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                                    THOR                                 Written by                         Ashley Miller & Zack Stentz           FADEIN:          On the blackness of SPACE, beautiful and mysterious, strewn          with a billion stars.          Atop a building, a wrought-iron sign -- a HAMMER-WIELDING          BLACKSMITH -- spins listlessly in thewind as a swirling          breeze kicks up. A hint of what's to come.          1 EXT. PUENTE ANTIGUO, NEW MEXICO - NIGHT 1          A main street extends before us in this one-horse town, set          amidendless flat, arid scrubland. A large SUV slowly moves          down the street and heads out of town.          2 EXT. SUV - NIGHT 2          The SUV sits parked in the desert. Suddenly, the roof panels          ofthe SUV FOLD OPEN. The underside of the panels house a          variety of hand-built ASTRONOMICAL DEVICES, which now point          at the sky.          JANE FOSTER (late 20's) pops her head through the roof.She          positions a MAGNETOMETER, so its monitor calibrates with the          constellations above. It appears to be cobbled together from          spare parts of otherdevices.                         JANE          Hurry!          We hear a loud BANG followed by muffled CURSING from below.          Jane offers a hand down to ERIK SELVIG (60) who emerges as          well, rubbing hishead.          JANE (CONT'D)          Oh-- watch your head.                         SELVIG          Thanks. So what's this "anomaly"          of yours supposed to looklike?                         JANE          It's a little different each time.          Once it looked like, I don't know,          melted stars, pooling in a corner          of the sky. But last week it was a          rolling rainbowribbon--                         SELVIG                         (GENTLY TEASING)          "Racing "round Orion?" I've always          said you should have been a poet.          Jane reigns in her excitement. Shetries for dignity.                                                                                4th BLUE REVISIONS 03-26-10 1A.                         JANE          Hey, Darcy. Pass up the bubbly and          mygloves, will you?          Intern DARCY LEWIS (20) hands Jane a bottle of Champagne and          a pair of gloves through the window. Jane passes it to          Selvig to hold while she pulls on the old gloves -- toolarge          and masculine for her small hands. He starts to unwrap the          foil, and she stops his hand with an excited grin.          JANE (CONT'D)          Not until you seeit!                         SELVIG          (re: the gloves)          I recognize those. Think how proud          he'd be to see you now.          Jane's grin fades to a sad smile.                         JANE          Thankyou.                         SELVIG          For what?                         JANE          The benefit of the doubt.          The two stare out at the sky expectantly. A long beat while          they scan the skies.Nothing. Jane's worried.                                                                                4th BLUE REVISIONS 03-26-10 2.          JANE (CONT'D)          It's never taken this longbefore.          Darcy calls up from the front seat.          DARCY (O.S.)          Can I turn on the radio?                         JANE          (an edge to her voice)          Sure, if you like rocking outto          KFRM, "All agriculture, all the          time."          Worried, Jane heads back down into the vehicle.          3 INT. SUV - NIGHT 3          The SUV is bathed in the glow of high-techmonitoring          equipment and laptops, some looking like they're held          together with duct tape. Jane opens a well-worn NOTEBOOK of          handwritten notes and calculations. Selvig watchesthe          frustrated Jane with sympathy.                         JANE          The anomalies are always          precipitated by geomagnetic storms.          She shows him a complicated CHART she's drawn in thebook,          tracking occurrences and patterns.          JANE (CONT'D)          The last seventeen occurrences have          been predictable to the minute... I          just don't understand.          Somethingcatches Darcy's eye out the driver's side mirror.          She adjusts it. In the distance, ODD GLOWING CLOUDS form in          the skies over the Northeastern end of thedesert.                         DARCY          Jane?          Jane SHUSHES her, leafs through her notes. The bottle of          champagne begins to vibrate.                         JANE          There's got to be somenew          variable... Or an equipment          malfunction...          The lights and equipment in the SUV begin to FLICKER around          them. The computer monitors SQUELCH withstatic.                                                                                4th BLUE REVISIONS 03-26-10 2A.                         DARCY          I don't think there's anything          wrong with yourequipment...          The champagne bottle starts to RATTLE noisily now as it          shakes more violently. Jane and Selvig notice.                                                                                4th BLUEREVISIONS 03-26-10 3.          They watch it curiously, pressure building up inside it, when          the cork EXPLODES out of it. Champagne goes spewing          everywhere -- over equipment, overJane.          DARCY (CONT'D)          Jane?                         JANE          What?!                         DARCY          I think you want to see this.          Darcy points out the window. Jane andSelvig look out. Over          the desert --          MASSIVE CLOUDS OF RAINBOW LIGHT          Churn in the sky. The three stare, dumbfounded.                         JANE          Holy.Shatner.                         SELVIG          That's your "subtle" aurora?!                         JANE          No-- yes! Let's go!          4 EXT. DESERT - MOMENTS LATER 4          The roof panels stillopen, the SUV races towards the strange          event, Jane, amazed by the sight, stands with half her body          out the roof, taking video of the light storm before them.          The SUV hits a bump. Jane nearly fliesout. Selvig grabs          her, yanks her back in.          5 INT. SUV 5          Jane grins, thrilled, pumped with adrenaline.                         JANE          Isn't this great?!          A thought strikesher.          JANE (CONT'D)          You're seeing it too, right? I'm          not crazy?                         SELVIG          That's debateable. Put your seat          belton!                                                                                4th BLUE REVISIONS 03-26-10 3A.          The SUV lurches.          6 EXT. DESERT 6          Winds HOWL around the SUV now. Upahead, spiraling down from          out of the clouds comes --          AN ENORMOUS TORNADO          Suffuse with the strange rainbow light, ROARING like a          thousand freight trains as it touchesdown.                                                                                4th BLUE REVISIONS 03-26-10 4.          7 INT. SUV 7          Selvig looks up through the still-open sunroof atthe          enormous glowing funnel cloud with wonder. Jane clambers          into the front seat, beside Darcy. She leans way out the          window, TAPING the storm.                         JANE          You've gottaget us closer so I can          take a magnetic reading.          Darcy laughs.                         DARCY          Yeah, right! Good one!          (then, realizing)          Oh God, you'reserious...                         JANE          You want those college credits or          not?          8 EXT. SUV 8          The SUV tears across a field towards the tornado, Jane          leaning out the window,taping the event. The SUV disturbs          two RAVENS perched on a cactus as they race past. The birds          take flight, when -- KRAKABOOM! A huge BOLT OF LIGHTNING          strikes down through the center of thefunnel cloud before          them with a terrifying intensity.          9 INT. SUV 9          The SUV rocks from the blast. Darcy's had enough. She turns          the wheel, starts to headaway.                         DARCY          Keep the credits. I'll intern at          Burger King.                         JANE          What are you doing?!                         DARCY          Saving ourlives!          Jane grabs the wheel, jerks it hard the other way. They          struggle for control, when the headlights fall on --                         AMAN                                                                                4th BLUE REVISIONS 03-26-10 5.          Directly in their path, stumbling through the winds. Darcy          slams on the brakes, Janeturns the wheel hard to avoid him.          The SUV swerves -- but too late.          10 EXT. BIFROST LANDING SITE (EARTH) 10          The side of the SUV slams into the man with a THUD, sending          himflying. The car SKIDS to a stop.          11 INT. SUV 11          Jane, Darcy, and Selvig trade shocked looks, breathing hard.          They peer through the dust clouds, unable to see through.          A paralyzedmoment, then they all leap out of the car.          12 EXT. BIFROST LANDING SITE (EARTH) 12          The three race from the SUV with flashlights. Jane spots the          man lying on the ground. He's dressed intattered clothing,          charred and blackened.                         DARCY          I think that was legally your          fault.                         JANE          Get the first aid kit.          Darcy heads back insidethe SUV as Jane, concerned, kneels          next to the man. Selvig hovers, protectively.          She gently turns his head to the light, and we see him          clearly for the first time. He is magnificentlyhandsome,          long blonde hair flowing around his classically sculpted          features. She cups her hands around his face, as if willing          the life back into him.          JANE (CONT'D)          Come on, bigguy. Do me a favor          and don't be dead, okay? Open your          eyes and look at me.          Suddenly, he GROANS, and she's startled, then relieved, as          his eyes flutter open. She looks deep into hisconfused,          azure eyes, which at last focus on her own. Locking onto          them.          For a moment, they each forget to breathe.          The connection is broken as Darcy returns with the kit. She          freezeswhen she sees how gorgeous the man is.                                                                                4th BLUE REVISIONS 03-26-10 5A.                         DARCY          Wow. Does he needCPR? Because I          know CPR.          A flustered Jane smooths her hair and sits back on her heels.          She looks up at Selvig. Back to being a scientist.                         JANE                         HISEYES--                         DARCY                         (DREAMILY)          --are beautiful.                         JANE          --are dilating. That's a


ï»¿Project Gutenberg's Wieland; or The Transformation, by Charles Brockden BrownThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it awayorre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: Wieland; or The Transformation       An American TaleAuthor: Charles Brockden BrownPostingDate: August 7, 2008 [EBook #792]Release Date: January, 1997Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIELAND; OR THE TRANSFORMATION ***WIELAND; OR THE TRANSFORMATIONAnAmerican Taleby Charles Brockden Brown          From Virtue's blissful paths away          The double-tongued are sure to stray;          Good is a forth-right journey still,          And mazy paths but lead toill.Advertisement.The following Work is delivered to the world as the first of a seriesof performances, which the favorable reception of this will induce theWriter to publish. His purpose is neither selfish nor temporary,butaims at the illustration of some important branches of the moralconstitution of man. Whether this tale will be classed with the ordinaryor frivolous sources of amusement, or be ranked with the few productionswhoseusefulness secures to them a lasting reputation, the reader mustbe permitted to decide.The incidents related are extraordinary and rare. Some of them, perhaps,approach as nearly to the nature of miracles as can bedone by thatwhich is not truly miraculous. It is hoped that intelligent readers willnot disapprove of the manner in which appearances are solved, but thatthe solution will be found to correspond with the known principlesofhuman nature. The power which the principal person is said to possesscan scarcely be denied to be real. It must be acknowledged to beextremely rare; but no fact, equally uncommon, is supported by thesamestrength of historical evidence.Some readers may think the conduct of the younger Wieland impossible. Insupport of its possibility the Writer must appeal to Physicians and tomen conversant with the latent springsand occasional perversions ofthe human mind. It will not be objected that the instances of similardelusion are rare, because it is the business of moral painters toexhibit their subject in its most instructive andmemorable forms. Ifhistory furnishes one parallel fact, it is a sufficient vindication ofthe Writer; but most readers will probably recollect an authentic case,remarkably similar to that of Wieland.It will be necessary toadd, that this narrative is addressed, in anepistolary form, by the Lady whose story it contains, to a smallnumber of friends, whose curiosity, with regard to it, had been greatlyawakened. It may likewise be mentioned,that these events tookplace between the conclusion of the French and the beginning of therevolutionary war. The memoirs of Carwin, alluded to at the conclusionof the work, will be published or suppressed according tothe receptionwhich is given to the present attempt.C. B. B. September 3, 1798.Chapter II feel little reluctance in complying with your request. You know notfully the cause of my sorrows. You are a stranger to the depthof mydistresses. Hence your efforts at consolation must necessarily fail. Yetthe tale that I am going to tell is not intended as a claim upon yoursympathy. In the midst of my despair, I do not disdain to contributewhatlittle I can to the benefit of mankind. I acknowledge your right tobe informed of the events that have lately happened in my family. Makewhat use of the tale you shall think proper. If it be communicatedto the world, itwill inculcate the duty of avoiding deceit. It willexemplify the force of early impressions, and show the immeasurableevils that flow from an erroneous or imperfect discipline.My state is not destitute of tranquillity. Thesentiment that dictatesmy feelings is not hope. Futurity has no power over my thoughts. To allthat is to come I am perfectly indifferent. With regard to myself, Ihave nothing more to fear. Fate has done its worst.Henceforth, I amcallous to misfortune.I address no supplication to the Deity. The power that governs thecourse of human affairs has chosen his path. The decree that ascertainedthe condition of my life, admits of norecal. No doubt it squares withthe maxims of eternal equity. That is neither to be questioned nordenied by me. It suffices that the past is exempt from mutation. Thestorm that tore up our happiness, and changed intodreariness and desertthe blooming scene of our existence, is lulled into grim repose; butnot until the victim was transfixed and mangled; till every obstacle wasdissipated by its rage; till every remnant of good waswrested from ourgrasp and exterminated.How will your wonder, and that of your companions, be excited by mystory! Every sentiment will yield to your amazement. If my testimonywere without corroborations, youwould reject it as incredible. Theexperience of no human being can furnish a parallel: That I, beyond therest of mankind, should be reserved for a destiny without alleviation,and without example! Listen to my narrative,and then say what it isthat has made me deserve to be placed on this dreadful eminence, if,indeed, every faculty be not suspended in wonder that I am still alive,and am able to relate it. My father's ancestry was nobleon the paternalside; but his mother was the daughter of a merchant. My grand-father wasa younger brother, and a native of Saxony. He was placed, when he hadreached the suitable age, at a German college. Duringthe vacations,he employed himself in traversing the neighbouring territory. On oneoccasion it was his fortune to visit Hamburg. He formed an acquaintancewith Leonard Weise, a merchant of that city, and was afrequent guestat his house. The merchant had an only daughter, for whom his guestspeedily contracted an affection; and, in spite of parental menaces andprohibitions, he, in due season, became her husband.By thisact he mortally offended his relations. Thenceforward he wasentirely disowned and rejected by them. They refused to contribute anything to his support. All intercourse ceased, and he received from themmerely thattreatment to which an absolute stranger, or detested enemy,would be entitled.He found an asylum in the house of his new father, whose temper waskind, and whose pride was flattered by this alliance. The nobility ofhisbirth was put in the balance against his poverty. Weise conceivedhimself, on the whole, to have acted with the highest discretion, inthus disposing of his child. My grand-father found it incumbent on himto search outsome mode of independent subsistence. His youth hadbeen eagerly devoted to literature and music. These had hitherto beencultivated merely as sources of amusement. They were now converted intothe means of gain.At this period there were few works of taste inthe Saxon dialect. My ancestor may be considered as the founder of theGerman Theatre. The modern poet of the same name is sprung from the samefamily, and, perhaps,surpasses but little, in the fruitfulness of hisinvention, or the soundness of his taste, the elder Wieland. His lifewas spent in the composition of sonatas and dramatic pieces. They werenot unpopular, but merely affordedhim a scanty subsistence. He diedin the bloom of his life, and was quickly followed to the grave by hiswife. Their only child was taken under the protection of the merchant.At an early age he was apprenticed to aLondon trader, and passed sevenyears of mercantile servitude.My father was not fortunate in the character of him under whose carehe was now placed. He was treated with rigor, and full employment wasprovided forevery hour of his time. His duties were laborious andmechanical. He had been educated with a view to this profession, and,therefore, was not tormented with unsatisfied desires. He did not holdhis present occupationsin abhorrence, because they withheld him frompaths more flowery and more smooth, but he found in unintermittedlabour, and in the sternness of his master, sufficient occasions fordiscontent. No opportunities ofrecreation were allowed him. He spentall his time pent up in a gloomy apartment, or traversing narrow andcrowded streets. His food was coarse, and his lodging humble. His heartgradually contracted a habit of moroseand gloomy reflection. He couldnot accurately define what was wanting to his happiness. He was nottortured by comparisons drawn between his own situation and thatof others. His state was such as suited his age andhis views as tofortune. He did not imagine himself treated with extraordinary orunjustifiable rigor. In this respect he supposed the condition ofothers, bound like himself to mercantile service, to resemble his own;yetevery engagement was irksome, and every hour tedious in its lapse.In this state of mind he chanced to light upon a book written by one ofthe teachers of the Albigenses, or French Protestants. He entertained norelishfor books, and was wholly unconscious of any power they possessedto delight or instruct. This volume had lain for years in a corner ofhis garret, half buried in dust and rubbish. He had marked it as it lay;had thrown it,as his occasions required, from one spot to another; buthad felt no inclination to examine its contents, or even to inquire whatwas the subject of which it treated.One Sunday afternoon, being induced to retire for a fewminutes to hisgarret, his eye was attracted by a page of this book, which, by someaccident, had been opened and placed full in his view. He was seated onthe edge of his bed, and was employed in repairing a rent insome partof his clothes. His eyes were not confined to his work, but occasionallywandering, lighted at length upon the page. The words "Seek and yeshall find," were those that first offered themselves to his notice.Hiscuriosity was roused by these so far as to prompt him to proceed.As soon as he finished his work, he took up the book and turned tothe first page. The further he read, the more inducement he found tocontinue, and heregretted the decline of the light which obliged himfor the present to close it.The book contained an exposition of the doctrine of the sect ofCamissards, and an historical account of its origin. His mind was in astatepeculiarly fitted for the reception of devotional sentiments. Thecraving which had haunted him was now supplied with an object. His mindwas at no loss for a theme of meditation. On days of business, he roseat thedawn, and retired to his chamber not till late at night. He nowsupplied himself with candles, and employed his nocturnal and Sundayhours in studying this book. It, of course, abounded with allusions tothe Bible. All itsconclusions were deduced from the sacred text. Thiswas the fountain, beyond which it was unnecessary to trace the stream ofreligious truth; but it was his duty to trace it thus far.A Bible was easily procured, and heardently entered on the study of it.His understanding had received a particular direction. All his reverieswere fashioned in the same mould. His progress towards the formation ofhis creed was rapid. Every fact andsentiment in this book were viewedthrough a medium which the writings of the Camissard apostle hadsuggested. His constructions of the text were hasty, and formed on anarrow scale. Every thing was viewed in adisconnected position. Oneaction and one precept were not employed to illustrate and restrictthe meaning of another. Hence arose a thousand scruples to which he hadhitherto been a stranger. He was alternatelyagitated by fear and byecstacy. He imagined himself beset by the snares of a spiritual foe, andthat his security lay in ceaseless watchfulness and prayer.His morals, which had never been loose, were now modelled by astricterstandard. The empire of religious duty extended itself to his looks,gestures, and phrases. All levities of speech, and negligences ofbehaviour, were proscribed. His air was mournful and contemplative.He labouredto keep alive a sentiment of fear, and a belief ofthe awe-creating presence of the Deity. Ideas foreign to this weresedulously excluded. To suffer their intrusion was a crime against theDivine Majesty inexpiable but bydays and weeks of the keenest agonies.No material variation had occurred in the lapse of two years. Every dayconfirmed him in his present modes of thinking and acting. It was tobe expected that the tide of hisemotions would sometimes recede, thatintervals of despondency and doubt would occur; but these gradually weremore rare, and of shorter duration; and he, at last, arrived at a stateconsiderably uniform in thisrespect.His apprenticeship was now almost expired. On his arrival of age hebecame entitled, by the will of my grand-father, to a small sum. Thissum would hardly suffice to set him afloat as a trader in hispresentsituation, and he had nothing to expect from the generosity of hismaster. Residence in England had, besides, become almost impossible,on account of his religious tenets. In addition to these motives forseekinga new habitation, there was another of the most imperious andirresistable necessity. He had imbibed an opinion that it was his dutyto disseminate the truths of the gospel among the unbelieving nations.He was terrifiedat first by the perils and hardships to which the lifeof a missionary is exposed. This cowardice made him diligent in theinvention of objections and excuses; but he found it impossible whollyto shake off the belief thatsuch was the injunction of his duty.The belief, after every new conflict with his passions, acquired newstrength; and, at length, he formed a resolution of complying with whathe deemed the will of heaven.TheNorth-American Indians naturally presented themselves as the firstobjects for this species of benevolence. As soon as his servitudeexpired, he converted his little fortune into money, and embarked forPhiladelphia. Herehis fears were revived, and a nearer survey of savagemanners once more shook his resolution. For a while he relinquished hispurpose, and purchasing a farm on Schuylkill, within a few miles of thecity, set himself downto the cultivation of it. The cheapness of land,and the service of African slaves, which were then in general use,gave him who was poor in Europe all the advantages of wealth. He passedfourteen years in a thrifty andlaborious manner. In this time newobjects, new employments, and new associates appeared to have nearlyobliterated the devout impressions of his youth. He now becameacquainted with a woman of a meek and quietdisposition, and of slenderacquirements like himself. He proffered his hand and was accepted.His previous industry had now enabled him to dispense with personallabour, and direct attention to his own concerns. Heenjoyed leisure,and was visited afresh by devotional contemplation. The reading of thescriptures, and other religious books, became once more his favoriteemployment. His ancient belief relative to the conversion of thesavagetribes, was revived with uncommon energy. To the former obstacles werenow added the pleadings of parental and conjugal love. The strugglewas long and vehement; but his sense of duty would not be stifledorenfeebled, and finally triumphed over every impediment.His efforts were attended with no permanent success. His exhortationshad sometimes a temporary power, but more frequently were repelled withinsult andderision. In pursuit of this object he encountered the mostimminent perils, and underwent incredible fatigues, hunger, sickness,and solitude. The licence of savage passion, and the artifices of hisdepraved countrymen,all opposed themselves to his progress. His couragedid not forsake him till there appeared no reasonable ground to hope forsuccess. He desisted not till his heart was relieved from the supposedobligation to persevere.With his constitution somewhat decayed, he atlength returned to his family. An interval of tranquillity succeeded. Hewas frugal, regular, and strict in the performance of domestic duties.He allied himself with no sect,because he perfectly agreed with none.Social worship is that by which they are all distinguished; but thisarticle found no place in his creed. He rigidly interpreted that preceptwhich enjoins us, when we worship, to retireinto solitude, and shutout every species of society. According to him devotion was not only asilent office, but must be performed alone. An hour at noon, and an hourat midnight were thus appropriated.At the distance ofthree hundred yards from his house, on the top of arock whose sides were steep, rugged, and encumbered with dwarf cedarsand stony asperities, he built what to a common eye would have seemed asummer-house.The eastern verge of this precipice was sixty feet abovethe river which flowed at its foot. The view before it consisted of atransparent current, fluctuating and rippling in a rocky channel, andbounded by a rising scene ofcornfields and orchards. The edifice wasslight and airy. It was no more than a circular area, twelve feet indiameter, whose flooring was the rock, cleared of moss and shrubs, andexactly levelled, edged by twelve Tuscancolumns, and covered by anundulating dome. My father furnished the dimensions and outlines, butallowed the artist whom he employed to complete the structure on his ownplan. It was without seat, table, or ornamentof any kind.This was the temple of his Deity. Twice in twenty-four hours he repairedhither, unaccompanied by any human being. Nothing but physical inabilityto move was allowed to obstruct or postpone this visit. Hedid not exactfrom his family compliance with his example. Few men, equally sincerein their faith, were as sparing in their censures and restrictions,with respect to the conduct of others, as my father. The character ofmymother was no less devout; but her education had habituated her toa different mode of worship. The loneliness of their dwelling preventedher from joining any established congregation; but she was punctual intheoffices of prayer, and in the performance of hymns to her Saviour,after the manner of the disciples of Zinzendorf. My father refusedto interfere in her arrangements. His own system was embraced not,accuratelyspeaking, because it was the best, but because it had beenexpressly prescribed to him. Other modes, if practised by other persons,might be equally acceptable.His deportment to others was full of charity and mildness.A sadnessperpetually overspread his features, but was unmingled with sternness ordiscontent. The tones of his voice, his gestures, his steps were all intranquil unison. His conduct was characterised by a certainforbearanceand humility, which secured the esteem of those to whom his tenets weremost obnoxious. They might call him a fanatic and a dreamer, but theycould not deny their veneration to his invincible candour andinvariableintegrity. His own belief of rectitude was the foundation of hishappiness. This, however, was destined to find an end.Suddenly the sadness that constantly attended him was deepened. Sighs,and even tears,sometimes escaped him. To the expostulations of his wifehe seldom answered any thing. When he designed to be communicative, hehinted that his peace of mind was flown, in consequence of deviationfrom his duty. Acommand had been laid upon him, which he had delayed toperform. He felt as if a certain period of hesitation and reluctancehad been allowed him, but that this period was passed. He was nolonger permitted to obey.The duty assigned to him was transferred, inconsequence of his disobedience, to another, and all that remained wasto endure the penalty.He did not describe this penalty. It appeared to be nothing more forsome timethan a sense of wrong. This was sufficiently acute, and wasaggravated by the belief that his offence was incapable of expiation. Noone could contemplate the agonies which he seemed to suffer without thedeepestcompassion. Time, instead of lightening the burthen, appeared toadd to it. At length he hinted to his wife, that his end was near. Hisimagination did not prefigure the mode or the time of his decease, butwas fraughtwith an incurable persuasion that his death was at hand. Hewas likewise haunted by the belief that the kind of death that awaitedhim was strange and terrible. His anticipations were thus far vague andindefinite; butthey sufficed to poison every moment of his being, anddevote him to ceaseless anguish.Chapter IIEarly in the morning of a sultry day in August, he left Mettingen, to goto the city. He had seldom passed a day fromhome since his return fromthe shores of the Ohio. Some urgent engagements at this time existed,which would not admit of further delay. He returned in the evening, butappeared to be greatly oppressed with fatigue.His silence and dejectionwere likewise in a more than ordinary degree conspicuous. My mother'sbrother, whose profession was that of a surgeon, chanced to spend thisnight at our house. It was from him that I havefrequently received anexact account of the mournful catastrophe that followed.As the evening advanced, my father's inquietudes increased. He sat withhis family as usual, but took no part in their conversation. He


ï»¿Project Gutenberg's The History of the Peloponnesian War, by ThucydidesThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use itunder the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: The History of the Peloponnesian WarAuthor: ThucydidesTranslator: Richard CrawleyRelease Date:December, 2004 [EBook #7142]Posting Date: May 1, 2009Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PELOPONNESIAN WAR ***Produced by Albert ImrieTHE HISTORY OF THEPELOPONNESIAN WARBy Thucydides 431 BCTranslated by Richard Crawley     With Permission           to     CONNOP THIRLWALL     Historian of Greece     This Translation of the Work of His     Great Predecessor     isRespectfully Inscribed     by --The Translator--CONTENTS     BOOK I     CHAPTER I     The state of Greece from the earliest Times to the     Commencement of the Peloponnesian War     CHAPTER II     Causes of theWar--The Affair of Epidamnus--     The Affair of Potidaea     CHAPTER III     Congress of the Peloponnesian Confederacy at     Lacedaemon     CHAPTER IV     From the End of the Persian to the Beginning of     thePeloponnesian War--The Progress from     Supremacy to Empire     CHAPTER V     Second Congress at Lacedaemon--Preparations for     War and Diplomatic Skirmishes--Cylon--     Pausanias--Themistocles     BOOKII     CHAPTER VI     Beginning of the Peloponnesian War--First     Invasion of Attica--Funeral Oration of Pericles     CHAPTER VII     Second Year of the War--The Plague of Athens--     Position and Policy of Pericles--Fallof Potidaea     CHAPTER VIII     Third Year of the War--Investment of Plataea--     Naval Victories of Phormio--Thracian Irruption     into Macedonia under Sitalces     BOOK III     CHAPTER IX     Fourth and Fifth Years ofthe War--Revolt of     Mitylene     CHAPTER X     Fifth Year of the War--Trial and Execution of the     Plataeans--Corcyraean Revolution     CHAPTER XI     Sixth Year of the War--Campaigns of Demosthenes     in WesternGreece--Ruin of Ambracia     BOOK IV     CHAPTER XII     Seventh Year of the War--Occupation of pylos--     Surrender of the Spartan Army in Sphacteria     CHAPTER XIII     Seventh and Eighth Years of the War--Endof     Corcyraean Revolution--Peace of Gela--     Capture of Nisaea     CHAPTER XIV     Eighth and Ninth Years of the War--Invasion of     Boeotia--Fall of Amphipolis--Brilliant Successes     of Brasidas     BOOKV     CHAPTER XV     Tenth Year of the War--Death of Cleon and     Brasidas--Peace of Nicias     CHAPTER XVI     Feeling against Sparta in Peloponnese--League     of the Mantineans, Eleans, Argives,and     Athenians--Battle of Mantinea and breaking up of     the League     CHAPTER XVII     Sixteenth Year of the War--The Melian     Conference--Fate of Melos     BOOK VI     CHAPTER XVIII     Seventeenth Year of theWar--The Sicilian     Campaign--Affair of the Hermae--Departure of the     Expedition     CHAPTER XIX     Seventeenth Year of the War--Parties at Syracuse--     Story of Harmodius and Aristogiton--     Disgrace ofAlcibiades     CHAPTER XX     Seventeenth and Eighteenth Years of the War--     Inaction of the Athenian Army--Alcibiades at     Sparta--Investment of Syracuse     BOOK VII     CHAPTER XXI     Eighteenth andNineteenth Years of the War--     Arrival of Gylippus at Syracuse--Fortification     of Decelea--Successes of the Syracusans     CHAPTER XXII     Nineteenth Year of the War--Arrival of     Demosthenes--Defeat of theAthenians at Epipolae--     Folly and Obstinacy of Nicias     CHAPTER XXIII     Nineteenth Year of the War--Battles in the Great     Harbour--Retreat and Annihilation of the     Athenian Army     BOOK VIII     CHAPTERXXIV     Nineteenth and Twentieth Years of the War--     Revolt of Ionia--Intervention of Persia--The     War in Ionia     CHAPTER XXV     Twentieth and Twenty-first Years of the War--     Intrigues ofAlcibiades--Withdrawal of the     Persian Subsidies--Oligarchical Coup d'Etat     at Athens--Patriotism of the Army at Samos     CHAPTER XXVI     Twenty first Year of the War--Recall of     Alcibiades to Samos--Revolt ofEuboea and     Downfall of the Four Hundred--Battle of CynossemaBOOK ICHAPTER I_The State of Greece from the earliest Times to the Commencement of thePeloponnesian War_Thucydides, an Athenian, wrote thehistory of the war between thePeloponnesians and the Athenians, beginning at the moment that it brokeout, and believing that it would be a great war and more worthy ofrelation than any that had preceded it. Thisbelief was not withoutits grounds. The preparations of both the combatants were in everydepartment in the last state of perfection; and he could see the rest ofthe Hellenic race taking sides in the quarrel; those whodelayed doingso at once having it in contemplation. Indeed this was the greatestmovement yet known in history, not only of the Hellenes, but of a largepart of the barbarian world--I had almost said of mankind. Forthoughthe events of remote antiquity, and even those that more immediatelypreceded the war, could not from lapse of time be clearly ascertained,yet the evidences which an inquiry carried as far back aswaspracticable leads me to trust, all point to the conclusion that therewas nothing on a great scale, either in war or in other matters.For instance, it is evident that the country now called Hellas had inancient times nosettled population; on the contrary, migrations were offrequent occurrence, the several tribes readily abandoning their homesunder the pressure of superior numbers. Without commerce, withoutfreedom ofcommunication either by land or sea, cultivating no moreof their territory than the exigencies of life required, destitute ofcapital, never planting their land (for they could not tell when aninvader might not come and takeit all away, and when he did comethey had no walls to stop him), thinking that the necessities of dailysustenance could be supplied at one place as well as another, they caredlittle for shifting their habitation, andconsequently neither builtlarge cities nor attained to any other form of greatness. The richestsoils were always most subject to this change of masters; such as thedistrict now called Thessaly, Boeotia, most of thePeloponnese, Arcadiaexcepted, and the most fertile parts of the rest of Hellas. The goodnessof the land favoured the aggrandizement of particular individuals, andthus created faction which proved a fertile source ofruin. It alsoinvited invasion. Accordingly Attica, from the poverty of its soilenjoying from a very remote period freedom from faction, never changedits inhabitants. And here is no inconsiderable exemplification ofmyassertion that the migrations were the cause of there being nocorrespondent growth in other parts. The most powerful victims of war orfaction from the rest of Hellas took refuge with the Athenians as asafe retreat; andat an early period, becoming naturalized, swelled thealready large population of the city to such a height that Attica becameat last too small to hold them, and they had to send out colonies toIonia.There is also anothercircumstance that contributes not a little to myconviction of the weakness of ancient times. Before the Trojan warthere is no indication of any common action in Hellas, nor indeed of theuniversal prevalence of the name;on the contrary, before the time ofHellen, son of Deucalion, no such appellation existed, but the countrywent by the names of the different tribes, in particular of thePelasgian. It was not till Hellen and his sons grewstrong in Phthiotis,and were invited as allies into the other cities, that one by one theygradually acquired from the connection the name of Hellenes; though along time elapsed before that name could fasten itself uponall. Thebest proof of this is furnished by Homer. Born long after the TrojanWar, he nowhere calls all of them by that name, nor indeed any of themexcept the followers of Achilles from Phthiotis, who were theoriginalHellenes: in his poems they are called Danaans, Argives, and Achaeans.He does not even use the term barbarian, probably because theHellenes had not yet been marked off from the rest of the world byonedistinctive appellation. It appears therefore that the several Helleniccommunities, comprising not only those who first acquired the name,city by city, as they came to understand each other, but also thosewhoassumed it afterwards as the name of the whole people, were before theTrojan war prevented by their want of strength and the absence of mutualintercourse from displaying any collective action.Indeed, they couldnot unite for this expedition till they had gainedincreased familiarity with the sea. And the first person known to us bytradition as having established a navy is Minos. He made himself masterof what is now called theHellenic sea, and ruled over the Cyclades,into most of which he sent the first colonies, expelling the Cariansand appointing his own sons governors; and thus did his best to put downpiracy in those waters, a necessarystep to secure the revenues for hisown use.For in early times the Hellenes and the barbarians of the coast andislands, as communication by sea became more common, were tempted toturn pirates, under the conduct oftheir most powerful men; the motivesbeing to serve their own cupidity and to support the needy. Theywould fall upon a town unprotected by walls, and consisting of a merecollection of villages, and would plunder it;indeed, this came to bethe main source of their livelihood, no disgrace being yet attached tosuch an achievement, but even some glory. An illustration of thisis furnished by the honour with which some of the inhabitantsof thecontinent still regard a successful marauder, and by the question wefind the old poets everywhere representing the people as asking ofvoyagers--"Are they pirates?"--as if those who are asked the questionwouldhave no idea of disclaiming the imputation, or their interrogatorsof reproaching them for it. The same rapine prevailed also by land.And even at the present day many of Hellas still follow the old fashion,the OzolianLocrians for instance, the Aetolians, the Acarnanians, andthat region of the continent; and the custom of carrying arms is stillkept up among these continentals, from the old piratical habits.The whole of Hellas used onceto carry arms, their habitations beingunprotected and their communication with each other unsafe; indeed,to wear arms was as much a part of everyday life with them as with thebarbarians. And the fact that the peoplein these parts of Hellas arestill living in the old way points to a time when the same mode of lifewas once equally common to all. The Athenians were the first to layaside their weapons, and to adopt an easier and moreluxurious mode oflife; indeed, it is only lately that their rich old men left off theluxury of wearing undergarments of linen, and fastening a knot of theirhair with a tie of golden grasshoppers, a fashion which spreadtotheir Ionian kindred and long prevailed among the old men there. On thecontrary, a modest style of dressing, more in conformity with modernideas, was first adopted by the Lacedaemonians, the rich doing theirbestto assimilate their way of life to that of the common people.They also set the example of contending naked, publicly stripping andanointing themselves with oil in their gymnastic exercises. Formerly,even in the Olympiccontests, the athletes who contended wore beltsacross their middles; and it is but a few years since that the practiceceased. To this day among some of the barbarians, especially in Asia,when prizes for boxing andwrestling are offered, belts are worn by thecombatants. And there are many other points in which a likeness might beshown between the life of the Hellenic world of old and the barbarian ofto-day.With respect to theirtowns, later on, at an era of increased facilitiesof navigation and a greater supply of capital, we find the shoresbecoming the site of walled towns, and the isthmuses being occupied forthe purposes of commerce anddefence against a neighbour. But the oldtowns, on account of the great prevalence of piracy, were built awayfrom the sea, whether on the islands or the continent, and still remainin their old sites. For the pirates usedto plunder one another, andindeed all coast populations, whether seafaring or not.The islanders, too, were great pirates. These islanders were Carians andPhoenicians, by whom most of the islands were colonized, aswas provedby the following fact. During the purification of Delos by Athens inthis war all the graves in the island were taken up, and it was foundthat above half their inmates were Carians: they were identified bythefashion of the arms buried with them, and by the method of interment,which was the same as the Carians still follow. But as soon as Minoshad formed his navy, communication by sea became easier, as hecolonizedmost of the islands, and thus expelled the malefactors. The coastpopulation now began to apply themselves more closely to the acquisitionof wealth, and their life became more settled; some even began tobuildthemselves walls on the strength of their newly acquired riches. For thelove of gain would reconcile the weaker to the dominion of the stronger,and the possession of capital enabled the more powerful to reducethesmaller towns to subjection. And it was at a somewhat later stage ofthis development that they went on the expedition against Troy.What enabled Agamemnon to raise the armament was more, in my opinion,hissuperiority in strength, than the oaths of Tyndareus, whichbound the suitors to follow him. Indeed, the account given by thosePeloponnesians who have been the recipients of the most credibletradition is this. First of allPelops, arriving among a needypopulation from Asia with vast wealth, acquired such power that,stranger though he was, the country was called after him; and this powerfortune saw fit materially to increase in thehands of his descendants.Eurystheus had been killed in Attica by the Heraclids. Atreus was hismother's brother; and to the hands of his relation, who had left hisfather on account of the death of Chrysippus, Eurystheus,when he setout on his expedition, had committed Mycenae and the government. As timewent on and Eurystheus did not return, Atreus complied with thewishes of the Mycenaeans, who were influenced by fear oftheHeraclids--besides, his power seemed considerable, and he had notneglected to court the favour of the populace--and assumed the sceptreof Mycenae and the rest of the dominions of Eurystheus. And so thepower ofthe descendants of Pelops came to be greater than that of thedescendants of Perseus. To all this Agamemnon succeeded. He had also anavy far stronger than his contemporaries, so that, in my opinion,fear was quite asstrong an element as love in the formation of theconfederate expedition. The strength of his navy is shown by the factthat his own was the largest contingent, and that of the Arcadians wasfurnished by him; this at leastis what Homer says, if his testimony isdeemed sufficient. Besides, in his account of the transmission of thesceptre, he calls him   Of many an isle, and of all Argos king.Now Agamemnon's was a continental power; andhe could not have beenmaster of any except the adjacent islands (and these would not be many),but through the possession of a fleet.And from this expedition we may infer the character of earlierenterprises. NowMycenae may have been a small place, and many of thetowns of that age may appear comparatively insignificant, but no exactobserver would therefore feel justified in rejecting the estimate givenby the poets and bytradition of the magnitude of the armament. For Isuppose if Lacedaemon were to become desolate, and the temples and thefoundations of the public buildings were left, that as time went onthere would be a strongdisposition with posterity to refuse to accepther fame as a true exponent of her power. And yet they occupy two-fifthsof Peloponnese and lead the whole, not to speak of their numerous allieswithout. Still, as the city isneither built in a compact form noradorned with magnificent temples and public edifices, but composed ofvillages after the old fashion of Hellas, there would be an impressionof inadequacy. Whereas, if Athens were tosuffer the same misfortune,I suppose that any inference from the appearance presented to the eyewould make her power to have been twice as great as it is. We havetherefore no right to be sceptical, nor to contentourselves with aninspection of a town to the exclusion of a consideration of its power;but we may safely conclude that the armament in question surpassedall before it, as it fell short of modern efforts; if we can herealsoaccept the testimony of Homer's poems, in which, without allowing forthe exaggeration which a poet would feel himself licensed to employ, wecan see that it was far from equalling ours. He has represented itasconsisting of twelve hundred vessels; the Boeotian complement of eachship being a hundred and twenty men, that of the ships of Philoctetesfifty. By this, I conceive, he meant to convey the maximum andtheminimum complement: at any rate, he does not specify the amount of anyothers in his catalogue of the ships. That they were all rowers as wellas warriors we see from his account of the ships of Philoctetes, inwhichall the men at the oar are bowmen. Now it is improbable thatmany supernumeraries sailed, if we except the kings and high officers;especially as they had to cross the open sea with munitions of war,in ships, moreover,that had no decks, but were equipped in the oldpiratical fashion. So that if we strike the average of the largestand smallest ships, the number of those who sailed will appearinconsiderable, representing, as they did, thewhole force of Hellas.And this was due not so much to scarcity of men as of money. Difficultyof subsistence made the invaders reduce the numbers of the army to apoint at which it might live on the country during theprosecution ofthe war. Even after the victory they obtained on their arrival--and avictory there must have been, or the fortifications of the naval campcould never have been built--there is no indication of theirwholeforce having been employed; on the contrary, they seem to have turned tocultivation of the Chersonese and to piracy from want of supplies. Thiswas what really enabled the Trojans to keep the field for tenyearsagainst them; the dispersion of the enemy making them always a match forthe detachment left behind. If they had brought plenty of supplies withthem, and had persevered in the war without scattering for piracyandagriculture, they would have easily defeated the Trojans in the field,since they could hold their own against them with the division onservice. In short, if they had stuck to the siege, the capture of Troywould havecost them less time and less trouble. But as want of moneyproved the weakness of earlier expeditions, so from the same causeeven the one in question, more famous than its predecessors, may bepronounced on theevidence of what it effected to have been inferior toits renown and to the current opinion about it formed under the tuitionof the poets.Even after the Trojan War, Hellas was still engaged in removing andsettling, andthus could not attain to the quiet which must precedegrowth. The late return of the Hellenes from Ilium caused manyrevolutions, and factions ensued almost everywhere; and it was thecitizens thus driven into exile whofounded the cities. Sixty yearsafter the capture of Ilium, the modern Boeotians were driven out ofArne by the Thessalians, and settled in the present Boeotia, the formerCadmeis; though there was a division of themthere before, some of whomjoined the expedition to Ilium. Twenty years later, the Dorians and theHeraclids became masters of Peloponnese; so that much had to be doneand many years had to elapse before Hellascould attain to a durabletranquillity undisturbed by removals, and could begin to send outcolonies, as Athens did to Ionia and most of the islands, and thePeloponnesians to most of Italy and Sicily and some places in therestof Hellas. All these places were founded subsequently to the war withTroy.But as the power of Hellas grew, and the acquisition of wealth becamemore an object, the revenues of the states increasing, tyrannieswereby their means established almost everywhere--the old form of governmentbeing hereditary monarchy with definite prerogatives--and Hellas beganto fit out fleets and apply herself more closely to the sea. It issaidthat the Corinthians were the first to approach the modern style ofnaval architecture, and that Corinth was the first place in Hellas wheregalleys were built; and we have Ameinocles, a Corinthian shipwright,makingfour ships for the Samians. Dating from the end of this war, itis nearly three hundred years ago that Ameinocles went to Samos. Again,the earliest sea-fight in history was between the Corinthians andCorcyraeans; this


ï»¿The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tancred, by Benjamin DisraeliThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under theterms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: Tancred       Or, The New CrusadeAuthor: Benjamin DisraeliRelease Date: December 3, 2006 [EBook #20004]LastUpdated: September 6, 2016Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: UTF-8*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TANCRED ***Produced by David WidgerTANCREDORTHE NEW CRUSADEBy BenjaminDisraeli[Illustration: cover][Illustration: frontplate][Illustration: tancred-frontis-p72][Illustration: tancred-frontis-label][Illustration: tancred-titlepage][Illustration: page001]CHAPTER I.     _A Matter of Importance_INTHAT part of the celebrated parish of St. George which is bounded onone side by Piccadilly and on the other by Curzon Street, is a districtof a peculiar character. âTis cluster of small streets of little houses,frequentlyintersected by mews, which here are numerous, and sometimesgradually, rather than abruptly, terminating in a ramification of thosemysterious regions. Sometimes a group of courts develops itself, andyou may evenchance to find your way into a small market-place. Those,however, who are accustomed to connect these hidden residences ofthe humble with scenes of misery and characters of violence, need notapprehend in thisdistrict any appeal to their sympathies, or any shockto their tastes. All is extremely genteel; and there is almost as muchrepose as in the golden saloons of the contiguous palaces. At any rate,if there be as much vice,there is as little crime.No sight or sound can be seen or heard at any hour, which could pain themost precise or the most fastidious. Even if a chance oath may float onthe air from the stable-yard to the lodging of aFrench cook, âtis ofthe newest fashion, and, if responded to with less of novel charm, therepartee is at least conveyed in the language of the most polite ofnations. They bet upon the Derby in these parts a little, areinterestedin Goodwood, which they frequent, have perhaps, in general, a weaknessfor play, live highly, and indulge those passions which luxury andrefinement encourage; but that is all.A policeman would as soon thinkof reconnoitring these secluded streetsas of walking into a house in Park Lane or Berkeley Square, to which,in fact, this population in a great measure belongs. For here reside thewives of house-stewards and of butlers,in tenements furnished by thehonest savings of their husbands, and let in lodgings to increase theirswelling incomes; here dwells the retired servant, who now devoteshis practised energies to the occasional festival,which, with hisaccumulations in the three per cents., or in one of the public-houses ofthe quarter, secures him at the same time an easy living, and the casualenjoyment of that great world which lingers in his memory.Here may befound his graceâs coachman, and here his lordshipâs groom, who keeps abook and bleeds periodically too speculative footmen, by betting oddson his masterâs horses. But, above all, it is in thisdistrict thatthe cooks have ever sought a favourite and elegant abode. An air ofstillness and serenity, of exhausted passions and suppressed emotion,rather than of sluggishness and of dullness, distinguishes thisquarterduring the day.When you turn from the vitality and brightness of Piccadilly, thepark, the palace, the terraced mansions, the sparkling equipages, thecavaliers cantering up the hill, the swarming multitude, andenterthe region of which we are speaking, the effect is at first almostunearthly. Not a carriage, not a horseman, scarcely a passenger; thereseems some great and sudden collapse in the metropolitan system, as ifa pesthad been announced, or an enemy were expected in alarm by avanquished capital. The approach from Curzon Street has not this effect.Hyde Park has still about it something of Arcadia. There are woods andwaters, andthe occasional illusion of an illimitable distance of sylvanjoyance. The spirit is allured to gentle thoughts as we wander in whatis still really a lane, and, turning down Stanhope Street, behold thathouse which the greatLord Chesterfield tells us, in one of his letters,he was âbuilding among the fields.â The cawing of the rooks in hisgardens sustains the tone of mind, and Curzon Street, after a long,straggling, sawney course,ceasing to be a thoroughfare, and losingitself in the gardens of another palace, is quite in keeping with allthe accessories.In the night, however, the quarter of which we are speaking is alive.The manners of thepopulation follow those of their masters. They keeplate hours. The banquet and the ball dismiss them to their homes at atime when the trades of ordinary regions move in their last sleep, anddream of opening shuttersand decking the windows of their shops.At night, the chariot whirls round the frequent corners of these littlestreets, and the opening valves of the mews vomit forth their legionof broughams. At night, too, the footman,taking advantage of a ballat Holdernesse, or a concert at Lansdowne House, and knowing that,in either instance, the link-boy will answer when necessary for hissummoned name, ventures to look in at his club, readsthe paper, talksof his master or his mistress, and perhaps throws a main. The shops ofthis district, depending almost entirely for their custom on the classeswe have indicated, and kept often by their relations, followthe orderof the place, and are most busy when other places of business areclosed.A gusty March morning had subsided into a sunshiny afternoon, nearly twoyears ago, when a young man, slender, above the middleheight, with aphysiognomy thoughtful yet delicate, his brown hair worn long, slightwhiskers, on his chin a tuft, knocked at the door of a house inCarrington Street, May Fair. His mien and his costume denoted acharacterof the class of artists. He wore a pair of green trousers,braided with a black stripe down their sides, puckered towards thewaist, yet fitting with considerable precision to the boot of Frenchleather that enclosed awell-formed foot. His waistcoat was of maroonvelvet, displaying a steel watch-chain of refined manufacture, and ablack satin cravat, with a coral brooch. His bright blue frockcoat wasfrogged and braided like histrousers. As the knocker fell from theprimrose-coloured glove that screened his hand, he uncovered, andpassing his fingers rapidly through his hair, resumed his new silk hat,which he placed rather on one side of hishead.âAh! Mr. Leander, is it you?â exclaimed a pretty girl, who opened thedoor and blushed.âAnd how is the good papa, Eugenie? Is he at home? For I want to see himmuch.ââI will show you up tohim at once, Mr. Leander, for he will be veryhappy to see you. We have been thinking of hearing of you,â she added,talking as she ushered her guest up the narrow staircase. âThe good papahas a little cold:âtis not much, I hope; caught at Sir Wallingerâs, alarge dinner; they would have the kitchen windows open, which spoilt allthe entrÃ©es, and papa got a cold; but I think, perhaps, it is as muchvexation asanything else, you know if anything goes wrong, especiallywith the entrÃ©es------ââHe feels as a great artist must,â said Leander, finishing her sentence.âHowever, I am not sorry at this moment to findhim a prisoner, for Iam pressed to see him. It is only this morning that I have returned fromMr. Coningsbyâs at Hellingsley: the house full, forty covers everyday, and some judges. One does not grudge oneâslabour if we areappreciated,â added Leander; âbut I have had my troubles. One of mymarmitons has disappointed me: I thought I had a genius, but on thethird day he lost his head; and had it not been---- Ah!good papa,âhe exclaimed, as the door opened, and he came forward and warmly shookthe hand of a portly man, advanced in middle life, sitting in an easychair, with a glass of sugared water by his side, andreading a Frenchnewspaper in his chamber robe, and with a white cotton nightcap on hishead.âAh! my child,â said Papa Prevost, âis it you? You see me a prisoner;Eugenie has told you; a dinner at amerchantâs; dressed in a draught;everything spoiled, and I------â and sighing, Papa Prevost sipped his_eau sucrÃ©e_.âWe have all our troubles,â said Leander, in a consoling tone; âbutwe will notspeak now of vexations. I have just come from the country;Daubuz has written to me twice; he was at my house last night; I foundhim on my steps this morning. There is a grand affair on the tapis.The son of the Dukeof Bellamont comes of age at Easter; it is to be abusiness of the thousand and one nights; the whole county to be feasted.Camachoâs wedding will do for the peasantry; roasted oxen, and acapon in every platter,with some fountains of ale and good Porto. Ourmarmitons, too, can easily serve the provincial noblesse; but there isto be a party at the Castle, of double cream; princes of the blood,high relatives and grandees of theGolden Fleece. The dukeâs cook is notequal to the occasion. âTis an hereditary chef who gives dinners of thetime of the continental blockade. They have written to Daubuz to sendthem the first artist of theage,â said Leander; âand,â added he, withsome hesitation, âDaubuz has written to me.ââAnd he did quite right, my child,â said Prevost, âfor there is not aman in Europe that is yourequal. What do they say? That Abreu rivalsyou in flavour, and that Gaillard has not less invention. But who cancombine _goÃ»t_ with new combinations? âTis yourself, Leander; and thereis no question, though youhave only twenty-five years, that you are thechef of the age.ââYou are always very good to me, sir,â said Leander, bending his headwith great respect; âand I will not deny that to be famous when youareyoung is the fortune of the gods. But we must never forget that I had anadvantage which Abreu and Gaillard had not, and that I was your pupil.ââI hope that I have not injured you,â said Papa Prevost,with an air ofproud self-content. âWhat you learned from me came at least from a goodschool. It is something to have served under Napoleon,â added Prevost,with the grand air of the Imperial kitchen.âHad it not been forWaterloo, I should have had the cross. But the Bourbons and the cooksof the Empire never could understand each other: They brought over anemigrant chef, who did not comprehend the tasteof the age. He wished tobring everything back to the time of the _oeil de bouf_. When Monsieurpassed my soup of Austerlitz untasted, I knew the old family was doomed.But we gossip. You wished to consultme?ââI want not only your advice but your assistance. This affair of theDuke of Bellamont requires all our energies. I hope you will accompanyme; and, indeed, we must muster all our forces. It is not to bedeniedthat there is a want, not only of genius, but of men, in our art. Thecooks are like the civil engineers: since the middle class have taken togiving dinners, the demand exceeds the supply.ââThere isAndrien,â said Papa Prevost; âyou had some hopes of him?ââHe is too young; I took him to Hellingsley, and he lost his head onthe third day. I entrusted the soufflÃ©es to him, and, but for themostdesperate personal exertions, all would have been lost. It was an affairof the bridge of Areola.ââAh! _mon Dieu!_ those are moments!â exclaimed Prevost. âGaillard andAbreu will not serve underyou, eh? And if they would, they could not betrusted. They would betray you at the tenth hour.ââWhat I want are generals of division, not commanders-in-chief. Abreu issufficiently _bon garÃ§on_, but he hastaken an engagement with Monsieurde Sidonia, and is not permitted to go out.ââWith Monsieur de Sidonia! You once thought of that, my Leander. Andwhat is his salary?ââNot too much; four hundredand some perquisites. It would not suit me;besides, I will take no engagement but with a crowned head. But Abreulikes travelling, and he has his own carriage, which pleases him.ââThere are Philippon andDumoreau,â said Prevost; âthey are very safe.ââI was thinking of them,â said Leander, âthey are safe, under you.And there is an Englishman, Smit, he is chef at Sir Stanleyâs, but hismasteris away at this moment. He has talent.ââYourself, four chefs, with your marmitons; it would do,â said Prevost.âFor the kitchen,â said Leander; âbut who is to dress the tables?ââA-h!âexclaimed Papa Prevost, shaking his head.âDaubuzâ head man, Trenton, is the only one I could trust; and he wantsfancy, though his style is broad and bold. He made a pyramid of pinesrelieved with grapes,without destroying the outline, very good, thislast week, at Hellingsley. But Trenton has been upset on the railroad,and much injured. Even if he recover, his hand will tremble so for thenext month that! could have noconfidence in him.ââPerhaps you might find some one at the Dukeâs?ââOut of the question!â said Leander; âI make it always a conditionthat the head of every department shall be appointedby myself. I takePellerini with me for the confectionery. How often have I seen theeffect of a first-rate dinner spoiled by a vulgar dessert! laid flat onthe table, for example, or with ornaments that look as if they hadbeenhired at a pastrycookâs: triumphal arches, and Chinese pagodas, andsolitary pines springing up out of ice-tubs surrounded with peaches, asif they were in the window of a fruiterer of CoventGarden.ââAh! it is incredible what uneducated people will do,â said Prevost.âThe dressing of the tables was a department of itself in the Imperialkitchen.ââIt demands an artist of a highcalibre,â said Leander. âI know onlyone man who realises my idea, and he is at St. Petersburg. You do notknow Anastase? There is a man! But the Emperor has him secure. He canscarcely complain, however,since he is decorated, and has the rank offull colonel.ââAh!â said Prevost, mournfully, âthere is no recognition of genius inthis country. What think you of Vanesse, my child? He has had aregulareducation.ââIn a bad school: as a pis aller one might put up with him. But hiseternal tiers of bonbons! As if they were ranged for a supper of theCarnival, and my guests were going to pelt each other! No,I could notstand Vanesse, papa.ââThe dressing of the table: âtis a rare talent,â said Prevost,mournfully, âand always was. In the Imperial kitchen------ââPapa,â said Eugenie, opening thedoor, and putting in her head, âhereis Monsieur Vanillette just come from Brussels. He has brought you abasket of truffles from Ardennes. I told him you were on business, butto-night, if you be at home, he couldcome.ââVanillette!â exclaimed Prevost, starting in his chair, âour littleVanillette! There is your man, Le-ander. He was my first pupil, as youwere my last, my child. Bring up our little Vanillette, Eugenie.He isin the household of King Leopold, and his forte is dressing the table!âCHAPTER II.     _The House of Bellamont_THE Duke of Bellamont was a personage who, from his rank, his blood, andhis wealth, mightalmost be placed at the head of the English nobility.Although the grandson of a mere country gentleman, his fortunateancestor, in the decline of the last century, had captivated the heiressof the Montacutes, Dukes ofBellamont, a celebrated race of the timesof the Plantagenets. The bridegroom, at the moment of his marriage,had adopted the illustrious name of his young and beautiful wife. Mr.Montacute was by nature a man ofenergy and of an enterprising spirit.His vast and early success rapidly developed his native powers. With thecastles and domains and boroughs of the Bellamonts, he resolved also toacquire their ancient baronies andtheir modern coronets. The times werefavourable to his projects, though they might require the devotion ofa life. He married amid the disasters of the American war. The king andhis minister appreciated theindependent support afforded them by Mr.Montacute, who represented his county, and who commanded five votesin the House besides his own. He was one of the chief pillars of theircause; but he was not onlyindependent, he was conscientious and hadscruples. Saratoga staggered him. The defection of the Montacute votes,at this moment, would have at once terminated the struggle betweenEngland and her colonies. A freshillustration of the advantages ofour parliamentary constitution! The independent Mr. Montacute, however,stood by his sovereign; his five votes continued to cheer the noble lordin the blue ribbon, and their master tookhis seat and the oaths in theHouse of Lords, as Earl of Bellamont and Viscount Montacute. This mightbe considered sufficiently well for one generation; but the silver spoonwhich some fairy had placed in the cradle ofthe Earl of Bellamont wasof colossal proportions. The French Revolution succeeded the Americanwar, and was occasioned by it. It was but just, therefore, that it alsoshould bring its huge quota to the elevation of theman whom a colonialrevolt had made an earl. Amid the panic of Jacobinism, the declamationsof the friends of the people, the sovereign having no longer Hanover fora refuge, and the prime minister examined as awitness in favour of thevery persons whom he was trying for high treason, the Earl of Bellamontmade a calm visit to Downing Street, and requested the revival of allthe honours of the ancient Earls and Dukes ofBellamont in his ownperson. Mr. Pitt, who was far from favourable to the exclusive characterwhich distinguished the English peerage in the last century, washimself not disinclined to accede to the gentle request of hispowerfulsupporter; but the king was less flexible. His Majesty, indeed, was onprinciple not opposed to the revival of titles in families to whom thedomains without the honours of the old nobility had descended; andherecognised the claim of the present Earls of Bellamont eventually toregain the strawberry leaf which had adorned the coronet of the fatherof the present countess. But the king was of opinion that thissupremedistinction ought only to be conferred on the blood of the old house,and that a generation, therefore, must necessarily elapse before aDuke of Bellamont could again figure in the golden book of theEnglisharistocracy.But George the Third, with all his firmness, was doomed to frequentdiscomfiture. His lot was cast in troubled waters, and he had often todeal with individuals as inflexible as himself. Benjamin Franklinwasnot more calmly contumacious than the individual whom his treason hadmade an English peer. In that age of violence, change and panic, power,directed by a clear brain and an obdurate spirit, could not fail ofitsaim; and so it turned out, that, in the very teeth of the royal will,the simple country gentleman, whose very name was forgotten, became,at the commencement of this century, Duke of Bellamont, MarquisofMontacute, Earl of Bellamont, Dacre, and Villeroy, with all the baroniesof the Plantagenets in addition. The only revenge of the king was, thathe never would give the Duke of Bellamont the garter. It was aswellperhaps that there should be something for his son to desire.The Duke and Duchess of Bellamont were the handsomest couple in England,and devoted to each other, but they had only one child. Fortunately,thatchild was a son. Precious life! The Marquis of Montacute wasmarried before he was of age. Not a moment was to be lost to find heirsfor all these honours. Perhaps, had his parents been less precipitate,their object mighthave been more securely obtained. The unionâ was nota happy one. The first duke had, however, the gratification of dying agrandfather. His successor bore no resemblance to him, except in thatbeauty whichbecame a characteristic of the race. He was born to enjoy,not to create. A man of pleasure, the chosen companion of the Regent inhis age of riot, he was cut off in his prime; but he lived long enoughto break hiswifeâs heart and his sonâs spirit; like himself, too, anonly child.The present Duke of Bellamont had inherited something of the clearintelligence of his grandsire, with the gentle disposition of hismother. His fairabilities, and his benevolent inclinations, had beencultivated. His mother had watched over the child, in whom she foundalike the charm and consolation of her life. But, at a certain period ofyouth, the formation ofcharacter requires a masculine impulse, and thatwas wanting. The duke disliked his son; in time he became even jealousof him. The duke had found himself a father at too early a period oflife. Himself in his lusty youth,


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                                      "THE VERDICT"                                      Screenplay by                                       DavidMamet                                      Shooting Draft                               INT. FIRST FUNERAL PARLOR - DAY               A working-class funeral in progress. THIRTY PEOPLE and an                inexpensivebier SEEN from the back of the hall.               ANGLE               A MAN's back FILLS the SCREEN. He is dressed in a black suit;                his hands are clasped behind him. ANOTHER MAN stands nextto                him. The Second Man reaches behind the First Man's back and                puts a discreetly folded ten-dollar bill into his hands.               ANGLE               These Two Men from the front. Bothsomber, in their early                fifties. They begin to walk down the aisle of the funeral                parlor.               ANGLE               The WIDOW. A woman in her late fifties sitting by thebier                receiving condolences. The Two Men approach her. The First                Man (the recipient of the money) speaks:                                     FUNERAL DIRECTOR                         Mrs. Dee, this isFrank Galvin -- a                          very good friend of ours, and a very                          fine attorney.                                     GALVIN                         It's a shame about yourhusband,                          Mrs. Dee.               The Widow nods.                                     GALVIN                         I knew him vaguely through the Lodge.                          He was a wonderfulman.                              (shakes head in                               sympathy)                         It was a crime what happened to him.                          A crime. If there's anything that I                          could do tohelp...               GALVIN removes a business card from his jacket pocket and                hands it to her as if he were giving her money. (i.e., "Take                it. Really. I want you to have it..." She takes thecard.               Beat.                                     GALVIN                              (thoughtfully realizes                               he is usurping her                               time)                         Well...                He shakesher hand and moves on.               INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY               Galvin sitting in the deserted coffee shop in his raincoat.               Reading a section of the paper. He picks up histeacup,                drinks. Lowers it to the table.               ANGLE - INSERT               Galvin twists tea bag around a spoon to extract last drops                of tea. His hand moves to his felt pen lying on thetable.               He moves his hand to the paper, open at the obituary section.               We SEE several names crossed out. He circles one funeral                listing.               ANGLE               Galvin sitting,raises cup of tea to his lips. Looks around                deserted coffee shop. Sighs.               INT. SECOND FUNERAL HOME AND STREET - AFTERNOON               Galvin outside a second funeral home.WORKING-CLASS PEOPLE                entering, Galvin enters the home.               ANGLE               Galvin, coming down the aisle toward the front, shrugging                himself out of his overcoat, heapproaches the BEREAVED WIDOW                sitting by the front of the home, he extracts his card from                his pocket, starts to speak. He is stopped by the WIDOW'S                SON, a hefty man in hismid-forties, who interjects himself                between Galvin and the widow.                                     SON                              (of the card)                         What isthat...?                                     GALVIN                         I...                                     SON                         What the hell isthat...                                     GALVIN                         ...I was a friend of your fa...                                     SON                         You never knew my father.                              (hits card outof                               Galvin's hand)                         You get out of here, who the hell do                          you think you are...               The FUNERAL MANAGER hurries down the aisle, andstarts                extricating Galvin from the commotion.                                     GALVIN                              (to Funeral Manager)                         I'm talking to thisman...                                     FUNERAL MANAGER                         Excuse me, Mrs. Cleary...               He is manhandling Galvin toward the back of the funeral                parlor. The Son calls afterhim:                                     SON                         Who the hell do you think you are?               EXT. SECOND FUNERAL PARLOR - AFTERNOON               The Funeral Manager and Galvin standing inthe cold.                                     FUNERAL MANAGER                         I don't want you coming back here.                          Ever. Do youunderstand?                                     GALVIN                         I was just talking to...                                     FUNERAL MANAGER                         Those are bereaved people in there.               TheFuneral Manager gives Galvin a small shove, and goes                back to his post at the door, greeting the entering mourners.               "Good evening..."               ANGLE               Galvin, the ground cut outfrom under him. Standing watching                the mourners enter.               EXT. SECOND FUNERAL STREET - DUSK               Galvin walking down a residential street. He has been walking                a whilein the cold, snowy night. He stops for a stoplight                at a corner, waits for the light although there is no traffic.               Lights a cigarette. The light changes. He looks both ways                and irresolutely startsacross the street. He stops. He checks                his watch. He sighs, and starts back in the opposite                direction.               INT. O'ROURKE'S BAR - NIGHT               Galvin holding forth at the bar of aseedy drinking-man's                establishment, THREE DRINKERS, acquaintances, standing around                him, appreciative.                                     GALVIN                         Pat says, 'Mike... there's anew                          bar, you go in, for a half a buck                          you get a beer, a free lunch, and                          then take you in the back room and                          they get you laid.'               Thebartender, JIMMY, comes up to Galvin.                                     JIMMY                         Another, Frank...?                                     GALVIN                              (gestures toinclude                               group)                         ...everybody. Mike says, 'Pat, you                          mean to tell me for a buck you get a                          free lunch and a beer, and then you                          go inthe back and get laid?' 'That's                          correct.' Mike says, 'Pat. Have you                          been in this bar ?' Pat says, 'No,                          but my sister has...'                              (gestures toJimmy)                         Everyone. Buy yourself one too.               INT. GALVIN'S OFFICE - NIGHT               The seedy, disorganized small office, Galvin in shirt-sleeves                opening a file cabinet. Hetakes out an armload of files,                carries them to a wastebasket and throws them in. He sits on                his desk, as if exhausted by his effort, pours from a whiskey                bottle into a large water glass,downs the glass.               He has been drinking for some time. He starts stumbling back                to the file cabinet. On the way his eye is caught by his                degrees hanging on the wall. He stumbles to them,picks them                up and walks over to the wastebasket and throws them in. He                goes back to the file cabinet, the phone starts ringing.                Galvin lets it ring, continues emptying the files intothe                wastebasket, tearing some of them up as he does so.               He repeats softly to himself, as a litany, "It doesn't make                a bit of difference, it doesn't make a bit of difference..."                Hestarts back to the desk for the bottle, knocks the still-               ringing phone off the desk. He pours himself a drink.               As he downs it we hear -- softly -- from the phone on the                floor: a MAN'S VOICE."Frank. Frank. Frank. Goddamnit. Are                you there...? Frank..." Galvin pays no attention.               Drinks his drink and gazes at the wall -- now empty of                degrees.               ANGLE -P.O.V.               The empty wall. Galvin's P.O.V. The telephone heard Voice                Over insisting, "Frank..."               INT. GALVIN'S OFFICE ANTEROOM - NIGHT               MICKEY MORRISSEY, a manin his late sixties, dressed in suit                and overcoat, looking worried, unlocks the door to the dark                anteroom. Looks around. Sees something in the next room.               ANGLE -P.O.V.               Galvin asleep on his couch, clothed as before. Covered in                his overcoat, the bottle and glass next to the couch on the                floor, the sound of the phone off thehook.               ANGLE               Mickey walks into the office. Stands looking at Galvin.                                     MICKEY                              (harshly)                         Getup.                              (beat, more harshly)                         Get up.               Galvin wakes up. Looks around. Swings his legs over the couch.                Drinks from the glass.Vacantly:                                     GALVIN                         Hi, Mickey...                                     MICKEY                         What the hell do you thinkyou're                          doing...?                              (surveys the wrecked                               office)                         What's going onhere...?                                     GALVIN                         Uh...                                     MICKEY                         Fuck you. I got a call today from                          SallyDoneghy...                                     GALVIN                         ...now who is that...?                                     MICKEY                         ...You're 'sposed to be in court in                          ten days andshe's telling me you                          haven't even met with them...                                     GALVIN                         Sally Doneghy, now who isthat?                                     MICKEY                         One lousy letter eighteen months                          ago... I try to throw a fuckin' case                          yourway...                                     GALVIN                         ...hey, I don't need your charity...                                     MICKEY                         ...I get these people to trust you--                          they're coming here tomorrow by the                          way -- I get this expert doctor to                          talk to you. I'm doing all your                          fuckin' legwork -- and it's