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 more pitiful, and practically, nothing more ridiculous, than the middle class sobs concerning the 17th of July (indulged in, by the way, by L. Martov), concerning the fact that the Bolsheviki contrived to bring about their defeat, and so on and so forth. All these sobs, all the conclusions that "there should not have been" any participation in the July 16–17 movement (participation which was for the purpose of imparting a "peaceful and organized" character to a perfectly legal state of discontent and activity of the masses!)—all this verges on apostasy if emanating from the Bolsheviki, or is characteristic if emanating from the petite bourgeoisie, the manifestation of its habitual indecision and intimidation. In fact, the movement of July 16–17 was a development of the movement of May 2–3 and its subsequent period, as inevitable as that summer follows spring. It was the unquestionable duty of the proletarian party to remain with the masses, trying to give a more peaceful and organized expression to their just demands and action, not to sweep aside, not to wash their hands of it all, in the manner of Pontius Pilate, on the pedantic pretext that the masses were not organized to the last man and that excesses might follow. (As if there were no excesses on May 2–3! As if there was ever in the history in the world a single mass movement without excesses!)

After July 17 the Social-Revolutionists and the Mensheviki were so completely involved and entangled with the bourgeoisie that they could no longer disguise the fact that they were prepared for cooperation with the counter-revolutionary Cadets (for purposes of repression, slander and the hangman' policy). The Social-Revolutionists and the Mensheviki were completely swallowed in the swamp of counter-revolution because their actions during May and June, their acceptance of the coalition ministry and support of the policy of the offensive, led directly to the swamp.

I have somewhat digressed, apparently, from my theme of the suppression of Pravda to the historic evaluation of the 17th of July: but that is only apparently, since in reality we cannot understand the one without the other. The suppression of Pravda, the arrests of Bolsheviki and other persecutions, represent nothing more or less than the realization of the program of counter-revolution and the Cadets in particular, if we consider the main aspect of the affair and the course of events.

It is most instructive, now, to consider just by whom and by what means this program was realized.

Consider the facts. On July 15 and 16 the movement gathers


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 strength, the masses are agitated and inflamed by the inactivity of the government, the high cost of living, the collapse of the July offensive. The Cadets leave the ministry, playing for time and issuing an ultimatum to the Social-Revolutionists and Mensheviki, leaving it to those "who are in power," though possessing no power, to liquidate the military defeat and the discontent of the masses.

The Bolsheviki, on July 15–16, abstain from action. This was acknowledged even by the representative of Dyelo Naroda in relating the incidents of July 15 in the Grenadier regiment. In the evening of July 16, the movement gets beyond bounds, and the Bolsheviki issue a proclamation about the necessity of imparting to the movement "a peaceful and organized" character. On July 17, the provocative shots of counter-revolutionary gangs increase the number of victims on both sides. We must emphasize that the promise of the Soviet Executive Committee to investigate the events, to issue bulletins twice daily, etc., remained an empty promise! Exactly nothngnothing [sic] was done by the Social-Revolutionists and Mensheviki, who did not even publish a casualty list of both sides.

On the night of July 17, the Bolsheviki issued a proclamation concerning the cessation of hostilities, and the same night it was published in Pravda. But, the same night, there arrives a counter-revolutionary army at Petrograd (evidently at the call or with the sanction of the Social-Revolutionists, Mensheviki and their Soviets, concerning which "delicate" point there has been a strict silence after the necessity of secrecy had passed). And on the same night, there begin massacres of the Bolsheviki by companies of Junkers, etc., acting under the instruction of the commander Polovtzev and the General Staff. On the night of July 18, they suppress the Pravda, on the 18th and 19th they destroy its printing shop, kill a worker, Voynoff, in broad daylight.

They hunt for and arrest the Bolsheviki and disarm the revolutionary regiments.

Who did all this? Neither the government nor the Soviets, but a counter-revolutionary military band gathered around the General Staff, acting in the name of "counter-espionage," putting into circulation the fabrications of Pereverdeff and Alexinsky to "arouse the savagery" of the troops, etc. The government is nowhere. The Soviets are nowhere. They tremble for their own fate: they receive a series of communications that the Cossacks may come and massacre them.

The "Black Hundred" and the Cadet press having instituted or-

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190 man) and "Den Vægelsindede" (the fickle woman), and among other plays "Henrik and Pernille" and "Maskeraden" are especially to be mentioned.

It is, however, no easy matter to classify Holberg's comedies in groups. The most of them have in common not only a leading character (a person affected with some striking human weakness or some individual peculiarly characteristic of the age), but also the secondary figures, which, though constantly recurring, are diversified with great skill and humor (the dignified parent, the cunning servant, the simple domestic, the lovers, etc., etc.), and all are drawn with remarkable distinctness. Every comedy teems with genuine wit, and with exquisite, though sometimes rather broad humor. His exuberant humor was combined with a most profound psychological insight, and his plays abound in traits that evince a rare knowledge of human nature. His prolonged stay abroad necessarily opened the eyes of a man endowed with a gift of keen observation to all that was ridiculous and small in the social life of Denmark. Abroad he also became acquainted with the new dramatic form, and when once the impulse from without had been given, the great dramatist had it entirely in his power to paint the men of his time as they lived and moved, and to paint them in such a manner as to give the dramas immortal value, since, in addition to the particular color belonging to the time and the circumstances, they also embody the common and permanent human element. Like his predecessor, Molière, he does not hesitate to take his materials wherever he can find them, and thus he has borrowed for his plays not only from Molière and from the Italians, but also from Plautus and Terence. His creative talent never forsakes him, however, and what he borrows, he always understands, like the true artist, to use in such a manner that it blends with his own materials, and through this very blending acquires its true lustre.

And yet the poetical point of view was to Holberg a subordinate one. The most important aim of which he was


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Ellen Glasgow

 * Ellen Glasgow (1923), a biography by Louise Maunsell Field
 * "Ellen Glasgow" (1926), an essay by Stuart Pratt Sherman

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 ganized persecutions of the Bolsheviki, begin a persecution of the Soviets. The Social-Revolutionists and Mensheviki bound themselves hand and foot to these counter-revolutionary policies; and, like chained men, they called or "permitted a call" of counter-revolutionary troops to Petrograd and that bound them still more. They sank completely into the detestable counter-revolutionary swamp. Like cowards, they dismiss their own committee appointed to investigate the "affairs" of the Bolsheviki. They delivered the Bolsheviki to the counter-revolution. They participate, meekly, in the funeral of the dead Cossacks, and thus kiss the hands of the counter-revolutionists. They are chained men; they are at the bottom of the swamp. They toss about desperately: they give the Premier's portfolio to Kerensky: they arrange a "Zemstvo Assembly," or the "coronation" of a counter-revolutionary government in Moscow; Kerensky discharges Polovtzev.

But these tossings remain tossings, not in the least changing the situation. Kerensky discharges Polovtzev, but at the same time legalizes and makes formal Polovtzev's measures, his policy. Kerensky suppresses Pravda, introduces the death penalty for soldiers, forbids the right of assemblage at the front, continues the arrests of Bolsheviki (including even Alexandra Kollontay)—all according to the program of Alexinsky.

The "constitutional" condition of Russia is defined with amazing clarity: the offensive at the front and the coalition with the Cadets in the rear sweep the Social-Revolutionists and Mensheviki into the swamp of counter-revolution. In fact, the government power passes into the hands of the counter-revolution, into the hands of a military band, with the government of Kerensky, Tseretelli and Chernov as merely a screen for it: the government is forced indirectly to legalize the measures and the policy of the military counter-revolution.

The compromise of Kerensky, Tseretelli and Chernov with the Cadets has a secondary, if not a very remote significance: whether the Cadets will gain by this compromise; whether Chernov and Tseretelli will hold out "alone," the question will not be changed. The basic and decisive fact remains: the turning of the Social-Revolutionists and Mensheviki to the counter-revolution, the direct consequences of their whole policy since May 18.

The cycle of party development is completed. The Social-Revolutionists and Mensheviki tumbled down from step to step—from "confidence" in Kerensky during the period March 12 to May 18,


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 who chained them to the counter-revolution, to the 18th of July when they landed at the bottom.

A new stage opens. The victory of the counter-revolution causes disapointment among the masses in the parties of the Social-Revolutionists and Mensheviki, and opens the way for their accepting the policy of the revolutionary proletariat.


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Rh conscious was "a good and useful moral," and as a means to this end he created his play. He well understood that it would be fruitless to fling people's faults and follies into their faces, and so he "mixed nonsense into his plays," as he himself asserts, in order to secure a better effect. He frequently in so doing gave offence, and then, as when he published Peder Paars, he had many misunderstandings to contend with. On the one hand it gave great offence that a university professor should occupy himself with "tomfooleries" of this kind, and on the other hand many felt hurt and believed themselves personally held up to public ridicule, so that Holberg repeatedly was compelled to defend himself in writing against false interpretations, and to enlighten the public in regard to the real purport of his plays. The fact that he, in spite of all opposition, continued his work and did not go astray in his vast creative activity, is the strongest proof that he was profoundly convinced of the importance of his task.

When during the reign of Christian VI the puritanism of the court was spread throughout the land and invaded all social relations, Holberg suspended his activity as a playwright and went to Paris to enjoy a holiday. On his return to Copenhagen he resumed his long interrupted historical studies and published a "Danmarks Historie" in three volumes, a thorough, exhaustive, and graphic work, and the first popular history of Denmark ever written. This was followed by a general ecclesiastical history from the introduction of Christianity to the Reformation, an excellent work, which for the first time made this great subject accessible to all, and it was, moreover, written in a thoroughly vivid and fascinating style.

His history of the Jews is of less importance, consisting chiefly in a compilation from other writers. In his comparative sketches of heroes and heroines he followed Plutarch's method, constantly comparing two celebrated men or women. He sketches their lives in a general introduction


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The most important problem in every revolution is the problem of state power. In whose hands is this power—that is decisive in all things. And if Dyelo Naroda, the newspaper of the main government party in Russia, the Social-Revolutionary Party, complains as it did recently that while arguing about power the question of bread is forgotten,—then this is their answer: You have yourselves to blame, since it is precisely the hesitation and indecision of your party, more than anything else, that is to blame both for the ministerial delays and the never-ending postponements of the Constituent Assembly; you are to blame for the dropping of the decisive measures to establish state monopoly of bread, thus destroying the country's chances of obtaining bread.

The problem of power can not be set aside or evaded, as that is precisely the fundamental question determining all conditions in the development of the Revolution, in its external and internal policies. That six months of our Revolution have been "spent in vain" hesitating about the arrangements of power is a fact which one can't argue about; it is a fact determined by the hesitating policy of these parties that was, in the long run, defined by the class position of the petite bourgeoisie and its economic instability in the struggle between proletariat and bourgeoisie.

The whole question now is this: Has the petit bourgeois democracy learned anything during these six vital months of the Revolution, or has it not? If not, then the Revolution is doomed, and only the victorious uprising of the proletariat can save it. If yes, then it is necessary to begin anew with the immediate creation of a stable power and end the period of vacillation.

In a popular revolution, that is, a revolution brought about by the masses, the majority of workers and peasants, the only power that can be permanent and decisive is a power based consciously and without reservation on the majority of the people. Up until


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H. G. Wells

 * H. G. Wells (1915), a biography by J. D. Beresford
 * H. G. Wells (1923), a biography by Ivor Brown
 * H. G. Wells (1927), a biography by F. H. Doughty
 * H. G. Wells (1922), a biography by R. Thurston Hopkins
 * "H. G. Wells" (1926), an essay by Stuart Pratt Sherman

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Laurence Sterne

 * Laurence Sterne (1909–1910), a multi-volume biography by Percy Hetherington Fitzgerald
 * "Laurence Sterne" (1926), an essay by Stuart Pratt Sherman

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28

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192 and then institutes a comparison between them. Here, too, as in all that Holberg has written, the moral point of view is of paramount importance. This moral issue is treated independently in several of his last works, as, for instance, in his "moralske Tanker," and in many of his "Epistler." In the latter work, which dates from the last years of Holberg's life, his versatility and learning are displayed for the last time in all their strength and vigor, and he treats the greatest variety of topics with the sober earnestness of a philosopher, and at the same time with the cheerfulness of a humorist.

The same moralizing tendency is the basis of his "Niels Klim's Underground Journey," a satirical romance, excellent also from a poetical standpoint. Holberg does not here, as in his comedies and in his Peder Paars, limit himself to Danish affairs, but he pours out his satire upon all Europe, and for this reason the book, which was published in Leipsic in 1741, was written in Latin. But it was soon translated into the most of the tongues of Europe. The book tells how the sexton Niels Klim in Bergen through an accident was conducted to the lower world, and how he there became acquainted with a number of different kingdoms and nations. The description of the latter gives Holberg an opportunity of expressing in a striking and humorous manner his thoughts upon the state of things in this upper world. The book created an extraordinary sensation, and on account of its broad views on religious subjects it gave great offence to the clergy. But this did not in the least check its circulation or hinder its wholesome influence, for it contributed in a marked degree to the suppression of that reliance on authority which Holberg had always fought, though nowhere with more vigor than in this work.

Among Holberg's works must also be mentioned his autobiography, which is of importance to the history of literature and culture. It consists of three letters written in Latin, of which the first appeared in 1727 and the last in 1743. The


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30

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Rh emancipation of woman found in him a warm advocate, and in his writings he frequently touches on this subject. His humorous poem "Zille Hausdatters Forsvar for Kvindekjörnnet" deals exclusively with this subject. In his poem "Metamorphoses eellereller [sic] Forvandlinger" he gives a kind of parallel to, or rather a parody on Ovid's well known composition, but the work is of rather inferior literary value.

When the theatre on the accession of Frederik V was reopened in 1747, Holberg was again requested to write for it, and he accordingly furnished several new plays, such as "Plutus," "Abracadabra," "Republiken," etc., but his creative energy was now on the wane and these plays can in no wise be compared with his earlier comedies.

By his vast literary activity Holberg had gradually accumulated a considerable fortune, which was all the more easy for him as he continued to live single and with so great economy that he has been accused of avarice. But in this respect he has been misjudged, for he subjected himself to every manner of privations from a most generous motive, desiring to accumulate a large capital for the erection of an institution of great importance to his country. He first thought of founding a learned society for the advancement of the Danish language, but finding that several such institutions were being established without his help, he abandoned this idea. He finally resolved to bequeath all his wealth to the Sorö academy. The latter had been built by Christian IV for the purpose of counteracting the custom among the nobles of sending their sons abroad to be educated. But after a short existence the academy had been closed in 1665. After the receipt of Holberg's bequest it was reopened and soon gained a great reputation. Throughout the entire latter half of the eighteenth century many of Denmark's most distinguished scholars found at this place their sphere of activity.

Holberg, who in 1747 had been made a noble, died January 29, 1754, and was buried in the Sorö church. His influence on the literature and on the whole intellectual life 13


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 ] of the Catholic Church if visibly severed from Catholic unity. Such communities are destitute of that Divinely constituted authority which insures against variation and instability. Accordingly he exhorts and beseeches them to return to the one fold of Christ.

The replies of the Oriental Churches claim independence and equality. The Greek Patriarch at Constantinople declared that the Oriental Church would never consent to abandon the doctrine which it held from the Apostles, transmitted by the Holy Fathers, and the eight Ecumenical Councils. The Ecumenical Council is the supreme tribunal to which all Bishops, Patriarchs, and Popes are subjected.

The Armenian Patriarch criticised the Pope's action with severity; asserted that the principles of equality and apostolic brotherhood had not been observed by the Pope. The rank which the Canons ascribe to the Papal See only give him the right to address personal letters to the Bishops and Synods of the East, but not to impose upon them his will by encyclicals in the tone of a master. The Armenian Patriarch wrote to the Catholicos of Ecmiazin to say that "the Patriarch of the Roman Church—Pius IX." had sent a letter, announcing a Council. The Catholicos replied that the tone of the Pope's letter gave no hope that union would be realised: for it did not acknowledge the chief Pastors of the Eastern Church as equals in honour and dignity. And yet they are successors of the Apostles. They have received the same authority from the Holy Spirit as the Roman Patriarch.

The attitude of the German Protestants was uncompromising. The Nuncio in Bavaria wrote to Antonelli that the Germans regarded the invitation as an insult. There might be individual conversions, but certainly not a general return. The common opinion was:


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 222 the Pope invites us graciously to put ourselves at the mercy of the Council; but the bird which has escaped rejoices in its liberty. There existed a vague, indeterminate desire for unity, but entire diversity as to the basis for its realisation; and the personal interest of the Pastors was against unity.

From Berlin came this criticism on the Pope's letter: "We hold it impossible to find in this letter the least indication of really conciliatory spirit on the basis of evangelical truth." The Protestants assembled at Worms declared that the principal cause of the divisions which they deplored was the spirit and action of the Jesuit Society. This Society which, according to their view, was the deadly foe of Protestantism, stifled all freedom of thought, and dominated the entire existing Roman Church. If the permanent union and well-being of Christendom was to be secured, hierarchical pretensions must be laid aside. Elsewhere the resolution was passed to ignore the Pope's invitation, as being merely a matter of form.

An American Presbyterian reply to the Pope's letter said, that while firmly convinced that the unity of the Church is the will of Christ, they felt it a duty to state the reasons why they cannot unite in the deliberations of the coming Council. It is not that they reject a single article of the Catholic Religion. They are no heretics. They accept the Apostles' Creed and the doctrinal decisions of the first six General Councils. But they cannot assent to the doctrines of the Council of Trent. The barrier which this Council has erected between them and Rome is insurmountable.

Certainly nothing was further from the Pope's intentions than to invite members or representatives of any other Communion to discussion. All he intended was to advise them to profit by this occasion, to submit


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 ] and secure their eternal salvation. If, said Pius, they would only seek with all their hearts, they would easily lay aside their preconceived opinions, and return to their Father from whom they have so unhappily departed. He would receive them with paternal benevolence. And then, with a scarcely diplomatic allusion to the prodigal who had wasted his substance in riotous living, Pius declared he would rejoice to say, "These my sons were dead and are alive again; they were lost, and are found."

In the English Church opinion was divided as to the manner and spirit in which the Pope's letter should be met. Bishop Wordsworth of Lincoln replied in a Latin letter. He assumed that the English Church was included in the letter addressed to all Protestants; and accepted the title in the sense of protesting against errors contrary to the Catholic Faith. He resented the tone and temper of the Pope's appeal; the judgment implied on the validity of the English Episcopate; protested that we have never seceded from the Catholic Church, nor separated willingly even from the Church of Rome; criticised in particular the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, as an instance of indisputable variation; and added certain unhappy exegetical remarks of an apocalyptic character on the relation between Rome and Babylon. This line of response probably represented no inconsiderable element at the period at which it was written.

On the other hand, a section existed in the English Church, keenly alive to its local deficiencies, and possessed with strong and enthusiastic aspirations for corporate reunion. In their opinion, faults of taste and assumptions due to Italian ignorance or other


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 224 points of view, might well be overlooked, if not condoned, in the interests of what appeared to be a genuine desire for unity. A resentful and criticising spirit seemed only calculated to frustrate all hope of better things. The magnificence of the coming Assembly, the grandeur of its scale, the regions it involved, the Churches it included, captivated their imaginations. Whatever might be the individual view of the relative position of the separated portions of the great Christian family, such a gathering as this must enlist their respect, their sympathy, and their prayers. They pleaded earnestly for corporate reunion. As the separation was corporate, so must the reconciliation be. They insisted as strenuously as any other members of the Anglican Communion on the impossibility under present circumstances of doing anything else than remain where they are.

"You require us, for instance, to say—not formally indeed, but in effect—that we have no priest and no sacraments; whilst it is quite plain to us that our present Episcopate is in all respects the true and lineal descendant of the Apostolic Mission in this land. You require us to renounce communion with the Church of England on the ground that she is heretical; we, on the other hand, are convinced that there is nothing in her authorised teaching which you do not yourselves teach in your own pulpits and Catechisms. That she is actually separated from the centre of visible Catholic unity is a fact deplorable indeed, but too patent to be questioned; that she is wilfully, avowedly, and therefore guiltily schismatical we utterly deny; to say that we ourselves are schismatics is simply to give the lie to the most cherished longing of our hearts. No! we must remain where God has placed us, loyal to our own Communion and to our


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194 of Denmark cannot be overestimated. His many and various popular scientific works made a deep impression on the laity on account of their clearness and perspicuity and their vivid and attractive style. They found the widest circulation among all classes, and contributed much to render science, which had hitherto been the exclusive property of the learned, accessible to the common man, and to arouse his interest in it. But Holberg achieved still more by his poetry. It is true he had no appreciation of the ideal and it was long before he was able to relish Homer, old heroic poems, or the sagas, for he saw all things in the convex mirror of the comical muse. But he was so great and his eye for the distorted and ridiculous was so keen that the prejudices and follies that had accumulated in the lapse of centuries were completely extirpated by Holberg, and the path was cleared for a more solid and positive development. Holberg's works were greatly benefited by the circumstance that their author was in possession of a general culture and was able to avail himself of all that had been done in his time in all the rest of Europe. Many of his characters are based on foreign models. Thus Peder Paars bears a certain resemblance to Boileau's "Lutrin," Niels Klim to Swift's Gulliver, and in Holberg's plays there are many reminiscences of Molière. But what he appropriated from foreigners, he digested so thoroughly that through him it appeared in a wholly new and original form. All of Holberg's creations carry in their face the unmistakable stamp of his own individuality. In his works, moreover, the Danish element is constantly brought to the front and kept pure and unalloyed. It has rightly been said of him that all the foreign materials which were touched by his hand were so completely Danicised that his works may claim far more originality than those of the most of his predecessors who usually blindly followed some foreign model.

All that which Holberg had acquired by his hard and indefatigable studies was destined to be a blessing to his countrymen. The old barriers were broken down, the mem-


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 ] own Episcopate, loyal at the same time (in spirit) to yours: if we are not of the body of your Church, we belong at any rate to its soul."

After this vigorous declaration of principles and loyalty the reunionist felt justified in confessing the defects within the Anglican Communion of which he was painfully conscious.

Thus there was at least in certain directions within the Anglican Communion a distinct readiness to respond to any overtures for unity. There was in addition a very wide-spread interest in the coming Council, not unmixed with curiosity and anxiety as to the steps which might be taken to bring the severed sections of Christendom nearer together.

By far the most penetrating and profound on the Anglican side was Dr Pusey. Perfectly clear and sure of his position, whole-hearted in his devotion to his own Communion, he insisted that the English Church must be treated collectively: as a portion of the Church Catholic, to be reunited; not as individuals,


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Rh tal horizon was enlarged and thousands of healthy germs began their development. But the germs had sprung from the people themselves, and being fertilized by contact with foreign elements they were made to blossom and bear fruit in the vernacular, and Latin was forever dethroned. Through his many sided and stimulating activity as a popular writer Holberg laid a solid foundation on which a truly popular literature would be built. Meanwhile some time was needed before the fruits of his work could ripen. The fermentation which he had provoked must subside before the new elements could become established. But it was he who paved the way, and for this reason and regardless of the immortal intrinsic value of his poetical works he must be considered as the founder of modern Danish literature. Herewith is connected the characteristic circumstance that he stands alone, that he founded no school, and that he had no followers, at least none of any considerable mark. He had a definite task before him, that of preparing the soil for the fulness of time,—an immediate continuation of his work was impossible simply on account of its negative character.

(1690-1752), also distinguished as a linguist, is the one among Holberg's contemporaries who ranks nearest to him as poet. He is the author of a num-


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Rh He hurried to her bedside at the first news of the serious turn which her condition had taken.

To his surprise she did, in a faint and halting manner, contrive to speak a few words to him when she realized that he was near. First she thanked him for carrying out so scrupulously the late Emperor’s wishes with regard to the surveillance of his present Majesty. Much had happened in the last years for which she had cause to be grateful to him, and she had often meant to tell him how sensible she was of his kindness. And there was another matter of which she had meant for some time to speak … to the Emperor himself. She was sorry she had never… Here her voice became inaudible, and tears for a while prevented him from making a reply. He feared that this display of emotion would arouse comment among those who were standing by; but indeed any one who had known her as she used to be might well have been overcome with grief to see her in so woeful a condition. Suddenly he looked up. No thought or prayer of his could now recall her; and in unspeakable anguish, not knowing whether she heard him or no, he began to address her: ‘In spite of the difficulties into which I myself have sometimes fallen, I have tried to do my best for His Majesty, or at any rate, what then seemed to me best. But since the death of the old Grand Minister, everything has gone wrong; and with you lying ill like this I do not know which way to turn. Were you now to die, I think I should soon follow you….’ He paused, but there was no reply; for she had died suddenly like a candle blown out by the wind, and he was left in bewilderment and misery.

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52 ordinary people. Fujitsubo on the contrary invariably released even her servants and retainers from any duty which she felt to be an undue infringement of their liberty.

She was devout; but unlike many religious persons she did not display her piety by impressive benefactions paid for out of funds which other people had collected. Her charities (and they were considerable) were made at the expense of her own exchequer. The ranks, titles and benefices which were at her disposal she distributed with great intelligence and care, and so many were her individual acts of generosity that there was scarcely a poor ignorant mountain-priest in all the land who had not reason to lament her loss. Seldom had the obsequies of any public person provoked so heart-felt and universal a sorrow. At Court no colour but black was anywhere to be seen; and the last weeks of spring lacked all their usual brilliance and gaiety.

Standing one day before the great cherry-tree which grew in front of the Nijō-in Genji suddenly remembered that this was the season when, under ordinary circumstances, the Flower Feast would have been held at the Emperor’s Palace. ‘This year should’st thou have blossomed with black flowers,’ he murmured and, to hide the sudden access of grief that had overwhelmed him, rushed into his chapel and remained there weeping bitterly till it began to grow dark. Issuing at last, he found a flaming sun about to sink beneath the horizon. Against this vivid glow the trees upon the hill stood out with marvellous clearness, every branch, nay every twig distinct. But across the hill there presently drifted a thin filament of cloud, draping the summit with a band of grey. He was in no mood that day to notice sunsets or pretty cloud-effects; but in this half-curtained sky there seemed to him to be a strange significance, and

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Rh none being by to hear him he recited the verse: ‘Across the sunset hill there hangs a wreath of cloud that garbs the evening as with the dark folds of a mourner’s dress.’

There was a certain priest who had for generations served as chaplain in Lady Fujitsubo’s family. Her mother had placed extraordinary confidence in him, and she herself had instilled the young Emperor Ryōzen with deep veneration for this old man, who was indeed known throughout the land for the sanctity of his life and the unfailing efficacy of his prayers. He was now over seventy and had for some time been living in retirement, intent upon his final devotions. But recently the occasion of Lady Fujitsubo’s death had called him back to the Court, and the Emperor had more than once summoned him to his side. An urgent message, conveyed by Prince Genji, now reached him. The night was already far advanced, and the old man at first protested that these nocturnal errands were no longer within his capacity. But in the end he promised, out of respect for His Majesty, to make a great effort to appear, and at the calm of dawn, at a moment when, as it so happened, many of the courtiers were absent and those on duty had all withdrawn from the Presence, the old man stepped into Ryōzen’s room. After talking for a while in his aged, croaking voice about various matters of public interest, he said at last: ‘There is one very difficult matter which I wish to discuss with you. I fear I may not have the courage to embark upon it, and I am still more afraid that if I succeed in broaching this topic I may give you great offence. But it concerns something which it would be very wrong to conceal; a secret indeed such as makes me fear the eye of Heaven. What use is there, now that I am so near my end, in locking it up so tightly in my heart? I fear that Buddha himself might cast me out should I approach him defiled by this unholy concealment.’ He

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54 began trying to tell the Emperor something; but he seemed unable to come to the point. It was strange that there should be any worldly matter concerning which the old priest retained such violent emotions. Perhaps, despite his reputation, he had once secretly pursued some hideous vendetta, had caused an innocent person to be entrapped, done away with … a thousand monstrous possibilities crowded to the Emperor’s mind. ‘Reverend Father,’ he said at last, ‘you have known me since I was a baby, and I have never once hidden anything from you. And now I learn that there is something which you have for a long time past been concealing from me. I confess, I am surprised.’ ‘There is nothing that I have kept from you,’ the old man cried indignantly. ‘Have I not made you master of my most secret spells, of the inner doctrines that Buddha forbids us to reveal? Do you think that I, who in these holy matters reposed so great a confidence in your Majesty, would have concealed from you any dealing of my own?

‘The matter of which I speak is one that has had grave results already and may possibly in the future entail worse consequences still. The reputations concerned are those of your late august Mother and of some one who now holds a prominent place in the government of our country … it is to Prince Genji that I refer. It is for their sake, and lest some distorted account of the affair should ultimately reach you from other sources, that I have undertaken this painful task. I am an old man and a priest; I therefore have little to lose and, even should this revelation win me your displeasure, I shall never repent of having made it; for Buddha and the Gods of Heaven showed me by unmistakable signs that it was my duty to speak.

‘You must know, then, that from the time of your Majesty’s conception the late Empress your mother was in evident

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Rh distress concerning the prospect of your birth. She told me indeed that there were reasons which made the expected child particularly in need of my prayers; but what these reasons were she did not say; and I, being without experience in such matters, could form no conjecture. Soon after your birth there followed a species of convulsion in the state; Prince Genji was in disgrace and later in exile. Meanwhile your august Mother seemed to grow every day more uneasy about your future, and again and again I was asked to offer fresh prayers on your behalf. Strangest of all, so long as Prince Genji was at the Capital he too seemed to be acquainted with the instructions I had received; for on every occasion he at once sent round a message bidding me add by so much to the prayers that had been ordered and make this or that fresh expenditure on some service or ritual….’

The disclosure was astonishing, thrilling, terrifying. Indeed so many conflicting emotions struggled for the upper hand that he was unable to make any comment or reply. The old priest misunderstood this silence and, grieved that he should have incurred Ryōzen’s displeasure by a revelation which had been made in His Majesty’s own interest, he bowed and withdrew from the Presence. The Emperor immediately ordered him to return. ‘I am glad that you have told me of this,’ said Ryōzen. ‘Had I gone on living in ignorance of it I see that a kind of contempt would have been attached for ever to my name; for in the end such things are bound to be known. I am only sorry that you should have concealed this from me for so long; and tremble to think of the things that in my ignorance I may have said or done…. Tell me, does anyone besides yourself know of this, …

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196 ber of very enjoyable and striking satires which never stooped to personal attacks. From the very nature of things the same theme is frequently treated by both poets, but Falster's style is an entirely independent one, and in many instances his poem was written before Holberg's. Among his Latin works the most remarkable was his "Amœnitates philologiæ," a collection of dissertations, some of which are scientific, while others discuss the various questions of the day in the same manner as did Holberg in his "Epistler" and "Moralske Tanker." In these works he proves himself a man by no means inferior to Holberg in point of maturity and intellectual vigor. Though thoroughly original as a writer and thinker, he occasionally reminds us of Holberg by independent views and by the ideas he sets forth; like Holberg he defends the importance of the Danish tongue and advocates its right to be employed in literature. His translation of Ovid's "Tristia" is also worthy of mention on account of its beautiful language, and because it preserves the original elegiac tone of the poem.

(1662-1723) occupies a peculiar position in this period as the last representative of the national tendency, which was discussed under the head of the period of learning. His satires are of but little value, broad and coarse, though his verses flow easily enough. On the other hand his heroic songs in honor of Frederik IV are really remarkable, for in them the style and character of the popular ballad has been skilfully preserved; but they, too, frequently show a lack of taste and genuine poetic feeling.

A capital rhyme-smith, who "could not live without rhyming," was Töger Reenberg (1656-1742), who during his lifetime and for a long time afterward was regarded as a great poet, though but few of his productions would at present bear the test of criticism. Some of his drinking


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56 any one who is likely to have let out the secret?’ ‘Besides myself and your mother’s maid Ōmyōbu there is no one who has an inkling of the matter,’ the priest hastened to assure him. ‘Nevertheless the existence of such a secret causes me grave misgivings. Upheavals of nature, earthquakes, drought and storm, have become alarmingly frequent; and in the State, we have had constant disorder and unrest. All these things may be due to the existence of this secret. So long as your Majesty was a helpless infant Heaven took pity on your innocence; but now that you are grown to your full stature and have reached years of understanding and discretion, the Powers Above are manifesting their displeasure; for, as you have been taught, it frequently happens that the sins of one generation are visited upon the next. I saw plainly that you did not know to what cause our present troubles and disorders are due, and that is why I at last determined to reveal a secret which I hoped need never pass my lips.’ The old man spoke with difficulty, tears frequently interrupted his discourse, and it was already broad daylight when he finally left the Palace.

No sooner had he realized the full significance of this astonishing revelation than a medley of conflicting thoughts began to harass Ryōzen’s mind. First and foremost, he felt indignant on behalf of the old Emperor, whom he had always been taught to regard as his father; but he also felt strangely uncomfortable at the idea that Genji, who had a much better right to the Throne than he, should have been cast out of the Imperial family, to become a Minister, a mere servant of the State. Viewed from whatever standpoint, the new situation was extremely painful to him, and overcome by shock and bewilderment he lay in his room long after the sun was high. Learning that his Majesty had not risen, Genji assumed that he was indisposed

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Rh and at once called to enquire. The Emperor was in tears, and utterly unable to control himself even in the presence of a visitor. But this was after all perhaps not so very surprising. The young man had only a few weeks ago lost his mother, and it was natural that he should still be somewhat upset. Unfortunately it was Genji’s duty that morning to announce to his Majesty the decease of Prince Momozono. It seemed to Ryōzen as though the whole world, with all its familiar landmarks and connections, were crumbling about him. During the first weeks of mourning Genji spent all his time at the Palace and paid an early visit to the Emperor every day. They had many long, uninterrupted conversations, during the course of which Ryōzen on one occasion said: ‘I do not think that my reign is going to last much longer. Never have I had so strong a foreboding that calamity of some stupendous kind was at hand; and quite apart from this presentiment, the unrest which is now troubling the whole land is already enough to keep me in a continual state of agitation and alarm. Ever since this began I have had great thoughts of withdrawing from the Throne; but while my mother was alive I did not wish to distress her by doing so. Now, however, I consider that I am free to do as I choose, and I intend before long to seek some quieter mode of life….’ ‘I sincerely hope you will do nothing of the kind,’ said Genji. ‘The present unrest casts no reflection upon you or your government. Difficulties of this kind sometimes arise during the rule of the most enlightened government, as is proved by the history of China as well as by that of our own country. Nor must you allow yourself to be unduly depressed by the demise of persons such as your respected uncle, who had, after all, reached a time of life when we

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58 could not reasonably expect…’ Thus Genji managed, by arguments which for fear of wearying you I will not repeat, to coax the Emperor into a slightly less desperate state of mind. Both were dressed in the simplest style and in the same sombre hue. For years past it had struck the Emperor, on looking at himself in the mirror, that he was extraordinarily like Prince Genji. Since the revelation of his true parentage, he had more frequently than ever examined his own features. Why, of course! There was no mistaking such a likeness! But if he was Genji’s son, Genji too must be aware of the fact, and it was absurd that the relationship should not be acknowledged between them. Again and again he tried to find some way of introducing the subject. But to Genji, he supposed, the whole matter must be a very painful one. He often felt that it was impossible to refer to such a thing at all, and conversation after conversation went by without any but the most general topics being discussed; though it was noticeable that Ryōzen’s manner was even more friendly and charming than usual. Genji who was extremely sensitive to such changes did not fail to notice that there was something new in the young Emperor’s attitude towards him—an air of added respect, almost of deference. But it never occurred to him that Ryōzen could by any possibility be in possession of the whole terrible secret. At first the Emperor had thought of discussing the matter with the maid Ōmyōbu and asking her for a fuller account of his birth and all that had led up to it. But at the last moment he felt that it was better she should continue to think herself the only inheritor of the secret, and he decided not to discuss the matter with any one. But he longed, without actually letting out that he knew, to get some further information from Genji himself. Among other things he wanted to know whether what had happened with regard to his birth

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Rh songs and festive poems may, however, still be read with pleasure.

An exceptionally gifted lyric poet, a rare phenomenon indeed in this period, was (1705-58). He was the son of a poor village tailor in Fuhnen, graduated at the gymnasium in his twentieth year, but never advanced any further, probably from lack of means to continue his studies. His youth and the greater part of his manhood he seems to have spent at various country-manors, partly as secretary (Skriverkarl) and partly as tutor. His last years he spent at Ribe teaching the children of respected citizens, and died in this city in the greatest poverty, having all his life struggled with want and adversity, a fact which did not fail to leave some traces in his poetry, though the latter upon the whole bears the stamp of a fresh, cheerful, sanguine disposition that was not easily damped or discouraged. During his lifetime he found but little appreciation beyond the circle of his nearest acquaintances. He is a striking illustration of the complete lack of poetic taste which characterized his time. In all his poems there beats a warm and noble poetic heart, and, in spite of their stiff, obsolete language, many of them are still genuine pearls. It must not be forgotten that Stub was almost the first Danish lyrical poet outside the field of purely religious poetry, and that as such he had many difficulties to overcome both as regards form and language, and we are therefore astonished when we see what progress he made with, as it were, a single bold stroke. A small collection of his poems was printed for the first time in 1771, long after his death, and this little volume contained all that remained of his poetical industry, which must have been very fruitful, but the little book was received with great favor and became very popular. He composed both spiritual and secular songs, and while the former are marked by a warm, noble and pious sentiment, the latter overflow with


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Rh was wholly unexampled, or whether it was in point of fact far more common than one would suppose. But he could never find the right way to introduce such a subject. It was clear that he must get his knowledge from other sources, and he threw himself with fresh ardour into the study of history, reading every book with the sole object of discovering other cases like his own. In China, he soon found, irregularities of descent have not only in many cases been successfully concealed till long afterwards, but have often been known and tolerated from the beginning. In Japan he could discover no such instance; but he knew that if things of this kind occurred, they would probably not be recorded, so that their absence from native history might only mean that in our country such matters are hushed up more successfully than elsewhere.

The more he thought about it, the more Genji regretted that Ryōzen should have discovered (as from His Majesty’s repeated offers of abdication he now felt certain to be the case) the real facts concerning his birth. Fujitsubo, Genji was sure, would have given anything rather than that the boy should know; it could not have been by her instructions that the secret had been divulged. Who then had betrayed him? Naturally his thoughts turned towards Ōmyōbu. She had moved into the apartments which had been made out of the old offices of the Lady of the Bedchamber. Here she had been given official quarters and was to reside permanently in the Palace. Discussing the matter with her one day, Genji said: ‘Are you sure that you yourself, in the course of some conversation with his Majesty, may not by accident have put this idea into his head?’ ‘It is out of the question,’ she replied. ‘I know too well how determined my Lady was that he should never discover … indeed, the fear that he might one day stumble upon the facts for himself was her constant torment.

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60 And this despite the dangers into which she knew that ignorance might lead him.’ And they fell to talking of Lady Fujitsubo’s scrupulous respect for propriety, and how the fear of scandals and exposures which another woman would in the long run have grown to regard with indifference, had embittered her whole life.

For Lady Akikonomu he had done all and more than all that he led her to expect, and she had already become a prominent figure at Court. During the autumn, having been granted leave of absence from the Palace, she came to stay for a while at the Nijō-in. She was given the Main Hall, and found everything decked with the gayest colours in honour of her arrival. She assumed in the household the place of a favourite elder daughter, and it was entirely in this spirit that Genji entertained and amused her. One day when the autumn rain was falling steadily and the dripping flowers in the garden seemed to be washed to one dull tinge of grey, memories of long forgotten things came crowding one after another to Genji’s mind, and with eyes full of tears he betook himself to Lady Akikonomu’s rooms. Not a touch of colour relieved the dark of his mourner’s dress, and on pretext of doing penance for the sins of the nation during the recent disorders he carried a rosary under his cloak; yet he contrived to wear even this dour, penitential garb with perfect elegance and grace, and it was with a fine sweep of the cloak that he now entered the curtained alcove where she sat. He came straight to her side and, with only a thin latticed screen between them, began to address her without waiting to be announced: ‘What an unfortunate year this is! It is too bad that we should get weather like this just when everything in the garden is at its best. Look at the flowers. Are not you

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Rh sorry for them? They came when it was their turn, and this is the way they are welcomed.’ He leant upon the pillar of her seat, the evening light falling upon him as he turned towards her. They had many memories in common; did she still recall, he asked, that terrible morning when he came to visit her mother at the Palace-in-the-fields? ‘Too much my thoughts frequent those vanished days,’ she quoted, and her eyes filled with tears. Already he was thinking her handsome and interesting, when for some reason she rose and shifted her position, using her limbs with a subtle grace that made him long to see her show them to better advantage…. But stay! Ought such thoughts to be occurring to him? ‘Years ago,’ he said, ‘at a time when I might have been far more happily employed, I became involved, entirely through my own fault, in a number of attachments, all of the most unfortunate kind, with the result that I never knew an instant’s peace of mind. Among these affairs there were two which were not only, while they lasted, far more distressing than the rest, but also both ended under a dark cloud of uncharitableness and obstinacy. The first was with Lady Rokujō, your mother. The fact that she died still harbouring against me feelings of the intensest bitterness will cast a shadow over my whole life, and my one consolation is that in accordance with her wishes, I have been able to do something towards helping you in the world. But that by any act of mine the flame of her love should thus forever have been stifled will remain the greatest sorrow of my life.’ He had mentioned two affairs; but he decided to leave the other part of his tale untold and continued: ‘During the period when my fortunes were in eclipse I had plenty of time to think over all these things and worked out a new plan which I hoped

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62 would make every one satisfied and happy. It was in pursuance of this plan that I induced the Lady from the Village of Falling Flowers to take up residence in the new eastern wing. Her own resources are quite inadequate, and I used to feel very uncomfortable about her; it is a great relief to know that she is getting all she needs. Fortunately she is very easy to deal with, we understand each other perfectly and there is (or at any rate I hope so) complete satisfaction on both sides. Soon after I came back a great deal of my time began to be taken up in looking after the young Emperor and helping him to conduct the business of the State. I am not particularly interested in that sort of thing, but I was glad to be of use. It was only when it came to filling his Household that I found myself confronted with a task that was definitely uncongenial. I wonder whether you realize what very strong impulses of my own I had to overcome before I surrendered you to the Palace? You might at least tell me that you feel for me and are grateful; then I should no longer think that this sacrifice was made quite in vain….’ She was vexed. Why must he needs start talking in that strain? She made no reply. ‘Forgive me,’ he said; ‘I see that I have displeased you…,” and he began hastily to talk of other matters: ‘How much I should like to retire to some quiet place,—to know that for the rest of my life on earth I should have no more anxieties or cares and could devote myself for as long as I liked each day to preparation for the life to come. But of course all this would be very dull if one had nothing interesting to look back upon. There are many things to be thought of first. For example, I have young children, whose place in the world is very insecure; it will be a long time before I can establish them satisfactorily. And here you can be of great use to me; for should you—forgive me for speaking of such a

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Rh day bring increase to his Majesty’s house, it would be in your power to render considerable services to my children, even though I should chance no longer to be with you….’ It was evident that this sort of conversation was far more to her liking. She did not indeed say more than a word or two at a time; but her manner was friendly and encouraging, and they were still immersed in these domestic projects when darkness began to fall. ‘And when all these weighty matters are off my hands,’ said Genji at last, ‘I hope I shall have a little time left for things which I really enjoy—flowers, autumn leaves, the sky, all those day-to-day changes and wonders that a single year bring forth; that is what I looked forward to. Forests of flowering trees in Spring, the open country in Autumn…. Which do you prefer? It is of course useless to argue on such a subject, as has so often been done. It is a question of temperament. Each person is born with “his season” and is bound to prefer it. No one, you may be sure, has ever yet succeeded in convincing any one else on such a subject. In China it has always been the Spring-time with its “broidery of flowers” that has won the highest praise; here however the brooding melancholy of Autumn seems always to have moved our poets more deeply. For my own part I find it impossible to reach a decision; for much as I enjoy the music of birds and the beauty of flowers, I confess I seldom remember at what season I have seen a particular flower, heard this or that bird sing. But in this I am to blame; for even within the narrow compass of my own walls, I might well have learnt what sights and sounds distinguish each season of the year, having as you see not only provided for the springtime by a profusion of flowering trees, but also planted in my garden many varieties of autumn grass and shrub, brought in, root and all, from the countryside. Why, I have even carried hither whole

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64 tribes of insects that were wasting their shrill song in the solitude of lanes and fields. All this I did that I might be able to enjoy these things in the company of my friends, among whom you are one. Pray tell me then, to which season do you find that your preference inclines?’ She thought this a very difficult form of conversation; but politeness demanded some sort of reply and she said timidly: ‘But you have just said you can never yourself remember when it was you saw or heard the thing that pleased you most. How can you expect me to have a better memory? However, difficult as it is to decide, I think I agree with the poet who found the dusk of an autumn evening “strangest and loveliest thing of all.” Perhaps I am more easily moved at such moments because, you know, it was at just such a time…’ Her voice died away, and knowing well indeed what was in her mind Genji answered tenderly with the verse: ‘The world knows it not; but to you, oh Autumn, I confess it: your wind at night-fall stabs deep into my heart.’ ‘Sometimes I am near to thinking that I can hold out no longer,’ he added. To such words as these she was by no means bound to reply and even thought it best to pretend that she had not understood. This however had the effect of leading him on to be a little more explicit; and matters would surely have come a good deal further had she not at once shown in the most unmistakable manner her horror at the sentiments which he was beginning to profess. Suddenly he pulled himself up. He had been behaving with a childish lack of restraint. How fortunate that she at least had shown some sense! He felt very much cast down; but neither his sighs nor his languishing airs had any effect upon her. He saw that she was making as though to steal quietly and unobtrusively

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Rh from the room, and holding her back he said: ‘I see that you are terribly offended; well, I do not deny that you have good cause. I ought not to be so impetuous; I know that it is wrong. But, granted I spoke far too suddenly—it is all over now. Do not, I beg of you, go on being angry with me; for if you are unkind…’ And with that he retired to his own quarters. Even the scent of his richly perfumed garments had become unendurable to her; she summoned her maids and bade them open the window and door. ‘Just come over here and smell the cushion that his Highness was sitting on!’ one of them called to another. ‘What an exquisite fragrance! How he contrives to get hold of such scents I simply cannot imagine. “If the willow-tree had but the fragrance of the plum and the petals of the cherry!” So the old poet wished, and surely Prince Genji must be the answer to his prayer, for it seems that in him every perfection is combined.’

He went to the western wing; but instead of going straight into Murasaki’s room, he flung himself down upon a couch in the vestibule. Above the partition he could see the far-off flicker of a lamp; there Murasaki was sitting with her ladies, one of whom was reading her a story. He began to think about what had just occurred. It was a sad disappointment to discover that he was still by no means immune from a tendency which had already played such havoc with his own and other people’s happiness. Upon what more inappropriate object could his affections possibly have lighted? True, his chief offence in old days had been of far greater magnitude. But then he had the excuse of youth and ignorance, and it was possible that, taking this into consideration, Heaven might by this time have forgiven the offence. But on this occasion he could

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66 hardly plead inexperience; indeed, as he ruefully admitted to himself, he ought by now to have learnt every lesson which repeated failure can teach.

Lady Akikonomu now bitterly repented of having confessed her partiality for the autumn. It would have been so easy not to reply at all, and this one answer of hers seemed somehow to have opened up the way for the distressing incident that followed. She told no one of what had occurred, but was for a time very much scared and distressed. Soon however the extreme stiffness and formality of address which Genji henceforth adopted began somewhat to restore her confidence.

On entering Murasaki’s room at a later hour in the day of the incident, he said to her: ‘Lady Akikonomu has been telling me that she likes Autumn best. It is a taste which I can quite understand, but all the same, I am not surprised that you should prefer, as you have often told me that you do, the early morning in Spring. How I wish that I were able to spend more time with you! We would pass many hours in the gardens at all seasons of the year, deciding which trees and flowers we liked the best. There is nothing which I more detest than having all my time taken up by this endless succession of business. You know indeed that if I had only myself to consider I should long ago have thrown up everything and retired to some temple in the hills….’

But there was the Lady of Akashi; she too must be considered. He wondered constantly how she was faring; but it seemed to become every day more impossible for him to go beyond the walls of his palace. What a pity she had got it into her head that she would be miserable at Court! If only she would put a little more confidence in him and trust herself under his roof as any one else would do, he would prove to her that she had no reason for all these

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Rh and precautions. Presently one of his accustomed excursions to the oratory at Saga gave him an excuse for a visit to Ōi. ‘What a lonely place to live in always!’ he thought as he approached the house, and even if the people living there had been quite unknown to him he would have felt a certain concern on their behalf. But when he thought how she must wait for him day after day and how seldom her hopes could ever be fulfilled, he suddenly felt and showed an overwhelming compassion towards her. This however had only the effect of making her more than ever inconsolable. Seeking for some means of distracting her mind, he noticed that behind a tangle of close-set trees points of flame were gleaming—the flares of the cormorant-fishers at work on Ōi River; and with these lights, sometimes hardly distinguishable from them, blended the fire-flies that hovered above the moat. ‘It is wonderful here,’ said Genji; ‘you too would feel so, were not one’s pleasure always spoiled by familiarity.’ ‘Those lights on the water!’ she murmured. ‘Often I think that I am still at Akashi. “As the fisher’s flare that follows close astern, so in those days and in these has misery clung to my tossing bark, and followed me from home to home.” ’ ‘My love,’ he answered, ‘is like the secret flame that burns brightly because it is hidden from sight; yours is like the fisherman’s torch, that flares up in the wind and presently is spent. No, no; you are right,’ he said after a pause; ‘life (yours and mine alike) is indeed a wretched business.’ It happened to be a time at which he was somewhat less tied and harassed than of late, and he was able to devote himself more wholeheartedly than usual to the proceedings at his oratory. This kept him in the district for several days on end, a circumstance which did not often occur and which he hoped would, for the moment at any rate, make her feel a little less neglected.

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text: A Wreath of Cloud/Chapter 1

title: A Wreath of Cloud/Chapter 1


text: A Wreath of Cloud/Introduction

title: A Wreath of Cloud/Introduction


text:
Page:Convoy Operations Checklist 2021.pdf/3

 :: ▢ Know your role in the vehicle depending on which seat you are in.
 * ▢ Listen to the vehicle commander for direction.
 * ▢ Keep your head on a swivel.
 * ▢ Keep your weapon at the ready.
 * ▢ When riding in the vehicle, DON'T:
 * ▢ Be a distraction or liability.
 * ▢ Wander off during vehicle stops.
 * ▢ Hang out or off of the vehicle.
 * ▢ Take the appropriate action if you come in an emergency situation:
 * ▢ Know your immediate action drills to enemy contact and vehicle stops.
 * ▢ Stay in the vehicle alert and ready to respond.
 * ▢ Capture images of response, damage assessments, and anything else that may be used for historical documentation or investigation only if you are safe to do so.

Unclassified – Intended for Public Affair Purposes


text: Convoy Operations Checklist

title: Convoy Operations Checklist


text:
Page:Amazing Stories Volume 16 Number 11.djvu/196

196 had stopped, and that the vessel was motionless, held only by turbines of its degravitation mechanism.

The bodies of the spaceguidesmen had been removed from the seats behind the directional controls, and save for the guard and Dawson, the bridge was deserted.

Dawson tried weakly to rise, supporting himself with one hand as he managed to get to one knee.

The burly guard acted viciously and without warning, bringing the butt of his electrorifle smashing down on Dawson's shoulder, knocking him to the deck once more.

"Stay there," the guard snarled. "You're less likely to make trouble that way!"

Footsteps sounded, coming up the bridge ladder.

Another hulking spaceman appeared at the bridge entrance. He was armed with two atomic pistols, strapped to either side of his waist.

"Orders are to bring this one down to his stateroom," the new arrival told Dawson's guard.

The man with the electrorifle stepped back, grinning at Dawson mockingly.

"Now get up," he told him.

Dawson rose painfully, swaying slightly, one hand pressed to the angry gash on his head.

The guard with the rifle gestured, stepping aside.

"Move ahead of me," he commanded. "And don't try no tricks."

Still swaying somewhat, Dawson lurched forward and the man with the electrorifle stepped behind him, prodding the muzzle of the weapon into his back.

The spaceman with the twin atomic pistols stepped aside as Dawson neared the bridge entrance.

"You go ahead with this one," he said. "I'll follow and make double certain there isn't no funny stuff."

At the bridge ladder, Dawson hesitated an instant, holding to the duralloy side rails while he tried to summon strength enough to fight off the dizziness assailing him.

And then he caught his first sight of the Venusian cruiser.

It was lying half a mile abeam of the Astera, sleek, black, ominous. Even from where Dawson stood at the bridge entrance, he could make out the grim silhouettes of the heavy guns aboard the enemy craft. They were guns which could deciminate the huge but unprotected Astera inside of five minutes, and undoubtedly they were at that moment trained on the big luxury space liner.

Dawson cursed bitterly.

His guard prodded him viciously with the point of the electrorifle and laughed harshly.

"You got visitors, Captain," he chortled. There was mockery in the title he used.

Dawson steeled himself, lips tight, and started down the bridge ladder. His guard followed close behind.

HEN Dawson stepped from the ladder to the deck there was another armed spaceman waiting, and he joined his two comrades as they escorted Dawson along the dimly lighted promenade to his stateroom.

Dawson's stateroom door was ajar when they arrived there. Light poured forth from the room, and the sound of voices could be heard. His guard prodded Dawson through the doorway, and he stood there in the room an instant blinking, trying to focus his eyes to the sudden glare.

"Well, well, Captain Dawson," a nasal voice greeted him smirkingly. "So nice of you to join us."

Dawson saw the speaker, then. He was a thin, waspish man, with sharp,


text: May Eve; or, What You Must

title: May Eve; or, What You Must


text: Talk:May Eve; or, What You Must

title: Talk:May Eve; or, What You Must