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diff --git a/old/11087-8.txt b/old/11087-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fa8cc1e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11087-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9206 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Atlantic Monthly, Volume 6, Issue 35, +September, 1860, by Various + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Atlantic Monthly, Volume 6, Issue 35, September, 1860 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 15, 2004 [eBook #11087] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY, VOLUME 6, ISSUE +35, SEPTEMBER, 1860*** + + +E-text prepared by Joshua Hutchinson, Tonya Allen, and Project Gutenberg +Distributed Proofreaders + + + +THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + +A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS. + +VOL. VI--SEPTEMBER, 1860.--NO. XXXV. + + + + + + + +AMONG THE TREES. + + +In our studies of Trees, we cannot fail to be impressed with their +importance not only to the beauty of landscape, but also in the economy +of life; and we are convinced that in no other part of the vegetable +creation has Nature done so much to provide at once for the comfort, the +sustenance, and the protection of her creatures. They afford the wild +animals their shelter and their abode, and yield them the greater part +of their subsistence. They are, indeed, so evidently indispensable to +the wants of man and brute, that it would be idle to enlarge upon the +subject, except in those details which are apt to be overlooked. In a +state of Nature man makes direct use of their branches for weaving his +tent, and he thatches it with their leaves. In their recesses he hunts +the animals whose flesh and furs supply him with food and clothing, and +from their wood he obtains the implements for capturing and subduing +them. Man's earliest farinaceous food was likewise the product of trees; +for in his nomadic condition he makes his bread from the acorn and the +chestnut: he must become a tiller of the soil, before he can obtain the +products of the cereal herbs. The groves were likewise the earliest +temples for his worship, and their fruits his first offerings upon the +divine altar. + +As man advances nearer to civilization, trees afford him the additional +advantage which is derived from their timber. The first houses were +constructed of wood, which enables him by its superior plastic +nature, compared with stone, to progress more rapidly in his ideas of +architecture. Wood facilitates his endeavors to instruct himself in +art, by its adaptedness to a greater variety of purposes than any +other substance. It is, therefore, one of the principal instruments of +civilization which man has derived from the material world. Though the +most remarkable works of the architect are constructed of stone, it +was wood that afforded man that early practice and experience which +initiated him into the laws of mechanics and the principles of art, and +carried him along gradually to perfection. + +But as man is nomadic before he is agricultural, and a maker of tents +and wigwams before he builds houses and temples,--in like manner he is +an architect and an idolater before he becomes a student of wisdom; he +is a sacrificer in temples and a priest at their altars, before he is a +teacher of philosophy or an interpreter of Nature. After the attainment +of science, a higher state of mental culture succeeds, causing the mind +to see all Nature invested with beauty and fraught with imaginative +charms, which add new wonders to our views of creation and new dignity +to life. Man now learns to regard trees in other relations beside their +capacity to supply his physical and mechanical wants. He looks upon them +as the principal ornaments of the face of creation, and as forming the +conservatories of Nature, in which she rears those minute wonders of +her skill, the flowers and smaller plants that will flourish only under +their protection, and those insect hosts that charm the student with +their beauty and excite his wonder by their mysterious instincts. +Science, too, has built an altar under the trees, and delivers thence +new oracles of wisdom, teaching man how they are mysteriously wedded +to the clouds, and are thus made the blessed instruments of their +beneficence to the earth. + +Not without reason did the ancients place the Naiad and her fountain in +the shady arbor of trees, whose foliage gathers the waters of heaven +into her fount and preserves them from dissipation. From their dripping +shades she distributes the waters, which she has garnered from the +skies, over the plain and the valley: and the husbandman, before he has +learned the marvels of science, worships the beneficent Naiad, who draws +the waters of her fountain from heaven, and from her sanctuary in the +groves showers them upon the arid glebe and adds new verdure to the +plain. After science has explained to us the law by which these supplies +of moisture are furnished by the trees, we still worship the beneficent +Naiad: we would not remove the drapery of foliage that protects her +fountain, nor drive her into exile by the destruction of the trees, +through whose leaves she holds mysterious commerce with the skies and +saves our fields from drought. + +It is in these relations, leaving their uses in economy and the arts +untouched, that I would now speak of trees. I would consider them as +they appear to the poet and the painter, as they are connected with +scenery, and with the romance and mythology of Nature, and as serving +the purposes of religion and virtue, of freedom and happiness, of poetry +and science, as well as those of mere taste and economy. I am persuaded +that trees are closely connected with the fate of nations, that they are +the props of industry and civilization, and that in all countries from +which the forests have disappeared the people have sunk into indolence +and servitude. + +Though we may not be close observers of Nature, we cannot fail to have +remarked that there is an infinite variety in the forms of trees, as +well as in their habits. By those who have observed them as landscape +ornaments, trees have been classified according to their shape and +manner of growth. They are round-headed or hemispherical, like the Oak +and the Plane; pyramidal, like the Pine and the Fir; obeliscal, like the +Arbor-Vitæ and Lombardy Poplar; drooping, like the White Elm and the +Weeping Willow; and umbrella-shaped, like the Palm. These are the +natural or normal varieties in the forms of trees. There are others +which may be considered accidental: such are the tall and irregularly +shaped trees which have been cramped by growing in a dense forest that +does not permit the extension of their lateral branches; such also are +the pollards which have been repeatedly cut down or dwarfed by the axe +of the woodman. + +Of the round-headed trees, that extend their branches more or less at +wide angles from their trunk, the Oak is the most conspicuous and the +most celebrated. To the mind of an American, however, the Oak is far +less familiar than the Elm, as a way-side tree; but in England, where +many + + "a cottage-chimney smokes + From betwixt two aged Oaks," + +this tree, which formerly received divine honors in that country, is now +hardly less sacred in the eyes of the inhabitants, on account of their +familiarity with its shelter and its shade, and their ideas of its +usefulness to the human family. The history of the British Isles is +closely interwoven with circumstances connected with the Oak, and the +poetry of Great Britain has derived from it many a theme of inspiration. + +The Oak is remarkable for the wide spread of its lower branches and its +broad extent of shade,--for its suggestiveness of power, and consequent +expression of grandeur. It is allied with the romance of early history; +it is celebrated by its connection with the religion and religious rites +of the Druids,--with the customs of the Romans, who formed of its +green leaves the civic crown for their heroes, and who planted it to +overshadow the temple of Jupiter; and many ancient superstitions give +its name a peculiar significance to the poet and the antiquary. From its +timber marine architecture has derived the most important aid, and it +has thereby become associated with the grandeur of commerce and the +exploits of a gallant navy, and is regarded as the emblem of naval +prowess. The Oak, therefore, to the majority of the human race, is, +beyond all other trees, fraught with romantic interest, and invested +with classic and historical dignity. + +The American continent contains a great many species of Oak in its +indigenous forest. Of these the White Oak bears the most resemblance to +the classical tree, in its general appearance, in the contorted growth +of its branches, and in the edible quality of its fruit. But the Red +Oak, the most northerly species, exceeds all others in size. No other +attains so great a height, or spreads its branches so widely, or +surpasses it in regularity of form. As we advance south, the White Oak +is conspicuous until we arrive at North Carolina, where the forests and +way-sides exhibit the beautiful Evergreen Oak, which, with its slender +undivided leaves, the minute subdivisions of its branches, and its +general comeliness of form, would be mistaken by a stranger for a +Willow. A close inspection, however, would soon convince him that it has +none of the fragility of the Willow. On the contrary, it is the most +noted of all the genus for its hardness and durability, being the +identical Live Oak which has supplied our navy with the most valuable +of timber. At the South the Evergreen Oak is a common way-side tree, +mingling its hues with the lighter green of the Cypress and the sombre +verdure of the Magnolia. + +The Oak exceeds all other trees, not only in actual strength, but also +in that outward appearance by which this quality is manifested. This +expression is due to the general horizontal spread of its principal +boughs, the peculiar angularity of the unions of its small branches, the +want of flexibility in its spray, and its great size when compared with +its height, all manifesting its power to resist the wind and the storm. +Hence it is regarded as the monarch of trees, surpassing all in those +qualities that indicate nobleness and capacity. It is the emblem of +strength, dignity, and grandeur: the severest hurricane cannot overthrow +it, and, by destroying some of its branches, leaves it only with +more wonderful proofs of its resistance. Like the rock that rises in +mid-ocean, it becomes in its old age a just symbol of fortitude, parting +with its limbs one by one, as they are broken by the gale or withered by +decay; but still retaining its many-centuried existence, when, like an +old patriarch, it has seen all its early companions removed. + +Standard Oaks are comparatively rare in the New England States, and not +many adorn our way-sides and inclosures, which are mostly shaded by +Elms, Limes, Maples, and Ash-trees. The scarcity of Oaks in these places +is attributable in some degree to the peculiar structure of their roots, +which extend downwards to a great depth in the soil, causing them to be +difficult of transplantation. It is owing in still greater measure to +the value of Oak-wood for ship-timber,--especially as those full-grown +trees which have sprung up by the road-sides, and the noble pasture +Oaks, contain the greatest number of those joints which are in special +demand for ship-building. Year after year, therefore, has witnessed the +gradual disappearance of these venerable trees, which the public should +have protected from the profane hands of the "timberer," by forcing him +to procure his materials from the forest. The community needs to be +taught that a standard tree of good size and well-developed proportions +is of more value for its shade, and as an object in the landscape, than +a whole acre of trees in the middle of a wood. + +One of the most majestic trees in the American forest is the Chestnut, +remarkable, like the Oak, for its broad extent of shade. In some parts +of the country it is one of the most common standards in the field and +pasture, having been left unmolested on account of the value of its +fruit and the comparative inferiority of its timber. The foliage of this +tree is dense and flowing, and peculiar in its arrangement. The leaves +are clustered in stars of from five to seven, on short branches that +grow from one of greater length. Hence, at a little distance, the whole +mass of foliage seems to consist of tufts, each containing a tassel of +long pointed leaves, drooping divergently from a common centre. The +flowers come out from the centre of these leaves in the same manner, +and by their silvery green lustre give a pleasing variety to the darker +verdure of the whole mass. "This is the tree," says Gilpin, "which +graces the landscapes of Salvator Rosa. In the mountains of Calabria, +where Salvator painted, the Chestnut flourished. There he studied it +in all its forms, breaking and disposing of it in a thousand beautiful +shapes, as the exigencies of his composition required." + +The Beech is one of the same class of trees, but does not equal the +Chestnut in magnitude. It is distinguished by the beauty of its clean, +smooth shaft, which is commonly ribbed or fluted in a perceptible +degree; and in a wood, where there is an assemblage of these columns, +rising without a branch to the height of thirty feet or more, they are +singularly beautiful. A peculiarity often observed in the Beech is a +sort of double head of foliage. This is produced by the habit of the +tree of throwing out a whorl of imperfect branches just below the union +of the main branches with the trunk. The latter, taking more of an +upward direction, cause an observable space a little below the middle +of the height of the tree. This double tier of branches and foliage has +been noticed by painters in the European Beech. I have observed it in +several instances in the American tree. + +Standard Beech-trees are not numerous in this part of the country; +indeed, they are seldom seen except in a wood, or in clumps which have +originated from the root of some tree that has perished. I think they +appear to better advantage in groups and small assemblages than when +single, as there is nothing greatly attractive in the form of a standard +Beech; but there is a peculiar sweep of the lateral branches, when they +are standing in a group, which the student of trees cannot fail to +admire. They send out their branches more in right lines than most other +trees, and, as their leaves and the extremities of their spray all have +an upright tendency, they give a beautiful airy appearance to the edge +of a wood. The foliage of other deciduous trees, even when the branches +tend upward, is mostly of a drooping character. The Beech forms a +pleasing exception to this habit, having leaves that point upward and +outwardly, instead of hanging loosely. In most other trees the foliage +is so heavy and flowing, that the courses of their branches are +concealed under their drapery of leaves; but in the Beech all the +lines produced by the branches and foliage are harmonious, and may be +distinctly traced. + +By taking note of these peculiarities in their arborescent growth, one +greatly magnifies his capacity for enjoying the beauties of trees. +Without this observation, their general appearance forms the chief +object of his attention: he observes them only as a person of taste who +cannot distinguish tunes would listen to music. He feels the agreeable +sensation which their forms and aspects produce; but, like one who +thinks without adequate language for his thoughts, his ideas are vague +and indefinite. The Beech is particularly worthy of study, as in many +points it differs characteristically from most other trees. I am +acquainted with no tree in the forest that equals it, when disrobed of +its foliage, in the gracefulness of its spray. There is an airiness +about its whole appearance, at all seasons, that gives an expression of +cheerfulness to the scene it graces, whether it skirt the banks of a +stream or spread out its courteous arms over a sunny knoll or little +sequestered nook. + +There are some trees which are peculiarly American, being confined to +the Western continent, and unknown in other parts of the world. Among +these is the Hickory, a well-known and very common tree, celebrated +rather for its usefulness than its beauty. The different trees of this +family make an important feature in our landscape: they are not abundant +in the forest, but they are conspicuous objects in the open plain, hill, +and pasture. Great numbers of them have become standards; we see them +following the lines of old stone walls that skirt the bounds and avenues +of the farm, in company with the Ash and the Maple. In these situations, +where they would not "cumber the ground," they have been allowed to +grow, without exciting the jealousy of the proprietor of the land. +Accident, under these circumstances, has reared many a beautiful tree, +which would in any other place have been cut down as a trespasser. Thus +Nature is always striving to clothe with beauty those scenes which man +has despoiled; and while the farmer is hoeing and grubbing, and thinking +only of his physical wants, unseen hands are draping all his fences with +luxuriant vinery, and bordering his fields with trees that shall gladden +the eyes of those who can understand their beauties. + +The Hickory is not a round-headed tree; it approaches a cylindrical +form, somewhat flattened at the top, but seldom attaining any strict +regularity of shape. It does not expand into a full and flowing head, +but is often divided into distinct masses of foliage, separated by +vacant spaces of considerable size, and presenting an appearance as if +a portion of the tree had been artificially removed. These gaps do not +extend all round the tree; they are irregularly disposed, some trees +having several of them, others none or only one; and they seem to have +been caused, when the tree was young, by the dwindling of some principal +branch. The Hickory throws out its branches at first very obliquely from +the shaft; afterwards the lower ones bend down as the tree increases in +size, and acquire an irregular and contorted shape; for, notwithstanding +their toughness, they bend easily to the weight of their fruit and +foliage. + +This tree is celebrated in the United States for the toughness of its +wood; and the term Hickory is used as emblematical of a sturdy and +vigorous character. It possesses some of the ruggedness, without the +breadth and majesty of the Oak, though it exceeds even this tree +in braving the force of a tempest. It is one of our most common +pasture-trees, and its deep-green foliage makes amends for the general +want of comeliness in its outline. + +As we are journeying through the older settlements of New England, +the melancholy forms of the ill-fated Plane-trees tower above the +surrounding objects, and attract our attention not only by their +magnitude, but also by the marks of decay which are stamped upon all. +This appearance is chiefly remarkable in the early part of summer: for +the trees are not dead; but their vitality is so far gone that they are +tardy in putting out their leaves, and seldom before July are they fully +clad in verdure. When they are not in leaf, we may observe an unnatural +growth of slender twigs in tufts at the ends of their branches. This +is caused by the failure of the tree in perfecting its wood before the +growth of the branches is arrested by the autumnal frosts; and this +accident has been repeated annually ever since the trees began to +be affected with their malady. The Plane was formerly a very common +way-side tree in New England, until the fatality occurred which has +caused the greater number of them to perish. It is a fact worthy of +notice, that all the trees of this species below the latitude of Long +Island have escaped the malady. + +The Chenar-tree, or Oriental Plane, is celebrated in history, having had +a place in all the public and private grounds of the Greeks and Romans, +as well as of the Eastern nations. The American, or Western Plane, +called in New England the Buttonwood, is not less remarkable for its +size and grandeur. It is one of the loftiest trees, and its lateral +branches, being of great length, give it extraordinary breadth. It also +runs up to an unusual height, compared with other trees, before it forms +a head, so that its lower branches are sometimes elevated above the +roofs of the houses of common height Hence it would be a valuable tree +for road-sides, if it were healthy, as it would allow the largest +vehicles to pass freely under its boughs. + +A far more beautiful tree, gracing equally the forest and the way-side, +is the Ash, charming our sight with the gracefulness of its proportions +in winter, with its flowing drapery of verdure in summer, and its +variety of glowing tints in autumn. The Ash has been styled in Europe +"the painter's tree,"--a fact which is worthy of notice, inasmuch as +those writers who have theorized concerning the nature of beauty have +generally regarded trees of broken and irregular shapes, like the +Hickory, as more picturesque than those of prim and symmetrical habit, +like the Ash. The practice of the great masters in painting seems +adverse to this idea, since they have introduced the Ash more frequently +than other trees into their pictures; and it shows the futility of the +attempt to draw a distinction between picturesque and beautiful +trees. All trees, indeed, of every natural shape, may be considered +picturesque, as, in one situation or another, every species may be +introduced to heighten the character of a picture or a landscape. + +The Ash never fails to attract attention by the peculiar beauty of its +outlines, the regular subdivision of its branches, its fair proportions +and equal balance without any disagreeable formality. Nothing can exceed +the gracefulness of its pinnate foliage, hanging loosely from its +equally divergent spray, easy of motion, but not fluttering, and always +harmonizing in its tints with the season of the year. Notwithstanding +the different character, in regard to symmetry, of the Ash and the +Hickory, the two trees are often mistaken for each other, and, when the +latter is evenly formed, it is sometimes difficult at first sight to +distinguish it. They differ, however, in all cases, in the opposite +arrangement of the leaves and small branches of the Ash, and their +alternate arrangement in the Hickory. One of these branches invariably +becomes abortive, as the tree increases in size, so that their opposite +character is apparent only in the spray. + +In wet places which have never been subjected to the plough, in grounds +partly inundated a great portion of the year, luxuriating in company +with the Northern Cypress, over an undergrowth of Dutch Myrtles and +Button-bushes, we find the singular Tupelo-tree. This tree is the +opposite of the Ash in all its characteristics. There is no regularity +in any part of its growth, and no tree in the forest sports in such a +variety of grotesque and fantastic shapes. Sometimes it spreads out its +branches horizontally, forming a perfectly flat top, as if it had grown +under a platform; again it forms an irregular pyramid, most commonly +leaning from an upright position. It has usually no definable shape, +often sending out one or two branches greatly beyond the rest, some +directed obliquely downwards, others twisted and horizontal. This tree, +if it had no other merit, would be prized for its eccentricities; but it +is not without beauty. It possesses a fine glossy foliage, unrivalled in +its verdure, and every branch is fully clothed with it; and, whatever +may be the age of the tree, it never shows the marks of decrepitude. + +The pyramidal trees are included chiefly among the coniferous +evergreens, embracing the Pine, the Fir, the Spruce, and the Cypress. +Though many of the deciduous trees assume more or less of this outline, +it is the normal and characteristic form of the Pines and their kindred +species. It is a peculiarity of the pyramidal trees, with a few +exceptions, to remain always disfigured, after the loss of an important +branch, having no power to fill the vacant space by a new growth. Other +trees readily fill up a vacancy occasioned by the loss of a branch, and +may suffer considerable mutilation without losing their beauty, because +an invariable proportion is not necessary to render them pleasing +objects of sight. On account of the symmetry of their forms, the +pyramidal trees are made ugly by the loss of a limb, as the porch of a +temple would be ruined by the removal of one of its pillars. Hence we +may understand the charm of that irregularity that prevails in the forms +of vegetation. If we remove a branch from an Elm or an Oak, or even from +an Ash, we destroy no positive symmetry; it is like removing a stone +from a loose stone wall; we do but slightly modify its disproportions. + +The White Pine may be selected as the American representative of the +pyramidal trees, being the most important as well as the most striking +in its appearance. It is a Northern tree, not extending so far south as +the region of the Cypress and Magnolia, and attaining perfection only on +the northeastern part of the continent. In the New England States, it +contributes more than any other species to the beauty of our landscapes, +where it is commonly seen in scattered groups, but not often as a +solitary standard. We see it in our journeys, projecting over eminences +that are skirted by old roads, shading the traveller from the sun and +protecting him from the wind. We have sat under its fragrant shade, in +our pedestrian tours, when, weary with heat and exercise, we sought its +gift of coolness, and blessed it as one of the benign deities of the +forest. We are familiar with it in all pleasant and solitary places; and +in our afternoon rambles we have listened, underneath its boughs, to the +plaintive note of the Green Warbler, who selects it for his abode, and +who has caught a melancholy tone from the winds that from immemorial +time have tuned to soft music its long sibilant leaves. + +The White Pine is a tree that harmonizes with all situations, rude +and cultivated, level and abrupt. On the side of the mountain it adds +grandeur to the declivity, and gives a look of sweeter tranquillity to +the green pastoral meadow. It yields a darker frown to the projecting +cliff, and a more awful uncertainty to the mountain-pass or the hollow +ravine. Amid desolate scenery it spreads a cheerfulness that detracts +nothing from its power over the imagination, while it relieves it of its +terrors by presenting a green bulwark to defend us from the elements. +Nothing can be more cheerful in scenery than the occasional groups of +Pines which have come up spontaneously on the bald hills near our coast, +elsewhere a dreary waste of gray rocks, stunted shrubbery, and prostrate +Juniper. In the forest the White Pine constitutes the very sanctuary of +Nature, its tall pillars extending into the clouds, and its broad canopy +of foliage mixing with the vapors that descend in the storm. + +Such are its picturesque aspects: but in a figurative light it may be +regarded as a true symbol of benevolence. Under its outspread roof, +thousands of otherwise unprotected animals, nestling in the bed of dry +leaves which it has spread upon the ground, find shelter and repose. The +squirrel subsists upon the kernels obtained from its cones; the rabbit +browses upon the Trefoil and the spicy foliage of the Hypericum which +are protected in its conservatory of shade; and the fawn reposes on its +brown couch of leaves, unmolested by the outer tempest. From its green +arbors the quails may be roused in midwinter, when they resort thither +to find the still sound berries of the Mitchella and the Wintergreen. +Nature, indeed, seems to have designed this tree to protect the animal +creation, both in summer and winter, and I am persuaded that she has not +conferred upon them a more beneficent gift. + +As an object of sight, the White Pine is free from some of the defects +of the Fir and Spruce, having none of their stiffness of foliage and +inflexibility of spray, that cause them to resemble artificial objects. +It has the symmetry of the Fir, joined with a certain flowing grace that +assimilates it to the deciduous trees. With sufficient amplitude to +conceal a look of primness that often arises from symmetry, we observe a +certain negligent flowing of its leafy robes that adds to its dignity a +grace which is apparent to all. It seems to wear its honors like one who +feels no constraint under their burden; and when smitten by a tempest, +it bids no defiance to the gale, bending to its wrath, but securely +resisting its power. + +Of the American coniferous trees, the Hemlock is of the next importance, +being, perhaps, in its perfection, a more beautiful tree than the White +Pine, or than any other known evergreen. It is far less formal in its +shape than other trees of the same family. Its branches, being slender +and flexible, do not project stiffly from the shaft; they bend slightly +at their terminations, and are easily moved by the wind; and as they are +very numerous, and covered with foliage, we behold in the tree a dense +mass of glittering verdure, not to be seen in any other tree of the +forest. + +The Hemlock is unknown as a shade-tree; it is seldom seen by the +road-side, except on the edge of a wood, and not often in cultivated +grounds. The want of success usually attending the transplantation of it +from the woods has prevented the general adoption of it as an ornamental +tree. The Hemlock, when transplanted from the wood, is almost sure to +perish; for Nature will not allow it to be desecrated by any association +with Art. She reserves it for her own demesnes; and if you would possess +one, you must go to its native spot and plant your garden around it, +and take heed, lest, by disturbing its roots, you offend the deity +who protects it. Some noble Hemlocks are occasionally seen in rude +situations, where the cultivator's art has not interrupted their +spontaneous growth; and the poet and the naturalist are inspired with a +more pleasing admiration of their beauty, because they have seen them +only where the solitary birds sing their wild notes, and where the heart +is unmolested by the crowding tumult of human settlements. + +The Pitch Pine has neither grace nor elegance, and though it is allied +botanically to the pyramidal trees, it approaches the shape of the +round-headed trees. There is a singular ruggedness about it; and when +bristling all over with the stiff foliage that sometimes covers it from +the extremities of the branches down almost to the roots, it cannot fail +to attract observation. Trees of this species, for the most part too +rough and homely to please the eye, are not generally valued as objects +in the landscape; but there is a variety in their shape that makes +amends for their want of comeliness, and gives them a marked importance. +We do not in general sufficiently appreciate the value of homely objects +among the scenes of Nature,--which are, indeed, the ground-work of all +charming scenery, and set off to advantage the beauty of more comely +things. They prepare us, by increasing our susceptibility, to feel more +keenly the force of beauty in other objects. They give rest and relief +to the eye, after it has experienced the stimulating effects of +beautiful forms and colors, which would soon pall upon the sense; and +they are interesting to the imagination, by leaving it free to dress the +scene with the wreaths of fancy. + +It is from these reflections that I have been led to prize many a homely +tree as possessing a high value, by exalting the impressions of beauty +which we derive from other trees, and by relieving Nature of that +monotony which would attend a scene of unexceptional beauty. This +monotony is apparent in almost all dressed grounds of considerable +extent. We soon become entirely weary of the ever-flowing lines of +grace and elegance, and the harmonious blending of forms and colors +introduced by art. On the same principle we may explain the difficulty +of reading with attention a whole volume on one subject, written in +verse. We are soon weary of luxuries; and when we have been strolling in +grounds laid out with gaudy flower-beds, the tired eye, when we go out +into the fields, rests with serene delight upon rough pastures bounded +by stone walls, and hills clothed with lichens and covered with +boulders. + +The homely Pitch Pine serves this important purpose of relief in the +landscapes of Nature. Trees of this species are abundant in sandy +levels, in company with the slender and graceful White Birch, "The Lady +of the Woods," as the poet Coleridge called it. From these Pines proceed +those delightful odors which are wafted to our windows by a mild south +wind, not less perceptible in winter than in summer, and which are in a +different manner as charming as a beautiful prospect. + +The Juniper, or Red Cedar, known in some places as the Savin, is another +homely tree that gives character to New England scenery. It is one of +the most frequent accompaniments of the bald hills near certain parts +of our coast, giving them a peculiar aspect of desolation. This tree +acquires larger dimensions and a fuller and fairer shape in the Middle +and Southern States. There the Junipers are beautiful trees, having a +finer verdure than they ever acquire at the North. But the Juniper, with +all its imperfections, its rugged form, and its inferior verdure, is not +to be contemned; and it possesses certain qualities and features which +ought to be prized hardly less than beauty. Its sombre ferruginous green +adds variety to our wood-scenery at all times, and by contrast serves to +make the foliage of other trees the more brilliant and conspicuous. +In the latter part of summer, when the woods have acquired a general +uniformity of verdure, the Junipers enliven the face of Nature by +blending their duller tints with the fading hues of the fully ripened +foliage. Thus will an assemblage of brown and gray clouds soften and at +the same time enliven the deep azure of the heavens. + +In this sketch, I have omitted to describe many important trees, +especially those which have but little individuality of character, +leaving them to be the subject of another essay concerning Trees in +Assemblages. I have likewise said nothing here of those species which +are commonly distinguished as flowering trees. But I must not omit, +while speaking of the pyramidal trees, to say a word concerning the +Larch, which has some striking points of form and habit. Like the +Southern Cypress, it differs in its deciduous character from other +coniferous trees: hence both are distinguished by the brilliancy of +their verdure in the early part of summer, when the other evergreens are +particularly sombre; but they are leafless in the winter. The Larch is +beautifully pyramidal in its shape when young. In the vigor of its years +it tends to uniformity, and to variety when it is old. Indeed, an aged +Larch is often as rugged and fantastic as an old Oak. The American and +European Larches differ only in the longer flowing foliage and the +larger cones of the latter. Among the minor beauties of both species may +be mentioned the bright crimson cones that appear in June and resemble +clusters of fruit. The Larch is a Northern tree, being in its perfection +in the latitude of Maine. It seems to delight in the coldest situations, +and, like the Southern Cypress, is found chiefly in low swamps. + +There are not many trees that assume the shape of an obelisk, or a long +spire; but Nature, who presents to our eyes an ever-charming variety of +forms as well as hues, in the objects of her creation, has given us the +figure of the obelisk in the Chinese Juniper, in the Balsam Fir, in the +Arbor-Vitæ, and lastly in the Lombardy Poplar, which may be offered to +exemplify this class of forms. The Lombardy Poplar is interesting to +thousands who were familiar with it in their youth, as an ornament +to road-sides and village inclosures. It was formerly a favorite +shade-tree, and still retains its privileges in many old-fashioned +places. A century ago great numbers of Poplars were planted on the +village way-sides, in front of dwelling-houses, on the borders of public +grounds, and particularly on the sides of lanes and avenues leading to +houses situated at a short distance from the high-road. Hence a row +of these trees becomes suggestive at once of the approach to some old +mansion or country-seat, which has now, perhaps, been converted into a +farm-house, having exchanged its proud honors of wealth for the more +simple and delightful appurtenances of rustic independence. + +Some of these ancient rows of Poplars are occasionally seen in old +fields, where almost all traces of the habitation which they were +intended to grace are obliterated. There is a melancholy pleasure +in surveying these humble ruins, whose history would illustrate the +domestic habits of our ancestors. The cellar of the old house is now +a part of the pasture-land, and its form can be traced by the simple +swelling of the turf. Sumachs and Cornel-bushes have usurped the +place of the exotic shrubbery in the old garden; and the only ancient +companions of the Poplars, now remaining, are here and there a +straggling Lilac or Currant-bush, a tuft of Houseleek, and perhaps, +under the shelter of some dilapidated wall, the White Star of Bethlehem +is seen meekly glowing in the rude society of the wild-flowers. + +The Lombardy Poplar, which was formerly a favorite way-side ornament, +a sort of idol of the public, and, like many another idol, exalted to +honors that exceeded its merits, fell suddenly into unpopularity and +disgrace. After having been admired and valued as if its leaves were all +emeralds and its buds apples of gold, it was spurned and ridiculed and +everywhere cut down as a cumberer of the ground. The faults attributed +to it did not belong to the tree, but were the effects of the climate +into which it had been removed. It was brought from the sunny vales of +Italy, where it had been delicately reared by the side of the Orange and +the Myrtle, and transplanted into the cold climate of New England. The +tender constitution of this tree could not endure our rude winters; +and every spring witnessed the decay of a large portion of its small +branches. Hence it became prematurely aged, and in its decline carried +with it the marks of its infirmities. + +But, with all these imperfections, the Lombardy Poplar was more worthy +of the honors it received from our predecessors than of its present +disrepute. It is one of the fairest of trees, in the vigor of its health +and the greenness of its youth. But nearly all the old Poplars are +extirpated, and but few young trees are coming up to supply their +places. While I am now writing, I see from my window the graceful spire +of one solitary tree, towering above the surrounding objects in the +landscape, and yielding to the view something of an indescribable charm. +There it stands, the symbol of decayed reputation, in its old age still +retaining the primness of its youth; neither drooping in its infirmities +under the weight of their burden, nor losing in its desertedness the +fine lustre of its foliage; and in its disgrace still bearing itself +proudly, as if conscious that its former honors were deserved, and +not forgetting that dignity which becomes one who has fallen without +dishonor. + +There is no other tree that so pleasantly adorns the sides of narrow +lanes and avenues, or so neatly accommodates itself to limited +inclosures. Its foliage is dense and of the liveliest green, tremulous, +and making delicate music to the light fingers of every breeze; its +terebinthine odors scent the soft vernal wind that enters your open +windows with the morning sunshine; its branches, always tending upward, +closely gathered together, and slenderly formed, afford a harbor to the +singing-birds, who revel among them as a favorite resort; and its long +tapering spire, that points to heaven, gives an air of cheerfulness and +religious tranquillity to village scenery. + +Of the drooping trees, the Weeping Willow is the most conspicuous +example, unless we except the American Elm; but a remarkable difference +may be observed in the drooping character of these two trees. In the Elm +we perceive a general arching or curvature of all its branches, from +their points of junction with the tree to their extremities; so that two +rows of Elms, meeting over an avenue, would represent, more nearly than +any other trees disposed in the same manner, the vault of a Gothic arch. +A double row of Weeping Willows would make no such figure by the meeting +of their branches. The Weeping Willow extends its long arms in lines +more nearly straight, not originating, as in the Elm, for the most part, +from one common centre of junction, but joining the shaft of the tree at +different points;--hence the drooping character of this tree is observed +only in its long, slender, and terminal spray. + +The Weeping Willow is one of the most poetical of trees, being +consecrated to the Muse by the part which has been assigned it in many +a scene of romance, and by its connection with events recorded in +Holy Writ. It is invested with a poetical interest by its symbolical +representation of sorrow in the pendulous character of its spray, by +its fanciful uses as a garland for disappointed lovers, and by the +employment of it in burying-grounds, and in pictures as drooping over +graves. We remember it in sacred history by its association with the +rivers of Babylon, with the tears of the Children of Israel, and with +the forsaken harps of their sorrowing minstrels, who hung them upon its +branches. It is distinguished by the graceful beauty of its outlines, +its light-green delicate foliage, its sorrowing attitude, and its gently +waving spray, all in sweet accordance with its picturesque, poetic, and +Scriptural associations. + +Hence the Weeping Willow never fails to give pleasure to the sight even +of the most insensible observer. There are not many whose minds are so +obtuse as to be blind to its peculiarly graceful attitude and motions, +and every one is familiar with its history, as recorded in poetry and +romance, all the incidents of which have served to elevate it above any +association with fashion or vulgarity. When we see it waving its long +branches neatly over some private inclosure, overshadowing the gravelled +walk and the flower-garden,--or watching pensively over the graves of +the dead, where the light hues of its foliage help to soften the glowing +fancies which are apt to arise from our meditations among the tombs,--or +on some wide common, giving solace to the passing traveller, and +inviting the playful children to its shade,--or trailing its sweeping +spray, like the tresses of a Naiad, over some silvery pond or gently +flowing stream,--it is in all cases a delightful object, always +picturesque, always soothing, inspiring, and sacred to memory, and +serving, by its alliance with what is hallowed in literature, to bind us +more closely to Nature. + +Above all the trees of the New World, the Elm deserves to be considered +the sovereign tree of New England. It is abundant both in field and +forest, and forms the most remarkable feature in our cleared and +cultivated grounds. Though the Elm is found in almost all parts of the +country, in no other is it so conspicuous as in the Northeastern States, +where, from the earliest settlement of the country, it has been planted +as a shade-tree, and has been valued as an ornament above the proudest +importations from a foreign clime. It is the most remarkable of the +drooping trees except the Willow, which it surpasses in stateliness and +in the variety of its growth. + +When I look upon a noble Elm,--though I feel no disposition to contemn +the studies of those who examine its flowers and fruit with the +scrutinizing eye of science, or the calculations of those who consider +only its practical use--it is to me an object of pleasing veneration. I +look upon it as the embodiment of some benign intention of Providence, +who has adapted it in numerous ways to the wants of his creatures. While +admiring its grace and its majesty, I think of the great amount of human +happiness and of comfort to the inferior animals of which it has been +the blessed instrument. How many a happy assemblage of children and +young persons has been, during the past century, repeatedly gathered +under its shade, in the sultry noons of summer! How many a young +May-queen has been crowned under its roof, when the greensward was just +daisied with the early flowers of spring! And how many a weary traveller +has rested from his journey in its benevolent shade, and from a state of +weariness and vexation, when o'erspent by heat and length of way, has +subsided into one of quiet thankfulness and content! + +Though the Elm has never been consecrated by the Muse, or dignified +by making a figure in the paintings of the old masters, the native +inhabitant of New England associates its varied forms with all that is +delightful in the scenery of his own land or memorable in its history. +He has beheld many a noble avenue formed of Elms, when standing in rows +in the village, or by the rustic road-side. He has seen them extending +their broad and benevolent arms as a protection over many a spacious old +farm-house and many an humble cottage, and equally harmonizing with all. +They meet his sight in the public grounds of the city, with their ample +shade and flowing spray, inviting him to linger under their pleasant +umbrage in summer; and in winter he has beheld them among the rude hills +and mountains, like spectral figures keeping sentry among their passes, +and, on the waking of the year, suddenly transformed into towers of +luxuriant verdure and beauty. Every year of his life has he seen the +beautiful Hang-Bird weave his pensile habitation upon the long and +flexible branches of the Elm, secure from the reach of every living +creature. From its vast dome of interwoven branches and foliage he has +listened to the songs of the earliest and the latest birds; and under +its shelter he has witnessed many a merry-making assemblage of children, +employed in the sportive games of summer. + +To a native of New England, therefore, the Elm has a value more nearly +approaching that of sacredness than any other tree. Setting aside the +pleasure derived from it as an object of visual beauty, it is intimately +associated with the familiar scenes of home and the events of his +early life. In my own mind it is pleasingly allied with those old +dwelling-houses which were built in the early part of the last century, +and form one of the marked features of New England home architecture +during that period. They are known by their broad and ample, but +low-studded rooms, their numerous windows with small panes, their single +chimney in the centre of the roof that sloped down to the lower story in +the back part, and in their general unpretending appearance, reminding +one vividly of that simplicity of life which characterized our people +before the Revolution. Their very homeliness is delightful, by leaving +the imagination free to dwell upon their pleasing suggestions. Not many +of these charming old houses are now extant: but whenever we see one, +we are almost sure to find it accompanied by its Elm, standing upon the +green open space that slopes up to it in front, and waving its long +branches in melancholy grandeur over the venerable habitation which it +seems to have taken under its protection, while it droops with sorrow +over the infirmities of its old companion of a century. + +The Elm is remarkable for the variety of forms which it assumes in +different situations. Often it has a drooping spray only when it has +attained a large size; but it almost invariably becomes subdivided +into several equal branches, diverging from a common centre, at a +considerable elevation from the ground. One of these forms is that of a +vase: the base being represented by the roots of the tree that project +above the soil and join the trunk,--the middle by the lower part of +the principal branches, as they swell out with a graceful curve, then +gradually diverge, until they bend downward and form the lip of the +vase, by their circle of terminal branches. Another of its forms is that +of a vast dome, as represented by those trees that send up a single +shaft to the height of twenty feet or more, and then extend their +branches at a wide divergency and to a great length. The Elms which are +remarkable for their drooping character are usually of this shape. +At other times the Elm assumes the shape of a plume, presenting a +singularly fantastical appearance. It rises upwards, with an undivided +shaft, to the height of fifty feet or more, without a limb, and bending +over with a gradual curve from about the middle of its height to its +summit, which is sometimes divided into two or three terminal branches. +The whole is covered from its roots to its summit with a fringe +of vine-like twigs, extremely slender, twisted and irregular, and +resembling a parasitic growth. Sometimes it is subdivided at the usual +height into three or four long branches, which are wreathed In the same +manner, and form a compound plume. + +These fantastic forms are very beautiful, and do not impress one with +the idea of monstrosity, as we are affected by the sight of a Weeping +Ash. Though the Elm has many defects of foliage, and is destitute of +those fine autumnal tints which are so remarkable in some other trees, +it is still almost without a rival in the American forest. It presents a +variety in its forms not to be seen in any other tree,--possessing the +dignity of the Oak without its ruggedness, and uniting the grace of the +slender Birch with the lofty grandeur of the Palm and the majesty of the +Cedar of Lebanon. + +Of the parasol-trees the North furnishes no true examples, which are +witnessed only in the Palms of the tropics. Not many of our inhabitants +have seen these trees in their living beauty; but all have become so +familiar with them, as they are represented in paintings and engravings, +that they can easily appreciate their effect in the sunny landscapes of +the South. There they may be seen bending over fields tapestried with +Passion-Flowers and verdurous with Myrtles and Orange-trees, and +presenting their long shafts to the tendrils of the Trumpet Honeysuckle +and the palmate foliage of the Climbing Fern. But the slender Palms, +when solitary, afford but little shade. It is when they are standing in +groups, their lofty tops meeting and forming a uniform umbrage, that +they afford any important protection from the heat of the sun. + +In pictures of tropical scenery we see these trees standing on the +banks of a stream, or in the vicinity of the sea, near some rude hut +constructed of Bamboo and thatched with the broad leaves of the Fan +Palm. In some warm countries Nature affords the inhabitants an almost +gratuitous subsistence from the fruit of the different Palms,--a +plantation of Dates and Cocoa-nuts supplying the principal wants of the +owner and his family, during the life of the trees. But the Palm is not +suggestive of the arts, for the South is not the region of the highest +civilization. Man's intelligence is greatest in those countries in which +he is obliged to struggle with difficulties sufficient to require the +constant exercise of the mind and body to overcome them. Science and Art +have built their altars in the region of the Oak, and in valleys which +are annually whitened with snow, where labor invigorates the frame, and +where man's contention with the difficulties presented by the elements +sharpens his ingenuity and strengthens all his facilities. Hence, while +the Oak is the symbol of hospitality and of the arts to which it has +given its aid, the Palm symbolizes the voluptuousness of a tropical +clime and the indolence of its inhabitants. + +I have said that the North produces no parasol-trees; but it should be +remarked that all kinds of trees occasionally approximate to this shape, +when they have grown compactly in a forest. The general shape which they +assume under these conditions is what I have termed accidental, because +that shape cannot be natural which a growing body is forced to take +when cramped in an unnatural or constrained position. Trees when thus +situated become greatly elongated; their shafts are despoiled of the +greater part of their lateral branches, and the tree has no expansion +until it has made its way above the level of the wood. The trees that +cannot reach this level will in a few years perish; and this is the +fate of the greater number in the primitive forest. But after they have +attained this level, they spread out suddenly into a head. Many such +trees are seen in recent clearings; and when their termination is a +regular hemisphere of branches and foliage, the tree exhibits a shape +nearly approaching that of a parasol. + +The Elm, under these circumstances, often acquires a very beautiful +shape. Unlike other trees that send up a single undivided shaft, the +Elm, when growing in the forest as well as in the open plain, becomes +subdivided into several slightly divergent branches, running up almost +perpendicularly until they reach the level of the wood, when they +suddenly spread themselves out, and the tree exhibits the parasol shape +more nearly even than the Palm. When one of these forest Elms is left by +the woodman, and is seen standing alone in the clearing, it presents +to our sight one of the most graceful and beautiful of all arborescent +forms. + +The rows of Willows, so frequent by the way-side where the road passes +over a wet meadow, afford the most common examples of the pollard forms. +Some of these willows, having escaped the periodical trimming of the +woodcutter, have become noble standards, emulating the Oak in the sturdy +grandeur of their giant arms extending over the road. Most of them, +however, from the repeated cropping which they have suffered, exhibit a +round head of long, slender branches, growing out of the extremity of +the beheaded trunk. + +My remarks thus far relate to trees considered as individual objects; +but I must not tire the patience of the reader by extending them +farther, though there are many other relations in which they may be +treated. In whatever light we regard them, they will be found to deserve +attention as the fairest ornaments of Nature, and as objects that should +be held sacred from their importance to our welfare and happiness. The +more we study them, the more desirous are we of their preservation, and +the more convinced of the necessity of using some active means to +effect this purpose. He takes but a narrow view of their importance who +considers only their value in the economy of animal and vegetable life. +The painter has always made them a particular branch of his study; and +the poet understands their advantage in increasing the effect of his +descriptions, and believes them to be the blessed gifts of Providence to +render the earth a beautiful abode and sanctify it to our affections. +The heavenly bodies affect the soul with a deeper sense of creative +power; but trees, like flowers, serve to draw us more closely to the +bosom of Nature, by exemplifying the beauties of her handiwork, and the +wonders of that Wisdom that operates unseen, and becomes, in our search +for it, a source of perpetual delight. + + + + +VICTOR AND JACQUELINE. + +[Concluded.] + + +VII. + + +The three days passed away. And every hour's progress was marked as it +passed over the citizens of Meaux. Leclerc, and the doctrines for which +he suffered, filled the people's thought; he was their theme of speech. +Wonder softened into pity; unbelief was goaded by his stripes to +cruelty; faith became transfigured, while he, followed by the hooting +crowd, endured the penalty of faith. Some men looked on with awe that +would become adoring; some with surprise that would take refuge in study +and conviction. There were tears as well as exultation, solemn joy as +well as execration, in his train. The mother of Leclerc followed +him with her undaunted testimony, "Blessed be Jesus Christ and His +Witnesses!" + +By day, in the field, Jacqueline Gabrie thought over the reports she +heard through the harvesters, of the city's feeling, of its purpose, of +its judgment; by night she prayed and hoped, with the mother of Leclerc; +and wondrous was the growth her faith had in those days. + +On the evening of the third day, Jacqueline and Elsie walked into Meaux +together. This was not invariably their habit. Elsie had avoided too +frequent conversation with her friend of late. She knew their paths were +separate, and was never so persuaded of the fact as this night, when, of +her own will, she sought to walk with Jacqueline. The sad face of her +friend troubled her; it moved her conscience that she did not deeply +share in her anxiety. When they came from Domrémy, she had relied on +Jacqueline: there was safety in her counsel,--there was wisdom in it: +but now, either? + +"It made me scream outright, when I saw the play," said she; "but it is +worse to see your face nowadays,--it is more terrible, Jacqueline." + +Jacqueline made no reply to this,--and Elsie regarded the silence as +sufficient provocation. + +"You seem to think I have no feeling," said she. "I am as sorry about +the poor fellows as you can be. But I cannot look as if I thought the +day of judgment close at hand, when I don't, Jacqueline." + +"Very well, Elsie. I am not complaining of your looks." + +"But you are,--or you might as well." + +"Let not that trouble you, Elsie. Your face is smooth, at least; and +your voice does not sound like the voice of one who is in grief. +Rejoice,--for, as you say, you have a right to yourself, with which I +am not to interfere. We are old friends,--we came away from Lorraine +together. Do not forget that. I never will forget it." + +"But you are done with me. You say nothing to me. I might as well be +dead, for all you care." + +"Let us not talk of such things in this manner," said Jacqueline, +mildly. But the dignity of her rebuke was felt, for Elsie said,-- + +"But I seem to have lost you,--and now we are alone together, I may say +it. Yes, I have lost you, Jacqueline!" + +"This is not the first time we have been alone together in these +dreadful three days." + +"But now I cannot help speaking." + +"You could help it before. Why, Elsie? You had not made up your mind. +But now you have, or you would not speak, and insist on speaking. What +have you to say, then?" + +"Jacqueline! Are you Jacqueline?" + +"Am I not?" + +"You seem not to be." + +"How is it, Elsie?" + +"You are silent and stern, and I think you are very unhappy, +Jacqueline." + +"I do not know,--not unhappy, I think. Perhaps I am silent,--I have been +so busy. But for all it is so dreadful--no! not unhappy, Elsie." + +"Thinking of Leclerc all the while?" + +"Of him? Oh, no! I have not been thinking of him,--not constantly. Jesus +Christ will take care of him. His mother is quiet, thinking that. I, +at least, can be as strong as she. I'm not thinking of the shame and +cruelty,--but of what that can be worth which is so much to him, that +he counts this punishment, as they call it, as nothing, as hardly pain, +certainly not disgrace. The Truth, Elsie!--if I have not as much to say, +it is because I have been trying to find the Truth." + +"But if you have found it, then I hope I never shall,--if it is the +Truth that makes you so gloomy. I thought it was this business in +Meaux." + +"Gloomy? when it may be I have found, or _shall_ find"-- + +Here Jacqueline hesitated,--looked at Elsie. Grave enough was that look +to expel every frivolous feeling from the heart of Elsie,--at least, +so long as she remained under its influence. It was something to trust +another as Jacqueline intended now to trust her friend. It was a +touching sight to see her seeking her old confidence, and appearing +to rely on it, while she knew how frail the reed was. But this girl, +frivolous as was her spirit, this girl had come with her from the +distant native village; their childhood's recollections were the same. +And Jacqueline determined now to trust her. For in times of blasting +heat the shadow even of the gourd is not to be despised. + +"You know what I have looked for so long, Elsie," she said, "you ought +to rejoice with me. I need work for that no longer." + +"What is that, Jacqueline?" + +Even this question, betraying no such apprehension as Jacqueline's words +seemed to intimate, did not disturb the girl. She was in the mood when, +notwithstanding her show of dependence, she was really in no such +necessity. Never was she stronger than now when she put off all show +of strength. Elsie stood before her in place of the opposing world. To +Elsie's question she replied as readily as though she anticipated the +word, and had no expectation of better recollection,--not to speak of +better apprehension. + +"To bring him out of suffering he has never been made to endure, as +surely as God lives. As if the Almighty judged men so! I shall send back +no more money to Father La Croix. It is not his prayer, nor my earnings, +that will have to do with the eternity of John Gabrie.--Do you hear me, +Elsie?" + +"I seem to, Jacqueline." + +"Have I any cause for wretched looks, then? I am in sight of better +fortune than I ever hoped for in this world." + +"Then don't look so fearful. It is enough to scare one. You are not a +girl to choose to be a fright,--unless this dreadful city has changed +you altogether from what you were. You would frighten the Domrémy +children with such a face as that; they used not to fear Jacqueline." + +"I shall soon be sailing on a smoother sea. As it is, do not speak of my +looks. That is too foolish." + +"But, oh, I feel as if I must hold you,--hold you!--you are leaving +me!" + +"Come on, Elsie!" exclaimed Jacqueline, as though she almost hoped this +of her dear companion. + +"But where?" asked Elsie, not so tenderly. + +"Where God leads. I cannot tell." + +"I do not understand." + +"You would not think the Truth worth buying at the price of your life?" + +"My life?" + +"Or such a price as he pays who--has been branded to-day?" + +"It was not the truth to your mother,--or to mine. It was not the truth +to any one we ever knew, till we came here to Meaux." + +"It is true to my heart, Elsie. It is true to my conscience. I know that +I can live for it. And it may be"-- + +"Hush!--do not! Oh, I wish that I could get you back to Domrémy! What is +going to come of this? Jacqueline, let us go home. Come, let us start +to-night. We shall have the moon all night to walk by. There is nothing +in Meaux for us. Oh, if we had never come away! It would have been +better for you to work there for--what you wanted,--for what you came +here to do." + +"No, let God's Truth triumph! What am I? Less than that rush! But if His +breath is upon me, I will be moved by it,--I am not a stone." + +Then they walked on in silence. Elsie had used her utmost of persuasion, +but Jacqueline not her utmost of resistance. Her companion knew this, +felt her weakness in such a contest, and was silent. + +On to town they went together. They walked together through the streets, +passing constantly knots of people who stood about the corners and among +the shops, discussing what had taken place that day. They crossed the +square where the noonday sun had shone on crowds of people, men and +women, gathered from the four quarters of the town and the neighboring +country, assembled to witness the branding of a heretic. They entered +their court-yard together,--ascended the stairway leading to their +lodging. But they were two,--not one. + +Elsie's chief desire had been to get Jacqueline safely into the house +ere she could find opportunity for expression of what was passing in her +mind. Her fear was even greater than her curiosity. She had no desire to +learn, under these present circumstances, the arguments and incidents +which the knots of men and women were discussing with so much vehemence +as they passed by. She could guess enough to satisfy her. So she had +hurried along, betraying more eagerness than was common with her to get +out of the street. Not often was she so overcome of weariness,--not +often so annoyed by heat and dust. Jacqueline, without remonstrance, +followed her. But they were two,--not one. + +Once safe in their upper room, Elsie appeared to be, after all, not so +devoid of interest in what was passing in the street as her hurried +walk would seem to betoken. She had not quite yet lost her taste for +excitement and display. For immediately she seated herself by the +window, and was all eye and ear to what went on outside. + +Jacqueline's demonstrations also were quite other than might have been +anticipated. Each step she took in her chamber gave an indication that +she had a purpose,--and that she would perform it. + +She removed from her dress the dust and stain of toil, arranged her +hair, made herself clean and decent, to meet the sober gaze of others. +Then she placed upon the table the remains of their breakfast,--but she +ate nothing. + + +VIII. + + +It was nearly dark when Jacqueline said to Elsie,-- + +"I am now going to see John and his mother. I must see with my own eyes, +and hear with my own ears. I may be able to help them,--and I know they +will be able to help me. John's word will be worth hearing,--and I want +to hear it. He must have learned in these days more than we shall ever +be able to learn for ourselves. Will you go with me?" + +"No," cried Elsie,--as though she feared she might against her will +be taken into such company. Then, not for her own sake, but for +Jacqueline's, she added, almost as if she hoped that she might prove +successful in persuasion, "I remember my father and mother. What they +taught me I believe. And that I shall live by. I shall never be wiser +than they were. And I know I never can be happier. They were good and +honest. Jacqueline, we shall never be as happy again as we were in +Domrémy, when the pastor blessed us, and we hunted flowers for the +altar,--never!--never!" And Elsie Méril, overcome by her recollections +and her presentiments, burst into tears. + +"It was the happiness of ignorance," said Jacqueline, after a solemn +silence full of hurried thought. "No,--I, for one, shall never be as +happy as I was then. But my joy will be full of peace and bliss. It will +be full of satisfaction,--very different, but such as belongs to me, +such as I must not do without. God led us from Domrémy, and with me +shall He do as seemeth good to Him. We were children then, Elsie; but +now may we be children no longer!" + +"I will be faithful to my mother. Go, Jacqueline,--let me alone." + +Elsie said this with so much spirit that Jacqueline answered quickly, +and yet very kindly,-- + +"I did not mean to trouble you, dear,--but--no matter now." + +No sooner had Jacqueline left the house than Elsie went down to a church +near by, where she confessed herself to the priest, and received such +goodly counsel as was calculated to fortify her against Jacqueline in +the future. + + * * * * * + +Jacqueline went to the house of the wool-comber, as of late had been her +nightly custom,--but not, as heretofore, to lighten the loneliness +and anxiety of the mother of Leclerc. Already she had said to the old +woman,-- + +"I need not work now for my father's redemption. Then I will work for +you, if your son is disabled. Let us believe that God brought me here +for this. I am strong. You can lean on me. Try it." + +Now she went to make repetition of the promise to Leclerc, if, +perchance, he had come back to his mother sick and sore and helpless. +For this reason, when she entered the humble home of the martyr, his +eyes fell on her, and he saw her as she had been an angel; how serene +was her countenance; and her courage was manifestly such as no mortal +fear, no human affliction, could dismay. + +Already in that room faithful friends had gathered, to congratulate the +living man, and to refresh their strength from the abounding richness of +his. + +Martial Mazurier, the noted preacher, was there, and Victor Le Roy; +besides these, others, unknown by name or presence to Jacqueline. + +Among them was the wool-comber,--wounded with many stripes, branded, +a heretic! But a man still, it appeared,--a living man,--brave as any +hero, determined as a saint,--ready to proclaim now the love of God, and +from the couch where he was lying to testify to Jesus and his Truth. + +It was a goodly sight to see the tenderness of these men here gathered; +how they were forgetful of all inequalities of station, such as +worldlings live by,--meeting on a new ground, and greeting one another +in a new spirit. + +They had come to learn of John. A halo surrounded him; he was +transfigured; and through that cloud of glory they would fain penetrate. +Perchance his eyes, as Stephen's, had seen heaven open, when men had +tried their torments. At least, they had witnessed, when they followed +the crowd, that his face, in contrast with theirs who tormented, shone, +as it had been the face of an angel. They had witnessed his testimony +given in the heroic endurance of physical pain. There was more to be +learned than the crowd were fit to hear or _could_ hear. Broken strains +of the Lord's song they heard him singing through the torture. Now they +had come longing for the full burden of that divinest melody. + +Jacqueline entered the room quietly, scarcely observed. She sat down by +the door, and it chanced to be near the mother of Leclerc, near Victor +Le Roy. + +To their conversation she listened as one who listens for his life,--to +the reading of the Scripture,--to the singing of the psalm,--that grand +old version,-- + + "Out of the depths I cry to thee, + Lord God! Oh, hear my prayer! + Incline a gracious ear to me, + And bid me not despair. + If thou rememberest each misdeed, + If each should have its rightful meed, + Lord, who shall stand before thee? + + "Lord, through thy love alone we gain + The pardon of our sin: + The strictest life is but in vain, + Our works can nothing win, + That man should boast himself of aught, + But own in fear thy grace hath wrought + What in him seemeth righteous. + + "Wherefore my hope is in the Lord, + My works I count but dust; + I build not there, but on his word, + And in his goodness trust. + Up to his care myself I yield; + He is my tower, my rook, my shield, + And for his help I tarry." + +To the praying of the broken voice of John Leclerc she listened. In his +prayer she joined. To the eloquence of Mazurier, whose utterances she +laid up in her heart,--to the fervor of Le Roy, which left her eyes not +dry, her soul not calm, but strong in its commotion, grasping fast the +eternal truths which he, too, would proclaim, she listened. + +She was not only now among them, she was of them,--of them forevermore. +Though she should never again look on those faces, nor listen to those +voices, of them, of all they represented, was she forevermore. Their God +was hers,--their faith was hers; their danger would she share,--their +work would aid. + +Their talk was of the Truth, and of the future of the Truth. Well they +understood that the spirit roused among the people would not be quieted +again,--that what of ferocity in the nature of the bigot and the +powerful had been appeased had but for the moment been satisfied. There +would be unremitting watch for victims; everywhere the net for the +unwary and the fearless would be laid. Blood-thirstiness and lust and +covetousness would make grand their disguises,--broad would their +phylacteries be made,--shining with sacred gems, their breast-plates. + +Of course it was of the great God's honor these men would be jealous. +This heresy must needs be uprooted, or no knowing where would be the end +of the wild growth. And, indeed, there was no disputing the fact that +there was danger in open acceptance of such doctrines as defied the +authority of priestcraft,--ay, danger to falsehood, and death to +falsehood! + +Fanaticism, cowardice, cruelty, the spirit of persecution, the spirit +of authority aroused, ignorance and vanity and foolishness would make +themselves companions, no doubt. Should Truth succumb to these? Should +Love retreat before the fierce onset of Hate? These brave men said not +so. And they looked above them and all human aid for succor,--Jacqueline +with them. + +When Mazurier and Victor Le Roy went away, they left Jacqueline with +the wool-comber's mother, but they did not pass by her without notice. +Martial lingered for a moment, looking down on the young girl. + +"She is one of us," said the old woman. + +Then the preacher laid his hand upon her head, and blessed her. + +"Continue in prayer, and listen to the testimony of the Holy Ghost," +said he. "Then shall you surely come deep into the blessed knowledge and +the dear love of Jesus Christ." + +When he had passed on, Victor paused in turn. + +"It is good to be here, Jacqueline," said he. '"This is the house of +God; this is the gate of heaven." + +And he also went forth, whither Mazurier had gone. + +Then beside the bed of the poor wool-comber women like angels +ministered, binding up his wounds, and soothing him with voices soft as +ever spoke to man. And from the peasant whose toil was in harvest-fields +and vineyards came offers of assistance which the poor can best give the +poor. + +But the wool-comber did not need the hard-earned pence of Jacqueline. +When she said, "Let me serve you now, as a daughter and a sister, you +two,"--he made no mistake in regard to her words and offer. But he had +no need of just such service as she stood prepared to render. In his +toil he had looked forward to the seasons of adversity,--had provided +for a dark day's disablement; and he was able now to smile upon his +mother and on Jacqueline, and to say,-- + +"I will, indeed, be a brother to you, and my mother will love you as if +you were her child. But we shall not take the bread from your mouth to +prove it. Our daughter and our sister in the Lord, we thank you and love +you, Jacqueline. I know what you have been doing since I went away. +The Lord love you, Jacqueline! You will no longer be a stranger and +friendless in Meaux, while John Leclerc and his mother are alive,--nay, +as long as a true man or woman lives in Meaux. Fear not." + +"I will not fear," said Jacqueline. + +And she sat by the side of the mother of Leclerc, and thought of her +own mother in the heavens, and was tranquil, and prepared, she said to +herself, to walk, if indeed she must, through the valley of the shadow +of death, and would still fear no evil. + + +IX. + + +Strengthened and inspired by the scenes of the last three days, Martial +Mazurier began to preach with an enthusiasm, bravery, and eloquence +unknown before to his hearers. He threw himself into the work of +preaching, the new revelation of the ancient eternal Truth, with +an ardor that defied authority, that scorned danger, and with a +recklessness that had its own reward. + +Victor Le Roy was his ardent admirer, his constant follower, his +loving friend, his servant. Day by day this youth was studying with +indefatigable zeal the truths and doctrines adopted by his teacher. +Enchanted by the wise man's eloquence, already a convert to the faith +he magnified, he was prepared to follow wherever the preacher led. The +fascination of danger he felt, and was allured by. Frowning faces had +for him no terrors. He could defy evil. + +Jacqueline and he might be called most friendly students. Often in +the cool of the day the young man walked out from Meaux along the +country-roads, and his face was always toward the setting sun, whence +towards the east Jacqueline at that hour would be coming. The girls were +living in the region of the vineyards now, and among the vines they +worked. + +It began to be remarked by some of their companions how much Jacqueline +Gabrie and the young student from the city walked together. But the +subject of their discourse, as they rested under the trees that fringed +the river, was not within the range of common speculation; far enough +removed from the ordinary use to which the peasants put their thought +was the thinking of Le Roy and Jacqueline. + +Often Victor went, carefully and with a student's precision, over the +grounds of Martial's arguments, for the satisfaction of Jacqueline. +Much pride as well as joy had he in the service; for he reverenced his +teacher, and feared nothing so much, in these repetitions, as that this +listener, this animated, thinking, feeling Jacqueline, should lose +anything by his transmission of the preacher's arguments and eloquence. + +And sometimes, on those special occasions which were now constantly +occurring, she walked with him to the town, and hearkened for herself in +the assemblages of those who were now one in the faith. + +Elsie looked on and wondered, but did not jest with Jacqueline, as girls +are wont to jest with one another on such points as seemed involved in +this friendship between youth and youth, between man and woman. + +Towards the conclusion of the girls' appointed labor in the vineyard, a +week passed in which Victor Le Roy had not once come out from Meaux in +the direction of the setting sun. He knew the time when the peasants' +labor in the vineyard would be done; Jacqueline had told him; and with +wonder, and with trouble, she lived through the days that brought no +word from him. + +At work early and late, Jacqueline had no opportunity of discovering +what was going on in Meaux. But it chanced, on the last day of the last +week in the vineyard, tidings reached her: Martial Mazurier had been +arrested, and would be tried, the rumor said, as John Leclerc had been +tried; and sentence would be pronounced, doubtless, said conjecture, +severe in proportion to the influence the man had acquired, to the +position he held. + +Hearing this, oppressed, troubled, yet not doubting, Jacqueline +determined that she would go to Meaux that evening, and so ascertain the +truth. She said nothing to Elsie of her purpose. She was careful in all +things to avoid that which might involve her companion in peril in an +unknown future; but at nightfall she had made herself ready to set +out for Meaux, when her purpose was changed in the first steps by the +appearing of Victor Le Roy. + +He had come to Jacqueline,--had but one purpose in his coming; yet it +was she who must say,-- + +"Is it true, Victor, that Martial Mazurier is in prison?" + +His answer surprised her. + +"No, it is not true." + +But his countenance did not answer the glad expression of her face with +an equal smile. His gravity almost communicated itself to her. Yet this +rebound from her recent dismay surely might demand an opportunity. + +"I believe you," said she. "But I was coming to see if it could be true. +It was hard to believe, and yet it has cost me a great deal to persuade +myself against belief, Victor." + +"It will cost you still more, Jacqueline. Martial Mazurier has +recanted." + +"He has been in prison, then?" + +"He has retracted, and is free again,--has denied himself. No more +glorious words from him, Jacqueline, such as we have heard! He has sold +himself to the Devil, you see." + +"Mazurier?" + +"Mazurier has thought raiment better than life. _He_ has believed a +man's life to consist in the abundance of the things he possesseth," +said the youth, bitterly. He continued, looking steadfastly at +Jacqueline,--"Probably I must give up the Truth also. My uncle is dead: +must I not secure my possessions?--for I am no longer a poor man; I +cannot afford to let my life fall into the hands of those wolves." + +"Mazurier retracted? I cannot believe it, Victor Le Roy!" + +"Believe, then, that yesterday the man was in prison, and to-day he is +at large. Yes, he says that he can serve Jesus Christ more favorably, +more successfully, by complying with the will of the bishop and the +priests. You see the force of his argument. If he should be silenced, or +imprisoned long, or his life should be cut off, he would then be able +to preach no more at all in any way. He only does not believe that +whosoever will save his life, in opposition to the law of the +everlasting gospel, must lose it." + +"Oh, do you remember what he said to John,--what he prayed in that room? +Oh, Victor, what does it mean?" + +"It means what cannot be spoken,--what I dare not say or think." + +"Not that we are wrong, mistaken, Victor?" + +"No, Jacqueline, never! it can never mean that! Whatever we may do with +the Truth, we cannot make it false. We may act like cowards, unworthy, +ungrateful, ignorant; but the Truth will remain, Jacqueline." + +"Victor, you could not desert it." + +"How can I tell, Jacqueline? The last time I saw Martial Mazurier, he +would have said nobler and more loving words than I can command. But +with my own eyes I saw him walking at liberty in streets where liberty +for him to walk could be bought only at an infamous price." + +"Is there such danger for all men who believe with John Leclerc, and +with--with you, Victor?" + +"Yes, there is danger, such danger." + +"Then you must go away. You must not stay in Meaux," she said, quickly, +in a low, determined voice. + +"Jacqueline, I must remain in Meaux," he answered, as quickly, with +flushed face and flashing eyes. The dignity of conscious integrity, and +the "fear of fear," a beholder who could discern the tokens might have +perceived in him. + +"Oh, then, who can tell? Did he not pray that he might not be led into +temptation?" + +"Yes," Victor replied, more troubled than scornful,--"yes, and allowed +himself to be led at last." + +"But if you should go away"---- + +"Would not that be flying from danger?" he asked, proudly. + +"Nay, might it not be doing with your might what you found to do, that +you might not be led into temptation?" + +"And you are afraid, that, if I stay here, I shall yield to them." + +"You say you are not certain, Victor. You repeat Mazurier's words." + +"Yet shall I remain. No, I will never run away." + +The pride of the young fellow, and the consternation occasioned by the +recreancy of his superior, his belief in the doctrines he had confessed +with Mazurier, and the time-serving of the latter, had evidently thrown +asunder the guards of his peace, and produced a sad state of confusion. + +"It were better to run away," said Jacqueline, not pausing to choose the +word,--"far better than to stay and defy the Devil, and then find that +you could not resist him, Victor. Oh, if we could go, as Elsie said, +back to Domrémy,--anywhere away from this cruel Meaux!" + +"Have you, then, gained nothing, Jacqueline?" + +"Everything. But to lose it,--oh, I cannot afford that!" + +"Let us stand together, then. Promise me, Jacqueline," he exclaimed, +eagerly, as though he felt himself among defences here, with her. + +"What shall I promise, Victor?" she asked, with the voice and the look +of one who is ready for any deed of daring, for any work of love. + +"I, too, have preached this word." + +Her only comment was, "I know you preached it well." + +"What has befallen others may befall me." + +"Well." + +So strongly, so confidently did she speak this word, that the young man +went on, manifestly influenced by it, hesitating no more in his speech. + +"May befall me," he repeated. + +"'Whosoever believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live,'" +she answered, with lofty voice, repeating the divine word. "What is our +life, that we should hold it at the expense of his Truth? Mazurier was +wrong. He can never atone for the wrong he has done." + +"I believe it!" exclaimed Victor, with a brightening countenance. The +clouds of doubt rose from his face and floated away, as we see the mists +ascending from the heights, when we are so happy as to live in the wild +hill-country. "You prize Truth more than life. Stand with me in this, +Jacqueline. Speak of this Truth as it has come to me. You are all that +I have left. I have lost Mazurier. Jacqueline, you are a woman, but you +never,--yes! yes! though I dare not say as much of myself, I dare say +it of you,--you never could have bought your liberty at such a price as +Martial has paid. I know not how, even with the opportunity, he will +ever gain the courage to speak of these things again,--those great +mysteries which are hidden from the eyes of the covetous and worldly and +unbelieving. Promise, stand with me, Jacqueline, and I will rely on you. +Forsake me not." + +"Victor, has He not said, who can best say it, 'I will never leave you +nor forsake you'?" + +"But, Jacqueline, I love you." + +Having said these words, the face of the young man emerged wholly from +the eclipse of the former shadow. + +"What is this?" said the brave peasant from Domrémy, manifestly doubting +whether she had heard aright; and her clear pure eyes were gazing full +on Victor Le Roy, actually looking for an explanation of his words. + +"I love you, Jacqueline," he repeated. "And I do not involve you in +danger, oh, my friend! Only let me have it to believe that my life is +dear to Jacqueline, and I shall not be afraid then to lose it, if that +testimony be required of me. Shall we not stand side by side, soldiers +of Christ, stronger in each other than in all the world beside? Shall it +not be so, Jacqueline? True heart, answer me! And if you will not love +me, at least say, say you are my friend, you trust me. I will hold your +safety sacred." + +"I am your friend, Victor." + +"Say my wife, Jacqueline. I honored you, that you came from Domrémy. +You are my very dream of Joan,--as brave and as true as beautiful. +Jacqueline, it is not all for the Truth's sake, but for my love's sake. +Is not our work one, moreover? Are we not one in heart and purpose, +Jacqueline? You are alone; let me protect you." + +He needed no other answer than he had while his eyes constantly sought +hers. Her calm look, the dignity and strength of her composure, assured +him of all he longed to learn,--assured him that their hearts, even as +their purposes and faith, were one." + +"But speak one word," he urged. + +The word she spoke was, "I can be true to you, Victor." + +Won hardly by a word: too easily, you think? She loved the youth, my +friends, and she loved the Truth for which he dared not say that he +could sacrifice himself. + +"We are one, then," said Victor Le Roy. "It concerned me above all +things to prove that, Jacqueline. So you shall have no more to do with +these harvest-fields and vineyards henceforth, except to eat of the +fruits, if God will. You have borne all the burden and heat of labor you +shall ever bear. I can say that, with God's blessing. We shall sit under +our own vine. Death in one direction has prepared for life in another. +I inherit what my uncle can make use of no longer. We shall look out +on our own fields, our harvests; for I think this city will keep us no +longer than may he needful. We will go away into Picardy, and I will +show you where our Joan was a prisoner; and we will go back to Domrémy, +and walk in the places she loved, and pray God to bless us by that +fountain, and in the grave-yard where your father and mother sleep. Oh, +Jacqueline, is it not all blessed and all fair?" + +She could hardly comprehend all the brightness of this vision which +Victor Le Roy would fain bring before her. The paths he pointed out to +her were new and strange; but she could trust him, could believe that +together they might walk without stumbling. + +She had nothing to say of her unfitness, her unworthiness, to occupy the +place to which he pointed. Not a doubt, not a fear, had she to express. +He loved her, and that she knew; and she had no thought of depreciating +his choice, its excellency or its wisdom. Whatever excess of wonder she +may have felt was not communicated. How know I that _she_ marvelled at +her lover's choice, though all the world might marvel? + +Then remembering Mazurier, and thinking of her strength of faith, and +her high-heartedness, he was eager that Jacqueline should appoint their +marriage-day. And more than he, perhaps, supposed was betrayed by this +haste. He made his words profoundly good. Strong woman that she was, he +wanted her strength joined to his. He was secretly disquieted, secretly +afraid to trust himself, since this defection of Martial Mazurier. + +What did hinder them? They might be married on Sunday, if she would: +they might go down together to the estate, which he must immediately +visit. + +Through the hurry of thought, and the agitation of heart, and the rush +of seeming impossibilities, he brought out at length in triumph her +consent. + +She did consent. It should all be as he wished. And so they parted +outside that town of Meaux on the fair summer evening.--plighted +lovers,--hopeful man and woman. For them the evening sky was lovely with +the day's last light; for them the serene stars of night arose. + +So they parted under the open sky: he going forward to the city, +strengthened and refreshed in faith and holy courage; she, adorned with +holy hopes which never until now had found place among her visions. +Neither was she prepared for them; until he brought them to a heart +which, indeed, could never be dismayed by the approach and claim of +love. + +Love was no strange guest. Fresh and fair as Zephyrus, he came from the +forest depths, and she welcomed him,--no stranger,--though the breath +that bore him was all heavenly, and his aspiration was remote from +earthly sources. Yes, she so imagined. + +She went back to the cottage where she and Elsie lodged now, to tell +Elsie what had happened,--to thankfulness,--to gazing forward Into a +new world,--to aspiration, expectation, joy, humility,--to wonder, and +to praise,--to all that my best reader will perceive must be true of +Jacqueline on this great evening of her life. + + +X. + + +That same night Victor Le Roy was arrested on charge of +heresy,--arrested and imprisoned. Watchmen were on the look-out when the +lover walked forward with triumphant steps to Meaux. + +"This fellow also was among the wool-comber's disciples," said they; and +their successful dealing with Mazurier encouraged the authorities to +hope that soon all this evil would be overcome,--trampled in the dust: +this impudent insurrection of thought should certainly be stifled; youth +and age, high station, low, should be taught alike of Rome. + +Tidings reached Martial Mazurier next day of what had befallen Victor Le +Roy, and he went instantly to visit him in prison. It was an interview +which the tender-hearted officials would have invited, had he not +forestalled them by inviting himself to the duty. Mazurier had something +to do in the matter of reconciling his conscience to the part he had +taken, in his recent opportunity to prove himself equally a hero with +Leclerc. He had recanted, done evil, in short, that good might come; and +was not content with having done this thing: how should he be? Now that +his follower was in the same position, he had but one wish,--that he +should follow his example. He did not, perhaps, entirely ascertain his +motive in this; but it is hardly to be supposed that Mazurier was so +persuaded of the justice of his course that he desired to have it +imitated by another under the same circumstances. + +No! he was forever disgraced in his own eyes, when he remembered the +valiant John Leclerc; and it was not to be permitted that Victor Le Roy +should follow the example of the wool-comber in preference to that +he had given,--that politic, wise, blood-sparing, flesh--loving, +truth-depreciating, God-defrauding example. + +Accordingly he lost no time in seeking Victor in his cell. It was the +very cell in which he himself had lately been imprisoned. Within those +narrow walls he had meditated, prayed, and made his choice. There he had +stood face to face with fate, with God, with Jesus, and had decided--not +in favor of the flogging, and the branding, and the glorious infamy. +There, in spite of eloquence and fervor and devotion, in spite of all +his past vows and his hopes, he had decided to take the place and part +of a timeserver;--for he feared disgrace and pain, and the hissing +and scoff and persecution, more than he feared the blasting anger of +insulted and forsaken Truth. + +He found Victor within his cell, his bright face not overcast with +gloom, his eyes not betraying doubts, neither disappointed, astonished, +nor in deep dejection. The mood he deemed unfavorable for his special +word,--poor, deceived, self-deceiving Mazurier! + +He was not merely surprised at these indications,--he was at a loss. A +little trepidation, doubt, suspicion would have better suited him. Alas! +and was _his_ hour the extremity of another's weakness, not in the +elevation of another's spiritual strength? Once when he preached the +Truth as moved by the Holy Ghost, it was not to the prudence or the +worldly wisdom of his hearers he appealed, but to the higher feelings +and the noblest powers of men. Then he called on them to praise God by +their faith in all that added to His glory and dominion. But now his +eloquence was otherwise directed,--not full of the old fire and +enthusiasm,--not trustful in God, but dependent on prudence, as though +all help were in man. He had to draw from his own experience now, +things new and old,--and was not, by confession of the result of such +experience, humiliated! + +"You are under a mistake," was his argument. "You have not gone deep +into these matters; you have made acquaintance only with the agitated +surface of them." And he proceeded to make good all this assertion, it +was so readily proven! _He_ also had been beguiled,--ah, had he not? He +had been beguiled by the rude eloquence, the insensibility to pain, the +pride of opposition, the pride of poverty, the pride of a rude nature, +exhibited by John Leclerc. + +He acknowledged freely, with a fatal candor, that, until he came to +consider these things in their true light, when shut away from all +outward influences, until compelled to quiet meditation beyond the reach +and influence of mere enthusiasm, he had believed with Leclerc, even as +Victor was believing now. He could have gone on, who might tell to what +fanatical length? had it not been for that fortunate arrest which made a +sane man of him! + +Leclerc was not quite in the wrong,--not absolutely,--but neither was +he, as Mazurier had once believed, gloriously in the right. It was +clearly apparent to him, that Victor Le Roy, having now also like +opportunity for calm reflection, would come to like conclusions. + +With such confident prophecy, Mazurier left the young man. His visit was +brief and hurried;--no duty that could be waived should call him away +from his friend at such a time; but he would return; they would speak of +this again; and he kissed Victor, and blessed him, and went out to bid +the authorities delay yet before the lad was brought to trial, for he +was confident, that, if left to reflection, he would come to his senses, +and choose wisely--between God and Mammon? Mazurier expressed it in +another way. + + * * * * * + +In the street, Elsie Méril heard of Victor's arrest, and she brought the +news to Jacqueline. They had returned to Meaux, to their old lodging, +and a day had passed, during which, moment by moment, his arrival was +anticipated. Elsie went out to buy a gift for Jacqueline, a bit of fine +apparelling which she had coveted from the moment she knew Jacqueline +should be a bride. She stole away on her errand without remark, and +came back with the gift,--but also with that which made it valueless, +unmentionable, though it was a costly offering, purchased with the wages +of more than a week's labor in the fields. + +It was almost dark when she returned to Jacqueline. Her friend was +sitting by the window,--waiting,--not for her; and when she went in to +her, it was silently, with no mention of her errand or her love-gift. +Quietly she sat down, thankful that the night was falling, waiting for +its darkness before she should speak words which would make the darkness +to be felt. + +"He does not come," said Jacqueline, at length. + +"Did you think it was he, when I came up the stairs?" inquired Elsie, +tenderly. + +"Oh, no! I can tell your step from all the rest." + +"His, too, I think." + +"Yes, and his, too. My best friends. Strange, if I could not!" + +"Oh, I'm glad you said that, Jacqueline!" + +"My best friends," repeated Jacqueline,--not merely to please Elsie. +Love had opened wide her heart,--and Elsie, weak and foolish though +she might be,--Elsie, her old companion, her playmate, her +fellow-laborer,--Elsie, who should be to her a sister always, and share +in her good-fortune,--Elsie had honorable place there. + +"Could anything have happened, Jacqueline?" said Elsie, trembling: her +tremulous voice betrayed it. + +"Oh, I think not," was the answer. + +"But he is so fearless,--he might have fallen into--into trouble." + +"What have you heard, Elsie?" + +This question was quietly asked, but it struck to the heart of the +questioned girl. Jacqueline suspected!--and yet Jacqueline asked so +calmly! Jacqueline could hear it,--and yet how could this be declared? + +Her hesitation quickened what was hardly suspicion into a conviction. + +"What have you heard?" Jacqueline again questioned,--not so calmly as +before; and yet it was quite calmly, even to the alarmed ear of Elsie +Méril. + +"They have arrested Victor, Jacqueline." + +"For heresy?" + +"I heard it in the street." + +Jacqueline arose,--she crossed the chamber,--her hand was on the latch. +Instantly Elsie stood beside her. + +"What will you do? I must go with you, Jacqueline." + +"Where will you go?" said Jacqueline. + +"With you. Wait,--what is it you will do? Or,--no matter, go on, I will +follow you,--and take the danger with you." + +"Is there danger? For him there is! and there might be for you,--but +none for me. Stay, Elsie. Where shall I go, in truth?" + +Yet she opened the door, and began to descend the stairs even while she +spoke; and Elsie followed her. + +First to the house of the wool-comber. John was not at home,--and his +mother could tell them nothing, had heard nothing of the arrest of +Victor. Then to the place which Victor had pointed out to her as the +home of Mazurier. Mazurier likewise they failed to find. Where, then, +was the prison of Le Roy's captivity? That no man could tell them; so +they came home to their lodging at length in the dark night, there to +wait through endless-seeming hours for morning. + +On the Sunday they had chosen for their wedding-day Mazurier brought +word of Victor to Jacqueline,--was really a messenger, as he announced +himself, when she opened for him the door of her room in the fourth +story of the great lodging-house. He had come on that day with a +message; but it was not in all things--in little beside the love it was +meant to prove--the message Victor had desired to convey. In want of +more faithful, more trustworthy messenger, Le Roy sent word by this man +of his arrest,--and bade Jacqueline pray for him, and come to him, if +that were possible. He desired, he said, to serve his Master,--and, of +all things, sought the Truth. + +To go to the prisoner, Mazurier assured Jacqueline, was impossible, but +she might send a message; indeed, he was here to serve his dear friends. +Ah, poor girl, did she trust the man by whom she sent into a prison +words like these?-- + +"Hold fast to the faith that is in you, Victor. Let nothing persuade you +that you have been mistaken. We asked for light,--it was given us,--let +us walk in it; and no matter where it leads,--since the light is from +heaven. Do not think of me,--nor of yourself,--but only of Jesus Christ, +who said, 'Whosoever would save his life shall lose it.'" + +Mazurier took this message. What did he do with it? He tossed it to the +winds. + +A week after, Le Roy was brought to trial,--and recanted; and so +recanting, was acquitted and set at liberty. + +Mazurier supposed that he meant all kindly in the exertion he made to +save his friend. He would never have ceased from self-reproach, had he +conveyed the words of Jacqueline to Victor,--for the effect of those +words he could clearly foresee. + +And so far from attempting to bring about an interview between the pair, +he would have striven to prevent it, had he seen a probability that it +would be allowed. He set little value on such words as Jacqueline spoke, +when her conscience and her love rose up against each other. The +words she had committed to him he could account for by no supposition +acceptable and reasonable to him. There was something about the girl he +did not understand; she was no fit guide for a man who had need of clear +judgment, when such a decision was to be made as the court demanded of +Le Roy. + +Elsie Méril, between hope and fear, was dumb in these days; but her +presence and her tenderness, though not heroic in action nor wise in +utterance, had a value of which neither she nor Jacqueline was fully +aware. + +When Jacqueline learned the issue of the trial, and that Victor had +falsified his faith, her first impulse was to fly, that she might never +see his face again. For, the instant she heard his choice, her heart +told her what she had been hoping during these days of suspense. She had +tried to see Martial Mazurier, but without success, since he conveyed, +or promised to convey, her message to the prisoner. Of purpose he had +avoided her. He guessed what strength she would by this time have +attained, and he was determined to save both to each other, though it +might be against their will. + + +XI. + + +Victor Le Roy's first endeavor, on being liberated, was--of course to +find Jacqueline? Not so. That was far from his first design. His impulse +was to avoid the girl he had dared to love. Mazurier had, indeed, +conveyed to his mind an impression that would have satisfied him, if +anything of this character could do so. But this was impossible. The +secret of his disquiet was far too profound for such easy removal. + +He had not in himself the witness that he had fulfilled the will of God. +He was disquieted, humiliated, wretched. He could not think of Leclerc, +nor upon his protestations, except with shame and remorse,--remorse, +already. In his heart, in spite of the impression Mazurier had contrived +to convey, he believed not that Jacqueline would bless him to such +work as he could henceforth perform, no longer a free man,--no longer +possessed of liberty of speech and thought. + +He had no sooner renounced his liberty than he became persuaded, by an +overwhelming reasoning, as he had never been convinced before, of +the pricelessness of that he had sacrificed. When he went from the +court-room, from the presence of his judges, he was not a free man, +though the dignitaries called him so. Martial Mazurier walked arm in arm +with him, but the world was a den of horrors, a blackened and accursed +world, to the young man who came from prison, free to use his +freedom--as the priests directed! + +He went home from the prison with Mazurier. The world had conquered. +Love had conquered,--Love, that in the conquest felt itself disgraced. +He had sold the divine, he had received the human: it was the old +pottage speculation over again. This privilege of liberty from his +dungeon had looked so fair!--but now it seemed so worthless! This +prospect of life so priceless in contemplation of its loss,--oh, the +beggar who crept past him was an enviable man, compared with young +Victor Le Roy, the heir of love and riches, the heir of liberty and +life! + +Yes,--he went home with Mazurier. Where else should he go? +Congratulations attended him. He was compelled to receive them with a +countenance not too sombre, and a grace not all thankless, or--or--they +would say it was of cowardice he had saved his precious body from the +sentence of the judges, and given his precious LIFE up to the sentence +of the JUDGE. + +Yes,--Martial took him home. There they might talk at leisure of those +things,--and ask a blessing on the testimony of Jesus, made and kept by +them! + +Victor Le Roy was too proud to complain now. He assented to all the +preacher's sophistry. He allowed himself to be cheered. But this was +no such evening as had been spent in the room of the wool-comber, when +Leclerc's voice, strong, even through his weakness, called on God, +and blessed and praised Him, and the spirit conquered the flesh +gloriously,--the old mother of Leclerc sharing his joy, as she had also +shared his anguish. Here was no Jacqueline to say to Victor, "Thou hast +done well! 'Glory be to Jesus Christ, and His witnesses!'" + +Mazurier thanked God for the deliverance of His servant! He dedicated +himself and Victor anew to the service of Truth, which they had shrunk +from defending! And his eloquence and fervor seemed to stamp the words +with sincerity. He seemed not in the least to suspect or fear himself. + +With Victor Le Roy such self-deception, such sophistry, was simply +impossible. + + * * * * * + +Not of purpose did he meet Jacqueline that night. She had heard that Le +Roy was at liberty, and alone now she applied at the door of Martial +Mazurier for admittance, but in vain. The master had signified that his +evening was not to be interrupted. Therefore she returned, from waiting +near his door, to the street where she and Elsie lived. + +Should her woman's pride have led her to her lofty lodging, and kept her +there without a sign, till Victor himself came seeking her? She knew +nothing of such pride,--but much of love; and her love took her back to +the post where she had waited many an hour since that disastrous arrest: +she would wait there till morning, if she must,--at least, till one +should enter, or come forth, who might tell her of Victor Le Roy. + +The light in the preacher's study she could see from the door-step in a +court-yard where she waited. Should Mazurier come with Victor, she would +let them pass; but if Victor came alone, she had a right to speak. + +It was after midnight when the student came down from the preacher's +study. She heard his voice when the door opened,--by the street-lamp +saw his face. And she recognized also the voice of Mazurier, who, till +the last moment of separation, seemed endeavoring to dissuade his friend +from leaving him that night. + +He heard footsteps following him, as he passed along the +pavement,--observed that they gained on him. And could it be any other +than Jacqueline who touched his arm, and whispered, "Victor"? + +His fast-beating heart told him it was she. He took her hand, and +drew it within his arm, and looked upon her face,--the face of his +Jacqueline. + +"Now where?" said he. "It is late. It is after midnight. Why are you +alone in the street?" + +"Waiting for you, Victor. I heard you were at liberty, and I supposed +you were with him. I was safe." + +"Yes,--for you fear nothing. That is the only reason. You knew I was +with the preacher, Jacqueline. Why? Because--because I _am_ with him, +of course." + +"Yes," she said. "I heard it was so, Victor." + +"Strange!--strange!--is it not? A prison is a better place to learn the +truth than the pure air of liberty, it seems," said he, bitterly. + +"What is that?" she asked. She seemed not to understand his meaning. + +"Nothing. I am acquitted of heresy, you know. It seems, what we talked +so bravely meant--nothing. Oh, I am safe, now!" + +"It was to preach none the less,--to hold the truth none the less. But +if he lost his life, there was an end of all; or if he lost his +liberty, it was as bad. But he would keep both, and serve God so," said +Jacqueline. + +"Yes," cried Victor, "precisely what he said. I have said the same, you +think?" + +"If you are quite clear that Leclerc and the rest of us are all wrong, +Victor." + +"Jacqueline!" + +"What is it, Victor?" + +"'The rest of us,' you say. What would _you_ have done in my place?" + +"God knows. I pretend not to know anything more." + +"But 'the rest of us,' you said. You think that you at least are with +Leclerc?" + +"That was the truth you taught me, Victor. But--I have not yet been +tried." + +"That is safe to say. What makes you speak so prudently, Jacqueline? Why +do you not declare, 'Though all men deny Thee, yet will I never deny +Thee'? Ah, you have not been tried! You are not yet in danger of the +judgment, Jacqueline!" + +"Do not speak so; you frighten me; it is not like you. How can I tell? +I do not know but in this retirement, in this thought you have been +compelled to, you have obtained more light than any one can have until +he comes to just such a place." + +"Ah, Jacqueline, why not say to me what you are thinking? Have you lost +your courage? Say, 'Thou hast not lied unto men, but unto God.'" + +"No,--oh, no! How could I say it, my poor Victor? How do you know?" + +"Surely you cannot know, as you say. But from where you stand, that is +what you are thinking. Jacqueline, confess! If you should speak your +mind, it would be, 'Thou hast not lied unto men, but unto God, poor +coward!' Oh, Jacqueline, Mazurier may deceive himself! I speak not for +him; but what will you do with your poor Victor, my poor Jacqueline?" + +She did not linger in the answer,--she did not sob or tremble,--he was +by her side. + +"Love him to the end. As He, when He loved His own." + +"Your own, poor girl? No, no!" + +"You gave yourself to me," she answered straightway, with resolute +firmness clinging to the all she had. + +"I was a man then," he answered. "But I will never give a liar and a +coward to Jacqueline Gabrie. Everything but myself, Jacqueline! Take +the old words, and the old memory. But for this outcast, him you shall +forget. My God! thou hast not brought this brave girl from Domrémy, and +lighted her heart with a coal from Thine altar, that she should turn +from Thee to me! If you love a liar and a coward, Jacqueline, you cannot +help yourself,--he will make you one, too. And what I loved you for was +your truth and purity and courage. I have given you a treasure which was +greater than I could keep.--Where is it that you live now, Jacqueline? I +am not yet such a poltroon that I am afraid to conduct you. I think that +I should have the courage to protect you to-night, if you were in any +immediate danger. Come, lead the way." + +"No," said Jacqueline. "I am not going home. I could not sleep; and +a roof over my head--any save God's heaven--would suffocate me, I +believe." + +"Go, then, as you will. But where?" + +Jacqueline did not answer, but walked quietly on; and so they passed +beyond the city-borders to the river-bank,--far away into the country, +through the fields, under the light of stars and of the waning moon. + +"If I had been true!" said Victor,--"if I had not listened to him! But +him I will not blame. For why should I blame him? Am I an idiot? And his +influence could not have prevailed, had I not so chosen, when I stood +before my judges and they questioned me. No,--I acquit Mazurier. Perhaps +what I have denied never appeared to him so glorious as it did once to +me; and so he was guiltless at least of knowing what it was I did. But I +knew. And I could not have been deceived for a moment. No,--I think it +impossible that for a moment I should have been deceived. They would +have made a notable example of me, Jacqueline. I am rich,--I am a +student.--Oh, yes! Jesus Christ may die for me, and I accept the +benefit; but when it comes to suffering for His sake,--you could not +have expected that of such a poltroon, Jacqueline! We may look for it in +brave men like Leclerc, whose very living depends on their ability to +earn their bread,--to earn it by daily sweat; but men who need not +toil, who have leisure and education,--of course you would not expect +such testimony to the truth of Jesus from them! Bishop Briconnet +recants,--and Martial Mazurier; and Victor Le Roy is no braver man, no +truer man than these!" + +With bitter shame and self-scorning he spoke.--Poor Jacqueline had not +a word to say. She sat beside him. She would help him bear his cross. +Heavy-laden as he, she awaited the future, saying, in the silence of her +spirit's dismal solitude, "Oh, teach us! Oh, help us!" But she called +not on any name; her prayer went out in search of a God whom in that +hour she knew not. The dark cloud and shadow of Satan that overshadowed +him was also upon her. + +"Mazurier is coming in the morning to take me with him, Jacqueline," +said Victor. "We are to make a journey." + +"What is it, Victor?" she asked, quietly. + +There was nothing left for her but patience,--that she clearly +saw,--nothing but patience, and quiet enduring of the will of God. + +"He is afraid of me,--or of himself,--or of both, I believe. He thinks +a change of scene would be good for both of us, poor lepers that we +are." + +"I must go with you, Victor Le Roy," said the resolute Jacqueline. + +"Wherefore?" asked he. + +"Because, when you were strong and happy, that was your desire, Victor; +and now that you are sick and sorrowing, I will not give you to another: +no! not to Mazurier, nor to any one that breathes, except myself, to +whom you belong." + +"I must stay here in Meaux, then?" + +"That depends upon yourself, Victor." + +"We were to have been married. We were going to look after our estate, +now that the hard summer and the hard years of work are ended." + +"Yes, Victor, it was so." + +"But I will not wrong you. You were to be the wife of Victor Le Roy. +You are his widow, Jacqueline. For you do not think that he lives any +longer?" + +"He lives, and he is free! If he has sinned, like Peter even, he weeps +bitterly." + +"Like Peter? Peter denied his Lord. But he did weep, as you +say,--bitterly. Peter confessed again." + +"And none served the Master with truer heart or greater courage +afterward. Victor, you remember." + +"Even so,--oh, Jacqueline!" + +"Victor! Victor! it was only Judas who hanged himself." + +"Come, Jacqueline!" + +She arose and went with him. At dawn they were married. Love did lead +and save them. + +I see two youthful students studying one page. I see two loving spirits +walking through thick darkness. Along the horizon flicker the promises +of day. They say, "O Holy Ghost, hast thou forsaken thine own temples?" +Aloud they cry to God. + +I see them wandering among Domrémy woods and meadows,--around the castle +of Picardy,--talking of Joan. I see them resting by the graves they find +in two ancient villages. I see them walk in sunny places; they are not +called to toil; they may gather all the blossoms that delight their +eyes. Their love grows beyond childhood,--does not die before it comes +to love's best estate. Happy bride and bridegroom! But I see them as +through a cloud whose fair hues are transient. + +From the meadow-lands and the vineyards and the dark forests of the +mountains, from study and from rest, I see them move with solemn faces +and calm steps. Brave lights are in their eyes, and flowers that are +immortal they carry in their hands. No distillation can exhaust the +fragrance of those blooms. + +What dost thou here, Victor? What dost thou here, Jacqueline? + +This is the place of prisons. Here they light again, as they have often +lighted, torch and fagot;--life must pay the cost! Angry crowds and +hooting multitudes love this dreary square. Oh, Jacqueline and Victor, +what is this I behold? + +They come together from their prison, hand in hand. "The testimony +of Jesus!" Stand back, Mazurier! Retire, Briconnet! Here is not your +place,--this is not your hour! Yet here incendiaries fire the temples +of the Holy Ghost! + +The judges do not now congratulate. Jacqueline waits not now at midnight +for the coming of Le Roy. Bride and bridegroom, there they stand; they +face the world to give their testimony. + +And a woman's voice, almost I deem the voice of Elsie Méril, echoes the +mother's cry that followed John Leclerc when he fought the beasts at +Meaux,-- + +"Blessed be Jesus Christ, and His witnesses." + +So of the Truth were they borne up that day in a blazing chariot to meet +their Lord in the air, to be forever with their Lord. + + * * * * * + + +ON A MAGNOLIA-FLOWER. + + + Memorial of my former days, + Magnolia, as I scent thy breath, + And on thy pallid beauty gaze, + I feel not far from death! + + So much hath happened! and so much + The tomb hath claimed of what was mine! + Thy fragrance moves me with a touch + As from a hand divine: + + So many dead! so many wed! + Since first, by this Magnolia's tree, + I pressed a gentle hand and said, + A word no more for me! + + Lady, who sendest from the South + This frail, pale token of the past, + I press the petals to my mouth, + And sigh--as 'twere my last. + + Oh, love, we live, but many fell! + The world's a wreck, but we survive!-- + Say, rather, still on earth we dwell, + But gray at thirty-five! + + + + +SOME NOTES ON SHAKSPEARE. + + +In 1849, the discovery by Mr. Payne Collier of a copy of the Works +of Shakspeare, known as the folio of 1632, with manuscript notes and +emendations of the same or nearly the same date, created a great and +general interest in the world of letters. + +The marginal notes were said to be in a handwriting not much later +than the period when the volume came from the press; and Shakspearian +scholars and students of Shakspeare, and the far more numerous class, +lovers of Shakspeare, learned and unlearned, received with respectful +eagerness a version of his text claiming a date so near to the lifetime +of the master that it was impossible to resist the impression that the +alterations came to the world with only less weight of authority than if +they had been undoubtedly his own. + +The general satisfaction of the literary world in the treasure-trove was +but little alloyed by the occasional cautiously expressed doubts of +some caviller at the authenticity of the newly discovered "curiosity of +literature"; the daily newspapers made room in their crowded columns for +extracts from the volume; the weekly journals put forth more elaborate +articles on its history and contents; and the monthly and quarterly +reviews bestowed their longer and more careful criticism upon the new +readings of that text, to elucidate which has been the devout industry +of some of England's ripest scholars and profoundest thinkers; while +the actors, not to be behindhand in a study especially concerning their +vocation, adopted with more enthusiasm than discrimination some of the +new readings, and showed a laudable acquaintance with the improved +version, by exchanging undoubtedly the better for the worse, upon the +authority of Mr. Collier's folio, soon after the publication of which +I had the ill-fortune to hear a popular actress destroy the effect +and meaning of one of the most powerful passages in "Macbeth" by +substituting the new for the old reading of the line,-- + + "What beast was it, then, + That made you break this enterprise to me?" + +The cutting antithesis of "What _beast_" in retort to her husband's +assertion, "I dare do all that may become a _man_," was tamely rendered +by the lady, in obedience to Mr. Collier's folio, "What _boast_ was +it, then,"--a change that any one possessed of poetical or dramatic +perception would have submitted to upon nothing short of the positive +demonstration of the author's having so written the passage. + +Opinions were, indeed, divided as to the intrinsic merit of the +emendations or alterations. Some of the new readings were undoubted +improvements, some were unimportant, and others again were beyond all +controversy inferior to the established text of the passages; and it +seemed not a little difficult to reconcile the critical acumen and +poetical insight of many of the corrections with the feebleness and +prosaic triviality of others. + +Again, it was observed by those conversant with the earlier editions, +especially with the little read or valued Oxford edition, that a vast +number of the passages given as emendations in Mr. Collier's folio were +precisely the same in Hanmer's text. Indeed, it seems not a little +remarkable that neither Mr. Collier nor his opponents have thought it +worth their while to state that nearly half, and that undoubtedly the +better half, of the so-called new readings are to be found in the finely +printed, but little esteemed, text of the Oxford Shakspeare. If, indeed, +these corrections now come to us with the authority of a critic but +little removed from Shakspeare's own time, it is remarkable that Sir +Thomas Hanmer's, or rather Mr. Theobald's, ingenuity should have +forestalled the _fiat_ of Mr. Collier's folio in so many instances. On +the other hand, it may have been judged by others besides a learned +editor of Shakspeare from whom I once heard the remark, that the fact of +the so-called new readings being many of them in Rowe and Hanmer, and +therefore well known to the subsequent editors of Shakspeare, who +nevertheless did not adopt them, proved that in their opinion they were +of little value and less authority. But, says Mr. Collier, inasmuch as +they are in the folio of 1632, which I now give to the world, they are +of authority paramount to any other suggestion or correction that has +hitherto been made on the text of Shakspeare. + +Thus stood the question in 1853. How stands it in 1860? After a slow, +but gradual process of growth and extension of doubt and questionings, +more or less calculated to throw discredit on the authority of the +marginal notes in the folio,--the volume being subjected to the careful +and competent examination of certain officers of the library of the +British Museum,--the result seems to threaten a considerable reduction +in the supposed value of the authority which the public was called upon +to esteem so highly. + +The ink in which the annotations are made has been subjected to chemical +analysis, and betrays, under the characters traced in it, others made in +pencil, which are pronounced by some persons of a more modern date than +the letters which have been traced over them. + +Here at present the matter rests. Much angry debate has ensued between +the various gentlemen interested in the controversy,--Mr. Collier not +hesitating to suggest that pencil-marks in imitation of his handwriting +had been inserted in the volume, and a fly-leaf abstracted from it, +while in the custody of Messrs. Hamilton and Madden of the British +Museum; while the replies of these gentlemen would go towards +establishing that the corrections are forgeries, and insinuating that +they are forgeries for which Mr. Collier is himself responsible. + +While the question of the antiquity and authority of these marginal +notes remains thus undecided, it may not be amiss to apply to them the +mere test of common sense in order to determine upon their intrinsic +value, to the adequate estimate of which all thoughtful readers of +Shakspeare must be to a certain degree competent. + +The curious point, of whose they are, may test the science of +decipherers of palimpsest manuscripts; the more weighty one, of what +they are worth, remains, as it was from the first, a matter on which +every student of Shakspeare may arrive at some conclusion for himself. +And, indeed, to this ground of judgment Mr. Collier himself appeals, in +his preface to the "Notes and Emendations," in no less emphatic terms +than the following:--"As Shakspeare was especially the poet of common +life, so he was emphatically the poet of common sense; and to the +verdict of common sense I am willing to submit all the more material +alterations recommended on the authority before me." + +I take "The Tempest," the first play in Mr. Collier's volume of "Notes +and Emendations," and, while bestowing my principal attention on the +inherent worth of the several new readings, shall point out where +they tally exactly with the text of the Oxford edition, because that +circumstance has excited little attention in the midst of the other +various elements of interest in the controversy, and also because I have +it in my power to give from a copy of that edition in my possession some +passages corrected by John and Charles Kemble, who brought to the study +of the text considerable knowledge of it and no inconsiderable ability +for poetical and dramatic criticism. + +In the first scene of the first act of "The Tempest" Mr. Collier gives +the line,-- + + "Good Boatswain, have care,"-- + +adding, "It may be just worth remark, that the colloquial expression is +_have a care_, and _a_ is inserted in the margin of the corrected folio, +1632, to indicate, probably, that the poet so wrote it, or, at all +events, that the actor so delivered it." + +In the copy of Hanmer in my possession the _a_ is also inserted in the +margin, upon the authority of one of the eminent actors above mentioned. + +SCENE II. + + "The sky. it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, + But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, + Dashes the fire out." + +The manuscript corrector of the folio, 1632, has substituted _heat_ +for "cheek," which appears to me an alteration of no value whatever. +Shakspeare was more likely to have written _cheek_ than _heat_; for +elsewhere he uses the expression, "Heaven's face," "the welkin's face," +and, though irregular, the expression is poetical. + +At Miranda's exclamation,-- + + "A brave vessel, + Who had no doubt some noble creature in her, + Dash'd all to pieces,"-- + +Mr. Collier does Theobald the justice to observe, that he, as well as +the corrector of the folio, 1632, adds the necessary letter _s_ to the +word "creature," making the plural substantive agree with her other +exclamation of, "Poor souls, they perished!" + +Where Mr. Collier, upon the authority of his folio, substitutes +_pre_vision for "provision" in the lines of Prospero,-- + + "The direful spectacle of the wreck . . . + I have with such provision in mine art + So safely ordered," etc.,-- + +I do not agree to the value of the change. It is very true that +_pre_vision means the foresight that his art gave him, but _pro_vision +implies the exercise of that foresight or _pre_vision; it is therefore +better, because more comprehensive. + +Mr. Collier's folio gives as an improvement upon Malone and Steevens's +reading of the passage,-- + + "And thy father + Was Duke of Milan; and his only heir + A princess; no worse issued,"-- + +the following:-- + + "And thy father + Was Duke of Milan,--thou his only heir + And princess no worse issued." + +Supposing the folio to be ingenious rather than authoritative, the +passage, as it stands in Hanmer, is decidedly better, because clearer:-- + + "And thy father + Was Duke of Milan,--thou, his only heir + A princess--no worse issued." + +In the next passage, given as emended by the folio, we have what appears +to me one bad and one decidedly good alteration from the usual reading, +which, in all the editions given hitherto, has left the meaning barely +perceptible through the confusion and obscurity of the expression. + + "He being thus _lorded_, + Not only with what my revenue yielded, + But what my power might else exact,--like one + Who having _unto truth_ by telling of it + Made such a sinner of his memory + To credit his own lie,--he did believe + He was indeed the Duke." + +The folio says,-- + +"He being thus _loaded_." + +And to this change I object: the meaning was obvious before; "lorded" +stands clearly enough here for made lord of or over, etc.; and though +the expression is unusual, it is less prosaic than the proposed word +_loaded_. But in the rest of the passage the critic of the folio does +immense service to the text, in reading + + "Like one + Who having _to untruth_ by telling of it + Made such a sinner of his memory + To credit his own lie,--he did believe + He was indeed the Duke." + +This change carries its own authority in its manifest good sense. + +Of the passage,-- + + "Whereon, + A treacherous army levied, one midnight + Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open + The gates of Milan, and in the dead of darkness + The ministers for the purpose hurried thence + Me and thy crying self,"-- + +Mr. Collier says that the iteration of the word "purpose," in the fourth +line, after its employment in the second, is a blemish, which his folio +obviates by substituting the word _practice_ in the first line. I think +this a manifest improvement, though not an important one. + +Mr. Collier gives Rowe the credit of having altered "butt" to _boat_, +and "have quit it" to _had quit it_, in the lines,-- + + "Where they prepar'd + A rotten carcase of a _butt_ not rigg'd, + Nor tackle, sail, nor mast,--the very rats + Instinctively _have quit it_." + +Adding, that in both changes he is supported by the corrector of the +folio, 1632. Hanmer gives the passage exactly as the latter, and as Rowe +does. + +We now come to the stage-directions in the folio, to which Mr. Collier +gives, I think, a most exaggerated value. He says, that, where Prospero +says,-- + + "Lend thy hand + And pluck my magic garment from me,--so + Lie there, my art,"-- + +the words, "Lay it down," are written over against the passage. Now this +really seems a very unnecessary direction, inasmuch as the text very +clearly indicates that Prospero lays down as well as plucks off his +"magic garment,"--unless we are to suppose Miranda holding it over her +arm till he resumes it. But still less do I agree with Mr. Collier in +thinking the direction, "Put on robe again," at the passage beginning, +"Now I arise," any extraordinary accession to the business, as it is +technically called, of the scene: for I do not think that his resuming +his magical robe was in any way necessary to account for the slumber +which overcomes Miranda, "in spite of her interest in her father's +story," and which Mr. Collier says the commentators have endeavored to +account for in various ways; but putting "_because_ of her interest in +her father's story," instead of "_in spite_ of," I feel none of the +difficulty which beset the commentators, and which Mr. Collier conjures +by the stage-direction which makes Prospero resume his magic robe at +a certain moment in order to put his daughter to sleep. Worthy Dr. +Johnson, who was not among the puzzled commentators on this occasion, +suggests, very agreeably to common sense, that "Experience proves that +any violent agitation of the mind easily subsides in slumber." But Mr. +Collier says, the Doctor gives this very reasonable explanation of +Miranda's sleep only because he was not acquainted with the folio +stage-direction about Prospero's coat, and knew no better. Now we are +acquainted with this important addition to the text, and yet know no +better than to agree with Doctor Johnson, that Miranda's slumbers were +perfectly to be accounted for without the coat. Mr. Collier does not +seem to know that a deeper and heavier desire to sleep follows upon the +overstrained exercise of excited attention than on the weariness of a +dull and uninteresting appeal to it. + +But let us consider Shakspeare's text, rather than the corrector's +additions, for a moment. Within reach of the wild wind and spray of +the tempest, though sheltered from their fury, Miranda had watched the +sinking ship struggling with the mad elements, and heard when "rose from +sea to sky the wild farewell." Amazement and pity had thrown her into a +paroxysm of grief, which is hardly allayed by her father's assurance, +that "there's no harm done." After this terrible excitement follows the +solemn exordium to her father's story,-- + + "The hour's now come; + The very minute bids thee ope thine ear. + Obey and be attentive." + +The effort she calls upon her memory to make to recover the traces +of her earliest impressions of life,--the strangeness of the events +unfolded to her,--the duration of the recital itself, which is +considerable,--and, above all, the poignant personal interest of +its details, are quite sufficient to account for the sudden utter +prostration of her overstrained faculties and feelings, and the profound +sleep that falls on the young girl. Perhaps Shakspeare knew this, though +his commentators, old and new, seem not to have done so; and without a +professed faith, such as some of us moderns indulge in, in the mysteries +of magnetism, perhaps he believed enough in the magnetic force of the +superior physical as well as mental power of Prospero's nature over +the nervous, sensitive, irritable female organization of his child to +account for the "I know thou canst not choose" with which he concludes +his observation on her drowsiness, and his desire that she will not +resist it. The magic gown may, indeed, have been powerful,--but hardly +more so, we think, than the nervous exhaustion which, combined with +the authoritative will and eyes of her lord and father, bowed down the +child's drooping eyelids in profoundest sleep. + +The strangest of all Mr. Collier's comments upon this passage, however, +is that where he represents Miranda as, up to a certain point of her +father's story, remaining "standing eagerly listening by his side." This +is not only gratuitous, but absolutely contrary to Shakspeare's text,--a +greater authority, I presume, than even that of the annotated folio. +Prospero's words to his daughter, when first he begins the recital of +their sea-sorrow, are,-- + + "Sit down! + For thou must now know further." + +Does Mr. Collier's folio reject this reading of the first line? or does +he suppose that Miranda remained standing, in spite of her father's +command? Moreover, when he interrupts his story with the words, "Now I +arise," he adds, to his daughter, "Sit still," which clearly indicates +both that she was seated and that she was about to rise (naturally +enough) when her father did. We say, "Sit _down_," to a person who is +standing; and, "Sit _still_," to a person seated who is about to rise; +and in all these minute particulars, the simple text of Shakspeare, if +attentively followed, gives every necessary indication of his intention +with regard to the attitudes and movements of the persons on the stage +in this scene; and the highly commended stage-directions of the folio +are here, therefore, perfectly superfluous. + +The next alteration in the received text is a decided improvement. In +speaking of the royal fleet dispersed by the tempest, Ariel says,-- + + "They all have met again, + And are upon the Mediterranean _flote_ + Bound sadly home for Naples";-- + +for which Mr. Collier's folio substitutes,-- + + "They all have met again, + And all upon the Mediterranean _float_, + Bound sadly back to Naples." + +Mr. Collier notices, that the improvement of giving the lines, + + "Which any print of goodness will not take," + +to Prospero, instead of Miranda, dates as far back as Dryden and +Davenant's alteration of "The Tempest," from which he says Theobald and +others copied it. + +The corrected folio gives its authority to the lines of the song,-- + + "Foot it featly here and there, + And, sweet sprites, the burden bear,"-- + +which stands so in Hanmer, and, indeed is the usually received +arrangement of the song. + +This is the last corrected passage in the first act, in the course of +which Mr. Collier gives us no fewer than sixteen, altered, emended, and +commented upon in his folio. Many of the emendations are to be found +_verbatim_ in the Oxford and subsequent editions, and three only appear +to us to be of any special value, tried by the standard of common sense, +to which we agreed, on Mr. Collier's invitation, to refer them. + +The line in Prospero's threat to Caliban,-- + + "I'll rack thee with old cramps, + Fill all thy bones with _aches_, make thee roar,"-- + +occasioned one of Mr. John Kemble's characteristic differences with the +public, who objected, perhaps not without reason, to hearing the word +"aches" pronounced as a dissyllable, although the line imperatively +demands it; and Shakspeare shows that the word was not unusually so +pronounced, as he introduces it with the same quantity in the prose +dialogue of "Much Ado about Nothing," and makes it the vehicle of a pun +which certainly argues that it was familiar to the public ear as _ache_ +and not _ake_. When Hero asks Beatrice, who complains that she is sick, +what she is sick for,--a hawk, a hound, or a husband,--Beatrice replies, +that she is sick for--or of--that which begins them all, an _ache_,--an +_H_. Indeed, much later than Shakspeare's day the word was so +pronounced; for Dean Swift, in the "City Shower," has the line,-- + + "Old _aches_ throb, your hollow tooth will + rage." + +The opening of this play is connected with my earliest recollections. In +looking down the "dark backward and abysm of time," to the period when +I was but six years old, my memory conjures up a vision of a stately +drawing-room on the ground-floor of a house, doubtless long since swept +from the face of the earth by the encroaching tide of new houses +and streets that has submerged every trace of suburban beauty, +picturesqueness, or rural privacy in the neighborhood of London, +converting it all by a hideous process of assimilation into more London, +till London seems almost more than England can carry. + +But in those years, "long enough ago," to which I refer,--somewhere +between Lea and Blackheath, stood in the midst of well-kept grounds a +goodly mansion, which held this pleasant room. It was always light and +cheerful and warm, for the three windows down to the broad gravel-walk +before it faced south; and though the lawn was darkened just in front of +them by two magnificent yew-trees, the atmosphere of the room itself, +in its silent, sunny loftiness, was at once gay and solemn to my small +imagination and senses,--much as the interior of Saint Peter's of Rome +has been since to them. Wonderful, large, tall jars of precious old +china stood in each window, and my nose was just on a level with the +wide necks, whence issued the mellowest smell of fragrant _pot-pourri_. +Into this room, with its great crimson curtains and deep crimson carpet, +in which my feet seemed to me buried, as in woodland moss, I used to be +brought for recompense of having been "very good," and there I used to +find a lovely-looking lady, who was to me the fitting divinity of this +shrine of pleasant awfulness. She bore a sweet Italian diminutive for +her Christian name, added to one of the noblest old ducal names of +Venice, which was that of her family. + +I have since known that she was attached to the person of, and warmly +personally attached to, the unfortunate Caroline of Brunswick, Princess +of Wales,--then only unfortunate; so that I can now guess at the drift +of much sad and passionate talk with indignant lips and tearful eyes, of +which the meaning was then of course incomprehensible to me, but which I +can now partly interpret by the subsequent history of that ill-used and +ill-conducted lady. + +The face of my friend with the great Venetian name was like one of +Giorgione's pictures,--of that soft and mellow colorlessness that +recalls the poet's line,-- + + "E smarrisce 'l bel volto in quel colore + Che non è pallidezza, ma candore,"-- + +or the Englishman's version of the same thought,-- + + "Her face,--oh, call it fair, not pale!" + +It seemed to me, as I remember it, cream-colored; and her eyes, like +clear water over brown rocks, where the sun is shining. But though the +fair visage was like one of the great Venetian master's portraits, her +voice was purely English, low, distinct, full, and soft,--and in this +enchanting voice she used to tell me the story of the one large picture +which adorned the room. + +Over and over again, at my importunate beseeching, she told +it,--sometimes standing before it, while I held her hand and listened +with upturned face, and eyes rounding with big tears of wonder and pity, +to a tale which shook my small soul with a sadness and strangeness +far surpassing the interest of my beloved tragedy, "The Babes in the +Wood,"--though at this period of my existence it has happened to me to +interrupt with frantic cries of distress, and utterly refuse to hear, +the end of that lamentable ballad. + +But the picture.--In the midst of a stormy sea, on which night seemed +fast settling down, a helmless, mastless, sailless bark lay weltering +giddily, and in it sat a man in the full flower of vigorous manhood. +His attitude was one of miserable dejection, and, oh, how I did long to +remove the hand with which his eyes were covered, to see what manner of +look in them answered to the bitter sorrow which the speechless lips +expressed! His other hand rested on the fair curls of a girl-baby of +three years old, who clung to his knee, and, with wide, wondering blue +eyes and laughing lips, looked up into the half-hidden face of her +father.--"And that," said the sweet voice at my side, "was the good Duke +of Milan, Prospero,--and that was his little child, Miranda." + +There was something about the face and figure of the Prospero that +suggested to me those of my father; and this, perhaps, added to the +poignancy with which the representation of his distress affected my +childish imagination. But the impression made by the picture, the story, +and the place where I heard the one and saw the other, is among the most +vivid that my memory retains. And never, even now, do I turn the magic +page that holds that marvellous history, without again seeing the lovely +lady, the picture full of sad dismay, and my own six-year-old self +listening to that earliest Shakspearian lore that my mind and heart ever +received. I suppose this is partly the secret of my love for this, +above all other of the poet's plays;--it was my first possession in the +kingdom of unbounded delight which he has since bestowed upon me. + + * * * * * + + +THE GREAT ARM-CHAIR. + + +Shall I not to-day, Estelle, give you the history of this great +arm-chair, the only historical piece of furniture in our house? The +heavy oak frame was carved by an imprisoned poet. They took away his +pen, and in larger lines he carved this chair. Heavily moulded Sphinxes +form its arms; the strong legs and feet of some wild beast its support; +the crest, a winged figure with bandaged eyes,--a Fate or Fortune +we might call it,--that mild look not to be resisted in its gentle +strength. But blind Fortune could not so master him: his prison made for +him only a secure room, in which to study, to work out, the mysteries. + +The rich covering was wrought long years ago, in some ancient convent, +by a saintly nun. Holy, pious tears dropped on it as she wrought. She +pricked out brave bright flowers with her needle, though her own life +was pale and sad. I cover this sacred work with housewifely care; but it +makes our rest there more hallowed. + +This old chair we call our dreaming-chair,--to borrow a name, our +Sleepy-Hollow. It is so simple and grand in workmanship, it should be +the seat of honor in a king's palace; and yet it is in place in our +small parlor. Perhaps some day I may tell you of the ancient dames and +knights who once possessed it; but they have long since slept their last +sleep,--no summer-afternoon's nap, but a sleep so long to last, now +their long day's work is done. + +Not quite finished is the old man's work who this afternoon sat in the +chair and quietly dreamed back his youth. I saw the hardened, withered +face soften, as the bright light of childhood played around it; the +meagre, hard old man forgot for a little the sharp want that pinched +him; when he waked, he still babbled of green fields. + +"Did Robinson Crusoe ever come back to his father and mother?" he says +to me. "Poor boy! poor boy! I went to sea when I was young. Father and +mother didn't like it. Came back after a four-years' voyage, and off +again, soon as the ship had unloaded, on another trip up the Channel: +took all my money to fit out. Might have had the Custom-House, if there +had been anybody to speak for me; would have done my work well, and +maybe had kept it thirty or forty years. Should be glad to creep into a +hay-mow and pay somebody to feed me. Wish old Uncle Jack was good for +somethin' besides work, work,--nothin' but hard work! Wish he could talk +and say somethin'. + +"Now that was good, sensible poetry you were reading, wasn't it? Good +stuff? Couldn't hear a word of it: poor old fellow can't hear much now. +Wish my father had lived longer; he would have told me things; he used +to be different to me. I could have been a sight of comfort to him in +mathematics." (His father died when the son was fifty years old; the +thirty years he had lived since seemed a long life to the old man.) +"Mayn't I look at the poetry?" + +I found the place for him,--"New England." + +"Yes, the farmer takes lots of comfort, walking on the road, foddering +cattle, cutting wood." + +Uncle Jack believes heartily in New England corn, and in the planting +and hoeing of Indian corn he takes great delight: not to corn-laws, but +to Indian corn, the talk always drifts. + +"I hear you are going to plant a couple of acres of corn, Sir. Glad of +it. This is an excellent dish of tea, Marm. This bread tastes like my +mother's bread; baked in a bake-kettle. These mangoes are nice,--such as +we used to have." + +Turning to Aunt Sarah, he says,-- + +"Did you ever notice a difference in eggs, Marm?" + +"Yes, Aunt thinks there is a difference between fresh and stale eggs." + +"But I mean, Marm, that some are thin-shelled, some rough, some +round, some peaked: a hen lays 'em just so all her life. Ever see a +difference?" + +It is an open question. + +Then turning to the master of the house,-- + +"Do you like choc'late, Sir? Well, how you going to fix it when you +haven't got any milk? Well, you just beat up an egg, and pour on the +choc'late, boiling hot, stirring all the time, and you won't want any +milk, Sir. That was what kept me alive aboard the Ranger." + +Now comes the story of the Ranger. He was getting in years, he said, and +wanted a home for his old age; so he built him a boat. He put a little +open stove in it, because an open fire felt kind o' comfortable to his +toes. He named it the Ranger; because when he was a little boy he took a +long walk to the beach with his father, the little Iulus following with +unequal steps, and they saw a shipwrecked vessel, named the Ranger, and +he liked the name. He kept that name in his heart many years. When at +last, by dint of much saving and scraping together, much hoeing of +Indian corn, the old stocking-foot was at last filled, all the little +odd bits, poured out and counted up, came to enough to speak to the +ship-builder. Oh, the model! how the old man's brain worked over that! +Then the timber,--each was a chosen piece; oak, apple, cherry, pine, +each tree sent a stick. The home was builded, was launched, was +christened: The Ranger. Alas, it was an ill-omened name to him! Brave +and young was he in heart, and loved right well his tossing, rolling +home; and many a hard gale did he ride out in her alone, old as he was. + +Too old was he to be trusted on the treacherous deep; and friends (?) +advised and counselled, and the home of his old age was sold. (He never +got the pay!) Now, with restless, wandering feet, he makes long tramps, +trying to collect old debts. Kind-hearted old man that he is, thinking +always he is hard on 'em when he gets a promise to pay! A wife has been +sick; perhaps he had better not ask for it now. His ox has died; maybe +he had better wait. Fumbling over old papers in his pocket-book, +muttering something about a pension: he was on the list, but was never +called out, or somebody took his place. + +Poor old Uncle Jack, with his dream of a pension, his dream of an +office, his dream of a home in a boat! With him "many a dream has gone +down the stream." + +May some friendly hand at last close his eyes to that last long sleep, +when his turn comes to heave down! + +He is always finding Indian arrowheads and hatchets and pestles. He +picks full pails of the nicest-looking huckleberries. He is always +dressed in clean, tidy clothes, a little scant and well patched. He pats +me on the head and says, "Didn't know you were Evelyn's sister; thought +it was a little three-year old." About to tell me a sad story he had +read in the newspaper, he stops suddenly and says, "Believe I won't tell +you, dear!" "Did you hear the newspipe has broke?" when the Atlantic +Telegraph Cable parted. He had plans for shoving off the Leviathan when +it stuck. + +Shall I not tell you he brings me a little bunch of eels of his own +spearing? that you must be careful at table he has enough to eat, he +takes such small pieces? that he is altogether a sparse man? has rows of +pins on his sleeve that he picks up?--an old-fashioned man, whose type +is fast fading out from these "fast," "steep" times. He tells a story of +a stream of black flies which came so thick and so fast pouring on, he +looked as long as he darst to. Yet he can tell a good, big story yet, +and when somebody was talking of turtles of good size, jumped up +suddenly, "Did you ever see a terrapin, Sir?" and then walked round the +long dining-table to tell how big he was and how high he stood on his +feet. "When I was in the West Indies, Sir----Wish I could creep into a +good English hay-mow and pay somebody to feed me!" + +Do you remember, Estelle, the story we read together once, out of the +"Casket" or "Gem," one of those old annuals, where a certain princess +was sent to a desolate island, whose maids of honor were all old crones, +once distinguished by their wonderful beauty? Her task was to discover +each especial grace, long since buried by the rubbish which time and +folly had heaped upon it; in each old, yellow, wrinkled hag to find +the charm which had once adorned her: as she found the grace, it was +transferred to her own youthful person. Slowly and patiently she unwound +those wrapped-up mummies, and disclosed the gems hidden in those +burial-clothes; and returned to her father's court enriched with all +those long-buried graces, now revived to their former youthful beauty, +and with the added charm which wisdom and patience give. + +My task is not so difficult,--as I seek virtues, not perishable stuffs. +We will learn the history of these thickly crossing wrinkles, that, +checkering, map out the face like the streets of a busy city. We will +read the story "that youth and observation copied there." Many sit in my +chair with weather-beaten looks, but time and want and necessity have +ploughed still deeper furrows. + +It is not in vain, this brave encounter with the elements,--this battle +to keep the wolf Want outside the door,--the patient, laborious building +up of the small house, made almost a comfortable home by many years of +toil,--the sufficient meal snatched from Nature by the line or the gun, +or wrung from her by hard labor of the hands. Is the face too thin and +hard, the lips compressed? Would you turn away from so much patient +endurance of a hard lot? Turn again, and read the story the clear eye +tells; listen to the words of a deep religious experience which the +thin, cracked voice relates: how in visions of the night the Comforter +has come to them, and henceforth the way of duty is clear, and the +burden of life is lightened. Will you go with me, dear, into those +homely houses, sit with me by the firesides, and hear the simple story +of New England's farmers and farmers' wives? We cannot call those poor +who are so rich in all the manly virtues, and in the deep experiences of +a faithful life. + +Uncle Jack stops on his way, going up to get the oxen, and passes the +night,--says, "Other people can't find enough to do; for his part, he +should like to lie down in the hay-mow and rest,--all worn out, used up. +Now Josiah, good, conversable man, knows about geography and the country +round. Well, when you've got that, got the best of him,--likes variety +too well,--goes off, leaves the homestead like a dismantled ship. Now, +if a man only gets three good days down cellar, that's something. Don't +believe 'Siah ever does it. So many notions in's head bothers him." +(Uncle Jack is quite right; 'tis not economical to have notions; +besides, they are revolutionary, they subvert the order of things.) "Got +a cunning little heifer used to have some manners. Lost some of our +lambs; read in a book, that, take what care you might, you would lose +some lambs at times."--To-day he has gone driving the oxen round by +Perkins's. + +"Had the rheumatism this winter,--guess Jack Frost pinched him."--Ah! +dear old man, an older than Jack Frost has got hold of your aged limbs! +Harder pinches old Time gives than any mortal man! + +"Used to get a little bird, Harris and me, and roast it, and mother +would give us a little apple-sauce in a clam-shell, and we would go off +back the island and eat it. Harris was sent to school up to Perkins's; +couldn't stay; run away, and _borrowed_ a boat, and came home again; +afraid of his father, and hid in the barn. Dug a well in the hay, +and they used to lower him down things to eat, and water to drink in +scooped-out water-melon rinds." + + * * * * * + + +THE SONG OF FATIMA. + + + On, sad are they who know not love, + But, far from passion's tears and smiles, + Drift down a moonless sea, and pass + The silver coasts of fairy isles! + + And sadder they whose longing lips + Kiss empty air, and never touch + The dear warm mouth of those they love, + Waiting, wasting, suffering much! + + But clear as amber, sweet as musk, + Is life to those whose lives unite: + They walk in Allah's smile by day, + And nestle in his heart by night! + + + + + +SOMETHING ABOUT HISTORY. + + +There is no kind of writing which is undertaken so much from will and so +little from instinct as History. It seems the great resource of baffled +ambition, of leisure, of minds disciplined rather than inspired, of men +with pecuniary means and without professional obligations. Sympathy +with or opposition to an author prompts those thus situated to write +criticism; a dominant sentiment inspires poetical composition; and +usually an impressive experience suggests adventure in the field of +fiction: but we find educated men, in independent circumstances, not +remarkable for sensibility to Nature, acute critical perception, or +dramatic talent, whose literary aspirations are vague, and who desire +to be occupied eligibly, turn to History as the most available +vantage-ground, busy themselves with wars and councils that happened +ages ago,--with kings and soldiers, institutions and adventures, +politics and dynasties, so far removed from the associations and +interests of the hour, that only a scholar's enthusiasm or ambition +could sustain the research or keep alive the enterprise thus voluntarily +assumed. It is this objective method and motive that chiefly accounts +for the numberless inert and the few vital histories. Like any +intellectual task assumed without special fitness therefor or motive +thereto,--without a comprehensive grasp of mind that impels to +historic exploration,--without a patriotic zeal that warms to national +heroism,--without, especially, a love of some principle, a conviction +of some truth, an admiration of some national development, irresistibly +urging the cultivated and ardent mind to seek for the facts, to +celebrate the persons, to evolve the truth involved in and manifest +through public events,--the annals recorded are but dry chronology,--a +monotonous, more or less authentic, perhaps quite respectable, but far +from a very important or peculiarly interesting work. Thousands of +such cumber the shelves of libraries and fill the pages of +catalogues,--dusted once a year, perhaps, to verify a date, to +authenticate the details of a treaty, or fix the statistics of a war, +but never read consecutively and with zest, because there was no genuine +relation between the writer and his book. He undertook the latter in +the spirit of a mechanical job; industry and learning may be embodied +therein, but no moral life, no human charm; yet the work is cited with +respect, the author enrolled with honor;--whereas, had he sought +in poetry or philosophy, in a novel or a drama, thus to occupy and +celebrate himself with literature, the failure would have been signal, +the attempt ignominious. There is, indeed, no safer investment for +middling literary abilities than History; for, if it fail to yield any +large harvest of renown, it is comparatively secure from the assaults +of ridicule, such as make pretension in other spheres of writing +conspicuous. + +Even in what are considered the successful exemplars in this department +of literature, the errors incident to artificiality, the conventional +forms of writing, are patent. Only in passages do we recognize that +beauty or truth, that reality and genuineness, which so often wholly +pervade a poem, a story, a memoir, or even a disquisition: at some +point, the flow incident to wilful instead of soulful utterance becomes +apparent;--ambition, pride of opinion, love of display somewhere +manifest themselves. It has been said that the chief element of Hume's +mental power was skepticism; and, singular as it may appear, his doubts +about what are deemed the vital interests of humanity gave a charm to +his record of her political vicissitudes; while he made capital of +touching "situations," he displayed his own strength of intellect; but, +with all this, did not write complete and authentic history. And when +analyzed, what was the _animus_ of Gibbon's elaborate chronicle? He +"spent his time, his life, his energy," says a severe, but just critic, +"in putting a polished gloss on human tumult, a sneering gloss on human +piety." And who has not felt, in following Macaulay's animated periods +and thorough exposition and illustration of some event, trait, or +economy,--in itself of little importance and limited value,--how much +better it would have been to reserve his brilliant descriptive and keen +analytical powers for the grand episodes, the prolific crises, and the +leading characters of history, instead of indiscriminately devoting them +to a consecutive account of national incidents and persons, both great +and small, illustrious and insignificant? + +A popular British author of our own day, in order to demonstrate the +law of compensation, as regards the literary vocation, cites its +inexpensiveness,--arguing, that, whereas the artist must invest capital, +however small, in colors, marble, canvas, and studio-hire, and the +professional man occupy a costly locality, the author needs but a quire +of foolscap and a pen and ink to set up in trade. While there is literal +truth in this comparison, the fact is not applicable to historical +writing, except in a very limited degree. The preparation of the most +successful works in this department, in modern times, has been attended +with an outlay impossible to the poor scholar. It has involved the +examination and reproduction of voluminous manuscript authorities, +distant travel, the purchase of rare books and family papers, and +sometimes years of busy reference, observation, and study, lucrative +only in prospect. The same amount of culture and facile vigor of +composition which less prosperous authors expend on a masterly review +would suffice to make them famous historians, if blessed with the +pecuniary means to seek foreign sources of information, or gather about +them scattered and rare materials wherewith to weave a chronicle of the +past. Hence, not only has History become the chosen field of writers +with no special gift for more individually inspired kinds of literature, +but of the educated sons of fortune. Accordingly, it is curious to +remark the contrast between the lives of historians and those of +poets; and in the average circumstances of the former there is some +justification for the title of an aristocratic guild in letters. +Compare Cowper's humble home at Olney with Gibbon's elegant library at +Lausanne,--the social environment of Hallam, Grote, or Macaulay with +the rustic isolation of Wordsworth, the economies of Shelley, or the +life-struggle of Jerrold. Of course, there can thence be inferred no +general rule; and the very differences in temperament between inventive +and reproductive writers suggest a consequent diversity of habits; but +the very idea of historical composition, on an extensive scale and as a +permanent occupation, implies the leisure which competency alone yields, +the means indispensable for gradual literary achievement, and more or +less of the luxury and social position which, when education obtains, +usually attend upon these advantages. + +It results from these considerations that there is no sphere of +literature which is so often the refuge of wealthy scholars, idle men of +taste, baffled politicians of independent means, ambitious and well-read +but not specially gifted citizens who have inherited comfortable +estates. It is so dignified an employment, that it gratifies pride,--so +possible without trenchant opinions, that it does not alarm the +conservative,--so thoroughly respectable, safe, and capable of being +made illustrious, so comparatively easy to the fluent but unoriginal +mind, and practicable to follow, when methodically carried out, in +a stated, regular manner, that we can scarcely be astonished at +the alacrity with which such voluntary tasks are undertaken or the +steadiness with which they are followed; at the same time, it may be +because so few are able to command the means and opportunity, that +historical writing is so highly estimated. As a test of intellectual +power, a gauge of individual sentiment, an evidence of original genius, +it is immeasurably inferior to dramatic, philosophical, or any of the +more personal forms of literature, when inspired by deep convictions, +original ideas, or creative imagination. It requires more knowledge +than reflection, more patience than earnestness, more judgment than +sentiment; and those who have raised it to a vital significance and +profound beauty and interest have done so by virtue of endowments which, +otherwise directed, would have placed them high and firm on the roll of +genius: for it is possible to write history without this transcendent +gift,--possible to write it respectably without the slightest grandeur +or grace of mind,--by virtue of command of words, industry, care, and +good sense. We cannot imagine Shakspeare tracing out his conception +of Hamlet, or giving language to Lear or Miranda, without a soulful +experience as far above mere intellectual assiduity as humanity is above +mechanism; we cannot think of Milton elaborating his sublime epic, +without, in fancy, taking in the studious years, the Italian nights +of music, starlight, and high converse, the beautiful youth, the +self-sacrificing prime, the blind old age, the religious patriotism, +the pious loyalty, the learning and love, and the isolated meditation, +cheered by grand symphonies and hoarded wisdom, through and by which, +concentrated into melodious expression, the life of a noble mind thus +majestically expressed itself: but we can easily fancy cold and cultured +Gibbon returning from the Continent, full of classic lore, disgusted +with his failure in public life, not sympathetic enough to enjoy +heartily a career either of pleasure or of society, and so, in his +dreams of scholarship, seizing upon the idea of a long, laborious, +erudite, and elegant task; and we can also well imagine Hume, with his +love of speculation, turning gratefully to the records of the past for +subjects of reflection, analysis, and inference. In these and other +notable instances, we feel it is more an accident than an inspiration, +more from circumstances than from innate and absolute endowment and +impulse, that the historic Muse is wooed. + +Within a brief period the grave has closed over one of the most +irreproachable and assiduous of American writers of History,--whose +career signally illustrates the blessing of such a resource to +unoccupied and cultivated leisure, and at the same time the fortuitous +circumstances which often originate and prolong this kind of literary +labor. In a letter to a friend abroad, written by Prescott soon after +he found himself thus congenially occupied, the case is most frankly +stated. "Ennui crept over me, when I found myself a perfectly idle man, +with nothing to do, and, what made it worse, with eyes so debilitated +that I had no power of doing anything with them. However, 'necessity is +the mother of invention,' and I resolved to turn author in spite of my +eyes; and it is a great satisfaction to me to think that the volumes I +have put together for my own amusement should have afforded some to my +countrymen, and, above all, to my friends."[A] + +[Footnote A: Letter of W. H. Prescott to Miss Preble, dated Boston, +February 28, 1845. _Memoir of Harriet Preble_, by Professor R.H. LEE, p. +285-6.] + +This modest and candid estimate of his vocation indicates how much more +a thing of volition and opportunity, and how much less a work of special +endowment and intuitive recognition is the literature of History than +that of Poetry, Psychology, or Philosophy, notwithstanding all these may +be fused therein. "Whatever may be the use of this sort of composition +in itself and abstractedly," observes a judicious critic,[B] "it is +certainly of great use relatively and to literary men. Consider the +position of a man of that species. He sits beside a library-fire, with +nice white paper, a good pen, a capital style, every means of saying +everything, but nothing to say. What, again, if something would happen, +and then one could describe it? Something has happened, and that +something is History." To feel fully the difference between a formal, +mechanical annalist and the revival of the past through poetic or +artistic sympathy, it is only requisite to turn from some dry chronicle +of political vicissitudes, duly registered by a dull, matter-of-fact, +conscientious antiquary, to the fresh classical or colonial romance, of +which such graceful and well-studied exemplars have been produced by +Lockhart, Bulwer, D'Azeglio, Kingsley, Ware, Longfellow, and other +bards and novelists. While the attempt, by intensity of description and +brilliant generalities, to impart to veritable history the charm we +accept in the historical romance, has caused many an old-school reader +to place Macaulay's fascinating volumes, called "The History of +England," on the same shelf with works of fiction,--Aytoun, Hugh +Miller, and William Penn's champions have given special meaning to +this principle or prejudice, whichever it may be, by challenging the +delightful author to the test of fact. + +[Footnote B: Bagehot.] + +In statesmen, or those who have excelled in political writing, the +ambition to write history, the desire to illustrate and record national +events, is not only a natural, but an auspicious feeling; and so it is +in educated poets in whom the sentiment of patriotism or the narrative +art gives scope and glow to such an enterprise. That Fox and Bacon, +Milton and Swift, Mackintosh, Schiller, and Lamartine, should have +partially adventured in this field seems but a legitimate result of +their endowments and experience, however fragmentary or inadequate may +have been some of the fruits of their historic studies. + +When an enlightened and executive or speculative man is an obvious part +of the history of his own times, his chronicle must have a certain +significance and value. Raleigh, when he wrote the "History of the +World" in prison, gave hints by which subsequent and less obsolete +annalists have wisely profited. The scholar and the patriot coalesced in +the mind of Camden, prompting him to rescue and conserve the materials +of English history and note the fading traditions,--a purely antiquarian +service, which only those can appreciate who seek authentic data of +the far past. Such as cavil at the legal tone and crude arrangement +of Clarendon are none the less his debtors for specific memoirs, the +personal element of history; and while Burnet has been vigorously +repudiated by standard historians, he continues, and justly, to be a +prolific authority. It is conceded by all candid explorers, that, as far +as it goes, the account of England by Rapin is the best. Franklin's +old friend Ralph was commended and quoted by Fox. As the enterprise of +historical writers enlarged and their style became elaborate, these and +such as these lost in popularity what they gained in usefulness. The +charm of rhetorical elegance and broad generalizations gradually usurped +the place of simple narrative and detailed statement. In the very design +of Gibbon there is a certain poetical attraction; his work may aptly +be described as panoramic, unrolling a vast picture or succession of +pictures, too vague in outline and too monotonous in color for minute +impressions, yet, on this account, the more remarkable for general +effect. What Europe was in the Middle Ages we find more specifically in +Hallam; the Moors in Spain have been more vividly painted by subsequent +writers, whose aim was less comprehensive: but how the imperial sway of +Rome subsided into the Christian era, how a republican episode gleamed +athwart her waning power in the casual triumph of Rienzi, the +later emperors, and what occurred in their reign in Jerusalem and +Constantinople, pass emphatically before us in the stately pages which +once charmed readers of English as the model of historic eloquence, and +now excite the admiration of scholars as a monument of erudition and +elaborate but artificial writing. There was a new attraction in the +pleasing style of Robertson and the characterization of Hume; the +winsome language of the one and the transparent diction of the other +made historical reading not so much a task to cumber the memory as a +pastime to entertain the mind; in the one chronicle we followed events +gracefully unfolded, and in the other discussed persons with acuteness; +yet, when to either was subsequently applied the test of absolute +accuracy and sound deduction, large allowances were demanded for +inadequate research on the part of Robertson and partial inferences on +that of Hume. The theories of the latter indicate why and how, with +all his intellectual abilities, the sympathies of his readers were +inevitably limited; in his view of humanity we find the true cause +of all his deficiencies as an historian: "Human life," he somewhere +remarks, "is more governed by fortune than by reason, is to be regarded +more as a dull pastime than a serious occupation, and is more influenced +by particular humor than by general principles." Yet, in a philosophical +retrospect of English historians, we can trace a progressive development +from the purely antiquarian researches of Camden to the personal memoirs +of Clarendon and Burnet; thence to the comprehensive erudition and +majestic narrative of Gibbon; onward to the reasoning, lucid record of +Hume and the fascinating narrative of Robertson;--all of which qualities +of industry, characterization, broad knowledge, taste, emphasis, +and reflection blend, culminate, and intensify along the copious, +rhetorical, and vivid page of Macaulay. + +The Italian historians prolong, in style at least, the method of their +classic predecessors: _"La Storia del Guicciardini è considerata come +opera classica,"_--we are told by one of the critics of that nation; who +adds, "His descriptions are always accurate, clear, and expressed with +eloquence; the causes of events and their consequences are enumerated +with rare acuteness; and his personages are delineated in their true +characters, the historian descending into the deepest penetralia of +their hearts: but the most eminent merit of this History consists in the +moral and political considerations with which it abounds; it is like +Tacitus." In like manner, Machiavelli is compared to Thucydides; while +Varchi's long periods, adulation of the Medici, and municipal details +are condemned by the same authority: yet one familiar with modern +literature in this department will, despite this general commendation of +native critics, be apt to ascribe the conservative charm of the Italian +historians to their style rather than their method or matter. + +It is remarkable how late the French writers won laurels in the field +of historical composition, and how long France, with all her national +vanity, has lacked a complete and classical chronicle,--brilliant and +invaluable fragments whereof abound. According to the most esteemed +French critics, until this century the nation actually knew nothing +of its own history; and it is characteristic of their speculative +and methodical mind and taste, that History became popular and +philosophical, a novelty and a reform, simultaneously. Guizot, Thierry, +Sismondi, and others, created a new era in this branch of letters; +Thiers and Michelet enlarged its sphere and increased its charms; and +yet, while the graphic simplicity of Froissart, the critical insight and +ingenious generalizations of Guizot, and the poetical glow and richness +of Michelet have made the history of France both highly suggestive as +regards the development of civilization, and picturesque and dramatic as +a narrative, the greatest allowance for brilliant theorizing, political +sympathies, and an errant fancy are indispensable in order to attain to +a clear view of genuine facts and absolute principles. It has been said +that "leading ideas" are fatal to accuracy of statement; and these +dominate in the minds of French philosophical annalists; while the more +sympathetic class are fond of rhetorical display and fanciful episodes. +A recent critic, after bestowing merited encomiums on Michelet, gives +the following instance of his absurd generalizations, which occur in the +midst of grave historical statements and descriptions: "Wool and flesh +are the primitive foundations of England and the English race; ere +becoming the world's manufactory of hardware and tissues, England was a +victualling-shop; before they became a commercial, they were a breeding +and a pastoral people,--a race fatted on beef and mutton; hence their +freshness of tint, their beauty and strength: _their greatest man, +Shakspeare, was originally a butcher_." + +Less prominent and more recent names on the roll of historic literature +are as distinctly associated with special excellences and defects. Thus, +Grote keeps attention more by the intelligence of his comments than by +the flow of his narration; he is far more political than picturesque; +and while he gives a masterly analysis of the Athenian system of +government, so as to place it in a new light even to the scholar's +apprehension, he discusses the arts and the literature so inspiring +to most cultivated minds, when describing Greece, with comparative +indifference. Those who would examine English annals unbiased by +Protestant zeal, and realize how the events and characters look to a +Roman Catholic vision, may gather from Lingard some views which may +not disadvantageously modify their interpretation of familiar men and +occurrences. Two English writers have hastily compiled her annals +during certain epochs; but while they are equally chargeable with +superficiality, the manner in which the work is done is by no means +similar. Smollet's continuation of Hume was confessedly a bookseller's +job: four octavo volumes in only ten times the number of months, even in +our days of locomotive celerity, would be thought rather a suspicious +piece of literary handiwork; and besides the indecent haste, so +incompatible with thoroughness, the misrepresentations of Smollet are +patent. Goldsmith, as unambitious in research as he was genial in +expression, made so agreeable a story, that, with all its imperfection, +his sketch still finds readers; while the rarely quoted work of Henry +most conveniently enumerates, at the end of each reign, details +economical and social which identify and illustrate both period and +progress in Anglo-Saxon civilization. As a copious and consecutive +record of the salient incidents in modern Continental history,--so +needful now for reference, and the diverse phases of which are so widely +chronicled in the memoirs, the journals, the diplomatic correspondence, +and what may be called the incidental history of the period,--the plan +of Alison's work might have achieved a triumph of industry and skill, +valuable as well as interesting to general readers and professional +writers: but the political opinions, with the partial feelings they +engender, continually distort the view and influence the estimate of +this positive yet pleasant historian; while his almost wilful blunders, +like the errors of Lord Mahon in regard to the American War, have +been repeatedly demonstrated. Mackintosh philosophized about events, +measures, and men, better than he described either. Sharon Turner nobly +illustrates the value of intrepid research and patient collation. +Mitford represents the aristocratic as Grote the democratic element in +Grecian history. Tytler wrote of the past in the life of nations with +the exclusive reliance on written proof that a conveyancer places upon +title-deeds, and beside the glowing and harmonious pictures of later +annalists such writing now appears obsolete. Napier describes battles +scientifically, and Carlyle revolutions melodramatically,--each with +original power, in their respective methods,--while Miss Strickland +brings to the record of queenly sorrows and duties a woman's sympathetic +prepossessions. + +Since those quaintly simple and emphatic statements which, under the +name of Froissart's Chronicles, seem to perpetuate the instinctive +notion of History, as an honest and earnest, but unadorned and +unelaborate narrative of military and political facts,--not only has +there been a continual refinement of style and enlargement of scope and +art, but a greater complexity and subdivision in the historian's labors. +Abstract political ideas, purely intellectual phenomena, have found +their annalists, as well as executive enterprise; events have been +analyzed, as well as described,--characters discussed, as well as +pictured,--the elements of society laid bare with as much zeal and +scrutiny as its development has been traced and delineated. European +historical students read anew the records of the past by the light +of philosophy; more subtile divisions than the geographer indicates +organize the record; events are narrated with reference to a dominant +idea; governments are chronicled through their ultimate results, and +not exclusively with regard to their locality; rulers are considered +in groups; a faith is made the nucleus of an historical development, +instead of a nation. Thus, we have Ranke's "Popes" and D'Aubigne's +"Reformation," Hallam's "Middle Ages" and "English Constitution"; De +Quincey treats of "The Caesars"; Vico demonstrates that History is a +science with positive laws; Gervinus illustrates it as a development of +certain inevitably progressive ideas; Niebuhr interprets it by fresh +tests and ordeals; Dr. Arnold teaches it by an original method; Humboldt +points out its naturalistic tendencies and origin; Herder and Hegel, De +Tocqueville and Guizot, the eminent writers on Civilization, on Art, on +Education, Political Economy, Literature, and Natural History, more +and more exhibit the facts of humanity and of time under such new +combinations, by so many parallel truths and principles, that it is +difficult to conceive that History, as now understood by the educated +and the reflective, is the same thing once crudely embodied in a ballad +or mystically conserved by an inscription. To multiply relations is the +destiny of our age, and to converge all that is discovered through the +laws of Science upon the records and relics of the past is a process now +habitual and pervasive. + +And yet how little positive satisfaction does the lover of truth, the +aspirant for what is authentic and significant, find in current and even +popular histories! Certain general notions of the character of nations +we, indeed, distinctly and correctly attain: that Chinese civilization +is stationary, the French instinctively a military race, the Swiss +mercenary, and adventurous in engineering and religious reform,--that +modern German literature was as sudden as simultaneous in its +development,--that Holland redeemed her foundations from the sea,--that +Italy owes to art, and England to manufactures, her growth and grandeur. +These and such as these are problems which the history of the respective +countries, however inadequately told, reveals with authenticity; but +when we go beyond and below the patent facts of local civilization, to +the analysis of character, and, through it, of destiny, few and far +between are the satisfactory records whence we can draw legitimate +materials for inference and conjecture. The most attractive method +is apt to be that upon which least reliance can be placed. We seldom +consult Sir Walter's essays at serious history, while the novels he +created out of historic material are as familiar as they are endeared; +but their imaginative charm is in the inverse ratio of their +authenticity. With every new candidate for public favor in this sphere +of literature, there arises a "mooted question" whereon the historian +and his readers are irreconcilably divided. The character of Penn, of +Marlborough, and of the facts of the Massacre at Glencoe are still +vehemently discussed, whenever Macaulay's popular History is referred +to. Froude advances a new and plausible theory of the character of Henry +VIII.; few of Bancroft's American readers accept his estimate of John +Jay, Sam Adams, or Dr. Johnson, or of the political character of the +Virginia Colonists; and Palfrey and Arnold interpret quite diversely +the influence and career of Roger Williams. Nor are such discrepancies +surprising, when we remember how the history which transpires now and +here fails of harmonious report. Every battle, diplomatic arrangement, +political event, nay, each personal occurrence, which forms the staple +of to-day's journalism and talk, is regarded from so many different +points of view, and stated under so many modifying influences, that only +judicial minds have a prospect of reaching the exact truth. Hence the +true way to profit by History is eclectic. + +Let the erudition of the German, the genial animation of the French, +the Saxon good sense, the Italian grace be enjoyed, and whatsoever of +glamour or of inadequacy these charms hide be duly estimated; reflection +and sympathy will often separate the gold of truth from the alloy of +prejudice or fantasy. Above all, let this eclectic test be applied +beyond nominal history,--to the geological data on the ancient +rock,--the handwriting of the ages upon race, costume, language,--the +incidental, but genuine history innate in all true literature, vivid +elements whereof live in passages of Milton's controversial writings, in +Petrarch's sonnets, De Foe's fictions, our Revolutionary correspondence, +South's sermons, Swift's diaries, Burke's speeches, French memoirs, +Walpole's letters, in the poems, plays, and epistles of the past, and +every fact and person which society and life offer to our cognizance or +sympathy. + +"When we are much attached to our ideas, we endeavor to attach +everything to them," says Madame de Staël. "The secret of writing well," +observes a Scotch professor, "is to write from a full mind." These +two maxims seem to us to illustrate the whole subject of historical +composition; an earnest votary thereof will instinctively find material +in every interest and influence that sways events or moulds character, +and from the assimilation of all these will educe a vital and harmonious +picture and philosophy. There is an historical as well as a judicial or +poetic type of mind; and to such there is no object too trifling, no +fact too remote, not directly or indirectly to minister to the unwritten +history which vaguely shapes itself to his intelligence. In his reading +and travel it is by no means to the ostensible monuments and trophies of +the past that his observation and inquiry are confined: the Letters of +Madame de Sévigné give him authentic hints for the social tendencies +of France and their influence upon politics, as the blood-stains at +Holyrood identify the place of Rizzio's murder; the "Edinburgh +Review" reveals the spirit of the Reform movement as clearly as the +Parliamentary records its letter; the South-Sea House and the Temple are +as suggestive as Whitehall and the Abbey,--for trade and jurisprudence, +in the retrospect, are as much a part of the by-gone life and present +character of a nation, as the fate and the fame of her dead kings; and a +Spanish ballad is as valuable an illustration as a Madrid state-paper; +while the life of Harry Vane vindicates the Puritan nature as clearly +as the letter of a Venetian ambassador exhibits the domestic life of a +Pope. + +The redeeming influence of strong personal sympathy and earnest +conviction, both in the choice of a subject and the method of its +treatment, has been signally illustrated by a countryman of our own. +The interest of the general reader and the approbation of historical +scholars were at once enlisted by Motley's "Rise and Fall of the Dutch +Republic." That work differs from and is superior to any American +historical composition by virtue of a certain fluent animation, a +certain decided and sustained tone, such as can be derived only from an +absolute relation between the author's mind and heart and his subject. +Accordingly his record not only seizes upon the attention, but wins the +sympathy of the reader, who recognizes a vital and genuine spirit in the +work, which gives it unity, completeness, and a living style, whereby +its incidents, characters, and philosophy are unfolded, not only with +art, but with nature, and so made real, attractive, and significant. +That we are right in ascribing these merits to the affinity between the +author and his work is amply evidenced by his own confession in a letter +called forth by the death of Prescott, in which he says,-- + +"It seems to me but as yesterday, though it must be now twelve years +ago, that I was talking with our ever-lamented friend Stackpole about my +intention of writing a history upon a subject to which I have since that +time been devoting myself. I had then made already some general studies +in reference to it, without being in the least aware that Prescott had +the intention of writing the history of Philip II. Stackpole had heard +the fact, and that large preparations had already been made for the +work, although 'Peru' had not yet been published. I felt, naturally, +much disappointed. I was conscious of the immense disadvantage to myself +of making my appearance, probably at the same time, before the public, +with a work not at all similar in plan to 'Philip II.,' but which must, +of necessity, traverse a portion of the same ground. My first thought +was, inevitably as it were, only of myself. It seemed to me that I had +nothing to do but to abandon at once a cherished dream, and probably to +renounce authorship. _For I had not first made up my mind to write a +history, and then cast about to take up a subject. My subject had taken +up me, drawn me on, and absorbed me into itself. It was necessary for +me, it seemed, to write the book I had been thinking much of,--even if +it were destined to fall dead from the press,--and I had no inclination +or interest to write any other_." + +The same inspiration is partially obvious in those portions of every +history which come home to the writer's experience: as, for instance, +some of the military episodes in Colletta's "History of Naples," he +having been a soldier,--and the descriptive phases of Parkman's "History +of Pontiac," the author having been a Prairie traveller, and familiar +with the woods and the bivouac. In like manner, it is the idiosyncrasy +of historians which gives original value to their labors: Botta's +knowledge of American localities and civilization was meagre, but his +sympathy with the patriots of the Revolution was strong, and this gave +warmth and effect to his "Guerra Americana"; Niebuhr was specially +gifted to develop what has been called the law of investigation, and +hence he penetrates the Roman life, and lays bare much of its unapparent +meaning and spirit. So apt and patient are the Germans in research, that +they have been justly said to "quarry" out the past; while so native are +rhetoric, theorizing, and fancifulness to the French, that they make +history, as they do life and government, theatrical and picturesque, +rather than gravely real and practically suggestive. + +A peculiar feature in the labors of modern historians is the research +expended upon what the elder annalists regarded as purely incidental +and extraneous. The collation of archives, official correspondence, and +state-papers is now but the rough basis of research; memoirs are equally +consulted,--localities minutely examined,--the art and literature of a +given era analyzed,--the geography, climate, and ethnology of the scene +made to illustrate the life and polity,--social phases, educational +facts estimated as not less valuable than statistics of armies and +judicial enactments. Michelet has some charming rural pictures and +female portraits in his History of France; Macaulay thinks no custom +or economy of a reign insignificant in the great historical aggregate. +Topography, botany, artistic knowledge are not less parts of the +chronicler's equipment than philology, rhetoric, and philosophy; a +newspaper is not beneath nor a traveller's gossip beyond his scope; +architecture reveals somewhat which diplomacy conceals; an inscription +is not more historical than the average temperature or the staple +productions. Whatever affects national character and destiny, whatever +accounts for national manners or confirms individual sway, is brought +into the record. Diaries, like those of Pepys and Evelyn, the tithe-book +of a county, the taste in portraiture, the costume and the play-bill +yield authentic hints not less than the census, the parliamentary +edicts, or the royal signatures; the popular poem, the social favorite, +the _cause célèbre_, what pulpit, bar, peasant and beau, doctor and lady +_à la mode_ do, say, and are, then and there, must coalesce with +the battle, the legislation, and the treaty,--or these last are but +technical landmarks, instead of human interests. + +Even our most generalized historical ideas are made emphatic only +through association and observation. How the vague sense of Roman +dominion is deepened as we trace the outline of a camp, the massive +ranges of a theatre, or the mouldy effigy on a coin, in some region +far distant from the Imperial centre,--as at Nismes or Chester! How +complete becomes the idea of mediaeval life, contemplated from the +ramparts of a castle, in the "dim, religious light" of an old monastic +chapel, or amid the obsolete trappings and weapons of an armory! What +a distinct and memorable revelation of ancient Greece is the Venus or +Apollo, a Parthenon frieze or a fateful drama! The best political essays +on the French Revolution are based on the economical and social facts +recorded in the Travels of Arthur Young. The equivocal action of +Massena, when he commanded Paris against the Allies, is explained in +the recently published letter of Joseph Bonaparte, wherein we learn his +deficiency of muskets. Humboldt accounted for the defects of Prescott's +"Conquest of Mexico" by the fact that the historian had never visited +that country. Napoleon gave a key to the misfortunes of Italy, when he +said, "It is a peninsula too long for its breadth." And the significance +of the Seven Years' War is expressed in a single phrase by Milton's last +biographer, when he defines it as the "consummation politically and the +attenuation spiritually of the movement begun in Europe by the Lutheran +Reformation." + +Indeed, so intimate is the connection between private life and public +events, between political and social phenomena, that the historical mind +finds material in all literature, and the very attempt to keep to a high +strain and to bend facts to theory limits the authenticity of professed +annalists. What Macaulay says of an eminent party-leader is modified to +those who have studied the character through his memoirs or writings. +The charming narrative of Robertson, the characterization of Hume, the +stately periods of Gibbon, fail to win implicit confidence, when the +scene, the age, or the personages described are known to the reader +through original authorities. When Bancroft declares a treaty of +Colonial governors against Indian ravages the germ of democratic +government, we know that it is his attachment to a theory, and not the +actual circumstances, which leads to such an inference; for the very +authority he cites merely indicates a defensive alliance among rulers, +not a coalition of the ruled. And so when to an account of the Battle +of Lexington he appends a rhetorical argument connecting that event, so +meagre and simple in itself and so wonderful in its consequences, with +the progress of truth and humanity in political science and reformed +religion, we feel that the reasoning is forced and irrelevant,--more an +experiment in fine writing than an evolution of absolute truth. + +Thus continually is the independent reader of history taught +eclecticism: he makes allowance for the want of careful research in this +writer, for the love of effect in that,--for the skepticism of one, +and the credulity of another,--for enthusiasm here, and fastidiousness +there,--and especially for the greater or less attachment to certain +opinions, and the absence or presence of strong convictions and genuine +sympathies. Hence, to read history aright, we must read human nature as +well; we must bring the light of philosophy and of faith, the calmness +of judgment and the insight of love, to the record; collateral +revelations drawn from our own experience, modified acceptance of both +statement and inference, superiority to the blandishments of style, +are as needful for the right interpretation of a chronicle as of a +scientific problem. Thus history is perpetually rewritten; fresh +knowledge opens new vistas in the past as well as the future; the +discovery of to-day may rectify, in important respects, the statement +which has been unchallenged for centuries; one new truth leavens a +thousand old formulas; and nothing is more gradual than the elucidation +of historical events and characters. Even our own brief annals suggest +how large must be the historian's faith in time: only within a year or +two has it been possible to demonstrate the justice of Washington's +estimate of Lee, and how completely the sagacious provision of Schuyler +secured the capture of Burgoyne. Since the American Revolution, one of +these men has been as much overrated as the other has failed of +just appreciation--because the documentary wisdom requisite for an +enlightened judgment has not until now been patent.[C] + +[Footnote C: See Lossing's _Life and Correspondence of General +Schuyler_, and Professor Moore's paper on Charles Lee.] + +With the imposing array of professed histories and historians in view, +it is curious to revert to the actual sources of our own historic +ideas,--those which are definite and pervasive. The vast number of +intelligent readers, who have made no special study of this kind +of literature, probably derive their most distinct and attractive +impressions of the past from poetry, travel, and the choicest works of +the novelist; local association and imaginative sympathy, rather than +formal chronicles, have enlightened and inspired them in regard to +Antiquity and the great events and characters of modern Europe. This +fact alone suggests how inadequate for popular effect have been the +average labors of historians; and so fixed is the opinion among scholars +that it is impossible for the annalist to be profound and interesting, +authentic and animated, at the same time, that a large class of the +learned repudiate as spurious the renown of Macaulay,--although his +research and his minuteness cannot be questioned, and only in a few +instances has his accuracy been successfully impugned. They distrust him +chiefly because he is agreeable, doubt his correctness for the reason +that his style fascinates, and deem admiration for him inconsistent with +their own self-respect, because he is such a favorite as no historian +ever was before, and his account of a parliament, a coinage, or a feud +as winsome as a portraiture of a woman. In one of his critical essays, +Macaulay himself gives a partial explanation of this protest of the +minority in his own case. "People," he remarks, "are very loath to admit +that the same man can unite very different kinds of excellence. It is +soothing to envy to believe that what is splendid cannot be solid and +what is clear cannot be profound." And it has been most justly said of +his own method of writing history, "He must make _everything_ clear and +bright, and bring it into the range of his analysis; his exaggeration +chiefly applies to individual characters, not to general facts"; and the +reason given for the decided preference manifested for his vivid record +is not less true than philosophical,--"We learn so much from him +_enjoyably_." It is precisely the lack of this pleasurable trait which +makes the greater part of the annals of the past a dead letter to the +world, and wins to romance, ballad, epic, fiction, relic, and poetry the +keen attention which facts coldly "set in a note-book" never enlisted. +How many of us unconsciously have adopted the portraits of the early +English kings as Shakspeare drew them! To what a host of living souls is +the history of Scotland what the author of "Waverley" makes it! Charles +I. haunts the fancy, not as drawn by Hume, but as painted by Vandyck. +The institutions of the Middle Ages are realized to every reflective +tourist through the architecture of Florence more than by the municipal +details of Hallam. Pyramids, obelisks, mummies have brought home +Egyptian civilization; the "old masters," that of Europe in the +fifteenth century; the ruins of the Colosseum, Roman art and barbarism, +as they never were by Livy or Gibbon. Lady Russell's letters tell us of +the Civil War in England,--Saint Mark's, at Venice, of Byzantine taste +and Oriental commerce,--the Escurial and the Alhambra, Versailles, a +castle on the Rhine, and a "modest mansion on the banks of the Potomac," +of their respective eras and their characteristics, social, political, +religious,--more than the most elaborate register, muster-roll, or +judicial calendar. For around and within these memorials lingers the +life of Humanity; they speak to the eye as well as to memory,--to the +heart as well as the intelligence; they draw us by human associations +to the otherwise but technical statement; they lure us to repeople +solitudes and reanimate shadows; and having become intimate with the +scenes, the effigies, the monuments of the Past, we have, as it were, a +vantage-ground of actual experience an impulse from personal observation +and, perhaps, a sympathy born of local inspiration, whereby the phantoms +of departed ages are once more clothed with flesh, and their sorrows and +triumphs are renewed in the soul of enlightened contemplation. + + * * * * * + + +MY NEIGHBOR, THE PROPHET. + + +The point of commencement for a story is altogether arbitrary. Some +writers stick to Nature and go back to the Creation; others take a few +dozen of the grandfatherly old centuries for granted; others seize Time +by the forelock and bounce into the middle of a narrative; but, as I +said before, the beginning is a mere matter of taste and convenience. +I choose to open my tale with the day on which I took possession of my +newly purchased country-house. + +It was a pretty little cottage, wooden, old-fashioned, a story and a +half high, with a long veranda, a shady door-yard, and a sunny garden. I +bought it as it was, furniture included, of a gentleman who was about +to remove southward on account of his wife's health, or, to speak +more exactly, on account of her want of it. I laugh here to think +how surprised you will be when you learn that these matters have no +connection with my story. All the important events which I propose +to relate might have happened had this gentleman never sold nor I +purchased; and, as a proof of it, I can adduce the fact that they +actually did occur some years before we enjoyed the honor of each +other's acquaintance. But I could not resist the temptation of the +episode. I am as delighted at getting into my first house as was my +little son when he poked his chubby legs into his first trousers. + +"Who is my nearest neighbor?" I asked of the former proprietor, when he +made his parting call. + +"What, the occupant of the new house just below you? I can tell you very +little of him. I haven't made his acquaintance, and don't know his name. +We call him the Mormon." + +"Mercy on us! You don't mean to hint at anything in the way of polygamy, +I hope. He doesn't keep an omnibus with seats for twenty, does he?" + +"No, not so bad as that. In fact, I don't know much about him. I thought +you were aware of his--his style of living," stammered my friend. "Oh, +I dare say he is respectable enough. But then we noticed three or four +women about the house, and only one man; and so we clapped the title of +Mormon on him. Nicknaming is funny work, you know,--a short and easy way +to be witty. I believe, however, that he does pretend to be a prophet." + +"The Pilgrim Fathers protect us! Why, he may attempt to proselytize us +by force. He may declare a religious war against us. It would be no +joke, if he should invade us with the sword in one hand, and the Koran, +or whatever he may call his revelation, in the other." + +"Oh, don't be alarmed. He is quite harmless, and even unobtrusive. A +sad-faced, pale, feeble-looking, white-bearded old man. He won't attack +you, or probably even speak to you. I will tell you all I know of +him. The house was built under his direction about six months ago. +I understand that the women own it, and that they are not relatives +according to the flesh, but simply sisters in faith. They have some +queer sort of religion which I am shamefully ignorant of. At all events, +they believe this old gentleman to be a prophet, and consider it a duty +or a pleasure to support him. That is the extent of my knowledge. I hope +it doesn't disgust you with your neighborhood?" + +"By no means. May you find as pleasant a one, wherever you settle!" + +"Thank you. Well, it is nearly train-time, and I suppose I must leave +you and my old place. I wish you every happiness in it." + +And so the old proprietor sighingly departed, leaving the new one +smiling on the doorstep. I was just thinking how nicely the world is +arranged, so that one man's trouble may turn out another man's blessing, +(the illness in this gentleman's family, for instance, being the cause +of my getting a neat country-house cheap,) when my attention was +arrested by the appearance of a thin, feeble-looking, white-bearded old +man, who passed down the street with head bent and hands joined behind +him. I stared at him till he got by; then I ran down to the gate and +looked after him earnestly; and at last I darted forward, hatless, in +eager pursuit. He heard my approaching steps, and put his snowy beard +against his right shoulder in the act of taking a glance rearward. I now +recognized the profile positively, and began conversation. + +"Is it possible? My dear Doctor Potter, how are you? Don't you know me? +Your old friend Elderkin." + +"Sir? Elderkin? Oh!--ah!--yes! How do you do, Mr. Elderkin?" he +stammered, seeming very awkward, and hardly responding at all to my +vigorous hand-shaking. + +"I am delighted to see you again," I continued. "I have had no news of +you these five years. Do you live in this neighborhood?" + +"I--I reside in the next house, Sir," he replied, not looking me in the +face, but glancing around uneasily, as if he wanted to run away. + +"What! are you the prophet?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. + +"I am, Mr. Elderkin," he said, blushing until I thought his white hair +would turn crimson. + +We stared at each other in silence for ten seconds, each wishing himself +or his interlocutor at the antipodes. + +"I congratulate you on your gift," I remarked, as soon as I could speak. +"I will see you again soon, and have a talk on the subject. We have +discussed similar matters before. Good day, Doctor." + +"Good day, Mr. Elderkin," he replied, drawing himself up with a poor +pretence at self-respect. + +He was greatly changed. Heterodoxy had not been so fattening to him as +Orthodoxy. When I knew him, six years before, as pastor of a flourishing +church, Doctor of Divinity, and staunch Calvinist, he had a plump and +rosy face, a portly form, and vigorous carriage. He was a great favorite +with the ladies, as clergymen are apt to be, and consequently never +lacked for delicate and appetizing sustenance. He was esteemed, +self-respectful, and happy; and all these things tend to good health and +good looks. I propose to make myself famous as the Gibbon of the decline +and fall of this reverend gentleman, once so honorably established on +the everlasting hills of Orthodoxy, and now so overthrown and trampled +under foot by the Alaric of Spiritualism. I do not expect, indeed, that +anybody will take warning by my friend's sad history; nor do I insist +that people in general would find it advantageous to learn much wisdom +from the experience of others; for it is very clear, that, if we +attempted only what our neighbors or our fathers had succeeded in doing, +we should kill all chance of variety or improvement. It would be a +stupidly wise world; there would be no sins, and, very possibly, no +virtues; instead of "Everything happens," it would be "Nothing happens." +Believing and hoping, therefore, that Dr. Potter's calamities will not +be the smallest check upon any person who shall feel disposed to follow +in his footsteps, I present the story to the public, not at all as a +lesson, but merely as an item of curious information. + +Oddly enough, it was on that day of delusions, the first of April, that +I stumbled into the Doctor's revival of the age of miracles. I had been +engaged for three months on a geological survey in a Western Territory, +during which time I had received very brief and vague news from the +little city which was then my place of abode, and had not even had +a hint of the signs and wonders which there awaited my astonished +observation. Reaching home, I made it my first business to call on my +reverend friend; for the Doctor, it must be known, was one of my most +valued intimates, had baptized me, had counselled me, had travelled with +me in foreign lands; we had many interests, many sympathies in common, +and no differences except with regard to the extent of the Flood, the +date of the Creation, and other matters of small personal importance. +I found him in his study, surrounded by those seven hundred and odd +volumes, the learning and excellent spirit of which gave to his sermons +such a body of venerable divinity, such a bouquet of savory eloquence. +He was walking to and fro rapidly, studying a slip of manuscript with an +air of serious ecstasy. He did not look up until I had seized his hand, +and even then he stared at me as a man might be supposed to stare who +had been passing a fortnight with angels or other spiritual existences +and unexpectedly found himself among natural and reasonable beings +again. + +"Ah, my dear Elderkin," he said at last, "I am glad to see you. How are +you, and how have you been? Excuse me for not recognizing you at once. I +had just lost myself in the consideration of a mystery which I believe +to be of the sublimest importance. Oh, my dear friend, I hope you will +be brought to attend to these things! They are above and beyond all your +geologies; they preceded and will outlive them." + +"Indeed!" I replied. "Nothing in the way of chaos, I hope?" + +"Look here at this sheet of foolscap," he exclaimed, waving it +excitedly. "Do you remember the belief which I have often expressed to +you,--the belief that the dispensation of miracles has never yet ceased +from earth,--that we have still a right to expect signs, wonders, +instantaneous healings, and unknown tongues,--and that, but for our +wretched incredulity, these things would constantly happen among us? You +have disputed it and ridiculed it, but here I hold a proof of its truth. +A month ago this blessing was vouchsafed to me. It was at one of our +Wednesday-evening exercises. I had just been speaking of supernatural +gifts, and of the duty which we lie under of expecting and demanding +them. The moment I sat down, a stranger (a gentleman whom I had +previously noticed at church) rose up with a strangely beaming look and +broke out in a discourse of sounds that were wholly unintelligible. You +need not smile. It was a true language, I am confident; it flowed forth +with a moving warmth and fluency; and the gestures which accompanied it +were earnest and most expressive." + +"That was fortunate," said I; "otherwise you must have been very little +edified. But isn't it rather odd that the man should use earthly +gestures with an unearthly language?" + +The Doctor shook his head reprovingly, and continued,-- + +"Deacon Jones, the editor of the 'Patriot,' is a phonographer. He took +down the close of the stranger's address, and next day brought it to me +written out in the ordinary alphabet. Let me read it to you. As you are +acquainted with several modern languages, perhaps you can give me a key +to an interpretation." + +"I don't profess to know the modern languages of the other world," said +I. "However, let us hear it." + +"Isse ta sopon otatirem isais ka rabatar itos ma deok," began the +Doctor, with a gravity which almost made me think him stark mad. "De +noton irbila orgonos ban orgonos amartalannen fi dunial maran ta +calderak isais deluden homox berbussen carantar. Falla esoro anglas +emoden ebuntar ta diliglas martix yehudas sathan val caraman +mendelsonnen lamata yendos nix poliglor opos discobul vanitarok ken +laros ma dasta finomallo in salubren to mallomas. Isse on esto opos fi +sathan." + +And so he read on through more than a page and a half of closely written +manuscript, his eyes flashing brighter at each line, and his right hand +gesturing as impressively as if he understood every syllable. + +"Bless you, it's nothing new," said I. "There's an institution at +Hartford where they cure people of talking that identical language." + +"Just what I expected you to say," he replied, flushing up. "I know +you,--you scientific men,--you materialists. When you can't explain a +phenomenon, you call it nonsense, instead of throwing yourselves with +childlike faith into the arms of the supernatural. That is the sum and +finality of your so-called science. But, come, be rational now. Don't +you catch a single glimpse or suspicion of meaning in these remarkable +words?" + +"I am thankful to say that I don't," declared I. "If ever I go mad, I +may change my mind." + +"Well now, I _do_" he asseverated loudly. "There are words here that I +believe I understand, and I am not ashamed to own it. Why, look at it, +yourself," he added, pleadingly. "That word _sathan_, twice repeated, +can it be anything else than _Satan_? _Yehudas_, what is that but +_Jews?_ And then _homox_, how very near to the Latin _homo!_ I think, +too, that I have even got a notion of some of the grammatical forms of +the language. That termination of _en_, as in _deluden, salubren,_ seems +to me the sign of the present tense of the plural form of the verb. That +other termination of _tar_, as in _ebuntar, carantar_, I suppose to be +the sign of the infinitive. Depend upon it that this language is one +of absolute regularity, undeformed by the results of human folly and +sorrow, and as perfect as a crystal." + +"But not as clear," I observed,--"at least, not to our apprehension. +Well, how was this extraordinary revelation received by the audience?" + +"In dumb silence," said the Doctor. "Faith was at too low an ebb among +us to reach and encircle the amazing fact. I had to call out the +astonished brethren by name; and even then they responded briefly and +falteringly. But the leaven worked. I went round the next day and +talked to all my leading men. I found faith sprouting like a grain +of mustard-seed. I found my people waking up to the great idea of a +continuous, deathless, present miracle-demonstration. And these dim +suspicions, these far-off longings and fearful hopes, were, indeed, +precursors of such a movement of spirits, such a shower of supernatural +mercies, as the world has not perhaps seen for centuries. Yes, there +have been wonders wrought among us, and there are, I am persuaded, +greater wonders still to come. What do you think must be my feelings +when I see my worthiest parishioners rise in public and break out with +unknown tongues?" + +"I should suppose you would rather see them break out with the +small-pox," I answered. + +"Ah, Professor! wait, wait, and soon you will not laugh," said the +Doctor, solemnly. + +"Perhaps not. I am a sincere friend of yours, and a tolerably +good-hearted sort of man, I hope. I shall probably feel more like +crying. But the world may laugh long and loud, Doctor. All who hate the +true revelation may laugh to see it mocked and caricatured by those who +profess and mean to honor it. Just consider, while it is yet time to +mend matters, how imprudent you are. Why, what do you know of the man +who has been your Columbus in this sea of wonders? Are you sure that he +is not a sharper, or an impostor, or a lunatic?" + +"Impossible! He brought letters to three of our most respectable +families. His name is Riley, John M. Riley, of New York; and he is +son of the wealthy old merchant, James M. Riley, who has been such a +generous donor to all good works. As for his being a lunatic, you shall +hear his conversation." + +"I should be a very poor judge of it, if he always speaks in his unknown +tongues." + +"English! English! he talks English as good as your own. A more +gentlemanly person, a more intelligent mind, a meeker and more believing +spirit, I have not met this many a day. He is still here, and he is my +right hand in the work. I shall soon have the pleasure of making you +acquainted with him." + +"Thank you; I shall be delighted," said I. "Only be good enough to hint +to him that I like to understand what is said to me. If he comes at me +with unknown tongues, I shall wish him in unknown parts. I can't stand +mysteries. I am a geologist, and believe that there are rocks all the +way down, and that we had much better stand on them than wriggle in mere +chaotic space. Good morning, Doctor. I shall come again soon; I shall +keep a lookout on you." + +"Good morning," he replied, kindly. "I hope to see you in a better frame +before many days." + +I hurried back to my hotel, and questioned the landlord about this +revival of the age of miracles. He gave me a long account of the affair, +and then every neighbor who strolled in gave me another, until by +dinner-time I had heard wonders and absurdities enough to make a new +"Book of Mormon." The lunacies of this Riley had entered into Dr. Potter +and his parishioners, like the legion of devils into the herd of swine, +and driven them headlong into a sea of folly. There had been more +tongues spoken during the past month in this little Yankee city than +would have sufficed for our whole stellar system. Blockheads who were +not troubled with an idea once a fortnight, and who could neither write +nor speak their mother English decently, had undertaken to expound +things which never happened in dialects which nobody understood. People +who hitherto had been chiefly remarkable for their ignorance of the +past and the slowness of their comprehension of the present fell to +foretelling the future, with a glibness which made Isaiah and Ezekiel +appear like minor prophets, and a destructiveness which nothing would +satisfy out the immediate advent of the final conflagration. Gouty +brothers whose own toes were a burden to them, and dropsical sisters +with swelled legs, hobbled from street to street, laying would-be +miraculous hands on each other, on teething children, on the dumb and +blind, on foundered horses and mangy dogs even, or whatsoever other +sickly creature happened to get under their silly noses. The doctors +lost half their practice in consequence of the reliance of the people on +these spiritual methods of physicking. Children were taken out of school +in order that they might attend the prophesyings and get all knowledge +by supernatural intuition. Logic and other worldly methods of arriving +at truth were superseded by dreams, discernings of spirits, and similar +irrational processes. The public madness was immense, tempestuous, and +unequalled by anything of the kind since the "jerks" which appeared in +the early part of this century under the thundering ministrations of +Peter Cartwright. That nothing might be lacking to make the movement a +fact in history, it had acquired a name. As its disciples used the word +"dispensation" freely, the public called them Dispensationists, and +their faith Dispensationism, while their meetings received the whimsical +title of Dispensaries. + +Amid this clamor of daft delusion, Dr. Potter congratulated his people +on the resurrection of the age of miracles, and preached in furtherance +of the work with a fervid sincerity and eloquence rarely surpassed by +men who support the claims of true religion and right reason. Had he +brought the same zeal to bear against mathematics, it seems to me he +might have shaken the popular faith in the multiplication-table. The +wonders transacting in his church being noised abroad, the town was soon +crowded with curious strangers, mostly laymen, but several clergymen, +some anxious to believe, others ready to sneer, but all resolute to see. +As might have been expected, the nature of the excitement alarmed the +wiser pastors of the vicinity for the cause of Orthodoxy. They saw that +several of the asserted miracles were simply hoaxes or delusions; they +suspected that the unknown tongues might be nothing but the senseless +bubbling of overheated brainpans; they perceived that the Doctor in +his enthusiastic flights was soaring clear into the murky clouds of +Spiritualism; and they dreaded lest the scoffing world should make a +weapon out of these absurdities for an attack upon the Christian faith. +They began to preach against the fanaticism; and, of course, my friend +denounced them as infidels. High war ensued among the principalities and +powers of theology in all that portion of Yankeedom. + +The reaction roused by the unbelieving clergymen reached the Doctor's +congregation, and emboldened all the sensible members to combine into +an anti-miracle party. At a meeting of these persons a committee was +appointed to wait upon the pastor and respectfully request him to +dismiss Riley, to cease his efforts after the supernatural, and to +return to his former profitable manner of ministration. Dr. Potter was +amazed and indignant; he replied, that he should preach the truth as it +was revealed to himself; he scouted the dictation of the committee, and +fell back upon the solemn duty of his office; he ended by informing the +gentlemen that they were unbelievers and materialists. Naturally the +dissenters grew all the more fractious for this currying, and held +another meeting, in which the reaction kicked up higher than ever. Being +resolved now to proceed to extremities, and, if necessary, to form a new +congregation, they drew up the following recantation and sent it to Dr. +Potter,--not with any hope that he would put his name to it, but for the +purpose of ridiculing his infatuation, and driving him to resign his +pulpit. + +"I, the undersigned, pastor of the First Church in Troubleton, having +been led far from the truth by the absurdities of modern miracleism +and spiritualism, and having seen the error of my ways, do penitently +subscribe to the accompanying articles. + +"1st. I promise to cease all intercourse with a blasphemous blockhead +named John M. Riley, who has been the human cause of my downfall. + +"2d. I promise to avoid in future all rhapsodies, ecstasies, frenzies, +and whimseys which throw ridicule on true religion by caricaturing its +influences. + +"3d. I promise to regard with the profoundest contempt and indifference +both my own dreams or somnambulisms and those of other people. + +"4th. I promise not to unveil the secret things of Infinity, nor to +encourage others to unveil them, but to mind my own finite business, and +to rest satisfied with the revelations that are contained in the Bible. + +"5th. I promise not to speak unknown tongues as long as I can speak +English, and not to listen to other people who commit the like +absurdity, unless I know them to be Frenchmen or Dutchmen or other +foreigners of some human species. + +"6th. I promise not to heal the sick by any unnatural and miraculous +means, but rather to call in for their aid properly educated physicians, +giving the preference to those of the allopathic persuasion. + +"7th. I promise not to work signs in heaven nor wonders on earth, but +to let all things take the course allotted to them by a good and wise +Providence." + +Of course Dr. Potter looked upon this production as the height of +irreverence and irreligion, and proposed to excommunicate the authors +of it. Hence the dissenters declared themselves seceders, and took +immediate steps to form a new society. + +It was at this stage of the excitement that I returned to Troubleton and +made my call upon the Doctor. I felt anxious to save my old friend and +worthy pastor. I saw, that, if he continued in his present courses, +he would strip himself, one after the other, of his influence, his +position, his religion, and his reason. That very evening, after the +usual conference-meeting was over, I called again on him, and found him +in a truly lyrical frame of spirit. + +"Ah, my dear friend, there is no end to it!" exclaimed he. "The doors +are opening, one beyond another. Wonder shows forth after wonder, +miracle after miracle. Behind the veil! behind the veil!" + +"Indeed!" said I, rather vexed. "You'll find yourself behind a grate +some day." + +"There is now no question of the physical value as well as the spiritual +sublimity of these revelations," he continued, without observing my +sneer. "Life and death, the sparing of precious blood, the prevention of +crime, the punishment of the guilty,--you can appreciate these things, I +presume." + +"When I am in my senses," returned I. "But what is the row? if I may use +that worldly expression. Has Mr. John M. Riley been brought to confess +any state-prison offences?" + +"Ah, Elderkin!" sighed the Doctor, letting go my hand with a look of sad +reproach. "But no: you cannot remain forever in this skepticism; you +will be brought over to us before long. Let me tell you what has +happened. But, remember, you must keep the secret until to-morrow, as +you value precious lives. Mr. Riley has just left me. He has made me a +revelation, a prophecy, which will be proof to all men of the origin +of our present experiences. He has had a vision, thrice repeated. It +foretold that this very night a robbery and murder would be attempted in +the city of New Haven. The evil drama will open between two and three +o'clock. There will be three burglars. The house threatened is situated +in the suburbs, to the east of the city, and about a mile from the +colleges." + +"Is it? And what are you going to do about it?--telegraph?" + +"No. We will be there in person. We will ourselves prevent the crime and +seize the criminals. I shall have a word in season for that family, Sir. +I wish to improve the occasion for its conversion to a full belief in +these sublime mysteries. Mr. Riley, with three of my people, will meet +me at the station. We shall be in New Haven by eleven, stay an hour or +two in some hotel, and at half past one go to the house." + +"My dear Sir, I remonstrate," exclaimed I. "You will get laughed at. You +will get shot at. You will get into disgrace. You will get into jail. +For pity's sake, give up this quixotic expedition, and grant me an +absolution before the fact for kicking Riley out of doors." + +The Doctor turned his face away from me and walked to a window. His air +of profound, yet uncomplaining grief, struck me with compunction, and, +following him, I held out my hand. + +"Come, excuse me," said I. "Look here,--if this comes true, I'll quit +geology and go to working miracles to-morrow. I'll come over to your +faith, if I have to wade through my reason." + +"Will you?" he responded, joyfully. "You will never repent it. There, +shake hands. I am not angry. Your unbelief is natural, though saddening. +To-morrow night, then, come and see me again and I will tell you the +whole adventure. I must be off to the train now. Excuse me for leaving +you. Would you like to sit here awhile and look at Humby's 'Modern +Miracles'?" + +"No, thank you. Prefer to look at your miracles. I am going with you." + +"Going with me? Are you? I'm delighted!" he cried, not in the least +startled or embarrassed by the proposition. "Now you shall see with your +own eyes." + +"Yes, if it isn't too dark, I will,--word of a geologist. Well, shall we +start?" + +"But won't you have a weapon? We go armed, of course, inasmuch as the +scoundrels may show fight when we come to arrest them." + +"I don't want it," said I, gently pushing away a pocket-pistol, about as +dangerous as a squirt. "All the burglars you see to-night may shoot at +me, and welcome." + +We walked to the station, and found our party waiting for the Boston +train. The Doctor introduced me, with much affectionate effusion and +many particulars concerning my family and early history, to the man of +unearthly lingoes. He was a tall, lean, flat-chested, cadaverous being, +of about forty, his sandy hair nicely sleeked, thin yellow whiskers +spattered on his hollow cheeks, his nose short and snub, his face +small, wilted, and so freckled that it could hardly be said to have +a complexion. In short, by its littleness, by its yellowness, by its +appearance of dusty dryness, this singular physiognomy reminded me so +strongly of a pinch of snuff, that I almost sneezed at sight of it. His +diminutive green eyes were fringed with ragged flaxen lashes, and seemed +to be very loose in their reddened lids, as if he could cry them out at +the shortest notice. I observed that he never looked his interlocutors +in the face, but stared chiefly at their feet, as if surmising whether +they would kick, or gazed into remote distance, as if trying to see +round the world and get a view of his own back. His dress was a full +suit of black, fine in texture, but bagging about him in a way that made +you wonder whether he had not lost a hundred-weight or so in training +for his spiritual battles. His manners were quiet, and would not have +been disagreeable, but for an air of uncomfortably stiff solemnity, +which draped him from head to foot like a robe of moral oilcloth, and +might almost be said to rustle audibly. Whether he was a practical +joker, a swindler, a fanatic, or a madman, my spiritual vision was not +keen enough to discover at first sight. Beside him and ourselves the +party consisted of a butcher, a baker, and a candlestick-maker, +all members of the Doctor's church and indefatigable workers of +miracles,--plain men and foolish, but respectable in standing and +sincere in their folly. Mr. Riley was so commonplace as to address me in +English, probably because he wanted an answer. + +"Do you accompany us, Sir, on this blessed crusade against crime and +unbelief?" he asked. + +"My friend, Dr. Potter, has granted me that inestimable privilege," +responded I. + +"I hope--in fact, I firmly believe--that Providence will aid us," he +continued. + +"I hope so, too," said I. "But wouldn't it be advisable to have a +policeman, too?" + +"By no means! Certainly not!" he returned, with considerable excitement. +"All we want is a band of saints, of justified souls, of men fitted for +the martyr's crown." + +"Oh, that's all, is it, Sir? Well, shall we get into the cars? There +they are." + +The train was full, and our party had to scatter, but Mr. Riley and I +got seats together. + +"I have not seen you at our meetings, Sir," he continued. "Allow me to +ask, are you a believer in Dispensationism?" + +"Not so strong as I might be. However, I have been absent from +Troubleton for three months, and only returned yesterday." + +"Ah! you have lost precious opportunities. You must lose no more. Life +is short." + +"And uncertain," I added. "Especially in railroad travelling." + +"My dear Sir, I hope this road is prudently conducted," he said, with a +look of some little anxiety. + +"Not many accidents," I answered. "And then, you know, we are always +in the hands of Providence. No fear of slipping through the fingers +unnoticed." + +"No, Sir, certainly not," he remarked, wrapping his moral oilcloth about +him again. "Have you felt any extraordinary spiritual impressions since +you returned?" + +"Nothing lasting, I think. Nothing that a night's sleep wouldn't take +off the edge of." + +"No desire to lay hands on some sin-stricken wretch and cure him of the +evil that is in him?" + +Now I did feel a strong desire to lay hands on this very Riley and pull +out his snub nose for him; but I forbore to say so, and simply shook my +head despondently. + +"I know, that, if you would come to our Dispensaries and join in our +exercises, you would be sensible of a softening," he observed. + +"Yes, in the brain," thought I; but I still remained silent. + +"You should meditate upon the value of manifestations, unknown tongues, +the laying on of hands, visions, ecstasies, and such like matters," he +continued. + +"So I have," said I. + +"And with no result?" + +"Nothing that particularly astonishes me. I think that I hate humbug +more than I did." + +"That's a good sign," he replied, after a brief, sharp glance of inquiry +at me. "This vain world is a humbug, as you phrase it. Dead Orthodoxy is +a humbug. Human reason is a humbug. We are all humbugs, unless we are +made true by Dispensation. This age will be a humbug, unless it can +be wrought into an age of miracles. If you could be brought to hate +earnestly all these things, it would be a hopeful sign." + +I was on the point of disputing the hypothesis, but prudently checked +myself. Suddenly he removed my hat and put his broad, hard palm upon my +organs with an impudent dexterity which made me doubt whether he had not +been a pickpocket or a phrenological lecturer. + +"I lay my hand upon your head and desire you to note the effect," said +he. "Can no life come into these dry bones? Shall they not live? +Yea, they shall live! Do you feel no irrepressible emotion, Sir,--no +shaking?" + +"Not a shake," replied I,--"unless it be from the bad grading." + +"Evil is mighty, but the good must eventually prevail," he observed, +impertinently cocking his snub nose toward heaven. + +"I believe you are quite right in both propositions," I admitted. +"Cardinal points of mine. But excuse me, Sir, if you could spare my hat, +I should like to put it on my head." + +I had lost patience with the man, partly because it irks me to have +strangers take liberties with my person, and also because I had reached +the conclusion that he was simply a shallow dissembler and rascal. In +a minute more I had cause to reconsider my charge of hypocrisy, and to +question whether he might not lay claim to the nobler distinction of +lunacy. The conductor came down the car, picking out Troubletonians with +his undeceivable eye, and leaned toward us with outstretched fingers. +Mr. Riley rose to his whole gaunt height at a jerk, and laid his hand on +the official's arm with a fierce, bony gripe, which seemed to startle +him as if it were the clutch of a skeleton. + +"There is my ticket," said he. "Where is yours? Have you one for the +Holy City? None? Then you are lost, lost, lost!" + +The last words rose to a high, clear shriek, which pierced the heavy +rumble of the train and rang throughout the car. The conductor, in spite +of the coolness which becomes second nature to men of his profession, +turned slightly pale and shrank back before this wild apostrophe, with +a thrill of spiritual horror at the solemn meaning of the words, (I +thought,) and not because he considered the man a maniac. The fanaticism +of Troubleton had already flown far and cast a vague shadow of dread +over a large community. + +Turning abruptly from the conductor, my companion flung out his long +arms toward the staring passengers, and continued in his strident, +startling tenor:--"I have warned him. I call you all to witness that I +have warned this man of his fearful peril. His blood be on his own head! +The blood of your souls will be upon your heads, unless you turn to +Dispensationism. I have said it. Amen!" + +Before he had sat down again I was in the alley on my way to another +car, not anxious to become known as the intimate of this extraordinary +apostle. I found an empty seat by the Doctor, dropped into it, and told +my story. + +"My dear friend, give the fellow up," I concluded. "He's as mad as he +can possibly be." + +"So Festus thought of Paul," returned my poor comrade, with hopeless +fatuity. + +"Festus be d----d!" said I, losing my temper, and swearing for the first +time since I graduated. + +"I fear he was so," remarked the Doctor, severely. "Let me urge you to +take warning from his fate." + +"I beg your pardon, and that of Festus," I apologized. "But when I see +you losing your reason, I can't keep my patience, and don't wish to." + +"You will wonder at these feelings before many hours," he responded +gently. "To-morrow you will be a believer." + +"That makes no difference with me now," said I. "I am just as skeptical +as if I hadn't a chance of conversion. Why, Doctor,--well, come +now,--I'll argue the case with you. In the first place, all Church +history is against you. There isn't a respectable author who upholds the +doctrine of modern miracles." + +"Mistake!" he exclaimed. "I wish I had you in my library. I could face +you with writer on writer, fact on fact, all supporting my views. I can +prove that miracles have not ceased for eighteen centuries; that they +appeared abundantly in the days of the venerable Catholic fathers; that +a stream of prophecies and healings and tongues ran clear through the +Dark Ages down to the Reformation; that the superhuman influence flamed +in the dreams of Huss, the ecstasies of Xavier, and the marvels of Fox +and Usher. Look at the French Prophets, or Tremblers of the Cevennes, +who had prophesyings and healings and discoverings of spirits and +tongues and interpretations. Look at the ecstatic Jansenists, or +Convulsionists of St. Médard, who were blessed with the same holy gifts. +Look at the Quakers, from Fox downward, who have held it as a constant +principle to expect powers, revelations, discernings of spirits, and +instantaneous healings of diseases. Why, here we are in our own days; +here we are with our chain of miracles still unbroken; here we are in +the midst of this geological and unbelieving nineteenth century." + +"Yes, here we are," said I; "and we must make the best of it. It's a bad +affair, of course, to live in scientific times; and it's a great pity +that we were not born in the Dark Ages; but it is too late to try to +help it." + +"Ah! you answer with a sneer; you are materialistic and infidel." + +"Stop, Doctor! Let me make a bargain with you. If you won't call me +names, I won't call you names. You are not in the pulpit now, and you +have no right to domineer over me." + +"But what do you say to all these signs and wonders which I have +mentioned?" + +"What do you say to the Rochester knockings and the Stratford mysteries +and the Mormon miracles?" + +"All deceptions, or works of the Devil," affirmed the Doctor, without a +moment's hesitation. + +"Excuse me for smiling," I replied "It is pleasant to observe what a +quick spirit you have for discerning the true wonders from the false." + +"You will see, you will see," he answered, and relapsed into a grave +silence. + +We reached New Haven and took rooms at the New Haven Hotel. I had +anticipated a little nap before going out on our expedition; but I had +not made allowance for the proselyting zeal of Dispensationists. My poor +bewildered friend Potter uttered something which he sincerely meant to +be a prayer, but which sounded to me painfully like blasphemy. Next they +sang a queer hymn of theirs in discordant chorus. After that, Mr. Riley +rolled up his sleeves and his eyes, flung his arms about, wept and +shrieked unknown tongues for twenty minutes. Then the butcher, the +baker, and candlestick-maker had a combined convulsion on the floor, +rolling over each other and upsetting furniture. By this time the hotel +was roused and the landlord made us a call. + +"What the Old Harry are you about?" he demanded, angrily. "Don't you +know it's after midnight?" + +"We are holding a Dispensary," said Mr. Riley, solemnly. + +"Well, I'll dispense with your company, if you don't stop it," returned +mine host. "There's a nervous lady in the next room, and you've worried +her into fits." + +"Let me see her," cried the Doctor, eagerly. "It may be that the power +of our faith is upon her. Which is her door?" + +"You're drunk, Sir," returned the landlord, severely. "Keep quiet now, +or I'll have you put to bed by the porters." + +So saying, he shut the door and went muttering down-stairs. This +untoward incident put an end to our exercises. A whispered palaver on +Dispensationism followed, during which I tilted my chair back against +the wall and stole a pleasant little nap. + +It was about half past one when the Doctor shook me up and said, "It is +time." We slipped down-stairs in our stockinged feet, got the front-door +open without awakening the porter, shut it carefully after us, and put +on our boots outside. Mr. Riley immediately started up College Street, +which, as all the world is aware, runs northerly to the Canal Railroad, +where it changes to Prospect Street and goes off in a half-wild state up +country. At the end of College Street we left the city behind us, struck +the rail-track, forsook that presently for a desert sort of road known +as Canal Street, and kept on in a northwesterly direction for half a +mile farther. It was a dark, cool, and blustering night, such as the New +Englanders are very apt to have on the second of April. The wind blew +violently down the open country, shaking the scattered trees as if +it meant to wake them instantly out of their winter's slumber, and +screeching in the murky distances like a tomcat of the housetops, or +rather like a continent of tomcats. The Doctor lost his hat, chased it a +few rods, and then gave it up, lest he should miss his burglars. Once I +halted and watched, thinking that I saw two or three dark shapes dogging +us not far behind, but concluded that I had been deceived by the +black-art of magical Night, and hastened on after my crazy comrades. +Presently Riley stopped, pointed to a dark mass on our right which +seemed about large enough to be a story-and-a-half cottage, and +whispered, "Here we are, brethren." + +"No doubt about that," said I. "But what the mischief is to come of it?" + +"Oh! let's go back and call the police," urged the baker, in a tremulous +gurgle. + +"Too late!" returned Riley. "It is given to me to see the burglars. They +are inside. They are taking the silver out of the closet. There will be +murder in five minutes." + +"If there must be murder, why, of course we ought to have a hand in it," +I suggested. "Our motives at least will be good." + +"Right!" said Riley. "Come on, brethren! We must prove our faith by our +works." + +But the baker hung back in a most dough-faced fashion, while the butcher +and the candlestick-maker encouraged him in his cowardice. At last it +was agreed that this unheroic trio should wait in the yard as a reserve, +while Riley, the Doctor, and I went in to worry the burglars. Leaving +the weaker brethren in a clump of evergreen shrubbery, we, the +forlorn-hope, stole around the house to get at a back-door which Prophet +Riley had plainly seen in his dream, and which he foretold us we should +find unlocked. I was not much amazed to discover a back-door, inasmuch +as most houses have one, but I really was surprised to learn that it was +unfastened. My astonishment at this circumstance, however, was over- +balanced by my alarm at finding that the Doctor still persisted in his +intention of entering; for I had hoped that at the last moment his +faith would give way, and let him slide down from the elevation of his +ridiculous and reckless purpose. + +"But you are not really going in?" I whispered, jerking at his +coat-tails. + +"Certainly," he replied. "The robbers are surely there. The door was +unlocked." + +"Mere carelessness of the servants. Stop! Come back! Nonsense! Madness! +You'll get into a scrape. Respectable family. Good gracious, what a pack +of fools!" + +While I was rapidly muttering these observations, he was pulling away +from me and stealing into the house after his prophet. Finding that +there was no stopping him, I followed, in obedience, perhaps, to that +great and no doubt beneficent, but as yet unexplained, instinct which +causes sheep to leap after their bellwether. We were in a basement, or +semi-subterranean story. I felt the walls of a narrow passage on +either side of me, and can swear to a kitchen near by, for I smelt its +cooking-range. I walked on the foremost end of my toes, and would have +paid five dollars for a pair of list slippers. Rather than take another +such little promenade as I had in that passage, I would submit to be +placed on the middle sleeper of a railroad-bridge, with an express-train +coming at me without a cowcatcher. Presently I overtook the Doctor's +coat-tails again, and found that they were ascending a staircase. At the +top of the stairs was a door, and on the other side of the door was a +room, the uses of which I won't undertake to swear to, for I never saw +it, although I was in it longer than I wanted to be. All I know is +that it seemed to be as full of chairs, and tables, and sofas, and +sideboards, and stoves, and crickets, as if it had been a shop for +second-hand furniture. I was just rubbing my shins after an encounter +with a remarkably solid object, nature uncertain, when somebody near me +fell over something with a crash and a groan. Immediately somebody else +seized me by the cravat and began to throttle me. Whoever it was, I +floored him with a right-hander, and sent him across the other person, +as I judged by the combined grunt, and the desperate, though dumb +struggle which followed. Now there were two of them down, and how many +standing I could not guess. An instant afterward, a muffled voice, like +that of a man only half awake, shouted from a room behind me, "Who's +there? Get out! I'm a-coming!" This seemed to encourage the individuals +who were having a rough-and-tumble on the carpet, for they commenced +roaring simultaneously, "Help! murder! thieves! fire!" without, however, +relaxing hostilities for a moment. + +The next pleasant incident was a pistol-shot, the ball of which whizzed +so near my head that it made me dodge, although I have not the least +notion who fired it or whom it was aimed at. Female screams and +masculine shouts now sounded from various directions. Thinking that +I had done all the good in my power, I concluded to get out of this +confusion; but either the doorway by which we entered had suddenly +walled itself up, or else I had lost my reckoning; for, stumble where I +would, feel about as I would, I could not find it. I did, indeed, come +to an opening in the wall, but there was no staircase the other side of +it, and it simply introduced me to another invisible apartment. I had no +chance to reflect upon the matter and decide of my own free will whether +I would go in or not. A sudden rush of fighting, howling persons swept +me along, jammed me against a pillar, pushed me over a table, and forced +me to engage in a furious struggle, exceedingly awkward by reason of the +darkness and the extraordinary amount of furniture. A tremendous punch +in the side of the head upset me and made me lose my temper. Rising in a +rage, I grappled some man, tripped up his heels, got on his chest, and +never left off belaboring him until I felt pretty sure that he would +keep quiet during the rest of the _soiree_. I hope sincerely that this +suffering individual was Mr. John M. Riley; but, from the rotundity of +stomach which I bestrode, I very much fear that it was the Doctor. + +All this while the house resounded with outcries of, "Who's there?" +"What's the matter?" "Father!" "Henry!" "Jenny!" "Maria!" "Thieves!" +"Murder!" "Police!" and so forth. Of course I did not feel disposed to +tell who was there; and in actual fact I could not have explained +what was the matter. Accordingly I left all these inquisitive people +unsatisfied, and busied myself solely with my fallen antagonist. +Quitting him at last in a state of quiescence, I knocked over a person +who had been attacking me in the rear, and then blundered into a +passage, which I suppose to have been the front-hall, just as a light +glimmered up in the rooms behind me. It gives one a very odd sensation +to tread on a prostrate body, not knowing whether it is dead or alive, +whether it is a man or a woman. I had that sensation in ascending a +stairway which seemed to be the only egress from the aforesaid passage. +The individual made no movement, and I did not stop to count his or her +pulses. Without feeling at all disposed to take my oath on the matter, I +rather suspect that a negro servant-girl had fainted away there in the +act of trying to run off in her nightgown. Upstairs I tumbled, resolved +to get upon the roof and slide down the lightning-rod, or else jump from +a window. Pushing open a door, which I fell against, I found myself in +a pretty little bedroom lighted by a single candle, articles of female +costume banging across chairs and scattered over dressing-tables, while +on the floor, just as she had swooned in her terror, lay a blonde girl +of nineteen or twenty, pale as marble, but beautiful. Right through my +alarm jarred a throb of mingled self-reproach and pity and admiration. I +tossed a pile of bedclothes over her, kissed the long light-brown hair +which rippled on the straw matting, daguerreotyped the face on my memory +with a glance, blew out the light, opened a window, and slipped out of +it. It is unpleasant to drop through darkness, not knowing how far you +will fall, nor whether you will not alight on iron pickets. Fortunately, +I came down in a fresh flower-bed, with no unpleasant result, except a +sensation of having nearly bitten my tongue off. I had scarcely steadied +myself on my feet, when a tall figure made a rush from some near +ambuscade and seized me by the collar. Supposing him to be one of our +reserve force, I quietly suffered him to lead me forward, and was on the +point of whispering my name, when my eye caught a glimmer of metal, and +I knew that I was in the hands of a policeman. + +"Come in and help," said I. "The house is full of rascals." + +Thinking me one of the family, he loosed his hold on my broadcloth and +hurried away to the back-door. Whoever reads this story has already +taken it for granted that I did not follow him, but that I did, on the +contrary, make for the city and never cease travelling until I had +reached the hotel. Let no man reproach me with forsaking my friend, the +Doctor, in his extremity. I was brought up to reverence the law and to +entertain a virtuous terror of policemen; and, besides, what could I +have effected in that horrible labyrinth of dark rooms and multitudinous +furniture? I rang up the porter, went to bed, and lay awake alt the rest +of the night, listening for the return of my companions. No one came: +no Doctor, no Riley, no butcher, no baker, no candlestick-maker. I was +apparently the sole survivor of our little army. In the morning I walked +over to the police-station, peeped cautiously through the grated door of +a long room where the night's gatherings are lodged, and discovered my +five friends, tattered and bruised, but holding a lively Dispensary in +one corner. From that moment I despaired of the Doctor and resolved to +let him manage his own monomania. I was still peeping when two of the +police and a sly-looking man in citizen's dress came up and stared +boldly at the prisoners. + +"Well, Old Cock, do you see your game?" asked one of the "force." + +"Thaht's him," returned the Old Cock, speaking with the soft drawl of +the New York cockney. "Tall fellah thah with thah black eye, thaht's +a-goin' it now. Thundah, what a roarah!" + +"Well, what is he?" inquired the second of the New-Haveners. + +"Joseph Hull, 'ligious lunatic," said the Old Cock. "Was in thah +Bloomingdale Asylum. Cut off one night about foah months ago and stole a +suit o' clothes that belonged to John M. Riley, with a lot o' money and +papahs and lettahs in thah pockets. How'd you get hold of him?" + +"Broke into a house eout here last night," related the first +New-Havener. "He and them other fellers, and one more that we ha'n't +found. I was on my beat 'bout one o'clock, and see 'em puttin' up +College Street full chisel. I thought they looked kinder dangerous. So I +called Doolittle here, and Jarvis, and Jacobs, and we after 'em. Chased +'em 'bout a mild and treed 'em at Square Russoll's, way up Canal, eout +in the country. Three was in the yard and gin right up without doublin' +a fist, though they had their pockets chuck full o' little pistols. We +locked 'em into the cellar, and then, went upstairs, where there was a +devil of a yellin' and fightin'. Hanged if I know what they come there +for. They'd been pitchin' into one another and knockin' one another's +heads off, besides smashin' furnichy and chimbly crockery, but hadn't +stole a thing. The fat one and the long one--them two with white +chokers--was lyin' on the floor pootty much used up. There was another +that got up-stairs and jumped out a winder. Jarvis was outside and +collared him, but thought he was Russell's son-in-law,--ho, ho, ho!--and +let him off,--ho, ho, ho! Tell ye, Jarvis feels thunderin' small 'bout +it. Ha'n't been reound this mornin'." + +"Well, I'll leave my warrant with your big-wigs, and come after my man +when they've got through with him," said the New York detective, turning +away. + +Fearing the return of the enlightened Jarvis, I now left, and, +taking the first train to Troubleton, informed some of the leading +Dispensationists concerning their pastor's calamity. By dint of heavy +bail and strong representations they saved him, together with the +butcher and baker and candlestick-maker, from the disgrace of prison and +the lunatic asylum. But the adventure was the ruin of Dispensationism. +Mr. Joseph Hull had to give up Mr. John M. Riley's valuables, and return +to his seclusion at Bloomingdale. Deprived of the apostle who had set +them on fire, and overwhelmed by public ridicule, the Dispensationists +lost their faith, got ashamed of their minister, and turned him adrift. +He disappeared in the great whirl of men and other circumstances which +fills this wonderful country. From time to time, during five years, I +had made inquiries concerning him of mineralogists, botanists, and +other vagrant characters, without getting the smallest hint as to his +whereabouts. At last he had turned up as the private prophet of three +middle-aged widows. + +"Jenny," said I to my wife, "do you remember the night I frightened you +so and kissed you as you lay in a fainting-fit?" + +"You always say you kissed me, but I don't believe it," returned that +dear woman whom I love, honor, and cherish. "Yes, I remember the night +well enough." + +"Well, that poor Doctor Potter, who was my Mahomet on that occasion, +and led me to victory in your parlor, and was the indirect means of my +getting my houri,--I have heard from him. He is our next neighbor." + +"Mercy on us, Frederic! I hope not! What mischief won't he do to people +who are so handy?" + +"Don't be worried, my dear," said I. "I sha'n't go over to his religion +again,--unless, indeed, you should insist upon it. But here he is, and +still a supernaturalist. I am anxious to know just how mad he is. I +shall call on him in a day or two." + +So I did. One of the three widows met me with a tearful countenance and +told me that Doctor Potter had disappeared. So he had. I think that he +was ashamed to meet me again, and therefore ran away. The widows thought +not. They came to the conclusion, that, like Enoch and Elijah before +him, he had been translated. They cried for him a good deal more than he +was worth, quarreled scandalously among themselves, sold their house at +a loss, and dispersed. I know nothing more of them. Neither do I know +anything further of my neighbor, the prophet. + + * * * * * + + +THE PILOT'S STORY. + + +I. + + It was a story the pilot told, with his back to his hearers,-- + Keeping his hand on the wheel and his eye on the globe of the jack-staff, + Holding the boat to the shore and out of the sweep of the current, + Lightly turning aside for the heavy logs of the drift-wood, + Widely shunning the snags that made us sardonic obeisance. + +II. + + All the soft, damp air was full of delicate perfume + From the young willows in bloom on either bank of the river,-- + Faint, delicious fragrance, trancing the indolent senses + In a luxurious dream of the river and land of the lotus. + Not yet out of the west the roses of sunset were withered; + In the deep blue above light clouds of gold and of crimson + Floated in slumber serene, and the restless river beneath them + Rushed away to the sea with a vision of rest in its bosom. + Far on the eastern shore lay dimly the swamps of the cypress; + Dimly before us the islands grew from the river's expanses,-- + Beautiful, wood-grown isles,--with the gleam of the swart inundation + Seen through the swaying boughs and slender trunks of their willows; + And on the shore beside its the cotton-trees rose in the evening, + Phantom-like, yearningly, wearily, with the inscrutable sadness + Of the mute races of trees. While hoarsely the steam from her + 'scape-pipes + Shouted, then whispered a moment, then shouted again to the silence, + Trembling through all her frame with the mighty pulse of her engines, + Slowly the boat ascended the swollen and broad Mississippi, + Bank-full, sweeping on, with nearing masses of drift-wood, + Daintily breathed about with hazes of silvery vapor, + Where in his arrowy flight the twittering swallow alighted, + And the belated blackbird paused on the way to its nestlings. + +III. + + It was the pilot's story:--"They both came aboard there, at Cairo, + From a New Orleans boat, and took passage with us for Saint Louis. + She was a beautiful woman, with just enough blood from her mother, + Darkening her eyes and her hair, to make her race known to a trader: + You would have thought she was white. The man that was with her,--you + see such,-- + Weakly good-natured and kind, and weakly good-natured and vicious, + Slender of body and soul, fit neither for loving nor hating. + I was a youngster then, and only learning the river,-- + Not over-fond of the wheel. I used to watch them at _monte_, + Down in the cabin at night, and learned to know all of the gamblers. + So when I saw this weak one staking his money against them, + Betting upon the turn of the cards, I knew what was coming: + _They_ never left their pigeons a single feather to fly with. + Next day I saw them together,--the stranger and one of the gamblers: + Picturesque rascal he was, with long black hair and moustaches, + Black slouch hat drawn down to his eyes from his villanous forehead: + On together they moved, still earnestly talking in whispers, + On toward the forecastle, where sat the woman alone by the gangway. + Roused by the fall of feet, she turned, and, beholding her master, + Greeted him with a smile that was more like a wife's than another's, + Rose to meet him fondly, and then, with the dread apprehension + Always haunting the slave, fell her eye on the face of the gambler, + Dark and lustful and fierce and full of merciless cunning. + Something was spoken so low that I could not hear what the words were; + Only the woman started, and looked from one to the other, + With imploring eyes, bewildered hands, and a tremor + All through her frame: I saw her from where I was standing, she shook so. + 'Say! is it so?' she cried. On the weak, white lips of her master + Died a sickly smile, and he said,--'Louise, I have sold you.' + God is my judge! May I never see such a look of despairing, + Desolate anguish, as that which the woman cast on her master, + Griping her breast with her little hands, as if he had stabbed her, + Standing in silence a space, as fixed as the Indian woman, + Carved out of wood, on the pilot-house of the old Pocahontas! + Then, with a gurgling moan, like the sound in the throat of the dying, + Came back her voice, that, rising, fluttered, through wild incoherence, + Into a terrible shriek that stopped my heart while she answered:-- + 'Sold me? sold me? sold----And you promised to give me my freedom!-- + Promised me, for the sake of our little boy in Saint Louis! + What will you say to our boy, when he cries for me there in Saint Louis? + What will you say to our God?--Ah, you have been joking! I see it!-- + No? God! God! He shall hear it,--and all of the angels in heaven,-- + Even the devils in hell!--and none will believe when they hear it! + Sold me!'--Fell her voice with a thrilling wail, and in silence + Down she sank on the deck, and covered her face with her fingers." + +IV. + + In his story a moment the pilot paused, while we listened + To the salute of a boat, that, rounding the point of an island, + Flamed toward us with fires that seemed to burn from the waters,-- + Stately and vast and swift, and borne on the heart of the current. + Then, with the mighty voice of a giant challenged to battle, + Rose the responsive whistle, and all the echoes of island, + Swamp-land, glade, and brake replied with a myriad clamor, + Like wild birds that are suddenly startled from slumber at midnight; + Then were at peace once more, and we heard the harsh cries of the + peacocks + Perched on a tree by a cabin-door, where the white-headed settler's + White-headed children stood to look at the boat as it passed them, + Passed them so near that we heard their happy talk and their laughter. + Softly the sunset had faded, and now on the eastern horizon + Hung, like a tear in the sky, the beautiful star of the evening. + + V. + + Still with his back to us standing, the pilot went on with his story:-- + "Instantly, all the people, with looks of reproach and compassion, + Flocked round the prostrate woman. The children cried, and their mothers + Hugged them tight to their breasts; but the gambler said to the + captain,-- + 'Put me off there at the town that lies round the bend of the river. + Here, you! rise at once, and be ready now to go with me.' + Roughly he seized the woman's arm and strove to uplift her. + She--she seemed not to heed him, but rose like one that is dreaming, + Slid from his grasp, and fleetly mounted the steps of the gangway, + Up to the hurricane-deck, in silence, without lamentation. + Straight to the stern of the boat, where the wheel was, she ran, and + the people + Followed her fast till she turned and stood at bay for a moment, + Looking them in the face, and in the face of the gambler. + Not one to save her,--not one of all the compassionate people! + Not one to save her, of all the pitying angels in heaven! + Not one bolt of God to strike him dead there before her! + Wildly she waved him back, we waiting in silence and horror. + Over the swarthy face of the gambler a pallor of passion + Passed, like a gleam of lightning over the west in the night-time. + White, she stood, and mute, till he put forth his hand to secure her; + Then she turned and leaped,--in mid air fluttered a moment,-- + Down, there, whirling, fell, like a broken-winged bird from a tree-top, + Down on the cruel wheel, that caught her, and hurled her, and + crushed her, + And in the foaming water plunged her, and hid her forever." + + VI. + + Still with his back to us all the pilot stood, but we heard him + Swallowing hard, as he pulled the bell-rope to stop her. Then, turning,-- + "This is the place where it happened," brokenly whispered the pilot. + "Somehow, I never like to go by here alone in the night-time." + Darkly the Mississippi flowed by the town that lay in the starlight, + Cheerful with lamps. Below we could hear them reversing the engines, + And the great boat glided up to the shore like a giant exhausted. + Heavily sighed her pipes. Broad over the swamps to the eastward + Shone the full moon, and turned our far-trembling wake into silver. + All was serene and calm, but the odorous breath of the willows + Smote like the subtile breath of an infinite sorrow upon us. + + + + +A DAY WITH THE DEAD. + + +"Good morning!" said the old custodian, as he stood in the door of the +lodge, brushing out with his knuckles the cobwebs of sleep entangled in +his eyelashes, and ventilating the apartments of his fleshly tabernacle +with prolonged oscitations. "You are on hand early _this_ time, a'n't +you? You're the first live man I've seen since I got up." + +So saying, he vanished, and reappearing in a moment with a huge brass +key, entered the arch, unlocked the gate which closed the aperture +fronting the east like the cover of a porthole, and sent it with a heavy +push wide open. + +Wading through the flood of sunlight which poured into the +passage-way----But stop! I was about,--who knows?--in imitation of +divers admired models, to tell the reader in choicest poetic diction how +the City of the Dead, with its magnificent streets, shining palaces, and +lofty monuments, burst upon my dazzled vision,--how I walked for half a +mile along a spacious avenue, beneath an arcade of giant elms hung with +wreaths of mist and vocal with singing, feathery fruit,--past marble +tombs whose yards were filled with bright and fragrant flowers,-- +among waving grassy knolls spread with the silver nets of spiders and +sparkling dew,--through vales of cool twilight and ravines of sombre +dusk,--and so on for more than a page, until finally, step by step, +through laboriously elegant sentences, I worked my way up to the top +of a lofty hill, the view from which to be graphically described as a +picture and a poem dissolved together into mingled glory and mirage, and +inundating with a billowy sea of beauty the landscape below;--and then +further depicting to the delighted fancy of the reader, how on one +side was a most remarkable river,--such as was never heard of before, +probably,--in fact, a web of water framed between the hills, its rushing +warp-currents, as it rolled along, woven by smoking steam-shuttles with +a woof of foam,--how, at the entrance of a bay, flocks of snowy sails, +with black, shining beaks, and sleek, unruffled plumage, were swimming +out to sea,--how another river, not quite so unique as the last, was +also in sight, coiling among emerald steeps and crags and precipices +and forest,--while beyond, green woodlands, checkered fields, groves, +orchards, villages, hills, farms, and villas, all glowed in an +exceedingly charming manner in the morning sun;--and then, still +further, to say something as brilliant as possible about a certain +city, designated as the Great Metropolis,--how it resembled, perhaps, +a Cyclopean type-form, with blocks of buildings for letters, domes, +turrets, and towers for punctuation-points, church-spires for +interrogation and exclamation marks, and squares and avenues for +division-spaces between the paragraphs, set up and leaded with +streets into a vast editorial page of original matter on Commerce and +Manufactures, rolled every morning with the ink of toil, and printing +before night an edition of results circulated to the remotest quarters +of the globe. And the tall chimneys yonder were to be called--let me +see--oh, the smoking cathedral-towers of the Holy Catholic Church of +Labor, islanding the air with clouds of incense more grateful to the +Deity than the fume of priest-swung censers. All this, and much more of +a similar nature, including an eloquent address to the ocean hard by, +it is possible I was about to say. But, unwilling to smother the reader +beneath a mountain of rhetorical flowers,--which accident might happen, +should I resolve to be "equal to the occasion,"--I shall contain myself, +and state, in the way of a curt preface, in plain prose, and directly to +the point, that I entered a remarkably large and populous cemetery, +no matter where, very early one morning,--in fact, you have the +gate-keeper's word for it that I was the first person there,--that I +climbed to the summit of a high hill and enjoyed the view of a beautiful +landscape, just after sunrise; and with this finally said and done, let +us proceed. + +As I stood listening to the music of the sea-breeze in the pine-forests +below, and watching the ships sinking into the ocean from view or +dropping through the sky into sight at the rim of the horizon, and the +clouds changing their picturesque sunrise-dress for a uniform of sober +white, forming into rank and file, marching and countermarching, sending +off scouts into the far distance and foraging-parties to scour the +yellow fields of air, pitching their tents and placing sentinels on +guard around the camp,--amusing myself with fashioning quaint, arabesque +fancies,--a sort of intellectual whittling-habit I have when idle,--I +was roused from my reverie by the creaking of an iron gate. + +Descending a few steps into a cluster of trees, I saw through their +leafy lattice-work, in an inclosure ornamented with rose-bushes and +other flowering shrubs, a young woman, richly dressed in black, kneeling +by the side of a new-made grave. The mound, evidently covering a +full-grown person, was nicely laid at the top with carefully cut sods, +the dark edges of which projected a little over the lighter-colored +gravel that sloped gradually down to the greensward. I was not long in +becoming satisfied that the person I saw was a young widow at the grave +of her husband, now three or four weeks dead, hither on her accustomed +morning visit to display her love and affection for his memory. + +Bowing her head, for a few moments she gave way to sobs and weeping, and +then, removing the cover from a little willow basket, which stood by her +side, she took from it handfuls of bright flowers, and began to adorn +the table of sods upon the top of the mound. + +As I regard her thus employed, weaving the tokens of her affection into +garlands, chaplets, and fanciful devices, arranging their symbolic +characters into interpretable monograms and hieroglyphs, matching their +colors and blending their hues and shades with the skill of an artist, +she becomes more and more absorbed in her work, the tears disappear from +her eyes, and the morning light flushes her pale and beautiful face. Is +she thinking now, I wonder, of the dead husband, or of something else? +What has she found among the flowers so consoling? Do they suggest +pleasant fancies, or recall the memories of happy days? Have they, +perhaps, a double meaning,--souvenirs of felicity as well as symbols +of sorrow? Are they opiates obliterating actual suffering, or prophets +uttering hopeful predictions? Or is it none of these things, and does +she find her work pleasant only because duty makes its performance +cheerful labor? I cannot say _what_ it is, but _something_ has assuaged +her grief; for I see her smiling now, as she holds a rosebud in her +fingers, and gazes at it abstractedly; and her thoughts and feelings, +whatever they may be, are indubitably not of a mournful character;--in +fact, I am sure that she never was happier in her life than she is at +this moment. + +"Happy, do you say?" + +Yes, I say happy. + +The nature of woman, it is conceded by all men, is a curious, +interesting, and perplexing, if not, in respect of positive practical +results, a most unsatisfactory study. But nothing puzzles us so much +to comprehend as the fact just alluded to. The tenderest female +constitution will sustain a burden of grief which would crush a robust +and iron-nerved man, and drive him to despair and suicide. A woman +rarely succumbs to a calamity; however sudden and overwhelming the +initial shock may be, she revives and grows cheerful and happy under it +in a way and to a degree marvellous to behold. What singular secret is +there among the psychological mysteries of her nature which is able to +account for this phenomenon?--A gentle, timid girl of sixteen, whom the +sight of a spider or a live snake would have frightened into hysterics, +I had once an opportunity, on a tour through Italy, to observe, while +she took little or no notice of other works of art, would gaze, as if +fascinated, at the writhings of Laocoön and his sons in the folds and +fangs of the serpents, at the sculptured death of the Gladiator, and +even at the ghastly, repulsive pictures of martyrdoms and barbaric +mutilations and tortures,--the hideous monstrosities of a diseased and +degraded imagination found in the churches and convents of Rome, which +made others turn their backs with a shivering of the bones and a +creeping of the flesh. On expressing surprise at such a singular +exhibition of taste, I received this innocent, unpremeditated +reply:--"Why, I don't like them; the sight of them almost freezes my +blood; but--somehow I do like to look at them, _for I always feel better +after it_!" Now is there not involved in this artless answer a possible +explanation of the above-mentioned fact? Has not woman, hidden somewhere +among her other (of course angelic)--affections, a positive _love_ of +sickness, death, sorrow, and suffering, which man does not possess? Is +not the pain they cause, in her case, qualified by actual pleasure? +Do they not act as a stimulus upon her sensitive nervous system, and +produce, somehow, a _delightfully intoxicated state of the feelings_? +Would not this explain her otherwise unaccountable fondness for +witnessing the execution of murderers, for the horrible in novels +and the deaths and catastrophes in the newspapers, that she has a +constitutional relish for such horrid things, and that she enjoys them, +not because they are _in se_ productive of pleasure, but just, as is the +case with her "crying," _because she feels better after it_? And I think +it would be found, if an investigation of the subject were instituted, +that a foreknowledge of this inevitable result, derived from intuition +or experience, is the agent which breaks up the clouds of her sorrow: +so that, while the grief of a man stricken down by misfortune is an +equinoctial storm, dark and dismal, which lasts for weeks and months, +the grief of woman is a succession of refreshing April showers, each of +brief duration, and the spaces between them filled with sunshine and +rainbows. + +But the sweets of that widow's present sorrow will be soon extracted. +How many weeks will she find it a pleasure to make morning visits here +and plait pretty flowers on the grave of her husband?--The grave in the +next inclosure furnishes an answer to the question. A few months ago, +it, too, was tended at sunrise by just such a tearful woman; but now the +wreaths of evergreen are yellow, and the weeds are springing up among +the withered garlands. The living partner has visited already the +"mitigated grief" department of the mourning store, and the severed +cords of her affections have been spliced and made almost as good as +new. Not that I would not have it so; not that I believe the grief of +woman to be less real and sincere than man's, though it _be_ enjoyed; +not that I would have her thrum a long mournful threnody on the +harpstrings of her heart, and waste on the dead, who need them not, +affections which, Heaven knows, the living need too much. + +Retracing my steps, and descending the opposite slope of the hill, I +entered a beautiful vale covered with stately tombs and containing a +little lake, in the middle of which a fountain was springing high into +the air. In a spot so much frequented at a later hour of the day only a +single human being was in sight,--a young man, perhaps five-and-twenty +years of age, jauntily dressed, and his upper lip adorned with a long +moustache, who was leaning lazily upon a marble balustrade, and staring, +with a stupid, vacant look, at the massive monument it surrounded. As +nothing appeared at the moment more attractive to my eyes, I fixed them +upon him. No great skill in deciphering human character is required to +tell his past or foretell his future history, or even to read the few +poor spent thoughts that flicker in his brain. His father--some city +merchant--died last year, and left him a man of leisure, with a fortune +on his hands to spend in idleness and dissipation. This is the first +anniversary of the old gentleman's decease and departure to another and +better world, and the hopeful heir of his bank-stock and buildings has, +as a matter of etiquette, come out here from the city this morning to +pass an hour of solemn meditation--as he calls the sixty minutes in +which he does not smoke or swear--by the old man's grave. I observe him +every moment forming a firm resolution to fix his feeble thoughts upon +sober things and his latter end, and breaking it the second afterwards: +the effort is too much for the exhausted condition of his mind, and +results in a total failure. He is evidently well pleased that any +attention is directed towards him, and fancies that I regard him as a +very dutiful son, and his appearance here, so early in the morning +and long before breakfast, a remarkable example of posthumous filial +affection. To intensify, if possible, this sentiment in my breast, he +has just now pulled out a white cambric handkerchief and pretends to be +wiping tears from his eyes. Poor fellow! you have no natural talent for +the solemn parts in acting, or you would know that the expression +which your face now wears is not that of sorrow, solemnity, meekness, +gentleness, humility, or any other sober Christian grace or virtue. But +I leave you, for I see something more attractive now. Stand thy hour +out, young man! we shall meet again. + +"In the other world?" + +No: to-morrow evening, as I am taking my accustomed walk into the +country, I shall be wellnigh run over by a swiftly driven team; I shall +spring suddenly aside, when thou wilt pass, O bogus son of Jehu, with +thy dog-cart and two-forty span of bays, dashing down the road, thy +thoughts fixed on horse-flesh instead of eternity, and thy soul bounded, +north by thy cigar, east and west by the wheels thy vehicle, and south +by the dumb beasts that drag thee along. + +But, not to introduce the reader to more solemn scenes of affliction and +sorrow which are witnessed here during the first vigil of the day, we +pass to a later hour. The mourners who come hither in the early morning +to decorate the graves of the recent dead, and to weep over them +undisturbed by visitors, have now departed. The sun is already high, the +dew has disappeared from the trees and the shrubs, and the paths and +walks and avenues begin to be thronged with loungers and sight-seers +from the city. + +I had stopped at the forks of a lane and was hesitating which branch +to take and what to do with myself, when a tall and beautiful Willow, +standing upon a knoll a few rods distant, with thick drooping boughs +sweeping the ground on every side, beckoned to me. On approaching him, +he extended a branch, shook me cordially by the hand, and invited me +to accept the shelter and hospitality of his roof. The proposal so +generously made was at once accepted with profuse thanks, and, parting +the boughs, I entered the tent and threw myself upon the soft grass. + +Do you ever talk with trees? It is a custom of mine, and I usually find +their conversation much more entertaining and profitable than that of +most men I know. "Good morning!" I say to an acquaintance. "Fine day," +he replies; "how's business?" And so on for an hour, over themes of +every nature, the current of conversation rippled with trite truisms, +and whirling in the surface-eddies of Tupper's "Proverbial Philosophy." +But the tree takes the whole of the Tupperian philosophy for granted at +the start, and the truisms which most men utter, and takes _you_ for +granted likewise,--supposing neither half of your eyeballs blind, +and that you have a soul as well as a body,--and enters at once into +conversation upon the high table-land of science, reason, and poetry. +The entire talk of a fashionable tea-party, strained from its lees of +scandal, filtered through a sober reflection of the following morning, +is not equal in value to the quivering of a single leaf. A tree will +discourse with you upon botany, physiology, music, painting, philosophy, +and a dozen arts and sciences besides, none of which it simply chats +about, but all of which it _is_: and if you do not understand its +language and comprehend what it tells you about them, so much the worse +for you; it is not the fault of the tree. + +I say, I talk with trees for this reason,--because their wisdom is so +much greater than that of my ordinary acquaintances,--and further, +(to put the major after the minor premise,) because they are virtually +living beings, endowed with instinct, feeling, reason, and display every +essential attribute of sentient creatures,--in fact, because they have +souls as well as men, only they are clothed in vegetable flesh. + +"That is transcendental moonshine, and you don't believe a word of it!" + +Well, my friend, allow me, then, to tell you, in all charity and with +bowels of compassion, that you hold dangerous and fatal views respecting +one of the cardinal doctrines of mythology,--yes, to be plain, you are a +Joveless infidel, and in fearful danger of being locked out of Elysium; +and I shall offer up a smoking sacrifice, the next time I get a sirloin, +and pour out a solemn libation, in the presence of my whole family +seated around the domestic altar early in the morning, for your speedy +conversion. + +Know, then, O obtuse, faithless, and perverse skeptic, that these +things are so: that ocular and auricular evidence, indubitable and +overwhelming, exists, that the arboreal and human natures are in +substance one. Know that once on a time, as Daphne, the lovely daughter +of Peneus, was amusing herself with a bow and arrows in a forest of +Thessaly, she was surprised by a rude musician named Phoebus. Timid and +bashful, as most young ladies are, she turned and fled as fast as her +[Greek: skelae] could carry her. After running, closely pursued by the +eager Delphian, for several miles, and becoming very much fatigued, she +felt inclined to yield: but wishing to faint in a reputable manner, she +lifted up her hands and asked the gods to help her. Her call was heard +in a jiffy, and quicker than you could say, "Presto: change!" she was a +Laurel-tree, which Phoebus married on the spot. This was the Eve of the +Laurel family, so that all these trees you meet in the world at present +must be rational beings, since they are the descendants of the beautiful +Greek maiden Daphne. And to satisfy you that this is no foolish legend, +but, on the contrary, a well-authenticated fact, clinched and riveted +in the boiler-head of historical truth, permit me to assure you,--for I +have seen it myself,--that in the Villa Borghese, near Rome in Italy, +is an exact representation of the wonderful incident, cut in Carrara +marble,--the bark of the Laurel growing over the vanishing girl, and her +hands and fingers sprouting into branches and leaves,--supposed to +have been copied from a photograph taken on the spot,--for there is a +photograph in existence exactly like the marble statue. + +We know positively--for we have an equally minute account of the +transaction--that the Cypress originated in a similar way. And is it +not reasonable to infer, therefore, though we may not find the facts +stated in _every_ case, that all trees were created out of men and +women, their bodies being miraculously clothed in woody tissue? In the +time of Virgil this was certainly the established orthodox belief; for +he relates an anecdote, expressing no doubt whatever of its truth, of a +party of travellers who commenced one day in a forest the indiscriminate +destruction of some young trees, when their roots forthwith began +to bleed, and voices proceeded from them, begging to be spared from +laceration. And, in fact, hundreds of instances, similarly weighty as +evidence, from equally veracious and trustworthy classic authors, might +be cited to the point, did time and space permit. But we hasten to the +other proof of their essential humanity, which I set out with assuming +as an undoubted fact, and which is already foreshadowed in the adventure +of the Trojan wanderers just related,--namely, that they possess the +faculty of speech. + +Tasso, the author of a well-known metrical history, states distinctly, +as you shall see in half a moment, that a tree upon one occasion +discoursed with Major General Tancred,-- + + "Pur tragge alfin la spada e con gran forza + Percuote l' alta pianta. Oh, maraviglia! + ----quasi di tomba, uscir ne sente + Un indistinto gemito dolente, + Che poi _distinto in voci_." + +And then it goes on to tell the General how it once rejoiced in +extensive hoops, wore a coal-scuttle on its head, and rubbed its face +with prepared chalk,--(w-w-w-hy! what _was_ I saying? such a mistake! I +should say)--was a woman by the name of Clorinda, and is still animated +and sentient both in trunk and limbs, and that he will presently be +guilty of murder, if he continues to hack her with his sword. + +The celebrated explorer, Sir John Mandeville, relates in the history +of his discoveries that he heard whole groves of trees talking _to one +another_. And when we come down to the present day, R.W. Emerson, of +Concord, asseverates that trees have conversed with him,--that they +speak Italian, English, German, Basque, Castilian, and several other +languages perfectly,-- + + "Mountain speech to Highlanders, + Ocean tongues to islanders,"-- + +and that he himself was on one occasion transformed into a Pine (_Pinus +rigida_) and talked quite a large volume of philosophy while in that +condition. Walter Whitman, Esq., author of "Leaves of Grass," relates +similar personal experience. Tennyson, (Alfred,) now the Laureate of +England, and upon whom the University of Oxford, a few years ago, +conferred the title of Doctor of Laws, gives us a long conversation he +once held with an Oak, reporting the exact words it said to him: they +are excellent English, and corroborate what I said above respecting the +wisdom of trees. + +If all this evidence, and I might add much more equally conclusive, did +I think it necessary, does not, O skeptic, convince you of the humanity +of trees, why, let me say that you hold for true a hundred things not +based upon half so good testimony as this,--that I have seen juries +persuaded of facts, and bring in verdicts in accordance with them, not +nearly so well authenticated as these,--and that I have heard clergymen +preach sermons two hours long, constructed out of arguments which they +positively persisted you should regard as decisive, that were, to say +the least, no _better_ than those here advanced. And now, if these +things be so, in the words of the great Grecian, John P., _what are you +going to do about it_? + +Trees, like animals, are righteously sacrificed only when required to +supply our wants. A man does not go out into the fields and mutilate or +destroy his horses and oxen: let him treat the oaks and the elms with +the same humanity. I would that enough of the old mythology to which I +have alluded, and which our fathers called religion, still lived among +us to awaken a virtuous indignation in our breasts when we witnessed the +wanton destruction of trees. I once remonstrated with a cruel wretch +whom I saw engaged in taking the life of some beautiful elms inhabiting +a piece of pasture-land. He replied, that in the hot days of summer the +cattle did nothing but lie under them and chew their cud, when they +should be at work feeding on the grass,--that his oxen did not get fat +fast enough, nor his cows give as much milk as they should give,--"and +so," said he, "I'm goin' to fix 'em,"--and down came every one of the +hospitable old trees. We are not half so humane in our conduct towards +the inferior races and tribes as the old Romans whom we calumniate with +the epithet of Pagans. The Roman Senate degraded one of its members for +putting to death a bird that had taken refuge in his bosom: would not +the Senate of the United States "look pretty," undertaking such a thing? +A complete Christian believes not only in the dogmas of the Bible, but +_also_ in the mythology, or religion of Nature, which teaches us, no +less than it taught our fathers, to regard wanton cruelty towards any +vegetable or animal creature which lives in the breath and smile of the +Creator, as a sin against Heaven. + +Having in the above paragraph got into the parson's private preserve, +as I shall be liable anyhow to an action for trespass, I am tempted to +commit the additional transgression of poaching, and to give you a +few extracts from a _sermon_ a friend of mine once delivered. [It was +addressed to a small congregation of Monothelites in a village "out +West," just after the annual spring freshet, when half the inhabitants +of the place were down with the chills and fever. It was his maiden +effort,--he having just left the Seminary,--and did not "take" at +all, as he learned the next day, when Deacon Jenners (the pious +philanthropist of the place) called to tell him that his style of +preaching "would never do," that his thoughts were altogether of too +worldly a nature, and his language, decidedly unfit for the sacred +"desk." Besides,--though he would not assume the responsibility +of deciding that point before he had consulted with the Standing +Committee,--he did not think his sentiments exactly orthodox. My friend +was disgusted on the spot, and, being seized with a chill shortly +afterwards, concluded not to accept the "call," and, packing his +trunk, started in quest of a healthier locality and a more enlightened +congregation.] + +"And here permit me to add a word or two for the purpose of correcting a +very prevalent error. + +"Most men, I find, suppose that this earth belongs to them,--to the +human race alone. It does not,--no more than the United States belong to +Rhode Island. Human life is not a ten-thousand-millionth of the life on +the planet, nor the race of men more than an infinitesimal fraction of +the creatures which it nourishes. A swarm of summer flies on a field of +clover, or the grasshoppers in a patch of stubble, outnumber the men +that have lived since Adam. And yet we assume the dignity of lords and +masters of the globe! Is not this a flagrant delusion of self-conceit? +Let a pack of hungry wolves surround you here in the forest, and who is +master? Let a cloud of locusts descend upon a hundred square miles +of this territory, and what means do you possess to arrest their +ravages?... + +"As a matter of _fact_, then, we do not own the world. And now let +me say, that, as a matter of _right_, we ought not: man was the last +created of creatures. When our race appeared on the earth, it had been +for millions of years in quiet, exclusive, undisputed possession of the +birds, beasts, fishes, and insects: it was _their_ world then, and we +were intruders and trespassers upon their domain.... + +"If, then, the other races have a right to exist on the planet as much +as we, what follows? Surely, that they have a right to their share and +proportion of the ground and its fruits, and the blessings of Heaven by +which life here is sustained: man has no right to expect a monopoly of +them. If we get a week of sunshine which supplies our wants, we have no +reason to complain of the succeeding week of rain which supplies the +wants of other races. If we raise a crop of wheat, and the insect +foragers take tithes of it, we have no right to find fault: a share of +it belongs to them. If you plant a field with corn, and the weeds spring +up also along with it, why do you complain? Have not the weeds as much +right there as the corn? If you encamp in one of the numberless swamps +which surround this settlement, and get assailed by countless millions +of robust mosquitoes, why do you rave and swear (as I know most of you +would do under such circumstances) and want to know 'what in the ---- +mosquitoes were made for'? Why, to puncture the skin of blockheads and +blasphemers like you, and suck the last drop of blood from their veins. +Why, let me ask you, did you go out there? That place belonged to the +mosquitoes, not to you; and you knew you were trespassing upon their +land. The mosquitoes exist for themselves, and were created for the +enjoyment of their own mosquito-life. Why was _man_ created? The Bible +does not answer the question directly; the divines in the Catechism say, +'To glorify God.' Now I should like to know if a Westminster Catechism +of the mosquitoes would'nt make as good an answer for them? + +"And here I am just in the act of annihilating with a logical stroke +a multitude of grumblers and croakers. If this world does not belong +exclusively to man, and the other races have as much right here as he, +and, consequently, a claim to their proportion of land, water, and sky, +and their share of food for the sustenance of life, what follows? + +"A great many men, taking northeast storms, bleak winds, +thunder-showers, flies, mosquitoes, Canada thistles, hot sunshine, cold +snows, weeds, briers, thorns, wild beasts, snakes, alligators, and such +like things, which they don't happen to like, and putting them all +together, attempt to persuade you that this green earth is a complete +failure, a wreck and blasted ruin. Don't you believe that, for it's +wicked infidelity. I tell you the world is not all so bad as Indiana, +and especially that part of the State which you, unfortunately, inhabit. +I have seen, my friends, a large portion of the planet, and if there is +another spot anywhere quite so infernal as Wabashville, why, I solemnly +assure you I never found it.--And now for the point which shall prick +your conscience and penetrate your understanding! Do the bears and +wolves, the coons and foxes, the owls and wild-geese, find this region +unhealthy, and get the chills and fever, and go around grumbling and +cursing? Don't they find this climate especially salubrious and suited +exactly to their constitutions? Well, then, that's because they belong +here, _and you don't_. This region was never intended for the habitation +of man: it belongs exclusively to the wild beasts and the fowls of the +air, and you have no business here. [Manifest signs of disapprobation +on part of Deacon Taylor, an extensive owner of town-lots.] And if you +persist in remaining here, what moral right have you to complain of +God?... + +"Remember, then, in conclusion, that, for millions of years before our +race existed, mosquitoes, weeds, briers, thorns, thistles, snow-storms, +and northeast winds prevailed upon this planet, and that during all this +time it was pronounced by the Deity himself to be '_very good_.' If, +then, the earth appears to be evil, is it not because 'thine eye is +evil'? We share this world, my friends, with other races, whose wants +are different from ours; and we are all of equal importance in the eyes +of our Maker, who distributes to each its share of blessings--man and +monster both alike--with impartial favor. Is not thus the fallacy of the +corruption of Nature exposed, and the lie against our Creator's wisdom, +love, and goodness dragged into noonday light?" + + * * * * * + +But it is time to recommence our rambles through the City of the Dead. + +Right here I come across on a tombstone,--"All our children. Emma, aged +1 mo. 23 days. John, 3 years 5 days. Anna, aged 1 year 1 mo." As a +physiologist, I might make some very instructive comments upon this; but +I forbear. + +And here, upon another, a few rods farther on, is an epitaph in verse:-- + + (FIRST VERSE.) + + "Calm be her slumbers near kindred are sighing, + A husband deplores in deep anguish of heart, + Beneath the cold earth _unconsciously lying_, + No murmur can reach her, no tempest can start." + + (SECOND VERSE.) + + "Calm be her sleep as the silence of even + When hearts unto deep invocation give birth. + With a prayer she has _knelt at the portal of heaven_ + And found the admission she hoped for on earth_." + +Not to speak of the "poetry" just here, how charmingly consistent with +each other are the ideas contained in the passages I have italicized! In +the first verse, you observe, the inmate is sleeping unconscious beneath +the ground: in the second verse, she has ascended to heaven and +found admittance to mansions in the skies!--A similar confusion and +contradiction of ideas occur in most of the epitaphs I see. Does our +theology furnish us with no clear conception of the state of the soul +after death? The Catholic Church teaches that the spirit at death +descends into the interior of the earth to a place called Hades, where +it is detained until the day of judgment, when it is reunited with the +dust of the body, and ascends to a heaven in the sky. This doctrine +has the merit of being positive, clear, and comprehensible, and, +consequently, whenever expressed, it always means something exact and +well-defined. Has the Protestant Church equally definite notions on the +subject, or, in fact, any fixed opinions respecting it whatever? If not, +why, as a matter of good taste, for no weightier reason, in records +almost imperishable like these, leave the matter alone! Silence +is better than nonsense. Suppose a few thousand years hence our +civilization to have become extinct, and that some antiquary from the +antipodes should visit this desolate hill to excavate, like Layard at +Nineveh, for relics of the old Americans. Suppose, having collected a +ship-load of broken tombstones, he should forward them to the Polynesian +Museum, and set the _savans_ of the age at work deciphering their +inscriptions, what sense would be made out of these epitaphs? How would +they interpret our notions of a future state? Taking our own monuments, +cut with our own hands, inscribed with our own signs-manual, what would +they infer our system of religion to have been? If the Egyptians were as +vague and careless as we in this matter, our archaeologists must have +made some amusing blunders. + +Here are two epitaphs which suggest something else:-- + + No. I. + + "I loved him in his beauty, + A _mother_ boy while here, + I knew he was an angel bright + Formed for another sphere." + + No. II. + + "Farewell my wife and children dear + God calls you home to rest. + Still Angels _wisper_ in my ear + We'll meet in heavenly bliss." + +I want to make two annotations upon these. In No. 1 you will notice that +a possessive _'s_ is wanting, and in No. 2 that the _h_ is omitted from +_whisper_. A marble-cutter told me once, that a Pennsylvania Dutchman +came to him one day to have an inscription cut upon a gravestone for his +daughter, whose name was Fanny. The father, upon learning that the price +of the inscription would be ten cents a letter, insisted that Fanny +should be spelt with one _n_, as he should thereby save a dime! The +marble-cutter, unable to overcome the obstinacy of the frugal Teuton, +and unwilling to set up such a monument of his ignorance of spelling, +compromised the matter by conforming to the current orthography, and +inserted the superfluous consonant for nothing. And my second annotation +shall consist of an inquiry: What is there in corrupt and diseased human +nature which makes persons prefer such execrable rhyme as that quoted +above, and that which I find upon two-thirds of the tombstones here, to +decent English prose, which one would suppose might have been produced +at a much less expenditure of intellectual effort? But since it is an +unquestionable fact that we are thus totally depraved in taste and +feeling, why don't some of our bards, to whom the Muse has not been +propitious in other departments of metrical composition, and who, to be +blunt, are good for nothing else, such as ----, or ----, and many +others you know, come out here among the marble-cutters and open an +_epitaph-shop_? Mournful stanzas might then be procured of every size +and pattern, composed with decent reverence for the rules of grammar, +respect for the feet and limbs of the linear members, and possibly some +regard for consistency in the ideas they might chance occasionally to +express. Genin the hatter, and Cockroach Lyon, each keeps a poet. Why +cannot the marble-cutters procure some of the Heliconian fraternity as +partners? Bards would thus serve the cause of education, benefit future +antiquaries, and earn more hard dimes ten times over than they do in +writing lines for the blank corners of newspapers and the waste spaces +between articles in magazines. I throw this hint out of the window of +the "Atlantic," in the fervent hope that it will be seen, picked up, +and pocketed by some reformer who is now out of business; and I would +earnestly urge such individual to agitate the question with all his +might, and wake up the community to the vital importance, by making use +of "poetic fire" and "inspired frenzy" now going to waste, or some other +instrumentality, of a reformation in epitaphic necrology. + +Seriously, modern epitaphs are a burlesque upon religion, a caricature +of all things holy, divine, and beautiful, and an outrage upon the +common sense and culture of the community. A collection of comic +churchyard poetry might be made in this place which would eclipse the +productions of Mr. K.N. Pepper, and cause a greater "army of readers to +explode" than his "Noad to a Whealbarrer" or the "Grek Slaiv" has done. + + * * * * * + +During our rambles among the tombstones the sun has long since passed +the meridian, and the streets and avenues of the cemetery are crowded +with carriages and thronged with pedestrians, the tramping of horses' +feet, the rumbling of wheels, and the voices of men fill the air, and +the place which was so silent and deserted this morning is now as noisy +and bustling as the metropolis yonder. And soon begin to arrive thick +and fast the funeral trains. Many of the black-plumed hearses are +followed by only a single hired coach or omnibus, others by long trails +of splendid equipages. Upon the broad slope of a hill, whither the +greater number of the processions move, entirely destitute of trees +and flooded with sunshine, many thousand graves, mostly unmarked by +headstones, lie close together, resembling in appearance a corn-field +which has been permitted to run to grass unploughed. Standing upon an +elevated point near the summit, and looking down those acres of hillocks +to where the busy laborers are engaged in putting bodies into the +ground, covering them with earth, and rounding the soil over them, one +is perhaps struck for the first time with the full force, meaning, +and beauty of the language of Paul in his first letter to the +Corinthians:--"That which thou sowest is not that body which shall be, +but bare grain. It [the human body] is sown in corruption, is sown in +dishonor, is sown in weakness. It is sown a natural body; it is raised +[or springs up, to complete the figure] a spiritual body. Flesh +and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of heaven."--I once heard a +distinguished botanist dispute the accuracy of this simile, inasmuch, he +said, as the seed, when it is sown in the ground, does not _die_, but in +fact then first begins to _live_ and to display the vital force which +was previously asleep in it; while the human body decays and is resolved +into its primitive gaseous, mineral, and vegetable elements, the +particles of which, disseminated everywhere, and transferred through +chemical affinities into other and new organisms, lose all traces of +their former connection.--In answer to such a finical criticism as this, +intended to invalidate the authority of the great Apostolic Theologian, +I replied, that Paul was not an inspired _botanist_,--in fact, that +he probably knew nothing whatever about botany as a science,--but an +inspired religious teacher, who employed the language of his people and +the measure of knowledge to which his age had attained, to expound to +his contemporaries the principles of his Master's religion. I am not +familiar with the nicer points of strict theological orthodoxy, but, +from modern sermons and commentaries, I should infer that few doctors +of even the most straitest school of divinity hold to the doctrine of +verbal inspiration. That the Prophets and Apostles were acquainted with +botany, chemistry, geology, or any other modern science, is a notion +as unfounded in truth as it is hostile and foreign to the object and +purpose of Revelation, which is strictly confined to religion and +ethics. Those persons, therefore, (and they are a numerous class,) who +resort to the Bible, assuming that it professes to be an inspired manual +of universal knowledge, and then, because they find in its figurative +Oriental phraseology, or in its metaphors and illustrations, some +inaccuracies of expression or misstatements of scientific facts, would +throw discredit upon the essential religious dogmas and doctrines which +it is its object to state and unfold, are, to say the least, extremely +disingenuous, if not deficient in understanding. + +But a much more prolific source of injury to the character of the Bible +than that just mentioned is the injudicious and impertinent labors of +many who volunteer in its defence. "Oh, save me from my friends!" might +the Prophets and Apostles, each and all, too often exclaim of their +supporters.--It is said that all men are insane upon some point: so are +classes and communities. The popular monomania which at present prevails +among a class of persons whose zeal surpasses their prudence and +knowledge is a foolish fear and trembling lest the tendencies of science +should result in the overthrow of the Bible. They seem, somehow, to be +fully persuaded that the inspired word of God has no inherent power to +stand alone,--that it has fallen among thieves and robbers,--is being +pelted with fossil coprolites, suffocated with fire-mist and primitive +gases, or beaten over the head with the shank-bones of Silurian +monsters, and is bawling aloud for assistance. Therefore, not stopping +to dress, they dash out into the public notice without hat or coat, in +such unclothed intellectual condition as they happen to be in,--in their +shirt, or stark naked often,--and rush frantically to its aid. + +The most melancholy case of this intellectual _delirium tremens_ +that probably ever came under the notice of any reader is found in a +professed apology for the Scriptures, recently published, under +the pompous and bombastic title of "COSMOGONY, OR THE MYSTERIES OF +CREATION."--A volume of such puerile trash, such rubbish, twaddle, +balderdash, and crazy drivelling[A] as this, was never before vomited +from the press of any land, and beside it the "REVELATIONS" of Andrew +Jackson Davis, the "Poughkeepsie Seer," rises to the lofty grandeur of +the "Novum Organon,"--a sight that makes one who really respects the +Bible hang his head for shame. + +[Footnote A: As the reader may never have seen this unique volume, and +will be amused by a specimen of its grammar, rhetoric, wisdom, and +learning, let him take a _morceau_ or two from the commencement of +a chapter entitled, "_Naturalists.--Their Classification of Man and +Beasts_."--"We look upon the animal in no different light from that of +a vegetable, a plant, or a rock-crystal, which forms under the Creative +hand, performs its part for the use of man, dissolves and reproduces by +its parts another comfort for him. The animal bears _no resemblance_ to +man, not even in his brain."--"One tree may bear apples, and another +acorns, but they are not to be compared, the one as bearing a relation +to the other, because they have each a body and limbs. They are distinct +trees, and one will always produce apples and the other acorns, as long +as they produce anything." (Indeed!)--"The usual classification of +animals, is that of Vertebrata, Articulata, Mollusca, and Radiata. +This is not only offensive to man,--_but is impiety towards God_." +(Why?)--"We are told by these naturalists that man belongs to the class +called 'Vertebrata.' So does the snake, the monkey, the lizard and +crocodile, and many other low and mean animals.--Have these creatures +the reasoning faculties of man? Do they walk erect like man? Have they +feet, hands, legs, arms, _hair upon their heads, or beards upon their +faces_? Do they speak languages and _congregate and worship at the +altar_?" (!!)--"Those who are ambitious of such relations, may plant +their heraldic coat-of-arms in the serpent, the lizard, the crocodile, +or the monkey, but we disclaim such relationship--we do not think it +_good taste or good morals_ to place the fair daughters of Eve on +a level with horrid and hideous animals, simply from some apparent +similarity, which we are certain never existed."] + +The belligerent pundit who has flung in the face of peaceful geologists +this octavo _camouflet_ of his scientific lucubrations professes to +have scoured the surface and ravaged the bottom (in a suit of patent +sub-marine Scriptural armor) of a no less abysmal subject than the +cryptology of Genesis,--to have undermined with his sapping intellect +and blown up with his explosive wisdom the walled secrets of time and +eternity, carrying away with him in the shape of plunder a whole cargo +of the plans and purposes of the Omnipotent in the Creation. I have not +the least doubt, if he were respectfully approached and interrogated +upon the subject, he would answer with the greatest ease and accuracy +the famous question with which Dean Swift posed the theological tailor. +The man who can tell us all about the institution of the law of gravity, +how the inspired prophet thought and felt while writing his history, and +who knows everything respecting "affinity and attraction when they +were in Creation's womb," could not hesitate a moment to measure an +arch-angel for a pair of breeches.--But I was talking of _funerals_. + + * * * * * + +A friend once assured me that the heartiest laugh of which he was ever +guilty on a solemn occasion occurred at a funeral. A trusty Irish +servant, who had lived with him for many years, and for whom he had +great affection, died suddenly at his house. As he was attending the +funeral in the Catholic burial-place, and stood with his wife and +children listening to the service which the priest was reading, his +heart filled with grief and his eyes moist with tears, the inscription +on a gravestone just before him happened to attract his attention. It +was this_:--"Gloria in Excelsis Deo!_ Patrick Donahoe died July 12. +18--." Now the exclamation-point after _"Deo"_ and the statement of +the fact of Mr. D.'s demise following immediately thereafter made the +epitaph to read, "Glory to God in the highest! Patrick is dead." This, +which at another time would perhaps have caused no more than a smile, +struck him as irresistibly funny, and drove in a moment every trace +of sadness from his face and sorrow from his heart,--to give place to +violent emotions of another nature, which his utmost exertions could not +conceal. + +["I beg your pardon! I've been afloat," was the graceful parenthetical +apology which a distinguished naval officer used to make, when by +mistake he let drop one of "those big words which lie at the bottom of +the best man's vocabulary," in conversation with sensitive persons whose +ears he feared it might offend. I ought possibly, at the end of the +following anecdote, to make some such excuse to the scrupulous reader, +whose notions of propriety it will perhaps slightly infringe: "I beg +your pardon! I couldn't help telling it."] + +An eminent divine once described to me a scene he witnessed at a +funeral, which he said nearly caused him to expire with--well, you shall +see. An intimate acquaintance of his, who belonged to a neighboring +parish, having died, he was naturally induced to assist at the +burial-service. The rector of this parish was a man who, though +sensitive in the extreme to the absurdities of others,--being, in fact, +a regular son of Momus,--was entirely unconscious of his own amusing +eccentricities. Among these, numerous and singular, he had the habit +of suddenly stopping in the middle of a sentence, while preaching, and +calling out to the sexton, across the church, "Dooke, turn on more gas!" +or "Dooke, shut that window!" or "Dooke, do"--something else which +was pretty sure to be wanting itself done during the delivery of his +discourse. Nearly every Sunday, strangers not acquainted with his ways +were startled out of their propriety by some such unexpected behavior. + +On the occasion referred to, the funeral procession having entered the +churchyard, and my informant and the officiating clergyman having taken +their places at the head of the grave, the undertaker and his assistants +having removed the coffin from the hearse, and the mourners, of whom +there was a large crowd, having gathered into a circular audience, the +Reverend Doctor ---- began the service. + +"'Man that is born of a woman'--Oh, stop those carriages! don't you see +where they are going to?" (he suddenly broke out, rushing from the place +where he stood, frantically, among the bystanders; and then returning to +his former position, continued,)--"'hath but a short time to live, and +is full of misery. He cometh up'--Oh, don't let that coffin down +yet! wait till I tell you to," (addressed to the undertaker, who was +anticipating the proper place in the service,)--"'and is cut down like a +flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow,'--Please to hold the umbrella +a little further over my head," (_sotto voce_ to the man who was +endeavoring to protect his head from the sun,)-"'and never continueth in +one stay.'--Hold the umbrella a little higher, will you?" (_sotto voce_ +again to the man holding the umbrella.)--"'In the midst of life we are +in death.'--Stand down from there, boys, and be quiet!" (addressed to +some urchins who were crowding and pushing one another about the grave, +in their efforts to look at the coffin.) At length he had proceeded +without further interruptions as far as the sentence, "'We therefore +commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to +dust,'"--when Dooke, the sexton,--a queer, impetuous fellow,--who was +vainly endeavoring to keep the boys away from the edge of the grave, +seized suddenly the rope with which the coffin had just been lowered +down, and, stooping forward, laid it like a whip-lash, "cut!" across the +shins of a dozen youngsters, making them leap with "Oh! oh! oh!" a +foot from the ground, and scatter in short order,--"'looking for +the'"--(turning to my friend, as he witnessed the successful exploit of +his favorite sexton, and whispering in his ear,) "_Dooke made 'em hop +that time, didn't he!_--'general resurrection in the last day, and the +life of the world to come.'" + +Dooke's mode of dispersing the boys, and the officiating clergyman's +comment upon it, parenthesized into the middle of the most solemn +sentence of the burial-service, were too much for the usual stern +gravity of my clerical friend, and, under pretence of shedding tears, he +buried his face in his handkerchief and his handkerchief in his hat and +shook with laughter. + +Speaking of funerals reminds me of a congenial subject.--Nothing in New +York astonishes visitors from the country so much as the magnificent +coffin-shops, rivalling, in the ostentatious and tempting display of +their wares, the most elegant stores on Broadway. Model coffins, of the +latest style and pattern, are set up on end in long rows and protected +by splendid show-cases, with the lids removed to exhibit their rich +satin lining. Fancy coffins, decorated with glittering ornaments, are +placed seductively in bright plate-glass windows, and put out for +baiting advertisements upon the side-walks: as much as to say, "Walk in, +walk in, ladies and gentlemen! Now's your chance! here's your fine, nice +coffins!"--while in ornamental letters upon extensive placards hung +about the doors, "IRON COFFINS," "ROSEWOOD COFFINS," "AIR-TIGHT +COFFINS," "MAHOGANY COFFINS," "PATENT SARCOPHAGI," address the eyes +and appeal to the purses of the passers-by. And I saw in one of these +places, the other day, painted on glass and inclosed in an elegant gilt +frame, "ICE COFFINS," which struck me as queer enough. As though it were +not sufficiently cool to be dead! + +It seems to me, that, in this matter, the undertakers, digging a little +too deep below the surface of the present age, have thrown out some of +the mystical and grotesque remains of a very antique religious faith, +which look as singular just now to the eyes of common people as would an +Egyptian temple with its sacred Apis in Broadway, or a Sphinx on Boston +Common. To the eyes of an old Egyptian, no object could be more grateful +than the sarcophagus in which he was to repose at death. He purchased it +as early in life as he could raise the means, and displayed it in his +parlor as an attractive and costly ornament. Indeed, I do not know but +it was useful as well, and the children kept their playthings in it, or +the young ladies their knitting-work and embroidery. + +Are we not, in this class of our tastes and feelings, becoming rapidly +Egyptianized? Why, I expect in a year or two to see coffins introduced +into the parlors of the Fifth Avenue, and to find them, when their +owners fail or absquatulate, advertised for sale at auction, with the +rest of the household furniture, at a great sacrifice on the original +cost. + +"--> ONE SUPERB COFFIN OF ELEGANT PATTERN AND SUPERIOR WORKMANSHIP, AS +GOOD AS NEW. TWO DITTO, SLIGHTLY DAMAGED." + +And then the fashion will become popular with the less aristocratic +portion of the community, and you will see crowds of servant-girls and +street-loungers around the windows of our magnificent coffin-bazaars, +and hear from them such exclamations as these: "Oh! do look here, +Matilda! Wouldn't you like to have such a nice coffin as that?" or, +"What a dear, sweet sarcophagus that one is there!" or, "Faith, I should +like to own that air-tight!" + + * * * * * + +But the day is now far advanced. The funeral processions have ceased to +arrive, and the husbandmen, having sown the immortal seed furnished by +the metropolis, with shovels and empty dinner-pails, are on their way, +whistling and talking in groups, homeward. The number of loungers and +sight-seers is rapidly diminishing as the light in the more thickly +shaded walks becomes dim, and the clock at the gateway indicates the +near approach of the hour when the portals will be closed. + +--Alone with the dead! Alone in the night among tombs and graves! How +many readers do not at the sight of these words feel an involuntary +_soupçon_ of a shudder? Would not the cause of this indefinable secret +dread of the darkness which covers a graveyard be a curious matter +of inquiry? Let one ever so cultivated and skeptical, familiar as a +physician or a soldier with the spectacle of death, ever so full of +mental and physical courage, passing alone late at night through a +graveyard, hear the least sound among the graves, or see a moving object +of any kind, especially a white one, and he will instantly feel an +_alloverishness_ foreign to ordinary experience, and I will not answer +for him that his hair does not stand on end and his flesh grow rough as +a nutmeg-grater. A company of three or four persons would feel far less +disturbed. This proves the emotion to be genuine _fear_. And with this +recognized as a fact, ask the question, Of what are you afraid? What +makes your feet stick to the ground so fast, or inspires you to take to +your legs and run for your life? "A ridiculous, foolish superstition," +reason answers. + +I do not intend by this to intimate that you, reader, bold and +courageous person that I know you to be, would not dare to go through a +graveyard at night. By no means. I only predicate the existence within +you of this ridiculous, foolish superstition, and maintain that you +would do so under _all_ circumstances with peculiar feelings which you +did not possess before you entered it and which you will not possess +as soon as you have left it, and under _certain_ circumstances with a +trembling of the nerves and a palpitation of the heart, and that the +occasion _might_ occur when you would be still _more_ strongly and +strangely affected. To illustrate the latter case I have an anecdote +_à-propos_. + +A college class-mate, (Poor B----! the shadows of the Pyramids now fall +upon his early grave!) a young man easily agitated, to be sure, and +possibly timid, on his way home, late one autumn night, from the +house of a relative in the country, was hurrying past a dismal old +burying-yard in the midst of a gloomy wood, when he was suddenly +startled by a strange noise a short distance from the road. Turning +his head, alarmed, in the direction whence it proceeded, he was +horror-struck at seeing through the darkness a white object on the +ground, struggling as if in the grasp of some terrible monster. +Instantly the blood froze in his veins; he stood petrified,--the +howlings of the wind, clanking of chains, and groans of agony, filling +his ears,--with his eyes fixed in terror upon the white shape rolling +and plunging and writhing among the tombs. Attempting to run, his feet +refused to move, and he swooned and fell senseless in the road. A party +of travellers, happening shortly to pass, stumbled over his body. +Raising him upon his feet, they succeeded by vigorous shakes in +restoring him to a state of consciousness. + +While explaining to them the cause of his fright, the noise was renewed. +The men, although somewhat alarmed, clubbed their individual courage, +climbed the wall, and found--nearly in the centre of the graveyard--_an +old white horse_ thrown down by his fetters and struggling violently to +regain his feet. + +B---- assured me, the explanation of the spectacle instinctively +occurring to his mind at the moment as indubitable was that some +reprobate had just been buried there, and that the Devil, coming for +his body, was engaged in binding his unwilling limbs, preparatory to +carrying him away! + +The reader may smile at the weakness and folly displayed in this case, +but the assertion may nevertheless be safely ventured, that there is not +one person in a hundred who would not under the same circumstances have +been greatly disturbed, or would have invented a much less frightfully +absurd solution of the phenomenon than poor B----'s. + +I think the singular feelings associated with graveyard darkness, which +the wisest and bravest of men find slumbering beneath all their courage +and philosophy, would be found upon investigation to proceed principally +from two sources,--a constitutional inclination to religious +superstition, and an acquired educational belief in the reality of the +dreams and fancies of poets, mingled, of course, with some natural +cowardice. + +The dryest and hardest men have more poetry in them than they or we +begin to suspect. Indeed, if we could take our individual or collective +culture to pieces and award to each separate influence its due and just +share of results, I should not be surprised at finding that the poet had +done more in the way of fashioning our education than the scientist +or any other teacher. Milton, to give but a single example, with his +speculations concerning the Fall,--its effects upon humanity, the brute +creation, and physical nature,--and his imaginary conflicts between +the hostile armies of heaven, and his celestial and Satanic +personifications, has had so much influence in Anglo-Saxon culture, that +nine-tenths of the people believe, without knowing it, as firmly in +"Paradise Lost" as in the text of the Bible. The Governor of Texas, +citing in his proclamation a familiar passage in Shakspeare as emanating +from the inspired pen of the Psalmist, is not to so great extent +an example of ignorance as an illustration of the lofty peerage +instinctively assigned the great dramatist in the ordinary associations +of our thoughts. This faith in the visionary world of poets is instilled +into us (and it is for this reason that Rousseau, in his masterly +work on education, the "Émile," reprobates the custom as promotive of +superstition) in early infancy by our parents and nurses with their +stories of nymphs, fairies, elves, dwarfs, giants, witches, hobgoblins, +and the like fabulous beings, and, as soon as we are able to read, by +the tales of genii, sorcerers, demons, ghouls, enchanted caves and +castles, and monsters and monstrosities of every name. The exceedingly +impressible and poetical nature of children (for all children are poets +and talk poetry as soon as they can lisp) appropriates and absorbs with +intense relish these fanciful myths, and for years they believe more +firmly in their truth than in the realities of the actual world. And I +more than suspect that this child-credulity rather slumbers in the grown +man, smothered beneath superimposed skepticisms and cognitions, than is +ever eradicated from his mind, and thus, upon the shock of an emergency +disturbing him suddenly to the foundation, is ready to burst up through +the crevices of his shattered practical experience and appear on the +surface of his judgment and understanding. + +In addition, then, to an instinctive tendency to religious superstition, +(of which I shall here say nothing,) to the fairy mythology of the +nursery, and the phantom machinery invented by poets to clothe with the +semblance of reality their dreams and fancies, can be traced in a great +measure the existence in the mind of the _credulity_ which renders the +_fear_ in question possible, opening an introduction for it into the +heart excited by inexplicable phenomena or circumstanced where such +phenomena might, according to our superstitious beliefs, easily occur. + +Without entering into an analysis of the _fear_ itself, beyond the +remark that any extraordinary sight or sound not immediately explicable +by the eye or ear to the understanding (as a steamboat to the Indians or +a comet to our ancestors) is a legitimate cause of the emotion, as well +as the _possibility_ of the occurrence of such sights and sounds, +for believing which we have seen man prepared, first by natural +superstitious inclination, and secondly by a peculiar education,--I will +only further add, for the purpose of a brief introduction to an anecdote +I wish to relate, that there is another fountain of knowledge, from +which we drink at a later period than childhood, as well as then, whose +waters are strongly impregnated with this superstitious, fear-provoking +credulity: I mean the stories of _ghosts_ which have been seen and heard +in all ages and countries, revealing important secrets, pointing out +the places where murder has been committed or treasure concealed, +foretelling deaths and calamities, and forewarning men of impending +dangers. Hundreds of books familiar to all have been written upon this +subject and form an extensive department of our literature, especially +of our older literature. + +The philosopher attempts to account for such phenomena by referring them +to optical illusions or a disordered condition of the brain, making them +_subjective_ semblances instead of _objective_ realities. But one is +continually being puzzled and perplexed with evidence contradicting this +hypothesis, which, upon any other subject _a priori_ credible to the +reason and judgment, would be received as satisfactory and decisive +without a moment's hesitation. In truth, with all the light which +science is able to shed upon it, and all the resolute shutting of the +eyes at points which no elucidating theory is available to explain, +there are facts in this department of supernaturalism which stagger the +unbelief of the stoutest skeptic. + +It is constantly urged, among other objections to the credibility +of supernatural apparitions, that the names of the witnesses have +singularly and suspiciously disappeared,--that you find them, upon +investigation, substantiated thus: A very worthy gentleman told another +very worthy gentleman, who told a very intelligent lady, who told +somebody else, who told the individual who finally communicated the +incident to the world. There are, however, as just intimated, instances +in which such ambiguity is altogether wanting. Among these is one so +well authenticated by well-known witnesses of undoubted veracity, that, +having never before been published, I venture to relate it here. + +My informant was Professor Tholuck, of Halle University, the most +eminent living theologian in Germany, and the principal ecclesiarch of +the Prussian Church. He prefaced the account by assuring me that it +was received from the lips of De Wette himself, immediately after the +occurrence,--that De Wette was an intimate personal friend, a plain, +practical man, of remarkably clear and vigorous intellect, with no more +poetry and imagination in his nature than just sufficient to keep him +alive,--in a word, that he would rely upon his coolness of judgment +and accuracy of observation, under any possible combination of +circumstances, as confidently as upon those of any man in the world. + +Dr. De Wette, the famous German Biblical critic, returning home one +evening between nine and ten o'clock, was surprised, upon arriving +opposite the house in which he resided, to see a bright light burning in +his study. In fact, he was rather more than surprised; for he distinctly +remembered to have extinguished the candles when he went out, an hour or +two previously, locked the door, and put the key in his pocket, which, +upon feeling for it, was still there. Pausing a moment to wonder by +what means and for what purpose any one could have entered the room, he +perceived the shadow of a person apparently occupied about something in +a remote corner. Supposing it to be a burglar employed in rifling his +trunk, he was upon the point of alarming the police, when the man +advanced to the window, into full view, as if for the purpose of looking +out into the street. _It was De Wette himself!_--the scholar, author, +professor,--his height, size, figure, stoop,--his head, his face, his +features, eyes, mouth, nose, chin, every one,--skullcap, study-gown, +neck-tie, all, everything: there was no mistaking him, no deception +whatever: there stood Dr. De Wette in his own library, and he out in +the street:--why, he must be _somebody else!_ The Doctor instinctively +grasped his body with his hands, and tried himself with the +psychological tests of self-consciousness and identity, doubtful, if +he could believe his senses and black were not white, that he longer +existed his former self, and stood, perplexed, bewildered, and +confounded, gazing at his other likeness looking out of the window. Upon +the person's retiring from the window, which occurred in a few moments, +De Wette resolved not to dispute the possession of his study with +the other Doctor before morning, and ringing at the door of a house +opposite, where an acquaintance resided, he asked permission to remain +over night. + +The chamber occupied by him commanded a full view of the interior of +his library, and from the window he could see his other self engaged +in study and meditation, now walking up and down the room, immersed in +thought, now sitting down at the desk to write, now rising to search +for a volume among the book-shelves, and imitating in all respects +the peculiar habits of the great Doctor engaged at work and busy with +cogitations. At length, when the cathedral clock had finished striking +through first four and then eleven strokes, as German clocks are wont +to do an hour before twelve, De Wette Number Two manifested signs of +retiring to rest,--took out his watch, the identical large gold one the +other Doctor in the other chamber felt sure was at that moment safe +in his waistcoat-pocket, and wound it up, removed a portion of his +clothing, came to the window, closed the curtains, and in a few moments +the light disappeared. De Wette Number One, waiting a little time until +convinced that Number Two had disposed himself to sleep, retired also +his-self to bed, wondering very much what all this could mean. + +Rising the next morning, he crossed the street, and passed up-stairs to +his library. The door was fastened; he applied the key, opened it, and +entered. No one was there; everything appeared in precisely the same +condition in which he had left it the evening before,--his pen lying +upon the paper as he had dropped it on going out, the candles on the +table and the mantel-piece evidently not having been lighted, the +window-curtains drawn aside as he had left them; in fine, there was not +a single trace of any person's having been in the room. "Had he been +insane the night before? He must have been. He was growing old; +something was the matter with his eyes or brain; anyhow, he had been +deceived, and it was very foolish of him to have remained away all +night." Endeavoring to satisfy his mind with some such reflections +as these, he remembered he had not yet examined his bed-room. Almost +ashamed to make the search, now convinced it was all an hallucination of +the senses, he crossed the narrow passageway and opened the door. He +was thunderstruck. The ceiling, a lofty, massive brick arch, had fallen +during the night, filling the room with rubbish and crushing his bed +into atoms. De Wette the Apparition had saved the life of the great +German scholar. + +Tholuck, who was walking with me in the fields near Halle when relating +the anecdote, added, upon concluding, "I do not pretend to account +for the phenomenon; no knowledge, scientific or metaphysical, in my +possession, is adequate to explain it; but I have no more doubt it +actually, positively, literally did occur, than I have of the existence +of the sun _im Himmel da_." + + + + +CULTURE. + + +The word of ambition at the present day is Culture. Whilst all the world +is in pursuit of power, and of wealth as a means of power, culture +corrects the theory of success. A man is the prisoner of his power. A +topical memory makes him an almanac; a talent for debate, a disputant; +skill to get money makes him a miser, that is, a beggar. Culture reduces +these inflammations by invoking the aid of other powers against the +dominant talent, and by appealing to the rank of powers. It watches +success. For performance Nature has no mercy, and sacrifices the +performer to get it done,--makes a dropsy or a tympany of him. If she +wants a thumb, she makes one at the cost of arms and legs, and any +excess of power in one part is usually paid for at once by some defect +in a contiguous part. + +Our efficiency depends so much on our concentration, that Nature +usually, in the instances where a marked man is sent into the world, +overloads him with bias, sacrificing his symmetry to his working power. +It is said, no man can write but one book; and if a man have a defect, +it is apt to leave its impression on all his performances. If she create +a policeman like Fouché, he is made up of suspicions and of plots to +circumvent them. "The air," said Fouché, "is full of poniards." The +physician Sanctorius spent his life in a pair of scales, weighing his +food. Lord Coke valued Chaucer highly, because the Canon Yeman's Tale +illustrates the Statute _Hen. V. Chap. 4_, against Alchemy. I saw a man +who believed the principal mischiefs in the English state were derived +from the devotion to musical concerts. A freemason, not long since, set +out to explain to this country, that the principal cause of the success +of General Washington was the aid he derived from the freemasons. + +But, worse than the harping on one string, Nature has secured +individualism by giving the private person a high conceit of his weight +in the system. The pest of society is egotists. There are dull and +bright, sacred and profane, coarse and fine egotists. 'Tis a disease +that, like influenza, falls on all constitutions. In the distemper +known to physicians as _chorea_, the patient sometimes turns round +and continues to spin slowly on one spot. Is egotism a metaphysical +varioloid of this malady? The man runs round a ring formed by his own +talent, falls into an admiration of it, and loses relation to the world. +It is a tendency in all minds. One of its annoying forms is a craving +for sympathy. The sufferers parade their miseries, tear the lint from +their bruises, reveal their indictable crimes, that you may pity them. +They like sickness, because physical pain will extort some show of +interest from the bystanders; as we have seen children, who, finding +themselves of no account when grown people come in, will cough till they +choke, to draw attention. + +This distemper is the scourge of talent,--of artists, inventors, and +philosophers. Eminent spiritualists shall have an incapacity of putting +their act or word aloof from them, and seeing it bravely for the nothing +it is. Beware of the man who says, "I am on the eve of a revelation!" It +is speedily punished, inasmuch as this habit invites men to humor it, +and, by treating the patient tenderly, to shut him up in a narrower +selfism, and exclude him from the great world of God's cheerful fallible +men and women. Let us rather be insulted, whilst we are insultable. +Religious literature has eminent examples; and if we run over our +private list of poets, critics, philanthropists, and philosophers, we +shall find them infected with this dropsy and elephantiasis, which we +ought to have tapped. + +This goitre of egotism is so frequent among notable persons, that we +must infer some strong necessity in Nature which it subserves,--such as +we see in the sexual attraction. The preservation of the species was a +point of such necessity, that Nature has secured it at all hazards by +immensely overloading the passion, at the risk of perpetual crime and +disorder. So egotism has its root in the cardinal necessity by which +each individual persists to be what he is. + +This individuality is not only not inconsistent with culture, but is the +basis of it. Every valuable nature is there in its own right; and the +student we speak to must have a mother-wit invincible by his culture, +which uses all books, arts, facilities, and elegancies of intercourse, +but is never subdued and lost in them. He only is a well-made man who +has a good determination. And the end of culture is, not to destroy +this,--God forbid!--but to train away all impediment and mixture, +and leave nothing but pure power. Our student must have a style and +determination, and be a master in his own specialty. But, having this, +he must put it behind him. He must have a catholicity, a power to see +with a free and disengaged look every object. Yet is this private +interest and self so overcharged, that, if a man seeks a companion +who can look at objects for their own sake, and without affection +or self-reference, he will find the fewest who will give him that +satisfaction; whilst most men are afflicted with a coldness, an +incuriosity, as soon as any object does not connect with their +self-love. Though they talk of the object before them, they are thinking +of themselves, and their vanity is laying little traps for your +admiration. + +But after a man has discovered that there are limits to the interest +which his private history has for mankind, he still converses with his +family, or a few companions,--perhaps with half a dozen personalities +that are famous in his neighborhood. In Boston, the question of life is +the names of some eight or ten men. Have you seen Mr. Allston, Doctor +Channing, Mr. Adams, Mr. Webster, Mr. Greenough? Have you heard Everett, +Garrison, Father Taylor, Theodore Parker? Have you talked with Messieurs +Turbinewheel, Summitlevel, and Lacofrupees? Then you may as well die. In +New York, the question is of some other eight, or ten, or twenty. Have +you seen a few lawyers, merchants, and brokers,--two or three scholars, +two or three capitalists, two or three editors of newspapers? New +York is a sucked orange. All conversation is at an end, when we have +discharged ourselves of a dozen personalities, domestic or imported, +which make up our American existence. Nor do we expect anybody to be +other than a faint copy of these heroes. + +Life is very narrow. Bring any club or company of intelligent men +together again after ten years, and if the presence of some penetrating +and calming genius could dispose them to frankness, what a confusion +of insanities would come up! The "causes" to which we have sacrificed, +Tariff or Democracy, Whiggism or Abolition, Temperance or Socialism, +would show like roots of bitterness and dragons of wrath: and our +talents are as mischievous as if each had been seized upon by some bird +of prey, which had whisked him away from fortune, from truth, from the +dear society of the poets, some zeal, some bias, and only when he was +now gray and nerveless was it relaxing its claws, and he awaking to +sober perceptions. + +Culture is the suggestion from certain best thoughts, that a man has a +range of affinities, through which he can modulate the violence of any +master-tones that have a droning preponderance in his scale, and succor +him against himself. Culture redresses his balance, puts him among his +equals and superiors, revives the delicious sense of sympathy, and warns +him of the dangers of solitude and repulsion. + +'Tis not a compliment, but a disparagement, to consult a man only on +horses, or on steam, or on theatres, or on eating, or on books, and, +whenever he appears, considerately to turn the conversation to the +bantling he is known to fondle. In the Norse heaven of our forefathers, +Thor's house had five hundred and forty floors: and Man's house has five +hundred and forty floors. His excellence is facility of adaptation, +and of transition through many related points to wide contrasts and +extremes. Culture kills his exaggeration, his conceit of his village or +his city. We must leave our pets at home when we go into the street, and +meet men on broad grounds of good meaning and good sense. No performance +is worth loss of geniality. 'Tis a cruel price we pay for certain fancy +goods called fine arts and philosophy. In the Norse legend, Allfadir did +not get a drink of Mimir's spring, (the fountain of wisdom,) until he +left his eye in pledge. And here is a pedant that cannot unfold his +wrinkles, nor conceal his wrath at interruption by the best, if their +conversation do not fit his impertinency,--here is he to afflict us with +his personalities. 'Tis incident to scholars, that each of them fancies +he is pointedly odious in his community. Draw him out of this limbo of +irritability. Cleanse with healthy blood his parchment skin. You restore +to him his eyes which he left in pledge at Mimir's spring. If you are +the victim of your doing, who cares what you do? We can spare your +opera, your gazetteer, your chemic analysis, your history, your +syllogisms. Your man of genius pays dear for his distinction. His head +runs up into a spire, and, instead of a healthy man, merry and wise, he +is some mad dominie. Nature is reckless of the individual. When she has +points to carry, she carries them. To wade in marshes and sea-margins is +the destiny of certain birds; and they are so accurately made for this, +that they are imprisoned in those places. Each animal out of its +habitat would starve. To the physician, each man, each woman, is an +amplification of one organ. A soldier, a locksmith, a bank-clerk, and +a dancer could not exchange functions. And thus we are victims of +adaptation. + +The antidotes against this organic egotism are--the range and variety +of attractions, as gained by acquaintance with the world, with men of +merit, with classes of society, with travel, with eminent persons, and +with the high resources of philosophy, art, and religion: books, travel, +society, solitude. + +The hardiest skeptic, who has seen a horse broken, a pointer trained, or +who has visited a menagerie, or the exhibition of the Industrious Fleas, +will not deny the validity of education. "A boy," says Plato, "is the +most vicious of all wild beasts"; and, in the same spirit, the old +English poet Gascoigne says, "A boy is better unborn than untaught." The +city breeds one kind of speech and manners; the back-country a different +style; the sea another; the army a fourth. We know that an army which +can be confided in may be formed by discipline,--that by systematic +discipline all men may be made heroes. Marshal Lannes said to a French +officer, "Know, Colonel, that none but a poltroon will boast that he +never was afraid." A great part of courage is the courage of having done +the thing before. And, in all human action, those faculties will be +strong which are used. Robert Owen said, "Give me a tiger, and I will +educate him." 'Tis inhuman to want faith in the power of education, +since to meliorate is the law of Nature; and men are valued precisely as +they exert onward or meliorating force. On the other hand, poltroonery +is the acknowledging an inferiority to be incurable. + +Incapacity of melioration is the only mortal distemper. There are people +who can never understand a trope, or any second or expanded sense given +to your words, or any humor,--but remain literalists, after hearing the +music and poetry and rhetoric and wit of seventy or eighty years. They +are past the help of surgeon or clergy. But even these can understand +pitchforks and the cry of "Fire!"--and I have noticed in some of this +class a marked dislike of earthquakes. + +Let us make our education brave and preventive. Politics is an +after-work, a poor patching. We are always a little late. The evil is +done, the law is passed, and we begin the up-hill agitation for repeal +of that of which we ought to have prevented the enacting. We shall +one day learn to supersede politics by education. What we call our +root-and-branch reforms of slavery, war, gambling, intemperance, is only +medicating the symptoms. We must begin higher up,--namely, in Education. + +Our arts and tools give to him who can handle them much the same +advantage over the novice as if you extended his life ten, fifty, or a +hundred years. And I think it the part of good sense to provide every +fine soul with such culture, that it shall not, at thirty or forty +years, have to say, "This which I might do is made hopeless through my +want of weapons." + +But it is conceded that much of our training fails of effect,--that all +success is hazardous and rare,--that a large part of our cost and pains +is thrown away. Nature takes the matter into her own hands, and, though +we must not omit any jot of our system, we can seldom be sure that it +has availed much, or that as much good would not have accrued from a +different system. + +Books, as containing the finest records of human wit, must always enter +into our notion of culture. The best heads that ever existed, Pericles, +Plato, Julius Caesar, Shakspeare, Goethe, Milton, were well-read, +universally educated men, and quite too wise to undervalue letters. +Their opinion has weight, because they had means of knowing the opposite +opinion. We look that a great man should be a good reader, or in +proportion to the spontaneous power should be the assimilating power. +Good criticism is very rare, and always precious. I am always happy to +meet persons who perceive the transcendent superiority of Shakspeare +over all other writers. I like people who like Plato. Because this love +does not consist with self-conceit. + +But books are good only as far as a boy is ready for them. He sometimes +gets ready very slowly. You send your child to the schoolmaster; but +'tis the schoolboys who educate him. You send him to the Latin +class; but much of his tuition comes on his way to school, from the +shop-windows. You like the strict rules and the long terms; and he finds +his best leading in a by-way of his own, and refuses any companions but +of his choosing. He hates the grammar and _Gradus_, and loves guns, +fishing-rods, horses, and boats. Well, the boy is right; and you are not +fit to direct his bringing-up, if your theory leaves out his gymnastic +training. Archery, cricket, gun and fishing-rod, horse and boat, are all +educators, liberalizers; and so are dancing, dress, and the street-talk; +and--provided only the boy has resources, and is of a noble and +ingenuous strain--these will not serve him less than the books. He +learns chess, whist, dancing, and theatricals. The father observes that +another boy has learned algebra and geometry in the same time. But the +first boy has acquired much more than these poor games along with them. +He is infatuated for weeks with whist and chess; but presently will find +out, as you did, that, when he rises from the game too long played, he +is vacant and forlorn, and despises himself. Thenceforward it takes +place with other things, and has its due weight in his experience. These +minor skills and accomplishments--for example, dancing--are tickets of +admission to the dress-circle of mankind, and the being master of them +enables the youth to judge intelligently of much on which otherwise he +would give a pedantic squint. Landor said, "I have suffered more from my +bad dancing than from all the misfortunes and miseries of my life +put together." Provided always the boy is teachable, (for we are not +proposing to make a statue out of punk,) football, cricket, archery, +swimming, skating, climbing, fencing, riding, are lessons in the art of +power, which it is his main business to learn,--riding specially, of +which Lord Herbert of Cherbury said, "A good rider on a good horse is as +much above himself and others as the world can make him." Besides, the +gun, fishing-rod, boat, and horse constitute, among all who use them, +secret freemasonries. + +They are as if they belonged to one club. + +There is also a negative value in these arts. Their chief use to the +youth is, not amusement, but to be known for what they are, and not to +remain to him occasions of heartburn. We are full of superstitions. Each +class fixes its eyes on the advantages it has not: the refined, on rude +strength; the democrat, on birth and breeding. One of the benefits of a +college-education is, to show the boy its little avail. I knew a leading +man in a leading city, who, having set his heart on an education at the +university and missed it, could never quite feel himself the equal +of his own brothers who had gone thither. His easy superiority to +multitudes of professional men could never quite countervail to him this +imaginary defect. Balls, riding, wine-parties, and billiards pass to a +poor boy for something fine and romantic, which they are not; and a free +admission to them on an equal footing, if it were possible, only once or +twice, would be worth ten times its cost, by undeceiving him. + +I am not much an advocate for travelling, and I observe that men run +away to other countries because they are not good in their own, and run +back to their own because they pass for nothing in the new places. For +the most part, only the light characters travel. Who are you that have +no task to keep you at home? I have been quoted as saying captious +things about travel; but I mean to do justice. I think there is a +restlessness in our people which argues want of character. All educated +Americans, first or last, go to Europe,--perhaps because it is their +mental home, as the invalid habits of this country might suggest. An +eminent teacher of girls said, "The idea of a girl's education is +whatever qualifies them for going to Europe." Can we never extract this +tape-worm of Europe from the brain of our country-men? One sees very +well what their fate must be. He that does not fill a place at home +cannot abroad. He only goes there to hide his insignificance in a larger +crowd. You do not think you will find anything there which you have +not seen at home? The stuff of all countries is just the same. Do you +suppose there is any country where they do not scald milkpans, and +swaddle the infants, and burn the brushwood, and broil the fish? What is +true anywhere is true everywhere. And let him go where he will, he can +find only so much beauty or worth as he carries. + +Of course, for some men travel may be useful. Naturalists, discoverers, +and sailors are born. Some men are made for couriers, exchangers, +envoys, missionaries, bearers of despatches, as others are for farmers +and working-men. And if the man is of a light and social turn, and +Nature has aimed to make a legged and winged creature, framed for +locomotion, we must follow her hint, and furnish him with that breeding +which gives currency as sedulously as with that which gives worth. But +let us not be pedantic, but allow to travel its full effect. The boy +grown up on the farm which he has never left is said in the country to +have had _no chance_, and boys and men of that condition look upon work +on a railroad or drudgery in a city as opportunity. Poor country-boys of +Vermont and Connecticut formerly owed what knowledge they had to their +peddling-trips to the Southern States. California and the Pacific Coast +are now the university of this class, as Virginia was in old times. "To +have _some chance_" is their word. And the phrase, "to know the world," +or to travel, is synonymous with all men's ideas of advantage and +superiority. No doubt, to a man of sense travel offers advantages. As +many languages as he has, as many friends, as many arts and trades, +so many times is he a man. A foreign country is a point of comparison +where-from to judge his own. One use of travel is, to recommend the +books and works of home; (we go to Europe to be Americanized;) and +another, to find men. For as Nature has put fruits apart in latitudes, +a new fruit in every degree, so knowledge and fine moral quality she +lodges in distant men. And thus, of the six or seven teachers whom each +man wants among his contemporaries, it often happens that one or two of +them live on the other side of the world. + +Moreover, there is in every constitution a certain solstice, when the +stars stand still in our inward firmament, and when there is required +some foreign force, some diversion or alternative, to prevent +stagnation. And, as a medical remedy, travel seems one of the best. Just +as a man witnessing the admirable effect of ether to lull pain, and, +meditating on the contingencies of wounds, cancers, lockjaws, rejoices +in Dr. Jackson's benign discovery, so a man who looks at Paris, at +Naples, or at London, says, "If I should be driven from my own home, +here, at least, my thoughts can be consoled by the most prodigal +amusement and occupation which the human race in ages could contrive and +accumulate." + +Akin to the benefit of foreign travel, the aesthetic value of railroads +is to unite the advantages of town and country life, neither of which we +can spare. A man should live in or near a large town, because, let his +own genius be what it may, it will repel quite as much of agreeable and +valuable talent as it draws, and, in a city, the total attraction of all +the citizens is sure to conquer, first or last, every repulsion, and +drag the most improbable hermit within its walls some day in the +year. In town he can find the swimming-school, the gymnasium, the +dancing-master, the shooting-gallery, opera, theatre, and panorama,--the +chemist's shop, the museum of natural history, the gallery of fine arts, +the national orators in their turn, foreign travellers, the libraries, +and his club. In the country he can find solitude and reading, manly +labor, cheap living, and his old shoes,--moors for game, hills for +geology, and groves for devotion. Aubrey writes, "I have heard Thomas +Hobbes say, that, in the Earl of Devon's house, in Derbyshire, there was +a good library and books enough for him, and his Lordship stored the +library with what books he thought fit to be bought. But the want +of good conversation was a very great inconvenience, and, though he +conceived he could order his thinking as well as another, yet he found +a great defect. In the country, in long time, for want of good +conversation, one's understanding and invention contract a moss on them, +like an old paling in an orchard." + +Cities give us collision. 'Tis said, London and New York take the +nonsense out of a man. A great part of our education is sympathetic and +social. Boys and girls who have been brought up with well-informed and +superior people show in their manners an inestimable grace. Fuller says, +that "William, Earl of Nassau, won a subject from the King of Spain +every time he put off his hat." You cannot have one well-bred man +without a whole society of such. They keep each other up to any +high point. Especially women: it requires a great many cultivated +women,--saloons of bright, elegant, reading women, accustomed to ease +and refinement, to spectacles, pictures, sculpture, poetry, and to +elegant society,--in order that you should have one Madame de Staël. +The head of a commercial house, or a leading lawyer or politician, is +brought into daily contact with troops of men from all parts of the +country,--and those, too, the driving-wheels, the business-men of each +section,--and one can hardly suggest for an apprehensive man a +more searching culture. Besides, we must remember the high social +possibilities of a million of men. The best bribe which London offers +to-day to the imagination is, that, in such a vast variety of people +and conditions, one can believe there is room for persons of romantic +character to exist, and that the poet, the mystic, and the hero may hope +to confront their counterparts. + +I wish cities could teach their best lesson,--of quiet manners. It is +the foible especially of American youth,--pretension. The mark of the +man of the world is absence of pretension. He does not make a speech; he +takes a low business-tone, avoids all brag, is nobody, dresses plainly, +promises not at all, performs much, speaks in monosyllables, hugs his +fact. He calls his employment by its lowest name, and so takes from evil +tongues their sharpest weapon. His conversation clings to the weather +and the news, yet he allows himself to be surprised into thought, and +the unlocking of his learning and philosophy. How the imagination is +piqued by anecdotes of some great man passing incognito, as a king in +gray clothes!--of Napoleon affecting a plain suit at his glittering +levee!--of Burns, or Scott, or Beethoven, or Wellington, or Goethe, +or any container of transcendent power, passing for nobody!--of +Epaminondas, "who never says anything, but will listen eternally!"--of +Goethe, who preferred trifling subjects and common expressions in +intercourse with strangers, worse rather than better clothes, and to +appear a little more capricious than he was! There are advantages in the +old hat and box-coat. I have heard, that, throughout this country, a +certain respect is paid to good broadcloth: but dress makes a little +restraint; men will not commit themselves. But the box-coat is like +wine; it unlocks the tongue, and men say what they think. An old poet +says,-- + + "Go far and go sparing; + For you'll find it certain, + The poorer and the baser you appear, + The more you'll look through still."[A] + +[Footnote A: Beaumont and Fletcher: The Tamer Tamed.] + +Not much otherwise Milnes writes, in the "Lay of the Humble":-- + + "To me men are for what they are, + They wear no masks with me." + +'Tis odd that our people should have--not water on the brain,--but +a little gas there. A shrewd foreigner said of the Americans, that +"whatever they say has a little the air of a speech." Yet one of the +traits down in the books, as distinguishing the Anglo-Saxon, is a trick +of self-disparagement. To be sure, in old, dense countries, among a +million of good coats, a fine coat comes to be no distinction, and you +find humorists. In an English party, a man with no marked manners or +features, with a face like red dough, unexpectedly discloses wit, +learning, a wide range of topics, and personal familiarity with good men +in all parts of the world, until you think you have fallen upon some +illustrious personage. Can it be that the American forest has refreshed +some weeds of old Pictish barbarism just ready to die out,--the love of +the scarlet feather, of beads, and tinsel? The Italians are fond of +red clothes, peacock-plumes, and embroidery; and I remember, one rainy +morning in the city of Palermo, the street was in a blaze with scarlet +umbrellas. The English have a plain taste. The equipages of the grandees +are plain. A gorgeous livery indicates new and awkward city-wealth. Mr. +Pitt, like Mr. Pym, thought the title of _Mister_ good against any king +in Europe. They have piqued themselves on governing the whole world in +the poor, plain, dark committee-room which the House of Commons sat in +before the fire. + +Whilst we want cities as the centres where the best things are found, +cities degrade us by magnifying trifles. The countryman finds the town +a chop-house, a barber's shop. He has lost the lines of grandeur of the +horizon, hills and plains, and, with them, sobriety and elevation. He +has come among a supple, glib-tongued tribe, who live for show, servile +to public opinion. Life is dragged down to a fracas of pitiful cares and +disasters. You say the gods ought to respect a life whose objects +are their own; but in cities they have betrayed you to a cloud of +insignificant annoyances:-- + + "Mirmidons, race féconde, + Mirmidons, + Enfins nous commandons; + Jupiter livre le monde + Aux mirmidons, aux mirmidons."[B] + + [Footnote B: Béranger.] + + 'Tis heavy odds + Against the gods, + When they will match with myrmidons. + We spawning, spawning myrmidons, + Our turn to-day; we take command: + Jove gives the globe into the hand + Of myrmidons, of myrmidons. + +What is odious but noise, and people who scream and bewail?--people +whose vane points always east, who live to dine, who send for the +doctor, who raddle themselves, who toast their feet on the register, +who intrigue to secure a padded chair and a corner out of the draught? +Suffer them once to begin the enumeration of their infirmities, and the +sun will go down on the unfinished tale. Let these triflers put us out +of conceit with petty comforts. To a man at work, the frost is but a +color; the rain, the wind, he forgot them when he came in. Let us learn +to live coarsely, dress plainly, and lie hard. The least habit of +dominion over the palate has certain good effects not easily estimated. +Neither will we be driven into a quiddling abstemiousness. 'Tis a +superstition to insist on a special diet. All is made at last of the +same chemical atoms. + +A man in pursuit of greatness feels no little wants. How can you mind +diet, bed, dress, or salutes or compliments, or the figure you make in +company, or wealth, or even the bringing things to pass, when you think +how paltry are the machinery and the workers? Wordsworth was praised to +me, in Westmoreland, for having afforded to his country neighbors an +example of a modest household, where comfort and culture were secured +without display. And a tender boy who wears his rusty cap and outgrown +coat, that he may secure the coveted place in college and the right +in the library, is educated to some purpose. There is a great deal of +self-denial and manliness in poor and middle-class houses, in town and +country, that has not got into literature, and never will, but that +keeps the earth sweet,--that saves on superfluities, and spends on +essentials,--that goes rusty, and educates the boy,--that sells the +horse, but builds the school,--works early and late, takes two looms in +the factory, three looms, six looms, but pays off the mortgage on the +paternal farm, and then goes back cheerfully to work again. + +We can ill spare the commanding social benefits of cities; they must be +used,--yet cautiously, and haughtily,--and will yield their best values +to him who best can do without them. Keep the town for occasions, but +the habits should be formed to retirement. Solitude, the safeguard of +mediocrity, is to genius the stern friend, the cold, obscure shelter +where moult the wings which will bear it farther than suns and stars. He +who should inspire and lead his race must be defended from travelling +with the souls of other men,--from living, breathing, reading, and +writing in the daily, time-worn yoke of their opinions. "In the morning, +solitude," said Pythagoras,--that Nature may speak to the imagination, +as she does never in company, and that her favorite may make +acquaintance with those divine strengths which disclose themselves to +serious and abstracted thought. 'Tis very certain that Plato, Plotinus, +Archimedes, Hermes, Newton, Milton, Wordsworth did not live in a crowd, +but descended into it from time to time as benefactors: and the wise +instructor will press this point of securing to the young soul, in the +disposition of time and the arrangements of living, periods and habits +of solitude. The high advantage of university-life is often the mere +mechanical one, I may call it, of a separate chamber and fire,--which +parents will allow the boy without hesitation at Cambridge, but do not +think needful at home. We say solitude, to mark the character of the +tone of thought; but if it can be shared between two, or more than two, +it is happier, and not less noble. "We four," wrote Neander to his +sacred friends, "will enjoy at Halle the inward blessedness of a +_civitas Dei_, whose foundations are forever friendship. The more I know +you, the more I dissatisfy and must dissatisfy all my wonted companions. +Their very presence stupefies me. The common understanding withdraws +itself from the one centre of all existence." + +Solitude takes off the pressure of present importunities, that more +catholic and humane relations may appear. The saint and poet seek +privacy to ends the most public and universal: and it is the secret of +culture, to interest the man more in his public than in his private +quality. Here is a new poem, which elicits a good many comments in +the journals and in conversation. From these it is easy, at last, to +eliminate the verdict which readers passed upon it; and that is, in the +main, unfavorable. The poet, as a craftsman, is interested only in the +praise accorded to him, and not in the censure, though it be just; and +the poor little poet hearkens only to that, and rejects the censure, as +proving incapacity in the critic. But the poet _cultivated_ becomes a +stockholder in both companies,--say Mr. Curfew,--in the Curfew stock, +and in the _humanity_ stock; and, in the last, exults as much in the +demonstration of the unsoundness of Curfew as his interest in the former +gives him pleasure in the currency of Curfew. For the depreciation of +his Curfew stock only shows the immense values of the humanity stock. +As soon as he sides with his critic against himself, with joy, he is a +cultivated man. + +We must have an intellectual quality in all property and in all action, +or they are nought. I must have children, I must have events, I must +have a social state and history, or my thinking and speaking want body +or basis. But to give these accessories any value, I must know them as +contingent and rather showy possessions, which pass for more to the +people than to me. We see this abstraction in scholars, as a matter +of course: but what a charm it adds when observed in practical men! +Bonaparte, like Caesar, was intellectual, and could look at every object +for itself, without affection. Though an egotist _à l'outrance_, he +could criticize a play, a building, a character, on universal grounds, +and give a just opinion. A man known to us only as a celebrity in +politics or in trade gains largely in our esteem, if we discover that he +has some intellectual taste or skill: as when we learn of Lord Fairfax, +the Long Parliament's general, his passion for antiquarian studies; or +of the French regicide Carnot, his sublime genius in mathematics; or of +a living banker, his success in poetry; or of a partisan journalist, +his devotion to ornithology. So, if, in travelling in the dreary +wildernesses of Arkansas or Texas, we should observe on the next seat a +man reading Horace, or Martial, or Calderon, we should wish to hug him. +In callings that require roughest energy, soldiers, sea-captains, and +civil engineers sometimes betray a fine insight, if only through a +certain gentleness when off duty: a good-natured admission that there +are illusions, and who shall say that he is not their sport? We only +vary the phrase, not the doctrine, when we say that culture opens the +sense of beauty. A man is a beggar who only lives to the useful, and, +however he may serve as a pin or rivet in the social machine, cannot be +said to have arrived at self-possession. I suffer, every day, from the +want of perception of beauty in people. They do not know the charm with +which all moments and objects can be embellished,--the charm of manners, +of self-command, of benevolence. Repose and cheerfulness are the badge +of the gentleman,--repose in energy. The Greek battle-pieces are calm; +the heroes, in whatever violent actions engaged, retain a serene +aspect: as we say of Niagara, that it falls without speed. A cheerful, +intelligent face is the end of culture, and success enough; for it +indicates the purpose of Nature and wisdom attained. + +When our higher faculties are in activity, we are domesticated, +and awkwardness and discomfort give place to natural and agreeable +movements. It is noticed that the consideration of the great periods and +spaces of astronomy induces a dignity of mind and an indifference +to death. The influence of fine scenery, the presence of mountains, +appeases our irritations and elevates our friendships. Even a high dome, +and the expansive interior of a cathedral, have a sensible effect +on manners. I have heard that stiff people lose something of their +awkwardness under high ceilings and in spacious halls. I think sculpture +and painting have an effect to teach us manners and abolish hurry. + +But, over all, culture must reinforce from higher influx the empirical +skills of eloquence, or of politics, or of trade and the useful arts. +There is a certain loftiness of thought and power to marshal and +adjust particulars, which can come only from an insight of their whole +connection. The orator who has once seen things in their divine order +will never quite lose sight of this, and will come to affairs as from a +higher ground, and, though he will say nothing of philosophy, he will +have a certain mastery in dealing with them, and an incapableness of +being dazzled or frighted, which will distinguish his handling from that +of attorneys and factors. A man who stands on a good footing with the +heads of parties at Washington reads the rumors of the newspapers and +the guesses of provincial politicians with a key to the right and +wrong in each statement, and sees well enough where all this will end. +Archimedes will look through your Connecticut machine at a glance, and +judge of its fitness. And much more, a wise man who knows not only what +Plato, but what Saint John can show him, can easily raise the affair +he deals with to a certain majesty. Plato says, Pericles owed this +elevation to the lessons of Anaxagoras. Burke descended from a higher +sphere when he would influence human affairs. Franklin, Adams, +Jefferson, Washington, stood on a fine humanity, before which the brawls +of modern senates are but pot-house politics. + +But there are higher secrets of culture, which are not for the +apprentices, but for proficients. These are lessons only for the brave. +We must know our friends under ugly masks. The calamities are our +friends. Ben Jonson specifies in his address to the Muse:-- + + "Get him the time's long grudge, the court's ill-will, + And, reconciled, keep him suspected still, + Make him lose all his friends, and, what is worse, + Almost all ways to any better course; + With me thou leav'st a better Muse than thee, + And which thou brought'st me, blessed Poverty." + +We wish to learn philosophy by rote, and play at heroism. But the wiser +God says, Take the shame, the poverty, and the penal solitude that +belong to truth-speaking. Try the rough water, as well as the smooth. +Rough water can teach lessons worth knowing. When the state is unquiet, +personal qualities are more than ever decisive. Fear not a revolution +which will constrain you to live five years in one. Don't be so tender +at making an enemy now and then. Be willing to go to Coventry sometimes, +and let the populace bestow on you their coldest contempts. The finished +man of the world must eat of every apple once. He must hold his hatreds +also at arm's length, and not remember spite. He has neither friends nor +enemies, but values men only as channels of power. + +He who aims high must dread an easy home and popular manners. Heaven +sometimes hedges a rare character about with ungainliness and odium, as +the burr that protects the fruit. If there is any great and good thing +in store for you, it will not come at the first or the second call, nor +in the shape of fashion, ease, and city drawing-rooms. Popularity is for +dolls. "Steep and craggy," said Porphyry, "is the path of the gods." +Open your Marcus Antoninus. In the opinion of the ancients, he was the +great man who scorned to shine, and who contested the frowns of Fortune. +They preferred the noble vessel too late for the tide, contending with +winds and waves, dismantled and unrigged, to her companion borne into +harbor with colors flying and guns firing. There is none of the social +goods that may not be purchased too dear, and mere amiableness must not +take rank with high aims and self-subsistency. + +Bettine replies to Goethe's mother, who chides her disregard of +dress,--"If I cannot do as I have a mind, in our poor Frankfort, I shall +not carry things far." And the youth must rate at its true mark the +inconceivable levity of local opinion. The longer we live, the more we +must endure the elementary existence of men and women: and every brave +heart must treat society as a child, and never allow it to dictate. + +"All that class of the severe and restrictive virtues," said Burke, "are +almost too costly for humanity." Who wishes to be severe? Who wishes +to resist the eminent and polite, in behalf of the poor and low and +impolite? and who that dares do it can keep his temper sweet, his frolic +spirits? The high virtues are not debonair, but have their redress in +being illustrious at last. What forests of laurel we bring, and the +tears of mankind, to those who stood firm against the opinion of their +contemporaries! The measure of a master is his success in bringing all +men round to his opinion twenty years later. + +Let me say here, that culture cannot begin too early. In talking with +scholars, I observe that they lost on ruder companions those years of +boyhood which alone could give imaginative literature a religious and +infinite quality in their esteem. I find, too, that the chance for +appreciation is much increased by being the son of an appreciator, and +that these boys who now grow up are caught not only years too late, but +two or three births too late, to make the best scholars of. And I think +it a presentable motive to a scholar, that, as, in an old community, a +well-born proprietor is usually found, after the first heats of youth, +to be a careful husband, and to feel an habitual desire that the estate +shall suffer no harm by his administration, but shall be delivered +down to the next heir in as good condition as he received it,--so, +a considerate man will reckon himself a subject of that secular +melioration by which mankind is mollified, cured, and refined, and will +shun every expenditure of his forces on pleasure or gain, which will +jeopardize this social and secular accumulation. + +The fossil strata show us that Nature began with rudimental forms, +and rose to the more complex as fast as the earth was fit for their +dwelling-place,--and that the lower perish, as the higher appear. Very +few of our race can be said to be yet finished men. We still carry +sticking to us some remains of the preceding inferior quadruped +organization. We call these millions men; but they are not yet men. +Half-engaged in the soil, pawing to get free, man needs all the music +that can be brought to disengage him. If Love, red Love, with tears +and joy,--if Want with his scourge,--if War with his cannonade,--if +Christianity with its charity,--if Trade with its money,--if Art with +its portfolios,--if Science with her telegraphs through the deeps of +space and time, can set his dull nerves throbbing, and by loud taps on +the tough chrysalis can break its walls and let the new creature emerge +erect and free,--make way, and sing paean! The age of the quadruped is +to go out,--the age of the brain and of the heart is to come in. +The time will come when the evil forms we have known can no more be +organized. Man's culture can spare nothing, wants all the material. He +is to convert all impediments into instruments, all enemies into power. +The formidable mischief will only make the more useful slave. And if one +shall read the future of the race hinted in the organic effort of Nature +to mount and meliorate, and the corresponding impulse to the Better in +the human being, we shall dare affirm that there is nothing he will not +overcome and convert, until at last culture shall absorb the chaos and +gehenna. He will convert the Furies into Muses, and the hells into +benefit. + + + + +THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. + + + Between the dark and the daylight, + When the night is beginning to lower, + Comes a pause in the day's occupations + That is known as the Children's Hour. + + I hear in the chamber above me + The patter of little feet, + The sound of a door that is opened, + And voices soft and sweet. + + From my study I see in the lamplight, + Descending the broad hall-stair, + Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra, + And Edith with golden hair. + + A whisper, and then a silence: + Yet I know by their merry eyes + They are plotting and planning together + To take me by surprise. + + A sudden rush from the stairway, + A sudden raid from the hall! + By three doors left unguarded + They enter my castle wall! + + They climb up into my turret + O'er the arms and back of my chair; + If I try to escape, they surround me; + They seem to be everywhere. + + They almost devour me with kisses, + Their arms about me entwine, + Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen + In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine! + + Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti, + Because you have scaled the wall, + Such an old moustache as I am + Is not a match for you all? + + I have you fast in my fortress, + And will not let you depart, + But put you down into the dungeons + In the round-tower of my heart. + + And there will I keep you forever, + Yes, forever and a day, + Till the walls shall crumble to ruin, + And moulder in dust away! + + + + +THREE-MILE CROSS. + + +It seems but yesterday, although more than thirteen years have gone +by, since I first opened the little garden-gate and walked up the path +leading to Mary Russell Mitford's cottage at Three-Mile Cross. A friend +in London had given me his card to the writer of "Our Village," and I +had promised to call on my way to Oxford, and have a half-hour's chat +over her geraniums with the charming person whose sketches I had read +with so much interest in my own country. Her cheerful voice at the +head of the stairs, telling her little maid to show me the way to her +sitting-room, sounded very musically, and I often observed in later +interviews how like a melody her tones always appeared in conversation. +Once when she read a lyrical poem, not her own, to a group of friends +assembled at her later residence, in Swallowfield, of which number it +was my good-fortune to be one, the verses came from her lips like an +exquisite chant. Her laugh had a ringing sweetness in it, rippling out +sometimes like a beautiful chime of silver bells; and when she told +a comic story, which she often did with infinite tact and grace, she +joined in with the jollity at the end, her eyes twinkling with delight +at the pleasure her narrative was always sure to bring. Her enjoyment of +a joke was something delicious, and when she heard a good thing for +the first time her exultant mirth was unbounded. As she sat in her +easy-chair, listening to a Yankee story which interested her, her "Dear +me! dear me! dear me!" (three times repeated always) + + "Rang like a golden jewel down a golden stair." + +The sunny summer-day was falling full on her honeysuckles, lilies, and +roses, when I first saw her face in the snug cottage at Three-Mile +Cross. As we sat together at the open casement, looking down on the +flowers that sent up their perfumes to her latticed window like fragrant +tributes from a fountain of distilled sweet waters, she pointed out, +among the neighboring farm-houses and villas, the residences of her +friends, in all of whom she seemed to have the most affectionate +interest. I noticed, as the village children went by her window, they +all stopped to bow and curtsy. One curly-headed urchin made bold to take +off his well-worn cap and wait to be recognized as "little Johnny,"--"no +great scholar," said the kind-hearted old lady to me, "but a sad rogue +among our flock of geese. Only yesterday, the young marauder was +detected by my maid with a plump gosling stuffed half-way into his +pocket!" While she was thus discoursing of Johnny's peccadilloes, the +little fellow looked up with a knowing expression, and very soon caught +in his cap a gingerbread dog, which the old lady threw to him from the +window. "I wish he loved his book as well as he relishes sweet cake," +sighed she, as the boy kicked up his heels and disappeared down the +lane. + +Full of anecdote, her conversation that afternoon ran on in a perpetual +flow of good-humor, until it was time for me to be on my way toward the +University City. From that time till she died, our friendship continued, +and, during other visits to England, I saw her frequently, driving about +the country with her in her pony-chaise, and spending many happy hours +under her cottage-roof. She was always the same cheerful spirit, +enlivening our intercourse with shrewd and pertinent observations and +reminiscences, some of which it may not be out of place to reproduce +here. Country life, its scenery and manners, she was never tired of +depicting; but not infrequently she loved to talk of those celebrities +in literature and art whom she had known intimately, with a vivacity and +sweetness of temper never-failing and delightful. I well remember, one +autumn evening, when half a dozen friends were sitting in her library +after dinner, talking with her of Tom Taylor's Life of Haydon, then +lately published, how graphically she described to us the eccentric +painter, whose genius she was among the fore-most to recognize. +The flavor of her discourse I cannot reproduce; but I was too much +interested in what she was saying to forget the main incidents she drew +for our edification, during those pleasant hours now far away in the +past. + +"I am a terrible forgetter of dates," she used to say, when any one +asked her of the time when; but for the _manner how_ she was never at a +loss. "Poor Haydon!" she began. "He was an old friend of mine, and I am +indebted to Sir William Elford, one of my dear father's correspondents +during my girlhood, for a suggestion which sent me to look at a picture +then on exhibition in London, and thus was brought about my knowledge of +the painter's existence. He, Sir William, had taken a fancy to me, and +I became his child-correspondent. Few things contribute more to that +indirect after-education, which is worth all the formal lessons of the +school-room a thousand times told, than such good-humored condescension +from a clever man of the world to a girl almost young enough to be his +granddaughter. I owe much to that correspondence, and, amongst other +debts, the acquaintance of Haydon. Sir William's own letters were most +charming,--full of old-fashioned courtesy, of quaint humor, and +of pleasant and genial criticism on literature and on art. An +amateur-painter himself, painting interested him particularly, and +he often spoke much and warmly of the young man from Plymouth, whose +picture of the 'Judgment of Solomon' was then on exhibition in London. +'You must see it,' said he, 'even if you come to town on purpose.'"--The +reader of Haydon's Life will remember that Sir William Elford, in +conjunction with a Plymouth banker named Tingecombe, ultimately +purchased the picture. The poor artist was overwhelmed with astonishment +and joy when he walked into the exhibition-room and read the label, +"Sold," which had been attached to his picture that morning before +he arrived. "My first impulse," he says in his Autobiography, "was +gratitude to God." + +"It so happened," continued Miss Mitford, "that I merely passed through +London that season, and, being detained by some of the thousand and one +nothings which are so apt to detain women in the great city, I arrived +at the exhibition, in company with a still younger friend, so near the +period of closing, that more punctual visitors were moving out, and the +doorkeeper actually turned us and our money back. I persisted, however, +assuring him that I only wished to look at one picture, and promising +not to detain him long. Whether my entreaties would have carried +the point or not, I cannot tell; but half a crown did; so we stood +admiringly before the 'Judgment of Solomon.' I am no great judge of +painting; but that picture impressed me then, as it does now, as +excellent in composition, in color, and in that great quality of telling +a story which appeals at once to every mind. Our delight was sincerely +felt, and most enthusiastically expressed, as we kept gazing at the +picture, and seemed, unaccountably to us at first, to give much pleasure +to the only gentleman who had remained in the room,--a young and very +distinguished-looking person, who had watched with evident amusement our +negotiation with the doorkeeper. Beyond indicating the best position to +look at the picture, he had no conversation with us; but I soon surmised +that we were seeing the painter, as well as his painting; and when, two +or three years afterwards, a friend took me by appointment to view the +'Entry into Jerusalem,' Haydon's next great picture, then near its +completion, I found I had not been mistaken. + +"Haydon was, at that period, a remarkable person to look at and listen +to. Perhaps your American word _bright_ expresses better than any other +his appearance and manner. His figure, short, slight, elastic, and +vigorous, looked still more light and youthful from the little +sailor's-jacket and snowy trousers which formed his painting costume. +His complexion was clear and healthful. His forehead, broad and +high, out of all proportion to the lower part of his face, gave an +unmistakable character of intellect to the finely placed head. Indeed, +he liked to observe that the gods of the Greek sculptors owed much of +their elevation to being similarly out of drawing! The lower features +were terse, succinct, and powerful,--from the bold, decided jaw, to the +large, firm, ugly, good-humored mouth. His very spectacles aided the +general expression; they had a look of the man. But how shall I attempt +to tell you of his brilliant conversation, of his rapid, energetic +manner, of his quick turns of thought, as he flew on from topic to +topic, dashing his brush here and there upon the canvas? Slow and quiet +persons were a good deal startled by this suddenness and mobility. He +left such people far behind, mentally and bodily. But his talk was so +rich and varied, so earnest and glowing, his anecdotes so racy, his +perception of character so shrewd, and the whole tone so spontaneous and +natural, that the want of repose was rather recalled afterwards than +felt at the time. The alloy to this charm was a slight coarseness of +voice and accent, which contrasted somewhat strangely with his constant +courtesy and high breeding. Perhaps this was characteristic. A defect +of some sort pervades his pictures. Their great want is equality and +congruity,--that perfect union of qualities which we call _taste_. His +apartment, especially at that period when he lived in his painting-room, +was in itself a study of the most picturesque kind. Besides the great +picture itself, for which there seemed hardly space between the walls, +it was crowded with casts, lay figures, arms, tripods, vases, draperies, +and costumes of all ages, weapons of all nations, books in all tongues. +These cumbered the floor; whilst around hung smaller pictures, sketches, +and drawings, replete with originality and force. With chalk he could do +what he chose. I remember he once drew for me a head of hair with nine +of his sweeping, vigorous strokes! Among the studies I remarked that +day in his apartment was one of a mother who had just lost her only +child,--a most masterly rendering of an unspeakable grief. A sonnet, +which I could not help writing on this sketch, gave rise to our long +correspondence, and to a friendship which never flagged. Everybody feels +that his life, as told by Mr. Taylor, with its terrible catastrophe, is +a stern lesson to young artists, an awful warning that cannot be set +aside. Let us not forget that amongst his many faults are qualities +which hold out a bright example. His devotion to his noble art, his +conscientious pursuit of every study connected with it, his unwearied +industry, his love of beauty and of excellence, his warm family +affection, his patriotism, his courage, and his piety, will not easily +be surpassed. Thinking of them, let us speak tenderly of the ardent +spirit whose violence would have been softened by better fortune, and +who, if more successful, would have been more gentle and more humble." + +And so with her vigilant and appreciative eye she saw, and thus in her +own charming way she talked of the man, whose name, says Taylor, as a +popularizer of art, stands without a rival among his brethren. + + * * * * * + +Her passion for the Drama continued through life, and to see a friend's +play would take her up to London when nothing else would tempt her to +leave her cottage. It was delightful to hear her talk of the old actors, +many of whom she had known. She loved to describe John Kemble, Mrs. +Siddons, Miss O'Neill, and Edmund Kean, as they were wont to electrify +the town. Elliston was a great favorite, and she had as many good things +to tell of him as Elia ever had. One autumn afternoon she related all +the circumstances attending the "first play" she ever saw,--which, by +the way, was a tragedy enacted in a barn somewhere in the little town of +Alresford, where she was born. The winking candles dividing the stage +from the audience, she used to say, were winking now in her memory, +although fifty years had elapsed since her father took her, a child of +four years, to see "Othello." Her talent at mimicry made her always most +interesting, when she spoke of Munden and his pleasant absurdities on +the stage. For Bannister, Johnstone, Fawcett, and Emery she had a most +exquisite relish, and she said they had made comedy to her a living art +full of laughter and tears. Her passion for the stage, and overclouded +prospects for the future, led her in early youth to write a play. She +had already written a considerable number of verses which had been +printed, and were honored by being severely castigated by Gifford in the +"Quarterly." + +"I didn't mind the great reviewer's blows at all," she used to say. "My +poems had been republished in America; and Coleridge had prophesied that +I should one day write a tragedy." + +Talfourd was then, though a young man, a most excellent critic, and lent +a helping hand to the young authoress. Her anxieties attending the first +representation of her play at Covent Garden she was always fond of +relating, and in such a manner that we who listened fell into such +boisterous merriment with her, that I have known carriages stop in front +of her window, and their inmates put out anxiously inquiring heads, to +learn, if possible, what it all meant inside the cottage. + +She never forgot "the warm grasp of Mrs. Charles Kemble's hand, when she +saw her, all life and heartiness, at her house in Soho Square,--or the +excellent acting of Young and Kemble and Macready, who did everything +actors could do to secure success for her." + +"These are the things," she once wrote, "one thinks of, when sitting +calm and old by the light of a country fire." + +The comic and the grotesque that were mingled up with her first +experiences of the stage as a dramatic author were inimitably rendered +by herself, whenever she sat down to relate the story of that visit to +London for the purpose of bringing out her tragedy. The rehearsals, +where "the only grave person present was Mr. Liston!--the tragic +heroines sauntering languidly through their parts in bonnets and thick +shawls,--the untidy ballet-girls" (there was a dance in "Foscari") +"walking through their quadrille to the sound of a solitary +fiddle,"--she was never weary of calling up for the amusement of her +listeners. + +The old dramatists she had grown up to worship,--Shakspeare first, as in +all loyalty bound, and after him Fletcher. "Affluent, eloquent, royally +grand," she used to call both Beaumont and Fletcher; and whole scenes +from favorite plays she knew by heart. Dr. Valpy was her neighbor, he +being in the days of her youth headmaster of Reading School. A family +intimacy of long standing had existed between her father's household and +that of the learned and excellent scholar, so that his well-known taste +for the English dramatists had no small influence on Doctor Mitford's +studious daughter. "He helped me also," she said, "to enter into the +spirit of those mighty masters who dealt forth the stern Tragedies of +Destiny." + +One of the dearest friends of her youth was Miss Porden, (afterwards +married, as his first wife, to Sir John Franklin,) and at her suggestion +Miss Mitford wrote "Rienzi." I have heard her say, that, going up +to London to bring out that play, she saw her old friend, then Mrs. +Franklin, working a flag for the captain's ship, then about to sail on +one of his early adventurous voyages. The agitation of parting with +her husband was too great for her delicate temperament, and before the +expedition was out of the Channel Mrs. Franklin was dead. + + * * * * * + +Often and often, when the English lanes were white with blossoms, I +have sat by her side while her faithful servant guided her low-wheeled +pony-chaise among the pleasant roads about Reading and Swallowfield. +Once we went to a cricket-ground together, and as we sat under the +trees, looking on as the game proceeded, she, who fell in love with +Nature when a child, and had studied the landscape till she knew +familiarly every flower and leaf that grows on English soil, assembled +all that was best in poesy from her memory to illustrate the beautiful +scene before us, and to prove how much better and more truly the great +end of existence is answered in a rural life than in the vexatious cares +of city occupation. As we sat looking at the vast lawn, magnificent in +its green apparel, she quoted Irving as one who had understood English +country-life perhaps more deeply and fully than any other foreign author +who had ever written. + +Speaking, one day, of the slowness of poetical fame, she said,-- + +"It always takes ten years to make a poetical reputation in England; but +America is wiser and bolder, and dares say at once, '_This is fine!_'" + +She rejoiced greatly in several of the American poets, and was never +weary of quoting certain ringing couplets which she has celebrated in +her "Notes of a Literary Life." "Is there anything under the sun," she +exclaims, "that Dr. Holmes cannot paint?" + +During the last six years of her life she became a great invalid and +moved about only with severe pain. "It is not age," she said, "that has +thus prostrated me, but the hard work and increasing anxieties of thirty +years of authorship, during which my poor labors were all that my dear +father and mother had to look to; besides which, for the greater part of +that time I was constantly called upon to attend the sick bed, first of +one parent, and then of the other. I have only to be intensely thankful +that the power of exertion did not fail until the necessity for such +exertion was removed." + +"I love poetry and people as well at sixty as I did at sixteen," she +said one day, when I gave her a new volume by an American friend, "and +can never be sufficiently grateful to God for having permitted me to +retain the two joy-giving faculties of admiration and sympathy." The +"Ballad of Cassandra Southwick" she esteemed as one of the finest things +of our time; and of "Astrea" she said,--"Nobody in England can write +the glorious resonant metre of Dryden like that strain, nowadays." + +Pope was a great favorite with her, and she took me one morning to an +old house where he was a frequent guest, and where Arabella Fermor, the +heroine of the "Rape of the Lock," passed her married life. On the way +she often quoted the poet, whose works she seemed to know by heart. +Returning at sunset, she was very anxious that I should hear my first +nightingale among the woody lanes of her pretty country; but we were +both disappointed. We listened long, but, although the air was full of +birdsongs that evening, the sweet-voiced warbler was not of the choir. +She talked much, as we rode along, of Kingsley and Ruskin, both of whom +she loved as friends as well as authors. "John Ruskin," she said, "is +good and kind, and charming beyond the common lot of mortals, and there +are pages of his prose, to my thinking, more eloquent than any thing out +of Jeremy Taylor." + +Speaking of Humor, she said,--"Between ourselves, I always have a little +doubt of genius, when there is none of that quality: certainly, in the +very highest poetry, the two go together." + +She greatly admired Béranger, and often spoke of him as the beautiful +old man, the truest and best type of perfect independence. Hazlitt she +ranked highly as an essayist, and she mentioned that she had heard both +Charles Lamb and Talfourd praise him as not only the most brilliant, but +the soundest of critics. + +Among modern romances, those by the author of "The Scarlet Letter" +seemed to impress her almost more than any others; and when "The House +of the Seven Gables" was translated into Russian, she was filled with +delight. Indeed, she was always among the first to cry, "Bravo!" over +any good words for American literature. + +"Do coax Mr. Hawthorne and Dr. Holmes," she said one day, "into visiting +England. I want them to be welcomed as they deserve, and as they are +sure to be." + +Her interest in the French Emperor's career amounted to enthusiasm, and +one day she told us a very pretty story about him which she knew to +be true. She said, when he was in England after Strasbourg and before +Boulogne, he spent a twelvemonth at Leamington, living in the quietest +manner. One of the principal persons in that town, Mr. H., a very +liberal and accomplished man, made a point of showing every attention in +his power to the Prince; and they very soon became intimate. There +was in the town an old officer of the Emperor's Polish Legion, who, +compelled to leave France after Waterloo, had taken refuge in England, +and, having a natural talent for languages, maintained himself by +teaching French, Italian, and German in different families. The old +exile and the young one found each other out, and the language-master +was soon an habitual guest at the Prince's table, where he was treated +with the most affectionate attention. At last Louis Napoleon was obliged +to repair to London, but before he went he called on his friend Mr. H. +to take leave. After warm thanks to him for all the pleasure he had +experienced in his society, the Prince said,-- + +"I am about to prove to you my entire reliance upon your unfailing +kindness by leaving you a legacy. I wish to ask that you would transfer +to my poor old friend the goodness you have lavished on me. His health +is failing,--his means are small; pray, call upon him sometimes, and see +that the lodging-house people do not neglect him. Draw upon me for what +may be wanting for his needs or for his comforts." + +Mr. H. promised, and faithfully replaced the Prince in his kind +attentions to his old friend. The poor old man grew ill at last, and +died, Mr. H. defraying all the charges of his illness and of his +funeral. "I would willingly have paid them myself," said he, "but I knew +that would have offended and grieved the Prince. I found that provision +had been made at his banker's to answer my drafts to a much larger +amount than the actual debt." + +Miss Mitford used to say that she kept this anecdote for non-admirers of +the Emperor. + +One day she came limping into the room, with her dog Fanchon following +in the same lame plight,--she laughing heartily at their similarity of +gait, and holding up a letter just in from the post. + +"Here," said she, "is an epistle from my dear old friend, Lady M.," +(Gibbon's correspondent,) "who at the age of eighty-three is caught +by new books, and is as enthusiastic as a girl. She commissions me to +inquire of you all about your new authoress, the writer of 'Uncle Tom's +Cabin,' who she is, and all you know of her. So let me hear what you +have to say about the lady." + +During a brief visit to her cottage not long before she died, the chase +was started one evening to find, if possible, the origin of the line +quoted by Byron,-- + +"A fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind." + +In vain we searched among the poets, and at last all the party gave up +in despair. I went up to London soon after, thinking no more of the lost +line. In a few days, however, came a brief note, as follows:-- + +"Hurrah, dear friend! I have found the line without any other person's +aid or suggestion! Last night it occurred to me that it was in some +prologue or epilogue; and my little book-room being very rich in the +drama, I have looked through many hundreds of those bits of rhyme, and +at last made a discovery, which, if it have no other good effect, will +at least have 'emptied my head of Corsica,' as Johnson said to Boswell; +for never was the great biographer more haunted by the thought of Paoli +than I by that line. It occurs in an epilogue by Garrick, on quitting +the stage, June, 1776, when the performance was for the benefit of sick +and aged actors. + +"Not finding it quoted in Johnson convinced me that it would probably +have been written after the publication of the Dictionary, and +ultimately guided me to the right place. It is singular that epilogues +were just dismissed at the first representation of one of my plays, +'Foscari,' and prologues at another, 'Rienzi.' + +"Ever most affectionately yours, + +"M.R. MITFORD. + +"P.S. I am still a close prisoner in my room. But when fine weather +comes, I will get down in some way or other, and trust myself to that +which never hurts anybody, the honest open air. Spring, and even the +approach of spring, sets me dreaming. I see leafy hedges in my sleep, +and flowery banks, and then I long to make the vision a reality. +I remember that my dog Flush, Fanchon's father, who was a famous +sporting-dog, used, at the approach of the covering season, to hunt in +his sleep, doubtless by the same instinct that works in me. So, as soon +as the sun tells the same story with the primroses, I shall make a +descent after some fashion, and, no doubt, aided by Sam's stalwart arm, +successfully." + + * * * * * + +After leaving Three-Mile Cross for Swallowfield, her health, never of +late years robust, seemed failing. In one of her letters to me she gives +this pleasant picture of her home:-- + +"Ill as I am, my spirits are as good as ever; and just at this moment I +am most comfortably seated under the acacia-tree at the corner of the +house,--the beautiful acacia literally loaded with its snowy chains. The +flowering-trees this summer, the lilacs, laburnums, and rhododendrons, +have been one mass of blossoms, but none are so graceful as this +waving acacia. On one side is a syringa, smelling and looking like an +orange-tree,--a jar of roses on the table before me,--fresh gathered +roses,--the pride of my gardener's heart. Little Fanchon is at my +feet, too idle to eat the biscuits with which I am trying to tempt +her,--biscuits from Boston, sent to me by kind Mrs. S., and which +Fanchon ought to like; but you know her laziness of old, and she +improves in it every day." + +It was about this period that Walter Savage Landor sent to her these +exquisite lines:-- + + "The hay is carried; and the Hours + Snatch, as they pass, the linden-flowers; + And children leap to pluck a spray + Bent earthward, and then run away. + Park-keeper! catch me those grave thieves, + About whose frocks the fragrant leaves, + Sticking and fluttering here and there, + No false nor faltering witness bear. + + "I never view such scenes as these + In grassy meadow girt with trees, + But comes a thought of her who now + Sits with serenely patient brow + Amid deep sufferings: none hath told + More pleasant tales to young and old. + Fondest was she of Father Thames, + But rambled to Hellenic streams; + Nor even there could any tell + The country's purer charms so well + As Mary Mitford. + + "Verse! go forth + And breathe o'er gentle hearts her worth. + Needless the task: but should she see + One hearty wish from you and me, + A moment's pain it may assuage,-- + A rose-leaf on the couch of Age." + +In the early days of the year 1855 she sent, in her own handwriting, +kind greetings to her old friends only a few hours before she died. +Sweetness of temper and brightness of mind, her never-failing +characteristics, accompanied her to the last; and she passed on in her +usual cheerful and affectionate mood, her sympathies uncontracted by +age, narrow fortune, and pain. + + + + +THE PROFESSOR'S STORY. + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +OLD SOPHY CALLS ON THE REVEREND DOCTOR. + + +The two meeting-houses which faced each other like a pair of +fighting-cocks had not flapped their wings or crowed at each other for a +considerable time. The Reverend Mr. Fairweather had been dyspeptic and +low-spirited of late, and was too languid for controversy. The Reverend +Doctor Honeywood had been very busy with his benevolent associations, +and had discoursed chiefly on practical matters, to the neglect of +special doctrinal subjects. His senior deacon ventured to say to him +that some of his people required to be reminded of the great fundamental +doctrine of the worthlessness of all human efforts and motives. Some of +them were altogether too much pleased with the success of the Temperance +Society and the Association for the Relief of the Poor. There was a +pestilent heresy about, concerning the satisfaction to be derived from +a good conscience,--as if anybody ever did anything which was not to be +hated, loathed, despised, and condemned. + +The old minister listened gravely, with an inward smile, and told his +deacon that he would attend to his suggestion. After the deacon had +gone, he tumbled over his manuscripts, until at length he came upon his +first-rate old sermon on "Human Nature." He had read a great deal of +hard theology, and had at last reached that curious state which is so +common in good ministers,--that, namely, in which they contrive to +switch off their logical faculties on the narrow side-track of their +technical dogmas, while the great freight-train of their substantial +human qualities keeps in the main highway of common-sense, in which +kindly souls are always found by all who approach them by their human +side. + +The Doctor read his sermon with a pleasant, paternal interest: it was +well argued from his premises. Here and there he dashed his pen through +a harsh expression. Now and then he added an explanation or qualified +a broad statement. But his mind was on the logical side-track, and he +followed the chain of reasoning without fairly perceiving where it would +lead him, if he carried it into real life. + +He was just touching up the final proposition, when his granddaughter, +Letty, once before referred to, came into the room with her smiling face +and lively movement. Miss Letty or Letitia Forrester was a city-bred +girl of some fifteen or sixteen years old, who was passing the summer +with her grandfather for the sake of country air and quiet. It was a +sensible arrangement; for, having the promise of figuring as a belle +by-and-by, and being a little given to dancing, and having a voice which +drew a pretty dense circle around the piano when she sat down to play +and sing, it was hard to keep her from being carried into society before +her time, by the mere force of mutual attraction. Fortunately, she had +some quiet as well as some social tastes, and was willing enough to pass +two or three of the summer months in the country, where she was much +better bestowed than she would have been at one of those watering-places +where so many half-formed girls get prematurely hardened in the vice of +self-consciousness. + +Miss Letty was altogether too wholesome, hearty, and high-strung a young +girl to be a model, according to the flat-chested and cachectic pattern +which is the classical type of certain excellent young females, often +the subjects of biographical memoirs. But the old minister was proud of +his granddaughter for all that. She was so full of life, so graceful, so +generous, so vivacious, so ready always to do all she could for him and +for everybody, so perfectly frank in her avowed delight in the pleasures +which this miserable world offered her in the shape of natural beauty, +of poetry, of music, of companionship, of books, of cheerful cooperation +in the tasks of those about her, that the Reverend Doctor could not +find it in his heart to condemn her because she was deficient in those +particular graces and that signal other-worldliness he had sometimes +noticed in feeble young persons suffering from various chronic diseases +which impaired their vivacity and removed them from the range of +temptation. + +When Letty, therefore, came bounding into the old minister's study, +he glanced up from his manuscript, and, as his eye fell upon her, +it flashed across him that there was nothing so very monstrous and +unnatural about the specimen of congenital perversion he was looking at, +with his features opening into their pleasantest sunshine. Technically, +according to the fifth proposition of the sermon on Human Nature, very +bad, no doubt. Practically, according to the fact before him, a very +pretty piece of the Creator's handiwork, body and soul. Was it not a +conceivable thing that the divine grace might show itself in different +forms in a fresh young girl like Letitia, and in that poor thing he had +visited yesterday, half-grown, half-colored, in bed for the last year +with hip-disease? Was it to be supposed that this healthy young girl, +with life throbbing all over her, _could_, without a miracle, be good +according to the invalid pattern and formula? + +And yet there were mysteries in human nature which pointed to some +tremendous perversion of its tendencies,--to some profound, radical vice +of moral constitution, native or transmitted, as you will have it, but +positive, at any rate, as the leprosy, breaking out in the blood of +races, guard them ever so carefully. Did he not know the case of a young +lady in Rockland, daughter of one of the first families in the place, +a very beautiful and noble creature to look at, for whose bringing-up +nothing had been spared,--a girl who had had governesses to teach her at +the house, who had been indulged almost too kindly,--a girl whose father +had given himself up to her, he being himself a pure and high-souled +man?--and yet this girl was accused in whispers of having been on the +very verge of committing a fatal crime; she was an object of fear to all +who knew the dark hints which had been let fall about her, and there +were some that believed--Why, what was this but an instance of the total +obliquity and degeneration of the moral principle? and to what could it +be owing, but to an innate organic tendency? + +"Busy, grandpapa?" said Letty, and without waiting for an answer +kissed his cheek with a pair of lips made on purpose for that little +function,--fine, but richly turned out, the corners tucked in with a +finish of pretty dimples, the rosebud lips of girlhood's June. + +The old gentleman looked at his granddaughter. Nature swelled up from +his heart in a wave that sent a glow to his cheek and a sparkle to his +eye. But it is very hard to be interrupted just as we are winding up a +string of propositions with the grand conclusion which is the statement +in brief of all that has gone before: our own starting-point, into which +we have been trying to back our reader or listener as one backs a horse +into the shafts. + +"_Video meliora, proboque_,--I see the better, and approve it; +_deteriora sequor_,--I follow after the worse: 'tis that natural +dislike to what is good, pure, holy, and true, that inrooted +selfishness, totally insensible to the claims of"-- + +Here the worthy man was interrupted by Miss Letty. + +"Do come, if you can, grandpapa," said the young girl; "here is a poor +old black woman wants to see you so much!" + +The good minister was as kind-hearted as if he had never groped in the +dust and ashes of those cruel old abstractions which have killed out so +much of the world's life and happiness, "With the heart man believeth +unto righteousness"; a man's love is the measure of his fitness for good +or bad company here or elsewhere. Men are tattooed with their special +beliefs like so many South-Sea Islanders; but a real human heart, with +Divine love in it, beats with the same glow under all the patterns of +all earth's thousand tribes! + +The Doctor sighed, and folded the sermon, and laid the Quarto Cruden on +it. He rose from his desk, and, looking once more at the young girl's +face, forgot his logical conclusions, and said to himself that she was +a little angel,--which was in violent contradiction to the leading +doctrine of his sermon on Human Nature. And so he followed her out of +the study into the wide entry of the old-fashioned country-house. + +An old black woman sat on the plain oaken settle which humble visitors +waiting to see the minister were wont to occupy. She was old, but how +old it would be very hard to guess. She might be seventy. She might be +ninety. One could not swear she was not a hundred. Black women remain at +a stationary age (to the eyes of _white_ people, at least) for thirty +years. They do not appear to change during this period any more than +so many Trenton trilobites. Bent up, wrinkled, yellow-eyed, with long +upper-lip, projecting jaws, retreating chin, still meek features, long +arms, large flat hands with uncolored palms and slightly webbed fingers, +it was impossible not to see in this old creature a hint of the +gradations by which life climbs up through the lower natures to the +highest human developments. We cannot tell such old women's ages because +we do not understand the physiognomy of a race so unlike our own. +No doubt they see a great deal in each other's faces that we +cannot,--changes of color and expression as real as our own, blushes and +sudden betrayals of feeling,--just as these two canaries know what +their single notes and short sentences and full song with this or that +variation mean, though it is a mystery to us unplumed mortals. + +This particular old black woman was a striking specimen of her +class. Old as she looked, her eye was bright and knowing. She wore a +red-and-yellow turban, which set off her complexion well, and hoops of +gold in her ears, and beads of gold about her neck, and an old funeral +ring upon her finger. She had that touching stillness about her which +belongs to animals that wait to be spoken to and then look up with a +kind of sad humility. + +"Why, Sophy!" said the good minister, "is this you?" + +She looked up with the still expression on her face. "It's old Sophy," +she said. + +"Why," said the Doctor, "I did not believe you could walk so far as this +to save the Union. Bring Sophy a glass of wine, Letty. Wine's good for +old folks like Sophy and me, after walking a good way, or preaching a +good while." + +The young girl stepped into the back-parlor, where she found the +great pewter flagon in which the wine that was left after each +communion-service was brought to the minister's house. With much toil +she managed to tip it so as to get a couple of glasses filled. The +minister tasted his, and made old Sophy finish hers. + +"I wan' to see you 'n' talk wi' you all alone," she said presently. + +The minister got up and led the way towards his study. "To be sure," he +said; he had only waited for her to rest a moment before he asked her +into the library. The young girl took her gently by the arm, and helped +her feeble steps along the passage. When they reached the study, she +smoothed the cushion of a rocking-chair, and made the old woman sit +down in it. Then she tripped lightly away, and left her alone with the +minister. + +Old Sophy was a member of the Reverend Doctor Honeywood's church. +She had been put through the necessary confessions in a tolerably +satisfactory manner. To be sure, as her grandfather had been a cannibal +chief, according to the common story, and, at any rate, a terrible wild +savage, and as her mother retained to the last some of the prejudices +of her early education, there was a heathen flavor in her Christianity, +which had often scandalized the elder of the minister's two deacons. +But the good minister had smoothed matters over: had explained that +allowances were to be made for those who had been long sitting without +the gate of Zion,--that, no doubt, a part of the curse which descended +to the children of Ham consisted in "having the understanding darkened," +as well as the skin,--and so had brought his suspicious senior deacon to +tolerate old Sophy as one of the communion of fellow-sinners. + + * * * * * + +----Poor things! How little we know the simple notions with which these +rudiments of souls are nourished by the Divine Goodness! Did not Mrs. +Professor come home this very blessed morning with a story of one of her +old black women? + +"And how do you feel to-day, Mrs. Robinson?" + +"Oh, my dear, I have this singing in my head all the time." (What +doctors call _tinnitus aurium_.) + +"She's got a cold in the head," said old Mrs. Rider. + +"Oh, no, my dear! Whatever I'm thinking about, it's all this singing, +this music. When I'm thinking of the dear Redeemer, it all turns into +this singing and music. When the clark came to see me, I asked him if +he couldn't cure me, and he said, No,--it was the Holy Spirit in me, +singing to me; and all the time I hear this beautiful music, and it's +the Holy Spirit a-singing to me."---- + + * * * * * + +The good man waited for Sophy to speak; but she did not open her lips as +yet. + +"I hope you are not troubled in mind or body," he said to her at length, +finding she did not speak. + +The poor old woman took out a white handkerchief, and lifted it to her +black face. She could not say a word for her tears and sobs. + +The minister would have consoled her; he was used to tears, and could in +most cases withstand their contagion manfully; but something choked his +voice suddenly, and when he called upon it, he got no answer, but a +tremulous movement of the muscles, which was worse than silence. + +At last she spoke. + +"Oh, no, no, no! It's my poor girl, my darling, my beauty, my baby, +that's grown up to be a woman; she will come to a bad end; she will do +something that will make them kill her or shut her up all her life. Oh, +Doctor, Doctor, save her, pray for her! It a'n't her fault. It a'n't +her fault. If they knew all that I know, they wouldn't blame that poor +child. I must tell you, Doctor: if I should die, perhaps nobody else +would tell you. Massa Venner can't talk about it. Doctor Kittredge won't +talk about it. Nobody but old Sophy to tell you, Doctor; and old Sophy +can't die without telling you." + +The kind minister soothed the poor old soul with those gentle, quieting +tones which had carried peace and comfort to so many chambers of +sickness and sorrow, to so many hearts overburdened by the trials laid +upon them. + +Old Sophy became quiet in a few minutes, and proceeded to tell her +story. She told it in the low half-whisper which is the natural voice +of lips oppressed with grief and fears; with quick glances around the +apartment from time to time, as if she dreaded lest the dim portraits on +the walls and the dark folios on the shelves might overhear her words. + +It was not one of those conversations which a third person can report +minutely, unless by that miracle of clairvoyance known to the readers +of stories made out of authors' brains. Yet its main character can be +imparted in a much briefer space than the old black woman took to give +all its details. + +She went far back to the time when Dudley Venner was born,--she being +then a middle-aged woman. The heir and hope of a family which had been +narrowing down as if doomed to extinction, he had been surrounded with +every care and trained by the best education he could have in New +England. He had left college, and was studying the profession which +gentlemen of leisure most affect, when he fell in love with a young girl +left in the world almost alone, as he was. The old woman told the story +of his young love and his joyous bridal with a tenderness which had +something more, even, than her family sympathies to account for it. Had +she not hanging over her bed a small paper-cutting of a profile--jet +black, but not blacker than the face it represented--of one who would +have been her own husband in the small years of this century, if the +vessel in which he went to sea, like Jamie in the ballad, had not sailed +away and never come back to land? Had she not her bits of furniture +stowed away which had been got ready for her own wedding,--_two_ +rocking-chairs, one worn with long use, one kept for him so long that it +had grown a superstition with her never to sit in it,--and might he not +come back yet, after all? Had she not her chest of linen ready for her +humble house-keeping, with store of serviceable huckaback and piles of +neatly folded kerchiefs, wherefrom this one that showed so white against +her black face was taken, for that she knew her eyes would betray her in +"the presence"? + +All the first part of the story the old woman told tenderly, and yet +dwelling upon every incident with a loving pleasure. How happy this +young couple had been, what plans and projects of improvement they had +formed, how they lived in each other, always together, so young and +fresh and beautiful as she remembered them in that one early summer when +they walked arm in arm through the wilderness of roses that ran riot in +the garden,--she told of this as loath to leave it and come to the woe +that lay beneath. + +She told the whole story;--shall I repeat it? Not now. If, in the +course of relating the incidents I have undertaken to report, _it tells +itself_, perhaps this will be better than to run the risk of producing a +painful impression on some of those susceptible readers whom it would be +ill-advised to disturb or excite, when they rather require to be amused +and soothed. In our pictures of life, we must show the flowering-out of +terrible growths which have their roots deep, deep underground. Just +how far we shall lay bare the unseemly roots themselves is a matter of +discretion and taste, in which none of us are infallible. + +The old woman told the whole story of Elsie, of her birth, of her +peculiarities of person and disposition, of the passionate fears and +hopes with which her father had watched the course of her development. +She recounted all her strange ways, from the hour when she first tried +to crawl across the carpet, and her father shrank from her with an +involuntary shudder as she worked her way towards him. With the memory +of Juliet's nurse she told the story of her teething, and how, the woman +to whose breast she had clung dying suddenly about that time, they +had to struggle hard with the child before she would learn the +accomplishment of feeding with a spoon. And so of her fierce plays and +fiercer disputes with that boy who had been her companion, and the whole +scene of the quarrel when she struck him with those sharp white teeth, +frightening her, old Sophy, almost to death; for, as she said, the boy +would have died, if it hadn't been for the old Doctor's galloping over +as fast as he could gallop and burning the places right out of his arm. +Then came the story of that other incident, sufficiently alluded to +already, which had produced such an ecstasy of fright and left such a +nightmare of apprehension in the household. And so the old woman came +down to this present time. That boy she never loved nor trusted was +grown to a dark, dangerous-looking man, and he was under their roof. He +wanted to marry our poor Elsie, and Elsie hated him, and sometimes she +would look at him over her shoulder just as she used to look at that +woman she hated; and she, old Sophy, couldn't sleep for thinking she +should hear a scream from the white chamber some night and find him in +spasms such as that woman came so near dying with. And then there was +something about Elsie she did not know what to make of: she would sit +and hang her head sometimes, and look as if she were dreaming; and she +brought home books they said a young gentleman up at the great school +lent her; and once she heard her whisper in her sleep, and she talked as +young girls do to themselves when they're thinking about somebody they +have a liking for and think nobody knows it. + +She finished her long story at last. The minister had listened to it in +perfect silence. He sat still even when she had done speaking,--still, +and lost in thought. It was a very awkward matter for him to have a hand +in. Old Sophy was his parishioner, but the Venners had a pew in the +Reverend Mr. Fairweather's meeting-house. It would seem that he, Mr. +Fairweather, was the natural adviser of the parties most interested. Had +he sense and spirit enough to deal with such people? Was there enough +capital of humanity in his somewhat limited nature to furnish sympathy +and unshrinking service for his friends in an emergency? or was he too +busy with his own attacks of spiritual neuralgia, and too much occupied +with taking account of stock of his own thin-blooded offences, to forget +himself and his personal interests on the small scale and the large, +and run a risk of his life, if need were, at any rate give himself up +without reserve to the dangerous task of guiding and counselling these +distressed and imperilled fellow-creatures? + +The good minister thought the best thing to do would be to call and talk +over some of these matters with Brother Fairweather,--for so he would +call him at times, especially if his senior deacon were not within +earshot. Having settled this point, he comforted Sophy with a few words +of counsel and a promise of coming to see her very soon. He then called +his man to put the old white horse into the chaise and drive Sophy back +to the mansion-house. + +When the Doctor sat down to his sermon again, it looked very differently +from the way it had looked at the moment he left it. When he came to +think of it, he did not feel quite so sure _practically_ about that +matter of the utter natural selfishness of everybody. There was Letty, +now, seemed to take a very unselfish interest in that old black woman, +and indeed in poor people generally; perhaps it would not be too much to +say that she was always thinking of other people. He thought he had +seen other young persons naturally unselfish, thoughtful for others; it +seemed to be a family trait in some he had known. + +But most of all he was exercised about this poor girl whose story Sophy +had been telling. If what the old woman believed was true,--and it +had too much semblance of probability,--what became of his theory of +ingrained moral obliquity applied to such a case? If by the visitation +of God a person receives any injury which impairs the intellect or the +moral perceptions, is it not monstrous to judge such a person by our +common working standards of right and wrong? Certainly, everybody will +answer, in cases where there is a palpable organic change brought about, +as when a blow on the head produces insanity. Fools! How long will it be +before we shall learn that for every wound which betrays itself to the +sight by a scar, there are a thousand unseen mutilations that cripple, +each of them, some one or more of our highest faculties? If what Sophy +told and believed was the real truth, what prayers could be agonizing +enough, what tenderness could be deep enough, for this poor, lost, +blighted, hapless, blameless child of misfortune, struck by such a doom +as perhaps no living creature in all the sisterhood of humanity shared +with her? + +The minister thought these matters over until his mind was bewildered +with doubts and tossed to and fro on that stormy deep of thought heaving +forever beneath the conflict of windy dogmas. He laid by his old sermon. +He put back a pile of old commentators with their eyes and mouths and +hearts full of the dust of the schools. Then he opened the book of +Genesis at the eighteenth chapter and read that remarkable argument +of Abraham's with his Maker, in which he boldly appeals to first +principles. He took as his text, "Shall not the Judge of all the earth +do right?" and began to write his sermon, afterwards so famous,--"On the +Obligations of an Infinite Creator to a Finite Creature." + +It astonished the good people, who had been accustomed so long to repeat +mechanically their Oriental hyperboles of self-abasement, to hear their +worthy minister maintaining that the dignified attitude of the old +Patriarch, insisting on what was reasonable and fair with reference to +his fellow-creatures, was really much more respectful to his Maker, and +a great deal manlier and more to his credit, than if he had yielded the +whole matter, and pretended that men had not rights as well as duties. +The same logic which had carried him to certain conclusions with +reference to human nature, this same irresistible logic carried him +straight on from his text until he arrived at those other results, which +not only astonished his people, as was said, but surprised himself. He +went so far in defence of the rights of man, that he put his foot into +several heresies, for which men had been burned so often, it was time, +if ever it could be, to acknowledge the demonstration of the _argumentum +ad ignem_. He did not believe in the responsibility of idiots. He did +not believe a new-born infant was morally answerable for other people's +acts. He thought a man with a crooked spine would never be called to +account for not walking erect. He thought, if the crook was in his +brain, instead of his back, he could not fairly be blamed for any +consequence of this natural defect, whatever lawyers or divines might +call it. He argued, that, if a person inherited a perfect mind, body, +and disposition, and had perfect teaching from infancy, that person +could do nothing more than keep the moral law perfectly. But supposing +that the Creator allows a person to be born with an hereditary or +ingrafted organic tendency, and then puts this person into the hands of +teachers incompetent or positively bad, is not what is called _sin_ or +transgression of the law necessarily involved in the premises? Is not +a Creator bound to guard his children against the ruin which inherited +ignorance might entail on them? Would it be fair for a parent to put +into a child's hands the title-deeds to all its future possessions, and +a bunch of matches? And are not men children, nay, babes, in the eye of +Omniscience?--The minister grew bold in his questions. Had not he as +good right to ask questions as Abraham? + +This was the dangerous vein of speculation in which the Reverend Doctor +Honeywood found himself involved, as a consequence of the suggestions +forced upon him by old Sophy's communication. The truth was, the good +man had got so humanized by mixing up with other people in various +benevolent schemes, that, the very moment he could escape from his old +scholastic abstractions, he took the side of humanity instinctively, +just as the Father of the Faithful did,--all honor be to the noble old +Patriarch for insisting on the worth of an honest man, and making the +best terms he could for a very ill-conditioned metropolis, which might +possibly, however, have contained ten righteous people, for whose sake +it should be spared! + +The consequence of all this was, that he was in a singular and seemingly +self-contradictory state of mind when he took his hat and cane and went +forth to call on his heretical brother. The old minister took it for +granted that the Reverend Mr. Fairweather knew the private history of +his parishioner's family. He did not reflect that there are griefs +men _never_ put into words,--that there are fears which must not be +spoken,--intimate matters of consciousness which must be carried, as +bullets that have been driven deep into the living tissues are sometimes +carried, for a whole life-time,--_encysted_ griefs, if we may borrow the +chirurgeon's term, never to be reached, never to be seen, never to be +thrown out, but to go into the dust with the frame that bore them about +with it, during long years of anguish, known only to the sufferer and +his Maker. Dudley Venner had talked with his minister about this child +of his. But he had talked cautiously, feeling his way for sympathy, +looking out for those indications of tact and judgment which would +warrant him in some partial communication, at least, of the origin of +his doubts and fears, and never finding them. + +There was something about the Reverend Mr. Fairweather which repressed +all attempts at confidential intercourse. What this something was, +Dudley Venner could hardly say; but he felt it distinctly, and it sealed +his lips. He never got beyond certain generalities connected with +education and religious instruction. The minister could not help +discovering, however, that there were difficulties connected with this +girl's management, and he heard enough outside of the family to convince +him that she had manifested tendencies, from an early age, at variance +with the theoretical opinions he was in the habit of preaching, and in +a dim way of holding for truth, as to the natural dispositions of the +human being. + +About this terrible fact of congenital obliquity his new beliefs began +to cluster as a centre, and to take form as a crystal around its +nucleus. Still, he might perhaps have struggled against them, had it not +been for the little Roman Catholic chapel he passed every Sunday, on his +way to the meeting-house. Such a crowd of worshippers, swarming into the +pews like bees, filling all the aisles, running over at the door like +berries heaped too full in the measure,--some kneeling on the steps, +some standing on the side-walk, hats off, heads down, lips moving, some +looking on devoutly from the other side of the street! Oh, could he +have followed his own Bridget, maid of all work, into the heart of that +steaming throng, and bowed his head while the priests intoned their +Latin prayers! could he have snuffed up the cloud of frankincense, and +felt that he was in the great ark which holds the better half of the +Christian world, while all around it are wretched creatures, some +struggling against the waves in leaky boats, and some on ill-connected +rafts, and some with their heads just above water, thinking to ride out +the flood which is to sweep the earth clean of sinners, upon their own +private, individual life-preservers! + +Such was the present state of mind of the Reverend Chauncy Fairweather, +when his clerical brother called upon him to talk over the questions to +which old Sophy had called his attention. + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE REVEREND DOCTOR CALLS ON BROTHER FAIRWEATHER. + + +For the last few months, while all these various matters were going on +in Rockland, the Reverend Chauncy Fairweather had been busy with the +records of ancient councils and the writings of the early fathers. The +more he read, the more discontented he became with the platform upon +which he and his people were standing. They and he were clearly in +a minority, and his deep inward longing to be with the majority was +growing into an engrossing passion. He yearned especially towards the +good old unquestioning, authoritative Mother Church, with her articles +of faith which took away the necessity for private judgment, with her +traditional forms and ceremonies, and her whole apparatus of stimulants +and anodynes. + +About this time he procured a breviary and kept it in his desk under +the loose papers. He sent to a Catholic bookstore and obtained a small +crucifix suspended from a string of beads. He ordered his new coat to be +cut very narrow in the collar and to be made single-breasted. He began +an informal series of religious conversations with Miss O'Brien, the +young person of Irish extraction already referred to as Bridget, maid +of all work. These not proving very satisfactory, he managed to fall in +with Father McShane, the Catholic priest of the Rockland church. Father +McShane encouraged his nibble very scientifically. It would be such +a fine thing to bring over one of those Protestant heretics, and a +"liberal" one too!--not that there was any real difference between +them, but it sounded better to say that one of these rationalizing +free-and-equal religionists had been made a convert than any of those +half-way Protestants who were the slaves of catechisms instead of +councils and of commentators instead of popes. The subtle priest played +his disciple with his finest tackle. It was hardly necessary: when +anything or anybody wishes to be caught, a bare hook and a coarse line +are all that is needed. + +If a man has a genuine, sincere, hearty wish to get rid of his liberty, +if he is really bent upon becoming a slave, nothing can stop him. And +the temptation is to some natures a very great one. Liberty is often a +heavy burden on a man. It involves that necessity for perpetual choice +which is the kind of labor men have always dreaded. In common life +we shirk it by forming _habits_, which take the place of +self-determination. In politics party-organization saves us the pains of +much thinking before deciding how to cast our vote. In religious matters +there are great multitudes watching us perpetually, each propagandist +ready with his bundle of finalities, which having accepted we may be +at peace. The more absolute the submission demanded, the stronger the +temptation becomes to those who have been long tossed among doubts and +conflicts. + +So it is that in all the quiet bays which indent the shores of the great +ocean of thought, at every sinking wharf, we see moored the hulks +and the razees of enslaved or half-enslaved intelligences. They rock +peacefully as children in their cradles on the subdued swell that comes +feebly in over the bar at the harbor's mouth, slowly crusting with +barnacles, pulling at their iron cables as if they really wanted to be +free, but better contented to remain bound as they are. For these no +more the round unwalled horizon of the open sea, the joyous breeze +aloft, the furrow, the foam, the sparkle that track the rushing keel! +They have escaped the dangers of the wave, and lie still henceforth, +evermore. Happiest of souls, if lethargy is bliss, and palsy the chief +beatitude! + +America owes its political freedom to religious Protestantism. But +political freedom is reacting on religious prescription with still +mightier force. We wonder, therefore, when we find a soul which was +born to a full sense of individual liberty, an unchallenged right +of self-determination on every new alleged truth offered to its +intelligence, voluntarily surrendering any portion of its liberty to +a spiritual dictatorship which always proves to rest, in the last +analysis, on _a majority vote_, nothing more nor less, commonly an old +one, passed in those barbarous times when men cursed and murdered each +other for differences of opinion, and of course were not in a condition +to settle the beliefs of a comparatively civilized community. + +In our disgust, we are liable to be intolerant. We forget that weakness +is not in itself a sin. We forget that even cowardice may call for our +most lenient judgment, if it spring from innate infirmity. Who of us +does not look with great tenderness on the young chieftain in the "Fair +Maid of Perth," when he confesses his want of courage? All of us love +companionship and sympathy; some of us may love them too much. All of us +are more or less imaginative in our theology. Some of us may find the +aid of material symbols a comfort, if not a necessity. The boldest +thinker may have his moments of languor and discouragement, when he +feels as if he could willingly exchange faiths with the old beldame +crossing herself at the cathedral-door,--nay, that, if he could drop +all coherent thought, and lie in the flowery meadow with the brown-eyed +solemnly unthinking cattle, looking up to the sky, and all their simple +consciousness staining itself blue, then down to the grass, and life +turning to a mere greenness, blended with confused scents of herbs,--no +individual mind-movement such as men are teased with, but the great +calm cattle-sense of all time and all places that know the milky smell +of herds,--if he could be like these, he would be content to be driven +home by the cow-boy, and share the grassy banquet of the king of ancient +Babylon. Let us be very generous, then, in our judgment of those +who leave the front ranks of thought for the company of the meek +non-combatants who follow with the baggage and provisions. Age, illness, +too much wear and tear, a half-formed paralysis, may bring any of us to +this pass. But while we can think and maintain the rights of our own +individuality against every human combination, let as not forget to +caution all who are disposed to waver that there is a cowardice which is +criminal, and a longing for rest which it is baseness to indulge. God +help him over whose dead soul in his living body must be uttered the sad +supplication, _Requiescat in pace_! + + * * * * * + +A knock at the Reverend Mr. Fairweather's study-door called his eyes +from the book on which they were intent. He looked up, as if expecting a +welcome guest. + +The Reverend Pierrepont Honeywood, D.D., entered the study of the +Reverend Chauncy Fairweather. He was not the expected guest. Mr. +Fairweather slipped the book he was reading into a half-open drawer, +and pushed in the drawer. He slid something which rattled under a paper +lying on the table. He rose with a slight change of color, and welcomed, +a little awkwardly, his unusual visitor. + +"Good evening, Brother Fairweather!" said the Reverend Doctor, in a +very cordial, good-humored way. "I hope I am not spoiling one of those +eloquent sermons I never have a chance to hear." + +"Not at all, not at all," the younger clergyman answered, in a languid +tone, with a kind of habitual half-querulousness which belonged to +it,--the vocal expression which we meet with now and then, and which +says as plainly as so many words could say it, "I am a suffering +individual. I am persistently undervalued, wronged, and imposed upon by +mankind and the powers of the universe generally. But I endure all. I +endure _you_. Speak. I listen. It is a burden to me, but I even approve. +I sacrifice myself. Behold this movement of my lips! It is a smile." + +The Reverend Doctor knew this forlorn way of Mr. Fairweather's, and was +not troubled by it. He proceeded to relate the circumstances of his +visit from the old black woman, and the fear she was in about the young +girl, who being a parishioner of Mr. Fairweather's, he had thought it +best to come over and speak to him about old Sophy's fears and fancies. + +In telling the old woman's story, he alluded only vaguely to those +peculiar circumstances to which she had attributed so much importance, +taking it for granted that the other minister must be familiar with +the whole series of incidents she had related. The old minister was +mistaken, as we have before seen. Mr. Fairweather had been settled in +the place only about ten years, and, if he had heard a strange hint now +and then about Elsie, had never considered it as anything more than +idle and ignorant, if not malicious, village-gossip. All that he fully +understood was that this had been a perverse and unmanageable child, and +that the extraordinary care which had been bestowed on her had been so +far thrown away that she was a dangerous, self-willed girl, whom all +feared and almost all shunned, as if she carried with her some malignant +influence. + +He replied, therefore, after hearing the story, that Elsie had always +given trouble. There seemed to be a kind of natural obliquity about +her. Perfectly unaccountable. A very dark case. Never amenable to good +influences. Had sent her good books from the Sunday-school library. +Remembered that she tore out the frontispiece of one of them, and kept +it, and flung the book out of the window. It was a picture of Eve's +temptation; and he recollected her saying that Eve was a good +woman,--and she'd have done just so, if she'd been there. A very sad +child,--very sad; bad from infancy.--He had talked himself bold, and +said all at once,-- + +"Doctor, do you know I am almost ready to accept your doctrine of the +congenital sinfulness of human nature? I am afraid that is the only +thing which goes to the bottom of the difficulty." + +The old minister's face did not open as approvingly as Mr. Fairweather +had expected. + +"Why, yes,--well,--many find comfort in it,--I believe;--there is much +to be said,--there are many bad people,--and bad children,--I can't +be so sure about bad babies,--though they cry very malignantly at +times,--especially if they have the stomach-ache. But I really don't +know how to condemn this poor Elsie; she may have impulses that act +in her like instincts in the lower animals, and so not come under the +bearing of our ordinary rules of judgment." + +"But this depraved tendency, Doctor,--this unaccountable perverseness. +My dear Sir, I am afraid your school is in the right about human nature. +Oh, those words of the Psalmist, 'shapen in iniquity,' and the rest! +What are we to do with them,--we who teach that the soul of a child is +an unstained white tablet?" + +"King David was very subject to fits of humility, and much given to +self-reproaches," said the Doctor, in a rather dry way. "We owe you and +your friends a good deal for calling attention to the natural graces, +which, after all, may, perhaps, be considered as another form of +manifestation of the divine influence. Some of our writers have pressed +rather too hard on the tendencies of the human soul toward evil as such. +It may be questioned whether these views have not interfered with the +sound training of certain young persons, sons of clergymen and others. +I am nearer of your mind about the possibility of educating children so +that they shall become good Christians without any violent transition. +That is what I should hope for from bringing them up 'in the nurture and +admonition of the Lord.'" + +The younger minister looked puzzled, but presently answered,-- + +"Possibly we may have called attention to some neglected truths; but, +after all, I fear we must go to the old school, if we want to get at the +root of the matter. I know there is an outward amiability about many +young persons, some young girls especially, that seems like genuine +goodness; but I have been disposed of late to lean toward your view, +that these human affections, as we see them in our children,--ours, I +say, though I have not the fearful responsibility of training any of my +own,--are only a kind of disguised and sinful selfishness." + +The old minister groaned in spirit. His heart had been softened by +the sweet influences of children and grandchildren. He thought of +a half-sized grave in the burial-ground, and the fine, brave, +noble-hearted boy he laid in it thirty years before,--the sweet, +cheerful child who had made his home all sunshine until the day when he +was brought home, his long curls dripping, his fresh lips purpled in +death,--foolish dear little blessed creature to throw himself into the +deep water to save the drowning boy, who clung about him and carried him +under! Disguised selfishness! And his granddaughter too, whose disguised +selfishness was the light of his household! + +"Don't call it my view!" he said, "Abstractly, perhaps, all Nature may +be considered vitiated; but practically, as I see it in life, the divine +grace keeps pace with the perverted instincts from infancy in many +natures. Besides, this perversion itself may often be disease, bad +habits transmitted, like drunkenness, or some hereditary misfortune, as +with this Elsie we were talking about." + +The younger minister was completely mystified. At every step he made +towards the Doctor's recognized theological position, the Doctor took +just one step towards his. They would cross each other soon at this +rate, and might as well exchange pulpits,--as Colonel Sprowle once +wished they would, it may be remembered. + +The Doctor, though a much clearer-headed man, was almost equally +puzzled. He turned the conversation again upon Elsie, and endeavored +to make her minister feel the importance of bringing every friendly +influence to bear upon her at this critical period of her life. His +sympathies did not seem so lively as the Doctor could have wished. +Perhaps he had vastly more important objects of solicitude in his own +spiritual interests. + +A knock at the door interrupted them. The Reverend Mr. Fairweather rose +and went towards it. As he passed the table, his coat caught something, +which came rattling to the floor. It was a crucifix with a string of +beads attached. As he opened the door, the Milesian features of Father +McShane presented themselves, and from their centre proceeded the +clerical benediction in Irish-sounding Latin, _Pax vobiscum!_ + +The Reverend Doctor Honeywood rose and left the priest and his disciple +together. + + * * * * * + + + + +REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES. + + +_Autobiographical Recollections_. By the late CHARLES ROBERT LESLIE, +R.A. Edited, with a Prefatory Essay on Leslie as an Artist, and +Selections from his Correspondence, by TOM TAYLOR, Esq., Editor of the +"Autobiography of Haydon." With Portrait. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. +1860. pp. lviii., 363. + +Those who remember the excellent judgment with which Mr. Taylor selected +his material for the Autobiography of Haydon from the papers left by +that artist need not be told that this work is executed with spirit and +discrimination. It is a delicate task to publish just so much of the +letters and reminiscences of a man lately dead as shall consist with +good taste and gentlemanly feeling, to discriminate between legitimate +anecdote and what at second-hand becomes tale-bearing gossip, and not to +break faith with the dead by indiscreet confidences about the living. +If the dead have any privilege, it ought to be that of holding their +tongues; yet an unseemly fashion has prevailed lately of making +them gabble for years in Diaries, Remains, Correspondences, and +Recollections, perpetuating in a solid telltale record all they may +have said and written thoughtlessly or in a momentary pet, giving to a +fleeting whim the printed permanence of a settled opinion, and robbing +the grave of what is sometimes its only consoling attribute, the dignity +of reserve. We know of no more unsavory calling than this, unless it be +that of the Egyptian dealers in mummy, peddling out their grandfathers +to be ground into pigment. Obsequious to the last moment, the jackal +makes haste to fill his belly from the ribs of his late lion almost +before he is cold. + +Mr. Taylor is too manly and well-bred to be guilty of any indiscretions, +much more of any indecencies. He let Haydon tell his own story, nor +assumed the function of a judge. And wisely, as we think; for, commonly, +when men take it upon themselves uncalled, their inability to conceive +the special weakness that is not theirs, (and which, perhaps, was but +the negative of a strength equally alien to them.) their humanly narrow +and often professionally back-attic view of character and circumstance, +their easy after-dinner superiority to what was perhaps a loathing +compromise with famine and the jail, fit them rather for the office of +_advocatus diaboli_ than of the justice which must be all-seeing that it +may be charitable. It is so hard to see that a sin is sometimes but a +thwarted and misdirected virtue! When Burns sighed that "the light that +led astray was light from Heaven," he was but unconsciously repeating +what a poet who of all men least needed the apology had said centuries +before. + +We do not admit, that, because a man has published a volume or a +picture, he has published himself, excommunicated his soul from the +sanctuary of privacy, and made his life as common as a tavern-threshold +to every blockhead in the parish,--or that any Pharisee who kept +carefully to windward of his virtues, out of the way of infection, has +thereby earned the right to mismoralize his failings after he is dumbly +defenceless. The moral compasses that are too short for the aberration +may be, must be, unequal to the orbit. We would not deny that Burns was +a chamberer and a drunkard because he was a great poet; but we would not +admit that whiskey and wenches made him any the less the most richly +endowed genius of his century, with just title to the love and +admiration of men. It is not for us to decide whether he, who, by +doubling the suggestive and associative power of any thought, fancy, +feeling, or natural object, has so far added permanently to the sum of +human happiness, is not as sure of a welcome and a well-done from the +Infinite Fatherliness as he that has turned an honest penny by printing +a catechism; but we are sure that it is a shallow cant which holds up +the errors of men of genius as if they were especial warnings, and +proofs of how little the rarest gifts avail. Is it intended to put men +on their guard against being geniuses? That is scarcely called for till +those who yield to the temptation become more numerous. Do they mean, +We, too, might have been geniuses, but we chose rather to be good and +dull? Self-denial is always praiseworthy, and we reconcile ourselves to +the Ovid lost in consideration of the Deacon gained. But if it be meant +that the danger was in the genius, we deny it altogether. Burns's genius +was the one good thing he had, and it was always, as it always must be, +good, and only good, the leaven of uncontaminate heaven in him that +would not let him sink contentedly into the sty of oblivion with the +million other tipplers and loose-livers of his century. It was his +weakness of character, and not his strength or pride of intellect, that +betrayed him; and to call his faults errors of genius is a mischievous +fallacy. If they were, then they were no lesson for the rest of us; if +they were not, to call them so is to encourage certain gin-and-water +philosophers who would fain extenuate their unpleasant vices by the plea +that they are the necessary complement of unusual powers,--as if the +path to immortality were through the kennel, and fine verses were to be +written only at the painful sacrifice of bilking your washerwoman. + +We are over-fond of drawing monitory morals from the lives of gifted +persons, tacking together our little ten-by-twelve pinfolds to impound +breachy human nature in, but it is only because we know more than we +have any business to know of the private concerns of such persons +that we have the opportunity. We are thankful that the character of +Shakspeare is wrapped safely away from us in un-Boswellable night. +Samuel Taylor Coleridge the man stood forever in the way of Samuel +Taylor Coleridge the poet and metaphysician, and the fault of the +poppy-juice in his nature is laid at the door of the laudanum he bought +of the apothecary. Yet all the drowsy juices of Circe's garden could not +hinder De Quincey from writing his twenty-five volumes. To us nothing is +more painful, and nothing seems more cruelly useless, than the parading +of mortal weaknesses, especially of those to whom we are indebted +for delight and teaching. For an inherent weakness has no lesson of +avoidance in it, being helpless from the first, and by the doom of its +own nature growing more and more helpless to the last, not more so in +the example than in him who is to profit by it, and who is more likely +to have his appetite flattered by good company than his fear aroused by +the evil consequence. Because the swans have a vile habit of over-eating +themselves, shall we nail them to the barn-door as a moral lesson to the +crows? + +There is, doubtless, a great deal to be taught by biography; but it is +by the mistakes of men that we learn, and not by their weaknesses. To +see clearly an error of judgment and its consequences may be of positive +service to us in the conduct of life, while a vice of temperament +concerns us not at all in private men, and only so far in statesmen +and rulers as it may have been influential in history as a modifier of +action, or is essential to an understanding of it as an explainer of +motive. + +The Autobiography of Leslie seems to us in some sort the complement +of Haydon's, and throws the defiant struggle of that remarkable +self-portraiture into stronger relief by the contrast of its equable +good-fortune and fireside tranquillity. The causes of the wide +difference in the course and the result of these two lives are on the +surface and are instructive. Comparing the two men at the outset, we +should have said that all the chances were on Haydon's side. If he had +not genius, he had at least the temperament and external characteristics +that go along with it. He had what is sometimes wanting to it in its +more purely aesthetic manifestation, the ambition that spurs and the +unflagging energy that seemed a guerdon of unlimited achievement. +Yet the ambition fermented into love of notoriety and soured into a +fraudulent self-assertion, that grew boastful as it grew distrustful of +its claims and could bring less proof in support of them; the energy +degenerated into impudence, evading the shame of spendthrift bankruptcy +to-day by shifts that were sure to bring a more degrading exposure +tomorrow; and the whole ended at last in a suicide whose tragic pang +is deadened to us by the feeling that so much of the mixed motive that +drove him to it as was not cowardice was a hankering after melodramatic +effect, the last throb of a passion for making his name the theme of +public talk, and his fate the centre of a London day's sensation. +Chatterton makes us lenient to a life of fraud by the dogged and cynical +uncomplainingness of the despair that drove him to cut it short; but +Haydon continues his self-autopsy to the last moment, and in pulling the +trigger seems to be only firing the train for an explosion that shall +give him a week longer of posthumous notoriety. The egotism of Pepys was +but a suppressed garrulity, which habitual caution, fostered by a period +of political confusion and the mystery of office, drove inward to a kind +of soliloquy in cipher; that of Montaigne was metaphysical,--in studying +his own nature and noting his observations he was studying man, and that +with a singular insouciance of public opinion; but Haydon appears to +have written his journals with a deliberate intention of their some day +advertising himself, and his most private aspirations are uttered with +an eye to the world. Yet it was a genuine instinct that led him to the +pen, and his lifelong succession of half-successes that are worse than +defeats was due to the initial error of mistaking a passion for a power. +A fine critic, a vivid sketcher of character, and a writer of singular +clearness, point, and eloquence was spoiled to make an artist, sometimes +noble in conception, but without sense of color, and utterly inadequate +to any but the most confused expression of himself by the pencil. His +very sense of the power which he was conscious of somewhere in himself +harassed and hampered him, as time after time he refused to see that his +failure was due, not to injustice or insensibility on the part of the +world, but to his having chosen the wrong means of making his ability +felt and acknowledged. His true place would have been that of Professor +and Lecturer in the Royal Academy. The world is not insensible or +unjust, but it knows what it wants, and will not long be put off with +less. There is always a public for success; there never is, and never +ought to be, for inadequacy. Haydon was in some respects a first-rate +man, but the result of his anxious, restless, and laborious life was +almost zero, as far as concerned its definite aims. It does not convey +the moral of neglected genius, or of loose notions of money-obligations, +ending in suicide, but simply of a mischosen vocation, leading sooner or +later to utter and undeniable failure. _Pas même académicien_! Plenty of +neglected geniuses have found it good to be neglected, plenty of Jeremy +Diddlers (in letters and statesmanship as often as in money-matters) +have lived to a serene old age, but the man who in any of the unuseful +arts insists on doing what Nature never asked him to do has no place in +the world. Leslie, a second-rate man in all respects, but with a genuine +talent rightly directed, an obscure American, with few friends, no +influential patrons, and a modesty that would never let him obtrude his +claims, worked steadily forward to competence, to reputation, and the +Council of the Academy. The only blunder of his life was his accepting +the Professorship of Drawing at West Point, a place for which he was +unsuited. But this blunder he had the good sense and courage to correct +by the frank acknowledgment of resignation. Altogether his is a career +as pleasant as Haydon's is painful to contemplate, the more so as we +feel that his success was fairly won by honest effort directed by +a contented consciousness of the conditions and limitations of his +faculty. + +Nothing can be more agreeable than the career of a successful artist. +His employment does not force upon him the solitude of an author; it +is eminently companionable; from its first design, through all the +processes that bring his work to perfection, he is not shut out from the +encouragement of sympathy; his success is definite and immediate; he +can see it in the crowd around his work at the exhibition; and his very +calling brings him into pleasant contact with beauty, taste, and (if a +portrait-painter) with eminence in every department of human activity. + +Leslie's passage through the world was of that equal temper which is +happiest for the man and unhappiest for the biographer. With no dramatic +surprises of fortune, and no great sorrows, his life had scarce any +other alternation than that it went round with the earth through night +and day, and would have been tame but for his necessary labor in an +art which he loved wisely and with the untumultuous sentiment of +an after-honey-moon constancy. We should say that his leading +characteristic was Taste, an external quality, it is true, but one which +is often the indication of more valuable ones lying deeper. In the +conduct of life it insures tact, and in Art a certain gentlemanlike +equipoise, incapable of what is deepest and highest, but secure also +from the vulgar, the grotesque, and the extravagant. Leslie, we think, +was more at home with Addison than with Cervantes. + +His autobiographical reminiscences are very entertaining, especially +that part of them which describes a voyage home to America, varied by +a winter in Portugal, during the early part of his life. The Scotch +captain, who, with his scanty merchant-crew, beats off a Bordeaux +privateer, and then, crippled and half-sinking, clears for action with +what he supposes to be a French frigate, but which turns out to be +English, is a personage whose acquaintance it is pleasant to make. The +sketches of life in Lisbon, too, are very lively, and the picture of +the decayed Portuguese nobleman's family, for whose pride of birth an +imaginary dinner-table was set every day in the parlor with the remains +of the hereditary napery and plate, the numerous covers hiding nothing +but the naked truth, while their common humanity, squatting on the floor +in the kitchen, fished its scanty meal from an earthen pot with pewter +spoons, is pathetically humorous and would have delighted Caleb +Balderstone. In after-life, Leslie's profession made him acquainted with +some of the best London life of his time, and the volume is full of +agreeable anecdotes of Scott, Irving, Turner, Rogers, Wilkie, and +many more. It contains also several letters of Irving, of no special +interest, and some from a sort of Lesmahago of a room-mate of Leslie's, +named Peter Powell, so queer, individual, and shrewd, that we are sorry +not to have more of them and their writer. Altogether the book is one of +the pleasantest we have lately met with. + + +_The Old Battle-Ground_. By J.T. TROWBRIDGE, Author of "Father +Brighthopes," "Neighbor Jackwood," etc. New York: Sheldon & Company. +1860. pp. 276. + +Mr. Trowbridge's previous works have made him known to a large circle of +appreciating readers as a writer of originality and promise. His "Father +Brighthopes" we have never read, but we have heard it spoken of as one +of the most wholesome children's books ever published in America, and +our knowledge of the author makes us ready to believe the favorable +opinion a just one. Parts of "Neighbor Jackwood" we read with sincere +relish and admiration; they showed so true an eye for Nature and so +thorough an appreciation of the truly humorous elements of New England +character, as distinguished from the vulgar and laughable ones. The +domestic interior of the Jackwood family was drawn with remarkable truth +and spirit, and all the working characters of the book on a certain +average level of well-to-do rusticity were made to think and talk +naturally, and were as full of honest human nature as those of the +conventional modern novel are empty of it. An author who puts us in the +way to form some just notion of the style of thought proper to so large +a class as our New England country-people, and of the motives likely to +influence their social and political conduct, does us a greater service +than we are apt to admit. And the power to conceive the leading +qualities that make up an average representative and to keep them +always clearly in view, so as to swerve neither toward tameness nor +exaggeration, is by no means common. This power, it seems to us, Mr. +Trowbridge possesses in an unusual degree. The late Mr. Judd, in his +remarkable romance of "Margaret," gave such a picture as has never been +equalled for truth of color and poetry of conception, of certain phases +of life among a half-gypsy family in the outskirts of a remote village, +and growing up in the cold penumbra of our civilization and material +prosperity. But his scene and characters were exceptional, or, if +typical, only so of a very limited class, and his book, full of fine +imagination as it is, is truly a romance, an ideal and artistic +representation, rather a poem than a story of manners general and +familiar enough to be called real. + +Mr. Trowbridge, we think, fails in those elements of (we had almost said +creative) power in which Mr. Judd was specially rich. If the latter had +possessed the shaping spirit as fully as he certainly did the essential +properties of imagination, he would have done for the actual, prosaic +life of New England what Mr. Hawthorne has done for the ideal essence +that lies behind and beneath it. But, with all his marvellous fidelity +of dialect, costume, and landscape, and his firm clutch of certain +individual instincts and emotions, his characters are wanting in any +dramatic unity of relation to each other, and seem to be "moving about +in worlds not realized," each a vivid reality in itself, but a very +shadow in respect of any prevailing intention of the story. With the +innate sentiments of a kind of aboriginal human nature Mr. Judd was +at home; with the practical working of every-day motives he seemed +strangely unfamiliar. It is just here that Mr. Trowbridge's strength +and originality lie; but, with that not uncommon tendency to overvalue +qualities that we do not possess, and to attempt their display, to the +neglect, and sometimes at the cost, of others quite as valuable, but +which seem cheap, because their exercise is easy and habitual,--and +therefore, we may be sure, natural and pleasing,--he insists on being a +little metaphysical and over-fine. What he means for his more +elevated characters are tiresome with something of that melodramatic +sentimentality with which Mr. Dickens has infected so much of the +lighter literature of the day. Here and there the style suffers from +that overmuchness of unessential detail and that exaggeration of +particulars which Mr. Dickens brought into fashion and seems bent on +wearing out of it,--a style which is called graphic and poetical by +those only who do not see that it is the cheap substitute, in all +respects equal to real plate, (till you try to pawn it for lasting +fame,) introduced by writers against time, or who forget that to be +graphic is to tell most with fewest penstrokes, and to be poetical is +to suggest the particular in the universal. We earnestly hope, that, +instead of trying to do what no one can do well, Mr. Trowbridge will +wisely stick close to what he has shown that no one can do better. + +"The Old Battle-Ground," whose name bears but an accidental relation to +the story, is an interesting and well-constructed tale, in which Mr. +Trowbridge has introduced what we believe is a new element in American +fiction, the French Canadian. The plot is simple and not too improbable, +and the characters well individualized. Here, also, Mr. Trowbridge +is most successful in his treatment of the less ambitiously designed +figures. The relation between the dwarf Hercules fiddler and the +heroine Marie seems to be a suggestion from Victor Hugo's Quasimodo and +Esmeralda, though the treatment is original and touching. Indeed, there +is a good deal of pathos in the book, marred here and there with the +sentimental extract of Dickens-flowers, unpleasant as _patchouli_. +Generally, however, it has the merit of unobtrusiveness,--a rare piece +of self-denial nowadays, when authors have found out, and the public has +not, how very easy it is to make the public cry, and how much the simple +creature likes it, as if it had not sorrows enough of its own. But it is +in his more ordinary characters that Mr. Trowbridge fairly shows himself +as an original and delightful author. His boys are always masterly. +Nothing could be truer to Nature, more nicely distinguished as to +idiosyncrasy, while alike in expression and in limited range of ideas, +or more truly comic, than the two that figure in this story. Nick +Whickson, too, the good-natured ne'er-do-well, who is in his own and +everybody's way till he finds his natural vocation as an aid to a dealer +in horses, is a capital sketch. The hypochondriac Squire Plumworthy +is very good, also, in his way, though he verges once or twice on the +"heavy father," with a genius for the damp handkerchief and long-lost +relative line. + +We are safe in assigning to Mr. Trowbridge a rank quite above that of +our legion of washy novelists; he seems to have a definite purpose and +an ambition for literary as well as popular success, and we hope that +by study and observation he will be true to a very decided and peculiar +talent. We violate no confidence in saying that the graceful poem, "At +Sea," which first appeared in the "Atlantic," and which, under the name +of now one, now another author, has been deservedly popular, was written +by Mr. Trowbridge. + + + + +JULY REVIEWED BY SEPTEMBER. + + +The Editors of the "Atlantic," of course, have universal knowledge +(with few exceptions) at their fingers' ends,--that is, they possess +an Encyclopaedia, gapped here and there by friends fond of portable +information and familiar with that hydrostatic paradox in which the +motion of solids up a spout is balanced by a very slender column of the +liquidating medium. The once goodly row of quartos looks now like a set +of mineral teeth that have essayed too closely to simulate Nature by +assaulting a Boston cracker; and the intervals of vacuity among the +books, as among the incisors, deprive the owner of his accustomed +glibness in pronouncing himself on certain topics. Among the missing +volumes is one of those in M, and accordingly our miss-information [A] +on all subjects from Mabinogion to Mustard is not to be entirely relied +upon. Under these painful circumstances, and with the chance of still +further abstractions from our common stock of potential learning, we +have engaged a staff of consulting engineers, who contract, for certain +considerations, to know every useless thing from A to Z, and every +obsolete one from Omega to Alpha. In these gentlemen we repose unlimited +confidence in proportion to their salaries; for a considerable +experience of mankind has taught us that omniscience is a much commoner +and easier thing than science, especially in this favored country and +under democratic institutions, which give to every man the inestimable +right of knowing as much as he pleases. Everything was going on well +when our Man of Science unaccountably disappeared, and our Aesthetic +Editor experienced in all its terrors the Scriptural doom of being left +to himself. This latter gentleman is tolerably _shady_ in scientific +matters, nay, to say sooth, light-proof, or only so far penetrable as +to make darkness visible. Between science and nescience the difference +seems to his mind little, if _n e_, and he would accept as perfectly +satisfactory a statement that "the ponderability of air in a vitreous +table-tipping medium (the abnormal variation being assumed as $ x-b +.0000001) is exactly proportioned to the squares of the circumambient +distances, provided the perihelia are equal, and the evolution of +nituretted carbogen in the boomerang be carefully avoided during +evaporation; the power of the parallax being represented, of +course, according to the well-known theorem of Rabelais, by H.U.M. +Hemsterhuysius seems to have been familiar with this pretty experiment." +The above sentence being shown to the Aesthetic Editor aforesaid, he +acknowledges that he sees nothing more absurd than common in it, and +that the theory seems to him as worthy of trial as Hedgecock's quadrant, +which he took with him once on a journey to New York, arriving safely +with a single observation of the height of the steamer's funnel. + +[Footnote A: MISS-INFORMATION. A higgledy-piggledy want of intelligence +acquired by young misses at boarding-schools.--_Supplement to Johnson's +Dictionary._] + +This premised, it naturally follows that the Aesthetic Editor (the July +number falling to his turn) must take advantage of the absence of +his Guardian Man of Science to publish an article on Meteorology. A +condition of things in which the _omne scibile_ was left entirely at his +disposal, to be knocked about as he pleased, appeared to him no small +omen of a near millennium; and what subject could be more suitable to +begin with than the weather, a topic of general interest, (since we have +no choice of weather or no,) in which exact knowledge is comfortably +impossible, and in which he felt himself at home from his repeated +experiments in raising the wind in order to lower the due-point? (See +_The Weathercock, an Essay on Rotation in Office, by Sir Airy Vane._) + +Meanwhile, after the mischief was all done and a Provisional Government +of Chaos Redux comfortably established in Physics, the Man of Science +turns up suddenly in the following communication. [A council was called +on the spot, the Autocrat in the chair, and it was decided, with only +one dissenting voice, that the communication should be printed as a +lesson to the peccant Editor, who, for the future, was laid under a +strict interdict in respect of all and singular the onomies and ologies, +and directed to consider the weather a matter altogether unprophetable, +except to almanac-makers,--the said Editor to superintend such +publication, and to be kept on a diet of corn-cob for the body and +Sylvanus Cobb (or his own works, at his option) for the mind, till it +be done. The chairman added, that for a second offence he should do +penance, according to ancient usage, in a blank sheet of the Magazine, +(a contribution of his own being to that end suppressed,)--a form of +punishment likely to be as irksome to himself as grateful to the readers +of that incomparable miscellany.] + +"_Abercwmdwddhwm Mine_, 28th July, 1860. + +"WELL-MEANING, BUT MISGUIDED, FRIEND! + +"An unexpected opportunity of personally investigating a highly nauseous +kind of mephitic vapor drew me and Jones suddenly hither without time +to say farewell or make explanations. I made the journey in--10' by +electric telegraph, and am delighted that I came, for anything more +unpleasant never met my nostrils, and I am almost sure of adding a new +element to the enjoyment of the scientific world. + +"I have already secured several bottles-full, and shall exhibit it at the +next meeting of the Association: of course you shall have a sniff in +advance. I should have returned before this, but unhappily the chain by +which we descended gave way a few days ago near the top, in hoisting +out the first series of my observations, and as yet there has been no +opportunity of replacing it. Communication with the upper world is kept +up by means of a small cord, however, and in this way we are supplied +with food for body and mind. As good luck would have it, our butter came +down wrapped in a half-sheet of your last volume of poems, containing my +old favorites, 'Modern Greece,' and the 'Ode to a Deserted Churn.' These +I read aloud several times to the miners, and their longing to return +sooner to a world where they could get the rest of the volume became so +strong, that, as I was about to begin my fifth reading, they consented +to an expedient of escape which I had already proposed once or twice in +vain. This was to blow us out by means of the fire-damp. The result of +the experiment I cannot yet fully report, as some confusion ensued. +Jones has disappeared, having been, as I hope and believe, discharged +upward, and I have found the remains of only one miner, so that it seems +to have been a tolerable success, though I myself was blown inward, +owing to the premature explosion of the train. In one respect the result +was highly satisfactory to me personally. Jones had all along insisted +that the vapor was antiphlogistic. Whichever way he went, I think +(fair-minded as he is) he must be by this time convinced of his error, +and I shall accordingly enter him in my Report as discharged cured. +I may add, as an interesting scientific fact, that his ascent was +accompanied by such a sudden and violent fall of the barometer (which he +had in his lap) that the instrument was broken. This would seem to prove +a considerable decrease in the weight of the atmosphere at the moment +of explosion. The darkness was oppressive at first; but a happy thought +occurred to me. You know Jones's poodle, and how obese he is? Well, he +was shot into my lap, where he lay to all appearance dead. I had some +matches in my pocket and at once kindled the end of his tail, which +makes a very good candle, quite as good as average dips, _tales, +quales_. By the light of this I proceed to note down my first series +of comments as a tail-piece to your meteorological article in the July +'Atlantic,' of which we received a copy in due course, as the magazine +has a large circulation among our friars miner down here. + +"METEOROLOGY 'MADE EASY.' + +"In glancing at the article on 'Meteorology' in the July number of the +'Atlantic Monthly,' I was so struck by the dashing style in which the +writer presents what he calls the 'leading principles' of the science, +that, in spite of portentous errors, I was tempted to follow his +diversified flight to its very close. Reading pencil in hand, I gathered +up a long list of mistakes in fact and in philosophy, of which the +following specimens, although but the first fruits of a not very +critical examination, may serve to illustrate the carelessness--shall +I not say ignorance?--of the writer on the topics in regard to which he +proposes to enlighten the general reader. + +"1. According to our essayist, the weight of the atmosphere is about +43/1000ths that of the globe,--in other words, 1/23d part. Now a simple +calculation, or a reference to one of the standard works on Physics, +should have taught him that the weight of the entire air is less than +one-millionth part of that of the earth,--that is, _fifty thousand times +less than he states it to be_." + +[We are quite sure that our (tor-)Mentor is mistaken in assuming a +uniform weight for the atmosphere. It differs in different places. +During our lecturing-tours, we have frequently observed an involuntary +depression of the eyelids (producing _almost_ an appearance of sleep) in +a part of the audience, which we were at a loss to attribute to anything +but the weight of the atmosphere. Water varies in the same way. It is +hardly necessary to say that Lake Wetter derives its name from the +superior quality of its dampness.] + +"2. Of the specific gravity of the air he seems to be amusingly +uncertain,--making it first 833 times and afterwards 770 times less than +that of water; and in the same connection he says, in chosen +phrase, that 'density, or _closeness_, is another quality of the +atmosphere,'--as if it were its characteristic, and not common to all +ponderable matter." + +[A very neat way of arriving at specific gravity in its densest form is +to distil the "funny column" of a weekly newspaper. To arrive at the +desired result in the speediest way, let the operation be performed in +what is known among bucolic journalists as a "humorous retort." Density +and closeness should not be spoken of as equivalent terms. The former is +a common quality of the human skull, rendering it impervious; whereas a +man may be very close and yet capable of being stuck,--with bad paper, +for example.] + +"3. In mentioning the _constituents of the atmosphere_, he adopts +without explanation the loose statement of some of the books, placing +carburetted hydrogen on the same footing as to constancy and amount with +carbonic acid, and making no allusion to nitric acid. Yet chemistry has +shown, that, except in special localities, carburetted hydrogen occurs +only as a slight trace, the existence of which in most cases is rather +inferred than actually demonstrated, and that it has no important +office to perform,--while nitric acid shares with ammonia in the grand +function of the nourishment of plants. In a later paragraph the error is +aggravated by the assertion, that 'no chemical combination of oxygen and +nitrogen has ever been detected in the atmosphere, and it is presumed +none will be,'--as if every flash of lightning did not produce a notable +quantity of this compound, which, washed down by the rain, may be +detected in almost every specimen of rain-water we meet. What would +Johnstone, Boussingault, Liebig, and the other agricultural chemists say +to this?" + +[For complete proof on this head, be struck by lightning. For +ourselves, we are convinced, and would rather have some other head +taken for an experiment by way of illustration. But any of our +readers who is unsatisfied has only to place himself in front of a +lightning-express-train with an ordinary conductor. To insure being +struck, let the experimenter provide himself amply with patent +safety-rods. At least, this result is pretty sure in houses, and is +worth trying out of doors.] + +"In the same connection he characterizes nitrogen as a substance 'not +condensible under fifty atmospheres,' leaving the reader to infer +that the preceding ingredient on the list, oxygen, is condensible +(liquefiable) within that limit of pressure, and that nitrogen becomes +liquid at or above it; whereas neither oxygen nor nitrogen has ever yet +been compressed into a liquid, although a force of more than _fifty +times fifty_ atmospheres has been brought to act upon them." + +[We consider an experiment requiring twenty-five hundred atmospheres, +when the thermometer marks 93° in the shade, indictable at common law. +To desire more than one, under such circumstances, is unreasonable, and +even wicked.] + +"4. In referring to the Thermo-barometer as a means of measuring +heights, the writer confounds the late Professor Edward Forbes with +Professor James D. Forbes, recently of Edinburgh, but now Provost of +the University of St. Andrews. The former was a great Zoölogist and +Botanist, and did not occupy himself with investigations in Physics; +the latter is an eminent Physicist, the author of the viscous theory of +Glaciers; and it is he who made the observations here ascribed to the +'Professor Forbes, whose untimely death the friends of science have +had so much reason to deplore.' The author adds the further mistake +of supposing that the numerical constant, 549 feet for each degree, +determined by James Forbes for Scotland, is equally correct for all +latitudes." + +[This hardly needed confutation. No university requires any numerical +constant of height as qualification for a degree; and if they did, 549 +feet would be excessive, unless, perhaps, at Warsaw, where everybody is +tall enough to end in _ski_.] + +"5. Our essayist discloses but an imperfect inkling of knowledge on the +subject of capillarity in barometers, when he speaks of this complex +action as equivalent to _the attraction between the mercury and the +glass tube_; and he commits a yet graver mistake, practically speaking, +in reiterating the long exploded error, that 'the weight of the +atmosphere at the level of the sea is the same all over the world.' No +fact in Meteorology is better established than that the mean pressure at +the sea-level is different for different latitudes. In the vicinity of +Cape Horn the barometer is three-fourths of an inch lower than at the +Equator, and according to Schouw the pressure increases from the Equator +up to a certain latitude (38°) in both hemispheres, and diminishes +thence towards the Poles." + +[The connection between capillarity and the fat of the common bear is +well known to all manufacturers of trycoverus compounds, and they are +probably right in advertising that grease of this description restores +tone to the hair,--of course a fine beary tone. As the weight of the +bear depends on his fat, the inference to a bear-ometer is obvious. It +is a familiar fact that the bear supports life during hibernation by +sucking his paws; but it may not be so generally known that the waste +thus induced in the anterior extremities is restored by the moral +consciousness of the animal that the fat he is so carefully hoarding is +to confer a posthumous blessing on mankind. This is a touching example +of the adaptation of means to end, and Shakspeare, the great natural +philosopher, has made use of it for one of his most striking metaphors, +where he says, "that the thought of something after death must give us +paws."] + +"6. Discoursing on the elasticity of the air, the writer styles it +'the most compressible of bodies,'--as if it had any advantage in this +respect over the numerous other species of gaseous matter. As to the +illustration which he gives, namely, that 'a glass vessel full of air, +placed under a receiver and then exhausted by the air-pump, will burst +into atoms,' we can only say, what every schoolboy knows, that the +_bursting_ would be _inwards_, unless, indeed, our meteorologist means +that the external receiver was to be exhausted, and in that case he +should so have expressed himself." + +[The theory of exhausted receivers is, in our opinion, worthy only of +the childhood of science, when chemistry and astronomy were alchemy and +astrology, and people would believe anything. In this enlightened age of +the universal subscription-paper, exhausted givers are familiar objects, +but a receiver who finds the labors of his calling excessive is as +non-existent as the harpy, his mythological prototype.] + +"7. In regard to the extent to which the compression of air has been +actually carried, he tells us that 'Brockhaus says that air has as yet +been compressed only into _one-eighth of its original bulk_.' Is +it possible that a writer on Meteorology is unacquainted with the +well-known experiments of Dulong and Arago, and the more recent ones +of Regnault, in which the compression was three times the amount here +stated, or that he requires to be referred to those of Natterer, who, by +a powerful condensing apparatus, has lately compressed _seven hundred +and twenty-six volumes of air into a single volume_?" + +[Any man who has succeeded in condensing seven hundred and twenty-six +volumes into one deserves the applause of the reading public. We +trust M. Natterer will extend his benevolent labors to all the great +libraries. With the most perfect apparatus of compression, however, we +doubt if contemporary literature will yield anything like so high an +average as 1 in 726.] + +"8. In the paragraphs devoted to the optical relations of the +atmosphere, our author has shown a happy faculty for making his subject +obscure. After suggesting that the refraction of the rays in the +atmosphere may be due to what he calls its 'lenticular outline,' he +defines refraction to be 'the bending of a ray passing obliquely from a +rarer into a denser medium,'--a good enough popular definition, but for +its sad defectiveness. Is he not aware that the light is also bent in +penetrating obliquely from a denser into a rarer medium, as in passing +from the surface of a low plain to the eye of a spectator on a +neighboring mountain, and that the bending is just as great in this +direction of its motion as in the other? And does he not know that it +changes its course whenever it passes from a vacuum into any ponderable +medium or in the opposite direction? In future attempts to make +science easy, let him remember that these are all equally instances of +refraction, and should be included in its definition. + +"Under the same head, we are led to infer that it is only in 'the warm +and moist nights of summer,' that 'the moon, as she rises above the +horizon, appears much larger than when at the zenith'; and we are +taught, in connection with the origin of the mirage and the spectre +of the Bracken, that 'rainbows are due to this condition of the +atmosphere.' If, instead of rainbows, we may be allowed to read _halos_, +we can understand the writer, who, instead of thinking of summer +showers, appears to have had a _haze_ in his mind while penning this and +other paragraphs." + +[The _dictum_ of our correspondent in regard to light passing from +a ponderable medium into a vacuum requires some qualification. An +exception should be made of "Spiritual Mediums," who, being flesh and +blood, are of course ponderable. Now, if we represent the Medium by A, +and the head of any one consulting her by B, there can be no doubt that +the latter is an absolute vacuum; but it is demonstrable that nothing +like light ever passed from the former to the latter. There is a +closer analogy between refracted light and a Brocken spectre than our +scientific friend seems willing to admit. For what follows we refer our +readers to the remarkable essay of Alderman Moon, "On the Identity of +Halocination and Lunacy."] + +"9. As our author advances in this branch of his subject, he grows far +too profound for our scientific apprehension. Giving him all credit for +_wishing to be clear_, we confess to a sad mystification as to what he +calls the 'Polarity of Light,' where a beam is described as 'revolving +around poles peculiar to itself' and as producing 'beautiful +_spectres_,' and we want new illumination from him as to his theory of +colors. We agree to the statement that 'each object has a particular +reflecting surface of its own,' as we cannot see how _its_ particular +surface could be the property of another,--but why this should make the +surface 'throw back light at its own angle' we do not exactly fathom, +and we are puzzled to know _which is the owner of the said angle_, +the light or the surface. No one doubts that 'the modest blush which +crimsons the cheek of beauty,' to use the author's words, is caused by a +rush of blood to the skin; but how this produces 'a corresponding change +in its angle of reflection,' and what such a change has to do with the +result, are problems too transcendental for the _exact_ sciences." + +[On all questions relating to the Poles we reserve our opinion till the +return of Dr. Hayes's expedition. But we think they have little to hope +from any future attempt at revolution, especially with such insufficient +weapons as their axes, which, though they keep up a constant stir about +them, have been long superseded by the improvements of modern military +science. We think our correspondent hasty in admitting that "each object +has a particular reflecting surface of its own." A little inquiry among +his neighbors would have satisfied him that the human brain seldom +possesses anything of the kind.] + +"But these specimens must suffice as indications of the general +character of this attempt at _popularizing science_. To do this without +misleading and confounding the general reader is a task which claims +the largest and most exact knowledge, and the greatest perspicuity of +statement, no less than a flowing style and felicitous illustration. +It is a task in which true success, though apparently frequent, is in +reality extremely rare." + +"P.S. I had written thus far, when the fire suddenly penetrating, I +suppose, to the nervous system of the poodle, he ran off, leaving me +in total darkness and with no hope that his tail (like too many in the +'Atlantic') would be continued. By the brief candle of a match I manage +to add this, and to subscribe myself + +"Yours ever." + + * * * * * + + +RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS + +RECEIVED BY THE EDITORS OF THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + + +Ida Randolph, of Virginia. A Poem in Three Cantos. Philadelphia. Hazard. +16mo. pp. 60. 50 cts. + +Science a Witness for the Bible. By Rev. W.N. Pendleton, D.D. +Philadelphia. Lippincott & Co. 16mo. pp. 350. $1.00. + +Map of the Mountain and Lake Region of New Hampshire. Concord. E.C. +Eastman. 32mo. 25 cts. + +Lichen Tufts, from the Alleghanies. By Elizabeth C. Wright. New York. +Doolady. 12mo. pp. 328. 75 cts. + +The Rock of Ages; or, Scripture Testimony to the One Eternal Godhead +of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** diff --git a/old/11087-8.zip b/old/11087-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..91dc92b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11087-8.zip diff --git a/old/11087.txt b/old/11087.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e624f07 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11087.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9206 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Atlantic Monthly, Volume 6, Issue 35, +September, 1860, by Various + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Atlantic Monthly, Volume 6, Issue 35, September, 1860 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 15, 2004 [eBook #11087] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY, VOLUME 6, ISSUE +35, SEPTEMBER, 1860*** + + +E-text prepared by Joshua Hutchinson, Tonya Allen, and Project Gutenberg +Distributed Proofreaders + + + +THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + +A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS. + +VOL. VI--SEPTEMBER, 1860.--NO. XXXV. + + + + + + + +AMONG THE TREES. + + +In our studies of Trees, we cannot fail to be impressed with their +importance not only to the beauty of landscape, but also in the economy +of life; and we are convinced that in no other part of the vegetable +creation has Nature done so much to provide at once for the comfort, the +sustenance, and the protection of her creatures. They afford the wild +animals their shelter and their abode, and yield them the greater part +of their subsistence. They are, indeed, so evidently indispensable to +the wants of man and brute, that it would be idle to enlarge upon the +subject, except in those details which are apt to be overlooked. In a +state of Nature man makes direct use of their branches for weaving his +tent, and he thatches it with their leaves. In their recesses he hunts +the animals whose flesh and furs supply him with food and clothing, and +from their wood he obtains the implements for capturing and subduing +them. Man's earliest farinaceous food was likewise the product of trees; +for in his nomadic condition he makes his bread from the acorn and the +chestnut: he must become a tiller of the soil, before he can obtain the +products of the cereal herbs. The groves were likewise the earliest +temples for his worship, and their fruits his first offerings upon the +divine altar. + +As man advances nearer to civilization, trees afford him the additional +advantage which is derived from their timber. The first houses were +constructed of wood, which enables him by its superior plastic +nature, compared with stone, to progress more rapidly in his ideas of +architecture. Wood facilitates his endeavors to instruct himself in +art, by its adaptedness to a greater variety of purposes than any +other substance. It is, therefore, one of the principal instruments of +civilization which man has derived from the material world. Though the +most remarkable works of the architect are constructed of stone, it +was wood that afforded man that early practice and experience which +initiated him into the laws of mechanics and the principles of art, and +carried him along gradually to perfection. + +But as man is nomadic before he is agricultural, and a maker of tents +and wigwams before he builds houses and temples,--in like manner he is +an architect and an idolater before he becomes a student of wisdom; he +is a sacrificer in temples and a priest at their altars, before he is a +teacher of philosophy or an interpreter of Nature. After the attainment +of science, a higher state of mental culture succeeds, causing the mind +to see all Nature invested with beauty and fraught with imaginative +charms, which add new wonders to our views of creation and new dignity +to life. Man now learns to regard trees in other relations beside their +capacity to supply his physical and mechanical wants. He looks upon them +as the principal ornaments of the face of creation, and as forming the +conservatories of Nature, in which she rears those minute wonders of +her skill, the flowers and smaller plants that will flourish only under +their protection, and those insect hosts that charm the student with +their beauty and excite his wonder by their mysterious instincts. +Science, too, has built an altar under the trees, and delivers thence +new oracles of wisdom, teaching man how they are mysteriously wedded +to the clouds, and are thus made the blessed instruments of their +beneficence to the earth. + +Not without reason did the ancients place the Naiad and her fountain in +the shady arbor of trees, whose foliage gathers the waters of heaven +into her fount and preserves them from dissipation. From their dripping +shades she distributes the waters, which she has garnered from the +skies, over the plain and the valley: and the husbandman, before he has +learned the marvels of science, worships the beneficent Naiad, who draws +the waters of her fountain from heaven, and from her sanctuary in the +groves showers them upon the arid glebe and adds new verdure to the +plain. After science has explained to us the law by which these supplies +of moisture are furnished by the trees, we still worship the beneficent +Naiad: we would not remove the drapery of foliage that protects her +fountain, nor drive her into exile by the destruction of the trees, +through whose leaves she holds mysterious commerce with the skies and +saves our fields from drought. + +It is in these relations, leaving their uses in economy and the arts +untouched, that I would now speak of trees. I would consider them as +they appear to the poet and the painter, as they are connected with +scenery, and with the romance and mythology of Nature, and as serving +the purposes of religion and virtue, of freedom and happiness, of poetry +and science, as well as those of mere taste and economy. I am persuaded +that trees are closely connected with the fate of nations, that they are +the props of industry and civilization, and that in all countries from +which the forests have disappeared the people have sunk into indolence +and servitude. + +Though we may not be close observers of Nature, we cannot fail to have +remarked that there is an infinite variety in the forms of trees, as +well as in their habits. By those who have observed them as landscape +ornaments, trees have been classified according to their shape and +manner of growth. They are round-headed or hemispherical, like the Oak +and the Plane; pyramidal, like the Pine and the Fir; obeliscal, like the +Arbor-Vitae and Lombardy Poplar; drooping, like the White Elm and the +Weeping Willow; and umbrella-shaped, like the Palm. These are the +natural or normal varieties in the forms of trees. There are others +which may be considered accidental: such are the tall and irregularly +shaped trees which have been cramped by growing in a dense forest that +does not permit the extension of their lateral branches; such also are +the pollards which have been repeatedly cut down or dwarfed by the axe +of the woodman. + +Of the round-headed trees, that extend their branches more or less at +wide angles from their trunk, the Oak is the most conspicuous and the +most celebrated. To the mind of an American, however, the Oak is far +less familiar than the Elm, as a way-side tree; but in England, where +many + + "a cottage-chimney smokes + From betwixt two aged Oaks," + +this tree, which formerly received divine honors in that country, is now +hardly less sacred in the eyes of the inhabitants, on account of their +familiarity with its shelter and its shade, and their ideas of its +usefulness to the human family. The history of the British Isles is +closely interwoven with circumstances connected with the Oak, and the +poetry of Great Britain has derived from it many a theme of inspiration. + +The Oak is remarkable for the wide spread of its lower branches and its +broad extent of shade,--for its suggestiveness of power, and consequent +expression of grandeur. It is allied with the romance of early history; +it is celebrated by its connection with the religion and religious rites +of the Druids,--with the customs of the Romans, who formed of its +green leaves the civic crown for their heroes, and who planted it to +overshadow the temple of Jupiter; and many ancient superstitions give +its name a peculiar significance to the poet and the antiquary. From its +timber marine architecture has derived the most important aid, and it +has thereby become associated with the grandeur of commerce and the +exploits of a gallant navy, and is regarded as the emblem of naval +prowess. The Oak, therefore, to the majority of the human race, is, +beyond all other trees, fraught with romantic interest, and invested +with classic and historical dignity. + +The American continent contains a great many species of Oak in its +indigenous forest. Of these the White Oak bears the most resemblance to +the classical tree, in its general appearance, in the contorted growth +of its branches, and in the edible quality of its fruit. But the Red +Oak, the most northerly species, exceeds all others in size. No other +attains so great a height, or spreads its branches so widely, or +surpasses it in regularity of form. As we advance south, the White Oak +is conspicuous until we arrive at North Carolina, where the forests and +way-sides exhibit the beautiful Evergreen Oak, which, with its slender +undivided leaves, the minute subdivisions of its branches, and its +general comeliness of form, would be mistaken by a stranger for a +Willow. A close inspection, however, would soon convince him that it has +none of the fragility of the Willow. On the contrary, it is the most +noted of all the genus for its hardness and durability, being the +identical Live Oak which has supplied our navy with the most valuable +of timber. At the South the Evergreen Oak is a common way-side tree, +mingling its hues with the lighter green of the Cypress and the sombre +verdure of the Magnolia. + +The Oak exceeds all other trees, not only in actual strength, but also +in that outward appearance by which this quality is manifested. This +expression is due to the general horizontal spread of its principal +boughs, the peculiar angularity of the unions of its small branches, the +want of flexibility in its spray, and its great size when compared with +its height, all manifesting its power to resist the wind and the storm. +Hence it is regarded as the monarch of trees, surpassing all in those +qualities that indicate nobleness and capacity. It is the emblem of +strength, dignity, and grandeur: the severest hurricane cannot overthrow +it, and, by destroying some of its branches, leaves it only with +more wonderful proofs of its resistance. Like the rock that rises in +mid-ocean, it becomes in its old age a just symbol of fortitude, parting +with its limbs one by one, as they are broken by the gale or withered by +decay; but still retaining its many-centuried existence, when, like an +old patriarch, it has seen all its early companions removed. + +Standard Oaks are comparatively rare in the New England States, and not +many adorn our way-sides and inclosures, which are mostly shaded by +Elms, Limes, Maples, and Ash-trees. The scarcity of Oaks in these places +is attributable in some degree to the peculiar structure of their roots, +which extend downwards to a great depth in the soil, causing them to be +difficult of transplantation. It is owing in still greater measure to +the value of Oak-wood for ship-timber,--especially as those full-grown +trees which have sprung up by the road-sides, and the noble pasture +Oaks, contain the greatest number of those joints which are in special +demand for ship-building. Year after year, therefore, has witnessed the +gradual disappearance of these venerable trees, which the public should +have protected from the profane hands of the "timberer," by forcing him +to procure his materials from the forest. The community needs to be +taught that a standard tree of good size and well-developed proportions +is of more value for its shade, and as an object in the landscape, than +a whole acre of trees in the middle of a wood. + +One of the most majestic trees in the American forest is the Chestnut, +remarkable, like the Oak, for its broad extent of shade. In some parts +of the country it is one of the most common standards in the field and +pasture, having been left unmolested on account of the value of its +fruit and the comparative inferiority of its timber. The foliage of this +tree is dense and flowing, and peculiar in its arrangement. The leaves +are clustered in stars of from five to seven, on short branches that +grow from one of greater length. Hence, at a little distance, the whole +mass of foliage seems to consist of tufts, each containing a tassel of +long pointed leaves, drooping divergently from a common centre. The +flowers come out from the centre of these leaves in the same manner, +and by their silvery green lustre give a pleasing variety to the darker +verdure of the whole mass. "This is the tree," says Gilpin, "which +graces the landscapes of Salvator Rosa. In the mountains of Calabria, +where Salvator painted, the Chestnut flourished. There he studied it +in all its forms, breaking and disposing of it in a thousand beautiful +shapes, as the exigencies of his composition required." + +The Beech is one of the same class of trees, but does not equal the +Chestnut in magnitude. It is distinguished by the beauty of its clean, +smooth shaft, which is commonly ribbed or fluted in a perceptible +degree; and in a wood, where there is an assemblage of these columns, +rising without a branch to the height of thirty feet or more, they are +singularly beautiful. A peculiarity often observed in the Beech is a +sort of double head of foliage. This is produced by the habit of the +tree of throwing out a whorl of imperfect branches just below the union +of the main branches with the trunk. The latter, taking more of an +upward direction, cause an observable space a little below the middle +of the height of the tree. This double tier of branches and foliage has +been noticed by painters in the European Beech. I have observed it in +several instances in the American tree. + +Standard Beech-trees are not numerous in this part of the country; +indeed, they are seldom seen except in a wood, or in clumps which have +originated from the root of some tree that has perished. I think they +appear to better advantage in groups and small assemblages than when +single, as there is nothing greatly attractive in the form of a standard +Beech; but there is a peculiar sweep of the lateral branches, when they +are standing in a group, which the student of trees cannot fail to +admire. They send out their branches more in right lines than most other +trees, and, as their leaves and the extremities of their spray all have +an upright tendency, they give a beautiful airy appearance to the edge +of a wood. The foliage of other deciduous trees, even when the branches +tend upward, is mostly of a drooping character. The Beech forms a +pleasing exception to this habit, having leaves that point upward and +outwardly, instead of hanging loosely. In most other trees the foliage +is so heavy and flowing, that the courses of their branches are +concealed under their drapery of leaves; but in the Beech all the +lines produced by the branches and foliage are harmonious, and may be +distinctly traced. + +By taking note of these peculiarities in their arborescent growth, one +greatly magnifies his capacity for enjoying the beauties of trees. +Without this observation, their general appearance forms the chief +object of his attention: he observes them only as a person of taste who +cannot distinguish tunes would listen to music. He feels the agreeable +sensation which their forms and aspects produce; but, like one who +thinks without adequate language for his thoughts, his ideas are vague +and indefinite. The Beech is particularly worthy of study, as in many +points it differs characteristically from most other trees. I am +acquainted with no tree in the forest that equals it, when disrobed of +its foliage, in the gracefulness of its spray. There is an airiness +about its whole appearance, at all seasons, that gives an expression of +cheerfulness to the scene it graces, whether it skirt the banks of a +stream or spread out its courteous arms over a sunny knoll or little +sequestered nook. + +There are some trees which are peculiarly American, being confined to +the Western continent, and unknown in other parts of the world. Among +these is the Hickory, a well-known and very common tree, celebrated +rather for its usefulness than its beauty. The different trees of this +family make an important feature in our landscape: they are not abundant +in the forest, but they are conspicuous objects in the open plain, hill, +and pasture. Great numbers of them have become standards; we see them +following the lines of old stone walls that skirt the bounds and avenues +of the farm, in company with the Ash and the Maple. In these situations, +where they would not "cumber the ground," they have been allowed to +grow, without exciting the jealousy of the proprietor of the land. +Accident, under these circumstances, has reared many a beautiful tree, +which would in any other place have been cut down as a trespasser. Thus +Nature is always striving to clothe with beauty those scenes which man +has despoiled; and while the farmer is hoeing and grubbing, and thinking +only of his physical wants, unseen hands are draping all his fences with +luxuriant vinery, and bordering his fields with trees that shall gladden +the eyes of those who can understand their beauties. + +The Hickory is not a round-headed tree; it approaches a cylindrical +form, somewhat flattened at the top, but seldom attaining any strict +regularity of shape. It does not expand into a full and flowing head, +but is often divided into distinct masses of foliage, separated by +vacant spaces of considerable size, and presenting an appearance as if +a portion of the tree had been artificially removed. These gaps do not +extend all round the tree; they are irregularly disposed, some trees +having several of them, others none or only one; and they seem to have +been caused, when the tree was young, by the dwindling of some principal +branch. The Hickory throws out its branches at first very obliquely from +the shaft; afterwards the lower ones bend down as the tree increases in +size, and acquire an irregular and contorted shape; for, notwithstanding +their toughness, they bend easily to the weight of their fruit and +foliage. + +This tree is celebrated in the United States for the toughness of its +wood; and the term Hickory is used as emblematical of a sturdy and +vigorous character. It possesses some of the ruggedness, without the +breadth and majesty of the Oak, though it exceeds even this tree +in braving the force of a tempest. It is one of our most common +pasture-trees, and its deep-green foliage makes amends for the general +want of comeliness in its outline. + +As we are journeying through the older settlements of New England, +the melancholy forms of the ill-fated Plane-trees tower above the +surrounding objects, and attract our attention not only by their +magnitude, but also by the marks of decay which are stamped upon all. +This appearance is chiefly remarkable in the early part of summer: for +the trees are not dead; but their vitality is so far gone that they are +tardy in putting out their leaves, and seldom before July are they fully +clad in verdure. When they are not in leaf, we may observe an unnatural +growth of slender twigs in tufts at the ends of their branches. This +is caused by the failure of the tree in perfecting its wood before the +growth of the branches is arrested by the autumnal frosts; and this +accident has been repeated annually ever since the trees began to +be affected with their malady. The Plane was formerly a very common +way-side tree in New England, until the fatality occurred which has +caused the greater number of them to perish. It is a fact worthy of +notice, that all the trees of this species below the latitude of Long +Island have escaped the malady. + +The Chenar-tree, or Oriental Plane, is celebrated in history, having had +a place in all the public and private grounds of the Greeks and Romans, +as well as of the Eastern nations. The American, or Western Plane, +called in New England the Buttonwood, is not less remarkable for its +size and grandeur. It is one of the loftiest trees, and its lateral +branches, being of great length, give it extraordinary breadth. It also +runs up to an unusual height, compared with other trees, before it forms +a head, so that its lower branches are sometimes elevated above the +roofs of the houses of common height Hence it would be a valuable tree +for road-sides, if it were healthy, as it would allow the largest +vehicles to pass freely under its boughs. + +A far more beautiful tree, gracing equally the forest and the way-side, +is the Ash, charming our sight with the gracefulness of its proportions +in winter, with its flowing drapery of verdure in summer, and its +variety of glowing tints in autumn. The Ash has been styled in Europe +"the painter's tree,"--a fact which is worthy of notice, inasmuch as +those writers who have theorized concerning the nature of beauty have +generally regarded trees of broken and irregular shapes, like the +Hickory, as more picturesque than those of prim and symmetrical habit, +like the Ash. The practice of the great masters in painting seems +adverse to this idea, since they have introduced the Ash more frequently +than other trees into their pictures; and it shows the futility of the +attempt to draw a distinction between picturesque and beautiful +trees. All trees, indeed, of every natural shape, may be considered +picturesque, as, in one situation or another, every species may be +introduced to heighten the character of a picture or a landscape. + +The Ash never fails to attract attention by the peculiar beauty of its +outlines, the regular subdivision of its branches, its fair proportions +and equal balance without any disagreeable formality. Nothing can exceed +the gracefulness of its pinnate foliage, hanging loosely from its +equally divergent spray, easy of motion, but not fluttering, and always +harmonizing in its tints with the season of the year. Notwithstanding +the different character, in regard to symmetry, of the Ash and the +Hickory, the two trees are often mistaken for each other, and, when the +latter is evenly formed, it is sometimes difficult at first sight to +distinguish it. They differ, however, in all cases, in the opposite +arrangement of the leaves and small branches of the Ash, and their +alternate arrangement in the Hickory. One of these branches invariably +becomes abortive, as the tree increases in size, so that their opposite +character is apparent only in the spray. + +In wet places which have never been subjected to the plough, in grounds +partly inundated a great portion of the year, luxuriating in company +with the Northern Cypress, over an undergrowth of Dutch Myrtles and +Button-bushes, we find the singular Tupelo-tree. This tree is the +opposite of the Ash in all its characteristics. There is no regularity +in any part of its growth, and no tree in the forest sports in such a +variety of grotesque and fantastic shapes. Sometimes it spreads out its +branches horizontally, forming a perfectly flat top, as if it had grown +under a platform; again it forms an irregular pyramid, most commonly +leaning from an upright position. It has usually no definable shape, +often sending out one or two branches greatly beyond the rest, some +directed obliquely downwards, others twisted and horizontal. This tree, +if it had no other merit, would be prized for its eccentricities; but it +is not without beauty. It possesses a fine glossy foliage, unrivalled in +its verdure, and every branch is fully clothed with it; and, whatever +may be the age of the tree, it never shows the marks of decrepitude. + +The pyramidal trees are included chiefly among the coniferous +evergreens, embracing the Pine, the Fir, the Spruce, and the Cypress. +Though many of the deciduous trees assume more or less of this outline, +it is the normal and characteristic form of the Pines and their kindred +species. It is a peculiarity of the pyramidal trees, with a few +exceptions, to remain always disfigured, after the loss of an important +branch, having no power to fill the vacant space by a new growth. Other +trees readily fill up a vacancy occasioned by the loss of a branch, and +may suffer considerable mutilation without losing their beauty, because +an invariable proportion is not necessary to render them pleasing +objects of sight. On account of the symmetry of their forms, the +pyramidal trees are made ugly by the loss of a limb, as the porch of a +temple would be ruined by the removal of one of its pillars. Hence we +may understand the charm of that irregularity that prevails in the forms +of vegetation. If we remove a branch from an Elm or an Oak, or even from +an Ash, we destroy no positive symmetry; it is like removing a stone +from a loose stone wall; we do but slightly modify its disproportions. + +The White Pine may be selected as the American representative of the +pyramidal trees, being the most important as well as the most striking +in its appearance. It is a Northern tree, not extending so far south as +the region of the Cypress and Magnolia, and attaining perfection only on +the northeastern part of the continent. In the New England States, it +contributes more than any other species to the beauty of our landscapes, +where it is commonly seen in scattered groups, but not often as a +solitary standard. We see it in our journeys, projecting over eminences +that are skirted by old roads, shading the traveller from the sun and +protecting him from the wind. We have sat under its fragrant shade, in +our pedestrian tours, when, weary with heat and exercise, we sought its +gift of coolness, and blessed it as one of the benign deities of the +forest. We are familiar with it in all pleasant and solitary places; and +in our afternoon rambles we have listened, underneath its boughs, to the +plaintive note of the Green Warbler, who selects it for his abode, and +who has caught a melancholy tone from the winds that from immemorial +time have tuned to soft music its long sibilant leaves. + +The White Pine is a tree that harmonizes with all situations, rude +and cultivated, level and abrupt. On the side of the mountain it adds +grandeur to the declivity, and gives a look of sweeter tranquillity to +the green pastoral meadow. It yields a darker frown to the projecting +cliff, and a more awful uncertainty to the mountain-pass or the hollow +ravine. Amid desolate scenery it spreads a cheerfulness that detracts +nothing from its power over the imagination, while it relieves it of its +terrors by presenting a green bulwark to defend us from the elements. +Nothing can be more cheerful in scenery than the occasional groups of +Pines which have come up spontaneously on the bald hills near our coast, +elsewhere a dreary waste of gray rocks, stunted shrubbery, and prostrate +Juniper. In the forest the White Pine constitutes the very sanctuary of +Nature, its tall pillars extending into the clouds, and its broad canopy +of foliage mixing with the vapors that descend in the storm. + +Such are its picturesque aspects: but in a figurative light it may be +regarded as a true symbol of benevolence. Under its outspread roof, +thousands of otherwise unprotected animals, nestling in the bed of dry +leaves which it has spread upon the ground, find shelter and repose. The +squirrel subsists upon the kernels obtained from its cones; the rabbit +browses upon the Trefoil and the spicy foliage of the Hypericum which +are protected in its conservatory of shade; and the fawn reposes on its +brown couch of leaves, unmolested by the outer tempest. From its green +arbors the quails may be roused in midwinter, when they resort thither +to find the still sound berries of the Mitchella and the Wintergreen. +Nature, indeed, seems to have designed this tree to protect the animal +creation, both in summer and winter, and I am persuaded that she has not +conferred upon them a more beneficent gift. + +As an object of sight, the White Pine is free from some of the defects +of the Fir and Spruce, having none of their stiffness of foliage and +inflexibility of spray, that cause them to resemble artificial objects. +It has the symmetry of the Fir, joined with a certain flowing grace that +assimilates it to the deciduous trees. With sufficient amplitude to +conceal a look of primness that often arises from symmetry, we observe a +certain negligent flowing of its leafy robes that adds to its dignity a +grace which is apparent to all. It seems to wear its honors like one who +feels no constraint under their burden; and when smitten by a tempest, +it bids no defiance to the gale, bending to its wrath, but securely +resisting its power. + +Of the American coniferous trees, the Hemlock is of the next importance, +being, perhaps, in its perfection, a more beautiful tree than the White +Pine, or than any other known evergreen. It is far less formal in its +shape than other trees of the same family. Its branches, being slender +and flexible, do not project stiffly from the shaft; they bend slightly +at their terminations, and are easily moved by the wind; and as they are +very numerous, and covered with foliage, we behold in the tree a dense +mass of glittering verdure, not to be seen in any other tree of the +forest. + +The Hemlock is unknown as a shade-tree; it is seldom seen by the +road-side, except on the edge of a wood, and not often in cultivated +grounds. The want of success usually attending the transplantation of it +from the woods has prevented the general adoption of it as an ornamental +tree. The Hemlock, when transplanted from the wood, is almost sure to +perish; for Nature will not allow it to be desecrated by any association +with Art. She reserves it for her own demesnes; and if you would possess +one, you must go to its native spot and plant your garden around it, +and take heed, lest, by disturbing its roots, you offend the deity +who protects it. Some noble Hemlocks are occasionally seen in rude +situations, where the cultivator's art has not interrupted their +spontaneous growth; and the poet and the naturalist are inspired with a +more pleasing admiration of their beauty, because they have seen them +only where the solitary birds sing their wild notes, and where the heart +is unmolested by the crowding tumult of human settlements. + +The Pitch Pine has neither grace nor elegance, and though it is allied +botanically to the pyramidal trees, it approaches the shape of the +round-headed trees. There is a singular ruggedness about it; and when +bristling all over with the stiff foliage that sometimes covers it from +the extremities of the branches down almost to the roots, it cannot fail +to attract observation. Trees of this species, for the most part too +rough and homely to please the eye, are not generally valued as objects +in the landscape; but there is a variety in their shape that makes +amends for their want of comeliness, and gives them a marked importance. +We do not in general sufficiently appreciate the value of homely objects +among the scenes of Nature,--which are, indeed, the ground-work of all +charming scenery, and set off to advantage the beauty of more comely +things. They prepare us, by increasing our susceptibility, to feel more +keenly the force of beauty in other objects. They give rest and relief +to the eye, after it has experienced the stimulating effects of +beautiful forms and colors, which would soon pall upon the sense; and +they are interesting to the imagination, by leaving it free to dress the +scene with the wreaths of fancy. + +It is from these reflections that I have been led to prize many a homely +tree as possessing a high value, by exalting the impressions of beauty +which we derive from other trees, and by relieving Nature of that +monotony which would attend a scene of unexceptional beauty. This +monotony is apparent in almost all dressed grounds of considerable +extent. We soon become entirely weary of the ever-flowing lines of +grace and elegance, and the harmonious blending of forms and colors +introduced by art. On the same principle we may explain the difficulty +of reading with attention a whole volume on one subject, written in +verse. We are soon weary of luxuries; and when we have been strolling in +grounds laid out with gaudy flower-beds, the tired eye, when we go out +into the fields, rests with serene delight upon rough pastures bounded +by stone walls, and hills clothed with lichens and covered with +boulders. + +The homely Pitch Pine serves this important purpose of relief in the +landscapes of Nature. Trees of this species are abundant in sandy +levels, in company with the slender and graceful White Birch, "The Lady +of the Woods," as the poet Coleridge called it. From these Pines proceed +those delightful odors which are wafted to our windows by a mild south +wind, not less perceptible in winter than in summer, and which are in a +different manner as charming as a beautiful prospect. + +The Juniper, or Red Cedar, known in some places as the Savin, is another +homely tree that gives character to New England scenery. It is one of +the most frequent accompaniments of the bald hills near certain parts +of our coast, giving them a peculiar aspect of desolation. This tree +acquires larger dimensions and a fuller and fairer shape in the Middle +and Southern States. There the Junipers are beautiful trees, having a +finer verdure than they ever acquire at the North. But the Juniper, with +all its imperfections, its rugged form, and its inferior verdure, is not +to be contemned; and it possesses certain qualities and features which +ought to be prized hardly less than beauty. Its sombre ferruginous green +adds variety to our wood-scenery at all times, and by contrast serves to +make the foliage of other trees the more brilliant and conspicuous. +In the latter part of summer, when the woods have acquired a general +uniformity of verdure, the Junipers enliven the face of Nature by +blending their duller tints with the fading hues of the fully ripened +foliage. Thus will an assemblage of brown and gray clouds soften and at +the same time enliven the deep azure of the heavens. + +In this sketch, I have omitted to describe many important trees, +especially those which have but little individuality of character, +leaving them to be the subject of another essay concerning Trees in +Assemblages. I have likewise said nothing here of those species which +are commonly distinguished as flowering trees. But I must not omit, +while speaking of the pyramidal trees, to say a word concerning the +Larch, which has some striking points of form and habit. Like the +Southern Cypress, it differs in its deciduous character from other +coniferous trees: hence both are distinguished by the brilliancy of +their verdure in the early part of summer, when the other evergreens are +particularly sombre; but they are leafless in the winter. The Larch is +beautifully pyramidal in its shape when young. In the vigor of its years +it tends to uniformity, and to variety when it is old. Indeed, an aged +Larch is often as rugged and fantastic as an old Oak. The American and +European Larches differ only in the longer flowing foliage and the +larger cones of the latter. Among the minor beauties of both species may +be mentioned the bright crimson cones that appear in June and resemble +clusters of fruit. The Larch is a Northern tree, being in its perfection +in the latitude of Maine. It seems to delight in the coldest situations, +and, like the Southern Cypress, is found chiefly in low swamps. + +There are not many trees that assume the shape of an obelisk, or a long +spire; but Nature, who presents to our eyes an ever-charming variety of +forms as well as hues, in the objects of her creation, has given us the +figure of the obelisk in the Chinese Juniper, in the Balsam Fir, in the +Arbor-Vitae, and lastly in the Lombardy Poplar, which may be offered to +exemplify this class of forms. The Lombardy Poplar is interesting to +thousands who were familiar with it in their youth, as an ornament +to road-sides and village inclosures. It was formerly a favorite +shade-tree, and still retains its privileges in many old-fashioned +places. A century ago great numbers of Poplars were planted on the +village way-sides, in front of dwelling-houses, on the borders of public +grounds, and particularly on the sides of lanes and avenues leading to +houses situated at a short distance from the high-road. Hence a row +of these trees becomes suggestive at once of the approach to some old +mansion or country-seat, which has now, perhaps, been converted into a +farm-house, having exchanged its proud honors of wealth for the more +simple and delightful appurtenances of rustic independence. + +Some of these ancient rows of Poplars are occasionally seen in old +fields, where almost all traces of the habitation which they were +intended to grace are obliterated. There is a melancholy pleasure +in surveying these humble ruins, whose history would illustrate the +domestic habits of our ancestors. The cellar of the old house is now +a part of the pasture-land, and its form can be traced by the simple +swelling of the turf. Sumachs and Cornel-bushes have usurped the +place of the exotic shrubbery in the old garden; and the only ancient +companions of the Poplars, now remaining, are here and there a +straggling Lilac or Currant-bush, a tuft of Houseleek, and perhaps, +under the shelter of some dilapidated wall, the White Star of Bethlehem +is seen meekly glowing in the rude society of the wild-flowers. + +The Lombardy Poplar, which was formerly a favorite way-side ornament, +a sort of idol of the public, and, like many another idol, exalted to +honors that exceeded its merits, fell suddenly into unpopularity and +disgrace. After having been admired and valued as if its leaves were all +emeralds and its buds apples of gold, it was spurned and ridiculed and +everywhere cut down as a cumberer of the ground. The faults attributed +to it did not belong to the tree, but were the effects of the climate +into which it had been removed. It was brought from the sunny vales of +Italy, where it had been delicately reared by the side of the Orange and +the Myrtle, and transplanted into the cold climate of New England. The +tender constitution of this tree could not endure our rude winters; +and every spring witnessed the decay of a large portion of its small +branches. Hence it became prematurely aged, and in its decline carried +with it the marks of its infirmities. + +But, with all these imperfections, the Lombardy Poplar was more worthy +of the honors it received from our predecessors than of its present +disrepute. It is one of the fairest of trees, in the vigor of its health +and the greenness of its youth. But nearly all the old Poplars are +extirpated, and but few young trees are coming up to supply their +places. While I am now writing, I see from my window the graceful spire +of one solitary tree, towering above the surrounding objects in the +landscape, and yielding to the view something of an indescribable charm. +There it stands, the symbol of decayed reputation, in its old age still +retaining the primness of its youth; neither drooping in its infirmities +under the weight of their burden, nor losing in its desertedness the +fine lustre of its foliage; and in its disgrace still bearing itself +proudly, as if conscious that its former honors were deserved, and +not forgetting that dignity which becomes one who has fallen without +dishonor. + +There is no other tree that so pleasantly adorns the sides of narrow +lanes and avenues, or so neatly accommodates itself to limited +inclosures. Its foliage is dense and of the liveliest green, tremulous, +and making delicate music to the light fingers of every breeze; its +terebinthine odors scent the soft vernal wind that enters your open +windows with the morning sunshine; its branches, always tending upward, +closely gathered together, and slenderly formed, afford a harbor to the +singing-birds, who revel among them as a favorite resort; and its long +tapering spire, that points to heaven, gives an air of cheerfulness and +religious tranquillity to village scenery. + +Of the drooping trees, the Weeping Willow is the most conspicuous +example, unless we except the American Elm; but a remarkable difference +may be observed in the drooping character of these two trees. In the Elm +we perceive a general arching or curvature of all its branches, from +their points of junction with the tree to their extremities; so that two +rows of Elms, meeting over an avenue, would represent, more nearly than +any other trees disposed in the same manner, the vault of a Gothic arch. +A double row of Weeping Willows would make no such figure by the meeting +of their branches. The Weeping Willow extends its long arms in lines +more nearly straight, not originating, as in the Elm, for the most part, +from one common centre of junction, but joining the shaft of the tree at +different points;--hence the drooping character of this tree is observed +only in its long, slender, and terminal spray. + +The Weeping Willow is one of the most poetical of trees, being +consecrated to the Muse by the part which has been assigned it in many +a scene of romance, and by its connection with events recorded in +Holy Writ. It is invested with a poetical interest by its symbolical +representation of sorrow in the pendulous character of its spray, by +its fanciful uses as a garland for disappointed lovers, and by the +employment of it in burying-grounds, and in pictures as drooping over +graves. We remember it in sacred history by its association with the +rivers of Babylon, with the tears of the Children of Israel, and with +the forsaken harps of their sorrowing minstrels, who hung them upon its +branches. It is distinguished by the graceful beauty of its outlines, +its light-green delicate foliage, its sorrowing attitude, and its gently +waving spray, all in sweet accordance with its picturesque, poetic, and +Scriptural associations. + +Hence the Weeping Willow never fails to give pleasure to the sight even +of the most insensible observer. There are not many whose minds are so +obtuse as to be blind to its peculiarly graceful attitude and motions, +and every one is familiar with its history, as recorded in poetry and +romance, all the incidents of which have served to elevate it above any +association with fashion or vulgarity. When we see it waving its long +branches neatly over some private inclosure, overshadowing the gravelled +walk and the flower-garden,--or watching pensively over the graves of +the dead, where the light hues of its foliage help to soften the glowing +fancies which are apt to arise from our meditations among the tombs,--or +on some wide common, giving solace to the passing traveller, and +inviting the playful children to its shade,--or trailing its sweeping +spray, like the tresses of a Naiad, over some silvery pond or gently +flowing stream,--it is in all cases a delightful object, always +picturesque, always soothing, inspiring, and sacred to memory, and +serving, by its alliance with what is hallowed in literature, to bind us +more closely to Nature. + +Above all the trees of the New World, the Elm deserves to be considered +the sovereign tree of New England. It is abundant both in field and +forest, and forms the most remarkable feature in our cleared and +cultivated grounds. Though the Elm is found in almost all parts of the +country, in no other is it so conspicuous as in the Northeastern States, +where, from the earliest settlement of the country, it has been planted +as a shade-tree, and has been valued as an ornament above the proudest +importations from a foreign clime. It is the most remarkable of the +drooping trees except the Willow, which it surpasses in stateliness and +in the variety of its growth. + +When I look upon a noble Elm,--though I feel no disposition to contemn +the studies of those who examine its flowers and fruit with the +scrutinizing eye of science, or the calculations of those who consider +only its practical use--it is to me an object of pleasing veneration. I +look upon it as the embodiment of some benign intention of Providence, +who has adapted it in numerous ways to the wants of his creatures. While +admiring its grace and its majesty, I think of the great amount of human +happiness and of comfort to the inferior animals of which it has been +the blessed instrument. How many a happy assemblage of children and +young persons has been, during the past century, repeatedly gathered +under its shade, in the sultry noons of summer! How many a young +May-queen has been crowned under its roof, when the greensward was just +daisied with the early flowers of spring! And how many a weary traveller +has rested from his journey in its benevolent shade, and from a state of +weariness and vexation, when o'erspent by heat and length of way, has +subsided into one of quiet thankfulness and content! + +Though the Elm has never been consecrated by the Muse, or dignified +by making a figure in the paintings of the old masters, the native +inhabitant of New England associates its varied forms with all that is +delightful in the scenery of his own land or memorable in its history. +He has beheld many a noble avenue formed of Elms, when standing in rows +in the village, or by the rustic road-side. He has seen them extending +their broad and benevolent arms as a protection over many a spacious old +farm-house and many an humble cottage, and equally harmonizing with all. +They meet his sight in the public grounds of the city, with their ample +shade and flowing spray, inviting him to linger under their pleasant +umbrage in summer; and in winter he has beheld them among the rude hills +and mountains, like spectral figures keeping sentry among their passes, +and, on the waking of the year, suddenly transformed into towers of +luxuriant verdure and beauty. Every year of his life has he seen the +beautiful Hang-Bird weave his pensile habitation upon the long and +flexible branches of the Elm, secure from the reach of every living +creature. From its vast dome of interwoven branches and foliage he has +listened to the songs of the earliest and the latest birds; and under +its shelter he has witnessed many a merry-making assemblage of children, +employed in the sportive games of summer. + +To a native of New England, therefore, the Elm has a value more nearly +approaching that of sacredness than any other tree. Setting aside the +pleasure derived from it as an object of visual beauty, it is intimately +associated with the familiar scenes of home and the events of his +early life. In my own mind it is pleasingly allied with those old +dwelling-houses which were built in the early part of the last century, +and form one of the marked features of New England home architecture +during that period. They are known by their broad and ample, but +low-studded rooms, their numerous windows with small panes, their single +chimney in the centre of the roof that sloped down to the lower story in +the back part, and in their general unpretending appearance, reminding +one vividly of that simplicity of life which characterized our people +before the Revolution. Their very homeliness is delightful, by leaving +the imagination free to dwell upon their pleasing suggestions. Not many +of these charming old houses are now extant: but whenever we see one, +we are almost sure to find it accompanied by its Elm, standing upon the +green open space that slopes up to it in front, and waving its long +branches in melancholy grandeur over the venerable habitation which it +seems to have taken under its protection, while it droops with sorrow +over the infirmities of its old companion of a century. + +The Elm is remarkable for the variety of forms which it assumes in +different situations. Often it has a drooping spray only when it has +attained a large size; but it almost invariably becomes subdivided +into several equal branches, diverging from a common centre, at a +considerable elevation from the ground. One of these forms is that of a +vase: the base being represented by the roots of the tree that project +above the soil and join the trunk,--the middle by the lower part of +the principal branches, as they swell out with a graceful curve, then +gradually diverge, until they bend downward and form the lip of the +vase, by their circle of terminal branches. Another of its forms is that +of a vast dome, as represented by those trees that send up a single +shaft to the height of twenty feet or more, and then extend their +branches at a wide divergency and to a great length. The Elms which are +remarkable for their drooping character are usually of this shape. +At other times the Elm assumes the shape of a plume, presenting a +singularly fantastical appearance. It rises upwards, with an undivided +shaft, to the height of fifty feet or more, without a limb, and bending +over with a gradual curve from about the middle of its height to its +summit, which is sometimes divided into two or three terminal branches. +The whole is covered from its roots to its summit with a fringe +of vine-like twigs, extremely slender, twisted and irregular, and +resembling a parasitic growth. Sometimes it is subdivided at the usual +height into three or four long branches, which are wreathed In the same +manner, and form a compound plume. + +These fantastic forms are very beautiful, and do not impress one with +the idea of monstrosity, as we are affected by the sight of a Weeping +Ash. Though the Elm has many defects of foliage, and is destitute of +those fine autumnal tints which are so remarkable in some other trees, +it is still almost without a rival in the American forest. It presents a +variety in its forms not to be seen in any other tree,--possessing the +dignity of the Oak without its ruggedness, and uniting the grace of the +slender Birch with the lofty grandeur of the Palm and the majesty of the +Cedar of Lebanon. + +Of the parasol-trees the North furnishes no true examples, which are +witnessed only in the Palms of the tropics. Not many of our inhabitants +have seen these trees in their living beauty; but all have become so +familiar with them, as they are represented in paintings and engravings, +that they can easily appreciate their effect in the sunny landscapes of +the South. There they may be seen bending over fields tapestried with +Passion-Flowers and verdurous with Myrtles and Orange-trees, and +presenting their long shafts to the tendrils of the Trumpet Honeysuckle +and the palmate foliage of the Climbing Fern. But the slender Palms, +when solitary, afford but little shade. It is when they are standing in +groups, their lofty tops meeting and forming a uniform umbrage, that +they afford any important protection from the heat of the sun. + +In pictures of tropical scenery we see these trees standing on the +banks of a stream, or in the vicinity of the sea, near some rude hut +constructed of Bamboo and thatched with the broad leaves of the Fan +Palm. In some warm countries Nature affords the inhabitants an almost +gratuitous subsistence from the fruit of the different Palms,--a +plantation of Dates and Cocoa-nuts supplying the principal wants of the +owner and his family, during the life of the trees. But the Palm is not +suggestive of the arts, for the South is not the region of the highest +civilization. Man's intelligence is greatest in those countries in which +he is obliged to struggle with difficulties sufficient to require the +constant exercise of the mind and body to overcome them. Science and Art +have built their altars in the region of the Oak, and in valleys which +are annually whitened with snow, where labor invigorates the frame, and +where man's contention with the difficulties presented by the elements +sharpens his ingenuity and strengthens all his facilities. Hence, while +the Oak is the symbol of hospitality and of the arts to which it has +given its aid, the Palm symbolizes the voluptuousness of a tropical +clime and the indolence of its inhabitants. + +I have said that the North produces no parasol-trees; but it should be +remarked that all kinds of trees occasionally approximate to this shape, +when they have grown compactly in a forest. The general shape which they +assume under these conditions is what I have termed accidental, because +that shape cannot be natural which a growing body is forced to take +when cramped in an unnatural or constrained position. Trees when thus +situated become greatly elongated; their shafts are despoiled of the +greater part of their lateral branches, and the tree has no expansion +until it has made its way above the level of the wood. The trees that +cannot reach this level will in a few years perish; and this is the +fate of the greater number in the primitive forest. But after they have +attained this level, they spread out suddenly into a head. Many such +trees are seen in recent clearings; and when their termination is a +regular hemisphere of branches and foliage, the tree exhibits a shape +nearly approaching that of a parasol. + +The Elm, under these circumstances, often acquires a very beautiful +shape. Unlike other trees that send up a single undivided shaft, the +Elm, when growing in the forest as well as in the open plain, becomes +subdivided into several slightly divergent branches, running up almost +perpendicularly until they reach the level of the wood, when they +suddenly spread themselves out, and the tree exhibits the parasol shape +more nearly even than the Palm. When one of these forest Elms is left by +the woodman, and is seen standing alone in the clearing, it presents +to our sight one of the most graceful and beautiful of all arborescent +forms. + +The rows of Willows, so frequent by the way-side where the road passes +over a wet meadow, afford the most common examples of the pollard forms. +Some of these willows, having escaped the periodical trimming of the +woodcutter, have become noble standards, emulating the Oak in the sturdy +grandeur of their giant arms extending over the road. Most of them, +however, from the repeated cropping which they have suffered, exhibit a +round head of long, slender branches, growing out of the extremity of +the beheaded trunk. + +My remarks thus far relate to trees considered as individual objects; +but I must not tire the patience of the reader by extending them +farther, though there are many other relations in which they may be +treated. In whatever light we regard them, they will be found to deserve +attention as the fairest ornaments of Nature, and as objects that should +be held sacred from their importance to our welfare and happiness. The +more we study them, the more desirous are we of their preservation, and +the more convinced of the necessity of using some active means to +effect this purpose. He takes but a narrow view of their importance who +considers only their value in the economy of animal and vegetable life. +The painter has always made them a particular branch of his study; and +the poet understands their advantage in increasing the effect of his +descriptions, and believes them to be the blessed gifts of Providence to +render the earth a beautiful abode and sanctify it to our affections. +The heavenly bodies affect the soul with a deeper sense of creative +power; but trees, like flowers, serve to draw us more closely to the +bosom of Nature, by exemplifying the beauties of her handiwork, and the +wonders of that Wisdom that operates unseen, and becomes, in our search +for it, a source of perpetual delight. + + + + +VICTOR AND JACQUELINE. + +[Concluded.] + + +VII. + + +The three days passed away. And every hour's progress was marked as it +passed over the citizens of Meaux. Leclerc, and the doctrines for which +he suffered, filled the people's thought; he was their theme of speech. +Wonder softened into pity; unbelief was goaded by his stripes to +cruelty; faith became transfigured, while he, followed by the hooting +crowd, endured the penalty of faith. Some men looked on with awe that +would become adoring; some with surprise that would take refuge in study +and conviction. There were tears as well as exultation, solemn joy as +well as execration, in his train. The mother of Leclerc followed +him with her undaunted testimony, "Blessed be Jesus Christ and His +Witnesses!" + +By day, in the field, Jacqueline Gabrie thought over the reports she +heard through the harvesters, of the city's feeling, of its purpose, of +its judgment; by night she prayed and hoped, with the mother of Leclerc; +and wondrous was the growth her faith had in those days. + +On the evening of the third day, Jacqueline and Elsie walked into Meaux +together. This was not invariably their habit. Elsie had avoided too +frequent conversation with her friend of late. She knew their paths were +separate, and was never so persuaded of the fact as this night, when, of +her own will, she sought to walk with Jacqueline. The sad face of her +friend troubled her; it moved her conscience that she did not deeply +share in her anxiety. When they came from Domremy, she had relied on +Jacqueline: there was safety in her counsel,--there was wisdom in it: +but now, either? + +"It made me scream outright, when I saw the play," said she; "but it is +worse to see your face nowadays,--it is more terrible, Jacqueline." + +Jacqueline made no reply to this,--and Elsie regarded the silence as +sufficient provocation. + +"You seem to think I have no feeling," said she. "I am as sorry about +the poor fellows as you can be. But I cannot look as if I thought the +day of judgment close at hand, when I don't, Jacqueline." + +"Very well, Elsie. I am not complaining of your looks." + +"But you are,--or you might as well." + +"Let not that trouble you, Elsie. Your face is smooth, at least; and +your voice does not sound like the voice of one who is in grief. +Rejoice,--for, as you say, you have a right to yourself, with which I +am not to interfere. We are old friends,--we came away from Lorraine +together. Do not forget that. I never will forget it." + +"But you are done with me. You say nothing to me. I might as well be +dead, for all you care." + +"Let us not talk of such things in this manner," said Jacqueline, +mildly. But the dignity of her rebuke was felt, for Elsie said,-- + +"But I seem to have lost you,--and now we are alone together, I may say +it. Yes, I have lost you, Jacqueline!" + +"This is not the first time we have been alone together in these +dreadful three days." + +"But now I cannot help speaking." + +"You could help it before. Why, Elsie? You had not made up your mind. +But now you have, or you would not speak, and insist on speaking. What +have you to say, then?" + +"Jacqueline! Are you Jacqueline?" + +"Am I not?" + +"You seem not to be." + +"How is it, Elsie?" + +"You are silent and stern, and I think you are very unhappy, +Jacqueline." + +"I do not know,--not unhappy, I think. Perhaps I am silent,--I have been +so busy. But for all it is so dreadful--no! not unhappy, Elsie." + +"Thinking of Leclerc all the while?" + +"Of him? Oh, no! I have not been thinking of him,--not constantly. Jesus +Christ will take care of him. His mother is quiet, thinking that. I, +at least, can be as strong as she. I'm not thinking of the shame and +cruelty,--but of what that can be worth which is so much to him, that +he counts this punishment, as they call it, as nothing, as hardly pain, +certainly not disgrace. The Truth, Elsie!--if I have not as much to say, +it is because I have been trying to find the Truth." + +"But if you have found it, then I hope I never shall,--if it is the +Truth that makes you so gloomy. I thought it was this business in +Meaux." + +"Gloomy? when it may be I have found, or _shall_ find"-- + +Here Jacqueline hesitated,--looked at Elsie. Grave enough was that look +to expel every frivolous feeling from the heart of Elsie,--at least, +so long as she remained under its influence. It was something to trust +another as Jacqueline intended now to trust her friend. It was a +touching sight to see her seeking her old confidence, and appearing +to rely on it, while she knew how frail the reed was. But this girl, +frivolous as was her spirit, this girl had come with her from the +distant native village; their childhood's recollections were the same. +And Jacqueline determined now to trust her. For in times of blasting +heat the shadow even of the gourd is not to be despised. + +"You know what I have looked for so long, Elsie," she said, "you ought +to rejoice with me. I need work for that no longer." + +"What is that, Jacqueline?" + +Even this question, betraying no such apprehension as Jacqueline's words +seemed to intimate, did not disturb the girl. She was in the mood when, +notwithstanding her show of dependence, she was really in no such +necessity. Never was she stronger than now when she put off all show +of strength. Elsie stood before her in place of the opposing world. To +Elsie's question she replied as readily as though she anticipated the +word, and had no expectation of better recollection,--not to speak of +better apprehension. + +"To bring him out of suffering he has never been made to endure, as +surely as God lives. As if the Almighty judged men so! I shall send back +no more money to Father La Croix. It is not his prayer, nor my earnings, +that will have to do with the eternity of John Gabrie.--Do you hear me, +Elsie?" + +"I seem to, Jacqueline." + +"Have I any cause for wretched looks, then? I am in sight of better +fortune than I ever hoped for in this world." + +"Then don't look so fearful. It is enough to scare one. You are not a +girl to choose to be a fright,--unless this dreadful city has changed +you altogether from what you were. You would frighten the Domremy +children with such a face as that; they used not to fear Jacqueline." + +"I shall soon be sailing on a smoother sea. As it is, do not speak of my +looks. That is too foolish." + +"But, oh, I feel as if I must hold you,--hold you!--you are leaving +me!" + +"Come on, Elsie!" exclaimed Jacqueline, as though she almost hoped this +of her dear companion. + +"But where?" asked Elsie, not so tenderly. + +"Where God leads. I cannot tell." + +"I do not understand." + +"You would not think the Truth worth buying at the price of your life?" + +"My life?" + +"Or such a price as he pays who--has been branded to-day?" + +"It was not the truth to your mother,--or to mine. It was not the truth +to any one we ever knew, till we came here to Meaux." + +"It is true to my heart, Elsie. It is true to my conscience. I know that +I can live for it. And it may be"-- + +"Hush!--do not! Oh, I wish that I could get you back to Domremy! What is +going to come of this? Jacqueline, let us go home. Come, let us start +to-night. We shall have the moon all night to walk by. There is nothing +in Meaux for us. Oh, if we had never come away! It would have been +better for you to work there for--what you wanted,--for what you came +here to do." + +"No, let God's Truth triumph! What am I? Less than that rush! But if His +breath is upon me, I will be moved by it,--I am not a stone." + +Then they walked on in silence. Elsie had used her utmost of persuasion, +but Jacqueline not her utmost of resistance. Her companion knew this, +felt her weakness in such a contest, and was silent. + +On to town they went together. They walked together through the streets, +passing constantly knots of people who stood about the corners and among +the shops, discussing what had taken place that day. They crossed the +square where the noonday sun had shone on crowds of people, men and +women, gathered from the four quarters of the town and the neighboring +country, assembled to witness the branding of a heretic. They entered +their court-yard together,--ascended the stairway leading to their +lodging. But they were two,--not one. + +Elsie's chief desire had been to get Jacqueline safely into the house +ere she could find opportunity for expression of what was passing in her +mind. Her fear was even greater than her curiosity. She had no desire to +learn, under these present circumstances, the arguments and incidents +which the knots of men and women were discussing with so much vehemence +as they passed by. She could guess enough to satisfy her. So she had +hurried along, betraying more eagerness than was common with her to get +out of the street. Not often was she so overcome of weariness,--not +often so annoyed by heat and dust. Jacqueline, without remonstrance, +followed her. But they were two,--not one. + +Once safe in their upper room, Elsie appeared to be, after all, not so +devoid of interest in what was passing in the street as her hurried +walk would seem to betoken. She had not quite yet lost her taste for +excitement and display. For immediately she seated herself by the +window, and was all eye and ear to what went on outside. + +Jacqueline's demonstrations also were quite other than might have been +anticipated. Each step she took in her chamber gave an indication that +she had a purpose,--and that she would perform it. + +She removed from her dress the dust and stain of toil, arranged her +hair, made herself clean and decent, to meet the sober gaze of others. +Then she placed upon the table the remains of their breakfast,--but she +ate nothing. + + +VIII. + + +It was nearly dark when Jacqueline said to Elsie,-- + +"I am now going to see John and his mother. I must see with my own eyes, +and hear with my own ears. I may be able to help them,--and I know they +will be able to help me. John's word will be worth hearing,--and I want +to hear it. He must have learned in these days more than we shall ever +be able to learn for ourselves. Will you go with me?" + +"No," cried Elsie,--as though she feared she might against her will +be taken into such company. Then, not for her own sake, but for +Jacqueline's, she added, almost as if she hoped that she might prove +successful in persuasion, "I remember my father and mother. What they +taught me I believe. And that I shall live by. I shall never be wiser +than they were. And I know I never can be happier. They were good and +honest. Jacqueline, we shall never be as happy again as we were in +Domremy, when the pastor blessed us, and we hunted flowers for the +altar,--never!--never!" And Elsie Meril, overcome by her recollections +and her presentiments, burst into tears. + +"It was the happiness of ignorance," said Jacqueline, after a solemn +silence full of hurried thought. "No,--I, for one, shall never be as +happy as I was then. But my joy will be full of peace and bliss. It will +be full of satisfaction,--very different, but such as belongs to me, +such as I must not do without. God led us from Domremy, and with me +shall He do as seemeth good to Him. We were children then, Elsie; but +now may we be children no longer!" + +"I will be faithful to my mother. Go, Jacqueline,--let me alone." + +Elsie said this with so much spirit that Jacqueline answered quickly, +and yet very kindly,-- + +"I did not mean to trouble you, dear,--but--no matter now." + +No sooner had Jacqueline left the house than Elsie went down to a church +near by, where she confessed herself to the priest, and received such +goodly counsel as was calculated to fortify her against Jacqueline in +the future. + + * * * * * + +Jacqueline went to the house of the wool-comber, as of late had been her +nightly custom,--but not, as heretofore, to lighten the loneliness +and anxiety of the mother of Leclerc. Already she had said to the old +woman,-- + +"I need not work now for my father's redemption. Then I will work for +you, if your son is disabled. Let us believe that God brought me here +for this. I am strong. You can lean on me. Try it." + +Now she went to make repetition of the promise to Leclerc, if, +perchance, he had come back to his mother sick and sore and helpless. +For this reason, when she entered the humble home of the martyr, his +eyes fell on her, and he saw her as she had been an angel; how serene +was her countenance; and her courage was manifestly such as no mortal +fear, no human affliction, could dismay. + +Already in that room faithful friends had gathered, to congratulate the +living man, and to refresh their strength from the abounding richness of +his. + +Martial Mazurier, the noted preacher, was there, and Victor Le Roy; +besides these, others, unknown by name or presence to Jacqueline. + +Among them was the wool-comber,--wounded with many stripes, branded, +a heretic! But a man still, it appeared,--a living man,--brave as any +hero, determined as a saint,--ready to proclaim now the love of God, and +from the couch where he was lying to testify to Jesus and his Truth. + +It was a goodly sight to see the tenderness of these men here gathered; +how they were forgetful of all inequalities of station, such as +worldlings live by,--meeting on a new ground, and greeting one another +in a new spirit. + +They had come to learn of John. A halo surrounded him; he was +transfigured; and through that cloud of glory they would fain penetrate. +Perchance his eyes, as Stephen's, had seen heaven open, when men had +tried their torments. At least, they had witnessed, when they followed +the crowd, that his face, in contrast with theirs who tormented, shone, +as it had been the face of an angel. They had witnessed his testimony +given in the heroic endurance of physical pain. There was more to be +learned than the crowd were fit to hear or _could_ hear. Broken strains +of the Lord's song they heard him singing through the torture. Now they +had come longing for the full burden of that divinest melody. + +Jacqueline entered the room quietly, scarcely observed. She sat down by +the door, and it chanced to be near the mother of Leclerc, near Victor +Le Roy. + +To their conversation she listened as one who listens for his life,--to +the reading of the Scripture,--to the singing of the psalm,--that grand +old version,-- + + "Out of the depths I cry to thee, + Lord God! Oh, hear my prayer! + Incline a gracious ear to me, + And bid me not despair. + If thou rememberest each misdeed, + If each should have its rightful meed, + Lord, who shall stand before thee? + + "Lord, through thy love alone we gain + The pardon of our sin: + The strictest life is but in vain, + Our works can nothing win, + That man should boast himself of aught, + But own in fear thy grace hath wrought + What in him seemeth righteous. + + "Wherefore my hope is in the Lord, + My works I count but dust; + I build not there, but on his word, + And in his goodness trust. + Up to his care myself I yield; + He is my tower, my rook, my shield, + And for his help I tarry." + +To the praying of the broken voice of John Leclerc she listened. In his +prayer she joined. To the eloquence of Mazurier, whose utterances she +laid up in her heart,--to the fervor of Le Roy, which left her eyes not +dry, her soul not calm, but strong in its commotion, grasping fast the +eternal truths which he, too, would proclaim, she listened. + +She was not only now among them, she was of them,--of them forevermore. +Though she should never again look on those faces, nor listen to those +voices, of them, of all they represented, was she forevermore. Their God +was hers,--their faith was hers; their danger would she share,--their +work would aid. + +Their talk was of the Truth, and of the future of the Truth. Well they +understood that the spirit roused among the people would not be quieted +again,--that what of ferocity in the nature of the bigot and the +powerful had been appeased had but for the moment been satisfied. There +would be unremitting watch for victims; everywhere the net for the +unwary and the fearless would be laid. Blood-thirstiness and lust and +covetousness would make grand their disguises,--broad would their +phylacteries be made,--shining with sacred gems, their breast-plates. + +Of course it was of the great God's honor these men would be jealous. +This heresy must needs be uprooted, or no knowing where would be the end +of the wild growth. And, indeed, there was no disputing the fact that +there was danger in open acceptance of such doctrines as defied the +authority of priestcraft,--ay, danger to falsehood, and death to +falsehood! + +Fanaticism, cowardice, cruelty, the spirit of persecution, the spirit +of authority aroused, ignorance and vanity and foolishness would make +themselves companions, no doubt. Should Truth succumb to these? Should +Love retreat before the fierce onset of Hate? These brave men said not +so. And they looked above them and all human aid for succor,--Jacqueline +with them. + +When Mazurier and Victor Le Roy went away, they left Jacqueline with +the wool-comber's mother, but they did not pass by her without notice. +Martial lingered for a moment, looking down on the young girl. + +"She is one of us," said the old woman. + +Then the preacher laid his hand upon her head, and blessed her. + +"Continue in prayer, and listen to the testimony of the Holy Ghost," +said he. "Then shall you surely come deep into the blessed knowledge and +the dear love of Jesus Christ." + +When he had passed on, Victor paused in turn. + +"It is good to be here, Jacqueline," said he. '"This is the house of +God; this is the gate of heaven." + +And he also went forth, whither Mazurier had gone. + +Then beside the bed of the poor wool-comber women like angels +ministered, binding up his wounds, and soothing him with voices soft as +ever spoke to man. And from the peasant whose toil was in harvest-fields +and vineyards came offers of assistance which the poor can best give the +poor. + +But the wool-comber did not need the hard-earned pence of Jacqueline. +When she said, "Let me serve you now, as a daughter and a sister, you +two,"--he made no mistake in regard to her words and offer. But he had +no need of just such service as she stood prepared to render. In his +toil he had looked forward to the seasons of adversity,--had provided +for a dark day's disablement; and he was able now to smile upon his +mother and on Jacqueline, and to say,-- + +"I will, indeed, be a brother to you, and my mother will love you as if +you were her child. But we shall not take the bread from your mouth to +prove it. Our daughter and our sister in the Lord, we thank you and love +you, Jacqueline. I know what you have been doing since I went away. +The Lord love you, Jacqueline! You will no longer be a stranger and +friendless in Meaux, while John Leclerc and his mother are alive,--nay, +as long as a true man or woman lives in Meaux. Fear not." + +"I will not fear," said Jacqueline. + +And she sat by the side of the mother of Leclerc, and thought of her +own mother in the heavens, and was tranquil, and prepared, she said to +herself, to walk, if indeed she must, through the valley of the shadow +of death, and would still fear no evil. + + +IX. + + +Strengthened and inspired by the scenes of the last three days, Martial +Mazurier began to preach with an enthusiasm, bravery, and eloquence +unknown before to his hearers. He threw himself into the work of +preaching, the new revelation of the ancient eternal Truth, with +an ardor that defied authority, that scorned danger, and with a +recklessness that had its own reward. + +Victor Le Roy was his ardent admirer, his constant follower, his +loving friend, his servant. Day by day this youth was studying with +indefatigable zeal the truths and doctrines adopted by his teacher. +Enchanted by the wise man's eloquence, already a convert to the faith +he magnified, he was prepared to follow wherever the preacher led. The +fascination of danger he felt, and was allured by. Frowning faces had +for him no terrors. He could defy evil. + +Jacqueline and he might be called most friendly students. Often in +the cool of the day the young man walked out from Meaux along the +country-roads, and his face was always toward the setting sun, whence +towards the east Jacqueline at that hour would be coming. The girls were +living in the region of the vineyards now, and among the vines they +worked. + +It began to be remarked by some of their companions how much Jacqueline +Gabrie and the young student from the city walked together. But the +subject of their discourse, as they rested under the trees that fringed +the river, was not within the range of common speculation; far enough +removed from the ordinary use to which the peasants put their thought +was the thinking of Le Roy and Jacqueline. + +Often Victor went, carefully and with a student's precision, over the +grounds of Martial's arguments, for the satisfaction of Jacqueline. +Much pride as well as joy had he in the service; for he reverenced his +teacher, and feared nothing so much, in these repetitions, as that this +listener, this animated, thinking, feeling Jacqueline, should lose +anything by his transmission of the preacher's arguments and eloquence. + +And sometimes, on those special occasions which were now constantly +occurring, she walked with him to the town, and hearkened for herself in +the assemblages of those who were now one in the faith. + +Elsie looked on and wondered, but did not jest with Jacqueline, as girls +are wont to jest with one another on such points as seemed involved in +this friendship between youth and youth, between man and woman. + +Towards the conclusion of the girls' appointed labor in the vineyard, a +week passed in which Victor Le Roy had not once come out from Meaux in +the direction of the setting sun. He knew the time when the peasants' +labor in the vineyard would be done; Jacqueline had told him; and with +wonder, and with trouble, she lived through the days that brought no +word from him. + +At work early and late, Jacqueline had no opportunity of discovering +what was going on in Meaux. But it chanced, on the last day of the last +week in the vineyard, tidings reached her: Martial Mazurier had been +arrested, and would be tried, the rumor said, as John Leclerc had been +tried; and sentence would be pronounced, doubtless, said conjecture, +severe in proportion to the influence the man had acquired, to the +position he held. + +Hearing this, oppressed, troubled, yet not doubting, Jacqueline +determined that she would go to Meaux that evening, and so ascertain the +truth. She said nothing to Elsie of her purpose. She was careful in all +things to avoid that which might involve her companion in peril in an +unknown future; but at nightfall she had made herself ready to set +out for Meaux, when her purpose was changed in the first steps by the +appearing of Victor Le Roy. + +He had come to Jacqueline,--had but one purpose in his coming; yet it +was she who must say,-- + +"Is it true, Victor, that Martial Mazurier is in prison?" + +His answer surprised her. + +"No, it is not true." + +But his countenance did not answer the glad expression of her face with +an equal smile. His gravity almost communicated itself to her. Yet this +rebound from her recent dismay surely might demand an opportunity. + +"I believe you," said she. "But I was coming to see if it could be true. +It was hard to believe, and yet it has cost me a great deal to persuade +myself against belief, Victor." + +"It will cost you still more, Jacqueline. Martial Mazurier has +recanted." + +"He has been in prison, then?" + +"He has retracted, and is free again,--has denied himself. No more +glorious words from him, Jacqueline, such as we have heard! He has sold +himself to the Devil, you see." + +"Mazurier?" + +"Mazurier has thought raiment better than life. _He_ has believed a +man's life to consist in the abundance of the things he possesseth," +said the youth, bitterly. He continued, looking steadfastly at +Jacqueline,--"Probably I must give up the Truth also. My uncle is dead: +must I not secure my possessions?--for I am no longer a poor man; I +cannot afford to let my life fall into the hands of those wolves." + +"Mazurier retracted? I cannot believe it, Victor Le Roy!" + +"Believe, then, that yesterday the man was in prison, and to-day he is +at large. Yes, he says that he can serve Jesus Christ more favorably, +more successfully, by complying with the will of the bishop and the +priests. You see the force of his argument. If he should be silenced, or +imprisoned long, or his life should be cut off, he would then be able +to preach no more at all in any way. He only does not believe that +whosoever will save his life, in opposition to the law of the +everlasting gospel, must lose it." + +"Oh, do you remember what he said to John,--what he prayed in that room? +Oh, Victor, what does it mean?" + +"It means what cannot be spoken,--what I dare not say or think." + +"Not that we are wrong, mistaken, Victor?" + +"No, Jacqueline, never! it can never mean that! Whatever we may do with +the Truth, we cannot make it false. We may act like cowards, unworthy, +ungrateful, ignorant; but the Truth will remain, Jacqueline." + +"Victor, you could not desert it." + +"How can I tell, Jacqueline? The last time I saw Martial Mazurier, he +would have said nobler and more loving words than I can command. But +with my own eyes I saw him walking at liberty in streets where liberty +for him to walk could be bought only at an infamous price." + +"Is there such danger for all men who believe with John Leclerc, and +with--with you, Victor?" + +"Yes, there is danger, such danger." + +"Then you must go away. You must not stay in Meaux," she said, quickly, +in a low, determined voice. + +"Jacqueline, I must remain in Meaux," he answered, as quickly, with +flushed face and flashing eyes. The dignity of conscious integrity, and +the "fear of fear," a beholder who could discern the tokens might have +perceived in him. + +"Oh, then, who can tell? Did he not pray that he might not be led into +temptation?" + +"Yes," Victor replied, more troubled than scornful,--"yes, and allowed +himself to be led at last." + +"But if you should go away"---- + +"Would not that be flying from danger?" he asked, proudly. + +"Nay, might it not be doing with your might what you found to do, that +you might not be led into temptation?" + +"And you are afraid, that, if I stay here, I shall yield to them." + +"You say you are not certain, Victor. You repeat Mazurier's words." + +"Yet shall I remain. No, I will never run away." + +The pride of the young fellow, and the consternation occasioned by the +recreancy of his superior, his belief in the doctrines he had confessed +with Mazurier, and the time-serving of the latter, had evidently thrown +asunder the guards of his peace, and produced a sad state of confusion. + +"It were better to run away," said Jacqueline, not pausing to choose the +word,--"far better than to stay and defy the Devil, and then find that +you could not resist him, Victor. Oh, if we could go, as Elsie said, +back to Domremy,--anywhere away from this cruel Meaux!" + +"Have you, then, gained nothing, Jacqueline?" + +"Everything. But to lose it,--oh, I cannot afford that!" + +"Let us stand together, then. Promise me, Jacqueline," he exclaimed, +eagerly, as though he felt himself among defences here, with her. + +"What shall I promise, Victor?" she asked, with the voice and the look +of one who is ready for any deed of daring, for any work of love. + +"I, too, have preached this word." + +Her only comment was, "I know you preached it well." + +"What has befallen others may befall me." + +"Well." + +So strongly, so confidently did she speak this word, that the young man +went on, manifestly influenced by it, hesitating no more in his speech. + +"May befall me," he repeated. + +"'Whosoever believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live,'" +she answered, with lofty voice, repeating the divine word. "What is our +life, that we should hold it at the expense of his Truth? Mazurier was +wrong. He can never atone for the wrong he has done." + +"I believe it!" exclaimed Victor, with a brightening countenance. The +clouds of doubt rose from his face and floated away, as we see the mists +ascending from the heights, when we are so happy as to live in the wild +hill-country. "You prize Truth more than life. Stand with me in this, +Jacqueline. Speak of this Truth as it has come to me. You are all that +I have left. I have lost Mazurier. Jacqueline, you are a woman, but you +never,--yes! yes! though I dare not say as much of myself, I dare say +it of you,--you never could have bought your liberty at such a price as +Martial has paid. I know not how, even with the opportunity, he will +ever gain the courage to speak of these things again,--those great +mysteries which are hidden from the eyes of the covetous and worldly and +unbelieving. Promise, stand with me, Jacqueline, and I will rely on you. +Forsake me not." + +"Victor, has He not said, who can best say it, 'I will never leave you +nor forsake you'?" + +"But, Jacqueline, I love you." + +Having said these words, the face of the young man emerged wholly from +the eclipse of the former shadow. + +"What is this?" said the brave peasant from Domremy, manifestly doubting +whether she had heard aright; and her clear pure eyes were gazing full +on Victor Le Roy, actually looking for an explanation of his words. + +"I love you, Jacqueline," he repeated. "And I do not involve you in +danger, oh, my friend! Only let me have it to believe that my life is +dear to Jacqueline, and I shall not be afraid then to lose it, if that +testimony be required of me. Shall we not stand side by side, soldiers +of Christ, stronger in each other than in all the world beside? Shall it +not be so, Jacqueline? True heart, answer me! And if you will not love +me, at least say, say you are my friend, you trust me. I will hold your +safety sacred." + +"I am your friend, Victor." + +"Say my wife, Jacqueline. I honored you, that you came from Domremy. +You are my very dream of Joan,--as brave and as true as beautiful. +Jacqueline, it is not all for the Truth's sake, but for my love's sake. +Is not our work one, moreover? Are we not one in heart and purpose, +Jacqueline? You are alone; let me protect you." + +He needed no other answer than he had while his eyes constantly sought +hers. Her calm look, the dignity and strength of her composure, assured +him of all he longed to learn,--assured him that their hearts, even as +their purposes and faith, were one." + +"But speak one word," he urged. + +The word she spoke was, "I can be true to you, Victor." + +Won hardly by a word: too easily, you think? She loved the youth, my +friends, and she loved the Truth for which he dared not say that he +could sacrifice himself. + +"We are one, then," said Victor Le Roy. "It concerned me above all +things to prove that, Jacqueline. So you shall have no more to do with +these harvest-fields and vineyards henceforth, except to eat of the +fruits, if God will. You have borne all the burden and heat of labor you +shall ever bear. I can say that, with God's blessing. We shall sit under +our own vine. Death in one direction has prepared for life in another. +I inherit what my uncle can make use of no longer. We shall look out +on our own fields, our harvests; for I think this city will keep us no +longer than may he needful. We will go away into Picardy, and I will +show you where our Joan was a prisoner; and we will go back to Domremy, +and walk in the places she loved, and pray God to bless us by that +fountain, and in the grave-yard where your father and mother sleep. Oh, +Jacqueline, is it not all blessed and all fair?" + +She could hardly comprehend all the brightness of this vision which +Victor Le Roy would fain bring before her. The paths he pointed out to +her were new and strange; but she could trust him, could believe that +together they might walk without stumbling. + +She had nothing to say of her unfitness, her unworthiness, to occupy the +place to which he pointed. Not a doubt, not a fear, had she to express. +He loved her, and that she knew; and she had no thought of depreciating +his choice, its excellency or its wisdom. Whatever excess of wonder she +may have felt was not communicated. How know I that _she_ marvelled at +her lover's choice, though all the world might marvel? + +Then remembering Mazurier, and thinking of her strength of faith, and +her high-heartedness, he was eager that Jacqueline should appoint their +marriage-day. And more than he, perhaps, supposed was betrayed by this +haste. He made his words profoundly good. Strong woman that she was, he +wanted her strength joined to his. He was secretly disquieted, secretly +afraid to trust himself, since this defection of Martial Mazurier. + +What did hinder them? They might be married on Sunday, if she would: +they might go down together to the estate, which he must immediately +visit. + +Through the hurry of thought, and the agitation of heart, and the rush +of seeming impossibilities, he brought out at length in triumph her +consent. + +She did consent. It should all be as he wished. And so they parted +outside that town of Meaux on the fair summer evening.--plighted +lovers,--hopeful man and woman. For them the evening sky was lovely with +the day's last light; for them the serene stars of night arose. + +So they parted under the open sky: he going forward to the city, +strengthened and refreshed in faith and holy courage; she, adorned with +holy hopes which never until now had found place among her visions. +Neither was she prepared for them; until he brought them to a heart +which, indeed, could never be dismayed by the approach and claim of +love. + +Love was no strange guest. Fresh and fair as Zephyrus, he came from the +forest depths, and she welcomed him,--no stranger,--though the breath +that bore him was all heavenly, and his aspiration was remote from +earthly sources. Yes, she so imagined. + +She went back to the cottage where she and Elsie lodged now, to tell +Elsie what had happened,--to thankfulness,--to gazing forward Into a +new world,--to aspiration, expectation, joy, humility,--to wonder, and +to praise,--to all that my best reader will perceive must be true of +Jacqueline on this great evening of her life. + + +X. + + +That same night Victor Le Roy was arrested on charge of +heresy,--arrested and imprisoned. Watchmen were on the look-out when the +lover walked forward with triumphant steps to Meaux. + +"This fellow also was among the wool-comber's disciples," said they; and +their successful dealing with Mazurier encouraged the authorities to +hope that soon all this evil would be overcome,--trampled in the dust: +this impudent insurrection of thought should certainly be stifled; youth +and age, high station, low, should be taught alike of Rome. + +Tidings reached Martial Mazurier next day of what had befallen Victor Le +Roy, and he went instantly to visit him in prison. It was an interview +which the tender-hearted officials would have invited, had he not +forestalled them by inviting himself to the duty. Mazurier had something +to do in the matter of reconciling his conscience to the part he had +taken, in his recent opportunity to prove himself equally a hero with +Leclerc. He had recanted, done evil, in short, that good might come; and +was not content with having done this thing: how should he be? Now that +his follower was in the same position, he had but one wish,--that he +should follow his example. He did not, perhaps, entirely ascertain his +motive in this; but it is hardly to be supposed that Mazurier was so +persuaded of the justice of his course that he desired to have it +imitated by another under the same circumstances. + +No! he was forever disgraced in his own eyes, when he remembered the +valiant John Leclerc; and it was not to be permitted that Victor Le Roy +should follow the example of the wool-comber in preference to that +he had given,--that politic, wise, blood-sparing, flesh--loving, +truth-depreciating, God-defrauding example. + +Accordingly he lost no time in seeking Victor in his cell. It was the +very cell in which he himself had lately been imprisoned. Within those +narrow walls he had meditated, prayed, and made his choice. There he had +stood face to face with fate, with God, with Jesus, and had decided--not +in favor of the flogging, and the branding, and the glorious infamy. +There, in spite of eloquence and fervor and devotion, in spite of all +his past vows and his hopes, he had decided to take the place and part +of a timeserver;--for he feared disgrace and pain, and the hissing +and scoff and persecution, more than he feared the blasting anger of +insulted and forsaken Truth. + +He found Victor within his cell, his bright face not overcast with +gloom, his eyes not betraying doubts, neither disappointed, astonished, +nor in deep dejection. The mood he deemed unfavorable for his special +word,--poor, deceived, self-deceiving Mazurier! + +He was not merely surprised at these indications,--he was at a loss. A +little trepidation, doubt, suspicion would have better suited him. Alas! +and was _his_ hour the extremity of another's weakness, not in the +elevation of another's spiritual strength? Once when he preached the +Truth as moved by the Holy Ghost, it was not to the prudence or the +worldly wisdom of his hearers he appealed, but to the higher feelings +and the noblest powers of men. Then he called on them to praise God by +their faith in all that added to His glory and dominion. But now his +eloquence was otherwise directed,--not full of the old fire and +enthusiasm,--not trustful in God, but dependent on prudence, as though +all help were in man. He had to draw from his own experience now, +things new and old,--and was not, by confession of the result of such +experience, humiliated! + +"You are under a mistake," was his argument. "You have not gone deep +into these matters; you have made acquaintance only with the agitated +surface of them." And he proceeded to make good all this assertion, it +was so readily proven! _He_ also had been beguiled,--ah, had he not? He +had been beguiled by the rude eloquence, the insensibility to pain, the +pride of opposition, the pride of poverty, the pride of a rude nature, +exhibited by John Leclerc. + +He acknowledged freely, with a fatal candor, that, until he came to +consider these things in their true light, when shut away from all +outward influences, until compelled to quiet meditation beyond the reach +and influence of mere enthusiasm, he had believed with Leclerc, even as +Victor was believing now. He could have gone on, who might tell to what +fanatical length? had it not been for that fortunate arrest which made a +sane man of him! + +Leclerc was not quite in the wrong,--not absolutely,--but neither was +he, as Mazurier had once believed, gloriously in the right. It was +clearly apparent to him, that Victor Le Roy, having now also like +opportunity for calm reflection, would come to like conclusions. + +With such confident prophecy, Mazurier left the young man. His visit was +brief and hurried;--no duty that could be waived should call him away +from his friend at such a time; but he would return; they would speak of +this again; and he kissed Victor, and blessed him, and went out to bid +the authorities delay yet before the lad was brought to trial, for he +was confident, that, if left to reflection, he would come to his senses, +and choose wisely--between God and Mammon? Mazurier expressed it in +another way. + + * * * * * + +In the street, Elsie Meril heard of Victor's arrest, and she brought the +news to Jacqueline. They had returned to Meaux, to their old lodging, +and a day had passed, during which, moment by moment, his arrival was +anticipated. Elsie went out to buy a gift for Jacqueline, a bit of fine +apparelling which she had coveted from the moment she knew Jacqueline +should be a bride. She stole away on her errand without remark, and +came back with the gift,--but also with that which made it valueless, +unmentionable, though it was a costly offering, purchased with the wages +of more than a week's labor in the fields. + +It was almost dark when she returned to Jacqueline. Her friend was +sitting by the window,--waiting,--not for her; and when she went in to +her, it was silently, with no mention of her errand or her love-gift. +Quietly she sat down, thankful that the night was falling, waiting for +its darkness before she should speak words which would make the darkness +to be felt. + +"He does not come," said Jacqueline, at length. + +"Did you think it was he, when I came up the stairs?" inquired Elsie, +tenderly. + +"Oh, no! I can tell your step from all the rest." + +"His, too, I think." + +"Yes, and his, too. My best friends. Strange, if I could not!" + +"Oh, I'm glad you said that, Jacqueline!" + +"My best friends," repeated Jacqueline,--not merely to please Elsie. +Love had opened wide her heart,--and Elsie, weak and foolish though +she might be,--Elsie, her old companion, her playmate, her +fellow-laborer,--Elsie, who should be to her a sister always, and share +in her good-fortune,--Elsie had honorable place there. + +"Could anything have happened, Jacqueline?" said Elsie, trembling: her +tremulous voice betrayed it. + +"Oh, I think not," was the answer. + +"But he is so fearless,--he might have fallen into--into trouble." + +"What have you heard, Elsie?" + +This question was quietly asked, but it struck to the heart of the +questioned girl. Jacqueline suspected!--and yet Jacqueline asked so +calmly! Jacqueline could hear it,--and yet how could this be declared? + +Her hesitation quickened what was hardly suspicion into a conviction. + +"What have you heard?" Jacqueline again questioned,--not so calmly as +before; and yet it was quite calmly, even to the alarmed ear of Elsie +Meril. + +"They have arrested Victor, Jacqueline." + +"For heresy?" + +"I heard it in the street." + +Jacqueline arose,--she crossed the chamber,--her hand was on the latch. +Instantly Elsie stood beside her. + +"What will you do? I must go with you, Jacqueline." + +"Where will you go?" said Jacqueline. + +"With you. Wait,--what is it you will do? Or,--no matter, go on, I will +follow you,--and take the danger with you." + +"Is there danger? For him there is! and there might be for you,--but +none for me. Stay, Elsie. Where shall I go, in truth?" + +Yet she opened the door, and began to descend the stairs even while she +spoke; and Elsie followed her. + +First to the house of the wool-comber. John was not at home,--and his +mother could tell them nothing, had heard nothing of the arrest of +Victor. Then to the place which Victor had pointed out to her as the +home of Mazurier. Mazurier likewise they failed to find. Where, then, +was the prison of Le Roy's captivity? That no man could tell them; so +they came home to their lodging at length in the dark night, there to +wait through endless-seeming hours for morning. + +On the Sunday they had chosen for their wedding-day Mazurier brought +word of Victor to Jacqueline,--was really a messenger, as he announced +himself, when she opened for him the door of her room in the fourth +story of the great lodging-house. He had come on that day with a +message; but it was not in all things--in little beside the love it was +meant to prove--the message Victor had desired to convey. In want of +more faithful, more trustworthy messenger, Le Roy sent word by this man +of his arrest,--and bade Jacqueline pray for him, and come to him, if +that were possible. He desired, he said, to serve his Master,--and, of +all things, sought the Truth. + +To go to the prisoner, Mazurier assured Jacqueline, was impossible, but +she might send a message; indeed, he was here to serve his dear friends. +Ah, poor girl, did she trust the man by whom she sent into a prison +words like these?-- + +"Hold fast to the faith that is in you, Victor. Let nothing persuade you +that you have been mistaken. We asked for light,--it was given us,--let +us walk in it; and no matter where it leads,--since the light is from +heaven. Do not think of me,--nor of yourself,--but only of Jesus Christ, +who said, 'Whosoever would save his life shall lose it.'" + +Mazurier took this message. What did he do with it? He tossed it to the +winds. + +A week after, Le Roy was brought to trial,--and recanted; and so +recanting, was acquitted and set at liberty. + +Mazurier supposed that he meant all kindly in the exertion he made to +save his friend. He would never have ceased from self-reproach, had he +conveyed the words of Jacqueline to Victor,--for the effect of those +words he could clearly foresee. + +And so far from attempting to bring about an interview between the pair, +he would have striven to prevent it, had he seen a probability that it +would be allowed. He set little value on such words as Jacqueline spoke, +when her conscience and her love rose up against each other. The +words she had committed to him he could account for by no supposition +acceptable and reasonable to him. There was something about the girl he +did not understand; she was no fit guide for a man who had need of clear +judgment, when such a decision was to be made as the court demanded of +Le Roy. + +Elsie Meril, between hope and fear, was dumb in these days; but her +presence and her tenderness, though not heroic in action nor wise in +utterance, had a value of which neither she nor Jacqueline was fully +aware. + +When Jacqueline learned the issue of the trial, and that Victor had +falsified his faith, her first impulse was to fly, that she might never +see his face again. For, the instant she heard his choice, her heart +told her what she had been hoping during these days of suspense. She had +tried to see Martial Mazurier, but without success, since he conveyed, +or promised to convey, her message to the prisoner. Of purpose he had +avoided her. He guessed what strength she would by this time have +attained, and he was determined to save both to each other, though it +might be against their will. + + +XI. + + +Victor Le Roy's first endeavor, on being liberated, was--of course to +find Jacqueline? Not so. That was far from his first design. His impulse +was to avoid the girl he had dared to love. Mazurier had, indeed, +conveyed to his mind an impression that would have satisfied him, if +anything of this character could do so. But this was impossible. The +secret of his disquiet was far too profound for such easy removal. + +He had not in himself the witness that he had fulfilled the will of God. +He was disquieted, humiliated, wretched. He could not think of Leclerc, +nor upon his protestations, except with shame and remorse,--remorse, +already. In his heart, in spite of the impression Mazurier had contrived +to convey, he believed not that Jacqueline would bless him to such +work as he could henceforth perform, no longer a free man,--no longer +possessed of liberty of speech and thought. + +He had no sooner renounced his liberty than he became persuaded, by an +overwhelming reasoning, as he had never been convinced before, of +the pricelessness of that he had sacrificed. When he went from the +court-room, from the presence of his judges, he was not a free man, +though the dignitaries called him so. Martial Mazurier walked arm in arm +with him, but the world was a den of horrors, a blackened and accursed +world, to the young man who came from prison, free to use his +freedom--as the priests directed! + +He went home from the prison with Mazurier. The world had conquered. +Love had conquered,--Love, that in the conquest felt itself disgraced. +He had sold the divine, he had received the human: it was the old +pottage speculation over again. This privilege of liberty from his +dungeon had looked so fair!--but now it seemed so worthless! This +prospect of life so priceless in contemplation of its loss,--oh, the +beggar who crept past him was an enviable man, compared with young +Victor Le Roy, the heir of love and riches, the heir of liberty and +life! + +Yes,--he went home with Mazurier. Where else should he go? +Congratulations attended him. He was compelled to receive them with a +countenance not too sombre, and a grace not all thankless, or--or--they +would say it was of cowardice he had saved his precious body from the +sentence of the judges, and given his precious LIFE up to the sentence +of the JUDGE. + +Yes,--Martial took him home. There they might talk at leisure of those +things,--and ask a blessing on the testimony of Jesus, made and kept by +them! + +Victor Le Roy was too proud to complain now. He assented to all the +preacher's sophistry. He allowed himself to be cheered. But this was +no such evening as had been spent in the room of the wool-comber, when +Leclerc's voice, strong, even through his weakness, called on God, +and blessed and praised Him, and the spirit conquered the flesh +gloriously,--the old mother of Leclerc sharing his joy, as she had also +shared his anguish. Here was no Jacqueline to say to Victor, "Thou hast +done well! 'Glory be to Jesus Christ, and His witnesses!'" + +Mazurier thanked God for the deliverance of His servant! He dedicated +himself and Victor anew to the service of Truth, which they had shrunk +from defending! And his eloquence and fervor seemed to stamp the words +with sincerity. He seemed not in the least to suspect or fear himself. + +With Victor Le Roy such self-deception, such sophistry, was simply +impossible. + + * * * * * + +Not of purpose did he meet Jacqueline that night. She had heard that Le +Roy was at liberty, and alone now she applied at the door of Martial +Mazurier for admittance, but in vain. The master had signified that his +evening was not to be interrupted. Therefore she returned, from waiting +near his door, to the street where she and Elsie lived. + +Should her woman's pride have led her to her lofty lodging, and kept her +there without a sign, till Victor himself came seeking her? She knew +nothing of such pride,--but much of love; and her love took her back to +the post where she had waited many an hour since that disastrous arrest: +she would wait there till morning, if she must,--at least, till one +should enter, or come forth, who might tell her of Victor Le Roy. + +The light in the preacher's study she could see from the door-step in a +court-yard where she waited. Should Mazurier come with Victor, she would +let them pass; but if Victor came alone, she had a right to speak. + +It was after midnight when the student came down from the preacher's +study. She heard his voice when the door opened,--by the street-lamp +saw his face. And she recognized also the voice of Mazurier, who, till +the last moment of separation, seemed endeavoring to dissuade his friend +from leaving him that night. + +He heard footsteps following him, as he passed along the +pavement,--observed that they gained on him. And could it be any other +than Jacqueline who touched his arm, and whispered, "Victor"? + +His fast-beating heart told him it was she. He took her hand, and +drew it within his arm, and looked upon her face,--the face of his +Jacqueline. + +"Now where?" said he. "It is late. It is after midnight. Why are you +alone in the street?" + +"Waiting for you, Victor. I heard you were at liberty, and I supposed +you were with him. I was safe." + +"Yes,--for you fear nothing. That is the only reason. You knew I was +with the preacher, Jacqueline. Why? Because--because I _am_ with him, +of course." + +"Yes," she said. "I heard it was so, Victor." + +"Strange!--strange!--is it not? A prison is a better place to learn the +truth than the pure air of liberty, it seems," said he, bitterly. + +"What is that?" she asked. She seemed not to understand his meaning. + +"Nothing. I am acquitted of heresy, you know. It seems, what we talked +so bravely meant--nothing. Oh, I am safe, now!" + +"It was to preach none the less,--to hold the truth none the less. But +if he lost his life, there was an end of all; or if he lost his +liberty, it was as bad. But he would keep both, and serve God so," said +Jacqueline. + +"Yes," cried Victor, "precisely what he said. I have said the same, you +think?" + +"If you are quite clear that Leclerc and the rest of us are all wrong, +Victor." + +"Jacqueline!" + +"What is it, Victor?" + +"'The rest of us,' you say. What would _you_ have done in my place?" + +"God knows. I pretend not to know anything more." + +"But 'the rest of us,' you said. You think that you at least are with +Leclerc?" + +"That was the truth you taught me, Victor. But--I have not yet been +tried." + +"That is safe to say. What makes you speak so prudently, Jacqueline? Why +do you not declare, 'Though all men deny Thee, yet will I never deny +Thee'? Ah, you have not been tried! You are not yet in danger of the +judgment, Jacqueline!" + +"Do not speak so; you frighten me; it is not like you. How can I tell? +I do not know but in this retirement, in this thought you have been +compelled to, you have obtained more light than any one can have until +he comes to just such a place." + +"Ah, Jacqueline, why not say to me what you are thinking? Have you lost +your courage? Say, 'Thou hast not lied unto men, but unto God.'" + +"No,--oh, no! How could I say it, my poor Victor? How do you know?" + +"Surely you cannot know, as you say. But from where you stand, that is +what you are thinking. Jacqueline, confess! If you should speak your +mind, it would be, 'Thou hast not lied unto men, but unto God, poor +coward!' Oh, Jacqueline, Mazurier may deceive himself! I speak not for +him; but what will you do with your poor Victor, my poor Jacqueline?" + +She did not linger in the answer,--she did not sob or tremble,--he was +by her side. + +"Love him to the end. As He, when He loved His own." + +"Your own, poor girl? No, no!" + +"You gave yourself to me," she answered straightway, with resolute +firmness clinging to the all she had. + +"I was a man then," he answered. "But I will never give a liar and a +coward to Jacqueline Gabrie. Everything but myself, Jacqueline! Take +the old words, and the old memory. But for this outcast, him you shall +forget. My God! thou hast not brought this brave girl from Domremy, and +lighted her heart with a coal from Thine altar, that she should turn +from Thee to me! If you love a liar and a coward, Jacqueline, you cannot +help yourself,--he will make you one, too. And what I loved you for was +your truth and purity and courage. I have given you a treasure which was +greater than I could keep.--Where is it that you live now, Jacqueline? I +am not yet such a poltroon that I am afraid to conduct you. I think that +I should have the courage to protect you to-night, if you were in any +immediate danger. Come, lead the way." + +"No," said Jacqueline. "I am not going home. I could not sleep; and +a roof over my head--any save God's heaven--would suffocate me, I +believe." + +"Go, then, as you will. But where?" + +Jacqueline did not answer, but walked quietly on; and so they passed +beyond the city-borders to the river-bank,--far away into the country, +through the fields, under the light of stars and of the waning moon. + +"If I had been true!" said Victor,--"if I had not listened to him! But +him I will not blame. For why should I blame him? Am I an idiot? And his +influence could not have prevailed, had I not so chosen, when I stood +before my judges and they questioned me. No,--I acquit Mazurier. Perhaps +what I have denied never appeared to him so glorious as it did once to +me; and so he was guiltless at least of knowing what it was I did. But I +knew. And I could not have been deceived for a moment. No,--I think it +impossible that for a moment I should have been deceived. They would +have made a notable example of me, Jacqueline. I am rich,--I am a +student.--Oh, yes! Jesus Christ may die for me, and I accept the +benefit; but when it comes to suffering for His sake,--you could not +have expected that of such a poltroon, Jacqueline! We may look for it in +brave men like Leclerc, whose very living depends on their ability to +earn their bread,--to earn it by daily sweat; but men who need not +toil, who have leisure and education,--of course you would not expect +such testimony to the truth of Jesus from them! Bishop Briconnet +recants,--and Martial Mazurier; and Victor Le Roy is no braver man, no +truer man than these!" + +With bitter shame and self-scorning he spoke.--Poor Jacqueline had not +a word to say. She sat beside him. She would help him bear his cross. +Heavy-laden as he, she awaited the future, saying, in the silence of her +spirit's dismal solitude, "Oh, teach us! Oh, help us!" But she called +not on any name; her prayer went out in search of a God whom in that +hour she knew not. The dark cloud and shadow of Satan that overshadowed +him was also upon her. + +"Mazurier is coming in the morning to take me with him, Jacqueline," +said Victor. "We are to make a journey." + +"What is it, Victor?" she asked, quietly. + +There was nothing left for her but patience,--that she clearly +saw,--nothing but patience, and quiet enduring of the will of God. + +"He is afraid of me,--or of himself,--or of both, I believe. He thinks +a change of scene would be good for both of us, poor lepers that we +are." + +"I must go with you, Victor Le Roy," said the resolute Jacqueline. + +"Wherefore?" asked he. + +"Because, when you were strong and happy, that was your desire, Victor; +and now that you are sick and sorrowing, I will not give you to another: +no! not to Mazurier, nor to any one that breathes, except myself, to +whom you belong." + +"I must stay here in Meaux, then?" + +"That depends upon yourself, Victor." + +"We were to have been married. We were going to look after our estate, +now that the hard summer and the hard years of work are ended." + +"Yes, Victor, it was so." + +"But I will not wrong you. You were to be the wife of Victor Le Roy. +You are his widow, Jacqueline. For you do not think that he lives any +longer?" + +"He lives, and he is free! If he has sinned, like Peter even, he weeps +bitterly." + +"Like Peter? Peter denied his Lord. But he did weep, as you +say,--bitterly. Peter confessed again." + +"And none served the Master with truer heart or greater courage +afterward. Victor, you remember." + +"Even so,--oh, Jacqueline!" + +"Victor! Victor! it was only Judas who hanged himself." + +"Come, Jacqueline!" + +She arose and went with him. At dawn they were married. Love did lead +and save them. + +I see two youthful students studying one page. I see two loving spirits +walking through thick darkness. Along the horizon flicker the promises +of day. They say, "O Holy Ghost, hast thou forsaken thine own temples?" +Aloud they cry to God. + +I see them wandering among Domremy woods and meadows,--around the castle +of Picardy,--talking of Joan. I see them resting by the graves they find +in two ancient villages. I see them walk in sunny places; they are not +called to toil; they may gather all the blossoms that delight their +eyes. Their love grows beyond childhood,--does not die before it comes +to love's best estate. Happy bride and bridegroom! But I see them as +through a cloud whose fair hues are transient. + +From the meadow-lands and the vineyards and the dark forests of the +mountains, from study and from rest, I see them move with solemn faces +and calm steps. Brave lights are in their eyes, and flowers that are +immortal they carry in their hands. No distillation can exhaust the +fragrance of those blooms. + +What dost thou here, Victor? What dost thou here, Jacqueline? + +This is the place of prisons. Here they light again, as they have often +lighted, torch and fagot;--life must pay the cost! Angry crowds and +hooting multitudes love this dreary square. Oh, Jacqueline and Victor, +what is this I behold? + +They come together from their prison, hand in hand. "The testimony +of Jesus!" Stand back, Mazurier! Retire, Briconnet! Here is not your +place,--this is not your hour! Yet here incendiaries fire the temples +of the Holy Ghost! + +The judges do not now congratulate. Jacqueline waits not now at midnight +for the coming of Le Roy. Bride and bridegroom, there they stand; they +face the world to give their testimony. + +And a woman's voice, almost I deem the voice of Elsie Meril, echoes the +mother's cry that followed John Leclerc when he fought the beasts at +Meaux,-- + +"Blessed be Jesus Christ, and His witnesses." + +So of the Truth were they borne up that day in a blazing chariot to meet +their Lord in the air, to be forever with their Lord. + + * * * * * + + +ON A MAGNOLIA-FLOWER. + + + Memorial of my former days, + Magnolia, as I scent thy breath, + And on thy pallid beauty gaze, + I feel not far from death! + + So much hath happened! and so much + The tomb hath claimed of what was mine! + Thy fragrance moves me with a touch + As from a hand divine: + + So many dead! so many wed! + Since first, by this Magnolia's tree, + I pressed a gentle hand and said, + A word no more for me! + + Lady, who sendest from the South + This frail, pale token of the past, + I press the petals to my mouth, + And sigh--as 'twere my last. + + Oh, love, we live, but many fell! + The world's a wreck, but we survive!-- + Say, rather, still on earth we dwell, + But gray at thirty-five! + + + + +SOME NOTES ON SHAKSPEARE. + + +In 1849, the discovery by Mr. Payne Collier of a copy of the Works +of Shakspeare, known as the folio of 1632, with manuscript notes and +emendations of the same or nearly the same date, created a great and +general interest in the world of letters. + +The marginal notes were said to be in a handwriting not much later +than the period when the volume came from the press; and Shakspearian +scholars and students of Shakspeare, and the far more numerous class, +lovers of Shakspeare, learned and unlearned, received with respectful +eagerness a version of his text claiming a date so near to the lifetime +of the master that it was impossible to resist the impression that the +alterations came to the world with only less weight of authority than if +they had been undoubtedly his own. + +The general satisfaction of the literary world in the treasure-trove was +but little alloyed by the occasional cautiously expressed doubts of +some caviller at the authenticity of the newly discovered "curiosity of +literature"; the daily newspapers made room in their crowded columns for +extracts from the volume; the weekly journals put forth more elaborate +articles on its history and contents; and the monthly and quarterly +reviews bestowed their longer and more careful criticism upon the new +readings of that text, to elucidate which has been the devout industry +of some of England's ripest scholars and profoundest thinkers; while +the actors, not to be behindhand in a study especially concerning their +vocation, adopted with more enthusiasm than discrimination some of the +new readings, and showed a laudable acquaintance with the improved +version, by exchanging undoubtedly the better for the worse, upon the +authority of Mr. Collier's folio, soon after the publication of which +I had the ill-fortune to hear a popular actress destroy the effect +and meaning of one of the most powerful passages in "Macbeth" by +substituting the new for the old reading of the line,-- + + "What beast was it, then, + That made you break this enterprise to me?" + +The cutting antithesis of "What _beast_" in retort to her husband's +assertion, "I dare do all that may become a _man_," was tamely rendered +by the lady, in obedience to Mr. Collier's folio, "What _boast_ was +it, then,"--a change that any one possessed of poetical or dramatic +perception would have submitted to upon nothing short of the positive +demonstration of the author's having so written the passage. + +Opinions were, indeed, divided as to the intrinsic merit of the +emendations or alterations. Some of the new readings were undoubted +improvements, some were unimportant, and others again were beyond all +controversy inferior to the established text of the passages; and it +seemed not a little difficult to reconcile the critical acumen and +poetical insight of many of the corrections with the feebleness and +prosaic triviality of others. + +Again, it was observed by those conversant with the earlier editions, +especially with the little read or valued Oxford edition, that a vast +number of the passages given as emendations in Mr. Collier's folio were +precisely the same in Hanmer's text. Indeed, it seems not a little +remarkable that neither Mr. Collier nor his opponents have thought it +worth their while to state that nearly half, and that undoubtedly the +better half, of the so-called new readings are to be found in the finely +printed, but little esteemed, text of the Oxford Shakspeare. If, indeed, +these corrections now come to us with the authority of a critic but +little removed from Shakspeare's own time, it is remarkable that Sir +Thomas Hanmer's, or rather Mr. Theobald's, ingenuity should have +forestalled the _fiat_ of Mr. Collier's folio in so many instances. On +the other hand, it may have been judged by others besides a learned +editor of Shakspeare from whom I once heard the remark, that the fact of +the so-called new readings being many of them in Rowe and Hanmer, and +therefore well known to the subsequent editors of Shakspeare, who +nevertheless did not adopt them, proved that in their opinion they were +of little value and less authority. But, says Mr. Collier, inasmuch as +they are in the folio of 1632, which I now give to the world, they are +of authority paramount to any other suggestion or correction that has +hitherto been made on the text of Shakspeare. + +Thus stood the question in 1853. How stands it in 1860? After a slow, +but gradual process of growth and extension of doubt and questionings, +more or less calculated to throw discredit on the authority of the +marginal notes in the folio,--the volume being subjected to the careful +and competent examination of certain officers of the library of the +British Museum,--the result seems to threaten a considerable reduction +in the supposed value of the authority which the public was called upon +to esteem so highly. + +The ink in which the annotations are made has been subjected to chemical +analysis, and betrays, under the characters traced in it, others made in +pencil, which are pronounced by some persons of a more modern date than +the letters which have been traced over them. + +Here at present the matter rests. Much angry debate has ensued between +the various gentlemen interested in the controversy,--Mr. Collier not +hesitating to suggest that pencil-marks in imitation of his handwriting +had been inserted in the volume, and a fly-leaf abstracted from it, +while in the custody of Messrs. Hamilton and Madden of the British +Museum; while the replies of these gentlemen would go towards +establishing that the corrections are forgeries, and insinuating that +they are forgeries for which Mr. Collier is himself responsible. + +While the question of the antiquity and authority of these marginal +notes remains thus undecided, it may not be amiss to apply to them the +mere test of common sense in order to determine upon their intrinsic +value, to the adequate estimate of which all thoughtful readers of +Shakspeare must be to a certain degree competent. + +The curious point, of whose they are, may test the science of +decipherers of palimpsest manuscripts; the more weighty one, of what +they are worth, remains, as it was from the first, a matter on which +every student of Shakspeare may arrive at some conclusion for himself. +And, indeed, to this ground of judgment Mr. Collier himself appeals, in +his preface to the "Notes and Emendations," in no less emphatic terms +than the following:--"As Shakspeare was especially the poet of common +life, so he was emphatically the poet of common sense; and to the +verdict of common sense I am willing to submit all the more material +alterations recommended on the authority before me." + +I take "The Tempest," the first play in Mr. Collier's volume of "Notes +and Emendations," and, while bestowing my principal attention on the +inherent worth of the several new readings, shall point out where +they tally exactly with the text of the Oxford edition, because that +circumstance has excited little attention in the midst of the other +various elements of interest in the controversy, and also because I have +it in my power to give from a copy of that edition in my possession some +passages corrected by John and Charles Kemble, who brought to the study +of the text considerable knowledge of it and no inconsiderable ability +for poetical and dramatic criticism. + +In the first scene of the first act of "The Tempest" Mr. Collier gives +the line,-- + + "Good Boatswain, have care,"-- + +adding, "It may be just worth remark, that the colloquial expression is +_have a care_, and _a_ is inserted in the margin of the corrected folio, +1632, to indicate, probably, that the poet so wrote it, or, at all +events, that the actor so delivered it." + +In the copy of Hanmer in my possession the _a_ is also inserted in the +margin, upon the authority of one of the eminent actors above mentioned. + +SCENE II. + + "The sky. it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, + But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, + Dashes the fire out." + +The manuscript corrector of the folio, 1632, has substituted _heat_ +for "cheek," which appears to me an alteration of no value whatever. +Shakspeare was more likely to have written _cheek_ than _heat_; for +elsewhere he uses the expression, "Heaven's face," "the welkin's face," +and, though irregular, the expression is poetical. + +At Miranda's exclamation,-- + + "A brave vessel, + Who had no doubt some noble creature in her, + Dash'd all to pieces,"-- + +Mr. Collier does Theobald the justice to observe, that he, as well as +the corrector of the folio, 1632, adds the necessary letter _s_ to the +word "creature," making the plural substantive agree with her other +exclamation of, "Poor souls, they perished!" + +Where Mr. Collier, upon the authority of his folio, substitutes +_pre_vision for "provision" in the lines of Prospero,-- + + "The direful spectacle of the wreck . . . + I have with such provision in mine art + So safely ordered," etc.,-- + +I do not agree to the value of the change. It is very true that +_pre_vision means the foresight that his art gave him, but _pro_vision +implies the exercise of that foresight or _pre_vision; it is therefore +better, because more comprehensive. + +Mr. Collier's folio gives as an improvement upon Malone and Steevens's +reading of the passage,-- + + "And thy father + Was Duke of Milan; and his only heir + A princess; no worse issued,"-- + +the following:-- + + "And thy father + Was Duke of Milan,--thou his only heir + And princess no worse issued." + +Supposing the folio to be ingenious rather than authoritative, the +passage, as it stands in Hanmer, is decidedly better, because clearer:-- + + "And thy father + Was Duke of Milan,--thou, his only heir + A princess--no worse issued." + +In the next passage, given as emended by the folio, we have what appears +to me one bad and one decidedly good alteration from the usual reading, +which, in all the editions given hitherto, has left the meaning barely +perceptible through the confusion and obscurity of the expression. + + "He being thus _lorded_, + Not only with what my revenue yielded, + But what my power might else exact,--like one + Who having _unto truth_ by telling of it + Made such a sinner of his memory + To credit his own lie,--he did believe + He was indeed the Duke." + +The folio says,-- + +"He being thus _loaded_." + +And to this change I object: the meaning was obvious before; "lorded" +stands clearly enough here for made lord of or over, etc.; and though +the expression is unusual, it is less prosaic than the proposed word +_loaded_. But in the rest of the passage the critic of the folio does +immense service to the text, in reading + + "Like one + Who having _to untruth_ by telling of it + Made such a sinner of his memory + To credit his own lie,--he did believe + He was indeed the Duke." + +This change carries its own authority in its manifest good sense. + +Of the passage,-- + + "Whereon, + A treacherous army levied, one midnight + Fated to the purpose, did Antonio open + The gates of Milan, and in the dead of darkness + The ministers for the purpose hurried thence + Me and thy crying self,"-- + +Mr. Collier says that the iteration of the word "purpose," in the fourth +line, after its employment in the second, is a blemish, which his folio +obviates by substituting the word _practice_ in the first line. I think +this a manifest improvement, though not an important one. + +Mr. Collier gives Rowe the credit of having altered "butt" to _boat_, +and "have quit it" to _had quit it_, in the lines,-- + + "Where they prepar'd + A rotten carcase of a _butt_ not rigg'd, + Nor tackle, sail, nor mast,--the very rats + Instinctively _have quit it_." + +Adding, that in both changes he is supported by the corrector of the +folio, 1632. Hanmer gives the passage exactly as the latter, and as Rowe +does. + +We now come to the stage-directions in the folio, to which Mr. Collier +gives, I think, a most exaggerated value. He says, that, where Prospero +says,-- + + "Lend thy hand + And pluck my magic garment from me,--so + Lie there, my art,"-- + +the words, "Lay it down," are written over against the passage. Now this +really seems a very unnecessary direction, inasmuch as the text very +clearly indicates that Prospero lays down as well as plucks off his +"magic garment,"--unless we are to suppose Miranda holding it over her +arm till he resumes it. But still less do I agree with Mr. Collier in +thinking the direction, "Put on robe again," at the passage beginning, +"Now I arise," any extraordinary accession to the business, as it is +technically called, of the scene: for I do not think that his resuming +his magical robe was in any way necessary to account for the slumber +which overcomes Miranda, "in spite of her interest in her father's +story," and which Mr. Collier says the commentators have endeavored to +account for in various ways; but putting "_because_ of her interest in +her father's story," instead of "_in spite_ of," I feel none of the +difficulty which beset the commentators, and which Mr. Collier conjures +by the stage-direction which makes Prospero resume his magic robe at +a certain moment in order to put his daughter to sleep. Worthy Dr. +Johnson, who was not among the puzzled commentators on this occasion, +suggests, very agreeably to common sense, that "Experience proves that +any violent agitation of the mind easily subsides in slumber." But Mr. +Collier says, the Doctor gives this very reasonable explanation of +Miranda's sleep only because he was not acquainted with the folio +stage-direction about Prospero's coat, and knew no better. Now we are +acquainted with this important addition to the text, and yet know no +better than to agree with Doctor Johnson, that Miranda's slumbers were +perfectly to be accounted for without the coat. Mr. Collier does not +seem to know that a deeper and heavier desire to sleep follows upon the +overstrained exercise of excited attention than on the weariness of a +dull and uninteresting appeal to it. + +But let us consider Shakspeare's text, rather than the corrector's +additions, for a moment. Within reach of the wild wind and spray of +the tempest, though sheltered from their fury, Miranda had watched the +sinking ship struggling with the mad elements, and heard when "rose from +sea to sky the wild farewell." Amazement and pity had thrown her into a +paroxysm of grief, which is hardly allayed by her father's assurance, +that "there's no harm done." After this terrible excitement follows the +solemn exordium to her father's story,-- + + "The hour's now come; + The very minute bids thee ope thine ear. + Obey and be attentive." + +The effort she calls upon her memory to make to recover the traces +of her earliest impressions of life,--the strangeness of the events +unfolded to her,--the duration of the recital itself, which is +considerable,--and, above all, the poignant personal interest of +its details, are quite sufficient to account for the sudden utter +prostration of her overstrained faculties and feelings, and the profound +sleep that falls on the young girl. Perhaps Shakspeare knew this, though +his commentators, old and new, seem not to have done so; and without a +professed faith, such as some of us moderns indulge in, in the mysteries +of magnetism, perhaps he believed enough in the magnetic force of the +superior physical as well as mental power of Prospero's nature over +the nervous, sensitive, irritable female organization of his child to +account for the "I know thou canst not choose" with which he concludes +his observation on her drowsiness, and his desire that she will not +resist it. The magic gown may, indeed, have been powerful,--but hardly +more so, we think, than the nervous exhaustion which, combined with +the authoritative will and eyes of her lord and father, bowed down the +child's drooping eyelids in profoundest sleep. + +The strangest of all Mr. Collier's comments upon this passage, however, +is that where he represents Miranda as, up to a certain point of her +father's story, remaining "standing eagerly listening by his side." This +is not only gratuitous, but absolutely contrary to Shakspeare's text,--a +greater authority, I presume, than even that of the annotated folio. +Prospero's words to his daughter, when first he begins the recital of +their sea-sorrow, are,-- + + "Sit down! + For thou must now know further." + +Does Mr. Collier's folio reject this reading of the first line? or does +he suppose that Miranda remained standing, in spite of her father's +command? Moreover, when he interrupts his story with the words, "Now I +arise," he adds, to his daughter, "Sit still," which clearly indicates +both that she was seated and that she was about to rise (naturally +enough) when her father did. We say, "Sit _down_," to a person who is +standing; and, "Sit _still_," to a person seated who is about to rise; +and in all these minute particulars, the simple text of Shakspeare, if +attentively followed, gives every necessary indication of his intention +with regard to the attitudes and movements of the persons on the stage +in this scene; and the highly commended stage-directions of the folio +are here, therefore, perfectly superfluous. + +The next alteration in the received text is a decided improvement. In +speaking of the royal fleet dispersed by the tempest, Ariel says,-- + + "They all have met again, + And are upon the Mediterranean _flote_ + Bound sadly home for Naples";-- + +for which Mr. Collier's folio substitutes,-- + + "They all have met again, + And all upon the Mediterranean _float_, + Bound sadly back to Naples." + +Mr. Collier notices, that the improvement of giving the lines, + + "Which any print of goodness will not take," + +to Prospero, instead of Miranda, dates as far back as Dryden and +Davenant's alteration of "The Tempest," from which he says Theobald and +others copied it. + +The corrected folio gives its authority to the lines of the song,-- + + "Foot it featly here and there, + And, sweet sprites, the burden bear,"-- + +which stands so in Hanmer, and, indeed is the usually received +arrangement of the song. + +This is the last corrected passage in the first act, in the course of +which Mr. Collier gives us no fewer than sixteen, altered, emended, and +commented upon in his folio. Many of the emendations are to be found +_verbatim_ in the Oxford and subsequent editions, and three only appear +to us to be of any special value, tried by the standard of common sense, +to which we agreed, on Mr. Collier's invitation, to refer them. + +The line in Prospero's threat to Caliban,-- + + "I'll rack thee with old cramps, + Fill all thy bones with _aches_, make thee roar,"-- + +occasioned one of Mr. John Kemble's characteristic differences with the +public, who objected, perhaps not without reason, to hearing the word +"aches" pronounced as a dissyllable, although the line imperatively +demands it; and Shakspeare shows that the word was not unusually so +pronounced, as he introduces it with the same quantity in the prose +dialogue of "Much Ado about Nothing," and makes it the vehicle of a pun +which certainly argues that it was familiar to the public ear as _ache_ +and not _ake_. When Hero asks Beatrice, who complains that she is sick, +what she is sick for,--a hawk, a hound, or a husband,--Beatrice replies, +that she is sick for--or of--that which begins them all, an _ache_,--an +_H_. Indeed, much later than Shakspeare's day the word was so +pronounced; for Dean Swift, in the "City Shower," has the line,-- + + "Old _aches_ throb, your hollow tooth will + rage." + +The opening of this play is connected with my earliest recollections. In +looking down the "dark backward and abysm of time," to the period when +I was but six years old, my memory conjures up a vision of a stately +drawing-room on the ground-floor of a house, doubtless long since swept +from the face of the earth by the encroaching tide of new houses +and streets that has submerged every trace of suburban beauty, +picturesqueness, or rural privacy in the neighborhood of London, +converting it all by a hideous process of assimilation into more London, +till London seems almost more than England can carry. + +But in those years, "long enough ago," to which I refer,--somewhere +between Lea and Blackheath, stood in the midst of well-kept grounds a +goodly mansion, which held this pleasant room. It was always light and +cheerful and warm, for the three windows down to the broad gravel-walk +before it faced south; and though the lawn was darkened just in front of +them by two magnificent yew-trees, the atmosphere of the room itself, +in its silent, sunny loftiness, was at once gay and solemn to my small +imagination and senses,--much as the interior of Saint Peter's of Rome +has been since to them. Wonderful, large, tall jars of precious old +china stood in each window, and my nose was just on a level with the +wide necks, whence issued the mellowest smell of fragrant _pot-pourri_. +Into this room, with its great crimson curtains and deep crimson carpet, +in which my feet seemed to me buried, as in woodland moss, I used to be +brought for recompense of having been "very good," and there I used to +find a lovely-looking lady, who was to me the fitting divinity of this +shrine of pleasant awfulness. She bore a sweet Italian diminutive for +her Christian name, added to one of the noblest old ducal names of +Venice, which was that of her family. + +I have since known that she was attached to the person of, and warmly +personally attached to, the unfortunate Caroline of Brunswick, Princess +of Wales,--then only unfortunate; so that I can now guess at the drift +of much sad and passionate talk with indignant lips and tearful eyes, of +which the meaning was then of course incomprehensible to me, but which I +can now partly interpret by the subsequent history of that ill-used and +ill-conducted lady. + +The face of my friend with the great Venetian name was like one of +Giorgione's pictures,--of that soft and mellow colorlessness that +recalls the poet's line,-- + + "E smarrisce 'l bel volto in quel colore + Che non e pallidezza, ma candore,"-- + +or the Englishman's version of the same thought,-- + + "Her face,--oh, call it fair, not pale!" + +It seemed to me, as I remember it, cream-colored; and her eyes, like +clear water over brown rocks, where the sun is shining. But though the +fair visage was like one of the great Venetian master's portraits, her +voice was purely English, low, distinct, full, and soft,--and in this +enchanting voice she used to tell me the story of the one large picture +which adorned the room. + +Over and over again, at my importunate beseeching, she told +it,--sometimes standing before it, while I held her hand and listened +with upturned face, and eyes rounding with big tears of wonder and pity, +to a tale which shook my small soul with a sadness and strangeness +far surpassing the interest of my beloved tragedy, "The Babes in the +Wood,"--though at this period of my existence it has happened to me to +interrupt with frantic cries of distress, and utterly refuse to hear, +the end of that lamentable ballad. + +But the picture.--In the midst of a stormy sea, on which night seemed +fast settling down, a helmless, mastless, sailless bark lay weltering +giddily, and in it sat a man in the full flower of vigorous manhood. +His attitude was one of miserable dejection, and, oh, how I did long to +remove the hand with which his eyes were covered, to see what manner of +look in them answered to the bitter sorrow which the speechless lips +expressed! His other hand rested on the fair curls of a girl-baby of +three years old, who clung to his knee, and, with wide, wondering blue +eyes and laughing lips, looked up into the half-hidden face of her +father.--"And that," said the sweet voice at my side, "was the good Duke +of Milan, Prospero,--and that was his little child, Miranda." + +There was something about the face and figure of the Prospero that +suggested to me those of my father; and this, perhaps, added to the +poignancy with which the representation of his distress affected my +childish imagination. But the impression made by the picture, the story, +and the place where I heard the one and saw the other, is among the most +vivid that my memory retains. And never, even now, do I turn the magic +page that holds that marvellous history, without again seeing the lovely +lady, the picture full of sad dismay, and my own six-year-old self +listening to that earliest Shakspearian lore that my mind and heart ever +received. I suppose this is partly the secret of my love for this, +above all other of the poet's plays;--it was my first possession in the +kingdom of unbounded delight which he has since bestowed upon me. + + * * * * * + + +THE GREAT ARM-CHAIR. + + +Shall I not to-day, Estelle, give you the history of this great +arm-chair, the only historical piece of furniture in our house? The +heavy oak frame was carved by an imprisoned poet. They took away his +pen, and in larger lines he carved this chair. Heavily moulded Sphinxes +form its arms; the strong legs and feet of some wild beast its support; +the crest, a winged figure with bandaged eyes,--a Fate or Fortune +we might call it,--that mild look not to be resisted in its gentle +strength. But blind Fortune could not so master him: his prison made for +him only a secure room, in which to study, to work out, the mysteries. + +The rich covering was wrought long years ago, in some ancient convent, +by a saintly nun. Holy, pious tears dropped on it as she wrought. She +pricked out brave bright flowers with her needle, though her own life +was pale and sad. I cover this sacred work with housewifely care; but it +makes our rest there more hallowed. + +This old chair we call our dreaming-chair,--to borrow a name, our +Sleepy-Hollow. It is so simple and grand in workmanship, it should be +the seat of honor in a king's palace; and yet it is in place in our +small parlor. Perhaps some day I may tell you of the ancient dames and +knights who once possessed it; but they have long since slept their last +sleep,--no summer-afternoon's nap, but a sleep so long to last, now +their long day's work is done. + +Not quite finished is the old man's work who this afternoon sat in the +chair and quietly dreamed back his youth. I saw the hardened, withered +face soften, as the bright light of childhood played around it; the +meagre, hard old man forgot for a little the sharp want that pinched +him; when he waked, he still babbled of green fields. + +"Did Robinson Crusoe ever come back to his father and mother?" he says +to me. "Poor boy! poor boy! I went to sea when I was young. Father and +mother didn't like it. Came back after a four-years' voyage, and off +again, soon as the ship had unloaded, on another trip up the Channel: +took all my money to fit out. Might have had the Custom-House, if there +had been anybody to speak for me; would have done my work well, and +maybe had kept it thirty or forty years. Should be glad to creep into a +hay-mow and pay somebody to feed me. Wish old Uncle Jack was good for +somethin' besides work, work,--nothin' but hard work! Wish he could talk +and say somethin'. + +"Now that was good, sensible poetry you were reading, wasn't it? Good +stuff? Couldn't hear a word of it: poor old fellow can't hear much now. +Wish my father had lived longer; he would have told me things; he used +to be different to me. I could have been a sight of comfort to him in +mathematics." (His father died when the son was fifty years old; the +thirty years he had lived since seemed a long life to the old man.) +"Mayn't I look at the poetry?" + +I found the place for him,--"New England." + +"Yes, the farmer takes lots of comfort, walking on the road, foddering +cattle, cutting wood." + +Uncle Jack believes heartily in New England corn, and in the planting +and hoeing of Indian corn he takes great delight: not to corn-laws, but +to Indian corn, the talk always drifts. + +"I hear you are going to plant a couple of acres of corn, Sir. Glad of +it. This is an excellent dish of tea, Marm. This bread tastes like my +mother's bread; baked in a bake-kettle. These mangoes are nice,--such as +we used to have." + +Turning to Aunt Sarah, he says,-- + +"Did you ever notice a difference in eggs, Marm?" + +"Yes, Aunt thinks there is a difference between fresh and stale eggs." + +"But I mean, Marm, that some are thin-shelled, some rough, some +round, some peaked: a hen lays 'em just so all her life. Ever see a +difference?" + +It is an open question. + +Then turning to the master of the house,-- + +"Do you like choc'late, Sir? Well, how you going to fix it when you +haven't got any milk? Well, you just beat up an egg, and pour on the +choc'late, boiling hot, stirring all the time, and you won't want any +milk, Sir. That was what kept me alive aboard the Ranger." + +Now comes the story of the Ranger. He was getting in years, he said, and +wanted a home for his old age; so he built him a boat. He put a little +open stove in it, because an open fire felt kind o' comfortable to his +toes. He named it the Ranger; because when he was a little boy he took a +long walk to the beach with his father, the little Iulus following with +unequal steps, and they saw a shipwrecked vessel, named the Ranger, and +he liked the name. He kept that name in his heart many years. When at +last, by dint of much saving and scraping together, much hoeing of +Indian corn, the old stocking-foot was at last filled, all the little +odd bits, poured out and counted up, came to enough to speak to the +ship-builder. Oh, the model! how the old man's brain worked over that! +Then the timber,--each was a chosen piece; oak, apple, cherry, pine, +each tree sent a stick. The home was builded, was launched, was +christened: The Ranger. Alas, it was an ill-omened name to him! Brave +and young was he in heart, and loved right well his tossing, rolling +home; and many a hard gale did he ride out in her alone, old as he was. + +Too old was he to be trusted on the treacherous deep; and friends (?) +advised and counselled, and the home of his old age was sold. (He never +got the pay!) Now, with restless, wandering feet, he makes long tramps, +trying to collect old debts. Kind-hearted old man that he is, thinking +always he is hard on 'em when he gets a promise to pay! A wife has been +sick; perhaps he had better not ask for it now. His ox has died; maybe +he had better wait. Fumbling over old papers in his pocket-book, +muttering something about a pension: he was on the list, but was never +called out, or somebody took his place. + +Poor old Uncle Jack, with his dream of a pension, his dream of an +office, his dream of a home in a boat! With him "many a dream has gone +down the stream." + +May some friendly hand at last close his eyes to that last long sleep, +when his turn comes to heave down! + +He is always finding Indian arrowheads and hatchets and pestles. He +picks full pails of the nicest-looking huckleberries. He is always +dressed in clean, tidy clothes, a little scant and well patched. He pats +me on the head and says, "Didn't know you were Evelyn's sister; thought +it was a little three-year old." About to tell me a sad story he had +read in the newspaper, he stops suddenly and says, "Believe I won't tell +you, dear!" "Did you hear the newspipe has broke?" when the Atlantic +Telegraph Cable parted. He had plans for shoving off the Leviathan when +it stuck. + +Shall I not tell you he brings me a little bunch of eels of his own +spearing? that you must be careful at table he has enough to eat, he +takes such small pieces? that he is altogether a sparse man? has rows of +pins on his sleeve that he picks up?--an old-fashioned man, whose type +is fast fading out from these "fast," "steep" times. He tells a story of +a stream of black flies which came so thick and so fast pouring on, he +looked as long as he darst to. Yet he can tell a good, big story yet, +and when somebody was talking of turtles of good size, jumped up +suddenly, "Did you ever see a terrapin, Sir?" and then walked round the +long dining-table to tell how big he was and how high he stood on his +feet. "When I was in the West Indies, Sir----Wish I could creep into a +good English hay-mow and pay somebody to feed me!" + +Do you remember, Estelle, the story we read together once, out of the +"Casket" or "Gem," one of those old annuals, where a certain princess +was sent to a desolate island, whose maids of honor were all old crones, +once distinguished by their wonderful beauty? Her task was to discover +each especial grace, long since buried by the rubbish which time and +folly had heaped upon it; in each old, yellow, wrinkled hag to find +the charm which had once adorned her: as she found the grace, it was +transferred to her own youthful person. Slowly and patiently she unwound +those wrapped-up mummies, and disclosed the gems hidden in those +burial-clothes; and returned to her father's court enriched with all +those long-buried graces, now revived to their former youthful beauty, +and with the added charm which wisdom and patience give. + +My task is not so difficult,--as I seek virtues, not perishable stuffs. +We will learn the history of these thickly crossing wrinkles, that, +checkering, map out the face like the streets of a busy city. We will +read the story "that youth and observation copied there." Many sit in my +chair with weather-beaten looks, but time and want and necessity have +ploughed still deeper furrows. + +It is not in vain, this brave encounter with the elements,--this battle +to keep the wolf Want outside the door,--the patient, laborious building +up of the small house, made almost a comfortable home by many years of +toil,--the sufficient meal snatched from Nature by the line or the gun, +or wrung from her by hard labor of the hands. Is the face too thin and +hard, the lips compressed? Would you turn away from so much patient +endurance of a hard lot? Turn again, and read the story the clear eye +tells; listen to the words of a deep religious experience which the +thin, cracked voice relates: how in visions of the night the Comforter +has come to them, and henceforth the way of duty is clear, and the +burden of life is lightened. Will you go with me, dear, into those +homely houses, sit with me by the firesides, and hear the simple story +of New England's farmers and farmers' wives? We cannot call those poor +who are so rich in all the manly virtues, and in the deep experiences of +a faithful life. + +Uncle Jack stops on his way, going up to get the oxen, and passes the +night,--says, "Other people can't find enough to do; for his part, he +should like to lie down in the hay-mow and rest,--all worn out, used up. +Now Josiah, good, conversable man, knows about geography and the country +round. Well, when you've got that, got the best of him,--likes variety +too well,--goes off, leaves the homestead like a dismantled ship. Now, +if a man only gets three good days down cellar, that's something. Don't +believe 'Siah ever does it. So many notions in's head bothers him." +(Uncle Jack is quite right; 'tis not economical to have notions; +besides, they are revolutionary, they subvert the order of things.) "Got +a cunning little heifer used to have some manners. Lost some of our +lambs; read in a book, that, take what care you might, you would lose +some lambs at times."--To-day he has gone driving the oxen round by +Perkins's. + +"Had the rheumatism this winter,--guess Jack Frost pinched him."--Ah! +dear old man, an older than Jack Frost has got hold of your aged limbs! +Harder pinches old Time gives than any mortal man! + +"Used to get a little bird, Harris and me, and roast it, and mother +would give us a little apple-sauce in a clam-shell, and we would go off +back the island and eat it. Harris was sent to school up to Perkins's; +couldn't stay; run away, and _borrowed_ a boat, and came home again; +afraid of his father, and hid in the barn. Dug a well in the hay, +and they used to lower him down things to eat, and water to drink in +scooped-out water-melon rinds." + + * * * * * + + +THE SONG OF FATIMA. + + + On, sad are they who know not love, + But, far from passion's tears and smiles, + Drift down a moonless sea, and pass + The silver coasts of fairy isles! + + And sadder they whose longing lips + Kiss empty air, and never touch + The dear warm mouth of those they love, + Waiting, wasting, suffering much! + + But clear as amber, sweet as musk, + Is life to those whose lives unite: + They walk in Allah's smile by day, + And nestle in his heart by night! + + + + + +SOMETHING ABOUT HISTORY. + + +There is no kind of writing which is undertaken so much from will and so +little from instinct as History. It seems the great resource of baffled +ambition, of leisure, of minds disciplined rather than inspired, of men +with pecuniary means and without professional obligations. Sympathy +with or opposition to an author prompts those thus situated to write +criticism; a dominant sentiment inspires poetical composition; and +usually an impressive experience suggests adventure in the field of +fiction: but we find educated men, in independent circumstances, not +remarkable for sensibility to Nature, acute critical perception, or +dramatic talent, whose literary aspirations are vague, and who desire +to be occupied eligibly, turn to History as the most available +vantage-ground, busy themselves with wars and councils that happened +ages ago,--with kings and soldiers, institutions and adventures, +politics and dynasties, so far removed from the associations and +interests of the hour, that only a scholar's enthusiasm or ambition +could sustain the research or keep alive the enterprise thus voluntarily +assumed. It is this objective method and motive that chiefly accounts +for the numberless inert and the few vital histories. Like any +intellectual task assumed without special fitness therefor or motive +thereto,--without a comprehensive grasp of mind that impels to +historic exploration,--without a patriotic zeal that warms to national +heroism,--without, especially, a love of some principle, a conviction +of some truth, an admiration of some national development, irresistibly +urging the cultivated and ardent mind to seek for the facts, to +celebrate the persons, to evolve the truth involved in and manifest +through public events,--the annals recorded are but dry chronology,--a +monotonous, more or less authentic, perhaps quite respectable, but far +from a very important or peculiarly interesting work. Thousands of +such cumber the shelves of libraries and fill the pages of +catalogues,--dusted once a year, perhaps, to verify a date, to +authenticate the details of a treaty, or fix the statistics of a war, +but never read consecutively and with zest, because there was no genuine +relation between the writer and his book. He undertook the latter in +the spirit of a mechanical job; industry and learning may be embodied +therein, but no moral life, no human charm; yet the work is cited with +respect, the author enrolled with honor;--whereas, had he sought +in poetry or philosophy, in a novel or a drama, thus to occupy and +celebrate himself with literature, the failure would have been signal, +the attempt ignominious. There is, indeed, no safer investment for +middling literary abilities than History; for, if it fail to yield any +large harvest of renown, it is comparatively secure from the assaults +of ridicule, such as make pretension in other spheres of writing +conspicuous. + +Even in what are considered the successful exemplars in this department +of literature, the errors incident to artificiality, the conventional +forms of writing, are patent. Only in passages do we recognize that +beauty or truth, that reality and genuineness, which so often wholly +pervade a poem, a story, a memoir, or even a disquisition: at some +point, the flow incident to wilful instead of soulful utterance becomes +apparent;--ambition, pride of opinion, love of display somewhere +manifest themselves. It has been said that the chief element of Hume's +mental power was skepticism; and, singular as it may appear, his doubts +about what are deemed the vital interests of humanity gave a charm to +his record of her political vicissitudes; while he made capital of +touching "situations," he displayed his own strength of intellect; but, +with all this, did not write complete and authentic history. And when +analyzed, what was the _animus_ of Gibbon's elaborate chronicle? He +"spent his time, his life, his energy," says a severe, but just critic, +"in putting a polished gloss on human tumult, a sneering gloss on human +piety." And who has not felt, in following Macaulay's animated periods +and thorough exposition and illustration of some event, trait, or +economy,--in itself of little importance and limited value,--how much +better it would have been to reserve his brilliant descriptive and keen +analytical powers for the grand episodes, the prolific crises, and the +leading characters of history, instead of indiscriminately devoting them +to a consecutive account of national incidents and persons, both great +and small, illustrious and insignificant? + +A popular British author of our own day, in order to demonstrate the +law of compensation, as regards the literary vocation, cites its +inexpensiveness,--arguing, that, whereas the artist must invest capital, +however small, in colors, marble, canvas, and studio-hire, and the +professional man occupy a costly locality, the author needs but a quire +of foolscap and a pen and ink to set up in trade. While there is literal +truth in this comparison, the fact is not applicable to historical +writing, except in a very limited degree. The preparation of the most +successful works in this department, in modern times, has been attended +with an outlay impossible to the poor scholar. It has involved the +examination and reproduction of voluminous manuscript authorities, +distant travel, the purchase of rare books and family papers, and +sometimes years of busy reference, observation, and study, lucrative +only in prospect. The same amount of culture and facile vigor of +composition which less prosperous authors expend on a masterly review +would suffice to make them famous historians, if blessed with the +pecuniary means to seek foreign sources of information, or gather about +them scattered and rare materials wherewith to weave a chronicle of the +past. Hence, not only has History become the chosen field of writers +with no special gift for more individually inspired kinds of literature, +but of the educated sons of fortune. Accordingly, it is curious to +remark the contrast between the lives of historians and those of +poets; and in the average circumstances of the former there is some +justification for the title of an aristocratic guild in letters. +Compare Cowper's humble home at Olney with Gibbon's elegant library at +Lausanne,--the social environment of Hallam, Grote, or Macaulay with +the rustic isolation of Wordsworth, the economies of Shelley, or the +life-struggle of Jerrold. Of course, there can thence be inferred no +general rule; and the very differences in temperament between inventive +and reproductive writers suggest a consequent diversity of habits; but +the very idea of historical composition, on an extensive scale and as a +permanent occupation, implies the leisure which competency alone yields, +the means indispensable for gradual literary achievement, and more or +less of the luxury and social position which, when education obtains, +usually attend upon these advantages. + +It results from these considerations that there is no sphere of +literature which is so often the refuge of wealthy scholars, idle men of +taste, baffled politicians of independent means, ambitious and well-read +but not specially gifted citizens who have inherited comfortable +estates. It is so dignified an employment, that it gratifies pride,--so +possible without trenchant opinions, that it does not alarm the +conservative,--so thoroughly respectable, safe, and capable of being +made illustrious, so comparatively easy to the fluent but unoriginal +mind, and practicable to follow, when methodically carried out, in +a stated, regular manner, that we can scarcely be astonished at +the alacrity with which such voluntary tasks are undertaken or the +steadiness with which they are followed; at the same time, it may be +because so few are able to command the means and opportunity, that +historical writing is so highly estimated. As a test of intellectual +power, a gauge of individual sentiment, an evidence of original genius, +it is immeasurably inferior to dramatic, philosophical, or any of the +more personal forms of literature, when inspired by deep convictions, +original ideas, or creative imagination. It requires more knowledge +than reflection, more patience than earnestness, more judgment than +sentiment; and those who have raised it to a vital significance and +profound beauty and interest have done so by virtue of endowments which, +otherwise directed, would have placed them high and firm on the roll of +genius: for it is possible to write history without this transcendent +gift,--possible to write it respectably without the slightest grandeur +or grace of mind,--by virtue of command of words, industry, care, and +good sense. We cannot imagine Shakspeare tracing out his conception +of Hamlet, or giving language to Lear or Miranda, without a soulful +experience as far above mere intellectual assiduity as humanity is above +mechanism; we cannot think of Milton elaborating his sublime epic, +without, in fancy, taking in the studious years, the Italian nights +of music, starlight, and high converse, the beautiful youth, the +self-sacrificing prime, the blind old age, the religious patriotism, +the pious loyalty, the learning and love, and the isolated meditation, +cheered by grand symphonies and hoarded wisdom, through and by which, +concentrated into melodious expression, the life of a noble mind thus +majestically expressed itself: but we can easily fancy cold and cultured +Gibbon returning from the Continent, full of classic lore, disgusted +with his failure in public life, not sympathetic enough to enjoy +heartily a career either of pleasure or of society, and so, in his +dreams of scholarship, seizing upon the idea of a long, laborious, +erudite, and elegant task; and we can also well imagine Hume, with his +love of speculation, turning gratefully to the records of the past for +subjects of reflection, analysis, and inference. In these and other +notable instances, we feel it is more an accident than an inspiration, +more from circumstances than from innate and absolute endowment and +impulse, that the historic Muse is wooed. + +Within a brief period the grave has closed over one of the most +irreproachable and assiduous of American writers of History,--whose +career signally illustrates the blessing of such a resource to +unoccupied and cultivated leisure, and at the same time the fortuitous +circumstances which often originate and prolong this kind of literary +labor. In a letter to a friend abroad, written by Prescott soon after +he found himself thus congenially occupied, the case is most frankly +stated. "Ennui crept over me, when I found myself a perfectly idle man, +with nothing to do, and, what made it worse, with eyes so debilitated +that I had no power of doing anything with them. However, 'necessity is +the mother of invention,' and I resolved to turn author in spite of my +eyes; and it is a great satisfaction to me to think that the volumes I +have put together for my own amusement should have afforded some to my +countrymen, and, above all, to my friends."[A] + +[Footnote A: Letter of W. H. Prescott to Miss Preble, dated Boston, +February 28, 1845. _Memoir of Harriet Preble_, by Professor R.H. LEE, p. +285-6.] + +This modest and candid estimate of his vocation indicates how much more +a thing of volition and opportunity, and how much less a work of special +endowment and intuitive recognition is the literature of History than +that of Poetry, Psychology, or Philosophy, notwithstanding all these may +be fused therein. "Whatever may be the use of this sort of composition +in itself and abstractedly," observes a judicious critic,[B] "it is +certainly of great use relatively and to literary men. Consider the +position of a man of that species. He sits beside a library-fire, with +nice white paper, a good pen, a capital style, every means of saying +everything, but nothing to say. What, again, if something would happen, +and then one could describe it? Something has happened, and that +something is History." To feel fully the difference between a formal, +mechanical annalist and the revival of the past through poetic or +artistic sympathy, it is only requisite to turn from some dry chronicle +of political vicissitudes, duly registered by a dull, matter-of-fact, +conscientious antiquary, to the fresh classical or colonial romance, of +which such graceful and well-studied exemplars have been produced by +Lockhart, Bulwer, D'Azeglio, Kingsley, Ware, Longfellow, and other +bards and novelists. While the attempt, by intensity of description and +brilliant generalities, to impart to veritable history the charm we +accept in the historical romance, has caused many an old-school reader +to place Macaulay's fascinating volumes, called "The History of +England," on the same shelf with works of fiction,--Aytoun, Hugh +Miller, and William Penn's champions have given special meaning to +this principle or prejudice, whichever it may be, by challenging the +delightful author to the test of fact. + +[Footnote B: Bagehot.] + +In statesmen, or those who have excelled in political writing, the +ambition to write history, the desire to illustrate and record national +events, is not only a natural, but an auspicious feeling; and so it is +in educated poets in whom the sentiment of patriotism or the narrative +art gives scope and glow to such an enterprise. That Fox and Bacon, +Milton and Swift, Mackintosh, Schiller, and Lamartine, should have +partially adventured in this field seems but a legitimate result of +their endowments and experience, however fragmentary or inadequate may +have been some of the fruits of their historic studies. + +When an enlightened and executive or speculative man is an obvious part +of the history of his own times, his chronicle must have a certain +significance and value. Raleigh, when he wrote the "History of the +World" in prison, gave hints by which subsequent and less obsolete +annalists have wisely profited. The scholar and the patriot coalesced in +the mind of Camden, prompting him to rescue and conserve the materials +of English history and note the fading traditions,--a purely antiquarian +service, which only those can appreciate who seek authentic data of +the far past. Such as cavil at the legal tone and crude arrangement +of Clarendon are none the less his debtors for specific memoirs, the +personal element of history; and while Burnet has been vigorously +repudiated by standard historians, he continues, and justly, to be a +prolific authority. It is conceded by all candid explorers, that, as far +as it goes, the account of England by Rapin is the best. Franklin's +old friend Ralph was commended and quoted by Fox. As the enterprise of +historical writers enlarged and their style became elaborate, these and +such as these lost in popularity what they gained in usefulness. The +charm of rhetorical elegance and broad generalizations gradually usurped +the place of simple narrative and detailed statement. In the very design +of Gibbon there is a certain poetical attraction; his work may aptly +be described as panoramic, unrolling a vast picture or succession of +pictures, too vague in outline and too monotonous in color for minute +impressions, yet, on this account, the more remarkable for general +effect. What Europe was in the Middle Ages we find more specifically in +Hallam; the Moors in Spain have been more vividly painted by subsequent +writers, whose aim was less comprehensive: but how the imperial sway of +Rome subsided into the Christian era, how a republican episode gleamed +athwart her waning power in the casual triumph of Rienzi, the +later emperors, and what occurred in their reign in Jerusalem and +Constantinople, pass emphatically before us in the stately pages which +once charmed readers of English as the model of historic eloquence, and +now excite the admiration of scholars as a monument of erudition and +elaborate but artificial writing. There was a new attraction in the +pleasing style of Robertson and the characterization of Hume; the +winsome language of the one and the transparent diction of the other +made historical reading not so much a task to cumber the memory as a +pastime to entertain the mind; in the one chronicle we followed events +gracefully unfolded, and in the other discussed persons with acuteness; +yet, when to either was subsequently applied the test of absolute +accuracy and sound deduction, large allowances were demanded for +inadequate research on the part of Robertson and partial inferences on +that of Hume. The theories of the latter indicate why and how, with +all his intellectual abilities, the sympathies of his readers were +inevitably limited; in his view of humanity we find the true cause +of all his deficiencies as an historian: "Human life," he somewhere +remarks, "is more governed by fortune than by reason, is to be regarded +more as a dull pastime than a serious occupation, and is more influenced +by particular humor than by general principles." Yet, in a philosophical +retrospect of English historians, we can trace a progressive development +from the purely antiquarian researches of Camden to the personal memoirs +of Clarendon and Burnet; thence to the comprehensive erudition and +majestic narrative of Gibbon; onward to the reasoning, lucid record of +Hume and the fascinating narrative of Robertson;--all of which qualities +of industry, characterization, broad knowledge, taste, emphasis, +and reflection blend, culminate, and intensify along the copious, +rhetorical, and vivid page of Macaulay. + +The Italian historians prolong, in style at least, the method of their +classic predecessors: _"La Storia del Guicciardini e considerata come +opera classica,"_--we are told by one of the critics of that nation; who +adds, "His descriptions are always accurate, clear, and expressed with +eloquence; the causes of events and their consequences are enumerated +with rare acuteness; and his personages are delineated in their true +characters, the historian descending into the deepest penetralia of +their hearts: but the most eminent merit of this History consists in the +moral and political considerations with which it abounds; it is like +Tacitus." In like manner, Machiavelli is compared to Thucydides; while +Varchi's long periods, adulation of the Medici, and municipal details +are condemned by the same authority: yet one familiar with modern +literature in this department will, despite this general commendation of +native critics, be apt to ascribe the conservative charm of the Italian +historians to their style rather than their method or matter. + +It is remarkable how late the French writers won laurels in the field +of historical composition, and how long France, with all her national +vanity, has lacked a complete and classical chronicle,--brilliant and +invaluable fragments whereof abound. According to the most esteemed +French critics, until this century the nation actually knew nothing +of its own history; and it is characteristic of their speculative +and methodical mind and taste, that History became popular and +philosophical, a novelty and a reform, simultaneously. Guizot, Thierry, +Sismondi, and others, created a new era in this branch of letters; +Thiers and Michelet enlarged its sphere and increased its charms; and +yet, while the graphic simplicity of Froissart, the critical insight and +ingenious generalizations of Guizot, and the poetical glow and richness +of Michelet have made the history of France both highly suggestive as +regards the development of civilization, and picturesque and dramatic as +a narrative, the greatest allowance for brilliant theorizing, political +sympathies, and an errant fancy are indispensable in order to attain to +a clear view of genuine facts and absolute principles. It has been said +that "leading ideas" are fatal to accuracy of statement; and these +dominate in the minds of French philosophical annalists; while the more +sympathetic class are fond of rhetorical display and fanciful episodes. +A recent critic, after bestowing merited encomiums on Michelet, gives +the following instance of his absurd generalizations, which occur in the +midst of grave historical statements and descriptions: "Wool and flesh +are the primitive foundations of England and the English race; ere +becoming the world's manufactory of hardware and tissues, England was a +victualling-shop; before they became a commercial, they were a breeding +and a pastoral people,--a race fatted on beef and mutton; hence their +freshness of tint, their beauty and strength: _their greatest man, +Shakspeare, was originally a butcher_." + +Less prominent and more recent names on the roll of historic literature +are as distinctly associated with special excellences and defects. Thus, +Grote keeps attention more by the intelligence of his comments than by +the flow of his narration; he is far more political than picturesque; +and while he gives a masterly analysis of the Athenian system of +government, so as to place it in a new light even to the scholar's +apprehension, he discusses the arts and the literature so inspiring +to most cultivated minds, when describing Greece, with comparative +indifference. Those who would examine English annals unbiased by +Protestant zeal, and realize how the events and characters look to a +Roman Catholic vision, may gather from Lingard some views which may +not disadvantageously modify their interpretation of familiar men and +occurrences. Two English writers have hastily compiled her annals +during certain epochs; but while they are equally chargeable with +superficiality, the manner in which the work is done is by no means +similar. Smollet's continuation of Hume was confessedly a bookseller's +job: four octavo volumes in only ten times the number of months, even in +our days of locomotive celerity, would be thought rather a suspicious +piece of literary handiwork; and besides the indecent haste, so +incompatible with thoroughness, the misrepresentations of Smollet are +patent. Goldsmith, as unambitious in research as he was genial in +expression, made so agreeable a story, that, with all its imperfection, +his sketch still finds readers; while the rarely quoted work of Henry +most conveniently enumerates, at the end of each reign, details +economical and social which identify and illustrate both period and +progress in Anglo-Saxon civilization. As a copious and consecutive +record of the salient incidents in modern Continental history,--so +needful now for reference, and the diverse phases of which are so widely +chronicled in the memoirs, the journals, the diplomatic correspondence, +and what may be called the incidental history of the period,--the plan +of Alison's work might have achieved a triumph of industry and skill, +valuable as well as interesting to general readers and professional +writers: but the political opinions, with the partial feelings they +engender, continually distort the view and influence the estimate of +this positive yet pleasant historian; while his almost wilful blunders, +like the errors of Lord Mahon in regard to the American War, have +been repeatedly demonstrated. Mackintosh philosophized about events, +measures, and men, better than he described either. Sharon Turner nobly +illustrates the value of intrepid research and patient collation. +Mitford represents the aristocratic as Grote the democratic element in +Grecian history. Tytler wrote of the past in the life of nations with +the exclusive reliance on written proof that a conveyancer places upon +title-deeds, and beside the glowing and harmonious pictures of later +annalists such writing now appears obsolete. Napier describes battles +scientifically, and Carlyle revolutions melodramatically,--each with +original power, in their respective methods,--while Miss Strickland +brings to the record of queenly sorrows and duties a woman's sympathetic +prepossessions. + +Since those quaintly simple and emphatic statements which, under the +name of Froissart's Chronicles, seem to perpetuate the instinctive +notion of History, as an honest and earnest, but unadorned and +unelaborate narrative of military and political facts,--not only has +there been a continual refinement of style and enlargement of scope and +art, but a greater complexity and subdivision in the historian's labors. +Abstract political ideas, purely intellectual phenomena, have found +their annalists, as well as executive enterprise; events have been +analyzed, as well as described,--characters discussed, as well as +pictured,--the elements of society laid bare with as much zeal and +scrutiny as its development has been traced and delineated. European +historical students read anew the records of the past by the light +of philosophy; more subtile divisions than the geographer indicates +organize the record; events are narrated with reference to a dominant +idea; governments are chronicled through their ultimate results, and +not exclusively with regard to their locality; rulers are considered +in groups; a faith is made the nucleus of an historical development, +instead of a nation. Thus, we have Ranke's "Popes" and D'Aubigne's +"Reformation," Hallam's "Middle Ages" and "English Constitution"; De +Quincey treats of "The Caesars"; Vico demonstrates that History is a +science with positive laws; Gervinus illustrates it as a development of +certain inevitably progressive ideas; Niebuhr interprets it by fresh +tests and ordeals; Dr. Arnold teaches it by an original method; Humboldt +points out its naturalistic tendencies and origin; Herder and Hegel, De +Tocqueville and Guizot, the eminent writers on Civilization, on Art, on +Education, Political Economy, Literature, and Natural History, more +and more exhibit the facts of humanity and of time under such new +combinations, by so many parallel truths and principles, that it is +difficult to conceive that History, as now understood by the educated +and the reflective, is the same thing once crudely embodied in a ballad +or mystically conserved by an inscription. To multiply relations is the +destiny of our age, and to converge all that is discovered through the +laws of Science upon the records and relics of the past is a process now +habitual and pervasive. + +And yet how little positive satisfaction does the lover of truth, the +aspirant for what is authentic and significant, find in current and even +popular histories! Certain general notions of the character of nations +we, indeed, distinctly and correctly attain: that Chinese civilization +is stationary, the French instinctively a military race, the Swiss +mercenary, and adventurous in engineering and religious reform,--that +modern German literature was as sudden as simultaneous in its +development,--that Holland redeemed her foundations from the sea,--that +Italy owes to art, and England to manufactures, her growth and grandeur. +These and such as these are problems which the history of the respective +countries, however inadequately told, reveals with authenticity; but +when we go beyond and below the patent facts of local civilization, to +the analysis of character, and, through it, of destiny, few and far +between are the satisfactory records whence we can draw legitimate +materials for inference and conjecture. The most attractive method +is apt to be that upon which least reliance can be placed. We seldom +consult Sir Walter's essays at serious history, while the novels he +created out of historic material are as familiar as they are endeared; +but their imaginative charm is in the inverse ratio of their +authenticity. With every new candidate for public favor in this sphere +of literature, there arises a "mooted question" whereon the historian +and his readers are irreconcilably divided. The character of Penn, of +Marlborough, and of the facts of the Massacre at Glencoe are still +vehemently discussed, whenever Macaulay's popular History is referred +to. Froude advances a new and plausible theory of the character of Henry +VIII.; few of Bancroft's American readers accept his estimate of John +Jay, Sam Adams, or Dr. Johnson, or of the political character of the +Virginia Colonists; and Palfrey and Arnold interpret quite diversely +the influence and career of Roger Williams. Nor are such discrepancies +surprising, when we remember how the history which transpires now and +here fails of harmonious report. Every battle, diplomatic arrangement, +political event, nay, each personal occurrence, which forms the staple +of to-day's journalism and talk, is regarded from so many different +points of view, and stated under so many modifying influences, that only +judicial minds have a prospect of reaching the exact truth. Hence the +true way to profit by History is eclectic. + +Let the erudition of the German, the genial animation of the French, +the Saxon good sense, the Italian grace be enjoyed, and whatsoever of +glamour or of inadequacy these charms hide be duly estimated; reflection +and sympathy will often separate the gold of truth from the alloy of +prejudice or fantasy. Above all, let this eclectic test be applied +beyond nominal history,--to the geological data on the ancient +rock,--the handwriting of the ages upon race, costume, language,--the +incidental, but genuine history innate in all true literature, vivid +elements whereof live in passages of Milton's controversial writings, in +Petrarch's sonnets, De Foe's fictions, our Revolutionary correspondence, +South's sermons, Swift's diaries, Burke's speeches, French memoirs, +Walpole's letters, in the poems, plays, and epistles of the past, and +every fact and person which society and life offer to our cognizance or +sympathy. + +"When we are much attached to our ideas, we endeavor to attach +everything to them," says Madame de Stael. "The secret of writing well," +observes a Scotch professor, "is to write from a full mind." These +two maxims seem to us to illustrate the whole subject of historical +composition; an earnest votary thereof will instinctively find material +in every interest and influence that sways events or moulds character, +and from the assimilation of all these will educe a vital and harmonious +picture and philosophy. There is an historical as well as a judicial or +poetic type of mind; and to such there is no object too trifling, no +fact too remote, not directly or indirectly to minister to the unwritten +history which vaguely shapes itself to his intelligence. In his reading +and travel it is by no means to the ostensible monuments and trophies of +the past that his observation and inquiry are confined: the Letters of +Madame de Sevigne give him authentic hints for the social tendencies +of France and their influence upon politics, as the blood-stains at +Holyrood identify the place of Rizzio's murder; the "Edinburgh +Review" reveals the spirit of the Reform movement as clearly as the +Parliamentary records its letter; the South-Sea House and the Temple are +as suggestive as Whitehall and the Abbey,--for trade and jurisprudence, +in the retrospect, are as much a part of the by-gone life and present +character of a nation, as the fate and the fame of her dead kings; and a +Spanish ballad is as valuable an illustration as a Madrid state-paper; +while the life of Harry Vane vindicates the Puritan nature as clearly +as the letter of a Venetian ambassador exhibits the domestic life of a +Pope. + +The redeeming influence of strong personal sympathy and earnest +conviction, both in the choice of a subject and the method of its +treatment, has been signally illustrated by a countryman of our own. +The interest of the general reader and the approbation of historical +scholars were at once enlisted by Motley's "Rise and Fall of the Dutch +Republic." That work differs from and is superior to any American +historical composition by virtue of a certain fluent animation, a +certain decided and sustained tone, such as can be derived only from an +absolute relation between the author's mind and heart and his subject. +Accordingly his record not only seizes upon the attention, but wins the +sympathy of the reader, who recognizes a vital and genuine spirit in the +work, which gives it unity, completeness, and a living style, whereby +its incidents, characters, and philosophy are unfolded, not only with +art, but with nature, and so made real, attractive, and significant. +That we are right in ascribing these merits to the affinity between the +author and his work is amply evidenced by his own confession in a letter +called forth by the death of Prescott, in which he says,-- + +"It seems to me but as yesterday, though it must be now twelve years +ago, that I was talking with our ever-lamented friend Stackpole about my +intention of writing a history upon a subject to which I have since that +time been devoting myself. I had then made already some general studies +in reference to it, without being in the least aware that Prescott had +the intention of writing the history of Philip II. Stackpole had heard +the fact, and that large preparations had already been made for the +work, although 'Peru' had not yet been published. I felt, naturally, +much disappointed. I was conscious of the immense disadvantage to myself +of making my appearance, probably at the same time, before the public, +with a work not at all similar in plan to 'Philip II.,' but which must, +of necessity, traverse a portion of the same ground. My first thought +was, inevitably as it were, only of myself. It seemed to me that I had +nothing to do but to abandon at once a cherished dream, and probably to +renounce authorship. _For I had not first made up my mind to write a +history, and then cast about to take up a subject. My subject had taken +up me, drawn me on, and absorbed me into itself. It was necessary for +me, it seemed, to write the book I had been thinking much of,--even if +it were destined to fall dead from the press,--and I had no inclination +or interest to write any other_." + +The same inspiration is partially obvious in those portions of every +history which come home to the writer's experience: as, for instance, +some of the military episodes in Colletta's "History of Naples," he +having been a soldier,--and the descriptive phases of Parkman's "History +of Pontiac," the author having been a Prairie traveller, and familiar +with the woods and the bivouac. In like manner, it is the idiosyncrasy +of historians which gives original value to their labors: Botta's +knowledge of American localities and civilization was meagre, but his +sympathy with the patriots of the Revolution was strong, and this gave +warmth and effect to his "Guerra Americana"; Niebuhr was specially +gifted to develop what has been called the law of investigation, and +hence he penetrates the Roman life, and lays bare much of its unapparent +meaning and spirit. So apt and patient are the Germans in research, that +they have been justly said to "quarry" out the past; while so native are +rhetoric, theorizing, and fancifulness to the French, that they make +history, as they do life and government, theatrical and picturesque, +rather than gravely real and practically suggestive. + +A peculiar feature in the labors of modern historians is the research +expended upon what the elder annalists regarded as purely incidental +and extraneous. The collation of archives, official correspondence, and +state-papers is now but the rough basis of research; memoirs are equally +consulted,--localities minutely examined,--the art and literature of a +given era analyzed,--the geography, climate, and ethnology of the scene +made to illustrate the life and polity,--social phases, educational +facts estimated as not less valuable than statistics of armies and +judicial enactments. Michelet has some charming rural pictures and +female portraits in his History of France; Macaulay thinks no custom +or economy of a reign insignificant in the great historical aggregate. +Topography, botany, artistic knowledge are not less parts of the +chronicler's equipment than philology, rhetoric, and philosophy; a +newspaper is not beneath nor a traveller's gossip beyond his scope; +architecture reveals somewhat which diplomacy conceals; an inscription +is not more historical than the average temperature or the staple +productions. Whatever affects national character and destiny, whatever +accounts for national manners or confirms individual sway, is brought +into the record. Diaries, like those of Pepys and Evelyn, the tithe-book +of a county, the taste in portraiture, the costume and the play-bill +yield authentic hints not less than the census, the parliamentary +edicts, or the royal signatures; the popular poem, the social favorite, +the _cause celebre_, what pulpit, bar, peasant and beau, doctor and lady +_a la mode_ do, say, and are, then and there, must coalesce with +the battle, the legislation, and the treaty,--or these last are but +technical landmarks, instead of human interests. + +Even our most generalized historical ideas are made emphatic only +through association and observation. How the vague sense of Roman +dominion is deepened as we trace the outline of a camp, the massive +ranges of a theatre, or the mouldy effigy on a coin, in some region +far distant from the Imperial centre,--as at Nismes or Chester! How +complete becomes the idea of mediaeval life, contemplated from the +ramparts of a castle, in the "dim, religious light" of an old monastic +chapel, or amid the obsolete trappings and weapons of an armory! What +a distinct and memorable revelation of ancient Greece is the Venus or +Apollo, a Parthenon frieze or a fateful drama! The best political essays +on the French Revolution are based on the economical and social facts +recorded in the Travels of Arthur Young. The equivocal action of +Massena, when he commanded Paris against the Allies, is explained in +the recently published letter of Joseph Bonaparte, wherein we learn his +deficiency of muskets. Humboldt accounted for the defects of Prescott's +"Conquest of Mexico" by the fact that the historian had never visited +that country. Napoleon gave a key to the misfortunes of Italy, when he +said, "It is a peninsula too long for its breadth." And the significance +of the Seven Years' War is expressed in a single phrase by Milton's last +biographer, when he defines it as the "consummation politically and the +attenuation spiritually of the movement begun in Europe by the Lutheran +Reformation." + +Indeed, so intimate is the connection between private life and public +events, between political and social phenomena, that the historical mind +finds material in all literature, and the very attempt to keep to a high +strain and to bend facts to theory limits the authenticity of professed +annalists. What Macaulay says of an eminent party-leader is modified to +those who have studied the character through his memoirs or writings. +The charming narrative of Robertson, the characterization of Hume, the +stately periods of Gibbon, fail to win implicit confidence, when the +scene, the age, or the personages described are known to the reader +through original authorities. When Bancroft declares a treaty of +Colonial governors against Indian ravages the germ of democratic +government, we know that it is his attachment to a theory, and not the +actual circumstances, which leads to such an inference; for the very +authority he cites merely indicates a defensive alliance among rulers, +not a coalition of the ruled. And so when to an account of the Battle +of Lexington he appends a rhetorical argument connecting that event, so +meagre and simple in itself and so wonderful in its consequences, with +the progress of truth and humanity in political science and reformed +religion, we feel that the reasoning is forced and irrelevant,--more an +experiment in fine writing than an evolution of absolute truth. + +Thus continually is the independent reader of history taught +eclecticism: he makes allowance for the want of careful research in this +writer, for the love of effect in that,--for the skepticism of one, +and the credulity of another,--for enthusiasm here, and fastidiousness +there,--and especially for the greater or less attachment to certain +opinions, and the absence or presence of strong convictions and genuine +sympathies. Hence, to read history aright, we must read human nature as +well; we must bring the light of philosophy and of faith, the calmness +of judgment and the insight of love, to the record; collateral +revelations drawn from our own experience, modified acceptance of both +statement and inference, superiority to the blandishments of style, +are as needful for the right interpretation of a chronicle as of a +scientific problem. Thus history is perpetually rewritten; fresh +knowledge opens new vistas in the past as well as the future; the +discovery of to-day may rectify, in important respects, the statement +which has been unchallenged for centuries; one new truth leavens a +thousand old formulas; and nothing is more gradual than the elucidation +of historical events and characters. Even our own brief annals suggest +how large must be the historian's faith in time: only within a year or +two has it been possible to demonstrate the justice of Washington's +estimate of Lee, and how completely the sagacious provision of Schuyler +secured the capture of Burgoyne. Since the American Revolution, one of +these men has been as much overrated as the other has failed of +just appreciation--because the documentary wisdom requisite for an +enlightened judgment has not until now been patent.[C] + +[Footnote C: See Lossing's _Life and Correspondence of General +Schuyler_, and Professor Moore's paper on Charles Lee.] + +With the imposing array of professed histories and historians in view, +it is curious to revert to the actual sources of our own historic +ideas,--those which are definite and pervasive. The vast number of +intelligent readers, who have made no special study of this kind +of literature, probably derive their most distinct and attractive +impressions of the past from poetry, travel, and the choicest works of +the novelist; local association and imaginative sympathy, rather than +formal chronicles, have enlightened and inspired them in regard to +Antiquity and the great events and characters of modern Europe. This +fact alone suggests how inadequate for popular effect have been the +average labors of historians; and so fixed is the opinion among scholars +that it is impossible for the annalist to be profound and interesting, +authentic and animated, at the same time, that a large class of the +learned repudiate as spurious the renown of Macaulay,--although his +research and his minuteness cannot be questioned, and only in a few +instances has his accuracy been successfully impugned. They distrust him +chiefly because he is agreeable, doubt his correctness for the reason +that his style fascinates, and deem admiration for him inconsistent with +their own self-respect, because he is such a favorite as no historian +ever was before, and his account of a parliament, a coinage, or a feud +as winsome as a portraiture of a woman. In one of his critical essays, +Macaulay himself gives a partial explanation of this protest of the +minority in his own case. "People," he remarks, "are very loath to admit +that the same man can unite very different kinds of excellence. It is +soothing to envy to believe that what is splendid cannot be solid and +what is clear cannot be profound." And it has been most justly said of +his own method of writing history, "He must make _everything_ clear and +bright, and bring it into the range of his analysis; his exaggeration +chiefly applies to individual characters, not to general facts"; and the +reason given for the decided preference manifested for his vivid record +is not less true than philosophical,--"We learn so much from him +_enjoyably_." It is precisely the lack of this pleasurable trait which +makes the greater part of the annals of the past a dead letter to the +world, and wins to romance, ballad, epic, fiction, relic, and poetry the +keen attention which facts coldly "set in a note-book" never enlisted. +How many of us unconsciously have adopted the portraits of the early +English kings as Shakspeare drew them! To what a host of living souls is +the history of Scotland what the author of "Waverley" makes it! Charles +I. haunts the fancy, not as drawn by Hume, but as painted by Vandyck. +The institutions of the Middle Ages are realized to every reflective +tourist through the architecture of Florence more than by the municipal +details of Hallam. Pyramids, obelisks, mummies have brought home +Egyptian civilization; the "old masters," that of Europe in the +fifteenth century; the ruins of the Colosseum, Roman art and barbarism, +as they never were by Livy or Gibbon. Lady Russell's letters tell us of +the Civil War in England,--Saint Mark's, at Venice, of Byzantine taste +and Oriental commerce,--the Escurial and the Alhambra, Versailles, a +castle on the Rhine, and a "modest mansion on the banks of the Potomac," +of their respective eras and their characteristics, social, political, +religious,--more than the most elaborate register, muster-roll, or +judicial calendar. For around and within these memorials lingers the +life of Humanity; they speak to the eye as well as to memory,--to the +heart as well as the intelligence; they draw us by human associations +to the otherwise but technical statement; they lure us to repeople +solitudes and reanimate shadows; and having become intimate with the +scenes, the effigies, the monuments of the Past, we have, as it were, a +vantage-ground of actual experience an impulse from personal observation +and, perhaps, a sympathy born of local inspiration, whereby the phantoms +of departed ages are once more clothed with flesh, and their sorrows and +triumphs are renewed in the soul of enlightened contemplation. + + * * * * * + + +MY NEIGHBOR, THE PROPHET. + + +The point of commencement for a story is altogether arbitrary. Some +writers stick to Nature and go back to the Creation; others take a few +dozen of the grandfatherly old centuries for granted; others seize Time +by the forelock and bounce into the middle of a narrative; but, as I +said before, the beginning is a mere matter of taste and convenience. +I choose to open my tale with the day on which I took possession of my +newly purchased country-house. + +It was a pretty little cottage, wooden, old-fashioned, a story and a +half high, with a long veranda, a shady door-yard, and a sunny garden. I +bought it as it was, furniture included, of a gentleman who was about +to remove southward on account of his wife's health, or, to speak +more exactly, on account of her want of it. I laugh here to think +how surprised you will be when you learn that these matters have no +connection with my story. All the important events which I propose +to relate might have happened had this gentleman never sold nor I +purchased; and, as a proof of it, I can adduce the fact that they +actually did occur some years before we enjoyed the honor of each +other's acquaintance. But I could not resist the temptation of the +episode. I am as delighted at getting into my first house as was my +little son when he poked his chubby legs into his first trousers. + +"Who is my nearest neighbor?" I asked of the former proprietor, when he +made his parting call. + +"What, the occupant of the new house just below you? I can tell you very +little of him. I haven't made his acquaintance, and don't know his name. +We call him the Mormon." + +"Mercy on us! You don't mean to hint at anything in the way of polygamy, +I hope. He doesn't keep an omnibus with seats for twenty, does he?" + +"No, not so bad as that. In fact, I don't know much about him. I thought +you were aware of his--his style of living," stammered my friend. "Oh, +I dare say he is respectable enough. But then we noticed three or four +women about the house, and only one man; and so we clapped the title of +Mormon on him. Nicknaming is funny work, you know,--a short and easy way +to be witty. I believe, however, that he does pretend to be a prophet." + +"The Pilgrim Fathers protect us! Why, he may attempt to proselytize us +by force. He may declare a religious war against us. It would be no +joke, if he should invade us with the sword in one hand, and the Koran, +or whatever he may call his revelation, in the other." + +"Oh, don't be alarmed. He is quite harmless, and even unobtrusive. A +sad-faced, pale, feeble-looking, white-bearded old man. He won't attack +you, or probably even speak to you. I will tell you all I know of +him. The house was built under his direction about six months ago. +I understand that the women own it, and that they are not relatives +according to the flesh, but simply sisters in faith. They have some +queer sort of religion which I am shamefully ignorant of. At all events, +they believe this old gentleman to be a prophet, and consider it a duty +or a pleasure to support him. That is the extent of my knowledge. I hope +it doesn't disgust you with your neighborhood?" + +"By no means. May you find as pleasant a one, wherever you settle!" + +"Thank you. Well, it is nearly train-time, and I suppose I must leave +you and my old place. I wish you every happiness in it." + +And so the old proprietor sighingly departed, leaving the new one +smiling on the doorstep. I was just thinking how nicely the world is +arranged, so that one man's trouble may turn out another man's blessing, +(the illness in this gentleman's family, for instance, being the cause +of my getting a neat country-house cheap,) when my attention was +arrested by the appearance of a thin, feeble-looking, white-bearded old +man, who passed down the street with head bent and hands joined behind +him. I stared at him till he got by; then I ran down to the gate and +looked after him earnestly; and at last I darted forward, hatless, in +eager pursuit. He heard my approaching steps, and put his snowy beard +against his right shoulder in the act of taking a glance rearward. I now +recognized the profile positively, and began conversation. + +"Is it possible? My dear Doctor Potter, how are you? Don't you know me? +Your old friend Elderkin." + +"Sir? Elderkin? Oh!--ah!--yes! How do you do, Mr. Elderkin?" he +stammered, seeming very awkward, and hardly responding at all to my +vigorous hand-shaking. + +"I am delighted to see you again," I continued. "I have had no news of +you these five years. Do you live in this neighborhood?" + +"I--I reside in the next house, Sir," he replied, not looking me in the +face, but glancing around uneasily, as if he wanted to run away. + +"What! are you the prophet?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. + +"I am, Mr. Elderkin," he said, blushing until I thought his white hair +would turn crimson. + +We stared at each other in silence for ten seconds, each wishing himself +or his interlocutor at the antipodes. + +"I congratulate you on your gift," I remarked, as soon as I could speak. +"I will see you again soon, and have a talk on the subject. We have +discussed similar matters before. Good day, Doctor." + +"Good day, Mr. Elderkin," he replied, drawing himself up with a poor +pretence at self-respect. + +He was greatly changed. Heterodoxy had not been so fattening to him as +Orthodoxy. When I knew him, six years before, as pastor of a flourishing +church, Doctor of Divinity, and staunch Calvinist, he had a plump and +rosy face, a portly form, and vigorous carriage. He was a great favorite +with the ladies, as clergymen are apt to be, and consequently never +lacked for delicate and appetizing sustenance. He was esteemed, +self-respectful, and happy; and all these things tend to good health and +good looks. I propose to make myself famous as the Gibbon of the decline +and fall of this reverend gentleman, once so honorably established on +the everlasting hills of Orthodoxy, and now so overthrown and trampled +under foot by the Alaric of Spiritualism. I do not expect, indeed, that +anybody will take warning by my friend's sad history; nor do I insist +that people in general would find it advantageous to learn much wisdom +from the experience of others; for it is very clear, that, if we +attempted only what our neighbors or our fathers had succeeded in doing, +we should kill all chance of variety or improvement. It would be a +stupidly wise world; there would be no sins, and, very possibly, no +virtues; instead of "Everything happens," it would be "Nothing happens." +Believing and hoping, therefore, that Dr. Potter's calamities will not +be the smallest check upon any person who shall feel disposed to follow +in his footsteps, I present the story to the public, not at all as a +lesson, but merely as an item of curious information. + +Oddly enough, it was on that day of delusions, the first of April, that +I stumbled into the Doctor's revival of the age of miracles. I had been +engaged for three months on a geological survey in a Western Territory, +during which time I had received very brief and vague news from the +little city which was then my place of abode, and had not even had +a hint of the signs and wonders which there awaited my astonished +observation. Reaching home, I made it my first business to call on my +reverend friend; for the Doctor, it must be known, was one of my most +valued intimates, had baptized me, had counselled me, had travelled with +me in foreign lands; we had many interests, many sympathies in common, +and no differences except with regard to the extent of the Flood, the +date of the Creation, and other matters of small personal importance. +I found him in his study, surrounded by those seven hundred and odd +volumes, the learning and excellent spirit of which gave to his sermons +such a body of venerable divinity, such a bouquet of savory eloquence. +He was walking to and fro rapidly, studying a slip of manuscript with an +air of serious ecstasy. He did not look up until I had seized his hand, +and even then he stared at me as a man might be supposed to stare who +had been passing a fortnight with angels or other spiritual existences +and unexpectedly found himself among natural and reasonable beings +again. + +"Ah, my dear Elderkin," he said at last, "I am glad to see you. How are +you, and how have you been? Excuse me for not recognizing you at once. I +had just lost myself in the consideration of a mystery which I believe +to be of the sublimest importance. Oh, my dear friend, I hope you will +be brought to attend to these things! They are above and beyond all your +geologies; they preceded and will outlive them." + +"Indeed!" I replied. "Nothing in the way of chaos, I hope?" + +"Look here at this sheet of foolscap," he exclaimed, waving it +excitedly. "Do you remember the belief which I have often expressed to +you,--the belief that the dispensation of miracles has never yet ceased +from earth,--that we have still a right to expect signs, wonders, +instantaneous healings, and unknown tongues,--and that, but for our +wretched incredulity, these things would constantly happen among us? You +have disputed it and ridiculed it, but here I hold a proof of its truth. +A month ago this blessing was vouchsafed to me. It was at one of our +Wednesday-evening exercises. I had just been speaking of supernatural +gifts, and of the duty which we lie under of expecting and demanding +them. The moment I sat down, a stranger (a gentleman whom I had +previously noticed at church) rose up with a strangely beaming look and +broke out in a discourse of sounds that were wholly unintelligible. You +need not smile. It was a true language, I am confident; it flowed forth +with a moving warmth and fluency; and the gestures which accompanied it +were earnest and most expressive." + +"That was fortunate," said I; "otherwise you must have been very little +edified. But isn't it rather odd that the man should use earthly +gestures with an unearthly language?" + +The Doctor shook his head reprovingly, and continued,-- + +"Deacon Jones, the editor of the 'Patriot,' is a phonographer. He took +down the close of the stranger's address, and next day brought it to me +written out in the ordinary alphabet. Let me read it to you. As you are +acquainted with several modern languages, perhaps you can give me a key +to an interpretation." + +"I don't profess to know the modern languages of the other world," said +I. "However, let us hear it." + +"Isse ta sopon otatirem isais ka rabatar itos ma deok," began the +Doctor, with a gravity which almost made me think him stark mad. "De +noton irbila orgonos ban orgonos amartalannen fi dunial maran ta +calderak isais deluden homox berbussen carantar. Falla esoro anglas +emoden ebuntar ta diliglas martix yehudas sathan val caraman +mendelsonnen lamata yendos nix poliglor opos discobul vanitarok ken +laros ma dasta finomallo in salubren to mallomas. Isse on esto opos fi +sathan." + +And so he read on through more than a page and a half of closely written +manuscript, his eyes flashing brighter at each line, and his right hand +gesturing as impressively as if he understood every syllable. + +"Bless you, it's nothing new," said I. "There's an institution at +Hartford where they cure people of talking that identical language." + +"Just what I expected you to say," he replied, flushing up. "I know +you,--you scientific men,--you materialists. When you can't explain a +phenomenon, you call it nonsense, instead of throwing yourselves with +childlike faith into the arms of the supernatural. That is the sum and +finality of your so-called science. But, come, be rational now. Don't +you catch a single glimpse or suspicion of meaning in these remarkable +words?" + +"I am thankful to say that I don't," declared I. "If ever I go mad, I +may change my mind." + +"Well now, I _do_" he asseverated loudly. "There are words here that I +believe I understand, and I am not ashamed to own it. Why, look at it, +yourself," he added, pleadingly. "That word _sathan_, twice repeated, +can it be anything else than _Satan_? _Yehudas_, what is that but +_Jews?_ And then _homox_, how very near to the Latin _homo!_ I think, +too, that I have even got a notion of some of the grammatical forms of +the language. That termination of _en_, as in _deluden, salubren,_ seems +to me the sign of the present tense of the plural form of the verb. That +other termination of _tar_, as in _ebuntar, carantar_, I suppose to be +the sign of the infinitive. Depend upon it that this language is one +of absolute regularity, undeformed by the results of human folly and +sorrow, and as perfect as a crystal." + +"But not as clear," I observed,--"at least, not to our apprehension. +Well, how was this extraordinary revelation received by the audience?" + +"In dumb silence," said the Doctor. "Faith was at too low an ebb among +us to reach and encircle the amazing fact. I had to call out the +astonished brethren by name; and even then they responded briefly and +falteringly. But the leaven worked. I went round the next day and +talked to all my leading men. I found faith sprouting like a grain +of mustard-seed. I found my people waking up to the great idea of a +continuous, deathless, present miracle-demonstration. And these dim +suspicions, these far-off longings and fearful hopes, were, indeed, +precursors of such a movement of spirits, such a shower of supernatural +mercies, as the world has not perhaps seen for centuries. Yes, there +have been wonders wrought among us, and there are, I am persuaded, +greater wonders still to come. What do you think must be my feelings +when I see my worthiest parishioners rise in public and break out with +unknown tongues?" + +"I should suppose you would rather see them break out with the +small-pox," I answered. + +"Ah, Professor! wait, wait, and soon you will not laugh," said the +Doctor, solemnly. + +"Perhaps not. I am a sincere friend of yours, and a tolerably +good-hearted sort of man, I hope. I shall probably feel more like +crying. But the world may laugh long and loud, Doctor. All who hate the +true revelation may laugh to see it mocked and caricatured by those who +profess and mean to honor it. Just consider, while it is yet time to +mend matters, how imprudent you are. Why, what do you know of the man +who has been your Columbus in this sea of wonders? Are you sure that he +is not a sharper, or an impostor, or a lunatic?" + +"Impossible! He brought letters to three of our most respectable +families. His name is Riley, John M. Riley, of New York; and he is +son of the wealthy old merchant, James M. Riley, who has been such a +generous donor to all good works. As for his being a lunatic, you shall +hear his conversation." + +"I should be a very poor judge of it, if he always speaks in his unknown +tongues." + +"English! English! he talks English as good as your own. A more +gentlemanly person, a more intelligent mind, a meeker and more believing +spirit, I have not met this many a day. He is still here, and he is my +right hand in the work. I shall soon have the pleasure of making you +acquainted with him." + +"Thank you; I shall be delighted," said I. "Only be good enough to hint +to him that I like to understand what is said to me. If he comes at me +with unknown tongues, I shall wish him in unknown parts. I can't stand +mysteries. I am a geologist, and believe that there are rocks all the +way down, and that we had much better stand on them than wriggle in mere +chaotic space. Good morning, Doctor. I shall come again soon; I shall +keep a lookout on you." + +"Good morning," he replied, kindly. "I hope to see you in a better frame +before many days." + +I hurried back to my hotel, and questioned the landlord about this +revival of the age of miracles. He gave me a long account of the affair, +and then every neighbor who strolled in gave me another, until by +dinner-time I had heard wonders and absurdities enough to make a new +"Book of Mormon." The lunacies of this Riley had entered into Dr. Potter +and his parishioners, like the legion of devils into the herd of swine, +and driven them headlong into a sea of folly. There had been more +tongues spoken during the past month in this little Yankee city than +would have sufficed for our whole stellar system. Blockheads who were +not troubled with an idea once a fortnight, and who could neither write +nor speak their mother English decently, had undertaken to expound +things which never happened in dialects which nobody understood. People +who hitherto had been chiefly remarkable for their ignorance of the +past and the slowness of their comprehension of the present fell to +foretelling the future, with a glibness which made Isaiah and Ezekiel +appear like minor prophets, and a destructiveness which nothing would +satisfy out the immediate advent of the final conflagration. Gouty +brothers whose own toes were a burden to them, and dropsical sisters +with swelled legs, hobbled from street to street, laying would-be +miraculous hands on each other, on teething children, on the dumb and +blind, on foundered horses and mangy dogs even, or whatsoever other +sickly creature happened to get under their silly noses. The doctors +lost half their practice in consequence of the reliance of the people on +these spiritual methods of physicking. Children were taken out of school +in order that they might attend the prophesyings and get all knowledge +by supernatural intuition. Logic and other worldly methods of arriving +at truth were superseded by dreams, discernings of spirits, and similar +irrational processes. The public madness was immense, tempestuous, and +unequalled by anything of the kind since the "jerks" which appeared in +the early part of this century under the thundering ministrations of +Peter Cartwright. That nothing might be lacking to make the movement a +fact in history, it had acquired a name. As its disciples used the word +"dispensation" freely, the public called them Dispensationists, and +their faith Dispensationism, while their meetings received the whimsical +title of Dispensaries. + +Amid this clamor of daft delusion, Dr. Potter congratulated his people +on the resurrection of the age of miracles, and preached in furtherance +of the work with a fervid sincerity and eloquence rarely surpassed by +men who support the claims of true religion and right reason. Had he +brought the same zeal to bear against mathematics, it seems to me he +might have shaken the popular faith in the multiplication-table. The +wonders transacting in his church being noised abroad, the town was soon +crowded with curious strangers, mostly laymen, but several clergymen, +some anxious to believe, others ready to sneer, but all resolute to see. +As might have been expected, the nature of the excitement alarmed the +wiser pastors of the vicinity for the cause of Orthodoxy. They saw that +several of the asserted miracles were simply hoaxes or delusions; they +suspected that the unknown tongues might be nothing but the senseless +bubbling of overheated brainpans; they perceived that the Doctor in +his enthusiastic flights was soaring clear into the murky clouds of +Spiritualism; and they dreaded lest the scoffing world should make a +weapon out of these absurdities for an attack upon the Christian faith. +They began to preach against the fanaticism; and, of course, my friend +denounced them as infidels. High war ensued among the principalities and +powers of theology in all that portion of Yankeedom. + +The reaction roused by the unbelieving clergymen reached the Doctor's +congregation, and emboldened all the sensible members to combine into +an anti-miracle party. At a meeting of these persons a committee was +appointed to wait upon the pastor and respectfully request him to +dismiss Riley, to cease his efforts after the supernatural, and to +return to his former profitable manner of ministration. Dr. Potter was +amazed and indignant; he replied, that he should preach the truth as it +was revealed to himself; he scouted the dictation of the committee, and +fell back upon the solemn duty of his office; he ended by informing the +gentlemen that they were unbelievers and materialists. Naturally the +dissenters grew all the more fractious for this currying, and held +another meeting, in which the reaction kicked up higher than ever. Being +resolved now to proceed to extremities, and, if necessary, to form a new +congregation, they drew up the following recantation and sent it to Dr. +Potter,--not with any hope that he would put his name to it, but for the +purpose of ridiculing his infatuation, and driving him to resign his +pulpit. + +"I, the undersigned, pastor of the First Church in Troubleton, having +been led far from the truth by the absurdities of modern miracleism +and spiritualism, and having seen the error of my ways, do penitently +subscribe to the accompanying articles. + +"1st. I promise to cease all intercourse with a blasphemous blockhead +named John M. Riley, who has been the human cause of my downfall. + +"2d. I promise to avoid in future all rhapsodies, ecstasies, frenzies, +and whimseys which throw ridicule on true religion by caricaturing its +influences. + +"3d. I promise to regard with the profoundest contempt and indifference +both my own dreams or somnambulisms and those of other people. + +"4th. I promise not to unveil the secret things of Infinity, nor to +encourage others to unveil them, but to mind my own finite business, and +to rest satisfied with the revelations that are contained in the Bible. + +"5th. I promise not to speak unknown tongues as long as I can speak +English, and not to listen to other people who commit the like +absurdity, unless I know them to be Frenchmen or Dutchmen or other +foreigners of some human species. + +"6th. I promise not to heal the sick by any unnatural and miraculous +means, but rather to call in for their aid properly educated physicians, +giving the preference to those of the allopathic persuasion. + +"7th. I promise not to work signs in heaven nor wonders on earth, but +to let all things take the course allotted to them by a good and wise +Providence." + +Of course Dr. Potter looked upon this production as the height of +irreverence and irreligion, and proposed to excommunicate the authors +of it. Hence the dissenters declared themselves seceders, and took +immediate steps to form a new society. + +It was at this stage of the excitement that I returned to Troubleton and +made my call upon the Doctor. I felt anxious to save my old friend and +worthy pastor. I saw, that, if he continued in his present courses, +he would strip himself, one after the other, of his influence, his +position, his religion, and his reason. That very evening, after the +usual conference-meeting was over, I called again on him, and found him +in a truly lyrical frame of spirit. + +"Ah, my dear friend, there is no end to it!" exclaimed he. "The doors +are opening, one beyond another. Wonder shows forth after wonder, +miracle after miracle. Behind the veil! behind the veil!" + +"Indeed!" said I, rather vexed. "You'll find yourself behind a grate +some day." + +"There is now no question of the physical value as well as the spiritual +sublimity of these revelations," he continued, without observing my +sneer. "Life and death, the sparing of precious blood, the prevention of +crime, the punishment of the guilty,--you can appreciate these things, I +presume." + +"When I am in my senses," returned I. "But what is the row? if I may use +that worldly expression. Has Mr. John M. Riley been brought to confess +any state-prison offences?" + +"Ah, Elderkin!" sighed the Doctor, letting go my hand with a look of sad +reproach. "But no: you cannot remain forever in this skepticism; you +will be brought over to us before long. Let me tell you what has +happened. But, remember, you must keep the secret until to-morrow, as +you value precious lives. Mr. Riley has just left me. He has made me a +revelation, a prophecy, which will be proof to all men of the origin +of our present experiences. He has had a vision, thrice repeated. It +foretold that this very night a robbery and murder would be attempted in +the city of New Haven. The evil drama will open between two and three +o'clock. There will be three burglars. The house threatened is situated +in the suburbs, to the east of the city, and about a mile from the +colleges." + +"Is it? And what are you going to do about it?--telegraph?" + +"No. We will be there in person. We will ourselves prevent the crime and +seize the criminals. I shall have a word in season for that family, Sir. +I wish to improve the occasion for its conversion to a full belief in +these sublime mysteries. Mr. Riley, with three of my people, will meet +me at the station. We shall be in New Haven by eleven, stay an hour or +two in some hotel, and at half past one go to the house." + +"My dear Sir, I remonstrate," exclaimed I. "You will get laughed at. You +will get shot at. You will get into disgrace. You will get into jail. +For pity's sake, give up this quixotic expedition, and grant me an +absolution before the fact for kicking Riley out of doors." + +The Doctor turned his face away from me and walked to a window. His air +of profound, yet uncomplaining grief, struck me with compunction, and, +following him, I held out my hand. + +"Come, excuse me," said I. "Look here,--if this comes true, I'll quit +geology and go to working miracles to-morrow. I'll come over to your +faith, if I have to wade through my reason." + +"Will you?" he responded, joyfully. "You will never repent it. There, +shake hands. I am not angry. Your unbelief is natural, though saddening. +To-morrow night, then, come and see me again and I will tell you the +whole adventure. I must be off to the train now. Excuse me for leaving +you. Would you like to sit here awhile and look at Humby's 'Modern +Miracles'?" + +"No, thank you. Prefer to look at your miracles. I am going with you." + +"Going with me? Are you? I'm delighted!" he cried, not in the least +startled or embarrassed by the proposition. "Now you shall see with your +own eyes." + +"Yes, if it isn't too dark, I will,--word of a geologist. Well, shall we +start?" + +"But won't you have a weapon? We go armed, of course, inasmuch as the +scoundrels may show fight when we come to arrest them." + +"I don't want it," said I, gently pushing away a pocket-pistol, about as +dangerous as a squirt. "All the burglars you see to-night may shoot at +me, and welcome." + +We walked to the station, and found our party waiting for the Boston +train. The Doctor introduced me, with much affectionate effusion and +many particulars concerning my family and early history, to the man of +unearthly lingoes. He was a tall, lean, flat-chested, cadaverous being, +of about forty, his sandy hair nicely sleeked, thin yellow whiskers +spattered on his hollow cheeks, his nose short and snub, his face +small, wilted, and so freckled that it could hardly be said to have +a complexion. In short, by its littleness, by its yellowness, by its +appearance of dusty dryness, this singular physiognomy reminded me so +strongly of a pinch of snuff, that I almost sneezed at sight of it. His +diminutive green eyes were fringed with ragged flaxen lashes, and seemed +to be very loose in their reddened lids, as if he could cry them out at +the shortest notice. I observed that he never looked his interlocutors +in the face, but stared chiefly at their feet, as if surmising whether +they would kick, or gazed into remote distance, as if trying to see +round the world and get a view of his own back. His dress was a full +suit of black, fine in texture, but bagging about him in a way that made +you wonder whether he had not lost a hundred-weight or so in training +for his spiritual battles. His manners were quiet, and would not have +been disagreeable, but for an air of uncomfortably stiff solemnity, +which draped him from head to foot like a robe of moral oilcloth, and +might almost be said to rustle audibly. Whether he was a practical +joker, a swindler, a fanatic, or a madman, my spiritual vision was not +keen enough to discover at first sight. Beside him and ourselves the +party consisted of a butcher, a baker, and a candlestick-maker, +all members of the Doctor's church and indefatigable workers of +miracles,--plain men and foolish, but respectable in standing and +sincere in their folly. Mr. Riley was so commonplace as to address me in +English, probably because he wanted an answer. + +"Do you accompany us, Sir, on this blessed crusade against crime and +unbelief?" he asked. + +"My friend, Dr. Potter, has granted me that inestimable privilege," +responded I. + +"I hope--in fact, I firmly believe--that Providence will aid us," he +continued. + +"I hope so, too," said I. "But wouldn't it be advisable to have a +policeman, too?" + +"By no means! Certainly not!" he returned, with considerable excitement. +"All we want is a band of saints, of justified souls, of men fitted for +the martyr's crown." + +"Oh, that's all, is it, Sir? Well, shall we get into the cars? There +they are." + +The train was full, and our party had to scatter, but Mr. Riley and I +got seats together. + +"I have not seen you at our meetings, Sir," he continued. "Allow me to +ask, are you a believer in Dispensationism?" + +"Not so strong as I might be. However, I have been absent from +Troubleton for three months, and only returned yesterday." + +"Ah! you have lost precious opportunities. You must lose no more. Life +is short." + +"And uncertain," I added. "Especially in railroad travelling." + +"My dear Sir, I hope this road is prudently conducted," he said, with a +look of some little anxiety. + +"Not many accidents," I answered. "And then, you know, we are always +in the hands of Providence. No fear of slipping through the fingers +unnoticed." + +"No, Sir, certainly not," he remarked, wrapping his moral oilcloth about +him again. "Have you felt any extraordinary spiritual impressions since +you returned?" + +"Nothing lasting, I think. Nothing that a night's sleep wouldn't take +off the edge of." + +"No desire to lay hands on some sin-stricken wretch and cure him of the +evil that is in him?" + +Now I did feel a strong desire to lay hands on this very Riley and pull +out his snub nose for him; but I forbore to say so, and simply shook my +head despondently. + +"I know, that, if you would come to our Dispensaries and join in our +exercises, you would be sensible of a softening," he observed. + +"Yes, in the brain," thought I; but I still remained silent. + +"You should meditate upon the value of manifestations, unknown tongues, +the laying on of hands, visions, ecstasies, and such like matters," he +continued. + +"So I have," said I. + +"And with no result?" + +"Nothing that particularly astonishes me. I think that I hate humbug +more than I did." + +"That's a good sign," he replied, after a brief, sharp glance of inquiry +at me. "This vain world is a humbug, as you phrase it. Dead Orthodoxy is +a humbug. Human reason is a humbug. We are all humbugs, unless we are +made true by Dispensation. This age will be a humbug, unless it can +be wrought into an age of miracles. If you could be brought to hate +earnestly all these things, it would be a hopeful sign." + +I was on the point of disputing the hypothesis, but prudently checked +myself. Suddenly he removed my hat and put his broad, hard palm upon my +organs with an impudent dexterity which made me doubt whether he had not +been a pickpocket or a phrenological lecturer. + +"I lay my hand upon your head and desire you to note the effect," said +he. "Can no life come into these dry bones? Shall they not live? +Yea, they shall live! Do you feel no irrepressible emotion, Sir,--no +shaking?" + +"Not a shake," replied I,--"unless it be from the bad grading." + +"Evil is mighty, but the good must eventually prevail," he observed, +impertinently cocking his snub nose toward heaven. + +"I believe you are quite right in both propositions," I admitted. +"Cardinal points of mine. But excuse me, Sir, if you could spare my hat, +I should like to put it on my head." + +I had lost patience with the man, partly because it irks me to have +strangers take liberties with my person, and also because I had reached +the conclusion that he was simply a shallow dissembler and rascal. In +a minute more I had cause to reconsider my charge of hypocrisy, and to +question whether he might not lay claim to the nobler distinction of +lunacy. The conductor came down the car, picking out Troubletonians with +his undeceivable eye, and leaned toward us with outstretched fingers. +Mr. Riley rose to his whole gaunt height at a jerk, and laid his hand on +the official's arm with a fierce, bony gripe, which seemed to startle +him as if it were the clutch of a skeleton. + +"There is my ticket," said he. "Where is yours? Have you one for the +Holy City? None? Then you are lost, lost, lost!" + +The last words rose to a high, clear shriek, which pierced the heavy +rumble of the train and rang throughout the car. The conductor, in spite +of the coolness which becomes second nature to men of his profession, +turned slightly pale and shrank back before this wild apostrophe, with +a thrill of spiritual horror at the solemn meaning of the words, (I +thought,) and not because he considered the man a maniac. The fanaticism +of Troubleton had already flown far and cast a vague shadow of dread +over a large community. + +Turning abruptly from the conductor, my companion flung out his long +arms toward the staring passengers, and continued in his strident, +startling tenor:--"I have warned him. I call you all to witness that I +have warned this man of his fearful peril. His blood be on his own head! +The blood of your souls will be upon your heads, unless you turn to +Dispensationism. I have said it. Amen!" + +Before he had sat down again I was in the alley on my way to another +car, not anxious to become known as the intimate of this extraordinary +apostle. I found an empty seat by the Doctor, dropped into it, and told +my story. + +"My dear friend, give the fellow up," I concluded. "He's as mad as he +can possibly be." + +"So Festus thought of Paul," returned my poor comrade, with hopeless +fatuity. + +"Festus be d----d!" said I, losing my temper, and swearing for the first +time since I graduated. + +"I fear he was so," remarked the Doctor, severely. "Let me urge you to +take warning from his fate." + +"I beg your pardon, and that of Festus," I apologized. "But when I see +you losing your reason, I can't keep my patience, and don't wish to." + +"You will wonder at these feelings before many hours," he responded +gently. "To-morrow you will be a believer." + +"That makes no difference with me now," said I. "I am just as skeptical +as if I hadn't a chance of conversion. Why, Doctor,--well, come +now,--I'll argue the case with you. In the first place, all Church +history is against you. There isn't a respectable author who upholds the +doctrine of modern miracles." + +"Mistake!" he exclaimed. "I wish I had you in my library. I could face +you with writer on writer, fact on fact, all supporting my views. I can +prove that miracles have not ceased for eighteen centuries; that they +appeared abundantly in the days of the venerable Catholic fathers; that +a stream of prophecies and healings and tongues ran clear through the +Dark Ages down to the Reformation; that the superhuman influence flamed +in the dreams of Huss, the ecstasies of Xavier, and the marvels of Fox +and Usher. Look at the French Prophets, or Tremblers of the Cevennes, +who had prophesyings and healings and discoverings of spirits and +tongues and interpretations. Look at the ecstatic Jansenists, or +Convulsionists of St. Medard, who were blessed with the same holy gifts. +Look at the Quakers, from Fox downward, who have held it as a constant +principle to expect powers, revelations, discernings of spirits, and +instantaneous healings of diseases. Why, here we are in our own days; +here we are with our chain of miracles still unbroken; here we are in +the midst of this geological and unbelieving nineteenth century." + +"Yes, here we are," said I; "and we must make the best of it. It's a bad +affair, of course, to live in scientific times; and it's a great pity +that we were not born in the Dark Ages; but it is too late to try to +help it." + +"Ah! you answer with a sneer; you are materialistic and infidel." + +"Stop, Doctor! Let me make a bargain with you. If you won't call me +names, I won't call you names. You are not in the pulpit now, and you +have no right to domineer over me." + +"But what do you say to all these signs and wonders which I have +mentioned?" + +"What do you say to the Rochester knockings and the Stratford mysteries +and the Mormon miracles?" + +"All deceptions, or works of the Devil," affirmed the Doctor, without a +moment's hesitation. + +"Excuse me for smiling," I replied "It is pleasant to observe what a +quick spirit you have for discerning the true wonders from the false." + +"You will see, you will see," he answered, and relapsed into a grave +silence. + +We reached New Haven and took rooms at the New Haven Hotel. I had +anticipated a little nap before going out on our expedition; but I had +not made allowance for the proselyting zeal of Dispensationists. My poor +bewildered friend Potter uttered something which he sincerely meant to +be a prayer, but which sounded to me painfully like blasphemy. Next they +sang a queer hymn of theirs in discordant chorus. After that, Mr. Riley +rolled up his sleeves and his eyes, flung his arms about, wept and +shrieked unknown tongues for twenty minutes. Then the butcher, the +baker, and candlestick-maker had a combined convulsion on the floor, +rolling over each other and upsetting furniture. By this time the hotel +was roused and the landlord made us a call. + +"What the Old Harry are you about?" he demanded, angrily. "Don't you +know it's after midnight?" + +"We are holding a Dispensary," said Mr. Riley, solemnly. + +"Well, I'll dispense with your company, if you don't stop it," returned +mine host. "There's a nervous lady in the next room, and you've worried +her into fits." + +"Let me see her," cried the Doctor, eagerly. "It may be that the power +of our faith is upon her. Which is her door?" + +"You're drunk, Sir," returned the landlord, severely. "Keep quiet now, +or I'll have you put to bed by the porters." + +So saying, he shut the door and went muttering down-stairs. This +untoward incident put an end to our exercises. A whispered palaver on +Dispensationism followed, during which I tilted my chair back against +the wall and stole a pleasant little nap. + +It was about half past one when the Doctor shook me up and said, "It is +time." We slipped down-stairs in our stockinged feet, got the front-door +open without awakening the porter, shut it carefully after us, and put +on our boots outside. Mr. Riley immediately started up College Street, +which, as all the world is aware, runs northerly to the Canal Railroad, +where it changes to Prospect Street and goes off in a half-wild state up +country. At the end of College Street we left the city behind us, struck +the rail-track, forsook that presently for a desert sort of road known +as Canal Street, and kept on in a northwesterly direction for half a +mile farther. It was a dark, cool, and blustering night, such as the New +Englanders are very apt to have on the second of April. The wind blew +violently down the open country, shaking the scattered trees as if +it meant to wake them instantly out of their winter's slumber, and +screeching in the murky distances like a tomcat of the housetops, or +rather like a continent of tomcats. The Doctor lost his hat, chased it a +few rods, and then gave it up, lest he should miss his burglars. Once I +halted and watched, thinking that I saw two or three dark shapes dogging +us not far behind, but concluded that I had been deceived by the +black-art of magical Night, and hastened on after my crazy comrades. +Presently Riley stopped, pointed to a dark mass on our right which +seemed about large enough to be a story-and-a-half cottage, and +whispered, "Here we are, brethren." + +"No doubt about that," said I. "But what the mischief is to come of it?" + +"Oh! let's go back and call the police," urged the baker, in a tremulous +gurgle. + +"Too late!" returned Riley. "It is given to me to see the burglars. They +are inside. They are taking the silver out of the closet. There will be +murder in five minutes." + +"If there must be murder, why, of course we ought to have a hand in it," +I suggested. "Our motives at least will be good." + +"Right!" said Riley. "Come on, brethren! We must prove our faith by our +works." + +But the baker hung back in a most dough-faced fashion, while the butcher +and the candlestick-maker encouraged him in his cowardice. At last it +was agreed that this unheroic trio should wait in the yard as a reserve, +while Riley, the Doctor, and I went in to worry the burglars. Leaving +the weaker brethren in a clump of evergreen shrubbery, we, the +forlorn-hope, stole around the house to get at a back-door which Prophet +Riley had plainly seen in his dream, and which he foretold us we should +find unlocked. I was not much amazed to discover a back-door, inasmuch +as most houses have one, but I really was surprised to learn that it was +unfastened. My astonishment at this circumstance, however, was over- +balanced by my alarm at finding that the Doctor still persisted in his +intention of entering; for I had hoped that at the last moment his +faith would give way, and let him slide down from the elevation of his +ridiculous and reckless purpose. + +"But you are not really going in?" I whispered, jerking at his +coat-tails. + +"Certainly," he replied. "The robbers are surely there. The door was +unlocked." + +"Mere carelessness of the servants. Stop! Come back! Nonsense! Madness! +You'll get into a scrape. Respectable family. Good gracious, what a pack +of fools!" + +While I was rapidly muttering these observations, he was pulling away +from me and stealing into the house after his prophet. Finding that +there was no stopping him, I followed, in obedience, perhaps, to that +great and no doubt beneficent, but as yet unexplained, instinct which +causes sheep to leap after their bellwether. We were in a basement, or +semi-subterranean story. I felt the walls of a narrow passage on +either side of me, and can swear to a kitchen near by, for I smelt its +cooking-range. I walked on the foremost end of my toes, and would have +paid five dollars for a pair of list slippers. Rather than take another +such little promenade as I had in that passage, I would submit to be +placed on the middle sleeper of a railroad-bridge, with an express-train +coming at me without a cowcatcher. Presently I overtook the Doctor's +coat-tails again, and found that they were ascending a staircase. At the +top of the stairs was a door, and on the other side of the door was a +room, the uses of which I won't undertake to swear to, for I never saw +it, although I was in it longer than I wanted to be. All I know is +that it seemed to be as full of chairs, and tables, and sofas, and +sideboards, and stoves, and crickets, as if it had been a shop for +second-hand furniture. I was just rubbing my shins after an encounter +with a remarkably solid object, nature uncertain, when somebody near me +fell over something with a crash and a groan. Immediately somebody else +seized me by the cravat and began to throttle me. Whoever it was, I +floored him with a right-hander, and sent him across the other person, +as I judged by the combined grunt, and the desperate, though dumb +struggle which followed. Now there were two of them down, and how many +standing I could not guess. An instant afterward, a muffled voice, like +that of a man only half awake, shouted from a room behind me, "Who's +there? Get out! I'm a-coming!" This seemed to encourage the individuals +who were having a rough-and-tumble on the carpet, for they commenced +roaring simultaneously, "Help! murder! thieves! fire!" without, however, +relaxing hostilities for a moment. + +The next pleasant incident was a pistol-shot, the ball of which whizzed +so near my head that it made me dodge, although I have not the least +notion who fired it or whom it was aimed at. Female screams and +masculine shouts now sounded from various directions. Thinking that +I had done all the good in my power, I concluded to get out of this +confusion; but either the doorway by which we entered had suddenly +walled itself up, or else I had lost my reckoning; for, stumble where I +would, feel about as I would, I could not find it. I did, indeed, come +to an opening in the wall, but there was no staircase the other side of +it, and it simply introduced me to another invisible apartment. I had no +chance to reflect upon the matter and decide of my own free will whether +I would go in or not. A sudden rush of fighting, howling persons swept +me along, jammed me against a pillar, pushed me over a table, and forced +me to engage in a furious struggle, exceedingly awkward by reason of the +darkness and the extraordinary amount of furniture. A tremendous punch +in the side of the head upset me and made me lose my temper. Rising in a +rage, I grappled some man, tripped up his heels, got on his chest, and +never left off belaboring him until I felt pretty sure that he would +keep quiet during the rest of the _soiree_. I hope sincerely that this +suffering individual was Mr. John M. Riley; but, from the rotundity of +stomach which I bestrode, I very much fear that it was the Doctor. + +All this while the house resounded with outcries of, "Who's there?" +"What's the matter?" "Father!" "Henry!" "Jenny!" "Maria!" "Thieves!" +"Murder!" "Police!" and so forth. Of course I did not feel disposed to +tell who was there; and in actual fact I could not have explained +what was the matter. Accordingly I left all these inquisitive people +unsatisfied, and busied myself solely with my fallen antagonist. +Quitting him at last in a state of quiescence, I knocked over a person +who had been attacking me in the rear, and then blundered into a +passage, which I suppose to have been the front-hall, just as a light +glimmered up in the rooms behind me. It gives one a very odd sensation +to tread on a prostrate body, not knowing whether it is dead or alive, +whether it is a man or a woman. I had that sensation in ascending a +stairway which seemed to be the only egress from the aforesaid passage. +The individual made no movement, and I did not stop to count his or her +pulses. Without feeling at all disposed to take my oath on the matter, I +rather suspect that a negro servant-girl had fainted away there in the +act of trying to run off in her nightgown. Upstairs I tumbled, resolved +to get upon the roof and slide down the lightning-rod, or else jump from +a window. Pushing open a door, which I fell against, I found myself in +a pretty little bedroom lighted by a single candle, articles of female +costume banging across chairs and scattered over dressing-tables, while +on the floor, just as she had swooned in her terror, lay a blonde girl +of nineteen or twenty, pale as marble, but beautiful. Right through my +alarm jarred a throb of mingled self-reproach and pity and admiration. I +tossed a pile of bedclothes over her, kissed the long light-brown hair +which rippled on the straw matting, daguerreotyped the face on my memory +with a glance, blew out the light, opened a window, and slipped out of +it. It is unpleasant to drop through darkness, not knowing how far you +will fall, nor whether you will not alight on iron pickets. Fortunately, +I came down in a fresh flower-bed, with no unpleasant result, except a +sensation of having nearly bitten my tongue off. I had scarcely steadied +myself on my feet, when a tall figure made a rush from some near +ambuscade and seized me by the collar. Supposing him to be one of our +reserve force, I quietly suffered him to lead me forward, and was on the +point of whispering my name, when my eye caught a glimmer of metal, and +I knew that I was in the hands of a policeman. + +"Come in and help," said I. "The house is full of rascals." + +Thinking me one of the family, he loosed his hold on my broadcloth and +hurried away to the back-door. Whoever reads this story has already +taken it for granted that I did not follow him, but that I did, on the +contrary, make for the city and never cease travelling until I had +reached the hotel. Let no man reproach me with forsaking my friend, the +Doctor, in his extremity. I was brought up to reverence the law and to +entertain a virtuous terror of policemen; and, besides, what could I +have effected in that horrible labyrinth of dark rooms and multitudinous +furniture? I rang up the porter, went to bed, and lay awake alt the rest +of the night, listening for the return of my companions. No one came: +no Doctor, no Riley, no butcher, no baker, no candlestick-maker. I was +apparently the sole survivor of our little army. In the morning I walked +over to the police-station, peeped cautiously through the grated door of +a long room where the night's gatherings are lodged, and discovered my +five friends, tattered and bruised, but holding a lively Dispensary in +one corner. From that moment I despaired of the Doctor and resolved to +let him manage his own monomania. I was still peeping when two of the +police and a sly-looking man in citizen's dress came up and stared +boldly at the prisoners. + +"Well, Old Cock, do you see your game?" asked one of the "force." + +"Thaht's him," returned the Old Cock, speaking with the soft drawl of +the New York cockney. "Tall fellah thah with thah black eye, thaht's +a-goin' it now. Thundah, what a roarah!" + +"Well, what is he?" inquired the second of the New-Haveners. + +"Joseph Hull, 'ligious lunatic," said the Old Cock. "Was in thah +Bloomingdale Asylum. Cut off one night about foah months ago and stole a +suit o' clothes that belonged to John M. Riley, with a lot o' money and +papahs and lettahs in thah pockets. How'd you get hold of him?" + +"Broke into a house eout here last night," related the first +New-Havener. "He and them other fellers, and one more that we ha'n't +found. I was on my beat 'bout one o'clock, and see 'em puttin' up +College Street full chisel. I thought they looked kinder dangerous. So I +called Doolittle here, and Jarvis, and Jacobs, and we after 'em. Chased +'em 'bout a mild and treed 'em at Square Russoll's, way up Canal, eout +in the country. Three was in the yard and gin right up without doublin' +a fist, though they had their pockets chuck full o' little pistols. We +locked 'em into the cellar, and then, went upstairs, where there was a +devil of a yellin' and fightin'. Hanged if I know what they come there +for. They'd been pitchin' into one another and knockin' one another's +heads off, besides smashin' furnichy and chimbly crockery, but hadn't +stole a thing. The fat one and the long one--them two with white +chokers--was lyin' on the floor pootty much used up. There was another +that got up-stairs and jumped out a winder. Jarvis was outside and +collared him, but thought he was Russell's son-in-law,--ho, ho, ho!--and +let him off,--ho, ho, ho! Tell ye, Jarvis feels thunderin' small 'bout +it. Ha'n't been reound this mornin'." + +"Well, I'll leave my warrant with your big-wigs, and come after my man +when they've got through with him," said the New York detective, turning +away. + +Fearing the return of the enlightened Jarvis, I now left, and, +taking the first train to Troubleton, informed some of the leading +Dispensationists concerning their pastor's calamity. By dint of heavy +bail and strong representations they saved him, together with the +butcher and baker and candlestick-maker, from the disgrace of prison and +the lunatic asylum. But the adventure was the ruin of Dispensationism. +Mr. Joseph Hull had to give up Mr. John M. Riley's valuables, and return +to his seclusion at Bloomingdale. Deprived of the apostle who had set +them on fire, and overwhelmed by public ridicule, the Dispensationists +lost their faith, got ashamed of their minister, and turned him adrift. +He disappeared in the great whirl of men and other circumstances which +fills this wonderful country. From time to time, during five years, I +had made inquiries concerning him of mineralogists, botanists, and +other vagrant characters, without getting the smallest hint as to his +whereabouts. At last he had turned up as the private prophet of three +middle-aged widows. + +"Jenny," said I to my wife, "do you remember the night I frightened you +so and kissed you as you lay in a fainting-fit?" + +"You always say you kissed me, but I don't believe it," returned that +dear woman whom I love, honor, and cherish. "Yes, I remember the night +well enough." + +"Well, that poor Doctor Potter, who was my Mahomet on that occasion, +and led me to victory in your parlor, and was the indirect means of my +getting my houri,--I have heard from him. He is our next neighbor." + +"Mercy on us, Frederic! I hope not! What mischief won't he do to people +who are so handy?" + +"Don't be worried, my dear," said I. "I sha'n't go over to his religion +again,--unless, indeed, you should insist upon it. But here he is, and +still a supernaturalist. I am anxious to know just how mad he is. I +shall call on him in a day or two." + +So I did. One of the three widows met me with a tearful countenance and +told me that Doctor Potter had disappeared. So he had. I think that he +was ashamed to meet me again, and therefore ran away. The widows thought +not. They came to the conclusion, that, like Enoch and Elijah before +him, he had been translated. They cried for him a good deal more than he +was worth, quarreled scandalously among themselves, sold their house at +a loss, and dispersed. I know nothing more of them. Neither do I know +anything further of my neighbor, the prophet. + + * * * * * + + +THE PILOT'S STORY. + + +I. + + It was a story the pilot told, with his back to his hearers,-- + Keeping his hand on the wheel and his eye on the globe of the jack-staff, + Holding the boat to the shore and out of the sweep of the current, + Lightly turning aside for the heavy logs of the drift-wood, + Widely shunning the snags that made us sardonic obeisance. + +II. + + All the soft, damp air was full of delicate perfume + From the young willows in bloom on either bank of the river,-- + Faint, delicious fragrance, trancing the indolent senses + In a luxurious dream of the river and land of the lotus. + Not yet out of the west the roses of sunset were withered; + In the deep blue above light clouds of gold and of crimson + Floated in slumber serene, and the restless river beneath them + Rushed away to the sea with a vision of rest in its bosom. + Far on the eastern shore lay dimly the swamps of the cypress; + Dimly before us the islands grew from the river's expanses,-- + Beautiful, wood-grown isles,--with the gleam of the swart inundation + Seen through the swaying boughs and slender trunks of their willows; + And on the shore beside its the cotton-trees rose in the evening, + Phantom-like, yearningly, wearily, with the inscrutable sadness + Of the mute races of trees. While hoarsely the steam from her + 'scape-pipes + Shouted, then whispered a moment, then shouted again to the silence, + Trembling through all her frame with the mighty pulse of her engines, + Slowly the boat ascended the swollen and broad Mississippi, + Bank-full, sweeping on, with nearing masses of drift-wood, + Daintily breathed about with hazes of silvery vapor, + Where in his arrowy flight the twittering swallow alighted, + And the belated blackbird paused on the way to its nestlings. + +III. + + It was the pilot's story:--"They both came aboard there, at Cairo, + From a New Orleans boat, and took passage with us for Saint Louis. + She was a beautiful woman, with just enough blood from her mother, + Darkening her eyes and her hair, to make her race known to a trader: + You would have thought she was white. The man that was with her,--you + see such,-- + Weakly good-natured and kind, and weakly good-natured and vicious, + Slender of body and soul, fit neither for loving nor hating. + I was a youngster then, and only learning the river,-- + Not over-fond of the wheel. I used to watch them at _monte_, + Down in the cabin at night, and learned to know all of the gamblers. + So when I saw this weak one staking his money against them, + Betting upon the turn of the cards, I knew what was coming: + _They_ never left their pigeons a single feather to fly with. + Next day I saw them together,--the stranger and one of the gamblers: + Picturesque rascal he was, with long black hair and moustaches, + Black slouch hat drawn down to his eyes from his villanous forehead: + On together they moved, still earnestly talking in whispers, + On toward the forecastle, where sat the woman alone by the gangway. + Roused by the fall of feet, she turned, and, beholding her master, + Greeted him with a smile that was more like a wife's than another's, + Rose to meet him fondly, and then, with the dread apprehension + Always haunting the slave, fell her eye on the face of the gambler, + Dark and lustful and fierce and full of merciless cunning. + Something was spoken so low that I could not hear what the words were; + Only the woman started, and looked from one to the other, + With imploring eyes, bewildered hands, and a tremor + All through her frame: I saw her from where I was standing, she shook so. + 'Say! is it so?' she cried. On the weak, white lips of her master + Died a sickly smile, and he said,--'Louise, I have sold you.' + God is my judge! May I never see such a look of despairing, + Desolate anguish, as that which the woman cast on her master, + Griping her breast with her little hands, as if he had stabbed her, + Standing in silence a space, as fixed as the Indian woman, + Carved out of wood, on the pilot-house of the old Pocahontas! + Then, with a gurgling moan, like the sound in the throat of the dying, + Came back her voice, that, rising, fluttered, through wild incoherence, + Into a terrible shriek that stopped my heart while she answered:-- + 'Sold me? sold me? sold----And you promised to give me my freedom!-- + Promised me, for the sake of our little boy in Saint Louis! + What will you say to our boy, when he cries for me there in Saint Louis? + What will you say to our God?--Ah, you have been joking! I see it!-- + No? God! God! He shall hear it,--and all of the angels in heaven,-- + Even the devils in hell!--and none will believe when they hear it! + Sold me!'--Fell her voice with a thrilling wail, and in silence + Down she sank on the deck, and covered her face with her fingers." + +IV. + + In his story a moment the pilot paused, while we listened + To the salute of a boat, that, rounding the point of an island, + Flamed toward us with fires that seemed to burn from the waters,-- + Stately and vast and swift, and borne on the heart of the current. + Then, with the mighty voice of a giant challenged to battle, + Rose the responsive whistle, and all the echoes of island, + Swamp-land, glade, and brake replied with a myriad clamor, + Like wild birds that are suddenly startled from slumber at midnight; + Then were at peace once more, and we heard the harsh cries of the + peacocks + Perched on a tree by a cabin-door, where the white-headed settler's + White-headed children stood to look at the boat as it passed them, + Passed them so near that we heard their happy talk and their laughter. + Softly the sunset had faded, and now on the eastern horizon + Hung, like a tear in the sky, the beautiful star of the evening. + + V. + + Still with his back to us standing, the pilot went on with his story:-- + "Instantly, all the people, with looks of reproach and compassion, + Flocked round the prostrate woman. The children cried, and their mothers + Hugged them tight to their breasts; but the gambler said to the + captain,-- + 'Put me off there at the town that lies round the bend of the river. + Here, you! rise at once, and be ready now to go with me.' + Roughly he seized the woman's arm and strove to uplift her. + She--she seemed not to heed him, but rose like one that is dreaming, + Slid from his grasp, and fleetly mounted the steps of the gangway, + Up to the hurricane-deck, in silence, without lamentation. + Straight to the stern of the boat, where the wheel was, she ran, and + the people + Followed her fast till she turned and stood at bay for a moment, + Looking them in the face, and in the face of the gambler. + Not one to save her,--not one of all the compassionate people! + Not one to save her, of all the pitying angels in heaven! + Not one bolt of God to strike him dead there before her! + Wildly she waved him back, we waiting in silence and horror. + Over the swarthy face of the gambler a pallor of passion + Passed, like a gleam of lightning over the west in the night-time. + White, she stood, and mute, till he put forth his hand to secure her; + Then she turned and leaped,--in mid air fluttered a moment,-- + Down, there, whirling, fell, like a broken-winged bird from a tree-top, + Down on the cruel wheel, that caught her, and hurled her, and + crushed her, + And in the foaming water plunged her, and hid her forever." + + VI. + + Still with his back to us all the pilot stood, but we heard him + Swallowing hard, as he pulled the bell-rope to stop her. Then, turning,-- + "This is the place where it happened," brokenly whispered the pilot. + "Somehow, I never like to go by here alone in the night-time." + Darkly the Mississippi flowed by the town that lay in the starlight, + Cheerful with lamps. Below we could hear them reversing the engines, + And the great boat glided up to the shore like a giant exhausted. + Heavily sighed her pipes. Broad over the swamps to the eastward + Shone the full moon, and turned our far-trembling wake into silver. + All was serene and calm, but the odorous breath of the willows + Smote like the subtile breath of an infinite sorrow upon us. + + + + +A DAY WITH THE DEAD. + + +"Good morning!" said the old custodian, as he stood in the door of the +lodge, brushing out with his knuckles the cobwebs of sleep entangled in +his eyelashes, and ventilating the apartments of his fleshly tabernacle +with prolonged oscitations. "You are on hand early _this_ time, a'n't +you? You're the first live man I've seen since I got up." + +So saying, he vanished, and reappearing in a moment with a huge brass +key, entered the arch, unlocked the gate which closed the aperture +fronting the east like the cover of a porthole, and sent it with a heavy +push wide open. + +Wading through the flood of sunlight which poured into the +passage-way----But stop! I was about,--who knows?--in imitation of +divers admired models, to tell the reader in choicest poetic diction how +the City of the Dead, with its magnificent streets, shining palaces, and +lofty monuments, burst upon my dazzled vision,--how I walked for half a +mile along a spacious avenue, beneath an arcade of giant elms hung with +wreaths of mist and vocal with singing, feathery fruit,--past marble +tombs whose yards were filled with bright and fragrant flowers,-- +among waving grassy knolls spread with the silver nets of spiders and +sparkling dew,--through vales of cool twilight and ravines of sombre +dusk,--and so on for more than a page, until finally, step by step, +through laboriously elegant sentences, I worked my way up to the top +of a lofty hill, the view from which to be graphically described as a +picture and a poem dissolved together into mingled glory and mirage, and +inundating with a billowy sea of beauty the landscape below;--and then +further depicting to the delighted fancy of the reader, how on one +side was a most remarkable river,--such as was never heard of before, +probably,--in fact, a web of water framed between the hills, its rushing +warp-currents, as it rolled along, woven by smoking steam-shuttles with +a woof of foam,--how, at the entrance of a bay, flocks of snowy sails, +with black, shining beaks, and sleek, unruffled plumage, were swimming +out to sea,--how another river, not quite so unique as the last, was +also in sight, coiling among emerald steeps and crags and precipices +and forest,--while beyond, green woodlands, checkered fields, groves, +orchards, villages, hills, farms, and villas, all glowed in an +exceedingly charming manner in the morning sun;--and then, still +further, to say something as brilliant as possible about a certain +city, designated as the Great Metropolis,--how it resembled, perhaps, +a Cyclopean type-form, with blocks of buildings for letters, domes, +turrets, and towers for punctuation-points, church-spires for +interrogation and exclamation marks, and squares and avenues for +division-spaces between the paragraphs, set up and leaded with +streets into a vast editorial page of original matter on Commerce and +Manufactures, rolled every morning with the ink of toil, and printing +before night an edition of results circulated to the remotest quarters +of the globe. And the tall chimneys yonder were to be called--let me +see--oh, the smoking cathedral-towers of the Holy Catholic Church of +Labor, islanding the air with clouds of incense more grateful to the +Deity than the fume of priest-swung censers. All this, and much more of +a similar nature, including an eloquent address to the ocean hard by, +it is possible I was about to say. But, unwilling to smother the reader +beneath a mountain of rhetorical flowers,--which accident might happen, +should I resolve to be "equal to the occasion,"--I shall contain myself, +and state, in the way of a curt preface, in plain prose, and directly to +the point, that I entered a remarkably large and populous cemetery, +no matter where, very early one morning,--in fact, you have the +gate-keeper's word for it that I was the first person there,--that I +climbed to the summit of a high hill and enjoyed the view of a beautiful +landscape, just after sunrise; and with this finally said and done, let +us proceed. + +As I stood listening to the music of the sea-breeze in the pine-forests +below, and watching the ships sinking into the ocean from view or +dropping through the sky into sight at the rim of the horizon, and the +clouds changing their picturesque sunrise-dress for a uniform of sober +white, forming into rank and file, marching and countermarching, sending +off scouts into the far distance and foraging-parties to scour the +yellow fields of air, pitching their tents and placing sentinels on +guard around the camp,--amusing myself with fashioning quaint, arabesque +fancies,--a sort of intellectual whittling-habit I have when idle,--I +was roused from my reverie by the creaking of an iron gate. + +Descending a few steps into a cluster of trees, I saw through their +leafy lattice-work, in an inclosure ornamented with rose-bushes and +other flowering shrubs, a young woman, richly dressed in black, kneeling +by the side of a new-made grave. The mound, evidently covering a +full-grown person, was nicely laid at the top with carefully cut sods, +the dark edges of which projected a little over the lighter-colored +gravel that sloped gradually down to the greensward. I was not long in +becoming satisfied that the person I saw was a young widow at the grave +of her husband, now three or four weeks dead, hither on her accustomed +morning visit to display her love and affection for his memory. + +Bowing her head, for a few moments she gave way to sobs and weeping, and +then, removing the cover from a little willow basket, which stood by her +side, she took from it handfuls of bright flowers, and began to adorn +the table of sods upon the top of the mound. + +As I regard her thus employed, weaving the tokens of her affection into +garlands, chaplets, and fanciful devices, arranging their symbolic +characters into interpretable monograms and hieroglyphs, matching their +colors and blending their hues and shades with the skill of an artist, +she becomes more and more absorbed in her work, the tears disappear from +her eyes, and the morning light flushes her pale and beautiful face. Is +she thinking now, I wonder, of the dead husband, or of something else? +What has she found among the flowers so consoling? Do they suggest +pleasant fancies, or recall the memories of happy days? Have they, +perhaps, a double meaning,--souvenirs of felicity as well as symbols +of sorrow? Are they opiates obliterating actual suffering, or prophets +uttering hopeful predictions? Or is it none of these things, and does +she find her work pleasant only because duty makes its performance +cheerful labor? I cannot say _what_ it is, but _something_ has assuaged +her grief; for I see her smiling now, as she holds a rosebud in her +fingers, and gazes at it abstractedly; and her thoughts and feelings, +whatever they may be, are indubitably not of a mournful character;--in +fact, I am sure that she never was happier in her life than she is at +this moment. + +"Happy, do you say?" + +Yes, I say happy. + +The nature of woman, it is conceded by all men, is a curious, +interesting, and perplexing, if not, in respect of positive practical +results, a most unsatisfactory study. But nothing puzzles us so much +to comprehend as the fact just alluded to. The tenderest female +constitution will sustain a burden of grief which would crush a robust +and iron-nerved man, and drive him to despair and suicide. A woman +rarely succumbs to a calamity; however sudden and overwhelming the +initial shock may be, she revives and grows cheerful and happy under it +in a way and to a degree marvellous to behold. What singular secret is +there among the psychological mysteries of her nature which is able to +account for this phenomenon?--A gentle, timid girl of sixteen, whom the +sight of a spider or a live snake would have frightened into hysterics, +I had once an opportunity, on a tour through Italy, to observe, while +she took little or no notice of other works of art, would gaze, as if +fascinated, at the writhings of Laocooen and his sons in the folds and +fangs of the serpents, at the sculptured death of the Gladiator, and +even at the ghastly, repulsive pictures of martyrdoms and barbaric +mutilations and tortures,--the hideous monstrosities of a diseased and +degraded imagination found in the churches and convents of Rome, which +made others turn their backs with a shivering of the bones and a +creeping of the flesh. On expressing surprise at such a singular +exhibition of taste, I received this innocent, unpremeditated +reply:--"Why, I don't like them; the sight of them almost freezes my +blood; but--somehow I do like to look at them, _for I always feel better +after it_!" Now is there not involved in this artless answer a possible +explanation of the above-mentioned fact? Has not woman, hidden somewhere +among her other (of course angelic)--affections, a positive _love_ of +sickness, death, sorrow, and suffering, which man does not possess? Is +not the pain they cause, in her case, qualified by actual pleasure? +Do they not act as a stimulus upon her sensitive nervous system, and +produce, somehow, a _delightfully intoxicated state of the feelings_? +Would not this explain her otherwise unaccountable fondness for +witnessing the execution of murderers, for the horrible in novels +and the deaths and catastrophes in the newspapers, that she has a +constitutional relish for such horrid things, and that she enjoys them, +not because they are _in se_ productive of pleasure, but just, as is the +case with her "crying," _because she feels better after it_? And I think +it would be found, if an investigation of the subject were instituted, +that a foreknowledge of this inevitable result, derived from intuition +or experience, is the agent which breaks up the clouds of her sorrow: +so that, while the grief of a man stricken down by misfortune is an +equinoctial storm, dark and dismal, which lasts for weeks and months, +the grief of woman is a succession of refreshing April showers, each of +brief duration, and the spaces between them filled with sunshine and +rainbows. + +But the sweets of that widow's present sorrow will be soon extracted. +How many weeks will she find it a pleasure to make morning visits here +and plait pretty flowers on the grave of her husband?--The grave in the +next inclosure furnishes an answer to the question. A few months ago, +it, too, was tended at sunrise by just such a tearful woman; but now the +wreaths of evergreen are yellow, and the weeds are springing up among +the withered garlands. The living partner has visited already the +"mitigated grief" department of the mourning store, and the severed +cords of her affections have been spliced and made almost as good as +new. Not that I would not have it so; not that I believe the grief of +woman to be less real and sincere than man's, though it _be_ enjoyed; +not that I would have her thrum a long mournful threnody on the +harpstrings of her heart, and waste on the dead, who need them not, +affections which, Heaven knows, the living need too much. + +Retracing my steps, and descending the opposite slope of the hill, I +entered a beautiful vale covered with stately tombs and containing a +little lake, in the middle of which a fountain was springing high into +the air. In a spot so much frequented at a later hour of the day only a +single human being was in sight,--a young man, perhaps five-and-twenty +years of age, jauntily dressed, and his upper lip adorned with a long +moustache, who was leaning lazily upon a marble balustrade, and staring, +with a stupid, vacant look, at the massive monument it surrounded. As +nothing appeared at the moment more attractive to my eyes, I fixed them +upon him. No great skill in deciphering human character is required to +tell his past or foretell his future history, or even to read the few +poor spent thoughts that flicker in his brain. His father--some city +merchant--died last year, and left him a man of leisure, with a fortune +on his hands to spend in idleness and dissipation. This is the first +anniversary of the old gentleman's decease and departure to another and +better world, and the hopeful heir of his bank-stock and buildings has, +as a matter of etiquette, come out here from the city this morning to +pass an hour of solemn meditation--as he calls the sixty minutes in +which he does not smoke or swear--by the old man's grave. I observe him +every moment forming a firm resolution to fix his feeble thoughts upon +sober things and his latter end, and breaking it the second afterwards: +the effort is too much for the exhausted condition of his mind, and +results in a total failure. He is evidently well pleased that any +attention is directed towards him, and fancies that I regard him as a +very dutiful son, and his appearance here, so early in the morning +and long before breakfast, a remarkable example of posthumous filial +affection. To intensify, if possible, this sentiment in my breast, he +has just now pulled out a white cambric handkerchief and pretends to be +wiping tears from his eyes. Poor fellow! you have no natural talent for +the solemn parts in acting, or you would know that the expression +which your face now wears is not that of sorrow, solemnity, meekness, +gentleness, humility, or any other sober Christian grace or virtue. But +I leave you, for I see something more attractive now. Stand thy hour +out, young man! we shall meet again. + +"In the other world?" + +No: to-morrow evening, as I am taking my accustomed walk into the +country, I shall be wellnigh run over by a swiftly driven team; I shall +spring suddenly aside, when thou wilt pass, O bogus son of Jehu, with +thy dog-cart and two-forty span of bays, dashing down the road, thy +thoughts fixed on horse-flesh instead of eternity, and thy soul bounded, +north by thy cigar, east and west by the wheels thy vehicle, and south +by the dumb beasts that drag thee along. + +But, not to introduce the reader to more solemn scenes of affliction and +sorrow which are witnessed here during the first vigil of the day, we +pass to a later hour. The mourners who come hither in the early morning +to decorate the graves of the recent dead, and to weep over them +undisturbed by visitors, have now departed. The sun is already high, the +dew has disappeared from the trees and the shrubs, and the paths and +walks and avenues begin to be thronged with loungers and sight-seers +from the city. + +I had stopped at the forks of a lane and was hesitating which branch +to take and what to do with myself, when a tall and beautiful Willow, +standing upon a knoll a few rods distant, with thick drooping boughs +sweeping the ground on every side, beckoned to me. On approaching him, +he extended a branch, shook me cordially by the hand, and invited me +to accept the shelter and hospitality of his roof. The proposal so +generously made was at once accepted with profuse thanks, and, parting +the boughs, I entered the tent and threw myself upon the soft grass. + +Do you ever talk with trees? It is a custom of mine, and I usually find +their conversation much more entertaining and profitable than that of +most men I know. "Good morning!" I say to an acquaintance. "Fine day," +he replies; "how's business?" And so on for an hour, over themes of +every nature, the current of conversation rippled with trite truisms, +and whirling in the surface-eddies of Tupper's "Proverbial Philosophy." +But the tree takes the whole of the Tupperian philosophy for granted at +the start, and the truisms which most men utter, and takes _you_ for +granted likewise,--supposing neither half of your eyeballs blind, +and that you have a soul as well as a body,--and enters at once into +conversation upon the high table-land of science, reason, and poetry. +The entire talk of a fashionable tea-party, strained from its lees of +scandal, filtered through a sober reflection of the following morning, +is not equal in value to the quivering of a single leaf. A tree will +discourse with you upon botany, physiology, music, painting, philosophy, +and a dozen arts and sciences besides, none of which it simply chats +about, but all of which it _is_: and if you do not understand its +language and comprehend what it tells you about them, so much the worse +for you; it is not the fault of the tree. + +I say, I talk with trees for this reason,--because their wisdom is so +much greater than that of my ordinary acquaintances,--and further, +(to put the major after the minor premise,) because they are virtually +living beings, endowed with instinct, feeling, reason, and display every +essential attribute of sentient creatures,--in fact, because they have +souls as well as men, only they are clothed in vegetable flesh. + +"That is transcendental moonshine, and you don't believe a word of it!" + +Well, my friend, allow me, then, to tell you, in all charity and with +bowels of compassion, that you hold dangerous and fatal views respecting +one of the cardinal doctrines of mythology,--yes, to be plain, you are a +Joveless infidel, and in fearful danger of being locked out of Elysium; +and I shall offer up a smoking sacrifice, the next time I get a sirloin, +and pour out a solemn libation, in the presence of my whole family +seated around the domestic altar early in the morning, for your speedy +conversion. + +Know, then, O obtuse, faithless, and perverse skeptic, that these +things are so: that ocular and auricular evidence, indubitable and +overwhelming, exists, that the arboreal and human natures are in +substance one. Know that once on a time, as Daphne, the lovely daughter +of Peneus, was amusing herself with a bow and arrows in a forest of +Thessaly, she was surprised by a rude musician named Phoebus. Timid and +bashful, as most young ladies are, she turned and fled as fast as her +[Greek: skelae] could carry her. After running, closely pursued by the +eager Delphian, for several miles, and becoming very much fatigued, she +felt inclined to yield: but wishing to faint in a reputable manner, she +lifted up her hands and asked the gods to help her. Her call was heard +in a jiffy, and quicker than you could say, "Presto: change!" she was a +Laurel-tree, which Phoebus married on the spot. This was the Eve of the +Laurel family, so that all these trees you meet in the world at present +must be rational beings, since they are the descendants of the beautiful +Greek maiden Daphne. And to satisfy you that this is no foolish legend, +but, on the contrary, a well-authenticated fact, clinched and riveted +in the boiler-head of historical truth, permit me to assure you,--for I +have seen it myself,--that in the Villa Borghese, near Rome in Italy, +is an exact representation of the wonderful incident, cut in Carrara +marble,--the bark of the Laurel growing over the vanishing girl, and her +hands and fingers sprouting into branches and leaves,--supposed to +have been copied from a photograph taken on the spot,--for there is a +photograph in existence exactly like the marble statue. + +We know positively--for we have an equally minute account of the +transaction--that the Cypress originated in a similar way. And is it +not reasonable to infer, therefore, though we may not find the facts +stated in _every_ case, that all trees were created out of men and +women, their bodies being miraculously clothed in woody tissue? In the +time of Virgil this was certainly the established orthodox belief; for +he relates an anecdote, expressing no doubt whatever of its truth, of a +party of travellers who commenced one day in a forest the indiscriminate +destruction of some young trees, when their roots forthwith began +to bleed, and voices proceeded from them, begging to be spared from +laceration. And, in fact, hundreds of instances, similarly weighty as +evidence, from equally veracious and trustworthy classic authors, might +be cited to the point, did time and space permit. But we hasten to the +other proof of their essential humanity, which I set out with assuming +as an undoubted fact, and which is already foreshadowed in the adventure +of the Trojan wanderers just related,--namely, that they possess the +faculty of speech. + +Tasso, the author of a well-known metrical history, states distinctly, +as you shall see in half a moment, that a tree upon one occasion +discoursed with Major General Tancred,-- + + "Pur tragge alfin la spada e con gran forza + Percuote l' alta pianta. Oh, maraviglia! + ----quasi di tomba, uscir ne sente + Un indistinto gemito dolente, + Che poi _distinto in voci_." + +And then it goes on to tell the General how it once rejoiced in +extensive hoops, wore a coal-scuttle on its head, and rubbed its face +with prepared chalk,--(w-w-w-hy! what _was_ I saying? such a mistake! I +should say)--was a woman by the name of Clorinda, and is still animated +and sentient both in trunk and limbs, and that he will presently be +guilty of murder, if he continues to hack her with his sword. + +The celebrated explorer, Sir John Mandeville, relates in the history +of his discoveries that he heard whole groves of trees talking _to one +another_. And when we come down to the present day, R.W. Emerson, of +Concord, asseverates that trees have conversed with him,--that they +speak Italian, English, German, Basque, Castilian, and several other +languages perfectly,-- + + "Mountain speech to Highlanders, + Ocean tongues to islanders,"-- + +and that he himself was on one occasion transformed into a Pine (_Pinus +rigida_) and talked quite a large volume of philosophy while in that +condition. Walter Whitman, Esq., author of "Leaves of Grass," relates +similar personal experience. Tennyson, (Alfred,) now the Laureate of +England, and upon whom the University of Oxford, a few years ago, +conferred the title of Doctor of Laws, gives us a long conversation he +once held with an Oak, reporting the exact words it said to him: they +are excellent English, and corroborate what I said above respecting the +wisdom of trees. + +If all this evidence, and I might add much more equally conclusive, did +I think it necessary, does not, O skeptic, convince you of the humanity +of trees, why, let me say that you hold for true a hundred things not +based upon half so good testimony as this,--that I have seen juries +persuaded of facts, and bring in verdicts in accordance with them, not +nearly so well authenticated as these,--and that I have heard clergymen +preach sermons two hours long, constructed out of arguments which they +positively persisted you should regard as decisive, that were, to say +the least, no _better_ than those here advanced. And now, if these +things be so, in the words of the great Grecian, John P., _what are you +going to do about it_? + +Trees, like animals, are righteously sacrificed only when required to +supply our wants. A man does not go out into the fields and mutilate or +destroy his horses and oxen: let him treat the oaks and the elms with +the same humanity. I would that enough of the old mythology to which I +have alluded, and which our fathers called religion, still lived among +us to awaken a virtuous indignation in our breasts when we witnessed the +wanton destruction of trees. I once remonstrated with a cruel wretch +whom I saw engaged in taking the life of some beautiful elms inhabiting +a piece of pasture-land. He replied, that in the hot days of summer the +cattle did nothing but lie under them and chew their cud, when they +should be at work feeding on the grass,--that his oxen did not get fat +fast enough, nor his cows give as much milk as they should give,--"and +so," said he, "I'm goin' to fix 'em,"--and down came every one of the +hospitable old trees. We are not half so humane in our conduct towards +the inferior races and tribes as the old Romans whom we calumniate with +the epithet of Pagans. The Roman Senate degraded one of its members for +putting to death a bird that had taken refuge in his bosom: would not +the Senate of the United States "look pretty," undertaking such a thing? +A complete Christian believes not only in the dogmas of the Bible, but +_also_ in the mythology, or religion of Nature, which teaches us, no +less than it taught our fathers, to regard wanton cruelty towards any +vegetable or animal creature which lives in the breath and smile of the +Creator, as a sin against Heaven. + +Having in the above paragraph got into the parson's private preserve, +as I shall be liable anyhow to an action for trespass, I am tempted to +commit the additional transgression of poaching, and to give you a +few extracts from a _sermon_ a friend of mine once delivered. [It was +addressed to a small congregation of Monothelites in a village "out +West," just after the annual spring freshet, when half the inhabitants +of the place were down with the chills and fever. It was his maiden +effort,--he having just left the Seminary,--and did not "take" at +all, as he learned the next day, when Deacon Jenners (the pious +philanthropist of the place) called to tell him that his style of +preaching "would never do," that his thoughts were altogether of too +worldly a nature, and his language, decidedly unfit for the sacred +"desk." Besides,--though he would not assume the responsibility +of deciding that point before he had consulted with the Standing +Committee,--he did not think his sentiments exactly orthodox. My friend +was disgusted on the spot, and, being seized with a chill shortly +afterwards, concluded not to accept the "call," and, packing his +trunk, started in quest of a healthier locality and a more enlightened +congregation.] + +"And here permit me to add a word or two for the purpose of correcting a +very prevalent error. + +"Most men, I find, suppose that this earth belongs to them,--to the +human race alone. It does not,--no more than the United States belong to +Rhode Island. Human life is not a ten-thousand-millionth of the life on +the planet, nor the race of men more than an infinitesimal fraction of +the creatures which it nourishes. A swarm of summer flies on a field of +clover, or the grasshoppers in a patch of stubble, outnumber the men +that have lived since Adam. And yet we assume the dignity of lords and +masters of the globe! Is not this a flagrant delusion of self-conceit? +Let a pack of hungry wolves surround you here in the forest, and who is +master? Let a cloud of locusts descend upon a hundred square miles +of this territory, and what means do you possess to arrest their +ravages?... + +"As a matter of _fact_, then, we do not own the world. And now let +me say, that, as a matter of _right_, we ought not: man was the last +created of creatures. When our race appeared on the earth, it had been +for millions of years in quiet, exclusive, undisputed possession of the +birds, beasts, fishes, and insects: it was _their_ world then, and we +were intruders and trespassers upon their domain.... + +"If, then, the other races have a right to exist on the planet as much +as we, what follows? Surely, that they have a right to their share and +proportion of the ground and its fruits, and the blessings of Heaven by +which life here is sustained: man has no right to expect a monopoly of +them. If we get a week of sunshine which supplies our wants, we have no +reason to complain of the succeeding week of rain which supplies the +wants of other races. If we raise a crop of wheat, and the insect +foragers take tithes of it, we have no right to find fault: a share of +it belongs to them. If you plant a field with corn, and the weeds spring +up also along with it, why do you complain? Have not the weeds as much +right there as the corn? If you encamp in one of the numberless swamps +which surround this settlement, and get assailed by countless millions +of robust mosquitoes, why do you rave and swear (as I know most of you +would do under such circumstances) and want to know 'what in the ---- +mosquitoes were made for'? Why, to puncture the skin of blockheads and +blasphemers like you, and suck the last drop of blood from their veins. +Why, let me ask you, did you go out there? That place belonged to the +mosquitoes, not to you; and you knew you were trespassing upon their +land. The mosquitoes exist for themselves, and were created for the +enjoyment of their own mosquito-life. Why was _man_ created? The Bible +does not answer the question directly; the divines in the Catechism say, +'To glorify God.' Now I should like to know if a Westminster Catechism +of the mosquitoes would'nt make as good an answer for them? + +"And here I am just in the act of annihilating with a logical stroke +a multitude of grumblers and croakers. If this world does not belong +exclusively to man, and the other races have as much right here as he, +and, consequently, a claim to their proportion of land, water, and sky, +and their share of food for the sustenance of life, what follows? + +"A great many men, taking northeast storms, bleak winds, +thunder-showers, flies, mosquitoes, Canada thistles, hot sunshine, cold +snows, weeds, briers, thorns, wild beasts, snakes, alligators, and such +like things, which they don't happen to like, and putting them all +together, attempt to persuade you that this green earth is a complete +failure, a wreck and blasted ruin. Don't you believe that, for it's +wicked infidelity. I tell you the world is not all so bad as Indiana, +and especially that part of the State which you, unfortunately, inhabit. +I have seen, my friends, a large portion of the planet, and if there is +another spot anywhere quite so infernal as Wabashville, why, I solemnly +assure you I never found it.--And now for the point which shall prick +your conscience and penetrate your understanding! Do the bears and +wolves, the coons and foxes, the owls and wild-geese, find this region +unhealthy, and get the chills and fever, and go around grumbling and +cursing? Don't they find this climate especially salubrious and suited +exactly to their constitutions? Well, then, that's because they belong +here, _and you don't_. This region was never intended for the habitation +of man: it belongs exclusively to the wild beasts and the fowls of the +air, and you have no business here. [Manifest signs of disapprobation +on part of Deacon Taylor, an extensive owner of town-lots.] And if you +persist in remaining here, what moral right have you to complain of +God?... + +"Remember, then, in conclusion, that, for millions of years before our +race existed, mosquitoes, weeds, briers, thorns, thistles, snow-storms, +and northeast winds prevailed upon this planet, and that during all this +time it was pronounced by the Deity himself to be '_very good_.' If, +then, the earth appears to be evil, is it not because 'thine eye is +evil'? We share this world, my friends, with other races, whose wants +are different from ours; and we are all of equal importance in the eyes +of our Maker, who distributes to each its share of blessings--man and +monster both alike--with impartial favor. Is not thus the fallacy of the +corruption of Nature exposed, and the lie against our Creator's wisdom, +love, and goodness dragged into noonday light?" + + * * * * * + +But it is time to recommence our rambles through the City of the Dead. + +Right here I come across on a tombstone,--"All our children. Emma, aged +1 mo. 23 days. John, 3 years 5 days. Anna, aged 1 year 1 mo." As a +physiologist, I might make some very instructive comments upon this; but +I forbear. + +And here, upon another, a few rods farther on, is an epitaph in verse:-- + + (FIRST VERSE.) + + "Calm be her slumbers near kindred are sighing, + A husband deplores in deep anguish of heart, + Beneath the cold earth _unconsciously lying_, + No murmur can reach her, no tempest can start." + + (SECOND VERSE.) + + "Calm be her sleep as the silence of even + When hearts unto deep invocation give birth. + With a prayer she has _knelt at the portal of heaven_ + And found the admission she hoped for on earth_." + +Not to speak of the "poetry" just here, how charmingly consistent with +each other are the ideas contained in the passages I have italicized! In +the first verse, you observe, the inmate is sleeping unconscious beneath +the ground: in the second verse, she has ascended to heaven and +found admittance to mansions in the skies!--A similar confusion and +contradiction of ideas occur in most of the epitaphs I see. Does our +theology furnish us with no clear conception of the state of the soul +after death? The Catholic Church teaches that the spirit at death +descends into the interior of the earth to a place called Hades, where +it is detained until the day of judgment, when it is reunited with the +dust of the body, and ascends to a heaven in the sky. This doctrine +has the merit of being positive, clear, and comprehensible, and, +consequently, whenever expressed, it always means something exact and +well-defined. Has the Protestant Church equally definite notions on the +subject, or, in fact, any fixed opinions respecting it whatever? If not, +why, as a matter of good taste, for no weightier reason, in records +almost imperishable like these, leave the matter alone! Silence +is better than nonsense. Suppose a few thousand years hence our +civilization to have become extinct, and that some antiquary from the +antipodes should visit this desolate hill to excavate, like Layard at +Nineveh, for relics of the old Americans. Suppose, having collected a +ship-load of broken tombstones, he should forward them to the Polynesian +Museum, and set the _savans_ of the age at work deciphering their +inscriptions, what sense would be made out of these epitaphs? How would +they interpret our notions of a future state? Taking our own monuments, +cut with our own hands, inscribed with our own signs-manual, what would +they infer our system of religion to have been? If the Egyptians were as +vague and careless as we in this matter, our archaeologists must have +made some amusing blunders. + +Here are two epitaphs which suggest something else:-- + + No. I. + + "I loved him in his beauty, + A _mother_ boy while here, + I knew he was an angel bright + Formed for another sphere." + + No. II. + + "Farewell my wife and children dear + God calls you home to rest. + Still Angels _wisper_ in my ear + We'll meet in heavenly bliss." + +I want to make two annotations upon these. In No. 1 you will notice that +a possessive _'s_ is wanting, and in No. 2 that the _h_ is omitted from +_whisper_. A marble-cutter told me once, that a Pennsylvania Dutchman +came to him one day to have an inscription cut upon a gravestone for his +daughter, whose name was Fanny. The father, upon learning that the price +of the inscription would be ten cents a letter, insisted that Fanny +should be spelt with one _n_, as he should thereby save a dime! The +marble-cutter, unable to overcome the obstinacy of the frugal Teuton, +and unwilling to set up such a monument of his ignorance of spelling, +compromised the matter by conforming to the current orthography, and +inserted the superfluous consonant for nothing. And my second annotation +shall consist of an inquiry: What is there in corrupt and diseased human +nature which makes persons prefer such execrable rhyme as that quoted +above, and that which I find upon two-thirds of the tombstones here, to +decent English prose, which one would suppose might have been produced +at a much less expenditure of intellectual effort? But since it is an +unquestionable fact that we are thus totally depraved in taste and +feeling, why don't some of our bards, to whom the Muse has not been +propitious in other departments of metrical composition, and who, to be +blunt, are good for nothing else, such as ----, or ----, and many +others you know, come out here among the marble-cutters and open an +_epitaph-shop_? Mournful stanzas might then be procured of every size +and pattern, composed with decent reverence for the rules of grammar, +respect for the feet and limbs of the linear members, and possibly some +regard for consistency in the ideas they might chance occasionally to +express. Genin the hatter, and Cockroach Lyon, each keeps a poet. Why +cannot the marble-cutters procure some of the Heliconian fraternity as +partners? Bards would thus serve the cause of education, benefit future +antiquaries, and earn more hard dimes ten times over than they do in +writing lines for the blank corners of newspapers and the waste spaces +between articles in magazines. I throw this hint out of the window of +the "Atlantic," in the fervent hope that it will be seen, picked up, +and pocketed by some reformer who is now out of business; and I would +earnestly urge such individual to agitate the question with all his +might, and wake up the community to the vital importance, by making use +of "poetic fire" and "inspired frenzy" now going to waste, or some other +instrumentality, of a reformation in epitaphic necrology. + +Seriously, modern epitaphs are a burlesque upon religion, a caricature +of all things holy, divine, and beautiful, and an outrage upon the +common sense and culture of the community. A collection of comic +churchyard poetry might be made in this place which would eclipse the +productions of Mr. K.N. Pepper, and cause a greater "army of readers to +explode" than his "Noad to a Whealbarrer" or the "Grek Slaiv" has done. + + * * * * * + +During our rambles among the tombstones the sun has long since passed +the meridian, and the streets and avenues of the cemetery are crowded +with carriages and thronged with pedestrians, the tramping of horses' +feet, the rumbling of wheels, and the voices of men fill the air, and +the place which was so silent and deserted this morning is now as noisy +and bustling as the metropolis yonder. And soon begin to arrive thick +and fast the funeral trains. Many of the black-plumed hearses are +followed by only a single hired coach or omnibus, others by long trails +of splendid equipages. Upon the broad slope of a hill, whither the +greater number of the processions move, entirely destitute of trees +and flooded with sunshine, many thousand graves, mostly unmarked by +headstones, lie close together, resembling in appearance a corn-field +which has been permitted to run to grass unploughed. Standing upon an +elevated point near the summit, and looking down those acres of hillocks +to where the busy laborers are engaged in putting bodies into the +ground, covering them with earth, and rounding the soil over them, one +is perhaps struck for the first time with the full force, meaning, +and beauty of the language of Paul in his first letter to the +Corinthians:--"That which thou sowest is not that body which shall be, +but bare grain. It [the human body] is sown in corruption, is sown in +dishonor, is sown in weakness. It is sown a natural body; it is raised +[or springs up, to complete the figure] a spiritual body. Flesh +and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of heaven."--I once heard a +distinguished botanist dispute the accuracy of this simile, inasmuch, he +said, as the seed, when it is sown in the ground, does not _die_, but in +fact then first begins to _live_ and to display the vital force which +was previously asleep in it; while the human body decays and is resolved +into its primitive gaseous, mineral, and vegetable elements, the +particles of which, disseminated everywhere, and transferred through +chemical affinities into other and new organisms, lose all traces of +their former connection.--In answer to such a finical criticism as this, +intended to invalidate the authority of the great Apostolic Theologian, +I replied, that Paul was not an inspired _botanist_,--in fact, that +he probably knew nothing whatever about botany as a science,--but an +inspired religious teacher, who employed the language of his people and +the measure of knowledge to which his age had attained, to expound to +his contemporaries the principles of his Master's religion. I am not +familiar with the nicer points of strict theological orthodoxy, but, +from modern sermons and commentaries, I should infer that few doctors +of even the most straitest school of divinity hold to the doctrine of +verbal inspiration. That the Prophets and Apostles were acquainted with +botany, chemistry, geology, or any other modern science, is a notion +as unfounded in truth as it is hostile and foreign to the object and +purpose of Revelation, which is strictly confined to religion and +ethics. Those persons, therefore, (and they are a numerous class,) who +resort to the Bible, assuming that it professes to be an inspired manual +of universal knowledge, and then, because they find in its figurative +Oriental phraseology, or in its metaphors and illustrations, some +inaccuracies of expression or misstatements of scientific facts, would +throw discredit upon the essential religious dogmas and doctrines which +it is its object to state and unfold, are, to say the least, extremely +disingenuous, if not deficient in understanding. + +But a much more prolific source of injury to the character of the Bible +than that just mentioned is the injudicious and impertinent labors of +many who volunteer in its defence. "Oh, save me from my friends!" might +the Prophets and Apostles, each and all, too often exclaim of their +supporters.--It is said that all men are insane upon some point: so are +classes and communities. The popular monomania which at present prevails +among a class of persons whose zeal surpasses their prudence and +knowledge is a foolish fear and trembling lest the tendencies of science +should result in the overthrow of the Bible. They seem, somehow, to be +fully persuaded that the inspired word of God has no inherent power to +stand alone,--that it has fallen among thieves and robbers,--is being +pelted with fossil coprolites, suffocated with fire-mist and primitive +gases, or beaten over the head with the shank-bones of Silurian +monsters, and is bawling aloud for assistance. Therefore, not stopping +to dress, they dash out into the public notice without hat or coat, in +such unclothed intellectual condition as they happen to be in,--in their +shirt, or stark naked often,--and rush frantically to its aid. + +The most melancholy case of this intellectual _delirium tremens_ +that probably ever came under the notice of any reader is found in a +professed apology for the Scriptures, recently published, under +the pompous and bombastic title of "COSMOGONY, OR THE MYSTERIES OF +CREATION."--A volume of such puerile trash, such rubbish, twaddle, +balderdash, and crazy drivelling[A] as this, was never before vomited +from the press of any land, and beside it the "REVELATIONS" of Andrew +Jackson Davis, the "Poughkeepsie Seer," rises to the lofty grandeur of +the "Novum Organon,"--a sight that makes one who really respects the +Bible hang his head for shame. + +[Footnote A: As the reader may never have seen this unique volume, and +will be amused by a specimen of its grammar, rhetoric, wisdom, and +learning, let him take a _morceau_ or two from the commencement of +a chapter entitled, "_Naturalists.--Their Classification of Man and +Beasts_."--"We look upon the animal in no different light from that of +a vegetable, a plant, or a rock-crystal, which forms under the Creative +hand, performs its part for the use of man, dissolves and reproduces by +its parts another comfort for him. The animal bears _no resemblance_ to +man, not even in his brain."--"One tree may bear apples, and another +acorns, but they are not to be compared, the one as bearing a relation +to the other, because they have each a body and limbs. They are distinct +trees, and one will always produce apples and the other acorns, as long +as they produce anything." (Indeed!)--"The usual classification of +animals, is that of Vertebrata, Articulata, Mollusca, and Radiata. +This is not only offensive to man,--_but is impiety towards God_." +(Why?)--"We are told by these naturalists that man belongs to the class +called 'Vertebrata.' So does the snake, the monkey, the lizard and +crocodile, and many other low and mean animals.--Have these creatures +the reasoning faculties of man? Do they walk erect like man? Have they +feet, hands, legs, arms, _hair upon their heads, or beards upon their +faces_? Do they speak languages and _congregate and worship at the +altar_?" (!!)--"Those who are ambitious of such relations, may plant +their heraldic coat-of-arms in the serpent, the lizard, the crocodile, +or the monkey, but we disclaim such relationship--we do not think it +_good taste or good morals_ to place the fair daughters of Eve on +a level with horrid and hideous animals, simply from some apparent +similarity, which we are certain never existed."] + +The belligerent pundit who has flung in the face of peaceful geologists +this octavo _camouflet_ of his scientific lucubrations professes to +have scoured the surface and ravaged the bottom (in a suit of patent +sub-marine Scriptural armor) of a no less abysmal subject than the +cryptology of Genesis,--to have undermined with his sapping intellect +and blown up with his explosive wisdom the walled secrets of time and +eternity, carrying away with him in the shape of plunder a whole cargo +of the plans and purposes of the Omnipotent in the Creation. I have not +the least doubt, if he were respectfully approached and interrogated +upon the subject, he would answer with the greatest ease and accuracy +the famous question with which Dean Swift posed the theological tailor. +The man who can tell us all about the institution of the law of gravity, +how the inspired prophet thought and felt while writing his history, and +who knows everything respecting "affinity and attraction when they +were in Creation's womb," could not hesitate a moment to measure an +arch-angel for a pair of breeches.--But I was talking of _funerals_. + + * * * * * + +A friend once assured me that the heartiest laugh of which he was ever +guilty on a solemn occasion occurred at a funeral. A trusty Irish +servant, who had lived with him for many years, and for whom he had +great affection, died suddenly at his house. As he was attending the +funeral in the Catholic burial-place, and stood with his wife and +children listening to the service which the priest was reading, his +heart filled with grief and his eyes moist with tears, the inscription +on a gravestone just before him happened to attract his attention. It +was this_:--"Gloria in Excelsis Deo!_ Patrick Donahoe died July 12. +18--." Now the exclamation-point after _"Deo"_ and the statement of +the fact of Mr. D.'s demise following immediately thereafter made the +epitaph to read, "Glory to God in the highest! Patrick is dead." This, +which at another time would perhaps have caused no more than a smile, +struck him as irresistibly funny, and drove in a moment every trace +of sadness from his face and sorrow from his heart,--to give place to +violent emotions of another nature, which his utmost exertions could not +conceal. + +["I beg your pardon! I've been afloat," was the graceful parenthetical +apology which a distinguished naval officer used to make, when by +mistake he let drop one of "those big words which lie at the bottom of +the best man's vocabulary," in conversation with sensitive persons whose +ears he feared it might offend. I ought possibly, at the end of the +following anecdote, to make some such excuse to the scrupulous reader, +whose notions of propriety it will perhaps slightly infringe: "I beg +your pardon! I couldn't help telling it."] + +An eminent divine once described to me a scene he witnessed at a +funeral, which he said nearly caused him to expire with--well, you shall +see. An intimate acquaintance of his, who belonged to a neighboring +parish, having died, he was naturally induced to assist at the +burial-service. The rector of this parish was a man who, though +sensitive in the extreme to the absurdities of others,--being, in fact, +a regular son of Momus,--was entirely unconscious of his own amusing +eccentricities. Among these, numerous and singular, he had the habit +of suddenly stopping in the middle of a sentence, while preaching, and +calling out to the sexton, across the church, "Dooke, turn on more gas!" +or "Dooke, shut that window!" or "Dooke, do"--something else which +was pretty sure to be wanting itself done during the delivery of his +discourse. Nearly every Sunday, strangers not acquainted with his ways +were startled out of their propriety by some such unexpected behavior. + +On the occasion referred to, the funeral procession having entered the +churchyard, and my informant and the officiating clergyman having taken +their places at the head of the grave, the undertaker and his assistants +having removed the coffin from the hearse, and the mourners, of whom +there was a large crowd, having gathered into a circular audience, the +Reverend Doctor ---- began the service. + +"'Man that is born of a woman'--Oh, stop those carriages! don't you see +where they are going to?" (he suddenly broke out, rushing from the place +where he stood, frantically, among the bystanders; and then returning to +his former position, continued,)--"'hath but a short time to live, and +is full of misery. He cometh up'--Oh, don't let that coffin down +yet! wait till I tell you to," (addressed to the undertaker, who was +anticipating the proper place in the service,)--"'and is cut down like a +flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow,'--Please to hold the umbrella +a little further over my head," (_sotto voce_ to the man who was +endeavoring to protect his head from the sun,)-"'and never continueth in +one stay.'--Hold the umbrella a little higher, will you?" (_sotto voce_ +again to the man holding the umbrella.)--"'In the midst of life we are +in death.'--Stand down from there, boys, and be quiet!" (addressed to +some urchins who were crowding and pushing one another about the grave, +in their efforts to look at the coffin.) At length he had proceeded +without further interruptions as far as the sentence, "'We therefore +commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to +dust,'"--when Dooke, the sexton,--a queer, impetuous fellow,--who was +vainly endeavoring to keep the boys away from the edge of the grave, +seized suddenly the rope with which the coffin had just been lowered +down, and, stooping forward, laid it like a whip-lash, "cut!" across the +shins of a dozen youngsters, making them leap with "Oh! oh! oh!" a +foot from the ground, and scatter in short order,--"'looking for +the'"--(turning to my friend, as he witnessed the successful exploit of +his favorite sexton, and whispering in his ear,) "_Dooke made 'em hop +that time, didn't he!_--'general resurrection in the last day, and the +life of the world to come.'" + +Dooke's mode of dispersing the boys, and the officiating clergyman's +comment upon it, parenthesized into the middle of the most solemn +sentence of the burial-service, were too much for the usual stern +gravity of my clerical friend, and, under pretence of shedding tears, he +buried his face in his handkerchief and his handkerchief in his hat and +shook with laughter. + +Speaking of funerals reminds me of a congenial subject.--Nothing in New +York astonishes visitors from the country so much as the magnificent +coffin-shops, rivalling, in the ostentatious and tempting display of +their wares, the most elegant stores on Broadway. Model coffins, of the +latest style and pattern, are set up on end in long rows and protected +by splendid show-cases, with the lids removed to exhibit their rich +satin lining. Fancy coffins, decorated with glittering ornaments, are +placed seductively in bright plate-glass windows, and put out for +baiting advertisements upon the side-walks: as much as to say, "Walk in, +walk in, ladies and gentlemen! Now's your chance! here's your fine, nice +coffins!"--while in ornamental letters upon extensive placards hung +about the doors, "IRON COFFINS," "ROSEWOOD COFFINS," "AIR-TIGHT +COFFINS," "MAHOGANY COFFINS," "PATENT SARCOPHAGI," address the eyes +and appeal to the purses of the passers-by. And I saw in one of these +places, the other day, painted on glass and inclosed in an elegant gilt +frame, "ICE COFFINS," which struck me as queer enough. As though it were +not sufficiently cool to be dead! + +It seems to me, that, in this matter, the undertakers, digging a little +too deep below the surface of the present age, have thrown out some of +the mystical and grotesque remains of a very antique religious faith, +which look as singular just now to the eyes of common people as would an +Egyptian temple with its sacred Apis in Broadway, or a Sphinx on Boston +Common. To the eyes of an old Egyptian, no object could be more grateful +than the sarcophagus in which he was to repose at death. He purchased it +as early in life as he could raise the means, and displayed it in his +parlor as an attractive and costly ornament. Indeed, I do not know but +it was useful as well, and the children kept their playthings in it, or +the young ladies their knitting-work and embroidery. + +Are we not, in this class of our tastes and feelings, becoming rapidly +Egyptianized? Why, I expect in a year or two to see coffins introduced +into the parlors of the Fifth Avenue, and to find them, when their +owners fail or absquatulate, advertised for sale at auction, with the +rest of the household furniture, at a great sacrifice on the original +cost. + +"--> ONE SUPERB COFFIN OF ELEGANT PATTERN AND SUPERIOR WORKMANSHIP, AS +GOOD AS NEW. TWO DITTO, SLIGHTLY DAMAGED." + +And then the fashion will become popular with the less aristocratic +portion of the community, and you will see crowds of servant-girls and +street-loungers around the windows of our magnificent coffin-bazaars, +and hear from them such exclamations as these: "Oh! do look here, +Matilda! Wouldn't you like to have such a nice coffin as that?" or, +"What a dear, sweet sarcophagus that one is there!" or, "Faith, I should +like to own that air-tight!" + + * * * * * + +But the day is now far advanced. The funeral processions have ceased to +arrive, and the husbandmen, having sown the immortal seed furnished by +the metropolis, with shovels and empty dinner-pails, are on their way, +whistling and talking in groups, homeward. The number of loungers and +sight-seers is rapidly diminishing as the light in the more thickly +shaded walks becomes dim, and the clock at the gateway indicates the +near approach of the hour when the portals will be closed. + +--Alone with the dead! Alone in the night among tombs and graves! How +many readers do not at the sight of these words feel an involuntary +_soupcon_ of a shudder? Would not the cause of this indefinable secret +dread of the darkness which covers a graveyard be a curious matter +of inquiry? Let one ever so cultivated and skeptical, familiar as a +physician or a soldier with the spectacle of death, ever so full of +mental and physical courage, passing alone late at night through a +graveyard, hear the least sound among the graves, or see a moving object +of any kind, especially a white one, and he will instantly feel an +_alloverishness_ foreign to ordinary experience, and I will not answer +for him that his hair does not stand on end and his flesh grow rough as +a nutmeg-grater. A company of three or four persons would feel far less +disturbed. This proves the emotion to be genuine _fear_. And with this +recognized as a fact, ask the question, Of what are you afraid? What +makes your feet stick to the ground so fast, or inspires you to take to +your legs and run for your life? "A ridiculous, foolish superstition," +reason answers. + +I do not intend by this to intimate that you, reader, bold and +courageous person that I know you to be, would not dare to go through a +graveyard at night. By no means. I only predicate the existence within +you of this ridiculous, foolish superstition, and maintain that you +would do so under _all_ circumstances with peculiar feelings which you +did not possess before you entered it and which you will not possess +as soon as you have left it, and under _certain_ circumstances with a +trembling of the nerves and a palpitation of the heart, and that the +occasion _might_ occur when you would be still _more_ strongly and +strangely affected. To illustrate the latter case I have an anecdote +_a-propos_. + +A college class-mate, (Poor B----! the shadows of the Pyramids now fall +upon his early grave!) a young man easily agitated, to be sure, and +possibly timid, on his way home, late one autumn night, from the +house of a relative in the country, was hurrying past a dismal old +burying-yard in the midst of a gloomy wood, when he was suddenly +startled by a strange noise a short distance from the road. Turning +his head, alarmed, in the direction whence it proceeded, he was +horror-struck at seeing through the darkness a white object on the +ground, struggling as if in the grasp of some terrible monster. +Instantly the blood froze in his veins; he stood petrified,--the +howlings of the wind, clanking of chains, and groans of agony, filling +his ears,--with his eyes fixed in terror upon the white shape rolling +and plunging and writhing among the tombs. Attempting to run, his feet +refused to move, and he swooned and fell senseless in the road. A party +of travellers, happening shortly to pass, stumbled over his body. +Raising him upon his feet, they succeeded by vigorous shakes in +restoring him to a state of consciousness. + +While explaining to them the cause of his fright, the noise was renewed. +The men, although somewhat alarmed, clubbed their individual courage, +climbed the wall, and found--nearly in the centre of the graveyard--_an +old white horse_ thrown down by his fetters and struggling violently to +regain his feet. + +B---- assured me, the explanation of the spectacle instinctively +occurring to his mind at the moment as indubitable was that some +reprobate had just been buried there, and that the Devil, coming for +his body, was engaged in binding his unwilling limbs, preparatory to +carrying him away! + +The reader may smile at the weakness and folly displayed in this case, +but the assertion may nevertheless be safely ventured, that there is not +one person in a hundred who would not under the same circumstances have +been greatly disturbed, or would have invented a much less frightfully +absurd solution of the phenomenon than poor B----'s. + +I think the singular feelings associated with graveyard darkness, which +the wisest and bravest of men find slumbering beneath all their courage +and philosophy, would be found upon investigation to proceed principally +from two sources,--a constitutional inclination to religious +superstition, and an acquired educational belief in the reality of the +dreams and fancies of poets, mingled, of course, with some natural +cowardice. + +The dryest and hardest men have more poetry in them than they or we +begin to suspect. Indeed, if we could take our individual or collective +culture to pieces and award to each separate influence its due and just +share of results, I should not be surprised at finding that the poet had +done more in the way of fashioning our education than the scientist +or any other teacher. Milton, to give but a single example, with his +speculations concerning the Fall,--its effects upon humanity, the brute +creation, and physical nature,--and his imaginary conflicts between +the hostile armies of heaven, and his celestial and Satanic +personifications, has had so much influence in Anglo-Saxon culture, that +nine-tenths of the people believe, without knowing it, as firmly in +"Paradise Lost" as in the text of the Bible. The Governor of Texas, +citing in his proclamation a familiar passage in Shakspeare as emanating +from the inspired pen of the Psalmist, is not to so great extent +an example of ignorance as an illustration of the lofty peerage +instinctively assigned the great dramatist in the ordinary associations +of our thoughts. This faith in the visionary world of poets is instilled +into us (and it is for this reason that Rousseau, in his masterly +work on education, the "Emile," reprobates the custom as promotive of +superstition) in early infancy by our parents and nurses with their +stories of nymphs, fairies, elves, dwarfs, giants, witches, hobgoblins, +and the like fabulous beings, and, as soon as we are able to read, by +the tales of genii, sorcerers, demons, ghouls, enchanted caves and +castles, and monsters and monstrosities of every name. The exceedingly +impressible and poetical nature of children (for all children are poets +and talk poetry as soon as they can lisp) appropriates and absorbs with +intense relish these fanciful myths, and for years they believe more +firmly in their truth than in the realities of the actual world. And I +more than suspect that this child-credulity rather slumbers in the grown +man, smothered beneath superimposed skepticisms and cognitions, than is +ever eradicated from his mind, and thus, upon the shock of an emergency +disturbing him suddenly to the foundation, is ready to burst up through +the crevices of his shattered practical experience and appear on the +surface of his judgment and understanding. + +In addition, then, to an instinctive tendency to religious superstition, +(of which I shall here say nothing,) to the fairy mythology of the +nursery, and the phantom machinery invented by poets to clothe with the +semblance of reality their dreams and fancies, can be traced in a great +measure the existence in the mind of the _credulity_ which renders the +_fear_ in question possible, opening an introduction for it into the +heart excited by inexplicable phenomena or circumstanced where such +phenomena might, according to our superstitious beliefs, easily occur. + +Without entering into an analysis of the _fear_ itself, beyond the +remark that any extraordinary sight or sound not immediately explicable +by the eye or ear to the understanding (as a steamboat to the Indians or +a comet to our ancestors) is a legitimate cause of the emotion, as well +as the _possibility_ of the occurrence of such sights and sounds, +for believing which we have seen man prepared, first by natural +superstitious inclination, and secondly by a peculiar education,--I will +only further add, for the purpose of a brief introduction to an anecdote +I wish to relate, that there is another fountain of knowledge, from +which we drink at a later period than childhood, as well as then, whose +waters are strongly impregnated with this superstitious, fear-provoking +credulity: I mean the stories of _ghosts_ which have been seen and heard +in all ages and countries, revealing important secrets, pointing out +the places where murder has been committed or treasure concealed, +foretelling deaths and calamities, and forewarning men of impending +dangers. Hundreds of books familiar to all have been written upon this +subject and form an extensive department of our literature, especially +of our older literature. + +The philosopher attempts to account for such phenomena by referring them +to optical illusions or a disordered condition of the brain, making them +_subjective_ semblances instead of _objective_ realities. But one is +continually being puzzled and perplexed with evidence contradicting this +hypothesis, which, upon any other subject _a priori_ credible to the +reason and judgment, would be received as satisfactory and decisive +without a moment's hesitation. In truth, with all the light which +science is able to shed upon it, and all the resolute shutting of the +eyes at points which no elucidating theory is available to explain, +there are facts in this department of supernaturalism which stagger the +unbelief of the stoutest skeptic. + +It is constantly urged, among other objections to the credibility +of supernatural apparitions, that the names of the witnesses have +singularly and suspiciously disappeared,--that you find them, upon +investigation, substantiated thus: A very worthy gentleman told another +very worthy gentleman, who told a very intelligent lady, who told +somebody else, who told the individual who finally communicated the +incident to the world. There are, however, as just intimated, instances +in which such ambiguity is altogether wanting. Among these is one so +well authenticated by well-known witnesses of undoubted veracity, that, +having never before been published, I venture to relate it here. + +My informant was Professor Tholuck, of Halle University, the most +eminent living theologian in Germany, and the principal ecclesiarch of +the Prussian Church. He prefaced the account by assuring me that it +was received from the lips of De Wette himself, immediately after the +occurrence,--that De Wette was an intimate personal friend, a plain, +practical man, of remarkably clear and vigorous intellect, with no more +poetry and imagination in his nature than just sufficient to keep him +alive,--in a word, that he would rely upon his coolness of judgment +and accuracy of observation, under any possible combination of +circumstances, as confidently as upon those of any man in the world. + +Dr. De Wette, the famous German Biblical critic, returning home one +evening between nine and ten o'clock, was surprised, upon arriving +opposite the house in which he resided, to see a bright light burning in +his study. In fact, he was rather more than surprised; for he distinctly +remembered to have extinguished the candles when he went out, an hour or +two previously, locked the door, and put the key in his pocket, which, +upon feeling for it, was still there. Pausing a moment to wonder by +what means and for what purpose any one could have entered the room, he +perceived the shadow of a person apparently occupied about something in +a remote corner. Supposing it to be a burglar employed in rifling his +trunk, he was upon the point of alarming the police, when the man +advanced to the window, into full view, as if for the purpose of looking +out into the street. _It was De Wette himself!_--the scholar, author, +professor,--his height, size, figure, stoop,--his head, his face, his +features, eyes, mouth, nose, chin, every one,--skullcap, study-gown, +neck-tie, all, everything: there was no mistaking him, no deception +whatever: there stood Dr. De Wette in his own library, and he out in +the street:--why, he must be _somebody else!_ The Doctor instinctively +grasped his body with his hands, and tried himself with the +psychological tests of self-consciousness and identity, doubtful, if +he could believe his senses and black were not white, that he longer +existed his former self, and stood, perplexed, bewildered, and +confounded, gazing at his other likeness looking out of the window. Upon +the person's retiring from the window, which occurred in a few moments, +De Wette resolved not to dispute the possession of his study with +the other Doctor before morning, and ringing at the door of a house +opposite, where an acquaintance resided, he asked permission to remain +over night. + +The chamber occupied by him commanded a full view of the interior of +his library, and from the window he could see his other self engaged +in study and meditation, now walking up and down the room, immersed in +thought, now sitting down at the desk to write, now rising to search +for a volume among the book-shelves, and imitating in all respects +the peculiar habits of the great Doctor engaged at work and busy with +cogitations. At length, when the cathedral clock had finished striking +through first four and then eleven strokes, as German clocks are wont +to do an hour before twelve, De Wette Number Two manifested signs of +retiring to rest,--took out his watch, the identical large gold one the +other Doctor in the other chamber felt sure was at that moment safe +in his waistcoat-pocket, and wound it up, removed a portion of his +clothing, came to the window, closed the curtains, and in a few moments +the light disappeared. De Wette Number One, waiting a little time until +convinced that Number Two had disposed himself to sleep, retired also +his-self to bed, wondering very much what all this could mean. + +Rising the next morning, he crossed the street, and passed up-stairs to +his library. The door was fastened; he applied the key, opened it, and +entered. No one was there; everything appeared in precisely the same +condition in which he had left it the evening before,--his pen lying +upon the paper as he had dropped it on going out, the candles on the +table and the mantel-piece evidently not having been lighted, the +window-curtains drawn aside as he had left them; in fine, there was not +a single trace of any person's having been in the room. "Had he been +insane the night before? He must have been. He was growing old; +something was the matter with his eyes or brain; anyhow, he had been +deceived, and it was very foolish of him to have remained away all +night." Endeavoring to satisfy his mind with some such reflections +as these, he remembered he had not yet examined his bed-room. Almost +ashamed to make the search, now convinced it was all an hallucination of +the senses, he crossed the narrow passageway and opened the door. He +was thunderstruck. The ceiling, a lofty, massive brick arch, had fallen +during the night, filling the room with rubbish and crushing his bed +into atoms. De Wette the Apparition had saved the life of the great +German scholar. + +Tholuck, who was walking with me in the fields near Halle when relating +the anecdote, added, upon concluding, "I do not pretend to account +for the phenomenon; no knowledge, scientific or metaphysical, in my +possession, is adequate to explain it; but I have no more doubt it +actually, positively, literally did occur, than I have of the existence +of the sun _im Himmel da_." + + + + +CULTURE. + + +The word of ambition at the present day is Culture. Whilst all the world +is in pursuit of power, and of wealth as a means of power, culture +corrects the theory of success. A man is the prisoner of his power. A +topical memory makes him an almanac; a talent for debate, a disputant; +skill to get money makes him a miser, that is, a beggar. Culture reduces +these inflammations by invoking the aid of other powers against the +dominant talent, and by appealing to the rank of powers. It watches +success. For performance Nature has no mercy, and sacrifices the +performer to get it done,--makes a dropsy or a tympany of him. If she +wants a thumb, she makes one at the cost of arms and legs, and any +excess of power in one part is usually paid for at once by some defect +in a contiguous part. + +Our efficiency depends so much on our concentration, that Nature +usually, in the instances where a marked man is sent into the world, +overloads him with bias, sacrificing his symmetry to his working power. +It is said, no man can write but one book; and if a man have a defect, +it is apt to leave its impression on all his performances. If she create +a policeman like Fouche, he is made up of suspicions and of plots to +circumvent them. "The air," said Fouche, "is full of poniards." The +physician Sanctorius spent his life in a pair of scales, weighing his +food. Lord Coke valued Chaucer highly, because the Canon Yeman's Tale +illustrates the Statute _Hen. V. Chap. 4_, against Alchemy. I saw a man +who believed the principal mischiefs in the English state were derived +from the devotion to musical concerts. A freemason, not long since, set +out to explain to this country, that the principal cause of the success +of General Washington was the aid he derived from the freemasons. + +But, worse than the harping on one string, Nature has secured +individualism by giving the private person a high conceit of his weight +in the system. The pest of society is egotists. There are dull and +bright, sacred and profane, coarse and fine egotists. 'Tis a disease +that, like influenza, falls on all constitutions. In the distemper +known to physicians as _chorea_, the patient sometimes turns round +and continues to spin slowly on one spot. Is egotism a metaphysical +varioloid of this malady? The man runs round a ring formed by his own +talent, falls into an admiration of it, and loses relation to the world. +It is a tendency in all minds. One of its annoying forms is a craving +for sympathy. The sufferers parade their miseries, tear the lint from +their bruises, reveal their indictable crimes, that you may pity them. +They like sickness, because physical pain will extort some show of +interest from the bystanders; as we have seen children, who, finding +themselves of no account when grown people come in, will cough till they +choke, to draw attention. + +This distemper is the scourge of talent,--of artists, inventors, and +philosophers. Eminent spiritualists shall have an incapacity of putting +their act or word aloof from them, and seeing it bravely for the nothing +it is. Beware of the man who says, "I am on the eve of a revelation!" It +is speedily punished, inasmuch as this habit invites men to humor it, +and, by treating the patient tenderly, to shut him up in a narrower +selfism, and exclude him from the great world of God's cheerful fallible +men and women. Let us rather be insulted, whilst we are insultable. +Religious literature has eminent examples; and if we run over our +private list of poets, critics, philanthropists, and philosophers, we +shall find them infected with this dropsy and elephantiasis, which we +ought to have tapped. + +This goitre of egotism is so frequent among notable persons, that we +must infer some strong necessity in Nature which it subserves,--such as +we see in the sexual attraction. The preservation of the species was a +point of such necessity, that Nature has secured it at all hazards by +immensely overloading the passion, at the risk of perpetual crime and +disorder. So egotism has its root in the cardinal necessity by which +each individual persists to be what he is. + +This individuality is not only not inconsistent with culture, but is the +basis of it. Every valuable nature is there in its own right; and the +student we speak to must have a mother-wit invincible by his culture, +which uses all books, arts, facilities, and elegancies of intercourse, +but is never subdued and lost in them. He only is a well-made man who +has a good determination. And the end of culture is, not to destroy +this,--God forbid!--but to train away all impediment and mixture, +and leave nothing but pure power. Our student must have a style and +determination, and be a master in his own specialty. But, having this, +he must put it behind him. He must have a catholicity, a power to see +with a free and disengaged look every object. Yet is this private +interest and self so overcharged, that, if a man seeks a companion +who can look at objects for their own sake, and without affection +or self-reference, he will find the fewest who will give him that +satisfaction; whilst most men are afflicted with a coldness, an +incuriosity, as soon as any object does not connect with their +self-love. Though they talk of the object before them, they are thinking +of themselves, and their vanity is laying little traps for your +admiration. + +But after a man has discovered that there are limits to the interest +which his private history has for mankind, he still converses with his +family, or a few companions,--perhaps with half a dozen personalities +that are famous in his neighborhood. In Boston, the question of life is +the names of some eight or ten men. Have you seen Mr. Allston, Doctor +Channing, Mr. Adams, Mr. Webster, Mr. Greenough? Have you heard Everett, +Garrison, Father Taylor, Theodore Parker? Have you talked with Messieurs +Turbinewheel, Summitlevel, and Lacofrupees? Then you may as well die. In +New York, the question is of some other eight, or ten, or twenty. Have +you seen a few lawyers, merchants, and brokers,--two or three scholars, +two or three capitalists, two or three editors of newspapers? New +York is a sucked orange. All conversation is at an end, when we have +discharged ourselves of a dozen personalities, domestic or imported, +which make up our American existence. Nor do we expect anybody to be +other than a faint copy of these heroes. + +Life is very narrow. Bring any club or company of intelligent men +together again after ten years, and if the presence of some penetrating +and calming genius could dispose them to frankness, what a confusion +of insanities would come up! The "causes" to which we have sacrificed, +Tariff or Democracy, Whiggism or Abolition, Temperance or Socialism, +would show like roots of bitterness and dragons of wrath: and our +talents are as mischievous as if each had been seized upon by some bird +of prey, which had whisked him away from fortune, from truth, from the +dear society of the poets, some zeal, some bias, and only when he was +now gray and nerveless was it relaxing its claws, and he awaking to +sober perceptions. + +Culture is the suggestion from certain best thoughts, that a man has a +range of affinities, through which he can modulate the violence of any +master-tones that have a droning preponderance in his scale, and succor +him against himself. Culture redresses his balance, puts him among his +equals and superiors, revives the delicious sense of sympathy, and warns +him of the dangers of solitude and repulsion. + +'Tis not a compliment, but a disparagement, to consult a man only on +horses, or on steam, or on theatres, or on eating, or on books, and, +whenever he appears, considerately to turn the conversation to the +bantling he is known to fondle. In the Norse heaven of our forefathers, +Thor's house had five hundred and forty floors: and Man's house has five +hundred and forty floors. His excellence is facility of adaptation, +and of transition through many related points to wide contrasts and +extremes. Culture kills his exaggeration, his conceit of his village or +his city. We must leave our pets at home when we go into the street, and +meet men on broad grounds of good meaning and good sense. No performance +is worth loss of geniality. 'Tis a cruel price we pay for certain fancy +goods called fine arts and philosophy. In the Norse legend, Allfadir did +not get a drink of Mimir's spring, (the fountain of wisdom,) until he +left his eye in pledge. And here is a pedant that cannot unfold his +wrinkles, nor conceal his wrath at interruption by the best, if their +conversation do not fit his impertinency,--here is he to afflict us with +his personalities. 'Tis incident to scholars, that each of them fancies +he is pointedly odious in his community. Draw him out of this limbo of +irritability. Cleanse with healthy blood his parchment skin. You restore +to him his eyes which he left in pledge at Mimir's spring. If you are +the victim of your doing, who cares what you do? We can spare your +opera, your gazetteer, your chemic analysis, your history, your +syllogisms. Your man of genius pays dear for his distinction. His head +runs up into a spire, and, instead of a healthy man, merry and wise, he +is some mad dominie. Nature is reckless of the individual. When she has +points to carry, she carries them. To wade in marshes and sea-margins is +the destiny of certain birds; and they are so accurately made for this, +that they are imprisoned in those places. Each animal out of its +habitat would starve. To the physician, each man, each woman, is an +amplification of one organ. A soldier, a locksmith, a bank-clerk, and +a dancer could not exchange functions. And thus we are victims of +adaptation. + +The antidotes against this organic egotism are--the range and variety +of attractions, as gained by acquaintance with the world, with men of +merit, with classes of society, with travel, with eminent persons, and +with the high resources of philosophy, art, and religion: books, travel, +society, solitude. + +The hardiest skeptic, who has seen a horse broken, a pointer trained, or +who has visited a menagerie, or the exhibition of the Industrious Fleas, +will not deny the validity of education. "A boy," says Plato, "is the +most vicious of all wild beasts"; and, in the same spirit, the old +English poet Gascoigne says, "A boy is better unborn than untaught." The +city breeds one kind of speech and manners; the back-country a different +style; the sea another; the army a fourth. We know that an army which +can be confided in may be formed by discipline,--that by systematic +discipline all men may be made heroes. Marshal Lannes said to a French +officer, "Know, Colonel, that none but a poltroon will boast that he +never was afraid." A great part of courage is the courage of having done +the thing before. And, in all human action, those faculties will be +strong which are used. Robert Owen said, "Give me a tiger, and I will +educate him." 'Tis inhuman to want faith in the power of education, +since to meliorate is the law of Nature; and men are valued precisely as +they exert onward or meliorating force. On the other hand, poltroonery +is the acknowledging an inferiority to be incurable. + +Incapacity of melioration is the only mortal distemper. There are people +who can never understand a trope, or any second or expanded sense given +to your words, or any humor,--but remain literalists, after hearing the +music and poetry and rhetoric and wit of seventy or eighty years. They +are past the help of surgeon or clergy. But even these can understand +pitchforks and the cry of "Fire!"--and I have noticed in some of this +class a marked dislike of earthquakes. + +Let us make our education brave and preventive. Politics is an +after-work, a poor patching. We are always a little late. The evil is +done, the law is passed, and we begin the up-hill agitation for repeal +of that of which we ought to have prevented the enacting. We shall +one day learn to supersede politics by education. What we call our +root-and-branch reforms of slavery, war, gambling, intemperance, is only +medicating the symptoms. We must begin higher up,--namely, in Education. + +Our arts and tools give to him who can handle them much the same +advantage over the novice as if you extended his life ten, fifty, or a +hundred years. And I think it the part of good sense to provide every +fine soul with such culture, that it shall not, at thirty or forty +years, have to say, "This which I might do is made hopeless through my +want of weapons." + +But it is conceded that much of our training fails of effect,--that all +success is hazardous and rare,--that a large part of our cost and pains +is thrown away. Nature takes the matter into her own hands, and, though +we must not omit any jot of our system, we can seldom be sure that it +has availed much, or that as much good would not have accrued from a +different system. + +Books, as containing the finest records of human wit, must always enter +into our notion of culture. The best heads that ever existed, Pericles, +Plato, Julius Caesar, Shakspeare, Goethe, Milton, were well-read, +universally educated men, and quite too wise to undervalue letters. +Their opinion has weight, because they had means of knowing the opposite +opinion. We look that a great man should be a good reader, or in +proportion to the spontaneous power should be the assimilating power. +Good criticism is very rare, and always precious. I am always happy to +meet persons who perceive the transcendent superiority of Shakspeare +over all other writers. I like people who like Plato. Because this love +does not consist with self-conceit. + +But books are good only as far as a boy is ready for them. He sometimes +gets ready very slowly. You send your child to the schoolmaster; but +'tis the schoolboys who educate him. You send him to the Latin +class; but much of his tuition comes on his way to school, from the +shop-windows. You like the strict rules and the long terms; and he finds +his best leading in a by-way of his own, and refuses any companions but +of his choosing. He hates the grammar and _Gradus_, and loves guns, +fishing-rods, horses, and boats. Well, the boy is right; and you are not +fit to direct his bringing-up, if your theory leaves out his gymnastic +training. Archery, cricket, gun and fishing-rod, horse and boat, are all +educators, liberalizers; and so are dancing, dress, and the street-talk; +and--provided only the boy has resources, and is of a noble and +ingenuous strain--these will not serve him less than the books. He +learns chess, whist, dancing, and theatricals. The father observes that +another boy has learned algebra and geometry in the same time. But the +first boy has acquired much more than these poor games along with them. +He is infatuated for weeks with whist and chess; but presently will find +out, as you did, that, when he rises from the game too long played, he +is vacant and forlorn, and despises himself. Thenceforward it takes +place with other things, and has its due weight in his experience. These +minor skills and accomplishments--for example, dancing--are tickets of +admission to the dress-circle of mankind, and the being master of them +enables the youth to judge intelligently of much on which otherwise he +would give a pedantic squint. Landor said, "I have suffered more from my +bad dancing than from all the misfortunes and miseries of my life +put together." Provided always the boy is teachable, (for we are not +proposing to make a statue out of punk,) football, cricket, archery, +swimming, skating, climbing, fencing, riding, are lessons in the art of +power, which it is his main business to learn,--riding specially, of +which Lord Herbert of Cherbury said, "A good rider on a good horse is as +much above himself and others as the world can make him." Besides, the +gun, fishing-rod, boat, and horse constitute, among all who use them, +secret freemasonries. + +They are as if they belonged to one club. + +There is also a negative value in these arts. Their chief use to the +youth is, not amusement, but to be known for what they are, and not to +remain to him occasions of heartburn. We are full of superstitions. Each +class fixes its eyes on the advantages it has not: the refined, on rude +strength; the democrat, on birth and breeding. One of the benefits of a +college-education is, to show the boy its little avail. I knew a leading +man in a leading city, who, having set his heart on an education at the +university and missed it, could never quite feel himself the equal +of his own brothers who had gone thither. His easy superiority to +multitudes of professional men could never quite countervail to him this +imaginary defect. Balls, riding, wine-parties, and billiards pass to a +poor boy for something fine and romantic, which they are not; and a free +admission to them on an equal footing, if it were possible, only once or +twice, would be worth ten times its cost, by undeceiving him. + +I am not much an advocate for travelling, and I observe that men run +away to other countries because they are not good in their own, and run +back to their own because they pass for nothing in the new places. For +the most part, only the light characters travel. Who are you that have +no task to keep you at home? I have been quoted as saying captious +things about travel; but I mean to do justice. I think there is a +restlessness in our people which argues want of character. All educated +Americans, first or last, go to Europe,--perhaps because it is their +mental home, as the invalid habits of this country might suggest. An +eminent teacher of girls said, "The idea of a girl's education is +whatever qualifies them for going to Europe." Can we never extract this +tape-worm of Europe from the brain of our country-men? One sees very +well what their fate must be. He that does not fill a place at home +cannot abroad. He only goes there to hide his insignificance in a larger +crowd. You do not think you will find anything there which you have +not seen at home? The stuff of all countries is just the same. Do you +suppose there is any country where they do not scald milkpans, and +swaddle the infants, and burn the brushwood, and broil the fish? What is +true anywhere is true everywhere. And let him go where he will, he can +find only so much beauty or worth as he carries. + +Of course, for some men travel may be useful. Naturalists, discoverers, +and sailors are born. Some men are made for couriers, exchangers, +envoys, missionaries, bearers of despatches, as others are for farmers +and working-men. And if the man is of a light and social turn, and +Nature has aimed to make a legged and winged creature, framed for +locomotion, we must follow her hint, and furnish him with that breeding +which gives currency as sedulously as with that which gives worth. But +let us not be pedantic, but allow to travel its full effect. The boy +grown up on the farm which he has never left is said in the country to +have had _no chance_, and boys and men of that condition look upon work +on a railroad or drudgery in a city as opportunity. Poor country-boys of +Vermont and Connecticut formerly owed what knowledge they had to their +peddling-trips to the Southern States. California and the Pacific Coast +are now the university of this class, as Virginia was in old times. "To +have _some chance_" is their word. And the phrase, "to know the world," +or to travel, is synonymous with all men's ideas of advantage and +superiority. No doubt, to a man of sense travel offers advantages. As +many languages as he has, as many friends, as many arts and trades, +so many times is he a man. A foreign country is a point of comparison +where-from to judge his own. One use of travel is, to recommend the +books and works of home; (we go to Europe to be Americanized;) and +another, to find men. For as Nature has put fruits apart in latitudes, +a new fruit in every degree, so knowledge and fine moral quality she +lodges in distant men. And thus, of the six or seven teachers whom each +man wants among his contemporaries, it often happens that one or two of +them live on the other side of the world. + +Moreover, there is in every constitution a certain solstice, when the +stars stand still in our inward firmament, and when there is required +some foreign force, some diversion or alternative, to prevent +stagnation. And, as a medical remedy, travel seems one of the best. Just +as a man witnessing the admirable effect of ether to lull pain, and, +meditating on the contingencies of wounds, cancers, lockjaws, rejoices +in Dr. Jackson's benign discovery, so a man who looks at Paris, at +Naples, or at London, says, "If I should be driven from my own home, +here, at least, my thoughts can be consoled by the most prodigal +amusement and occupation which the human race in ages could contrive and +accumulate." + +Akin to the benefit of foreign travel, the aesthetic value of railroads +is to unite the advantages of town and country life, neither of which we +can spare. A man should live in or near a large town, because, let his +own genius be what it may, it will repel quite as much of agreeable and +valuable talent as it draws, and, in a city, the total attraction of all +the citizens is sure to conquer, first or last, every repulsion, and +drag the most improbable hermit within its walls some day in the +year. In town he can find the swimming-school, the gymnasium, the +dancing-master, the shooting-gallery, opera, theatre, and panorama,--the +chemist's shop, the museum of natural history, the gallery of fine arts, +the national orators in their turn, foreign travellers, the libraries, +and his club. In the country he can find solitude and reading, manly +labor, cheap living, and his old shoes,--moors for game, hills for +geology, and groves for devotion. Aubrey writes, "I have heard Thomas +Hobbes say, that, in the Earl of Devon's house, in Derbyshire, there was +a good library and books enough for him, and his Lordship stored the +library with what books he thought fit to be bought. But the want +of good conversation was a very great inconvenience, and, though he +conceived he could order his thinking as well as another, yet he found +a great defect. In the country, in long time, for want of good +conversation, one's understanding and invention contract a moss on them, +like an old paling in an orchard." + +Cities give us collision. 'Tis said, London and New York take the +nonsense out of a man. A great part of our education is sympathetic and +social. Boys and girls who have been brought up with well-informed and +superior people show in their manners an inestimable grace. Fuller says, +that "William, Earl of Nassau, won a subject from the King of Spain +every time he put off his hat." You cannot have one well-bred man +without a whole society of such. They keep each other up to any +high point. Especially women: it requires a great many cultivated +women,--saloons of bright, elegant, reading women, accustomed to ease +and refinement, to spectacles, pictures, sculpture, poetry, and to +elegant society,--in order that you should have one Madame de Stael. +The head of a commercial house, or a leading lawyer or politician, is +brought into daily contact with troops of men from all parts of the +country,--and those, too, the driving-wheels, the business-men of each +section,--and one can hardly suggest for an apprehensive man a +more searching culture. Besides, we must remember the high social +possibilities of a million of men. The best bribe which London offers +to-day to the imagination is, that, in such a vast variety of people +and conditions, one can believe there is room for persons of romantic +character to exist, and that the poet, the mystic, and the hero may hope +to confront their counterparts. + +I wish cities could teach their best lesson,--of quiet manners. It is +the foible especially of American youth,--pretension. The mark of the +man of the world is absence of pretension. He does not make a speech; he +takes a low business-tone, avoids all brag, is nobody, dresses plainly, +promises not at all, performs much, speaks in monosyllables, hugs his +fact. He calls his employment by its lowest name, and so takes from evil +tongues their sharpest weapon. His conversation clings to the weather +and the news, yet he allows himself to be surprised into thought, and +the unlocking of his learning and philosophy. How the imagination is +piqued by anecdotes of some great man passing incognito, as a king in +gray clothes!--of Napoleon affecting a plain suit at his glittering +levee!--of Burns, or Scott, or Beethoven, or Wellington, or Goethe, +or any container of transcendent power, passing for nobody!--of +Epaminondas, "who never says anything, but will listen eternally!"--of +Goethe, who preferred trifling subjects and common expressions in +intercourse with strangers, worse rather than better clothes, and to +appear a little more capricious than he was! There are advantages in the +old hat and box-coat. I have heard, that, throughout this country, a +certain respect is paid to good broadcloth: but dress makes a little +restraint; men will not commit themselves. But the box-coat is like +wine; it unlocks the tongue, and men say what they think. An old poet +says,-- + + "Go far and go sparing; + For you'll find it certain, + The poorer and the baser you appear, + The more you'll look through still."[A] + +[Footnote A: Beaumont and Fletcher: The Tamer Tamed.] + +Not much otherwise Milnes writes, in the "Lay of the Humble":-- + + "To me men are for what they are, + They wear no masks with me." + +'Tis odd that our people should have--not water on the brain,--but +a little gas there. A shrewd foreigner said of the Americans, that +"whatever they say has a little the air of a speech." Yet one of the +traits down in the books, as distinguishing the Anglo-Saxon, is a trick +of self-disparagement. To be sure, in old, dense countries, among a +million of good coats, a fine coat comes to be no distinction, and you +find humorists. In an English party, a man with no marked manners or +features, with a face like red dough, unexpectedly discloses wit, +learning, a wide range of topics, and personal familiarity with good men +in all parts of the world, until you think you have fallen upon some +illustrious personage. Can it be that the American forest has refreshed +some weeds of old Pictish barbarism just ready to die out,--the love of +the scarlet feather, of beads, and tinsel? The Italians are fond of +red clothes, peacock-plumes, and embroidery; and I remember, one rainy +morning in the city of Palermo, the street was in a blaze with scarlet +umbrellas. The English have a plain taste. The equipages of the grandees +are plain. A gorgeous livery indicates new and awkward city-wealth. Mr. +Pitt, like Mr. Pym, thought the title of _Mister_ good against any king +in Europe. They have piqued themselves on governing the whole world in +the poor, plain, dark committee-room which the House of Commons sat in +before the fire. + +Whilst we want cities as the centres where the best things are found, +cities degrade us by magnifying trifles. The countryman finds the town +a chop-house, a barber's shop. He has lost the lines of grandeur of the +horizon, hills and plains, and, with them, sobriety and elevation. He +has come among a supple, glib-tongued tribe, who live for show, servile +to public opinion. Life is dragged down to a fracas of pitiful cares and +disasters. You say the gods ought to respect a life whose objects +are their own; but in cities they have betrayed you to a cloud of +insignificant annoyances:-- + + "Mirmidons, race feconde, + Mirmidons, + Enfins nous commandons; + Jupiter livre le monde + Aux mirmidons, aux mirmidons."[B] + + [Footnote B: Beranger.] + + 'Tis heavy odds + Against the gods, + When they will match with myrmidons. + We spawning, spawning myrmidons, + Our turn to-day; we take command: + Jove gives the globe into the hand + Of myrmidons, of myrmidons. + +What is odious but noise, and people who scream and bewail?--people +whose vane points always east, who live to dine, who send for the +doctor, who raddle themselves, who toast their feet on the register, +who intrigue to secure a padded chair and a corner out of the draught? +Suffer them once to begin the enumeration of their infirmities, and the +sun will go down on the unfinished tale. Let these triflers put us out +of conceit with petty comforts. To a man at work, the frost is but a +color; the rain, the wind, he forgot them when he came in. Let us learn +to live coarsely, dress plainly, and lie hard. The least habit of +dominion over the palate has certain good effects not easily estimated. +Neither will we be driven into a quiddling abstemiousness. 'Tis a +superstition to insist on a special diet. All is made at last of the +same chemical atoms. + +A man in pursuit of greatness feels no little wants. How can you mind +diet, bed, dress, or salutes or compliments, or the figure you make in +company, or wealth, or even the bringing things to pass, when you think +how paltry are the machinery and the workers? Wordsworth was praised to +me, in Westmoreland, for having afforded to his country neighbors an +example of a modest household, where comfort and culture were secured +without display. And a tender boy who wears his rusty cap and outgrown +coat, that he may secure the coveted place in college and the right +in the library, is educated to some purpose. There is a great deal of +self-denial and manliness in poor and middle-class houses, in town and +country, that has not got into literature, and never will, but that +keeps the earth sweet,--that saves on superfluities, and spends on +essentials,--that goes rusty, and educates the boy,--that sells the +horse, but builds the school,--works early and late, takes two looms in +the factory, three looms, six looms, but pays off the mortgage on the +paternal farm, and then goes back cheerfully to work again. + +We can ill spare the commanding social benefits of cities; they must be +used,--yet cautiously, and haughtily,--and will yield their best values +to him who best can do without them. Keep the town for occasions, but +the habits should be formed to retirement. Solitude, the safeguard of +mediocrity, is to genius the stern friend, the cold, obscure shelter +where moult the wings which will bear it farther than suns and stars. He +who should inspire and lead his race must be defended from travelling +with the souls of other men,--from living, breathing, reading, and +writing in the daily, time-worn yoke of their opinions. "In the morning, +solitude," said Pythagoras,--that Nature may speak to the imagination, +as she does never in company, and that her favorite may make +acquaintance with those divine strengths which disclose themselves to +serious and abstracted thought. 'Tis very certain that Plato, Plotinus, +Archimedes, Hermes, Newton, Milton, Wordsworth did not live in a crowd, +but descended into it from time to time as benefactors: and the wise +instructor will press this point of securing to the young soul, in the +disposition of time and the arrangements of living, periods and habits +of solitude. The high advantage of university-life is often the mere +mechanical one, I may call it, of a separate chamber and fire,--which +parents will allow the boy without hesitation at Cambridge, but do not +think needful at home. We say solitude, to mark the character of the +tone of thought; but if it can be shared between two, or more than two, +it is happier, and not less noble. "We four," wrote Neander to his +sacred friends, "will enjoy at Halle the inward blessedness of a +_civitas Dei_, whose foundations are forever friendship. The more I know +you, the more I dissatisfy and must dissatisfy all my wonted companions. +Their very presence stupefies me. The common understanding withdraws +itself from the one centre of all existence." + +Solitude takes off the pressure of present importunities, that more +catholic and humane relations may appear. The saint and poet seek +privacy to ends the most public and universal: and it is the secret of +culture, to interest the man more in his public than in his private +quality. Here is a new poem, which elicits a good many comments in +the journals and in conversation. From these it is easy, at last, to +eliminate the verdict which readers passed upon it; and that is, in the +main, unfavorable. The poet, as a craftsman, is interested only in the +praise accorded to him, and not in the censure, though it be just; and +the poor little poet hearkens only to that, and rejects the censure, as +proving incapacity in the critic. But the poet _cultivated_ becomes a +stockholder in both companies,--say Mr. Curfew,--in the Curfew stock, +and in the _humanity_ stock; and, in the last, exults as much in the +demonstration of the unsoundness of Curfew as his interest in the former +gives him pleasure in the currency of Curfew. For the depreciation of +his Curfew stock only shows the immense values of the humanity stock. +As soon as he sides with his critic against himself, with joy, he is a +cultivated man. + +We must have an intellectual quality in all property and in all action, +or they are nought. I must have children, I must have events, I must +have a social state and history, or my thinking and speaking want body +or basis. But to give these accessories any value, I must know them as +contingent and rather showy possessions, which pass for more to the +people than to me. We see this abstraction in scholars, as a matter +of course: but what a charm it adds when observed in practical men! +Bonaparte, like Caesar, was intellectual, and could look at every object +for itself, without affection. Though an egotist _a l'outrance_, he +could criticize a play, a building, a character, on universal grounds, +and give a just opinion. A man known to us only as a celebrity in +politics or in trade gains largely in our esteem, if we discover that he +has some intellectual taste or skill: as when we learn of Lord Fairfax, +the Long Parliament's general, his passion for antiquarian studies; or +of the French regicide Carnot, his sublime genius in mathematics; or of +a living banker, his success in poetry; or of a partisan journalist, +his devotion to ornithology. So, if, in travelling in the dreary +wildernesses of Arkansas or Texas, we should observe on the next seat a +man reading Horace, or Martial, or Calderon, we should wish to hug him. +In callings that require roughest energy, soldiers, sea-captains, and +civil engineers sometimes betray a fine insight, if only through a +certain gentleness when off duty: a good-natured admission that there +are illusions, and who shall say that he is not their sport? We only +vary the phrase, not the doctrine, when we say that culture opens the +sense of beauty. A man is a beggar who only lives to the useful, and, +however he may serve as a pin or rivet in the social machine, cannot be +said to have arrived at self-possession. I suffer, every day, from the +want of perception of beauty in people. They do not know the charm with +which all moments and objects can be embellished,--the charm of manners, +of self-command, of benevolence. Repose and cheerfulness are the badge +of the gentleman,--repose in energy. The Greek battle-pieces are calm; +the heroes, in whatever violent actions engaged, retain a serene +aspect: as we say of Niagara, that it falls without speed. A cheerful, +intelligent face is the end of culture, and success enough; for it +indicates the purpose of Nature and wisdom attained. + +When our higher faculties are in activity, we are domesticated, +and awkwardness and discomfort give place to natural and agreeable +movements. It is noticed that the consideration of the great periods and +spaces of astronomy induces a dignity of mind and an indifference +to death. The influence of fine scenery, the presence of mountains, +appeases our irritations and elevates our friendships. Even a high dome, +and the expansive interior of a cathedral, have a sensible effect +on manners. I have heard that stiff people lose something of their +awkwardness under high ceilings and in spacious halls. I think sculpture +and painting have an effect to teach us manners and abolish hurry. + +But, over all, culture must reinforce from higher influx the empirical +skills of eloquence, or of politics, or of trade and the useful arts. +There is a certain loftiness of thought and power to marshal and +adjust particulars, which can come only from an insight of their whole +connection. The orator who has once seen things in their divine order +will never quite lose sight of this, and will come to affairs as from a +higher ground, and, though he will say nothing of philosophy, he will +have a certain mastery in dealing with them, and an incapableness of +being dazzled or frighted, which will distinguish his handling from that +of attorneys and factors. A man who stands on a good footing with the +heads of parties at Washington reads the rumors of the newspapers and +the guesses of provincial politicians with a key to the right and +wrong in each statement, and sees well enough where all this will end. +Archimedes will look through your Connecticut machine at a glance, and +judge of its fitness. And much more, a wise man who knows not only what +Plato, but what Saint John can show him, can easily raise the affair +he deals with to a certain majesty. Plato says, Pericles owed this +elevation to the lessons of Anaxagoras. Burke descended from a higher +sphere when he would influence human affairs. Franklin, Adams, +Jefferson, Washington, stood on a fine humanity, before which the brawls +of modern senates are but pot-house politics. + +But there are higher secrets of culture, which are not for the +apprentices, but for proficients. These are lessons only for the brave. +We must know our friends under ugly masks. The calamities are our +friends. Ben Jonson specifies in his address to the Muse:-- + + "Get him the time's long grudge, the court's ill-will, + And, reconciled, keep him suspected still, + Make him lose all his friends, and, what is worse, + Almost all ways to any better course; + With me thou leav'st a better Muse than thee, + And which thou brought'st me, blessed Poverty." + +We wish to learn philosophy by rote, and play at heroism. But the wiser +God says, Take the shame, the poverty, and the penal solitude that +belong to truth-speaking. Try the rough water, as well as the smooth. +Rough water can teach lessons worth knowing. When the state is unquiet, +personal qualities are more than ever decisive. Fear not a revolution +which will constrain you to live five years in one. Don't be so tender +at making an enemy now and then. Be willing to go to Coventry sometimes, +and let the populace bestow on you their coldest contempts. The finished +man of the world must eat of every apple once. He must hold his hatreds +also at arm's length, and not remember spite. He has neither friends nor +enemies, but values men only as channels of power. + +He who aims high must dread an easy home and popular manners. Heaven +sometimes hedges a rare character about with ungainliness and odium, as +the burr that protects the fruit. If there is any great and good thing +in store for you, it will not come at the first or the second call, nor +in the shape of fashion, ease, and city drawing-rooms. Popularity is for +dolls. "Steep and craggy," said Porphyry, "is the path of the gods." +Open your Marcus Antoninus. In the opinion of the ancients, he was the +great man who scorned to shine, and who contested the frowns of Fortune. +They preferred the noble vessel too late for the tide, contending with +winds and waves, dismantled and unrigged, to her companion borne into +harbor with colors flying and guns firing. There is none of the social +goods that may not be purchased too dear, and mere amiableness must not +take rank with high aims and self-subsistency. + +Bettine replies to Goethe's mother, who chides her disregard of +dress,--"If I cannot do as I have a mind, in our poor Frankfort, I shall +not carry things far." And the youth must rate at its true mark the +inconceivable levity of local opinion. The longer we live, the more we +must endure the elementary existence of men and women: and every brave +heart must treat society as a child, and never allow it to dictate. + +"All that class of the severe and restrictive virtues," said Burke, "are +almost too costly for humanity." Who wishes to be severe? Who wishes +to resist the eminent and polite, in behalf of the poor and low and +impolite? and who that dares do it can keep his temper sweet, his frolic +spirits? The high virtues are not debonair, but have their redress in +being illustrious at last. What forests of laurel we bring, and the +tears of mankind, to those who stood firm against the opinion of their +contemporaries! The measure of a master is his success in bringing all +men round to his opinion twenty years later. + +Let me say here, that culture cannot begin too early. In talking with +scholars, I observe that they lost on ruder companions those years of +boyhood which alone could give imaginative literature a religious and +infinite quality in their esteem. I find, too, that the chance for +appreciation is much increased by being the son of an appreciator, and +that these boys who now grow up are caught not only years too late, but +two or three births too late, to make the best scholars of. And I think +it a presentable motive to a scholar, that, as, in an old community, a +well-born proprietor is usually found, after the first heats of youth, +to be a careful husband, and to feel an habitual desire that the estate +shall suffer no harm by his administration, but shall be delivered +down to the next heir in as good condition as he received it,--so, +a considerate man will reckon himself a subject of that secular +melioration by which mankind is mollified, cured, and refined, and will +shun every expenditure of his forces on pleasure or gain, which will +jeopardize this social and secular accumulation. + +The fossil strata show us that Nature began with rudimental forms, +and rose to the more complex as fast as the earth was fit for their +dwelling-place,--and that the lower perish, as the higher appear. Very +few of our race can be said to be yet finished men. We still carry +sticking to us some remains of the preceding inferior quadruped +organization. We call these millions men; but they are not yet men. +Half-engaged in the soil, pawing to get free, man needs all the music +that can be brought to disengage him. If Love, red Love, with tears +and joy,--if Want with his scourge,--if War with his cannonade,--if +Christianity with its charity,--if Trade with its money,--if Art with +its portfolios,--if Science with her telegraphs through the deeps of +space and time, can set his dull nerves throbbing, and by loud taps on +the tough chrysalis can break its walls and let the new creature emerge +erect and free,--make way, and sing paean! The age of the quadruped is +to go out,--the age of the brain and of the heart is to come in. +The time will come when the evil forms we have known can no more be +organized. Man's culture can spare nothing, wants all the material. He +is to convert all impediments into instruments, all enemies into power. +The formidable mischief will only make the more useful slave. And if one +shall read the future of the race hinted in the organic effort of Nature +to mount and meliorate, and the corresponding impulse to the Better in +the human being, we shall dare affirm that there is nothing he will not +overcome and convert, until at last culture shall absorb the chaos and +gehenna. He will convert the Furies into Muses, and the hells into +benefit. + + + + +THE CHILDREN'S HOUR. + + + Between the dark and the daylight, + When the night is beginning to lower, + Comes a pause in the day's occupations + That is known as the Children's Hour. + + I hear in the chamber above me + The patter of little feet, + The sound of a door that is opened, + And voices soft and sweet. + + From my study I see in the lamplight, + Descending the broad hall-stair, + Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra, + And Edith with golden hair. + + A whisper, and then a silence: + Yet I know by their merry eyes + They are plotting and planning together + To take me by surprise. + + A sudden rush from the stairway, + A sudden raid from the hall! + By three doors left unguarded + They enter my castle wall! + + They climb up into my turret + O'er the arms and back of my chair; + If I try to escape, they surround me; + They seem to be everywhere. + + They almost devour me with kisses, + Their arms about me entwine, + Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen + In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine! + + Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti, + Because you have scaled the wall, + Such an old moustache as I am + Is not a match for you all? + + I have you fast in my fortress, + And will not let you depart, + But put you down into the dungeons + In the round-tower of my heart. + + And there will I keep you forever, + Yes, forever and a day, + Till the walls shall crumble to ruin, + And moulder in dust away! + + + + +THREE-MILE CROSS. + + +It seems but yesterday, although more than thirteen years have gone +by, since I first opened the little garden-gate and walked up the path +leading to Mary Russell Mitford's cottage at Three-Mile Cross. A friend +in London had given me his card to the writer of "Our Village," and I +had promised to call on my way to Oxford, and have a half-hour's chat +over her geraniums with the charming person whose sketches I had read +with so much interest in my own country. Her cheerful voice at the +head of the stairs, telling her little maid to show me the way to her +sitting-room, sounded very musically, and I often observed in later +interviews how like a melody her tones always appeared in conversation. +Once when she read a lyrical poem, not her own, to a group of friends +assembled at her later residence, in Swallowfield, of which number it +was my good-fortune to be one, the verses came from her lips like an +exquisite chant. Her laugh had a ringing sweetness in it, rippling out +sometimes like a beautiful chime of silver bells; and when she told +a comic story, which she often did with infinite tact and grace, she +joined in with the jollity at the end, her eyes twinkling with delight +at the pleasure her narrative was always sure to bring. Her enjoyment of +a joke was something delicious, and when she heard a good thing for +the first time her exultant mirth was unbounded. As she sat in her +easy-chair, listening to a Yankee story which interested her, her "Dear +me! dear me! dear me!" (three times repeated always) + + "Rang like a golden jewel down a golden stair." + +The sunny summer-day was falling full on her honeysuckles, lilies, and +roses, when I first saw her face in the snug cottage at Three-Mile +Cross. As we sat together at the open casement, looking down on the +flowers that sent up their perfumes to her latticed window like fragrant +tributes from a fountain of distilled sweet waters, she pointed out, +among the neighboring farm-houses and villas, the residences of her +friends, in all of whom she seemed to have the most affectionate +interest. I noticed, as the village children went by her window, they +all stopped to bow and curtsy. One curly-headed urchin made bold to take +off his well-worn cap and wait to be recognized as "little Johnny,"--"no +great scholar," said the kind-hearted old lady to me, "but a sad rogue +among our flock of geese. Only yesterday, the young marauder was +detected by my maid with a plump gosling stuffed half-way into his +pocket!" While she was thus discoursing of Johnny's peccadilloes, the +little fellow looked up with a knowing expression, and very soon caught +in his cap a gingerbread dog, which the old lady threw to him from the +window. "I wish he loved his book as well as he relishes sweet cake," +sighed she, as the boy kicked up his heels and disappeared down the +lane. + +Full of anecdote, her conversation that afternoon ran on in a perpetual +flow of good-humor, until it was time for me to be on my way toward the +University City. From that time till she died, our friendship continued, +and, during other visits to England, I saw her frequently, driving about +the country with her in her pony-chaise, and spending many happy hours +under her cottage-roof. She was always the same cheerful spirit, +enlivening our intercourse with shrewd and pertinent observations and +reminiscences, some of which it may not be out of place to reproduce +here. Country life, its scenery and manners, she was never tired of +depicting; but not infrequently she loved to talk of those celebrities +in literature and art whom she had known intimately, with a vivacity and +sweetness of temper never-failing and delightful. I well remember, one +autumn evening, when half a dozen friends were sitting in her library +after dinner, talking with her of Tom Taylor's Life of Haydon, then +lately published, how graphically she described to us the eccentric +painter, whose genius she was among the fore-most to recognize. +The flavor of her discourse I cannot reproduce; but I was too much +interested in what she was saying to forget the main incidents she drew +for our edification, during those pleasant hours now far away in the +past. + +"I am a terrible forgetter of dates," she used to say, when any one +asked her of the time when; but for the _manner how_ she was never at a +loss. "Poor Haydon!" she began. "He was an old friend of mine, and I am +indebted to Sir William Elford, one of my dear father's correspondents +during my girlhood, for a suggestion which sent me to look at a picture +then on exhibition in London, and thus was brought about my knowledge of +the painter's existence. He, Sir William, had taken a fancy to me, and +I became his child-correspondent. Few things contribute more to that +indirect after-education, which is worth all the formal lessons of the +school-room a thousand times told, than such good-humored condescension +from a clever man of the world to a girl almost young enough to be his +granddaughter. I owe much to that correspondence, and, amongst other +debts, the acquaintance of Haydon. Sir William's own letters were most +charming,--full of old-fashioned courtesy, of quaint humor, and +of pleasant and genial criticism on literature and on art. An +amateur-painter himself, painting interested him particularly, and +he often spoke much and warmly of the young man from Plymouth, whose +picture of the 'Judgment of Solomon' was then on exhibition in London. +'You must see it,' said he, 'even if you come to town on purpose.'"--The +reader of Haydon's Life will remember that Sir William Elford, in +conjunction with a Plymouth banker named Tingecombe, ultimately +purchased the picture. The poor artist was overwhelmed with astonishment +and joy when he walked into the exhibition-room and read the label, +"Sold," which had been attached to his picture that morning before +he arrived. "My first impulse," he says in his Autobiography, "was +gratitude to God." + +"It so happened," continued Miss Mitford, "that I merely passed through +London that season, and, being detained by some of the thousand and one +nothings which are so apt to detain women in the great city, I arrived +at the exhibition, in company with a still younger friend, so near the +period of closing, that more punctual visitors were moving out, and the +doorkeeper actually turned us and our money back. I persisted, however, +assuring him that I only wished to look at one picture, and promising +not to detain him long. Whether my entreaties would have carried +the point or not, I cannot tell; but half a crown did; so we stood +admiringly before the 'Judgment of Solomon.' I am no great judge of +painting; but that picture impressed me then, as it does now, as +excellent in composition, in color, and in that great quality of telling +a story which appeals at once to every mind. Our delight was sincerely +felt, and most enthusiastically expressed, as we kept gazing at the +picture, and seemed, unaccountably to us at first, to give much pleasure +to the only gentleman who had remained in the room,--a young and very +distinguished-looking person, who had watched with evident amusement our +negotiation with the doorkeeper. Beyond indicating the best position to +look at the picture, he had no conversation with us; but I soon surmised +that we were seeing the painter, as well as his painting; and when, two +or three years afterwards, a friend took me by appointment to view the +'Entry into Jerusalem,' Haydon's next great picture, then near its +completion, I found I had not been mistaken. + +"Haydon was, at that period, a remarkable person to look at and listen +to. Perhaps your American word _bright_ expresses better than any other +his appearance and manner. His figure, short, slight, elastic, and +vigorous, looked still more light and youthful from the little +sailor's-jacket and snowy trousers which formed his painting costume. +His complexion was clear and healthful. His forehead, broad and +high, out of all proportion to the lower part of his face, gave an +unmistakable character of intellect to the finely placed head. Indeed, +he liked to observe that the gods of the Greek sculptors owed much of +their elevation to being similarly out of drawing! The lower features +were terse, succinct, and powerful,--from the bold, decided jaw, to the +large, firm, ugly, good-humored mouth. His very spectacles aided the +general expression; they had a look of the man. But how shall I attempt +to tell you of his brilliant conversation, of his rapid, energetic +manner, of his quick turns of thought, as he flew on from topic to +topic, dashing his brush here and there upon the canvas? Slow and quiet +persons were a good deal startled by this suddenness and mobility. He +left such people far behind, mentally and bodily. But his talk was so +rich and varied, so earnest and glowing, his anecdotes so racy, his +perception of character so shrewd, and the whole tone so spontaneous and +natural, that the want of repose was rather recalled afterwards than +felt at the time. The alloy to this charm was a slight coarseness of +voice and accent, which contrasted somewhat strangely with his constant +courtesy and high breeding. Perhaps this was characteristic. A defect +of some sort pervades his pictures. Their great want is equality and +congruity,--that perfect union of qualities which we call _taste_. His +apartment, especially at that period when he lived in his painting-room, +was in itself a study of the most picturesque kind. Besides the great +picture itself, for which there seemed hardly space between the walls, +it was crowded with casts, lay figures, arms, tripods, vases, draperies, +and costumes of all ages, weapons of all nations, books in all tongues. +These cumbered the floor; whilst around hung smaller pictures, sketches, +and drawings, replete with originality and force. With chalk he could do +what he chose. I remember he once drew for me a head of hair with nine +of his sweeping, vigorous strokes! Among the studies I remarked that +day in his apartment was one of a mother who had just lost her only +child,--a most masterly rendering of an unspeakable grief. A sonnet, +which I could not help writing on this sketch, gave rise to our long +correspondence, and to a friendship which never flagged. Everybody feels +that his life, as told by Mr. Taylor, with its terrible catastrophe, is +a stern lesson to young artists, an awful warning that cannot be set +aside. Let us not forget that amongst his many faults are qualities +which hold out a bright example. His devotion to his noble art, his +conscientious pursuit of every study connected with it, his unwearied +industry, his love of beauty and of excellence, his warm family +affection, his patriotism, his courage, and his piety, will not easily +be surpassed. Thinking of them, let us speak tenderly of the ardent +spirit whose violence would have been softened by better fortune, and +who, if more successful, would have been more gentle and more humble." + +And so with her vigilant and appreciative eye she saw, and thus in her +own charming way she talked of the man, whose name, says Taylor, as a +popularizer of art, stands without a rival among his brethren. + + * * * * * + +Her passion for the Drama continued through life, and to see a friend's +play would take her up to London when nothing else would tempt her to +leave her cottage. It was delightful to hear her talk of the old actors, +many of whom she had known. She loved to describe John Kemble, Mrs. +Siddons, Miss O'Neill, and Edmund Kean, as they were wont to electrify +the town. Elliston was a great favorite, and she had as many good things +to tell of him as Elia ever had. One autumn afternoon she related all +the circumstances attending the "first play" she ever saw,--which, by +the way, was a tragedy enacted in a barn somewhere in the little town of +Alresford, where she was born. The winking candles dividing the stage +from the audience, she used to say, were winking now in her memory, +although fifty years had elapsed since her father took her, a child of +four years, to see "Othello." Her talent at mimicry made her always most +interesting, when she spoke of Munden and his pleasant absurdities on +the stage. For Bannister, Johnstone, Fawcett, and Emery she had a most +exquisite relish, and she said they had made comedy to her a living art +full of laughter and tears. Her passion for the stage, and overclouded +prospects for the future, led her in early youth to write a play. She +had already written a considerable number of verses which had been +printed, and were honored by being severely castigated by Gifford in the +"Quarterly." + +"I didn't mind the great reviewer's blows at all," she used to say. "My +poems had been republished in America; and Coleridge had prophesied that +I should one day write a tragedy." + +Talfourd was then, though a young man, a most excellent critic, and lent +a helping hand to the young authoress. Her anxieties attending the first +representation of her play at Covent Garden she was always fond of +relating, and in such a manner that we who listened fell into such +boisterous merriment with her, that I have known carriages stop in front +of her window, and their inmates put out anxiously inquiring heads, to +learn, if possible, what it all meant inside the cottage. + +She never forgot "the warm grasp of Mrs. Charles Kemble's hand, when she +saw her, all life and heartiness, at her house in Soho Square,--or the +excellent acting of Young and Kemble and Macready, who did everything +actors could do to secure success for her." + +"These are the things," she once wrote, "one thinks of, when sitting +calm and old by the light of a country fire." + +The comic and the grotesque that were mingled up with her first +experiences of the stage as a dramatic author were inimitably rendered +by herself, whenever she sat down to relate the story of that visit to +London for the purpose of bringing out her tragedy. The rehearsals, +where "the only grave person present was Mr. Liston!--the tragic +heroines sauntering languidly through their parts in bonnets and thick +shawls,--the untidy ballet-girls" (there was a dance in "Foscari") +"walking through their quadrille to the sound of a solitary +fiddle,"--she was never weary of calling up for the amusement of her +listeners. + +The old dramatists she had grown up to worship,--Shakspeare first, as in +all loyalty bound, and after him Fletcher. "Affluent, eloquent, royally +grand," she used to call both Beaumont and Fletcher; and whole scenes +from favorite plays she knew by heart. Dr. Valpy was her neighbor, he +being in the days of her youth headmaster of Reading School. A family +intimacy of long standing had existed between her father's household and +that of the learned and excellent scholar, so that his well-known taste +for the English dramatists had no small influence on Doctor Mitford's +studious daughter. "He helped me also," she said, "to enter into the +spirit of those mighty masters who dealt forth the stern Tragedies of +Destiny." + +One of the dearest friends of her youth was Miss Porden, (afterwards +married, as his first wife, to Sir John Franklin,) and at her suggestion +Miss Mitford wrote "Rienzi." I have heard her say, that, going up +to London to bring out that play, she saw her old friend, then Mrs. +Franklin, working a flag for the captain's ship, then about to sail on +one of his early adventurous voyages. The agitation of parting with +her husband was too great for her delicate temperament, and before the +expedition was out of the Channel Mrs. Franklin was dead. + + * * * * * + +Often and often, when the English lanes were white with blossoms, I +have sat by her side while her faithful servant guided her low-wheeled +pony-chaise among the pleasant roads about Reading and Swallowfield. +Once we went to a cricket-ground together, and as we sat under the +trees, looking on as the game proceeded, she, who fell in love with +Nature when a child, and had studied the landscape till she knew +familiarly every flower and leaf that grows on English soil, assembled +all that was best in poesy from her memory to illustrate the beautiful +scene before us, and to prove how much better and more truly the great +end of existence is answered in a rural life than in the vexatious cares +of city occupation. As we sat looking at the vast lawn, magnificent in +its green apparel, she quoted Irving as one who had understood English +country-life perhaps more deeply and fully than any other foreign author +who had ever written. + +Speaking, one day, of the slowness of poetical fame, she said,-- + +"It always takes ten years to make a poetical reputation in England; but +America is wiser and bolder, and dares say at once, '_This is fine!_'" + +She rejoiced greatly in several of the American poets, and was never +weary of quoting certain ringing couplets which she has celebrated in +her "Notes of a Literary Life." "Is there anything under the sun," she +exclaims, "that Dr. Holmes cannot paint?" + +During the last six years of her life she became a great invalid and +moved about only with severe pain. "It is not age," she said, "that has +thus prostrated me, but the hard work and increasing anxieties of thirty +years of authorship, during which my poor labors were all that my dear +father and mother had to look to; besides which, for the greater part of +that time I was constantly called upon to attend the sick bed, first of +one parent, and then of the other. I have only to be intensely thankful +that the power of exertion did not fail until the necessity for such +exertion was removed." + +"I love poetry and people as well at sixty as I did at sixteen," she +said one day, when I gave her a new volume by an American friend, "and +can never be sufficiently grateful to God for having permitted me to +retain the two joy-giving faculties of admiration and sympathy." The +"Ballad of Cassandra Southwick" she esteemed as one of the finest things +of our time; and of "Astrea" she said,--"Nobody in England can write +the glorious resonant metre of Dryden like that strain, nowadays." + +Pope was a great favorite with her, and she took me one morning to an +old house where he was a frequent guest, and where Arabella Fermor, the +heroine of the "Rape of the Lock," passed her married life. On the way +she often quoted the poet, whose works she seemed to know by heart. +Returning at sunset, she was very anxious that I should hear my first +nightingale among the woody lanes of her pretty country; but we were +both disappointed. We listened long, but, although the air was full of +birdsongs that evening, the sweet-voiced warbler was not of the choir. +She talked much, as we rode along, of Kingsley and Ruskin, both of whom +she loved as friends as well as authors. "John Ruskin," she said, "is +good and kind, and charming beyond the common lot of mortals, and there +are pages of his prose, to my thinking, more eloquent than any thing out +of Jeremy Taylor." + +Speaking of Humor, she said,--"Between ourselves, I always have a little +doubt of genius, when there is none of that quality: certainly, in the +very highest poetry, the two go together." + +She greatly admired Beranger, and often spoke of him as the beautiful +old man, the truest and best type of perfect independence. Hazlitt she +ranked highly as an essayist, and she mentioned that she had heard both +Charles Lamb and Talfourd praise him as not only the most brilliant, but +the soundest of critics. + +Among modern romances, those by the author of "The Scarlet Letter" +seemed to impress her almost more than any others; and when "The House +of the Seven Gables" was translated into Russian, she was filled with +delight. Indeed, she was always among the first to cry, "Bravo!" over +any good words for American literature. + +"Do coax Mr. Hawthorne and Dr. Holmes," she said one day, "into visiting +England. I want them to be welcomed as they deserve, and as they are +sure to be." + +Her interest in the French Emperor's career amounted to enthusiasm, and +one day she told us a very pretty story about him which she knew to +be true. She said, when he was in England after Strasbourg and before +Boulogne, he spent a twelvemonth at Leamington, living in the quietest +manner. One of the principal persons in that town, Mr. H., a very +liberal and accomplished man, made a point of showing every attention in +his power to the Prince; and they very soon became intimate. There +was in the town an old officer of the Emperor's Polish Legion, who, +compelled to leave France after Waterloo, had taken refuge in England, +and, having a natural talent for languages, maintained himself by +teaching French, Italian, and German in different families. The old +exile and the young one found each other out, and the language-master +was soon an habitual guest at the Prince's table, where he was treated +with the most affectionate attention. At last Louis Napoleon was obliged +to repair to London, but before he went he called on his friend Mr. H. +to take leave. After warm thanks to him for all the pleasure he had +experienced in his society, the Prince said,-- + +"I am about to prove to you my entire reliance upon your unfailing +kindness by leaving you a legacy. I wish to ask that you would transfer +to my poor old friend the goodness you have lavished on me. His health +is failing,--his means are small; pray, call upon him sometimes, and see +that the lodging-house people do not neglect him. Draw upon me for what +may be wanting for his needs or for his comforts." + +Mr. H. promised, and faithfully replaced the Prince in his kind +attentions to his old friend. The poor old man grew ill at last, and +died, Mr. H. defraying all the charges of his illness and of his +funeral. "I would willingly have paid them myself," said he, "but I knew +that would have offended and grieved the Prince. I found that provision +had been made at his banker's to answer my drafts to a much larger +amount than the actual debt." + +Miss Mitford used to say that she kept this anecdote for non-admirers of +the Emperor. + +One day she came limping into the room, with her dog Fanchon following +in the same lame plight,--she laughing heartily at their similarity of +gait, and holding up a letter just in from the post. + +"Here," said she, "is an epistle from my dear old friend, Lady M.," +(Gibbon's correspondent,) "who at the age of eighty-three is caught +by new books, and is as enthusiastic as a girl. She commissions me to +inquire of you all about your new authoress, the writer of 'Uncle Tom's +Cabin,' who she is, and all you know of her. So let me hear what you +have to say about the lady." + +During a brief visit to her cottage not long before she died, the chase +was started one evening to find, if possible, the origin of the line +quoted by Byron,-- + +"A fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind." + +In vain we searched among the poets, and at last all the party gave up +in despair. I went up to London soon after, thinking no more of the lost +line. In a few days, however, came a brief note, as follows:-- + +"Hurrah, dear friend! I have found the line without any other person's +aid or suggestion! Last night it occurred to me that it was in some +prologue or epilogue; and my little book-room being very rich in the +drama, I have looked through many hundreds of those bits of rhyme, and +at last made a discovery, which, if it have no other good effect, will +at least have 'emptied my head of Corsica,' as Johnson said to Boswell; +for never was the great biographer more haunted by the thought of Paoli +than I by that line. It occurs in an epilogue by Garrick, on quitting +the stage, June, 1776, when the performance was for the benefit of sick +and aged actors. + +"Not finding it quoted in Johnson convinced me that it would probably +have been written after the publication of the Dictionary, and +ultimately guided me to the right place. It is singular that epilogues +were just dismissed at the first representation of one of my plays, +'Foscari,' and prologues at another, 'Rienzi.' + +"Ever most affectionately yours, + +"M.R. MITFORD. + +"P.S. I am still a close prisoner in my room. But when fine weather +comes, I will get down in some way or other, and trust myself to that +which never hurts anybody, the honest open air. Spring, and even the +approach of spring, sets me dreaming. I see leafy hedges in my sleep, +and flowery banks, and then I long to make the vision a reality. +I remember that my dog Flush, Fanchon's father, who was a famous +sporting-dog, used, at the approach of the covering season, to hunt in +his sleep, doubtless by the same instinct that works in me. So, as soon +as the sun tells the same story with the primroses, I shall make a +descent after some fashion, and, no doubt, aided by Sam's stalwart arm, +successfully." + + * * * * * + +After leaving Three-Mile Cross for Swallowfield, her health, never of +late years robust, seemed failing. In one of her letters to me she gives +this pleasant picture of her home:-- + +"Ill as I am, my spirits are as good as ever; and just at this moment I +am most comfortably seated under the acacia-tree at the corner of the +house,--the beautiful acacia literally loaded with its snowy chains. The +flowering-trees this summer, the lilacs, laburnums, and rhododendrons, +have been one mass of blossoms, but none are so graceful as this +waving acacia. On one side is a syringa, smelling and looking like an +orange-tree,--a jar of roses on the table before me,--fresh gathered +roses,--the pride of my gardener's heart. Little Fanchon is at my +feet, too idle to eat the biscuits with which I am trying to tempt +her,--biscuits from Boston, sent to me by kind Mrs. S., and which +Fanchon ought to like; but you know her laziness of old, and she +improves in it every day." + +It was about this period that Walter Savage Landor sent to her these +exquisite lines:-- + + "The hay is carried; and the Hours + Snatch, as they pass, the linden-flowers; + And children leap to pluck a spray + Bent earthward, and then run away. + Park-keeper! catch me those grave thieves, + About whose frocks the fragrant leaves, + Sticking and fluttering here and there, + No false nor faltering witness bear. + + "I never view such scenes as these + In grassy meadow girt with trees, + But comes a thought of her who now + Sits with serenely patient brow + Amid deep sufferings: none hath told + More pleasant tales to young and old. + Fondest was she of Father Thames, + But rambled to Hellenic streams; + Nor even there could any tell + The country's purer charms so well + As Mary Mitford. + + "Verse! go forth + And breathe o'er gentle hearts her worth. + Needless the task: but should she see + One hearty wish from you and me, + A moment's pain it may assuage,-- + A rose-leaf on the couch of Age." + +In the early days of the year 1855 she sent, in her own handwriting, +kind greetings to her old friends only a few hours before she died. +Sweetness of temper and brightness of mind, her never-failing +characteristics, accompanied her to the last; and she passed on in her +usual cheerful and affectionate mood, her sympathies uncontracted by +age, narrow fortune, and pain. + + + + +THE PROFESSOR'S STORY. + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +OLD SOPHY CALLS ON THE REVEREND DOCTOR. + + +The two meeting-houses which faced each other like a pair of +fighting-cocks had not flapped their wings or crowed at each other for a +considerable time. The Reverend Mr. Fairweather had been dyspeptic and +low-spirited of late, and was too languid for controversy. The Reverend +Doctor Honeywood had been very busy with his benevolent associations, +and had discoursed chiefly on practical matters, to the neglect of +special doctrinal subjects. His senior deacon ventured to say to him +that some of his people required to be reminded of the great fundamental +doctrine of the worthlessness of all human efforts and motives. Some of +them were altogether too much pleased with the success of the Temperance +Society and the Association for the Relief of the Poor. There was a +pestilent heresy about, concerning the satisfaction to be derived from +a good conscience,--as if anybody ever did anything which was not to be +hated, loathed, despised, and condemned. + +The old minister listened gravely, with an inward smile, and told his +deacon that he would attend to his suggestion. After the deacon had +gone, he tumbled over his manuscripts, until at length he came upon his +first-rate old sermon on "Human Nature." He had read a great deal of +hard theology, and had at last reached that curious state which is so +common in good ministers,--that, namely, in which they contrive to +switch off their logical faculties on the narrow side-track of their +technical dogmas, while the great freight-train of their substantial +human qualities keeps in the main highway of common-sense, in which +kindly souls are always found by all who approach them by their human +side. + +The Doctor read his sermon with a pleasant, paternal interest: it was +well argued from his premises. Here and there he dashed his pen through +a harsh expression. Now and then he added an explanation or qualified +a broad statement. But his mind was on the logical side-track, and he +followed the chain of reasoning without fairly perceiving where it would +lead him, if he carried it into real life. + +He was just touching up the final proposition, when his granddaughter, +Letty, once before referred to, came into the room with her smiling face +and lively movement. Miss Letty or Letitia Forrester was a city-bred +girl of some fifteen or sixteen years old, who was passing the summer +with her grandfather for the sake of country air and quiet. It was a +sensible arrangement; for, having the promise of figuring as a belle +by-and-by, and being a little given to dancing, and having a voice which +drew a pretty dense circle around the piano when she sat down to play +and sing, it was hard to keep her from being carried into society before +her time, by the mere force of mutual attraction. Fortunately, she had +some quiet as well as some social tastes, and was willing enough to pass +two or three of the summer months in the country, where she was much +better bestowed than she would have been at one of those watering-places +where so many half-formed girls get prematurely hardened in the vice of +self-consciousness. + +Miss Letty was altogether too wholesome, hearty, and high-strung a young +girl to be a model, according to the flat-chested and cachectic pattern +which is the classical type of certain excellent young females, often +the subjects of biographical memoirs. But the old minister was proud of +his granddaughter for all that. She was so full of life, so graceful, so +generous, so vivacious, so ready always to do all she could for him and +for everybody, so perfectly frank in her avowed delight in the pleasures +which this miserable world offered her in the shape of natural beauty, +of poetry, of music, of companionship, of books, of cheerful cooperation +in the tasks of those about her, that the Reverend Doctor could not +find it in his heart to condemn her because she was deficient in those +particular graces and that signal other-worldliness he had sometimes +noticed in feeble young persons suffering from various chronic diseases +which impaired their vivacity and removed them from the range of +temptation. + +When Letty, therefore, came bounding into the old minister's study, +he glanced up from his manuscript, and, as his eye fell upon her, +it flashed across him that there was nothing so very monstrous and +unnatural about the specimen of congenital perversion he was looking at, +with his features opening into their pleasantest sunshine. Technically, +according to the fifth proposition of the sermon on Human Nature, very +bad, no doubt. Practically, according to the fact before him, a very +pretty piece of the Creator's handiwork, body and soul. Was it not a +conceivable thing that the divine grace might show itself in different +forms in a fresh young girl like Letitia, and in that poor thing he had +visited yesterday, half-grown, half-colored, in bed for the last year +with hip-disease? Was it to be supposed that this healthy young girl, +with life throbbing all over her, _could_, without a miracle, be good +according to the invalid pattern and formula? + +And yet there were mysteries in human nature which pointed to some +tremendous perversion of its tendencies,--to some profound, radical vice +of moral constitution, native or transmitted, as you will have it, but +positive, at any rate, as the leprosy, breaking out in the blood of +races, guard them ever so carefully. Did he not know the case of a young +lady in Rockland, daughter of one of the first families in the place, +a very beautiful and noble creature to look at, for whose bringing-up +nothing had been spared,--a girl who had had governesses to teach her at +the house, who had been indulged almost too kindly,--a girl whose father +had given himself up to her, he being himself a pure and high-souled +man?--and yet this girl was accused in whispers of having been on the +very verge of committing a fatal crime; she was an object of fear to all +who knew the dark hints which had been let fall about her, and there +were some that believed--Why, what was this but an instance of the total +obliquity and degeneration of the moral principle? and to what could it +be owing, but to an innate organic tendency? + +"Busy, grandpapa?" said Letty, and without waiting for an answer +kissed his cheek with a pair of lips made on purpose for that little +function,--fine, but richly turned out, the corners tucked in with a +finish of pretty dimples, the rosebud lips of girlhood's June. + +The old gentleman looked at his granddaughter. Nature swelled up from +his heart in a wave that sent a glow to his cheek and a sparkle to his +eye. But it is very hard to be interrupted just as we are winding up a +string of propositions with the grand conclusion which is the statement +in brief of all that has gone before: our own starting-point, into which +we have been trying to back our reader or listener as one backs a horse +into the shafts. + +"_Video meliora, proboque_,--I see the better, and approve it; +_deteriora sequor_,--I follow after the worse: 'tis that natural +dislike to what is good, pure, holy, and true, that inrooted +selfishness, totally insensible to the claims of"-- + +Here the worthy man was interrupted by Miss Letty. + +"Do come, if you can, grandpapa," said the young girl; "here is a poor +old black woman wants to see you so much!" + +The good minister was as kind-hearted as if he had never groped in the +dust and ashes of those cruel old abstractions which have killed out so +much of the world's life and happiness, "With the heart man believeth +unto righteousness"; a man's love is the measure of his fitness for good +or bad company here or elsewhere. Men are tattooed with their special +beliefs like so many South-Sea Islanders; but a real human heart, with +Divine love in it, beats with the same glow under all the patterns of +all earth's thousand tribes! + +The Doctor sighed, and folded the sermon, and laid the Quarto Cruden on +it. He rose from his desk, and, looking once more at the young girl's +face, forgot his logical conclusions, and said to himself that she was +a little angel,--which was in violent contradiction to the leading +doctrine of his sermon on Human Nature. And so he followed her out of +the study into the wide entry of the old-fashioned country-house. + +An old black woman sat on the plain oaken settle which humble visitors +waiting to see the minister were wont to occupy. She was old, but how +old it would be very hard to guess. She might be seventy. She might be +ninety. One could not swear she was not a hundred. Black women remain at +a stationary age (to the eyes of _white_ people, at least) for thirty +years. They do not appear to change during this period any more than +so many Trenton trilobites. Bent up, wrinkled, yellow-eyed, with long +upper-lip, projecting jaws, retreating chin, still meek features, long +arms, large flat hands with uncolored palms and slightly webbed fingers, +it was impossible not to see in this old creature a hint of the +gradations by which life climbs up through the lower natures to the +highest human developments. We cannot tell such old women's ages because +we do not understand the physiognomy of a race so unlike our own. +No doubt they see a great deal in each other's faces that we +cannot,--changes of color and expression as real as our own, blushes and +sudden betrayals of feeling,--just as these two canaries know what +their single notes and short sentences and full song with this or that +variation mean, though it is a mystery to us unplumed mortals. + +This particular old black woman was a striking specimen of her +class. Old as she looked, her eye was bright and knowing. She wore a +red-and-yellow turban, which set off her complexion well, and hoops of +gold in her ears, and beads of gold about her neck, and an old funeral +ring upon her finger. She had that touching stillness about her which +belongs to animals that wait to be spoken to and then look up with a +kind of sad humility. + +"Why, Sophy!" said the good minister, "is this you?" + +She looked up with the still expression on her face. "It's old Sophy," +she said. + +"Why," said the Doctor, "I did not believe you could walk so far as this +to save the Union. Bring Sophy a glass of wine, Letty. Wine's good for +old folks like Sophy and me, after walking a good way, or preaching a +good while." + +The young girl stepped into the back-parlor, where she found the +great pewter flagon in which the wine that was left after each +communion-service was brought to the minister's house. With much toil +she managed to tip it so as to get a couple of glasses filled. The +minister tasted his, and made old Sophy finish hers. + +"I wan' to see you 'n' talk wi' you all alone," she said presently. + +The minister got up and led the way towards his study. "To be sure," he +said; he had only waited for her to rest a moment before he asked her +into the library. The young girl took her gently by the arm, and helped +her feeble steps along the passage. When they reached the study, she +smoothed the cushion of a rocking-chair, and made the old woman sit +down in it. Then she tripped lightly away, and left her alone with the +minister. + +Old Sophy was a member of the Reverend Doctor Honeywood's church. +She had been put through the necessary confessions in a tolerably +satisfactory manner. To be sure, as her grandfather had been a cannibal +chief, according to the common story, and, at any rate, a terrible wild +savage, and as her mother retained to the last some of the prejudices +of her early education, there was a heathen flavor in her Christianity, +which had often scandalized the elder of the minister's two deacons. +But the good minister had smoothed matters over: had explained that +allowances were to be made for those who had been long sitting without +the gate of Zion,--that, no doubt, a part of the curse which descended +to the children of Ham consisted in "having the understanding darkened," +as well as the skin,--and so had brought his suspicious senior deacon to +tolerate old Sophy as one of the communion of fellow-sinners. + + * * * * * + +----Poor things! How little we know the simple notions with which these +rudiments of souls are nourished by the Divine Goodness! Did not Mrs. +Professor come home this very blessed morning with a story of one of her +old black women? + +"And how do you feel to-day, Mrs. Robinson?" + +"Oh, my dear, I have this singing in my head all the time." (What +doctors call _tinnitus aurium_.) + +"She's got a cold in the head," said old Mrs. Rider. + +"Oh, no, my dear! Whatever I'm thinking about, it's all this singing, +this music. When I'm thinking of the dear Redeemer, it all turns into +this singing and music. When the clark came to see me, I asked him if +he couldn't cure me, and he said, No,--it was the Holy Spirit in me, +singing to me; and all the time I hear this beautiful music, and it's +the Holy Spirit a-singing to me."---- + + * * * * * + +The good man waited for Sophy to speak; but she did not open her lips as +yet. + +"I hope you are not troubled in mind or body," he said to her at length, +finding she did not speak. + +The poor old woman took out a white handkerchief, and lifted it to her +black face. She could not say a word for her tears and sobs. + +The minister would have consoled her; he was used to tears, and could in +most cases withstand their contagion manfully; but something choked his +voice suddenly, and when he called upon it, he got no answer, but a +tremulous movement of the muscles, which was worse than silence. + +At last she spoke. + +"Oh, no, no, no! It's my poor girl, my darling, my beauty, my baby, +that's grown up to be a woman; she will come to a bad end; she will do +something that will make them kill her or shut her up all her life. Oh, +Doctor, Doctor, save her, pray for her! It a'n't her fault. It a'n't +her fault. If they knew all that I know, they wouldn't blame that poor +child. I must tell you, Doctor: if I should die, perhaps nobody else +would tell you. Massa Venner can't talk about it. Doctor Kittredge won't +talk about it. Nobody but old Sophy to tell you, Doctor; and old Sophy +can't die without telling you." + +The kind minister soothed the poor old soul with those gentle, quieting +tones which had carried peace and comfort to so many chambers of +sickness and sorrow, to so many hearts overburdened by the trials laid +upon them. + +Old Sophy became quiet in a few minutes, and proceeded to tell her +story. She told it in the low half-whisper which is the natural voice +of lips oppressed with grief and fears; with quick glances around the +apartment from time to time, as if she dreaded lest the dim portraits on +the walls and the dark folios on the shelves might overhear her words. + +It was not one of those conversations which a third person can report +minutely, unless by that miracle of clairvoyance known to the readers +of stories made out of authors' brains. Yet its main character can be +imparted in a much briefer space than the old black woman took to give +all its details. + +She went far back to the time when Dudley Venner was born,--she being +then a middle-aged woman. The heir and hope of a family which had been +narrowing down as if doomed to extinction, he had been surrounded with +every care and trained by the best education he could have in New +England. He had left college, and was studying the profession which +gentlemen of leisure most affect, when he fell in love with a young girl +left in the world almost alone, as he was. The old woman told the story +of his young love and his joyous bridal with a tenderness which had +something more, even, than her family sympathies to account for it. Had +she not hanging over her bed a small paper-cutting of a profile--jet +black, but not blacker than the face it represented--of one who would +have been her own husband in the small years of this century, if the +vessel in which he went to sea, like Jamie in the ballad, had not sailed +away and never come back to land? Had she not her bits of furniture +stowed away which had been got ready for her own wedding,--_two_ +rocking-chairs, one worn with long use, one kept for him so long that it +had grown a superstition with her never to sit in it,--and might he not +come back yet, after all? Had she not her chest of linen ready for her +humble house-keeping, with store of serviceable huckaback and piles of +neatly folded kerchiefs, wherefrom this one that showed so white against +her black face was taken, for that she knew her eyes would betray her in +"the presence"? + +All the first part of the story the old woman told tenderly, and yet +dwelling upon every incident with a loving pleasure. How happy this +young couple had been, what plans and projects of improvement they had +formed, how they lived in each other, always together, so young and +fresh and beautiful as she remembered them in that one early summer when +they walked arm in arm through the wilderness of roses that ran riot in +the garden,--she told of this as loath to leave it and come to the woe +that lay beneath. + +She told the whole story;--shall I repeat it? Not now. If, in the +course of relating the incidents I have undertaken to report, _it tells +itself_, perhaps this will be better than to run the risk of producing a +painful impression on some of those susceptible readers whom it would be +ill-advised to disturb or excite, when they rather require to be amused +and soothed. In our pictures of life, we must show the flowering-out of +terrible growths which have their roots deep, deep underground. Just +how far we shall lay bare the unseemly roots themselves is a matter of +discretion and taste, in which none of us are infallible. + +The old woman told the whole story of Elsie, of her birth, of her +peculiarities of person and disposition, of the passionate fears and +hopes with which her father had watched the course of her development. +She recounted all her strange ways, from the hour when she first tried +to crawl across the carpet, and her father shrank from her with an +involuntary shudder as she worked her way towards him. With the memory +of Juliet's nurse she told the story of her teething, and how, the woman +to whose breast she had clung dying suddenly about that time, they +had to struggle hard with the child before she would learn the +accomplishment of feeding with a spoon. And so of her fierce plays and +fiercer disputes with that boy who had been her companion, and the whole +scene of the quarrel when she struck him with those sharp white teeth, +frightening her, old Sophy, almost to death; for, as she said, the boy +would have died, if it hadn't been for the old Doctor's galloping over +as fast as he could gallop and burning the places right out of his arm. +Then came the story of that other incident, sufficiently alluded to +already, which had produced such an ecstasy of fright and left such a +nightmare of apprehension in the household. And so the old woman came +down to this present time. That boy she never loved nor trusted was +grown to a dark, dangerous-looking man, and he was under their roof. He +wanted to marry our poor Elsie, and Elsie hated him, and sometimes she +would look at him over her shoulder just as she used to look at that +woman she hated; and she, old Sophy, couldn't sleep for thinking she +should hear a scream from the white chamber some night and find him in +spasms such as that woman came so near dying with. And then there was +something about Elsie she did not know what to make of: she would sit +and hang her head sometimes, and look as if she were dreaming; and she +brought home books they said a young gentleman up at the great school +lent her; and once she heard her whisper in her sleep, and she talked as +young girls do to themselves when they're thinking about somebody they +have a liking for and think nobody knows it. + +She finished her long story at last. The minister had listened to it in +perfect silence. He sat still even when she had done speaking,--still, +and lost in thought. It was a very awkward matter for him to have a hand +in. Old Sophy was his parishioner, but the Venners had a pew in the +Reverend Mr. Fairweather's meeting-house. It would seem that he, Mr. +Fairweather, was the natural adviser of the parties most interested. Had +he sense and spirit enough to deal with such people? Was there enough +capital of humanity in his somewhat limited nature to furnish sympathy +and unshrinking service for his friends in an emergency? or was he too +busy with his own attacks of spiritual neuralgia, and too much occupied +with taking account of stock of his own thin-blooded offences, to forget +himself and his personal interests on the small scale and the large, +and run a risk of his life, if need were, at any rate give himself up +without reserve to the dangerous task of guiding and counselling these +distressed and imperilled fellow-creatures? + +The good minister thought the best thing to do would be to call and talk +over some of these matters with Brother Fairweather,--for so he would +call him at times, especially if his senior deacon were not within +earshot. Having settled this point, he comforted Sophy with a few words +of counsel and a promise of coming to see her very soon. He then called +his man to put the old white horse into the chaise and drive Sophy back +to the mansion-house. + +When the Doctor sat down to his sermon again, it looked very differently +from the way it had looked at the moment he left it. When he came to +think of it, he did not feel quite so sure _practically_ about that +matter of the utter natural selfishness of everybody. There was Letty, +now, seemed to take a very unselfish interest in that old black woman, +and indeed in poor people generally; perhaps it would not be too much to +say that she was always thinking of other people. He thought he had +seen other young persons naturally unselfish, thoughtful for others; it +seemed to be a family trait in some he had known. + +But most of all he was exercised about this poor girl whose story Sophy +had been telling. If what the old woman believed was true,--and it +had too much semblance of probability,--what became of his theory of +ingrained moral obliquity applied to such a case? If by the visitation +of God a person receives any injury which impairs the intellect or the +moral perceptions, is it not monstrous to judge such a person by our +common working standards of right and wrong? Certainly, everybody will +answer, in cases where there is a palpable organic change brought about, +as when a blow on the head produces insanity. Fools! How long will it be +before we shall learn that for every wound which betrays itself to the +sight by a scar, there are a thousand unseen mutilations that cripple, +each of them, some one or more of our highest faculties? If what Sophy +told and believed was the real truth, what prayers could be agonizing +enough, what tenderness could be deep enough, for this poor, lost, +blighted, hapless, blameless child of misfortune, struck by such a doom +as perhaps no living creature in all the sisterhood of humanity shared +with her? + +The minister thought these matters over until his mind was bewildered +with doubts and tossed to and fro on that stormy deep of thought heaving +forever beneath the conflict of windy dogmas. He laid by his old sermon. +He put back a pile of old commentators with their eyes and mouths and +hearts full of the dust of the schools. Then he opened the book of +Genesis at the eighteenth chapter and read that remarkable argument +of Abraham's with his Maker, in which he boldly appeals to first +principles. He took as his text, "Shall not the Judge of all the earth +do right?" and began to write his sermon, afterwards so famous,--"On the +Obligations of an Infinite Creator to a Finite Creature." + +It astonished the good people, who had been accustomed so long to repeat +mechanically their Oriental hyperboles of self-abasement, to hear their +worthy minister maintaining that the dignified attitude of the old +Patriarch, insisting on what was reasonable and fair with reference to +his fellow-creatures, was really much more respectful to his Maker, and +a great deal manlier and more to his credit, than if he had yielded the +whole matter, and pretended that men had not rights as well as duties. +The same logic which had carried him to certain conclusions with +reference to human nature, this same irresistible logic carried him +straight on from his text until he arrived at those other results, which +not only astonished his people, as was said, but surprised himself. He +went so far in defence of the rights of man, that he put his foot into +several heresies, for which men had been burned so often, it was time, +if ever it could be, to acknowledge the demonstration of the _argumentum +ad ignem_. He did not believe in the responsibility of idiots. He did +not believe a new-born infant was morally answerable for other people's +acts. He thought a man with a crooked spine would never be called to +account for not walking erect. He thought, if the crook was in his +brain, instead of his back, he could not fairly be blamed for any +consequence of this natural defect, whatever lawyers or divines might +call it. He argued, that, if a person inherited a perfect mind, body, +and disposition, and had perfect teaching from infancy, that person +could do nothing more than keep the moral law perfectly. But supposing +that the Creator allows a person to be born with an hereditary or +ingrafted organic tendency, and then puts this person into the hands of +teachers incompetent or positively bad, is not what is called _sin_ or +transgression of the law necessarily involved in the premises? Is not +a Creator bound to guard his children against the ruin which inherited +ignorance might entail on them? Would it be fair for a parent to put +into a child's hands the title-deeds to all its future possessions, and +a bunch of matches? And are not men children, nay, babes, in the eye of +Omniscience?--The minister grew bold in his questions. Had not he as +good right to ask questions as Abraham? + +This was the dangerous vein of speculation in which the Reverend Doctor +Honeywood found himself involved, as a consequence of the suggestions +forced upon him by old Sophy's communication. The truth was, the good +man had got so humanized by mixing up with other people in various +benevolent schemes, that, the very moment he could escape from his old +scholastic abstractions, he took the side of humanity instinctively, +just as the Father of the Faithful did,--all honor be to the noble old +Patriarch for insisting on the worth of an honest man, and making the +best terms he could for a very ill-conditioned metropolis, which might +possibly, however, have contained ten righteous people, for whose sake +it should be spared! + +The consequence of all this was, that he was in a singular and seemingly +self-contradictory state of mind when he took his hat and cane and went +forth to call on his heretical brother. The old minister took it for +granted that the Reverend Mr. Fairweather knew the private history of +his parishioner's family. He did not reflect that there are griefs +men _never_ put into words,--that there are fears which must not be +spoken,--intimate matters of consciousness which must be carried, as +bullets that have been driven deep into the living tissues are sometimes +carried, for a whole life-time,--_encysted_ griefs, if we may borrow the +chirurgeon's term, never to be reached, never to be seen, never to be +thrown out, but to go into the dust with the frame that bore them about +with it, during long years of anguish, known only to the sufferer and +his Maker. Dudley Venner had talked with his minister about this child +of his. But he had talked cautiously, feeling his way for sympathy, +looking out for those indications of tact and judgment which would +warrant him in some partial communication, at least, of the origin of +his doubts and fears, and never finding them. + +There was something about the Reverend Mr. Fairweather which repressed +all attempts at confidential intercourse. What this something was, +Dudley Venner could hardly say; but he felt it distinctly, and it sealed +his lips. He never got beyond certain generalities connected with +education and religious instruction. The minister could not help +discovering, however, that there were difficulties connected with this +girl's management, and he heard enough outside of the family to convince +him that she had manifested tendencies, from an early age, at variance +with the theoretical opinions he was in the habit of preaching, and in +a dim way of holding for truth, as to the natural dispositions of the +human being. + +About this terrible fact of congenital obliquity his new beliefs began +to cluster as a centre, and to take form as a crystal around its +nucleus. Still, he might perhaps have struggled against them, had it not +been for the little Roman Catholic chapel he passed every Sunday, on his +way to the meeting-house. Such a crowd of worshippers, swarming into the +pews like bees, filling all the aisles, running over at the door like +berries heaped too full in the measure,--some kneeling on the steps, +some standing on the side-walk, hats off, heads down, lips moving, some +looking on devoutly from the other side of the street! Oh, could he +have followed his own Bridget, maid of all work, into the heart of that +steaming throng, and bowed his head while the priests intoned their +Latin prayers! could he have snuffed up the cloud of frankincense, and +felt that he was in the great ark which holds the better half of the +Christian world, while all around it are wretched creatures, some +struggling against the waves in leaky boats, and some on ill-connected +rafts, and some with their heads just above water, thinking to ride out +the flood which is to sweep the earth clean of sinners, upon their own +private, individual life-preservers! + +Such was the present state of mind of the Reverend Chauncy Fairweather, +when his clerical brother called upon him to talk over the questions to +which old Sophy had called his attention. + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE REVEREND DOCTOR CALLS ON BROTHER FAIRWEATHER. + + +For the last few months, while all these various matters were going on +in Rockland, the Reverend Chauncy Fairweather had been busy with the +records of ancient councils and the writings of the early fathers. The +more he read, the more discontented he became with the platform upon +which he and his people were standing. They and he were clearly in +a minority, and his deep inward longing to be with the majority was +growing into an engrossing passion. He yearned especially towards the +good old unquestioning, authoritative Mother Church, with her articles +of faith which took away the necessity for private judgment, with her +traditional forms and ceremonies, and her whole apparatus of stimulants +and anodynes. + +About this time he procured a breviary and kept it in his desk under +the loose papers. He sent to a Catholic bookstore and obtained a small +crucifix suspended from a string of beads. He ordered his new coat to be +cut very narrow in the collar and to be made single-breasted. He began +an informal series of religious conversations with Miss O'Brien, the +young person of Irish extraction already referred to as Bridget, maid +of all work. These not proving very satisfactory, he managed to fall in +with Father McShane, the Catholic priest of the Rockland church. Father +McShane encouraged his nibble very scientifically. It would be such +a fine thing to bring over one of those Protestant heretics, and a +"liberal" one too!--not that there was any real difference between +them, but it sounded better to say that one of these rationalizing +free-and-equal religionists had been made a convert than any of those +half-way Protestants who were the slaves of catechisms instead of +councils and of commentators instead of popes. The subtle priest played +his disciple with his finest tackle. It was hardly necessary: when +anything or anybody wishes to be caught, a bare hook and a coarse line +are all that is needed. + +If a man has a genuine, sincere, hearty wish to get rid of his liberty, +if he is really bent upon becoming a slave, nothing can stop him. And +the temptation is to some natures a very great one. Liberty is often a +heavy burden on a man. It involves that necessity for perpetual choice +which is the kind of labor men have always dreaded. In common life +we shirk it by forming _habits_, which take the place of +self-determination. In politics party-organization saves us the pains of +much thinking before deciding how to cast our vote. In religious matters +there are great multitudes watching us perpetually, each propagandist +ready with his bundle of finalities, which having accepted we may be +at peace. The more absolute the submission demanded, the stronger the +temptation becomes to those who have been long tossed among doubts and +conflicts. + +So it is that in all the quiet bays which indent the shores of the great +ocean of thought, at every sinking wharf, we see moored the hulks +and the razees of enslaved or half-enslaved intelligences. They rock +peacefully as children in their cradles on the subdued swell that comes +feebly in over the bar at the harbor's mouth, slowly crusting with +barnacles, pulling at their iron cables as if they really wanted to be +free, but better contented to remain bound as they are. For these no +more the round unwalled horizon of the open sea, the joyous breeze +aloft, the furrow, the foam, the sparkle that track the rushing keel! +They have escaped the dangers of the wave, and lie still henceforth, +evermore. Happiest of souls, if lethargy is bliss, and palsy the chief +beatitude! + +America owes its political freedom to religious Protestantism. But +political freedom is reacting on religious prescription with still +mightier force. We wonder, therefore, when we find a soul which was +born to a full sense of individual liberty, an unchallenged right +of self-determination on every new alleged truth offered to its +intelligence, voluntarily surrendering any portion of its liberty to +a spiritual dictatorship which always proves to rest, in the last +analysis, on _a majority vote_, nothing more nor less, commonly an old +one, passed in those barbarous times when men cursed and murdered each +other for differences of opinion, and of course were not in a condition +to settle the beliefs of a comparatively civilized community. + +In our disgust, we are liable to be intolerant. We forget that weakness +is not in itself a sin. We forget that even cowardice may call for our +most lenient judgment, if it spring from innate infirmity. Who of us +does not look with great tenderness on the young chieftain in the "Fair +Maid of Perth," when he confesses his want of courage? All of us love +companionship and sympathy; some of us may love them too much. All of us +are more or less imaginative in our theology. Some of us may find the +aid of material symbols a comfort, if not a necessity. The boldest +thinker may have his moments of languor and discouragement, when he +feels as if he could willingly exchange faiths with the old beldame +crossing herself at the cathedral-door,--nay, that, if he could drop +all coherent thought, and lie in the flowery meadow with the brown-eyed +solemnly unthinking cattle, looking up to the sky, and all their simple +consciousness staining itself blue, then down to the grass, and life +turning to a mere greenness, blended with confused scents of herbs,--no +individual mind-movement such as men are teased with, but the great +calm cattle-sense of all time and all places that know the milky smell +of herds,--if he could be like these, he would be content to be driven +home by the cow-boy, and share the grassy banquet of the king of ancient +Babylon. Let us be very generous, then, in our judgment of those +who leave the front ranks of thought for the company of the meek +non-combatants who follow with the baggage and provisions. Age, illness, +too much wear and tear, a half-formed paralysis, may bring any of us to +this pass. But while we can think and maintain the rights of our own +individuality against every human combination, let as not forget to +caution all who are disposed to waver that there is a cowardice which is +criminal, and a longing for rest which it is baseness to indulge. God +help him over whose dead soul in his living body must be uttered the sad +supplication, _Requiescat in pace_! + + * * * * * + +A knock at the Reverend Mr. Fairweather's study-door called his eyes +from the book on which they were intent. He looked up, as if expecting a +welcome guest. + +The Reverend Pierrepont Honeywood, D.D., entered the study of the +Reverend Chauncy Fairweather. He was not the expected guest. Mr. +Fairweather slipped the book he was reading into a half-open drawer, +and pushed in the drawer. He slid something which rattled under a paper +lying on the table. He rose with a slight change of color, and welcomed, +a little awkwardly, his unusual visitor. + +"Good evening, Brother Fairweather!" said the Reverend Doctor, in a +very cordial, good-humored way. "I hope I am not spoiling one of those +eloquent sermons I never have a chance to hear." + +"Not at all, not at all," the younger clergyman answered, in a languid +tone, with a kind of habitual half-querulousness which belonged to +it,--the vocal expression which we meet with now and then, and which +says as plainly as so many words could say it, "I am a suffering +individual. I am persistently undervalued, wronged, and imposed upon by +mankind and the powers of the universe generally. But I endure all. I +endure _you_. Speak. I listen. It is a burden to me, but I even approve. +I sacrifice myself. Behold this movement of my lips! It is a smile." + +The Reverend Doctor knew this forlorn way of Mr. Fairweather's, and was +not troubled by it. He proceeded to relate the circumstances of his +visit from the old black woman, and the fear she was in about the young +girl, who being a parishioner of Mr. Fairweather's, he had thought it +best to come over and speak to him about old Sophy's fears and fancies. + +In telling the old woman's story, he alluded only vaguely to those +peculiar circumstances to which she had attributed so much importance, +taking it for granted that the other minister must be familiar with +the whole series of incidents she had related. The old minister was +mistaken, as we have before seen. Mr. Fairweather had been settled in +the place only about ten years, and, if he had heard a strange hint now +and then about Elsie, had never considered it as anything more than +idle and ignorant, if not malicious, village-gossip. All that he fully +understood was that this had been a perverse and unmanageable child, and +that the extraordinary care which had been bestowed on her had been so +far thrown away that she was a dangerous, self-willed girl, whom all +feared and almost all shunned, as if she carried with her some malignant +influence. + +He replied, therefore, after hearing the story, that Elsie had always +given trouble. There seemed to be a kind of natural obliquity about +her. Perfectly unaccountable. A very dark case. Never amenable to good +influences. Had sent her good books from the Sunday-school library. +Remembered that she tore out the frontispiece of one of them, and kept +it, and flung the book out of the window. It was a picture of Eve's +temptation; and he recollected her saying that Eve was a good +woman,--and she'd have done just so, if she'd been there. A very sad +child,--very sad; bad from infancy.--He had talked himself bold, and +said all at once,-- + +"Doctor, do you know I am almost ready to accept your doctrine of the +congenital sinfulness of human nature? I am afraid that is the only +thing which goes to the bottom of the difficulty." + +The old minister's face did not open as approvingly as Mr. Fairweather +had expected. + +"Why, yes,--well,--many find comfort in it,--I believe;--there is much +to be said,--there are many bad people,--and bad children,--I can't +be so sure about bad babies,--though they cry very malignantly at +times,--especially if they have the stomach-ache. But I really don't +know how to condemn this poor Elsie; she may have impulses that act +in her like instincts in the lower animals, and so not come under the +bearing of our ordinary rules of judgment." + +"But this depraved tendency, Doctor,--this unaccountable perverseness. +My dear Sir, I am afraid your school is in the right about human nature. +Oh, those words of the Psalmist, 'shapen in iniquity,' and the rest! +What are we to do with them,--we who teach that the soul of a child is +an unstained white tablet?" + +"King David was very subject to fits of humility, and much given to +self-reproaches," said the Doctor, in a rather dry way. "We owe you and +your friends a good deal for calling attention to the natural graces, +which, after all, may, perhaps, be considered as another form of +manifestation of the divine influence. Some of our writers have pressed +rather too hard on the tendencies of the human soul toward evil as such. +It may be questioned whether these views have not interfered with the +sound training of certain young persons, sons of clergymen and others. +I am nearer of your mind about the possibility of educating children so +that they shall become good Christians without any violent transition. +That is what I should hope for from bringing them up 'in the nurture and +admonition of the Lord.'" + +The younger minister looked puzzled, but presently answered,-- + +"Possibly we may have called attention to some neglected truths; but, +after all, I fear we must go to the old school, if we want to get at the +root of the matter. I know there is an outward amiability about many +young persons, some young girls especially, that seems like genuine +goodness; but I have been disposed of late to lean toward your view, +that these human affections, as we see them in our children,--ours, I +say, though I have not the fearful responsibility of training any of my +own,--are only a kind of disguised and sinful selfishness." + +The old minister groaned in spirit. His heart had been softened by +the sweet influences of children and grandchildren. He thought of +a half-sized grave in the burial-ground, and the fine, brave, +noble-hearted boy he laid in it thirty years before,--the sweet, +cheerful child who had made his home all sunshine until the day when he +was brought home, his long curls dripping, his fresh lips purpled in +death,--foolish dear little blessed creature to throw himself into the +deep water to save the drowning boy, who clung about him and carried him +under! Disguised selfishness! And his granddaughter too, whose disguised +selfishness was the light of his household! + +"Don't call it my view!" he said, "Abstractly, perhaps, all Nature may +be considered vitiated; but practically, as I see it in life, the divine +grace keeps pace with the perverted instincts from infancy in many +natures. Besides, this perversion itself may often be disease, bad +habits transmitted, like drunkenness, or some hereditary misfortune, as +with this Elsie we were talking about." + +The younger minister was completely mystified. At every step he made +towards the Doctor's recognized theological position, the Doctor took +just one step towards his. They would cross each other soon at this +rate, and might as well exchange pulpits,--as Colonel Sprowle once +wished they would, it may be remembered. + +The Doctor, though a much clearer-headed man, was almost equally +puzzled. He turned the conversation again upon Elsie, and endeavored +to make her minister feel the importance of bringing every friendly +influence to bear upon her at this critical period of her life. His +sympathies did not seem so lively as the Doctor could have wished. +Perhaps he had vastly more important objects of solicitude in his own +spiritual interests. + +A knock at the door interrupted them. The Reverend Mr. Fairweather rose +and went towards it. As he passed the table, his coat caught something, +which came rattling to the floor. It was a crucifix with a string of +beads attached. As he opened the door, the Milesian features of Father +McShane presented themselves, and from their centre proceeded the +clerical benediction in Irish-sounding Latin, _Pax vobiscum!_ + +The Reverend Doctor Honeywood rose and left the priest and his disciple +together. + + * * * * * + + + + +REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES. + + +_Autobiographical Recollections_. By the late CHARLES ROBERT LESLIE, +R.A. Edited, with a Prefatory Essay on Leslie as an Artist, and +Selections from his Correspondence, by TOM TAYLOR, Esq., Editor of the +"Autobiography of Haydon." With Portrait. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. +1860. pp. lviii., 363. + +Those who remember the excellent judgment with which Mr. Taylor selected +his material for the Autobiography of Haydon from the papers left by +that artist need not be told that this work is executed with spirit and +discrimination. It is a delicate task to publish just so much of the +letters and reminiscences of a man lately dead as shall consist with +good taste and gentlemanly feeling, to discriminate between legitimate +anecdote and what at second-hand becomes tale-bearing gossip, and not to +break faith with the dead by indiscreet confidences about the living. +If the dead have any privilege, it ought to be that of holding their +tongues; yet an unseemly fashion has prevailed lately of making +them gabble for years in Diaries, Remains, Correspondences, and +Recollections, perpetuating in a solid telltale record all they may +have said and written thoughtlessly or in a momentary pet, giving to a +fleeting whim the printed permanence of a settled opinion, and robbing +the grave of what is sometimes its only consoling attribute, the dignity +of reserve. We know of no more unsavory calling than this, unless it be +that of the Egyptian dealers in mummy, peddling out their grandfathers +to be ground into pigment. Obsequious to the last moment, the jackal +makes haste to fill his belly from the ribs of his late lion almost +before he is cold. + +Mr. Taylor is too manly and well-bred to be guilty of any indiscretions, +much more of any indecencies. He let Haydon tell his own story, nor +assumed the function of a judge. And wisely, as we think; for, commonly, +when men take it upon themselves uncalled, their inability to conceive +the special weakness that is not theirs, (and which, perhaps, was but +the negative of a strength equally alien to them.) their humanly narrow +and often professionally back-attic view of character and circumstance, +their easy after-dinner superiority to what was perhaps a loathing +compromise with famine and the jail, fit them rather for the office of +_advocatus diaboli_ than of the justice which must be all-seeing that it +may be charitable. It is so hard to see that a sin is sometimes but a +thwarted and misdirected virtue! When Burns sighed that "the light that +led astray was light from Heaven," he was but unconsciously repeating +what a poet who of all men least needed the apology had said centuries +before. + +We do not admit, that, because a man has published a volume or a +picture, he has published himself, excommunicated his soul from the +sanctuary of privacy, and made his life as common as a tavern-threshold +to every blockhead in the parish,--or that any Pharisee who kept +carefully to windward of his virtues, out of the way of infection, has +thereby earned the right to mismoralize his failings after he is dumbly +defenceless. The moral compasses that are too short for the aberration +may be, must be, unequal to the orbit. We would not deny that Burns was +a chamberer and a drunkard because he was a great poet; but we would not +admit that whiskey and wenches made him any the less the most richly +endowed genius of his century, with just title to the love and +admiration of men. It is not for us to decide whether he, who, by +doubling the suggestive and associative power of any thought, fancy, +feeling, or natural object, has so far added permanently to the sum of +human happiness, is not as sure of a welcome and a well-done from the +Infinite Fatherliness as he that has turned an honest penny by printing +a catechism; but we are sure that it is a shallow cant which holds up +the errors of men of genius as if they were especial warnings, and +proofs of how little the rarest gifts avail. Is it intended to put men +on their guard against being geniuses? That is scarcely called for till +those who yield to the temptation become more numerous. Do they mean, +We, too, might have been geniuses, but we chose rather to be good and +dull? Self-denial is always praiseworthy, and we reconcile ourselves to +the Ovid lost in consideration of the Deacon gained. But if it be meant +that the danger was in the genius, we deny it altogether. Burns's genius +was the one good thing he had, and it was always, as it always must be, +good, and only good, the leaven of uncontaminate heaven in him that +would not let him sink contentedly into the sty of oblivion with the +million other tipplers and loose-livers of his century. It was his +weakness of character, and not his strength or pride of intellect, that +betrayed him; and to call his faults errors of genius is a mischievous +fallacy. If they were, then they were no lesson for the rest of us; if +they were not, to call them so is to encourage certain gin-and-water +philosophers who would fain extenuate their unpleasant vices by the plea +that they are the necessary complement of unusual powers,--as if the +path to immortality were through the kennel, and fine verses were to be +written only at the painful sacrifice of bilking your washerwoman. + +We are over-fond of drawing monitory morals from the lives of gifted +persons, tacking together our little ten-by-twelve pinfolds to impound +breachy human nature in, but it is only because we know more than we +have any business to know of the private concerns of such persons +that we have the opportunity. We are thankful that the character of +Shakspeare is wrapped safely away from us in un-Boswellable night. +Samuel Taylor Coleridge the man stood forever in the way of Samuel +Taylor Coleridge the poet and metaphysician, and the fault of the +poppy-juice in his nature is laid at the door of the laudanum he bought +of the apothecary. Yet all the drowsy juices of Circe's garden could not +hinder De Quincey from writing his twenty-five volumes. To us nothing is +more painful, and nothing seems more cruelly useless, than the parading +of mortal weaknesses, especially of those to whom we are indebted +for delight and teaching. For an inherent weakness has no lesson of +avoidance in it, being helpless from the first, and by the doom of its +own nature growing more and more helpless to the last, not more so in +the example than in him who is to profit by it, and who is more likely +to have his appetite flattered by good company than his fear aroused by +the evil consequence. Because the swans have a vile habit of over-eating +themselves, shall we nail them to the barn-door as a moral lesson to the +crows? + +There is, doubtless, a great deal to be taught by biography; but it is +by the mistakes of men that we learn, and not by their weaknesses. To +see clearly an error of judgment and its consequences may be of positive +service to us in the conduct of life, while a vice of temperament +concerns us not at all in private men, and only so far in statesmen +and rulers as it may have been influential in history as a modifier of +action, or is essential to an understanding of it as an explainer of +motive. + +The Autobiography of Leslie seems to us in some sort the complement +of Haydon's, and throws the defiant struggle of that remarkable +self-portraiture into stronger relief by the contrast of its equable +good-fortune and fireside tranquillity. The causes of the wide +difference in the course and the result of these two lives are on the +surface and are instructive. Comparing the two men at the outset, we +should have said that all the chances were on Haydon's side. If he had +not genius, he had at least the temperament and external characteristics +that go along with it. He had what is sometimes wanting to it in its +more purely aesthetic manifestation, the ambition that spurs and the +unflagging energy that seemed a guerdon of unlimited achievement. +Yet the ambition fermented into love of notoriety and soured into a +fraudulent self-assertion, that grew boastful as it grew distrustful of +its claims and could bring less proof in support of them; the energy +degenerated into impudence, evading the shame of spendthrift bankruptcy +to-day by shifts that were sure to bring a more degrading exposure +tomorrow; and the whole ended at last in a suicide whose tragic pang +is deadened to us by the feeling that so much of the mixed motive that +drove him to it as was not cowardice was a hankering after melodramatic +effect, the last throb of a passion for making his name the theme of +public talk, and his fate the centre of a London day's sensation. +Chatterton makes us lenient to a life of fraud by the dogged and cynical +uncomplainingness of the despair that drove him to cut it short; but +Haydon continues his self-autopsy to the last moment, and in pulling the +trigger seems to be only firing the train for an explosion that shall +give him a week longer of posthumous notoriety. The egotism of Pepys was +but a suppressed garrulity, which habitual caution, fostered by a period +of political confusion and the mystery of office, drove inward to a kind +of soliloquy in cipher; that of Montaigne was metaphysical,--in studying +his own nature and noting his observations he was studying man, and that +with a singular insouciance of public opinion; but Haydon appears to +have written his journals with a deliberate intention of their some day +advertising himself, and his most private aspirations are uttered with +an eye to the world. Yet it was a genuine instinct that led him to the +pen, and his lifelong succession of half-successes that are worse than +defeats was due to the initial error of mistaking a passion for a power. +A fine critic, a vivid sketcher of character, and a writer of singular +clearness, point, and eloquence was spoiled to make an artist, sometimes +noble in conception, but without sense of color, and utterly inadequate +to any but the most confused expression of himself by the pencil. His +very sense of the power which he was conscious of somewhere in himself +harassed and hampered him, as time after time he refused to see that his +failure was due, not to injustice or insensibility on the part of the +world, but to his having chosen the wrong means of making his ability +felt and acknowledged. His true place would have been that of Professor +and Lecturer in the Royal Academy. The world is not insensible or +unjust, but it knows what it wants, and will not long be put off with +less. There is always a public for success; there never is, and never +ought to be, for inadequacy. Haydon was in some respects a first-rate +man, but the result of his anxious, restless, and laborious life was +almost zero, as far as concerned its definite aims. It does not convey +the moral of neglected genius, or of loose notions of money-obligations, +ending in suicide, but simply of a mischosen vocation, leading sooner or +later to utter and undeniable failure. _Pas meme academicien_! Plenty of +neglected geniuses have found it good to be neglected, plenty of Jeremy +Diddlers (in letters and statesmanship as often as in money-matters) +have lived to a serene old age, but the man who in any of the unuseful +arts insists on doing what Nature never asked him to do has no place in +the world. Leslie, a second-rate man in all respects, but with a genuine +talent rightly directed, an obscure American, with few friends, no +influential patrons, and a modesty that would never let him obtrude his +claims, worked steadily forward to competence, to reputation, and the +Council of the Academy. The only blunder of his life was his accepting +the Professorship of Drawing at West Point, a place for which he was +unsuited. But this blunder he had the good sense and courage to correct +by the frank acknowledgment of resignation. Altogether his is a career +as pleasant as Haydon's is painful to contemplate, the more so as we +feel that his success was fairly won by honest effort directed by +a contented consciousness of the conditions and limitations of his +faculty. + +Nothing can be more agreeable than the career of a successful artist. +His employment does not force upon him the solitude of an author; it +is eminently companionable; from its first design, through all the +processes that bring his work to perfection, he is not shut out from the +encouragement of sympathy; his success is definite and immediate; he +can see it in the crowd around his work at the exhibition; and his very +calling brings him into pleasant contact with beauty, taste, and (if a +portrait-painter) with eminence in every department of human activity. + +Leslie's passage through the world was of that equal temper which is +happiest for the man and unhappiest for the biographer. With no dramatic +surprises of fortune, and no great sorrows, his life had scarce any +other alternation than that it went round with the earth through night +and day, and would have been tame but for his necessary labor in an +art which he loved wisely and with the untumultuous sentiment of +an after-honey-moon constancy. We should say that his leading +characteristic was Taste, an external quality, it is true, but one which +is often the indication of more valuable ones lying deeper. In the +conduct of life it insures tact, and in Art a certain gentlemanlike +equipoise, incapable of what is deepest and highest, but secure also +from the vulgar, the grotesque, and the extravagant. Leslie, we think, +was more at home with Addison than with Cervantes. + +His autobiographical reminiscences are very entertaining, especially +that part of them which describes a voyage home to America, varied by +a winter in Portugal, during the early part of his life. The Scotch +captain, who, with his scanty merchant-crew, beats off a Bordeaux +privateer, and then, crippled and half-sinking, clears for action with +what he supposes to be a French frigate, but which turns out to be +English, is a personage whose acquaintance it is pleasant to make. The +sketches of life in Lisbon, too, are very lively, and the picture of +the decayed Portuguese nobleman's family, for whose pride of birth an +imaginary dinner-table was set every day in the parlor with the remains +of the hereditary napery and plate, the numerous covers hiding nothing +but the naked truth, while their common humanity, squatting on the floor +in the kitchen, fished its scanty meal from an earthen pot with pewter +spoons, is pathetically humorous and would have delighted Caleb +Balderstone. In after-life, Leslie's profession made him acquainted with +some of the best London life of his time, and the volume is full of +agreeable anecdotes of Scott, Irving, Turner, Rogers, Wilkie, and +many more. It contains also several letters of Irving, of no special +interest, and some from a sort of Lesmahago of a room-mate of Leslie's, +named Peter Powell, so queer, individual, and shrewd, that we are sorry +not to have more of them and their writer. Altogether the book is one of +the pleasantest we have lately met with. + + +_The Old Battle-Ground_. By J.T. TROWBRIDGE, Author of "Father +Brighthopes," "Neighbor Jackwood," etc. New York: Sheldon & Company. +1860. pp. 276. + +Mr. Trowbridge's previous works have made him known to a large circle of +appreciating readers as a writer of originality and promise. His "Father +Brighthopes" we have never read, but we have heard it spoken of as one +of the most wholesome children's books ever published in America, and +our knowledge of the author makes us ready to believe the favorable +opinion a just one. Parts of "Neighbor Jackwood" we read with sincere +relish and admiration; they showed so true an eye for Nature and so +thorough an appreciation of the truly humorous elements of New England +character, as distinguished from the vulgar and laughable ones. The +domestic interior of the Jackwood family was drawn with remarkable truth +and spirit, and all the working characters of the book on a certain +average level of well-to-do rusticity were made to think and talk +naturally, and were as full of honest human nature as those of the +conventional modern novel are empty of it. An author who puts us in the +way to form some just notion of the style of thought proper to so large +a class as our New England country-people, and of the motives likely to +influence their social and political conduct, does us a greater service +than we are apt to admit. And the power to conceive the leading +qualities that make up an average representative and to keep them +always clearly in view, so as to swerve neither toward tameness nor +exaggeration, is by no means common. This power, it seems to us, Mr. +Trowbridge possesses in an unusual degree. The late Mr. Judd, in his +remarkable romance of "Margaret," gave such a picture as has never been +equalled for truth of color and poetry of conception, of certain phases +of life among a half-gypsy family in the outskirts of a remote village, +and growing up in the cold penumbra of our civilization and material +prosperity. But his scene and characters were exceptional, or, if +typical, only so of a very limited class, and his book, full of fine +imagination as it is, is truly a romance, an ideal and artistic +representation, rather a poem than a story of manners general and +familiar enough to be called real. + +Mr. Trowbridge, we think, fails in those elements of (we had almost said +creative) power in which Mr. Judd was specially rich. If the latter had +possessed the shaping spirit as fully as he certainly did the essential +properties of imagination, he would have done for the actual, prosaic +life of New England what Mr. Hawthorne has done for the ideal essence +that lies behind and beneath it. But, with all his marvellous fidelity +of dialect, costume, and landscape, and his firm clutch of certain +individual instincts and emotions, his characters are wanting in any +dramatic unity of relation to each other, and seem to be "moving about +in worlds not realized," each a vivid reality in itself, but a very +shadow in respect of any prevailing intention of the story. With the +innate sentiments of a kind of aboriginal human nature Mr. Judd was +at home; with the practical working of every-day motives he seemed +strangely unfamiliar. It is just here that Mr. Trowbridge's strength +and originality lie; but, with that not uncommon tendency to overvalue +qualities that we do not possess, and to attempt their display, to the +neglect, and sometimes at the cost, of others quite as valuable, but +which seem cheap, because their exercise is easy and habitual,--and +therefore, we may be sure, natural and pleasing,--he insists on being a +little metaphysical and over-fine. What he means for his more +elevated characters are tiresome with something of that melodramatic +sentimentality with which Mr. Dickens has infected so much of the +lighter literature of the day. Here and there the style suffers from +that overmuchness of unessential detail and that exaggeration of +particulars which Mr. Dickens brought into fashion and seems bent on +wearing out of it,--a style which is called graphic and poetical by +those only who do not see that it is the cheap substitute, in all +respects equal to real plate, (till you try to pawn it for lasting +fame,) introduced by writers against time, or who forget that to be +graphic is to tell most with fewest penstrokes, and to be poetical is +to suggest the particular in the universal. We earnestly hope, that, +instead of trying to do what no one can do well, Mr. Trowbridge will +wisely stick close to what he has shown that no one can do better. + +"The Old Battle-Ground," whose name bears but an accidental relation to +the story, is an interesting and well-constructed tale, in which Mr. +Trowbridge has introduced what we believe is a new element in American +fiction, the French Canadian. The plot is simple and not too improbable, +and the characters well individualized. Here, also, Mr. Trowbridge +is most successful in his treatment of the less ambitiously designed +figures. The relation between the dwarf Hercules fiddler and the +heroine Marie seems to be a suggestion from Victor Hugo's Quasimodo and +Esmeralda, though the treatment is original and touching. Indeed, there +is a good deal of pathos in the book, marred here and there with the +sentimental extract of Dickens-flowers, unpleasant as _patchouli_. +Generally, however, it has the merit of unobtrusiveness,--a rare piece +of self-denial nowadays, when authors have found out, and the public has +not, how very easy it is to make the public cry, and how much the simple +creature likes it, as if it had not sorrows enough of its own. But it is +in his more ordinary characters that Mr. Trowbridge fairly shows himself +as an original and delightful author. His boys are always masterly. +Nothing could be truer to Nature, more nicely distinguished as to +idiosyncrasy, while alike in expression and in limited range of ideas, +or more truly comic, than the two that figure in this story. Nick +Whickson, too, the good-natured ne'er-do-well, who is in his own and +everybody's way till he finds his natural vocation as an aid to a dealer +in horses, is a capital sketch. The hypochondriac Squire Plumworthy +is very good, also, in his way, though he verges once or twice on the +"heavy father," with a genius for the damp handkerchief and long-lost +relative line. + +We are safe in assigning to Mr. Trowbridge a rank quite above that of +our legion of washy novelists; he seems to have a definite purpose and +an ambition for literary as well as popular success, and we hope that +by study and observation he will be true to a very decided and peculiar +talent. We violate no confidence in saying that the graceful poem, "At +Sea," which first appeared in the "Atlantic," and which, under the name +of now one, now another author, has been deservedly popular, was written +by Mr. Trowbridge. + + + + +JULY REVIEWED BY SEPTEMBER. + + +The Editors of the "Atlantic," of course, have universal knowledge +(with few exceptions) at their fingers' ends,--that is, they possess +an Encyclopaedia, gapped here and there by friends fond of portable +information and familiar with that hydrostatic paradox in which the +motion of solids up a spout is balanced by a very slender column of the +liquidating medium. The once goodly row of quartos looks now like a set +of mineral teeth that have essayed too closely to simulate Nature by +assaulting a Boston cracker; and the intervals of vacuity among the +books, as among the incisors, deprive the owner of his accustomed +glibness in pronouncing himself on certain topics. Among the missing +volumes is one of those in M, and accordingly our miss-information [A] +on all subjects from Mabinogion to Mustard is not to be entirely relied +upon. Under these painful circumstances, and with the chance of still +further abstractions from our common stock of potential learning, we +have engaged a staff of consulting engineers, who contract, for certain +considerations, to know every useless thing from A to Z, and every +obsolete one from Omega to Alpha. In these gentlemen we repose unlimited +confidence in proportion to their salaries; for a considerable +experience of mankind has taught us that omniscience is a much commoner +and easier thing than science, especially in this favored country and +under democratic institutions, which give to every man the inestimable +right of knowing as much as he pleases. Everything was going on well +when our Man of Science unaccountably disappeared, and our Aesthetic +Editor experienced in all its terrors the Scriptural doom of being left +to himself. This latter gentleman is tolerably _shady_ in scientific +matters, nay, to say sooth, light-proof, or only so far penetrable as +to make darkness visible. Between science and nescience the difference +seems to his mind little, if _n e_, and he would accept as perfectly +satisfactory a statement that "the ponderability of air in a vitreous +table-tipping medium (the abnormal variation being assumed as $ x-b +.0000001) is exactly proportioned to the squares of the circumambient +distances, provided the perihelia are equal, and the evolution of +nituretted carbogen in the boomerang be carefully avoided during +evaporation; the power of the parallax being represented, of +course, according to the well-known theorem of Rabelais, by H.U.M. +Hemsterhuysius seems to have been familiar with this pretty experiment." +The above sentence being shown to the Aesthetic Editor aforesaid, he +acknowledges that he sees nothing more absurd than common in it, and +that the theory seems to him as worthy of trial as Hedgecock's quadrant, +which he took with him once on a journey to New York, arriving safely +with a single observation of the height of the steamer's funnel. + +[Footnote A: MISS-INFORMATION. A higgledy-piggledy want of intelligence +acquired by young misses at boarding-schools.--_Supplement to Johnson's +Dictionary._] + +This premised, it naturally follows that the Aesthetic Editor (the July +number falling to his turn) must take advantage of the absence of +his Guardian Man of Science to publish an article on Meteorology. A +condition of things in which the _omne scibile_ was left entirely at his +disposal, to be knocked about as he pleased, appeared to him no small +omen of a near millennium; and what subject could be more suitable to +begin with than the weather, a topic of general interest, (since we have +no choice of weather or no,) in which exact knowledge is comfortably +impossible, and in which he felt himself at home from his repeated +experiments in raising the wind in order to lower the due-point? (See +_The Weathercock, an Essay on Rotation in Office, by Sir Airy Vane._) + +Meanwhile, after the mischief was all done and a Provisional Government +of Chaos Redux comfortably established in Physics, the Man of Science +turns up suddenly in the following communication. [A council was called +on the spot, the Autocrat in the chair, and it was decided, with only +one dissenting voice, that the communication should be printed as a +lesson to the peccant Editor, who, for the future, was laid under a +strict interdict in respect of all and singular the onomies and ologies, +and directed to consider the weather a matter altogether unprophetable, +except to almanac-makers,--the said Editor to superintend such +publication, and to be kept on a diet of corn-cob for the body and +Sylvanus Cobb (or his own works, at his option) for the mind, till it +be done. The chairman added, that for a second offence he should do +penance, according to ancient usage, in a blank sheet of the Magazine, +(a contribution of his own being to that end suppressed,)--a form of +punishment likely to be as irksome to himself as grateful to the readers +of that incomparable miscellany.] + +"_Abercwmdwddhwm Mine_, 28th July, 1860. + +"WELL-MEANING, BUT MISGUIDED, FRIEND! + +"An unexpected opportunity of personally investigating a highly nauseous +kind of mephitic vapor drew me and Jones suddenly hither without time +to say farewell or make explanations. I made the journey in--10' by +electric telegraph, and am delighted that I came, for anything more +unpleasant never met my nostrils, and I am almost sure of adding a new +element to the enjoyment of the scientific world. + +"I have already secured several bottles-full, and shall exhibit it at the +next meeting of the Association: of course you shall have a sniff in +advance. I should have returned before this, but unhappily the chain by +which we descended gave way a few days ago near the top, in hoisting +out the first series of my observations, and as yet there has been no +opportunity of replacing it. Communication with the upper world is kept +up by means of a small cord, however, and in this way we are supplied +with food for body and mind. As good luck would have it, our butter came +down wrapped in a half-sheet of your last volume of poems, containing my +old favorites, 'Modern Greece,' and the 'Ode to a Deserted Churn.' These +I read aloud several times to the miners, and their longing to return +sooner to a world where they could get the rest of the volume became so +strong, that, as I was about to begin my fifth reading, they consented +to an expedient of escape which I had already proposed once or twice in +vain. This was to blow us out by means of the fire-damp. The result of +the experiment I cannot yet fully report, as some confusion ensued. +Jones has disappeared, having been, as I hope and believe, discharged +upward, and I have found the remains of only one miner, so that it seems +to have been a tolerable success, though I myself was blown inward, +owing to the premature explosion of the train. In one respect the result +was highly satisfactory to me personally. Jones had all along insisted +that the vapor was antiphlogistic. Whichever way he went, I think +(fair-minded as he is) he must be by this time convinced of his error, +and I shall accordingly enter him in my Report as discharged cured. +I may add, as an interesting scientific fact, that his ascent was +accompanied by such a sudden and violent fall of the barometer (which he +had in his lap) that the instrument was broken. This would seem to prove +a considerable decrease in the weight of the atmosphere at the moment +of explosion. The darkness was oppressive at first; but a happy thought +occurred to me. You know Jones's poodle, and how obese he is? Well, he +was shot into my lap, where he lay to all appearance dead. I had some +matches in my pocket and at once kindled the end of his tail, which +makes a very good candle, quite as good as average dips, _tales, +quales_. By the light of this I proceed to note down my first series +of comments as a tail-piece to your meteorological article in the July +'Atlantic,' of which we received a copy in due course, as the magazine +has a large circulation among our friars miner down here. + +"METEOROLOGY 'MADE EASY.' + +"In glancing at the article on 'Meteorology' in the July number of the +'Atlantic Monthly,' I was so struck by the dashing style in which the +writer presents what he calls the 'leading principles' of the science, +that, in spite of portentous errors, I was tempted to follow his +diversified flight to its very close. Reading pencil in hand, I gathered +up a long list of mistakes in fact and in philosophy, of which the +following specimens, although but the first fruits of a not very +critical examination, may serve to illustrate the carelessness--shall +I not say ignorance?--of the writer on the topics in regard to which he +proposes to enlighten the general reader. + +"1. According to our essayist, the weight of the atmosphere is about +43/1000ths that of the globe,--in other words, 1/23d part. Now a simple +calculation, or a reference to one of the standard works on Physics, +should have taught him that the weight of the entire air is less than +one-millionth part of that of the earth,--that is, _fifty thousand times +less than he states it to be_." + +[We are quite sure that our (tor-)Mentor is mistaken in assuming a +uniform weight for the atmosphere. It differs in different places. +During our lecturing-tours, we have frequently observed an involuntary +depression of the eyelids (producing _almost_ an appearance of sleep) in +a part of the audience, which we were at a loss to attribute to anything +but the weight of the atmosphere. Water varies in the same way. It is +hardly necessary to say that Lake Wetter derives its name from the +superior quality of its dampness.] + +"2. Of the specific gravity of the air he seems to be amusingly +uncertain,--making it first 833 times and afterwards 770 times less than +that of water; and in the same connection he says, in chosen +phrase, that 'density, or _closeness_, is another quality of the +atmosphere,'--as if it were its characteristic, and not common to all +ponderable matter." + +[A very neat way of arriving at specific gravity in its densest form is +to distil the "funny column" of a weekly newspaper. To arrive at the +desired result in the speediest way, let the operation be performed in +what is known among bucolic journalists as a "humorous retort." Density +and closeness should not be spoken of as equivalent terms. The former is +a common quality of the human skull, rendering it impervious; whereas a +man may be very close and yet capable of being stuck,--with bad paper, +for example.] + +"3. In mentioning the _constituents of the atmosphere_, he adopts +without explanation the loose statement of some of the books, placing +carburetted hydrogen on the same footing as to constancy and amount with +carbonic acid, and making no allusion to nitric acid. Yet chemistry has +shown, that, except in special localities, carburetted hydrogen occurs +only as a slight trace, the existence of which in most cases is rather +inferred than actually demonstrated, and that it has no important +office to perform,--while nitric acid shares with ammonia in the grand +function of the nourishment of plants. In a later paragraph the error is +aggravated by the assertion, that 'no chemical combination of oxygen and +nitrogen has ever been detected in the atmosphere, and it is presumed +none will be,'--as if every flash of lightning did not produce a notable +quantity of this compound, which, washed down by the rain, may be +detected in almost every specimen of rain-water we meet. What would +Johnstone, Boussingault, Liebig, and the other agricultural chemists say +to this?" + +[For complete proof on this head, be struck by lightning. For +ourselves, we are convinced, and would rather have some other head +taken for an experiment by way of illustration. But any of our +readers who is unsatisfied has only to place himself in front of a +lightning-express-train with an ordinary conductor. To insure being +struck, let the experimenter provide himself amply with patent +safety-rods. At least, this result is pretty sure in houses, and is +worth trying out of doors.] + +"In the same connection he characterizes nitrogen as a substance 'not +condensible under fifty atmospheres,' leaving the reader to infer +that the preceding ingredient on the list, oxygen, is condensible +(liquefiable) within that limit of pressure, and that nitrogen becomes +liquid at or above it; whereas neither oxygen nor nitrogen has ever yet +been compressed into a liquid, although a force of more than _fifty +times fifty_ atmospheres has been brought to act upon them." + +[We consider an experiment requiring twenty-five hundred atmospheres, +when the thermometer marks 93 deg. in the shade, indictable at common law. +To desire more than one, under such circumstances, is unreasonable, and +even wicked.] + +"4. In referring to the Thermo-barometer as a means of measuring +heights, the writer confounds the late Professor Edward Forbes with +Professor James D. Forbes, recently of Edinburgh, but now Provost of +the University of St. Andrews. The former was a great Zooelogist and +Botanist, and did not occupy himself with investigations in Physics; +the latter is an eminent Physicist, the author of the viscous theory of +Glaciers; and it is he who made the observations here ascribed to the +'Professor Forbes, whose untimely death the friends of science have +had so much reason to deplore.' The author adds the further mistake +of supposing that the numerical constant, 549 feet for each degree, +determined by James Forbes for Scotland, is equally correct for all +latitudes." + +[This hardly needed confutation. No university requires any numerical +constant of height as qualification for a degree; and if they did, 549 +feet would be excessive, unless, perhaps, at Warsaw, where everybody is +tall enough to end in _ski_.] + +"5. Our essayist discloses but an imperfect inkling of knowledge on the +subject of capillarity in barometers, when he speaks of this complex +action as equivalent to _the attraction between the mercury and the +glass tube_; and he commits a yet graver mistake, practically speaking, +in reiterating the long exploded error, that 'the weight of the +atmosphere at the level of the sea is the same all over the world.' No +fact in Meteorology is better established than that the mean pressure at +the sea-level is different for different latitudes. In the vicinity of +Cape Horn the barometer is three-fourths of an inch lower than at the +Equator, and according to Schouw the pressure increases from the Equator +up to a certain latitude (38 deg.) in both hemispheres, and diminishes +thence towards the Poles." + +[The connection between capillarity and the fat of the common bear is +well known to all manufacturers of trycoverus compounds, and they are +probably right in advertising that grease of this description restores +tone to the hair,--of course a fine beary tone. As the weight of the +bear depends on his fat, the inference to a bear-ometer is obvious. It +is a familiar fact that the bear supports life during hibernation by +sucking his paws; but it may not be so generally known that the waste +thus induced in the anterior extremities is restored by the moral +consciousness of the animal that the fat he is so carefully hoarding is +to confer a posthumous blessing on mankind. This is a touching example +of the adaptation of means to end, and Shakspeare, the great natural +philosopher, has made use of it for one of his most striking metaphors, +where he says, "that the thought of something after death must give us +paws."] + +"6. Discoursing on the elasticity of the air, the writer styles it +'the most compressible of bodies,'--as if it had any advantage in this +respect over the numerous other species of gaseous matter. As to the +illustration which he gives, namely, that 'a glass vessel full of air, +placed under a receiver and then exhausted by the air-pump, will burst +into atoms,' we can only say, what every schoolboy knows, that the +_bursting_ would be _inwards_, unless, indeed, our meteorologist means +that the external receiver was to be exhausted, and in that case he +should so have expressed himself." + +[The theory of exhausted receivers is, in our opinion, worthy only of +the childhood of science, when chemistry and astronomy were alchemy and +astrology, and people would believe anything. In this enlightened age of +the universal subscription-paper, exhausted givers are familiar objects, +but a receiver who finds the labors of his calling excessive is as +non-existent as the harpy, his mythological prototype.] + +"7. In regard to the extent to which the compression of air has been +actually carried, he tells us that 'Brockhaus says that air has as yet +been compressed only into _one-eighth of its original bulk_.' Is +it possible that a writer on Meteorology is unacquainted with the +well-known experiments of Dulong and Arago, and the more recent ones +of Regnault, in which the compression was three times the amount here +stated, or that he requires to be referred to those of Natterer, who, by +a powerful condensing apparatus, has lately compressed _seven hundred +and twenty-six volumes of air into a single volume_?" + +[Any man who has succeeded in condensing seven hundred and twenty-six +volumes into one deserves the applause of the reading public. We +trust M. Natterer will extend his benevolent labors to all the great +libraries. With the most perfect apparatus of compression, however, we +doubt if contemporary literature will yield anything like so high an +average as 1 in 726.] + +"8. In the paragraphs devoted to the optical relations of the +atmosphere, our author has shown a happy faculty for making his subject +obscure. After suggesting that the refraction of the rays in the +atmosphere may be due to what he calls its 'lenticular outline,' he +defines refraction to be 'the bending of a ray passing obliquely from a +rarer into a denser medium,'--a good enough popular definition, but for +its sad defectiveness. Is he not aware that the light is also bent in +penetrating obliquely from a denser into a rarer medium, as in passing +from the surface of a low plain to the eye of a spectator on a +neighboring mountain, and that the bending is just as great in this +direction of its motion as in the other? And does he not know that it +changes its course whenever it passes from a vacuum into any ponderable +medium or in the opposite direction? In future attempts to make +science easy, let him remember that these are all equally instances of +refraction, and should be included in its definition. + +"Under the same head, we are led to infer that it is only in 'the warm +and moist nights of summer,' that 'the moon, as she rises above the +horizon, appears much larger than when at the zenith'; and we are +taught, in connection with the origin of the mirage and the spectre +of the Bracken, that 'rainbows are due to this condition of the +atmosphere.' If, instead of rainbows, we may be allowed to read _halos_, +we can understand the writer, who, instead of thinking of summer +showers, appears to have had a _haze_ in his mind while penning this and +other paragraphs." + +[The _dictum_ of our correspondent in regard to light passing from +a ponderable medium into a vacuum requires some qualification. An +exception should be made of "Spiritual Mediums," who, being flesh and +blood, are of course ponderable. Now, if we represent the Medium by A, +and the head of any one consulting her by B, there can be no doubt that +the latter is an absolute vacuum; but it is demonstrable that nothing +like light ever passed from the former to the latter. There is a +closer analogy between refracted light and a Brocken spectre than our +scientific friend seems willing to admit. For what follows we refer our +readers to the remarkable essay of Alderman Moon, "On the Identity of +Halocination and Lunacy."] + +"9. As our author advances in this branch of his subject, he grows far +too profound for our scientific apprehension. Giving him all credit for +_wishing to be clear_, we confess to a sad mystification as to what he +calls the 'Polarity of Light,' where a beam is described as 'revolving +around poles peculiar to itself' and as producing 'beautiful +_spectres_,' and we want new illumination from him as to his theory of +colors. We agree to the statement that 'each object has a particular +reflecting surface of its own,' as we cannot see how _its_ particular +surface could be the property of another,--but why this should make the +surface 'throw back light at its own angle' we do not exactly fathom, +and we are puzzled to know _which is the owner of the said angle_, +the light or the surface. No one doubts that 'the modest blush which +crimsons the cheek of beauty,' to use the author's words, is caused by a +rush of blood to the skin; but how this produces 'a corresponding change +in its angle of reflection,' and what such a change has to do with the +result, are problems too transcendental for the _exact_ sciences." + +[On all questions relating to the Poles we reserve our opinion till the +return of Dr. Hayes's expedition. But we think they have little to hope +from any future attempt at revolution, especially with such insufficient +weapons as their axes, which, though they keep up a constant stir about +them, have been long superseded by the improvements of modern military +science. We think our correspondent hasty in admitting that "each object +has a particular reflecting surface of its own." A little inquiry among +his neighbors would have satisfied him that the human brain seldom +possesses anything of the kind.] + +"But these specimens must suffice as indications of the general +character of this attempt at _popularizing science_. To do this without +misleading and confounding the general reader is a task which claims +the largest and most exact knowledge, and the greatest perspicuity of +statement, no less than a flowing style and felicitous illustration. +It is a task in which true success, though apparently frequent, is in +reality extremely rare." + +"P.S. I had written thus far, when the fire suddenly penetrating, I +suppose, to the nervous system of the poodle, he ran off, leaving me +in total darkness and with no hope that his tail (like too many in the +'Atlantic') would be continued. By the brief candle of a match I manage +to add this, and to subscribe myself + +"Yours ever." + + * * * * * + + +RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS + +RECEIVED BY THE EDITORS OF THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + + +Ida Randolph, of Virginia. A Poem in Three Cantos. Philadelphia. Hazard. +16mo. pp. 60. 50 cts. + +Science a Witness for the Bible. By Rev. W.N. Pendleton, D.D. +Philadelphia. Lippincott & Co. 16mo. pp. 350. $1.00. + +Map of the Mountain and Lake Region of New Hampshire. Concord. E.C. +Eastman. 32mo. 25 cts. + +Lichen Tufts, from the Alleghanies. By Elizabeth C. Wright. New York. +Doolady. 12mo. pp. 328. 75 cts. + +The Rock of Ages; or, Scripture Testimony to the One Eternal Godhead +of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. 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