The Holy Cross and Other Tales, 
by Eugene 
 
The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Holy Cross and Other Tales, by 
Eugene Field, Illustrated by S. W. Van Schaik 
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Title: The Holy Cross and Other Tales 
Author: Eugene Field 
 
Release Date: June 11, 2007 [eBook #21807] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOLY 
CROSS AND OTHER TALES*** 
E-text prepared by Al Haines 
 
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The Works of Eugene Field 
Vol. V 
The Writings in Prose and Verse of Eugene Field 
THE HOLY CROSS AND OTHER TALES 
 
[Frontispiece: "Presently the whole company was moved by a gentle 
pity." Drawn by S. W. Van Schaik.] 
 
Charles Scribner's Sons New York 1911 
Copyright, 1893, by Eugene Field. 
Copyright, 1896, by Julia Sutherland Field. 
 
DEDICATED WITH LOVE 
AND GRATITUDE TO 
ROSWELL MARTIN FIELD 
 
NOTE. 
To this volume as it was originally issued have been added five Tales, 
beginning with "The Platonic Bassoon," which are characteristic of the 
various moods, serious, gay, or pathetic, out of which grew the best
work of the author's later years. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
ALAS, POOR YORICK! 
In paying a tribute to the mingled mirth and tenderness of Eugene 
Field--the poet of whose going the West may say, "He took our 
daylight with him"--one of his fellow journalists has written that he was 
a jester, but not of the kind that Shakespeare drew in Yorick. He was 
not only,--so the writer implied,--the maker of jibes and fantastic 
devices, but the bard of friendship and affection, of melodious lyrical 
conceits; he was the laureate of children--dear for his "Wynken, 
Blynken and Nod" and "Little Boy Blue"; the scholarly book-lover, 
withal, who relished and paraphrased his Horace, who wrote with 
delight a quaint archaic English of his special devising; who collected 
rare books, and brought out his own "Little Books" of "Western Verse" 
and "Profitable Tales" in high-priced limited editions, with broad 
margins of paper that moths and rust do not corrupt, but which tempts 
bibliomaniacs to break through and steal. 
For my own part, I would select Yorick as the very forecast, in 
imaginative literature, of our various Eugene. Surely Shakespeare 
conceived the "mad rogue" of Elsinore as made up of grave and gay, of 
wit and gentleness, and not as a mere clown or "jig maker." It is true 
that when Field put on his cap and bells, he too was "wont to set the 
table on a roar," as the feasters at a hundred tables, from "Casey's Table 
d'Hôte" to the banquets of the opulent East, now rise to testify. But 
Shakespeare plainly reveals, concerning Yorick, that mirth was not his 
sole attribute,--that his motley covered the sweetest nature and the 
tenderest heart. It could be no otherwise with one who loved and 
comprehended childhood and whom the children loved. And what does 
Hamlet say?--"He hath borne me upon his back a thousand times . . . 
Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft!" Of what is 
he thinking but of his boyhood, before doubts and contemplation 
wrapped him in the shadow, and when in his young grief or frolic the
gentle Yorick, with his jest, his "excellent fancy," and his songs and 
gambols, was his comrade? 
Of all moderns, then, here or in the old world, Eugene Field seems to 
be most like the survival, or revival, of the ideal jester of knightly times; 
as if Yorick himself were incarnated, or as if a superior bearer of the 
bauble at the court of Italy, or of France, or of English King Hal, had 
come to life again--as much out of time as Twain's Yankee at the Court 
of Arthur; but not out of place,--for he fitted himself as aptly to his folk 
and region as Puck to the fays and mortals of a wood near Athens. In 
the days of divine sovereignty, the jester, we see, was by all odds the 
wise man of the palace; the real fools were those he made his butt--the 
foppish pages, the obsequious courtiers, the swaggering guardsmen, the 
insolent nobles, and not seldom majesty itself. And thus it is that 
painters and romancers have loved to draw him. Who would not rather 
be Yorick than Osric, or Touchstone than Le Beau, or even poor 
Bertuccio than one of his brutal mockers? Was not the redoubtable 
Chicot, with his sword and brains,    
    
		
	
	
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