Get the full ebook with Bonus Features for a Better Reading Experience on ebookluna.

com

(eBook PDF) Modern Latin America 8th Edition

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-modern-latin-
america-8th-edition/

OR CLICK HERE

DOWLOAD NOW

Download more ebook instantly today at https://ebookluna.com

 Instant digital products (PDF, ePub, MOBI) ready for you
Download now and discover formats that fit your needs...

(eBook PDF) Modern Latin America 9th Edition

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-modern-latin-america-9th-
edition/

ebookluna.com

(eBook PDF) Colonial Latin America 8th Edition by Mark A.

Burkholder

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-colonial-latin-america-8th-
edition-by-mark-a-burkholder/

ebookluna.com

(eBook PDF) Colonial Latin America 10th Edition

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-colonial-latin-america-10th-
edition/

ebookluna.com

(eBook PDF) Colonial Latin America 9th Edition

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-colonial-latin-america-9th-
edition/

ebookluna.com
(eBook PDF) Environmental Politics in Latin America

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-environmental-politics-in-
latin-america/

ebookluna.com

(eBook PDF) Latin America: An Interpretive History 10th

Edition

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-latin-america-an-interpretive-
history-10th-edition/

ebookluna.com

(eBook PDF) A History of Latin America 9th Edition

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-a-history-of-latin-
america-9th-edition/

ebookluna.com

(eBook PDF) Social-Environmental Conflicts, Extractivism

and Human Rights in Latin America

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-social-environmental-
conflicts-extractivism-and-human-rights-in-latin-america/

ebookluna.com

(eBook PDF) Latin America and the Caribbean 6th Edition by

David L. Clawson

https://ebookluna.com/product/ebook-pdf-latin-america-and-the-
caribbean-6th-edition-by-david-l-clawson/

ebookluna.com
 C ONTENT S

preface xv
PART ONE QUESTIONS AND CONTEXTS 1

1 Why Latin America? 3

Implications for the United States 5
Contrast and Paradox 7
Interpretations of Latin America 8
Explaining Authoritarianism 9
Understanding Democracy 10
Ideas and Themes in This Book 12

2 The Colonial Foundations 16

Prelude to Conquest 16
The European Context 18
Colonial Spanish America 18
Portuguese America: A Different World? 25
Independence for Latin America 29
The Colonial Response 32
Achieving Independence 35
The Brazilian Path 37
The Aftermath of Independence 39
The Pull of the International Economy 42
viii CONTENTS

PART TWO CASE STUDIES: CHANGE OVER TIME 45

3 Mexico: The Taming of a Revolution 47

From Colony to Nationhood 47
The North American Invasion 51
Reform, Monarchy, and the Restored Republic 52
The Díaz Era: Progress at a Price 53
The Mexican Revolution 56
Politics and Policy: Patterns of Change 60
Order, Stability, and Growth 63
Reshaping Economic Policy 69
North American Free Trade 72
The System Unravels 74
The Contemporary Scene (2000–Present) 75
Return of the Leviathan? 77

4 Central America: Within the U.S. Orbit 79

From Colony to Nationhood 80
Independence Movements 82
84
Liberalism and “Republican Dictatorships”
Overview: Economic Growth and Social Change 84
Coffee and Bananas 85
Social Developments 88
Politics and Policy: Panama 88
Politics and Policy: Nicaragua 92
Politics and Policy: El Salvador 97
Politics and Policy: Guatemala 102
Politics and Policy: Honduras 106
Politics and Policy: Costa Rica 108

5 Cuba: Key Colony, Socialist State 112

From Colony to Nationhood 112
Dubious Independence 114
Overview: Economic Growth and Social Change 115
Politics and Policy: Patterns of Change 119
Fidel Castro and the Batista Regime 121
The Cuban Revolution 123
Framing U.S. Policies 127
The Bay of Pigs 128
The Missile Crisis 129
The Hardening of U.S. Policy 129
 Contents ix

Policy Experimentation 131

Consolidating the Regime134
The Contemporary Scene (1990–Present) 137

6 The Andes: Soldiers, Oligarchs,

and Indians 142
From Colony to Nationhood 143
Overview: Economic Growth and Social Change 145
Peru: From Guano to Minerals 145
Bolivia: Silver, Tin, and Gas 149
Ecuador: From Cacao to Petroleum 151
Social Transformation 153
Politics and Policy: Peru 155
Flirting with Policy Alternatives 157
The Military Revolution 160
Struggles of Civilian Governments 162
Fujimori’s Controlled Democracy 164
The Contemporary Scene (2000–Present) 165
Politics and Policy: Bolivia 166
The Chaco War (1932–1935) 168
The Revolution of 1952 170
Military Rule and Popular Resistance 171
The Contemporary Scene (2005–Present) 174
Politics and Policy: Ecuador 176
Caudillos, Conservatives, and Liberals 177
Cacao, Prosperity, and Turmoil 177
Bananas and Dictators 179
The Contemporary Scene (1979–Present) 182

7 Colombia: Civility and Violence 184

From Colony to Nationhood 184
Independence and Its Aftermath 186
Creating Political Parties 187
Rafael Núñez and the Politics of Regeneration 189
The Loss of Panama 190
Overview: Economic Growth and Social Change 191
Politics and Policy: Patterns of Change 195
Gaitán, Reaction, and La Violencia 198
The National Front 201
The Contemporary Scene (1990–Present) 204
Hard-Line Politics 208
Kinder and Gentler 209
x CONTENTS

8 Venezuela: The Perils of Prosperity 212

From Colony to Nationhood 212
Coffee and Caudillos 215
Gunboats and Diplomacy 216
Overview: Economic Growth and Social Change 219
Politics and Policy: Patterns of Change 222
Punto Fijo Democracy 224
Ossification of the System 226
The Contemporary Scene (1998–Present) 228
Conflicts with Uncle Sam 231
The Limits of Participatory Democracy 232
Chavismo without Chávez? 234

9 Argentina: Progress, Stalemate, Discord 236

From Colony to Nationhood 236
Struggles for Supremacy 238
Overview: Economic Growth and Social Change 240
Politics and Policy: Patterns of Change 244
The Military Turns Back the Clock 247
Peronism and Perón 250
Stop-and-Go Politics 254
The Bureaucratic-Authoritarian Solution 256
Peronists Back in Power 258
The Military Returns 259
The Contemporary Scene (1983–Present) 261
The Unperonist Peronist 263
The Kirchner Era 266

10 Chile: Repression and Democracy 268

From Colony to Nationhood 268
Overview: Economic Growth and Social Change 270
Politics and Policy: Patterns of Change 274
From Instability to Popular Front 277
The Era of Party Politics 280
Socialism via Democracy? 284
Countdown to a Coup 286
The Pinochet Regime 290
The Contemporary Scene (1990–Present) 293
 Contents xi

11 Brazil: The Awakening Giant 296

From Colony to Nationhood 296
Dom Pedro I (1822–1831) 298
Dom Pedro II (1840–1889) 301
End of the Empire 303
Overview: Economic Growth and Social Change 305
Politics and Policy: Patterns of Change 311
The First Republic (1889–1930) 311
Getúlio Vargas and the Estado Novo 314
The Second Republic (1946–1964) 319
Military Rule 326
From Liberalization to Redemocratization 329
The Contemporary Scene (1994–Present) 333
Brazil’s First Working-Class President 334
End of an Era? 338

PART THREE THEMES AND REFLECTIONS 341

12 Strategies for Economic Development 343

Narratives of Backwardness 344
The Liberal Era (1880s-1920s) 345
Social Transformations under Liberalism 348
Import-Substitution Industrialization (ISI) (1930s–1970s) 350
ISI in Theory 351
ISI in Practice 352
The Socialist Alternative (1950s–1980s) 354
Revolutionary Movements 356
Neoliberalism (1980s–present) 358
Free Trade 360
Countermoves 362
The Crash of 2008 364
Poverty and Inequality 365
Inequality and Income Distribution 367

13 Dynamics of Political Transformation 370

Categories for Analysis 370
Oligarchic Rule and Top-Down Reform (1880s–1920s) 371
Co-optative Democracy 373
Populism and Dictatorship (1930s–1970s) 373
Women and Politics 375
A Surge of Democracy 376
Bureaucratic-Authoritarian Regimes 378
xii CONTENTS

The Revolutionary Path (1950s–1980s) 380

Liberation Theology 383
An Expansion of Democracy (1980s–Present) 384
Empowerment of Women 387
The Rise of the New Left 388
The Pulse of Democratic Change 390
Dangers of Democracy 391
Democracy Made Safe 392
Democracy Turns Left 394

14 Culture and Society 396

From Colonies to Nations 397
Romanticism, Indians, and Slaves 398
Literature, Art, and New Ideas in a World Economy 401
Realism and Naturalism 403
Modernism 405
Nationalism, Radical Politics, and Turbulent Times 407
Brazilian Modernism 408
Revolutionary Art and Literature 409
Rethinking Race 412
The Making of Mass Media 414
Popular Culture, Theater, and Sports 415
Latin American Culture Enters a World Market 416
Innovative Architecture 417
Revolutionary Culture 420
The Literary Boom 421
Dictatorship, Democracy, and New Social Movements 425
Films, Pop Music, and the Internet 428

15 Latin America in the World Arena,

1800s–1980s 431
Imperialism in the Americas 431
America’s Aspirations 433
The Rise of U.S. Influence 437
Consolidating U.S. Power 440
The Cold War 445
The Logic of the Cold War 445
Cold War in Latin America 446
The Nationalist Impulse 450
The Revolutionary Challenge 452
The Alliance for Progress 455
Development and Debt 457
 Contents xiii

16 Latin America in the World Arena,

1990s–Present 460
After the Cold War 460
Bill Clinton and Latin America 462
Wars on Terror 464
George Bush and Latin America 466
Barack Obama and Latin America 468
Confronting the United States 469
Mexico 470
Brazil 470
Venezuela 472
Seeking Outside Allies 473
The Intermestic Agenda 475
Immigration 475
Drug Trafficking 478
Drug Policy Debates 482
Perspectives on the Future 484

glossary 487
index 493
 PR EFACE

T his new edition took much more work than we ever imagined. Early on, we
not only decided to bring the contents up-to-date but also determined to
make the book more accessible and teachable. We discussed pedagogical issues,
traded notes on classroom experiences, and tried to imagine anew the kind of
book that would best meet the needs of colleagues and students.

NEW TO THIS EDITION

As our conversations progressed, we realized that this challenge would require
wholesale rewriting and restructuring of Modern Latin America. Toward this end,
we have
• Rewritten the introduction and carefully reviewed our coverage of the
colonial era (Chapters 1–2)
• Revised and updated each and every one of the individual country studies
(Chapters 3–11)
• Added new material on poverty and inequality to our overview of eco-
nomic strategies (Chapter 12)
• Included a new interpretation of “the dialectic of democracy” in the study
of political transformation (Chapter 13)
• Incorporated analysis of the Internet and social media in our treatment of
culture and society (Chapter 14)
• Composed two entirely new chapters on Latin America’s changing place in
the world arena and relations with the United States—one stretching from
the early nineteenth century to the end of the Cold War, the other extend-
ing from 1990 to the present time (Chapters 15 and 16)
• Included a 16-page, four-color “photo album” of people and scenes from
all over Latin America
xvi PREFACE

Throughout the text we have added maps and illustrations, reorganized the pre-
sentation, and done everything within our powers to enhance clarity and parsi-
mony of expression. This represents our very best effort.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We are pleased to acknowledge the very capable research assistance of Adam
Waters, Cameron Parsons, and Clemente Vila, undergraduates at Brown University,
and Kathryn Dove, a graduate student in political science at the University of
California, San Diego. Douglas Cope offered insightful comments on our chapter
about the colonial era.We also wish to thank anonymous colleagues whose sage
advice provided thoughtful and constructive ideas about revisions for this edition.
Last, we extend our gratitude and admiration to the peoples of Latin America.
This is their story. As foreign scholars, we can only hope to have done it justice.
T. E. S.
P. H. S.
J. N. G.
June 2013
Located in northern Guatemala, Tikal Temple I, also known as the Temple of the Great
Jaguar, is a major structure at Tikal, one of the largest cities of the Maya civilization. (Photo
Credit: Dennis Archer)

Built atop the sacred area in Tenochtitlán, the capital of the Aztec empire, the Metropolitan
Cathedral of Mexico City is the oldest and largest Roman Catholic cathedral in the Ameri-
cas. (Photo Credit: Francisco Diez)

⣔
ILLUSTRATIONS ASSEMBLED BY CAMERON PARSONS
Granite monoliths known as “Las Torres” are shaped by the movements of glacial ice in
Torres del Paine National Park, Chile. (Photo Credit: Cameron Parsons)

The San Francisco Convent in Valparaíso, Chile, as viewed from the Los Placeres Mountains.
(Photo Credit: By Naxsquire (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via
Wikimedia Commons)
Looming above the Plaza de la Revolución in downtown Havana is a monument to José
Martí, the late-nineteenth-century advocate and martyr for Cuban independence.
(Photo Credit: Copyright Joel Blit)

An old U.S. convertible sits outside the capitol in Havana, a reflection of American influence
on the island prior to the Revolution. (Photo Credit: Gretchen Gerlach)
Entering electoral politics in the early 1990s and focusing on poverty and inequality, Evo
Morales became the first indigenous person to be elected president of Bolivia in 2005.
(Photo Credit: Sebastian Baryli)

The national congress stands to witness the second inauguration of Evo Morales as president
of Bolivia in 2011. (Photo Credit: Ricardo Stuckert/PR [Agência Brasil])
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
 FROM “PUDD’NHEAD WILSON’S
CALENDAR” (1892–3)

Tell the truth or trump—but get the trick.

Adam was but human—this explains it all. He did not want the
apple for the apple’s sake, he wanted it only because it was
forbidden. The mistake was in not forbidding the serpent. Then he
would have eaten the serpent.

Whosoever has lived long enough to find out what life is, knows
how deep a debt of gratitude we owe to Adam, the first great
benefactor of our race. He brought death into the world.

Adam and Eve had many advantages, but the principal one was,
that they escaped teething.

There is this trouble about special providences—namely, there is

so often a doubt as to which party was intended to be the beneficiary.
In the case of the children, the bears, and the prophet, the bears got
more real satisfaction out of the episode than the prophet did,
because they got the children.

Training is everything. The peach was once a bitter almond;

cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education.
 Remarks of Dr. Baldwin’s, concerning upstarts: We don’t care to
eat toadstools that think they are truffles.

Let us endeavor so to live that when we come to die even the

undertaker will be sorry.

Habit is habit, and not to be flung out of the window by any man,
but coaxed down-stairs a step at a time.

One of the most striking differences between a cat and a lie is that
a cat has only nine lives.

The holy passion of Friendship is of so sweet and steady and loyal

and enduring a nature that it will last through a whole lifetime, if not
asked to lend money.

Consider well the proportions of things. It is better to be a young

junebug than an old bird of paradise.

Why is it that we rejoice at birth and grieve at a funeral? It is

because we are not the person involved.

It is easy to find fault, if one has that disposition. There was once a
man who, not being able to find any other fault with his coal,
complained that there were too many prehistoric toads in it.

All say, “How hard it is that we have to die”—a strange complaint

to come from the mouths of people who have had to live.

When angry, count four; when very angry, swear.

 There are three infallible ways of pleasing an author, and the three
form a rising scale of compliment: 1, to tell him you have read one of
his books; 2, to tell him you have read all of his books; 3, to ask him
to let you read the manuscript of his forthcoming book. No. 1 admits
you to his respect; No. 2 admits you to his admiration; No. 3 carries
you clear into his heart.

As to the Adjective: when in doubt, strike it out.

Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear—not absence of fear.

Except a creature be part coward it is not a compliment to say it is
brave; it is merely a loose misapplication of the word. Consider the
flea!—incomparably the bravest of all the creatures of God, if
ignorance of fear were courage. Whether you are asleep or awake he
will attack you, caring nothing for the fact that in bulk and strength
you are to him as are the massed armies of the earth to a sucking
child; he lives both day and night and all days and nights in the very
lap of peril and the immediate presence of death, and yet is no more
afraid than is the man who walks the streets of a city that was
threatened by an earthquake ten centuries before. When we speak of
Clive, Nelson and Putman as men who “didn’t know what fear was,”
we ought always to add the flea—and put him at the head of the
procession.

When I reflect upon the number of disagreeable people who I

know have gone to a better world, I am moved to lead a different life.

October. This is one of the peculiarly dangerous months to

speculate in stocks in. The others are July, January, September,
April, November, May, March, June, December, August, and
February.

The true Southern watermelon is a boon apart, and not to be

mentioned with commoner things. It is chief of this world’s luxuries,
king by the grace of God over all the fruits of the earth. When one has
tasted it, he knows what the angels eat. It was not a southern
watermelon that Eve took: we know it because she repented.

Nothing so needs reforming as other people’s habits.

Behold, the fool saith, “Put not all thine eggs in the one basket”—
which is but a manner of saying, “Scatter your money and your
attention”; but the wise man saith, “Put all your eggs in the one
basket and—watch that basket.”

If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not
bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and a man.

We know all about the habits of the ant, we know all about the
habits of the bee, but we know nothing at all about the habits of the
oyster. It seems almost certain that we have been choosing the wrong
time for studying the oyster.

Even popularity can be overdone. In Rome, along at first, you are

full of regrets that Michelangelo died; but by and by you only regret
that you didn’t see him do it.

July 4. Statistics show that we lose more fools on this day than on
all the other days of the year put together. This proves, by the
number left in stock, that one Fourth of July per year is now
inadequate, the country has grown so.

Thanksgiving Day. Let all give humble, hearty, and sincere thanks,
now, but the turkeys. In the island of Fiji they do not use turkeys;
they use plumbers. It does not become you and me to sneer at Fiji.
 Few things are harder to put up with than the annoyance of a good
example.

It were not best that we should all think alike; it is difference of

opinion that makes horse races.

Even the clearest and most perfect circumstantial evidence is likely

to be at fault, after all, and therefore ought to be received with great
caution. Take the case of any pencil, sharpened by any woman: if you
have witnesses, you will find she did it with a knife; but if you take
simply the aspect of the pencil, you will say she did it with her teeth.

April 1. This the day upon which we are reminded of what we are
on the other three hundred and sixty-four.

It is often the case that the man who can’t tell a lie thinks he is the
best judge of one.

October 12, the Discovery. It was wonderful to find America, but it

would have been more wonderful to miss it.
FROM “THE PRIVATE HISTORY OF A
CAMPAIGN THAT FAILED” (1885)
 The Marion Rangers
You have heard from a great many people who did something in
the war; is it not fair and right that you listen a little moment to one
who started out to do something in it, but didn’t? Thousands entered
the war, got just a taste of it, and then stepped out again
permanently....
In that summer—of 1861—the first wash of the wave of war broke
upon the shores of Missouri. Our state was invaded by the Union
forces. They took possession of St. Louis, Jefferson Barracks, and
some other points. The Governor, Calib Jackson, issued his
proclamation calling out fifty thousand militia to repel the invader.
I was visiting in the small town where my boyhood had been spent
—Hannibal, Marion County. Several of us got together in a secret
place by night and formed ourselves into a military company. One
Tom Lyman, a young fellow of a good deal of spirit but of no military
experience, was made captain; I was made second lieutenant. We
had no first lieutenant; I do not know why; it was long ago. There
were fifteen of us. By the advice of an innocent connected with the
organization we called ourselves the Marion Rangers. I do not
remember that any one found fault with the name. I did not; I
thought it sounded quite well. The young fellow who proposed this
title was perhaps a fair sample of the kind of stuff we were made of.
He was young, ignorant, good-natured, well-meaning, trivial, full of
romance, and given to reading chivalric novels and singing forlorn
love ditties. He had some pathetic little nickel-plated aristocratic
instincts, and detested his name, which was Dunlap; detested it
partly because it was nearly as common in that region as Smith, but
mainly because it had a plebeian sound to his ear. So he tried to
ennoble it by writing it in this way: d’Unlap. That contented his eye,
but left his ear unsatisfied, for people gave the new name the same
old pronunciation—emphasis on the front end of it. He then did the
bravest thing that can be imagined—a thing to make one shiver when
one remembers how the world is given to resenting shams and
affectations; he began to write his name so: d’Un Lap. And he waited
patiently through the long storm of mud that was flung at this work
of art, and he had his reward at last; for he lived to see that name
accepted, and the emphasis put where he wanted it by people who
had known him all his life, and to whom the tribe of Dunlaps had
been as familiar as the rain and sunshine for forty years. So sure of
victory at last is the courage that can wait. He said he had found, by
consulting some ancient French chronicles, that the name was rightly
and originally written d’Un Lap; and said that if it were translated
into English it would mean Peterson: Lap, Latin or Greek, he said,
for stone or rock, same as the French pierre, that is to say Peter; d’ of
or from; un, a or one; hence, d’Un Lap, of or from a stone or a Peter;
that is to say, one who is the son of a stone, the son of a Peter—
Peterson. Our militia company were not learned, and the explanation
confused them; so they called him Peterson Dunlap. He proved
useful to us in his way; he named our camps for us, and he generally
struck a name that was “no slouch,” as the boys said.
That is one sample of us. Another was Ed Stevens, son of the town
jeweler—trim built, handsome, graceful, neat as a cat; bright,
educated, but given over entirely to fun. There was nothing serious in
life to him. As far as he was concerned, this military expedition of
ours was simply a holiday. I should say that about half of us looked
upon it in the same way; not consciously perhaps, but unconsciously.
We did not think; we were not capable of it. As for myself, I was full
of unreasoning joy to be done with turning out of bed at midnight
and four in the morning for a while; grateful to have a change, new
scenes, new occupations, a new interest. In my thoughts that was as
far as I went; I did not go into the details; as a rule, one doesn’t at
twenty-four.
Another sample was Smith, the blacksmith’s apprentice. This vast
donkey had some pluck, of a slow and sluggish nature, but a soft
heart; at one time he would knock a horse down for some
impropriety, and at another he would get homesick and cry.
However, he had one ultimate credit to his account which some of us
hadn’t; he stuck to the war, and was killed in battle at last.
Jo Bowers, another sample, was a huge, good-natured, flax-headed
lubber; lazy, sentimental, full of harmless brag, a grumbler by
nature; an experienced, industrious, ambitious, and often quite
picturesque liar, and yet not a successful one, for he had had no
intelligent training, but was allowed to come up just anyway. This life
was serious enough to him, and seldom satisfactory. But he was a
good fellow, anyway, and the boys all liked him. He was made
orderly sergeant; Stevens was made corporal.
These samples will answer—and they are quite fair ones. Well, this
herd of cattle started for the war. What could you expect of them?
They did as well as they knew how; but really what was justly to be
expected of them? Nothing, I should say. That is what they did....
For a time life was idly delicious, it was perfect; there was nothing
to mar it. Then came some farmers with an alarm one day. They said
it was rumored that the enemy were advancing in our direction from
over Hyde’s Prairie. The result was a sharp stir among us and general
consternation. It was a rude awakening from our pleasant trance.
The rumor was but a rumor—nothing definite about it; so, in the
confusion, we did not know which way to retreat. Lyman was for not
retreating at all, in these uncertain circumstances; but he found that
if he tried to maintain that attitude he would fare badly, for the
command were in no humor to put up with insubordination. So he
yielded the point and called a council of war—to consist of himself
and the three other officers; but the privates made such a fuss about
being left out that we had to allow them to remain, for they were
already present, and doing the most of the talking, too. The question
was, which way to retreat; but all were so flurried that nobody
seemed to have even a guess to offer. Except Lyman. He explained in
a few calm words that, inasmuch as the enemy was approaching from
over Hyde’s Prairie, our course was simple; all we had to do was not
to retreat towards him; any other direction would answer our needs
perfectly. Everybody saw in a moment how true this was, and how
wise; so Lyman got a great many compliments. It was now decided
that we should fall back on Mason’s farm.
It was after dark by this time, and as we could not know how soon
the enemy might arrive, it did not seem best to try to take the horses
and things with us; so we only took the guns and ammunition, and
started at once.
We heard a sound, and held our breath and listened, and it seemed
to be the enemy coming, though it could have been a cow, for it had a
cough like a cow; but we did not wait, but left a couple of guns
behind and struck out for Mason’s again, as briskly as we could
scramble along in the dark. But we got lost presently among the
rugged little ravines, and wasted a deal of time finding the way again,
so it was after nine o’clock when we reached Mason’s stile at last; and
then before we could open our mouths to give the countersign
several dogs came bounding over the fence, with great riot and noise,
and each of them took a soldier by the slack of his trousers and began
to back away with him. We could not shoot the dogs without
endangering the persons they were attached to; so we had to look on
helplessly, at what was perhaps the most mortifying spectacle of the
Civil War. There was light enough, and to spare, for the Masons had
now run out on the porch with candles in their hands. The old man
and his son came and undid the dogs without difficulty, all but
Bowers’s; but they couldn’t undo his dog, they didn’t know his
combination; he was of the bull kind, and seemed to be set with a
Yale time-lock; but they got him loose at last with some scalding
water, of which Bowers got his share and returned thanks.
FROM “THE PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS
OF JOAN OF ARC”
 Joan
To arrive at a just estimate of a renowned man’s character one
must judge it by the standards of his time, not ours. Judged by the
standards of one century, the noblest characters of an earlier one lose
much of their luster; judged by the standards of to-day, there is
probably no illustrious man of four or five centuries ago whose
character could meet the test at all points. But the character of Joan
of Arc is unique. It can be measured by the standards of all times
without misgiving or apprehension as to the result. Judged by any of
them, judged by all of them, it is still flawless, it is still ideally
perfect; it still occupies the loftiest place possible to human
attainment, a loftier one than has been reached by any other mere
mortal.
When we reflect that her century was the brutalest, the wickedest,
the rottenest in history since the darkest ages, we are lost in wonder
at the miracle of such a product from such a soil. The contrast
between her and her century is the contrast between day and night.
She was truthful when lying was the common speech of men; she was
honest when honesty was become a lost virtue; she was a keeper of
promises when the keeping of a promise was expected of no one; she
gave her great mind to great thoughts and great purposes when other
great minds wasted themselves upon pretty fancies or upon poor
ambitions; she was modest, and fine, and delicate, when to be loud
and coarse might be said to be universal; she was full of pity when a
merciless cruelty was the rule; she was steadfast when stability was
unknown, and honorable in an age which had forgotten what honor
was; she was a rock of convictions in a time when men believed in
nothing and scoffed at all things; she was unfailingly true in an age
that was false to the core; she maintained her personal dignity
unimpaired in an age of fawnings and servilities; she was of a
dauntless courage when hope and courage had perished in the hearts
of her nation; she was spotlessly pure in mind and body when society
in the highest places was foul in both—she was all these things in an
age when crime was the common business of lords and princes, and
when the highest personages in Christendom were able to astonish
even that infamous era and make it stand aghast at the spectacle of
their atrocious lives black with unimaginable treacheries, butcheries,
and bestialities.
She was perhaps the only entirely unselfish person whose name
has a place in profane history. No vestige or suggestion of self-
seeking can be found in any word or deed of hers. When she had
rescued her king from his vagabondage, and set his crown upon his
head she was offered rewards and honors, but she refused them all,
and would take nothing. All she would take for herself—if the king
would grant it—was leave to go back to her village home, and tend
her sheep again, and feel her mother’s arms about her, and be her
housemaid and helper. The selfishness of this unspoiled general of
victorious army, companion of princes, an idol of an applauding and
grateful nation, reached but that far and no farther.
 The Fairy Tree
In a noble open space carpeted with grass on the high ground
toward Vaucouleur stood a most majestic beech tree with wide-
reaching arms and a grand spread of shade, and by it a limpid spring
of cold water; and on summer days the children went there—oh,
every summer for more than five hundred years—went there and
sang and danced around the tree for hours together, refreshing
themselves at the spring from time to time, and it was most lovely
and enjoyable. Also they made wreaths of flowers and hung them
upon the tree and about the spring to please the fairies that lived
there; for they liked that, being idle innocent little creatures, as all
fairies are and fond of anything delicate and pretty like wild flowers
put together in that way. And in return for this attention the fairies
did any friendly thing they could for the children, such as keeping the
spring always full and clear and cold, and driving away serpents and
insects that sting; and so there was never any unkindness between
the fairies and the children during more than five hundred years—
tradition said a thousand—but only the warmest affection and the
most perfect trust and confidence; and whenever a child died the
fairies mourned just as that child’s playmates did, and the sign of it
was there to see; for before the dawn on the day of the funeral they
hung a little immortelle over the place where the child was used to sit
under the tree. I know this to be true by my own eyes; it is not
hearsay. And the reason it was known that the fairies did it was this—
that it was made all of black flowers of a sort not known in France
anywhere.
Now from time immemorial all children reared in Domremy were
called the Children of the Tree; and they loved that name, for it
carried with it a mystic privilege not granted to any other of the
children of this world. Which was this: whenever one of these came
to die, then beyond the vague and formless images drifting through
his darkening mind rose soft and rich and fair a vision of the tree—if
all was well with his soul. That was what some said. Others said the
vision came in two ways: once as a warning, one or two years in
advance of death, when the soul was the captive of sin, and then the
tree appeared in its desolate winter aspect—then that soul was
smitten with an awful fear. If repentance came, and purity of life the
vision came again, this time summer-clad and beautiful; but if it
were otherwise with that soul the vision was withheld, and it passed
from life knowing its doom. Still others said that the vision came but
once and then only to the sinless dying forlorn in distant lands and
pitifully longing for some last dear reminder of their home. And what
reminder of it could go to their hearts like the picture of the tree that
was the darling of their love and the comrade of their joys and
comforter of their small griefs all through the divine days of their
vanished youth?
Now the several traditions were as I have said, some believing one
and some another. One of them I know to be the truth, and that was
the last one. I do not say anything against the others; I think they
were true, but I only know that the last one was; and it is my thought
that if one keep to the things he knows, and not trouble about the
things which he cannot be sure about, he will have the steadier mind
for it—and there is profit in that. I know that when the children of
the tree die in a far land, then—if they be at peace with God—they
turn their longing eyes toward home, and there, far-shining, as
through a rift in a cloud that curtains heaven, they see the soft
picture of the fairy tree, clothed in a dream of golden light; and they
see the blooming meads sloping away to the river, and to their
perishing nostrils is blown faint and sweet the fragrance of the
flowers of home. And then the vision fades and passes—but they
know, they know! and by their transfigured faces you know also, you
stand looking on; yes, you know the message that has come, and that
it has come from heaven.
Joan and I believed alike about this matter. But Pierre Morel, and
Jacques d’Arc and many others believed that the vision appeared
twice—to a sinner. In fact, they and many others said they knew it.
Probably because their fathers had known it and had told them; for
one gets most things at second hand in this world....
Always, from the remotest times, when the children joined hands
and danced around the fairy tree they sang the song which was the
tree’s song, the song of L’Arbre Fée de Bourlemont. They sang it to a
quaint sweet air—a solacing sweet air which has gone murmuring
through my dreaming spirit all my life when I was weary and
troubled, resting me and carrying me through night and distance
home again. No stranger can know or feel what that song has been
through the drifting centuries to exiled Children of the Tree,
homeless and heavy of heart in countries foreign to their speech and
ways. You will think it a simple thing, that song, and poor,
perchance; but if you will remember what it was to us, and what it
brought before our eyes when it floated through our memories, then
you will respect it. And you will understand how the water wells up
in our eyes and makes all things dim, and our voices break and we
cannot sing the last lines:

“And when, in exile wand’ring, we

Shall fainting yearn for glimpse of thee,
Oh, rise upon our sight!”

and you will remember that Joan of Arc sang this song with us
around the tree when she was a little child, and always loved it. And
that hallows it, yes, you will grant that:
 L’Arbre Fée de Bourlemont.
Song of the children
Now what has kept your leaves so green,
Arbre Fée de Bourlemont?
The children’s tears! they brought each grief,
And you did comfort them and cheer
Their bruised hearts, and steal a tear
That, healèd, rose, a leaf.

And what has built you up so strong,

Arbre Fée de Bourlemont?
The children’s love! they’ve loved you long:
Ten hundred years, in sooth,
They’ve nourished you with praise and song,
And warmed your heart and kept it young—
A thousand years of youth!

Bide always green in our young hearts,

Arbre Fée de Bourlemont!
And we shall always youthful be,
Not heeding Time his flight;
And when, in exile wand’ring, we
Shall fainting yearn for glimpse of thee,
Oh, rise upon our sight!
 Joan Before Rheims
We marched, marched, kept on marching; and at last, on the 16th
of July, we came in sight of our goal and saw the great cathedral
towers of Rheims rise out of the distance! Huzza after huzza swept
the army from van to rear; and as for Joan of Arc, there where she
sat her horse, gazing, clothed all in white armor, dreamy, beautiful,
and in her face a deep, deep joy, a joy not of earth, oh, she was not
flesh, she was a spirit! Her sublime mission was closing—closing in
flawless triumph. To-morrow she could say, “It is finished—let me go
free.”
 Joan’s Reward
The fantastic dream, the incredible dream, the impossible dream
of the peasant child stood fulfilled; the English power was broken,
the heir of France was crowned.
She was like one transfigured, so divine was the joy that shone in
her face as she sank to her knees at the king’s feet and looked up at
him through her tears. Her lips were quivering, and her words came
soft and low and broken:
“Now, O gentle king, is the pleasure of God accomplished
according to his command that you should come to Rheims and
receive the crown that belongeth of right to you, and unto none
other. My work which was given me to do is finished; give me your
peace, and let me go back to my mother, who is poor and old, and
has need of me.”
The king raised her up, and there before all that host he praised
her great deeds in most noble terms; and there he confirmed her
nobility and titles, making her the equal of a count in rank, and also
appointed a household and officers for her according to her dignity;
and then he said:
“You have saved the crown. Speak—require—demand; and
whatsoever grace you ask it shall be granted, though it make the
kingdom poor to meet it.”
Now that was fine, that was loyal. Joan was on her knees again
straightway, and said:
“Then, O gentle king, if out of your compassion you will speak the
word, I pray you give commandment that my village, poor and hard-
pressed by reason of the war, may have its taxes remitted.”
“It is so commanded. Say on.”
“That is all.”
“All? Nothing but that?”
“It is all. I have no other desire.”
“But that is nothing—less than nothing. Ask—do not be afraid.”
 “Indeed, I cannot, gentle king. Do not press me. I will not have
aught else, but only this alone.”
The king seemed nonplussed, and stood still a moment, as if trying
to comprehend and realize the full stature of this strange
unselfishness. Then he raised his head and said:
“She has won a kingdom and crowned its king; and all she asks
and all she will take is this poor grace—and even this is for others,
not for herself. And it is well; her act being proportioned to the
dignity of one who carries in her head and heart riches which
outvalue any that any king could add, though he gave his all. She
shall have her way. Now, therefore, it is decreed that from this day
forth Domremy, natal village of Joan of Arc, Deliverer of France,
called the Maid of Orleans, is freed from all taxation forever.”
 FROM “SAINT JOAN OF ARC” (1899)

There is no one to compare her with, none to measure her by; for
all others among the illustrious grew towards their high place in an
atmosphere and surroundings which discovered their gift to them
and nourished it and promoted it, intentionally or unconsciously.
There have been other young generals, but they were not girls; young
generals, but they have been soldiers before they were generals: she
began as a general. She commanded the first army she ever saw; she
led it from victory to victory, and never lost a battle with it; there
have been young commanders-in-chief, but none so young as she:
she is the only soldier in history who has held the supreme command
of a nation’s armies at the age of seventeen.
 FROM “FOLLOWING THE EQUATOR”
Pudd’nhead Wilson’s New Calendar
(1896–7)

A man may have no bad habits and have worse.

When in doubt, tell the truth.

It is more trouble to make a maxim than it is to do right.

A dozen direct censures are easier to bear than one morganatic

compliment.

Noise proves nothing. Often a hen who has merely laid an egg
cackles as if she had laid an asteroid.

He was as shy as a newspaper is when referring to its own merits.

Truth is the most valuable thing we have. Let us economize it.

It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no

distinctly native American criminal class except Congress.

It is your human environment that makes climate.

 Everything human is pathetic. The secret source of Humor itself is
not joy but sorrow. There is no humor in heaven.

We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom

that is in it—and stop there; lest we be like the cat that sits down on a
hot stove-lid. She will never sit down on a hot stove-lid again—and
that is well; but also she will never sit down on a cold one any more.

There are those who scoff at the schoolboy, calling him frivolous
and shallow. Yet it was the schoolboy who said, “Faith is believing
what you know ain’t so.”

We can secure other people’s approval, if we do right and try hard;

but our own is worth a hundred of it, and no way has been found out
of securing that.

Truth is stranger than fiction—to some people, but I am

measurably familiar with it. Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is
because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn’t.

There is a Moral Sense, and there is an Immoral Sense. History

shows us that the Moral Sense enables us to perceive morality and
how to avoid it, and that the Immoral Sense enables us to perceive
immorality and how to enjoy it.

The English are mentioned in the Bible: Blessed are the meek, for
they shall inherit the earth.

It is easier to stay out than to get out.

Pity is for the living, envy is for the dead.

 It is by the goodness of God that in our country we have those
three unspeakably precious things: Freedom of speech, freedom of
conscience, and the prudence never to practice either of them.

Man will do many things to get himself loved, he will do all things
to get himself envied.

Nothing is so ignorant as a man’s left hand, except a lady’s watch.

Be careless in your dress if you must, but keep a tidy soul.

There is no such thing as “the Queen’s English.” The property has

gone into the hands of a joint stock company and we own the bulk of
the shares.

“Classic.” A book which people praise and don’t read.

There are people who can do all fine and heroic things but one:
keep from telling their happiness to the unhappy.

Man is the Only Animal that Blushes. Or needs to.

The universal brotherhood of man is our most precious

possession, what there is of it.

Let us be thankful for the fools. But for them the rest of us could
not succeed.

When people do not respect us we are sharply offended; yet deep

down in his private heart no man much respects himself.
 Nature makes the locust with an appetite for crops: man would
have made him with an appetite for sand.

The spirit of wrath—not the words—is the sin; and the spirit of
wrath is cursing. We begin to swear before we can talk.

The man with a new idea is a Crank till the idea succeeds.

Let us be grateful to Adam our benefactor. He cut us out of the

“blessing” of idleness and won for us the “curse” of labor.

Let us not be too particular. It is better to have old second-hand

diamonds than none at all.

The Autocrat of Russia possesses more power than any other man
in the earth; but he cannot stop a sneeze.

There are several good protections against temptations, but the

surest is cowardice.

Names are not always what they seem. The common Welsh name
Bzjxxllwcp is pronounced Jackson.

To succeed in the other trades, capacity must be shown; in the law,

concealment of it will do.

Prosperity is the best protector of principle.

By trying we can easily learn to endure adversity. Another man’s, I

mean.
 Few of us can stand prosperity. Another man’s, I mean.

There is an old time toast which is golden for its beauty. “When
you ascend the hill of prosperity may you not meet a friend.”

Each person is born to one possession which outvalues all his

others—his last breath.

Hunger is the handmaid of genius.

The old saw says, “Let a sleeping dog lie.” Right. Still, when there
is much at stake it is better to get a newspaper to do it.

It takes your enemy and your friend, working together, to hurt you
to the heart; the one to slander you and the other to get the news to
you.

If the desire to kill and the opportunity to kill came always

together, who would escape hanging?

Simple rules for saving money: To save half, when you are fired by
an eager impulse to contribute to a charity, wait, and count forty. To
save three-quarters, count sixty. To save it all, count sixty-five.

Grief can take care of itself; but to get the full value of a joy you
must have somebody to divide it with.

He had had much experience of physicians, and said “the only way
to keep your health is to eat what you don’t want, drink what you
don’t like, and do what you’d druther not.”
 The man who is ostentatious of his modesty is twin to the statue
that wears a fig-leaf.

Let me make the superstitions of a nation and I care not who

makes its laws or its songs either.

Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been.

Do not undervalue the headache. While it is at its sharpest it seems

a bad investment; but when relief begins the unexpired remainder is
worth $4.00 a minute.

True irreverence is disrespect to another man’s god.

There are two times in a man’s life when he should not speculate:
when he can’t afford it, and when he can.

She was not quite what you would call refined. She was not quite
what you would call unrefined. She was the kind of person that keeps
a parrot.

Make it a point to do something every day that you don’t want to

do. This is the golden rule for acquiring the habit of doing your duty
without pain.

Don’t part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still
exist but you have ceased to live.

Often, the surest way to convey misinformation is to tell the truth.

Satan (impatiently) to Newcomer: The trouble with you Chicago
people is, that you think you are the best people down here; whereas
you are merely the most numerous.

In the first place God made idiots. This was for practice. Then He
made School Boards.

There are no people who are quite so vulgar as the over-refined

ones.

In statesmanship get the formalities right, never mind about the

moralities.

Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to

anybody.

The very ink with which all history is written is merely fluid
prejudice.

There isn’t a Parallel of Latitude but thinks it would have been the
Equator if it had had its rights.

I have traveled more than any one else, and I have noticed that
even the angels speak English with an accent.
 Art
Whenever I enjoy anything in Art it means that it is mighty poor.
The private knowledge of this fact has saved me from going to pieces
with enthusiasm in front of many and many a chromo.
 Italian Cigars
In Italy, as in France, the Government is the only cigar-peddler.
Italy has three or four domestic brands: the Minghetti, the Trabuco,
the Virginia, and a very coarse one which is a modification of the
Virginia. The Minghettis are large and comely, and cost three dollars
and sixty cents a hundred; I can smoke a hundred in seven days and
enjoy every one of them. The Trabucos suit me, too; I don’t
remember the price. But one has to learn to like the Virginia, nobody
is born friendly to it. It looks like a rat-tail file, but smokes better,
some think. It has a straw through it; you pull this out, and it leaves a
flue, otherwise there would be no draught, not even as much as there
is to a nail. Some prefer a nail at first.