Chapter I: Front Matter

JOURNEYS THROUGH BOOKLAND

A NEW AND ORIGINAL

PLAN FOR READING APPLIED TO THE

WORLD'S BEST LITERATURE

FOR CHILDREN

_BY_

CHARLES H. SYLVESTER

_Author of English and American Literature_

VOLUME FIVE

_New Edition_

1922

CONTENTS

JONATHAN SWIFT. GULLIVER'S TRAVELS _Jonathan Swift_ THE BALLAD OF AGINCOURT _Michael Drayton_ SOME CHILDREN'S BOOKS OF THE PAST _Grace E Sellon_ LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT _Cardinal Veuman_ LET SOMETHING GOOD BE SAID _James Whitcomb Riley_ POLONIUS' ADVICE _Shakespeare_ KING ARTHUR BALIN AND BALAN GERAINT AND ENID _Alfred Tennyson_ THE HOLY GRAIL _Adapted from Thomas Malory_ DISSENSIONS AT KING ARTHUR'S COURT THE PASSING OF ARTHUR _Alfred Tennyson_ HENRY HUDSON'S FOURTH VOYAGE _Henry R Cleveland_ THE RISE OF ROBERT BRUCE _Walter Scott_ BRUCE AND THE SPIDER _Bernard Arton_ THE HEART OF BRUCE _William E Aytoun_ THE SKELETON IN ARMOR _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX _Robert Browning_ REMINISCENCES OF A PIONEER _Edwin D. Coe_ THE BUCCANEERS CAPTAIN MORGAN AT MARACAIBO BRADDOCK'S DEFEAT _Benjamin Franklin_ READING HISTORY THE AMERICAN FLAG _Joseph Rodman Drake_ BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC _Julia Ward Howe_ "STONEWALL" JACKSON'S WAY _J.W. Palmer_ BARON MUNCHAUSEN THE FIDDLING PARSON _Davy Crockett_ WE PLAN A RIVER TRIP _Jerome K Jerome_ ON COMIC SONGS _Jerome K Jerome_ THE INCHCAPE ROCK _Robert Southey_ TOM BROWN AT RUBGY _Thomas Hughes_

PRONUNCIATION OF PROPER NAMES

The Classification of Selections, see General Index at end of Volume X

ILLUSTRATIONS

HE TURN'D HIS FACE AND KISS'D HER CLIMBING (Color Plate) _Donn P Crane_ JONATHAN SWIFT (Halftone) GULLIVER'S JOURNEY TO THE METROPOLIS _Iris Weddell White_ THE EMPEROR VISITS GULLIVER _Iris Weddell White_ GULLIVER AND THE PISTOL (Color Plate) _G H Mitchell_ GULLIVER'S WATCH IS BORNE AWAY _Iris Weddell White_ GULLIVER ER TAKES THE ENEMY'S FLEET _Iris Weddell White_ GULLIVER BRINGS IN THE DRIFTING BOAT _Harry L Gage_ THE BABY SEIZES GULLIVER _Iris Weddell White_ A GALE WITH THEIR FANS _Iris Weddell White_ GULLIVER AND THE KING _Iris Weddell White_ "VICTOR I WILL REMAIN" _R F Babcock_ CHILDREN WITH HORNBOOKS _Laura K Deal_ ARTHUR DRAWS THE SWORD _Jessie Arms_ KING ARTHUR (Halftone) THE WEDDING OF ARTHUR AND GUINEVERE _Jessie Arms_ MERLIN SAVES ARTHUR _Donn P Crane_ ARTHUR RECEIVES EXCALIBUR _Donn P Crane_ THE DAMSEL LET FALL HER MANTLE _Donn P Crane_ THE LIGHT _Donn P Crane_ ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON (Halftone) GERAINT HEARS ENID SINGING _Donn P Crane_ ENID LEADS THE WAY _Donn P Crane_ ENID WATCHING BY GERAINT _Donn P Crane_ SIR GALAHAD _Jessie Arms_ THE SHIP APPROACHES THE CITY OF SARRAS _Jessie Arms_ THE LAST APPEARANCE OF THE SANGREAI _Donn P Crane_ THE BARGE MOVED FROM THE BRINK _Donn P Crane_ CUT ADRIFT IN HUDSON'S BAY _R F Babcock_ SAVAGES ON THE SHORE _R F Babcock_ BRUCE KILLS COMYN _Donn P Crane_ SHE BROUGHT HER TWO SONS _Donn P Crane_ THE ASCENT TO THE CASTLE OF EDINBURGH _Donn P Crane_ BRUCE SLAYS SIR HENRY DE BOHUN _Donn P Crane_ BRUCE BEHELD A SPIDER _Donn P Crane_ I SAW A PILGRIM STAND _Donn P Crane_ HELD THE HEART ALOFT _Donn P Crane_ I WAS A VIKING OLD _R F Babcock_ THREE WEEKS WE WESTWARD BORE _R F Babcock_ I CAST LOOSE MY BUFF COAT _Donn P Crane_ HALF A DOZEN INDIANS BOLTED IN _R F Babcock_ HE FISHED OUT AN OLD BUNGTOWN CENT _R F Babcock_ CHASING THE GEESE TO GET A NEW QUILL _R F Babcock_ THE FIRE SHIP GRAPPLED THE SPANIARD _Everett E Lowry_ BENJAMIN FRANKLIN (Halftone) ON THE MARCH _Everett E Lowry_ THE AMBUSH _Everett E Lowry_ "STONEWALL" JACKSON (Halftone) THE LION HAD JUMPED INTO THE CROCODILE'S MOUTH _Donn P Crane_ I BEHELD A NOBLE STAG _Donn P Crane_ THE HIND PART OF THE POOR CREATURE WAS MISSING _Donn P Crane_ WARRIORS OF THE MOON _Donn P Crane_ WE DESCENDED SAFELY ON A MOUNTAIN OF ICE _Donn P Crane_ THE PARSON FIDDLED _Donn P Crane_ "AIN'T YOU GOING TO PUT THE BOOK IN" _Herbert N Rudeen_ "WHEN I WAS YOUNG" _Herbert N Rudeen_ ONE DREADFUL SOUND HE SEEMED TO HEAR _R F Babcock_ RUGBY SCHOOL (Color Plate) THE BULLY CAUGHT IT ON HIS ELBOW _Louis Grell_ "A FIGHT!" _Louis Grell_ TOM SITS ON MARTIN'S KNEE _Louis Grell_

JONATHAN SWIFT

The father of Jonathan Swift was a Dublin lawyer who died just as he was beginning what might have been a profitable career, and before his only son was born. The widow was left with so little money that when her son was born in November, 1667, she was not able to take care of him. Her brother-in-law undertook to provide for mother and child.

He procured a nurse who became so attached to her little charge that when she received a small sum of money from a relative in England and was compelled to go to that country, she stole the baby and took him with her across the channel. It was more than three years before Jonathan was brought back to Dublin, but he had been tenderly cared for, and though but five years of age had been taught to spell and to read in the Bible.

A year later he was sent to a good school, where he made rapid progress. However, he could not have been always studious, for visitors to the school are still shown a desk in which his name is deeply cut.

He was fourteen years old when he entered the University of Dublin, where his record was not a very satisfactory one. When it came time for him to graduate, his standing was too poor for him to take his degree, but after some delay it was given him "by special favor," a term then used in Dublin to show that a candidate did not pass in his examinations.

After this, Swift remained three years at the University under the pretense of studying, but he was chiefly notorious for his connection with a gang of wild and disobedient students who were often under censure of the faculty for their irregularities. For one offense Swift was severely censured and compelled upon his knees to beg pardon of the dean. This punishment he did not forgive, and long afterward he wrote bitter things about Dr. Allen, the dean.

Yet while indulging in these follies, Swift learned to write well and became noted for a peculiar satirical style that afterward made him much feared by the government.

When the uncle who had first supported Swift had died, a second uncle and his son took up the burden. At one time this cousin sent Swift quite a large sum of money, a fact which seemed to change the nature of the wild young spendthrift, who thereafter remained economical; in fact, he became niggardly in his saving.

Swift's second degree from the University was earned creditably, and he was much pleased with the praise and respect with which he was received. This was owing to two years of diligent study which he spent at the home of Sir William Temple, a leading statesman of the time and a distant relative by marriage of Swift's mother.

Discouraged by his fruitless attempt to enter public life, he began to study for the ministry, and, ultimately, he received a church appointment, of which he wearied after a short experience.

Until 1710, he led a varied life, sometimes dependent upon his relatives, and at others making his way in various political positions. From the date above he was embroiled in heated political controversies in which his bitter writings made him feared even by his friends and fiercely hated by his enemies. But he steadily rose in power and influence, and when his party triumphed he was rewarded for his political services by being appointed dean of Saint Patrick's Cathedral in Ireland.

His appointment was exceedingly unpopular, even in Ireland, for few believed him at all suited for a position in the church, much less for one so high and important. On the day he was installed, some bitter verses, of which the following are three, were found posted on the door of the cathedral:

To-day this temple gets a dean,
Of parts and fame uncommon;
Used both to pray and to profane,
To serve both God and Mammon.

* * * * *

This place he got by wit and rhyme,
And many ways most odd;
And might a bishop be in time,
Did he believe in God.

* * * * *

And now when'er his deanship dies,
Upon his tomb be graven--
A man of God here buried lies,
Who never thought of heaven.

Unfortunately there was too much truth in the charges against Swift's character, and his career, in spite of his genius, is a pitiful one. He was admired for his wit and brilliancy, and courted by the noble and powerful, but he was never able to gratify his ambitions, though he did secure many devoted friends. From his disappointments he became moody, bitter and discontented. This state of mind, together with other causes, finally broke his health, destroyed his mind and left him but the sad wreck of a brilliant manhood, and an old age of helpless imbecility. Such a life has little that is attractive for anyone, but it does show us that even a brilliant intellect cannot save a man who persistently neglects to guard his character, and that fame does not always bring happiness.

But Swift was by no means all bad, and his great services to Ireland are still deservedly recognized by that devoted people. He really laid the foundation for their prosperity and may be said to have created constitutional liberty for them.

It is, however, as a wit and a writer that Swift is now chiefly famous. Many are the stories told of his readiness in repartee, his bright sallies in conversation, and of his skill in quick and caustic rhyming. It is said that one day, when traveling in the south of Ireland, he stopped to give his horse water at a brook which crossed the road; a gentleman of the neighborhood halted for the same purpose, and saluted him, a courtesy which was politely returned. They parted, but the gentleman, struck by the dean's figure, sent his servant to inquire who the man was. The messenger rode up to the dean and said, "Please, sir, master would be obliged if you would tell him who you are."

"Willingly," replied the dean. "Tell your master I am the person that bowed to him when we were giving our horses water at the brook yonder."

Swift's interests lay rather with the common people than with the Irish aristocracy, who, he thought, were arrant "grafters." Of one in particular he said,

"So great was his bounty--
He erected a bridge--at the expense of the county."

The last thing Swift wrote was an epigram. It was in almost the final lucid interval between periods of insanity that he was riding in the park with his physician. As they drove along, Swift saw, for the first time, a building that had recently been put up.

"What is that?" he inquired.

"That," said the physician, "is the new magazine in which are stored arms and powder for the defence of the city."

"Oh!" said the dean, pulling out his notebook. "Let me take an item of that; this is worth remarking: 'My tablets!' as Hamlet says, 'my tablets! Memory put down that.'" Then he scribbled the following lines, the last he ever penned:

"Behold a proof of Irish sense!
Here Irish wit is seen!
When nothing's left that's worth defence,
We build a magazine."

With the exception of _Gulliver's Travels_, very little that Dean Swift wrote is now read by anyone but students.

GULLIVER'S TRAVELS