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606 human life in a private quarrel. These thoughts, and the considerations of pride and ambition which nevertheless controlled him, are beautifully expressed in language which is full of pathos and manly dignity. He had made his will the day before. He was distressed lest his estate should prove insufficient to pay his debts, and, after committing their mother to the filial protection of his children, he besought them, as his last request, to vindicate his memory by making up any deficiency which might occur. Burr's letters to Theodosia and her husband are mainly occupied with directions as to the disposal of his property and papers. The tone of them does not differ greatly from that of his ordinary correspondence. They do not contain a word such as an affectionate father or a patriotic citizen would have written at such a time. They do not express a sentiment such as a generous and thoughtful man would naturally feel on the eve of so momentous an occurrence. There are no misgivings as to the propriety of his conduct, nor a whisper of regret at the unfortunate circumstances which, as he professed to think, compelled him to seek another's blood. He addressed to his daughter a few lines of graceful compliment, and, in striking contrast with Hamilton's injunction to his children, Burr's last request with regard to Theodosia is, that she shall acquire a "critical knowledge of Latin, English, and all branches of natural philosophy."

The combatants met on the 11th of July, 1804, at a place beneath the heights of Weehawken, upon the New Jersey side of the Hudson,—the usual resort, at that time, for such encounters. Burr fired the moment the word was given, raising his arm deliberately and taking aim. The ball struck Hamilton on the side, and, as he reeled under the blow, his pistol was discharged into the air. "I should have shot him through the heart," said Burr, afterwards, "but, at the moment I was about to fire, my aim was confused by a vapor." Burr stepped forward with a gesture of regret, when he saw his adversary fall; but his second hurried him from the field, screening him with an umbrella from the recognition of the surgeon and bargemen.

Hamilton was carried to the house of Mr. Bayard, in the suburbs of the city. The news flew through the town, producing intense excitement. Bulletins were posted at the Tontine, and changed with every new report. Crowds soon gathered around Mr. Bayard's house, and in the grounds. So deep was the feeling, that visitors were permitted to pass one by one through the room where Gen. Hamilton was lying. From the first, there was no hope of his recovery. This opinion of the most eminent surgeons in the city was concurred in by the surgeons of two French frigates in the harbor, who were consulted. Gen. Hamilton was a man of slight frame, and a disorder, from which he had recently suffered, prevented the use of the ordinary remedies. He retained his composure to the last; nor was his fortitude disturbed until his seven children approached his bedside. He gave them one look, and, closing his eyes, did not open them again while they remained in the room. He expired at two o'clock on the day after the duel.

He was not the only victim. His oldest daughter, a girl of twenty, whose education he had carefully directed, and whose musical talents gave him great pleasure, never recovered from the shock of her father's death. In her disordered fancy, she visited by night the fatal ground at Weehawken, and told her friends that she crossed the river and returned before morning. Her mind soon gave way entirely; and only last spring death released her from a total, though gentle insanity of fifty years' duration.

The sudden and tragic death of Alexander Hamilton produced a universal feeling of sympathy and sorrow. As the leader of the bar, the advocate of the Constitution, the statesman who had given the law to American commerce, the most accomplished soldier in the army, and connected with the still recent glo-


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1858.] lies of the Revolution,—his name had become familiar to every ear, and was associated with every subject of popular interest. His career was, in all respects, an extraordinary one. He came here a stranger, without fortune or powerful family connections. While yet a school-boy, he had borne a creditable part in the discussion of public affairs. At an age when the ambition of most young soldiers is satisfied, if, by the performance of their ordinary duties as subalterns, they have attracted the regard of their superiors, he was in a position of responsibility, and occupied with the most serious and complicated matters of war. He was one of the youngest and at the same time one of the most influential members of the Constitutional Convention. To this distinction in affairs and arms he added equal distinction at the bar. It will be difficult to find in our history, or in that of England, an instance of such eminence in three departments of action so distinct and dissimilar. Although it may be said of Hamilton, that he had not the intuitive perception, which Jefferson possessed, of the necessities imposed upon the country by its anomalous condition, yet, as a statesman under an established government, he was surpassed by no man of his generation. His talents were of the kind which most attracts the sympathies and impresses the understandings of others. He was a grave man, occupied with business affairs, but not unequal to occasions which required the display of taste and eloquence. His solid qualities of mind inspired universal confidence in the soundness of his views upon all questions which were not the subject of political dispute. There were many plain Republicans of that day who were firmly attached to the principles which Jefferson advocated, but who thought that Jefferson was a dreamer and an enthusiast, and that Hamilton was a far safer man in the ordinary affairs of government.

The grief which the death of Hamilton caused in the nation reacted upon Burr; and when the correspondence was published, a storm of condemnation burst upon him. Indictments were found against him in New York and New Jersey. In every pulpit, upon every platform, where the virtues and services of Hamilton were celebrated, the features of his malignant foe were displayed in dramatic contrast. He was compared to Richard III. and Catiline, to Saul, and to the wretch who fired the temple of Diana. This feeling was not confined to orators and clergymen, nor to this country. It reached other communities, and was shared by men of the world like Talleyrand, and retired students like Jeremy Bentham. The former, a few years before his death, related to an American gentleman, that Burr, on his arrival in Paris, in 1810, sent to him and requested an interview. The French statesman could not well refuse to receive an American of such distinction, with whom he was personally acquainted, and by whom he had formerly been hospitably entertained, and told the gentleman who brought the message, "Say to Col. Burr, that I will receive him to-morrow; but tell him also, that Gen. Hamilton's likeness always hangs over my mantel." Burr did not call upon him. Talleyrand directed that after his death the miniature should be sent to Hamilton's descendants, with some newspaper scraps relating to him, which he had thrust into the lining. When Burr was in England, he became intimate with Bentham. The latter, in his "Memoirs and, Correspondence," makes a brief allusion to the acquaintance, in which the following passage occurs: "Burr gave me an account of his duel with Hamilton. He was sure of being able to kill him: so I thought it little better than a murder."

Previously to his retirement from the Vice-Presidency, in March, 1805, Burr had formed the design of seeking a home in the Southwest. Little more than a year before, Louisiana had been annexed, and then offered a wide field to an ambitious man. Encouraged by some acquaintances, he projected various politi-

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 36

THE OLD STONE MANSION.

into this apartment for a moment. The soft velvet carpet, the crimson curtains, the wood fire blasing on the hearth, gave it such a warm, home-like air, that the bare, cold floor of my room and the curtainless bed, seemed to me more cheerlees even than they were; and the tears fell as I undressed.

‘‘What a funny child it is,” I heard one of the maids say to another, with a laugh, for a second servant had joined us, no doubt from curiosity. ‘“‘She puts her stockings into her shoes, and each shoe in its place, under the chair, just like a little old maid.”

‘‘She’s had to look out for herself, that’s plain,” said the other, ‘‘and isn't like Miss Georgy down stairs.”

‘‘T wonder what beggar’s brat it is?”

‘‘Hueh!”’ said the other. ‘She isn’t just that. I’ve heard sl) about it, and will tell you, by-and- bye.”

My heart was full. It was as much as I could do to keep down the choking sobs. When J had undressed, I was tempted, for a moment, to get into bed, without first kneeling down, as my mother had taught me, to say my prayers, for I felt, instinctively, that the maids would laugh at me. But after a short struggle, I slipped down at the side of the bed and began. One of the servants began to titter. This disturbed me so that I forgot what I had to say. I could only remember one sentence of my old prayer, and that was no longer applicable: -‘God bless mamma and make her well;” and at this, my little remaining composure gave way, I burst into audible sobbing, and in that state was lifted into bed by the less giddy of the two maids. Here I buried my head in the covers and wept myself to sleep.

Such was my firet night in my uncle’s house. Such was the beginning of my real orphanage, for, while my mother lived, though I was father- less, and often cold and hungry, I had some one who l knew loved me.

CHAPTER II.

I Loox back on the years spent in my uncle's house and wonder how I survived them. I was made to feel, in every way, that I was an alien and incumbrance there. My uncle, perhaps, was less blamable than any of the others; was, indeed, ignorant of many of the indignities put upon me; but even he never loved me. His wife disliked and tyrannized over me, for she was one of those natures who was jealous by organisa- tion; and she hated everybody who came into competition, in any way, with Georgians. As for my cousin, though she had some good quali- ties, she was spoiled by indulgence; and was the tool of her mother. There was not an hour ‘in the day that I was not made to feel that | was a dependent. The servants, like most of their class, were time-servers, and insulted and abused me, because they saw no one loved me.

_ But the world knew nothing of this. My ‘aunt was too prudent to provoke public opinion against her. She was not ignorant of the wis dom of keeping up an appearance of being kind to her husband’s orphan niece. I was, there fore, sent to the same school with Georgiana: and if not dressed as elegantly, still dressed suitably. I ate at the family table, and sat ip the family pew. All this, considering the treat- ment I received in the house, exasperated me. I heard my sunt praised for her generosity, when I knew it was a falsehood. My temper became soured; I was regarded as sullen; | thought everybody disliked me. I shunned the companionship even of girls of my own age. | became indifferent to dress, because everybody praised Georgiana and nobody praised me; and went by the name of sloven. I recall the weary, weary days at echool, where I heard other girls talking of their happy homes, when I had none. I even seo, sometimes, in fancy, a tall, thin, awkward, sandy-haired child, whose fingers were always soiled with ink, and whose hair was often unbrushed, the jest of half her classmates and the pity of the rest: and I look back on that child, oh! with what inexpressible pity; for I think of myself, in those long and dreary years, as of another person entirely.

I was naturally high-spirited. But I came at last to bearing everything, not meekly indeed, but in silence. The worm did not even turn on the heel that crushed it. Yes! sometimes it did. | remember once, that Georgiana had just received a beautiful wax doll, a miracle of mechanism as it seemed to me then; and I ventured to take it up, one day, when she was out of the room How bitterly I thought that no one had ever given me anything a tithe so beautiful! I was still gazing in wonder on the doll, as I held it in my arms, when my cousin came back. She flew at me in a rage, snatched the doll away, slapped me on the face, and then, though I had not dared to strike her back, burst into a passion of scresms, which brought my aunt, the nursery-maid, te house-maid and the footman, all rushing into the room together. Without stopping to inquire about the facts, my aunt seized me, shook me till I was breathless, and threw me toward the maid, whom she directed to put me to bed supperless, which was accordingly done, the maid telling me,


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 stand and value him. He has a brother Henry, who is also very clever in a different vein, and is just now publishing a book on the present state of France.

"Do they like the D'Israelis in America?'

"I assured her ladyship that the 'Curiosities of Literature,' by the father, and 'Vivian Grey' and 'Contarini Fleming,' by the son, were universally known.

I am pleased at that, for I like them both. D'Israeli the elder came here with his son the other night. It would have delighted you to see the old man's pride in him, and the son's respect and affection for his father. D'Israeli the elder lives in the country, about twenty miles from town; seldom comes up to London, and leads a life of learned leisure, each day hoarding up and dispensing forth treasures of literature. He is courtly, yet urbane, and impresses one at once with confidence in his goodness. In his manners, D'Israeli the younger is quite his own character of "Vivian Grey;" full of genius and eloquence, with extreme good nature, and a perfect frankness of character.'

"I asked if the account I had seen in some American paper of a literary celebration at Canandaigua, and the engraving of her ladyship's name with some others upon a rock, was not a quiz.

Oh, by no means. I was much amused by the whole affair. I have a great idea of taking a trip to America to see it. Then the letter, commencing, "Most charming Countess—for charming you must be, since you have written the ’Conversations of Lord Byron—oh, it was quite delightful. I have shown it to every body. By


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608 cal and financial speculations. In April, he repaired to Pittsburg, and started upon a journey down the Ohio and the Mississippi. On the way, curiosity led him to the house of Herman Blennerhassett, and he thus accidentally made the acquaintance of a man whose name has become historic by its association with his own. Blennerhassett was an Irishman by birth; he had inherited a considerable fortune, and was a man of education. Beguiled by the belief that in the retirement of the American forests he would find the solitude most congenial to the pursuit of his favorite studies, he purchased an island in the Ohio Kiver near the mouth of the Little Kanawha. He expended most of his property in building a house and adorning his grounds. The house was a plain wooden structure; and the shrubbery, in its best estate, could hardly have excited the envy of Shenstone. Men of strong character are not dependent upon certain conditions of climate and quiet for the ability to accomplish their purposes. But Blennerhassett was not a man of strong character; neither was he an exception to this rule. He was, at the best, but an idle student; and his zeal for science never carried him beyond a little desultory study of Astronomy and Botany and some absurd experiments in Chemistry. His figure was awkward, his manners were ungracious, and he was so near-sighted that he used to take a servant hunting with him, to show him the game. His credulity and want of worldly knowledge exposed him to the practices of the shrewd frontiers-men among whom he lived. He soon became involved in debt, and at the time of Burr's visit his situation made him a ready volunteer for any enterprise which promised to repair his shattered fortunes. That the enterprise was impracticable, and that he was unfit for it, only made it more attractive to his imaginative and simple mind. The fancy of Wirt has thrown a deceptive romance around the career of Blennerhassett, yet there is enough of truth in the account of the misfortunes which Burr brought upon him and his amiable wife to justify the sympathy with which they have been regarded.

Soon after his arrival at New Orleans Burr seems to have formed bolder designs. From this time we find in his correspondence, and that of his friends, vague hints of some great undertaking. This proved to be a project for an expedition against Mexico, and the establishment there of an Empire which was to include the States west of the Alleghanies; subsidiary to this, and connected with it, was a plan for the colonization of a large tract of land upon the Washita.

It is difficult to believe that a design so absurd can have been entertained by a man of common sense; yet it is certain that it was seriously undertaken by Burr. His conduct in carrying it out furnishes the best measure of his talents and a signal exhibition of his folly and his vices. His high standing, his reputation as a soldier, attracted the vulgar, and brought him into intercourse with the most intelligent people of the Territory. The fascination of his manners, and the skill in the arts of intrigue which long discipline had given him, enabled him to sustain the impression which the prestige of his name everywhere produced. The details of his political conduct could not have been accurately known in a region so remote. The affair with Hamilton had not injured his reputation in communities where such affairs were common and often applauded. The circumstances of the time, to his superficial glance, seemed to be encouraging. A large portion of the country had lately passed under our flag;—many of the inhabitants spoke a foreign language, and retained foreign customs and predilections;—the American settlers were an adventurous race, and eager for an opportunity to indulge their martial spirit;—Mexico was uneasy under the Spanish yoke;—and some indications of a war between the United States and Spain held out a faint hope that the initiatory steps of his enterprise might be taken with the connivance of the gov-


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510 can be laid upon it, like the revolving lady in a shop window. The real story, which alone outlives the modiste's bonnets and shawls, may drape itself as it pleases; for it does not depend on its peplos, or stola, on its stomacher, or basque,—or crinoline, for its effect.

"Parthenia" is a tale of the fourth century, but it tells the experience of lofty souls in all centuries. The particular period chosen is one of the deepest interest,—that of the conflict of expiring Paganism with growing Christianity, under Julian the Apostate. Julian's character, as drawn in the story, may be considered as a true historical study. The "grand conservative of the fourth century," as Mrs. Lee calls him, is painted as a violent and arbitrary man, but always sincere and noble in his delusions. He never loses our respect, and we admire as often as pity him. When people, professing to believe that a few sestertia invested in papyri and sent to their barbarian neighbors would be sure to save hundreds or thousands of fellow-creatures from an eternity of inconceivable agony, do, notwithstanding, expend great sums on "snow-white mules and golden harness," to carry them to the Basilica, or on any other selfish gratification whatsoever, we cannot wonder that Julian, or anybody else, is ready to take up the pleasant "creed outworn" which Wordsworth half yearns after in his famous sonnet, as preferable to that base system of psychophagy prevailing in the church of Antioch.

Parthenia, the heroine of the story, is drawn with great power and feeling. She comes before us at first with the classic charms of an Athenian beauty; she leaves us resplendent with the aureola of a Christian saint. The change is gradually and naturally wrought; a Christian maid-servant wins her love and reverence, and her proud and restless heart finds peace in the simple faith taught by the little slave, Areta.

We cannot in this brief notice follow the incidents of the tale, which will be found full of interest. A remarkably graceful style and a harmonious arrangement of scenery and incident make the chapters flow on like a series of gliding pictures. The pleasure afforded by the beauty of the story will, perhaps, be enough for most readers; but those who read carefully will perceive that it furnishes matter for deep reflection to the student of history and of theology

are not the only memoirs in which there is scope for the display of vanity. Some men flatter themselves by connecting their names on a title-page with the name of some great character of the past. Self-love quickens their admiration of their hero, and admiration for their hero gratifies their self-love. Mr. Harford belongs to this class of biographers. The title and the appearance of his volumes excite expectations which acquaintance with them disappoints. The book is not a mere harmless piece of literary presumption; it is a positive evil, as cumbering ground which might be better occupied, and as giving such authority as it may acquire to false views of Art and to numerous errors of fact. There was need of a good biography of Michel Angelo, and Mr. Harford has made a bad one. The defects of the book are both external and essential. Mr. Harford's mind is of the commonplace order, and incapable of a true appreciation either of the character or the works of such a man as Michel Angelo. He has no sympathetic insight into the depths of human nature. Nor has he the method and power of arrangement, such as may often be found in otherwise second-rate biographers, which might enable him to set forth the external facts of a life in such lucid and intelligible order as to exhibit the force of circumstances and position in moulding the character. His learning, of which there is a considerable display, appears on examination shallow and superficial, and his style of writing is often clumsy, and never elegant.

Michel Angelo, like all great men of genius, is the reflex and express image of many of the ruling characteristics and tendencies of his time. The strongest natures receive the strongest impressions, and the most marked individuality per-


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 the-way, I receive a great many letters from America from people I never heard of, written in the most extraordinary style of compliment, apparently in perfect good faith. I hardly know what to make of them.'

"I accounted for it by the perfect seclusion in which great numbers of cultivated people live in our country, who, having neither intrigue, nor fashion, nor twenty other things to occupy their minds, as in England, depend entirely upon books, and consider an author who has given them pleasure as a friend. 'America,' I said, 'has probably more literary enthusiasts than any country in the world; and there are thousands of romantic minds in the interior of New England who know perfectly every writer on this side of the water, and hold them all in affectionate veneration, scarcely conceivable by a sophisticated European. If it were not for such readers, literature would be the most thankless of vocations; I, for one, would never write another line.'

And do you think these are the people which write to me? If I could think so, I should be exceedingly happy. A great proportion of the people of England are refined down to such heartlessness; criticism, private and public, is so much influenced by politics, that it is really delightful to know there is a more generous tribunal. Indeed, I think many of our authors now are beginning to write for America. We think already a great deal of your praise or censure.'

"I asked if her ladyship had known many Americans.

Not in London, but a great many abroad. I was


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1858.] policy of the Americans, while holding the enemy in check, to draw him into separate detachments, in successive skirmishes to profit of their superior aim and activity, and of their better knowledge of the country, and to keep up its confidence by a system of short and gradual retreats from fastness to fastness,—from river beyond river." p. 129.—These sentences, taken at hap-hazard from two consecutive leaves, are not unfair specimens of the literary merits of this intrepid attempt to convert the history of the nation, at its most critical period, into a collection of Mémoires pour servir to the biography of General Hamilton.

We are very sure that Mr. Hamilton has undertaken a task for which he has neither the necessary talent nor materials, and which can only end, as it has begun, in a ridiculous failure. If we could hope that our words would reach or influence him, we would entreat him to be content with the proud heritage of fame which his father left to his children, without seeking to increase it by encroachments on that left behind them by his great contemporaries. The fame of Hamilton, indeed, is no peculiar and personal property of his descendants. It belongs to us all, and neither the malice of his enemies nor the foolish fondness of his son can separate it from us. Notwithstanding the amusement we could not help deriving from the perusal of this volume, and sure as we are that the book must grow more and more diverting, in its way, as it goes on, we cannot but feel that the entertainment will be dearly purchased at the cost of even the shadow of just ridicule resting, even for a moment, on so illustrious and venerable a name as that of.

true gauge of any civilization, whether of a race, a nation, or a district, is to be found in the character and position of its women. Slaves, toys, idols, companions, they rise with every ascending grade of culture until they have won the natural place so long denied them. The feminine string rings a true octave with the masculine, and makes a perfect concord, when left to vibrate in its entire length. But the lower forms of social humanity are constantly shortening it, and so producing occasional harmonies at the expense of frequent discords.

We hold such a book as "Parthenia" to have a wide significance to all who read thoughtfully. It is the work of a thoroughly cultivated woman, who, in her nobleness of aim, in her generosity of sentiment, in her purity of thought and style, may be considered a worthy representative of our best type of educated womanhood. Mrs. Lee's former writings have made her name honored and cherished in both hemispheres. Thomas Carlyle said of her "Lives of the Buckminsters," "that it gave an insight into the real life of the highest natures,"—"that it had given him a much better account of character in New England than anything he had seen since Franklin."

We hail a production like this, so scholarlike and serene, so remote from the trivialities and vulgarities of ambitious book-makers, with pleasure and pride. We are thankful—let us add in a whisper—for a story, with love and woman in it, which does not rustle with crinoline; that most useful of inventions for ladies with limited outlines, and literary man-milliners with scanty brains; which has filled more than half the space in our drawing-rooms, and nearly as large a part of some of our periodicals, since the Goddesses of Grace and of Dulness united to bestow the precious gift on Beauties and Bœotians.

A story deals with human nature and time. All that is truly human is interesting, however abstractly stated; but it requires the mordant of specific circumstance, involving some historical period, to make it stain permanently. Everything that belongs to Time, as his private property,—everything temporary, using that word in its ordinary sense,—is uninteresting, except so far as it serves to fix the colors of that humanity which we always love to contemplate. The statuary, who cares nothing about Time, loves to drop his costuming trumpery altogether. The cheap story, written for the day, is dressed in all the fashionable articles that


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508 entered upon the scene, as an haranguer at popular meetings in New York, as a writer on the earnest topics of the day, as a spectator of the broadside fired by the Asia on the Battery, as a captain of artillery at White Plains, and especially as the aide-de-camp and secretary of Washington. This part of the history of Hamilton, and particularly the testimony about his selection by Washington for this great confidence when scarcely twenty years of age, bears to his eminent qualities, one would think, honor enough to satisfy the most pious of sons. But from this moment, according to the innuendoes, if not the broad assertion of Mr. Hamilton, Washington was chiefly of use to sign the letters and papers prepared by his military secretary, and to carry out the plans he had conceived. On the theatre of the world's history, from this time forth, Washington is to be presented, like Mr. Punch on the ledge of his show-box, squeaking and jerking as the strings are pulled from below by the hand of his boy-aide-de-camp. He writes letters to Congress, to all and singular the American Generals, to the British Generals, to the Governors of States, and to all whom it may concern, "over the signature of Washington," (which detestable Americanism Mr. Hamilton invariably uses,) the whole credit of the correspondence being coolly passed over to the account of the secretary! That Hamilton did his duty excellently well there is no question, but it was a purely ministerial one. He furnished the words and the sentences, but Washington breathed into them the breath of their life. As well might the confidential clerk of Mr. John Jacob Astor claim his estate, in virtue of having written, under the direction of his principal, the business letters by which it was acquired. If we are not mistaken, this Mr. Hamilton some time since included Washington's Farewell Address in the collection of his father's works. Perhaps Mr. Jefferson owes it to the accidents of time and distance, that the Declaration of Independence is not reclaimed as another of Hamilton's estrays. We forbear to characterize this attempt to transfer the credit of the correspondence of Washington from the head to the hand, in the terms which we think it deserves; for we apprehend the mere statement of the case will enable every right-judging man to form a very competent opinion of it for himself.

Though we cannot conscientiously say, judging from this book, that Mr. Hamilton has inherited the literary skill of his father, it is very clear that he is the faithful depositary of his political antipathies. At the earliest possible moment the hereditary rancor against John Adams bursts forth, and it bubbles up again whenever an opening occurs or can be made. His patriotism, his temper, his manners, his courage, are all in turn made the theme of bitter, and of what is meant for strong denunciation. His journeys from Philadelphia to Braintree, though with the permission of Congress, are "flights"; his not taking the direct road, which would bring him in dangerous vicinity to the enemy, is a proof of cowardice! His free expression of opinion as to the conduct of the campaign in the Jerseys—made before the seal of success had certified to its wisdom—was rancorous hostility to Washington, if not absolute conspiracy against him; and so on to the end of the chapter. As this volume only brings the history of the Republic, as contained in that of Hamilton, then in the twenty-second year of his age, to 1779, we tremble to think of what yet awaits the Second President, as the twain in one grow together from the gristle into the bone. What we have here we conceive to be the mere sockets of the gallows of fifty cubits' height on which this New England Mordecai is to be hanged up as an example to all malefactors of his class. We make no protest against this summary procedure, if the Biographer of the Republic think it due to the memory of his father; but we would submit that he has begun rather early in the day to bind the victim doomed to deck the feralia of his hero.

The literary execution of this book is not better than its substantial merits de- serve. The style is generally clumsy, often obscure, and not unseldom harsh and inflated. Take an instance or two, picked out absolutely at random.—"The disaffected, who held throughout the contest the seaboard of the State in abeyance, driven forth, would have felt in their wanderings there would be no parley with them." p. 127.—Again, "It became the


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Anna Karenina

 * Anna Karenina, translated by Nathan Haskell Dole (1899)
 * Republished in The Complete Works of Lyof N. Tolstoï (1899)
 * Anna Karenina, translated by Constance Garnett (1901)

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1858.] ness. William Holman Hunt and Dante Rosetti are great imaginative artists, and will leave their impress on the age. Ford Madox Brown, as a rational, earnest painter, holds a noble and manly position. But then we have done with great names. Much seed has sprung up on stony ground; but, having little soil, when the sun shines, it will die. The slow growth is the sure one.

Histories have never been to our taste. The late Mr. Gilbert à Beckett, we always thought, might have employed his vis comica, or force of fun, better than in linking ludicrous images and incongruous associations with the heroes of ancient and modern times. The department of Comic Biography, wr believe, has received few contributions, if any, from the frolic quills of wicked wags. The cure, however, of this defect in our literature, if any there be, may he looked upon as begun in the work whose title stands at the head of this notice. The author, indeed, had not the settled purpose of the facetious writers we have just dispraised, of making game of the subject of his book, no more than he has the wit and cleverness which half redeem their naughtinesses. The absence of these latter qualities is supplied in his base by the self-complacent good faith in which he puts forth his monstrous assumptions and the stolid assurance which which he maintains them. But the ellect of his labors, as of theirs, is to throw an atmosphere of ludicrous ideas around the memory of a great man, painful to all persons of good taste and correct feelings.

Filial piety is a virtue to which much should be forgiven. And the son of such a father as Alexander Hamilton might well be pardoned for even an undue estimate of his services, if it were kept within the decent bounds of moderate exaggeration. But when he undertakes to make his father the incarnation of the Revolution and of the Republic, and to concentrate all the glories of that heroic age in him as the nucleus from which they radiate, he must pardon us, if we think, that, by long contemplation of the object of his filial admiration, his mental sight has become morbid and distorted, and sees things which are not to be seen. Beginning his book with the assumption that Hamilton was the first to conceive the idea of "the Union of the People of the United States,"—an assumption which we can by no means admit, though supported (as we learn from a foot note) by the opinion of Mr. George Ticknor Curtis,—the author proceeds "to trace in his life and writings the history of the origin and early policy of this ." Through the whole volume, "" stands rubric over the left-hand page, and "" over the right, and the identity of the two is sought to be established from the beginning to the end. Now, deep as is the sense we entertain of the services of Hamilton to his country, and scarcely less than filial as is the veneration we have been taught from our earliest days to feel for his memory, we must pronounce this pretension to be as absurd and futile in itself as it is unjust and ungenerous to the other great men of that pregnant period.

We do not know whether or not Mr. John C. Hamilton is of opinion, that, had his illustrious father lived and died a trader in the island of Nevis, the American Revolution would never have taken place, nor the American Republic been founded; but he plainly considers that the great contest began to assume its most momentous gravity from the time Hamilton first


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506 lous instincts of truth, and in its very profuseness of giving,—filling its caskets with an unchoosing lavishness of pearl and pebble, rose and may-weed, all treasures alike to its newly opened eyes, all so beautiful that there can scarcely be choice among them.

To suppose that a revolution so complete as this could take place without a bitter opposition would be an hypothesis without any justification in the world's experience; for, be it in whatever sphere or form, when a revolution comes, it offends all that is conservative and reverential of tradition in the minds of men, and arouses an apparently inexplicable hostility, the bitterness of which is not at all proportionate to the interest felt by the individual in the subject of the reform, but to his constitutional antipathy to all reform, to all agitation. The conservative at heart hates the reformer because he agitates, not because he disturbs him personally. This is clearly seen in the hostility with which the new Art has been met in England, where conservatism has built its strongest batteries in the way of invading reform. For the moment, the English mind, bending in a surprised deference to the stormy assault of the enthusiasts of the new school, partly carried away by its characteristic admiration of the heroism of their attack and the fiery eloquence of their champion, Ruskin, and perhaps not quite assured of its final effect, forgets to unmask its terrible artillery. But to upset the almost immovable English conservatism, to teach the nation new ways of thought and feeling, in a generation! Cromwell could not do it; and this wave of reform that now surges up against those prejudices, more immovable than the white cliffs of Albion, will break and mingle with the heaving sea again, as did that of the republicanism of the Commonwealth, whose Protector never sat in his seat of government more firmly than Ruskin now holds the protectorate of Art in England. When political reform moved off to American wildernesses for the life it could not preserve in England, it but marked the course reform in Art must follow. The apparent ascendency which it has obtained over the old system will as certainly turn out to be temporary as there is logic in history; because an Art, like a political system, to govern a nation, must be in accordance with its character as a nation, must, in fact, be the outgrowth of it. The only unfailing line of kings and protectors is the people; with them is no interregnum; and when the English people become fitted by intellectual and moral progress to be protectors of a new and living Art, it will return to them just as surely as republicanism will one day return from its exile,

The philosophic Art will find a soil free from Art-prejudices and open to all seeds of truth; it will find quiet and liberty to grow, not without enemies or struggles, but with no enemies that threaten its safety, nor struggles greater than will strengthen it. The appreciation and frank acceptance it has met on its first appearance here, the number of earnest and intelligent adherents it has already found, are more than its warmest friends hoped for so soon. But in England, while its appreciating admirers will remain adherents to its principles, it will pass out of existence as an independent form of Art, and the elements of good in it will mingle with the Art of the nation, as a leaven of non-conformity and radicalism, breeding agitations enough to keep stagnation away and to secure a steady and irresistible progress. Its truest devotees will remain in principle what they are, losing gradually the external characteristics of the school as it is now known,—while the great mass of its disciples, unthinking, impulsive, will sink back into the ranks of the old school, carrying with them the strength they have acquired by the severe training of the system, so that the whole of English Art will be the better for Pre-Raphaelitism. But with Ruskin's influence ceases the Commonwealth of Art; for Ruskin governs, not represents, English feeling,—governs with a tyranny as absolute, an authority as unquestioned, as did Oliver Cromwell.

Of the men now enlisted in the reform, few are of very great value individually. Millais will probably be the first important recusant. He is a man of quick growth, and his day of power is already past; the reaction will find in him an ally of name, but he has no real great-


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1858.] idea of the picture, no school can furnish drawing more subtile and expressive. The head of the "Light of the World" is worthy in this respect to be placed be- side Raphael and Da Vinci; and the "Ophelia " of Hughes, though inexcusably incorrect in the figure, has a refinement of drawing in the face, and especially in the lines of the open, chanting mouth, which no draughtsman of the French school can equal. It is where the idea guides the hand that the Pre-Raphaelites are triumphant; everywhere else they fail. But this is a fault which will correct itself as they learn the significance and value of things they do not now understand. They paint well that which they love, and devotion grows and widens its sphere the longer it endures, taking in, little by little, all things which hear relation to the thought or thing it clings to; and the man who draws because he has something to tell, and draws that well, is certain of finally drawing all things well. This very deficiency of Pre-Raphaelitism, then, points to its true excellence, and indicates that singleness of purpose which is an element in all true Art. The want of grace, which is made almost a synonyme with Pre-Raphaelitism, has its origin in the same resolute clinging to truth as the artist comprehends it, and uncompromising determination to express it as perfectly as he has the power,—a feeling which never permits him to think whether his work be graceful, but whether it be just; so that his tremulous and almost fearful conscientiousness—tremulous with desire to see all, and fearful lest some line should wander by a hair's breadth from its fullest expressiveness—makes him lose sight entirely of grace and repose. No form that has the appearance of biing painfully drawn can ever be a graceful one; and so the Pre-Raphaelite, until he has something of a master's facility and decision, can never be graceful. The artist who prefers grace to truth will never be remarkable either for grace or truth, while the one who clings to truth at all sacrifices will finally reach the expression of the highest degree of beauty which his soul is capable of conceiving; for the lines of highest beauty and supremest truth are coincident. The Ideal meets the Actual finally in the Real.

If there he one point of feeling in which the Pro-Raphaelites can be said to be more than in all others antagonistic to the schools of painting which preceded them, it would be that indicated by this distinction,—that the new school is one which in all cases places truth before beauty, while the old esteems beauty above truth. The tendency of the one is towards a severe and truth-seeking Art, one in all its characteristics essentially religious in the highest sense of the term, holding truth dearer than all success in popular estimation, or than all attractions of external beauty, reverent, self-forgetting, and humble before Nature; that of the other is towards an Art Epicurean and atheistic, holding the truth as something to be used or neglected at its pleasure, and of no more value than falsehood which is equally beautiful,—making Nature, indeed, something for weak men to lean on and for superstitious men to be enslaved by. This distinction is radical; it cuts the world of Art, as the equator does the earth, with an unswerving line, on one side or the other of which every work of Art falls, and which permits no neutral ground, no chance of compromise; he who is not for the truth is against it. We will not be so illiberal as to say that Art lies only on one side of this line; to do so were to shut out works which have given us exceeding delight;—so neither could we exclude Epicurus and his philosophy from the company of doers of good;—but the distinction is as inexorable as the line Christ drew between his and those not his; it lies not in the product, which may he mixed good and evil, but in the motive, which is indivisible.

Pre-Raphaelitism must take its position in the world as the beginning of a new Art,—new in motive, new in methods, and new in the forms it puts on. To like it or to dislike it is a matter of mental constitution. The only mistake men can make about it is to consider it as a mature expression of the spirit which animates it. Not one, probably not two or three generations, perhaps not so many centuries, will see it in its full growth. It is a childhood of Art, but a childhood of so huge a portent that its maturity may well call out an expectation of awe. In all its characteristics it is childlike,—in its intensity, its humility, its untutored expressiveness, its marvel-


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Is this any different to the version at Index:Kahlil Gibran - The Prophet (1926 edition, Knopf).pdf ? -- Beardo (talk) 00:10, 2 December 2023 (UTC)


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Law of the Republic of Indonesia Number 3 of 2022 on The Nation's Capital

Considering:  that the Unitary State of the Republic of Indonesia was formed to realize the goals of the state as stated in the Preamble to the 1945 Constitution of the Republic of Indonesia based on Pancasila; that efforts to improve the governance of the National Capital region are part of efforts to realize the goals of the state as referred to in letter a, namely protecting the entire Indonesian nation and all of Indonesia's blood, advancing general welfare, making the life of the nation intelligent and participating in implementing world order based on freedom and peace, immortality, and social justice; that the governance of the National Capital is apart from being a means of meeting the needs of the Indonesian people, it is also to create a safe, modern, sustainable and resilient National Capital as well as being a reference for development and structuring of other regions in Indonesia; that up to now, there is no law that specifically regulates the National Capital; that Law Number 29 of 2007 concerning the Government of the Special Capital Region of Jakarta as the Capital of the Unitary State of the Republic of Indonesia only regulates the designation of the Special Capital Region of Jakarta as the Capital of the Unitary State of the Republic of Indonesia; that based on the considerations as intended in points a, b, c, d and e, it is necessary to establish a Law on the National Capital;

In view of:

 Article 4 paragraph (1), Article 18 paragraph (1), Article 18B paragraph (1), Article 20 and Article 22D paragraph (2) of the Constitution of 1945;

GENERAL PROVISIONS

 * Article 1

In this Law what is meant by:
 * 1) The National Capital is the Capital of the Unitary State of the Republic of Indonesia.
 * 2) The National Capital City called Nusantara and hereinafter referred to as the Indonesian Capital City is a special regional government unit at the provincial level whose territory is the seat of the National Capital City as determined and regulated by this Law.
 * 3) State Institutions are institutions that carry out executive, legislative and judicial functions at the central level, as well as other institutions as specified in the 1945 Constitution of the Republic of Indonesia and other laws.
 * 4) The Central Government is the President of the Republic of Indonesia who holds the government power of the Republic of Indonesia assisted by the Vice President and minister as intended in the 1945 Constitution of the Republic of Indonesia.
 * 5) The President is the President of the Republic of Indonesia as intended in the 1945 Constitution of the Republic of Indonesia.
 * 6) The People's Representative Council of the Republic of Indonesia, hereinafter abbreviated to the DPR, is the People's Representative Council as intended in the 1945 Constitution of the Republic of Indonesia.
 * 7) The Regional Representative Council of the Republic of Indonesia, hereinafter abbreviated to DPD, is the Regional Representative Council as intended in the 1945 Constitution of the Republic of Indonesia.
 * 8) The Special Regional Government for the Capital Nusantara is a special regional government that carries out government affairs in the Archipelago Capital.
 * 9) The Special Regional Government for the Capital Nusantara, hereinafter referred to as the Nusantara Capital Authority, is the implementer of preparation, development and relocation of the National Capital, as well as the administration of the Special Regional Government for the Archipelago Capital.
 * 10) The Head of the Nusantara Capital Authority is the head of the Special Regional Government for the Archipelago Capital City.
 * 11) The Deputy Head of the Nusantara Capital City Authority is the deputy head of the Special Regional Government for the Nusantara Capital City who is tasked with assisting the implementation of the duties and functions of the Head of the Archipelago Capital City Authority.
 * 12) The Nusantara Capital National Strategic Area, hereinafter abbreviated to KSN Nusantara Capital, is a special area whose territorial coverage and functions are determined and regulated by this Law.
 * 13) The Nusantara Capital Master Plan is an integrated planning document in carrying out the preparation, construction and relocation of the National Capital, as well as the administration of the Special Regional Government for the Nusantara Capital.
 * 14) State Property are all goods purchased or obtained at the expense of the State Revenue and Expenditure Budget or derived from other legitimate acquisitions.
 * 15) Regional Property are all goods purchased or obtained at the expense of the Regional Revenue and Expenditure Budget or originating from other legitimate acquisitions.
 * 16) Land is the surface of the earth, whether in the form of land or covered by water, including the space above and within the body of the earth, within certain limits the use and exploitation of which is directly or indirectly related to the use and utilization of the earth's surface.
 * 17) Land Rights, hereinafter abbreviated as HAT, are rights obtained from the legal relationship between the party entitled to the Land, including the space above the Land, and/or the space below the Land to control, own, use and exploit, as well as maintain the Land, space under above ground, and/or space below ground.

 * Article 2

Capital City of the Archipelago has a vision as a world city for all that is built and managed with the aim of:  become a sustainable city in the world; as a driver of the Indonesian economy in the future; And becomes a symbol of national identity that represents the diversity of the Indonesian nation, based on Pancasila and the 1945 Constitution of the Republic of Indonesia.  </ol>


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Anderson v. Liberty Lobby, Inc./Dissent Brennan

, dissenting.

The Court today holds that “whether a given factual dispute requires submission to a jury must be guided by the substantive evidentiary standards that apply to the case,” ante, at 255. The Court’s holding today is not, of course, confined in its application to First Amendment cases. Although this case arises in the context of litigation involving libel and the press, the Court’s holding is that “in ruling on a motion for summary judgment, the judge must view the evidence presented through the prism of the substantive evidentiary burden.” Ante, at 254. Accordingly, I simply do not understand why, dissenting, feels it appropriate to cite Calder v. Jones, 465 U. S. 783 (1984), and to remind the Court that we have consistently refused to extend special procedural protections to defendants in libel and defamation suits. The Court today does nothing of the kind. It changes summary judgment procedure for all litigants, regardless of the substantive nature of the underlying litigation.

Moreover, the Court’s holding is not limited to those cases in which the evidentiary standard is “heightened,” i. e., those in which a plaintiff must prove his case by more than a mere preponderance of the evidence. Presumably, if a district court ruling on a motion for summary judgment in a libel case is to consider the “quantum and quality” of proof necessary to support liability under New York Times, ante, at 254, and then ask whether the evidence presented is of “sufficient caliber or quantity” to support that quantum and quality, the court must ask the same questions in a garden-variety action where the plaintiff need prevail only by a mere preponderance of the evidence. In other words, today’s decision by its terms applies to all summary judgment motions, irrespective of the burden of proof required and the subject matter of the suit In my view, the Court’s analysis is deeply flawed, and rests on a shaky foundation of unconnected and unsupported observations, assertions, and conclusions. Moreover, I am unable to divine from the Court’s opinion how these evidentiary standards are to be considered, or what a trial judge is actually supposed to do in ruling on a motion for summary judgment. Accordingly, I respectfully dissent.

To support its holding that in ruling on a motion for summary judgment a trial court must consider substantive evidentiary burdens, the Court appropriately begins with the language of Rule 56(c), which states that summary judgment shall be granted if it appears that there is “no genuine issue as to any material fact and that the moving party is entitled to a judgment as a matter of law.” The Court then purports to restate this Rule, and asserts that “summary judgment will not lie if the dispute about a material fact is ‘genuine,’ that is, if the evidence is such that a reasonable jury could return a verdict for the nonmoving party.” Ante, at 248. No direct authority is cited for the proposition that in order to determine whether a dispute is “genuine” for Rule 56 purposes a judge must ask if a “reasonable” jury could find for the nonmoving party. Instead, the Court quotes from First National Bank of Arizona v. Cities Service Co., 391 U. S. 253, 288–289 (1968), to the effect that a summary judgment motion will be defeated if “sufficient evidence supporting the claimed factual dispute be shown to require a jury or judge to resolve the parties’ differing versions of the truth at trial,” ante, at 249, and that a plaintiff may not, in defending against a motion for summary judgment, rest on mere allegations or denials of his pleadings. After citing Adickes v. S. H. Kress & Co., 398 U. S. 144 (1970), for the unstartling proposition that “the availability of summary judgment turn[s] on whether a proper jury question [is] presented,” ante, at 249, the Court then reasserts, again with no direct authority, that in determining whether a jury question is presented, the inquiry is whether there are factual issues “that properly can be resolved only by a finder of fact because they may reasonably be resolved in favor of either party.” Ante, at 250. The Court maintains that this summary judgment inquiry “mirrors” that which applies in the context of a motion for directed verdict under Federal Rule of Civil Procedure 50(a): “whether the evidence presents a sufficient disagreement to require submission to a jury or whether it is so one-sided that one party must prevail as a matter of law.” Ante, at 251–252. Having thus decided that a “genuine” dispute is one which is not “one-sided,” and one which could “reasonably” be resolved by a “fair-minded” jury in favor of either party, ibid., the Court then concludes: "“Whether a jury could reasonably find for either party, however, cannot be defined except by the criteria governing what evidence would enable the jury to find for either the plaintiff or the defendant: It makes no sense to say that a jury could reasonably find for either party without some benchmark as to what standards govern its deliberations and within what boundaries its ultimate decision must fall, and these standards and boundaries are in fact provided by the applicable evidentiary standards.” Ante, at 254–255."

As far as I can discern, this conclusion, which is at the heart of the case, has been reached without the benefit of any support in the case law. Although, as noted above, the Court cites Adickes and Cities Service, those cases simply do not stand for the proposition that in ruling on a summary judgment motion, the trial court is to inquire into the “one-sidedness” of the evidence presented by the parties. Cities Service involved the propriety of a grant of summary judgment in favor of a defendant alleged to have conspired to violate the antitrust laws. The issue in the case was whether, on the basis of the facts in the record, a jury could infer that the defendant had entered into a conspiracy to boycott. No direct evidence of the conspiracy was produced. In agreeing with the lower courts that the circumstantial evidence presented by the plaintiff was insufficient to take the case to the jury, we observed that there was “one fact” that petitioner had produced to support the existence of the illegal agreement, and that that single fact could not support petitioner’s theory of liability. Critically, we observed that “[t]he case at hand presents peculiar difficulties because the issue of fact crucial to petitioner’s case is also an issue of law, namely the existence of a conspiracy.” 391 U. S., at 289. In other words, Cities Service is at heart about whether certain facts can support inferences that are, as a matter of antitrust law, sufficient to support a particular theory of liability under the Sherman Act. Just this Term, in discussing summary judgment in the context of suits brought under the antitrust laws, we characterized both Cities Service and Monsanto Co. v. Spray-Rite Service Corp., 465 U. S. 752 (1984), as cases in which “antitrust law limit[ed] the range of permissible inferences from ambiguous evidence….” Matsushita Electric Industrial Co. v. Zenith Radio Corp., 475 U. S. 574, 588 (1986) (emphasis added). Cities Service thus provides no authority for the conclusion that Rule 56 requires a trial court to consider whether direct evidence produced by the parties is “one-sided.” To the contrary, in Matsushita, the most recent case to cite and discuss Cities Service, we stated that the requirement that a dispute be “genuine” means simply that there must be more than “some metaphysical doubt as to the material facts.” 475 U. S., at 586. Writing in dissent in Matsushita, stated that he agreed with the summary judgment test employed by the Court, namely, that “ ‘[w]here the record taken as a whole could not lead a rational trier of fact to find for the nonmoving party, there is no genuine issue for trial.’ ” 475 U. S., at 599. Whether the shift, announced today, from looking to a “reasonable” rather than a “rational” jury is intended to be of any significance, there are other aspects of the Matsushita dissent which I find difficult to square with the Court’s holding in the present case. The Matsushita dissenters argued: "“… [T]he Court summarizes Monsanto Co. v. Spray-Rite Service Corp., supra, as holding that ‘courts should not permit factfinders to infer conspiracies when such inferences are implausible….’ Ante, at 593. Such language suggests that a judge hearing a defendant’s motion for summary judgment in an antitrust case should go beyond the traditional summary judgment inquiry and decide for himself whether the weight of the evidence favors the plaintiff. Cities Service and Monsanto do not stand for any such proposition. Each of those cases simply held that a particular piece of evidence standing alone was insufficiently probative to justify sending a case to the jury. These holdings in no way undermine the doctrine that all evidence must be construed in the light most favorable to the party opposing summary judgment.

“If the Court intends to give every judge hearing a motion for summary judgment in an antitrust case the job of determining if the evidence makes the inference of conspiracy more probable than not, it is overturning settled law. If the Court does not intend such a pronouncement, it should refrain from using unnecessarily broad and confusing language.” Id., at 600–601 (footnote omitted)."

In my view, these words are as applicable and relevant to the Court’s opinion today as they were to the opinion of the Court in Matsushita.

Nor does Adickes, also relied on by the Court, suggest in any way that the appropriate summary judgment inquiry is whether the evidence overwhelmingly supports one party. Adickes, like Cities Service, presented the question of whether a grant of summary judgment in favor of a defendant on a conspiracy count was appropriate. The plaintiff, a white schoolteacher, maintained that employees of defendant Kress conspired with the police to deny her rights protected by the Fourteenth Amendment by refusing to serve her in one of its lunchrooms simply because she was white and accompanied by a number of black schoolchildren. She maintained, among other things, that Kress arranged with the police to have her arrested for vagrancy when she left the defendant’s premises. In support of its motion for summary judgment, Kress submitted statements from a deposition of one of its employees asserting that he had not communicated or agreed with the police to deny plaintiff service or to have her arrested, and explaining that the store had taken the challenged action not because of the race of the plaintiff, but because it was fearful of the reaction of some of its customers if it served a racially mixed group. Kress also submitted affidavits from the Chief of Police and the arresting officers denying that the store manager had requested that petitioner be arrested, and noted that in the plaintiff’s own deposition, she conceded that she had no knowledge of any communication between the police and any Kress employee and was relying on circumstantial evidence to support her allegations. In opposing defendant’s motion for summary judgment, plaintiff stated that defendant in its moving papers failed to dispute an allegation in the complaint, a statement at her deposition, and an unsworn statement by a Kress employee all to the effect that there was a policeman in the store at the time of the refusal to serve, and that it was this policeman who subsequently made the arrest. Plaintiff argued that this sequence of events “created a substantial enough possibility of a conspiracy to allow her to proceed to trial….” 398 U. S., at 157.

We agreed, and therefore reversed the lower courts, reasoning that Kress “did not carry its burden because of its failure to foreclose the possibility that there was a policeman in the Kress store while petitioner was awaiting service, and that this policeman reached an understanding with some Kress employee that petitioner not be served.” Ibid. Despite the fact that none of the materials relied on by plaintiff met the requirements of Rule 56(e), we stated nonetheless that Kress failed to meet its initial burden of showing that there was no genuine dispute of a material fact. Specifically, we held that because Kress failed to negate plaintiff’s materials suggesting that a policeman was in fact in the store at the time of the refusal to serve, “it would be open to a jury … to infer from the circumstances that the policeman and a Kress employee had a ‘meeting of the minds’ and thus reached an understanding that petitioner should be refused service.” Id., at 158.

In Adickes we held that a jury might permissibly infer a conspiracy from the mere presence of a policeman in a restaurant. We never reached and did not consider whether the evidence was “one-sided,” and had we done so, we clearly would have had to affirm, rather than reverse, the lower courts, since in that case there was no admissible evidence submitted by petitioner, and a significant amount of evidence presented by the defendant tending to rebut the existence of a conspiracy. The question we did reach was simply whether, as a matter of conspiracy law, a jury would be entitled, again, as a matter of law, to infer from the presence of a policeman in a restaurant the making of an agreement between that policeman and an employee. Because we held that a jury was entitled so to infer, and because the defendant had not carried its initial burden of production of demonstrating that there was no evidence that there was not a policeman in the lunchroom, we concluded that summary judgment was inappropriate.

Accordingly, it is surprising to find the case cited by the majority for the proposition that “there is no issue for trial unless there is sufficient evidence favoring the nonmoving party for a jury to return a verdict for that party.” Ante, at 249. There was, of course, no admissible evidence in Adickes favoring the nonmoving plaintiff; there was only an unrebutted assertion that a Kress employee and a policeman were in the same room at the time of the alleged constitutional violation. Like Cities Service, Adickes suggests that on a defendant’s motion for summary judgment, a trial court must consider whether, as a matter of the substantive law of the plaintiff’s cause of action, a jury will be permitted to draw inferences supporting the plaintiff’s legal theory. In Cities Service we found, in effect, that the plaintiff had failed to make out a prima facie case; in Adickes we held that the moving defendant had failed to rebut the plaintiff’s prima facie case. In neither case is there any intimation that a trial court should inquire whether plaintiff’s evidence is “significantly probative,” as opposed to “merely colorable,” or, again, “one-sided.” Nor is there in either case any suggestion that once a nonmoving plaintiff has made out a prima facie case based on evidence satisfying Rule 56(e) that there is any showing that a defendant can make to prevail on a motion for summary judgment. Yet this is what the Court appears to hold, relying, in part, on these two cases.

As explained above, and as explained also by in his dissent, see post, at 271, I cannot agree that the authority cited by the Court supports its position. In my view, the Court’s result is the product of an exercise akin to the child’s game of “telephone,” in which a message is repeated from one person to another and then another; after some time, the message bears little resemblance to what was originally spoken. In the present case, the Court purports to restate the summary judgment test, but with each repetition, the original understanding is increasingly distorted.

But my concern is not only that the Court’s decision is unsupported; after all, unsupported views may nonetheless be supportable. I am more troubled by the fact that the Court’s opinion sends conflicting signals to trial courts and reviewing courts which must deal with summary judgment motions on a day-to-day basis. This case is about a trial court’s responsibility when considering a motion for summary judgment, but in my view, the Court, while instructing the trial judge to “consider” heightened evidentiary standards, fails to explain what that means. In other words, how does a judge assess how one-sided evidence is, or what a “fair-minded” jury could “reasonably” decide? The Court provides conflicting clues to these mysteries, which I fear can lead only to increased confusion in the district and appellate courts.

The Court’s opinion is replete with boilerplate language to the effect that trial courts are not to weigh evidence when deciding summary judgment motions:

"“[I]t is clear enough from our recent cases that at the summary judgment stage the judge’s function is not himself to weigh the evidence and determine the truth of the matter….” Ante, at 249.

“Our holding … does not denigrate the role of the jury. … Credibility determinations, the weighing of the evidence, and the drawing of legitimate inferences from the facts are jury functions, not those of a judge, whether he is ruling on a motion for summary judgment or for a directed verdict. The evidence of the non-movant is to be believed, and all justifiable inferences are to be drawn in his favor.” Ante, at 255."

But the Court’s opinion is also full of language which could surely be understood as an invitation—if not an instruction—to trial courts to assess and weigh evidence much as a juror would:

"“When determining if a genuine factual issue … exists …, a trial judge must bear in mind the actual quantum and quality of proof necessary to support liability. … For example, there is no genuine issue if the evidence presented in the opposing affidavits is of insufficient caliber or quantity to allow a rational finder of fact to find actual malice by clear and convincing evidence.” Ante, at 254 (emphasis added).

“[T]he inquiry … [is] whether the evidence presents a sufficient disagreement to require submission to a jury or whether it is so one-sided that one party must prevail as a matter of law.” Ante, at 251–252 (emphasis added).

“[T]he judge must ask himself … whether a fair-minded jury could return a verdict for the plaintiff on the evidence presented. The mere existence of a scintilla of evidence in support of the plaintiff’s position will be insufficient; there must be evidence on which the jury could reasonably find for the plaintiff.” Ante, at 252."

I simply cannot square the direction that the judge “is not himself to weigh the evidence” with the direction that the judge also bear in mind the “quantum” of proof required and consider whether the evidence is of sufficient “caliber or quantity” to meet that “quantum.” I would have thought that a determination of the “caliber and quantity,” i. e., the importance and value, of the evidence in light of the “quantum,” i. e., amount “required,” could only be performed by weighing the evidence.

If in fact, this is what the Court would, under today’s decision, require of district courts, then I am fearful that this new rule—for this surely would be a brand new procedure—will transform what is meant to provide an expedited “summary” procedure into a full-blown paper trial on the merits. It is hard for me to imagine that a responsible counsel, aware that the judge will be assessing the “quantum” of the evidence he is presenting, will risk either moving for or responding to a summary judgment motion without coming forth with all of the evidence he can muster in support of his client’s case. Moreover, if the judge on motion for summary judgment really is to weigh the evidence, then in my view grave concerns are raised concerning the constitutional right of civil litigants to a jury trial.

It may well be, as suggests, see post, at 270–271, that the Court’s decision today will be of little practical effect. I, for one, cannot imagine a case in which a judge might plausibly hold that the evidence on motion for summary judgment was sufficient to enable a plaintiff bearing a mere preponderance burden to get to the jury—i. e., that a prima facie case had been made out—but insufficient for a plaintiff bearing a clear-and-convincing burden to withstand a defendant’s summary judgment motion. Imagine a suit for breach of contract. If, for example, the defendant moves for summary judgment and produces one purported eyewitness who states that he was present at the time the parties discussed the possibility of an agreement, and unequivocally denies that the parties ever agreed to enter into a contract, while the plaintiff produces one purported eyewitness who asserts that the parties did in fact come to terms, presumably that case would go to the jury. But if the defendant produced not one, but 100 eyewitnesses, while the plaintiff stuck with his single witness, would that case, under the Court’s holding, still go to the jury? After all, although the plaintiff’s burden in this hypothetical contract action is to prove his case by a mere preponderance of the evidence, the judge, so the Court tells us, is to “ask himself … whether a fair-minded jury could return a verdict for the plaintiff on the evidence presented.” Ante, at 252. Is there, in this hypothetical example, “a sufficient disagreement to require submission to a jury,” or is the evidence “so one-sided that one party must prevail as a matter of law”? Ante, at 251–252. Would the result change if the plaintiff’s one witness were now shown to be a convicted perjurer? Would the result change if, instead of a garden-variety contract claim, the plaintiff sued on a fraud theory, thus requiring him to prove his case by clear and convincing evidence?

It seems to me that the Court’s decision today unpersuasively answers the question presented, and in doing so raises a host of difficult and troubling questions for which there may well be no adequate solutions. What is particularly unfair is that the mess we make is not, at least in the first instance, our own to deal with; it is the district courts and courts of appeals that must struggle to clean up after us.

In my view, if a plaintiff presents evidence which either directly or by permissible inference (and these inferences are a product of the substantive law of the underlying claim) supports all of the elements he needs to prove in order to prevail on his legal claim, the plaintiff has made out a prima facie case and a defendant’s motion for summary judgment must fail regardless of the burden of proof that the plaintiff must meet. In other words, whether evidence is “clear and convincing,” or proves a point by a mere preponderance, is for the factfinder to determine. As I read the case law, this is how it has been, and because of my concern that today’s decision may erode the constitutionally enshrined role of the jury, and also undermine the usefulness of summary judgment procedure, this is how I believe it should remain.


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USSIA first found herself as a people, that is, as a self-conscious nation, through prose fiction; Germany and England through the poetic play; Greece, Rome, and Italy through epics. It begins to appear as if the United States (what a name for a nation, and yet how apt!) is finding herself through a rather loosened-up lyric poetry.

Our land's name reveals our dilemma in art. A society of states, in which each state is a society of races, is not a nation in the Old World sense; it is not an organic fusion, but a collection, in which the differences are more marked than the likenesses. France, we say, has a soul, meaning that Frenchmen, to use James's phrase, "dip their roots in the same pool of consciousness," or more accurately, sub-consciousness; but Americans are held together not by unconscious identity, but by conscious ideals and interests. Americanism is not so much an impulse as a set of ready-made attitudes. Since these can be learned in a short time, the Americanization of immigrants goes on with rapidity.

One might expect then that an American national art would be an impossibility. The national novel, play, or epic requires typic characters, heroes who are the reflection of a people; but where is our typical American? And by typical I do not mean the conscious attitudes and manners of a man, but his essential character; for great art does not so much reveal the garb, speech, and habits, as those deep unconscious forces which differentiate one people from another. If, for instance, I see a certain kinship between J. J. Hill, Daniel Boone, Billy Sunday, and Theodore Roosevelt, or between Emerson, Dr. Eliot, John Dewey, and Woodrow Wilson, or between Lincoln, Gene Debs, John Brown, Mark Twain, and Jane Addams, I also find that, tested by the acid of art, they fail as national symbols. For not one of these is the national character heightened and intensified, but rather a sport, a divergence, a personal success. We must not be fooled by the fact that each group held certain ideas, attitudes, and manners in common; these are

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Rh environmental and not hereditary; and the very fact that there is such a startling sameness in American exteriors argues that there is a corresponding diversity in the unconscious. We wear the same feathers but underneath we are immigrants from many lands.

This explains why our novelists never rise beyond a depiction of manners to a revealing of character. To begin with, only a few of the men mentioned could be subjected to deep treatment. Most of them are stiff fronts, behind which vacancy takes the place of the passions, tumults, Weltanschauung, and mystic grandeur which belong to the unconscious. Imagine Woodrow Wilson or Billy Sunday or T. R. as the hero of a great novel! How quickly each would become wooden and unconvincing! The trouble is that they are too typically American; the trouble is that a people united only by conscious bonds, have, for the sake of unity, denied their unconscious and alien character; and behind the striking samenesses gapes a void.

What then of such genuine and deep men as Lincoln and Gene Debs? At first glance we seem to have found what we are seeking. But alas, at second glance we see that their very depth differentiates them from the American people, and that when they are taken over into art they are like foreign particles, austerely and terribly separated from their social environment. Our nationalism screamed in the late war: where did it hold "malice toward none, and mercy for all," to say nothing of democracy? Where was "a race of Lincolns"?

Is the case then hopeless? Possibly yes for any art that requires typic characters; and curiously not so for semi-lyrical poetry. Mark Twain came the nearest to writing a national novel in Huckleberry Finn; and this for the excellent reason that taking a boy as his hero, he could approximate the psychic development of the nation. But we cannot have great national art so long as boys are the measure of our value.

In poetry, however, the case is different. Poetry is an excellent medium for giving environmental colour, snap-shots, ideals and abstract tendencies; it can give the vague flavour of a mixed society; and best of all it can reveal, not through a symbol, but directly, the unconscious of the poet. Now this unconscious is something passed on to the poet through a long descent; it is the common racial inheritance, and differs only according to the stock

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Rh the fields of marl which are their livelihood. It is from the style, however, that the volume derives much of its worth. This quality is one of which our generation seems almost unconscious. We know that George Moore writes good prose—he has told us so himself. Critics trumpet the perfection of Conrad in our ears. Appreciation of the cadenced beauty which characterizes. The Challenge to Sirius, however, rests on no publicity methods. The ideas which Miss Kaye-Smith expresses are often banal—she is naively indifferent to her own platitudes—but the sentences that clothe them are hammered in bronze; each one perfect, each sufficient to itself.

The flux and reflux of sentences such as these makes beautiful the prose of The Four Roads. Here the subject is Sussex in wartime. One hears at first the boom of ghostly artillery across the Channel as a dissonance in the usual hum of afternoon. Later it grows louder, threatening to destroy utterly this peaceful countryside. Sussex triumphs over the guns; with the young men killed, there is left another generation to grasp the warm plough-handles that the fathers had dropped. The victory, however, is precarious, and the new Sussex is not the peaceful county of Victoria's reign that sowed and reaped and voted Tory to keep the prices up.

As a novel The Four Roads is almost everything that its precursor was not. The real hero is a village instead of one man; despite this fact, the story is distinctly of a single piece. One does not pick many flaws; neither does one grow especially enthusiastic. Tom Beatup and his stolid, maternal Thyrza; Tom's younger brothers; Jerry, the scapegrace son of the Nonconformist parson and a gypsy woman from Thornden: all these characters are delineated with infinite understanding but without real sympathy. Miss Kaye-Smith, near as she is to the heart of Sussex, is a stranger to its people, much like the woman of Thornden who married there and died and was a friend only to the wild twisting roads. Or she is like the Frank Rainger of the earlier volume, who, she says, "had sunk into the fibre of Moon's Green like a nail embedded in the live trunk of an oak. He would always be different in substance from his surroundings."

This charge of lack of sympathy can hardly be brought against her portrait of the Reverend Mr. Sumption. A gaunt, lonely Baptist, he too was a stranger to the folk among whom he lived. His son, his flock, his faith: one after another the war deprives him of

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260 barns with their tarred walls and great waving sprawls of roof, the oast-houses with their red cones and white cowls, are all so many fungus growths, pushed up by the soil rather than built by men." It is this country which she has chosen for her own. At first she confined herself to it rigorously. Later she has dared occasional expeditions into the outer world, but she has not yet learned to keep her footing on other ground than Sussex.

Especially is this evident in The Challenge to Sirius. The novel is long and inchoate, bound together only by the fact that it is the biography of Frank Rainger; while he, in turn, is convincing only when he moves against a south-English background. Rainger spends his boyhood and adolescence in the Isle of Oxney, "a little pip of a county wedged between Sussex and Kent." There he returns, a man in his fifties, to marry his first love and settle down. The interval is taken up with a London sojourn—of which Miss Kaye-Smith gives a brilliant and thoroughly second-rate account—a history of the Civil War from Pittsburg Landing to Atlanta, and a final interlude of eleven years in Yucatan.

An English view of the War of the Rebellion is always fascinating to the American reader. Here Miss Kaye-Smith is safe but not inspired. She wisely lays stress more on the general features of the campaigns than on the reactions of the individual soldier; these remain somewhat of a closed book to women. She is less discreet when she gives herself free rein on Southern landscapes. Evidently she has gained her knowledge of them through textbooks of botany. Frank, escaping from the Union forces, makes his way through a jungle of Indian pipe and sumach. He hides from his putsuers behind a pokeberry bush! and at last floats down the Suwanee River, breathing in the heavy scents of orange-flowers, syringa, oleander, and myrtle, and watching the delicate palm-fronds outlined against the stars It is beautiful, it is exotic, but it reminds one more of Chateaubriand than of Georgia. More real is the portrait of the planter-at-arms, Zollicoffer, and especially that of Lorena Middleton; she is a pressed flower of the Old South.

The scenes in the Isle of Oxney show more accuracy. Tom Coalbrun and his lumpish brother Dave; Maggie, whom Frank Rainger loves mildly and persistently—"She was habit and hunger like his daily bread"—these people are depicted patiently, exactly, and with a skill which Miss Kaye-Smith surpasses only in her descriptions of

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 "Now be quiet, Ellen," said the elder roughly but not unkindly, as she helped her up, and stuffing the black-bordered handkerchief into her pocket, took out the everyday one which she kept for use. "There, wipe your eyes, and be a stout gal. Don't let all the company see you crying."

The last injunction evidently impressed Ellen, for she stopped at once. Her sister had wiped the grit and the little smear of blood off her chin, and stood in the doorway holding her hand while one by one the other carriages drew up and the occupants alighted. Not a word was spoken till they had all assembled, then the young woman said: "Please come in and have a cup of tea," and turning on her heel led the way to the dining-room.

"Joanna," said little Ellen in a loud whisper, "may I take off my hat?"

"No, that you mayn't."

"But the elastic's so tight—it's cutting my chin. Why mayn't I?"

"You can't till the funeral's over."

"It is over. They've put Father in the ground."

"It isn't over till we've had tea, and you keep your hat on till it's over."

For answer Ellen tore off her pork-pie hat and threw it on the floor. Immediately Joanna had boxed her unprotected ears, and the head of the procession was involved in an ignominious scuffle. "You pick up that hat and put it on," said Joanna, "or you shan't have any nice tea." "You're a beast! You're a brute," cried Ellen, weeping loudly. Behind them stood rows of respectable marsh-dwellers, gazing solemnly ahead as if the funeral service were still in progress. In their hearts they were thinking that it was just like Joanna Godden to have a terrification like this when folk were expected to be serious. In the end, Joanna picked up Ellen's hat, crammed it down rulhlessly on her head, hind part before, and heaving her up under her arm carried her into the dining-room. The rest of the company followed, and were ushered into their places to


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 with Lord Blessington in his yacht at Naples when the American fleet was lying there ten or eleven years ago, and we were constantly on board your ships. I knew Commodore Creighton and Captain Deacon extremely well, and liked them particularly. They were with us frequently of an evening on board the yacht or the frigate, and I remember very well the bands playing always "God save the King" as we went up the side. Count D'Orsay here, who spoke very little English at the time, had a great passion for "Yankee Doodle," and it was always played at his request.'

"The count, who still speaks the language with a very slight accent, but with a choice of words that shows him to be a man of uncommon tact and elegance of mind, inquired after several of the officers, whom I have not the pleasure of knowing. He seems to remember his visits to the frigate with great pleasure. The conversation, after running upon a variety of topics, turned very naturally upon Byron. I had frequently seen the Countess Guiccioli on the Continent, and I asked Lady Blessington if she knew her.

"Yes, very well. We were at Genoa when they were living there, but we never saw her. It was at Rome, in the year 1828, that I first knew her, having formed her acquaintance at Count Funchal's, the Portuguese ambassador.'

"It would be impossible, of course, to make a full and fair record of a conversation of some hours. I have only noted one or two topics which I thought most likely to interest an American reader. During all this long


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Rh days"; so summer is not over! "Yet the first leaf already flies from the bough"; so autumn has come, after all. "On the drying paths I walk in my thin shoes"—it is not cold; "In the first cold I have donned my quilted coat"—but it is rather chilly. "Through shallow ditches the floods are clearing away"—fine weather; "Through sparse bamboos trickles a slanting light"—but winter is coming. As for the last two lines, they simply complete the picture sketched out in these oppositions; they give us the relation of all these details to each other. The mind is focussed at the close in a single definite fact—autumn evening.

As if to show us how near this method is to the Chinese, Mr. Waley has given us in his introduction this specimen of a poem literally translated:

Here we have the Chinese technique in excelsis. A set of definite concrete statements are set against each other in balanced order to convey a perfectly abstract idea. We dull Occidentals have to be told that the poet who wrote this was sixty-three years of age. Then we see that the "returning steps" that "still hesitate" are those of the poet himself, and that his leisurely old age is contrasted throughout with the servant-girl's youth—she is impatient to get to bed; but, as Po Chü-i might say, "Water's colour at dusk is still white, but sunset's glow in the dark is gradually nil"; and if this statement does not receive an additional illumination from the last two lines, then you must be totally insensible either to the charm or to the substance of Chinese poetry.

I have dealt with this topic to some extent, as it is important. Indeed, the importance of the Chinese poets is that they came nearest of all poets to that complete fusion of substance and form which is

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 Old Calabar.

Azuminé Creek (Opobo River).

I believe that the specimens so named should be reunited with Schilbe mystus.

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Eutropius liberiensis Hubrecht, Notes Leyds Mus. iii. p. 69; Steind. ibid. xvi. p. 59.

Lambarene.

Warri.

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Chrysichthys Büttikoferi, Steindachner, Notes Leyd. Mus. xvi. p. 60.

This is a species clearly distinct from ''Ch. macrops'', having the adipose fin much shorter and further distant from the dorsal fin. In this respect it agrees with ''Ch. nigrodigitatus'', which, as a rule, has a more contracted snout and narrower mouth. However, I have examined large specimens which it is difficult to refer to either of these two species with certainty. And the difficulty is increased, as I find that there are specimens with eleven and with thirteen anal rays in both the narrow-snouted form (Ch. wigrodigitatus) and the broad-snouted (Ch. Büttikoferi). Possibly more than these two species should be distinguished. Miss Kingsley; found ''Ch. Büttikoferi'' at Kondo-Kondo and in Corisco Island.

Old Calabar.

Old Calabar; Ogowé River.


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Old Calabar.

Specimens from the Ogowé River have the barbels rather longer and the base of the dorsal fin at a steeper slope than specimens from Angola.

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? Leuciscus bibie, De Joannis, Guérin, Mag. Zool. 1835, Pisc. pl. iv.; Günth, Fish. vii. p. 293.

Body compressed, its depth being two-ninths, the length of the head one-fourth, of the total length (without caudal). Head oblong, with pointed snout, which is equal to the diameter of the eye or two-sevenths of the length of the head. Width of the interorbital space equal to the diameter of the eye. Mouth wide, oblique, the narrow maxillary extending to below the middle of the eye, its extremity being hidden below the suborbital, when the mouth is shut. Præorbital about half the area of the orbit; the first suborbital is narrow, much narrower than the second and third, which nearly entirely cover the check, leaving only a space uncovered about equal to the size of the first suborbital. The origin of the dorsal fin is rather nearer to the caudal than to the occiput; origin of the anal fin below the middle of the dorsal. Caudal fin deeply forked. Pectoral fin shorter than the head, not reaching the much shorter ventral. Scales thin, with very distinct radiating striæ; lateral line sweeping down in a curve towards the abdomen, and, following the lower profile, terminates below the centre of the caudal fin. Silvery, with twelve bluish vertical bars along the middle of the side, and with a large blackish spot at the root of the caudal.

Ogowé River.

This is one of the most interesting fishes in the collection. Originally described and figured in a very rude manner from


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 visit, however, my eyes were very busy in finishing for memory a portrait of the celebrated and beautiful woman before me.

"The portrait of Lady Blessington in the 'Book of Beauty' is not unlike her, but it is still an unfavorable likeness. A picture by Sir Thomas Lawrence hung opposite me, taken, perhaps, at the age of eighteen, which is more like her, and as captivating a representation of a just matured woman, full of loveliness and love, the kind of creature with whose divine sweetness the gazer's heart aches, as ever was drawn in the painter's most inspired hour. The original is no longer dans sa première jeunesse. Still she looks something on the sunny side of thirty. Her person is full, but preserves all the fineness of an admirable shape; her foot is not pressed in a satin slipper, for which a Cinderella might long be sought in vain; and her complexion (an unusually fair skin, with very dark hair and eyebrows) is of even a girlish delicacy and freshness. Her dress, of blue satin, (if I am describing her like a milliner, it is because I have here and there a reader in my eye who will be amused by it,) was cut low, and folded across her bosom, in a way to show to advantage the round and sculpture-like curve and whiteness of a pair of exquisite shoulders; while her hair, dressed close to her head, and parted simply on her forehead with a rich feronier of turquoise, enveloped in clear outline a head with which it would be difficult to find a fault, Her features are regular, and her mouth, the most expressive of them, has a ripe fulness and freedom of play peculiar to the Irish


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 physiognomy, and expressive of the most unsuspicious good-humor. Add to all this a voice merry and sad by turns, but always musical, and manners of the most unpretending elegance, yet even more remarkable for their winning kindness, and you have the prominent traits of one of the most lovely and fascinating women I have ever seen. Remembering her talents and her rank, and the unenvying admiration she receives from the world of fashion and genius, it would be difficult to reconcile her lot to the 'doctrine of compensation.'

"In the evening I kept my appointment with Lady Blessington. She had deserted her exquisite library for the drawing-room, and sat, in full dress, with six or seven gentlemen about her. I was presented immediately to all; and when the conversation was resumed, I took the opportunity to remark the distinguished coterie with which she was surrounded.

"Nearest me sat Smith, the author of 'Rejected Addresses'—a hale, handsome man, apparently fifty, with white hair, and a very nobly-formed head and physiognomy. His eye alone—small, and with lids contracted into an habitual look of drollery, betrayed the bent of his genius. He held a cripple's crutch in his hand, and, though otherwise rather particularly well-dressed, wore a pair of large India-rubber shoes—the penalty he was paying, doubtless, for the many good dinners he had eaten. He played rather an aside in the conversation, whipping in with a quiz or witticism whenever he could get an opportunity, but more a listener than a talker.


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