The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Chautauquan, Vol. III, February 1883, by The Chautauquan Literary and Scientific Circle This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: The Chautauquan, Vol. III, February 1883 A Monthly Magazine Devoted to the Promotion of True Culture. Organ of the Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle. Author: The Chautauquan Literary and Scientific Circle Editor: Theodore L. Flood Release Date: February 21, 2015 [EBook #48326] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CHAUTAUQUAN, FEBRUARY 1883 *** Produced by Emmy, Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Cover Transcriber's Note: This cover has been created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain. The Chautauquan. A MONTHLY MAGAZINE DEVOTED TO THE PROMOTION OF TRUE CULTURE. ORGAN OF THE CHAUTAUQUA LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CIRCLE. Vol. III. FEBRUARY, 1883. No. 5. Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle. President, Lewis Miller, Akron, Ohio. Superintendent of Instruction, J. H. Vincent, D. D., Plainfield, N. J. General Secretary, Albert M. Martin, Pittsburgh, Pa. Office Secretary, Miss Kate F. Kimball, Plainfield, N. J. Counselors, Lyman Abbott, D. D.; J. M. Gibson, D. D.; Bishop H. W. Warren, D. D.; W. C. Wilkinson, D. D. Transcriber's Note: This table of contents of this periodical was created for the HTML [241] version to aid the reader. Contents REQUIRED READING History of Russia. Chapter VII.—Galitsch and the Great Republic of Novgorod 241 A Glance at the History and Literature of Scandinavia IV.—The Eddas: Later Swedish History 244 Pictures from English History V.—The Battle of Pancake Creek 246 SUNDAY READINGS. [February 4.] Social and Religious Life of the Israelites from Saul to Christ 248 [February 11.] Christ and the Apostles 249 [February 18.] The Bible and Other Religious Books 251 [February 25.] The Bible and Science 252 Grace 253 What Genius Is 254 Arizona 255 The Six Follies of Science 257 The Co-Related Forces 257 Some German Art and Artists 259 The History of Education IV.—Persia 262 The Weary Heart 263 Advantage of Warm Clothing 264 A Tour Round the World 267 “We Must Not Forget Our Dead” 271 Tales from Shakspere King Lear 271 Hamlet, Prince of Denmark 275 The Sun-Worshippers 279 C. L. S. C. Work 280 Local Circles 282 Questions and Answers 286 Outline of C. L. S. C. Studies For February 288 Answers to Questions For Further Study in the December Number 288 C. L. S. C. Round-Table—“How to Conduct Local Circles” 289 A Translation Of All the Greek Passages Found in Volume I of Timayenis’s History of Greece 292 Daniel Webster 292 Editor’s Outlook 293 Editor’s Note-Book 295 Editor’s Table 297 Graduates of the C. L. S. C. 298 Books 302 REQUIRED READING FOR THE Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle for 1882-83. FEBRUARY. HISTORY OF RUSSIA. By Mrs. MARY S. ROBINSON. CHAPTER VII. GALITSCH AND THE GREAT REPUBLIC OF NOVGOROD. We have briefly traced the history of the principality of Kief and that of its rival, Suzdal. Another powerful state, in the twelfth century was Galitsch, the modern Gallicia, the Red Russia of former days, a region south of Poland. This province, peopled by the Khorvats, or white Kroats, had ever remained Slavonic in nationality. Its princes were elected by popular assembly, and retained their dominion by its consent. The intercourse of Galitsch with her neighbors, Hungary and Poland, led to the formation of a powerful aristocracy, which succeeded, first, in controlling the popular assembly, and later in superseding it by an assembly composed exclusively of nobles. When Iaroslaf Osmomuisl, the same whose praise is sung in the song of Igor, put away his wife, Olga, for his paramour, Anastasia, the nobles compelled him to burn the latter alive, to banish her son, and to recognize Olga’s Vladimir as the rightful heir. The young prince, however, followed in the dissolute ways of his father, and went so far as to take for his second wife the widow of a priest, in defiant violation of a law of the Greek Church. The boyars summoned him to deliver the woman over to punishment. The prince, alarmed, fled to Hungary with his family and his treasure; and though in the vicissitude of events, he was recalled after a time, and bore rule for some years before his death, his dominions passed to Roman, prince of Volhynia, whom the Gallicians had invited to bear rule over them when Vladimir had fled from the realm. This Roman was no easy-going, light-hearted prince of the usual Slavonic type, but a southern Andrei, a stern hero, visiting vengeance upon his enemies and striking terror into the barbarians. The Gallician boyars who had opposed him were put to death by slow torture. To some who had escaped from the country he promised pardon, but upon their return he confiscated their possessions and procured their condemnation to death. He was wont to say: “To eat your honey in peace you must first kill the bees.” He put to flight the Lithuanian tribes of the north, and harnessed his prisoners to the plow. This act of subjugation is commemorated in the folk song: “Thou art terrible, Roman; the Lithuanians are thy laboring oxen.” The report of his stern valor reached the ears of Pope Innocent III, who sent missionaries to bring him over to the Papal Church, and who promised by the sword of Saint Peter to make a great king of the Gallician-Volhynian prince. In the presence of the envoys, Roman drew his own sword from its scabbard and asked: “Is the sword of Saint Peter as strong as mine? While I wear it by my side I need no help from another.” He met his death in an imprudent, unequal combat, during a war with Poland, in 1215. The chronicle of Volhynia names him “the Great,” “the Autocrat of all the Russias;” and the chroniclers generally extol him as a second Monomakh, a hero who “walked in the ways of God, who fell like a lion upon infidels, who swooped like an eagle upon his prey, who was savage as a wild-cat, deadly as a crocodile.” A more magnanimous hero was Roman’s son, Daniel, whose youth was roughly schooled in adversity. To his principality came Mstislaf the Bold, son of that Mstislaf the Brave, whom we have seen defying the tyranny of Andrei Bogoliubski. The younger Mstislaf was a knight errant, riding hither and thither in search of adventures. He wedded his daughter to the young Daniel, and virtually bore rule in Galitsch till his death in 1228. In wars with the Hungarians, the Poles, the Tartars, Daniel demeaned himself as the worthy son of a mighty sire, and toward the Gallician boyars, whose turbulence had endangered the state, he used a repressive, though not so severe a policy as that pursued by Roman. The Mongol invasion, that overthrew all the Russian governments, ruined Galitsch for the time, along with the others. Daniel did his best to support his shattered country, but was compelled, as a matter of personal safety to take refuge in Hungary. When permitted to return to the desolated principality, he invited thither a vast number of Greeks, Armenians, and Jews, upon whom he conferred abundant privileges as an inducement for them to remain in a depopulated country. The last named people, alien, tenacious, obnoxious to all Christian civilizations, an isolated race wherever their restless fate and their love of gain lead them to emigrate, have proved a disturbing element in Russian nationality. Incapable of assimilation, or unwilling thereto, their population of three millions have no interests, no sympathies with the rest of the nation, save in the intercourse connected with barter, or the stewardship of estates. A continual source of irritation and antagonism, they are “the Polish scourge” of the empire. The hospitality extended to them by Daniel Roman is regarded as the one mistake of his otherwise sagacious administration. Unable to cope with the all-devouring Mongols, although he made repeated efforts to check their advances, Daniel took part in various European wars, always with brilliant success. The Hungarians spread the fame of the order of his troops, their oriental weapons, the magnificence of their prince, whose Greek habit was broidered with gold, whose caparisons glistened with richly-chased metals, and with jewels, whose saber and arrows were of marvellous workmanship. His warriors were equipped with short stirrups, high saddles, long caftans, or robes, turbans surmounted by aigrets, sabers and poniards in the belt, bows slung at the shoulder, and arrows in the quiver. Their coursers were fleet as the east wind. Daniel was among the last of the Russian princes to render submission to the Khan of the Horde. “You have done well to come at last,” said Batui, when the prince presented himself at the Tatar court. The khan waived the humiliations usually put upon the princes at their reception; and seeing that the mare’s milk offered his vassal was distasteful, gave him instead a cup of wine. The Gallician-Volhynian, however, was ever feverish under the hard yoke of the Mongols. The civil conflicts of his youth, the ruin of Russia by the Mongols, and the European wars that filled his later years, left him no repose. In a more propitious era his rare powers could have rendered enduring service to his states. As it was, he could not so much as save his own Galitsch from the arrogance of a foreign conqueror. Upon his death it passed to other princes of his family, vassals of the khan, and two centuries later it was lost to Russia, by absorption into the [242] kingdom of Poland. Its fate is unique; for with this exception, no integral state of the early Russian realm has ever become the permanent possession of aliens. Unique, also, is the history of the wide and glorious principality of Novgorod, the political center of the Russia of the Northwest, the Slavic home of liberty. Its name shines upon the brief but resplendent roll of free nations with Sparta, Arragon, Switzerland. Nay, in the magnitude of its extent, in the exaltation of its freedom, it is not shamed in comparison with our own republic. The sentiment of liberty is traceable from the beginnings of history. During long periods in the earlier epochs, it lay concealed, a spark covered in ashes; but has ever re-kindled in an auspicious time, lighting horizon and zenith with its effulgence. Under the subjections, the servitudes of the ancient empires, the Hebrew theocracy conserved this inextinguishable aspiration of the race. If certain of the Hebrew kings oppressed their subjects, they found them ready for protest and for revolt. When the Roman empire laid its yoke upon the world, the Hebrews of Palestine chose national extinction to national thraldom, and perished by the talons of the Roman eagles. Even then stood ready the new races of the North to catch the falling torch, and to bear it aloft in their sinewy hands. In the mediæval darkness, it glowed, a beacon-light from the summits of Arragon in Spain, and from the peaks of Switzerland. But before Switzerland had a name, when Arragon was scarcely more than a name, Novgorod, by the frozen lakes, far in the wilds of an unknown country, unexplored, untrodden by any civilized people—Novgorod, hidden in its northern nights, was cherishing a freedom such as the republic of the Netherlands cherished in the sixteenth, and the republic of America cherishes in the nineteenth century. To the Slavs of Ilmen belongs the proud distinction of guarding intact through more than six hundred years the instinct for freedom inalienable to the Slavic race. The unrest, the ferment of the Russias to-day, may be traced back to the glorious history, the pathetic surrender of Novgorod the Great; and those who seek to read hopefully the signs of the times, look for the day not far distant, when the venerable “My Lord, Novgorod,” shall receive again his banished bell with weeping and with acclamations; when again his citizens shall assemble in the court of Iaroslaf, and shall proclaim liberty to all his children gathered within his vast and ancient borders. As we have written, the Novgorodians, Slavs of Ilmen, were the people who founded Russian unity, by the call of Rurik. When he came to them, their city contained a hundred thousand inhabitants, and was the capital of a realm that had a population of three hundred thousand. At least three centuries must have been required for the making of such a state; nor is it improbable that some of the aboriginal Finns known to Herodotus (B. C. 500) mingled with the Slav emigrants who passed the confines of Asia in the fourth Christian century. Ethnologists are of opinion that the early Novgorodians, like the other Russians of all time, are a composite race. The earliest chronicles of the city describe it as divided by the Volkhof, and situated on a vast plain in the midst of dense forests. The river runs northward, from Lake Ilmen to Lake Ladoga. On its right bank rose the cathedral of Saint Sophia, built by Iaroslaf the Great; the Novgorodian kreml, or acropolis, enclosing the palaces of archbishop and prince, the quarter of the potters, and the zagorodni, or suburbs. Here, in 1862, amid national solemnities and festivities, was dedicated the monument to Russian unity, that ennobles a thousand years of Russian history. The left bank contains the court of Iaroslaf, the quarter of commerce, as also those of the carpenters, and the Slavs, par eminence. In the earlier centuries it possessed also a Prussian, or Lithuanian quarter; and hither resorted merchants from all parts of the Orient. In the fourteenth century, the city was enclosed by ramparts, formed of gabions, strengthened at frequent intervals by stone towers. Portions of these defences still remain, attesting this immense extent originally. The cathedral, scarred by the wars of eight centuries, still preserves within the vivid hues of its frescoes, its pillars adorned with figures of saints painted upon golden backgrounds. From the interior of the dome, bends the divine form of Our Lord; beneath him hangs the banner of the Virgin, borne upon the ramparts in times of extremity, for the strengthening of the souls of the besieged, or to strike dismay into the souls of the besiegers. From the cupola, the light falls dimly upon the tombs of the mighty Iaroslaf, the holy Archbishop Nikita, whose prayers once extinguished a conflagration, of Mstislaf the Brave, the hero who defied Andrei Bogoliubski, and of many another captain and saint. This principality was to old Russia what New England was to our Republic in its initiative period: a center of commerce, a hive of industry, the home of the national freedom and religion. It possessed seven large tributary cities, among them Pskof and Staraïa-Rusa, (old Russia.) Its five provinces covered the whole of Northern Russia, as well as Ingria, beyond the Urals. Among these provinces were Permia on the upper Kama, a land rich in gold and other precious minerals, and traversed by a road leading through a mountain pass; a road connecting Russia with the commercial centres of northern Asia, with Persia, China and India; Russian Lapland, the country of dried fish, reindeer, and fur-bearing animals; Ingria, Karelia, and the ancient, wealthy countries of Esthonia and Livonia. The principality of Novgorod included an area seven times that of our New England. In the capitol were held two large annual fairs; the trade in corn, flax, and hemp, especially from the twelfth to the fifteenth century, made it a commercial entrepôt of such importance as to give rise to the Russian saying, “Who can prevail against God and Novgorod-Viliki!” (the great). Its population was four hundred thousand; ranking it in this respect, at the time, among the chief cities of christendom. When Sviatoslaf, grandson of Rurik, conqueror of the Danubian Bulgarians wished to reside in the sunny land of Kief, and govern “My Lord Novgorod the Great” by deputies, the vetché of that city sent him the message: “If you do not wish to reign over us, we will find another prince;” nor would they rest content with a lesser personage than Sviatoslaf’s son. Sviatopolk, another grand prince, essayed to force his son upon them. “Send him here if he has a spare head,” said the Novgorodians. In truth the princes knowing the curbs put upon their personal power in this republic, coveted rather, the lesser appanages. Vsevolod Gabriel, discontented with his freemen, left the city to reign at Pereiaslavl. After a time he signified his wish to return, but the citizens declined the proposal. “Prince, you violated your oath to die with us,” said they; “you sought another principality: go now where you will.” Some years later he effected a temporary [243] accommodation with them, but again abandoned his post. Whereupon in a great vetché, wherein were represented Pskof and Ladoga, sentence of condemnation was read against the renegade Vsevolod. “He had no compassion upon our poor; he attempted to establish himself at Pereiaslavl; at the battle of Mont Idano he and his drujinas were the first to flee before the men of Suzdal; he was unstable, sometimes uniting with the prince, sometimes with the enemies of Tchernigof.” Vsevolod was banished from the realm. The Novgorodians were ever ready to cite from the code of Iaroslaf, granted them, as they aver, by that law-giver, and guaranteeing them large privileges. No authentic traces of this code have been discoverable; but the people conferred their own privileges. The vetché, summoned by the great bell in the court of Iaroslaf, was the virtual sovereign. By its pleasure the princes of the state were nominated, elected or dethroned. If a prince opposed the will of the vetché, the citizens “made a reverence, and showed him the way out.” Before its tribunal he could stand accused. If he persisted in an oppressive course, he was put in durance. In like manner the vetché elected and deposed the archbishops of the republic, decided for peace and war, conducted the trial of state criminals, and all the other important business of government. Decisions were obtained not by majority, but by unanimity. If the minority stood out stubbornly, the majority summarily threw them into the Volkhof; for with all their wealth, pride and freedom, the Novgorodians retained an occasional trace of their barbaric origin. Commercially, their city was the glory of Russia. Large numbers of the people were occupied in the trade of the Dneiper and with Greece, and still larger numbers with the trade of the Volga and the East. The soil of the lake region is marshy, sandy, and sterile; the cause of frequent pestilences to its relatively dense population who are also the prey of famines, since their supplies have to be brought from afar. In prehistoric centuries, Novgorod maintained a commerce with the Orient, attested by the coins and jewels exhumed from the barrows of the Ilmen. It exchanged iron and weapons for the precious metals procured from the Ural mines by the Ingrians. It bought the fish and wares of the Baltic Slavs. In the twelfth century, this northern metropolis had a market and a church for the merchants from the Isle of Gothland, and in this isle arose a Variag church, attended by Novgorodian families. The city had likewise a large German market, fortified with a stockade. The Germans had the monopoly of all the western trade; no Russian being allowed, by the terms of their compact, to sell German, English, Walloon, or Flemish products. Hydromel, works of art from Byzantium, rugs, felts, tissues from India, fabrics from the looms of Persia, tea, and curious wares from China, filled its bazars. In 1480, when Ivan III, himself, Viliki, or the Great, crippled its liberties, he despoiled it of three hundred chariots laden with silver and gold. The adventurous mercantile character and the proud, free spirit of this people, is typified in the Novgorodian Sinbad, Sadko, hero of the popular epic, who sought his fortune on the seas. A second Jonah in a storm, he plunges into the waves, and is received into the palace of the sea king, who tests his prowess in various ways, and gives him the princess of the sea in marriage. After many exciting adventures Sadko stands on the shore surrounded by piles of treasure. Yet these are nothing compared with the treasures of Novgorod the Great. “Men perceive that I am a rich merchant of Novgorod; but my city is far richer than I.” The Church of this center of medieval freedom, was the close ally, the consort of the free State. The clergy, unlike that of the rest of Russia, were less Russian orthodox than Novgorodians. The Slavs of Ilmen were the last of the people obliged to accept Christianity; but from the twelfth century onward they refused to receive a Greek or a Kievan archbishop. They must have one of their own freemen. He was promptly elected by the vetché, and installed in the Episcopal palace, without other investiture. Thereafter he was revered as the chief dignitary of the republic, a Novgorodian, as a native, while the prince, being a descendant from Rurik, was a foreigner. In public documents the name of the archbishop took precedence. “With the blessing of the Archbishop Moses, Posadnik (chief magistrate) Daniel,” etc., concludes one of their letters patent. He invariably held with the republic in its contentions with the prince; and in its wars his revenues and those of the Church were at its service. An archbishop of the fourteenth century built for the city a kreml of stone at his own personal expense. A century later the riches of Saint Sophia were given as ransom for the prisoners captured by the Lithuanians. The ecclesiastics took part in secular affairs, nor cared they for exemption from any civic duties. The laity were equally active in spiritual work. One of the chief splendors of the city lay in its magnificent churches and its well-appointed monasteries. The lives of the saints of the republic are voluminous; the miracles all redound to her glory. One of them records that the Lord Christ appeared to the artist who was to paint the interior of the dome of Saint Sophia, and charged him: “Represent me not with extended but with closed hands, for in my hand I hold Novgorod; and when my hand is opened, the end of the city is nigh.” Not less national was the literature of the Great Republic. The life of the city, of its princes, boyars, merchants, is given in its monastic chronicles. The epics recite the exploits of Vasili Buslaévitch, the boyar who, with his drujina, held the bridge of the Volkhof against all the muzhiki, the rabble of the city. Many such an iron-hearted adventurer, marking his trail as he journeyed, knowing neither friend nor foe, went forth from this brave, happy, proud community into the trackless wastes of Vologda, Archangel, and Siberia. During not less than five hundred years the Slav republic, greater in extent than any other except our own, maintained intact the freedom of its barbaric founders, the emigrant Slavs who ended their wanderings by the borders of the lakes. Its conquest by the Mongols is one of the mournfulest chapters in history. An avenging though inadequate sequel to it is “The flight of a Tartar Tribe” as recorded by DeQuincey. “To live is not merely to breath, it is to act; it is to make use of our organs, senses, faculties, of all those parts of ourselves which give us the feeling of existence. The man who has lived longest is not [A] [B] the man who has counted most years, but he who has enjoyed life most. Such a one was buried a hundred years old, but he was dead from his birth. He would have gained by dying young; at least he would have lived till that time.”—Rousseau. A GLANCE AT THE HISTORY AND LITERATURE OF SCANDINAVIA. By L. A. SHERMAN, Ph. D. IV.—THE EDDAS: LATER SWEDISH HISTORY. We have reserved to the last to speak of the religious books of the early Norsemen,—the Elder and the Younger Edda. The Elder Edda, it has been often said, is the Old Testament of the Norseman’s faith. This is not because of its surpassing age, for the Younger Edda was compiled perhaps as early. The name was suggested because, in the first place, it is composed mostly in verse. It also tells the story of man’s creation, and the limit of his existence on the earth; it prophesies the final destruction of the universe and the genesis of a new heaven and a new earth. It is not a religious history of mankind in early ages; it is rather a biography of the gods, a register of their exploits and wisdom. In its present form it dates probably from the middle of the thirteenth century, but no one knows when its different parts were first composed. It consists of various distinct treatises, which were never united or considered together, until they had almost perished from the memory of the race. After the Scandinavians ceased to be idolaters, the old stories about Thor and Odin lost their charm, and were at length forgotten; only in the far off and dreary Iceland they were still told to enliven the winter evenings, and keep up the memory of life in the old Fatherland of Scandinavia. Even here they began to drop out of mind, when some quaint clerk put what he could remember of them together under the name of Edda (or “great-grandmother”). Some of the chapters are imperfect and fragmentary, showing they were caught and fixed in writing in the nick of time. There are many difficulties in the interpretation, and hints abound that the compiler took liberties with his materials and somewhat idealized his version. It was a Christian hand which copied out the legends, and here and there it wrote Christian sentiments and thought. The oldest and most important chapter of the Elder Edda is the Völuspá, or Sibyl’s Prophecy. It is addressed to Odin, describing the meeting of the Æsir (or Northern deities), the origin of the human race, and the destruction of men and gods at Ragnarök. We will here transcribe a couple of stanzas as specimens of the form of the old Norse or Icelandic original, and add a close translation: STANZAS 66 AND 68. Text. Translation. 66. Hittask Æsir 66. The Asas meet Á Ithavelli On the wold of Ida Ok um moldwinur And of the earth engirdler Mátkan dæma; Mightily judge; Ok minnask war And call to mind Á megindóma Their [bygone] greatness Ok á Fimbultys And the ancient runes Fornar runar. Of Fimbultyr. 68. Munu ósánir 68. Then shall the acres Akrarvaxa, Unsown bear harvest, Böls mun alls batna, All ill is amended, Mun Baldr koma; Balder is coming; Búa weir Häthr ok Baldr Dwell Hader and Balder Hropts sigtoptir In Hropt’s blessed dwellings Vel valtívar. In friendship the wargods. Vituth ér enn etha hvat? Know ye ought yet, or what? From another chapter of the Elder Edda—that called Hávamál, and the most interesting after the Völuspá—we we will quote also a specimen. The whole chapter is made up of such proverbs or reflections, said to have been indited by Odin himself: [244] [C] ’Tis far out of the way To an ill friend, Though he dwell by the roadside; But to a good friend Is the path short, Though he be a great way off. Thou shalt move on,— Shalt not be a guest Always in one place: The well-beloved becomes odious If he sit long In the house of another. Among the other divisions of the first Edda we will mention the mystical Vafthruthnismál, or words of Vafthruthnir in reply to Odin, who has made inquiry about the cosmogony and chronology of Norse theology; the Grimnismál, or sayings of Grimnir, which describe the imprisonment and maltreatment which Odin suffered at the hands of King Geirröd; the Thrymskvitha, or lay of Thrym, who stole Thor’s hammer, and refused to restore it unless Freyja were given him to wife: by a device of Thor he is slain and the hammer recovered; the Alvismál, a learned dialogue between the dwarf Alvis and Odin. Deserving of separate mention is the famous Vegtams-kvitha, or Vegtam’s lay. Odin has been troubled with dreams concerning Balder, the helpless god, and applies to a Nala, or Sibyl, for their interpretation. Finally we will name the Völundarkvitha, or Song of Wayland. This contains the story of his toils and adventures at the court of Nidud, a Swedish king. The Younger Edda is written in prose, and is believed to be the compilation, for the most part, of Snorre Sturleson. It must then have been put together about the same time as the Elder Edda, for Snorre was murdered in the year 1241. The materials of the Younger Edda, as of the Elder, are legends concerning the earth-life of the gods. It begins with a sort of preface, which repeats the story of the first chapters of Genesis, as far as the confusion of tongues. The narrative then abruptly shifts to Troy, and from Priam to Saturn and Jupiter. From Memnon, a Trojan prince and son-in-law of Priam, the author next traces the genealogy of Odin, whom he assigns to the nineteenth generation after Priam. Odin possessed the gift of knowing the future; and becoming aware that great renown awaited him in the north regions, set out to find them, with a large company of followers. They reach first Saxland, which they stop to subjugate, and over the conquered lands Odin leaves three sons to bear rule. Then the army of eastern conquerors begins again to march. They occupy Denmark, then Sweden and Norway. Sweden was at that time ruled by a king named Gylfe, who submitted to Odin without battle. From this country Odin selected the site for a city, which he called Sigtown (city of Victory). With this account of the origin of the Scandinavian chieftains and deities, the first part of this Edda closes. The second portion, or Deception of Gylfe, is full of the most interesting myths of the Teutonic religion. This Gylfe is the king of Sweden mentioned in the introduction, who repairs to the court of the Æsir to find out the secret of their power. He disguises himself and asks admittance to the hall of the gods. They recognize him, and make him the victim of ocular illusion. The hall is so high he can scarcely see the top, and the shingles on the roof are golden shields. Gylfe is admitted, and engages in conversation with Odin himself, who is called Har. Gylfe asks all manner of questions about the various deities, the creation of the world and of man, the steed of Odin, Frey’s famous ship, the life of the gods in Valhall, and the final destruction of all things at Ragnarök. Har answers patiently, and in detail, until Gylfe proceeds to inquire about the new order of things that should spring up after Ragnarök. Har gives him a short answer, and unceremoniously closes the dialogue. The illusion of the city and gold-roofed hall vanishes, and Gylfe finds himself alone on a desolate plain. He returns to his home, and tells what he has heard and seen. In this way, fables the author, the race of Northmen became possessed of their knowledge of divine things. The other important portions of the Younger Edda are the Discourse of Brage, the Skaldskaparmál, and the Hattatal. Brage is the northern Apollo, and never opens his lips except to utter words of wisdom. His discourse is mythologic and supplemental to the Gylfaginning, or Delusion of Gylfe. The Skaldskaparmál is also partly narrative, partly a digest of the rules and principles to be followed in composing verse. The Hattatal is merely an enumeration of the various meters employed in Icelandic poetry. We will now resume with Sweden. It will be remembered that we know much less of Sweden in early times than of Norway or Denmark. The Swedes did not join, so far as is known, the viking expeditions which ravaged the south and west of Europe. They robbed and oppressed the Finns and other tribes living near them on the north and east, and sent forth the bands of Varangians which conquered Russia and threatened Constantinople. Thus they came less in contact with France and Britain, and left no foreign record of their internal history. We are told, doubtfully, of various sovereigns who ruled Sweden in the tenth century, and of one Erik Sejrsöl, who humbled Denmark. This king died in 993, leaving an infant son Olaf, the “Lap-King.” In boyhood he was brought under the instruction of an English missionary and baptized into the Christian faith. Olaf’s reign was a stormy one, partly on account of the hostility of the Swedes to the Christian religion, partly on account of a bitter quarrel with Norway. Olaf was at best a very ill Christian. He broke his solemn word pledged to his subjects, and came near losing his crown in consequence. After his death the new religion had a harder struggle than ever, and at times seemed virtually extinct. For the next hundred years anarchy and idolatry [245] [D] prevailed together. With the accession of Sverker Carlson, in 1135, both evils ceased, and Sweden was enrolled among the faithful subjects of Rome. King Sverker’s religion, however, seems rather an affair of temperament than of choice. Like the Anglo-Saxon King Ethelwulf, he was incapable of energetic action. On Christmas eve of the year 1155 he was murdered by his servants while on the way to mass. Erik the “Saint” succeeded, who made the Christian religion respected at home as well as feared abroad. He added Finland to the royal domains, and established an archbishop’s see at Upsala. Thus Sweden was put fairly on the road to civilization and prosperity. The Sverker dynasty continued in power until 1250, then giving way to the Folkungar line of kings. A century later, under the rule of Magnus Smek, a revolution occurred which set upon the throne Count Albrecht, of Mecklenburg, nephew of the deposed Magnus. This did not bring peace or quiet, and upon the invitation of one of the contending factions, Margaret, Queen of Denmark and Norway, invaded the country and captured the Swedish throne. She was succeeded by her nephew, Erik of Pomerania, who married Philippa, daughter of Henry the Fourth of England. Erik proved utterly incapable of managing the three kingdoms his aunt had united, and after a quarter of a century of civil war lost the allegiance of each of the three. Denmark and Norway chose for their ruler Erik’s nephew, Christopher of Bavaria, and Sweden was induced to ratify their choice. Upon his death, in 1448, the Oldenburg line, in Norway and Denmark, begins with Christian I. This king attempted to subjugate Sweden, but Karl Knudson, her marshal king, succeeded in keeping his crown. After his death, Hans, son and successor to Christian I., won Sweden by the aid of German mercenary troops. Again Sweden shakes off the Danish yoke, and again is subjugated by Christian II. At length in 1523 Gustaf I., known commonly in history by the title of Gustavus Vasa, liberated Sweden forever from foreign domination. But foreign domination was scarcely worse than the domestic tyranny of the nobles and the clergy. Gustaf set himself the task of breaking down this also. In his twenty-seven years of rule he established the reformed or Lutheran faith, elevated the peasantry, developed the resources of the country, replenished the national treasury and created a navy and army of defence. Thus was established the Vasa line, destined to remain in power until the time of Napoleon. Gustaf was succeeded by his son Erik, a young man of promise, who is most easily remembered for having been a suitor for the hand of the English queen, Elizabeth. He soon fell a victim of insanity and resigned the crown to his brother John. The latter king, who attempted to restore Catholicism, proved almost as great a failure. Sigismund and Charles IX continue the line, when we reach the famous name of Gustavus Adolphus (Gustaf Adolf II.) This king, the most accomplished prince of his age, came to the throne in 1611. He had at once to measure his strength against Denmark, Poland, and Russia, but found no difficulty in adjusting with each an advantageous peace. It was a reign like Elizabeth’s in England: there was ability on the throne, there was wise counsel beside it, and the people loved and confided in both. As soon as the pressing affairs of his government were adjusted Gustavus determined to go over to Germany and assist the Protestants in their struggle with the Catholic league. At the head of only 15,000 Swedes he assumed the leadership of the Protestant cause, and won the important battles of Leipsic and Lützen,—the latter at the cost of his life. The Swedes have never ceased to cherish the memory of their hero king, who combined the most generous and chivalrous impulses with a bravery not unworthy of the viking age. The death of Gustaf II was the first of a succession of calamities to Sweden. The cause of the German Protestants ceased to prosper, and the Swedish co-operation was abandoned. The late king had left no heir except a daughter Christina, whose administration ended in disgrace. The reign of Charles X followed, 1656-1660, four years of disorder and unprofitable drain upon the national resources. A regency followed, for Charles XI was but four years old. After assuming the reins of government, he suffered various defeats, and lost for Sweden many of her former conquests. Like the first Gustavus he was the friend of the lower orders, and by their aid overcame the power of the nobility and made himself an absolute sovereign. After his death in 1697, his son, Charles XII, succeeded at the age of fifteen. The rival powers of Denmark, Poland and Russia, thinking it a favorable opportunity to crush Sweden, formed a league with this intent. Charles at once proved himself equal to the occasion by forcing Denmark to conclude peace, and defeating an army of 50,000 Russians with 8,000 Swedes. Poland was next attacked and King Augustus driven from his throne. Charles then made the same mistake of moving upon Moscow in the winter, which broke the power of Napoleon a century later. Defeated by Peter the Great at Pultowa, Charles retreated to Bender in the dominions of the Sultan. Here he was for a time imprisoned, but at length escaping returned to Sweden in safety. For a time he seemed likely to regain the prestige he had lost, but the fatal “shot” which pierced his brain at the siege of Friedrichshall, in 1718, crushed the hopes of Sweden. From a dictatorial position in the politics of Europe, she had fallen to the rank of a third-rate power. Though thus the occasion of his country’s ruin, Charles XII is the idol of every Swede. How fondly the memory of his age (“Den Karolinska Tiden”) is still cherished in Sweden, we shall see in our next paper. PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY. Teutones (Tútonēs). Ul´filas (u like oo). Al´aric, Theod´oric. Pyth´eas. Dönsk tunga (Dernsk toong´-a). Siegfred (Seeg´fred). Norrœnamál (Norrāna maul). Frode (Frŏ´dā). Harald Haarfager (Harald—a as in father—Horfager) Reykiavik (Reī´kiavik´.) Blodœxe (Blooderxā). Erik Graafell (Er´ik Grófell). Bielozero (Bē´ĕloz´ero). Iz´borsk. Ruotsalaíset. Bjarne (Byar´nā; first a as in father). Njál (Nyaul). Völuspá (Vérloospaú). Ragnarök (Rágnarérk). Freyja (Freiya). Upsála (u like oo). [To be continued.] [246] PICTURES FROM ENGLISH HISTORY. By C. E. BISHOP. V.—THE BATTLE OF PANCAKE CREEK. “Decisive battles of history” are such because of long trains of events that lead up to them and explode there. Those events form one of the most interesting studies of historical philosophy; an understanding of them is necessary to an intelligent reading of subsequent changes. One of these culminating points and turning points was the Battle of Bannockburn, fought June 24, 1314, between the Scotch under King Robert, “the Bruce,” and the English under the ill- starred King Edward II. Edward I had been a great fighter. He fought the Scotch so persistently that his tomb bears the vain-glorious inscription, “Here lies the Hammer of the Scots.” He died, worn out, in a Scotch campaign (1307), enjoining on his son, it is said, the pleasant duty of boiling all the flesh off his father’s bones and carrying them at the head of the army until Scotland should be crushed. Then he might celebrate at once the funeral of Scotland’s freedom and of its “Hammer.” Edward II very wisely disregarded this barbarous dying request. He at once abandoned the Scotch war. Seven years of peace followed, during which Scotland was drilling and gathering strength under Bruce, while England was torn and weakened by internal quarrels between the king and his dissolute favorites on one side, and the lawless and tyrannical barons on the other. By the fall of 1313 the Scotch had cleared the English garrisons out of all their castles save Stirling, and that, the key to the borders, they besieged. “Its danger roused England out of its civil strife to a vast effort for the recovery of its prey.” The army gathered to this task comprised thirty thousand horsemen, and seventy thousand English, Welsh, and Irish footmen, raw, undisciplined, disorderly; while Bruce’s army numbered only thirty thousand, nearly all on foot, but they were inured to war and reckless fighters, those wild clansmen. The little burne (brook) of Bannock (pancake) runs through a swamp near the rock on which Sterling Castle stands. Bruce chose his position, as he fought the battle, with a genius for arms which showed him to be the first soldier of his age. On his right flank was the creek and marsh, on the left the ledge of rocks and castle, in the rear a wooded hill. The ground in front was cut up by patches of forest and undergrowth and swamp-holes, so that no large body of the enemy at once could come at him. This robbed the English of much of their advantage of numbers. Other precautions, it will appear, took away also the superiority of his enemy in the matter of cavalry. The battle which took place here has been much written and sung about, but rational explanations of its surprising outcome are hard to find. We may seek them in the disorganization and disaffection of the English army and the incapacity of its command; in the contrary circumstances on the Scotch side; and in four striking reverses which befell the English. But as these reverses were due to superior generalship and better fighting on the Scotch side, we may as well put the credit where it belongs, with Bruce and his compatriots. The first of these four reverses took place the night before the general engagement. Edward had sent ahead a detachment of eight hundred knights to relieve the besieged English in Sterling Castle, and hold it as a base of operations. To send so weak a force upon so important a task marked the incapacity of the English generalship at the outset. But the movement was well executed, for the first Bruce knew the squadron was on his flank and between him and Sterling. Riding up to Earl Randolph, his nephew, who had been cautioned against this very manœuvre, he cried, “Randolph, you are flanked. A rose has fallen from your chaplet.” Randolph was an English settler in Scotland and was distrusted by the Scotch; but he made a brave stand against the English. He formed in the order of Hastings—a hollow square—the front rank kneeling, the next stooping, the inside line erect, their spears a perpendicular wall of bristling steel. Around this square and on these points the English cavalry circled and broke and were used up. Lord Douglas, though a personal enemy of Randolph, when he saw him sore beset, chivalrously asked leave to go to his assistance. “No,” declared Bruce, “I’ll not break my lines. Let him redeem his own fault.” He did—and a few defeated horsemen galloped away to King Edward to report the first English repulse. Bruce’s stern decision not to break his order of battle, even at the risk of a defeat of Randolph, is the key to his successful control of the undisciplined Scotch, and to his victory. Early in the day of the 24th the English host came in sight. Edward rode out with his body-guard to reconnoitre. The first sight that met his eyes was an aged priest, bare-footed, walking along the Scotch lines and all the rough soldiers on their knees. “See,” said the confident king, “They kneel, they cry for mercy.” “Yea,” said Sir Ingeltram de Umfraville, “they cry for mercy, but it is to God, not to you.” Presently came Bruce riding a little Scotch pony along the lines, giving his men their last directions and words of cheer. English chivalry, in the person of Sir Henry de Bohun, thought this an opportunity for cheap glory. Chivalry, with all its pretense of fairness, took odds when it could, and de Bohun in full armor, on a heavy Flanders steed, thundered down on Bruce. Dextrously dodging Bohun’s spear, Bruce rose in his stirrups and, as his enemy careered past with a great circle in the air he brought his axe down full on Bohun’s head. The axe was shattered by the tremendous blow, while helmet and skull were cleft and the brilliant knight rolled in the dust. A great shout from the Scotch hailed this feat; a damp silence among the English hailed this defeat No. 2. “The Englishmen had great abasing,” says old Barbour. As for Bruce, when his chiefs reproached him for the risk he had taken, he only looked ruefully at the fragment of the axe- handle in his hand and muttered, “I have broken my good axe.” It is at this moment, just before the battle, that Burns puts into the mouth of Bruce the most inspiring battle-hymn ever written: Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled, Scots wham Bruce hae often led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victory. Now’s the day and now’s the hour; See the front o’ battle lour. See approach proud Edward’s power, Chains and slavery! Wha will be a traitor knave, Wha can fill a coward’s grave, Wha sae base as be a slave, Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland’s king and law Freedom’s sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand or freeman fa’ Let him follow me. By oppression’s woes and pains, By your sons in servile chains, We will drain our dearest veins But they shall be free! Lay the proud usurper low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty’s in every blow! Let us do or die! In the battle which now began, the wisdom of Bruce’s plans appeared. His small cavalry force he placed in hiding at the right for flank operations on the dreaded English archers. To cope with the more dreaded English men-at-arms he had dug all the solid ground along his line full of pits, set them full of sharp stakes, and covered all fairly with boughs and turf. His baggage, horses and camp impediments were parked behind the hill in his rear; the wagoners and servants (“Gillies”) there secreted were destined to play an important part in this singular battle—a part so signal that the hill has ever since been known as Gillies Hill. The English attack began, as expected, in the assault of archers. It made havoc among the Scotch with their bull’s- hide bucklers for their only protection. “Now we’ll cut their bow-strings!” cried Edward Bruce to the Scotch horsemen in cover, and forthwith they were hewing and sabering among the English yeomen, who, having no small arms wherewith to fight hand to hand, were helpless to resist this attack. They were stampeded and hurled back a confused mass upon the English army. Defeat No. 3. The appearance of Scotch horse in the engagement was a surprise to the English. To meet it they ordered a charge of their own cavalry. Down the narrow passages they thundered, a galling fire of Scotch arrows in their faces. [247] Rushing, ten thousand horsemen came, With spears in rest and hearts on flame, That panted for the shock; Down, down in headlong overthrow, Horseman and horse the foremost go, Wild floundering on the field. Loud from the mass confused the cry Of dying warriors swells on high, And steeds that shriek in agony. They came like mountain torrent red, That thunders o’er its rocky bed; They broke like that same torrent’s wave When swallowed by a darksome cave, Billow on billow rushing on Follows the path the first has gone. “Some of the horses that stickit were,” says Barbour, “rushed and reeled right rudely.” The fall of the horse in the pits was complete with hardly a blow from the Scotch. As yet Bruce’s line had not been touched; Bruce’s brain more than Scotch brawn had won thus far. The grand charge of Edward’s body-guard, three thousand steel-clad knights, the pick of English chivalry, was now ordered to redeem the day. They charged the line of Scotch spearmen and axmen with great fury and effect—“Sae that mony fell down all dead; the grass waxed with the blude all red.” The Scotch knights, until now held in reserve, were led by Bruce himself, and a most desperate struggle took place, all the forces left on both sides being engaged. “And slaughter revelled round.” Just at the moment when the victory hung trembling in the balance, a strange apparition turned the English pause into a panic. The Scotch wagoners and camp-followers, impatient of inactivity, had hastily armed themselves with such knives, clubs, and rejected weapons as were at hand, improvised banners of tent cloth and plaids, and came marching over the hill, fifteen thousand strong. They made a “splurge” and a racket, in inverse ratio to their real formidableness; but coming directly after the staggering attack of Bruce’s reserves, they had all the appearance to the English of large reinforcements. “When they marked...