THE . 6CRABT0N TRIBUKE WEDNESDAY MOENING, MABCII 4, 1896.
0
NOT MM THEIR FAME
Unworthy Characters ho Have Be-
come Popular CIdtals.
ALL FRAUDS OP HIGH DEGREE
tympath Wasted oa atra aaa Womea
Who Deserved Their FaM-AiiUtto
d Poetlo Heroes and Herolaes
Who Merited the Gallows.
from the Globe-Democrat, ' .'
Although the world has the reputa
tion of being terribly hard-hearted, it
is not devoid of sympathy for misfor
tune, particularly when the misfortune
occur to a person of high station,, or
when it has attracted the attention of
some writer able to tell about it in a
style that compelled the world to listen.
Then, indeed, the world pours forth ifs
tears, bewails th. cruelty of fate- and
weeps over sorrows that came to an
end several centuries ego, as though
they were of yesterday and could be
Softened by this lavish display of ten
derness, iluman nature is full of con
tradictions, and not the least strange
of the number Is that impulse which
causes people to grieve over the woes
of some historic character and neglect
the misery .that is dally furced upon
their notice. Time, in such cuses. lias
the same effect In historical narrative
that distance gives to a landscape: u
softens all the asperltles'of character,
tones down the rugged points and pre
sents a harmonious outline to the eve
pf the observer. A notable of history.
;ooket at across a gup of three or four
hundreds, or as many thousands ot
years, is like a mountain seen from a
lung' distance the general outline only
Is observed, the details, the roughness,
can not be seen. Only by close exami
nation, by mulling ourselves as far as
possible the contemporaries of the man
or woman whom we would study, do we
gain a proper Idea of the real character.
Of course. It Is possible for the con-
extremely false ideas; to underrate or
over-estimate the man or woman who
lived In their midst, and sui h aberra
tions of opinion are sometimes correct
ed and sometimes conllrmed by pos
terity, so that It is quite within the
bounds of possibility for historic mis
takes to be perpetuated from age to
age simply from the sympathy felt for
the sufferer.
' . FALSEHOODS OP HISTORY.
"Read me anything but history," said
Kngland's greatest statesman on his
deathbed, "that, I know, Is not true,"
and the apparently strange and harsh
statement Is fully borne out by a study
of the manner in which the historians
have- been biased by their sympathies
in dealing with dozens of characters.
Some, utterly detestable, have been so
transformed by the sympathy of the
historical writers that they become of
almost superhuman excellence; others,
only moderately wicked, have been
pronounced monsters of vice, while oth
ers again, men and women, In their own
time, of good repute, who .lived hon
est upright lives, are either altogether
forgotten or are remembered in that
half-slighting way that is worse than
oblivion. Many men and women have
been made the pets of the historian.
He will acknowledge for the sake of ar
gument, that they were not all that
they should have been; that here and
there they deviated from the strict
paths of rectitude, but there Is always
some 'excuse for their shortcomings;
they were not quite so much to blame
as they looked, In fact, they were hard
ly to blame at all. Of course, there
was wrong doing In the case, but the
fault was that of some one elese. on
whom the blame Is promptly saddled,
and, whether he deserves It or not, he
is forced to carry it, for the world has
made up Its mind on the subject, and it
is useless to try to effect a change in
its opinion. For history has Its scape
goats, and not only are all the vices
ana crimes or & wnoie race ui grueia
..ilori loaded oh the back of one man, but
'often all the discredit of a long life of
Vlclousness Is transferred from the
Shoulders of a pet of history to the back
of a contemporary in order that the pet
may go free.
MART STUART.
" One of the most highly favored of
history's pets was Mary, queen of Scots.
To use a familiar colloquialism, nothing
1s too good for her at the hands of the
historians. Orave writers, men of in
telligence and probity, have moaned
over her long confinement and sad tak
ing oft as though these were afflictions
personal to themselves; women have
wept over her sorrows as though these
.were their own; she has been exalted
to such a pitch that not many years
ago a proposition was gravely discussed
to present to the church her claims to
sainthood. Yet nothing is more certain
than that the sufferings and execution
of this woman were the result of her
own crimes. There is little doubt that
'she was one of the gayest young women
of the French court while she was the
wife of the Dauphin, for the memory
of her intrigues at that period has come
down to the present day: there is none
at all that she was unfaithful to Darn
ley, and was the leading spirit In the
rplot to murder him. This is the only
murder, in her long career of crime,
that can be directly traced home to her,
but-the people of her own time suspect
ed her of several others, and probably
Hot without good cause. Her faithless
ness was so well known that the coun
selors of Elizabeth, much as they dis
liked to take the step, were compelled to
lock her up as soon as she sat her foot
- in Knglaud, and during the whole time
of her imprisonment she was perpetual
ly engaged In plots, one after another,
until it was found out that the only
way to make her good was to cut oft
- her head. This was done, and at once
all the sympathy of Christendom was
enlisted in her behalf; her murders and
other peccadillos were forgotten, and
"ihe Is deemed a. suitable subject for
fSunday-scliool tableaux.
THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.
'. Napoleon's first wife Is the object of
an endless amount of sympathy, solely
.on account of the fact that she was
divorced against her will. Writers who
ought to know better bitterly inveigh
against Napoleon for his treatment of
'her, one going so far as to declare that
Napoleon's good fortune deserted him
as he deserted Josephine, and came as
a punishment for his Injustice. The
truth is that Josephine's infidelities nnd
frivolities were so numerous that Na
poleon had abundant cause for divorce
long before he actually sought and pro
cured a Jegal separation. Among the
annalists of Napoleon's court were a
number of very clever women, who, in
their narratives, give much attention
to tne aally doings of the Imperial cir
cle, and among these gossips, a great
. deal of unquestioned truth about Jo
sephine came out. As regularly os Na
poleon' left Paris on a campaign Just so
regularly did his wife engage in some
new scandalous affair. It Is true that
; tne emperor was no better, bufthat fact
does, not excuse the unfaithfulness of
, Josephine. The emperor was long kept
In. Ignorance of her doings, for he ap-
of herrbut when once he learned part
of the truth his spies soon put him In
possession of all the rest. With this
... ... ..ruium-iieu jfMB.
- nhlne with her misconduct, and gave
her to understand what-were his inten-
,lnna 1V airnl.l AnKK.hli.. l
, Jiowever, end for the sake of his own
4itmv, aiivMiei irtmuiL was ssignea,and
Josephine was divorced, nominally be-
JmniiftHl'mnAmiWI)rif ki .
. v,udc ...,. v. .. . j an utfir io me
throne.. He acted with as much gener
osity as possible under the circum
- stances, and more than could have been
expected of such a man as be was. He
was not equally considerate of two or
three men who were suspected of being
her loyersr -What became of thpm no
one ktiowsi they ainiDiv dlmntwiinui
.. xapoieun s seconu -wiie was only a
trifle better than his first, but, though
her fidelity, W never.suspected by the
emperor, there Is excellent reason to
believe that while he was on the Rus
sian campaign she was engaged In a
scandalous Intrigue with Count von
Nelpperg, her chamberlain, whom, af
ter Napoleaon's death, she married.
Either she or Josephine, however, was
a pattern of morality when compared
with another pet of history, the famous,
or, rather, infamous, Beatrice Cenci.
Beatrice became a historical pet on the
strength of a portrait, laid to be paint
ed by Ouldo Renl, a day or two before
her execution. Its. authenticity is, at
best, extremely doubtful, but It has
"pleased the world to believe that It is
a- correct portrait of the young Roman
girl, and, as it represents her as ex
ceedingly beautiful, of course the world
at once made up Its mind that a woman
who was so good-looking could not
have been anything but good, and the
fact that she was tried by a regularly
constituted tribunal, and that abundant
evidence was produced to prove that
she was the leading conspirator In the
murder of her father, counted for noth
ing in the presence of the world's deter
mination to believe her a martyr. Bea
trice had the misfortune to live In an
age when assassination was generally
regarded as a venial offense, when
murder was a trifle so long as the mur
derer could remain undetected and safe
from the vengeance of the victim's
friends. It was even a jest. During
her short lifetime, everybody knew that
"succession powders." to rid a young
wife of an old husband, or bring an
heir quickly tnto his inheritance, could
be bought almost openly In Home; that
In the crowded quarters by the river
men could be hired for a few soldi to
do uny murder. Assassination was a
nightly occurrence In Rome and every
other large i lly In Italy, und the us
sasslns were rarely brought to Justice.
Nor would Beatrice have suffered deuth
had It not been for the fact lhat while
the pope was considering the question
of clemency, the Princess uf Santa
t'roce was murdered by her son, und It
was determined that Beatrice und her
nssuclates should bi made an example.
She was no better than, the age In
which she lived. In fact, she seems to
have been somewhat worse, and un
doubtedly suffered Justly the punish
ment due to her ujdeous crime.
THE PRISONER OF CHIIXON.
Not to devote too much time to the
ladles, however, It Is well enough to re
member that several men have been
made' the pets of the world who did not
in the least deserve any consideration
at its hands. One of the most notable
cases of this kind Is the "Prisoner of
Chlllon," immortalized by Myron. By
ron was a poet, not a historian, and
might be expected to be carried away
by his sympathies, and, Indeed, when
we find historians so grossly misled no
surprise can.be felt at. the same thing
happening in the vase of a young man
of fine poetic genius and overflowing
with sympathy for any case of suffer
ing, real or otherwise. In this instance
the peculiar castle furnished the theme,
the cell beneath supplied the inspira
tion, and the prisoner was the creature
of the poet's Imagination. Chlllon had
many prisoners probably better deserv
ing of the world's sympathy than Fran
cols de Bonnlvard, to whom Byron re
ferred. Instead of being the old, feeble
man described In the poem, he was a
gay, rollicking young blood, perpetual
ly In hot water on account of his am
orous propensities nnd fondness for
other people's property. He opposed
the Duke-Bishop of Savoy, Charles III.,
not so much from political motives as
on general principles, being always
ready to oppose anybody just for tne
fun of the thing. His Invasions of Sa
voy were rather plundering raids than
military expeditions, and. according to
one historian, he was Anally caught by
the wrathful bishop .while returning
from one of these thievish jaunts, his
followers being so laden with stolen
goods that they were taken at a disad
vantage and could neither run away
nor light. Of course, the bishop locked
him up; the wonder Is he did not do
worse to him, and in jail he stayed for
six years. He was not confined In the
dungeon at all. but In an airy, comfort
able room above, with neatly barred
windows, from which he could look out
over the lake. He did not take his cap
tivity much to heart, but spent his time
In composing Indecent poems, some of
which, scribbled on the walls of his
room, are still to be seen.
MAZEPPA.
Byron had another character, quite
as worthy of a prison cell at Bonnl
vard, but who by the magic of verse has
been transformed into a popular hero.
Mazeppa was the same kind of person
as Bonnivard, and took his famous, but
reluctant, ride as the result of a discov
ered intrigue with the wife of another
Polish nobleman. There was consider
able personal risk in the matter, but
nobody of his time seems to have re
garded him as specially worthy of sym
pathy, and when mentioned at all it
was usually In terms that Indicated the
public conviction that he got about
what he deserved. His ride proved his
fortune, for it brought him with the
Cossacks, among whom he subsequent
ly acquired great influence. His ad
venture with the horse did not improve
his morals In the leapt, for several
times after" Peter the Oreat had made
him prince of the I'kralne he was In
volved In difficulty with outraged hus
bands on account of being too much of
a Lothario to please even a Cossack,
and more than once his life was In dan
ger. He betrayed the confidence of
every one who trusted him, even that
of his royal master, whose fortunes he
deserted to take the side of Charles XII
of Sweden. At the battle of Pultowa
he was taken, and Peter determined
to make an example of him und so re
served him for a special hanging, to
which the whole army was invited, and
at which Byron's hero was to be the ob
ject of chief Importance. So little, how
ever, did he appreclute the interest felt
in his behalf, that a day or two before
this grand event was to come -off. he
bribed the Jailor and ran away, riding
as fast as he did on the wild horse, un
til he got Into Turkey. There he was
safe, and having more regard for his
worthless carcass than for poetic Jus
tice, he stayed at Mender, nnd under the
protection of the sultan, until his death
In 170. at the age of 64. The ride at
tracted the poetic fancy of Byron, and
the character of the man had nothing
to do with the matter at all. ,
LOUIS XVI. AND CHARLES I.
A world of sympathy has been wast
ed on two kings who had the misfor
tune to lose their heads. The royalist
elements In both France and England
managed, at an early day, to get the
public ear and to present these two rul
ers as fit objects for public sympathy.
As a matter of fact, each met the fate
that he Intended to deal out to his
adversaries. There Is not the slight
est doubt that had Charles I, been vic
torious in the civil war he would have
chopped off the heads of every one
of the military leaders who opposed
him and finished the Job by decimat
ing or exterminating the parliament.
Nobody know this fact better than the
popular leaders. They found Charles
utterly untrustworthy, and discovered
that while he was negotiating with
them for an amicable adjustment of the
affairs of the realm he was also nego
tiating In France for money and men to
reopen the war. It was his life or
theirs,, and as .a measure of self-defense
they were compelled to act as they did.
Louts XV L was as faithless as Charles,
and otherwise a despicable character.
If he had possessed one kingly attrib
ute he would never have been brought
to prison, and, after he was there, the
bitterest complaints he made were
founded on the quality and scantiness
of the food furnished to the royal fam
ily. These stories, told on the streets
of Paris, brought him into popular con
tempt and did much, to hasten his end.
Nor did he. die heroically, for many
eye-witnesses to. the execution testify
that he struggled with the executioners
and screamed for assistance, hoping to
the last moment for a popular upris
ing In his favor.
SUCH CASES NUMEROUS.
The historians, poets and artists,
however have so many pets that it it an
easy matter to adduce almost Innumer
able examples.' Elisabeth of-Kngland
was. not the gentle queen nor the beau
tiful woman she Is. represented, but a
termagant, who. In humbler life, would
have been treated to a liberal dose of
ducking, which In her times, was re
garded as an infallible cure for a com
mon scold. She curses her maids of
honor like a drunken trooper, often
pinched and kicked them, while, on the
artiBtlc side,-her lack of good looks was
conceded even by her contemporaries.
"Glorious Queen Anne" was so addict
ed to drink that her red nose earned
for her the appellation "Brandy Nan"
from her loving subjects. Both the
Catharines of Russia, had they been
working women instead of empresses,
would have been taken In charge by the
police and hauled before the courts for
drunkenness, while several murders
were undoubtedly committed by each
to say nothing of less heinous crimes.
Cleopatra with her asp is a pet of the
artists, but the real queen of Egypt, as
described by her contemporaries, eye
witnesses of the closing scenes of her
life was entirely different from the ar
tistic Ideal, and it is certain that her
bruised face, swollen with drink and
distorted with rage, excited only the
horror of those who gazed upon It. But
human nature must have Its Ideals and
Its idols, but it seems unfortunate that
Very frequently the subjects chosen are
most unworthy. The manner of deuth,
or the glamour thrown over n character
by the historian, artist or poet, blinds
the eyes of the world to the real mun or
womun, and an Idol is made of a his
toric personage who, In life, was utterly
unworthy of the commendation, and
too often deserved only the scorn und
contempt of the linniun race.
TUOI UI1TS Or UREAT IIIINHr.RS.
The notlo: I motive Is the public good.
Yluil.
Let them obey that know! not how to
rule. Sliukeieure.
Von gray lines, tiiat fret the clouds, arc
messeiigei's of day. Hhukespeure.
He surely Is tu want of another's pa
tience wlm hus none of his own. Uivater.
If a mun is endued v.'llli a ni-neroim
mind, this Is t lie hM kind of nobility.
Pluto.
Nature, tlirouijh nil her works, In great
degree, borrows a blessing irom variety.
Churchill.
Patience of whose soft grace I have her
sovereign aid, and rest myself content.
Shakespeare.
There are but three classes of men; the
retrograde, the stationary and the pro
gressive. Luvater. "
Pedantry eruius our heads with learned
In tn b r. and takes out our brains to make
room for It. ;olton.
Thus ti'lef still treads upon the heels of
pleasure, marry'd in huste, we muy repent
at leisure. Cungreve.
As the mind must govern the hands, so
In every society the man of Intelligence
must direct the man of labor. Johnson.
This melancholy flutters, hut menace
you, what is It else but penury of soul, a
duxy frost, u. numbness of the mind.
Dryden.
The passions, like heavy bodies down
stect-p hills, once In motion, move them
selves, and know no ground but the bot
tom. Fuller.
Mun hath his dally work of body or
mind appointed, which dec-lures his dig
nity and the regard of heaven on all his
ways. Milton.
The honest heart that's free frae u' In
tended fraud or guile, however fortune
kick the ba' has aye some cause to untie.
Hums,
There Is always and everywhere some
rentralnt upon a great mun. He is guard
ed with crowds and shackled with formal
ities. Cowley.
Among the pitfalls In our way, the best
of us walk blindly; so, man, be wary',
watch and pray, and Judge your brother
kindly. Alice Oury.
The heathen mythology not only was
not true, hut wns not even supported as
true: it not only deserved no faith, but it
demanded none. hately.
They that marry ancient people merely
In expectation to bury them, hung them
selves In the hope that one will come und
cut the halter. Fuller.
Those that are good manners at the
court are as ridiculous in rhc country, us
the behavior of the country is most mock
able ut the court. Shakespcute,
Llew Llwyd'S' Literary
I Interviewed Llew Llwyd (Orey Lion)
once about his literary methods. I
found him sitting in his shlrt-slteves
I mean i.e was sitting In an arm chair
with his shirt-sleeves tucked up. Llew
then was going on forty, with a bardic
career almost as long.
Like many other successful literary
men, Llew believed In a maximum of
out-of-door recreation with a minimum
of close application In his study. Ills
great hobby was cutting coal, and he
told me that his happiest Inspirations
came to him w hile ripping the "top" of
his stall.
He was equally Indifferent as to his
tools of trade and modes of working.
He showed me a blotched note-book
which he carried with him to his stall.
and In which he was In the habit of Jot
ting down bits of verse as they struck
his fancy. He would often test tin al
literative phrase by writing It In chalk
on the cm ley-box. When all nlone at
home, as he liked to be when In one of
his (its, and for which purpose he would
send his wife to the village on all sorts
of errands, lie would drop on his knees
on the stone Door und try his lines In
chalk. He thought that method emi
nently lifted a subject that inquired a
broad bundling, un ode or an epic, for
instance. But as sooon as he heard
Mary's footsteps outside he would rub
out the writing frantically with a piece
of cloth readiest at hand, n if In mortal
fear of a broud handling himself. As
he told me that secret I could not help
looking at the llnor, and 1 could see the
mutilated remains of an epic around
the corners of the Blabs.
He prefered the evening, after a
win tn bath and n full meal. fir regular
literary work. Before beglnlng n se.
rious tusk be would exchange Ins culty
pipe for a church warden. He told me.
also, that he could nut work with his
coat tin.. He would usually write on
slips of brown paper which Mary sup
plied him with from the grocery pur
cels. He always, however, kept at
hand a stock of foolscap paper with en
velopes to match, and when he hud
licked a piece' Into shape, so to speak, he
would employ :..s brother's son to write
It on foolscap. ' uch a task he could
only entrust to a relative, for Llew car
ried on a play of hide and seek with the
public, cluimlng his works only after
they bad caught on and brougnt him
gain and glory. His unsuccessful pro
ductions he treated as the Chinese do
an overplus of children, or as the Hin
doos used to send their old men to the
Conges Hospital. Llew was, in fact,
the "Oreat Unknown" of Cwtncned.
The first composition which blew
submitted to the censors of the elstedd
vod wns a few stanzas In praise of
Kbenezer Cbnpel. a high-shouldered,
severely rectangular and perpendicular
structure, with the outline of a grain
elevator and the windows of a soap fac
tory. The adjudicator said that the
stanzas contained much good, strong
sense, but no rhyme. His next work
was a quatrain or englyn on "The Tea
pot," which an adjudicator described
as strong In alliteration and rhyme, but
without a particle of sense. Llew then
told me of his pathetic struggle to
match . senBe and rhyme according to
the prescribed bardic rules. He great
ly favored what he called the sane
views of Islwyn, and his best produc
tions I found modelled after the poem
of Kbenezer Chapel rather than on
"The Teapot." In this again he resem
bled a number of famous authors,
whose numerous productions are only
so many variations on their first ef
forts. But Llew's attempts at reconciling
sense and rhyme were by no means un
successful, and the prise quatrains on
"The Hammer," "The Mandrel," "The
Safety Lamp," "The Pig." "The Colo
rado Beetle," and "The Flea" appeared
tn a rapid succession. Then he sought
for his muse a wider play ground In
poems on "Truth," "The Cwmeoch Ex
plosion," "The Policeman," "The rn
dertaker." "The Sexton," "The Coffin"
and '.'Immortality' j .. i
VDY HARRISf .RETIRED
The True Version of His Withdrawal
os a Candidate. .
HAD A TALK KITH CLEVELAND
They Compared Notes and Found That
Having Seventy AUIIion Landlords
Wasn't the Thing It Had
Seemed to Ilj.
From the Chicago Record.
What a lot of foolish speculation there
is as to the reasons which led up to the
announcement by General" Harrison
that .he would not again be a candidate
for president! And the real cause of
the decision is perfectly plain.
You recall, perhaps, that a few weeks
ago the ex-president was In Washing
ton, where he appeared before the Su
preme court and earned $100 per respi
ration by arguing that California ought
to take water In hers. And you recall,
too. that later in the day the Indiana
bridegroom-elect visited the white house
and spent ten minutes in conversation
with President Cleveland. There bus
been much haxaiding as to what Ihe
two stuUsmen hud to say to each other.
The -Record has known for several davs,
but has been bound to iillenee by the
two great men until now. The recent
announcement of cashing In und quit
ting the gume releases the bond, of con
fidence. When Mr. Hurrlson and Mr. Cleve
land met there were, of course, the ordi
nary civilities attendant Upon the herd
ing together of two men euch of whom
bud beaten the" other for president of
the I ' lilted States, and each of whom
bud -lu turn been beuten by the other.
Then Mr. Harrison suld: i
"Von have doubtless heard. Mr. Pres
ident, of my proposed murrluKe. und of
course you will surmise that 1 uui
house-hunting. I know somewhat of
this house, having tented if for four
years, and my thoughts nuturally turn
to It. Hut I remember quite well that
when I wus here before there were a lot
ol hurusslng annoyunces that tntlunied
and enraged me, nnd It was to see about
them that I culled. I don't believe there
is anything half as vexations as having
70,000,000 landlords and never being able
to llnd nnc of them when you want tu
huve a nail driven In the jamb of the
laundry door to hang your canvas hunt-Ing-coat
upon. 1 remember that In the
old days 1 have gone coursing up and
down this great nation looking for the
landlord so as to file my objection to
a loose plank in the kitchen floor, and
although there are, as I have sqld, TO,
000,000 of him I have never been able to
get at him. The mere fact that one Is
allowed to hire the work. done is no Biir
cease of sorrow when you want to kick
good and hard."
CLEVELAND COINCIDED.
"Ueneral." said President Cleveland,
warmly, "I agree with you. I have
been there am there now and will be
until the end of my term.- I look out
sometimes upon the gay throng of men
who live in houses the landlords of
which ore tangible quantities and I
weep In my longing. There Is Dan, for
Instance. If his windows were to rattle
like a thing with chills he would be able
to rush down town and corner his land
lord and use language violent but sooth
ing to the spirit. The last time my win
dows did that I called for the hauling
down of the flag at Hawaii to appease
niy wrath."
"I remember." the ex-president ob
served, "and thought at the time it
must be the leaky bath-tub Jn the spare
loom. It was the windows, was it?"
"Yes, the bath-room induced me In
very auger to call a special session of
congress, which some people thought
' For The Tribune.
The reader will observe the steady
expansion of Llew's powers. To a
catholicity of range he added great
flexibility of treatment. The quatrains
and poems mentioned represent two
distinct stages of his growth as a bard
bard, 1 say, for we Welsh bards ap
ply the terhi poet only to some English
versifiers.
The quatrain periods represents
Llew's struggles for the mastery of al
literation and rhyme often at the ex
pense of sense. But even here we see
how faithfully he observed the eternal
fitness of things by choosing subjects
of a trivial nature, with the exception,
perhaps, of the Colorado beetle, which
at that time hnd gained international
notoriety. But Llew confessed to me
that he soon despaired Of being able to
infuse much sense Into the twenty
four metres. Tuke for Instance, one of
his best quutrains, "The Pig," literally
translated and shorn of Its complicated
alliteration:
"A long-eared, big-bellied caterpillar,
(Caterpillar was the only cutegory
that would rhyme.)
With a lung mouth and a short leg, Is
the pig;
In Its stubborn passions,
It will have Its way In spite of sticks."
lu a way, there Is a good deul of sense
In the above pig-sense, muybc but
hurJIy worthy of Llew's genius. It Is
with pleasure, therefore, we hnll the
"poems" period. Here he hard Is in
Ills element. Here he takes his Immor
tal fellow burd, Islwyn. the great bard
ic liberator, us his model. You notice
the (drilling succession of subjects.
With the composition of "Truth" Llew
became a realist. He threw off the
sculus of Dal'vdd ab Emwnt from his
eyes. He dived Into the hcurt of things.
He dared tn Investigate the uncanny.
Like all realists, he delighted in dis
cussing the sluidy side of human ex
perience. He followed "The Police
man" on his beat. He lent a hand to
"The Sexton" to dig some graves. Hnd
he known of Stevenson's "Suicide Club"
he would have applied fur membership.
His muse grew fut on worms. The hor
rifying minuteness of "The Cnflin," like
those lines of Tennyson to the "Old
Yew":
"Thy fibres net the dreamless head,
Thy roots are wrapt about their bones,"
places that poem unique among word
paintings. But through It all Llew kept
a level head, and In his masterpiece on
"Immortality" there Is no suggestion
of the odor of the vault.
With a laugh another proof .of his
level-headedness Llew told ine a re
markable fact. Alter all there are but
few bards who venture far Into a favor
ite field without consulting the tastes
of the crowd, who follow like dumb
driven cattle far behind. Sound prin
ciples should produce a good income,
and Llew solved the problem In his own
way
Alliterative quatrains demand an Im
mense amount of labor. It is an art
by itself the art of word-juggling
and many are masters of the art. But
Llew found It a poor paying thing.
Llew. by the way, did not depend on
literature for a living another proof of
his level-headedness. But he thouht
reasonably enough that the muse
ought at the least to keep him in tobac
co. -And of all species of poetry elegies
pay best. While composing the "Un
dertaker." "Sexton." "Coffin" and "Im
mortality" a vista of vast possibilities
opened before Llew. These poems sup
plied him with a ready stock of fune
real sentiments, and Llew saw no rea
son why they could not be applied to a
variety of cases, like a hearse or a bor
rowed suit of mourning.
His first attempt In this new line an
elegy on a deceased colliery manager
brought him ten shillings. But the
small elsteddvods were few and far be
tween, and competitors for bat-die
fame were as thick as leaves In that
Italian valley, though the valley of
Cwmcoed Is good enough for me. Llew
took another tack. When a neighbor
was for financial legislation, but which
was reully assembled because 1 had to
have something real, palpable and In
plain view to well, to swear at. When
1 cunie back from my hunting trip re
cently I found the kitchen sink nil stove
Up. A . good, conscientious landlord
would have been a blessing just then,
but all I could do was to declare war on
Oreat Britain. It is hard. Now,-when
the smoke comes rushing back down
my chimney us though It had seen
something up at the top which scared
It, what can I do? Can I go out in
Lafayette aveuuo and call a mass
meeting of the passers-by and roast
them in sharp,- bitter, biting terms for
giving me a house to live In the chim
neys of which freeae ovei to a depth of
seven Inches? It would be ridiculous.
You know how that is. general."
'Know It? Ah, alas and woful words!
Once when the pump froxc and I ham
mered at it until I had skan seven
Inches of skin off my knuckles, and I
scalded It and put explosives m it and
dredged at it for two hours, and then,
oh. then, how I yearned for somebody
whom I could call 'landlord' and whom
I could abuse and vilify some! Ily the
way, Mr. President, does that pump
still get reluctant on cold days?"
Oeneral," said the president, "It docs
my heart good to hear you talk ro
about that pump. You are the only
man living who can understand what
I have suffered from that profane piece
of mechanism in the last four years.
When 1 first entered the white house I
wus a younger man. stronger, moiv
hopeful. 1 did not mind the pump so
much then. And when you moved In
and 1 moved out I did it with sorrow.
Now I shall leave here with u burst of
hilarity hovering all about me. 1 shall
go strnlKhtwuy and hire u house where
there Is u pump just like this and where
there Is u mun who owns thu house, und
1 shull put in the rest of my Ul'e In win
ter assisting t hut mun With the exple
tive uiljectlves which 1 huve gulher-d
here. The pump, general, is the same
old pump.'.'
'i gather, then," said the generul, i-e-llectlvely,
"thut you have had enough
und are going to quit the premises next
year."
"1 certainly am. Do you blame me?
What would you do?"
"Mr. President." the general gravely
observed, "I would do the same. I had
thought of making application for this
place, but your words have brought me
an awakening. I had hoped there might
have come a change since 1 wus last
here. But 1 see It Is the sume thing.
It may be a great thing to be president
of the I'nlted States, but when to that
clrcuinstance Is added the condition
that one must have 70.000.000 landlords,
none of whom are within kicking dis
tance When things go wrong. 1 pass out.
I shall keep on renting from a m:ui
smaller In stature than myself and
whom I can browbeat and fume at
when the house needs three new shln-gk-s
or another catch on the pantry
window."
And shortly after Mr. Dowdy received
that letter of surrender of presidential
hopes.
science GOSSIP.
The wars or the last seventy years have
cost Itusslu 1,7u5,000,0O0 and the Uvea of
OiH.OflO men.
It Is estimated that a November fog In
London oot, in gas and electric light,
accidents, delays und damage, about $100,
OiiO. The letters In the various alphabets of
the world vary from twelve to 20:! In num
ber. The Sandwich Islanders' alphabet
has twelve, the Tartarian, flrj,
in Wales It is believed that If any one
kills a wren he wil fall down and break
a hone before the end of the year.
The sun, if hollow, would hold JOO.onO
earth globes, and an eye capable of hourly
viewing 10,000 sqimre miles would require
O.'i.mxi years to see all Its surface.
Strange bed-warmers are used hy Chili
an women. In cold weather, when In bed,
they keep their feet warm by placing thtm
on a dog.
Methods,
died he would attend the wake, which
In Wales Is kept as a prayer meeting,
and at the close of the meeting he
would place tn the hand of the leading
living representative of the deceased
something rolled up Into a paper bullet,
and then he would leave the house ab
ruptly as if the thing was about to ex
plode In fifteen seconds. The leading
representative would open the paper
and read It, then he would hand It to
the second, saying, "How good of
Llew?" The second would hand It to
the third 'With, "It Is a perfect picture
of poor Job." So the paper would be
sent the round of the relatives to the
remotest cousin, when one with a better
mastery over his feelings than the rest
a second cousin's husband, maybe,
would suggest to have It printed and
framed. The day after the funerul the
leading representative would be seen
going from store to store to puy the
bills, and he would most likely meet
Llew, who by this time would be re
garded almost as a member of the fam
ily. Together they would enter the lit
tle parlor of the Black Lion, conform
ably to a cluuse In the burd's license,
and Llew would return home that even
ing seven and sixpence the richer.
To say that the bard, in offering so
delicately the mournful tribute of his
muse, wus actuuted by u mercenary
motive would be a gross libel and a
monstrous perversion of the truth.
Llew never sang so worthy of himself
as when free from the restrictions of an
elsteddvixl competition, nnd never did
a literary aspirant write more for the
waste-busket than did Llew pour his
soul Into songs which the cold, critical
world never bud a chance to mutilate.
And when ymi come down to the uni
versal question of shillings and pence
never a pound you ought to bear In
mind that Llew once did exhaust his
energies a whole week, and was one
day too late for work, tn composing un
elegy on the late Mr. Fitzgerald, civil
engineer, for n translation of which lie
paid live shillings to a "utlckit minis
ter:" and though dressed In his Sunday
best he handed the neighborly tribute
In person to Mrs. Fitzgerald. It drew
forth a Hood of tears, but not a penny
piece of cash. The Indelicacy of such
tributes Is limited to some frequent
scenes In the elsteddvod when a dozen
bards, having shed their crocodile tears
over Ihe remains of a deceased of whom
they knew next to nothing, await with
Jealous eagerness the announcement of
the uward. and there and then start an
unseemly wrungle
"Ere ceased the inhuman shout which
hailed the wretch who won."
Like Matthew Arnold and most of the
great writers whose words, phrases und
! sentences have become current coins of
the literary realm, Llew believed In re
peating a good thing in various guises.
Without the least consciousness of the
Impropriety of the thing he showed me
many elegies which had couplets, and
even whole stanzas In common. They
were his gems and sparkled wherever
they were set. They were free, not
only of the note of provincialism, to
borrow one of Arnold's repetitions, but
even of the note of localism, and were,
therefore, entitled to be ranked as
classic. You could apply them to any
decent human being the world over
like homo sum. In an elegy on a sweet
yong girl who had died of the decline
there was a whole stanza of eight lines
taken from the prize elegy on the gruff
but kind colliery manager.
As I left Llew Llwyd's bright Ingle
slde that evening I felt that I had com
muned with a man who had a proper
sense of his high vocation a liberator
of the muse from arbitrary fetters and
a consoler of bereaved homes, as every
true bard should be; and though now
and then he would betray a slight dis
appointment at having not won a chair
at an elsteddvod, I assured him with
truth that If the good people of Cwm
coed were canvassed they would elect
him forthwith as their poet laureate.
Rhys Wynne,
TRE CITY OF MARSEILLES
Attractions of One of the Notable
Torts of France. 1
IT HAS MAGNIFICENT CAPES
Settled by Creek Colonists, Whose Hand!'
work Is 1 Still Visible-Palace de
Longchamps,' Church of Notre
Daino and Chateau d' If.
Speciul Correspondence to The Tribune.
Marseilles, Jan; 25. Marseilles Is one
of the European cities which the trav
eler, always In search of things antique
or artistic, is likely to pass over rather
Hurriedly, or perhaps not stop at it at
all. Italy, with Its pictures and pal
aces, being so near, the attractions of
Marseilles are rather lost sleht of. and
the average traveler who stops there Is
likely to remember Mursellles only as
possessing more cafes In proportion to
Its size than any other city In Europe.
This Impression Is certainly the first
one that the town gives. The broad
Canneblere, the principal street of the
town, seems to be lined with nothing
but magnificent cafes, fully as line us
those of Purls, and the same thing is
true of Its continuation, the Hue No
vllles, and the Allees de Mellhum. If the
traveler Is un American the wonderful
likeness of the city and Its princlpul
streets to those of his own country will
also strike hi in forcibly. It Is the prin
cipal scapoit und the bur lest town of
Krunce, und truding as It does with
nearly all the world, there Is u stir and
bustle about the life of the ntreets
quite American.
ONE OF THE CHIEF POUTS. -It
Is, and has been fur two thousand
years and inure, one of the chief ports
through which the products of the east
have found their way Into Europe.
This trude gives to the port a very or
iental look, and on the streets, es
pecially those down near the docks, the
crowds are a queer mixture of Asian,
African und European. The signs on
the shop windows In thut section ure lu
many strange tongues, and one coming
from the north seems to get the first
whiff of the east.
The city, although very modern look
ing in Its principal buildings, is In re
ality very old. Nearly twenty-live
hundred years have passed sine the
first colony of (Ireeks from Phocaea
made their way to these then unknown
shores and founded the colony which
they called Massalia. This first land
ing of the Greeks Is the subject of one
of Puvls de Chavanne' s magnificent
frescoes in the staircase of the Palais
de Lungchamp.
SETTLED BY OREEKS.
The colonists throve, a way Oreek
colonies seemed to have In those old
timeB, and were soon able to defeat the
Carthagenlnns fn a naval battle and U
form a friendly alliance with Rome.
I'ntil the time of Julius Caesar the
city maintained Its Independence, but
was conquered by him and annexed to
the Roman empire, Its citizens, how
ever, maintaining many of their an
cient privileges.
The city had all these years remained
thoroughly Oreek, and under the em
pire rivalled Athens as an educational
center for the Homnn youths.
After the fall of Rome Marseilles
shared the fate of the rest of southern
Europe and was possessed tn turn by
the Visigoths, the Franks and the Au
leslans. In the tenth century that
scourge of Europe, the Saracens, de
stroyed the city, but It recovered from
the blow and during the middle ages
seems to have regained Bomewhat of Its
old importance as a trading center.
IN OLD MARSEILLES.
Most of the city Is new, but to the
north of the old port rise the-precipl-tous,
narrow, winding streets of the old
town, fully as picturesque and fully
as dirty as the old streets of most Eu
ropean cities. Their only redeeming
feature, from a sanitary point of view.
Is the stream of water which courses
down the middle of each street and al
leyway. Since Marseilles suffered so
fearfully from the cholera the authori
ties have taken some precautions
against Its return, and this Is one of
them.
The very interesting old port, crowd
ed with shipping from all quarters of
the globe. Is defended by forts at Its en
trance, one of which Is the old Chateau
Babondor, built by the Knights of
Multa.
The cathedral. Instead of being up In
the modern center of the town, Is down
near the npw harbor, it Is a line build
ing in the Byzantine style.
THE CITY'S CHIEF PRIDE.
But the chief pride of modern Mar
seilles is the Palais de Longchamps,
standing at the head of the boulevard
of that name, and containing the pic
ture gallery and the museum of natural
history. The two wlu&s ure connected
by u tine colonnade and triumphal arch,
below which Is a magnificent fountain,
one of the finest in Europe. Buck Of
the palace Is situated the small but
good zoological garden, which Is a
branch of the one at Paris.
To the Bouth of the town stretches the
long Prado, u drive bordered with fine
villas extending to the sea. From the
point where It reaches the sea the
beautiful Comiche road, a triumph nf
engineering, tuns along the rocky
cnust buck to the harbor. The views
from this roiid ure unexcelled, espe
cially at sunset.
THE CHATEAU d'IF.
But the two chief sights of Marseilles
aside from Its harbor are the church of
Notre Hume de lu Uurde and the Cha
teau d'lf. The church stands on a
steep hill south of the town and Is a
very prominent object in the view. It
Is reached by an Inclined ruilwuy, or
rather elevator, for It runs up nearly
perpendicular, of an angle, I think, of
obout liO degrees. The view from the
porch of the church Is claimed by the
Marseillaise to be the best in the world.
and while that estimate of It Is perhaps
a trifle enthusiastic, for the world In n
lnrge place, still there Is no de.ulit
that It Is very' beautiful, and onge seen
is not soon forgotten. At one, feet is
the busy city of Marseille with its
harbor filled wllh ships, urd outside In
the Mediterranean several rocky Is
lands, on one of which stands the Chu
teau d'lf. Behind are the foot hills of
ti.e Alps, and to right and left stretches
the southern shore of France.
It is a rather curious thing that In so
old a city as Marseilles the plnce which
Interests the average tourist most of all
takes that interest from a character In
modern fiction. About two miles from
the harbor, on a rocky Island, is situat
ed the Chateau d'lf. where the hero of
Dumas' novel, the Count of Monte
Chrlsto, was Imprisoned. A boat runs
to the Island several times a day In
good weather (the landing Is Impossible
In bad) and the visitor Is shown over
the mediaeval castle which rises In the
center of the fort.
A SIGHT FOR THE MORBID.
In the center of tne structure Is a
very small weii-like court, from which
the cells open. These cells run deep
Into the masonry of the walls, and are
sufficiently dreary, gloomy looking
places to satisfy the most morbid per
son. You are shown and allowed to
crawl through If you wish the hole in
the wall by which Edmond Dantes
there really was a prisoner of that
name entered the adjoining cell.
There were other prisoners known to
fame who were kept In these gloomy
rooms, one of them being a dauphin of
France and another that mysterious
being, the man in the Iron mask.
From the top of the castle another
magnificent view is obtained of the cltv
of Marseilles, and when one gets back
to the harbor and wanders In and out
among the-ships and peoples of nearly
all the nations of the globe he realizes
that while Marseilles may not be rich
tn pictures or ruins. It la still one of the
most interesting of cities to visit. , .-
Wlnford J. Northup.
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-A itUmr Wwd o OoOmr ispsi"
ifMinfitantasaDJ-tal
KqTjola ol wmf Ss tesM
old la aU nU iMa tm
Ml.ta. We auka USa kaat
canetPM, Uimhire wo fmaf
OHM ue ju, smi oast use.
roae is sob ossones)
rTiT2 Sew RiTft? raou IT,
I jMufn.
J
Qnr-I K MAM Sfmsi eaWa-ji.fom st at M lr SB SsloTaL.
Faultlaam Chemical nomnanv. iiWjiE
more. Mil.
fiuFMtdC,ar' fat
' L.OST MANHOOD
nciair attumlinr aflment
both of young and middlt
kf'J nnn una women, Th
awf-itrrTuctJof VolITHFlTt
KramltBOf treatment. VUtrins. nrmlurlrter weal?.
Bcm, Nerroiii lability, Mffhtly ErolKslotCnommptiooa,
In faulty, KzhaurTtitiK (JrainHfuul om of power of the Us
crattroUqiuniunflttlnir onftforntiHly, bUHinmaid mil
ri.itTeWquM-klyruivtl hy lr. Kml-lrn" ") ftcr
Traill. They Dot only euro by sterling atthmat of Ut
eiue. but are a BTrst M.KVK XO.Mu and KLOO
l !,..(, urmtrine raw-it The pink slow f !
t-hcrka n id nwtorin, tha FIRfC F VOI l fl to itb
Mtiwit. Hy mail, 1 1 .no per box or O for & with writ
ph uiwinl ta fiir or rrrund the tantivy, Book
(iiWhMw-"1-l''i .nHf0,Aiaw Tartw
or sale by JOHN H. PTTPTLPfl. Dm
Hat, Wyrtmlnir v. and Spruce strNL i
rar REV1VO
RESTORES VITALITY.
Made a
Well Mai
TUB aIAT aoth bay.
ITIEJTOII HEM I'l 1 TT
proxlaeos the above rendu Iru'SO days. It acts
powerf ully and quirkljr. Cure when all otben tali.
TooasBsoawlUicgala their loot maokood.aMolS
inea will reeorer MiMr yonthtai visor by solas
WETlVO. It oalctir wd aoralr reitorao Henouo
ess. Leo YiUlltr. Impo:oa. Nightly KmleetoaOj
LostPowoe.Failiiis Mrmory, Wu4liu OlMoM.aaS
oil esTkaCS of self -oban or eioena and indleeratlen,
hlofeoatU one for study, bnnlnxM or marriage. II
Hot only enrae by stirtinf at the onot of disease, but
IsssToa Bertotaaio ud Mood bollder, brlLf.
Ins book the pink (tow to pale ohooks and re
norlns the Are of yontb. 1 ward eft Inunlty
nd Osaramrtiaa. Inill oa naTiof RETIVO. so
ntber. It can be oarried U vest oket. By snail
1 1 MO Per peckwe, or all tor SIS.eo, wit poet
lo written raomntoe So emro at yofnnS
themouf. areolar free. AeUnss
ftOYM. MEOICINt CO.. 53 Rl.ef St. CHMMf. ILL.
W tthaws Bresu Vswalst
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Jk m.flT AWd ssssw Mr
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