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A Biographic

Summary of la;-
NKN'i' Authors,

C H O I C EC s T


Most E^

1 N G T I •

. n MASTh'
nGS .-. .

B<t>ok-i{llumination : Fac-similes from MSS.
Illustration in Biblical and Liturgical MSS. dbwn tp
! ; the end of the Middle Ages. j

From I the Qermont-Tonnerre Bible Hystprian^,
\ I written about 1370

j SjUc^^Sfy^ ottpgf avcd" for the Ridpglljtl^l^&'i-arjr.


pea is of Ij






ai nwol

fjs:>iidiH ju iite-*a)J('




t liAxhpnthi fe ibrarg

i3mit?rsal fitt^ratur?

A Biographical, and Bibliographicai.
Summary of the Wori^d's Most Emi-
nent Authors, including the
Choicest Extracts and Master.


Carefully Revised and Arranged by a
Corps of the Most Capable Scholars


John Clark Ridpath, A.M., LLB,

Editor of" The Arena," Author of" Ridpath's
History of the United States," " Encyclo-
pedia of Universal History," " Great
Races of Mankind," etc., etc.

lEMtion be %\xxc


Vol. IV.


trOPYKIGHT. 1899


a as in fat, man, pang.

£ as in fate, mane, dale.

& as in far, father, guard.

i. as in fall, talk.

a as in ask, fast, ant.

a as in fare.

e as in met, pen, bless.

8 as in mete, meet.

e as in her, fern.

i as in pin, it.

i as in pine, fight, file.

o as in not, on, frog.

5 as in note, poke, floor.

o as in move, spoon.

o as in nor, song, oS.

u as in tub.

ii as in mute, acute.

u as in pull.

ii German ii, French u.

oi as in eil, joint, boy.

ou as in pound, proud.

A single dot under a vowel In an
unaccented syllable indicates its ab-
breviation and lightening, without ab-
solute loss of its distinctive quality.

S as in prelate, courage.
5 as in ablegate, episcopal.
§ as in abrogate, eulogy, democrat.
^ as in singular, education.

A double dot under a vowel in an un-
accented syllable indicates that, even in
the mouths of the best speakers, its

sound is variable to, and in ordinary ut-
terance actually becomes, the short a-
Bound (of but, pun, etc.). Thus:
a as in errant, republican.
fj as in prudent, difference.
i as in charity, density.
o as in valor, actor, idiot.
)( as in Persia, peninsula.
6 as in i/ie book.
u as in nature, feature.

A mark (^)under the consonants t, d,
s, z indicates that they in like manner
are variable to c/i,j, sh, zh. Thus :
t as in nature, adventure.
d as in arduous, education.
B as in pressure.
z as in seizure.
y as in yet.
B Spanish b (medial),
ch as in German ach, Scotch loch.
e as in German Abensberg, Hamburg.
H Spanish g before e and i; Spanish j ;

etc. (a guttural h).
h French nasalizing n, as in ton, en.
S final s in Portuguese (soft;,
th as in thin.
TH as in then.
D = TH.

' denotes a primary, " a secondary ac-
cent. (A secondary accent is not marked
if at its regular interval of two syllables
from the primary, or from another seo.



Brentano (bren ta'no), Clemens.

Brentano, Elizabeth.

Brewster (bro'ster), Sir David.

Bright (brit), John.

Brillat-Savarin (bre ya' sa va rafi'), An-

Bronte (bron'te), Sisters.

Brooke (bruk), Augustus Stopford.

Brooks (bruks), Charles Shirley.

Brooks, Maria (Gowen).

Brooks, Phillips.

Brougham (bro'am or brom), Henry.

Brown (broun), Charles Brockden.

Browne (broun), Charles Farrar.

Browne, Francis Fisher.

Browne, John Ross.

Browne, Sir Thomas.

Browne, William.

Brownell (brou'nel), Henry Howard.

Browning (brou'ning), Elizabeth Bar

Browning, Robert.

Brownson (broun'spn), Orestes Au-
Brunetifere (briln tyar'), Ferdinand.
Bruno (bro'no), Giordano.
Bruy^re (brii yar'), Jean De La.
Bryant (bri'ant), Jacob.
Bryant, John Howard.
Bryant, William CuUen.
Bryce (bris), James.
Brydges (brij'ez). Sir Egerton.
Buchanan (bu kan'an), George.
Buchanan, Robert.
Buckland (bukland), Francis Trevel-

Buckle (buki), Henry Thomas.
Buckley (bukli), James Monroe.

Buffon (bii fon'), Comte de Georgij

Bunce (buns), Oliver Bell.

Bunner (bun'er), Henry Cuyler.

Bunsen (bon'zen). Christian Charles

Bunyan (bun'yan), John.

Burckardt (bork'hart), John Ludwig

Burdette (ber det'), Robert Jones.

Burger (biirg'er), Gottfried August

Burke (berk), Edmund.

Burke, John Bernard.

Burnand (ber'nand), Francis Cowley.

Burnet (ber'net), Gilbert.

Burnet, Thomas.

Burnett (b^r net'), Frances Hodgson.
Burney (ber'ni), Frances. See Arblay,

Madame D'.
Burnham (ber'nam), Clara Louise.
Burns (bernz), Robert.
Burr (ber), Enoch Fitch.
Burritt (bur'it), Elihu.
Burroughs (bur'oz), John.
Biirstenbinder (biirst'en bind 6r), Eliz»

Burton (ber'ton), John Hill.
Burton, Richard Francis.
Burton, Robert.
Bush (bush), George.
Bushnell (bush'nel), Horace.
Butler (but'ler), Joseph.
Butler, Samuel.
Butler, William Allen.
Butterworth (but'er werth), Hezekiah.
Bynner (bin'ner), Edwin Lasseter.
Byrom (bi'rom), John.
Byron (bi'ron), George Gordon, Lord-
Byron, John.

BRENTANO, Clemens, a German poet, born
at Frankfort, September 8, 1778 ; died at Aschaf-
lenburg July 28, 1842. He was educated at Jena ;
whence he removed to Heidelberg, and there-
after to Vienna and to Berlin. He lived in
much seclusion, writing con amore and not as a
professor of letters. In 1818 he withdrew from
society and lived in strict retirement at Diilmen.
He spent the later years of his life in Ratisbon,
Frankfort, and Munich. Brentano was a volumi-
nous and multifarious writer. Viewed as a relig-
ious writer, he has been called the greatest mod-
ern Catholic poet ; seen from a purely literary
standpoint, he is by many recognized as the
father of the later romanticists. His works in-
clude dramas, lyrics, tales, satires, personal letters,
folk-lore, and a collection of verbatim reports —
carefully taken down year after year from her
own mouth — of the visions and revelations of the
ecstatic Anna Katharina Emmerich, a peasant girl
of Miinster, who became an Augustinian nun at
Agnetenberg. Many of Brentano's letters were
published after his death by his sister Elizabeth,
the famous Bettina of the Goethe correspondence.
In collaboration with Bettina's husband, Clemens
published Des Knabeti WiinderJiorn (The Boy's
Wonderhorn), a collection of folk-songs which
was of vast service to literature in that it led the


way to the working ol the prolific mines of tradi-
tional song and story in all nations. His Ge~
schichtc voin braven Kaspcrl und dem schonen Annerl
(Story of Caspar the Brave and Annie the Fair), a
novelette which has been characterized as " a
perfect little piece," has been translated into Eng-
lish and published under the title Honor. Ponce
de Leon and Victoria have been regarded as the
best of his plays. Upon the Spanish Cid he
founded a work which was grandly conceived,
but which was left unfinished ; the title was
Roscnkranz (The Wreath of Roses). His best
poem was perhaps Die Griindung Prags (The
Foundation of Prague). His collected works
were published in nine volumes in 1852.

To readers of the present day a special interest
attaches to Brentano's Ballad of Lore Lay ; which
is the real foundation of the operas entitled Lore-
ley by Mendelssohn and Lachner, and of the beau-
tiful lyric by Heine. This last, set to music by
Silcher, and which, as Mark Twain has said,
"grows upon one until it seems to possess the
entire being," is sung throughout Germany, and
is generally thought to have been founded upon
an ancient legend. Scherer, in his History of
German Literature, says : " The story 0/ '';he fair
enchantress on the Rhine is not really a popular
legend, but was created by Brentano, who fii'st
brought it before the public in 1802 in the form
of a ballad inserted in a novel and beginning, Zu
Bacharach am Rheine. Heine took hold of the
theme, and in six verses worked it up into a com-
plete epic and lyric whole. These stanzas, set to


a. rentimei'tal melody, have established themselves
?iS '< ' — "W song, and thus Heine by a bit of
skiilul maniDulation reaped what Brentano had
sown." U^ith this agree all the standard German
works on the same subject. As Brentano vvas
well versed in the folk-lore of the Fatherland, //.e
may ha^'" ^ound the legend among the people;
but there fs little doubt that it was he who gave
VJ; to the reading world. The ballad occurs in
Brentano's romance entitled Godzvi, published in
1802. It }.= put into the mouth of Violette, who
?uigs it to her mother and Godwi, adding ;

The Lurline Ocho.
Whom did I get this song from ?
A skipper of the Rhine ;
And still I think I hear from
The triple Ritterstein :

Lore Lay \

Lore Lay !

Lore Lay.
As *t were these three of mine

The following translation of Violette's song, by
(^rofessor Baskerville, preserves the original
mtvre, and is as nearly literal as the exigencies of
, fly me will admit.


At Bacharach there dwelleth

A sorceress, so fair,
That many a heart unwary

Her beauty did ensnare.

She wrought both shame and sorrow

On many a knight around ;
For him there was no rescue

Whom her love's fetters bound-


The bishop had her summoned

With spiritual care ;
But fain would grant her pardoO;

She was so passing fail.

He spoke with pity's accents :
« Poor Lore Lay ! O tell,

Who is it hath misled thee
To work thy evil spell?"

"O let me die, Lord Bishop ;

Life I no longer prize,
For all rush to destruction

That look upon mine eyes.

•' Mine eyes are flaming firebrands^

My arm a magic wand,
O let the flames consume me !

O break in twain my wand ! "

**No, ere I can condemn thee,
Must thou to me disclose,

Why in these flam.ing firebrands
My heart already glows.

" To strive to break asunder
Thy magic wand were vain ;

Then would my heart be broken,
Sweet Lore Lay, in twain."

"0 laugh not thus, Lord Bishop,
The hapless one to scorn ;

But pray that God his mercy
May show to the forlorn !

'•0 1 may live no longer,
To love I've bade adieu ;

Give me the death I yearn for.
For this I came to you.

**My lover he forsook me,
And did my heart betray ;

X4ow dwells he with the stranger.
Far, far from me away.


"Bright eyes so wild yet gentle,

The cheek of red and ivhitc,
Soft speech, to form my circle

Of magic charms unite.

** Myself therein must perish,

My heart is rent in twain ;
When I behold my image,

Oh, I could die of pain.

" Let justice then be done me ;

A Christian's death my lot ;
For all is lost and vanished.

Since he is with me not."

Three knights he summoned :— " Let her

Peace in yon convent find ;
Go, Lore ; be commended

To God thy troubled mind !

**A nun shalt thou be henceforth,

A nun in black and white ;
And, while on earth, prepare thee

For death's eternal flight."

And now unto the convent

The knights all three repair,
And sorrowful amidst them

Rode Lore Lay the fair.

" Sir knights, I pray ye, let me

This lofty rock ascend ;
I long at my love's castle

A parting look to send ;

" The deep Rhine's flowing billows

I fain once more would sec ;
Then go unto the convent,

God's virgin bride to be."

The craggy rock soars lofty,

Its side is steep and rude.
Yet up the height she climbeth,

Till on the top she stood.


The knights bound fast their chargersj.

And left them in the vale;
They climbed the rock, and higher^

And higher still they scale.

The maiden spake : " A vessel

Upon the Rhine I see;
He who therein is standing

My own sweet love shall be;

" My heart beats so serenely,
He must, he must be mine ! "

Then o'er the verge reclining,
She plunges in the Rhine.

And all the knights, they perished.

Unable to descend;
No grave there to receive them,

No priest their death to tend.

BRENTANO, Elizabeth, wife of Ludwig
Achim von Arnim, and better known to the world
as Bettina von Arnim, a German authoress, was
born at Frankfort, April 4, 1785, and died at Ber-
lin, January 20, 1859. She was very excitable and
somewhat eccentric, in early life the suicide of a
friend having produced a profound impression up-
on her mind. In her youth she gave way to a pas-
sionate admiration and platonic affection for the
poet Goethe, at that time a man of nearly sixty
years of age. A correspondence ensued between
them, and in 1835 Bettina came before the reading
world in a series of letters entitled TJie Correspond-
ence of GoetJie zvith a Child, which she also trans-
lated into English. Her letters are poetical, grace-
ful, fascinating, often extravagant, and abound in
graphic sketches of men and women of the time.
The great poet himself turned many of them into
verse. Die Gundcrode, published in 1840, was a
similar collection of letters which had passed be-
tween Bettina and the unfortunate friend of her
childhood, the Canoness von Giinderode. Another
such volume, the best of all, th )ugh hardly known,
is a series of letters to and from her brother,
Clemens Brentano, the novelist and dramatist.
Bettina's English translation of the Goethe corre-
spondence has been characterized as "an unparal-
leled literary curiosity." Riemer, the friend oi


Goethe, contested the genuineness of these setters.
Lewes, in his Life of Goethe, sums up the evidenco
on both sides. The Foreign Quarterly said, at the
time of their publication: "The childhood and
youth described in her letters form a succession
of beautiful idyls, animated and connected by a
passion which was kept pure by the imaginative
exaltation of its nature." The first of the follow-
ing extracts is a description of her first interview
with Goethe, when she was fifteen and he was an
old man with long white hair. Armed with a
letter from her relation, Wieland, she knocks at
Goethe's door ; and this is what she writes to his
mother, at whose instance she had been travelling
for a week, sleeping at night on the outside box
of the coach, to see the old lady's illustrious son —
the great Wolfgang of her friend Die Frau Rath :


The door opened, and there he stood, solemn and
still, and looked steadily at me. I stretched my hands
to him, I believe — but soon I was unconscious of every-
thing. Goethe catched me to his breast. — " Poor child,
have I frightened you ? " These were the first words
that made their way to my heart. He led me into his
room, and placed me on a sofa opposite him. We were
both silent — at last he said, " You have read in the news-
papers that we have lately met with a severe loss, in the
death of the Duchess Amelie." "Ah," I said, "I never
read the newspapers." "Indeed! I thought you \.oqi
an interest in all that goes on at Weimar." " No, no, 1
take no interest in anything at Weimar but you ; and I
have not patience enough to toil through a newspaper.''
"You are an affectionate little girl." A long pause —
I, banished all the while to the horrid sofa, and very
fidgety of course. You know how impossible it is for
me to sit there and do the pretty behaved. Ah, mother,


can a person change his nature all at once? I said
olump — " Here, on this sofa, I can't stay," and sprang
up. "Make yourself comfortable, by all means," said
•AC. So I flew to him and put my arms round his neck.
He took me on his knee, and pressed me to his heart.
All was still. I had not slept for such a time. I had
sighed to see him for years. I fell asleep with my head
on his breast ; and, when I awoke, it was to a new exist-
ence ; — and that is all at this present writing. — TranS'
lated by herself.


A celebrated woman is a curiosity. Nobody else can
compete with her. She is like brandy, which the poor
grain it is made from can never be compared to. For
brandy smacks on the tongue and gets into the head,
and so does a celebrated woman. But the simple
wheat is better far to me ; — the sower sows it in the
loosened soil, and the bounteous sun and fruitful show-
ers draw it from the earth again, and it makes green the
whole field, and bears golden ears, and at last gives rise
to a happy harvest home. I would rather be a simple
wheat-grain than a celebrated woman ; and rather, fat
rather, that he [Goethe] should break me for his daily
bread than that I should get into his head like a
dram. No woman would sit next to her at table, so I
sat down beside her myself. She told me that Goethe
had spoken to her of me. I would rather he did not
speak of me to any one — and I don't believe he did —
she perhaps only said so. She said she expected to find
him a second Werther,but she was disappointed — neither
his manners nor his appearance were like it, and she was
very sorry that he fell short of him so entirely. Frau
Rath, I was in a rage at this (that was of no use you will
say), and I turned to Schlegel, and said to him in Ger-
man, " Madame de Stael has made a double mis-
take — first in her expectation, and then in her judg-
ment. We Germans expect that Goethe can shake
twenty heroes from his sleeve, to astonish the French —
but in our judgment he himself is a hero of a very dif-
ferent sort." She threw a laurel leaf that she had been


playing with on the ground. I stamped on it, and
pushed it out of the way with my foot, and went o4f.
That was my interview with the celebrated woman. — Her
otvn translation.

Goethe's mother.

Your mother — whether out of irony or pride — had
decked herself wonderfully out — but with German
fancy, not in French taste ; and I must tell you that,
when I saw her with three feathers on her head — red,
white and blue — the French national colors — which
rose from a field of sunflowers — my heart beat high with
pleasure and expectation. She was rouged with the great-
est skill ; her great black eyes fired a thundering volley ;
about her neck hung the well known ornament of the
Queen of Prussia ; lace of a fine ancestral look and
great beauty — a real family treasure — covered her bos-
om. And there she stood, with white glacee gloves ; —
in one hand an ornamented fan, with which she set the
air in motion ; with the other, which was bare, all be-
ringed with sparkling jewels, she every now and then
took a pinch from the snuff-box with your miniature
on tlie lid — the one with long locks, powdered, and
with the head leant down as if in thought. A number
of dignified old dowagers formed a semicircle ; and the
assemblage, on a deep-red carpet — a white field in the
middle, on which was worked a leopard — looked very
grand and imposing. Your mother gave me a coura-
geous look when they were introduced. She spread out
her gown with her left hand, giving the salute with her
right, which sported the fan ; and, wliile she bowed her
head repeatedly with great condescension, she said in
a loud voice, that sounded distinctly through the room,
'^Je sids la mere de Goethe."

A reflection.

I have seen many great works with tough contents
bound in pig-skin ; I have heard great scholars dron-
ing ; and I have always thought a single flower must
put it all to shame, and a single June-bug with a rap on
a philosopher's nose must knock his whole system over.

From a Letter to Goethe.

BREWSTER, Sir David, a celebrated Scot-
tish scientist, noted especially for discoveries in
regard to the polarization of light, was born at
Jedburgh, December ii, 1781, and died at Al-
lerly, near Montrose, February 10, 1868. He was
educated at the University of Edinburgh, for
the Scottish Church, but early showed his pref-
erence for scientific studies, to which he soon
devoted himself, and contributed many papers
to various scientific journals. In 1807 he un-
dertook the editorship of TJie Edinburgh Ency-
clopcedia. From this time he was an indefati-
gable writer, and produced hundreds of articles
on scientific subjects. In 18 16 he invented
the kaleidoscope ; he also perfected the ster-
eoscope (1849-50), and improved the light-house
system. In 18 19 he assisted in establishing
'^The Edinburgh Philosophical Journal^ and in 1831
took part in the formation of the British Associa-
tion for the Advancement of Science. In 1859 he
was elected Principal of the University of Edin-
burgh, which office he held until a short time be-
fore his death. The Memoirs of the Life, Writ-
ings, and Discoveries of Sir Isaac Newton, published
in 1855, is Brewster's greatest work, embodying
the result of more than twenty years of investiga-
tion. Among his other works are : A Treatise on
the Kaleidoscope {iZiZ)', Notes to Robinson's System
Vol. IV.— 2 (^7)


of Mechanical Philosophy (1822) ; Treatise on Optics
(183 1); Letters o?i Natural Magic (1831); Martyrs
of Science (1841); Treatise on the Microscope, and
More Worlds than One (1854).


The distance of Jupiter from the Sun is so great that
the light and heat which he receives from that lumi-
nary are supposed to be incapable of sustaining the same
animal and vegetable life which exists upon the Earth.
If we consider the heat upon any planet as arising solely
from the direct rays of the Sun, the cold upon Jupiter
must be very intense, and water could not exist upon
its surface in a fluid state. Its rivers and seas must
be tracks and fields of ice. But the temperature of a
planet depends upon other causes : upon the condition
of its atmosphere, and upon the internal heat of its
mass. The temperature of our own globe decreases as
we rise in the atmosphere and approach the Sun, and it
increases as we descend into the bowels of the Earth
and go further from the Sun.

In the first of these cases the increase of heat as we
approach the surface of the Earth from a great height,
is produced by its atmosphere ; and in Jupiter the at-
mosphere may be so formed as to compensate to a cer-
tain extent the diminution in the direct heat of the
Sun arising from the great distance of the planet. In
the second case, the internal heat of Jupiter may be
such as to keep its rivers and seas in a fluid state, and
maintain a temperature sufficiently genial to sustain the
same animal and vegetable life which exists upon our
own globe.

These arrangements, however, if they are required,
and have been adopted, cannot contribute to increase
the feeble light which Jupiter receives from the Sun ; but
in so far as the purposes of vision are concerned, an en-
largement of the pupil of the eye, and an increased
sensibility of the retina, would be amply sufficient to
make the Sun's light as brilliant as it is to us. The
feeble light reflected by the moons of Jupiter would



then be equal to that which we derive from our own,
even if we do not adopt the hypothesis that a brilliant
phosphorescent light maybe excited in the satellites by
the action of the solar rays.

Another difficulty has presented itself — though very
unnecessarily — in reference to the shortness of the day
in Jupiter. A day of ten hours has been supposed in-
sufficient to afford that period of rest which is requi-
site for the renewal of our physical functions when ex-
hausted with the labors of the day. This objection,
however, has no force. Five hours of rest are surely
sufficient for five hours of labor ; and when the inhab-
itants of the temperate zone of our own globe reside —
as many of them have done for years — in the Arctic re-
gions, where the length of the days and nights is so un-
usual, they have been able to perform their usual func-
tions as well as in their native climates.

A difficulty, however, of a more serious kind is
presented by the great force of gravity upon so gi-
gantic a planet as Jupiter. The stems of plants, the
materials of buildings, the human body itself, would —
as it is imagined — be crushed by their own enormous
weight. This apparently formidable objection will be
removed by an accurate calculation of the force of
gravity upon Jupiter, or of the relative weight of bodies
upon its surface.

Sir David makes an elaborate calculation, based
upon data which, we believe, are not questioned,
and his conclusion is :

We shall have 312 pounds as the weight of a man on
Jupiter who weighs on the Earth only 150 pounds —

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