that he regards the time spent in the company of Americans as lost. To avenge himself for the "forced loan" of his society to Americans, which etiquette sometimes requires him to make, Carlyle wounds his listeners in a tender place, by asserting, in his broadest Scotch dialect, that "G-e-a-r-g-e Washington did not amount to much either as a statesman or general." Frederick the Great, in the fourth year of the "Seven Years' War," was beaten near his capital. It was a "universal rout." "Shattered in body and in mind," the retreating king found refuge in a deserted farmhouse. He sent a despatch to the royal family to leave Berlin. "The defeat was in truth overwhelming; of the fifty thousand men who had that morning marched under the black eagles, not three thousand remained together." Of Frederick it has been said, that "his heart was ulcerated with hatred." once wrote, "I begin to feel, as the Italians say, revenge is a pleasure for the gods. My philosophy is worn out by suffering. I am no saint like those of whom we read in the legends; and I will own that I should die content if I could only first inflict a portion of the misery which I endure." Carlyle spent fifteen years in writing the life of Frederick the Great. A number of bulky volumes contain his estimate of that Prussian soldier. Surely we can afford to be patient under the spite of the eminent Scotch termagant, as he projects his gall upon the men and the ideas of America, when we can present in contrast to his famous

He

hero a captain who never lost a battle, and whose heart never felt any sentiment of hatred to the foes he fought and conquered.

Edmond de Pressensé, writing on Thiers, says, "This was he whom last year the Chamber of Deputies named with acclamation when it interrupted M. de Fourtou, the worthy minister of the government of intriguers and conspirators, which had grasped the power on the 16th of May, 1877. He had here the impudence to pay homage for the liberation of the country to the monarchical majority of the National Assembly, when more than three hundred deputies rose like a single man, and, pointing at the illustrious old man, exclaimed, “Le voilà, le libérateur de la France, le voilà!”

Should the question be put to the American people, what one of their number had been most instrumental in aiding the supremacy of the flag upon which EMANCIPATION was written, and who in the calm of peace had done most to write upon that flag the word HONOR after LIBERTY and LoyALTY, it would be the acclaim of the nation that this great dignity belonged to Grant.

CHAPTER XXIII.

GRANT ABROAD.

PRIGGISH Americans have been made very uncomfortable by the manners of both Lincoln and Grant. Taking their idea of presidential deportment from Everett's finished discourse upon Washington, and being impressed with the fact that the first chief magistrate rarely, if ever, smiled in his maturer years, the awkward appearance of Lincoln and his fondness for stories, the impertur bability of Grant and his attachment to horses, — have been a perpetual source of irritation to those who have notions of decorum based on the soundest provincial standards. These might find relief in their distress by reading Emerson, the most genial, if not the most authoritative, of the apostles of culture. Says Emerson, "The hero should find himself at home, wherever he is; should impart comfort, by his own security and good-nature, to all beholders. The hero is suffered to be himself. A person of strong mind comes to perceive that for him an immunity is secured so long as he renders to society that service which is native and proper to him; an immunity from all the observances, yea, and duties, which society so tyranni

cally imposes on the rank and file of its members." For two years the man of whom it had been often remarked, "He is a consummate soldier, but under no circumstances could he ever act the gentleman," has been in the society of "princes, potentates, and powers;" and has passed the social ordeal, not only with sufficient decorum, but with great distinction. The fine adaptation of his responses to the immediate and exact duty before him, and his manly modesty in attributing to the greatness of the nation over which he had presided, the cause of the marked attention accorded to him, cannot fail to strike with admiration whoever has read or may read his travels abroad. Replying to the mayor of Manchester, England, he said, "I was very well aware, during the war, of the sentiments. of the great mass of the people of Manchester toward the country to which I have the honor to belong; and also the sentiments with regard to the struggle in which it fell to my lot to take a humble part. . . . I therefore accept, on the part of my country, the compliments which have been paid to me as its representative, and thank you for them heartily.'

At Salford he said, "I cannot help feeling that it is my country that is honored through me."

At Leicester, "Allow me in behalf of my country to return you thanks for this honor, and for your kind reception, as well as for the other kind receptions which I have had since the time

that I first landed on the soil of Great Britain.

As children of this great Commonwealth, we feel that you must have some reason to be proud of our advancement since our separation from the mother country. I can assure you of our heartfelt good-will, and express to you our thanks on behalf of the American people." This resembles Cæsarism as nearly as the cloud on which Polonius gazed resembled a whale. At the reception given to Grant by the American ambassador, the apartments were crowded with dukes, marquises, earls, the lord chancellor, and lesser nobles; and the prigs may be glad to learn that the behavior of the "great horse president" was unexceptionable. The freedom of the city of London, "the highest honor that can be paid by this ancient and renowned corporation," was extended to Grant. To the presentation banquet eight hundred guests were invited; and the "freedom of the city was presented in a gold casket,” and all the ceremonies were of the most interesting nature. His speech in response to the Lord Mayor may be taken as a model of simple strength and dignity. It was received with the most hearty cheering; and from the absence in it of toadyism, and the "slop-over" trait so common in American speeches, it could be imitated with great advantage by some of our literary lights.

"It is a matter of some regret to me, that I have never cultivated that art of public speaking which might have enabled me to express in suitable terms my gratitude for the compliment which has been paid to my countrymen and my