WORKS OF OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.*

w The Writings of Oliver Wendell Holmes. 13 vols. London : Sampson Low, Marston, and Co. 1E9L

AFTER all, the contributions which Dr. Holmes has made to literature are but modest in amount, the more when we remember that they represent the labours of more than sixty years. The earliest poem bears the date of 1830; the series of papers which are entitled "Among the Teacups," appeared, for the most part, in 1890. The world would have been well content to have had more than thirteen volumes during this long literary activity. The fact is that literature, if it has been the main interest of Dr. Holmes's life, has not been the main occupation. For thirty-six years he was Professor of Anatomy at Harvard. Human anatomy is, as he says in the course of one of his essays, an "almost exhausted science." If additions are made to this branch of knowledge, they are so small that it requires no effort to assimilate them. Hence it is, from one side at least, an ideal occupation for a man who would give his leisure to the Muses. In every other direction, Science, specialise it as you may, is virtually inexhaustible, while the actual practice of surgery or medicine is so absorbing as almost to prohibit any other occupation. There is an intellectual security, to use the word in its first sense, about the subject to which Dr. Holmes's good genius led him, which has been very much in his favour.

The contents of the thirteen volumes may be thus described: —In the first four, we have the four sets of papers entitled respectively, "The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table," "The Professor at the Breakfast-Table," "The Poet at the Break- fast-Table" (1871), and "Among the Teacups" (1890-91). Then follow the three romances, "Elsie Venner," "The Guardian Angel," and "A Mortal Antipathy." Vols. VIII.

and IX. are devoted to "Pages from an Old Volume of Life," miscellaneous essays ranging in date of publication from 1857 to 1881, and "Medical Essays" (1842-1882). The tenth volume describes the visit which the author paid to Europe

in 1886 ; and finally, we have three volumes of poems—the verses scattered through the first four volumes being brought together in the third. Of these four, the first, " The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table," is by far the best known, at least on this side of the Atlantic. There is, indeed, no particular reason why it should be, except, indeed, the all-sufficient one that it was the first. The most admirable, even the most successful continuation, does not, and indeed cannot, make the impression made by that which it follows. However great its proper force, its effect has been largely anticipated. In point of literary merit, we can see very little difference between the first and the last, between the " Breakfast-Table " of 1857 and the " Tea-Table " of 1890. Perhaps there is a lively and, so to speak, irresponsible gaiety about the earlier- writing which we do not find in the second. Take, for in- stance, out of the "Autocrat" the famous "Sumatra Corre- spondence," part of which, familiar as it may be to many of our readers, we shall venture to quote :— " This island is now the property of the Stamford family,— having been won, it is said, in a raffle, by Sir — Stamford, during the stock-gambling mania of the South-Sea Scheme The principal vegetable productions of the island are the pepper-tree and the bread-fruit-tree. Pepper being very abundantly produced, a benevolent society was organised in London during the last century for supplying the natives with vinegar and oysters, as an addition to that delightful condiment. [Note received from Dr. D. P.] It is said, however, that, as the oysta rs were of the kind called natives in England, the natives of Sumatra, in obedience to a natural instinct, refused to touch them, and confined themselves entirely to the crew of the vessel in which they were brought over. This information was received from one of the oldest inhabitants, a native himself, and exceedingly fond of missionaries. He is said also to be very skilful in the cuisine peculiar to the island. During the season of gathering the pepper, the persons employed are subject to various incommodities, the chief of which is violent and long-continued sternutation, or sneezing. Such is the vehemence of these attacks, that the unfortunate subjects of them are often driven backwards for great distances at immense speed, on the well-known principle of the teolipile. Not being able to see where they are going, these poor creatures dash themselves to pieces against the rocks or are precipitated over the cliffs and thus many valuable lives are lost annually. As, during the whole pepper. harvest, they feed exclusively on this stimulant, they become ex- ceedingly irritable. The smallest injury is resented with un- governable rage. A young man suffering from the pepper-fever, as it is called, cudgelled another most severely for appropriating a superannuated relative of trifling value, and was only pacified by having a present made him of a pig of that peculiar species of swine called the Peccavi by the Catholic Jews, who, it is well known, abstain from swine's flesh in imitation of the Mahometan Buddhists. The bread-tree grows abundantly. Its branches are well known to Europe and America under the familiar name of raaccaroni. The smaller twigs are called vermicelli. They have a decided animal flavour, as may be observed in the soups containing them. Maccaroni, being tubular, is the favourite habitat of a very dangerous insect, which is rendered peculiarly ferocious by being boiled. The government of the island, therefore, never allows a stick of it to be exported without being accompanied by a piston with which its cavity may at any time be thoroughly swept out. These are commonly lost or stolen before the mac- caroni arrives among us. It thertfore always contains many of these insects, which, however, generally die of old age in the shops, so that accidents from this source are comparatively rare."

There is a satirical tinge about this, but not more than a tinge_ But compare with it the following from" Over the Teacups " " All Saturnians are born equal, live equal, and die equal. All Saturnians are born free,—free, that is, to obey the rules laid down for the regulation of their conduct, pursuits, and opinions, free to be married to the person selected for them by the physiolo- gical section of the government, and free to die at such proper period of life as may best suit the convenience and general welfare of the community. The one great industrial product of Saturn is the bread-root. The Saturnians find this wholesome and palatable enough ; and it is well they do, as they have no other vegetable. It is what I should call a most uninteresting kind of eatable, but it serves as food and drink, having juice enough, so that they get along without water. They have a tough, dry grass, which, matted together, furnishes them with clothes sufficiently warm for their cold-blooded constitutions, and uvre than suffi- ciently ugly. A piece of ground large enough to furnish bread- root for ten persons is allotted to each head of a household, allowance being made for the possible increase of families. This, however, is not a very important consideration, as the Saturnians are not a prolific race. The great object of life being the product of the largest possible quantity of bread-roots, and women not being so capable in the fields as the stronger sex, females are con- sidered an undesirable addition to society. The one thing the Saturnians dread and abhor is inequality. The whole object of their laws and customs is to maintain the strictest equality in everything,—social relations, property, so far as they can be said to have anything which can be so called, mode of living, dress, and all other matters. It is their boast that nobody ever starved under their government. Nobody goes in rags, for the coarse- fibred grass from which they fabricate their clothes is very durable. (I confess I wondered how a woman could live in Saturn. They have no looking-glasses. There is no such article as a ribbon known among them. All their clothes are of one pattern. I noticed that there were no pockets in any of their garments, and learned that a pocket would be considered prima/am evidence of theft, as no honest person would have use for such a secret recep- tacle.) Before the revolution which established the great law of absolute and lifelong equality, the inhabitants used to feed at their own private tables. Since the regeneration of society all meals are taken in common. The last relic of barbarism was the use of plates,—one or even more to each individual. This odious relic of an effete civilisation,' as they called it, has long been superseded by oblong hollow receptacles, one of which is allotted to each twelve persons. A great riot took place when an attempt was made by some fastidious and exclusive egotists to introduce _partitions which should partially divide one portion of these re- ceptacles into individual compartments. The Saturnians boast that they have no paupers, no thieves, none of those fictitious values called money,—all which things, they hear, are known in that small Saturn nearer the sun than the great planet which is their dwelling-place."

The tinge has become a very decided colour indeed here. The series to which we are most inclined to take exception is the second, "The Professor at the Breakfast-Table." We have not space to develop our reasons in detail, but we may quote from the recent preface a sentence which is in a way typical of a considerable part of it. "Faith is the most precious of possessions, and it dislikes being meddled with. It means, of course, self-trust,"—a way of putting it even more crude than what we find in the book itself, where it is modified by the clause "as an intellectual state." Surely this can only be true in the sense in which all motives, feelings, and emotions, even the most purely altruistic, can be said to be selfish. You love your neighbour because you feel it to be more pleasant, or more useful for you, to love him than not. It is not only religious faith that disappears under this process, but all faith whatsoever. Is the faith of a child in its parents' wisdom and love "a belief in the value of its own opinion " ? On the whole, we prefer St. Paul's definition, "The substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Happily, it is very seldom indeed that we find a note that jars like this. The genial humour, the mitts sapientia of the writer, illus- trated as it is by a curious learning, always felicitously used, make these conversations the most delightful of reading.

Of the "Romances," there is no need to speak. "Elsie Vernier," which everybody knows sufficiently, represents them. The characteristic of this novel is one that does not well bear repeating. The first impression that it makes is very strong. What reader does not remember the shudder that passed through him as the meaning of the story dawned upon him ? Bat the emotion once felt is not to be renewed, at least with anything like its first force. And it is not a book which one would care to take down from the shelf again and again. With all its cleverness it never could be, in this sense, a favourite.

The two volumes of essays are remarkably interesting, those distinguished as " Medical " being especially marked by literary power. The writer is put on his mettle to make them attractive, and he succeeds. We venture to think him a little hard on "Homeopathy," from which, after all, the orthodox have learnt a good deal, and which will contribute something to the eclectic medicine of the future, we might even say of the present. The other volume, "The Seasons "—Dr. Holmes is a great lover of Nature, and especially of trees— may be specially mentioned, as also a curious paper on "The Physiology of Verification." The "Hundred Days in Europe" is delightful reading, but it will probably be so fresh in the memories of our readers that we need not say more about it.

The poems would scarcely have made Dr. Holmes's reputa- tion, but they are not unworthy of it. They are largely "occasional" verses, written for academical or professional meetings, for birthdays and other anniversaries, to congratu- late the living, or to commemorate the dead ; but whatever the occasion, they are equal to it. Among the happiest specimens are the pieces which are entitled, "The Class of Twenty-nine," and there is a link of association between them which increases the interest. "The Class of Twenty-nine" was the graduating class at Harvard for that year (the year, by-the-way, in which Lord Tennyson won the Chancellor's Prize at Cambridge with " Timbuctoo ") ; and year after year, from 1851 to 1889, their meeting suggested some theme, grave or gay. It is not easy to choose; but the second half of the poem of 1885, if not better than the rest, can be easily detached :—

" Our heads with frosted locks are white,

Our roofs are thatched with snow, But red, in chilling winter's spite, Our hearts and hearthstones glow. Our old acquaintance, Time, drops in, And while the running sands Their golden thread unheeded spin, He warms his frozen hands.

Stay, winged hours, too swift, too sweet, And waft this message o'er To all we miss, from all we meet On life's fast-crumbling shore : Say that, to old affection true, We hug the narrowing chain That binds our hearts,—alas, how few The links that yet remain !

The fatal touch awaits them all That turns the rocks to dust ;

From year to year they break and fall,—

They break, but never rust.

Say if one note of happier strain

This worn-out harp afford,— One throb that trembles, not in vain,—

Their memory lent its chord.

Say that when Fancy closed her wings And Passion quenched his fire,

Love, Love, still echoed from the strings As from Anacreon's lyre !"