reer discipline — when the students were gathered in the college yard, and had refused to listen to several professors, there was a hush when Longfellow appeared, and my classmate, John Revere, cried out, We will hear Professor Longfellow, for he always treats us like gentlemen.
Longfellow was the first, I think, to introduce the prefix Mr. in addressing students, a thing now almost universal.
For our other modern-language teachers, we had Pietro Bachi, a picturesque Italian refugee; in German, Bernard Roelker, since well known as a lawyer in New York; and we had that delightful old Francis Sales, whom Lowell has commemorated, as our teacher of Spanish.
In him we had a man who might have stepped bodily out of the Gil Blas and Don Quixote he taught.
We never knew whether he was French or Spanish.
He was then about sixty-five, and his robust head and shoulders, his pigtail and powdered hair, with his quaint accent, made him seem the survival of some picturesque and remote age. He
had a rather shallow reading knowledge of six languages, English, French, Spanish, Italian, Latin, and Greek, and had been brought in contact with some of the best books in each of these tongues.
I may here add that I picked up at a later period German, Portuguese, and Hebrew, with a little Swedish; and that I hope to live long enough to learn at least the alphabet in Russian.
Then I had acquired enough of the higher mathematics to have a pupil or two in that branch; something of the forms ofass from each to another by an effort of will, like the process of mind-healing.
Tried on the German ballads this method proved very seductive, but when one went a step farther it turned out very superficial; as is therefore all my knowledge of German, though I have read a good deal of it. All this way of living was intellectually very risky, as is the process of boarding one's self --which I have also tried — for the body; and I am glad to have come with no more serious injury through them bo
The new literary impulse was indigenous, and, as far as it felt an exotic influence, that force was at any rate not English; it was French, Italian, and above all German, so far as its external factors went.
Nothing could be much further from the truth than the late remark of an essayist that Boston is almost the sole survival up The Albion, and was English through and through.
It was, in fact, made a temporary reproach to the early Transcendental movement that it was too French or too German, and not English enough; and when George Ripley's library was sold, it proved to be by far the best German library in New England except Theodore Parker's. There was at that time an eager clamoring not only for German, but for French, Italian, and even Swedish literature; then, when the Atlantic circle succeeded to the domain of the Transcendentalists, it had in Longfellow the most accomplished translator of his day; and the Continental influence still went at least side by side with the
tioned, and John W. LeBarnes, afterwards lieutenant of a German company in the Second Massachusetts Infantry during the Civil War. It was decided that an attempt at rescue could best be made from a rendezvous at Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and that Hinton should go to Kansas, supplied with money by LeBarnes and myself, to get the cooperation of Captain James Montgomery and eight or ten tried and trusty men. I was to meet these men at Harrisburg, while LeBarnes was to secure a reinforcement of German-Americans, among whom he had much influence, from New York.
Only one man in Harrisburg, an active Abolitionist, knew of our purpose, and I met Montgomery at this man's house, after taking up my own residence, on February 17, 1860, at the United States Hotel, under the name of Charles P. Carter.
I had met the guerrilla leader once before in Kansas, and we now consulted about the expedition, which presented no ordinary obstacles.
The enterprise would involve traversing fifty miles of moun