of a State means a weakening of the instruments of coercion by means of which property in the fruits of one's labors was transferred to nonproducing rulership or its supporting accomplices. Thereafter, maybe for centuries, 151

title: Page:Rise and Fall of Society.djvu/175


text:
Page:Pierre.djvu/168

154 their base, profoundest forests lay entranced, and from their far owl-haunted depths of caves and rotted leaves, and unused and unregarded inland overgrowth of decaying wood—for smallest sticks of which, in other climes many a pauper was that moment perishing; from out the infinite inhumanities of those profoundest forests, came a moaning, muttering, roaring, intermitted, changeful sound: rain-shakings of the palsied trees, slidings of rocks undermined, final crashings of long-riven boughs, and devilish gibberish of the forest-ghosts.

But more near, on the mild lake's hither shore, where it formed a long semicircular and scooped acclivity of cornfields, there the small and low red farm-house lay; its ancient roof a bed of brightest mosses; its north front (from the north the moss-wind blows), also moss-encrusted, like the north side of any vast-trunked maple in the groves. At one gabled end, a tangled arbour claimed support, and paid for it by generous gratuities of broad-flung verdure, one viny shaft of which pointed itself upright against the chimney-bricks, as if a waving lightning-rod. Against the other gable, you saw the lowly dairy-shed; its sides close netted with traced Madeira vines; and had you been close enough, peeping through that imprisoning tracery, and through the light slats barring the little embrasure of a window, you might have seen the gentle and contented captives—the pans of milk, and the snow-white Dutch cheeses in a row, and the moulds of golden butter, and the jars of lily cream. In front, three straight, gigantic lindens stood guardians of this verdant spot. A long way up, almost to the ridge-pole of the house, they showed little foliage; but then, suddenly, as three huge green balloons, they poised their three vast, inverted, rounded cones of verdure in the air.

Soon as Pierre's eye rested on the place, a tremor shook him. Not alone because of Isabel, as there a harbourer

title: Page:Pierre.djvu/168


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/79

Rh precocious, physically at least, and I found afterward abundant verification of my opinion.

"Seeing the ease and security in which these people were living, I felt that this close resemblance of the sexes was, after all, what one would expect; for the strength of a man and the softness of a woman, the institution of the family, and the differentiation of occupations are mere militant necessities of an age of physical force. Where population is balanced and abundant, much childbearing becomes an evil rather than a blessing to the State; where violence comes but rarely and offspring are secure, there is less necessity—indeed there is no necessity—of an efficient family, and the specialization of the sexes with reference to their children's needs disappears. We see some beginnings of this even in our own time, and in this future age it was complete. This, I must remind you, was my speculation at the time.


text:
Page:Pierre.djvu/169

Rh now, but because of two dependent and most strange coincidences which that day's experience had brought to him. He had gone to breakfast with his mother, his heart charged to overflowing with presentiments of what would probably be her haughty disposition concerning such a being as Isabel, claiming her maternal love: and lo! the Reverend Mr. Falsgrave; enters, and Ned and Delly are discussed, and that whole sympathetic matter, which Pierre had despaired of bringing before his mother in all its ethic bearings, so as absolutely to learn her thoughts upon it, and thereby test his own conjectures; all that matter had been fully talked out; so that, through that strange coincidence, he now perfectly knew his mother's mind, and had received forewarnings, as if from heaven, not to make any present disclosure to her. That was in the morning; and now, at eve catching a glimpse of the house where Isabel was harbouring, at once he recognised it as the rented farm-house of old Walter Ulver, father to the self-same Delly, forever ruined through the cruel arts of Ned.

Strangest feelings, almost supernatural, now stole into Pierre. With little power to touch with awe the souls of less susceptible, reflective, and poetic beings, such coincidences, however frequently they may recur, ever fill the finer organisation with sensations which transcend all verbal renderings. They take hold of life's subtlest problem. With the lightning's flash, the query is spontaneously propounded—chance, or God? If, too, the mind thus influenced be likewise a prey to any settled grief, then on all sides the query magnifies, and at last takes in the all-comprehending round of things. For ever is it seen, that sincere souls in suffering, then most ponder upon final causes. The heart, stirred to its depths, finds correlative sympathy in the head, which likewise is profoundly moved. Before miserable men, when intellectual,

title: Page:Pierre.djvu/169


text:
Page:Pierre.djvu/170

156 all the ages of the world pass as in a manacled procession, and all their myriad links rattle in the mournful mystery.

Pacing beneath the long-skirting shadows of the elevated wood, waiting for the appointed hour to come, Pierre strangely strove to imagine to himself the scene which was destined to ensue. But imagination utterly failed him here; the reality was too real for him; only the face, the face alone now visited him; and so accustomed had he been of late to confound it with the shapes of air, that he almost trembled when he thought that face to face, that face must shortly meet his own.

And now the thicker shadows begin to fall; the place is lost to him; only the three dim, tall lindens pilot him as he descends the hill, hovering upon the house. He knows it not, but his meditative route is sinuous; as if that moment his thought's stream was likewise serpentining: laterally obstructed by insinuated misgivings as to the ultimate utilitarian advisability of the enthusiast resolution that was his. His steps decrease in quickness as he comes more nigh, and sees one feeble light struggling in the rustic double-casement. Infallibly he knows that his own voluntary steps are taking him forever from the brilliant chandeliers of the mansion of Saddle Meadows, to join company with the wretched rush-lights of poverty and woe. But his sublime intuitiveness also paints to him the sun-like glories of god-like truth and virtue; which though ever obscured by the dense fogs of earth, still shall shine eventually in unclouded radiance, casting illustrative light upon the sapphire throne of God.

II

He stands before the door; the house is steeped in silence; he knocks; the casement light nickers for a moment, and then moves away; within, he hears a door

title: Page:Pierre.djvu/170


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/80

68 Later, I was to appreciate how far it fell short of the reality.

"While I was musing upon these things, my attention was attracted by a pretty little structure, like a well under a cupola. I thought in a transitory way of the oddness of wells still existing, and then resumed the thread of my speculations. There were no large buildings toward the top of the hill, and as my walking powers were evidently miraculous, I was presently left alone for the first time. With a strange sense of freedom and adventure I pushed up to the crest.

"There I found a seat of some yellow metal that I did not recognize, corroded in places with a kind of pinkish rust and half smothered in soft moss, the arm rests cast and filed into the resemblance of griffins' heads. I sat down on it, and I surveyed the broad view of our old world under the sunset of that long day. It was as sweet and fair a view


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Haw, Battle of the

HAW, Battle of the, in the Revolution, 21 Feb. 1781. Henry Lee had been commissioned by Greene to prevent Tory reinforcements coming to Cornwallis, who had taken position at Hillsboro, and in the course of the movement attempted to surprise Tarleton. Tarleton had moved; but hearing that about 400 Tories under Colonel Pyle were on their way to join him, Lee determined to pass off his own “legion” as Tarleton's and capture them all. Forcing two captured British officers to keep up the deception, he moved forward, with Pickens' and Oldham's companies following, and met two young men who had been sent by Pyle to find Tarleton's camp; he was presented to them as Tarleton, and directed them to have Pyle's men drawn up beside the road while his “weary veterans” passed — his object being to capture and disarm them all. The plan succeeded perfectly till, just as he had taken Pyle's hand, part of the Tories discovered Pickens' militia and saw the trap, and at once fired on the American rear; the latter poured in a volley that killed 90 of the enemy at the first fire, and in the mêlée, despite appeals for quarter, a great number of the rest were killed and the majority wounded. Pyle escaped badly hurt, and the rest of the body dispersed unpursued.


text: Dictionary of National Biography, 1885-1900/Edward (1475-1499)


text:
Page:Pierre.djvu/171

Rh creak on its hinges; then his whole heart beats wildly as the outer latch is lifted; and holding the light above her supernatural head, Isabel stands before him. It is herself. No word is spoken; no other soul is seen. They enter the room of the double-casement; and Pierre sits down, overpowered with bodily faintness and spiritual awe. He lifts his eyes to Isabel's gaze of loveliness and loneliness; and then a low, sweet, half-sobbing voice of more than natural musicalness is heard:—

'And so, thou art my brother;—shall I call thee Pierre?'

Steadfastly, with his one first and last fraternal inquisition of the person of the mystic girl, Pierre now for an instant eyes her; and in that one instant sees in the imploring face, not only the nameless touchingness of that of the sewing-girl, but also the subtler expression of the portrait of his then youthful father, strangely translated, and intermarryingly blended with some before unknown, foreign feminineness. In one breath, Memory and Prophecy and Intuition tell him—'Pierre, have no reserves; no minutest possible doubt;—this being is thy sister; thou gazest on thy father's flesh.'

'And so thou art my brother?—shall I call thee Pierre?'

He sprang to his feet, and caught her in his undoubting arms.

'Thou art! thou art!'

He felt a faint struggling within his clasp; her head drooped against him; his whole form was bathed in the flowing glossiness of her long and unimprisoned hair. Brushing the locks aside, he now gazed upon the deathlike beauty of the face, and caught immortal sadness from it. She seemed as dead; as suffocated,—the death that leaves most unimpaired the latent tranquillities and sweetnesses of the human countenance.

He would have called aloud for succour; but the slow eyes opened upon him; and slowly he felt the girl's

title: Page:Pierre.djvu/171


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/81

Rh as I have ever seen. The sun had already gone below the horizon and the west was flaming gold, touched with some horizontal bars of purple and crimson. Below was the valley of the Thames, in which the river lay like a band of burnished steel. I have ready spoken of the great palaces dotted about among the variegated greenery, some in ruins and some still occupied. Here and there rose a white or silvery figure in the waste garden of the earth, here and there came the sharp vertical line of some cupola or obelisk. There were no hedges, no signs of proprietary rights, no evidences of agriculture; the whole earth had become a garden.

"So watching, I began to put my interpretation upon the things I had seen, and as it shaped itself to me that evening, my interpretation was something in this way (afterward I found I had got only a half truth, or only a glimpse of one facet of the truth):


text:
Page:Pierre.djvu/172

158 supineness leaving her; and now she recovers herself a little,—and again he feels her faintly struggling in his arms, as if somehow abashed, and incredulous of mortal right to hold her so. Now Pierre repents his over-ardent and incautious warmth, and feels himself all reverence for her. Tenderly he leads her to a bench within the double-casement; and sits beside her; and waits in silence, till the first shock of this encounter shall have left her more composed and more prepared to hold communion with him.

'How feel'st thou now, my sister?'

'Bless thee! bless thee!'

Again the sweet, wild power of the musicalness of the voice, and some soft, strange touch of foreignness in the accent,—so it fancifully seemed to Pierre, thrills through and through his soul. He bent and kissed her brow; and then feels her hand seeking his, and then clasping it without one uttered word.

All his being is now condensed in that one sensation of the clasping hand. He feels it as very small and smooth, but strangely hard. Then he knew that by the lonely labour of her hands, his own father's daughter had earned her living in the same world, where he himself, her own brother, had so idly dwelled. Once more he reverently kissed her brow, and his warm breath against it murmured with a prayer to heaven.

'I have no tongue to speak to thee, Pierre, my brother. My whole being, all my life's thoughts and longings are in endless arrears to thee; then how can I speak to thee? Were it God's will, Pierre, my utmost blessing now, were to lie down and die. Then should I be at peace. Bear with me, Pierre.'

'Eternally will I do that, my beloved Isabel! Speak not to me yet awhile, if that seemeth best to thee, if that only is possible to thee. This thy clasping hand, my sister, this is now thy tongue to me.'

title: Page:Pierre.djvu/172


text:
United States Code/Title 7/Chapter 6

Title 7 — Agriculture — Insecticides and Environmental Pesticide Control

title: United States Code/Title 7/Chapter 6


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/82

70 "It seemed to me that I had happened upon humanity upon the wane. The ruddy sunset set me thinking of the sunset of mankind. For the first time I began to realize an odd consequence of the social effort in which we are at present engaged. And yet, come to think, it is a logical consequence enough. Strength is the outcome of need; security sets a premium on feebleness. The work of ameliorating the conditions of life—the true civilizing process that makes life more and more secure—had gone steadily on to a climax. One triumph of a united humanity over Nature had followed another. Things that are now mere dreams had become projects deliberately put in hand and carried forward. And the harvest was what I saw!

"After all, the sanitation and the agriculture of to-day are still in the rudimentary stage. The science of our time has attacked but a little department of the field of human


text:
Page:Pierre.djvu/173

Rh 'I know not where to begin to speak to thee, Pierre; and yet my soul o'erbrims in me.'

'From my heart's depths, I love and reverence thee; and feel for thee, backward and forward, through all eternity!'

'Oh, Pierre, canst thou not cure in me this dreaminess, this bewilderingness I feel? My poor head swims and swims and will not pause. My life cannot last long thus; I am too full without discharge. Conjure tears for me, Pierre; that my heart may not break with the present feeling,—more death-like to me than all my grief gone by!'

'Ye thirst-slaking evening skies, ye hilly dews and mists, distil your moisture here! The bolt hath passed; why comes not the following shower?—Make her to weep!'

Then her head sought his support; and big drops fell on him; and anon, Isabel gently slid her head from him, and sat a little composedly beside him.

'If thou feelest in endless arrears of thought to me, my sister; so do I feel toward thee. I too, scarce know what I should speak to thee. But when thou lookest on me, my sister, thou beholdest one, who in his soul hath taken vows immutable, to be to thee, in all respects, and to the uttermost bounds and possibilities of Fate, thy protecting and all-acknowledging brother!'

'Not mere sounds of common words, but inmost tones of my heart's deepest melodies should now be audible to thee. Thou speakest to a human thing, but something heavenly should answer thee;—some flute heard in the air should answer thee; for sure thy most undreamed-of accents, Pierre, sure they have not been unheard on high. Blessings that are imageless to all mortal fancyings, these shall be thine for this.'

'Blessing like to thine, doth but recoil and bless homeward to the heart that uttered it. I cannot bless thee, my sister, as thou dost bless thyself in blessing my

title: Page:Pierre.djvu/173


text:
Page:The Time Machine (1st edition).djvu/83

Rh, but, even so, it spreads its operations very steadily and persistently. Our agriculture and horticulture destroy just here and there a weed and cultivate perhaps a score or so of wholesome plants, leaving the greater number to fight out a balance as they can. We improve our favorite plants and animals—and how few they are—gradually by selective breeding; now a new and better peach, now a seedless grape, now a sweeter and larger flower, now a more convenient breed of cattle. We improve them gradually, because our ideals are vague and tentative, and our knowledge is very limited; because Nature, too, is shy and slow in our clumsy hands. Some day all this will be better organized, and still better. That is the drift of the current in spite of the eddies. The whole world will be intelligent, educated, and co-operating; things will move faster and faster toward the subjugation of Nature. In the end,