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Oriental (Oklahoma, United States) (search for this): chapter 13
may destroy the very liberties it seeks to preserve. When it comes to personal ideals, again, it makes all the difference in the world whether the ideals are to be of the genuine kind, or merely composed of a court dress and a few jewels. There is something noble in the reverence for an ideal, even if the object of reverence be ill-selected. There is a fine passage in Heine's fragmentary papers on England, where he suddenly comes, among the London docks, to a great ship just from some Oriental port, breathing of the gorgeous East, and manned with a crew of dark Mohammedans of many tribes. Weary of the land around him, and yearning for the strange world from which they came, he yet could not utter a word of their language, till at last he thought of a mode of greeting. Stretching forth his hands reverently, he cried, Mohammed! Joy flashed over their dark faces, and assuming a reverent posture, they answered, Bonaparte!It matters not whether either of these heroes was a false pr
Cambria (United Kingdom) (search for this): chapter 13
d that it was their duty to pay reverence to this form of authority. In England at the present day the authority is not vested in the foot of a Dutchman, but in the coronet of a German; there seems no other difference. A word from the Prince of Wales in London determines not merely the cut of a livery or the wearing of a kid glove, but the good repute of an artist or the bad repute of an actress. If he beckons a poet across the room, the poet feels honored. Indeed, the late Mrs. George Bancn the proud English society of that day, says Thackeray, than that they admired George. When the history of this age comes to be written by some critic as fearless as the author of The Four Georges, does any one doubt that the present Prince of Wales —whom even Punch once represented as following in the steps of his uncle, like Hamlet following the ghost, with Go on! I'll follow thee—will shift his position as hopelessly as did George the Fourth? Which was the most splendid spectacle ever wi
J. A. Garfield (search for this): chapter 13
d said to me, I suppose that there are in that college two of the very greatest thinkers of modern times. I asked their names, knowing that one of them would, of course, be Dr. McCosh, and receiving as the other name that of a gentleman of whom I had never heard, and whom I have now forgotten; so that my young friend's compliment may be distributed for what it is worth among all those professors who may wish to claim it. Such and so honorable was the enthusiastic feeling expressed by President Garfield toward Mark Hopkins,—that to sit on the same log with him was to be in a university,—or the feeling that the Harvard students of forty years since had toward James Walker. Compare this boyish enthusiasm with the delight of Sir Walter Scott over the possession of a wineglass out of which George IV. had drunk when Prince Regent; and remember how he carried it home for an heirloom in his family, and sat down on it and broke it after his arrival. Which was the more noble way of getting
Napoleon Bonaparte (search for this): chapter 13
omes, among the London docks, to a great ship just from some Oriental port, breathing of the gorgeous East, and manned with a crew of dark Mohammedans of many tribes. Weary of the land around him, and yearning for the strange world from which they came, he yet could not utter a word of their language, till at last he thought of a mode of greeting. Stretching forth his hands reverently, he cried, Mohammed! Joy flashed over their dark faces, and assuming a reverent posture, they answered, Bonaparte!It matters not whether either of these heroes was a false prophet, he stood for a personal ideal, such as no mere king or nobleman can represent; and such an influence may exist equally under any government. Beaconsfield and Gladstone, Cleveland and Blaine, represent hosts of sincere and unselfish admirers, and, on the other hand, of bitter opponents. If the enthusiasm be greater in England, so is the hostility; no American statesman, not even Jefferson or Jackson, ever was the object o
at there are in that college two of the very greatest thinkers of modern times. I asked their names, knowing that one of them would, of course, be Dr. McCosh, and receiving as the other name that of a gentleman of whom I had never heard, and whom I have now forgotten; so that my young friend's compliment may be distributed for what it is worth among all those professors who may wish to claim it. Such and so honorable was the enthusiastic feeling expressed by President Garfield toward Mark Hopkins,—that to sit on the same log with him was to be in a university,—or the feeling that the Harvard students of forty years since had toward James Walker. Compare this boyish enthusiasm with the delight of Sir Walter Scott over the possession of a wineglass out of which George IV. had drunk when Prince Regent; and remember how he carried it home for an heirloom in his family, and sat down on it and broke it after his arrival. Which was the more noble way of getting at a personal ideal? The
Thomas Jefferson (search for this): chapter 13
reverent posture, they answered, Bonaparte!It matters not whether either of these heroes was a false prophet, he stood for a personal ideal, such as no mere king or nobleman can represent; and such an influence may exist equally under any government. Beaconsfield and Gladstone, Cleveland and Blaine, represent hosts of sincere and unselfish admirers, and, on the other hand, of bitter opponents. If the enthusiasm be greater in England, so is the hostility; no American statesman, not even Jefferson or Jackson, ever was the object of such utter and relentless execration as was commonly poured on Gladstone in England a year or two ago in what is called the best society, where Sir Edwin Arnold's ideals are supposed to be most prevalent. No class distinctions can do anything but obscure such ideals as this. The habit of personal reverence—such reverence, for instance, as the college boy gives to a favorite teacher— is not only independent of all social barriers, but makes them trivia
W. E. Gladstone (search for this): chapter 13
swered, Bonaparte!It matters not whether either of these heroes was a false prophet, he stood for a personal ideal, such as no mere king or nobleman can represent; and such an influence may exist equally under any government. Beaconsfield and Gladstone, Cleveland and Blaine, represent hosts of sincere and unselfish admirers, and, on the other hand, of bitter opponents. If the enthusiasm be greater in England, so is the hostility; no American statesman, not even Jefferson or Jackson, ever was the object of such utter and relentless execration as was commonly poured on Gladstone in England a year or two ago in what is called the best society, where Sir Edwin Arnold's ideals are supposed to be most prevalent. No class distinctions can do anything but obscure such ideals as this. The habit of personal reverence—such reverence, for instance, as the college boy gives to a favorite teacher— is not only independent of all social barriers, but makes them trivial. I remember that, some
Walter Scott (search for this): chapter 13
whom I had never heard, and whom I have now forgotten; so that my young friend's compliment may be distributed for what it is worth among all those professors who may wish to claim it. Such and so honorable was the enthusiastic feeling expressed by President Garfield toward Mark Hopkins,—that to sit on the same log with him was to be in a university,—or the feeling that the Harvard students of forty years since had toward James Walker. Compare this boyish enthusiasm with the delight of Sir Walter Scott over the possession of a wineglass out of which George IV. had drunk when Prince Regent; and remember how he carried it home for an heirloom in his family, and sat down on it and broke it after his arrival. Which was the more noble way of getting at a personal ideal? There is no stronger satire on the proud English society of that day, says Thackeray, than that they admired George. When the history of this age comes to be written by some critic as fearless as the author of The Four
James McCosh (search for this): chapter 13
ersonal reverence—such reverence, for instance, as the college boy gives to a favorite teacher— is not only independent of all social barriers, but makes them trivial. I remember that, some ten years ago, when I was travelling by rail within sight of Princeton College, a young fellow next me pointed it out eagerly, and said to me, I suppose that there are in that college two of the very greatest thinkers of modern times. I asked their names, knowing that one of them would, of course, be Dr. McCosh, and receiving as the other name that of a gentleman of whom I had never heard, and whom I have now forgotten; so that my young friend's compliment may be distributed for what it is worth among all those professors who may wish to claim it. Such and so honorable was the enthusiastic feeling expressed by President Garfield toward Mark Hopkins,—that to sit on the same log with him was to be in a university,—or the feeling that the Harvard students of forty years since had toward James Walke
George Washington (search for this): chapter 13
h George IV. had drunk when Prince Regent; and remember how he carried it home for an heirloom in his family, and sat down on it and broke it after his arrival. Which was the more noble way of getting at a personal ideal? There is no stronger satire on the proud English society of that day, says Thackeray, than that they admired George. When the history of this age comes to be written by some critic as fearless as the author of The Four Georges, does any one doubt that the present Prince of Wales —whom even Punch once represented as following in the steps of his uncle, like Hamlet following the ghost, with Go on! I'll follow thee—will shift his position as hopelessly as did George the Fourth? Which was the most splendid spectacle ever witnessed, asks Thackeray, the opening feast of Prince George in London, or the resignation of Washington? After all, it seems, the most eminent of modern English literary men has to turn from a monarchy to a republic to find a splendid spectac
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