The Holy Cross and Other Tales By: Eugene Field (1850-1895)
First Page: The Works of Eugene Field Vol. V The Writings in Prose and Verse of Eugene Field THE HOLY CROSS AND OTHER TALES [Frontispiece: "Presently the whole company was moved by a gentle pity." Drawn by S. W. Van Schaik.] Charles Scribner's Sons New York 1911 Copyright, 1893, by Eugene Field. Copyright, 1896, by Julia Sutherland Field. DEDICATED WITH LOVE AND GRATITUDE TO ROSWELL MARTIN FIELD NOTE. To this volume as it was originally issued have been added five Tales, beginning with "The Platonic Bassoon," which are characteristic of the various moods, serious, gay, or pathetic, out of which grew the best work of the author's later years. INTRODUCTION ALAS, POOR YORICK! In paying a tribute to the mingled mirth and tenderness of Eugene Field the poet of whose going the West may say, "He took our daylight with him" one of his fellow journalists has written that he was a jester, but not of the kind that Shakespeare drew in Yorick. He was not only, so the writer implied, the maker of jibes and fantastic devices, but the bard of friendship and affection, of melodious lyrical conceits; he was the laureate of children dear for his "Wynken, Blynken and Nod" and "Little Boy Blue"; the scholarly book lover, withal, who relished and paraphrased his Horace, who wrote with delight a quaint archaic English of his special devising; who collected rare books, and brought out his own "Little Books" of "Western Verse" and "Profitable Tales" in high priced limited editions, with broad margins of paper that moths and rust do not corrupt, but which tempts bibliomaniacs to break through and steal. For my own part, I would select Yorick as the very forecast, in imaginative literature, of our various Eugene. Surely Shakespeare conceived the "mad rogue" of Elsinore as made up of grave and gay, of wit and gentleness, and not as a mere clown or "jig maker." It is true that when Field put on his cap and bells, he too was "wont to set the table on a roar," as the feasters at a hundred tables, from "Casey's Table d'Hôte" to the banquets of the opulent East, now rise to testify. But Shakespeare plainly reveals, concerning Yorick, that mirth was not his sole attribute, that his motley covered the sweetest nature and the tenderest heart. It could be no otherwise with one who loved and comprehended childhood and whom the children loved. And what does Hamlet say? "He hath borne me upon his back a thousand times . . . Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft!" Of what is he thinking but of his boyhood, before doubts and contemplation wrapped him in the shadow, and when in his young grief or frolic the gentle Yorick, with his jest, his "excellent fancy," and his songs and gambols, was his comrade? Of all moderns, then, here or in the old world, Eugene Field seems to be most like the survival, or revival, of the ideal jester of knightly times; as if Yorick himself were incarnated, or as if a superior bearer of the bauble at the court of Italy, or of France, or of English King Hal, had come to life again as much out of time as Twain's Yankee at the Court of Arthur; but not out of place, for he fitted himself as aptly to his folk and region as Puck to the fays and mortals of a wood near Athens. In the days of divine sovereignty, the jester, we see, was by all odds the wise man of the palace; the real fools were those he made his butt the foppish pages, the obsequious courtiers, the swaggering guardsmen, the insolent nobles, and not seldom majesty itself. And thus it is that painters and romancers have loved to draw him. Who would not rather be Yorick than Osric, or Touchstone than Le Beau, or even poor Bertuccio than one of his brutal mockers? Was not the redoubtable Chicot, with his sword and brains, the true ruler of France? To come to the jesters of history which is so much less real than fiction what laurels are greener than those of Triboulet, and Will Somers, and John Heywood dramatist and master of the king's merry Interludes? Their shafts were feathered with mirth and song, but pointed with wisdom, and well might old John Trussell say "That it often happens that wise counsel is more sweetly followed when it is tempered with folly, and earnest is the less offensive if it be delivered in jest... Continue reading book >>

The Holy Cross and Other Tales By: Eugene Field (1850-1895)

First Page:

The Works of Eugene Field

Vol. V

The Writings in Prose and Verse of Eugene Field

THE HOLY CROSS AND OTHER TALES

[Frontispiece: "Presently the whole company was moved by a gentle pity." Drawn by S. W. Van Schaik.]

Charles Scribner's Sons New York 1911

DEDICATED WITH LOVE

AND GRATITUDE TO

ROSWELL MARTIN FIELD

NOTE.

To this volume as it was originally issued have been added five Tales, beginning with "The Platonic Bassoon," which are characteristic of the various moods, serious, gay, or pathetic, out of which grew the best work of the author's later years.

INTRODUCTION

ALAS, POOR YORICK!

In paying a tribute to the mingled mirth and tenderness of Eugene Field the poet of whose going the West may say, "He took our daylight with him" one of his fellow journalists has written that he was a jester, but not of the kind that Shakespeare drew in Yorick. He was not only, so the writer implied, the maker of jibes and fantastic devices, but the bard of friendship and affection, of melodious lyrical conceits; he was the laureate of children dear for his "Wynken, Blynken and Nod" and "Little Boy Blue"; the scholarly book lover, withal, who relished and paraphrased his Horace, who wrote with delight a quaint archaic English of his special devising; who collected rare books, and brought out his own "Little Books" of "Western Verse" and "Profitable Tales" in high priced limited editions, with broad margins of paper that moths and rust do not corrupt, but which tempts bibliomaniacs to break through and steal.

For my own part, I would select Yorick as the very forecast, in imaginative literature, of our various Eugene. Surely Shakespeare conceived the "mad rogue" of Elsinore as made up of grave and gay, of wit and gentleness, and not as a mere clown or "jig maker." It is true that when Field put on his cap and bells, he too was "wont to set the table on a roar," as the feasters at a hundred tables, from "Casey's Table d'Hôte" to the banquets of the opulent East, now rise to testify. But Shakespeare plainly reveals, concerning Yorick, that mirth was not his sole attribute, that his motley covered the sweetest nature and the tenderest heart. It could be no otherwise with one who loved and comprehended childhood and whom the children loved. And what does Hamlet say? "He hath borne me upon his back a thousand times . . . Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft!" Of what is he thinking but of his boyhood, before doubts and contemplation wrapped him in the shadow, and when in his young grief or frolic the gentle Yorick, with his jest, his "excellent fancy," and his songs and gambols, was his comrade?

Of all moderns, then, here or in the old world, Eugene Field seems to be most like the survival, or revival, of the ideal jester of knightly times; as if Yorick himself were incarnated, or as if a superior bearer of the bauble at the court of Italy, or of France, or of English King Hal, had come to life again as much out of time as Twain's Yankee at the Court of Arthur; but not out of place, for he fitted himself as aptly to his folk and region as Puck to the fays and mortals of a wood near Athens. In the days of divine sovereignty, the jester, we see, was by all odds the wise man of the palace; the real fools were those he made his butt the foppish pages, the obsequious courtiers, the swaggering guardsmen, the insolent nobles, and not seldom majesty itself. And thus it is that painters and romancers have loved to draw him. Who would not rather be Yorick than Osric, or Touchstone than Le Beau, or even poor Bertuccio than one of his brutal mockers? Was not the redoubtable Chicot, with his sword and brains, the true ruler of France? To come to the jesters of history which is so much less real than fiction what laurels are greener than those of Triboulet, and Will Somers, and John Heywood dramatist and master of the king's merry Interludes? Their shafts were feathered with mirth and song, but pointed with wisdom, and well might old John Trussell say "That it often happens that wise counsel is more sweetly followed when it is tempered with folly, and earnest is the less offensive if it be delivered in jest... Continue reading book >>

Genres for this book
Literature
Short stories

eBook links
Wikipedia – Eugene Field
Wikipedia – The Holy Cross and Other Tales

eBook Downloads
ePUB eBook • iBooks for iPhone and iPad • Nook • Sony Reader	Kindle eBook • Mobi file format for Kindle
Read eBook • Load eBook in browser	Text File eBook • Computers • Windows • Mac