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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:38:41 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12023-0.txt b/12023-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5adebef --- /dev/null +++ b/12023-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8286 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12023 *** + +THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + +A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS. + +VOL. XI.--APRIL, 1863.--NO. LXVI. + + + + +ON THE VICISSITUDES OF KEATS'S FAME. + + + [Joseph Severn, the author of the following paper, scarcely needs + introduction to the readers of the "Atlantic Monthly"; but no + one will object to reperusing, in connection with his valuable + contribution, this extract from the Preface to "Adonais," which + Shelley wrote in 1821:-- + + "He [Keats] was accompanied to Rome and attended in his last illness + by Mr. Severn, a young artist of the highest promise, who, I have + been informed, 'almost risked his own life, and sacrificed every + prospect, to unwearied attendance upon his dying friend.' Had I + known these circumstances before the completion of my poem, I should + have been tempted to add my full tribute of applause to the more + solid recompense which the virtuous man finds in the recollection of + his own motives. Mr. Severn can dispense with a reward from 'such + stuff as dreams are made of.' His conduct is a noble augury of the + success of his future career. May the unextinguished spirit of his + illustrious friend animate the creations of his pencil, and plead + against oblivion for his name!" + + Mr. Severn is residing in Rome at the present time, from which city + he transmits this paper.] + +I well remember being struck with the clear and independent manner which +Washington Allston, in the year 1818, expressed his opinion of John +Keats's verse, when the young poet's writings first appeared, amid the +ridicule of most English readers, Mr. Allston was at that time the only +discriminating judge among the strangers to Keats who were residing +abroad, and he took occasion to emphasize in my hearing his opinion of +the early effusions of the young poet in words like these:--"They are +crude materials of real poetry, and Keats is sure to become a great +poet." + +It is a singular pleasure to the few in personal friends of Keats in +England (who may still have to defend him against the old and worn-out +slanders) that in America he has always had a solid fame, independent of +the old English prejudices. + +Here in Rome, as I write, I look back through forty years of worldly +changes to behold Keats's dear image again in memory. It seems as if he +should be living with me now, inasmuch as I never could understand his +strange and contradictory death, his falling away so suddenly from +health and strength. He had that fine compactness of person which we +regard as the promise of longevity, and no mind was ever more exultant +in youthful feeling. I cannot summon a sufficient reason why in one +short year he should have been thus cut off, "with all his imperfections +on his head." Was it that he lived too soon,--that the world he sought +was not ready for him? + +For more than the year I am now dwelling on, he had fostered a tender +and enduring love for a young girl nearly of his own age, and this love +was reciprocal, not only in itself, but in all the worldly advantages +arising from it of fortune on her part and fame on his. It was +encouraged by the sole parent of the lady; and the fond mother was happy +in seeing her daughter so betrothed, and pleased that her inheritance +would fall to so worthy an object as Keats. This was all well settled in +the minds and hearts of the mutual friends of both parties, when poor +Keats, soon after the death of his younger brother, unaccountably showed +signs of consumption; at least, he himself thought so, though the +doctors were widely undecided about it. By degrees it began to be deemed +needful that the young poet should go to Italy, even to preserve his +life. This was at last accomplished, but too late; and now that I am +reviewing all the progress of his illness from his first symptoms, +I cannot but think his life might have been preserved by an Italian +sojourn, if it had been adopted in time, and if circumstances had been +improved as they presented themselves. And, further, if he had had the +good fortune to go to America, which he partly contemplated before the +death of his younger brother, not only would his life and health have +been preserved, but his early fame would have been insured. He would +have lived independent of the London world, which was striving to drag +him down in his poetic career, and adding to the sufferings which I +consider the immediate cause of his early death. + +In Italy he always shrank from speaking in direct terms of the actual +things which were killing him. Certainly the "Blackwood" attack was one +of the least of his miseries, for he never even mentioned it to me. The +greater trouble which was ingulfing him he signified in a hundred ways. +Was it to be wondered at, that at the time when the happiest life was +presented to his view, when it was arranged that he was to marry a young +person of beauty and fortune, when the little knot of friends who +valued him saw such a future for the beloved poet, and he himself, with +generous, unselfish feelings, looked forward to it more delighted on +their account,--was it to be wondered at, that, on the appearance of +consumption, his ardent mind should have sunk into despair? He seemed +struck down from the highest happiness to the lowest misery. He +felt crushed at the prospect of being cut off at the early age of +twenty-four, when the cup was at his lips, and he was beginning to drink +that draught of delight which was to last his mortal life through, which +would have insured to him the happiness of home, (happiness he had never +felt, for he was an orphan,) and which was to be a barrier for him +against a cold and (to him) a malignant world. + +He kept continually in his hand a polished, oval, white carnelian, the +gift of his widowing love, and at times it seemed his only consolation, +the only thing left him in this world clearly tangible. Many letters +which he was unable to read came for him. Some he allowed me to read +to him; others were too worldly,--for, as he said, he had "already +journeyed far beyond them." There were two letters, I remember, for +which he had no words, but he made me understand that I was to place +them on his heart within his winding-sheet. + +Those bright falcon eyes, which I had known only in joyous intercourse, +while revelling in books and Nature, or while he was reciting his +own poetry, now beamed an unearthly brightness and a penetrating +steadfastness that could not be looked at. It was not the fear of +death,--on the contrary, he earnestly wished to die,--but it was the +fear of lingering on and on, that now distressed him; and this was +wholly on my account. Amidst the world of emotions that were crowding +and increasing as his end approached, I could always see that his +generous concern for me in my isolated position at Rome was one of +his greatest cares. In a little basket of medicines I had bought at +Gravesend at his request there was a bottle of laudanum, and this I +afterwards found was destined by him "to close his mortal career," when +no hope was left, and to prevent a long, lingering death, for my poor +sake. When the dismal time came, and Sir James Clark was unable to +encounter Keats's penetrating look and eager demand, he insisted on +having the bottle, which I had already put away. Then came the most +touching scenes. He now explained to me the exact procedure of his +gradual dissolution, enumerated my deprivations and toils, and dwelt +upon the danger to my life, and certainly to my fortunes, from my +continued attendance upon him. One whole day was spent in earnest +representations of this sort, to which, at the same time that they +wrung my heart to hear and his to utter, I was obliged to oppose a firm +resistance. On the second day, his tender appeal turned to despair, in +all the power of his ardent imagination and bursting heart. + +From day to day, after this time, he would always demand of Sir James +Clark, "How long is this _posthumous_ life of mine to last?" On finding +me inflexible in my purpose of remaining with him, he became calm, and +tranquilly said that he was sure why I held up so patiently was owing +to my Christian faith, and that he was disgusted with himself for ever +appearing before me in such savage guise; that he now felt convinced how +much every human being required the support of religion, that he might +die decently. "Here am I," said he, "with desperation in death that +would disgrace the commonest fellow. Now, my dear Severn, I am sure, if +you could get some of the works of Jeremy Taylor to read to me, I might +become _really_ a Christian, and leave this world in peace." Most +fortunately, I was able to procure the "Holy Living and Dying." I read +some passages to him, and prayed with him, and I could tell by the grasp +of his dear hand that his mind was reviving. He was a great lover of +Jeremy Taylor, and it did not seem to require much effort in him to +embrace the Holy Spirit in these comforting works. + +Thus he gained strength of mind from day to day just in proportion as +his poor body grew weaker and weaker. At last I had the consolation of +finding him calm, trusting, and more prepared for his end than I was. He +tranquilly rehearsed to me what would be the process of his dying, what +I was to do, and how I was to _bear it_. He was even minute in his +details, evidently rejoicing that his death was at hand. In all he then +uttered he breathed a simple, Christian spirit; indeed, I always think +that he died a Christian, that "Mercy" was trembling on his dying lips, +and that his tortured soul was received by those Blessed Hands which +could alone welcome it.[A] + +[Footnote A: Whilst this was passing at Rome, another scene of the +tragedy was enacting in London. The violence of the Tory party in +attacking Keats had increased after his leaving England, but he had +found able defenders, and amongst them Mr. John Scott, the editor of +the "Champion," who published a powerful vindication of Keats, with a +denunciation of the party-spirit of his critics. This led to a challenge +from Mr. Scott to Mr. Lockhart, who was then one of the editors of +"Blackwood." The challenge was shifted over to a Mr. Christie, and he +and Mr. Scott fought at Chalk Farm, with the tragic result of the death +of Keats's defender,--and this within a few days of the poet's death at +Rome. The deplorable catastrophe was not without its compensations, for +ever after there was a more chastened feeling in both parties.] + +After the death of Keats, my countrymen in Rome seemed to vie with one +another in evincing the greatest kindness towards me. I found myself in +the midst of persons who admired and encouraged my beautiful pursuit of +painting, in which I was then indeed but a very poor student, but with +my eyes opening and my soul awakening to a new region of Art, and +beginning to feel the wings growing for artistic flights I had always +been dreaming about. + +In all this, however, there was a solitary drawback: there were few +Englishmen at Rome who knew Keats's works, and I could scarcely persuade +any one to make the effort to read them, such was the prejudice against +him as a poet; but when his gravestone was placed, with his own +expressive line, "Here lies one whose name was writ in water," then a +host started up, not of admirers, but of scoffers, and a silly jest was +often repeated in my hearing, "Here lies one whose name was writ in +water, and _his works in milk and water_"; and this I was condemned +to hear for years repeated, as though it had been a pasquinade; but I +should explain that it was from those who were not aware that I was the +friend of Keats. + +At the first Easter after his death I had a singular encounter with the +late venerable poet, Samuel Rogers, at the table of Sir George Beaumont, +the distinguished amateur artist. Perhaps in compliment to my friendship +for Keats, the subject of his death was mentioned by Sir George, and +he asked Mr. Rogers if he had been acquainted with the young poet in +England. Mr. Rogers replied, that he had had more acquaintance than he +liked, for the poems were tedious enough, and the author had come upon +him several times for money. This was an intolerable falsehood, and I +could not restrain myself until I had corrected him, which I did with my +utmost forbearance,--explaining that Sir. Rogers must have mistaken some +other person for Keats,--that I was positive my friend had never done +such a thing in any shape, or even had occasion to do it,--that he +possessed a small independence in money, and _a large one in mind_. + +The old poet received the correction, with much kindness, and thanked +me for so effectually setting him right. Indeed, this encounter was the +groundwork of a long and to me advantageous friendship between us. I +soon discovered that it was the principle of his sarcastic wit not only +to sacrifice all truth to it, but even all his friends, and that he did +not care to know any who would not allow themselves to be abused for +the purpose of lighting up his breakfast with sparkling wit, though +not quite, indeed, at the expense of the persons then present. I well +remember, on one occasion afterwards, Mr. Rogers was entertaining +us with a volley of sarcasms upon a disagreeable lawyer, who made +pretensions to knowledge and standing not to be borne; on this occasion +the old poet went on, not only to the end of the breakfast, but to the +announcement of the very man himself on an accidental visit, and then, +with a bland smile and a cordial shake of the hand, he said to him, +"My dear fellow, we have all been talking about you up to this very +minute,"--and looking at his company still at table, and with a +significant wink, he, with extraordinary adroitness and experienced +tact, repeated many of the good things, reversing the meaning of them, +and giving us the enjoyment of the _double-entendre._ The visitor was +charmed, nor even dreamed of the ugliness of his position. This incident +gave me a painful and repugnant impression of Mr. Rogers, yet no doubt +it was after the manner of his time, and such as had been the fashion in +Walpole's and Johnson's days. + +I should be unjust to the venerable poet not to add, that +notwithstanding what is here related of him, be oftentimes showed +himself the generous and noble-hearted man. I think that in all my long +acquaintance with him he evinced a kind of indirect regret that he had +commenced with me in such an ugly attack on dear Keats, whose fame, +when I went to England in 1838, was not only well established, but was +increasing from day to day, and Mr. Rogers was often at the pains to +tell me so, and to relate the many histories of poets who had been less +fortunate than Keats. + +It was in the year of the Reform Bill, 1830, that I first heard of the +Paris edition (Galignani's) of Keats's works, and I confess that I was +quite taken by surprise, nor could I really believe the report until I +saw the book with the engraved portrait from my own drawing; for, after +all the vicissitudes of Keats's fame which I had witnessed, I could not +easily understand his becoming the poet of "the million." I had now the +continued gratification in Rome of receiving frequent visits from the +admirers of Keats and Shelley, who sought every way of showing kindness +to me. One great cause of this change, no doubt, was the rise of all +kinds of mysticism in religious opinions, which often associated +themselves with Shelley's poetry, and I then for the first time heard +him named as the only really religious poet of the age. To the growing +fame of Keats I can attribute some of the pleasantest and most valuable +associations of my after-life, as it included almost the whole society +of gifted young men at that time called "Young England." Here I may +allude to the extraordinary change I now observed in the manners and +morals of Englishmen generally: the foppish love of dress was in a great +measure abandoned, and all intellectual pursuits were caught up with +avidity, and even made fashionable. + +The most remarkable example of the strange capriciousness of Keats's +fame which fell under my personal observation occurred in my later Roman +years, during the painful visit of Sir Walter Scott to Rome in the +winding-up days of his eventful life, when he was broken down not only +by incurable illness and premature old age, but also by the accumulated +misfortunes of fatal speculations and the heavy responsibility of making +up all with the pen then trembling in his failing hand. + +I had been indirectly made known to him by his favorite ward and +_protégée_, the late Lady Northampton, who, accustomed to write to him +monthly, often made mention of me; for I was on terms of friendship with +all her family, an intimacy which in great part arose from the delight +she always had in Keats's poetry, being herself a poetess, and a most +enlightened and liberal critic. + +When Sir Walter arrived, he received me like an old and attached friend; +indeed, he involuntarily tried to make me fill up the terrible void +then recently created by the death of Lady Northampton at the age of +thirty-seven years. I went at his request to breakfast with him every +morning, when he invariably commenced talking of his lost friend, of her +beauty, her singularly varied accomplishments, of his growing delight in +watching her from a child in the Island of Mull, and of his making her +so often the model of his most successful female characters, the Lady +of the Lake and Flora MacIvor particularly. Then he would stop short to +lament her unlooked-for death with tears and groans of bitterness such +as I had never before witnessed in any one,--his head sinking down on +his heaving breast. When he revived, (and this agonizing scene took +place every morning,) he implored me to pity him, and not heed his +weakness,--that in his great misfortunes, in all their complications, he +had looked forward to Rome and his dear Lady Northampton as his last and +certain hope of repose; she was to be his comfort in the winding-up of +life's pilgrimage: now, on his arrival, his life and fortune almost +exhausted, she was gone! _gone!_ After these pathetic outpourings, he +would gradually recover his old cheerfulness, his expressive gray eye +would sparkle even in tears, and soon that wonderful power he had for +description would show itself, when he would often stand up to enact +the incident of which he spoke, so ardent was he, and so earnest in the +recital. + +Each morning, at his request, I took for his examination some little +picture or sketch that might interest him, and amongst the rest a +picture of Keats, (now in the National Portrait Gallery of London,) but +this I was surprised to find was the only production of mine that seemed +not to interest him; he remained silent about it, but on all the others +he was ready with interesting comments and speculations. Observing this, +and wondering within myself at his apathy with regard to the young lost +poet, as I had reason to be proud of Keats's growing fame, I ventured to +talk about him, and of the extraordinary caprices of that fame, which at +last had found its resting-place in the hearts of _all real lovers of +poetry._ + +I soon perceived that I was touching on an embarrassing theme, and I +became quite bewildered on seeing Miss Scott turn away her face, already +crimsoned with emotion. Sir Walter then falteringly remarked, "Yes, yes, +the world finds out these things _for itself at last,_" and taking my +hand, closed the interview,--our last, for the following night he +was taken seriously ill, and I never saw him again, as his physician +immediately hurried him away from Rome. + +The incomprehensibleness of this scene induced me to mention it on the +same day to Mr. Woodhouse, the active and discriminating friend of +Keats, who had collected every written record of the poet, and to whom +we owe the preservation of many of the finest of his productions. He was +astonished at my recital, and at my being ignorant of the fact that _Sir +Walter Scott was a prominent contributor to the Review which through its +false and malicious criticisms had always been considered to have caused +the death of Keats_. + +My surprise was as great as his at my having lived all those seventeen +years in Rome and been so removed from the great world, that this, a +fact so interesting to me to know, had never reached me. I had been +unconsciously the painful means of disturbing poor old Sir Walter with +a subject so sore and unwelcome that I could only conclude it must have +been the immediate cause of his sudden illness. Nothing could be farther +from my nature than to have been guilty of such seemingly wanton +inhumanity; but I had no opportunity afterwards of explaining the truth, +or of justifying my conduct in any way. + +This was the last striking incident connected with Keats's fame which +fell within my own experience, and perhaps may have been the last, or +one of the last, symptoms of that party-spirit which in the artificial +times of George IV. was so common even among poets in their treatment of +one another,--they assuming to be mere politicians, and striving to be +oblivious of their heart-ennobling pursuit. + +It only remains for me to speak of my return to Rome in 1861, after an +absence of twenty years, and of the favorable change and the enlargement +during that time of Keats's fame,--not as manifested by new editions of +his works, or by the contests of publishers about him, or by the way in +which most new works are illustrated with quotations from him, or by the +fact that some favorite lines of his have passed into proverbs, but by +the touching evidence of his _silent grave_. That grave, which I can +remember as once the object of ridicule, has now become the poetic +shrine of the world's pilgrims who care and strive to live in the happy +and imaginative region of poetry. The head-stone, having twice sunk, +owing to its faulty foundation, has been twice renewed by loving +strangers, and each time, as I am informed, these strangers were +Americans. Here they do not strew flowers, as was the wont of olden +times, but they pluck everything that is green and living on the grave +of the poet. The _Custode_ tells me, that, notwithstanding all his pains +in sowing and planting, he cannot "meet the great consumption." Latterly +an English lady, alarmed at the rapid disappearance of the verdure on +and around the grave, actually left an annual sum to renew it. When the +_Custode_ complained to me of the continued thefts, and asked what he +was to do, I replied, "Sow and plant twice as much; extend the poet's +domain; for, as it was so scanty during his short life, surely it ought +to be afforded to him twofold in his grave." + +Here on my return to Rome, all kinds of happy associations with the poet +surround me, but none so touching as my recent meeting with his sister. +I had known her in her childhood, during my first acquaintance with +Keats, but had never seen her since. I knew of her marriage to a +distinguished Spanish patriot, Señor Llanos, and of her permanent +residence in Spain; but it was reserved for me to have the felicity of +thus accidentally meeting her, like a new-found sister, in Rome. This +city has an additional sacredness for both of us as the closing scene of +her illustrious brother's life, and I am held by her and her charming +family in loving regard as the last faithful friend of the poet. That I +may indulge the pleasures of memory and unite them with the sympathy of +present incidents, I am now engaged on a picture of the poet's grave, +and am treating it with all the picturesque advantages which the antique +locality gives me, as well as the elevated associations which this +poetic shrine inspires. The classic story of Endymion being the subject +of Keats's principal poem, I have introduced a young Roman shepherd +sleeping against the head-stone with his flock about him, whilst the +moon from behind the pyramid illuminates his figure and serves to +realize the poet's favorite theme in the presence of his grave. This +interesting incident is not fanciful, but is what I actually saw on an +autumn evening at Monte Tertanio the year following the poet's death. + + * * * * * + + +A SPASM OF SENSE. + + +The conjunction of amiability and sense in the same individual renders +that individual's position in a world like this very disagreeable. +Amiability without sense, or sense without amiability, runs along +smoothly enough. The former takes things as they are. It receives all +glitter as pure gold, and does not see that it is custom alone which +varnishes wrong with a shiny coat of respectability, and glorifies +selfishness with the aureole of sacrifice. It sets down all collisions +as foreordained, and never observes that they occur because people will +not smooth off their angles, but sharpen them, and not only sharpen +them, but run them into you. It forgets that the Lord made man upright, +but he hath sought out many inventions. It attributes all the confusion +and inaptitude which it finds to the nature of things, and never +suspects that the Devil goes around in the night, thrusting the square +men into the round places, and the round men into the square places. It +never notices that the reason why the rope does not unwind easily is +because one strand is a world too large and another a world too small, +and so it sticks where it ought to roll, and rolls where it ought to +stick. It makes sweet, faint efforts with tender fingers and palpitating +heart to oil the wheels and polish up the machine, and does not for a +moment imagine that the hitch is owing to original incompatibility of +parts and purposes, that the whole machine must be pulled to pieces +and made over, and that nothing will be done by standing patiently by, +trying to soothe away the creaking and wheezing and groaning of the +laboring, lumbering thing, by laying on a little drop of sweet-oil with +a pin-feather. As it does not see any of these things that are happening +before its eyes, of course it is shallowly happy. And on the other hand, +he who does see them and is not amiable is grimly and Grendally happy. +He likes to say disagreeable things, and all this dismay and disaster +scatter disagreeable things broadcast along his path, so that all he +has to do is to pick them up and say them. Therefore this world is his +paradise. He would not know what to do with himself in a world where +matters were sorted and folded and laid away ready for you when you +wanted them. He likes to see human affairs mixing themselves up in +irretrievable confusion. If he detects a symptom of straightening, it +shall go hard but he will thrust in his own fingers and snarl a thread +or two. He is delighted to find dogged duty and eager desire butting +each other. All the irresistible forces crashing against all the +immovable bodies give him no shock, only a pleasant titillation. He is +never so happy as when men are taking hold of things by the blade, and +cutting their hands, and losing blood. He tells them of it, but not in +order to relieve so much as to "aggravate" them; and he does aggravate +them, and is satisfied. Oh, but he is an aggravating person! + +It is you, you who combine the heart of a seraph with the head of a +cherub, who know what trouble is. You see where the shoe pinches, but +your whole soul relucts from pointing out the tender place. You see why +things go wrong, and how they might be set right; but you have a mortal +dread of being thought meddlesome and impertinent, or cold and cruel, +or restless and arrogant, if you attempt to demolish the wrong or rebel +against the custom. When you draw your bow at an abuse, people think you +are trying to bring down religion and propriety and humanity. But your +conscience will not let you see the abuse raving to and fro over the +earth without taking aim; so, either way, you are cut to the heart. + +I love men. I adore women. I value their good opinion. There is much in +them to applaud and imitate. There is much in them to elicit faith and +reverence. If, only, one could see their good qualities alone, or, +seeing their vapid and vicious ones, could contemplate them with no +touch of tenderness for the owner, life might indeed be lovely. As it +is, while I am at one moment rapt in enthusiastic admiration of the +strength and grace, the power and pathos, the hidden resources, the +profound capabilities of my race, at another, I could wish, Nero-like, +that all mankind were concentrated in one person and all womankind +in another, that I might take them, after the fashion of rural +schoolmasters, and shake their heads together. Condemnation and reproach +are not in my line; but there is so much in the world that merits +condemnation and reproach and receives indifference and even reward, +there is so much acquiescence in wrong doing and wrong thinking, so much +letting things jolt along in the same rut wherein we and they were born, +without inquiring whether, lifted into another groove, they might not +run more easily, that, if one who does see the difficulty holds his +peace, the very stones will cry out. However gladly one would lie on +a bed of roses and glide silken-sailed down the stream of life, how +exquisitely painful soever it may be to say what you fear and feel may +give pain, it is only a Sybarite who sets ease above righteousness, only +a coward who misses victory through dread of defeat. + +There are many false ideas afloat regarding womanly duties. I do not +design now to open anew any vulgar, worn-out, woman's-rightsy question. +Every remark that could be made on that theme has been made--but one, +and that I will take the liberty to make now in a single sentence and +close the discussion. It is this: the man who gave rubber-boots to women +did more to elevate woman than all the theorizers, male or female, that +ever were born. + +But without any suspicious lunges into that dubious region which lies +outside of woman's universally acknowledged "sphere," (a blight rest +upon the word!) there is within the pale, within the boundary-line which +the most conservative never dreamed of questioning, room for a great +divergence of ideas. Now divergence of ideas does not necessarily imply +fighting at short range. People may adopt a course of conduct which +you do not approve; yet you may feel it your duty to make no open +animadversion. Circumstances may have suggested such a course to them, +or forced it upon them; and perhaps, considering all things, it is the +best they can do. But when, encouraged by your silence, they publish it +to the world, not only as relatively, but intrinsically, the best and +most desirable,--when, not content with swallowing it themselves as +medicine, they insist on ramming it down your throat as food,--it is +time to buckle on your armor and have at them. + +A little book, published by the Tract Society, called "The Mother and +her Work," has been doing just this thing. It is a modest little book. +It makes no pretensions to literary or other superiority. It has much +excellent counsel, pious reflection, and comfortable suggestion. Being +a little book, it costs but little, and it will console, refresh, and +instruct weary, conscientious mothers, and so have a large circulation, +a wide influence, and do an immense amount of mischief. For the Evil One +in his senses never sends out poison labelled "POISON." He mixes it in +with great quantities of innocent and nutritive flour and sugar. He +shapes it in cunning shapes of pigs and lambs and hearts and birds and +braids. He tints it with gay hues of green and pink and rose, and puts +it in the confectioner's glass windows, where you buy--what? Poison? No, +indeed! Candy, at prices to suit the purchasers. So this good and pious +little book has such a preponderance of goodness and piety that the +poison in it will not be detected, except by chemical analysis. It +will go down sweetly, like grapes of Beulah. Nobody will suspect he +is poisoned; but just so far as it reaches and touches, the social +dyspepsia will be aggravated. + +I submit a few atoms of the poison revealed by careful examination. + +"The mother's is a _most honorable_ calling. 'What a pity that one so +gifted should be so tied down!' remarks a superficial observer, as she +looks upon the mother of a young and increasing family. The pale, thin +face and feeble step, bespeaking the multiplied and wearying cares of +domestic life, elicit an earnest sympathy from the many, thoughtlessly +flitting across her pathway, and the remark passes from mouth to mouth, +'How I pity her! What a shame it is! She is completely worn down with so +many children.' It may be, however, that this young mother is one who +needs and asks no pity," etc. + +"But the _true mother_ yields herself uncomplainingly, yea, cheerfully, +to the wholesome privation, solitude, and self-denial allotted +her.....Was she fond of travelling, of visiting the wonderful in Nature +and in Art, of mingling in new and often-varying scenes? Now she has +found 'an abiding city,' and no allurements are strong enough to tempt +her thence. Had society charms for her, and in the social circle and the +festive throng were her chief delights? Now she stays at home, and the +gorgeous saloon and brilliant assemblage give place to the nursery and +the baby. Was she devoted to literary pursuits? Now the library is +seldom visited, the cherished studies are neglected, the rattle and the +doll are substituted for the pen. Her piano is silent, while she chants +softly and sweetly the soothing lullaby. Her dress can last another +season now, and the hat--oh, she does not care, if it is not in the +latest mode, for she has a baby to look after, and has no time for +herself. Even the ride and the walk are given up, perhaps too often, +with the excuse, 'Baby-tending is exercise enough for me.' Her whole +life is reversed." + +The assumption is that all this is just as it should be. The thoughtless +person may fancy that it is a pity; but it is not a pity. This is +a model mother and a model state of things. It is not simply to be +submitted to, not simply to be patiently borne; it is to be aspired to +as the noblest and holiest state. + +That is the strychnine. You may counsel people to take joyfully the +spoiling of their goods, and comfort, encourage, and strengthen them by +so doing; but when you tell them that to be robbed and plundered is of +itself a priceless blessing, the highest stage of human development, +you do them harm; because, in general, falsehood is always harmful, and +because, in particular, so far as you influence them at all, you prevent +them from taking measures to stop the wrong-doing. You ought to counsel +them to bear with Christian resignation what they cannot help; but you +ought with equal fervor to counsel them to look around and see if there +are not many things which they can help, and if there are, by all means +to help them. What is inevitable comes to us from God, no matter how +many hands it passes through; but submission to unnecessary evils is +cowardice or laziness; and extolling of the evil as good is sheer +ignorance, or perversity, or servility. Even the ills that must be borne +should be borne under protest, lest patience degenerate into slavery. +Christian character is never formed by acquiescence in or apotheosis of +wrong. + +The principle that underlies these extracts, and makes them ministrative +of evil, is the principle that a woman can benefit her children by +sacrificing herself. It teaches, that pale, thin faces and feeble steps +are excellent things in young mothers,--provided they are gained by +maternal duties. We infer that it is meet, right, and the bounden +duty of such to give up society, reading, riding, music, and become +indifferent to dress, cultivation, recreation, to everything, in short, +except taking care of the children. It is all just as wrong as it can +be. It is wrong morally; it is wrong socially; wrong in principle, wrong +in practice. It is a blunder as well as a crime, for it works woe. It is +a wrong means to accomplish an end; and it does not accomplish the end, +after all, but demolishes it. + +On the contrary, the duty and dignity of a mother require that she +should never subordinate herself to her children. When she does so, she +does it to their manifest injury and her own. Of course, if illness or +accident demand unusual care, she does well to grow thin and pale in +bestowing unusual care. But when a mother in the ordinary routine of +life grows thin and pale, gives up riding, reading, and the amusements +and occupations of life, there is a wrong somewhere, and her children +shall reap the fruits of it. The father and mother are the head of the +family, the most comely and the most honorable part. They cannot benefit +their children by descending from their Heaven-appointed places, and +becoming perpetual and exclusive feet and hands. This is the great +fault of American mothers. They swamp themselves in a slough of +self-sacrifice. They are smothered in their own sweetness. They dash +into domesticity with an impetus and abandonment that annihilate +themselves. They sink into their families like a light in a poisonous +well, and are extinguished. + +One hears much complaint of the direction and character of female +education. It is dolefully affirmed that young ladies learn how to sing +operas, but not how to keep house,--that they can conjugate Greek verbs, +but cannot make bread,--that they are good for pretty toying, but not +for homely using. Doubtless there is foundation for this remark, or it +would never have been made. But I have been in the East, and the West, +and the North, and the South; I know that I have seen the best society, +and I am sure I have seen very bad, if not the worst; and I never met a +woman whose superior education, whose piano, whose pencil, whose German, +or French, or any school-accomplishments, or even whose novels, clashed +with her domestic duties. I have read of them in books; I did hear of +one once; but I never met one,--not one. I have seen women, through love +of gossip, through indolence, through sheer famine of mental _pabulum_, +leave undone things that ought to be done,--rush to the assembly, +the lecture-room, the sewing-circle, or vegetate in squalid, shabby, +unwholesome homes; but I never saw education run to ruin. So it seems to +me that we are needlessly alarmed in that direction. + +But I have seen scores and scores of women leave school, leave their +piano and drawing and fancy-work, and all manner of pretty and pleasant +things, and marry and bury themselves. You hear of them about six times +in ten years, and there is a baby each time. They crawl out of the +farther end of the ten years, sallow and wrinkled and lank,--teeth gone, +hair gone, roses gone, plumpness gone,--freshness, and vivacity, and +sparkle, everything that is dewy, and springing, and spontaneous, gone, +gone, gone forever. This our Tract-Society book puts very prettily. "She +wraps herself in the robes of infantile simplicity, and, burying +her womanly nature in the tomb of childhood, patiently awaits the +sure-coming resurrection in the form of a noble, high-minded, +world-stirring son, or a virtuous, lovely daughter. The nursery is the +mother's chrysalis. Let her abide for a little season, and she shall +emerge triumphantly, with ethereal wings and a happy flight." + +But the nursery has no business to be the mother's chrysalis. God never +intended her to wind herself up into a cocoon. If He had, He would have +made her a caterpillar. She has no right to bury her womanly nature in +the tomb of childhood. It will surely be required at her hands. It was +given her to sun itself in the broad, bright day, to root itself fast +and firm in the earth, to spread itself wide to the sky, that her +children in their infancy and youth and maturity, that her husband in +his strength and his weakness, that her kinsfolk and neighbors and the +poor of the land, the halt and the blind and all Christ's little ones, +may sit under its shadow with great delight. No woman has a right to +sacrifice her own soul to problematical, high-minded, world-stirring +sons, and virtuous, lovely daughters. To be the mother of such, one +might perhaps pour out one's life in draughts so copious that the +fountain should run dry; but world-stirring people are extremely rare. +One in a century is a liberal allowance. The overwhelming probabilities +are, that her sons will be lawyers and shoemakers and farmers and +commission-merchants, her daughters nice, "smart," pretty girls, +all good, honest, kind-hearted, commonplace people, not at all +world-stirring, not at all the people one would glory to merge one's +self in. If the mother is not satisfied with this, if she wants them +otherwise, she must be otherwise. The surest way to have high-minded +children is to be high-minded yourself. A man cannot burrow in his +counting-room for ten or twenty of the best years of his life, and come +out as much of a man and as little of a mole as he went in. But the +twenty years should have ministered to his manhood, instead of trampling +on it. Still less can a woman bury herself in her nursery, and come out +without harm. But the years should have done her great good. This world +is not made for a tomb, but a garden. You are to be a seed, not a death. +Plant yourself, and you will sprout. Bury yourself, and you can only +decay. For a dead opportunity there is no resurrection. The only +enjoyment, the only use to be attained in this world, must be attained +on the wing. Each day brings its own happiness, its own benefit; but it +has none to spare. What escapes to-day is escaped forever. To-morrow has +no overflow to atone for the lost yesterdays. + +Few things are more painful to look upon than the self-renunciation, +the self-abnegation of mothers,--painful both for its testimony and its +prophecy. Its testimony is of over-care, over-work, over-weariness, the +abuse of capacities that were bestowed for most sacred uses, an utter +waste of most pure and life-giving waters. Its prophecy is of early +decline and decadence, forfeiture of position and power, and worst, +perhaps, of all, irreparable loss and grievous wrong to the children for +whom all is sacrificed. + +God gives to the mother supremacy in her family. It belongs to her to +maintain it. This cannot be done without exertion. The temptation to +come down from her throne and become a mere hewer of wood, and drawer of +water is very strong. It is so much easier to work with the hands than +with the head. One can chop sticks all day serenely unperplexed. But to +administer a government demands observation and knowledge and judgment +and resolution and inexhaustible patience. Yet, however uneasy lies the +head that wears the crown of womanhood, that crown cannot be bartered +away for any baser wreath without infinite harm. In both cases there +must be sacrifice; but in the one case it is unto death, in the other +unto life. If the mother stands on high ground, she brings her children +up to her own level; if she sinks, they sink with her. + +To maintain her rank, no exertion is too great, no means too small. +Dress is one of the most obvious things to a child. If the mother wears +cheap or shabby or ill-assorted clothes, while the children's are fine +and harmonious, it is impossible that they should not receive the +impression that they are of more consequence than their mother. +Therefore, for her children's sake, if not for her own, the mother +should always be well-dressed. Her baby, so far as it is concerned in +the matter, instead of being an excuse for a faded bonnet, should be an +inducement for a fresh one. It is not a question of riches or poverty; +it is a thing of relations. It is simply that the mother's dress--her +morning and evening and street and church dress--should be quite as good +as, and if there is any difference, better than her child's. It is of no +manner of consequence how a child is clad, provided only its health be +not injured, its taste corrupted, or its self-respect wounded. Children +look prettier in the cheapest and simplest materials than in the richest +and most elaborate. But how common is it to see the children gayly +caparisoned in silk and feathers and flounces, while the mother is +enveloped in an atmosphere of cottony fadiness! One would take the child +to be mistress and the mother a servant. "But," the mother says, "I +do not care for dress, and Caroline does. She, poor child, would be +mortified not to be dressed like the other children." Then do you teach +her better. Plant in her mind a higher standard of self-respect. Don't +tell her you cannot afford to do for her thus and thus; that will +scatter premature thorns along her path; but say that you do not approve +of it; it is proper for her to dress in such and such a way. And be so +nobly and grandly a woman that she shall have faith in you. + +It is essential also that the mother have sense, intelligence, +comprehension. + +As much as she can add of education and accomplishments will increase +her stock in trade. Her reading and riding and music, instead of being +neglected for her children's sake, should for their sake be scrupulously +cultivated. Of the two things, it is a thousand times better that they +should be attended by a nurserymaid in their infancy than by a feeble, +timid, inefficient matron in their youth. The mother can oversee half +a dozen children with a nurse; but she needs all her strength, all +her mind, her own eyes, and ears, and quick perceptions, and delicate +intuition, and calm self-possession, when her sturdy boys and wild young +girls are leaping and bounding and careering into their lusty life. All +manner of novel temptations beset them,--perils by night and perils by +day,--perils in the house and by the way. Their fierce and hungry young +souls, rioting in awakening consciousness, ravening for pleasure, strong +and tumultuous, snatch eagerly at every bait. They want then a mother +able to curb, and guide, and rule them; and only a mother who commands +their respect can do this. Let them see her sought for her social +worth,--let them see that she is familiar with all the conditions +of their life,--that her vision is at once broader and keener than +theirs,--that her feet have travelled along the paths they are just +beginning to explore,--that she knows all the phases alike of their +strength and their weakness,--and her influence over them is unbounded. +Let them see her uncertain, uncomfortable, hesitating, fearful without +discrimination, leaning where she ought to support, interfering without +power of suggesting, counselling, but not controlling, with no presence, +no bearing, no experience, no prestige, and they will carry matters with +a high hand. They will overrule her decisions, and their love will not +be unmingled with contempt. It will be strong enough to prick them when +they have done wrong, but not strong enough to keep them from doing +wrong. + +Nothing gives a young girl such vantage-ground in society and in life as +a mother,--a sensible, amiable, brilliant, and commanding woman. Under +the shelter of such a mother's wing, the neophyte is safe. This mother +will attract to herself the wittiest and the wisest. The young girl can +see society in its best phases, without being herself drawn out into +its glare. She forms her own style on the purest models. She gains +confidence, without losing modesty. Familiar with wisdom, she will not +be dazed by folly. Having the opportunity to make observations before +she begins to be observed, she does not become the prey of the weak and +the wicked. Her taste is strengthened and refined, her standard elevates +itself, her judgment acquires a firm basis. But cast upon her own +resources, her own blank inexperience, at her first entrance into the +world, with nothing to stand between her and what is openly vapid and +covertly vicious, with no clear eye to detect for her the false and +distinguish the true, no strong, firm, judicious hand to guide tenderly +and undeviatingly, to repress without irritating and encourage without +emboldening, what wonder that the peach-bloom loses its delicacy, +deepening into _rouge_ or hardening into brass, and the happy young life +is stranded on a cruel shore? + +Hence it follows that our social gatherings consist, to so lamentable +an extent, of pert youngsters or faded oldsters. Thence come those +abominable "young people's parties," where a score or two or three of +boys and girls meet and manage after their own hearts. Thence it happens +that conversation seems to be taking its place among the Lost Arts, and +the smallest of small talk reigns in its stead. Society, instead of +giving its tone to the children, takes it from them, and since it cannot +be juvenile, becomes insipid, and because it is too old to prattle, +jabbers. Talkers are everywhere, but where are the men that say things? +Where are the people that can be listened to and quoted? Where are the +flinty people whose contact strikes fire? Where are the electric people +who thrill a whole circle with sudden vitality? Where are the strong +people who hedge themselves around with their individuality, and will be +roused by no prince's kiss, but taken only by storm, yet, once captured, +are sweeter than the dews of Hymettus? Where are the seers, the +prophets, the Magi, who shall unfold for us the secrets of the sky and +the seas, and the mystery of human hearts? + +Yet fathers and mothers not only acquiesce in this state of things, +they approve of it. They foster it. They are forward to annihilate +themselves. They are careful to let their darlings go out alone, lest +they be a restraint upon them,--as if that were not what parents were +made for. If they were what they ought to be, the restraint would be +not only wholesome, but impalpable. The relation between parents and +children should be such that pleasure shall not be quite perfect, unless +shared by both. Parents ought to take such a tender, proud, intellectual +interest in the pursuits and amusements of their children that the +children shall feel the glory of the victory dimmed, unless their +parents are there to witness it. If the presence of a sensible mother is +felt as a restraint, it shows conclusively that restraint is needed. + +A woman also needs self-cultivation, both physical and mental, in order +to self-respect. Undoubtedly Diogenes glorified himself in his tub. But +people in general, and women in universal, except the geniuses,--need +the pomp of circumstance. A slouchy garb is both effect and cause of +a slouchy mind. A woman who lets go her hold upon dress, literature, +music, amusement, will almost inevitably slide down into a bog of muggy +moral indolence. She will lose her spirit; and when the spirit is +gone out of a woman, there is not much left of her. When she cheapens +herself, she diminishes her value. Especially when the evanescent charms +of mere youth are gone, when the responsibilities of life have left +their mark upon her, is it indispensable that she attend to all the +fitnesses of externals, and strengthen and polish all her mental +and social qualities. By this I do not mean that women should allow +themselves to lose their beauty as they increase in years. Men grow +handsomer as they grow older. There is no reason, there ought to be no +reason, why women should not. They will have a different kind of beauty, +but it will be just as truly beauty and more impressive and attractive +than the beauty of sixteen. It is absurd to suppose that God has made +women so that their glory passes away in half a dozen years. It is +absurd to suppose that thought and feeling and passion and purpose, +all holy instincts and impulses, can chisel away on a woman's face for +thirty, forty, fifty years, and leave that face at the end worse than +they found it. They found it a negative,--mere skin and bone, blood and +muscle and fat. They can but leave their mark upon it, and the mark of +good is good. Pity does not have the same finger-touch as revenge. Love +does not hold the same brush as hatred. Sympathy and gratitude and +benevolence have a different sign-manual from cruelty and carelessness +and deceit. All these busy little sprites draw their fine lines, lay +on their fine colors; the face lights up under their tiny hands; the +prisoned soul shines clearer and clearer through, and there is the +consecration and the poet's dream. + +But such beauty is made, not born. Care and weariness and despondency +come of themselves, and groove their own furrows. Hope and intelligence +and interest and buoyancy must be wooed for their gentle and genial +touch. A mother must battle against the tendencies that drag her +downward. She must take pains to grow, or she will not grow. She +must sedulously cultivate her mind and heart, or her old age will be +ungraceful; and if she lose freshness without acquiring ripeness, she is +indeed in an evil case. The first, the most important trust which God +has given to any one is himself. To secure this trust, He has made us so +that in no possible way can we benefit the world so much as by making +the most of ourselves. Indulging our whims, or, inordinately, our just +tastes, is not developing ourselves; but neither is leaving our own +fields to grow thorns and thistles, that we may plant somebody else's +garden-plot, keeping our charge. Even were it possible for a mother to +work well to her children in thus working ill to herself, I do not think +she would be justified in doing it. Her account is not complete when she +says, "Here are they whom thou hast given me." She must first say, "Here +am I." But when it is seen that suicide is also child-murder, it must +appear that she is under doubly heavy bonds for herself. + +Husbands, moreover, have claims, though wives often ignore them. It +is the commonest thing in the world to see parents tender of their +children's feelings, alive to their wants, indulgent to their tastes, +kind, considerate, and forbearing, but to each other hasty, careless, +and cold. Conjugal love often seems to die out before parental love. +It ought not so to be. Husband and wife should each stand first in the +other's estimation. They have no right to forget each other's comfort, +convenience, sensitiveness, tastes, or happiness in those of their +children. Nothing can discharge them from the obligations which they are +under to each other. But if a woman lets herself become shabby, drudgy, +and commonplace as a wife, in her efforts to be perfect as a mother, can +she expect to retain the consideration that is due to the wife? Not a +man in the world but would rather see his wife tidy, neat, and elegant +in her attire, easy and assured in her bearing, intelligent and +vivacious in her talk, than the contrary; and if she neglect these +things, ought she to be surprised, if he turns to fresh woods and +pastures new for the diversion and entertainment which he seeks in vain +at home? This is quaky ground, but I know where I am, and I am not +afraid. I don't expect men or women to say that they agree with me, but +I am right for all that. Let us bring our common sense to bear on this +point, and not be fooled by reiteration. Cause and effect obtain here as +elsewhere. If you add two and two, the result is four, however much +you may try to blink it. People do not always tell lies, when they are +telling what is not the truth; but falsehood is still disastrous. +Men and women think they believe a thousand things which they do not +believe; but as long as they think so, it is just as bad as if it +were so. Men talk--and women listen and echo--about the overpowering +loveliness and charm of a young mother surrounded by her blooming +family, ministering to their wants and absorbed in their welfare, +self-denying and self-forgetful; and she is lovely and charming; but +if this is all, it is little more than the charm and loveliness of a +picture. It is not magnetic and irresistible. It has the semblance, but +not the smell of life. It is pretty to look at, but it is not vigorous +for command. Her husband will have a certain kind of admiration and +love. Her wish will be law within a certain very limited sphere; but +beyond that he will not take her into his counsels and confidence. A +woman must make herself obvious to her husband, or he will drift out +beyond her horizon. She will be to him very nearly what she wills and +works to be. If she adapts herself to her children and does not adapt +herself to her husband, he will fall into the arrangement, and the two +will fall apart. I do not mean that they will quarrel, but they will +lead separate lives. They will be no longer husband and wife. There will +be a domestic alliance, but no marriage. A predominant interest in +the same objects binds them together after a fashion; but marriage is +something beyond that. If a woman wishes and purposes to be the friend +of her husband,--if she would be valuable to him, not simply as the +nurse of his children and the directress of his household, but as a +woman fresh and fair and fascinating, to him intrinsically lovely and +attractive, she should make an effort for it. It is not by any means +a thing that comes of itself, or that can be left to itself. She must +read, and observe, and think, and rest up to it. Men, as a general +thing, will not tell you so. They talk about having the slippers ready, +and enjoin women to be domestic. But men are blockheads,--dear, and +affectionate, and generous blockheads,--benevolent, large-hearted, and +chivalrous,--kind, and patient, and hard-working,--but stupid where +women are concerned. Indispensable and delightful as they are in real +life, pleasant and comfortable as women actually find them, not one in +ten thousand but makes a dunce of himself the moment he opens his mouth +to theorize about women. Besides, they have an axe to grind. The +pretty things they inculcate--slippers, and coffee, and care, and +courtesy--ought indeed to be done, but the others ought not to be left +undone. And to the former women seldom need to be exhorted. They take to +them naturally. A great many more women bore boorish husbands with +fond little attentions than wound appreciative ones by neglect. Women +domesticate themselves to death already. What they want is cultivation. +They need to be stimulated to develop a large, comprehensive, catholic +life, in which their domestic duties shall have an appropriate niche, +and not dwindle down to a narrow and servile one, over which those +duties shall spread and occupy the whole space. + +This mistake is the foundation of a world of wretchedness and ruin. I +can see Satan standing at the mother's elbow. He follows her around into +the nursery and the kitchen. He tosses up the babies and the omelets, +delivers dutiful harangues about the inappropriateness of the piano +and the library, and grins fiendishly in his sleeve at the wreck he is +making,--a wreck not necessarily of character, but of happiness; for I +suppose Satan has so bad a disposition, that, if he cannot do all the +harm he would wish, he will still do all he can. It is true that there +are thousands of noble men married to fond and foolish women, and they +are both happy. Well, the fond and foolish women are very fortunate. +They have fallen into hands that will entreat them tenderly, and they +will not perceive that anything is kept back. Nor are the noble men +wholly unfortunate, in that they have not taken to their hearths shrews. +But this is not marriage. + +There are women less foolish. They see their husbands attracted in other +directions more often and more easily than in theirs. They have too much +sterling worth and profound faith to be vulgarly jealous. They fear +nothing like shame or crime; but they feel the fact that their own +preoccupation with homely household duties precludes real companionship; +the interchange of emotions, thoughts, sentiments, a living and palpable +and vivid contact of mind with mind, of heart with heart. They see +others whose leisure ministers to grace, accomplishments, piquancy, and +attractiveness, and the moth flies towards the light by his own nature. +Because he is a wise and virtuous and honorable moth, he does not dart +into the flame. He does not even scorch his wings. He never thinks of +such a thing. He merely circles around the pleasant light, sunning +himself in it without much thought one way or another, only feeling +that it is pleasant; but meanwhile Mrs. Moth sits at home in darkness, +mending the children's clothes, which is not exhilarating. Many a woman +who feels that she possesses her husband's affection misses something. +She does not secure his fervor, his admiration. His love is honest and +solid, but a little dormant, and therefore dull. It does not brace, and +tone, and stimulate. She wants not the love only, but the keenness and +edge and flavor of the love; and she suffers untold pangs. I know it, +for I have seen it. It is not a thing to be uttered. Most women do +not admit it even to themselves; but it is revealed by a lift of the +eyelash, by a quiver of the eye, by a tone of the voice, by a trick of +the finger. + +But what is the good of saying all this, if a woman cannot help herself? +The children must be seen to, and the work must be done, and after that +she has no time left. The "mother of a young and increasing family," +with her "pale, thin face and feeble step," and her "multiplied and +wearying cares," is "completely worn down with so many children." She +has neither time nor spirit for self-culture, beyond what she may obtain +in the nursery. What satisfaction is there in proving that she is far +below where she ought to be, if inexorable circumstance prevent her from +climbing higher? What use is there in telling her that she will alienate +her husband and injure her children by her course, when there is no +other course for her to pursue? What can she do about it? + +There is one thing that she need not do. She need not sit down and write +a book, affirming that it is the most glorious and desirable condition +imaginable. She need not lift up her voice and declare that "she lives +above the ills and disquietudes of her condition, in an atmosphere of +love and peace and pleasure far beyond the storms and conflicts of this +material life." Who ever heard of the mother of a young and increasing +family living in an atmosphere of peace, not to say pleasure, above +conflicts and storms? Who does not know that the private history of +every family with the ordinary allowance of brains is a record of +incessant internecine warfare? If she said less, we might believe her. +When she says so much, we cannot help suspecting. To make the best of +anything, it is not necessary to declare that it is the best thing. +Children must be taken care of, but it is altogether probable that there +are too many of them. Some people think that opinion several times more +atrocious than murder in the first degree; but I see no atrocity in it, +and there is none. I think there is an immense quantity of nonsense +about, regarding this thing. For my part, I don't credit half of it. I +believe in Malthus,--a great deal more than Malthus did himself. The +prosperity of a country is often measured by its population; but quite +likely it should be taken in inverse ratio. I certainly do not see why +the mere multiplication of the species is so indicative of prosperity. +Mobs are not so altogether lovely that one should desire their +indefinite increase. A village is honorable, not according to the +number, but the character of its residents. The drunkards and the +paupers and the thieves and the idiots rather diminish than increase its +respectability. It seems to me that the world would be greatly benefited +by thinning out. Most of the places that I have seen would be much +improved by being decimated, not to say quinqueted or bisected. If +people are stubborn and rebellious, stiff-necked and uncircumcised, +in heart and ears, the fewer of them the better. A small population, +trained to honor and virtue, to liberality of culture and breadth of +view, to self-reliance and self-respect, is a thousand times better than +an overcrowded one with everything at loose ends. As with the village, +so with the family. There ought to be no more children than can be +healthily and thoroughly reared, as regards the moral, physical, and +intellectual nature both of themselves and their parents. All beyond +this is wrong and disastrous. I know of no greater crime, than to give +life to souls, and then degrade them, or suffer them to be degraded. +Children are the poor man's blessing and Cornelia's jewels, just so long +as Cornelia and the poor man can make adequate provision for them. But +the ragged, filthy, squalid, unearthly little wretches that wallow +before the poor man's shanty-door are the poor man's shame and curse. +The sickly, sallow, sorrowful little ones, shadowed too early by life's +cares, are something other than a blessing. When Cornelia finds her +children too many for her, when her step trembles and her cheek fades, +when the sparkle flats out of her wine of life and her salt has lost its +savor, her jewels are Tarpeian jewels. One child educated by healthy and +happy parents is better than seven dragging their mother into the grave, +notwithstanding the unmeasured reprobation of our little book. Of +course, if they can stand seven, very well. Seven and seventy times +seven, if you like, only let them be buds, not blights. If we obeyed the +laws of God, children would be like spring blossoms. They would impart +as much freshness and strength as they abstract. They are a natural +institution, and Nature is eminently healthy. But when they "come +crowding into the home-nest," as our book daintily says, they are a +nuisance. God never meant the home-nest to be crowded. There is room +enough and elbow-room enough in this world for everything that ought to +be in it. The moment there is crowding, you may be sure something wrong +is going on. Either a bad thing is happening, or too much of a good +thing, which counts up just the same. The parents begin to repair +the evil by a greater one. They attempt to patch their own rents by +dilapidating their children. They recruit their own exhausted energies +by laying hold of the young energies around them, and older children are +bored, and fretted, and deformed in figure and temper by the care +of younger children. This is horrible. Some care and task and +responsibility are good for a child's own development; but every care, +every toil, every atom of labor that is laid upon children beyond +what is solely the best for their own character is intolerable and +inexcusable oppression. Parents have no right to lighten their own +burdens by imposing them upon the children. The poor things had nothing +to do with being born. They came into the world without any volition of +their own. Their existence began only to serve the pleasure or the pride +of others. It was a culpable cruelty, in the first place, to introduce +them into a sphere where no adequate provision could be made for their +comfort and culture; but to shoulder them, after they get here, with +the load which belongs to their parents is outrageous. Earth is not a +paradise at best, and at worst it is very near the other place. The +least we can do is to make the way as smooth as possible for the +new-comers. There is not the least danger that it will be too smooth. +If you stagger under the weight which you have imprudently assumed, +stagger. But don't be such an unutterable coward and brute as to +illumine your own life by darkening the young lives which sprang from +yours. I often wonder that children do not open their mouths and curse +the father that begat and the mother that bore them. I often wonder that +parents do not tremble lest the cry of the children whom they oppress go +up into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and bring down wrath upon +their guilty heads. It was well that God planted filial affection and +reverence as an instinct in the human breast. If it depended upon +reason, it would have but a precarious existence. + +I wish women would have the sense and courage--I will not say, to +say what they think, for that is not always desirable--but to think +according to the facts. They have a strong desire to please men, which +is quite right and natural; but in their eagerness to do this, they +sometimes forget what is due to themselves. To think namby-pambyism for +the sake of pleasing men is running benevolence into the ground. Not +that women consciously do this, but they do it. They don't mean to +pander to false masculine notions, but they do. They don't know that +they are pandering to them, but they are. Men say silly things, partly +because they don't know any better, and partly because they don't want +any better. They are strong, and can generally make shift to bear their +end of the pole without being crushed. So they are tolerably content. +They are not very much to blame. People cannot be expected to start on +a crusade against ills of which they have but a vague and cloudy +conception. The edge does not cut them, and so they think it is not much +of a sword after all. But women have, or ought to have, a more subtile +and intimate acquaintance with realities. They ought to know what is +fact and what is fol-de-rol. They ought to distinguish between the +really noble and the simply physical, not to say faulty. If men do not, +it is women's duty to help them. I think, if women would only not be +quite so afraid of being thought unwomanly, they would be a great +deal more womanly than they are. To be brave, and single-minded, and +discriminating, and judicious, and clear-sighted, and self-reliant, and +decisive, that is pure womanly. To be womanish is not to be womanly. To +be flabby, and plastic, and weak, and acquiescent, and insipid, is not +womanly. And I could wish sometimes that women would not be quite +so patient. They often exhibit a degree of long-suffering entirely +unwarrantable. There is no use in suffering, unless you cannot help it; +and a good, stout, resolute protest would often be a great deal more +wise, and Christian, and beneficial on all sides, than so much patient +endurance. A little spirit and "spunk" would go a great way towards +setting the world right. It is not necessary to be a termagant. The +firmest will and the stoutest heart may be combined with the gentlest +delicacy. Tameness is not the stuff that the finest women are made of. +Nobody can be more kind, considerate, or sympathizing towards weakness +or weariness than men, if they only know it exists; and it is a wrong to +them to go on bolstering them up in their bungling opinions, when a few +sensible ideas, wisely administered, would do so much to enlighten them, +and reveal the path which needs only to be revealed to secure their +unhesitating entrance upon it. It is absurd to suppose that unvarying +acquiescence is necessary to secure and retain their esteem, and that a +frank avowal of differing opinions, even if they were wrong, would work +its forfeiture. A respect held on so frail a tenure were little worth. +But it is not so. I believe that manhood and womanhood are too truly +harmonious to need iron bands, too truly noble to require the props of +falsehood. Truth, simple and sincere, without partiality and without +hypocrisy, is the best food for both. If any are to be found on either +side too weak to administer or digest it, the remedy is not to mix it +with folly or falsehood, for they are poisons, but to strengthen the +organisms with wholesome tonics,--not undiluted, perhaps, but certainly +unadulterated. + +O Edmund Sparkler, you builded better than you knew, when you reared +eulogiums upon the woman with no nonsense about her! + + + + +MY SHIP. + + + Mist on the shore, and dark on the sand, + The chilly gulls swept over my head, + When a stately ship drew near the land,-- + Onward in silent grace she sped. + + Lonely, I threw but a coward's glance + Upon the brave ship tall and free, + Joyfully dancing her mystic dance, + As if skies were blue and smooth the sea. + + I breathed the forgotten odors of Spain, + Remembered my castles so far removed, + For they brought the distant faith again + That one who loves shall be beloved. + + Then the goodly galleon suddenly + Dropped anchor close to the barren strand, + And various cargoes, all for me, + Laid on the bosom of my land. + + O friend! her cargoes were thy love, + The stately ship thy presence fair; + Her pointed sails, like wings above, + Shall fill with praises and with prayer. + + * * * * * + + +BETROTHAL BY PROXY: A ROMANCE OF GENEALOGY. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Ye who listen with impatience to the Reports of Historical Societies and +have hitherto neglected to subscribe to an Antiquarian Journal, ye who +imagine that there can be no intelligent and practical reply to the +_cui bono?_ shake of the head which declines to supply the funds for a +genealogical investigation, attend to the history of my adventure in +Foxden. + +There!--I like to begin with the Moral; for no sensible man will leave +the point and purpose of his testimony to the languid curiosity of a +spent reader. Dr. Johnson never did so; and who am I to question his +literary infallibility? So if you do not take kindly to the solemn +rumble of the Johnsonese mail-coach of a sentence in which we set out, +receive the purport of it thus: It is of advantage to be on good terms +with one's ancestors: Also; men absorbed in this practical present may +be all the better for a little counter irritation with the driest twigs +of the family-tree. + +And now, _Why did I marry Miss Hurribattle?_ I am sure I had no +intention of doing so. In the first place, when about eighteen years of +age, I had firmly determined never to marry anybody. Then there were so +many nice _tea-ing_ families in the Atlantic city whose principal street +was decorated by my modest counsellor's sign, that I really must excuse +the rather unpleasant wonder of several friends at my out-of-the-way +selection. That a somewhat experienced advocate, who had resisted for +three years the fascinations of city belle-ship, should spend the legal +vacation in a visit to an old gentleman he never saw before, and return +affianced to a lady nobody had ever heard of,--I own there was something +temptingly discussible in the circumstance; and knowing that fine relish +for personal topics which distinguishes the American _conversazione_, +how could I hope to escape? At first, it was a little awkward, when I +went to a party, to see people who were talking together glance at me +and murmur on with increased interest. Sometimes, when the wave of talk +retreated a little, I would catch the prattle of some retiring rill to +this effect: "But who are these Hurribattles? What an odd name! I wonder +if that had anything to do with it." + +The querist, whoever he or she might be, had unconsciously struck upon +the explanation of the whole matter. Yes, it was the name: it had a +great deal to do with it. And if you will allow me to step back a little +into the past, and thence begin over again in good storyteller fashion, +I will endeavor to make you understand how it all came about. + +If I were obliged to designate in one word the profession and calling +of Colonel Prowley of Foxden, I should say he was a _Correspondent_. Of +course I do not mean a regular newspaper-correspondent, paid to concoct +letters from Paris in the office of the "Foxden Regulator"; nor yet the +amateur ditto, who is never tired of making family-tours to the White +Mountains. But rather was he a gentleman, with an immense epistolary +acquaintance all over the country, whose main business in life consisted +in writing letters to all sorts of persons in a great variety of places. +And this he did as his particular contribution towards the solution +of this question: What in the world--or rather, what in the United +States--is a man to do who accumulates sufficient property to relieve +him from the necessities of active business? The answers offered to this +inquiry of the Democratic Sphinx are, as we all know, various enough. +Some men, of ready assurance and fluent speech, go into politics; some +doze in libraries; some get up trotting-matches and yacht-races; while +others dodge the difficulty altogether by going to disport themselves +among the arts and letters of a foreign land. Colonel Prowley, +with considerable originality, was moved to find employment in +_letter-writing_, pursuing it with the same daily relish which many +people find for gossip or small-talk. And this is the way in which I +came to be favored with the good gentleman's communications. About three +years ago a friend in England procured for me a book that I had long +coveted,--Morton's "New English Canaan," printed at Amsterdam in the +year 1637. This little volume, after the novelty of a fresh perusal was +past, I happened to lend to a young gentleman of our boarding-house, who +prepared short notices of books for one of the evening papers. He, it +would appear, thought that some account of my acquisition might supply +the matter for his diurnal paragraph. At all events, I received, some +days after, a letter dated from Foxden, and bearing the signature of +Elijah Prowley. It was couched in the old-fashioned style of compliment +and excuses for the liberty taken,--which liberty consisted in +requesting to have a fac-simile made of a certain page of a work that he +had traced through a newspaper-article to my possession. The object, he +said, was to supply the deficiency in a copy of the "Canaan" that had a +place in his own library. Of course the request was complied with, and +the correspondence begun. + +The Colonel, to do him justice, wrote very entertaining letters, despite +the somewhat antiquated phraseology in which his sentiments were +clothed. Indeed, I soon found in his epistles all the variety of the +_grab-bag_ at a country-fair, in which the purchaser of the right of +_grab_ fumbles with pleasing uncertainty as to whether he is to draw +forth a hymn-book or a shaving-brush, a packet of note-paper or a box +of patent polish for stoves. At one time he would communicate the +particulars of some antiquarian discovery at Foxden; at another he would +copy for me the weekly bill of the town mortality, or journalize the +parish quarrels about the repairs of the stove-funnel in Mr. Clifton's +church. + +I was well pleased to find that the little notes of acknowledgment +which I despatched after the receipt of these leviathans seemed to +be considered a sufficient representation of capital to justify the +enormous rate of epistolary interest which the Colonel bestowed. I liked +the style of my correspondent. It did me good to meet with the strong +old expressions of our ancestors that were turning up in unexpected +places. If the dear old phrases were sometimes better or worse than the +fact they expressed, they must have improved what was good, and gibbeted +more effectually what to the times seemed evil. Who would now think of +designating a parcel of serious savages "the praying Indians of Natick"? +And yet there is a sound and a power about the words that would go far +to convert the skeptical aborigines in their own despite. Why, there +was something rich and nervous in the talk of the very lawmakers. "The +accursed sect of the Quakers,"--what a fine spirit such an accusative +case gives to the dry formula of a legal enactment! the beat of the drum +by which the edict was proclaimed in the streets of Boston seems only an +appropriate accompaniment to so stirring a denunciation. Then to invite +a brother to "exercise prophecy,"--as Winthrop used to call the business +of preaching,--there is really something soul-invigorating in the very +sound. No wonder the people could stand a good two-hours' discourse +under so satisfactory a title! + +I suppose, then, that much of my original relish for the communications +of my Foxden correspondent came from his mastery over the antique +glossary, and perhaps the rather ancient style of thought that fitted +well the method of conveyance. Indeed, a good course of Bishop +Copleston's "magic-lanthorn school" made me peculiarly susceptible to +the refreshment of changing the gorgeous haze of modern philosophers for +the sharpness and vitality with which old-fashioned people clothe such +ideas as are vouchsafed to them. + +I soon found that my friend had that passion for what may be called +petty antiquarian research which is so puzzling to those who escape its +contagion. Also that a pride of family, that lingers persistently in +some parts of New England, seemed to concentrate itself and envelop him +as in a cloud. He had attained the age of sixty a bachelor,--perhaps +from finding no person in Foxden of sufficiently clear lineage to be +united with the Squire's family,--or perhaps because he had a sister, +five years older than himself, who fulfilled the duties of companion and +housekeeper. + +How strange a sensation it is to feel a real friendship and familiarity +with one we have never seen! Yet if people are drawn together by those +mysterious affinities which, like the daughters of the horse-leech, are +ever crying, "Give, give," a few bits of paper bridge over space well +enough, and enable us to recognize abroad the scattered fragments that +complete ourselves. + +The Colonel studied up my ancestors, who, it appears, were once people +of sufficient consideration in the land, and finally transferred the +interest to myself. At one time he took the trouble to go down to +Branton, about forty miles from Foxden, for the purpose of verifying +inquiries about progenitors of mine who had originally settled in that +place. He advised me, as a son, in my reading and business; and although +I often dismissed his suggestions as the whims of an old-fashioned +recluse, I was always touched by the simplicity and sincere interest +that prompted them. He would mysteriously hint that something might one +day occur to give tangible proof of the regard in which he held me; but +as I paid little heed to such warnings, I was totally unprepared for the +plan developed in the letter of which an extract is here presented:-- + +"Concerning the propriety of your marrying, my dear young friend, my +sister and myself have long known but one opinion; the only difficulty +that has exercised us being, whom, among my divers correspondents, we +could most heartily commend to your selection. Now it is known to you +that I have striven for some time past to trace the descendants of the +old family of Hurribattel, who seem to have disappeared from Branton +about the year ten in the present century. The interest I have taken in +the research comes from the fact that your great-great-uncle appears +at one time to have been affianced to a lady of that family. For what +reason an alliance which had everything to recommend it was broken off +I have sorely puzzled myself to conjecture, but linger always in the +labyrinths of doubt. Some months ago I received a catalogue from the +Soggimarsh College in the Far West, to whose funds I had contributed a +modest subscription. I was thrown into an ecstasy of astonishment, when, +in glancing over the names of the honorable Faculty, my attention was +arrested by words to this effect: _Miss Hurribattle, Professor of +Calisthenics and Female Deportment_. Of course, I wrote to her +immediately, and received right cordial replies to all inquiries. She +seemed much interested in the union of the families that was formerly +contemplated, and much desires to see you as the representative of your +great-great-uncle. I need only add, that, so far as may be judged by the +happy vein of her correspondence, she has at present no ensnarement +of the heart, and has agreed to pay me a visit at Foxden the first of +August next, when, by reason of the vacation, she will be at liberty for +five weeks. Your own visit to me, so often postponed, is, as I believe, +definitively fixed for the same time. So I expect you both, and need not +enlarge on the strange delight it would give me, if a family-engagement +of seventy years' standing should be closed by a marriage beneath my +roof." + +There was something so preposterous in this desperate match-making +between people whom they had never seen, that Colonel Prowley and +his sister had taken into their hands, that it really made a greater +impression upon me than if the parties had been less unlikely to +come together. A Professor of Calisthenics! Could anything be more +unpromising? Yet, when my friend copied for me some extracts from the +lady's letters that were sensible and feminine, I thought how odd it +would be, if something should come of it, after all. I often found +myself skipping Colonel Prowley's accounts of old Doctor Dastick, Mrs. +Hunesley, and other great people of his town, and pondering upon the +notices of his Western correspondent. I began to have a mysterious +presentiment--which, in view of the calisthenics, I could not +explain--that we might be not unadapted to each other. In any case, +the lady's fine family-name was a recommendation that I knew how to +appreciate. They have very young professors out West, I thought, and +this is merely a temporary position; besides, I had a friend who married +a female physician, and the match has turned out a very happy one. So +I played with the idea, half in jest and half seriously, and looked +forward with much interest to my visit to Foxden. + + +CHAPTER II + + +It was near noon, on an August day, when the train left me at the Foxden +station. Upon casting my eyes about to see what was to be done next, +I observed a very shabby and rickety carryall, with the legend +"Railway-Omnibus" freshly painted upon its side. + +"It is better than a mile and a half up to Colonel Prowley's; but I +calculate I can take you there, after I've left this lady," responded +the proprietor of this turnout, in reply to a question of mine. + +"But I want to go to Colonel Prowley's, too," said a feminine voice at +my side. + +"Well, now that's _com_plete," acquiesced the driver. "I'll just go get +the baggage, and put you both through right away." + +Of course I turned to view my companion. She was a middle-aged +lady, something disordered in dress and hair, with a sharply marked +countenance, and that diffusive sort of eye that seems to take one in as +a speck which breaks the view of more interesting objects lying on the +verge of the horizon. Yet her face was dimpled by those indescribable +changing lines which indicate that a cessation of impulse has not marked +the wearer's retreat from youth, and make us feel anew how blessed a +thing it is for the character to keep our impulses strong within us, and +to be strong ourselves in their restraint. + +I was doubting whether to begin those little shivers and sidelings with +which people who feel that they ought to be acquainted, but have nobody +to introduce them, endeavor to supply the deficiency, when the lady +abruptly pronounced my name, and inquired if I responded thereto. + +"I thought it must be you," she said, on being satisfied regarding my +identity, "for the Colonel wrote me that he expected you about this +time. I feel we shall become friends. I am Miss Hurribattle." + +Although I had a strong suspicion who it must be, yet a cold surprise +seemed to run through me, when the dire certainty so suddenly declared +itself. I dropped my carpet-bag, as if all my daintily built castles +were in it, and it was best to crush them to pieces at once and have it +over. I pondered, and helped tie a bandbox on behind the vehicle, and +after some time found myself in the carryall staring at the felt hat +of the driver an inch or two before my nose, and Miss Hurribattle +established by my side. It occurred to me that it was my place to resume +the conversation, and, in a sudden spasm of originality, I changed a +remark respecting the beauty of the day into an observation on the +steepness of the hill we began to ascend. + +"It is very steep," assented the lady, "and I have a particular +objection to riding up-hill: it always appears to me I am helping the +horses draw. However, it may sometimes be pleasant; for I remember +paying a visit of a fortnight to Boston, when I was a girl, and there I +really thought that hills could not have been placed more conveniently." + +"How so?" inquired I. + +"Why, I stayed with some friends who lived in Charles Street, just on +the bay; consequently we always drove up-hill when we went to a party, +and downhill when we came home." + +"And you were always so much more content to return than to go, that the +accelerated speed of a down-hill passage was agreeable," suggested I, +after having cast about vaguely for an explanation. + +"Oh, dear! no! It was all on account of my back-hair: for in going +up-hill one naturally leans forward,--so, of course, it couldn't get +tumbled; but when we were coming home, it was no matter." + +I glanced slightly at Miss Hurribattle, and thought it strange that a +lady of her present disorderly and straggly appearance could have ever +felt so much interest in fashionable proprieties. She seemed to be +conscious of what was passing in my mind, and suddenly said,-- + +"Did you ever see a lady throw a stone?" + +"I probably have," I replied; "though I do not at present recall any +particular instance." + +"Very well, then,--you will remember that it always seems as if she was +going to throw herself after it. Now I recognize in this a portion of +the mystic instruction that natural phenomena may give us, if we look at +them earnestly; for is it not intended that woman should pursue with her +whole being whatever she undertakes? The man throws his stone with a +little jerk of the hand: he may be a legislator, a philanthropist, a +father, and a merchant, each with distinct portions of himself, and be +each with all the better effect to the others; but when a woman throws +her stone, it is better for her to project herself along with it." + +"But, surely, you cannot believe that she is entitled only to a single +fling at the mark?" + +"On the contrary, let her change her mark as often as she finds it too +easy or too hard to hit. All I insist upon is a temporary concentration +upon one pursuit. You wondered just now that I could ever have cared for +display, or have thought much of my appearance; but at that time I knew +no better, and followed the world with a devotion for which I have now, +I trust, a better object." + +I began to be quite interested in the sincerity and confidence with +which my companion talked to me, and, after a few remarks expressing +concurrence, I framed a question that would draw out the motives of her +connection with the college, should she care to communicate them. + +"It has been fortunate for me," answered Miss Hurribattle, "to have been +born with an activity of temperament that has kept me from that _maladie +des désabusés_ which, when the freshness of youth has passed, frequently +attacks ladies of some intellectual culture who do not marry. A strong +principle of self-assertion, that has long been characteristic of my +family, has left us unbound by that common propriety of sacrificing +our best happiness for the sake of appearing happy to the world. This +induced my father to quit Branton in pretty much the same spirit of +opposition with which Chatterton quitted Bristol. Disgusted with its +local celebrities, and chafing under the petty exactions and petty +gossip to which a sudden loss of fortune had exposed him, he left the +town without communicating to the neighbors his future destination. But +I will not poach upon our friend the Colonel's speciality, and give you +a family-history. It is sufficient to say that a year or two ago I +was led to interest myself in the Soggimarsh College as a ground +unincumbered by the old incredulities of man's best inspirations +which grow so thickly in what are called the highest +civilizations,--incredulities, indeed, which, in the fine figure of +Coleridge, are nothing but credulities after all, only seen from behind, +as they bow and nod assent to the habitual and the fashionable. But I +see you are wondering at the particular position in the Academy which +our catalogue assigns me, and you shall have the explanation. I have for +a long time been painfully impressed with the total neglect of physical +education by the women of America. It seems to me that no very important +moral advance can be achieved while the exquisite organism through which +our impressions come, and through which they should go forth again in +acts, is so perverted. I was very anxious that the Soggimarsh College +should distinctly recognize a correct physical training as being at +least as important as any branch of mental discipline. Accordingly, when +the titles of the professorships were under discussion, it seemed right +not to take my designation from the classes I instruct in history and +philosophy, but from the general gymnastic development of the female +members of the college, which it is likewise my duty to oversee. I know, +of course, that the prejudices of the public would hold me in greater +esteem as a teacher of some ancient lore than in the capacity I assume +before them; but you see I throw my stone in the womanish fashion, and +do not leave enough of myself behind to be troubled about the matter." + +I believe I have good Sir Thomas Browne's fancy of rejoicing to find +people individual in something beside their proper names; and by this, +as well as much more conversation not set down, I had the satisfaction +to discover that Miss Hurribattle had something more than her bold +patronymic to distinguish her from the Misses Smith and Robinson of my +city-acquaintance. I could hardly believe that we had advanced so far to +the footing of old friends, before we reached our destination. As +our carryall turned into Colonel Prowley's avenue, however, a sudden +recollection of the little romance the proprietor had arranged for his +arriving guests came over me like a terrible dream. What a pity it is, I +thought, that a friendly intercourse which I should highly prize must be +disturbed by the awkward consciousness that this old letter-writer +and his sister are watching and misinterpreting with all the zeal of +match-makers who have baited their trap, and are ready to mistake +anything for a nibble! + +We drew up before a formal-looking, old-fashioned house, with piazzas +to the two stories, each bordered with a good extent of unquestionably +modern gutter. The staple growth of the place, in which the house was +set, like the centre of an antique breastpin, seemed to lie in the shrub +called box. This ornamental vegetable stretched down each side of the +gravel walk, hedged in all sorts of ugly geometrical figures that +contained flower-beds, and stood sentinel to the lower line of the +piazza; farther on, you would see it allowed to grow to the height +of three or four feet, to be curiously cut into cubes, pyramids, and +miniature arches. + +Colonel Prowley, who was soon at the door to receive us, was a much less +imposing sort of man than I had imagined him. He appeared short and +modest, and showed a kind face set about half-way up the chin in one of +the old section-of-stove-pipe stocks that buckle up from behind; there +was a little embarrassment in his manner, as if he found it hard to +receive with proper cordiality two dear friends whose faces he had +never before seen. We were taken to the parlor, stiffly neat in all its +appurtenances, introduced to Miss Prowley, and soon after summoned to +dinner. + +There was much satisfaction in sitting down to such a repast as the +Colonel knew how to give, only it made one shudder a little when he told +us the names of great people long passed away who had ranged themselves +about the same piece of mahogany during the days of his father and +grandfather, for fourscore years into the past. However, if such +reminiscences make us reflect upon the mutable character of human +affairs, and send grave speculations of the "fleeting show" and "man's +illusion" concerning which the poet has told us, I find that the best +way is to remember that it is well to make our humble department in the +show as entertaining as we can, and our little fragment of the illusion +as illusive as possible. + +At the head of the table sat the sister of our host, arrayed in the lank +bombazine skirt, tight sleeves, and muslin cravat, which constituted the +old-lady uniform of the past generation, and which in rare instances yet +survives in the country. Upon her right hand was placed the clergyman, +Mr. Clifton, who came to dine every Monday,--it being a convenient +arrangement on account of the washing; and on her left was one Deacon +Reyner, who kept the parish records, and was the local antiquary of the +town. + +One of the pleasantest diversions with which I am acquainted is a dinner +among elderly people of character and originality, who are content to +toss about the ball of conversation among themselves, and allow me to +watch the game. And in this way was I entertained on my arrival at +Foxden; for Miss Hurribattle was directly at her ease, and had plenty +to say; while the brother and sister were content to offer the best +of everything, and did not attempt to draw me out of my silence. I +perceived they were thinking what a pity it was that Miss Hurribattle +and myself had not the equality of age and temper that they had fancied +for us; for I observed how they would follow the streaks of gray that +straggled through the lady's locks, and then glance at the neatly turned +moustache upon which in those days I prided myself, and realize that +their agreeable plans might be destined to disappointment. + +I remember the conversation first fell upon a certain general history +of the Prowley family that its present masculine representative had in +preparation. + +"By the way," said Deacon Reyner, addressing the future historian on +this head, "I have secured a correct copy of poor Prosody's epitaph, as +you asked me the other day." + +Miss Hurribattle, who looked as if she had some doubt whether poor +Prosody was a man or an animal, returned a non-committal, "Indeed! I am +very glad of it," but soon after added, "Was he a favorite dog?" + +"A dog!" exclaimed the Colonel, whose family-history, dates and all, +seemed to course his veins instead of blood, "he was my many times great +uncle! I have surely told you how Noah Prowllie, who came to New England +in 1642, and is supposed to have settled at Foxden some years later, +married Desire, daughter of the Reverend Jabez Pluck. Being a rigid +grammarian,--a character sufficiently rare at that period,--he named +his three sons Orthography, Syntax, and Prosody,--a proceeding that +is understood to have offended the Reverend Jabez, who was naturally +partial to the Scriptural nomenclature then in vogue. His scruples, +I regret to say, were more than justified in the conduct of his +grandchildren. Poor Orthography Prowllie was an idle fellow, who never +got beyond making his mark upon paper, and consequently made none in the +world; Syntax could never agree with anybody; while as for Prosody, poor +fellow"---- + +"It is enough to say that neither his verses nor his life would bear +scanning!" said the Deacon, desiring to keep the conversation off +unpleasant topics. + +"But you certainly had a poet in your family?" said Miss Hurribattle, +determined to repair her blunder by suggesting a potent cause of +congratulation. + +"Indeed we had, Madam!" said the Colonel, with creditable emotion; +"though unfortunately none of his productions have come down to us. But +we have the highest contemporary testimony to his excellence in a copy +of verses prefixed to his posthumous discourse entitled 'The New Snare +of a Maypole, or Satan's own Trap for a Slippery Church.' The lines +were written by his colleague, the Reverend Exaltation Brymm, and are +certainly much to the purpose: I generally keep a copy of them in my +pocket-book." + +"Oh, do read them, brother!" said Miss Prowley, with strong interest. + +Thus adjured, the Colonel produced a piece of paper, put on his +spectacles, and read to this effect:-- + + "New Englande! weep: Thy tuncfull Prowllie's gone, + Who skillfully his Armour buckled on + Agaynst Phyllystine Scorn and Revelrie: + His Sword well-furbished was a Sight to see! + This littel Booke of his shall still be greene + While Sathan's Fangles lorden stand betweene: + Now Pet of Sinne boil up thy dolefull Skum! + Ye juggelling Quakers laugh: his Inkhorn's dumb. + He put XIII Pslames in verse for our Quire, + And with XXVII Pastorals witcht Apollo's Lyre." + +"Do you recollect John Norton's funeral elegy on Ann Bradstreet, the Eve +of our female minstrelsy?" interrogated Miss Hurribattle; "there are two +lines in it which are still in my memory:-- + + 'Could Maro's muse but hear her lively strain, + He would condemn his works to fire again.' + +What a launch upon the sea of fame! and how sad it is that an actual +freight of verses should be preserved in the ship's hold!" + +"Well, well, my kinsman was perhaps wise in trusting none of his psalms +or pastorals to the press, especially as that greatest of poets, +Pope, has since been in the world. But I truly regret that he left no +portrait, nor even so much as an outline in black from which something +might be made up by an imaginative artist. I have judges, majors, and +attorneys, all properly labelled, in the other room, who would be much +improved by a slight dash of the aesthetic element; however, I suppose +it can't be helped now!" + +"Not unless you substitute Saint Josselyn for an ancestor, as Mrs. +Hunesley did the other day," said Miss Prowley. + +"Ha, ha! it might not be a bad plan to follow out the lady's suggestion: +but do tell the story of her strange mistake." + +"Why, you must know that the other day old Doctor Dastick brought his +New-York niece to call upon us. She began to talk to my brother, and +when at last topics of conversation failed, turned to look at the +picture of Saint Josselyn, which could be seen through the open +folding-doors." + +"The gentleman whose sole garment consists of some sort of skin thrown +over his shoulders: you must all have observed it as we came in to +dinner," said our host, in parenthesis. + +"Well, immediately below the Saint hangs a small painting of Uncle +Joshua, in white stockings, cocked hat, and coat of maroon velvet, the +poor gentleman's favorite dress. + +"'Ah!' said Mrs. Hunesley, with her eyes fixed upon the Saint, 'quite a +fine portrait!' + +"'Why, yes,' said my brother, naturally supposing she meant the small +picture below, 'a very fine portrait, and a capital likeness of my Uncle +Joshua.' + +"'Indeed!' said the lady, with a well-bred effort to conceal her +surprise; 'he was taken in a--a--fancy dress, I suppose.' + +"'On the contrary, it was his ordinary costume,' insisted the Colonel. +'I can remember him walking up the broad-aisle at church, dressed just +as you see him there.' + +"'I should not have thought it would have been allowed! Did not the +deacons turn him out?' exclaimed Mrs. Hunesley, in great astonishment. + +"'Turn him out! Why, Madam, he was a deacon himself, and the most +popular man in the parish.' + +"'Well, I had no idea that such things had ever been permitted in this +country! I should have supposed that the fear of such an example on the +young would have induced people to keep him in confinement.' + +"'Good heavens, Madam!' remonstrated the Colonel, roused to a desperate +vindication of the family-honor, 'let me tell you that his excellent +influence on the young was the crowning virtue of his character. He used +to go about town with his pockets filled with nuts and gingerbread to +reward them when they were good.' + +"'It is enough,' replied the lady; 'our views of propriety are so +totally different that we will not pursue the subject. I will only say +that--really--in that dress, _I don't see where he could have had any +pockets!_'" + +Deacon Reyner laughed heartily at these strictures upon the proprieties +of his predecessor, and said,-- + +"Of course, the last remark must have brought about an explanation." + +"Why, yes," said Colonel Prowley; "but when we see how slight an +accident resolved the mystery, we should receive with doubt much of the +personal scandal which is tossing about the world." + +The clergyman assented very cordially to this proposition, and added, +that it was a reflection that those of his flock then present would do +well to bear in mind that very evening at Doctor Dastick's bone-party. + +I confess to being a little startled at the spectral name of this +entertainment, and began to puzzle myself whether the Doctor gave +a levee to rapping spirits, or moralized over the skulls in his +collection, like Hamlet in the church-yard. Miss Hurribattle seemed +wandering in the mazes of a similar perplexity, and finally said,-- + +"What is a bone-party? Is it given out of compliment to the dead or the +living?" + +"Nay," said the Deacon, "I don't see how it could be much of a +compliment to the dead." + +"Except upon the principle, _De mortuis nil, nisi bone 'em!_" suggested +Miss Hurribattle, with such perfect gravity that neither Miss Prowley +nor the clergyman suspected the jocular atrocity that was hidden in her +speech. + +"The bone-parties of old Doctor Dastick," explained the Colonel, "are +entertainments peculiar to Foxden; and as there is to be one this +evening to which we are all invited, any anticipation of the diversion +seems likely to diminish whatever of satisfaction may be in prospect. I +will, however, remark, that some of the Doctor's guests are grievously +oppressed by somnolence during his scholastic expositions; as a +protection against which infirmity of the flesh, I do commend an +after-dinner nap. It has been the fashion of the house since the days +of my grandfather; and as he lived to a ripe old age, I do not think it +could have been deleterious." + +Soon after this, Colonel Prowley pushed back his chair from the table +as a signal for the dispersal of the party. And I betook myself to +my chamber, a sober apartment, with very uneven floor and very small +windows, through one of which I peered out upon the box before the +house, and thought over the people whose acquaintance I had just made. +Once only were these musings interrupted by snatches of a conversation +between my host and hostess as they passed across the piazza. + +"When this comes about, sister, as I still believe it must, you shall +adorn a page of my diary with one of your illustrative drawings. A pair +of doves would be appropriate, or perhaps a vine clinging round an oak." + +"And which of our guests is to be represented by the oak?" asked Miss +Prowley, in a tone which betrayed a woman's perception of matrimonial +incongruities. + +"Nay, sister, our young friend has a steadiness of character which would +be ill-mated with some giddy girl from the nursery. So make your vine a +little woody, and the union will be all the firmer." + +As there was no chance of taking a nap after this, I presently descended +to walk in the garden. And there I encountered Miss Hurribattle, who did +not seem to be one of the convenient visitors who can be put to sleep +after dinner. The conversation which I had the honor of renewing with +the lady, though it did not at all advance the whimsical project of +Colonel Prowley, increased my respect for the high instincts of Nature +which prompted her concern in the elevation of woman. She showed me how +a reform, presenting on its surface much that was meagre and partial, +was sustained by those accomplished in the study of the question, no +less from the rigorous necessities of logic than from the demonstrations +of history and experiment. + +And here, perchance, the reader observes that we make but slight +progress towards a solution of the inquiry proposed some pages back. +Yet let it be remembered that in real experience the novelist's art of +foreshadowing the end from the beginning and aiming every petty incident +at the final result is very seldom perceptible. "_Il ne faut pas voyager +pour voir, mais pour ne pas voir_," says the proverb; and the journey of +life is included in its application. We do our rarest deeds, we take our +most important steps, by what seems accident. Instead of forming plans +with remote designs, we find it our best policy to seize circumstances +as they run past us,--knowing, that, if we have strength and quickness +enough, we may take from them all that is required. + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Doctor Dastick's bone-party was certainly an entertainment of unique +description. A kind old gentleman was its originator, who thought to +turn the enthusiasm for lectures, which the Lyceum had developed in +Foxden, into a private and pleasant channel. Possessed with this +praiseworthy design, the Doctor, who had given up practice by reason of +years and competence, remembered a certain cabinet containing fossils, +crystals, fragments of Indian implements, small pieces of the skeletons +of their proprietors, vertebrae of extinct animals, besides a great +amount of miscellaneous rubbish that refused to come to terms and be +classified. Thus it seemed good to the proprietor of this medical +rag-bag to invite the citizens of Foxden to a series of explanatory +lectures upon its varied contents. This would have done well enough, +if the Doctor could only have persuaded himself to select his most +interesting specimens, and read up upon them, so as to retail a little +fluent information after the manner of the lyceum-philosophers. But, +unfortunately, the professional pride of the lecturer induced him to +speak without preparation or discrimination upon any osteological +article which happened to come to hand: which fact, perhaps, accounted +for the prevalent somnolence of the auditory, concerning which I had +been forewarned. + +It is barely possible that these midsummer-night diversions of Doctor +Dastick were suggested by the fame of evenings which, during the +previous winter, several city physicians (men of eminent scientific +attainments) had devoted to the instruction of their friends. And rumor +could scarcely have overestimated the privilege of listening to the +discursive fireside talk of such accurate observers. Having vividly +realized all that was to be known of their subjects of special +investigation, these distinguished gentlemen would steam steadily +athwart the light winds of conversation and bring their company to +a pleasant haven. The Foxden ex-practitioner, however, lacking the +metropolitan attrition which keeps the intellectual engine in +effective polish, drifted vaguely in a sea of fragmentary information; +--occasionally, to be sure, bumping against some encyclopedic argosy, +but, for the most part, making very leisurely progress, with much +apparent waste in the machinery. A brief extract from my note-book may +furnish an idea of these scientific discourses. + +"Now, my friends," pursues the Doctor, "let us examine another +curiosity,"--here he would take down something that looked like a +mottled paving-stone in a very crumbling condition,--"let us examine it +carefully through the glass,"--here a pause, during which he performed +the operation in question. "What is it? Is it a fossil turtle? No," +--with great deliberation,--"I should say it was _not_ a fossil turtle. +Is it a mass of twigs taken from the stomach of a mastodon? No, on the +whole, it can't be a mass of twigs taken from the stomach of a mastodon. +Is it a specimen of the top of Mount Sinai? No, it is not a specimen +of the top of Mount Sinai. What is it, then? _I--don't--know-- +what--it--is!_" + +Having arrived at this satisfactory conclusion, the Doctor would pass +on to the next specimen, which, having provoked a similar series of +interrogations and negations, would be dismissed with no very different +result. + +There is sometimes an advantage in not being a notable person; at all +events, I thought so, when I saw the Prowleys and their guests of chief +consideration, to wit, the clergyman, deacon, and Miss Hurribattle, +accommodated on the first row of chairs, with their faces under grand +illumination by two camphene-lamps upon the Doctor's table. There +they sat, together with Mrs. Hunesley from New York, two or three +distinguished visitors from the hotel, and the elders of Foxden, looking +wistfully at the bones, as if in envy of their fleshless condition that +sultry August evening. + +It was with real satisfaction that I perceived I was considered worthy +of no more worshipful company than that of the standing stragglers at +the dark end of the parlor. And as the evening breeze came freshly +through the window at the back of the room, I rejoiced heartily in my +lack of title to the consideration of being snugly penned in a more +honorable position. As I found it might be done without attracting +attention, I obeyed a strong impulse that seized me to pass through the +open window to the piazza. Thence I presently descended, and strolled +about the precise gravel-walks, puzzling myself to conjecture how much +of the rich light was owing to the red glow which lingered in the west, +and how much to the full moon just breaking through the trees. My +investigations were suddenly interrupted by the advent of a carryall, +which drove-with great rapidity to the Doctor's gate. It was the very +railway-omnibus that a few hours before had brought Miss Hurribattle and +myself from the station. + +"Hello, Cap'n," called out the driver, complimenting me with that +military title, "can you give a hand to this trunk? I've got to go right +slap back after two more fares." + +I was near the gate, and of course cheerfully acceded to this request. A +heavy trunk was lifted out, and placed just behind the lilac-bushes at +the edge of the lawn. The driver jumped into his omnibus and hurried +away with all speed, lest his two fares should pay themselves to a rival +conveyance. Behind him, however, he had left the proprietress of the +trunk,--a lady of about five-and-twenty, in whose countenance I detected +that strange sort of familiarity that entire strangers sometimes carry +about them. + +"This is Doctor Dastick's, is it not? Do you know whether Mrs. Hunesley +expected me?" she asked, with a grace of manner that was quite +irresistible. + +I informed her that I was a stranger in the place, and was only at the +Doctor's for a single evening; but that I could not think that Mrs. +Hunesley expected anybody, as I had just seen that lady firmly fixed in +the front row of chairs before the Doctor's table,--whence, owing to the +crowd of sitters behind, she would have some difficulty in extricating +herself. + +"Oh, I would not have her called for the world!" gayly exclaimed my +companion. "She has told me all about the dear old Doctor's lectures; +and I would not disturb his learned explanations on any account." + +"I do not think that the company in general would regret an interlude of +modern life and interest," said I. + +"Perhaps not; but nothing seems to me so rude and disagreeable as to +interrupt people, or disturb their attention, when assembled for a +definite object." + +We walked up the gravel-path, and softly entered the hall, where +a shawl and bonnet were deposited. The Doctor's discourse was very +audible, and the unexpected visitor seemed disposed to establish herself +upon one of the hall-chairs, and wait till it was over. There was a +graceful confidence in her movement, which is to me more captivating +than a pretty face; and when I had opportunity to observe more closely, +I was greatly attracted by the sensibility and refinement expressed +through a countenance which otherwise would have been plain. As I seemed +to be whimsically cast in the part of host, and as I perceived the lady +was too well-bred to make my position at all awkward, I proposed the +piazza as a pleasanter place of waiting than that she had chosen. + +And here let me make one of those weighty observations, derived from a +profound experience, which I trust will have a redeeming savor to +the judicious, should this tale of mine fail to command that general +popularity to which I have begun to suspect its title. I have found +that all the fine passages that lighten and enlighten this life of ours +seldom run into the traps we set for them, but seem to take a perverse +satisfaction in descending upon us when we are least prepared for +their reception. I have never been asked out to dine with a gentleman, +devoted, we will say, to the same speciality in which I have a humble +interest, without being sadly disappointed in the talk that my host had +kindly promised me. And when I am going to another country, and a dear +friend gives me a letter to some one whom he tells me I shall be glad to +meet, and from whom I shall gain great instruction, I accept the letter, +knowing very well that the man I shall really be glad to meet, and from +whom I shall truly gain instruction, will present himself on the top +of a diligence, or take a seat at my table at some cheap _café_ or +chop-house. Thus it is, that, when there is every reason why people +should break through the commonplace rubbish on the surface, and +disclose a pure vein of thought and feeling, they rarely contrive to do +it, but reserve their best things for the chances that touch them, when +self-consciousness is asleep, and the unconstrained humanity within +expands to absorb its like. Is it not in every one's experience that +there are persons with whom chance has thrown us for a few hours, whom +we know better, and who know us better, than the friends with whom we +have babbled of green fields, thermometers, and dirty pavements for a +score of years? As I confidently expect an affirmative reply to this +question, I fear no censure in saying that the evening passed on +Doctor Dastick's piazza made me feel there was a possibility of social +intercourse resembling the extravagant spirituality of the mystics, when +the soul bounds to the height of joyful knowledge, and without process +or medium knows complete satisfaction. + +How we came to talk of many things, I cannot remember; but we somehow +found ourselves speaking of matters of near and deep experience without +consciousness of singularity. We admitted those puzzling life-questions +that present themselves, on a still summer evening, when we long to +escape from the conditions of finite being, and yet contemplate +the necessity of working at our tasks shackled by a thousand iron +circumstances. + +"My plan of life, so far as I have any, seems to point to education," +said my companion. "I am thrown in great measure upon my own activity +for support, and have an aunt who is very zealous in the work, and who +has often asked me to become her fellow-laborer. Until now I could never +well leave home; but she has written to me again since"--she stopped, as +if distressed, and with a woman's tact glanced at her mourning-dress to +tell me the story;--"she has written to me earnestly of late upon the +subject. I feel how noble an object it is to live for, and I want an +object, Heaven knows; but there are reasons--perhaps I should say +feelings, not reasons--why I hesitate. I am asked to bind myself for ten +years to the work in a Western college. There are many advantages in a +permanent position, both for the teacher and the institution, but"-- + +Her voice faltered; and I felt that Nature had at times made other +suggestions to that fresh young spirit, other possibilities had dawned +through the future; perhaps they were certainties,--and the thought +passed me with a shudder. + +"Teaching is a terrible drudgery," I said; "the labor and devotion of +the true teacher are yet unrecognized by the world." + +"I am not afraid of the vexations," she replied: "I am very fond of +being with young people; yet I have been taught to think it was happier, +if our affections could be somewhat more concentrated than--In short, +I had better finish an awkward sentence, by saying that I do not feel +quite ready to pledge myself to give up all possibilities connected with +my New-England home." + +It was spoken with such sweet ingenuousness that I was only charmed. The +simple sincerity of the confession seemed to me much better than the +flippant jest and pert talk with which I had heard such subjects treated +while making my observations upon what my city-acquaintances had assured +me was good society. Is it not Sterling who exclaims that a luxurious +and polished life without a true sense of the beautiful and the great is +more barren and sad to see than that of the ignorant and the brutalized? +And if this be true, how shall we imagine a greater satisfaction than to +find the fresh truth of Nature set in a polished and graceful form? For +since it is through form that we take cognizance of all we love and all +we believe, it is well that the sign and idea should merge, and come +complete and whole to govern us aright. + +I should have no objection to meditating after this manner for a page or +two, as well as further hinting what important nothings sparkled upon +Doctor Dastick's piazza that pleasant summer night. But as I must +curtail this biographical fragment in some part or other, it seems best +to do it about that portion where I may trust that the experience of +every reader will supply the deficiency. + +How harshly sounded the creaking of the furniture, and how strangely +commercial and matter-of-fact the voices of the people that announced +the conclusion of the lecture! Mrs. Hunesley managed to get out among +the first, and was heartily glad to see my newly acquired friend, +calling her, "My dear Kate,"--which I thought was a very pretty +name,--and saying that she had not expected her quite so soon. + +I looked into the parlor and saw the Prowley party tumbling over chairs, +and scaling settees, in their haste to meet the cooling breezes of the +piazza. But when they finally accomplished their purpose, and I was +advancing with inquiries and congratulations, I started at seeing the +surprise depicted in the countenance of Miss Hurribattle, as she gazed +in the direction where I stood. + +"Why, Aunt Patience!" exclaimed a voice at my side. + +"Why, Kate Hurribattle!" was the response. + +"How in the name of wonder did you get to Foxden?" + +"How under the sun did _you_ get to Foxden?" + +"Why _I_ am here naturally enough as the guest of my friend Colonel +Prowley." + +"And _I_ am here naturally enough as the guest of my friend Mrs. +Hunesley." + +Now if I had dramatized the little event I have been trying to relate, I +should have reached the precise point where the auditor would button up +his coat, put on his hat, let his patent spring-seat go up with a click, +and begin to leave the theatre with all expedition. What would it matter +to him that I had prepared a circumstantial account of how all petty +objections were got over, or that I had elaborated a peculiarly +felicitous _tag_ which Colonel Prowley would speak at a few backs as +they disappeared into the lobby? The auditor referred to has got an +inkling of how things are to end, and can guess out the particulars as +he hurries off to his business. And here will be observed our decided +advantage in having made sure of the Moral by a vigorous assertion of +the same at the commencement of this narrative; for, thus relieved of +the necessity of a final flutter into the empyrean of ethics, we may +part company in a few easy sentences. + +Although the circumstances I have set down, from being awkwardly packed +in a small compass, may not appear to fit into each other with all the +exactness of a dissecting-map, I am sure, that, as they really occurred +spread over a necessary time, they seemed natural and simple enough. +Mrs. Hunesley, Doctor Dastick's favorite niece, was the schoolmate of +Miss Kate Hurribattle, and what more likely than that she should invite +her friend to pass a few weeks with her at her summer-home in the +country? And could there be a greater necessity than that, meeting daily +as we did through those lovely August weeks, she should become--in +short, that I should marry Miss Hurribattle? + +And when this foolish little romance, which had taken nebulous outline +in the fancy of Colonel Prowley, suddenly fell at his feet a serious +indubitability, the dear, delighted old gentleman was the first to +declare, that, as our engagement had existed for the last seventy years, +it certainly did not seem worth while to wait much longer. At all +events, we did not wait longer than the following Thanksgiving; since +which period my experience leads me to declare, that, if the Miss +Hurribattle of my great-great-uncle's day was at all comparable to the +member of her family I met at Foxden, my respected relative made a great +mistake in living a bachelor. + + + + +RESIGNATION. + + +You know how a little child of three or four years old kicks and howls, +if it do not get its own way. You know how quietly a grown-up man takes +it, when ordinary things fall out otherwise than he wished. A letter, +a newspaper, a magazine, does not arrive by the post on the morning +on which it had been particularly wished for, and counted on with +certainty. The day proves rainy, when a fine day was specially +desirable. The grown-up man is disappointed; but he soon gets reconciled +to the existing state of facts. He did not much expect that things would +turn out as he wished them. Yes: there is nothing like the habit of +being disappointed, to make a man resigned when disappointment comes, +and to enable him to take it quietly. And a habit of practical +resignation grows upon most men, as they advance through life. + +You have often seen a poor beggar, most probably an old man, with some +lingering remains of respectability in his faded appearance, half ask +an alms of a passer-by; and you have seen him, at a word of repulse, or +even on finding no notice taken of his request, meekly turn away: too +beaten and sick at heart for energy; drilled into a dreary resignation +by the long custom of finding everything go against him in this world. +You may have known a poor cripple, who sits all day by the side of the +pavement of a certain street, with a little bundle of tracts in his +hand, watching those who pass by, in the hope that they may give him +something. I wonder, indeed, how the police suffer him to be there: for, +though ostensibly selling the tracts, he is really begging. Hundreds of +times in the long day, he must see people approaching, and hope that +they may spare him a halfpenny, and find ninety-nine out of each hundred +pass without noticing him. It must be a hard school of Resignation. +Disappointments without number have subdued that poor creature into +bearing one disappointment more with scarce an appreciable stir of +heart. But, on the other hand, kings, great nobles, and the like, have +been known, even to the close of life, to violently curse and swear, if +things went against them; going the length of stamping and blaspheming +even at rain and wind, and branches of trees and plashes of mud, which +were of course guiltless of any design of giving offence to these +eminent individuals. There was a great monarch, who, when any little +cross-accident befell him, was wont to fling himself upon the floor, and +there to kick and scream and tear his hair. And around him, meanwhile, +stood his awe-stricken attendants: all doubtless ready to assure +him that there was something noble and graceful in his kicking and +screaming, and that no human being had ever before with such dignity +and magnanimity torn his hair. My friend Mr. Smith tells me that in his +early youth he had a (very slight) acquaintance with a great prince, of +elevated rank and of vast estates. That great prince came very early to +his greatness; and no one had ever ventured, since he could remember, +to tell him he had ever said or done wrong. Accordingly, the prince had +never learned to control himself, nor grown accustomed to bear quietly +what he did not like. And when any one, in conversation, related to him +something which he disapproved, he used to start from his chair, and +rush up and down the apartment, furiously flapping his hands together, +till he had thus blown off the steam produced by the irritation of his +nervous system. That prince was a good man: and so aware was he of +his infirmity, that, when in these fits of passion, he never suffered +himself to say a single word: being aware that he might say what he +would afterwards regret. And though he could not wholly restrain +himself, the entire wrath he felt passed off in flapping. And after +flapping for a few minutes, he sat down again, a reasonable man once +more. All honor to him! For my friend Smith tells me that that prince +was surrounded by toadies, who were ready to praise everything he might +do, even to his flapping. And in particular, there was one humble +retainer, who, whenever his master flapped, was wont to hold up his +hands in an ecstasy of admiration, exclaiming, "It is the flapping of a +god, and not of a man!" + +Now all this lack of Resignation on the part of princes and kings comes +of the fact, that they are so far like children that they have not +become accustomed to be resisted, and to be obliged to forego what they +would like. Resignation comes by the habit of being disappointed, and +of finding things go against you. It is, in the case of ordinary human +beings, just what they expect. Of course, you remember the adage, +"Blessed is he who expecteth nothing, for he shall not be disappointed." +I have a good deal to say about that adage. Reasonableness of +expectation is a great and good thing: despondency is a thing to be +discouraged and put down as far as may be. But meanwhile let me say, +that the corollary drawn from that dismal beatitude seems to me +unfounded in fact. I should say just the contrary. I should say, +"Blessed is he who expecteth nothing, for he will very likely be +disappointed." You know, my reader, whether things do not generally +happen the opposite way from that which you expected. Did you ever try +to keep off an evil you dreaded by interposing this buffer? Did you ever +think you might perhaps prevent a trouble from coming by constantly +anticipating it,--keeping, meanwhile, an under-thought that things +rarely happen as you anticipate them, and thus that your anticipation of +the thing might possibly keep it away? Of course you have; for you are +a human being. And in all common cases, a watch might as well think to +keep a skilful watchmaker in ignorance of the way in which its movements +are produced, as a human being think to prevent another human being from +knowing exactly how he will think and feel in given circumstances. We +have watched the working of our own watches far too closely and long, +my friends, to have the least difficulty in understanding the great +principles upon which the watches of other men go. I cannot look inside +your breast, my reader, and see the machinery that is working there: I +mean the machinery of thought and feeling. But I know exactly how it +works, nevertheless; for I have long watched a machinery precisely like +it. + +There are a great many people in this world who feel that things are all +wrong, that they have missed stays in life, that they are beaten,--and +yet who don't much mind. They are indurated by long use. They do not try +to disguise from themselves the facts. There are some men who diligently +try to disguise the facts, and who in some measure succeed in doing so. +I have known a self-sufficient and disagreeable clergyman who had a +church in a large city. Five-sixths of the seats in the church were +quite empty; yet the clergyman often talked of what a good congregation +he had, with a confidence which would have deceived any one who had not +seen it. I have known a church where it was agony to any one with an ear +to listen to the noise produced when the people were singing; yet the +clergyman often talked of what splendid music he had. I have known an +entirely briefless barrister, whose friends gave out that the sole +reason why he had no briefs was that he did not want any. I have known +students who did not get the prizes for which they competed, but who +declared that the reason of their failure was, that, though they +competed for the prizes, they did not wish to get them. I have known a +fast young woman, after many engagements made and broken, marry as the +last resort a brainless and penniless blackguard; yet all her family +talk in big terms of what a delightful connection she was making. Now, +where all that self-deception is genuine, let us be glad to see it; and +let us not, like Mr. Snarling, take a spiteful pleasure in undeceiving +those who are so happy to be deceived. In most cases, indeed, such +trickery deceives nobody. But where it truly deceives those who +practise it, even if it deceive nobody else, you see there is no true +Resignation. A man who has made a mess of life has no need to be +resigned, if he fancies he has succeeded splendidly. But I look with +great interest, and often with deep respect, at the man or woman who +feels that life has been a failure,--a failure, that is, as regards +_this_ world,--and yet who is quite resigned. Yes: whether it be the +un-soured old maid, sweet-tempered, sympathetic in others' joys, God's +kind angel in the house of sorrow,--or the unappreciated genius, quiet, +subdued, pleased to meet even one who understands him amid a community +which does not,--or the kind-hearted clever man to whom eminent success +has come too late, when those were gone whom it would have made happy: +I reverence and love, more than I can express, the beautiful natures I +have known thus subdued and resigned. + +Yes: human beings get indurated. When you come to know well the history +of a great many people, you will find that it is wonderful what they +have passed through. Most people have suffered a very great deal, +since they came into this world. Yet in their appearance there is no +particular trace of it all. You would not guess, from looking at them, +how hard and how various their lot has been. I once knew a woman, rather +more than middle-aged. I knew her well, and saw her almost every day, +for several years, before I learned that the homely Scotchwoman had seen +distant lands, and had passed through very strange ups and downs, before +she settled into the quiet, orderly life in which I knew her. Yet when +spoken to kindly, by one who expressed surprise that all these trials +had left so little trace, the inward feeling, commonly suppressed, burst +bitterly out, and she exclaimed, "It's a wonder that I'm living at all!" +And it is a wonder that a great many people are living, and looking so +cheerful and so well as they do, when you think what fiery passion, what +crushing sorrow, what terrible losses, what bitter disappointments, what +hard and protracted work they have gone through. Doubtless, great good +comes of it. All wisdom, all experience, comes of suffering. I should +not care much for the counsel of the man whose life had been one long +sunshiny holiday. There is greater depth in the philosophy of Mr. +Dickens than a great portion of his readers discern. You are ready to +smile at the singular way in which Captain Cuttle commended his friend +Jack Bunsby as a man of extraordinary wisdom, whose advice on any point +was of inestimable value. "Here's a man," said Captain Cuttle, "who has +been more beaten about the head than any other living man!" I hail the +words as the recognition of a great principle. To Mr. Bunsby it befell +in a literal sense; but we have all been (in a moral sense) a good deal +beaten about both the head and the heart before we grew good for much. +Out of the travail of his nature, out of the sorrowful history of his +past life, the poet or the moralist draws the deep thought and feeling +which find so straight a way to the hearts of other men. Do you think +Mr. Tennyson would ever have been the great poet he is, if he had not +passed through that season of great grief which has left its noble +record in "In Memoriam"? And a youthful preacher, of vivid imagination +and keen feeling, little fettered by anything in the nature of good +taste, may by strong statements and a fiery manner draw a mob of +unthinking hearers: but thoughtful men and women will not find anything +in all _that_, that awakens the response of their inner nature in its +truest depths; they must have religious instruction into which real +experience has been transfused; and the worth of the instruction will be +in direct proportion to the amount of real experience which is embodied +in it. And after all, it is better to be wise and good than to be gay +and happy, if we must choose between the two things; and it is worth +while to be severely beaten about the head, if _that_ is the condition +on which alone we can gain true wisdom. True wisdom is cheap at almost +any price. But it does not follow at all that you will be happy (in +the vulgar sense) in direct proportion as you are wise. I suppose +most middle-aged people, when they receive the ordinary kind wish at +New-Year's time of a Happy New-Year, feel that _happy_ is not quite the +word; and feel that, too, though well aware that they have abundant +reason for gratitude to a kind Providence. It is not _here_ that we +shall ever be happy,--that is, completely and perfectly happy. Something +will always be coming to worry and distress. And a hundred sad +possibilities hang over us: some of them only too certainly and quickly +drawing near. Yet people are content, in a kind of way. They have learnt +the great lesson of Resignation. + + * * * * * + +There are many worthy people who would be quite fevered and flurried +by good fortune, if it were to come to any very great degree. It would +injure their heart. As for bad fortune, they can stand it nicely, they +have been accustomed to it so long. I have known a very hard-wrought +man, who had passed, rather early in life, through very heavy and +protracted trials. I have heard him say, that, if any malicious enemy +wished to kill him, the course would be to make sure that tidings of +some signal piece of prosperity should arrive by post on each of six or +seven successive days. It would quite unhinge and unsettle him, he said. +His heart would go: his nervous system would break down. People to whom +pieces of good-luck come rare and small have a great curiosity to know +how a man feels when he is suddenly told that he has drawn one of the +greatest prizes in the lottery of life. The kind of feeling, of course, +will depend entirely on the kind of man. Yet very great prizes, in the +way of dignity and duty, do for the most part fall to men who in some +measure deserve them, or who at least are not conspicuously undeserving +of them and unfit for them. So that it is almost impossible that the +great news should elicit merely some unworthy explosion of gratified +self-conceit. The feeling would in almost every case be deeper and +worthier. One would like to be sitting at breakfast with a truly good +man, when the letter from the Prime-Minister comes in, offering him the +Archbishopric of Canterbury. One would like to see how he would take +it. Quietly, I have no doubt. Long preparation has fitted the man +who reaches that position for taking it quietly. A recent Chancellor +publicly stated how _he_ felt, when offered the Great Seal. His first +feeling, that good man said, was of gratification that he had fairly +reached the highest reward of the profession to which he had given +his life; but the feeling which speedily supplanted _that_ was an +overwhelming sense of his responsibility and a grave doubt as to his +qualifications. I have always believed, and sometimes said, that good +fortune--not so great or so sudden as to injure one's nerves or +heart, but kindly and equable--has a most wholesome effect upon human +character. I believe that the happier a man is, the better and kinder +he will be. The greater part of unamiability, ill-temper, impatience, +bitterness, and uncharitableness comes out of unhappiness. It is because +a man is so miserable that he is such a sour, suspicious, fractious, +petted creature. I was amused, this morning, to read in the newspaper an +account of a very small incident which befell the new Primate of England +on his journey back to London, after being enthroned at Canterbury. +The reporter of that small incident takes occasion to record that +the Archbishop had quite charmed his travelling-companions in the +railway-carriage by the geniality and kindliness of his manner. I have +no doubt he did. I am sure he is a truly good Christian man. But think +of what a splendid training for producing geniality and kindliness he +has been going through for a great number of years! Think of the moral +influences which have been bearing on him for the last few weeks! We +should all be kindly and genial, if we had the same chance of being so. +But if Dr. Longley had a living of a hundred pounds a year, a fretful, +ailing wife, a number of half-fed and half-educated little children, a +dirty, miserable house, a bleak country round, and a set of wrong-headed +and insolent parishioners to keep straight, I venture to say he would +have looked, and been, a very different man in that railway-carriage +running up to London. Instead of the genial smiles that delighted his +fellow-travellers, (according to the newspaper-story,) his face would +have been sour, and his speech would have been snappish; he would have +leaned back in the corner of a second-class carriage, sadly calculating +the cost of his journey, and how part of it might be saved by going +without any dinner. Oh, if I found a four-leaved shamrock, I would +undertake to make a mighty deal of certain people I know! I would put an +end to their weary schemings to make the ends meet. I would cut off all +those wretched cares which jar miserably on the shaken nerves. I know +the burst of thankfulness and joy that would come, if some dismal load, +never to be cast off, were taken away. And I would take it off. I would +clear up the horrible muddle. I would make them happy: and in doing +_that_, I know that I should make them good. + + * * * * * + +But I have sought the four-leaved shamrock for a long time, and never +have found it; and so I am growing subdued to the conviction that I +never shall. Let us go back to the matter of Resignation, and think a +little longer about _that_. + +Resignation, in any human being, means that things are not as you would +wish, and yet that you are content. + +Who has all he wishes? There are many houses in this world in which +Resignation is the best thing that can be felt any more. The bitter blow +has fallen; the break has been made; the empty chair is left (perhaps a +very little chair); and never more, while Time goes on, can things be +as they were fondly wished and hoped. Resignation would need to be +cultivated by human beings; for all round us there is a multitude of +things very different from what we would wish. Not in your house, not +in your family, not in your street, not in your parish, not in your +country, and least of all in yourself, can you have things as you would +wish. And you have your choice of two alternatives. You must either +fret yourself into a nervous fever, or you must cultivate the habit of +Resignation. And very often Resignation does not mean that you are at +all reconciled to a thing, but just that you feel you can do nothing +to mend it. Some friend, to whom you are really attached, and whom +you often see, vexes and worries you by some silly and disagreeable +habit,--some habit which it is impossible you should ever like, or ever +even overlook; yet you try to make up your mind to it, because it cannot +be helped, and you would rather submit to it than lose your friend. You +hate the east-wind: it withers and pinches you, in body and soul: +yet you cannot live in a certain beautiful city without feeling the +east-wind many days in the year. And that city's advantages and +attractions are so many and great that no sane man with sound lungs +would abandon the city merely to escape the east-wind. Yet, though +resigned to the east-wind, you are anything but reconciled to it. + +Resignation is not always a good thing. Sometimes it is a very bad +thing. You should never be resigned to things continuing wrong, when you +may rise and set them right. I dare say, in the Romish Church, there +were good men before Luther who were keenly alive to the errors and +evils that had crept into it, but who, in despair of making things +better, tried sadly to fix their thoughts upon other subjects: who +took to illuminating missals, or constructing systems of logic, or +cultivating vegetables in the garden of the monastery, or improving the +music in the chapel: quietly resigned to evils they judged irremediable. +Great reformers have not been resigned men. Luther was not resigned; +Howard was not resigned; Fowell Buxton was not resigned; George +Stephenson was not resigned. And there is hardly a nobler sight than +that of a man who determines that he will NOT make up his mind to the +continuance of some great evil: who determines that he will give his +life to battling with that evil to the last: who determines that either +that evil shall extinguish him, or he shall extinguish it. I reverence +the strong, sanguine mind, that resolves to work a revolution to better +things, and that is not afraid to hope it _can_ work a revolution. And +perhaps, my reader, we should both reverence it all the more that we +find in ourselves very little like it. It is a curious thing, and a sad +thing, to remark in how many people there is too much resignation. It +kills out energy. It is a weak, fretful, unhappy thing. People are +reconciled, in a sad sort of way, to the fashion in which things go on. +You have seen a poor, slatternly mother, in a way-side cottage, who has +observed her little children playing in the road before it, in the way +of passing carriages, angrily ordering the little things to come away +from their dangerous and dirty play; yet, when the children disobey +her, and remain where they were, just saying no more, making no farther +effort. You have known a master tell his man-servant to do something +about stable or garden, yet, when the servant does not do it, taking no +notice: seeing that he has been disobeyed, yet wearily resigned, feeling +that there is no use in always fighting. And I do not speak of the not +unfrequent cases in which the master, after giving his orders, comes to +discover that it is best they should not be carried out, and is very +glad to see them disregarded: I mean when he is dissatisfied that what +he has directed is not done, and wishes that it were done, and feels +worried by the whole affair, yet is so devoid of energy as to rest in a +fretful resignation. Sometimes there is a sort of sense as if one had +discharged his conscience by making a weak effort in the direction of +doing a thing, an effort which had not the slightest chance of being +successful. When I was a little boy, many years since, I used to +think this; and I was led to thinking it by remarking a singular +characteristic in the conduct of a school-companion. In those days, if +you were chasing some other boy who had injured or offended you, with +the design of retaliation, if you found you could not catch him, by +reason of his superior speed, you would have recourse to the following +expedient. If your companion was within a little space of you, though a +space you felt you could not make less, you would suddenly stick out one +of your feet, which would hook round his, and he, stumbling over it, +would fall. I trust I am not suggesting a mischievous and dangerous +trick to any boy of the present generation. Indeed, I have the firmest +belief that existing boys know all we used to know, and possibly more. +All this is by way of rendering intelligible what I have to say of my +old companion. He was not a good runner. And when another boy gave him +a sudden flick with a knotted handkerchief, or the like, he had little +chance of catching that other boy. Yet I have often seen him, when +chasing another, before finally abandoning the pursuit, stick out his +foot in the regular way, though the boy he was chasing was yards beyond +his reach. Often did the present writer meditate on that phenomenon, in +the days of his boyhood. It appeared curious that it should afford +some comfort to the evaded pursuer, to make an offer at upsetting the +escaping youth,--an offer which could not possibly be successful. But +very often, in after-life, have I beheld in the conduct of grown-up men +and women the moral likeness of that futile sticking-out of the foot. +I have beheld human beings who lived in houses always untidy and +disorderly, or whose affairs were in a horrible confusion and +entanglement, who now and then seemed roused to a a feeling that this +would not do, who querulously bemoaned their miserable lot, and made +some faint and futile attempt to set things right, attempts which never +had a chance to succeed, and which ended in nothing. Yet it seemed +somehow to pacify the querulous heart. I have known a clergyman, in a +parish with a bad population, seem suddenly to waken up to a conviction +that he must do something to mend matters, and set agoing some weak +little machinery, which could produce no appreciable result, and +which came to a stop in a few weeks. Yet that faint offer appeared to +discharge the claims of conscience, and after it the clergyman remained +long time in a comatose state of unhealthy Resignation. But it is a +miserable and a wrong kind of Resignation which dwells in that man who +sinks down, beaten and hopeless, in the presence of a recognized evil. +Such a man may be in a sense resigned, but, he cannot possibly be +content. + +If you should ever, when you have reached middle age, turn over the +diary or the letters you wrote in the hopeful though foolish days when +you were eighteen or twenty, you will be aware how quietly and gradually +the lesson of Resignation has been taught you. You would have got into +a terrible state of excitement, if any one had told you then that you +would have to forego your most cherished hopes and wishes of that time; +and it would have tried you even more severely to be assured that in +not many years you would not care a single straw for the things and the +persons who were then uppermost in your mind and heart. What an entirely +new set of friends and interests is that which now surrounds you! +and how completely the old ones are gone: gone, like the sunsets you +remember in the summers of your childhood; gone, like the primroses that +grew in the woods where you wandered as a boy! Said my friend Smith to +me, a few days ago: "You remember Miss Jones, and all about that? I +met her yesterday, after ten years. She is a fat, middle-aged, +ordinary-looking woman. What a terrific fool I was!" Smith spoke to me +in the confidence of friendship; yet I think he was a little mortified +at the heartiness with which I agreed with him on the subject of his +former folly. He had got over it completely; and in seeing that he was +(at a certain period) a fool, he had come to discern that of which his +friends had always been aware. Of course, early interests do not always +die out. You remember Dr. Chalmers, and the ridiculous exhibition about +the wretched little likeness of an early sweetheart, not seen for forty +years, and long since in her grave. You remember the singular way in +which he signified his remembrance of her, in his famous and honored +age. I don't mean the crying, nor the walking up and down the +garden-walk calling her by fine names. I mean the taking out his card: +not his _carte_; you could understand _that_: but his visiting-card +bearing his name, and sticking it behind the portrait with two wafers. +Probably it pleased him to do so; and assuredly it did harm to no one +else. And we have all heard of the like things. Early affections are +sometimes, doubtless, cherished in the memory of the old. But still, +more material interests come in, and the old affection is crowded out +of its old place in the heart. And so those comparatively fanciful +disappointments sit lightly. The romance is gone. The mid-day sun +beats down, and _there_ lies the dusty way. When the cantankerous and +unamiable mother of Christopher North stopped his marriage with a person +at least as respectable as herself, on the ground that the person was +not good enough, we are told that the future professor nearly went +mad, and that he never quite got over it. But really, judging from +his writings and his biography, he bore up under it, after a little, +wonderfully well. + +But looking back to the days which the old yellow letters bring back, +you will think to yourself, Where are the hopes and anticipations of +that time? You expected to be a great man, no doubt. Well, you know you +are not. You are a small man, and never will be anything else; yet +you are quite resigned. If there be an argument which stirs me to +indignation at its futility, and to wonder that any mortal ever regarded +it as of the slightest force, it is that which is set out in the famous +soliloquy in "Cato," as to the Immortality of the Soul. Will any sane +man say, that, if in this world you wish for a thing very much, and +anticipate it very clearly and confidently, you are therefore sure to +get it? If that were so, many a little schoolboy would end by driving +his carriage and four, who ends by driving no carriage at all. I have +heard of a man whose private papers were found after his death all +written over with his signature as he expected it would be when he +became Lord Chancellor. Let us say his peerage was to be as Lord Smith. +There it was, SMITH, C., SMITH, C., written in every conceivable +fashion, so that the signature, when needed, might be easy and imposing. +That man had very vividly anticipated the woolsack, the gold robe, and +all the rest. It need hardly be said, he attained none of these. The +famous argument, you know of course, is, that man has a great longing to +be immortal, and that therefore he is sure to be immortal. Rubbish! It +is not true that any longing after immortality exists in the heart of +a hundredth portion of the race. And if it were true, it would prove +immortality no more than the manifold signatures of SMITH, C., proved +that Smith was indeed to be Chancellor. No: we cling to the doctrine +of a Future Life; we could not live without it; but we believe it, not +because of undefined longings within ourselves, not because of reviving +plants and flowers, not because of the chrysalis and the butterfly,--but +because "our Saviour, Jesus Christ, hath abolished death, and brought +life and immortality to light through the gospel." + +There is something very curious, and very touching, in thinking +how clear and distinct, and how often recurring, were our early +anticipations of things that were never to be. In this world, the fact +is for the most part the opposite of what it should be to give force to +Plato's (or Cato's) argument: the thing you vividly anticipate is the +thing that is least likely to come. The thing you don't much care for, +the thing you don't expect, is the likeliest. And even if the event +prove what you anticipated, the circumstances, and the feeling of it, +will be quite different from what you anticipated. A certain little girl +three years old was told that in a little while she was to go with her +parents to a certain city, a hundred miles off,--a city which may be +called Altenburg as well as anything else. It was a great delight to her +to anticipate that journey, and to anticipate it very circumstantially. +It was a delight to her to sit down at evening on her father's knee, +and to tell him all about how it would be in going to Altenburg. It was +always the same thing. Always, first, how sandwiches would be made,--how +they would all get into the carriage, (which would come round to the +door,) and drive away to a certain railway-station,--how they would get +their tickets, and the train would come up, and they would all get into +a carriage together, and lean back in corners, and eat the sandwiches, +and look out of the windows, and so on. But when the journey was +actually made, every single circumstance in the little girl's +anticipations proved wrong. Of course, they were not intentionally made +wrong. Her parents would have carried out to the letter, if they could, +what the little thing had so clearly pictured and so often repeated. But +it proved to be needful to go by an entirely different way and in an +entirely different fashion. All those little details, dwelt on so much, +and with so much interest, were things never to be. It is even so with +the anticipations of larger and older children. How distinctly, how +fully, my friend, we have pictured out to our minds a mode of life, a +home and the country round it, and the multitude of little things which +make up the habitude of being, which we long since resigned ourselves to +knowing could never prove realities! No doubt, it is all right and well. +Even Saint Paul, with all his gift of prophecy, was not allowed to +foresee what was to happen to himself. You know how he wrote that he +would do a certain thing, "so soon as I shall see how it will go with +me." + +But our times are in the Best Hand. And the one thing about our lot, my +reader, that we may think of with perfect contentment, is that they +are so. I know nothing more admirable in spirit, and few things more +charmingly expressed, than that little poem by Mrs. Waring which sets +out that comfortable thought. You know it, of course. You should have +it in your memory; and let it be one of the first things your children +learn by heart. It may well come next after, "O God of Bethel": it +breathes the self-same tone. And let me close these thoughts with one of +its verses:-- + + "There are briers besetting every path, + Which call for patient care: + There is a cross in every lot, + And an earnest need for prayer: + But a lowly heart that leans on Thee + Is happy anywhere!" + + THE FLAG. + + There's a flag hangs over my threshold, whose folds are more dear to me + Than the blood that thrills in my bosom its earnest of liberty; + And dear are the stars it harbors in its sunny field of blue + As the hope of a further heaven that lights all our dim lives through. + + But now should my guests be merry, the house is in holiday guise, + Looking out through its burnished windows like a score of welcoming eyes. + Come hither, my brothers who wander in saintliness and in sin! + Come hither, ye pilgrims of Nature! my heart doth invite you in. + + My wine is not of the choicest, yet bears it an honest brand; + And the bread that I bid you lighten I break with no sparing hand; + But pause, ere you pass to taste it, one act must accomplished be: + Salute the flag in its virtue, before ye sit down with me. + + The flag of our stately battles, not struggles of wrath and greed: + Its stripes were a holy lesson, its spangles a deathless creed; + 'T was red with the blood of freemen, and white with the fear of the foe, + And the stars that fight in their courses 'gainst tyrants its symbols + know. + + Come hither, thou son of my mother! we were reared in the self-same + arms; + Thou hast many a pleasant gesture, thy mind hath its gifts and charms; + But my heart is as stern to question as mine eyes are of sorrows full: + Salute the flag in its virtue, or pass on where others rule. + + Thou lord of a thousand acres, with heaps of uncounted gold, + The steeds of thy stall are haughty, thy lackeys cunning and bold: + I envy no jot of thy splendor, I rail at thy follies none: + Salute the flag in its virtue, or leave my poor house alone. + + Fair lady with silken trappings, high waving thy stainless plume, + We welcome thee to our numbers, a flower of costliest bloom: + Let a hundred maids live widowed to furnish thy bridal bed; + But pause where the flag doth question, and bend thy triumphant head. + + Take down now your flaunting banner, for a scout comes breathless and + pale, + With the terror of death upon him; of failure is all his tale: + "They have fled while the flag waved o'er them! they've turned to the + foe their back! + They are scattered, pursued, and slaughtered! the fields are all rout + and wrack!" + + Pass hence, then, the friends I gathered, a goodly company! + All ye that have manhood in you, go, perish for Liberty! + But I and the babes God gave me will wait with uplifted hearts, + With the firm smile ready to kindle, and the will to perform our parts. + + When the last true heart lies bloodless, when the fierce and the false + have won, + I'll press in turn to my bosom each daughter and either son; + Bid them loose the flag from its bearings, and we'll lay us down to rest + With the glory of home about us, and its freedom locked in our breast. + + + + +WET-WEATHER WORK. + +BY A FARMER. + + +I. + + +It is raining; and being in-doors, I look out from my library-window, +across a quiet country-road, so near that I could toss my pen into the +middle of it. + +A thatched stile is opposite, flanked by a straggling hedge of +Osage-orange; and from the stile the ground falls away in green and +gradual slope to a great plateau of measured and fenced fields, +checkered, a month since, with bluish lines of Swedes, with the ragged +purple of mangels, and the feathery emerald-green of carrots. There are +umber-colored patches of fresh-turned furrows; here and there the mossy, +luxurious verdure of new-springing rye; gray stubble; the ragged brown +of discolored, frost-bitten rag-weed; next, a line of tree-tops, +thickening as they drop to the near bed of a river, and beyond the +river-basin showing again, with tufts of hemlock among naked oaks and +maples; then roofs, cupolas; ambitious lookouts of suburban houses, +spires, belfries, turrets: all these commingling in a long line of +white, brown, and gray, which in sunny weather is backed by purple +hills, and flanked one way by a shining streak of water, and the other +by a stretch of low, wooded mountains that turn from purple to blue, and +so blend with the northern sky. + +Is the picture clear? A road; a farm-flat of party-colored checkers; a +near wood, that conceals the sunken meadow of a river; a farther wood, +that skirts a town,--that seems to overgrow the town, so that only a +confused line of roofs, belfries, spires, towers, rise above the wood; +and these tallest spires and turrets lying in relief against a purple +hill-side, that is as far beyond the town as the town is beyond my +window; and the purple hill-side trending southward to a lake-like gleam +of water, where a light-house shines upon a point; and northward, as I +said, these same purple hills bearing away to paler purple, and then to +blue, and then to haze. + +Thus much is seen, when I look directly eastward; but by an oblique +glance southward (always from my library-window) the checkered farm-land +is repeated in long perspective: here and there is a farm-house with +its clustered out-buildings; here and there a blotch of wood, or of +orcharding; here and there a bright sheen of winter-grain; and the level +ends only where a slight fringe of tree-tops, and the iron cordon of a +railway that leaps over a marshy creek upon trestle-work, separate it +from Long Island Sound. + +To the north, under such oblique glance as can be caught, the farm-lands +in smaller inclosures stretch half a mile to the skirts of a quiet +village. A few tall chimneys smoke there lazily, and below them you see +as many quick and repeated puffs of white steam. Two white spires and +a tower are in bold relief against the precipitous basaltic cliff, at +whose foot the village seems to nestle. Yet the mountain is not wholly +precipitous; for the columnar masses been fretted away by a thousand +frosts, making a sloping _débris_ below, and leaving above the +iron-yellow scars of fresh cleavage, the older blotches of gray, and the +still older stain of lichens. Nor is the summit bald, but tufted with +dwarf cedars and oaks, which, as they file away on either flank, mingle +with a heavier growth of hickories and chest-nuts. A few stunted kalmias +and hemlock-spruces have found foothold in the clefts upon the face of +the rock, showing a tawny green, that blends prettily with the scars, +lichens, and weather-stains of the cliff; all which show under a sunset +light richly and changefully as the breast of a dove. + +But just now there is no glow of sunset; raining still. Indeed, I do not +know why I should have described at such length a mere landscape, (than +which I know few fairer,) unless because of a rainy day it is always +in my eye, and that now, having invited a few outsiders to such +entertainment as may belong to my wet farm-days, I should present to +them at once my oldest acquaintance,--the view from my library-window. + +But as yet it is only coarsely outlined. We may some day return to it +with a fond particularity; for let me warn the reader that I have that +love of such scenes, nay, for the very verdure of the lawn, that I could +put an ink-mark for every blade of the fresh-springing grass, and yet +feel that the tale of its beauty, and of its emerald wealth, were not +half told. + +This day we spend in-doors, and busy ourselves with the whims, +doctrines, and economics of a few + + +OLD-TIME FARMERS. + + +The shelves where they rest in vellum and in dust are only an +arm's-length from the window; so that I can relieve the stiff classicism +of Flaxman's rendering of the "Works and Days," or the tedious iteration +of Columella and Crescenzio, by a glance outside into the rain-cloud, +under which lies always the checkered illustration of the farming of +to-day, and beyond which the spires stand in sentinel. + +Hesiod is currently reckoned one of the oldest farm-writers; but there +is not enough in his homely poem ("Works and Days") out of which to +conjure a farm-system. He gives good advice, indeed, about the weather, +about ploughing when the ground is not too wet, about the proper timber +to put to a plough-beam, about building a house, and taking a bride. +But, on the other hand, he gives very bad advice, where, as in Book II., +(line 244,) he recommends to stint the oxen in winter, and (line 285) to +put three parts of water to the Biblian wine. + +Mr. Gladstone notes the fact that Homer talks only in a grandiose way of +rural life and employments, as if there were no small landholders in his +day; but Hesiod, who must have lived within a century of Homer, with +his modest homeliness, does not confirm this view. He tells us a farmer +should keep two ploughs, and be cautious how he lends either of them. +His household stipulations, too, are most moderate, whether on the score +of the bride, the maid, or the "forty-year-old" ploughman; and for +guardianship of the premises the proprietor is recommended to keep "a +sharp-toothed cur." + +This reminds us how Ulysses, on his return from voyaging, found seated +round his good bailiff Eumaeus four savage watch-dogs, who straightway +(and here Homer must have nodded) attack their old master, and are +driven off only by a good pelting of stones. + +This Eumaeus, by the way, may be regarded as the Homeric representative +farmer, as well as bailiff and swineherd,--the great original of Gurth, +who might have prepared a supper for Cedric the Saxon very much as +Eumaeus extemporized one upon his Greek farm for Ulysses. Pope +shall tell of this bit of cookery in rhyme that has a ring of the +Rappahannock:-- + + "His vest succinct then girding round his waist, + Forth rushed the swain with hospitable haste, + Straight to the lodgements of his herd he run, + Where the fat porkers slept beneath the sun; + Of two his cutlass launched the spouting blood; + These quartered, singed, and fixed on forks of wood, + All hasty on the hissing coals he threw; + And, smoking, back the tasteful viands drew, + Broachers, and all." + +This is roast pig: nothing more elegant or digestible. For the credit of +Greek farmers, I am sorry that Eumaeus has nothing better to offer his +landlord,--the most abominable dish, Charles Lamb and his pleasant +fable to the contrary notwithstanding, that was ever set before a +Christian. + +To return to Hesiod, we suspect that he was only a small farmer--if +he had ever farmed at all--in the foggy latitude of Boeotia, and knew +nothing of the sunny wealth in the south of the peninsula, or of such +princely estates as Eumaeus managed in the Ionian seas. Flaxman has +certainly not given him the look of a large proprietor in his outlines: +his toilet is severely scant, and the old gentleman appears to have lost +two of his fingers in a chaff-cutter. As for Perses, who is represented +as listening to the sage,[A] his dress is in the extreme of classic +scantiness,--being, in fact, a mere night-shirt, and a tight fit at +that. + +[Footnote A: Flaxman's _Illustrations of "Works and Days,"_ Plate I.] + +But we dismiss Hesiod, the first of the heathen farm-writers, with a +loving thought of his pretty Pandora, whom the goddesses so bedecked, +whom Jove looks on (in Flaxman's picture) with such sharp approval, and +whose attributes the poet has compacted into one resonant line, daintily +rendered by Cooke,-- + + "Thus the sex began + A lovely mischief to the soul of man." + +I next beg to pull from his place on the shelf, and to present to the +reader, my friend General Xenophon, a most graceful writer, a capital +huntsman, an able strategist, an experienced farmer, and, if we may +believe Laertius, "handsome beyond expression." + +It is refreshing to find such qualities united in one man at any time, +and doubly refreshing to find them in a person so far removed from the +charities of today that the malcontents cannot pull his character in +pieces. To be sure, he was guilty of a few acts of pillage in the course +of his Persian campaign; but he tells the story of it in his "Anabasis" +with a brave front: his purse was low, and needed replenishment; there +is no cover put up, of disorderly sutlers or camp-followers. + +The farming reputation of the General rests upon his "Economics" and +his horse-treatise ([Greek: Hippikae]). + +Economy has come to have a contorted meaning in our day, as if it +were only--saving. Its true gist is better expressed by the word +_management_; and in that old-fashioned sense it forms a significant +title for Xenophon's book: management of the household, management of +flocks, of servants, of land, of property in general. + +At the very outset we find this bit of practical wisdom, which is put +into the mouth of Socrates, who is replying to Critobulus:--"Those +things should be called goods that are beneficial to the master. Neither +can those lands be called goods which by a man's unskilful management +put him to more expense than he receives profit by them; nor may those +lands be called goods which do not bring a good farmer such a profit as +may give him a good living." + +Thereafter (sec. vii.) he introduces the good Ischomachus, who, it +appears, has a thrifty wife at home, and from that source flow in a +great many capital hints upon domestic management. The apartments, the +exposure, the cleanliness, the order, are all considered in such an +admirably practical, common-sense way as would make the old Greek a good +lecturer to the sewing-circles of our time. And when the wife of +the wise Ischomachus, in an unfortunate moment, puts on _rouge_ +and cosmetics, the grave husband meets her with this complimentary +rebuke:--"Can there be anything in Nature more complete than yourself?" + +"The science of husbandry," he says, and it might be said of the science +in most times, "is extremely profitable to those who understand it; +but it brings the greatest trouble and misery upon those farmers who +undertake it without knowledge." (sec. xv.) + +Where Xenophon comes to speak of the details of farm-labor, of +ploughings and fallowings, there is all that precision and particularity +of mention, added to a shrewd sagacity, which one might look for in the +columns of the "Country Gentleman." He even describes how a field should +be thrown into narrow lands, in order to promote a more effectual +surface-drainage. In the midst of it, however, we come upon a stereorary +maxim, which is, to say the least, of doubtful worth:--"Nor is there any +sort of earth which will not make very rich manure, by being laid a due +time in standing water, till it is fully impregnated with the virtue of +the water." His British translator, Professor Bradley, does, indeed, +give a little note of corroborative testimony. But I would not advise +any active farmer, on the authority either of General Xenophon or of +Professor Bradley, to transport his surface-soil very largely to the +nearest frog-pond, in the hope of finding it transmuted into manure. The +absorptive and retentive capacity of soils is, to be sure, the bone just +now of very particular contention; but whatever that capacity may be, +it certainly needs something more palpable than the virtue of standing +water for its profitable development. + +Here, again, is very neat evidence of how much simple good sense has +to do with husbandry: Socrates, who is supposed to have no particular +knowledge of the craft, says to his interlocutor,--"You have satisfied +me that I am not ignorant in husbandry; and yet I never had any master +to instruct me in it." + +"It is not," says Xenophon, "difference in knowledge or opportunities of +knowledge that makes some farmers rich and others poor; but that which +makes some poor and some rich is that the former are negligent and lazy, +the latter industrious and thrifty." + +Next, we have this masculine _ergo_:--"Therefore we may know that those +who will not learn such sciences as they might get their living by, or +do not fall into husbandry, are either downright fools, or else propose +to get their living by robbery or by begging." (sec. xx.) + +This is a good clean cut at politicians, office-holders, and other +such beggar craft, through more than a score of centuries,--clean as +classicism can make it: the Attic euphony in it, and all the aroma of +age. + +Once more, and it is the last of the "Oeconomica," we give this charming +bit of New-Englandism:--"I remember my father had an excellent rule," +(_Ischomachus loquitur_,) "which he advised me to follow: that, if ever +I bought any land, I should by no means purchase that which had been +already well-improved, but should choose such as had never been tilled, +either through neglect of the owner, or for want of capacity to do it; +for he observed, that, if I were to purchase improved grounds, I must +pay a high price for them, and then I could not propose to advance their +value, and must also lose the pleasure of improving them myself, or of +seeing them thrive better by my endeavors." + +When Xenophon wrote his rural treatises, (including the [Greek: +Kunaegetikos],) he was living in that delightful region of country which +lies westward of the mountains of Arcadia, looking toward the Ionian +Sea. Here, too, he wrote the story of his retreat, and his wanderings +among the mountains of Armenia; here he talked with his friends, and +made other such _symposia_ as he has given us a taste of at the house of +Callias the Athenian; here he ranged over the whole country-side with +his horses and dogs: a stalwart and lithe old gentleman, without a +doubt; able to mount a horse or to manage one, with the supplest of the +grooms; and with a keen eye, as his book shows, for the good points in +horse-flesh. A man might make a worse mistake than to buy a horse after +Xenophon's instructions, to-day. A spavin or a wind-gall did not escape +the old gentleman's eye, and he never bought a horse without proving his +wind and handling him well about the mouth and ears. His grooms were +taught their duties with nice speciality: the mane and tail to be +thoroughly washed; the food and bed to be properly and regularly +prepared; and treatment to be always gentle and kind. + +Exception may perhaps be taken to his doctrine in regard to +stall-floors. Moist ones, he says, injure the hoof: "Better to have +stones inserted in the ground close to one another, equal in size to +their hoofs; for such stalls consolidate the hoofs of those standing on +them, beside strengthening the hollow of the foot." + +After certain directions for rough riding and leaping, he advises +hunting through thickets, if wild animals are to be found. Otherwise, +the following pleasant diversion is named, which I beg to suggest to +sub-lieutenants in training for dragoon-service:--"It is a useful +exercise for two horsemen to agree between themselves, that one shall +retire through all sorts of rough places, and as he flees, is to turn +about from time to time and present his spear; and the other shall +pursue, having javelins blunted with balls, and a spear of the same +description, and whenever he comes within javelin-throw, he is to hurl +the blunted weapon at the party retreating, and whenever he comes within +spear-reach, he is to strike him with it." + +Putting aside his horsemanship, in which he must have been nearly +perfect, there was very much that was grand about the old Greek,--very +much that makes us strangely love the man, who, when his soldiers lay +benumbed under the snows on the heights of Armenia, threw off his +general's coat, or blanket, or what not, and set himself resolutely to +wood-chopping and to cheering them. The farmer knew how. + +Such men win battles. He has his joke, too, with Cheirisophus, the +Lacedaemonian, about the thieving propensity of his townspeople, and +invites him, in virtue of it, to _steal_ a difficult march upon the +enemy. And Cheirisophus grimly retorts upon Xenophon, that Athenians are +said to be great experts in stealing the public money, especially the +high officers. This sounds home-like! When I come upon such things, I +forget the parasangs and the Taochians and the dead Cyrus, and seem to +be reading out of American newspapers. + +It is quite out of the question to claim Theocritus as a farm-writer; +and yet in all old literature there is not to be found such a lively +bevy of heifers, and wanton kids, and "butting rams," and stalwart +herdsmen, who milk the cows "upon the sly," as in the "Idyls" of the +musical Sicilian. + +There is no doubt but Theocritus knew the country to a charm: he knew +all its roughnesses, and the thorns that scratched the bare legs of the +goatherds; he knew the lank heifers, that fed, "like grasshoppers," only +on dew; he knew what clatter the brooks made, tumbling headlong adown +the rocks,-- + + [Greek: apo tus petras kataleibetai ypsothen ydor] + +he knew, moreover, all the charms and coyness of the country-nymphs, +giving even a rural twist to his praises of the courtly Helen:-- + + "In shape, in height, in stately presence + fair, + Straight as a furrow gliding from the + share."[B] + +[Footnote B: Elton's translation, I think. I do not vouch for its +correctness.] + +A man must have had an eye for good ploughing and a lithe figure, as +well as a keen scent for the odor of fresh-turned earth, to make such a +comparison as that! + +Theocritus was no French sentimentalist; he would have protested against +the tame elegancies of the Roman Bucolics; and the _sospiri ardenti_ and +_miserelli aman_ of Guarini would have driven him mad. He is as brisk as +the wind upon a breezy down. His cow-tenders are swart and bare-legged, +and love with a vengeance. There is no miserable tooting upon flutes, +but an uproarious song that shakes the woods; and if it comes to a +matter of kissing, there are no "reluctant lips," but a smack that makes +the vales resound. + +It is no Boucher we have here, nor Watteau: cosmetics and rosettes are +far away; tunics are short, and cheeks are nut-brown. It is Teniers, +rather:--boors, indeed; but they are live boors, and not manikin +shepherds. + +I shall call out another Sicilian here, named Moschus, were it only +for his picture of a fine, sturdy bullock: it occurs in his "Rape of +Europa":-- + + "With yellow hue his sleekened body beams; + His forehead with a snowy circle gleams; + Horns, equal-bending, from his brow emerge, + And to a moonlight crescent orbing verge." + +Nothing can be finer than the way in which this "milky steer," with +Europa on his back, goes sailing over the brine, his "feet all oars." +Meantime, she, the pretty truant, + + "Grasps with one hand his curved projecting horn, + And with the other closely drawn compressed + The fluttering foldings of her purple vest, + Whene'er its fringed hem was dashed with dew + Of the salt sea-foam that in circles flew: + Wide o'er Europa's shoulders to the gale + The ruffled robe heaved swelling, like a sail." + +Moschus is as rich as the Veronese at Venice; and his picture is truer +to the premium standard. The painting shows a pampered animal, with +over-red blotches on his white hide, and is by half too fat to breast +such "salt sea-foam" as flashes on the Idyl of Moschus. + +Another poet, Aratus of Cilicia, whose very name has a smack of tillage, +has left us a book about the weather [Greek: Dosaemeia] which is +quite as good to mark down a hay-day by as the later meteorologies of +Professor Espy or Judge Butler. + +Besides which, our friend Aratus holds the abiding honor of having been +quoted by St. Paul, in his speech to the Athenians on Mars Hill:-- + +"For in Him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain also of +your own poets have said: 'For we are also His offspring.'" + +And Aratus, (after Elton,)-- + + "On thee our being hangs; in thee we move; + All are thy offspring, and the seed of Jove." + +Scattered through the lesser Greek poets, and up and down the Anthology, +are charming bits of rurality, redolent of the fields and of field-life, +with which it would be easy to fill up the measure of this rainy day, +and beat off the Grecian couplets to the tinkle of the eave-drops. Up +and down, the cicada chirps; the locust, "encourager of sleep," sings +his drowsy song; boozy Anacreon flings grapes; the purple violets and +the daffodils crown the perfumed head of Heliodora; and the reverent +Simonides likens our life to the grass. + +Nor will I part company with these, or close up the Greek ranks +of farmers, (in which I must not forget the great schoolmaster, +Theophrastus,) until I cull a sample of the Anthology, and plant it +for a guidon at the head of the column,--a little bannerol of music, +touching upon our topic, as daintily as the bees touch the flowering +tips of the wild thyme. + +It is by Zonas the Sardian:-- + + [Greek: Ai o agete nxouthai oimblaeides akra melissai, + _K.T.L.,] + +and the rendering by Mr. Hay:-- + + "Ye nimble honey-making bees, the flowers are in their prime; + Come now and taste the little buds of sweetly breathing thyme, + Of tender poppies all so fair, or bits of raisin sweet, + Or down that decks the apple tribe, or fragrant violet; + Come, nibble on,--your vessels store with honey while you can, + In order that the hive-protecting, bee-preserving Pan + May have a tasting for himself, and that the hand so rude, + That cuts away the comb, may leave yourselves some little food." + +Leaving now this murmur of the bees upon the banks of the Pactolus, +will slip over-seas to Tusculum, where Cato was born, who was the oldest +of the Roman writers upon agriculture; and thence into the Sabine +territory, where, upon an estate of his father's, in the midst of the +beautiful country lying northward of the Monte Gennaro, (the Lucretilis +of Horace,) he learned the art of good farming. + +In what this art consisted in his day, he tells us in short, crackling +speech;--"_Primum_, bene arare; _secundum_, arare; _tertium_, +stercorare." For the rest, he says, choose good seed, sow thickly, and +pull all the weeds. Nothing more would be needed to grow as good a crop +upon the checkered plateau under my window as ever fattened among the +Sabine Hills. + +Has the art come to a stand-still, then; and shall we take to reading +Cato on fair days, as well as rainy? + +There has been advance, without doubt; but all the advance in the world +would not take away the edge from truths, stated as Cato knew how to +state them. There is very much of what is called Agricultural Science, +nowadays, which is--rubbish. Science is sound, and agriculture always an +honest art; but the mixture, not uncommonly, is bad,--no fair marriage, +but a monstrous concubinage, with a monstrous progeny of muddy treatises +and disquisitions which confuse more than they instruct. In contrast +with such, it is no wonder that the observations of such a man as Cato, +whose energies had been kept alive by service in the field, and whose +tongue had been educated in the Roman Senate, should carry weight with +them. The grand truths on which successful agriculture rests, and which +simple experience long ago demonstrated, cannot be kept out of view, nor +can they be dwarfed by any imposition of learning. Science may explain +them, or illustrate or extend; but it cannot shake their preponderating +influence upon the crop of the year. As respects many other arts, +the initial truths may be lost sight of, and overlaid by the mass +of succeeding developments,--not falsified, but so belittled as +practically to be counted for nothing. In this respect, agriculture is +exceptional. The old story is always the safe story: you must plough and +plough again; and manure; and sow good seed, and enough; and pull the +weeds; and as sure as the rain falls, the crop will come. + +Many nice additions to this method of treatment, which my fine-farming +friends will suggest, are anticipated by the old Roman, if we look far +enough into his book. Thus, he knew the uses of a harrow; he knew the +wisdom of ploughing in a green crop; he had steeps for his seed; he knew +how to drain off the surface-water,--nay, there is very much in his +account of the proper preparation of ground for olive-trees, or +vine-setting, which looks like a mastery of the principles that govern +the modern system of drainage.[C] + +[Footnote C: XLIII. "Sulcos, si locus aquosus erit, alveatos esse +oportet," etc.] + +Of what particular service recent investigations in science have been to +the practical farmer, and what positive and available aid, beyond what +could be derived from a careful study of the Roman masters, they put +into the hands of an intelligent worker, who is tilling ground simply +for pecuniary advantage, I shall hope to inquire and discourse upon, +some other day: when that day comes, we will fling out the banner of the +nineteenth century, and give a gun to Liebig, and Johnson, and the rest. + +Meantime, as a farmer who endeavors to keep posted in all the devices +for pushing lands which have an awkward habit of yielding poor crops +into the better habit of yielding large ones, I will not attempt to +conceal the chagrin with which I find this curmudgeon of a Roman +Senator, living two centuries before Christ, and northward of Monte +Gennaro, who never heard of "Hovey's Root-Cutter," or of the law of +primaries, laying down rules[D] of culture so clear, so apt, so full, +that I, who have the advantages of two thousand years, find nothing in +them to laugh at, unless it be a few oblations to the gods;[E] and this, +considering that I am just now burning a little incense (Havana) to the +nymph Volutia, is uncalled for. + +[Footnote D: This mention, of course, excludes the Senator's _formulae_ +for unguents, aperients, cattle-nostrums, and pickled pork.] + +[Footnote E: CXXXIV. Cato, _De Re Rusticâ_.] + +And if Senator Cato were to wake up to-morrow, in the white house that +stares through the rain yonder, and were to open his little musty vellum +of slipshod maxims, and, in faith of it, start a rival farm in the bean +line, or in vine-growing,--keeping clear of the newspapers,--I make no +doubt but he would prove as thrifty a neighbor as my good friend the +Deacon. + +We nineteenth-century men, at work among our cabbages, clipping off the +purslane and the twitch-grass, are disposed to assume a very complacent +attitude, as we lean upon our hoe-handles,--as if we were doing tall +things in the way of illustrating physiology and the cognate sciences. +But the truth is, old Laertes, near three thousand years ago, in his +slouch cap and greasy beard, was hoeing up in the same way his purslane +and twitch-grass, in his bean-patch on the hills of Ithaca. The +difference between us, so far as the crop and the tools go, is, after +all, ignominiously small. _He_ dreaded the weevil in his beans, and _we_ +the club-foot in our cabbages; _we_ have the "Herald," and _he_ had +none; _we_ have "Plantation-Bitters," and _he_ had his jug of the +Biblian wine. + +M. Varro, another Roman farmer, lies between the same covers "De Re +Rusticâ" with Cato, and seems to have had more literary tact, though +less of blunt sagacity. Yet he challenges at once our confidence by +telling us so frankly the occasion of his writing upon such a subject. +Life, he says, is a bubble,--and the life of an old man a bubble about +to break. He is eighty, and must pack his luggage to go out of this +world. ("_Annus octogesimus admonet me, ut sarcinas colligam antequam +proficiscar e vitâ_.") Therefore he, writes down for his wife, Fundania, +the rules by which she may manage the farm. + +And a very respectably old lady she must have been, to deal with the +_villici_ and the _coloni_, if her age bore suitable relation to that +of her husband. The ripe maturity of many of the rural writers I have +introduced cannot fail to strike one. Thus, Xenophon gained a strength +in his Elian fields that carried him into the nineties; Cato lived to be +over eighty; and now we have Varro, writing his book out by Tusculum at +eighty, and surviving to counsel with Fundania ten years more. Pliny, +too, (the elder,) who, if not a farmer, had his country-seats, and left +very much to establish our acquaintance with the Roman rural life, was +a hale, much-enduring man, of such soldierly habits and large +abstemiousness as to warrant a good fourscore,--if he had not fallen +under that murderous cloud of ashes from Mount Vesuvius, in the year 79. + +The poets, doubtless, burnt out earlier, as they usually do. Virgil, +whom I shall come to speak of presently, certainly did: he died at +fifty-one. Tibullus, whose opening Idyl is as pretty a bit of gasconade +about living in a cottage in the country, upon love and a few +vegetables, as a maiden could wish for, did not reach the fifties; and +Martial, whose "Faustine Villa," if nothing else, entitles him to rural +oblation, fell short of the sixties. + +Varro indulges in some sharp sneers at those who had written on the same +subject before him. This was natural enough in a man of his pursuits: he +had written four hundred books! + +Of Columella we know scarcely more than that he lived somewhere about +the time of Tiberius, that he was a man of wealth, that he travelled +extensively through Gaul, Italy, and Greece, observing intelligently +different methods of culture, and that he has given the fullest existing +compend of ancient agriculture. In his chapter upon Gardening he warms +into hexameters; but the rest is stately and euphonious prose. In his +opening chapter, he does not forego such praises of the farmer's life +as sound like a lawyer's address before a county-society on a fair-day. +Cincinnatus and his plough come in for it; and Fabricius and Curius +Dentatus; with which names, luckily, our orators cannot whet their +periods, since Columella's mention of them is about all we know of their +farming. + +He falls into the way, moreover, of lamenting, as people obstinately +continue to do, the "good old times," when men were better than "now," +and when the reasonable delights of the garden and the fields engrossed +them to the neglect of the circus and the theatres. But when he opens +upon his subject proper, it is in grandiose, Spanish style, (he was +a native of Cadiz,) with a maxim broad enough to cover all possible +conditions:--"_Qui studium agricolationi dederit, sciat haec sibi +advocanda: prudentiam rei, facultatem impendendi voluntatem agendi_." +Or, as Tremellius says,--"That man will master the business, _qui et +colere sciet, et poterit, et volet_." + +This is comprehensive, if not encouraging. That "_facultatem +impendendi_" is a tremendous bolster to farming as to anything else; it +is only another shape of the "_poterit_," and the "_poterit"_ only +a scholarly rendering of pounds and pence. As if Tremellius had +said,--That man will make his way at farming who understands the +business, who has the money to apply to it, and who is willing to bleed +freely. + +With a kindred sagacity this shrewd Roman advises a man to slip upon his +farm often, in order that his steward may keep sharply at his work; he +even suggests that the landlord make a feint of coming, when he has no +intention thereto, that he may gain a day's alertness from the bailiff. +The book is of course a measure of the advances made in farming during +the two hundred years elapsed since Cato's time; but those advances were +not great. There was advance in power to systematize facts, advance in +literary aptitude, but no very noticeable gain in methods of culture. +Columella gives the results of wider observation, and of more persistent +study; but, for aught I can see, a man could get a crop of lentils +as well with Cato as with Columbia; a man would house his flocks and +servants as well out of the one as the other; in short, a man would grow +into the "_facultatem impendendi_" as swiftly under the teachings of the +Senator as of the later writer of the reign of Tiberius. + +It is but dull work to follow those teachings; here and there I warm +into a little sympathy, as I catch sight, in his Latin dress, of our +old friend _Curculio;_ here and there I sniff a fruit that seems +familiar,--as the _fraga_, or a _morum;_ and here and there comes +blushing into the crabbed text the sweet name of some home-flower,--a +lily, a narcissus, or a rose. The chief value of the work of Columella, +however, lies in its clear showing-forth of the relative importance +given to different crops, under Roman culture, and to the raising of +cattle, poultry, fish, etc.; as compared with crops. Knowing this, we +know very much that will help us toward an estimate of the domestic life +of the Romans. We learn, with surprise, how little they regarded their +oxen, save as working-animals,--whether the milk-white steers of +Clitumnus, or the dun Campanian cattle, whose descendants show their +long-horned stateliness to this day in the Roman forum. The sheep, too, +whether of Tarentum or of Canusium, were regarded as of value chiefly +for their wool and milk; and it is surely amazing, that men who could +appreciate the iambics of Horace and the eloquence of Cicero should +have shown so little fancy for a fat saddle of mutton or for a mottled +sirloin of beef. + +I change from Columella to Virgil, and from Virgil back to some pleasant +Idyl of Tibullus, and from Tibullus to the pretty prate of Horace about +the Sabine Hills; I stroll through Pliny's villa, eying the clipped +box-trees; I hear the rattle in the tennis-court; I watch the tall Roman +girls-- + + "Grandes virgines proborum colonorum"-- + +marching along with their wicker-baskets filled with curds and +fresh-plucked thrushes, until there comes over me a confusion of times +and places. + +--The sound of the battle of to-day dies; the fresh blood-stains +fade; and I seem to wake upon the heights of Tusculum, in the days of +Tiberius. The farm-flat below is a miniature Campagna, along which I +see stretching straight to the city the shining pavement of the Via +Tusculana. The spires yonder melt into mist, and in place of them I see +the marble house-walls of which Augustus boasted. As yet the grander +monuments of the Empire are not built; but there is a blotch of cliff +which may be the Tarpeian Rock, and beside it a huge hulk of building on +the Capitoline Hill, where sat the Roman Senate. A little hitherward are +the gay turrets of the villa of Maecenas, and of the princely houses on +the Palatine Hill, and in the foreground the stately tomb of Cecilia +Metella. I see the barriers of a hippodrome, (where now howling +jockeys make the twilight hideous); a _gestatio_, with its lines +of cherry-trees, is before me, and the velvety lavender-green of +olive-orchards covers the hills behind. Vines grow upon the slope +eastward,-- + + "Neve tibi ad solem vergant vineta cadentem,"-- + +twining around, and flinging off a great wealth of tendrils from their +supporting-poles (_pedamenta_). The figs begin to show the purple bloom +of fruitage, and the _villicus_, who has just now come in from the +_atriolum_, reports a good crop, and asks if it would not be well to +apply a few loads of marl (_tofacea_) to the summer fallow, which Cato +is just now breaking up with the Campanian steers, for barley. + +Scipio, a stanch Numidian, has gone to market with three asses loaded +with cabbages and asparagus. Villicus tells me that the poultry in the +fattening-coops (as close-shut as the Strasburg geese)[F] are doing +well, and he has added a _soupçon_ of sweetening to their barley-gruel. +The young doves have their legs faithfully broken, ("_obteras crura_") +and are placidly fattening on their stumps. The thrush-house is properly +darkened, only enough light entering to show the food to some three or +four thousand birds, which are in course of cramming for the market. The +_cochlearium_ has a good stock of snails and mussels; and the little +dormice are growing into fine condition for an approaching Imperial +banquet. + +[Footnote F: "Locus ad hanc rem desideratur maxime calidus, et minimi +luminis, in quo singulae caveis angustioribus vel sportis inclusae +pendeant aves, sed ita coarctatae, _ne versari posslnt_."--Columella, +Lib. VIII. cap. vii.] + +Villicus reports the clip of the Tarentine sheep unusually fine, and +free from burrs. The new must is all a-foam in the _vinaria;_ and around +the inner cellar (_gaudendem est!_) there is a tier of urns, as large as +school-boys, brimming with ripe Falernian. + +If it were not stormy, I might order out the farm-chariot, or +_curriculum_, which is, after all, but a low, dumpy kind of horse-cart, +and take a drive over the lava pavement of the Via Tusculana, to learn +what news is astir, and what the citizens talk of in the forum. Is all +quiet upon the Rhine? How is it possibly with Germanicus? And what of +that story of the arrest of Seneca? It could hardly have happened, they +say, in the good old days of the Republic. + +And with this mention, as with the sound of a gun, the Roman pastoral +dream is broken. The Campagna, the olive-orchards, the _columbarium_, +fall back to their old places in the blurred type of Columella. The +Campanian steers are unyoked, and stabled in the text of Varro. The +turrets of the villa of Maecenas, and of the palaces of Sylla and the +Caesars, give place to the spires of a New-England town,--southward of +which I see through the mist a solitary flag flying over a soldiers' +hospital. It reminds of nearer and deadlier perils than ever environed +the Roman Republic,--perils out of which if the wisdom and courage of +the people do not find a way, some new Caesar will point it with the +sword. + +Looking northward, I see there is a bight of blue in the sky; and a lee +set of dark-gray and purple clouds is folding down over the eastern +horizon,--against which the spires and the flag show clearer than ever. +It means that the rain has stopped; and the rain having stopped, my +in-door work is done. + + * * * * * + + +GOLDEN WEDDING. + + +The reader whose eye is arrested by my title will doubtless anticipate a +romance on that ever-old, ever-new theme of a certain god with a torch +leading two souls bound together by iron concealed in flower-wreaths, +until, alas! life seems ordinary enough to be symbolized by _tin_,--of +the tin-wedding entering into the refiner's fire, and, by sure +transmutation, rising from the baser metal to the paler, but purer +silver,--of the subtile alchemy of years, which, in human life's great +crucible, + + "Transmute, so potent are the spells they know + Into pure gold the silver of to-day." + +Perhaps, reader, you are not altogether to be disappointed; and yet, for +the present, it is only a glass of sparkling wine I wish you to take +with me. You will please read on that delicate strip of paper around the +bottle's neck the name in gilt,--"Golden Wedding." At once you +grow transcendental, and suppose that some German vine-dresser in +Catawba-land--by the way, Gerritt Smith's gardener is a nephew of +Schiller!--was dreaming of the marriage of the Sun with the Vine, his +darling plant, in whose juice linger and sparkle the light and joy of +many faded days. But no, it was named from a real Golden Wedding. + +Let me take you--as the clairvoyants say--to a large, sooty, toiling +city in the West. From street to street you shall go, and see but little +to excite your admiration, unless you are a constant believer that _work +is worship_. But here, in the centre of the city, is a noble old mansion +with its beautiful park around it, which a traveller who saw it once +compared to a pearl on the breast of a blacksmith. Here it was that the +Golden Wedding took place. + +Who that was there can ever forget it? In my own memory that throng of +the worthy, the beautiful, the gay of a great city will stand as the one +fulfilment which Fate has given me of many Oriental promissory dreams, +most of which she has failed to honor. In that great company you might +have traced all the circles of that city's growth, as you may trace a +tree's history in its rings. That lady there was the first white baby +born here, where now over two hundred thousand human beings reside. Here +are the pioneers who filled the first log-huts on the city's site, +until they overflowed through the roofs. And here is an inner circle of +children, and an outer one of grandchildren, about the two who are the +heart of this beautiful celebration. Can that lovely, erect, blooming +lady be a bride of fifty years? Looking at her, one would say it is a +great and unnecessary mistake of ours to grow old. But more closely must +we look at that quaint old man by her side. Lately he has passed away; +but every day of his long life left a trace worthy to be noted well. His +eighty years and twenty-five days of life comprise an epitome of the +history and growth of a great community. Not so would you at first +interpret that plain old man; though, to a knowing eye, that eye, clear +with looking at the duty that lies nearest, that mouth, telling of +patient, unimpulsive energy, that broadness about the brow, would be +guaranties of a marked life. + +And now for my story, which you must let me tell in a rambling way; for +any systematic biography of that man would be like putting one of his +own Catawba-vines into your herbarium. + +I introduce you to a fair-haired, handsome youth, on the deck of a small +steamboat, which is bearing him to his fortune in the great West. He is +penniless. His father was wealthy; but in the war he was a Tory, and, in +the confiscation of his property, his sin was visited upon his son. But +he was not the boy to repine, with youth and the great West before him. +And now as from the steamer's deck he sees a fine landscape with a few +log-houses on it, he believes that it is one day to be a great city, and +concludes to stop there. So he is put ashore with his trunk. + +He has already determined to study law. He goes to the one judge +who resides there, and is taken as a student into his office. More +log-houses are built; a court-house is erected; and presently that +institution at sight of which the shipwrecked Englishman fell on his +knees and thanked God he was in a Christian land--the gallows--made its +appearance. So the young man had a fair practice. + +The records of the West, if they are ever written, will testify how +often whimsical Fortune thrusts her favors on men against their will. +This very judge with whom our youth studied law became environed with +pecuniary difficulties, and wished once to satisfy a claim of a few +hundred dollars by deeding away a sheep-pasture of a few acres, which +was of no sort of use to him. But when he went to get his wife's +signature to the conveyance, she burst into tears; she knew, she said, +that the pasture was worthless; but she had in her childhood heard there +the tinkling of the bells of her father's sheep; it was very foolish, +she knew, but now that they had all passed away, the bells over in the +pasture tinkled on in her memory, and she hated to give it up. The kind +husband would not insist, but went sadly to his work. It was not long +before the sheep-pasture was worth a million dollars! Sentiment, you +see, is not always an unproductive article. + +But this case was scarcely so curious as that which presently thrust a +goodly capital on the hands of our young law-student. His first case in +the court was that of a horse-thief, whom he induced a jury to acquit. +When he came to his client for a fee, the scapegrace whispered that +he had nothing on earth wherewith to pay the fee except two old +whiskey-stills and--_a horse_. When he heard this last word, the +lawyer's conscience gave him a twinge. After a moment's reflection, he +said,--"You will need the horse; and you had best make him take you as +far as possible from this region of country. I must be satisfied with +the whiskey-stills." It was not for a long time that he thought even to +inquire about the stills. When he did so, he found them in possession +of a man who implored him not to take them away, and promised to pay +something for them. Finding that he could not do this, he begged our +hero to accept as payment for them a few acres of barren land, which, +with great reluctance, he agreed to do. Erelong the tide of emigration +set westward, and this land is to-day worth two million dollars! + +But his subsequent life showed that the man's fortune was not luck; for +by economy, not by hoarding,--by foresight, and a generous trust to all +laborers who wished to lease lands, his wealth grew to nearly fifteen +million dollars. + +When he found that he had enough to live comfortably upon, he retired +from the bar, and devoted himself to horticulture. He found that the +region in which he lived was adapted to the growth of the vine, and +began his experiments, which, during his life, extended to the culture +of more than forty varieties. He laid before the community, from time to +time, a report of his successes, he called on all to come and taste the +wines he made, until the tidings went over the earth, and from Germany, +France, Italy, came vine-dressers and wine-makers, who covered every +hill-side for miles around him with vintages. + +Those who came from afar to inquire into this new branch of industry, +for which he had opened the way, were surprised to meet the +millionnaire, the Catawba-Prince, in his plain garb and with his humble +habits. + +How many stories I could tell you of this unintentional, odd homeliness +of manner and life, from which he never departed, and which those around +him found it impossible to depart from, even in respect to the style of +the coffin in which he was laid, and the procession which followed him +to the beautiful cemetery! His dress was always that of a man of the +humblest fortunes; and Dame Gossip says that he was so fond of his old +coat, that, when a change became absolutely necessary, his daughters +were obliged to prepare the new one, and substitute it for the old +whilst he was asleep, so that in the morning he should put it on +unconsciously, or, if he discovered the change; must wear the new or +none. The same dame has it that a youth, who afterward became his +son-in-law, having caught sight somewhere of one of the old man's +daughters, desired to know her, and that, in the park, which was open to +all, he met the old gentleman, whom he supposed to be the gardener, and +offered him a bribe, if he would bring the lady out among the roses. The +old man accepted the bribe, and returned with the lady, whom, with a +sly twinkle of the eye, he introduced as "my daughter" to the blushing +youth. And again it is told, that once, on a very warm day, the old man, +having to wait for a friend, sat down on a stone just outside of his own +gate, took off his hat, and, closing his eyes, dozed a little. When he +got up, he found a silver quarter in his hat. Whether it was put there +by some one who really thought he was an object of charity, or by a wag, +the old man appreciated the joke, and, with a smile, put it into the +pocket out of which had to come forty thousand dollars for annual taxes. +These stories may or may not be true; but in some sense such stories +have a certain truth, whether invented or not. They can live and +circulate only in a community where they are characteristic of the +person of whom they are told. Generous men are not pursued by stories of +parsimony; mean men never hear even untrue stories of their generosity. + +And this last remark leads me to speak of the relation in which the +wealthiest man of the West stood to the throngs of the poor and the +suffering who surrounded him. + +If, in the city, you had gone to the President of the Boorioboola-Gha +Sewing-Circle, or to the Tract-Society Rooms, or to the clergy, and +inquired whether the city's richest man was charitable, you would have +received an ominous shrug in reply. Vainly have they gone to him for any +such charities. Vainly did they go to him for some "poor, but worthy and +Christian woman." + +"I will give nothing," he replied; "there are enough who will give to +her; what I have to give shall go to the _unworthy_ poor, whom none +will help,--the Devil's poor, Sir,--those whom Christians leave to the +Devil." + +Many a minister has been sorely puzzled by the receipt of a fifty-dollar +bill "for the relief of the depraved." His office was constantly +thronged with outcasts, who were generally relieved by small sums. In +his relations with these people, his simplicity and eccentricity were +noted by all who knew him. Among many stories which I know to be true, I +select the following. + +Some six or eight years ago the winter was very cold; the river was +frozen, and all the "wharf-rats" were thrown out of work. A near +relative of the old gentleman came to the city, and passed the night at +his house. After tea he sauntered to the office to take a quiet cigar. +To his surprise, he found it filled with a crowd--more than fifty--of +brawny, beastly-looking men. The presence of the childlike old man, his +face beaming with shrewdness and kindly humor, seemed alone to keep them +from being a mob. His manner to them said,--"You poor wretches, I know +how reckless you are; yet I am not sure but I should be as bad, had I +been exposed to the same bad influences." These houseless vagrants had +been coming every night, while the river was frozen, to get a dime for a +night's lodging. + +The young man had been forced by the unpleasantness of the crowd to go +and enjoy his cigar outside. As he sat there, the ugly crowd filed out +quietly, each with his dime, (the clerk distributing,) till the last +man. He seemed to feel very ill-used, and was scarcely clear of the +door-way before he gave vent to his indignation:--"I'll be d----d, if I +don't let Old ---- know that I won't be put off with a five-cent piece +and a three-cent piece! Let me ketch him out, and I'll mash his," etc., +etc. + +Glowing with righteous indignation, and glad of the opportunity, the +young relative rushed in and exclaimed,-- + +"Mr. ----! I have had many occasions to remonstrate with you on your +indiscriminate charities, your encouragement of beggary and vice. The +wretch who went out last is breathing threats of personal violence +against you, because he has been put off with a five-cent piece and a +three-cent piece!" + +How was the indignant remonstrant mortified, when the old man simply +turned his head to the clerk and said,-- + +"Mark, why did you not give that man his dime?" + +"I had given out all the dimes, Sir, and I gave him all I had left." + +"See that he gets his extra two cents the next time he comes. I have no +doubt I should have been mad, if I had been in his place." + +A forlorn-looking man once came and asked for help. + +"I am afraid to give you money. I think I know how you will spend it." + +Of course the man protested that strong drink was an abomination unto +him,--that what his nature most craved was "pure, fresh milk." + +The old man, with a look in which it would be hard to say whether +shrewdness or credulity predominated, at once hastened to the +milk-cellar and returned with a glass of milk; the fellow swallowed the +dose with an eager reluctance quite comical to behold, but which excited +no movement in the muscles of the old gentleman's face. + +On a raw, wet winter's day, a loafer applied for a pair of shoes. He had +on an old, shambling pair, out at both toes. The old Wine-Prince was +sitting with a pair of slippers on, and had his own shoes warming at the +fire. + +"Well," said he to the applicant, "you do look rather badly off, for +such a cold, wet day; here, see if these shoes will fit you," handing +his own. + +The fellow tried them on and pronounced them a complete fit, and went on +his way rejoicing. The clerk was amused, half an hour after, to see the +old gentleman searching for his shoes and wondering what had become of +them. He was reminded that he had given them to the beggar. On further +inquiry, he found that he had no other pair in the house. + +The following significant story was told me by the son of the old man. I +present it in nearly his own words. + +"Adjoining me in the country lives an old German who nearly seventy +years ago was _sold_ in New York for his passage. A confectioner of +Baltimore bought him for seven years' service, and he went with his +master to fulfil his obligation. When his time was out, he turned his +face towards the setting sun, and started to seek his fortune. On +arriving in Pittsburg, having no money, he engaged to 'work his way' +down the river on a flat-boat. He stopped at the little village, as our +city then was, and opened a shop. He was skilful, and succeeded. He came +to my father, and bought, on ten years' credit, a place in the country, +where, in course of time, he built a house, and, with my father's +assistance, planted a vineyard. He then gave up all other business but +that of the vine-dresser. + +"One day, in the autumn, a few years ago, I overtook the old man on +horseback, on his way to town. After wishing me a cheery good-morning, +he said,-- + +"'I am on my way to town, to sell your father my wine.' + +"'He will be glad to get it; he is buying wine, and yours is made so +carefully that he will be glad to have it.' + +"'I mean to sell it to him for fifty cents a gallon.' + +"'Oh,' said I, 'don't offer it at that. I know he is paying double that +sum.' + +"'Nevertheless, I mean to sell it to him for half a dollar.' + +"I looked inquiringly. + +"'Well, Sir, I was but a boy when I left Germany; but I was old +enough to remember that a man, after a hard day's work, could go to a +wine-house, and for two cents could get a tumblerful. It did him good, +and he went home to his family fresher and brighter for his wine. He +was never drunk, and never wasted his earnings to appease a diseased +appetite. I want to see that state of things brought about here. Our +poor people drink whiskey. I want them to have cheap wine in its place. +Fifty cents a gallon will pay me well this year for my capital and +labor, and next year I think I can sell it for forty cents.' + +"'But, my friend, see how this will work. You will sell your wine to Mr. +---- for fifty cents; and he will send it to his wine-cellar, and they +will bottle it and sell it for all they can get.' + +"'That's _their_ lookout,' said the Teuton; 'I shall have done my duty.' + +"It was rather hard to get an advantage of my father, but I thought now +I had him. On reaching the city, I sought him out, and told the story +with all its circumstances. + +"'Now, Sir, in presence of the example of this old German,--sold in New +York for his passage, faithfully fulfilling the years of his servitude, +working his way to a small competency by savings and industry,--will you +dare to let the world hear of you, a rich man, making a profit on wine?' + +"The old man's eye dropped an instant, then he said,-- + +"'My son, Heaven knows I do not wish to make money out of wine. I have +given much time and much money for the last fifty years to make this +doubtful experiment successful. I have paid high prices for wine, and +used all other means in my power to make it remunerative,--to induce +others to plant vineyards. If I should now take your suggestion and +bring wine down to a low price, I should ruin the enterprise. But let +the extended cultivation of the grape be once firmly established, and +then competition will bring it low enough.' + +"'Well,' said I, 'that may be good worldly wisdom; but I like the spirit +of the old Dutchman better, after all.' + +"'There I agree with you; for once, you are right.'" + +A most careful accountant has shown that his contributions to +grape-culture amounted to one-fourth of his whole fortune: a clear loss +to him, but not to the public. + +Though the lips of Christendom repeat, Sunday after Sunday, the warning +that the left hand should not know what the right hand doeth, yet it is +very apt to judge of a man's liberality by the paragraphs concerning him +in the newspapers. The old gentleman once gave his city several acres of +land for an observatory which was to be erected; and there is no doubt +that he had reason to conclude, as have others, that it was the worst, +as it was the most public, charity of his life. That his private +charities were numerous and without self-crediting, the present writer +_happens_ to know. Once, after going through the great wine-cellar where +millions were coined, I went through the barracks in the upper portion +of the same building, where a wretched tenantry of the Devil's poor +lived in squalor. Each of these families was required to pay room-rent +to the millionnaire. As I passed along, I found one man and woman in +wrathful distress. They must pay their rent, or be turned out of their +rooms. The rent was two or three dollars. I said,-- + +"The old gentleman will not turn you out." + +"You do not know him; he will be sure to, if we do not pay him every +cent." + +I determined to search him out and represent the case. I could not find +him; but before I concluded my search, I found that the poor people had +been compelled to sell a table and some chairs to pay the rent. The next +day I saw them again, and found them heartily abusing the old man as +"a stingy brute," who would "sell the chairs from under them." Yet I +observed that they had _a new table and three new chairs_. When I asked +them how they came by them, they said they had been sent by an unknown +hand, which they supposed to be mine. A thought struck me, and after +some trouble I ferreted out the fact, that, although the rich old man +had, for reasons connected with the good order of the barracks, +always exacted every cent of the rent from each tenant, whatever the +consequences, he had many times, as in this case, secretly returned more +than it had cost them to pay it. They were left to believe him a hard +man, and often attributed his benefits to societies and persons whose +charity would have been stifled by the whiskey-stench of their rooms. + +Thus, then, went on his life, until the day when the Golden Wedding +was to be celebrated. That year, the sons, with the vine-dressers, the +bottlers, corkers, and all, gathered together and said,-- + +"Come, now! let us this year make a wine that shall be like the nectar +for a true man's soul!" + +So, with one accord, they gathered the richest grapes, and selected from +them; then they made the wine-press clean and sweet, and cast the grapes +therein. One great hiss,--a spurt of gold flushed with rubies,--and all +that is acrid is left, all that is rich and sweet is borne away, to be +labelled "GOLDEN WEDDING." + +And now, as I taste it, it seems to me flavored beyond all earthly wine, +as if it were the expression of an humble and faithful man, who had a +legitimate object, which he obtained by steadfastness. The wine-makers +maintain, that wine, though long confined in bottles, sympathizes still +with the vines from which it was pressed; and when the season of the +flowering of vines comes, it is always agitated anew. Surely the Catawba +must ever sparkle afresh, when in it, as now, we pledge the memory of +the brave and wise pioneer whose life climbed to its maturity along with +the purple clusters which so had garnered the frost and sunshine of a +life as well as of the seasons. + + + + +THE SILURIAN BEACH. + + +With what interest do we look upon any relic of early human history! +The monument that tells of a civilization whose hieroglyphic records we +cannot even decipher, the slightest trace of a nation that vanished and +left no sign of its life except the rough tools and utensils buried +in the old site of its towns or villages, arouses our imagination and +excites our curiosity. Men gaze with awe at the inscription on an +ancient Egyptian or Assyrian stone; they hold with reverential touch the +yellow parchment-roll whose dim, defaced characters record the meagre +learning of a buried nationality; and the announcement, that for +centuries the tropical forests of Central America have hidden within +their tangled growth the ruined homes and temples of a past race, stirs +the civilized world with a strange, deep wonder. + +To me it seems that to look on the first land that was ever lifted above +the waste of waters, to follow the shore where the earliest animals and +plants were created when the thought of God first expressed itself +in organic forms, to hold in one's hand a bit of stone from an old +sea-beach, hardened into rock thousands of centuries ago, and studded +with the beings that once crept upon its surface or were stranded there +by some retreating wave, is even of deeper interest to men than the +relics of their own race, for these things tell more directly of the +thoughts and creative acts of God. + +Standing in the neighborhood of Whitehall, near Lake George, one may +look along such a sea-shore, and see it stretching westward and sloping +gently southward as far as the eye can reach. It must have had a very +gradual slope, and the waters must have been very shallow; for at that +time no great mountains had been uplifted, and deep oceans are always +the concomitants of lofty heights. We do not, however, judge of this by +inference merely; we have an evidence of the shallowness of the sea +in those days in the character of the shells found in the Silurian +deposits, which shows that they belonged in shoal waters. + +Indeed, the fossil remains of all times tell us almost as much of the +physical condition of the world at different epochs as they do of its +animal and vegetable population. When Robinson Crusoe first caught sight +of the footprint on the sand, he saw in it more than the mere footprint, +for it spoke to him of the presence of men on his desert island. We +walk on the old geological shores, like Crusoe along his beach, and the +footprints we find there tell us, too, more than we actually see in +them. The crust of our earth is a great cemetery where the rocks are +tombstones on which the buried dead have written their own epitaphs. +They tell us not only who they were and when and where they lived, but +much also of the circumstances under which they lived. We ascertain +the prevalence of certain physical conditions at special epochs by the +presence of animals and plants whose existence and maintenance required +such a state of things, more than by any positive knowledge respecting +it. Where we find the remains of quadrupeds corresponding to our +ruminating animals, we infer not only land, but grassy meadows also, and +an extensive vegetation; where we find none but marine animals, we know +the ocean must have covered the earth; the remains of large reptiles, +representing, though in gigantic size, the half aquatic, half +terrestrial reptiles of our own period, indicate to us the existence +of spreading marshes still soaked by the retreating waters; while the +traces of such animals as live now in sand and shoal waters, or in mud, +speak to us of shelving sandy beaches and of mud-flats. The eye of the +Trilobite tells us that the sun shone on the old beach where he +lived; for there is nothing in Nature without a purpose, and when so +complicated an organ was made to receive the light, there must have been +light to enter it. The immense vegetable deposits in the Carboniferous +period announce the introduction of an extensive terrestrial vegetation; +and the impressions left by the wood and leaves of the trees show +that these first forests must have grown in a damp soil and a moist +atmosphere. In short, all the remains of animals and plants hidden in +the rocks have something to tell of the climatic conditions and the +general circumstances under which they lived, and the study of fossils +is to the naturalist a thermometer by which he reads the variations of +temperature in past times, a plummet by which he sounds the depths of +the ancient oceans,--a register, in fact, of all the important physical +changes the earth has undergone. + +But although the animals of the early geological deposits indicate +shallow seas by their similarity to our shoal-water animals, it must not +be supposed that they are by any means the same. On the contrary, the +old shells, crustacea, corals, etc., represent types which have existed +in all times with the same essential structural elements, but under +different specific forms in the several geological periods. And here +it may not be amiss to say something of what are called by naturalists +_representative types_. + +The statement that different sets of animals and plants have +characterized the successive epochs is often understood as indicating +a difference of another kind than that which distinguishes animals now +living in different parts of the world. This is a mistake. There are +so-called representative types all over the globe, united to each other +by structural relations and separated by specific differences of +the same kind as those that unite and separate animals of different +geological periods. Take, for instance, mud-flats or sandy shores in the +same latitudes of Europe and America; we find living on each animals of +the same structural character and of the same general appearance, +but with certain specific differences, as of color, size, external +appendages, etc. They represent each other on the two continents. +The American wolves, foxes, bears, rabbits, are not the same as the +European, but those of one continent are as true to their respective +types as those of the other; under a somewhat different aspect they +represent the same groups of animals. In certain latitudes, or under +conditions of nearer proximity, these differences may be less marked. +It is well known that there is a great monotony of type, not only among +animals and plants, but in the human races also, throughout the Arctic +regions; and the animals characteristic of the high North reappear under +such identical forms in the neighborhood of the snow-fields in lofty +mountains, that to trace the difference between the ptarmigans, rabbits, +and other gnawing animals of the Alps, for instance, and those of the +Arctics, is among the most difficult problems of modern science. + +And so is it also with the animated world of past ages; in similar +deposits of sand, mud, or lime, in adjoining regions of the same +geological age, identical remains of animals and plants may be +found, while at greater distances, but under similar circumstances, +representative species may occur. In very remote regions, however, +whether the circumstances be similar or dissimilar, the general aspect +of the organic world differs greatly, remoteness in space being thus in +some measure an indication of the degree of affinity between different +faunae. In deposits of different geological periods immediately +following each other we sometimes find remains of animals and plants so +closely allied to those of earlier or later periods that at first sight +the specific differences are hardly discernible. The difficulty of +solving these questions, and of appreciating correctly the differences +and similarities between such closely allied organisms, explains the +antagonistic views of many naturalists respecting the range of existence +of animals, during longer or shorter geological periods; and the +superficial way in which discussions concerning the transition of +species are carried on is mainly owing to an ignorance of the conditions +above alluded to. My own personal observation and experience in these +matters have led me to the conviction that every geological period +has had its own representatives, and that no single species has been +repeated in successive ages. + +The laws regulating the geographical distribution of animals and their +combination into distinct or zoological provinces called faunae with +definite limits are very imperfectly understood as yet; but so closely +are all things linked together from the beginning till to-day that I am +convinced we shall never find the clue to their meaning till we carry on +our investigations in the past and the present simultaneously. The same +principle according to which animal and vegetable life is distributed +over the surface of the earth now prevailed in the earliest geological +periods. The geological deposits of all times have had their +characteristic faunae under various zones, their zoological provinces +presenting special combinations of animal and vegetable life over +certain regions, and their representative types reproducing in different +countries, but under similar latitudes, the same groups with specific +differences. + +Of course, the nearer we approach the beginning of organic life, the +less marked do we find the differences to be, and for a very obvious +reason. The inequalities of the earth's surface, her mountain-barriers +protecting whole continents from the Arctic winds, her open plains +exposing others to the full force of the polar blasts, her snug valleys +and her lofty heights, her table-lands and rolling prairies, her +river-systems and her dry deserts, her cold ocean-currents pouring down +from the high North on some of her shores, while warm ones from tropical +seas carry their softer influence to others,--in short, all the +contrasts in the external configuration of the globe, with the physical +conditions attendant upon them, are naturally accompanied by a +corresponding variety in animal and vegetable life. + +But in the Silurian age, when there were no elevations higher than +the Canadian hills, when water covered the face of the earth with the +exception of a few isolated portions lifted above the almost universal +ocean, how monotonous must have been the conditions of life! And what +should we expect to find on those first shores? If we are walking on a +sea-beach to-day, we do not look for animals that haunt the forests or +roam over the open plains, or for those that live in sheltered valleys +or in inland regions or on mountain-heights. We look for Shells, for +Mussels and Barnacles, for Crabs, for Shrimps, for Marine Worms, for +Star-Fishes and Sea-Urchins, and we may find here and there a fish +stranded on the sand or tangled in the sea-weed. Let us remember, then, +that, in the Silurian period, the world, so far as it was raised above +the ocean, was a beach, and let us seek there for such creatures as God +has made to live on sea-shores, and not belittle the Creative work, +or say that He first scattered the seeds of life in meagre or stinted +measure, because we do not find air-breathing animals when there was +no fitting atmosphere to feed their lungs, insects with no terrestrial +plants to live upon, reptiles without marshes, birds without trees, +cattle without grass, all things, in short, without the essential +conditions for their existence. + +What we do find--and these, as I shall endeavor to show my readers, in +such profusion that it would seem as if God, in the joy of creation, had +compensated Himself for a less variety of forms in the greater richness +of the early types--is an immense number of beings belonging to the four +primary divisions of the Animal Kingdom, but only to those classes whose +representatives are marine, whose home then, as now, was either in the +sea or along its shores. In other words, the first organic creation +expressed in its totality the structural conception since carried out in +such wonderful variety of details, and purposely limited then, because +the world, which was to be the home of the higher animals, was not yet +made ready to receive them. + +I am fully aware that the intimate relations between the organic and +physical world are interpreted by many as indicating the absence, rather +than the presence, of an intelligent Creator. They argue, that the +dependence of animals on material laws gives us the clue to their origin +as well as to their maintenance. Were this influence as absolute and +unvarying as the purely mechanical action of physical circumstances +must necessarily be, this inference might have some pretence to +logical probability,--though it seems to me unnecessary, under any +circumstances, to resort to climatic influences or the action of any +physical laws to explain the thoughtful distribution of the organic and +inorganic world, so evidently intended to secure for all beings what +best suits their nature and their needs. But the truth is, that, while +these harmonious relations underlie the whole creation in such a manner +as to indicate a great central plan, of which all things are a part, +there is at the same time a freedom, an arbitrary element in the mode of +carrying it out, which seems to point to the exercise of an individual +will; for, side by side with facts, apparently the direct result of +physical laws, are other facts, the nature of which shows a complete +independence of external influences. + +Take, for instance, the similarity above alluded to between the fauna of +the Arctics and that of the Alps, certainly showing a direct relation +between climatic conditions and animal and vegetable life. Yet even +there, where the shades of specific difference between many animals +and plants of the same class are so slight as to battle the keenest +investigators, we have representative types both in the Animal and +Vegetable Kingdoms as distinct and peculiar as those of widely removed +and strongly contrasted climatic conditions. Shall we attribute the +similarities and the differences alike to physical causes? Compare, for +example, the Reindeer of the Arctics with the Ibex and the Chamois, +representing the same group in the Alps. Even on mountain-heights of +similar altitudes, where not only climate, but other physical conditions +would suggest a recurrence of identical animals, we do not find the +same, but representative types. The Ibex of the Alps differs, for +instance, from that of the Pyrenees, that of the Pyrenees from those of +the Caucasus and Himalayas, these again from each other and from that of +the Altai. + +But perhaps the most conclusive proof that we must seek for the origin +of organic life outside of physical causes consists in the permanence of +the fundamental types, while the species representing these types have +differed in every geological period. Now what we call typical features +of structure are in themselves no more stable or permanent than specific +features. If physical causes, such as light, heat, moisture, food, +habits of life, etc., acting upon individuals, have gradually in +successive generations changed the character of the species to which +they belong, why not that of the class and the branch also? If we judge +this question from the material side at all, we must, in order to judge +it fairly, look at it wholly from that point of view. If these specific +changes are brought about in this way, it is because external causes +have positive permanent effects upon the substances of which animals are +built: they have power to change their hair, to change their skin, to +change certain external appendages or ornamentations, and any other of +those ultimate features which naturalists call specific characters. +Now I would ask what there is in the substances out of which class +characters are built that would make them less susceptible to such +external influences than these specific characters. In many instances +the former are more delicate, more sensitive, far more fragile and +transient in their material nature than the latter. And yet never, in +all the chances and changes of time, have we seen any alteration in the +mode of respiration, of reproduction, of circulation, or in any of the +systems of organs which characterize the more comprehensive groups of +the Animal Kingdom, although they are quite as much under the immediate +influence of physical causes as those structural features which have +been constantly changing. + +The woody fibre of the Pine-trees has had the same structure from the +Carboniferous age to this day, while their mode of branching and the +forms of their cones and leaves have been different in each period +according to their respective species. The combination of rings, the +structure of the wings, and the articulations of the legs are the same +in the Cockroaches of the Carboniferous age as in those which infest our +ships and our dwellings to-day, while the proportion of their parts is +on quite another scale. The tissue of the Corals in the Silurian age is +identical in chemical combination and organic structure with that of the +Corals of our modern reefs, and yet the extensive researches upon this +class for which we are indebted to Milne Edwards and Haime have not +revealed a single species extending through successive geological ages, +but show us, on the contrary, that every age has had its own kinds, +differing among themselves in the same way as those of the Gulf of +Mexico differ now from those of the Indian Ocean and the Pacific. The +scales of the oldest known fishes in the Silurian beds have the same +microscopic structure as those of their representative types today, and +yet I have never seen a single fossil fish presenting the same specific +characters in the successive geological epochs. The teeth of the oldest +Sharks show the same microscopic structure as those of the present time, +and we do not lack opportunities for comparison, since the former are as +common in the mountain-limestone of Ireland as are those of the living +Sharks on any beach where our fishermen boil them for the sake of their +oil, and yet the Sharks appear under different generic and specific +forms in each geological age. + +But without multiplying examples, which might be adduced _ad infinitum_, +to show permanence of type combined with repeated changes of species, +suffice it to say, that, while the general features in the framework of +the organic world and the materials of which that framework is +built, though quite as subject to the influence of physical external +circumstances as any so-called specific-features, have remained +perfectly intact from the beginning of Creation till now, so that not +the smallest difference is to be discerned in these respects between the +oldest representatives of the oldest types in the oldest Silurian rocks +and their successors through all the geological ages up to the present +day, the species have been different in each epoch. It is surely a fair +question to ask the advocates of the transmutation theory, whether they +attribute to physical laws the discernment that would lead them to +change the specific features, but to respect all those characters by +which the higher structural combinations of the Animal Kingdom are +preserved without alteration,--in other words, to maintain the organic +plan, while constantly diversifying the mode of expressing it. If so, it +would perhaps be as well to call them by another name, since they show +all the comprehensive wisdom of an intelligent Creator. Until they can +tell us why certain features of animals and plants are permanent under +conditions which, according to their view, have power to change certain +other features no more perishable or transient in themselves, the +supporters of the development theory will have failed to substantiate +their peculiar scientific doctrine. + +But this discussion has led us far away from our starting point, and +interrupted our walk along the Silurian beach; let us return to gather a +few specimens there, and compare them with the more familiar ones of our +own shores. I have said that the beach was a shelving one, and covered +of course with shoal waters; but as I have no desire to mislead my +readers, or to present truths as generally accepted which are still +subject to dispute, I would state here that the parallel ridges across +the State of New York, considered by some geologists as the successive +shores of a receding ocean, are believed by others to be the +inequalities on the bottom of a shallow sea. Not only, however, does the +general character of these successive terraces suggest the idea that +they must have been shores, but the ripple-marks upon them are as +distinct as upon any modern beach. The regular rise and fall of the +water is registered there in waving, undulating lines as clearly as on +the sand-beaches of Newport or Nahant; and we can see on any one of +those ancient shores the track left by the waves as they rippled back at +ebb of the tide thousands of centuries ago. One can often see where some +obstacle interrupted the course of the water, causing it to break around +it; and such an indentation even retains the soft, muddy, plastic look +that we observe on the present beaches, where the resistance made by any +pebble or shell to the retreating wave has given it greater force at +that point, so that the sand around the spot is soaked and loosened. +There is still another sign, equally familiar to those who have watched +the action of water on a beach. Where a shore is very shelving and flat, +so that the waves do not recede in ripples from it, but in one unbroken +sheet, the sand and small pebbles are dragged and form lines which +diverge whenever the water meets an obstacle, thus forming sharp angles +on the sand. Such marks are as distinct on the oldest Silurian rocks as +if they had been made yesterday. Nor are these the only indications of +the same fact. There are certain animals living always upon sandy or +muddy shores, which require for their well-being that the beach should +be left dry a part of the day. These animals, moving about in the sand +or mud from which the water has retreated, leave their tracks there; and +if, at such a time, the wind is blowing dust over the beach, and the sun +is hot enough to bake it upon the impressions so formed, they are left +in a kind of mould. Such trails and furrows, made by small Shells or +Crustacea, are also found in plenty on the oldest deposits. + +Admitting it, then, to be a beach, let us begin with the lowest type of +the Animal Kingdom, and see what Radiates are to be found there. There +are plenty of Corals, but they are not the same kinds of Corals as those +that build up our reefs and islands now. The modern Coral animals are +chiefly Polyps, but the prevailing Corals of the Silurian age were +Acalephian Hydroids, animals which indeed resemble Polyps in certain +external features, and have been mistaken for them, but which are +nevertheless Acalephs by their internal structure; for, instead of +having the vertical partitions dividing the body into chambers, so +characteristic of the Polyps, they are divided by tubes corresponding to +the radiating tubes of the Acalephs proper, these tubes being themselves +divided at regular distances by horizontal floors, so that they never +run uninterruptedly from top to bottom of the body. I subjoin a woodcut +of a Silurian Coral, which does not, however, show the peculiar internal +structure, but gives some idea of the general appearance of the old +Hydroid Corals. We have but one Acalephian Coral now living, the +Millepore; and it was by comparing that with these ancient ones that I +first detected their relation to the Acalephs. For the true Acalephs or +Jelly-Fishes we shall look in vain; but the presence of the Acalephian +Corals establishes the existence of the type, and we cannot expect to +find those kinds preserved which are wholly destitute of hard parts. I +do not attempt any description of the Polyps proper, because the early +Corals of that class are comparatively few, and do not present features +sufficiently characteristic to attract the notice of the casual +observer. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +Of the Echinoderms, the class of Radiates represented now by our +Star-Fishes and Sea-Urchins, we may gather any quantity, though the old +fashioned forms are very different from the living ones. I have dwelt at +such length in a former article[A] on the wonderful beauty and variety +of the Crinoids, or "Stone Lilies," as they have been called, from their +resemblance to flowers, that I will only briefly allude to them here. +The subjoined wood-cut represents one with a closed cup; but the number +of their different patterns is hardly to be counted, and I would invite +any one who questions the abundant expression of life in those days to +look at some slabs of ancient limestone in the Zoölogical Museum at +Cambridge, where the stems of the Crinoids are tangled together as +thickly as sea-weed on the shore. Indeed, some of our rock-deposits +consist chiefly of the fragments of their remains. + +[Footnote A: See _Methods of Study in Natural History, Atlantic +Monthly_, No. LVII., July, 1862.] + +[Illustration] + +The Mollusks were also represented then, as now, by their three +classes,--Acephala, Gasteropoda, and Cephalopoda. The Acephala or +Bivalves we shall find in great numbers, but of a very different pattern +from the Oysters, Clams, and Mussels of recent times. The annexed +wood-cut represents one of these Brachiopods, which form a very +characteristic type of the Silurian deposits. The square cut of the +upper edge, where the two valves meet along the back and are united by +a hinge, is altogether old-fashioned, and unknown among our modern +Bivalves. The wood-cut does not show the inequality of the two valves, +also a very characteristic feature of this group,--one valve being flat +and fitting closely into the other, which is more spreading and much +fuller. These, also, were represented by a great variety of species, and +we find them crowded together as closely in the ancient rocks as Oysters +or Clams or Mussels on any of our modern shores. Besides these, there +were the Bryozoa, a small kind of Mollusk allied to the Clams, and very +busy then in the ancient Coral work. They grew in communities, and the +separate individuals are so minute that a Bryozoan stock looks like +some delicate moss. They still have their place among the Reef-Building +Corals, but play an insignificant part in comparison with that of their +predecessors. + +Of the Silurian Univalves or Gasteropods there is not much to tell, for +their spiral shells were so brittle that scarcely any perfect specimens +are known, though their broken remains are found in such quantities as +to show that this class also was very fully represented in the earliest +creation. But the highest class of Mollusks, the Cephalopods or +Chambered Shells, or Cuttle-Fishes, as they are called when the animal +is unprotected by a shell, are, on the contrary, very well preserved, +and they are very numerous. Of these I will speak somewhat more in +detail, because their geological history is a very curious one. + +[Illustration] + +The Chambered Nautilus is familiar to all, since, from the exquisite +beauty of its shell, it is especially sought for by conchologists; +but it is nevertheless not so common in our days as the Squids and +Cuttle-Fishes, which are the most numerous modern representatives of the +class. In the earliest geological days, on the contrary, those with a +shell predominated, differing from the later ones, however, in having +the shell perfectly straight instead of curved, though its internal +structure was the same as it is now and has ever been. Then, as now, the +animal shut himself out from his last year's home, building his annual +wall behind him, till his whole shell was divided into successive +chambers, all of which were connected by a siphon. Some of the shells of +this kind belonging to the Silurian deposits are enormous: giants of the +sea they must have been in those days. They have been found fifteen +feet long, and as large round as a man's body. One can imagine that the +Cuttle-Fish inhabiting such a shell must have been a formidable animal. +These straight-chambered shells of the Silurian and Devonian seas are +called Orthoceratites (see wood-cut below). We shall meet them again +hereafter, under another name and with a different form; for, as they +advance in the geological ages, they not only assume the curved outline +with ever closer whorls till it culminates in the compact coil of the +Ammonites of the middle periods, but the partitions, which are perfectly +plain walls in these earlier forms, become scalloped and involuted along +the edges in the later ones, making the most delicate and exquisite +tracery on the surface of the shell. + +Of Articulates we find only two classes, Worms and Crustacea. Insects +there were none,--for, as we have seen, this early world was wholly +marine. There is little to be said of the Worms, for their soft bodies, +unprotected by any hard covering, could hardly be preserved; but, +like the marine Worms of our own times, they were in the habit of +constructing envelopes for themselves, built of sand, or sometimes from +a secretion of their own bodies, and these cases we find in the earliest +deposits, giving us assurance that the Worms were represented there. +I should add, however, that many impressions described as produced by +Worms are more likely to have been the tracks of Crustacea. + +But by far the most characteristic class of Articulates in ancient times +were the Crustaceans. The Trilobites stand in the same relation to the +modern Crustacea as the Crinoids do to the modern Echinoderms. They were +then the sole representatives of the class, and the variety and richness +of the type are most extraordinary. They were of nearly equal breadth +for the whole length of the body, and rounded at the two ends, so as +to form an oval outline. To give any adequate idea of the number and +variety of species would fill a volume, but I may enumerate some of +the more striking differences: as, for instance, the greater or less +prominence of the anterior shield,--the preponderance of the posterior +end in some, while in others the two ends are nearly equal,--the +presence or absence of prongs on the shield and of spines along the +sides of the body,--appendages on the head in some species, of which +others are entirely destitute,--and the smooth outline of some, while +in others the surface is broken by a variety of external ornamentation. +Such are a few of the more prominent differences among them. But the +general structural features are the same in all. The middle region of +the body is always divided in uniform rings, lobed in the middle so as +to make a ridge along the back with a slight depression on either side +of it. It is from this three-lobed division that they receive their +name. The subjoined wood-cut represents a characteristic Silurian +Trilobite. + +[Illustration] + +There is no group more prominent in the earliest creations than this one +of the Trilobites, and so exclusively do they belong to them, that, as +we shall see, in proportion as the later representatives of the class +come in, these old-world Crustaceans drop out of the ranks, fall behind, +as it were, in the long procession of animals, and are left in the +ancient deposits. Even in the Carboniferous period but few are to +be found: they had their day in the Silurian and Devonian ages. In +consequence of their solid exterior, the preservation of these animals +is very complete; and their attitudes are often so natural, and the +condition of all their parts so perfect, that one would say they had +died yesterday rather than countless centuries ago. + +Their geological history has been very thoroughly studied; not only are +we familiar with all their adult characters, but even their embryology +is well known to naturalists. It is, indeed, wonderful that the mode of +growth of animals which died out in the Carboniferous period should +be better known to us than that of many living types. But it is +nevertheless true that their embryonic forms have been found perfectly +preserved in the rocks, and Barrande, in his "Système Silurien de la +Bohème," gives us all the stages of their development, from the time +when the animal is merely sketched out as a simple furrow in the embryo +to its mature condition. So complete is the sequence, that the plate on +which their embryonic changes are illustrated contains more than thirty +figures, all representing different phases of their growth. There is not +a living Crab represented so fully in any of our scientific works as is +that one species of Trilobite whose whole story Barrande has traced from +the egg to its adult size. Such facts should make those who rest +their fanciful theories of the origin and development of life on the +imperfection of the geological record, filling up the supposed lapses to +suit themselves, more cautious as to their results. + +We have found, then, Radiates, Mollusks, and Articulates in plenty; +and now what is to be said of Vertebrates in these old times,--of the +highest and most important division of the Animal Kingdom, that to which +we ourselves belong? They were represented by Fishes alone; and the Fish +chapter in the history of the early organic world is a curious, and, +as it seems to me, a very significant one. We shall find no perfect +specimens; and he would be a daring, not to say a presumptuous thinker, +who would venture to reconstruct a fish of the Silurian age from any +remains that are left to us. But still we find enough to indicate +clearly the style of those old fishes, and to show, by comparison with +the living types, to what group of modern times they belong. We should +naturally expect to find the Vertebrates introduced in their simplest +form; but this is by no means the case: the common fishes, as Cod, +Herring, Mackerel, and the like, were unknown in those days. + +But there are two groups of so-called fishes, differing from these by +some marked features, among which we may find the modern representatives +of these earliest Vertebrates. Of these two groups one consists chiefly +now of the Gar-Pikes of our Western waters, though the Sturgeons share +also in some of their features. In these fishes there is a singular +union of reptilian with fish-like characters. The systems of circulation +and of respiration in them are more complicated than in the common +fishes; the structure of the skull resembles that of the skull in +reptiles, and they have other reptilian characters, such as their +ability to move the head upon the neck independently of the body, and +the connection of the vertebrae by ball-and-socket joint, instead of +by inverted cones, as in the ordinary fishes. Their scales are also +peculiar, being covered by enamel so hard, that, if struck with steel, +they will emit sparks like flint. It is on account of this peculiarity +that the whole group has been called Ganoid. Now, though we have +not found as yet any complete specimens of Silurian fishes, their +disconnected remains are scattered profusely in the early deposits. The +scales, parts of the backbone, parts of the skull, the teeth, are found +in a tolerable state of preservation; and these indications, fragmentary +as they are, give us the clue to the character of the most ancient +fishes. A large proportion of them were no doubt Ganoids; for they had +the same peculiar articulation of the vertebrae, the flexibility of the +neck, and the hard scales so characteristic of our Gar-Pikes. + +There is another type of these ancient Vertebrates, which has also +its representatives among our modern fishes. These are the Sharks and +Skates, or, as the Greeks used to call them, the Selachians,--making a +very appropriate distinction between them and common fishes, on account +of the difference in the structure of the skeleton. In Selachians the +quality of the bones is granular, instead of fibrous, as in fishes; the +arches above and below the backbone are formed by flat plates, instead +of the spines so characteristic of all the fish proper; and the skull +consists of a solid box, instead of being built of overlapping pieces +like the true fish-skull. They differ also in their teeth, which, +instead of being implanted in the bone by a root, as in fishes, are +loosely set in the gum without any connection with the bone, and are +movable, being arranged in several rows one behind another, the back +rows moving forward to take the place of the front ones when the latter +are worn off. They are unlike the common fishes also in having the +backbone continued to the very end of the tail, which is cut in uneven +lobes, the upper lobe being the longer of the two, while the terminal +fin, so constant a feature in fishes, is wanting. The Selachians +resemble higher Vertebrate types not only in the small number of their +eggs, and in the closer connection of the young with the mother, but +also in their embryological development, which has many features in +common with that of birds and turtles. Of this group, also, we find +numerous remains in the ancient geological deposits; and though we have +not the means of distinguishing the species, we have ample evidence for +determining the type. + +This combination of higher with lower features in the earlier organic +forms is very striking, and becomes still more significant when we find +that many of the later types recall the more ancient ones. I have called +these more comprehensive groups of former times, combining characters of +different classes, synthetic or prophetic types; and we might as fitly +give the name of retrospective types to many of the later groups, for +they recall the past, as the former anticipate the future. And it is not +only among the Fishes and the Reptiles that we find these combinations. +The most numerous of the ancient Radiates are the Acalephlan Corals, +combining, in the Hydroid form, the Polyp-like mode of life, habits, and +general appearance with the structure of Acalephs. The Crinoids, with +the closed cups in some, and the open, star-like crowns in others, unite +features of the present Star-Fishes and Sea-Urchins, and, by their stem +attaching them to the ground, include also a Polyp-like character; while +the Trilobites, with their uniform rings and their prominent anterior +shield, unite characters of Worms and Crustacea. + +These early types seem to sketch in broad, general characters the +Creative purpose, and to include in the first average expression of the +plan all its structural possibilities. The Crinoid forms include the +thought of the modern Star-Fishes and Sea-Urchins; the simple chambered +shells of the Silurian anticipate the more complicated structure of the +later ones; the Trilobites give the most comprehensive expression of the +Articulate type; while the early Fishes not only prophesy the Reptiles +which are to come, but also hint at Birds and even at Mammalia by their +embryonic development and their mode of reproduction. + +Looked at from this point of view, the animal world is an intellectual +Creation, complete in all its parts, and coherent throughout; and when +we find, that, although these ancient types have become obsolete and +been replaced by modern ones, yet there are always a few old-fashioned +individuals, left behind, as it were, to give the key to the history +of their race, as the Gar-Pike, for instance, to explain the ancient +Fishes, the Millepore to explain the old Acalephian Corals, the Nautilus +to be the modern exponent of the Ammonites and Orthoceratites of past +times, we cannot avoid the impression that this Creative work has been +intended also to be educational for Man, and to teach him his own +relation to the organic world. The embryology of the modern types +confirms this idea, for here we find an epitome of their geological +history. The embryo of the present Star-Fishes recalls the Crinoids; +the embryo of the Crab recalls the Trilobites; the embryo of the +Vertebrates, including even that of the higher Mammalia, recalls the +ancient Fishes. Does not this fact, that the individual animal in its +growth recalls the history of its type, prove that the Creative Thought +in its immediate present action embraces all that has gone before, as +its first organic expression included all that was to come? The study of +Nature in its highest meaning shows us the present doubly rich with all +the past, and the past linked and interwoven with the present, not lying +divorced and dead behind it. + +I have spoken of the Silurian beach as if there were but one, not only +because I wished to limit my sketch, and to attempt at least to give +it the vividness of a special locality, but also because a single such +shore will give us as good an idea of the characteristic fauna of the +time as if we drew our material from a wider range. There are, however, +a great number of parallel ridges belonging to the Silurian and Devonian +periods, running from east to west, not only through the State of New +York, but far beyond, through the States of Michigan and Wisconsin into +Minnesota; one may follow nine or ten such successive shores in unbroken +lines, from the neighborhood of Lake Champlain to the Far West. They +have all the irregularities of modern sea-shores, running up to form +little bays here, and jutting out in promontories there; and upon each +one are found animals of the same kind, but differing in species from +those of the preceding. + +Although the early geological periods are more legible in North America, +because they are exposed over such extensive tracts of land, yet they +have been studied in many other parts of the globe. In Norway, in +Germany, in France, in Russia, in Siberia, in Kamtchatka, in parts of +South America, in short, wherever the civilization of the white race has +extended, Silurian deposits have been observed, and everywhere they +bear the same testimony to a profuse and varied creation. The earth was +teeming then with life as now, and in whatever corner of its surface the +geologist finds the old strata, they hold a dead fauna as numerous as +that which lives and moves above it. Nor do we find that there was any +gradual increase or decrease of any organic forms at the beginning and +close of the successive periods. On the contrary, the opening scenes of +every chapter in the world's history have been crowded with life, and +its last leaves as full and varied as its first. + +I think the impression that the faunae of the early geological periods +were more scanty than those of later times arises partly from the fact +that the present creation is made a standard of comparison for all +preceding creations. Of course, the collections of living types in any +museum must be more numerous than those of fossil forms, for the simple +reason that almost the whole of the present surface of the earth, with +the animals and plants inhabiting it, is known to us, whereas the +deposits of the Silurian and Devonian periods are exposed to view only +over comparatively limited tracts and in disconnected regions. But let +us compare a given extent of Silurian or Devonian sea-shore with an +equal extent of sea-shore belonging to our own time, and we shall +soon be convinced that the one is as populous as the other. On the +New-England coast there are about one hundred and fifty different kinds +of fishes, in the Gulf of Mexico two hundred and fifty, in the Red Sea +about the same. We may allow in present times an average of two hundred +or two hundred and fifty different kinds of fishes to an extent of ocean +covering about four hundred miles. Now I have made a special study of +the Devonian rocks of Northern Europe, in the Baltic and along the shore +of the German Ocean. I have found in those deposits alone one hundred +and ten kinds of fossil fishes. To judge of the total number of species +belonging to those early ages by the number known to exist now is about +as reasonable as to infer that because Aristotle, familiar only with the +waters of Greece, recorded less than three hundred kinds of fishes in +his limited fishing-ground, therefore these were all the fishes then +living. The fishing-ground of the geologist in the Silurian and Devonian +periods is even more circumscribed than his, and belongs, besides, not +to a living, but to a dead world, far more difficult to decipher. + +But the sciences of Geology and Palaeontology are making such rapid +progress, now that they go hand in hand, that our familiarity with past +creations is daily increasing. We know already that extinct animals +exist all over the world: heaped together under the snows of +Siberia,--lying thick beneath the Indian soil,--found wherever English +settlers till the ground or work the mines of Australia,--figured in the +old Encyclopaedias of China, where the Chinese philosophers have drawn +them with the accuracy of their nation,--built into the most beautiful +temples of classic lands, for even the stones of the Parthenon are full +of the fragments of these old fossils, and if any chance had directed +the attention of Aristotle towards them, the science of Palaeontology +would not have waited for its founder till Cuvier was born,--in short, +in every corner of the earth where the investigations of civilized men +have penetrated, from the Arctic to Patagonia and the Cape of Good Hope, +these relics tell us of successive populations lying far behind our own, +and belonging to distinct periods of the world's history. + + * * * * * + +In my next article I shall give some account of the marshes and forests +of the Carboniferous age, with their characteristic vegetation and +inhabitants. + + + + +CORALIE. + + + Pale water-flowers, + That quiver in the quick turn of the brook, + And thou, dim nook,-- + Dimmer in twilight,--call again to me + Visions of life and glory that were ours, + When first she led me here, young Coralie! + + No longer blest, + Yet standing here in silence, may not we + Fancy or feign + That little flowers do fall about thy rest + In silver mist and tender-dropping rain, + And that thy world is peace, loved Coralie? + + Our friendships flee, + And, darkening all things with her mighty shade, + Comes Misery. + No longer look the faces that we see, + With the old eyes; and Woe itself shall fade, + Nor even this be left us, Coralie! + + Feelings and fears + That once were ours have perished in the mould, + And grief is cold: + Hearts may be dead to grief; and if our tears + Are failing or forgetful, there will be + Mourners about thy bed, lost Coralie! + + The brook-flowers shine, + And a faint song the falling water has,-- + But not for thee! + The dull night weepeth, and the sorrowing pine + Drops his dead hair upon thy young grave-grass, + My Coralie! my Coralie! + + * * * * * + + I took from its glass a flower, + To lay on her grave with dull accusing tears; + But the heart of the flower fell out as I handled the rose, + And my heart is shattered, and soon will wither away. + + I watch the changing shadows, + And the patch of windy sunshine upon the hill, + And the long blue woods; and a grief no tongue can tell + Breaks at my eyes in drops of bitter rain. + + I hear her baby-wagon, + And the little wheels go over my heart; + Oh, when will the light of the darkened house return? + Oh, when will she come who made the hills so fair? + + I sit by the parlor-window, + When twilight deepens, and winds get cold without; + But the blessed feet no more come up the walk, + And my little girl and I cry softly together. + + * * * * * + + +SOJOURNER TRUTH, THE LIBYAN SIBYL. + + +Many years ago, the few readers of radical Abolitionist papers must +often have seen the singular name of Sojourner Truth, announced as a +frequent speaker at Anti-Slavery meetings, and as travelling on a +sort of self-appointed agency through the country. I had myself often +remarked the name, but never met the individual. On one occasion, when +our house was filled with company, several eminent clergymen being our +guests, notice was brought up to me that Sojourner Truth was below, and +requested an interview. Knowing nothing of her but her singular name, I +went down, prepared to make the interview short, as the pressure of many +other engagements demanded. + +When I went into the room, a tall, spare form arose to meet me. She was +evidently a full-blooded African, and though now aged and worn with many +hardships, still gave the impression of a physical development which +in early youth must have been as fine a specimen of the torrid zone as +Cumberworth's celebrated statuette of the Negro Woman at the Fountain. +Indeed, she so strongly reminded me of that figure, that, when I recall +the events of her life, as she narrated them to me, I imagine her as a +living, breathing impersonation of that work of art. + +I do not recollect ever to have been conversant with any one who had +more of that silent and subtle power which we call personal presence +than this woman. In the modern Spiritualistic phraseology, she would +be described as having a strong sphere. Her tall form, as she rose up +before me, is still vivid to my mind. She was dressed in some stout, +grayish stuff, neat and clean, though dusty from travel. On her head +she wore a bright Madras handkerchief, arranged as a turban, after the +manner of her race. She seemed perfectly self-possessed and at her +ease,--in fact, there was almost an unconscious superiority, not unmixed +with a solemn twinkle of humor, in the odd, composed manner in which she +looked down on me. Her whole air had at times a gloomy sort of drollery +which impressed one strangely. + +"So, this is _you_," she said. + +"Yes," I answered. + +"Well, honey, de Lord bless ye! I jes' thought I'd like to come an' have +a look at ye. You's heerd o' me, I reckon?" she added. + +"Yes, I think I have. You go about lecturing, do you not?" + +"Yes, honey, that's what I do. The Lord has made me a sign unto this +nation, an' I go round a-testifyin', an' showin' on 'em their sins agin +my people." + +So saying, she took a seat, and, stooping over and crossing her arms on +her knees, she looked down on the floor, and appeared to fall into a +sort of reverie. + +Her great gloomy eyes and her dark face seemed to work with some +undercurrent of feeling; she sighed deeply, and occasionally broke +out,-- + +"O Lord! O Lord! Oh, the tears, an' the groans, an' the moans! O Lord!" + +I should have said that she was accompanied by a little grandson of ten +years,--the fattest, jolliest woolly-headed little specimen of Africa +that one can imagine. He was grinning and showing his glistening white +teeth in a state of perpetual merriment, and at this moment broke out +into an audible giggle, which disturbed the reverie into which his +relative was falling. + +She looked at him with an indulgent sadness, and then at me. + +"Laws, Ma'am, _he_ don't know nothin' about it,--_he_ don't. Why, I've +seen them poor critters, beat an' 'bused an' hunted, brought in all +torn,--ears hangin' all in rags, where the dogs been a-bitin' of 'em!" + +This set off our little African Puck into another giggle, in which he +seemed perfectly convulsed. + +She surveyed him soberly, without the slightest irritation. + +"Well, you may bless the Lord you _can_ laugh; but I tell you, 't wa'n't +no laughin' matter." + +By this time I thought her manner so original that it might be worth +while to call down my friends; and she seemed perfectly well pleased +with the idea. An audience was what she wanted,--it mattered not whether +high or low, learned or ignorant. She had things to say, and was ready +to say them at all times, and to any one. + +I called down Dr. Beecher, Professor Allen, and two or three other +clergymen, who, together with my husband and family, made a roomful. No +princess could have received a drawing-room with more composed dignity +than Sojourner her audience. She stood among them, calm and erect, as +one of her own native palm-trees waving alone in the desert. I presented +one after another to her, and at last said,-- + +"Sojourner, this is Dr. Beecher. He is a very celebrated preacher." + +"_Is_ he?" she said, offering her hand in a condescending manner, and +looking down on his white head. "Ye dear lamb, I'm glad to see ye! De +Lord bless ye! I loves preachers. I'm a kind o' preacher myself." + +"You are?" said Dr. Beecher. "Do you preach from the Bible?" + +"No, honey, can't preach from de Bible,--can't read a letter." + +"Why, Sojourner, what do you preach from, then?" + +Her answer was given with a solemn power of voice, peculiar to herself, +that hushed every one in the room. + +"When I preaches, I has jest one text to preach from, an' I always +preaches from this one. _My_ text is, 'WHEN I FOUND JESUS.'" + +"Well, you couldn't have a better one," said one of the ministers. + +She paid no attention to him, but stood and seemed swelling with her own +thoughts, and then began this narration:-- + +"Well, now, I'll jest have to go back, an' tell ye all about it. Ye see, +we was all brought over from Africa, father an' mother an' I, an' a lot +more of us; an' we was sold up an' down, an' hither an' yon; an' I can +'member, when I was a little thing, not bigger than this 'ere," pointing +to her grandson, "how my ole mammy would sit out o' doors in the +evenin', an' look up at the stars an' groan. She'd groan an' groan, an' +says I to her,-- + +"'Mammy, what makes you groan so?' + +"An' she'd say,-- + +"'Matter enough, chile! I'm groanin' to think o' my poor children: they +don't know where I be, an' I don't know where they be; they looks up at +the stars, an' I looks up at the stars, but I can't tell where they be. + +"'Now,' she said, 'chile, when you're grown up, you may be sold away +from your mother an' all your ole friends, an' have great troubles come +on ye; an' when you has these troubles come on ye, ye jes' go to God, +an' He'll help ye.' + +"An' says I to her,-- + +"'Who is God, anyhow, mammy?' + +"An' says she,-- + +"'Why, chile, you jes' look up _dar_! It's Him that made all _dem_!' + +"Well, I didn't mind much 'bout God in them days. I grew up pretty +lively an' strong, an' could row a boat, or ride a horse, or work round, +an' do 'most anything. + +"At last I got sold away to a real hard massa an' missis. Oh, I tell +you, they _was_ hard! 'Peared like I couldn't please 'em, nohow. An' +then I thought o' what my old mammy told me about God; an' I thought I'd +got into trouble, sure enough, an' I wanted to find God, an' I heerd +some one tell a story about a man that met God on a threshin'-floor, an' +I thought, 'Well an' good, I'll have a threshin'-floor, too.' So I went +down in the lot, an' I threshed down a place real hard, an' I used to go +down there every day, an' pray an' cry with all my might, a-prayin' to +the Lord to make my massa an' missis better, but it didn't seem to do no +good; an' so says I, one day,-- + +"'O God, I been a-askin' ye, an' askin' ye, an' askin' ye, for all this +long time, to make my massa an' missis better, an' you don't do it, an' +what _can_ be the reason? Why, maybe you _can't._ Well, I shouldn't +wonder ef you couldn't. Well, now, I tell you, I'll make a bargain with +you. Ef you'll help me to git away from my massa an' missis, I'll agree +to be good; but ef you don't help me, I really don't think I can be. +Now,' says I, 'I want to git away; but the trouble's jest here: ef I try +to git away in the night, I can't see; an' ef I try to git away in the +daytime, they'll see me, an' be after me.' + +"Then the Lord said to me, 'Git up two or three hours afore daylight, +an' start off.' + +"An' says I, 'Thank 'ee, Lord! that's a good thought.' + +"So up I got, about three o'clock in the mornin', an' I started an' +travelled pretty fast, till, when the sun rose, I was clear away from +our place an' our folks, an' out o' sight. An' then I begun to think I +didn't know nothin' where to go. So I kneeled down, and says I,-- + +"'Well, Lord, you've started me out, an' now please to show me where to +go.' + +"Then the Lord made a house appear to me, an' He said to me that I was +to walk on till I saw that house, an' then go in an' ask the people to +take me. An' I travelled all day, an' didn't come to the house till late +at night; but when I saw it, sure enough, I went in, an' I told the +folks that the Lord sent me; an' they was Quakers, an' real kind they +was to me. They jes' took me in, an' did for me as kind as ef I'd been +one of 'em; an' after they'd giv me supper, they took me into a room +where there was a great, tall, white bed; an' they told me to sleep +there. Well, honey, I was kind o' skeered when they left me alone with +that great white bed; 'cause I never had been in a bed in my life. It +never came into my mind they could mean me to sleep in it. An' so I jes' +camped down under it, on the floor, an' then I slep' pretty well. In the +mornin', when they came in, they asked me of I hadn't been asleep; an' I +said, 'Yes, I never slep' better.' An' they said, 'Why, you haven't been +in the bed!' An' says I, 'Laws, you didn't think o' sech a thing as my +sleepin' in dat 'ar' _bed_, did you? I never heerd o' sech a thing in my +life.' + +"Well, ye see, honey, I stayed an' lived with 'em. An' now jes' look +here: instead o' keepin' my promise an' bein' good, as I told the Lord I +would, jest as soon as everything got a-goin' easy, _I forgot all about +God_. + +"Pretty well don't need no help; an' I gin up prayin.' I lived there two +or three years, an' then the slaves in New York were all set free, an' +ole massa came to our house to make a visit, an' he asked me ef I didn't +want to go back an' see the folks on the ole place. An' I told him I +did. So he said, ef I'd jes' git into the wagon with him, he'd carry me +over. Well, jest as I was goin' out to git into the wagon, _I met God_! +an' says I, 'O God, I didn't know as you was so great!' An' I turned +right round an' come into the house, an' set down in my room; for 't was +God all around me. I could feel it burnin', burnin', burnin' all around +me, an' goin' through me; an' I saw I was so wicked, it seemed as ef it +would burn me up. An' I said, 'O somebody, somebody, stand between God +an' me! for it burns me!' Then, honey, when I said so, I felt as it were +somethin' like an _amberill_ [umbrella] that came between me an' the +light, an' I felt it was _somebody_,--somebody that stood between me an' +God; an' it felt cool, like a shade; an' says I, 'Who's this that stands +between me an' God? Is it old Cato?' He was a pious old preacher; but +then I seemed to see Cato in the light, an' he was all polluted an' +vile, like me; an' I said, 'Is it old Sally?' an' then I saw her, an' +she seemed jes' so. An' then says I, '_Who_ is this?' An' then, honey, +for a while it was like the sun shinin' in a pail o' water, when it +moves up an' down; for I begun to feel 't was somebody that loved me; +an' I tried to know him. An' I said, 'I know you! I know you! I know +you!'--an' then I said, 'I don't know you! I don't know you! I don't +know you!' An' when I said, 'I know you, I know you,' the light came; +an' when I said, 'I don't know you, I don't know you,' it went, jes' +like the sun in a pail o' water. An' finally somethin' spoke out in me +an' said, '_This is Jesus _!' An' I spoke out with all my might, an' +says I, '_This is Jesus_! Glory be to God!' An' then the whole world +grew bright, an' the trees they waved an' waved in glory, an' every +little bit o' stone on the ground shone like glass; an' I shouted an' +said, 'Praise, praise, praise to the Lord!' An' I begun to feel sech +a love in my soul as I never felt before,--love to all creatures. An' +then, all of a sudden, it stopped, an' I said, 'Dar's de white folks, +that have abused you an' beat you an' abused your people,--think o' +them!' But then there came another rush of love through my soul, an' I +cried out loud,--'Lord, Lord, I can love _even de white folks_!' + +"Honey, I jes' walked round an' round in a dream. Jesus loved me! I +knowed it,--I felt it. Jesus was my Jesus. Jesus would love me always. I +didn't dare tell nobody; 't was a great secret. Everything had been got +away from me that I ever had; an' I thought that ef I let white folks +know about this, maybe they'd get _Him_ away,--so I said, 'I'll keep +this close. I won't let any one know.'" + +"But, Sojourner, had you never been told about Jesus Christ?" + +"No, honey. I hadn't heerd no preachin',--been to no meetin'. Nobody +hadn't told me. I'd kind o' heerd of Jesus, but thought he was like +Gineral Lafayette, or some o' them. But one night there was a Methodist +meetin' somewhere in our parts, an' I went; an' they got up an' begun +for to tell der 'speriences; an' de fust one begun to speak. I started, +'cause he told about Jesus. 'Why,' says I to myself, 'dat man's found +him, too!' An' another got up an' spoke, an' I said, 'He's found him, +too!' An' finally I said, 'Why, they all know him!' I was so happy! An' +then they sung this hymn": (Here Sojourner sang, in a strange, cracked +voice, but evidently with all her soul and might, mispronouncing the +English, but seeming to derive as much elevation and comfort from bad +English as from good):-- + + "There is a holy city, + A world of light above. + Above the stairs and regions,[A] + Built by the God of love. + + "An everlasting temple, + And saints arrayed in white + There serve their great Redeemer + And dwell with him in light. + + "The meanest child of glory + Outshines the radiant sun; + But who can speak the splendor + Of Jesus on his throne? + + "Is this the man of sorrows + Who stood at Pilate's bar, + Condemned by haughty Herod + And by his men of war? + + "He seems a mighty conqueror, + Who spoiled the powers below, + And ransomed many captives + From everlasting woe. + + "The hosts of saints around him + Proclaim his work of grace, + The patriarchs and prophets, + And all the godly race, + + "Who speak of fiery trials + And tortures on their way; + They came from tribulation + To everlasting day. + + "And what shall be my journey, + How long I'll stay below, + Or what shall be my trials, + Are not for me to know. + + "In every day of trouble + I'll raise my thoughts on high, + I'll think of that bright temple + And crowns above the sky." + +[Footnote A: Starry regions.] + +I put in this whole hymn, because Sojourner, carried away with her own +feeling, sang it from beginning to end with a triumphant energy that +held the whole circle around her intently listening. She sang with +the strong barbaric accent of the native African, and with those +indescribable upward turns and those deep gutturals which give such a +wild, peculiar power to the negro singing,--but above all, with such an +overwhelming energy of personal appropriation that the hymn seemed to be +fused in the furnace of her feelings and come out recrystallized as a +production of her own. + +It is said that Rachel was wont to chant the "Marseillaise" in a manner +that made her seem, for the time, the very spirit and impersonation of +the gaunt, wild, hungry, avenging mob which rose against aristocratic +oppression; and in like manner, Sojourner, singing this hymn, seemed to +impersonate the fervor of Ethiopia, wild, savage, hunted of all nations, +but burning after God in her tropic heart, and stretching her scarred +hands towards the glory to be revealed. + +"Well, den ye see, after a while I thought I'd go back an' see de folks +on de ole place. Well, you know, de law had passed dat de culled folks +was all free; an' my old missis, she had a daughter married about dis +time who went to live in Alabama,--an' what did she do but give her my +son, a boy about de age of dis yer, for her to take down to Alabama? +When I got back to de ole place, they told me about it, an' I went right +up to see ole missis, an' says I,-- + +"'Missis, have you been an' sent my son away down to Alabama?' + +"'Yes, I have,' says she; 'he's gone to live with your young missis.' + +"'Oh, Missis,' says I, 'how could you do it?' + +"'Poh!' says she, 'what a fuss you make about a little nigger! Got more +of 'em now than you know what to do with.' + +"I tell you, I stretched up. I felt as tall as the world! + +"'Missis,' says I, '_I'll have my son back agin!_' + +"She laughed. + +"'_You_ will, you nigger? How you goin' to do it? You ha'n't got no +money.' + +"'No, Missis,--but _God_ has,--an' you'll see He'll help me!'--an' I +turned round an' went out. + +"Oh, but I _was_ angry to have her speak to me so haughty an' so +scornful, as ef my chile wasn't worth anything. I said to God, 'O Lord, +render unto her double!' It was a dreadful prayer, an' I didn't know how +true it would come. + +"Well, I didn't rightly know which way to turn; but I went to the Lord, +an' I said to Him, 'O Lord, ef I was as rich as you be, an' you was as +poor as I be, I'd help you,--you _know_ I would; and, oh, do help me!' +An' I felt sure then that He would. + +"Well, I talked with people, an' they said I must git the case before a +grand jury. So I went into the town when they was holdin' a court, to +see ef I could find any grand jury. An' I stood round the +court-house, an' when they was a-comin' out, I walked right up to the +grandest-lookin' one I could see, an' says I to him,-- + +"'Sir, be you a grand jury?' + +"An' then he wanted to know why I asked, an' I told him all about it; +an' he asked me all sorts of questions, an' finally he says to me,-- + +"'I think, ef you pay me ten dollars, that I'd agree to git your son for +you.' An' says he, pointin' to a house over the way, 'You go 'long an' +tell your story to the folks in that house, an' I guess they'll give you +the money.' + +"Well, I went, an' I told them, an' they gave me twenty dollars; an' +then I thought to myself, 'Ef ten dollars will git him, twenty dollars +will git him _sartin_.' So I carried it to the man all out, an' said,-- + +"'Take it all,--only be sure an' git him' + +"Well, finally they got the boy brought back; an' then they tried to +frighten him, an' to make him say that I wasn't his mammy, an' that he +didn't know me; but they couldn't make it out. They gave him to me, +an' I took him an' carried him home; an' when I came to take off his +clothes, there was his poor little back all covered with scars an' hard +lumps, where they'd flogged him. + +"Well, you see, honey, I told you how I prayed the Lord to render unto +her double. Well, it came true; for I was up at ole missis' house not +long after, an' I heerd 'em readin' a letter to her how her daughter's +husband had murdered her,--how he'd thrown her down an' stamped the life +out of her, when he was in liquor; an' my ole missis, she giv a screech, +an' fell flat on the floor. Then says I, 'O Lord, I didn't mean all +that! You took me up too quick.' + +"Well, I went in an' tended that poor critter all night. She was out of +her mind,--a-cryin', an' callin' for her daughter; an' I held her poor +ole head on my arm, an' watched for her as ef she 'd been my babby. An' +I watched by her, an' took care on her all through her sickness after +that, an' she died in my arms, poor thing!" + +"Well, Sojourner, did you always go by this name?" + +"No, 'deed! My name was Isabella; but when I left the house of bondage, +I left everything behind. I wa'n't goin' to keep nothin' of Egypt on me, +an' so I went to the Lord an' asked Him to give me a new name. And the +Lord gave me Sojourner, because I was to travel up an' down the land, +showin' the people their sins, an' bein' a sign unto them. Afterwards +I told the Lord I wanted another name, 'cause everybody else had two +names; and the Lord gave me Truth, because I was to declare the truth to +the people. + +"Ye see some ladies have given me a white satin banner," she said, +pulling out of her pocket and unfolding a white banner, printed with +many texts, such as, "Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all +the inhabitants thereof," and others of like nature. "Well," she said, +"I journeys round to camp-meetins, an' wherever folks is, an' I sets up +my banner, an' then I sings, an' then folks always comes up round me, +an' then I preaches to 'em. I tells 'em about Jesus, an' I tells 'em +about the sins of this people. A great many always comes to hear me; an' +they 're right good to me, too, an' say they want to hear me agin." + +We all thought it likely; and as the company left her, they shook hands +with her, and thanked her for her very original sermon; and one of the +ministers was overheard to say to another, "There's more of the gospel +in that story than in most sermons." + +Sojourner stayed several days with us, a welcome guest. Her conversation +was so strong, simple, shrewd, and with such a droll flavoring of humor, +that the Professor was wont to say of an evening, "Come, I am dull, +can't you get Sojourner up here to talk a little?" She would come up +into the parlor, and sit among pictures and ornaments, in her simple +stuff gown, with her heavy travelling-shoes, the central object of +attention both to parents and children, always ready to talk or to sing, +and putting into the common flow of conversation the keen edge of some +shrewd remark. + +"Sojourner, what do you think of Women's Rights?" + +"Well, honey, I 's ben to der meetins, an' harked a good deal. Dey +wanted me fur to speak. So I got up. Says I,--'Sisters, I a'n't clear +what you'd be after. Ef women want any rights more 'n dey 's got, why +don't dey jes' _take 'em_, an' not be talkin' about it?' Some on 'em +came round me, an' asked why I didn't wear Bloomers. An' I told 'em I +had Bloomers enough when I was in bondage. You see," she said, "dey used +to weave what dey called nigger-cloth, an' each one of us got jes' sech +a strip, an' had to wear it width-wise. Them that was short got along +pretty well, but as for me"--She gave an indescribably droll glance at +her long limbs and then at us, and added,--"Tell _you_, I had enough of +Bloomers in them days." + +Sojourner then proceeded to give her views of the relative capacity of +the sexes, in her own way. + +"S'pose a man's mind holds a quart, an' a-woman's don't hold but a pint; +ef her pint is _full_, it's as good as his quart." + +Sojourner was fond of singing an extraordinary lyric, commencing,-- + + "I'm on my way to Canada, + That cold, but happy land; + The dire effects of Slavery + I can no longer stand. + O righteous Father, + Do look down on me + And help me on to Canada, + Where colored folks are free!" + +The lyric ran on to state, that, when the fugitive crosses the Canada +line, + + "The Queen comes down unto the shore, + With arms extended wide, + To welcome the poor fugitive + Safe onto Freedom's side." + +In the truth thus set forth she seemed to have the most simple faith. + +But her chief delight was to talk of "glory," and to sing hymns whose +burden was,-- + + "O glory, glory, glory, + Won't you come along with me?" + +and when left to herself, she would often hum these with great delight, +nodding her head. + +On one occasion, I remember her sitting at a window singing and +fervently keeping time with her bead, the little black Puck of a +grandson meanwhile, amusing himself with ornamenting her red-and-yellow +turban with green dandelion-curls, which shook and trembled with her +emotions, causing him perfect convulsions of delight. + +"Sojourner," said the Professor to her, one day, when he heard her +singing, "you seem to be very sure about heaven." + +"Well, I be," she answered, triumphantly. + +"What makes you so sure there is any heaven?" + +"Well, 'cause I got such a hankerin' arter it in here," she +said,--giving a thump on her breast with her usual energy. + +There was at the time an invalid in the house, and Sojourner, on +learning it, felt a mission to go and comfort her. It was curious to see +the tall, gaunt, dusky figure stalk up to the bed with such an air of +conscious authority, and take on herself the office of consoler +with such a mixture of authority and tenderness. She talked as from +above,--and at the same time, if a pillow needed changing or any office +to be rendered, she did it with a strength and handiness that inspired +trust. One felt as if the dark, strange woman were quite able to take up +the invalid in her bosom, and bear her as a lamb, both physically and +spiritually. There was both power and sweetness in that great warm soul +and that vigorous frame. + +At length, Sojourner, true to her name, departed. She had her mission +elsewhere. Where now she is I know not; but she left deep memories +behind her. + +To these recollections of my own I will add one more anecdote, related +by Wendell Phillips. + +Speaking of the power of Rachel to move and bear down a whole audience +by a few simple words, he said he never knew but one other human being +that had that power, and that other was Sojourner Truth. He related a +scene of which he was witness. It was at a crowded public meeting in +Faneuil Hall, where Frederick Douglas was one of the chief speakers. +Douglas had been describing the wrongs of the black race, and as he +proceeded, he grew more and more excited, and finally ended by saying +that they had no hope of justice from the whites, no possible hope +except in their own right arms. It must come to blood; they must fight +for themselves, and redeem themselves, or it would never be done. + +Sojourner was sitting, tall and dark, on the very front seat, facing the +platform; and in the hush of deep feeling, after Douglas sat down, she +spoke out in her deep, peculiar voice, heard all over the house,-- + +"Frederick, is _God dead_?" + +The effect was perfectly electrical, and thrilled through the whole +house, changing as by a flash the whole feeling of the audience. Not +another word she said or needed to say; it was enough. + +It is with a sad feeling that one contemplates noble minds and bodies, +nobly and grandly formed human beings, that have come to us cramped, +scarred, maimed, out of the prison-house of bondage. One longs to know +what such beings might have become, if suffered to unfold and expand +under the kindly developing influences of education. + +It is the theory of some writers, that to the African is reserved, +in the later and palmier days of the earth, the full and harmonious +development of the religious element in man. The African seems to seize +on the tropical fervor and luxuriance of Scripture imagery as something +native; he appears to feel himself to be of the same blood with those +old burning, simple souls, the patriarchs, prophets, and seers, whose +impassioned words seem only grafted as foreign plants on the cooler +stock of the Occidental mind. + +I cannot but think that Sojourner with the same culture might have +spoken words as eloquent and undying as those of the African Saint +Augustine or Tertullian. How grand and queenly a woman she might have +been, with her wonderful physical vigor, her great heaving sea of +emotion, her power of spiritual conception, her quick penetration, and +her boundless energy! We might conceive an African type of woman so +largely made and moulded, so much fuller in all the elements of life, +physical and spiritual, that the dark hue of the skin should seem only +to add an appropriate charm,--as Milton says of his Penseroso, whom he +imagines + + "Black, but such as in esteem + Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, + Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove + To set her beauty's praise above + The sea-nymph's." + +But though Sojourner Truth has passed away from among us as a wave of +the sea, her memory still lives in one of the loftiest and most original +works of modern art, the Libyan Sibyl, by Mr. Story, which attracted +so much attention in the late World's Exhibition. Some years ago, when +visiting Rome, I related Sojourner's history to Mr. Story at a breakfast +at his house. Already had his mind begun to turn to Egypt in search of +a type of art which should represent a larger and more vigorous +development of nature than the cold elegance of Greek lines. His +glorious Cleopatra was then in process of evolution, and his mind was +working out the problem of her broadly developed nature, of all that +slumbering weight and fulness of passion with which this statue seems +charged, as a heavy thunder-cloud is charged with electricity. + +The history of Sojourner Truth worked in his mind and led him into the +deeper recesses of the African nature,--those unexplored depths of being +and feeling, mighty and dark as the gigantic depths of tropical forests, +mysterious as the hidden rivers and mines of that burning continent +whose life-history is yet to be. A few days after, he told me that he +had conceived the idea of a statue which he should call the Libyan +Sibyl. Two years subsequently, I revisited Rome, and found the gorgeous +Cleopatra finished, a thing to marvel at, as the creation of a new style +of beauty, a new manner of art. Mr. Story requested me to come and +repeat to him the history of Sojourner Truth, saying that the conception +had never left him. I did so; and a day or two after, he showed me the +clay model of the Libyan Sibyl. I have never seen the marble statue; but +am told by those who have, that it was by far the most impressive work +of art at the Exhibition. + +A notice of the two statues from the London "Athenaeum" must supply a +description which I cannot give. + +"The Cleopatra and the Sibyl are seated, partly draped, with the +characteristic Egyptian gown, that gathers about the _torso_ and falls +freely around the limbs; the first is covered to the bosom, the second +bare to the hips. Queenly Cleopatra rests back against her chair in +meditative ease, leaning her cheek against one hand, whose elbow the +rail of the seat sustains; the other is outstretched upon her knee, +nipping its forefinger upon the thumb thoughtfully, as though some firm, +wilful purpose filled her brain, as it seems to set those luxurious +features to a smile as if the whole woman 'would.' Upon her head is +the coif, bearing in front the mystic _uraeus_, or twining basilisk of +sovereignty, while from its sides depend the wide Egyptian lappels, or +wings, that fall upon her shoulders. The _Sibilla Libica_ has crossed +her knees,--an action universally held amongst the ancients as +indicative of reticence or secrecy, and of power to bind. A +secret-keeping looking dame she is, in the full-bloom proportions of +ripe womanhood, wherein choosing to place his figure the sculptor has +deftly gone between the disputed point whether these women were blooming +and wise in youth, or deeply furrowed with age and burdened with the +knowledge of centuries, as Virgil, Livy, and Gellius say. Good artistic +example might be quoted on both sides. Her forward elbow is propped upon +one knee; and to keep her secrets closer, for this Libyan woman is the +closest of all the Sibyls, she rests her shut mouth upon one closed +palm, as if holding the African mystery deep in the brooding brain that +looks out through mournful, warning eyes, seen under the wide shade +of the strange horned (ammonite) crest, that bears the mystery of the +Tetragrammaton upon its upturned front. Over her full bosom, mother of +myriads as she was, hangs the same symbol. Her face has a Nubian cast, +her hair wavy and plaited, as is meet." + +We hope to see the day when copies both of the Cleopatra and the Libyan +Sibyl shall adorn the Capitol at Washington. + + + + +AMERICAN HORTICULTURE. + + +Horticulture in the United States has, except in a commercial sense, +been subordinate to the pursuit of wealth. Before man can indulge in +objects of elegance and refinement, he must have secured the comforts of +life: the _utile_ must lead the _dulce_, a well-stocked kitchen-garden +precede the parterre. We have now, however, in the older sections of the +Union, at least, passed through the ordeal of a young nation: elegance +is following the plain and practical; the spacious mansion, with its +luxurious appurtenances, is succeeding the cottage, as this in turn +was the successor of the cabin. The perception of the picturesque is a +natural result of earlier steps in the path of refinement: man may build +from a vulgar ambition for distinction, but he seldom plants unless +prompted by love of Nature and elevated impulses. Lord Bacon, in his +essay "Of Gardens," says, "When ages grow to civility and elegancy, men +come to build stately sooner than to garden finely; as if gardening were +the greater perfection." A case which seems to confirm this position +occurs to us. The site of a noble building, erected for our Government, +was adorned by wide-spreading trees, the growth of generations, which, +after the building was completed, the architect cut down before his axe +could be arrested. On being reproached for his Vandalism, he retorted,-- +"Trees may be seen everywhere, but such a Grecian portico as +that--where?" + +Among a young people like ourselves, the nursery and the market-garden +hold prominent places in horticultural pursuits; the latter yields a +prompt return for the investment of capital and labor, and just in +proportion as demand increases, so will be the exertion to meet it. Thus +we find the markets of the cities amply supplied with every luxury of +fruit and vegetable: the seasons are anticipated by artificial means, +glass is brought into requisition, and the tables of the wealthy are +furnished with a profusion unknown to royalty in an earlier age. + +The capacity of Americans to mould circumstances to themselves rather +than adapt themselves to circumstances, to remove obstacles, to +accomplish by the aid of machinery much that other peoples reach through +toil alone, has passed into a proverb: hence it need hardly cause +surprise, if unexampled success attend efforts at market-gardening, +bringing to the very doors of the comparatively poor vegetables and +fruits which in Europe are enjoyed only by the higher classes. As an +illustration,--where but in America are peaches planted by a single +individual by tens of thousands, and carried to market on steamboats +chartered for the special purpose, in quantities of one or two thousand +bushels at a trip? + +The earlier American nurseries were few in number, and, compared with +some now existing, of quite limited extent,--though equal, perhaps, in +proportion to population. The first of which there is any record, and +probably the earliest established, was that of John Bartram, near +Philadelphia, about the year 1730. Here were congregated many of the +prominent native plants and trees, preparatory to exportation to +Europe,--also the fruits and plants of the other hemisphere, obtained +in exchange for American productions. The specimen trees planted by the +elder Bartram and his descendants still adorn the grounds, classic +to the botanist and the lover of Nature: long may they stand, living +memorials of generations passed away, our earliest evidence of a taste +for horticulture! + +The next nursery in the order of date is that of Prince, in Flushing, +New York, established, we believe, prior to the Revolution, and +continued by the family to the present day. Flushing has become a centre +in the nursery-trade, and many acres thereabout are covered with young +trees intended for transplantation. A stroll round the village would +lead one to suppose the chief interest of the inhabitants was bound up +in the nursery-business, as is that of Lynn in shoes, and of Lowell +in cotton goods. Prominent among the Flushing nurseries are those of +Parsons, which, though of comparatively recent origin, abound in rich +treasures. + +The nurseries of the brothers David and Cuthbert Landreth appear to have +been the third in the order of succession. They were established at +Philadelphia shortly after the Revolution, and within the limits of the +city. The increase of population and their expanding trade caused a +removal to another and more ample field of culture, which, for nearly +half a century, was the resort of most people of taste who visited +Philadelphia. + +Nurseries are now found everywhere. The Far West has some which count +the young trees by millions, and fruit-trees of single kinds by the +hundred thousand. The Hoveys, of Boston, have long been prominent, not +only as nurserymen, but as writers on horticulture. Elwanger and Barry, +of Rochester, New York, have a large breadth of land, we forbear to +state our impression of the number of acres, covered by nursery-stock. +Professional florists also have multiplied to an unlimited +extent, exhibiting the growth of refining taste. Plants suited +to window-culture, and bouquets of choice flowers, are sold on +street-corners, and carried from door to door. Cameilias, of which +we recollect single flowers having been sold at a dollar, can now be +purchased at fifty cents the plant. + +It might be curious, in reference to this subject of horticulture, to +institute an inquiry as to cause and effect. Have the increased means of +gratifying taste expanded it, or has taste rapidly developed created the +means of supply? Doubtless there has been reaction from both directions, +each operating on the other. One striking exhibition of pure taste +among us is the formation of picturesque arboretums, especially of +terebinthinate trees, and others allied to the Coniferae. This taste, so +diligently cultivated in England, has found zealous worshippers among +us, and some admirable collections have been formed. The cemetery of +Laurel Hill, at Philadelphia, under the critical eye and taste of the +proprietor, Mr. John Jay Smith, that of Mount Auburn, in Cambridge, of +Greenwood, New York, and the cemetery in Cincinnati, have afforded fine +specimens of rare trees, though, from the nature of their purposes, +picturesque effect could not be reached, except so far as aided by +irregularity of surface. And here we would remark, in connection with +this subject, that one regulation of the Cincinnati cemetery is worthy +of imitation. No arbitrary railings or ill-kept hedges bound the +individual lots; all is open, and the visitor, as he drives through the +grounds, is charmed by the effect,--a park studded with monuments: the +social distinctions, which, perhaps, necessarily separated in life, have +disappeared in death. + +In connection with landscape-gardening, one American name stands +conspicuous,--the name of one who, if not, in point of time, the first +teacher of the art in this country, has at least done more than +any other to direct attention to it,--to exhibit defects, suggest +improvements, create beauties, and invest his subject with such a charm +and interest as to captivate many minds which might otherwise have been +long insensible to the dormant beauty within their reach, or that which +they themselves had the power to produce: we refer, of course, to the +late Andrew J. Downing. With naturally fine artistic perceptions, his +original occupation of a nurseryman gave direction to his subsequent +pursuits. Under different circumstances, his taste might, perhaps, have +been turned to painting, sculpture, or architecture: indeed, to the last +he paid no inconsiderable attention; and as the result, many a rural +homestead, which might otherwise have been a bleak house, is conspicuous +as the abode of taste and elegance. + +Among the prominent private arboretums in our country may be mentioned +that of Mr. Sargent at Wodeneshe. Mr. Sargent, as may be seen by his +supplement to Downing's "Landscape-Gardening," is an enthusiast in the +culture of conifers; he is reputed to have made liberal importations, +and the results of his attempts at acclimation, given to the public, +have aided others in like endeavors. Judge Field, of Princeton, New +Jersey, has a pinetum of much value; some of his specimens are of rare +excellence. He, also, has been a diligent importer. + + * * * * * + +Though our sketch of the present state of horticulture among us is quite +imperfect, affording but an indistinct glimpse of the ample field which +invites our view, it would scarcely be pardonable, were we to overlook a +branch of rural industry in which horticultural success is interested, +and without which the practical pleasures and family-comfort of rural +homes would be greatly abridged. We refer to garden-seed culture. It may +be that the purchaser of a paper of seed for the kitchen-garden seldom +stops to consider the minute care which has been required to secure its +purity; most probably, in many cases, he makes the purchase as though it +were the mere product of mechanical skill, which, after the machinery is +perfected, and the steam-engine has been set in motion, turns out the +finished article, of use or ornament, with scarcely an effort of mind to +direct its movements. Not so in the production of seeds: many are the +hours of watchful care to be bestowed upon it, and stern and unyielding +are its demands on the skilled eye and the untiring hand. It is because +in some cases the eye is not skilled, and the hand often tires, that +so many seeds of more than doubtful worth are imposed upon the +market, filling the village and cross-road shops with the germs of +disappointment. The history of the seed-culture in the United States is +not without interest to those who, like many readers of the "Atlantic," +reside in the quiet country; to every family thus situated the certainty +of obtaining seeds of trustworthy quality--certain to vegetate, and sure +to prove true to name--is of more importance than can be appreciated by +those who rely upon the city-market, and have at all times and seasons +ample supplies of vegetables within easy reach. On looking round for +some individual establishment which we may use as the representative of +this branch of industry, we naturally turn to Bloomsdale, as the most +prominent and widest-known of seed-farms; and if the reader will join us +in a trip thither, we shall be pleased with his company, and perchance +he may not wholly regret the time occupied in the excursion. The period +we shall choose for the visit is the close of the month of June. + +On a bright day we take our seats in the cars at Jersey City, provided +with the talisman to insure an attentive reception. Onward we whirl +through fertile fields and smiling villages; Newark, Brunswick, +Princeton, are successively passed; shortly we reach the Delaware at +Trenton; a run of a few miles through Penn's Manor, the garden-spot of +the Proprietary Governor, brings us to Bristol, the station from which +we most readily reach our destination. As we approach the grounds from +the front, a prominent object meets the eye, a noble white pine of +gigantic proportions, somewhat the worse for many a winter's storm, but +which still stands in all its majestic grandeur, as it has stood whilst +generations have come and passed away. On entering the premises, we find +ourselves in the midst of a lawn of ten acres in the English style. To +enumerate the various trees, in groups or single specimens, which most +invite our notice, would interfere with the main object of our visit. We +have come for a special purpose, and we can only allude to a very few +of the species to which our attention may be supposed to be directed. A +white spruce, in rich luxuriance, measuring, as the branches trail upon +the sward, upwards of sixty feet in circumference; the Himalayan white +pine, with its deep fringe-like foliage, twenty-five feet in height; the +Cephalonian fir, with leaves as pungent as an Auricaria, twenty feet +high, and many specimens of the same kind of nearly equal magnitude; +yews, of more than half a century's growth; a purple beech, of thirty +feet in height, its branches as many in circumference, contrasting with +the green around; numerous specimens of balm of Gilead, silver firs, and +Norway spruces, unsurpassed in beauty of form, the last presenting every +variety of habit in which it delights to sport: these are some of the +gems of the lawn. But we must hurry onward to the practical business in +view. + +The harvest, which, in seed-culture, lasts for many consecutive weeks, +has just commenced. The first important crop that ripens is the +turnip,--which is now being cut. The work is performed by the use of +grass-hooks or toothless sickles; stem after stem is cut, until the hand +is full, when they are deposited in canvas sheets; as these are filled, +boys stand ready to spread others; men follow to tie up those which have +been filled; others succeed, driving teams, and loading wagons, with +ample shelvings, with sheet-full piled on sheet-full, until the sturdy +oxen are required to test their strength in drawing them to the +drying-houses; arrived there, each sheet-full is separately removed by +rope and tackle, and the contents deposited on the skeleton scaffolding +within the building, there to remain until the seed is sufficiently +cured and dry enough to thresh. These drying-houses are buildings +of uniform character, two stories in height and fifty feet square, +constructed so as to expose their contents to sun and air, and each +provided with a carefully laid threshing-floor, extending through the +building, with pent-house for movable engine. When the houses are full +and the hulm in a fit state for threshing, the engine is started and +the work begun. One man, relieved by others from time to time, (for the +labor requires activity, and consequently is exhausting,) feeds the +thresher, which, with its armed teeth, moves with such velocity as to +appear like a solid cylinder. Here there is no stopping for horses +to take breath and rest their weary limbs,--puff, puff, onward the +work,--steam as great a triumph in threshing as in printing or spinning. +Men and boys are stationed at the rear of the thresher to remove the +straw, and roughly separate the seed from the shattered hulm,--others +again being engaged in thrusting the dried crop from the scaffolds, and +placing it in suitable position for the feeders. When one drying-house +has thus been emptied, the engine is removed to another; the same +process is pursued until the circuit of the buildings has been made, and +thus the ceaseless round (ceaseless at least for a season) is continued. +As soon as the crop in the first house has been threshed, the work of +winnowing is commenced, and skilled hands thus engaged follow on in the +track of the engine. As each crop is cleaned and put in merchantable +order, it is placed in bags of two bushels each and carried to the +storehouses and granaries, there to await a requisition from the +city-warehouse. + +We have just witnessed the process of saving the crop of turnip-seed. +And how much may that reach? is a natural inquiry. Of all the varieties, +including the ruta-baga, about one thousand bushels, is the response. We +should have thought a thousand pounds would supply the entire Union; but +we are reminded it is in part exported to far distant lands. And what is +the crop so much like turnip, but still green, and apparently of more +vigorous growth? That is one of the varieties of cabbage, of which +several standard kinds are under cultivation. Another adjoining is +radish; still another, beet; and thus we pass from kind to kind, until +we have exhausted a long catalogue of sorts. + +Let us stop our walk over the grounds for a few moments, taking seats +under the shadow of a tree, and make some inquiries as to the place +itself, its extent, the course of culture, the description of manures +used, etc. Our cicerone assents to the proposal, and proceeds to answer +our general inquiries. Bloomsdale contains in round numbers four hundred +acres; it has a frontage on the Delaware of upwards of a mile, is +bounded on the west by the Delaware Canal, and is divided into two +nearly equal parts by the Philadelphia and Trenton Railroad. The soil is +a light loam, easily worked, suited to rapid percolation, admitting of +labor immediately after heavy rain, and not liable to suffer by drought. +The manures used are principally crude, obtained from the city, and +landed on the premises from shallops continually plying, laden with the +"sinews of farming." Street-scrapings are more used than stable-manure; +bone-dust and guano enter largely into the account; and the aggregate +annual expenditure foots up a sum almost equivalent to the fee-simple of +an ordinary farm. The culture is that denominated drill; but of course +much of it is simply straight lines drawn by the plough, in which the +roots for seeding are planted by hand. The ground, with the exception of +the lawn and a portion occupied from time to time by grass for home use, +is divided by wagon-roads into squares and parallelograms; cross fences +are not used; and each crop forms a distinct feature, accessible at any +stage of growth. The several varieties of each kind, as, for instance, +those of turnip, cabbage, beet, lettuce, are planted widely apart, to +guard against possible admixture; but the chances of that result must +be much less than is popularly supposed, efforts having been used +experimentally to test its practicability, and that between kindred +closely allied, without success. Although the extent of the grounds +would appear to be formidable, even for a farm conducted in the usual +mode, it is insufficient for the demands on the proprietors, without +diligent exertion and prompt recropping,--two crops in each year being +exacted, only a small part of the land escaping double duty, the extent +annually ploughed thus amounting to nearly twice the area of the farm. +The heavy hauling is performed by oxen, the culture principally by +mules, which are preferred to horses, as being less liable to injury, +and better adapted to the narrow drill culture practised. + +The seeds of Bloomsdale have attained a world-wide reputation, and, to +quote an expression used in reference to them, "are almost as well +known on the Ganges as on the Mississippi or Ohio." They are regularly +exported to the British possessions in India, to the shores of the +Pacific, throughout the West Indies, and occasionally to Australia. +The drier atmosphere of this country ripens them better than the humid +climate of England, adapting them to exportation; and it is no slight +triumph to see them preferred by Englishmen on English soil. At home, +thousands of hamlets, south and west of Philadelphia, until interrupted +by the war, were supplied with Landreth's seeds. The business, founded +nearly three-quarters of a century ago, is now conducted by the second +and third generations of the family with which it originated. Thus +has success been achieved through long and patient industry steadily +directed to the same pursuit, and a reputation built up for American +seeds, despite the want of national protection. + + + + +THE EAST AND THE WEST. + +[This poem was written by THEODORE WINTHROP seven years ago, and after +his death was found among his unpublished papers.] + + + We of the East spread our sails to the sea, + You of the West stride over the land; + Both are to scatter the hopes of the Free, + As the sower sheds golden grain from his hand. + + 'Tis ours to circle the stormy bends + Of a continent, yours its ridge to cross; + We must double the capes where a long world ends, + Lone cliffs where two limitless oceans toss. + + They meet and are baffled 'mid tempest and wrath, + Breezes are skirmishing, angry winds roar, + While poised on some desperate plunge of our path + We count up the blackening wrecks on the shore. + + And you through dreary and thirsty ways, + Where rivers are sand and winds are dust, + Through sultry nights and feverish days, + Move westward still as the sunsets must: + + Where the scorched air quivers along the slopes, + Where the slow-footed cattle lie down and die, + Where horizons draw backward till baffled hopes + Are weary of measureless waste and sky. + + Yes, ours to battle relentless gales, + And yours the brave and the patient way; + But we hold the storms in our trusty sails, + And for you the life-giving fountains play. + + There are stars above us, and stars for you,-- + Rest on the path, and calm on the main: + Storms are but zephyrs, when hearts are true; + We are no weaklings, quick to complain, + + When lightnings flash bivouac-fires into gloom, + And with crashing of forests the rains sheet down,-- + Or when ships plunge onward where night-clouds loom, + Defiant of darkness and meeting its frown. + + These are the days of motion and march; + Now we are ardent, and young, and brave: + Let them that come after us build the arch + Of our triumph, and plant with the laurel our grave. + + Time enough to rear temples when heroes are dead, + Time enough to sing paeans after the fight: + Prophets urge onward the future's tread; + We,--_we_ are to kindle its beacon-light. + + Our sires lit torches of quenchless flame + To illumine our darkness, if night should be; + But day is a friend to our standards, and shame + Be ours, if we win not a victory! + + Man is nobler than men have been, + Souls are vaster than souls have dreamed; + There are broader oceans than eyes have seen, + Noons more glowing than yet have beamed. + + Creeping shadows cower low on our land; + These shall not dim our grander day: + Stainless knights must be those who stand + Full in the van of a world's array! + + When shall we cease our meagre distrust? + When to each other our true hearts yield? + To make this world an Eden, we must + Fling away each weapon and shield, + + And meet each man as a friend and mate, + Trample and spurn and forget our pride, + Glad to accept an equal fate, + Laboring, conquering side by side. + + + + +PERSONAL REMINISCENCES OF THE LATE HENRY THOMAS BUCKLE. + + +_Cairo, Egypt, February 6th, 1862._ I am afraid I repeat myself in +talking about the beauty of the climate here, but to-day is so lovely +that I cannot refrain from recurring to the subject. While you are +shivering under the blasts of winter, we have a genuine June morning: +the air soft and pure, the atmosphere clear, innumerable birds chirping +in the trees opposite the windows, (for the Arabs never interfere with +birds,) and the aspect of things from our balcony overlooking the +Esbekieh, or public square, as pleasant as one could wish. The beautiful +weather, too, is constant. + +But I must tell you of my dining yesterday with Mrs. R., to meet Mr. +Buckle, the author of the History of Civilization, who has just returned +from his two or three months' voyage upon the Nile, in which he pushed +as far as Nubia. He is now staying for a little while in Cairo, or +rather in his _dahabieh_, or boat, (which he says is more comfortable +than any hotel,) moored in the river at Boolak, the port of the town. +Mrs. R., the daughter of Lady Duff Gordon, and granddaughter of Mrs. +Austin, is a most attractive and accomplished young lady; her husband is +the manager in Egypt of the great banking-house of Briggs and Company, +in which he is a partner. Their usual residence is at Alexandria; but +at this season "all the world" of Egypt comes to Cairo, to enjoy the +beautiful weather here, while it is raining incessantly in Alexandria, +only a hundred and thirty miles distant. Mrs. R. in asking Mr. Thayer, +our Consul-General, to meet Mr. Buckle, with very great kindness +included me in the invitation. The only other lady present was Miss +P., a niece of the late Countess of Blessington, herself the author +of several pleasant stories, and of a poem which gained a prize in +competition with one by Mrs. Browning and another by Owen Meredith: she +is spending the winter with Mrs. R. There were also present C., who +conducts the house of Briggs and Company in Cairo; O., another banker; +and Hekekyan Bey, an Armenian, a well-read and intelligent man, formerly +Minister of Public Instruction under Mehemet Ali, and still, I believe, +in receipt of a pension from the Viceroy's government, in consideration +of his public services, which have been valuable. + +The dinner was at an hotel called the Restaurant d'Auric. We assembled +in Mrs. R.'s drawing-room, an apartment in the banking-house at a little +distance, and walked to the hotel. The company fell into two groups, +each lighted by a swarthy _boab_ or lackey carrying a _mushal_ or +lantern; and I happened to walk with Mr. Buckle, so that I had a brief +talk with him in the street, before the general conversation began at +the table. He remarked upon the extraordinary devotion exhibited by +Delane of the London Times to the interests and politics of Lord +Palmerston. Becoming interested in our conversation, we strayed away +from the rest, and were walking about a quarter of a mile down the +_bazaar_, when (are you surprised to hear?) Mr. Buckle was missed, +the two _boabs_ came running after us, and we were cited to the +dinner-table. + +Buckle, of course, was the card. He talked with a velocity and fulness +of facts that was wonderful. The rest of us could do little but listen +and ask questions. And yet he did not seem to be lecturing us; the +stream of his conversation flowed along easily and naturally. Nor was it +didactic; Buckle's range of reading has covered everything in elegant +literature, as well as the ponderous works whose titles make so +formidable a list at the beginning of his History, and, as he remembers +everything he has read, he can produce his stores upon the moment for +the illustration of whatever subject happens to come up. + +In the first place, let me say how delightful it was to discover his +cordial interest in our own country. He expresses a strong hope that +England will take no part against us, and do nothing to break the +blockade. He is going to write about America; indeed, his next volume, +besides containing a complete view of the German philosophy, will treat +of the United States. But he will visit us before he writes. Although +appreciating the great work of De Tocqueville, he complains of the +general inadequacy of European criticism upon America. Gasparin's books, +by the way, he has not seen. For his own part, he considers the subject +too vast, he says, and the testimony too conflicting, to permit him +to write upon it before he has seen the country; and meanwhile he +scrupulously refrains from forming any conclusive opinions. + +Subject to this reservation of judgment, however, he remarked that +he was inclined to think that George III forced us prematurely into +democracy, although the natural tendency of things both in America and +England was towards it; and he thought that perhaps we had established +a political democracy without having yet achieved an intellectual +democracy: the two ought to go hand in hand together. The common people +in England, he said, are by far the most useful class of society. He had +been especially pleased by the numerous letters he had received from +working-men who had read his book. These letters often surprised him +by the acuteness and capacity displayed by their writers. The nobility +would perish utterly, if it were not constantly recruited from +commoners. Lord Brougham was the first member of the secular peerage who +continued after his elevation to sign his name in full, "H. Brougham," +which he did to show his continued sympathy with the class from which he +sprang. Buckle remarked that the history of the peasantry of no European +country has ever been written, or ever can be written, and without it +the record of the doings of kings and nobles is mere chaff. Surnames +were not introduced until the eleventh century, and it is only since +that period that genealogy has become possible. + +Another very pleasant thing is Mr. Buckle's cordial appreciation of +young men. He repeated the story, which I believe is in his book, +that, when Harvey announced to the world his great discovery of the +circulation of the blood, among the physicians who received it was none +above the age of forty. Mr. Thayer described to Buckle some of our +friends who have read his book with especial satisfaction. He evidently +took pleasure in this proof of appreciation, and said that this was the +class of readers he sought. "In fact, the young men," he said, "are the +only readers of much value; it is they who shape the future." He said +that Thackeray and Delane had told him he would find Boston very like +England. He knows but few Bostonians. He had corresponded with Theodore +Parker, whom he considered a remarkable man; he had preserved but one of +his letters, which he returned to Mrs. Parker, in answer to her request +for materials to aid her in preparing the memoir of her late +husband. Buckle says that he does not generally preserve other than +business-letters. + +Mr. Buckle gave an amusing account of the origin of the wigs which the +lawyers wear in England, and which, by the way, struck me as infinitely +ludicrous when I saw them on the heads of the judges and counsel in +Westminster Hall. Originally the clergy were forbidden to practise law, +and, as they were the best lawyers, the wig was worn to conceal the +tonsure. He had anecdotes to tell of Johnson, Lamb, Macaulay, Voltaire, +Talleyrand, etc., and quoted passages from Burke and from Junius at +length in the exact words. Junius he considers proved to be Sir Philip +Francis. He told a good story against Wordsworth, contained in a letter +from Lamb to Talfourd, which the latter showed to Buckle, but had +considered among the things too personal to be published. Wordsworth +was decrying Shakspeare. "Pooh!" he said, "it is all very easy: I could +write like Shakspeare myself, if I had a mind to!" "Precisely so," +rejoined Lamb,--"_if you had a mind to_." + +Mr. Buckle does not think much of the ancient Egyptian civilization, +differing in this respect _toto caelo_ from Hekekyan Bey, who finds +in the monuments proofs of the existence of an expansive popular +government. Buckle declares that the machines, as figured in the +hieroglyphics, are of the most primitive kind,--and that the learning, +by all accounts, was confined to the priests, and covered a very narrow +range, exhibiting no traces of acquaintance with the higher useful arts. +He says it is a fallacy to suppose that savages are bodily superior to +civilized men. Captain Cook found that his sailors could outwork the +islanders. I remarked, in confirmation, that our Harvard boat-clubs +won the prizes in rowing-matches against all comers. Buckle seemed +interested, and asked for a more particular account, which, of course, I +took great pleasure in giving. C., like a true Englishman, doubted +the general fact, and said the Thames watermen out-rowed their +university-clubs. + +For Turkish civilization Mr. Buckle has not the slightest respect,--said +he could write the whole of it on the back of his hand; and here +Hekekyan Bey cordially agreed with him. Buckle is very fond of chess, +and can play two games at once blindfold. He inquired very particularly +about a native here who it is said can play four or six in this manner, +and said he should like to try a game with him. He had seen Paulsen, but +not Morphy. + +Mr. Thayer asked him if in England he had been subjected to personal +hostility for his opinions, or to anything like social ostracism. He +said, generally not. A letter from a clergyman to an acquaintance in +England, expressing intense antipathy to him, although he had never seen +the writer, was the only evidence of this kind of opposition. "In fact," +said he, naively, "the people of England have such an admiration of any +kind of _intellectual splendor_ that they will forgive for its sake the +most objectionable doctrines." He told us that the portion of his book +which relates to Spain, although by no means complimentary to that +country, has been translated and published separately there. T. remarked +that to this circumstance, no doubt, we may ascribe some part of the +modern regeneration of Spain, the leading statesmen being persuaded to a +more liberal policy; but this view Buckle disclaimed with an eagerness +seeming to be something more than the offspring of modesty. + +After dinner we returned to Mrs. R.'s apartments, where we had tea. +Buckle and Hekekyan now got into an animated discussion upon the ancient +Egyptian civilization, which scarcely gave the rest of us a chance to +put in a single word. It was, however, exceedingly interesting to sit +and listen. Indeed, although there was nothing awful about Buckle, one +felt a little abashed to intrude his own remarks in such a presence. You +will be amused to hear that Mrs. R., who had seen me but once before, +told T. that she did not think I seemed to have much to say for myself. +Pray tell this in circles where they accuse me of monopolizing the +conversation. We stayed until nearly midnight, and then, taking our +leave, Buckle accompanied T. and myself as far as the door of our hotel. +Buckle received most kindly all suggestions made to him of books to be +read upon American affairs, and people to be seen in the United States. + +_February 7th_. To-day we made a party to drive to see the Howling +Dervishes, who howl on Fridays. Friday is sometimes called "the +Mahometan Sunday," which is a correct phrase, if the especial +celebration of religious services is meant; but it is not at all a day +of rest: we found the people continuing their various avocations as +usual. At the mosque we met Mr. Buckle, a little careless in his +dress,--in this respect affording a not disagreeable contrast to +the studied jauntiness which Englishmen are apt to affect in their +travelling-gear. Nobody is allowed to press the floor of the mosque with +shoes upon the feet. T. and I, warned by our former experience, had +brought pieces of cotton cloth to tie over our shoes; and some cloth +slippers of a bright orange color, such as the Arabs are fond of +using, had been provided, which Miss P. slipped directly over her +walking-boots. Buckle, with careless indifference, pulled off his shoes +and walked in in his stockinged feet. His figure is tall and slender, +although he is a large man; he stoops a little in standing; his head, +well-shaped, is partly bald; and although his features are not striking +in themselves, they are rendered so by his animated expression. The +photograph which I have seen is a wretched caricature. + +The performances of the Dervishes were precisely the same as those which +I witnessed in the same place a fortnight ago, and may be found most +exactly described by Mr. Trollope (who saw them two or three years +since) in his admirable novel of "The Bertrams," Chapter 38. If I +desired to tell you what we saw, I could not do better than to adopt +Mr. Trollope's language without alteration. This will prove to you the +sameness of this singular religious rite. Driving back, Miss P. helped +us to recall some of the incidents of the dinner of the preceding day. +She used to see almost all the distinguished literary characters at the +house of her aunt; but she told us that she never met anybody whose +conversation could bear comparison with that of Buckle, excepting Lord +Brougham and Alexander Dumas. The latter disgusts by his insufferable +egotism. Miss P. also gave us a very entertaining account of an Arab +wedding which she attended a day or two ago in company with Mrs. R. +As soon as they were inside the house they were separated from their +escort, and were admitted to the apartment where the bride was obliged +to sit in state for three days, covered with jewelry, clusters of +diamonds literally plastered upon her cheeks and forehead. + +_February 10th_. Yesterday Mr. Thayer entertained Mr. Buckle at dinner. +The party included Mrs. R. and some of the guests whom we had met at her +table. We had hoped also for the presence of Mr. R., who was expected to +come up from Alexandria; but the train failed to bring him. Mr. Thayer +also invited Sir James Outram, but he is too unwell to come, although +expressing himself pleased with the invitation. The landlord of the +hotel where the consul-general is staying (Hotel des Ambassadeurs) was +very proud of the occasion, and the entertainment, although simple, +was elegant. An oval table was found of exactly the right size to seat +eight. Buckle was in excellent spirits, and, as before, was the life of +the party. We had been terribly afraid lest he and Hekekyan should get +into another long disputation, for the excellent Bey has fortified +himself with new materials; but the ladies were taken into our +confidence to aid in turning the conversation, if it should be +necessary, all of which made a great deal of entertainment; but there +proved to be no occasion for anything of the sort. + +Buckle told some capital stories: among them, one against Alison, almost +too good to be true, namely, that in the first edition of his History he +mentioned among the causes of the French Devolution "the timber-duty," +because he had read in a French pamphlet that there were popular +discontents about the _droits de timbre_.[A] Alison's History, he said, +is the very worst that ever was written. He cited a good definition, +(Addison's, I believe,) that "fine writing is that which is true without +being obvious." In the course of the conversation, in which, as before, +Buckle touched points in the whole circle of literature and science, +giving us quotations even in Hebrew from the Talmud and the Bible, he +made a very pretty compliment to our host, introduced as adroitly as +from the lips of a professed courtier, but evidently spoken on the +moment. It was something in this way. Hekekyan and Buckle were in an +argument, and Buckle said, "Ah, you mistake a necessary condition for +the cause." "What is cause but necessary condition?" asked Hekekyan. +"Very different: two men can't fight a duel without meeting, but every +two men who meet don't fight a duel." "But they couldn't fight a duel +without meeting," persisted Hekekyan. "Yes," rejoined Buckle; "but +the meeting isn't the cause of the duel. Why, there could not be a +dinner-party, unless the company met; but our meeting here to-day isn't +the cause of the dinner: the cause of the dinner is the kindness of our +host." "Or rather, of the landlord," said N. "Oh, no! of the American +government," said C. "Ah," said Buckle, "those things are not the +cause: the cause of our good dinner, I maintain, is only the charming +hospitality of the consul-general." Is not this metaphysics made easy, +and prettily employed? + +[Footnote A: It is fair to say that an examination of the chapter on +the causes of the French Revolution, in several editions of Alison's +History, including the first, gives this story no support.] + +After dinner we had tea and coffee; the ladies, in Egypt, could scarcely +do less than allow tobacco, and Mr. Buckle particularly enjoyed some +choice cigars which T. was able to offer him. The party did not break up +until nearly midnight, when all the guests retired together. + +_February 11th_. To my pleasure, the train from Alexandria yesterday +afternoon brought Mr. B., of New York, and his very agreeable family, +with whom I crossed the Atlantic in the Persia last October. They went +at first to another hotel, but to-day they have determined to come to +that at which we are staying. I called upon them on their arrival, and +asked the gentlemen to join us at dinner, and afterwards in going, in +company with Mr. Buckle, whom Mr. Thayer had previously invited, to +attend a _fantasia_, or exhibition of singing and dancing, by Arab +professionals, at the house of Mr. Savallan, a wealthy French banker, +who has lived a long time in the Levant and has in some degree adopted +Oriental customs. He has lately sold to the Viceroy a tooth-brush, comb, +and hair-brush, for the handsome price of fourteen thousand dollars. +They were doubtless richly set with jewels; but the profit on these +transactions is immense. Mr. B. accepted the invitation for dinner, and +Mr. W. joined us afterwards. + +At dinner I was seated next to Mr. Buckle, and thus had an opportunity +for private conversation. He asked about American books, and told me his +opinion of those he had read. He said that Quincy's History of Harvard +University was the latest book on America he received before leaving +England. He preferred Kent's exposition of the United States +Constitution to Story's, although this also he had consulted and used. +He had not seen Mr. Charles Francis Adams's complete edition of the +works of his grandfather, nor Parton's Life of Jackson, both of which I +begged him to read, particularly the chapters in the former in which are +traced the steps in the progress of making the American Constitutions. +He told me about his library in London, which is surpassed (among +private libraries) only by that belonging to Mr. Van de Weyer, the +Belgian Minister, whose wife is the daughter of our Bostonian Mr. Bates, +of Barings. Buckle has twenty-two thousand volumes, all selected by +himself; and he takes great pleasure in them. He spends eight or nine +hundred pounds a year upon his library. He owns copies of all the books +referred to in his History; some of them are very old and rare. He +also possesses a considerable collection, made likewise by himself, of +curiosities in natural history; he has added largely to it in Egypt, +where, in fact, he has been buying with open hands. He said he could not +be perfectly happy in leaving the country, if obliged to go away without +a crocodile's egg, a trophy which as yet he has been unable to obtain. + +He told me his plan of travel in America. He will not set out until our +domestic troubles are composed, for he desires to see the practical +working of our institutions in their normal state, not confused and +disturbed by the excitements of war. He would go first to Boston and +New York, the intellectual and commercial heads (as he said) of the +republic,--and to Washington, the political capital. He would then like +to pass from the Northern into the Southern States, but asked if he +could travel safely in the latter, in view of his extreme opinions in +detestation of slavery. I assured him that nobody would dare to molest +one so well known, even if our war did not abate forever the nuisance +of lynching, to say nothing of its probable effect in promoting the +extinction of slavery. From the Southern States he said he would wish to +pass into Mexico, thence to Peru and to Chili; then to cross the Pacific +Ocean to Japan, to China, to India, and so back by the overland route +to England. This magnificent scheme he has seriously resolved upon, and +proposes to devote to it two or three years. He undertakes it partly for +information and partly for relaxation of his mental faculties, which he +has injured by overwork, and which imperatively demand repose. He asked +many questions with regard to matters of detail,--whether he would find +conveyance by steamers in the Pacific, and of what sort would be the +accommodations in them and in sailing-vessels. He asked at what season +he had best arrive in the United States, and whether he had better +land at New York or at Boston. Boston he said he regarded as "the +intellectual head of the country, and New York, you know, for trade." I +answered his questions as well as I could, and told him he must not omit +seeing our Western country, and some of the new cities, like Chicago. He +asked me if I knew "a Mrs. Child," who had written him a letter and sent +him her book about the history of religion. I knew of course that he +meant "The Progress of Religious Ideas," by Mrs. L. Maria Child. He had +been pleased with the letter, and with the book. + +The conversation becoming general, Mr. B., of New York, told a story of +an old Congressional debate in which John Randolph derisively compared +Edward Everett to Richelieu: Buckle at once said he should regard it as +a compliment of the very highest kind to be compared to Richelieu. You +will smile, perhaps, if I tell you that I could not resist asking Buckle +if he had read Dumas's historical novels, and he said he had not, +although he had felt an inclination to do so. He asked one or two +questions about them, and gave a rapid generalization of the history of +France at that time. + +This conversation at the dinner-table of course was by far the +pleasantest part of the evening, for the _fantasia_ did not amount to +much, although the house was a fine one, the host most cordial, and the +novelty of the entertainment was enjoyable. + +_February 12th_. Mr. Buckle called upon T. and myself in the +afternoon, and sat talking between two and three hours. I wish I could +give you a full report of all that he said. He told us of the only +lecture he ever delivered; it was before the Royal Institution, March +19, 1858, and was printed in "Fraser's Magazine" for April, just +afterwards. It may be found reprinted in America in "Littell's Living +Age," No. 734. The subject was "The Influence of Women on the Progress +of Knowledge." Murchison, Owen, and Faraday told him afterwards, +separately, that they were perfectly satisfied with it, which is +certainly a strong combination of authority. He told us all about his +education, which is interesting, for he has been most truly self-taught. +When he was a boy, he was so delicate that it was thought he could not +live; the celebrated Dr. Abernethy, who was a particular friend of his +father, saw how important it was to keep him from mental excitement, and +begged that he might not be troubled by lessons. Accordingly, he was +never sent to school at any time, except for a brief period to a +clergyman who had directions not to make him study; and he was never +regularly taught anything. Until eight years of age he hardly knew his +letters. At the age of fifteen he found out Shakespeare and read it with +great zest. At seventeen he conceived the plan of his book, and resolved +to do two things to make himself fit to write it: first, he resolved to +devote four hours a day to the study of physical science, in order that +he might be able fully to understand and to unfold its relations with +history; secondly, he resolved to devote an equal portion of each day to +the study of English composition and practice in writing, in order that +he might be able to set forth his opinions with force and perspicuity. +To these resolutions he adhered for twelve years. Every day, after +breakfast, he shut himself up for four hours with his experiments and +his investigations; and afterwards devoted four hours to analyzing the +style of the best English authors, inquiring (as he said) "where it was +that I wrote worse than they." He studied not only in England, but in +Germany and other European countries. He learned all the languages which +he knows (and he knows nearly all I ever heard of) without the aid of a +master in any, excepting German, in which he began with a master, but +soon dismissed him, because he hindered more than he helped. He read +Hebrew with a Jewish rabbi, but that was after he had learned the +language. He considers the knowledge of languages valuable only as the +stepping-stone to other learning, and spoke with contempt of a person in +Egypt who was mentioned to him as speaking eight languages familiarly. + +"Has he done anything?" + +"No." + +"Then he is only fit to be a courier." + +Buckle is not a university-man, although both his father and grandfather +were educated at Cambridge. + +He has long since abandoned the practice of writing at night, and now +does not put pen to paper after three o'clock in the afternoon. When at +home, in London, he walks every day, for about an hour and a half, at +noon; frequently dines out and reads perhaps an hour after coming home. +He goes exclusively to dinner-parties, because they take less time than +others. When he is engaged in composition, he walks about the room, +sometimes excitedly, his mind engrossed with his subject, until he has +composed an entire paragraph, when he sits down and writes it, never +retouching, nor composing sentence by sentence, which he thinks has a +tendency to give an abrupt and jerky effect to what is written. Traces +of this, he thinks, may be found in Macaulay's style. + +Mr. Thayer showed him the little stock of books he happened to have with +him at Cairo. Mr. Buckle looked them over with interest, expressing his +opinions upon them. One of them, Mr. Bayle St. John's little book on the +Turkish question, he borrowed, although he said that he denied himself +all reading on this journey, undertaken for mental rest, and had brought +no books with him. We got upon the inevitable subject of international +copyright, which he discussed in a spirit of remarkable candor. His +own experience was this: that the Messrs. Appleton reprinted his first +volume without compensation, asking him to furnish materials for a +prefatory memoir, of which request he took no notice; afterwards, when +the second volume was published, they sent him something, I believe +fifty pounds. In due course of time, receiving a request from Theodore +Parker to that effect, he wrote a letter to aid him in the preparation +of a memoir for the Messrs. Appleton's Cyclopaedia.[B] + +[Footnote B: In this memoir it is stated that Mr. Buckle was born at +Lee, November 24,1822. If this date be correct, his age, at the time of +his death at Damascus, May 29, 1862, fell short of forty years by five +days less than six months. In conversation, however, at this time, +February, 1862, he spoke of his age as thirty-eight, notwithstanding the +surprise that was expressed, for he appeared several years older. Mr. +Glennie, in his letter describing the circumstances of Mr. Buckle's +death, mentions his age as thirty-nine.] + +I pointed out to Mr. Buckle the very important distinction between +_copyright for the British author_ and _monopoly for the British +publisher_. I told him that the American people and their +representatives in Congress would not have the least objection to paying +a trifling addition to the cost of books, which would make, upon the +immense editions sold of the popular books, a handsome compensation to +the foreign authors,--but that they have very decided objections to the +English system of enormously high prices for books. I instanced to him +several books which can be bought in the United States for a quarter or +half a dollar, while in England they cannot be purchased for less than +a guinea and a half, that is, for seven or eight dollars,--although the +author gains very little by these high prices, which, indeed, would be +absolutely prohibitory of the circulation of the books in the United +States. And since the great literary market of the United States has +been created at the public expense, by the maintenance of the system of +universal education, it is perhaps not unreasonable that our legislators +should insist upon preserving, by the competition among publishers, the +advantages of low prices of books, in pursuance of a policy which +looks to a wide circulation. In Great Britain the publishers follow +a different policy and insist on selling books at high prices to a +comparatively small circle of readers. + +Mr. Buckle was kind enough to listen attentively to this sort of +reasoning and had the candor to admit that it is entitled to some degree +of weight. Indeed, he said at once that he had earnestly wished to bring +out a cheap edition of his own book in England, omitting the notes and +references, for the use of the working-classes, of whose appreciation, +as I have previously mentioned, he had received many gratifying proofs; +he had made his arrangements for this purpose, but was prevented from +carrying them out by the opposition of his publishers, who objected +that such an edition would injure _their_ interest in the more +costly edition. But Mr. Buckle freely declared that he would, in his +circumstances, rather forego the profit on the sale of his book than +restrict its circulation. + +I may, perhaps, be permitted to mention that another English author +related to me his home experience, precisely to the same effect, in +which the vested interests of his publishers thwarted him in his wish +to publish an edition of his writings at a low price for general +circulation. It is quite certain that the British public must themselves +be disenthralled from the tyranny of high prices with which they are now +burdened, before they can ask to bring another land under the dominion +of their exclusive system in literature. + +This conversation led to a description of the reading public +in America,--of the intelligence and independence of our +working-people,--of their habits of life and of thought,--about which +Buckle manifested great interest, asking many intelligent questions. + +Mr. Buckle is in easy circumstances, and attends personally to the +management of his money. He finds no difficulty in letting it upon +first-class mortgages, at five per cent., and does not expect a higher +rate of interest. + +_February 13th._ To-night there was a religious celebration, including +an illumination, in the mosque at the Citadel. We had expected to go +and see it; and Mr. T. had invited Mr. B. and his party, as well as Mr. +Buckle, and the two lads by whom he is accompanied in his journeyings, +to go with us. These young gentlemen are sons of a dear friend of Mr. +Buckle's, no longer living. + +But at the last moment before dinner the advice was strongly given on +all sides that we should not go, lest some bigoted Mussulmans should +take offence, and there might be a disturbance. Not long ago, a party of +Englishmen behaved very badly in the mosque on a similar occasion, from +which has resulted a disturbed state of feeling. It of course cannot be +pleasant to people of any religious belief to have their ceremonies made +a spectacle for curiosity; and although the _moudier_ (mayor of the +city) promised ample protection, the plan was given up, and the company +being gathered, we had a pleasant evening together. The presence of the +ladies of Mr. B.'s party gave the opportunity to see Mr. Buckle again +under the inspiration of ladies' society, which he especially enjoys, +and in the lighter conversation suited to which he shines with not less +distinction than when conversing upon abstruse topics. + +In the course of the evening, in the midst of conversation in which he +was taking an animated part, Mr. Buckle exhibited symptoms of faintness. +Fresh air was at once admitted to the room, which was full of +cigar-smoke; water and more powerful restoratives were brought, but +these he declined. After a few minutes' repose upon the divan, he +declared that he was perfectly recovered, and half an hour afterwards +took his leave with the boys. We were quite anxious until we heard that +he had safely reached his boat, in which he is still living. + +_February 14th._ Returning from the Turkish bath, I found a valentine +in the shape of a telegraphic despatch only thirteen days from +Boston,--thirty-six hours from Liverpool. It was dated at Boston the +1st, forwarded from Liverpool at 10 A.M. of the 13th, and reached +Alexandria at 11.55 A.M. of the 14th, whence it was transmitted to Cairo +without delay. This is almost equal to the Arabian Nights. The distance +travelled by the despatch is about six thousand miles. + +_February 15th_. This day we had an excursion to the Petrified Forest. +It was got up partly to give us all a taste of camel-riding, and it +was originally expected that everybody would go on camels; then it was +agreed that half should go on camels, and "ride-and-tie." In this view, +one camel and one donkey were ordered for T. and myself. But Mr. B. was +subsequently persuaded that with four horses he could have a carriage +dragged through the desert to the forest, which would be more +comfortable for the ladies; and he made that arrangement in his own and +their behalf. Freddy B. is a first-rate horseman, and an Arab steed was +ordered for him. Mr. Buckle was determined to go in a thing called a +_mazetta_, a sort of huge bedstead with curtains, borne on the back of a +camel, big enough to carry a small family, in which he expected to find +room for himself and the two boys travelling with him. Besides these, +the party included the Reverend Mr. Lansing, the excellent head of the +American mission here, the Honorable W.S., a young Englishman, and his +tutor, the Reverend Mr. S., whose agreeable company had been bespoken +when the camel-project was in full strength. + +On looking down from the balcony at the transportation-train marshalled +for the occasion, amid the admiring gaze of all the idlers of Cairo, +I was at first a little chagrined to find, as the final result of the +various arrangements, that, besides the camels, the _mazetta_, the +carriage-and-four, and the proud-stepping horse, there appeared but one +donkey, that selected for me. But I was, in truth, very well off. To +begin with, it was not thought prudent that Mr. Buckle should use the +_mazetta_ until the procession had got beyond the narrow streets of +Cairo, lest the camel bearing it should take fright and knock the whole +thing to pieces against the wall of a house. Accordingly, he and his +charges took donkeys, and I rode off with them, at the head of the +column. By-and-by Mr. Buckle changed to the conveyance originally +proposed, but a very short experiment (literally, I suspect) sickened +him of the _mazetta_, whose motion is precisely that of a ship in a +storm, and he sent back to the town for donkeys. At the next halt the +ladies took him into the carriage, where he found himself, as he said, +"in clover," and that was the end of his greatness in camel-riding. This +remark, by the way, suggested a name ("Clover") for our boat in our +voyage up the Nile just afterwards; but patriotism prevailed, and we +named her "Union." It pretty soon appeared that the camel which T. was +riding was young and frisky; the animal was accordingly pronounced +unsafe, and T. changed to a donkey which had fortunately been brought +along for a reserve. The Honorable W.S.'s camel, from the saddle +becoming unfastened, pitched rider and saddle to the ground, a fall of +five or six feet: fortunately no harm was done, and he bravely mounted +again. The saddle upon the camel which the Reverend Mr. S. rode split +in two, and the seat must have been a torture; but he bore it like a +martyr, never flinching. But camel-stock had so far depreciated, +and donkeys gone up, that I was able to try as much as I liked of +camel-riding now and then, at the same time obliging a friend by the use +of my donkey meanwhile. Riding a camel at a walk is the same sort of +thing as riding a very hard-trotting horse without stirrups, and with +no chance to grasp the animal fairly to hold your seat. When the camel +trots, you may imagine yourself on a treadmill. + +The journey to the forest, about ten miles, was safely accomplished. We +found the petrifactions duly wonderful. An excellent luncheon was +laid out, after which we had an hour and a half of very entertaining +conversation, in which Mr. Buckle and Rev. Mr. S. held the leading +parts,--all around us as desolate and silent as one could imagine. It +was interesting to observe the manner in which Buckle estimated eminent +names, grouping them in some instances by threes, a favorite conceit +with him. John Stuart Mill, of all living men, he considers as +possessing the greatest mind in the world. Aristotle, Newton, and +Shakspeare are the greatest the world has produced in past times. Homer, +Dante, and Shakspeare are the only three great poets. Johnson, Gibbon, +and Parr are the three writers who have done the greatest harm to the +English language. Of Hallam he has a strong admiration. He spoke of +Sydney Smith as the greatest English wit, and of Selwyn as next to him, +and described Macaulay's memory as unequalled in conversation. + +For the return-trip, the donkeys generally were preferred. Miss B., with +spirit, tried camel-riding for a while, and so did Master F. We stopped +to look at the tombs of the Caliphs, and reached the hotel at nightfall, +somewhat fatigued, but satisfied with the day's expedition. + +_February 16th._ The morning was gratefully devoted to rest. In the +afternoon, attended service at the Mission, where Rev. Mr. S. preached +an interesting discourse from John xv. 1-4. On the way home met Mr. +Buckle, who came in, and was persuaded to stay to dinner. In speaking +of religion, he said that there is no doctrine or truth in Christianity +that had not been announced before, but that Christianity is by far the +noblest religion in existence. The chief point of its superiority is +the prominence it gives to the humane and philanthropic element; and +in giving this prominence lies its originality. He believes in a Great +First Cause, but does not arrive at his belief by any process of +reasoning satisfactory to himself. Paley's argument, from the evidence +of design, he regards as futile: if the beauty of this world indicates +a creating cause, the beauty of that great cause would suggest another, +and so on. He believes in a future state, and declared most impressively +that life would be insupportable to him, if he thought he were forever +to be separated from one person,--alluding, it is probable, to his +mother, to whose memory he dedicates the second volume of his book.[C] +He has no doubt that in the future state we shall recognize one another; +whether we shall have the same bodies he has no opinion, although he +regards matter as indestructible. He declares himself unable to form any +judgment as to the mode of future existence. Religion, he says, is on +the increase in the world, but theology is declining. + +[Footnote C: The words he uses are,--"To the memory of my mother I +_consecrate_ this volume."] + +Mr. Buckle characterized as the sublimest passage in Shakspeare the +lines in the "Merchant of Venice,"-- + + "Look how the floor of heaven + Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold! + There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st + But in his motion like an angel sings, + Still quiring to the young-eyed cherabims: + Such harmony is in immortal souls! + But whilst this muddy vesture of decay + Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it." + +Mr. Thayer suggested the similarity between the closing part of this +passage, about our deafness to the music of the stars, owing to the +"muddy vesture," and the sonnet of Blanco White which speaks of the +starry splendors to which our eyes are blinded by the light of day:-- + + "Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew + Thee, from report divine, and heard thy name, + Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, + This glorious canopy of light and blue? + Yet 'neath the curtain of translucent dew, + Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, + Hesperus with the host of heaven came, + And lo! creation widened in man's view. + Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed + Within thy beams, O Sun? or who could find, + Whilst fly and leaf and insect stood revealed, + That to such countless orbs thou mad'st us blind? + Why do we, then, shun Death with anxious strife? + If Light can thus deceive, wherefore not Life?" + +Mr. Buckle seemed to be struck by the comparison. He proceeded to speak +of Blanco White's memoirs as painfully interesting, and said that he +had always liked Archbishop Whately for adhering to White after the +desertion of the latter by old friends on account of his change of +belief. + + * * * * * + +The next few days were occupied in preparations for the voyage up the +Nile in company with my New York friends. Mr. Buckle had very kindly +taken great interest in our plans, and had earnestly advised me to go. +"You will do very wrong indeed," he said, "if you do not go." On the +19th of February we embarked; and as we saluted his boat, lying just +below us in the Nile, while our own shoved off, I little thought that I +should never see him again,--that his brilliant career was so shortly to +come to an untimely end. The serious conversation just recorded was the +last in which I took part with him. + +Mr. Buckle remained in Cairo until the beginning of March, when he set +out with the two boys, and Mr. J.S. Stuart Glennie, across the Desert, +for Sinai and Petra. Greatly improved in health by the six weeks in +the Desert, (according to Mr. Glennie's letter,) he undertook the more +fatiguing travelling on horseback through Palestine. He fell ill on the +27th of April, but recovered his health, as it seemed, to such an extent +that Mr. Glennie parted from him on the 21st of May. On the 29th of May, +at Damascus, Mr. Buckle died. Among the incoherent utterances of his +illness, it was possible to distinguish the exclamation, "Oh, my book, +my book, I shall never finish my book!" + +And beyond the grief felt in the loss of the kind friend and agreeable +companion, our plaint, in common with the whole world, ever must be, +that he did not live to finish his book. + + + + +CAVALRY SONG. + + + The squadron is forming, the war-bugles play. + To saddle, brave comrades, stout hearts for a fray! + Our captain is mounted,--strike spurs, and away! + + No breeze shakes the blossoms or tosses the grain; + But the wind of our speed floats the galloper's mane, + As he feels the bold rider's firm hand on the rein. + + Lo, dim in the starlight their white tents appear! + Ride softly! ride slowly! the onset is near! + More slowly! more softly! the sentry may hear! + + Now fall on the Rebel--a tempest of flame! + Strike down the false banner whose triumph were shame! + Strike, strike for the true flag, for freedom and fame! + + Hurrah! sheathe your swords! the carnage is done. + All red with our valor, we welcome the sun. + Up, up with the stars! we have won! we have won! + + + + +NO FAILURE FOR THE NORTH. + + +We have reached a point in the history of our national troubles where it +seems desirable to examine our present position, and to consider whether +we ought to surrender ourselves to despair, or congratulate ourselves on +decided success,--whether we should abandon all attempts to restore the +Union, assert the dignity of the Constitution, and punish treason, or +nerve ourselves to new effort, and determine to persevere in a righteous +cause so long as a single able-bodied man remains or a dollar of +available property is unexpended. + +It may be, it must be, conceded that we commenced the contest with very +crude and inadequate notions of what war really is. We proposed to +decide the issue by appealing to the census and the tax-list,--tribunals +naturally enough occurring to a mercantile and manufacturing +community,--but how if the enemy prefer cannon and cold steel? Our first +campaign was in the field of statistics, and we found the results highly +satisfactory. Our great numerical superiority, aided by our immense +material resources, gave us an early and an easy victory. We outnumbered +the enemy everywhere, defeated them in every pitched battle, starved +them by a vigilant blockade, secured meanwhile the sympathy and support +of the whole civilized world by the holiness of our cause, and commanded +its respect by the display of our material power and our military +capacity,--and in a few short months crushed the Rebellion, restored +the Union, vindicated the Constitution, hung the arch-traitors, and saw +peace in all our borders. This was our campaign--on paper. But war is +something more than a sum in arithmetic. A campaign cannot be decided by +the rule of three. No finite power can control every contingency, and +have all the chances in its favor. + +A Moorish legend, given to us in the graceful narrative of Washington +Irving, relates, that an Arabian astrologer constructed for the pacific +Aben Hafuz, King of Granada, a magical mode of repulsing all invaders +without risking the lives of his subjects or diminishing the contents of +the royal treasury. He caused a tower to be built, in the upper part of +which was a circular hall with windows looking towards every point of +the compass, and before each window a table supporting a mimic army of +horse and foot. On the top of the tower was a bronze figure of a Moorish +horseman, fixed on a pivot, with elevated lance. Whenever a foe was at +hand, the figure would turn in that direction, and level his lance as if +for action. No sooner was it reported to the vigilant monarch that the +magic horseman indicated the approach of an enemy, than His Majesty +hastened to the circular hall, selected the table at the point of the +compass indicated by the horseman's spear, touched with the point of a +magic lance some of the pigmy effigies before him, and belabored others +with the butt-end. A scene of confusion at once ensued in the mimic +army. Part fell dead, and the rest, turning their weapons upon each +other, fought with the utmost fury. The same scene was repeated in the +ranks of the advancing enemy. Each renewed attempt at invasion was +foiled by this easy and economical expedient, until the King enjoyed +rest even from rumors of wars. + +Now this is a pleasing fiction, and highly creditable to the light and +airy fancy of the Moors. It almost makes one sigh that an astrologer so +fertile in resources is not still extant. It is difficult to conceive, +indeed, of a more felicitous arrangement for a monarch devoted to his +ease, and proof against all temptations to military glory, or for a +people wedded to peaceful pursuits, and ambitious only of material +prosperity. But no such fascinating substitute for fields of carnage is +available in our degenerate days,--"_C'est charmant, mais ce n'est pas +la guerre_." + +Nor yet is any useful example furnished by the warlike qualities of the +army raised by Peter Stuyvesant for the reduction of Fort Casimir: not +even when we remember that it included "the Van Higginbottoms, a race of +schoolmasters, armed with ferules and birchen rods,--the Van Bummels, +renowned for feats of the trenches,--the Van Bunschotens, who were the +first that did kick with the left foot,"--with many other warriors +equally fierce and formidable. We must, however reluctantly, leave such +romantic legends and facetious chronicles, and learn more practical +lessons from the sober and instructive page of history. We shall there +find that war means alternate success and defeat, alternate hope and +disappointment, great suffering in the field, many vacant chairs at +many firesides, immense expenditures with little apparent result, "the +best-laid schemes" foiled by a thousand unexpected contingencies, +lamentable indecision in the cabinet, glaring blunders in the field, +stagnation of industry, and heavy taxation. + + "War is a game, which, were the nations wise, + Kings would not play at." + +But nations are not always wise, and war often becomes a necessity. +When, then, the necessity arises, it should be met manfully. The +question once deliberately decided that peace is no longer consistent +with national honor or national safety, the dread alternative must be +accepted with all its hazards and all its horrors. To organize only in +anticipation of certain and speedy success, to despise and underrate the +enemy, to inquire with how small an army and how limited an expenditure +the war can be carried on, is as unstatesmanlike as it is in flat +defiance of all historical teaching. But if we carry our folly still +farther in the same direction,--if we fail to take into grave account +the most obvious and inevitable incidents of actual warfare,--if in +our overweening confidence we neglect discipline, underrate the prime +importance of promptness and decision in action, certainty and celerity +in movement, and energy and activity in pursuit,--if, in a word, we +expect that the defences of the enemy are to fall into our hands by +means as unwarlike as those that decided the fate of Jericho, or dream +that because our cause is just every precedent in history and every +principle in human nature will be overruled in our favor,--then we +deserve to be outgeneralled, and are fortunate, if we escape final and +disastrous defeat. + +Now has not this been precisely our cardinal and capital error, and +are we not to-day suffering its natural consequences? To the blind and +unreasoning confidence with which we began this war has succeeded a +reaction running into the very opposite extreme. We are given over to +a despondency quite as unwarrantable as the extravagance of our early +hopes. We demanded and expected impossibilities. Forgetting that the age +of miracles has passed, many are now bitterly complaining that nothing +has been accomplished, and predicting that all future efforts will +terminate in similar failure. Two years have not elapsed since the first +gun was fired at Fort Sumter; and yet we are amazed and mortified that +our forces have not overrun the whole South, that victory has not +crowned our arms in every battle, and that our flag does not float +triumphant over every acre of every State once called Confederate. +Whether this most desirable result could have been accomplished, if this +or that policy had been adopted at the outset, is one of those problems +that will never be solved; nor is the inquiry at present pertinent or +profitable. Let us rather ask whether, in view of the means actually +employed, our discontent with the existing condition of affairs is not +unmanly and unreasonable. We are to measure results, not by the efforts +that we ought to have put forth, nor by those which we should put forth, +if, with our dear-bought experience, we were called upon once more to +undertake such a gigantic enterprise. We must recall the aspect of +affairs when we first embarked on this perilous sea. We must remember +how ignorant we were of all the danger before us, how imperfect was the +chart by which our course was to be determined, how many shoals and +sunken rocks and crosscurrents we were to encounter, as yet unknown +to any pilot on board our noble ship of state, how little we knew of +navigation in such angry waters, under so stormy a sky. + +Turn back the pages of history for two short years, and dwell a moment +on the picture presented to our eyes. A nation, enjoying to the utmost +the substantial benefits belonging to fifty years of profound peace and +unexampled prosperity, enervated by those habits of luxury which wealth +easily accumulated always fosters, with a standing army hardly large +enough to protect our Western frontier from the incursions of hostile +Indians, and a navy ludicrously small in proportion to the extent of our +sea-coast and the value of our commerce, is suddenly plunged into a war +covering such an extent of territory and calling for such an array of +power by sea and land as to dwarf into insignificance all modern wars, +hardly excepting the military operations of Napoleon I. + +And it must be remembered that education and habit had trained us to an +implicit reliance on the sufficiency of our laws and the competency of +our Constitution to meet and decide every issue that could possibly be +presented. We could conceive of no public wrongs which could not be +redressed by an appeal to the ballot-box, and of no private injuries for +which our statutes did not provide a suitable remedy. + +We were not only a law-abiding, but a peace-loving people. The report of +the revolver was not heard in our streets, nor was the glitter of the +bowie-knife seen in our bar-rooms. We deprecated mob-violence, and +disliked the summary proceedings of Judge Lynch. We took no pains to +conceal our horror of unnecessary bloodshed, and shared the views of +civilized Christendom about duelling. Now and then, to be sure, a +Southerner in one of his sportive moods would stab an inattentive waiter +in some Northern hotel, or a chivalrous son of South Carolina, elegantly +idling away a few years in a New-England university, would shoot some +base-born tutor, or, as an episode in Congressional proceedings, the +member from Arkansas would threaten to pull the nose, spit in the +face, and gouge out the eyes of the (profane participled) sneaking +Yankee,--meaning thereby a quiet, inoffensive member from Massachusetts. +But these incidents of Southern civilization were not frequent enough to +become fashionable. We still clung to our plebeian prejudices against +lawless violence, and persisted in believing that a swaggering bully +could not be an ornament to cultivated and refined society. In fact, +some excellent individuals at the North went so far as to seek to +disseminate these old-fashioned notions among their Southern brethren, +and made annual subscriptions to what was known (alas, that we must +use the historic tense!) as the "Southern Aid Society," having for its +praiseworthy object the support of ministers who should preach the +gospel to our ardent and impulsive neighbors. What a sad and significant +commentary is it upon the ingratitude of depraved human nature, that the +condescending clergyman who whilom consented to collect the offerings +of these discriminating philanthropists is now a chaplain in the +Confederate army, and is invoking the most signal judgments of Heaven +upon his former friends and fellow-laborers! + +This, then, was our condition, and these were our habits, when we were +rudely awakened from our dreams of peace by the roar of cannon and the +clash of arms. What wonder that the startling summons found us all +unready for such a crisis? What wonder that our early preparations to +confront the issue thus forced upon us without note of warning were +hasty, incomplete, and quite inadequate to the emergency? Is it +discreditable to us that we were slow to appreciate the bitterness and +intensity of that hatred, which, long smouldering under the surface of +Southern society, burst forth at once into a wide-spread conflagration, +severing like flax all the ties of kindred, and all the bonds of +individual friendship and national intercourse which had united us for +half a century? Here was a section of our Union which had always +enjoyed equal rights with us under the Constitution, and had known the +Government only by its blessings,--nay, more, had actually, by the +confession of its own statesmen, controlled the internal administration +and dictated the foreign policy of the country since the adoption of the +Constitution; which had no substantial grievance to complain of, and +no fanciful injury which could not be readily redressed by legal and +constitutional methods. Are we to be blamed because we could not easily +bring ourselves to believe that an integral part of our nation, with +such a history, could, under a pretence so bald as to insult the common +sense of Christendom, rush headlong into a war which must close all its +avenues of commerce, paralyze all its industry, threaten the existence +of its cherished and peculiar institution,--in a word, whether +successful or unsuccessful, inevitably result in its political suicide? +At this very moment, accustomed as we have been for many sad and weary +months to the daily development of Southern folly and madness, it is +difficult, when we withdraw our minds from the present, to realize that +the whole war is not a hideous nightmare. + +In view of all this, I ask, is it strange that we did not at once +comprehend all our danger, and did not enter the field with all our +forces,--determined to fight with desperate energy until every trace of +rebellion was crushed out? If, disturbed at midnight by footsteps in +your chamber, you start up from sound slumber to see a truculent-looking +vagabond prowling about your room with a lighted candle, do you not at +once spring to your feet, collar the intruder, and shout lustily for +help, if he prove too strong for you? Prompt and vigorous action in such +a case is simply the impulse of instinct. But how if you recognize in +the untimely visitor a member of your own household? Will you seize and +overpower him without asking a single question, or waiting for a word of +explanation? Will you not pause for some overt act of hostility, some +convincing proof of a fell purpose? Suppose it transpire that he really +means mischief, and you lose an important advantage by your delay to +strike. You may regret the result; but does it in the least tend to show +that you were cowardly or careless? Now was not this our exact dilemma? +Although the origin of the war and the circumstances attendant upon its +commencement are a thrice-told tale, are we not in danger of overlooking +their bearing upon all our subsequent action? And shall we not act +wisely, if we recur to them again and again, during this momentous +contest? + +But, asks a timid Conservative,--from whose patient button the fingers +of an ardent apostle of peace have recently and most reluctantly +parted,--has not this war been shamefully mismanaged by the +Administration? have not contractors grown rich while soldiers have +suffered? have not incompetent generals been unjustly advanced, and +skilful commanders been summarily shelved? have we gained any advantages +at all commensurate with our loss of blood and our expenditure of money? +would not a cessation of hostilities on any terms be better than such +a war as we are now waging? If we might venture to suggest a word of +caution to our desponding friend, before attempting a reply to his +broadside of questions, we would say: Beware how you indulge in too much +conversation with a certain class of our citizens, whose hearty loyalty +has been more than doubted, and whose conversion to the beauties of +peace and the horrors of war is so sudden as to be very suspicious. +Examine their antecedents, and you will find, that, when "border +ruffians" in Kansas threatened with fire and sword the inoffensive +emigrants from New England, these gentlemen saw nothing unusual in such +proceedings, and answered all remonstrances with ridicule. Put them to +the question to-day, and it will appear, that, from the very beginning +of the struggle, all their sympathies have been with the South. They +will tell you that Northern Abolitionists are alone responsible for the +war; that the secession of the Southern States may have been unwise, +but was not unreasonable; that they have always condemned coercion and +advocated compromise; and that there is no safe and satisfactory way out +of our existing difficulties but--_peace_. What do they mean by peace? +Such peace as the highwayman, armed to the teeth, offers to the belated +traveller! Such peace as Benedict Arnold sought to negotiate with the +English general! They know that the South will accept no terms but the +acknowledgment of her independence, or the abject and unconditional +submission of the Free States. They reject the first alternative, +because they dare not go before the North on such an issue. Disguise it +as they may, they are willing to adopt the second. The party to which, +without an exception, these men belong, is powerless without the +cooperation of the South, and would consider no sacrifice of principle +too great, and no humiliation of the North too degrading, if it promised +the restoration of their political supremacy. Avoid all such men. +Distrust their advice. That way dishonor lies, and national disgrace. +If you are not "armed so strong in honesty" as to be proof against +such treasonable talk, you will soon be aware of a softening of your +backbone, and a lamentable loss of earnest, active patriotism. Take +counsel rather of your own common sense. Looking at the question in its +narrowest and most selfish bearings, you _know_ that we can neither +recede nor stand still. Submission Is slavery. Disunion paves the way +for endless secession, and eternal warfare between rising and rival +republics. + +But there are other symptoms of disloyalty besides this persistent +demand for peace. There are indications of a desire to array sections of +the North against each other, and--Heaven save the mark!--by the +very politicians who have been most bitter in their denunciation of +"geographical parties." Here comes a little Western lawyer, with +unlimited resources of slang and slender capital of ideas, barely +redeemed from being an absolute blackguard by the humanizing influences +of a New England college, but showing fewer and fewer symptoms of +civilization as he forgets the lessons of his collegiate life; and _he_ +delights an audience of New York "roughs," adopted citizens of Celtic +extraction, and lager-loving Germans, (do not cocks always crow longest +and loudest on a dung-hill?) by the novel information, that "Puritanism +is a reptile" and the cause of all our troubles, and that we shall never +fulfil our national destiny until Puritanism has been crushed. Let us +not elevate this nauseating nonsense into importance by attempting a +reply. Such men must be left to follow out their inevitable instincts. +They are not worth the trouble necessary to civilize them. Mr. Rarey +succeeded in taming a zebra from the London Zoölogical Gardens; but +a single lesson could not permanently reclaim the beast, and it soon +relapsed into its native and normal ferocity. One experiment sufficed +to show the power of the artist; no possible increase of value in the +educated animal would have justified a prolonged and perfect training. + +You ask if we have gained any advantages commensurate with our efforts, +or with the high-sounding phrase of our declared purpose. Let us look at +this a moment. Suppose we begin with a glance at the other side of +the picture. Has all the boasting, have all the promises, been on the +Federal side? Did we hear nothing of the Confederate flag floating over +Faneuil Hall?--nothing of Washington falling into the hands of the +enemy?--nothing of a festive winter in Philadelphia and a +general distribution of spoils in New York?--nothing of foreign +intervention?--nothing of the cowardice of Northern Mudsills and +the omnipotence of King Cotton? Decidedly, the Rebels began with a +sufficiently startling programme. Let us see how far they have carried +it out. As they were clearly the assailants, we have an undoubted right +to ask what they have accomplished _aggressively_. We say, then, that, +excepting in the case of one brief raid, the soil of a single Free State +has never been polluted by the hostile tread of an invading force; that +every battle-field has been within the limits of States claimed as +Confederate; that, while the war has desolated whole States represented +in the Confederate Congress, not an acre north of Mason and Dixon's line +has suffered from the ravages of the Rebel armies. Was ever another +scorpion more completely surrounded and shut in by a cordon of fire? + +This is surely something, but it is by no means all. Have _we_ +accomplished nothing aggressively? We will call into court a witness +from the enemy's camp. Hear the recent testimony of a leading journal, +published in the Confederate capital:[A]-- + +[Footnote A: _Richmond Examiner_, January 20th, 1863.] + +"It is not altogether an empty boast on the part of the Yankees, that +they hold all that they have ever held, and that another year or two of +such progress as they have already made will find them masters of the +Southern Confederacy. They who think independence is to be achieved by +brilliant but inconsequential victories would do well to look at the +magnitude of Yankee possessions in our country. Maryland, Kentucky, and +Missouri are claimed as constituent parts of the Confederation: they are +as much in the power of Lincoln as Maine and Minnesota. The pledge once +deemed foolish by the South, that he would 'hold, occupy, and possess' +all the forts belonging to the United States Government, has been +redeemed almost to the letter by Lincoln. Forts Pickens, [Sumter?] and +Morgan we still retain; but, with these exceptions, all the strongholds +on the seaboard, from Fortress Monroe to the Rio Grande, are in the +hands of the enemy. Very consoling and very easy to say that it was +impossible to prevent all this, and that the occupation of the outer +edge of the Republic amounts to nothing. Drowry's Bluff and Vicksburg +give the lie to the first assertion; and the onward movement of +Rosecrans towards Alabama, the presence of Grant in North Mississippi +and of Curtis in Middle Arkansas, to say nothing of Banks at New Orleans +and Baton Rouge, set at rest the silly dream that a thin strip of +sea-coast only is in possession of our foes. The truth is, the Yankees +are in great force in the very heart of the Confederacy; they swarm on +all our borders; they threaten every important city yet belonging to us; +and nearly two hundred thousand of them are within two days' march of +the Confederate capital. This is no fiction. It is a fact so positive +that no one can deny it." + +But this reluctant recital by no means exhausts the record of our +successes. We have put into the field a volunteer force, fully armed and +equipped, which, whether we consider its magnitude, the rapidity with +which it has been raised, its fighting qualities, its patient endurance +of unaccustomed hardships, or its intelligent appreciation of the +principles involved in the contest, is without a counterpart in history. +And yet more, from the invention and achievements of our iron-clads +dates a new era in naval warfare, while in the value and variety of our +ordnance we have taken the lead of all civilized nations. Can you find +in all this nothing to quicken the pulse of your patriotism? Is here no +ground for encouragement, no incitement to renewed effort? + +But you complain of corruption among contractors, and of knavery among +politicians. Will you point me to a single war, ever waged on the face +of the earth, where all the rulers were above reproach and all their +subordinates unselfish? But what will you do about it? Grant that many +contractors have made dishonest fortunes out of the calamities of their +country, and that there are officeholders with whom "Stand by the +Constitution!" means, Stand by the public crib from which we are +richly and regularly fed, and "Uphold the Administration!" should be +translated, Give us our full four years' enjoyment of the loaves and +fishes. What then? Shall a few worthless straws here, and a few heaps +of offal there, arrest or check the onward march of a mighty army, +the steady progression of a great principle? Away with such trumpery +considerations! Punish with the utmost severity of the law every public +plunderer whose crimes can be dragged into the light of day; send to the +Coventry of universal contempt every lagging and lukewarm official; but, +in the name of all that is holy in purpose and noble in action, _move +on!_ To hesitate is worse than folly; to delay is more than madness. +The salvation of our country trembles in the balance. The fate of free +institutions for--who shall say how long?--may hang upon the issue of +the struggle. + +Your catalogue of grievances, however, is still incomplete. You are +dissatisfied with our generalship as displayed in the field, and with +the wisdom of our policy as developed by the cabinet. Unquestionably you +have a constitutional right to grumble to your heart's content; but are +you not aware that such complaints are as old as the history of the +human race? Do you believe this to be the first war that was ever +mismanaged, and that our undoubted blunders are either novel or peculiar +to Republics? There never was a greater mistake. If there were brave men +before Agamemnon, and wise counsellors before Ulysses, there certainly +have been incompetent commanders before Major-General A., and shallow +statesmen before Secretary B. We do not monopolize executive imbecility, +nor are our military blunders without parallel or precedent. To +attribute our occasional reverses and our indecisive victories, our +inaction in the field and our confusion in the cabinet, to our peculiar +form of government, is as inconsequential as it would be to trace all +our disasters to the color of President Lincoln's hair or the number of +General Halleck's children. + +The enemies of free institutions, hardly yet recovered from their +astonishment at beholding an army of volunteers, superior in number +and quality to any the world ever saw, spring into existence with such +marvellous rapidity as to eclipse, in sober fact, the fabulous birth +of Minerva full-armed from the head of Jove, or their still greater +surprise at seeing the immense expenses of so gigantic a war readily met +without assistance from abroad, by large loans cheerfully made and heavy +taxation patiently borne, are reduced to the necessity of exulting over +what they term our "total want of military genius," and our "incapacity +to conduct a campaign successfully." + +It is useless to deny that we may have challenged criticism and provoked +a smile by our large promise and our smaller performance. But are we the +sole and exclusive proprietors of this experience? Where in the past or +the present shall we find a great and powerful nation much addicted to +modesty or self-depreciation? Least of all, should we have expected such +venomous criticism and such unsparing ridicule from England. To be sure, +we have long since ceased to look for sympathy or even justice at her +hands. We have come to understand and appreciate the tone and temper of +her ruling classes towards this country. In addition to their inherited +antipathy to Republics, they believe in sober earnest what one of their +greatest wits said jocosely, that "the great object for which the +Anglo-Saxon race appears to have been created is the making of calico." +And whatever interferes, or threatens to interfere, with this ennobling +occupation is sure to incur their passive displeasure, if not their +active hostility. We expect nothing, therefore, from their good-will; +but we have a right to demand, as a matter of good taste, that, in +criticizing our campaigns, they shall not wholly ignore their own +military blunders, especially those so recent as to be fresh in the +recollection of every third-form school-boy in the kingdom. For, if +campaigns carried on with the smallest possible result in proportion to +the magnitude of the sacrifice of money and life,--if a succession of +incompetent generals in command,--if critical military opportunities +neglected and enormous strategic blunders committed,--if indecision, +nepotism, and red tape at home, envy, want of unity, and incapacity +among officers, and unnecessary and inexcusable hardship among the +privates,--if all this declares the decadence of a Government, then was +the sun of England hastening to its setting during the Crimean War. + +We hear much said abroad about our indecisive battles, our barren +victories, our failure to take advantage of the crippled condition of +a defeated enemy, and our unaccountable disinclination to follow up a +successful attack by a prompt pursuit. Now, not for the sake of excusing +or palliating the numerous and grave errors into which we have fallen +during our own unhappy struggle, nor yet to exonerate from censure +any civil officers or military leaders who may be wholly or in part +responsible for these errors, but simply to demonstrate that they are +liable to occur under any form of government, and, indeed, have recently +befallen the very Government whose rulers now hold us to the strictest +account, and are most eager to convict us of extraordinary misconduct +and incapacity, we propose, very briefly, and without further +introduction, to examine the record of the English army during the +Crimean War. + +The first important battle fought on the Peninsula was that of the Alma. +We will give, as concisely as possible, so much of the history of this +engagement, compiled from authentic English sources, as will present a +correct picture of the plans formed and the results accomplished. + +"The 15th of August, 1854, was the date first fixed for the sailing of +the allied forces from Varna to the Crimea. It was postponed until the +20th, then till the 22d, then the 26th,--then successively to the 1st, +2d, and 7th of September; that is, the French fleet left Varna on the +5th, and the English sailed from the neighboring port of Baltschik +on the 7th." It is admitted that "these delays hazarded not only the +success, but even the practicability of the whole design, as between the +15th and 25th of September the great equinoctial gales sweep over the +Black Sea, and lash it into tempests of the most destructive nature." + +The voyage, however, was accomplished in safety, and on the 14th of +September the Allies arrived at the Crimea, off a place called the "Old +Fort," only about thirty miles north of Sebastopol. The whole army was +composed of 27,000 English, 24,000 French, and 8,000 Turks. The landing +occupied the 14th, 15th, and 16th of September. At nine o'clock, A.M., +of September 19th, the army began the advance, and on the evening of +the same day rested for the night within sight of the Russian forces, +strongly intrenched on the banks of the Alma, about twelve miles distant +from the "Old Fort." Early in the afternoon of the following day the +Allies attacked the stronghold of the enemy, and in less than three +hours the Russian intrenchments were successfully stormed, and the +Russian army was in full retreat. The English and French troops fought +with determined and distinguished bravery, and their victory was +complete. But what was decided by this bloody struggle? Bad generalship +on the part of the Russians, certainly; but what else? Mr. Russell +says,--"This great battle was not decisive, so far as the fate of +Sebastopol was concerned, merely because we lacked either the means or +the military genius to make it so." The victory was not followed up, the +retreating foe were not pursued, ample time was given to the enemy to +reorganize and retrieve their losses, and the evening of the eventful +20th of September found the allied forces no nearer the capture of +Sebastopol than they were before the battle. + +Did "the Alma" crown the allied generals with fresh and well-earned +laurels? We appeal once more to Mr. Russell:--"I may inquire, Was there +any generalship shown by any of the allied generals at the Alma? We have +Lord Raglan painted by one of his staff, trotting in front of his army, +amid a shower of balls, 'just as if he were riding down Rotten Row,' +with a kind nod for every one, and leaving his generals to fight it +out as best they could; riding across the stream through the French +Riflemen, not knowing where he was going to, or where the enemy were, +till fate led him to a little knoll, from which he saw some of the +Russian guns on his flank; whereupon he sent an order to Turner's +battery for guns, and seemed surprised that they could not be dragged +across a stream and up a hill which presented some difficulties to an +unencumbered horseman; then cantering off to join the Guards just ere +they made their charge, and finding it all over while he was in a +hollow of the ground." Lord Raglan, let it be remembered, was the +Commander-in-Chief of the English forces. And again:--"The Light +Division was strangely handled. Sir George Brown, whose sight was so +indifferent that he had to get one of his officers to lead his horse +across the river, seemed not to know where his division was.... If the +conduct of a campaign be a succession of errors, the Crimean expedition +was certainly carried on _secundum artem_." Once more, on the same +point, and quoting from the same authority:--"All the Russian officers +with whom I have conversed, all the testimony I have heard or read, +coincide on these two points: first, that, if, on the 25th, we had moved +to Bakschiserai in pursuit of the Russians, we should have found their +army in a state of the most complete demoralization, and might have +forced the great majority of them to surrender as prisoners of war, in a +sort of _cul-de-sac,_ from which but few could have escaped; secondly, +that, had we advanced directly against Sebastopol, the town would have +surrendered, after some slight show of resistance to save the honor of +the officers." Certainly, such generalship as this did not promise very +well for the results of the campaign. + +Let us follow the movements of the Allies a little farther. On the +morning of September 25th, the combined forces took up their line of +march southward. On the 26th, they reached and occupied the town of +Balaklava, about six miles distant from Sebastopol. On the 28th of the +same month, Lord Raglan wrote to the Duke of Newcastle, then Secretary +of War, "We are busily engaged in disembarking our siege-train and +provisions, and we are most desirous of undertaking the attack of +Sebastopol _without the loss of a day_." And yet it is not until October +10th that the Allies commence digging their trenches before the town. +Meanwhile the allied army was anxious and impatient. "'When will the +siege commence?' was the constant inquiry of the wearied and expectant +troops. 'To-morrow,' was the usual response, 'most probably to-morrow.' +But day after day came and went, and the Allies still rusted in +inaction, while the Russians worked day and night at strengthening their +defences." "The time dragged heavily on; still the Russians worked with +incredible industry, and still the cannon of the Allies had not yet +opened their thunders upon Sebastopol." On the 17th of October, +twenty-one days after the occupation of Balaklava, the allied forces +commenced fire by land and sea on the stronghold of the enemy. The +bombardment continued from half-past six, A.M., until nightfall, but is +conceded to have been a complete and mortifying failure. From this time +until the 5th of November, it will not be contended that any substantial +advantage was gained by the invading forces, or that material progress +was made towards the reduction of the Russian Gibraltar. + +Then came the Battle of Inkerman, a gallant and desperate sortie of the +Russians, bravely and successfully resisted by the besiegers. The loss +of life on both sides was terrible. To what extent was _this_ battle +decisive? Mr. Russell shall give his own testimony on this point:--"We +had nothing to rejoice over, and almost everything to deplore, in the +Battle of Inkerman. We defeated the enemy, indeed, but had not advanced +one step nearer the citadel of Sebastopol." In other words, the Allies +had repulsed the Russians, but had barely escaped annihilation, while, +from having been the besiegers, they became the besieged, and remained +so until largely reinforced from home. "A heavy responsibility," says +Mr. Russell, "rests on those whose neglect enabled the enemy to attack +us where we were least prepared for it, and whose indifference led them +to despise precautions which, taken in time, might have saved us many +valuable lives, and have trebled the loss of the enemy." The English +not only committed the serious error of underrating the enemy, and +neglecting the most ordinary precautions against surprise, but, during +the whole of the desperate and bloody fight, they gave no proof whatever +of generalship. The stubborn, unyielding bravery of the troops was +the salvation of the army. "We owed the victory, such as it was, to +strength, not to superior intelligence and foresight. It was a soldiers' +battle, in which we were saved by the muscle, nerve, and courage of our +men." Humanity shudders and the heart sickens over the sufferings +of that gallant army of martyrs to cabinet incapacity and military +imbecility during the long and dreary winter of 1854-55. + +On the 9th of April, 1855, commenced the second grand bombardment of +Sebastopol, which, though continuing for twelve days, resulted, like the +first, in mortifying failure, no serious or irreparable injuries being +caused to the main defences of the enemy. "The real strength of the +place remained unimpaired. That which was injured during the day the +Russians repaired as if by magic during the night. The particulars of +this twelve days' bombardment are wearisome. The same wasted energy, the +same night-skirmishes without effect, the same battering and repairing, +the same unwearied exertions On the part of the Allies and wonderful +endurance and resistance on the part of the Russians, together with, on +each side, the same loss of life and frightful mutilations." + +Two months were passed in comparative inaction, the sad monotony being +varied only by ineffective sorties and indecisive skirmishes. On the +18th of June, the first grand assault of the Malakhoff and Redan was +attempted. The allied troops displayed the utmost gallantry, and did all +that brave men could do under disgracefully incompetent commanders, but +were repulsed with horrible slaughter. No one can read the details of +the fruitless massacre, without fully confirming the indignant testimony +of an intelligent eye-witness, writing from the camp:-- + +"I know not what may have been the feelings of your home public, on +reading the telegraphic news of our defeat, (for I presume the scribes +at head-quarters made no attempt to conceal the naked truth, that our +repulse was neither more nor less than a defeat,) but here mingled shame +and indignation were general throughout the camp. Officers and men alike +felt that disgrace had been incurred, and that solely in consequence +of the unredeemed mismanagement of their generals. Remembering the +confusion which characterized the commencement of our movement, and +coupling this with the murderous preparations made by the enemy, you +will be at no loss to understand that success was most improbable. +During the whole affair, Lord Raglan and Sir George Brown were ensconced +within our eight-gun battery; but, though this afforded a good view of +the scene of the struggle, and of the disorders which marked it, +they appeared to be unable to give any efficient directions for the +correction of our multiplied blunders. When the whole sad scene was +ended, our men straggled back to the camp in a state of dispirited +confusion, well in keeping with the mob-like disorder in which they had +been throughout the assault." + +The final bombardment of Sebastopol took place on the 5th of September, +followed on the 8th by the renewed assault of the French on the +Malakhoff and of the English on the Redan. Skilful generalship, adequate +forces, and desperate bravery gave victory to the French, and "the key +to Sebastopol" remained in their hands. Meanwhile the English assault +upon the Redan was repulsed with frightful sacrifice of life. It will +not be contended that the French owed any part of their success to +superior good-fortune. Indeed, all the extrinsic advantages were on the +side of the English. The French were to lead off in the assault, and the +tricolor waving over the captured fortification was to be the signal for +the advance of the English. If the French succeeded, every sentiment of +personal ambition and national pride would stimulate their allies to +achieve an equal victory. If the French failed, the English had only to +remain in their trenches. + +Now let us examine the comparative generalship displayed in the two +assaults. We are quite willing that English authority should draw the +contrast. "The preparations of the French were actually scientific in +their vigorous attention to every matter calculated to lead to victory: +nothing appeared to have been forgotten, nothing neglected. Even the +watches of the leading officers had been regulated, that there might not +be the smallest error with regard to time. It is a painful reflection +that this carefulness of preparation, and prescience with respect to +probabilities, was not shown by the English general and his associates +in arranging the mode of attack. When the orders were promulgated, on +the 7th, many officers shook their heads doubtingly, and observed, +in deprecating tones, 'This looks like another 18th of June.' It was +generally observed that the attacking columns were not strong enough, +that they were too far behind, and that the trenches did not afford room +for a sufficient number of men." + +The signal for the French assault was given: thirty thousand men, weary +of long inactivity, and burning to add new lustre to the bright record +of their country's military glory,--drums and trumpets meanwhile +sounding the charge, and the air resounding with shouts of _"Vive +l'Empereur,"_--darted from their trenches, swarmed up the embankments, +dashed over the parapet, swept the enemy like chaff before them; and the +Malakhoff was won. Hours of the fiercest fighting found the French still +masters of the situation; at nightfall the Russian general sullenly drew +off his defeated forces, and the victory was complete. + +It is painful to turn from this brilliant picture to the sombre coloring +and the dreary details of the attack on the Redan. To three thousand +doomed men was assigned the perilous undertaking. Incredible as it +may appear, in view of previous failure, there seems to have been no +adequate preparation, no intelligible plan, no competent leader. It +was simply brute force assailing brute force. The few men who actually +entered the Redan neglected to spike the guns; no reinforcements came to +their aid; everything was blind excitement, and headlong, undisciplined +haste. "The men of the different regiments became mingled together in +inextricable confusion. The Nineteenth men did not care for the officers +of the Eighty-Eighth, nor did the soldiers of the Twenty-Third heed the +command of an officer who did not belong to their regiment. The officers +could not find their men,--the men lost sight of their officers." But +why dwell on what soon became mere butchery? The loss of the storming +party, in killed, wounded, and missing, was 2447. + +Considered as a military movement, it would seem to be conceded that no +grosser blunder could have been made than the selection of so small a +force for so desperate an undertaking. There was no chance of success +but by attacking simultaneously both flanks and the salient of the +Redan. The storming party was barely large enough for the assault of the +salient, thus exposing the handful of men to a murderous and fatally +destructive fire from the flanks. This was bad enough, certainly, but +worse remains behind. English critics have most severely censured +our generals for sometimes placing new recruits in posts of danger, +requiring cool heads, steady nerves, and the habit of discipline. +Perhaps they have forgotten the following incident. Among the picked men +selected out of the entire British forces as this very storming party +were raw recruits from the Ninety-Seventh Regiment, who were designated +for this perilous service as a punishment for their cowardice in a +recent skirmish!--and to make this punishment still more severe, they +were ordered to _lead off_ in the assault! An historian of the war +says,--"The inexperience of some of these recruits seems almost +incredible. One young fellow, who came to the field-hospital with a +broken arm and a bullet in his shoulder, carried his firelock with him, +but confessed that he had never fired it off, _as he was unable to do +so_. The piece, upon being examined, was found to be in perfect order. +Such poor undisciplined lads, fresh from the plough, ought never on +any occasion to have been pitted against the well-drilled soldiers of +Russia; but it was something worse than blundering to lead them on +to the assault of a formidable work like the Redan. Such generalship +recalls to our mind the remark of the Russian officer with regard to +the military force of England, that 'it was an army of lions led by +donkeys.'" Mr. Russell states that many of these recruits "had only been +enlisted a few days, and had never fired a rifle in their lives." + +Now will it be believed that General Codrington, to whom was committed +the planning and directing of this ill-starred and disastrous +enterprise, succeeded Sir James Simpson as Commander-in-Chief of Her +Majesty's forces in the Crimea? How must the shade of Admiral Byng have +haunted Her Majesty's Government, unless it was a most forgiving ghost! +If General Codrington's promotion could have been delayed a little +more than eighteen months, it might have occurred appropriately on the +centennial anniversary of the death of that ill-fated naval commander, +convicted by court-martial and shot for "not doing his utmost"! + +On the evening of the 8th of September, the Russians blew up their +magazines, fired the buildings, and evacuated the town. So fell +Sebastopol, after a siege of three hundred and forty-five days. It has +been considered by the English a bit of very choice pleasantry to +allude to our oft-recurring statement, that "the decisive blow had been +struck," and that "the backbone of the Rebellion was broken." It may +not be impertinent to remind them, that the report, first circulated in +France and England in the latter part of September, 1854, and fortified +by minute details, that Sebastopol--the backbone of Russian resistance +to the allied arms--had fallen, was repeated and reiterated from time to +time during the war, until the phrase, "_Sebastopol est pris_," passed +into a by-word, and did good service in relieving the cruelly overworked +Greek Kalends. + +And now we come naturally to the consideration of another and an +important inquiry. Did the beginning of the war find, or did its +progress develop or create, a single English general of commanding +military capacity, competent to handle in the field even so small an +army as the British contingent in the Crimea? Of Lord Raglan Mr. Russell +says, and without doubt says truly,--"That he was a great chief, or even +a moderately able general, I have every reason to doubt, and I look in +vain for any proof of it, whilst he commanded the English army in the +Crimea." Another authority says,--"The conviction that he was not a +great general is universal and uncontradicted. He could perform the +ordinary duties of a general satisfactorily, but he was lamentably +deficient in those qualities which constitute military genius. He +possessed considerable professional experience, great application, and +remarkable powers of endurance; but he lacked the energy, vehemence, +and decision of character which are essential to the constitution of a +successful military chieftain." To his hesitation in council, and his +want of energy and promptness in action, have always been attributed, in +large measure, the ruinous delays and the fearful suffering in the army +which he commanded. Lord Raglan died in June, 1855, in his sixty-seventh +year. General Simpson succeeded him. "It was believed at the time," +writes Mr. Russell, "and now is almost notorious, that he opposed his +own appointment, and bore testimony to his own incapacity." "He was slow +and cautious in council, and it is no wonder that where Lord Raglan +failed, General Simpson did not meet with success." The English press +and people demanded his recall. His incompetency was everywhere +acknowledged, and indeed he himself would have been the last man to +deny it. In about three months from the date of General Simpson's +appointment, "the Queen was graciously pleased to permit him to resign +the command of the army." As we have already seen, his place was filled +by General Codrington. This officer was as signally rewarded, because +he had failed, as he could have been, if he had succeeded. Mr. +Russell quotes approvingly the comment of a French officer upon this +appointment:--"If General Codrington had taken the Redan, what more +could you have done for him than to make him General, and to give him +command of the army? But he did not take it, and he is made General and +Commander-in-Chief." With equal discrimination, Sir James Simpson was +created Field-Marshal! The remainder of the campaign gave General +Codrington no further opportunity of displaying his qualities for +command. No other important action occurred before the termination of +hostilities. + +Great credit is certainly due to Mr. Russell for fearlessly exposing the +errors and incompetency of the three officers successively at the head +of the English army, in spite of "much obloquy, vituperation, and +injustice," and for bearing his invariable and eloquent testimony to the +bravery, endurance, and patience of the British private soldier. + +In this brief recital of English blunders during the Crimean War, we +have made no mention of the desperate and disastrous "charge of the +Light Brigade," the gross and culpable inefficiency of the Baltic fleet +under Admiral Sir Charles Napier, and other instances of military +incapacity no less monstrous. Enough, however, has been told to more +than justify the very mild summing-up of Mr. Russell, that the "war +had exposed the weakness of our military organization in the grave +emergencies of a winter campaign, and the canker of a long peace +was unmistakably manifested in our desolated camps and decimated +battalions." + +Why should we add to this dismal recital the appalling sufferings of +the soldiers,--helpless victims to bad management at home and shameful +neglect in the field,--the long, freezing nights of trench-work under a +driving rain, "without warm or water-proof clothing,--the trenches two +and three feet deep with mud, snow, and half-frozen slush, so that many, +when they took off their shoes, were unable to get their swollen feet +into them again, and might be seen barefooted about the camp, the snow +half a foot deep on the ground,"--creeping for shelter into "miserable +tents pitched as it were at the bottom of a marsh, where twelve or +fourteen unhappy creatures lay soaking without change of clothing" until +they were called out again to their worse than slave-labor,--disease, +brought on by exhaustion, exposure, overwork, and deficient food, +sweeping the men off by thousands, and yet no sufficient supply of +medical stores and no adequate number of medical attendants, not a soul +seeming to care for their comfort or even for their lives,--so neglected +and ill-treated that "the wretched beggar who wandered about the streets +of London led the life of a prince compared with the British soldiers +who were fighting for their country, and who were complacently assured +by the home authorities that they were the best-appointed army in +Europe." The world knows the whole sad story by heart. And is it not +written in the volumes of evidence sworn to before the Commission +appointed by Parliament to inquire into the condition of the army? + +Nor is it necessary to dwell upon the extent to which the home +administration was responsible for the general mismanagement of the war, +in its main features and its minute details,--nor the thoroughly English +stolidity with which all complaints were received by every member of the +Government, from the cabinet minister who dictated pompous and unmeaning +despatches, down to the meanest official who measured red tape,--nor the +intense and universal popular indignation which, after a year "full of +horrors," compelled the resignation of the Aberdeen Ministry. Lord Derby +did not, perhaps, overstate the verdict of the nation, when he said in +the House of Lords,--"From the very first to the very last, there has +been apparent in the course pursued by Her Majesty's Government a want +of previous preparation,--a total want of prescience; and they have +appeared to live from day to day providing for each successive exigency +_after it arose, and not before it arose_. TOO LATE have been the fatal +words applicable to the whole conduct of Her Majesty's Government in the +course of the war." The change in the Ministry, however, by no means +cured all the evils which had existed; for, although the sufferings of +the soldiers--thanks in large part to the providential appearance and +heroic conduct of Florence Nightingale--were greatly diminished, still, +as we have seen, the military blunders continued to the close of the +war. + +Now, if we do not greatly mistake, the lesson which this country should +learn from the mortifying experience of the English army in the Crimea +is not one of exultation over its lamentable and unnecessary errors, but +rather of indifference to the insulting criticism of a nation which can +so ill afford to be critical, and of determination to profit in every +possible way by those blunders which might have been avoided. The +history of all wars, moreover, should teach us that now and then there +comes a time when to hold the olive-branch in one hand and the sword in +the other, especially if the olive-branch is kept in the foreground and +the sword in the background, involves not only a sad waste of energy, +but is mistaken kindness to our enemies. + +Those who have read--and who has not?--the charming story of "Rab and +his Friends" will remember the incident which, for the sake of brevity, +we reluctantly condense. A small, thorough-bred terrier, after being +rudely interrupted in his encounter with a large shepherd's-dog, darts +off, fatally bent on mischief, to seek a new canine antagonist. He +discovers him in the person of a huge mastiff, quietly sauntering along +in a peaceful frame of mind, all unsuspicious of danger. The angry +terrier makes straight at him, and fastens on his throat. The rest of +the story shall be told in the graphic language of the author. "To our +astonishment, the great creature does nothing but stand still, hold +himself up, and roar,--yes, roar: a long, serious, remonstrative roar. +How is this? _He is muzzled_! The bailies had proclaimed a general +muzzling, and his master, studying strength and economy mainly, had +encompassed his huge jaws in a home-made apparatus, constructed out of +the leather of some ancient _breeching_. His mouth was open as far as it +could; his lips curled up in rage,--a sort of terrible grin; his teeth +gleaming, ready, from out the darkness; the strap across his mouth tense +as a bowstring; his whole frame stiff with indignation and surprise; his +roar asking us all round, 'Did you ever see the like of this?' He looked +a statue of anger and astonishment, done in Aberdeen granite. We soon +had a crowd; the chicken held on. 'A knife!' cried Bob; and a cobbler +gave him his knife: you know the kind of knife, worn away obliquely to +a point, and always keen. I put its edge to the tense leather; it ran +before it; and then!--one sudden jerk of that enormous head, a sort of +dirty mist about his mouth, no noise,--and the bright and fierce little +fellow is dropped, limp and dead." + +If we draw a useful moral from this homely incident, it will not be the +first time that the unerring sagacity of animals has been serviceable +to man. A stealthy, cunning, unscrupulous, desperate, devilish foe has +seized the nation by the throat and threatens its life. The Government +is strong, courageous, determined, abundantly able to make a successful +resistance, and even to kill the insolent enemy; but--_it is +muzzled_: muzzled here by conservative counsels, and there by radical +complaints,--by the over-cautious policy of one general, and the +headlong haste of another,--by a too tender regard for slavery in +some States, and by a too zealous anxiety for instant emancipation in +others,--by fear of provoking opposition in one quarter, and by a blind +defiance of all obstacles in another. Now what shall be done? Shall we +hesitate, despond, despair? Never! _For Heaven's sake, take off the +muzzle._ Use every weapon which the God of Battles has placed in our +hands. Put forth all the power of the nation. Encourage and promote all +fighting generals; cashier all officers who are determined to make war +on peace principles; arm, equip, and discipline negroes, not to burn, +plunder, and massacre, but to meet their and our enemies in fair and +open fight.[B] Demonstrate to the world that we are terribly in earnest. +Waste no time in discussing the chance of foreign intervention. Postpone +Pacific railroads, international telegraphs, polygamy in Utah, African +colonization, everything, to the engrossing and emergent crisis which +now confronts the Government. Make the contest sharp, short, and +decisive. Put down the Rebellion, vindicate the majesty of the Law, the +sacredness of the Union, and the integrity of the Constitution. There +will be time enough, after this is done, to discuss all minor questions +and all collateral issues. One paramount duty lies directly before us. +Let us perform this duty fearlessly, and leave the future with God. + +[Footnote B: The opposition to the employment of negro regiments, if +made by traitors North or South, can be easily comprehended,--if made by +loyal men, is wholly inexplicable. Your neighbor's house takes fire at +night. The flames, long smouldering, make rapid progress, and threaten +the comfort, certainly, if not the lives of his household, and the +total destruction of his property. The alarm is given. An engine comes +promptly to the rescue. It is just in season to save his dwelling. +The firemen spring with ready alacrity to their places. But stop! He +suddenly discovers the appalling fact that they are negroes! True, +there is not a moment to be lost. No other engine is, or can be, within +helping distance. The least delay means poverty and a houseless family. +And yet he rudely dismisses the dusky firemen, folds his arms with +Spartan stoicism, and, looking complacently on the burning building, +says, _"Better this than to rely on the assistance of niggers!"_ _Is it_ +Spartan stoicism? Is it not rather stark lunacy? And would you not take +immediate measures to provide such a man with permanent quarters in a +mad-house?] + + + + +REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES. + + +_Roba di Roma_. By WILLIAM W. STORY. 2 vols. 8vo. pp. 355, 369. London: +Chapman & Hall. 1863. + +The father of the celebrated Mr. Jonathan Wild was in the habit of +saying, that "travelling was travelling in one part of the world as +well as another; it consisted in being such a time from home, and in +traversing so many leagues; and he appealed to experience whether most +of our travellers in France and Italy did not prove at their return +that they might have been sent as profitably to Norway and Greenland." +Fielding himself, the author of this sarcasm, was a very different kind +of traveller, as his Lisbon journal shows; but we think he told no more +than the truth in regard to the far greater part of those idle people +who powder themselves with dust from the highways and blur their +memories with a whirl through the galleries of Europe. They go out +empty, to come home unprofitably full. They go abroad to escape +themselves, and fail, as Goethe says they always must, in the attempt to +jump away from their own shadows. And yet even the dullest man, if he +went honestly about it, might bring home something worth having from the +dullest place. If Ovid, instead of sentimentalizing in the "Tristia," +had left behind him a treatise on the language of the Getae which he +learned, we should have thanked him for something more truly valuable +than all his poems. Could men only learn how comfortably the world can +get along without the various information which they bring home about +themselves! Honest observation and report will long continue, we fear, +to be one of the rarest of human things, so much more easily are +spectacles to be had than eyes, so much cheaper is fine writing than +exactness. Let any one who has sincerely endeavored to get anything like +facts with regard to the battles of our civil war only consider how much +more he has learned concerning the splendid emotions of the reporter +than the events of the fight, (unless he has had the good luck of a peep +into the correspondence of some pricelessly uncultivated private,) and +he will feel that narrative, simple as it seems, can be well done by two +kinds of men only,--those of the highest genius and culture, and those +wholly without either. + +It gradually becomes clear to us that the easiest things can be done +with ease only by the very fewest people, and those specially endowed to +that end. The English language, for instance, can show but one sincere +diarist, Pepys; and yet it would seem a simple matter enough to jot +down the events of every day for one's self without thinking of Mrs. +Posterity Grundy, who has a perverse way, as if she were a testatrix and +not an heir, of forgetting precisely those who pay most assiduous court +to her. One would think, too, that to travel and tell what you have seen +should be tolerably easy; but in ninety-nine books out of a hundred does +not the tourist bore us with the sensations he thinks he ought to have +experienced, instead of letting us know what he saw and felt? If authors +would only consider that the way to write an enlivening book is not by +seeing and saying just what would be expected of them, but precisely the +reverse, the public would be gainers. What tortures have we not seen the +worthiest people go through in endeavoring to get up the appropriate +emotion before some famous work in a foreign gallery, when the only +sincere feeling they had was a praiseworthy desire to escape! If one +does not like the Venus of Milo, let him not fret about it, for he may +be sure she never will. + +Montaigne felt obliged to separate himself from travelling-companions +whose only notion of their function was that of putting so many leagues +a day behind them. His theory was that of Ulysses, who was not content +with seeing the cities of many men, but would learn their minds +also. And this way of taking time enough, while we think it the best +everywhere, is especially excellent in a country so much the reverse of +_ fast_ as Italy, where impressions need to steep themselves in the sun +and ripen slowly as peaches, and where _carpe diem_ should be translated +_take your own time_. But is there any particular reason why everybody +should go to Italy, or, having done so, should tell everybody else what +he supposes he ought to have seen there? Surely, there must be some +adequate cause for so constant an effect. + +Boswell, in a letter to Sir Andrew Mitchell, says, that, if he could +only _see Rome_, "it would give him talk for a lifetime." The utmost +stretch of his longing is to pass "four months on classic ground," after +which he will come back to Auchinleck _uti conciva satur_,--a condition +in which we fear the poor fellow returned thither only too often, though +unhappily in no metaphorical sense. We rather think, that, apart from +the pleasure of saying he had been there, Boswell was really drawn to +Italy by the fact that it was classic ground, and this not so much by +its association with great events as with great men, for whom, with +all his weaknesses, he had an invincible predilection. But Italy has a +magnetic virtue quite peculiar to her, which compels alike steel and +straw, finding something in men of the most diverse temperaments by +which to draw them to herself. Like the Siren, she sings to every +voyager a different song, that lays hold on the special weakness of his +nature. The German goes thither because Winckelmann and Goethe went, +and because he can find there a sausage stronger than his own; the +Frenchman, that he may flavor his infidelity with a bitter dash of +Ultramontanism, or find fresher zest in his chattering boulevard +after the sombre loneliness of Rome; the Englishman, because the same +Providence that hears the young ravens when they cry is careful to +furnish prey to the courier also, and because his money will make him +a _Milor in partibus_. But to the American, especially if he be of an +imaginative temper, Italy has a deeper charm. She gives him cheaply what +gold cannot buy for him at home, a Past at once legendary and authentic, +and in which he has an equal claim with every other foreigner. In +England he is a poor relation whose right in the entail of home +traditions has been docked by revolution; of France his notions are +purely English, and he can scarce help feeling something like contempt +for a people who habitually conceal their meaning in French; but Rome is +the mother-country of every boy who has devoured Plutarch or taken his +daily doses of Florus. Italy gives us antiquity with good roads, cheap +living, and, above all, a sense of freedom from responsibility. For +him who has escaped thither there is no longer any tyranny of public +opinion; its fetters drop from his limbs when he touches that +consecrated shore, and he rejoices in the recovery of his own +individuality. He is no longer met at every turn with "Under which king, +bezonian? Speak, or die!" He is not forced to take one side or the +other about table-tipping, or the merits of General Blank, or the +constitutionality of anarchy. He has found an Eden where he need not +hide his natural self in the livery of any opinion, and may be as happy +as Adam, if he be wise enough to keep clear of the apple of High +Art. This may be very weak, but it is also very agreeable to certain +temperaments; and to be weak is to be miserable only where it is a duty +to be strong. + +Coming from a country where everything seems shifting like a quicksand, +where men shed their homes as snakes their skins, where you may meet +a three-story house, or even a church, on the highway, bitten by the +universal gad-fly of bettering its position, where we have known a tree +to be cut down merely because "it had got to be so old," the sense +of permanence, unchangeableness, and repose which Italy gives us is +delightful. The oft-repeated _non è più come era prima_ may be true +enough of Rome politically, but it is not true of it in most other +respects. To be sure, gas and railroads have got in at last; but one may +still read by a _lucerna_ and travel by _vettura_, if he like, using +Alberti as a guide-book, and putting up at the Bearas a certain +keen-eyed Gascon did three centuries ago. + +Mr. Story has taken Italy with due deliberation, having lived there now +some fifteen years. He has thus been enabled to let things come to him, +instead of running after them; and his sensations have had time to ripen +slowly toward the true moment of projection, without being shaken and +hurried, or huddled one atop of the other. We doubt if the picturesque +can be profitably done by the job, for in aesthetics the proverb that +half a loaf is better than no bread does not hold. An Italian _festa_, +we suspect, if you make it a matter of business, will turn its +business-side to you, and you will go away without having been admitted +to the delightful confidence of its innocent gayety and unpremeditated +charm. Tourists must often have remarked, in making an excursion to a +ruin or bit of picturesque scenery, that what chance threw in to boot +was by far the best part of their bargain, for the most beautiful +experiences come not by observation. The crumbling temple lured them +forth, but it was only to see a sunset or to hear a nightingale. + +What between winters in Rome and summers in one or the other +mountain-town, with intervals of absence now at Florence and now at +Siena, Mr. Story has had such opportunities as fall to the lot of very +few foreigners. For, in studying the ways of a people, it is as with +wild animals,--you must be long enough among them to get them _wonted_, +so that you may catch them at unawares. His book is on the whole a +delightful one, and would have been so without qualification, had he +confined it to a relation of his own experiences. Where he narrates or +describes, he is always lively and interesting; where he disserts or +grows learned, he gives up his vantage-ground, and must consent to be +dull like everybody else. Anybody can be learned, anybody except Dr. +Holmes dull; but not everybody can be a poet and artist. The chapter on +the Evil Eye is a marvel of misplaced erudition. The author has hunted +all antiquity like a policeman, and arrested high and low on the least +suspicion of a squint. Horace and Jodocus Damhouder, (to whose harmless +Dam our impatience tempts us to add an _n_,) Tibullus and Johannes +Wouwerus, St. Augustine and Turnebus, with a motley mob of Jews, +Christians, Greeks, Romans, Arabians, and Lord-knows-whats, are all +thrust into the dock cheek by jowl. For ourselves, we would have taken +Mr. Story's word for it, without the attestation of these long-winded +old monsters, who wrote about charms and enchantments in a style +as potent in disenchantment as holy-water, and who bored their own +generation too thoroughly to have any claim upon the button of ours. +Every age is sure of its own fleas without poking over the rag-bag +of the past; and of all things, a superstition has the least need of +proving the antiquity of its pedigree, since its very etymology is +better than the certificate of all the Heralds' Colleges put together. +We are surprised that so clever and lively a man as Mr. Story, should +not have seen that in such matters one live fact is better than fifty +dead ones, and that even in history it is not so much the facts as what +the historian has contrived to see in them that gives life to his work. + +But learning makes a small part of Mr. Story's book; only, as the +concluding chapter happens to bristle with quotations and references, +thickly as the nave of St. Peter's on a festival with bayonets, this is +the last taste left in the mouth. The really valuable parts of the book +(and they make much the larger part of it) are those in which the author +relates his own experiences. After so many volumes stuffed like a +_chiffonnier's_ basket with the shreds of ancient Rome, it is really +refreshing to come upon a book which makes us feel that Italy is still +inhabited by very human beings, and contains something more than the +tombs of the Scipios, and inscriptions interesting only to people +who think a dead Roman donkey better than a living Italian lion. The +chapters on Street-Music in Rome, on Games, on Gaffes and Theatres, on +Villeggiatura and the Vintage, on the Ghetto, the Markets, and Summer +in the City, are all of them delightful and new. They really teach us +something, while the learning, we are sorry to say, does nothing of the +kind. Several of these chapters our readers will remember enjoying in +the "Atlantic." They are good for those who have been in Italy, for +those who are going thither, and, above all, for those who must stay at +home. They contain the most cheerful and picturesque descriptions of +Italian life and scenery we have ever met with. And we cannot be too +thankful to Mr. Story that he leaves a theme so poetical in itself to +_be_ poetical, without any officious help from himself, and that, though +an artist, he does not enter on any of those disquisitions which would +have made Sir Joshua shift his trumpet. On the whole, we are inclined +to forgive him the polyglot lumber of his chapter on the Evil Eye in +consideration of the scenery and galleries which he has spared us. We +think we see symptoms that the Nature-mania which began with Rousseau +is on the decline, and that men and their ways are getting into fashion +again as worth study. The good time is perhaps coming when some gallant +fellow will out with it that he hates mountains, and will be greeted +with a shout of delight from his emancipated brethren. + +Mr. Story is a person of very remarkable endowments. An accomplished +musician and poet, (we ought to have said before how remarkably good the +translations in these volumes are,) a skilful draughtsman, the author of +reputable law-books, he would seem to have been in danger of verifying +the old saw, had he not proved himself so eminently a master in +sculpture. We think the country is deeply indebted to Mr. Story for +having won so complete a triumph at the London World's Fair with his +Cleopatra and Libyan Sibyl, at a time when English statesmen and +newspapers were assuring the world that America was relapsing into +barbarism. Those statues, if we may trust the unvarying witness of +judicious persons, are conceived and executed in a style altogether +above the stone-cutting level of the day, and give proof of real +imaginative power. Mr. Story's genius and culture, with the fresh spur +of so marked a success, will, we are sure, produce other works to his +own honor and that of his country. For we feel that we have a country +still,--feel it the more deeply for our suffering, and our hope +deferred,--and out of the darkness of to-day we have still faith to see +a fairer America rising, a higher ideal of freedom, to warm the soul of +the artist and nerve the arm of the soldier. + + +_Hand-Book of Universal Literature._ From the Latest and Best +Authorities. By MRS. ANNE C.L. BOTTA. A New Edition. 12mo. Boston: +Ticknor and Fields. 1862. + +A thing once done assumes a magical simplicity. No matter what may have +been the previous difficulty, or how much work may be involved in +the result, yet, when the work is done, the problem solved, all the +difficulty and labor promptly disappear from view, as if in dread of +being led captive in triumphal procession after the Caesar who has +mastered them. Thus, it does not seem at all strange that we should have +a book professing to guide us through all the intricacies of general +literature; indeed, now that the work is put into our hands, it seems so +easy of accomplishment that the only marvel would appear to be that we +have had none hitherto. Yet the conditions necessary to such a work are +of the rarest to be found; not so rare, indeed, when each is considered +separately, but rarely to be met with in combination. + +In order even to attempt a work of this nature, its utility must first +be fully appreciated; but, unfortunately, those whose need is the +greatest, as being immediately present, would on that very account be +incompetent to supply the need, while those who by dint of patient study +have brought themselves up to the point of competency for the task no +longer realize the want,--just as men who have become rich by industry +forget the necessities of poverty, which were the earliest spurs upon +their energy. + +The great majority of readers, therefore, have good reason to thank +Mrs. Botta, that, after having met a great educational need in her own +experience, she has benevolently set about supplying the same need in +the experience of others. The same motive which has led her to do +this has also made her work, from the peculiar manner in which it is +conducted, an important contribution toward a more perfect educational +system than generally prevails; though we would not do her the injustice +to imply that what she has done claims merit on this account alone or +chiefly. It _does_ claim merit in this way, and of a very high order, +because it avoids a prominent fault that vitiates most works intended to +promote the general diffusion of knowledge. The fault referred to is the +same which De Quincey, in a note to his "Political Economy," has called +the greatest vice of teaching,--namely, that the teacher does not +readily enter into, as an inheritance, the difficulties of the pupil. +Merely to have corrected this fault, to have met the popular mind +half-way and upon its own ground, was to furnish an important condition +hitherto lacking in the field chosen. + +The extent of the work--embracing, as it does, the whole field of +literature--imposes other and more difficult conditions. Originality, +in any primary sense, was of course an impossibility; a single lifetime +would not suffice even for the most cursory examination of original +materials on so grand a scale. It was necessary, therefore, to select +and make use of the best authorities, critical and historical, those +whose researches have been most valuable and comprehensive, in each +particular department of the field. These authorities were to be found, +not in a single language, but in several; and even after they were +found, and the various results of their investigations put at their just +estimate, the important work of selection had then only just +commenced. Here were the master-critics and antiquaries,--the Müllers, +Champollions, and all. Some use must be made of each; but the compass, +no less than the design, of the work demanded the exclusion of all +secondary and unimportant matter, yet in such a manner that the ideal +unity should not be at all disturbed. Here was required, not merely tact +and discrimination, but a high degree of philosophical analysis; and +since this was valueless except as it was followed by comprehensive +synthesis, the power of artistic combination was no less requisite to +the complete result. + +From the foregoing remarks it must not be supposed that there has been +throughout a remodelling of all the material used. On the contrary, +it is one of the most important of the features which give value and +interest to the work, that in frequent instances the material has been +presented precisely as it came to hand; a felicitous or humorous turn +of a sentence, a pointed antithesis, a happy grouping of historic +incidents, or a vigorous clinching of manifold thoughts in a single +expression, has been happily preserved where by others it might have +been ejected, or marred in the changing, for the sake of giving to the +work a factitious claim to an originality which, in such a field, is +plainly the least desirable characteristic. Our most hearty thanks are +due to Mrs. Botta that she has been willing to sacrifice what at the +best would have been a spurious claim to the purely legitimate one, +of having conquered almost insuperable difficulties, and, by the most +conscientious fidelity, elaborated a really valuable treatise, where +before there existed none at all. + +So great as has been the need of this work, so great will be the +appreciation of it at the hands of the reading public. A whole has been +given where hitherto only parts had existed, and those for the most part +inaccessible to the general reader. + +We have no space to enlarge upon the many particular excellences of the +book. It is vivacious in style, having none of the tedium belonging to +most works of this description. There is very much concerning ancient +religion, and concerning the classification of languages, as well +as respecting the peculiarities of each, that has never before been +presented in a popular form. We have rarely, indeed, seen so much that +was valuable, and so well digested, compressed within such limited +bounds. + + +_The New American Cyclopaedia_; a Popular Dictionary of General +Knowledge. Edited by GEORGE RIPLEY and CHARLES A. DANA. 16 vols. royal +8vo. New York: D. Appleton & Co. + +The sixteenth and concluding volume of the "New American Cyclopaedia" +brings Messrs. Ripley and Dana to the end of one of the most laborious +and important literary works ever undertaken in this country; and +the voice of the public, we are sure, will be all but unanimous in +congratulating them upon the generally satisfactory manner in which they +have performed their task. The cost of the work, according to a New-York +journal, has been over four hundred thousand dollars. Six years have +been spent in its execution, and nearly five hundred writers have been +employed to contribute to it. Naturally, the articles are of very +unequal merit; but it is fair to remark that a high standard of +scholarship and literary polish has evidently been aimed at, from the +first volume to the last, and there is scarcely any point upon which the +"New American Cyclopaedia" may not safely challenge comparison with any +work of similar pretensions in the English language. + +Practically, none of the cyclopaedia previously accessible in our +language has now much value. Such works as "Rees's," the "Edinburgh," +the "London," and the "Penny" Cyclopaedias, the "Encyclopaedia +Metropolitana," and the excellent, though rather brief, "Encyclopedia +Americana" of Dr. Francis Lieber, the only one, except the "New +American," ever written in this country, however good in their day, have +long been entirely out of date. The "English Cyclopaedia" of Charles +Knight, and the eighth edition of the famous "Encyclopaedia Britannica," +were completed while the work of Messrs. Ripley and Dana was yet in +progress; but they are so different from the latter in their scope and +execution, and so much more costly, that they can hardly be said +to rival it. The first-named is a revised issue of the old "Penny +Cyclopaedia" of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, +and retains some of the best features of that excellent work. Its +arrangement seems to us peculiarly inconvenient; but its most +glaring defect is the lack of American subjects, and the slipshod, +unsatisfactory, and inaccurate manner in which the few that are found in +it have been treated. The "Encyclopaedia Britannica" is open to the same +objection. The first edition of this great work appeared over ninety +years ago. It contained neither historical, biographical, nor +geographical articles, and was rather a collection of treatises on the +principal arts and sciences than a cyclopaedia in the common acceptation +of the term. It has since been five times almost remodelled, arranged +alphabetically, and greatly enlarged; but it still preserves its old +distinguishing feature of treating great scientific and historical +subjects exhaustively under a single head: for instance, there are two +elaborate historical articles on "Britain" and "England," but none +on Charles I. or Charles II.; long articles on "Animal Kingdom" and +"Mammalia,"--so long, in fact, that it is almost impossible to find +anything in them without an index,--but none on the separate animals. +For the scholar, this plan, perhaps, has its advantages; but, for the +unlearned reader, who turns to his cyclopaedia to find an intelligible +account of the habits of some particular creature, without caring +greatly what its precise place may be in the zoölogical kingdom, or +looks for a name without knowing whether it belongs to a fish or a +river, no book that professes to be a manual of reference could well be +arranged on a more inconvenient principle. One of the chief duties of +a cyclopaedia is to save trouble,--to put one on the high-road to +knowledge, without unnecessary delay in finding the guide-boards. But +send a half-educated man to look for a scrap of learning in an article +of a hundred pages, and one might as well at once turn him loose into +a library. And what is worse, the unwieldy dimensions of these great +articles are out of all proportion to the information they contain. We +venture to assert that the ponderous "Encyclopaedia Britannica," with +its twenty-two quarto volumes, will tell less, for instance, about the +Horse, or about Louis XIV., than the much smaller work of Messrs. Ripley +and Dana. In the "New American Cyclopaedia" there are few articles +over twenty pages long. The leading subjects in the sciences, such as +"Anatomy," "Botany," "Physiology," etc., have from three to ten pages +each,--enough to give an outline of the principles and history of the +science. The great geographical and political divisions of the globe are +treated at somewhat greater length. Every important plant, beast, bird, +and fish, every large town, river, lake, province, and mountain, every +notable monarch, and every great battle, (not forgetting "Bull Run" and +the "Chickahominy Campaign,") is the subject of a separate article. + +Next to this very convenient subdivision of topics, the most striking +merit of the new cyclopaedia is, perhaps, comprehensiveness. Among its +faults, very few faults of omission can fairly be charged; and, indeed, +it seems to us rather to err in giving too many articles, especially on +American second-rate preachers, politicians, and literary men, all of +whom are no doubt ticketed for immortality by a select circle of friends +and admirers, but in whom the public at large take the faintest possible +interest. On the other hand, the space given to such heroes is small; +and so long as they do not exclude more valuable matter, but only add a +little to the bulk of the volumes, they do no great harm, and may chance +to be useful. In the department of natural history this work is much +fuller than any other general dictionary. It is also especially complete +in technology and law, (the latter department having been under the +care of Professor Theophilus Parsons,) and sufficiently so in medicine, +theology, and other branches of science. + +Among the articles upon which its success and reputation will chiefly +rest are those relating to technology. With scarcely an exception, they +are plain, practical, and full of common sense. Those on "Cotton" and +"Wool" and their manufactures, the various metals and the ways of +working them, (the article on "Zinc" is the best we have ever seen on +that subject,) "Gas," "Ship," "Railroad," "Telegraph," "Sewing-Machine," +"Steam," and "Sugar," are compact summaries of valuable knowledge, and +will go far to commend the work to a class of persons who, except in +our own country, are not much given to reading or book-buying. They +vindicate the claims of the Cyclopaedia to be a popular dictionary, not +intended solely for the scholar's library, but directed to the wants of +the artisan and man of business. It is not too much to say of many of +them,--of "Ship," for instance, and "Telegraph,"--that, apart from +their value as records of industrial progress and invention, they are +interesting enough to furnish a very pleasant hour's occupation to the +desultory reader. + +The other scientific articles are mostly written in a clear, +unpretending style, with a sparing use of technical expressions; and +so far as we have discovered, they do ample justice to all recent +discoveries. The articles by Professor Bache on the "Tides," Professor +Dalton on "Embryology," Professor J.D. Dana on "Crystallography," +Dr. W.H. Draper on the "Nervous System," Professor James Hall on +"Palaeontology," Professor Henry, of the Smithsonian Institution, +on "Magnetism" and "Meteorology," James T. Hodge on "Earth" and +"Electricity," Frank H. Storer on "Chemistry" and kindred subjects, Dr. +Reuben on "Heat," "Light," "Vision," "Winds," etc., and the philological +contributions of Dr. Kraitsir and Professor Whitney, do the highest +credit to the work in which they appear. The forbidding appearance of +Dr. Kraitsir's articles will get more notice than their deep +learning. We cannot but regret that such valuable papers as those on +"Hieroglyphics," "Cuneiform Inscriptions," "Indian Languages," and we +may add, though belonging to another class of subjects, "Brahma" and +"Buddha," by the same author, should not have been dressed with a little +more taste, and the naked deformity of barbarous paradigms covered +with some of the ornaments of a readable style. It is the more a pity, +because the articles are well worth any care that could be spent upon +them. + +The biographical articles are sufficiently numerous, and, though rigidly +condensed, are full enough for all ordinary purposes. There are few such +elaborate biographies as those contributed by Macaulay, De Quincey, and +others, to the "Encyclopaedia Britannica"; but Mr. Bancroft's "Jonathan +Edwards," Mr. Everett's "Hallam," "Washington," and "Daniel Webster," +President Felton's "Agassiz," Professor Lowell's "Dante," Professor +Schaff's "Luther" and "Melancthon," Mr. Seward's "DeWitt Clinton," A. +W. Thayer's "Beethoven," "Handel," "Haydn," and "Mozart," Richard Grant +White's "Shakespeare," and the articles on "Patrick Henry," "Washington +Irving," "Milton," "Southey," "Schiller," "Swift," and many others we +might name, are admirable specimens of literary composition. Among +miscellaneous articles that deserve particular praise are a well-written +and elaborate history of the Jewish people and literature under the +title "Hebrews"; a picturesque account of "London"; a summary of all +that is known about "Japan"; excellent histories of "Newspapers" and +"Periodical Literature"; a brilliant article on "Athens" by the +late President Felton; a review of "Arctic Discovery"; valuable and +exceedingly interesting papers on "Army," "Artillery," "Infantry," and +"Cavalry," with one on "Gunnery" by Commodore Charles Henry Davis; +"Painting"; "Sculpture"; "Serfs"; "Slavery"; "Hungary"; and the best +published account of the "Mormons." The article on the "United States" +fills one hundred and twenty pages, including thirty-three pages of +fresh statistical tables, and gives an admirable summary of our history +down to last September; it closes with a comprehensive survey of +American literature. The supplement gives a biography of nearly every +general in the Union and Rebel armies. + +The promises of the editors on the score of impartiality have been well +kept. It would be too much to expect them to satisfy everybody, or +never to be caught tripping; but in the great questions of religion and +politics, they seem to have preserved a happy mean between the outspoken +freedom of the partisan and the halting timidity of the man who never +commits himself because he never has an opinion. Their contributors +represent nearly every Christian creed, every shade of politics, and +every part of the English-speaking world, from Salt Lake City to London, +and from Mobile to Montreal. + +We have only to add that the Cyclopaedia does fuller justice to our own +country than she has ever received from such a book before; that the +historical and statistical articles present the latest accessible +information; and that, so far as our opportunities of examination +permit us to judge, the book, though of course not free from errors, is +accurate to a more than ordinary degree. The labor of the editors has +been careful and conscientious; and they have produced a work which must +long endure as a valuable contribution to American literature and a +credit to American scholarship. + + +_Manual of Geology:_ treating of the Principles of the Science with +Special Reference to American Geological History, etc. By JAMES D. DANA. +8vo. Philadelphia: Theodore Bliss & Co. London: Trabner & Co. + + +No work on any science has yet been published in our language more +exhaustive of facts, more clear in statement, or more philosophical +in general character and arrangement, than Dana's "Mineralogy," as +presented in its last and revised edition. + +Of course, the announcement of a "Manual of Geology" by the same author +could not fail to excite hopes that a long-felt want on the part of the +American public was to be met, a void in our scientific literature to be +filled. Nor are we disappointed in our expectations, now that the work +has appeared and time has been given for its careful perusal. On the +contrary, we feel a degree of satisfaction that might perhaps express +itself too strongly in praise, if we were not withheld by the +supposition that a proper notice of the contents of the volume would do +more for its appreciation by the reader than any language of eulogy. + +What, then, is the distinctive character of the work, and wherein do the +contents so differ from previous publications as to claim our especial +notice? + +In the first place, we would state, that, while it is a manual of +general geological knowledge concerning the history of the earth and of +life on its surface, and full of information concerning the strata and +geological phenomena of all parts of our globe, it is yet peculiar, +inasmuch as it treats of the principles of the science with special +reference to American Geological History. In this will be found its +great value to American students; for who of them has not had his +patience tried, and his enthusiasm often chilled, in vain attempts to +solve the questions which have sometimes arisen in his mind concerning +American geology, and has not sought their solution in the only way +open to him,--a consultation of innumerable State Reports, and other +publications, not half of which were accessible when required? + +Another distinctive feature of the work is the prominence given to +Historical Geology, or that portion which treats of the successive +formation of the strata of the different periods, and of the development +and characteristics of the life upon the surface. The whole treatment of +this exhibits in a marked degree the extended research and philosophical +ability of the author. + +GENERAL CONTEXTS AND DIVISIONS OF THE WORK. + +_Physiographic Geology_.--This embraces a general survey of the earth's +features: its continents, oceans, lakes, river-systems, oceanic and +atmospheric currents, climates, distribution of forest-regions, deserts, +etc. + +_Lithological Geology_.--This treats of the rocks, and of their +arrangement: the first embracing an account of all the important +chemical elements that enter into their constitution, the minerals and +organic materials that occur in their composition, and the kinds and +distinguishing characteristics of those that make up the earth's +surface; the second presenting the arrangement of rocks, stratified and +unstratified,--the structure due to deposition and other agencies,--the +dislocations of strata, and the consequent faults and distortions of +fossils contained in them,--together with considerations upon the age +and chronological division of all the strata of the earth's surface. + +_Historical Geology_.--This third part of the volume, and that which +peculiarly characterizes the work, opens with some general remarks upon +the divisions in Geological History, and the announcement of certain +important principles to be kept in view while considering the subject. +The progress of life is then described as the basis of subdivision into +Geological Ages; and the subdivisions of geological time are presented +as follows:-- + + I. Azoic Time or Age. + + II. Palaeozoic Time. + 1. The Age of Mollusks, or Silurian. + 2. The Age of Fishes, or Devonian. + 3. The Age of Coal Plants, or Carboniferous. + + III. Mesozoic Time. + 4. The Age of Reptiles. + + IV. Cenozoic Time. + 5. The Age of Mammals. + + V. Era of Mind. + 6. The Age of Man. + +And in connection with this is given a table of the further subdivision +of this history into Geological Periods, and a map showing the +distribution of the rocks of each of these periods over the surface of +the United States. + +The great divisions above given are, as stated, essentially the same as +proposed by Professor Agassiz, who, however, made the era of Fishes to +embrace the first and second ages of Palaeozoic Time, the Silurian and +the Devonian, instead of restricting it, as now done, to the latter, and +calling the former the Age of Mollusks. + +Following these general considerations, each great division of geologic +time is successively taken up, commencing with the Azoic. Each period +of the several divisions is treated of in order; and the rocks of +each epoch and their distribution described, first, as they exhibit +themselves in America,--then, more briefly, as they appear in Europe. +A full account of the life that manifested itself in each epoch, both +vegetable and animal, is likewise given in the same order. The igneous +and other disturbing agencies are then considered, and general remarks +added upon the geography, the character of the surface, and various +phenomena of the period. + +The whole of this portion of the work is abundantly illustrated with +well-executed figures of all the characteristic species that distinguish +the several periods, mostly drawn from American examples. + +_Dynamical Geology_.--This particular branch of the subject is made +less prominent than usual in geological works, but it will not be found +lacking in any point. + +The subject is presented in the following order:-- + +1. Life as an agent in protecting, destroying, and making rocks. + +2. Cohesive Attraction. + +3. The Atmosphere as a mechanical agent. + +4. Water as a mechanical agent. + +5. Heat as an agent in volcanic phenomena, igneous eruptions, +metamorphism, veins, etc. + +6. Movements of the earth's crust, plication of strata, origin of +mountains, earthquakes, etc. + +7. Chemistry of Rocks. + +Under the first head, we have much interesting matter concerning peat +and coral formations, coral reefs and their origin, illustrated with +figures. + +Under the head of Water as an Agent, some plates are given, new to the +general reader, of the remarkable _cañons_ of the Colorado, which so +well illustrate the powerful agency of this element in wearing away +for itself deep channels in the strata. Under the same head is an +interesting essay upon Glaciers, with figures, one of which is a reduced +copy of a sketch in Agassiz's great work, representing the Glacier of +Zermatt, in the Monte-Rosa region. + +Under the head of Heat as an Agent, we have, as might be expected, +interesting and valuable matter upon volcanic phenomena, and those of +metamorphism. + +We have thus briefly passed in review the contents of the work, and +without criticism, too, for we would scarcely have a sentence in the +book altered or omitted. Yet we do not always concur in all the views +expressed or implied by the author. For instance, we consider the +evidence of the Jurassic age of the Ichnolitic strata of the sandstone +of the Connecticut River too strong to allow of their being any longer +classed among the Triassic. We certainly differ from him in much that is +said upon the subject of Man, as of one species. Yet we do not care to +dwell upon these points, especially the latter. Our author will not +expect to find all readers agreeing with him upon such mooted questions. + +We do not think that we overestimate the value of this work, when +we express our belief that its publication will mark an era in our +geological progress. By this we do not mean to imply that its character +is such as to be of great service to those among us who are already +learned in the geology and palaeontology of our continent; but we do +mean to affirm, that, by the efficient aid which this work will be to +them, thousands and tens of thousands who have sought hitherto for +information on its great subjects, when seeking was literally "groping +in darkness," will be helped forward to a degree of knowledge respecting +the history and life of our globe which they could not otherwise have +attained. + + +_Elements of Military Art and History_: comprising the History and +Tactics of the Separate Arms, the Combination of the Arms, and the Minor +Operations of War. By EDWARD DE LA BARRE DUPARCQ, Captain of Engineers +in the Army of France, and Professor of the Military Art in the School +of Saint-Cyr. Translated and edited by BRIGADIER-GENERAL GEORGE W. +CULLUM, Chief of Staff of the General-in-Chief of the Armies of the +United States. 8vo. New York: D. Van Nostrand. + +War has its science and its art. There is a domain of general +_principles_, which have their application in all the active operations +of war; and military _science_ is but the sum of these principles in +their theory and practice. The _art_ of war deals more directly with +the details and practical direction of military affairs, and abounds in +_rules_ of action, organization, and administration. Military science +and art are equally the results of experience in war. Principles of +strategy have grown out of the exercise of the highest military mind in +weighing the general features of campaigns, and from the perceptive and +logical recognition of those elements essential to success. The art +of war has grown up as a body of practices, traditions, and rules, +naturally resulting from the immense sum of experience in military life +and action among all nations. It is, indeed, so inwoven with military +history that the two should be studied in connection. Military art is +more mature than military science; and in war, as in the practice of +other professions and trades, definite and empirical rules for daily +guidance, based mainly on practice, serve almost to exclude science and +to keep it unprogressive. When, however, a Napoleonic mind becomes truly +imbued with vital military principles, its most successful strokes +may result from a bold disregard of rules under the lead of higher +intelligence. But as military science is very imperfect, and as +Hannibals, Fredericks, and Napoleons are not every-day products, it +behooves lesser lights to study the art of war most conscientiously, in +the hope of at least escaping the fatal category of blunders which crude +officers are forever repeating. + +The publication of a really good book on Military Art and History is, +just now, a fortunate event, and its appearance two years since might +have saved us much costly and mortifying experience. Enlightened men +of all nations concede to the French school of soldiers and military +authors a certain preeminence, due partly to the genius of the people +and partly to the immense vital growth of war-craft under Napoleon. +Barre Duparcq is one of the most favorably known among recent military +writers in France. As an engineer officer and Professor of Military +Art in the famous school of Saint-Cyr, he has been led to study +fortification, military history, army-organization, and the art of war +with a methodical thoroughness, which, besides other highly valued +works, has given us its ripe fruit in the volume before us. If not the +very best, this is certainly among the best of the numerous volumes +devoted to this topic; and General Cullum's judgment in selecting this +work for translation is fully justified by the admirable system, clear +and learned, but brief exposition, and entirely trustworthy quality, +which even hasty readers must recognize. Could this book be put into the +hands and heads of our numerous intelligent, but untrained officers, it +would work a transformation supremely needed. It is lamentable to think +how many precious lives and how much national honor have been thrown +away from the lack of just that portion of military instruction which +is here offered in a single volume. Though no one book can make an +accomplished officer, we may say that no officer can read Duparcq's +Elements without positive advantage and real progress as a soldier. +The topics treated, with constant illustration from history, are, +the organization and functions of the four arms, infantry, cavalry, +artillery, and engineers; organization of active armies; marches and +battles; outposts; detachments; armed reconnoissances; passage of +rivers; convoys; partisans; redoubts; barricades; heights; roads; farms +or houses; forages; defiles; villages; and field hygiene. + +General Cullum is well known as one of the most proficient students +of military science and art in our service, and is amply qualified to +prepare an original textbook on this subject. That he should have +found time to translate Duparcq's work, amid his arduous and important +services as General Halleck's chief of staff and chief engineer during +the remarkable Western campaign, shows an industry only to be explained +by his intense realization of the need of a book like this, as an +antidote to that deficient military instruction which has been so +replete with bad results. The translation is a faithful and lucid +rendering of the original, and the technical words and expressions are +generally satisfactory equivalents of the French terms. + +We venture to express the hope that this painful war will lead to a +fresh and successful study of military science and art in relation to +American campaign-elements, so that future contingencies can be more +creditably met than was that which Secession suddenly precipitated on +us. + + +_Rejoinder to Mrs. Stowe's Reply to the Address of the Women of +England_. + +Emily Faithfull, "printer and publisher in ordinary to Her Majesty," has +issued from the "Victoria Press," in London, a small pamphlet with the +above title, written at the request of a committee of British women by +Miss Frances Power Cobbe, author of "Intuitive Morals." As Mrs. Stowe's +"Reply" was first printed in this magazine, we here give the whole +"Rejoinder." + +"The following Address has been written with the belief that it embodies +the general sentiments of English women on the subject of Slavery. It +has been decided to seek no signatures on the present occasion, rather +than repeat the vast undertaking of obtaining any number which should +adequately correspond with the half-million names appended to the former +Address. + +"MADAM,--You have asked of the women of England a solemn question. You +have recalled the Address which half a million of us once sent you, +appealing to our sisters in America to raise their voices against +Slavery; and you demand, Where is now the spirit which dictated that +appeal? You quote the evidence of our press and our public speakers, +that the righteous indignation against Slavery which once kindled in all +English hearts has waned, if it have not died out; and you allege that +we have been wanting in generous faith and sympathy for the North in her +great struggle, and have even descended to afford countenance, if +not assistance, to the South. You challenge us to account for this +dereliction from our former ardent sentiments, and you ask wherefore it +is that _now_, when the conflict has assumed its most terrible form, and +the peaceful persuasions of philanthropists have been superseded by +the shock of contending armies spreading desolation through your +land,--_now_ we stand afar off, viewing coldly that awful contest, and +sending, instead of cheering words of sympathy and faith, only doubts +and lamentations over a 'fratricidal war,' and regrets partitioned with +strange impartiality between the sufferers in the cause of free America, +and those who have, in their own audacious words,' founded their +commonwealth on the institution of Slavery.' You retort our old appeal +in the face of these things, and you say to us, 'Sisters, you have +spoken well; we have heard you; we have heeded; we have striven in the +cause, even unto death; we have sealed our devotion by desolate hearth +and darkened homestead,--by the blood of sons, husbands, and brothers. +In many of our dwellings the very light of our lives has gone out, and +yet we accept the lifelong darkness as our own part in this great and +awful expiation, by which the bonds of wickedness shall be loosed, and +abiding peace established on the foundation of righteousness. Sisters, +what have _you_ done, and what do you mean to do? In view of the decline +of the noble anti-slavery fire in England, in view of all the facts +and admissions recited from your own papers, we beg leave, in solemn +sadness, to return to you your own words:-- + +"'A common origin, a common faith, and, we sincerely believe, a common +cause, urge us at the present moment to address you on the subject of +the fearful encouragement and support which is being afforded by England +to a slave-holding Confederacy. We appeal to you as sisters, as wives, +as mothers, to raise your voices to your fellow-citizens, and your +prayers to God, for the removal of this affliction and disgrace from the +Christian world.' + +"Madam, in answering this solemn appeal, we do not desire to detail the +causes which may, in a measure, explain or palliate this failure in +our national sympathy, whose existence (in so far as it is true) we +profoundly deplore. Enough, and more than enough, debate has been +already held on the complicated motives which have blended in your +war, as in all other human concerns, and on the occasional acts of +questionable spirit which must inevitably attend the public policy and +sentiments of a nation engaged in deadliest conflict and bleeding at +every pore. Somewhat you may perhaps forgive to those who have withheld +their full sympathies, jealous that a most righteous cause should +be maintained with any save the most untainted motives and the most +unbending rectitude, and who have failed even yet to read in your policy +the full _desire_ to accomplish that end of universal emancipation +whereto Providence is visibly directing the course of events. +Somewhat, also, may be forgiven to those who have been misled by the +misrepresentations of a portion of our press, and offended by the +inimical spirit of your own. But, Madam, although many lips have been +closed which ought to have spoken to you words of blessing, though the +voice of England which has reached you has lacked that full tone of +heartfelt sympathy you had justly anticipated, yet believe not that +our nation is truly alienated from yours, or apostate to the great +principles of freedom which were once our glory. The heart of England is +sound at the core: Slavery is now and ever an abomination in our eyes; +nor has the dastard proposition to recognize the Confederate States +failed to call forth indignant rejection, and that even with peculiar +earnestness from those suffering operatives whose relief such a measure +might have secured. It is to assure you of this, to vindicate ourselves +from the shame of turning back in the hour of trial,--most foreign to +our common Saxon race,--that we, the Women of England, offer you this +response. + +"We do not less abhor Slavery now than when your eloquent words called +out an echo of feeling throughout Europe, such as no other appeal for +the wronged or the miserable ever produced. We abhor Slavery, judging it +simply as _human beings_, and because of all the agonies and tortures it +has occasioned. We abhor it, judging it especially as _women_, because +of all the unspeakable wrongs, the hideous degradation, it has inflicted +on our sex. But we abhor it not only because of these its results, nor +with a hatred which would be withdrawn, were they disputable now or +remediable hereafter. We abhor Slavery for itself, and for its own +enormous iniquity,--even the robbing from a human being of that freedom +which it was the supreme gift of Omnipotence to bestow. We hold, that, +were it in the power of the slaveholder to make his slaves absolutely +happy, Slavery would not less be an injustice and a crime. Happiness is +not to be measured against freedom, else would God have left us brutes, +not men, and spared us all the sorrows of struggling humanity. And +whereas it has been argued that the negro is of a race inferior to his +master, and that therefore it is justifiable to enslave him, we reply, +that the right to freedom is not founded on the equality of the holder +to any other human being, else were every white man also lawfully to be +enslaved by every other stronger or wiser than himself. But the right to +freedom is founded simply and solely on the moral nature wherewith God +has endowed every man and woman of the human race, enabling them, by its +use, to attain to that virtue which is the end of their creation. And +whereas others, again, have defended Slavery on the grounds of the +supposed Divine sanction to be found for it in the Scriptures, we reply, +that we deplore the condition of those whose religion can lend itself +to the task of seeking to appeal to God for the permission of an +institution which the consciences He has made unequivocally loathe +and condemn. Nor shall we hesitate to stigmatize such an appeal as +hypocrisy, until the theologians who make it advance a step farther, and +tell us that they are prepared to represent Jesus of Nazareth as one +who, in fitting time and place, might have been a purchaser and a master +of slaves. Thus, Madam, do we still condemn and abhor Slavery, as we +have ever done, as in itself, and in its own nature, utterly evil and +utterly indefensible; and we consider its vast and terrible results of +cruelty and immorality to be only the natural fruit of so stupendous a +wrong. + +"We have not withheld from your nation either the tribute of admiration +for the vast sacrifices you have made, or of sympathy for the +bereavements and sufferings you have endured. But the expression of such +admiration and sympathy from the truest hearts among us has been almost +silenced by the solemn joy wherewith we have beheld your country purging +herself, even through seas of blood, for her guilty participation in the +crimes of the past, and preparing for herself the stainless future of 'a +land wherein dwelleth righteousness.' We have rejoiced in the midst of +sorrow to know that the doom of Slavery was written by a Divine Hand, +even from the hour when its upholders dared to believe it possible in +the face of Heaven to build up a State upon an injustice. We have looked +with awe-struck consciences to this great revelation of the moral laws +which govern the nations of the earth, and show to men who sought for +God in the records of distant ages that the Living Lord still rules +on high, and is working out even before our eyes the delivery of the +captive and the punishment of the oppressor. The greatest national sin +of Christian times has wrought the greatest national overthrow. The +hidden evil of the land, which long smouldered underground, has blazed +forth at last like a volcano, bursting in sunder the most solid of human +institutions, and pouring the lava-streams of ruin and desolation even +to the remotest shores where the spoil of guilt had been partaken. But +while we behold with awe, in the present calamity, the manifestation of +Supreme Justice, we look with confident hope to the final issue to which +it must lead. In whatever mode that end may be brought out, and through +whatever struggles America may yet be doomed to pass, we are assured +that only one termination can await a conflict between a nation which +has abjured its complicity with crime and a confederation which exists +but to perpetuate that crime forever. It is not now, in the presence of +the events of the last three years, that we shall be tempted to fear +that Wrong and Robbery, and the systematic degradation of woman, may +possibly prove to be principles of stability, capable of producing the +security and consolidation of a commonwealth! Your courage in this +Titanic strife,--the lavish devotion with which the best blood of your +land has been poured out on the field, and the tears of childless +mothers shed in homes never before visited by the sorrows of war,--the +patriotic generosity with which your treasures have been cast into the +gulf opened suddenly in your busy and prosperous land, even as of old +in the forum of ancient Rome,--these noble acts of yours inspire with +confidence in you, no less than pride in the indomitable energies of +our common race. But above your valor and your patriotism, we look with +still higher hope to those moral laws whose vindication is involved in +the issue of the conflict; and we feel assured, that, while for the +Slave-Power the future can hold no possibility of enduring prosperity, +for Free America it promises the regeneration of a higher and holier +national existence, when the one great blot which marred the glory of +the past shall have been expiated and effaced forever. + +"This, Madam, is the belief and these are the hopes of thousands of +Englishmen. They are, we are persuaded, even more universally the +belief and hopes of the Women of England, whose hearts the complicated +difficulties of politics and the miserable jealousies of national +rivalry do not distract from the great principles underlying the +contest. The failure of English sympathy whereof you complain is +but partial at the most, and for that partial failure we deeply and +sorrowfully grieve. But the nation at large is still true; and wherever +it has been possible to learn the feelings of the great masses, no lack +of ardent feeling has ever been found in England for the Northern cause. +Though senseless words and inhuman jests have been bandied across the +Atlantic, yet we are assured that in the heart of both our nations +survives unchanged that _kindred_ regard and respect whose property it +is, above other human feelings, to be indestructible. At this hour of +your own greatest need and direful struggle,--at this hour, when a +pirate from our ports is ravaging your shores, as you believe (albeit +erroneously) with our guilty connivance--at this very hour you have come +forward with noblest generosity, and sent us the rich vessel which has +brought food to our starving people. The _Griswold_ has been your answer +to the _Alabama_. It is a magnanimous, a sublime one; and English hearts +are not too cold to read it aright, or to cherish through all future +time the memory thereof. Scorn and hate are transient and evanescent +things; charity and love have in them the elements of immortality. + +"Madam, we answer your Appeal by this rejoinder, and send this message +through your honored hands to our sisters in America: Our hearts +are with you in unchanged sympathy for your holy cause, in undying +abhorrence of Slavery, in profound sorrow for your present afflictions, +and in firmest faith in the final overthrow of that unrighteous Power +whose corner-stone is an injustice and a crime. + +"IN BEHALF OF + +"THE WOMEN OF ENGLAND." + + * * * * * + + +RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS + +RECEIVED BY THE EDITORS OF THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + + +The Pentateuch and Book of Joshua critically Examined. By the Right Rev. +John William Colenso, D.D., Bishop of Natal. New York. D. 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Dana, M.A., +LL.D., Silliman Professor of Geology and Natural History in Yale +College, Author of "A System of Mineralogy," of Reports of Wilkes's +Exploring Expedition, on Geology, on Zoöphytes, and on Crustacea, etc. +Illustrated by a Chart of the World, and over a Thousand Figures, mostly +from American Sources. Philadelphia. Theodore Bliss & Co. 8vo. pp. xvi., +798. $5.00. + +The Old Merchants of New York. By Walter Barrett, Clerk. New York. G.W. +Carleton. 12mo. pp. 472. $1.50. + +Miriam. By Marion Harland. New York. Sheldon & Co. 12mo. pp. 549. $1.25. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Atlantic Monthly, Vol. XI., April, +1863, No. LXVI., by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12023 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..088e1ec --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12023 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12023) diff --git a/old/12023-8.txt b/old/12023-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8709b9e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12023-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8676 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Atlantic Monthly, Vol. XI., April, 1863, +No. LXVI., 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, Vol. XI., April, 1863, No. LXVI. + A Magazine Of Literature, Art, And Politics. + +Author: Various + +Release Date: July 15, 2004 [EBook #12023] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY *** + + + + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed +Proofreaders. Produced from page scans provided by Cornell University. + + + + + +THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + +A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS. + +VOL. XI.--APRIL, 1863.--NO. LXVI. + + + + +ON THE VICISSITUDES OF KEATS'S FAME. + + + [Joseph Severn, the author of the following paper, scarcely needs + introduction to the readers of the "Atlantic Monthly"; but no + one will object to reperusing, in connection with his valuable + contribution, this extract from the Preface to "Adonais," which + Shelley wrote in 1821:-- + + "He [Keats] was accompanied to Rome and attended in his last illness + by Mr. Severn, a young artist of the highest promise, who, I have + been informed, 'almost risked his own life, and sacrificed every + prospect, to unwearied attendance upon his dying friend.' Had I + known these circumstances before the completion of my poem, I should + have been tempted to add my full tribute of applause to the more + solid recompense which the virtuous man finds in the recollection of + his own motives. Mr. Severn can dispense with a reward from 'such + stuff as dreams are made of.' His conduct is a noble augury of the + success of his future career. May the unextinguished spirit of his + illustrious friend animate the creations of his pencil, and plead + against oblivion for his name!" + + Mr. Severn is residing in Rome at the present time, from which city + he transmits this paper.] + +I well remember being struck with the clear and independent manner which +Washington Allston, in the year 1818, expressed his opinion of John +Keats's verse, when the young poet's writings first appeared, amid the +ridicule of most English readers, Mr. Allston was at that time the only +discriminating judge among the strangers to Keats who were residing +abroad, and he took occasion to emphasize in my hearing his opinion of +the early effusions of the young poet in words like these:--"They are +crude materials of real poetry, and Keats is sure to become a great +poet." + +It is a singular pleasure to the few in personal friends of Keats in +England (who may still have to defend him against the old and worn-out +slanders) that in America he has always had a solid fame, independent of +the old English prejudices. + +Here in Rome, as I write, I look back through forty years of worldly +changes to behold Keats's dear image again in memory. It seems as if he +should be living with me now, inasmuch as I never could understand his +strange and contradictory death, his falling away so suddenly from +health and strength. He had that fine compactness of person which we +regard as the promise of longevity, and no mind was ever more exultant +in youthful feeling. I cannot summon a sufficient reason why in one +short year he should have been thus cut off, "with all his imperfections +on his head." Was it that he lived too soon,--that the world he sought +was not ready for him? + +For more than the year I am now dwelling on, he had fostered a tender +and enduring love for a young girl nearly of his own age, and this love +was reciprocal, not only in itself, but in all the worldly advantages +arising from it of fortune on her part and fame on his. It was +encouraged by the sole parent of the lady; and the fond mother was happy +in seeing her daughter so betrothed, and pleased that her inheritance +would fall to so worthy an object as Keats. This was all well settled in +the minds and hearts of the mutual friends of both parties, when poor +Keats, soon after the death of his younger brother, unaccountably showed +signs of consumption; at least, he himself thought so, though the +doctors were widely undecided about it. By degrees it began to be deemed +needful that the young poet should go to Italy, even to preserve his +life. This was at last accomplished, but too late; and now that I am +reviewing all the progress of his illness from his first symptoms, +I cannot but think his life might have been preserved by an Italian +sojourn, if it had been adopted in time, and if circumstances had been +improved as they presented themselves. And, further, if he had had the +good fortune to go to America, which he partly contemplated before the +death of his younger brother, not only would his life and health have +been preserved, but his early fame would have been insured. He would +have lived independent of the London world, which was striving to drag +him down in his poetic career, and adding to the sufferings which I +consider the immediate cause of his early death. + +In Italy he always shrank from speaking in direct terms of the actual +things which were killing him. Certainly the "Blackwood" attack was one +of the least of his miseries, for he never even mentioned it to me. The +greater trouble which was ingulfing him he signified in a hundred ways. +Was it to be wondered at, that at the time when the happiest life was +presented to his view, when it was arranged that he was to marry a young +person of beauty and fortune, when the little knot of friends who +valued him saw such a future for the beloved poet, and he himself, with +generous, unselfish feelings, looked forward to it more delighted on +their account,--was it to be wondered at, that, on the appearance of +consumption, his ardent mind should have sunk into despair? He seemed +struck down from the highest happiness to the lowest misery. He +felt crushed at the prospect of being cut off at the early age of +twenty-four, when the cup was at his lips, and he was beginning to drink +that draught of delight which was to last his mortal life through, which +would have insured to him the happiness of home, (happiness he had never +felt, for he was an orphan,) and which was to be a barrier for him +against a cold and (to him) a malignant world. + +He kept continually in his hand a polished, oval, white carnelian, the +gift of his widowing love, and at times it seemed his only consolation, +the only thing left him in this world clearly tangible. Many letters +which he was unable to read came for him. Some he allowed me to read +to him; others were too worldly,--for, as he said, he had "already +journeyed far beyond them." There were two letters, I remember, for +which he had no words, but he made me understand that I was to place +them on his heart within his winding-sheet. + +Those bright falcon eyes, which I had known only in joyous intercourse, +while revelling in books and Nature, or while he was reciting his +own poetry, now beamed an unearthly brightness and a penetrating +steadfastness that could not be looked at. It was not the fear of +death,--on the contrary, he earnestly wished to die,--but it was the +fear of lingering on and on, that now distressed him; and this was +wholly on my account. Amidst the world of emotions that were crowding +and increasing as his end approached, I could always see that his +generous concern for me in my isolated position at Rome was one of +his greatest cares. In a little basket of medicines I had bought at +Gravesend at his request there was a bottle of laudanum, and this I +afterwards found was destined by him "to close his mortal career," when +no hope was left, and to prevent a long, lingering death, for my poor +sake. When the dismal time came, and Sir James Clark was unable to +encounter Keats's penetrating look and eager demand, he insisted on +having the bottle, which I had already put away. Then came the most +touching scenes. He now explained to me the exact procedure of his +gradual dissolution, enumerated my deprivations and toils, and dwelt +upon the danger to my life, and certainly to my fortunes, from my +continued attendance upon him. One whole day was spent in earnest +representations of this sort, to which, at the same time that they +wrung my heart to hear and his to utter, I was obliged to oppose a firm +resistance. On the second day, his tender appeal turned to despair, in +all the power of his ardent imagination and bursting heart. + +From day to day, after this time, he would always demand of Sir James +Clark, "How long is this _posthumous_ life of mine to last?" On finding +me inflexible in my purpose of remaining with him, he became calm, and +tranquilly said that he was sure why I held up so patiently was owing +to my Christian faith, and that he was disgusted with himself for ever +appearing before me in such savage guise; that he now felt convinced how +much every human being required the support of religion, that he might +die decently. "Here am I," said he, "with desperation in death that +would disgrace the commonest fellow. Now, my dear Severn, I am sure, if +you could get some of the works of Jeremy Taylor to read to me, I might +become _really_ a Christian, and leave this world in peace." Most +fortunately, I was able to procure the "Holy Living and Dying." I read +some passages to him, and prayed with him, and I could tell by the grasp +of his dear hand that his mind was reviving. He was a great lover of +Jeremy Taylor, and it did not seem to require much effort in him to +embrace the Holy Spirit in these comforting works. + +Thus he gained strength of mind from day to day just in proportion as +his poor body grew weaker and weaker. At last I had the consolation of +finding him calm, trusting, and more prepared for his end than I was. He +tranquilly rehearsed to me what would be the process of his dying, what +I was to do, and how I was to _bear it_. He was even minute in his +details, evidently rejoicing that his death was at hand. In all he then +uttered he breathed a simple, Christian spirit; indeed, I always think +that he died a Christian, that "Mercy" was trembling on his dying lips, +and that his tortured soul was received by those Blessed Hands which +could alone welcome it.[A] + +[Footnote A: Whilst this was passing at Rome, another scene of the +tragedy was enacting in London. The violence of the Tory party in +attacking Keats had increased after his leaving England, but he had +found able defenders, and amongst them Mr. John Scott, the editor of +the "Champion," who published a powerful vindication of Keats, with a +denunciation of the party-spirit of his critics. This led to a challenge +from Mr. Scott to Mr. Lockhart, who was then one of the editors of +"Blackwood." The challenge was shifted over to a Mr. Christie, and he +and Mr. Scott fought at Chalk Farm, with the tragic result of the death +of Keats's defender,--and this within a few days of the poet's death at +Rome. The deplorable catastrophe was not without its compensations, for +ever after there was a more chastened feeling in both parties.] + +After the death of Keats, my countrymen in Rome seemed to vie with one +another in evincing the greatest kindness towards me. I found myself in +the midst of persons who admired and encouraged my beautiful pursuit of +painting, in which I was then indeed but a very poor student, but with +my eyes opening and my soul awakening to a new region of Art, and +beginning to feel the wings growing for artistic flights I had always +been dreaming about. + +In all this, however, there was a solitary drawback: there were few +Englishmen at Rome who knew Keats's works, and I could scarcely persuade +any one to make the effort to read them, such was the prejudice against +him as a poet; but when his gravestone was placed, with his own +expressive line, "Here lies one whose name was writ in water," then a +host started up, not of admirers, but of scoffers, and a silly jest was +often repeated in my hearing, "Here lies one whose name was writ in +water, and _his works in milk and water_"; and this I was condemned +to hear for years repeated, as though it had been a pasquinade; but I +should explain that it was from those who were not aware that I was the +friend of Keats. + +At the first Easter after his death I had a singular encounter with the +late venerable poet, Samuel Rogers, at the table of Sir George Beaumont, +the distinguished amateur artist. Perhaps in compliment to my friendship +for Keats, the subject of his death was mentioned by Sir George, and +he asked Mr. Rogers if he had been acquainted with the young poet in +England. Mr. Rogers replied, that he had had more acquaintance than he +liked, for the poems were tedious enough, and the author had come upon +him several times for money. This was an intolerable falsehood, and I +could not restrain myself until I had corrected him, which I did with my +utmost forbearance,--explaining that Sir. Rogers must have mistaken some +other person for Keats,--that I was positive my friend had never done +such a thing in any shape, or even had occasion to do it,--that he +possessed a small independence in money, and _a large one in mind_. + +The old poet received the correction, with much kindness, and thanked +me for so effectually setting him right. Indeed, this encounter was the +groundwork of a long and to me advantageous friendship between us. I +soon discovered that it was the principle of his sarcastic wit not only +to sacrifice all truth to it, but even all his friends, and that he did +not care to know any who would not allow themselves to be abused for +the purpose of lighting up his breakfast with sparkling wit, though +not quite, indeed, at the expense of the persons then present. I well +remember, on one occasion afterwards, Mr. Rogers was entertaining +us with a volley of sarcasms upon a disagreeable lawyer, who made +pretensions to knowledge and standing not to be borne; on this occasion +the old poet went on, not only to the end of the breakfast, but to the +announcement of the very man himself on an accidental visit, and then, +with a bland smile and a cordial shake of the hand, he said to him, +"My dear fellow, we have all been talking about you up to this very +minute,"--and looking at his company still at table, and with a +significant wink, he, with extraordinary adroitness and experienced +tact, repeated many of the good things, reversing the meaning of them, +and giving us the enjoyment of the _double-entendre._ The visitor was +charmed, nor even dreamed of the ugliness of his position. This incident +gave me a painful and repugnant impression of Mr. Rogers, yet no doubt +it was after the manner of his time, and such as had been the fashion in +Walpole's and Johnson's days. + +I should be unjust to the venerable poet not to add, that +notwithstanding what is here related of him, be oftentimes showed +himself the generous and noble-hearted man. I think that in all my long +acquaintance with him he evinced a kind of indirect regret that he had +commenced with me in such an ugly attack on dear Keats, whose fame, +when I went to England in 1838, was not only well established, but was +increasing from day to day, and Mr. Rogers was often at the pains to +tell me so, and to relate the many histories of poets who had been less +fortunate than Keats. + +It was in the year of the Reform Bill, 1830, that I first heard of the +Paris edition (Galignani's) of Keats's works, and I confess that I was +quite taken by surprise, nor could I really believe the report until I +saw the book with the engraved portrait from my own drawing; for, after +all the vicissitudes of Keats's fame which I had witnessed, I could not +easily understand his becoming the poet of "the million." I had now the +continued gratification in Rome of receiving frequent visits from the +admirers of Keats and Shelley, who sought every way of showing kindness +to me. One great cause of this change, no doubt, was the rise of all +kinds of mysticism in religious opinions, which often associated +themselves with Shelley's poetry, and I then for the first time heard +him named as the only really religious poet of the age. To the growing +fame of Keats I can attribute some of the pleasantest and most valuable +associations of my after-life, as it included almost the whole society +of gifted young men at that time called "Young England." Here I may +allude to the extraordinary change I now observed in the manners and +morals of Englishmen generally: the foppish love of dress was in a great +measure abandoned, and all intellectual pursuits were caught up with +avidity, and even made fashionable. + +The most remarkable example of the strange capriciousness of Keats's +fame which fell under my personal observation occurred in my later Roman +years, during the painful visit of Sir Walter Scott to Rome in the +winding-up days of his eventful life, when he was broken down not only +by incurable illness and premature old age, but also by the accumulated +misfortunes of fatal speculations and the heavy responsibility of making +up all with the pen then trembling in his failing hand. + +I had been indirectly made known to him by his favorite ward and +_protégée_, the late Lady Northampton, who, accustomed to write to him +monthly, often made mention of me; for I was on terms of friendship with +all her family, an intimacy which in great part arose from the delight +she always had in Keats's poetry, being herself a poetess, and a most +enlightened and liberal critic. + +When Sir Walter arrived, he received me like an old and attached friend; +indeed, he involuntarily tried to make me fill up the terrible void +then recently created by the death of Lady Northampton at the age of +thirty-seven years. I went at his request to breakfast with him every +morning, when he invariably commenced talking of his lost friend, of her +beauty, her singularly varied accomplishments, of his growing delight in +watching her from a child in the Island of Mull, and of his making her +so often the model of his most successful female characters, the Lady +of the Lake and Flora MacIvor particularly. Then he would stop short to +lament her unlooked-for death with tears and groans of bitterness such +as I had never before witnessed in any one,--his head sinking down on +his heaving breast. When he revived, (and this agonizing scene took +place every morning,) he implored me to pity him, and not heed his +weakness,--that in his great misfortunes, in all their complications, he +had looked forward to Rome and his dear Lady Northampton as his last and +certain hope of repose; she was to be his comfort in the winding-up of +life's pilgrimage: now, on his arrival, his life and fortune almost +exhausted, she was gone! _gone!_ After these pathetic outpourings, he +would gradually recover his old cheerfulness, his expressive gray eye +would sparkle even in tears, and soon that wonderful power he had for +description would show itself, when he would often stand up to enact +the incident of which he spoke, so ardent was he, and so earnest in the +recital. + +Each morning, at his request, I took for his examination some little +picture or sketch that might interest him, and amongst the rest a +picture of Keats, (now in the National Portrait Gallery of London,) but +this I was surprised to find was the only production of mine that seemed +not to interest him; he remained silent about it, but on all the others +he was ready with interesting comments and speculations. Observing this, +and wondering within myself at his apathy with regard to the young lost +poet, as I had reason to be proud of Keats's growing fame, I ventured to +talk about him, and of the extraordinary caprices of that fame, which at +last had found its resting-place in the hearts of _all real lovers of +poetry._ + +I soon perceived that I was touching on an embarrassing theme, and I +became quite bewildered on seeing Miss Scott turn away her face, already +crimsoned with emotion. Sir Walter then falteringly remarked, "Yes, yes, +the world finds out these things _for itself at last,_" and taking my +hand, closed the interview,--our last, for the following night he +was taken seriously ill, and I never saw him again, as his physician +immediately hurried him away from Rome. + +The incomprehensibleness of this scene induced me to mention it on the +same day to Mr. Woodhouse, the active and discriminating friend of +Keats, who had collected every written record of the poet, and to whom +we owe the preservation of many of the finest of his productions. He was +astonished at my recital, and at my being ignorant of the fact that _Sir +Walter Scott was a prominent contributor to the Review which through its +false and malicious criticisms had always been considered to have caused +the death of Keats_. + +My surprise was as great as his at my having lived all those seventeen +years in Rome and been so removed from the great world, that this, a +fact so interesting to me to know, had never reached me. I had been +unconsciously the painful means of disturbing poor old Sir Walter with +a subject so sore and unwelcome that I could only conclude it must have +been the immediate cause of his sudden illness. Nothing could be farther +from my nature than to have been guilty of such seemingly wanton +inhumanity; but I had no opportunity afterwards of explaining the truth, +or of justifying my conduct in any way. + +This was the last striking incident connected with Keats's fame which +fell within my own experience, and perhaps may have been the last, or +one of the last, symptoms of that party-spirit which in the artificial +times of George IV. was so common even among poets in their treatment of +one another,--they assuming to be mere politicians, and striving to be +oblivious of their heart-ennobling pursuit. + +It only remains for me to speak of my return to Rome in 1861, after an +absence of twenty years, and of the favorable change and the enlargement +during that time of Keats's fame,--not as manifested by new editions of +his works, or by the contests of publishers about him, or by the way in +which most new works are illustrated with quotations from him, or by the +fact that some favorite lines of his have passed into proverbs, but by +the touching evidence of his _silent grave_. That grave, which I can +remember as once the object of ridicule, has now become the poetic +shrine of the world's pilgrims who care and strive to live in the happy +and imaginative region of poetry. The head-stone, having twice sunk, +owing to its faulty foundation, has been twice renewed by loving +strangers, and each time, as I am informed, these strangers were +Americans. Here they do not strew flowers, as was the wont of olden +times, but they pluck everything that is green and living on the grave +of the poet. The _Custode_ tells me, that, notwithstanding all his pains +in sowing and planting, he cannot "meet the great consumption." Latterly +an English lady, alarmed at the rapid disappearance of the verdure on +and around the grave, actually left an annual sum to renew it. When the +_Custode_ complained to me of the continued thefts, and asked what he +was to do, I replied, "Sow and plant twice as much; extend the poet's +domain; for, as it was so scanty during his short life, surely it ought +to be afforded to him twofold in his grave." + +Here on my return to Rome, all kinds of happy associations with the poet +surround me, but none so touching as my recent meeting with his sister. +I had known her in her childhood, during my first acquaintance with +Keats, but had never seen her since. I knew of her marriage to a +distinguished Spanish patriot, Señor Llanos, and of her permanent +residence in Spain; but it was reserved for me to have the felicity of +thus accidentally meeting her, like a new-found sister, in Rome. This +city has an additional sacredness for both of us as the closing scene of +her illustrious brother's life, and I am held by her and her charming +family in loving regard as the last faithful friend of the poet. That I +may indulge the pleasures of memory and unite them with the sympathy of +present incidents, I am now engaged on a picture of the poet's grave, +and am treating it with all the picturesque advantages which the antique +locality gives me, as well as the elevated associations which this +poetic shrine inspires. The classic story of Endymion being the subject +of Keats's principal poem, I have introduced a young Roman shepherd +sleeping against the head-stone with his flock about him, whilst the +moon from behind the pyramid illuminates his figure and serves to +realize the poet's favorite theme in the presence of his grave. This +interesting incident is not fanciful, but is what I actually saw on an +autumn evening at Monte Tertanio the year following the poet's death. + + * * * * * + + +A SPASM OF SENSE. + + +The conjunction of amiability and sense in the same individual renders +that individual's position in a world like this very disagreeable. +Amiability without sense, or sense without amiability, runs along +smoothly enough. The former takes things as they are. It receives all +glitter as pure gold, and does not see that it is custom alone which +varnishes wrong with a shiny coat of respectability, and glorifies +selfishness with the aureole of sacrifice. It sets down all collisions +as foreordained, and never observes that they occur because people will +not smooth off their angles, but sharpen them, and not only sharpen +them, but run them into you. It forgets that the Lord made man upright, +but he hath sought out many inventions. It attributes all the confusion +and inaptitude which it finds to the nature of things, and never +suspects that the Devil goes around in the night, thrusting the square +men into the round places, and the round men into the square places. It +never notices that the reason why the rope does not unwind easily is +because one strand is a world too large and another a world too small, +and so it sticks where it ought to roll, and rolls where it ought to +stick. It makes sweet, faint efforts with tender fingers and palpitating +heart to oil the wheels and polish up the machine, and does not for a +moment imagine that the hitch is owing to original incompatibility of +parts and purposes, that the whole machine must be pulled to pieces +and made over, and that nothing will be done by standing patiently by, +trying to soothe away the creaking and wheezing and groaning of the +laboring, lumbering thing, by laying on a little drop of sweet-oil with +a pin-feather. As it does not see any of these things that are happening +before its eyes, of course it is shallowly happy. And on the other hand, +he who does see them and is not amiable is grimly and Grendally happy. +He likes to say disagreeable things, and all this dismay and disaster +scatter disagreeable things broadcast along his path, so that all he +has to do is to pick them up and say them. Therefore this world is his +paradise. He would not know what to do with himself in a world where +matters were sorted and folded and laid away ready for you when you +wanted them. He likes to see human affairs mixing themselves up in +irretrievable confusion. If he detects a symptom of straightening, it +shall go hard but he will thrust in his own fingers and snarl a thread +or two. He is delighted to find dogged duty and eager desire butting +each other. All the irresistible forces crashing against all the +immovable bodies give him no shock, only a pleasant titillation. He is +never so happy as when men are taking hold of things by the blade, and +cutting their hands, and losing blood. He tells them of it, but not in +order to relieve so much as to "aggravate" them; and he does aggravate +them, and is satisfied. Oh, but he is an aggravating person! + +It is you, you who combine the heart of a seraph with the head of a +cherub, who know what trouble is. You see where the shoe pinches, but +your whole soul relucts from pointing out the tender place. You see why +things go wrong, and how they might be set right; but you have a mortal +dread of being thought meddlesome and impertinent, or cold and cruel, +or restless and arrogant, if you attempt to demolish the wrong or rebel +against the custom. When you draw your bow at an abuse, people think you +are trying to bring down religion and propriety and humanity. But your +conscience will not let you see the abuse raving to and fro over the +earth without taking aim; so, either way, you are cut to the heart. + +I love men. I adore women. I value their good opinion. There is much in +them to applaud and imitate. There is much in them to elicit faith and +reverence. If, only, one could see their good qualities alone, or, +seeing their vapid and vicious ones, could contemplate them with no +touch of tenderness for the owner, life might indeed be lovely. As it +is, while I am at one moment rapt in enthusiastic admiration of the +strength and grace, the power and pathos, the hidden resources, the +profound capabilities of my race, at another, I could wish, Nero-like, +that all mankind were concentrated in one person and all womankind +in another, that I might take them, after the fashion of rural +schoolmasters, and shake their heads together. Condemnation and reproach +are not in my line; but there is so much in the world that merits +condemnation and reproach and receives indifference and even reward, +there is so much acquiescence in wrong doing and wrong thinking, so much +letting things jolt along in the same rut wherein we and they were born, +without inquiring whether, lifted into another groove, they might not +run more easily, that, if one who does see the difficulty holds his +peace, the very stones will cry out. However gladly one would lie on +a bed of roses and glide silken-sailed down the stream of life, how +exquisitely painful soever it may be to say what you fear and feel may +give pain, it is only a Sybarite who sets ease above righteousness, only +a coward who misses victory through dread of defeat. + +There are many false ideas afloat regarding womanly duties. I do not +design now to open anew any vulgar, worn-out, woman's-rightsy question. +Every remark that could be made on that theme has been made--but one, +and that I will take the liberty to make now in a single sentence and +close the discussion. It is this: the man who gave rubber-boots to women +did more to elevate woman than all the theorizers, male or female, that +ever were born. + +But without any suspicious lunges into that dubious region which lies +outside of woman's universally acknowledged "sphere," (a blight rest +upon the word!) there is within the pale, within the boundary-line which +the most conservative never dreamed of questioning, room for a great +divergence of ideas. Now divergence of ideas does not necessarily imply +fighting at short range. People may adopt a course of conduct which +you do not approve; yet you may feel it your duty to make no open +animadversion. Circumstances may have suggested such a course to them, +or forced it upon them; and perhaps, considering all things, it is the +best they can do. But when, encouraged by your silence, they publish it +to the world, not only as relatively, but intrinsically, the best and +most desirable,--when, not content with swallowing it themselves as +medicine, they insist on ramming it down your throat as food,--it is +time to buckle on your armor and have at them. + +A little book, published by the Tract Society, called "The Mother and +her Work," has been doing just this thing. It is a modest little book. +It makes no pretensions to literary or other superiority. It has much +excellent counsel, pious reflection, and comfortable suggestion. Being +a little book, it costs but little, and it will console, refresh, and +instruct weary, conscientious mothers, and so have a large circulation, +a wide influence, and do an immense amount of mischief. For the Evil One +in his senses never sends out poison labelled "POISON." He mixes it in +with great quantities of innocent and nutritive flour and sugar. He +shapes it in cunning shapes of pigs and lambs and hearts and birds and +braids. He tints it with gay hues of green and pink and rose, and puts +it in the confectioner's glass windows, where you buy--what? Poison? No, +indeed! Candy, at prices to suit the purchasers. So this good and pious +little book has such a preponderance of goodness and piety that the +poison in it will not be detected, except by chemical analysis. It +will go down sweetly, like grapes of Beulah. Nobody will suspect he +is poisoned; but just so far as it reaches and touches, the social +dyspepsia will be aggravated. + +I submit a few atoms of the poison revealed by careful examination. + +"The mother's is a _most honorable_ calling. 'What a pity that one so +gifted should be so tied down!' remarks a superficial observer, as she +looks upon the mother of a young and increasing family. The pale, thin +face and feeble step, bespeaking the multiplied and wearying cares of +domestic life, elicit an earnest sympathy from the many, thoughtlessly +flitting across her pathway, and the remark passes from mouth to mouth, +'How I pity her! What a shame it is! She is completely worn down with so +many children.' It may be, however, that this young mother is one who +needs and asks no pity," etc. + +"But the _true mother_ yields herself uncomplainingly, yea, cheerfully, +to the wholesome privation, solitude, and self-denial allotted +her.....Was she fond of travelling, of visiting the wonderful in Nature +and in Art, of mingling in new and often-varying scenes? Now she has +found 'an abiding city,' and no allurements are strong enough to tempt +her thence. Had society charms for her, and in the social circle and the +festive throng were her chief delights? Now she stays at home, and the +gorgeous saloon and brilliant assemblage give place to the nursery and +the baby. Was she devoted to literary pursuits? Now the library is +seldom visited, the cherished studies are neglected, the rattle and the +doll are substituted for the pen. Her piano is silent, while she chants +softly and sweetly the soothing lullaby. Her dress can last another +season now, and the hat--oh, she does not care, if it is not in the +latest mode, for she has a baby to look after, and has no time for +herself. Even the ride and the walk are given up, perhaps too often, +with the excuse, 'Baby-tending is exercise enough for me.' Her whole +life is reversed." + +The assumption is that all this is just as it should be. The thoughtless +person may fancy that it is a pity; but it is not a pity. This is +a model mother and a model state of things. It is not simply to be +submitted to, not simply to be patiently borne; it is to be aspired to +as the noblest and holiest state. + +That is the strychnine. You may counsel people to take joyfully the +spoiling of their goods, and comfort, encourage, and strengthen them by +so doing; but when you tell them that to be robbed and plundered is of +itself a priceless blessing, the highest stage of human development, +you do them harm; because, in general, falsehood is always harmful, and +because, in particular, so far as you influence them at all, you prevent +them from taking measures to stop the wrong-doing. You ought to counsel +them to bear with Christian resignation what they cannot help; but you +ought with equal fervor to counsel them to look around and see if there +are not many things which they can help, and if there are, by all means +to help them. What is inevitable comes to us from God, no matter how +many hands it passes through; but submission to unnecessary evils is +cowardice or laziness; and extolling of the evil as good is sheer +ignorance, or perversity, or servility. Even the ills that must be borne +should be borne under protest, lest patience degenerate into slavery. +Christian character is never formed by acquiescence in or apotheosis of +wrong. + +The principle that underlies these extracts, and makes them ministrative +of evil, is the principle that a woman can benefit her children by +sacrificing herself. It teaches, that pale, thin faces and feeble steps +are excellent things in young mothers,--provided they are gained by +maternal duties. We infer that it is meet, right, and the bounden +duty of such to give up society, reading, riding, music, and become +indifferent to dress, cultivation, recreation, to everything, in short, +except taking care of the children. It is all just as wrong as it can +be. It is wrong morally; it is wrong socially; wrong in principle, wrong +in practice. It is a blunder as well as a crime, for it works woe. It is +a wrong means to accomplish an end; and it does not accomplish the end, +after all, but demolishes it. + +On the contrary, the duty and dignity of a mother require that she +should never subordinate herself to her children. When she does so, she +does it to their manifest injury and her own. Of course, if illness or +accident demand unusual care, she does well to grow thin and pale in +bestowing unusual care. But when a mother in the ordinary routine of +life grows thin and pale, gives up riding, reading, and the amusements +and occupations of life, there is a wrong somewhere, and her children +shall reap the fruits of it. The father and mother are the head of the +family, the most comely and the most honorable part. They cannot benefit +their children by descending from their Heaven-appointed places, and +becoming perpetual and exclusive feet and hands. This is the great +fault of American mothers. They swamp themselves in a slough of +self-sacrifice. They are smothered in their own sweetness. They dash +into domesticity with an impetus and abandonment that annihilate +themselves. They sink into their families like a light in a poisonous +well, and are extinguished. + +One hears much complaint of the direction and character of female +education. It is dolefully affirmed that young ladies learn how to sing +operas, but not how to keep house,--that they can conjugate Greek verbs, +but cannot make bread,--that they are good for pretty toying, but not +for homely using. Doubtless there is foundation for this remark, or it +would never have been made. But I have been in the East, and the West, +and the North, and the South; I know that I have seen the best society, +and I am sure I have seen very bad, if not the worst; and I never met a +woman whose superior education, whose piano, whose pencil, whose German, +or French, or any school-accomplishments, or even whose novels, clashed +with her domestic duties. I have read of them in books; I did hear of +one once; but I never met one,--not one. I have seen women, through love +of gossip, through indolence, through sheer famine of mental _pabulum_, +leave undone things that ought to be done,--rush to the assembly, +the lecture-room, the sewing-circle, or vegetate in squalid, shabby, +unwholesome homes; but I never saw education run to ruin. So it seems to +me that we are needlessly alarmed in that direction. + +But I have seen scores and scores of women leave school, leave their +piano and drawing and fancy-work, and all manner of pretty and pleasant +things, and marry and bury themselves. You hear of them about six times +in ten years, and there is a baby each time. They crawl out of the +farther end of the ten years, sallow and wrinkled and lank,--teeth gone, +hair gone, roses gone, plumpness gone,--freshness, and vivacity, and +sparkle, everything that is dewy, and springing, and spontaneous, gone, +gone, gone forever. This our Tract-Society book puts very prettily. "She +wraps herself in the robes of infantile simplicity, and, burying +her womanly nature in the tomb of childhood, patiently awaits the +sure-coming resurrection in the form of a noble, high-minded, +world-stirring son, or a virtuous, lovely daughter. The nursery is the +mother's chrysalis. Let her abide for a little season, and she shall +emerge triumphantly, with ethereal wings and a happy flight." + +But the nursery has no business to be the mother's chrysalis. God never +intended her to wind herself up into a cocoon. If He had, He would have +made her a caterpillar. She has no right to bury her womanly nature in +the tomb of childhood. It will surely be required at her hands. It was +given her to sun itself in the broad, bright day, to root itself fast +and firm in the earth, to spread itself wide to the sky, that her +children in their infancy and youth and maturity, that her husband in +his strength and his weakness, that her kinsfolk and neighbors and the +poor of the land, the halt and the blind and all Christ's little ones, +may sit under its shadow with great delight. No woman has a right to +sacrifice her own soul to problematical, high-minded, world-stirring +sons, and virtuous, lovely daughters. To be the mother of such, one +might perhaps pour out one's life in draughts so copious that the +fountain should run dry; but world-stirring people are extremely rare. +One in a century is a liberal allowance. The overwhelming probabilities +are, that her sons will be lawyers and shoemakers and farmers and +commission-merchants, her daughters nice, "smart," pretty girls, +all good, honest, kind-hearted, commonplace people, not at all +world-stirring, not at all the people one would glory to merge one's +self in. If the mother is not satisfied with this, if she wants them +otherwise, she must be otherwise. The surest way to have high-minded +children is to be high-minded yourself. A man cannot burrow in his +counting-room for ten or twenty of the best years of his life, and come +out as much of a man and as little of a mole as he went in. But the +twenty years should have ministered to his manhood, instead of trampling +on it. Still less can a woman bury herself in her nursery, and come out +without harm. But the years should have done her great good. This world +is not made for a tomb, but a garden. You are to be a seed, not a death. +Plant yourself, and you will sprout. Bury yourself, and you can only +decay. For a dead opportunity there is no resurrection. The only +enjoyment, the only use to be attained in this world, must be attained +on the wing. Each day brings its own happiness, its own benefit; but it +has none to spare. What escapes to-day is escaped forever. To-morrow has +no overflow to atone for the lost yesterdays. + +Few things are more painful to look upon than the self-renunciation, +the self-abnegation of mothers,--painful both for its testimony and its +prophecy. Its testimony is of over-care, over-work, over-weariness, the +abuse of capacities that were bestowed for most sacred uses, an utter +waste of most pure and life-giving waters. Its prophecy is of early +decline and decadence, forfeiture of position and power, and worst, +perhaps, of all, irreparable loss and grievous wrong to the children for +whom all is sacrificed. + +God gives to the mother supremacy in her family. It belongs to her to +maintain it. This cannot be done without exertion. The temptation to +come down from her throne and become a mere hewer of wood, and drawer of +water is very strong. It is so much easier to work with the hands than +with the head. One can chop sticks all day serenely unperplexed. But to +administer a government demands observation and knowledge and judgment +and resolution and inexhaustible patience. Yet, however uneasy lies the +head that wears the crown of womanhood, that crown cannot be bartered +away for any baser wreath without infinite harm. In both cases there +must be sacrifice; but in the one case it is unto death, in the other +unto life. If the mother stands on high ground, she brings her children +up to her own level; if she sinks, they sink with her. + +To maintain her rank, no exertion is too great, no means too small. +Dress is one of the most obvious things to a child. If the mother wears +cheap or shabby or ill-assorted clothes, while the children's are fine +and harmonious, it is impossible that they should not receive the +impression that they are of more consequence than their mother. +Therefore, for her children's sake, if not for her own, the mother +should always be well-dressed. Her baby, so far as it is concerned in +the matter, instead of being an excuse for a faded bonnet, should be an +inducement for a fresh one. It is not a question of riches or poverty; +it is a thing of relations. It is simply that the mother's dress--her +morning and evening and street and church dress--should be quite as good +as, and if there is any difference, better than her child's. It is of no +manner of consequence how a child is clad, provided only its health be +not injured, its taste corrupted, or its self-respect wounded. Children +look prettier in the cheapest and simplest materials than in the richest +and most elaborate. But how common is it to see the children gayly +caparisoned in silk and feathers and flounces, while the mother is +enveloped in an atmosphere of cottony fadiness! One would take the child +to be mistress and the mother a servant. "But," the mother says, "I +do not care for dress, and Caroline does. She, poor child, would be +mortified not to be dressed like the other children." Then do you teach +her better. Plant in her mind a higher standard of self-respect. Don't +tell her you cannot afford to do for her thus and thus; that will +scatter premature thorns along her path; but say that you do not approve +of it; it is proper for her to dress in such and such a way. And be so +nobly and grandly a woman that she shall have faith in you. + +It is essential also that the mother have sense, intelligence, +comprehension. + +As much as she can add of education and accomplishments will increase +her stock in trade. Her reading and riding and music, instead of being +neglected for her children's sake, should for their sake be scrupulously +cultivated. Of the two things, it is a thousand times better that they +should be attended by a nurserymaid in their infancy than by a feeble, +timid, inefficient matron in their youth. The mother can oversee half +a dozen children with a nurse; but she needs all her strength, all +her mind, her own eyes, and ears, and quick perceptions, and delicate +intuition, and calm self-possession, when her sturdy boys and wild young +girls are leaping and bounding and careering into their lusty life. All +manner of novel temptations beset them,--perils by night and perils by +day,--perils in the house and by the way. Their fierce and hungry young +souls, rioting in awakening consciousness, ravening for pleasure, strong +and tumultuous, snatch eagerly at every bait. They want then a mother +able to curb, and guide, and rule them; and only a mother who commands +their respect can do this. Let them see her sought for her social +worth,--let them see that she is familiar with all the conditions +of their life,--that her vision is at once broader and keener than +theirs,--that her feet have travelled along the paths they are just +beginning to explore,--that she knows all the phases alike of their +strength and their weakness,--and her influence over them is unbounded. +Let them see her uncertain, uncomfortable, hesitating, fearful without +discrimination, leaning where she ought to support, interfering without +power of suggesting, counselling, but not controlling, with no presence, +no bearing, no experience, no prestige, and they will carry matters with +a high hand. They will overrule her decisions, and their love will not +be unmingled with contempt. It will be strong enough to prick them when +they have done wrong, but not strong enough to keep them from doing +wrong. + +Nothing gives a young girl such vantage-ground in society and in life as +a mother,--a sensible, amiable, brilliant, and commanding woman. Under +the shelter of such a mother's wing, the neophyte is safe. This mother +will attract to herself the wittiest and the wisest. The young girl can +see society in its best phases, without being herself drawn out into +its glare. She forms her own style on the purest models. She gains +confidence, without losing modesty. Familiar with wisdom, she will not +be dazed by folly. Having the opportunity to make observations before +she begins to be observed, she does not become the prey of the weak and +the wicked. Her taste is strengthened and refined, her standard elevates +itself, her judgment acquires a firm basis. But cast upon her own +resources, her own blank inexperience, at her first entrance into the +world, with nothing to stand between her and what is openly vapid and +covertly vicious, with no clear eye to detect for her the false and +distinguish the true, no strong, firm, judicious hand to guide tenderly +and undeviatingly, to repress without irritating and encourage without +emboldening, what wonder that the peach-bloom loses its delicacy, +deepening into _rouge_ or hardening into brass, and the happy young life +is stranded on a cruel shore? + +Hence it follows that our social gatherings consist, to so lamentable +an extent, of pert youngsters or faded oldsters. Thence come those +abominable "young people's parties," where a score or two or three of +boys and girls meet and manage after their own hearts. Thence it happens +that conversation seems to be taking its place among the Lost Arts, and +the smallest of small talk reigns in its stead. Society, instead of +giving its tone to the children, takes it from them, and since it cannot +be juvenile, becomes insipid, and because it is too old to prattle, +jabbers. Talkers are everywhere, but where are the men that say things? +Where are the people that can be listened to and quoted? Where are the +flinty people whose contact strikes fire? Where are the electric people +who thrill a whole circle with sudden vitality? Where are the strong +people who hedge themselves around with their individuality, and will be +roused by no prince's kiss, but taken only by storm, yet, once captured, +are sweeter than the dews of Hymettus? Where are the seers, the +prophets, the Magi, who shall unfold for us the secrets of the sky and +the seas, and the mystery of human hearts? + +Yet fathers and mothers not only acquiesce in this state of things, +they approve of it. They foster it. They are forward to annihilate +themselves. They are careful to let their darlings go out alone, lest +they be a restraint upon them,--as if that were not what parents were +made for. If they were what they ought to be, the restraint would be +not only wholesome, but impalpable. The relation between parents and +children should be such that pleasure shall not be quite perfect, unless +shared by both. Parents ought to take such a tender, proud, intellectual +interest in the pursuits and amusements of their children that the +children shall feel the glory of the victory dimmed, unless their +parents are there to witness it. If the presence of a sensible mother is +felt as a restraint, it shows conclusively that restraint is needed. + +A woman also needs self-cultivation, both physical and mental, in order +to self-respect. Undoubtedly Diogenes glorified himself in his tub. But +people in general, and women in universal, except the geniuses,--need +the pomp of circumstance. A slouchy garb is both effect and cause of +a slouchy mind. A woman who lets go her hold upon dress, literature, +music, amusement, will almost inevitably slide down into a bog of muggy +moral indolence. She will lose her spirit; and when the spirit is +gone out of a woman, there is not much left of her. When she cheapens +herself, she diminishes her value. Especially when the evanescent charms +of mere youth are gone, when the responsibilities of life have left +their mark upon her, is it indispensable that she attend to all the +fitnesses of externals, and strengthen and polish all her mental +and social qualities. By this I do not mean that women should allow +themselves to lose their beauty as they increase in years. Men grow +handsomer as they grow older. There is no reason, there ought to be no +reason, why women should not. They will have a different kind of beauty, +but it will be just as truly beauty and more impressive and attractive +than the beauty of sixteen. It is absurd to suppose that God has made +women so that their glory passes away in half a dozen years. It is +absurd to suppose that thought and feeling and passion and purpose, +all holy instincts and impulses, can chisel away on a woman's face for +thirty, forty, fifty years, and leave that face at the end worse than +they found it. They found it a negative,--mere skin and bone, blood and +muscle and fat. They can but leave their mark upon it, and the mark of +good is good. Pity does not have the same finger-touch as revenge. Love +does not hold the same brush as hatred. Sympathy and gratitude and +benevolence have a different sign-manual from cruelty and carelessness +and deceit. All these busy little sprites draw their fine lines, lay +on their fine colors; the face lights up under their tiny hands; the +prisoned soul shines clearer and clearer through, and there is the +consecration and the poet's dream. + +But such beauty is made, not born. Care and weariness and despondency +come of themselves, and groove their own furrows. Hope and intelligence +and interest and buoyancy must be wooed for their gentle and genial +touch. A mother must battle against the tendencies that drag her +downward. She must take pains to grow, or she will not grow. She +must sedulously cultivate her mind and heart, or her old age will be +ungraceful; and if she lose freshness without acquiring ripeness, she is +indeed in an evil case. The first, the most important trust which God +has given to any one is himself. To secure this trust, He has made us so +that in no possible way can we benefit the world so much as by making +the most of ourselves. Indulging our whims, or, inordinately, our just +tastes, is not developing ourselves; but neither is leaving our own +fields to grow thorns and thistles, that we may plant somebody else's +garden-plot, keeping our charge. Even were it possible for a mother to +work well to her children in thus working ill to herself, I do not think +she would be justified in doing it. Her account is not complete when she +says, "Here are they whom thou hast given me." She must first say, "Here +am I." But when it is seen that suicide is also child-murder, it must +appear that she is under doubly heavy bonds for herself. + +Husbands, moreover, have claims, though wives often ignore them. It +is the commonest thing in the world to see parents tender of their +children's feelings, alive to their wants, indulgent to their tastes, +kind, considerate, and forbearing, but to each other hasty, careless, +and cold. Conjugal love often seems to die out before parental love. +It ought not so to be. Husband and wife should each stand first in the +other's estimation. They have no right to forget each other's comfort, +convenience, sensitiveness, tastes, or happiness in those of their +children. Nothing can discharge them from the obligations which they are +under to each other. But if a woman lets herself become shabby, drudgy, +and commonplace as a wife, in her efforts to be perfect as a mother, can +she expect to retain the consideration that is due to the wife? Not a +man in the world but would rather see his wife tidy, neat, and elegant +in her attire, easy and assured in her bearing, intelligent and +vivacious in her talk, than the contrary; and if she neglect these +things, ought she to be surprised, if he turns to fresh woods and +pastures new for the diversion and entertainment which he seeks in vain +at home? This is quaky ground, but I know where I am, and I am not +afraid. I don't expect men or women to say that they agree with me, but +I am right for all that. Let us bring our common sense to bear on this +point, and not be fooled by reiteration. Cause and effect obtain here as +elsewhere. If you add two and two, the result is four, however much +you may try to blink it. People do not always tell lies, when they are +telling what is not the truth; but falsehood is still disastrous. +Men and women think they believe a thousand things which they do not +believe; but as long as they think so, it is just as bad as if it +were so. Men talk--and women listen and echo--about the overpowering +loveliness and charm of a young mother surrounded by her blooming +family, ministering to their wants and absorbed in their welfare, +self-denying and self-forgetful; and she is lovely and charming; but +if this is all, it is little more than the charm and loveliness of a +picture. It is not magnetic and irresistible. It has the semblance, but +not the smell of life. It is pretty to look at, but it is not vigorous +for command. Her husband will have a certain kind of admiration and +love. Her wish will be law within a certain very limited sphere; but +beyond that he will not take her into his counsels and confidence. A +woman must make herself obvious to her husband, or he will drift out +beyond her horizon. She will be to him very nearly what she wills and +works to be. If she adapts herself to her children and does not adapt +herself to her husband, he will fall into the arrangement, and the two +will fall apart. I do not mean that they will quarrel, but they will +lead separate lives. They will be no longer husband and wife. There will +be a domestic alliance, but no marriage. A predominant interest in +the same objects binds them together after a fashion; but marriage is +something beyond that. If a woman wishes and purposes to be the friend +of her husband,--if she would be valuable to him, not simply as the +nurse of his children and the directress of his household, but as a +woman fresh and fair and fascinating, to him intrinsically lovely and +attractive, she should make an effort for it. It is not by any means +a thing that comes of itself, or that can be left to itself. She must +read, and observe, and think, and rest up to it. Men, as a general +thing, will not tell you so. They talk about having the slippers ready, +and enjoin women to be domestic. But men are blockheads,--dear, and +affectionate, and generous blockheads,--benevolent, large-hearted, and +chivalrous,--kind, and patient, and hard-working,--but stupid where +women are concerned. Indispensable and delightful as they are in real +life, pleasant and comfortable as women actually find them, not one in +ten thousand but makes a dunce of himself the moment he opens his mouth +to theorize about women. Besides, they have an axe to grind. The +pretty things they inculcate--slippers, and coffee, and care, and +courtesy--ought indeed to be done, but the others ought not to be left +undone. And to the former women seldom need to be exhorted. They take to +them naturally. A great many more women bore boorish husbands with +fond little attentions than wound appreciative ones by neglect. Women +domesticate themselves to death already. What they want is cultivation. +They need to be stimulated to develop a large, comprehensive, catholic +life, in which their domestic duties shall have an appropriate niche, +and not dwindle down to a narrow and servile one, over which those +duties shall spread and occupy the whole space. + +This mistake is the foundation of a world of wretchedness and ruin. I +can see Satan standing at the mother's elbow. He follows her around into +the nursery and the kitchen. He tosses up the babies and the omelets, +delivers dutiful harangues about the inappropriateness of the piano +and the library, and grins fiendishly in his sleeve at the wreck he is +making,--a wreck not necessarily of character, but of happiness; for I +suppose Satan has so bad a disposition, that, if he cannot do all the +harm he would wish, he will still do all he can. It is true that there +are thousands of noble men married to fond and foolish women, and they +are both happy. Well, the fond and foolish women are very fortunate. +They have fallen into hands that will entreat them tenderly, and they +will not perceive that anything is kept back. Nor are the noble men +wholly unfortunate, in that they have not taken to their hearths shrews. +But this is not marriage. + +There are women less foolish. They see their husbands attracted in other +directions more often and more easily than in theirs. They have too much +sterling worth and profound faith to be vulgarly jealous. They fear +nothing like shame or crime; but they feel the fact that their own +preoccupation with homely household duties precludes real companionship; +the interchange of emotions, thoughts, sentiments, a living and palpable +and vivid contact of mind with mind, of heart with heart. They see +others whose leisure ministers to grace, accomplishments, piquancy, and +attractiveness, and the moth flies towards the light by his own nature. +Because he is a wise and virtuous and honorable moth, he does not dart +into the flame. He does not even scorch his wings. He never thinks of +such a thing. He merely circles around the pleasant light, sunning +himself in it without much thought one way or another, only feeling +that it is pleasant; but meanwhile Mrs. Moth sits at home in darkness, +mending the children's clothes, which is not exhilarating. Many a woman +who feels that she possesses her husband's affection misses something. +She does not secure his fervor, his admiration. His love is honest and +solid, but a little dormant, and therefore dull. It does not brace, and +tone, and stimulate. She wants not the love only, but the keenness and +edge and flavor of the love; and she suffers untold pangs. I know it, +for I have seen it. It is not a thing to be uttered. Most women do +not admit it even to themselves; but it is revealed by a lift of the +eyelash, by a quiver of the eye, by a tone of the voice, by a trick of +the finger. + +But what is the good of saying all this, if a woman cannot help herself? +The children must be seen to, and the work must be done, and after that +she has no time left. The "mother of a young and increasing family," +with her "pale, thin face and feeble step," and her "multiplied and +wearying cares," is "completely worn down with so many children." She +has neither time nor spirit for self-culture, beyond what she may obtain +in the nursery. What satisfaction is there in proving that she is far +below where she ought to be, if inexorable circumstance prevent her from +climbing higher? What use is there in telling her that she will alienate +her husband and injure her children by her course, when there is no +other course for her to pursue? What can she do about it? + +There is one thing that she need not do. She need not sit down and write +a book, affirming that it is the most glorious and desirable condition +imaginable. She need not lift up her voice and declare that "she lives +above the ills and disquietudes of her condition, in an atmosphere of +love and peace and pleasure far beyond the storms and conflicts of this +material life." Who ever heard of the mother of a young and increasing +family living in an atmosphere of peace, not to say pleasure, above +conflicts and storms? Who does not know that the private history of +every family with the ordinary allowance of brains is a record of +incessant internecine warfare? If she said less, we might believe her. +When she says so much, we cannot help suspecting. To make the best of +anything, it is not necessary to declare that it is the best thing. +Children must be taken care of, but it is altogether probable that there +are too many of them. Some people think that opinion several times more +atrocious than murder in the first degree; but I see no atrocity in it, +and there is none. I think there is an immense quantity of nonsense +about, regarding this thing. For my part, I don't credit half of it. I +believe in Malthus,--a great deal more than Malthus did himself. The +prosperity of a country is often measured by its population; but quite +likely it should be taken in inverse ratio. I certainly do not see why +the mere multiplication of the species is so indicative of prosperity. +Mobs are not so altogether lovely that one should desire their +indefinite increase. A village is honorable, not according to the +number, but the character of its residents. The drunkards and the +paupers and the thieves and the idiots rather diminish than increase its +respectability. It seems to me that the world would be greatly benefited +by thinning out. Most of the places that I have seen would be much +improved by being decimated, not to say quinqueted or bisected. If +people are stubborn and rebellious, stiff-necked and uncircumcised, +in heart and ears, the fewer of them the better. A small population, +trained to honor and virtue, to liberality of culture and breadth of +view, to self-reliance and self-respect, is a thousand times better than +an overcrowded one with everything at loose ends. As with the village, +so with the family. There ought to be no more children than can be +healthily and thoroughly reared, as regards the moral, physical, and +intellectual nature both of themselves and their parents. All beyond +this is wrong and disastrous. I know of no greater crime, than to give +life to souls, and then degrade them, or suffer them to be degraded. +Children are the poor man's blessing and Cornelia's jewels, just so long +as Cornelia and the poor man can make adequate provision for them. But +the ragged, filthy, squalid, unearthly little wretches that wallow +before the poor man's shanty-door are the poor man's shame and curse. +The sickly, sallow, sorrowful little ones, shadowed too early by life's +cares, are something other than a blessing. When Cornelia finds her +children too many for her, when her step trembles and her cheek fades, +when the sparkle flats out of her wine of life and her salt has lost its +savor, her jewels are Tarpeian jewels. One child educated by healthy and +happy parents is better than seven dragging their mother into the grave, +notwithstanding the unmeasured reprobation of our little book. Of +course, if they can stand seven, very well. Seven and seventy times +seven, if you like, only let them be buds, not blights. If we obeyed the +laws of God, children would be like spring blossoms. They would impart +as much freshness and strength as they abstract. They are a natural +institution, and Nature is eminently healthy. But when they "come +crowding into the home-nest," as our book daintily says, they are a +nuisance. God never meant the home-nest to be crowded. There is room +enough and elbow-room enough in this world for everything that ought to +be in it. The moment there is crowding, you may be sure something wrong +is going on. Either a bad thing is happening, or too much of a good +thing, which counts up just the same. The parents begin to repair +the evil by a greater one. They attempt to patch their own rents by +dilapidating their children. They recruit their own exhausted energies +by laying hold of the young energies around them, and older children are +bored, and fretted, and deformed in figure and temper by the care +of younger children. This is horrible. Some care and task and +responsibility are good for a child's own development; but every care, +every toil, every atom of labor that is laid upon children beyond +what is solely the best for their own character is intolerable and +inexcusable oppression. Parents have no right to lighten their own +burdens by imposing them upon the children. The poor things had nothing +to do with being born. They came into the world without any volition of +their own. Their existence began only to serve the pleasure or the pride +of others. It was a culpable cruelty, in the first place, to introduce +them into a sphere where no adequate provision could be made for their +comfort and culture; but to shoulder them, after they get here, with +the load which belongs to their parents is outrageous. Earth is not a +paradise at best, and at worst it is very near the other place. The +least we can do is to make the way as smooth as possible for the +new-comers. There is not the least danger that it will be too smooth. +If you stagger under the weight which you have imprudently assumed, +stagger. But don't be such an unutterable coward and brute as to +illumine your own life by darkening the young lives which sprang from +yours. I often wonder that children do not open their mouths and curse +the father that begat and the mother that bore them. I often wonder that +parents do not tremble lest the cry of the children whom they oppress go +up into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and bring down wrath upon +their guilty heads. It was well that God planted filial affection and +reverence as an instinct in the human breast. If it depended upon +reason, it would have but a precarious existence. + +I wish women would have the sense and courage--I will not say, to +say what they think, for that is not always desirable--but to think +according to the facts. They have a strong desire to please men, which +is quite right and natural; but in their eagerness to do this, they +sometimes forget what is due to themselves. To think namby-pambyism for +the sake of pleasing men is running benevolence into the ground. Not +that women consciously do this, but they do it. They don't mean to +pander to false masculine notions, but they do. They don't know that +they are pandering to them, but they are. Men say silly things, partly +because they don't know any better, and partly because they don't want +any better. They are strong, and can generally make shift to bear their +end of the pole without being crushed. So they are tolerably content. +They are not very much to blame. People cannot be expected to start on +a crusade against ills of which they have but a vague and cloudy +conception. The edge does not cut them, and so they think it is not much +of a sword after all. But women have, or ought to have, a more subtile +and intimate acquaintance with realities. They ought to know what is +fact and what is fol-de-rol. They ought to distinguish between the +really noble and the simply physical, not to say faulty. If men do not, +it is women's duty to help them. I think, if women would only not be +quite so afraid of being thought unwomanly, they would be a great +deal more womanly than they are. To be brave, and single-minded, and +discriminating, and judicious, and clear-sighted, and self-reliant, and +decisive, that is pure womanly. To be womanish is not to be womanly. To +be flabby, and plastic, and weak, and acquiescent, and insipid, is not +womanly. And I could wish sometimes that women would not be quite +so patient. They often exhibit a degree of long-suffering entirely +unwarrantable. There is no use in suffering, unless you cannot help it; +and a good, stout, resolute protest would often be a great deal more +wise, and Christian, and beneficial on all sides, than so much patient +endurance. A little spirit and "spunk" would go a great way towards +setting the world right. It is not necessary to be a termagant. The +firmest will and the stoutest heart may be combined with the gentlest +delicacy. Tameness is not the stuff that the finest women are made of. +Nobody can be more kind, considerate, or sympathizing towards weakness +or weariness than men, if they only know it exists; and it is a wrong to +them to go on bolstering them up in their bungling opinions, when a few +sensible ideas, wisely administered, would do so much to enlighten them, +and reveal the path which needs only to be revealed to secure their +unhesitating entrance upon it. It is absurd to suppose that unvarying +acquiescence is necessary to secure and retain their esteem, and that a +frank avowal of differing opinions, even if they were wrong, would work +its forfeiture. A respect held on so frail a tenure were little worth. +But it is not so. I believe that manhood and womanhood are too truly +harmonious to need iron bands, too truly noble to require the props of +falsehood. Truth, simple and sincere, without partiality and without +hypocrisy, is the best food for both. If any are to be found on either +side too weak to administer or digest it, the remedy is not to mix it +with folly or falsehood, for they are poisons, but to strengthen the +organisms with wholesome tonics,--not undiluted, perhaps, but certainly +unadulterated. + +O Edmund Sparkler, you builded better than you knew, when you reared +eulogiums upon the woman with no nonsense about her! + + + + +MY SHIP. + + + Mist on the shore, and dark on the sand, + The chilly gulls swept over my head, + When a stately ship drew near the land,-- + Onward in silent grace she sped. + + Lonely, I threw but a coward's glance + Upon the brave ship tall and free, + Joyfully dancing her mystic dance, + As if skies were blue and smooth the sea. + + I breathed the forgotten odors of Spain, + Remembered my castles so far removed, + For they brought the distant faith again + That one who loves shall be beloved. + + Then the goodly galleon suddenly + Dropped anchor close to the barren strand, + And various cargoes, all for me, + Laid on the bosom of my land. + + O friend! her cargoes were thy love, + The stately ship thy presence fair; + Her pointed sails, like wings above, + Shall fill with praises and with prayer. + + * * * * * + + +BETROTHAL BY PROXY: A ROMANCE OF GENEALOGY. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Ye who listen with impatience to the Reports of Historical Societies and +have hitherto neglected to subscribe to an Antiquarian Journal, ye who +imagine that there can be no intelligent and practical reply to the +_cui bono?_ shake of the head which declines to supply the funds for a +genealogical investigation, attend to the history of my adventure in +Foxden. + +There!--I like to begin with the Moral; for no sensible man will leave +the point and purpose of his testimony to the languid curiosity of a +spent reader. Dr. Johnson never did so; and who am I to question his +literary infallibility? So if you do not take kindly to the solemn +rumble of the Johnsonese mail-coach of a sentence in which we set out, +receive the purport of it thus: It is of advantage to be on good terms +with one's ancestors: Also; men absorbed in this practical present may +be all the better for a little counter irritation with the driest twigs +of the family-tree. + +And now, _Why did I marry Miss Hurribattle?_ I am sure I had no +intention of doing so. In the first place, when about eighteen years of +age, I had firmly determined never to marry anybody. Then there were so +many nice _tea-ing_ families in the Atlantic city whose principal street +was decorated by my modest counsellor's sign, that I really must excuse +the rather unpleasant wonder of several friends at my out-of-the-way +selection. That a somewhat experienced advocate, who had resisted for +three years the fascinations of city belle-ship, should spend the legal +vacation in a visit to an old gentleman he never saw before, and return +affianced to a lady nobody had ever heard of,--I own there was something +temptingly discussible in the circumstance; and knowing that fine relish +for personal topics which distinguishes the American _conversazione_, +how could I hope to escape? At first, it was a little awkward, when I +went to a party, to see people who were talking together glance at me +and murmur on with increased interest. Sometimes, when the wave of talk +retreated a little, I would catch the prattle of some retiring rill to +this effect: "But who are these Hurribattles? What an odd name! I wonder +if that had anything to do with it." + +The querist, whoever he or she might be, had unconsciously struck upon +the explanation of the whole matter. Yes, it was the name: it had a +great deal to do with it. And if you will allow me to step back a little +into the past, and thence begin over again in good storyteller fashion, +I will endeavor to make you understand how it all came about. + +If I were obliged to designate in one word the profession and calling +of Colonel Prowley of Foxden, I should say he was a _Correspondent_. Of +course I do not mean a regular newspaper-correspondent, paid to concoct +letters from Paris in the office of the "Foxden Regulator"; nor yet the +amateur ditto, who is never tired of making family-tours to the White +Mountains. But rather was he a gentleman, with an immense epistolary +acquaintance all over the country, whose main business in life consisted +in writing letters to all sorts of persons in a great variety of places. +And this he did as his particular contribution towards the solution +of this question: What in the world--or rather, what in the United +States--is a man to do who accumulates sufficient property to relieve +him from the necessities of active business? The answers offered to this +inquiry of the Democratic Sphinx are, as we all know, various enough. +Some men, of ready assurance and fluent speech, go into politics; some +doze in libraries; some get up trotting-matches and yacht-races; while +others dodge the difficulty altogether by going to disport themselves +among the arts and letters of a foreign land. Colonel Prowley, +with considerable originality, was moved to find employment in +_letter-writing_, pursuing it with the same daily relish which many +people find for gossip or small-talk. And this is the way in which I +came to be favored with the good gentleman's communications. About three +years ago a friend in England procured for me a book that I had long +coveted,--Morton's "New English Canaan," printed at Amsterdam in the +year 1637. This little volume, after the novelty of a fresh perusal was +past, I happened to lend to a young gentleman of our boarding-house, who +prepared short notices of books for one of the evening papers. He, it +would appear, thought that some account of my acquisition might supply +the matter for his diurnal paragraph. At all events, I received, some +days after, a letter dated from Foxden, and bearing the signature of +Elijah Prowley. It was couched in the old-fashioned style of compliment +and excuses for the liberty taken,--which liberty consisted in +requesting to have a fac-simile made of a certain page of a work that he +had traced through a newspaper-article to my possession. The object, he +said, was to supply the deficiency in a copy of the "Canaan" that had a +place in his own library. Of course the request was complied with, and +the correspondence begun. + +The Colonel, to do him justice, wrote very entertaining letters, despite +the somewhat antiquated phraseology in which his sentiments were +clothed. Indeed, I soon found in his epistles all the variety of the +_grab-bag_ at a country-fair, in which the purchaser of the right of +_grab_ fumbles with pleasing uncertainty as to whether he is to draw +forth a hymn-book or a shaving-brush, a packet of note-paper or a box +of patent polish for stoves. At one time he would communicate the +particulars of some antiquarian discovery at Foxden; at another he would +copy for me the weekly bill of the town mortality, or journalize the +parish quarrels about the repairs of the stove-funnel in Mr. Clifton's +church. + +I was well pleased to find that the little notes of acknowledgment +which I despatched after the receipt of these leviathans seemed to +be considered a sufficient representation of capital to justify the +enormous rate of epistolary interest which the Colonel bestowed. I liked +the style of my correspondent. It did me good to meet with the strong +old expressions of our ancestors that were turning up in unexpected +places. If the dear old phrases were sometimes better or worse than the +fact they expressed, they must have improved what was good, and gibbeted +more effectually what to the times seemed evil. Who would now think of +designating a parcel of serious savages "the praying Indians of Natick"? +And yet there is a sound and a power about the words that would go far +to convert the skeptical aborigines in their own despite. Why, there +was something rich and nervous in the talk of the very lawmakers. "The +accursed sect of the Quakers,"--what a fine spirit such an accusative +case gives to the dry formula of a legal enactment! the beat of the drum +by which the edict was proclaimed in the streets of Boston seems only an +appropriate accompaniment to so stirring a denunciation. Then to invite +a brother to "exercise prophecy,"--as Winthrop used to call the business +of preaching,--there is really something soul-invigorating in the very +sound. No wonder the people could stand a good two-hours' discourse +under so satisfactory a title! + +I suppose, then, that much of my original relish for the communications +of my Foxden correspondent came from his mastery over the antique +glossary, and perhaps the rather ancient style of thought that fitted +well the method of conveyance. Indeed, a good course of Bishop +Copleston's "magic-lanthorn school" made me peculiarly susceptible to +the refreshment of changing the gorgeous haze of modern philosophers for +the sharpness and vitality with which old-fashioned people clothe such +ideas as are vouchsafed to them. + +I soon found that my friend had that passion for what may be called +petty antiquarian research which is so puzzling to those who escape its +contagion. Also that a pride of family, that lingers persistently in +some parts of New England, seemed to concentrate itself and envelop him +as in a cloud. He had attained the age of sixty a bachelor,--perhaps +from finding no person in Foxden of sufficiently clear lineage to be +united with the Squire's family,--or perhaps because he had a sister, +five years older than himself, who fulfilled the duties of companion and +housekeeper. + +How strange a sensation it is to feel a real friendship and familiarity +with one we have never seen! Yet if people are drawn together by those +mysterious affinities which, like the daughters of the horse-leech, are +ever crying, "Give, give," a few bits of paper bridge over space well +enough, and enable us to recognize abroad the scattered fragments that +complete ourselves. + +The Colonel studied up my ancestors, who, it appears, were once people +of sufficient consideration in the land, and finally transferred the +interest to myself. At one time he took the trouble to go down to +Branton, about forty miles from Foxden, for the purpose of verifying +inquiries about progenitors of mine who had originally settled in that +place. He advised me, as a son, in my reading and business; and although +I often dismissed his suggestions as the whims of an old-fashioned +recluse, I was always touched by the simplicity and sincere interest +that prompted them. He would mysteriously hint that something might one +day occur to give tangible proof of the regard in which he held me; but +as I paid little heed to such warnings, I was totally unprepared for the +plan developed in the letter of which an extract is here presented:-- + +"Concerning the propriety of your marrying, my dear young friend, my +sister and myself have long known but one opinion; the only difficulty +that has exercised us being, whom, among my divers correspondents, we +could most heartily commend to your selection. Now it is known to you +that I have striven for some time past to trace the descendants of the +old family of Hurribattel, who seem to have disappeared from Branton +about the year ten in the present century. The interest I have taken in +the research comes from the fact that your great-great-uncle appears +at one time to have been affianced to a lady of that family. For what +reason an alliance which had everything to recommend it was broken off +I have sorely puzzled myself to conjecture, but linger always in the +labyrinths of doubt. Some months ago I received a catalogue from the +Soggimarsh College in the Far West, to whose funds I had contributed a +modest subscription. I was thrown into an ecstasy of astonishment, when, +in glancing over the names of the honorable Faculty, my attention was +arrested by words to this effect: _Miss Hurribattle, Professor of +Calisthenics and Female Deportment_. Of course, I wrote to her +immediately, and received right cordial replies to all inquiries. She +seemed much interested in the union of the families that was formerly +contemplated, and much desires to see you as the representative of your +great-great-uncle. I need only add, that, so far as may be judged by the +happy vein of her correspondence, she has at present no ensnarement +of the heart, and has agreed to pay me a visit at Foxden the first of +August next, when, by reason of the vacation, she will be at liberty for +five weeks. Your own visit to me, so often postponed, is, as I believe, +definitively fixed for the same time. So I expect you both, and need not +enlarge on the strange delight it would give me, if a family-engagement +of seventy years' standing should be closed by a marriage beneath my +roof." + +There was something so preposterous in this desperate match-making +between people whom they had never seen, that Colonel Prowley and +his sister had taken into their hands, that it really made a greater +impression upon me than if the parties had been less unlikely to +come together. A Professor of Calisthenics! Could anything be more +unpromising? Yet, when my friend copied for me some extracts from the +lady's letters that were sensible and feminine, I thought how odd it +would be, if something should come of it, after all. I often found +myself skipping Colonel Prowley's accounts of old Doctor Dastick, Mrs. +Hunesley, and other great people of his town, and pondering upon the +notices of his Western correspondent. I began to have a mysterious +presentiment--which, in view of the calisthenics, I could not +explain--that we might be not unadapted to each other. In any case, +the lady's fine family-name was a recommendation that I knew how to +appreciate. They have very young professors out West, I thought, and +this is merely a temporary position; besides, I had a friend who married +a female physician, and the match has turned out a very happy one. So +I played with the idea, half in jest and half seriously, and looked +forward with much interest to my visit to Foxden. + + +CHAPTER II + + +It was near noon, on an August day, when the train left me at the Foxden +station. Upon casting my eyes about to see what was to be done next, +I observed a very shabby and rickety carryall, with the legend +"Railway-Omnibus" freshly painted upon its side. + +"It is better than a mile and a half up to Colonel Prowley's; but I +calculate I can take you there, after I've left this lady," responded +the proprietor of this turnout, in reply to a question of mine. + +"But I want to go to Colonel Prowley's, too," said a feminine voice at +my side. + +"Well, now that's _com_plete," acquiesced the driver. "I'll just go get +the baggage, and put you both through right away." + +Of course I turned to view my companion. She was a middle-aged +lady, something disordered in dress and hair, with a sharply marked +countenance, and that diffusive sort of eye that seems to take one in as +a speck which breaks the view of more interesting objects lying on the +verge of the horizon. Yet her face was dimpled by those indescribable +changing lines which indicate that a cessation of impulse has not marked +the wearer's retreat from youth, and make us feel anew how blessed a +thing it is for the character to keep our impulses strong within us, and +to be strong ourselves in their restraint. + +I was doubting whether to begin those little shivers and sidelings with +which people who feel that they ought to be acquainted, but have nobody +to introduce them, endeavor to supply the deficiency, when the lady +abruptly pronounced my name, and inquired if I responded thereto. + +"I thought it must be you," she said, on being satisfied regarding my +identity, "for the Colonel wrote me that he expected you about this +time. I feel we shall become friends. I am Miss Hurribattle." + +Although I had a strong suspicion who it must be, yet a cold surprise +seemed to run through me, when the dire certainty so suddenly declared +itself. I dropped my carpet-bag, as if all my daintily built castles +were in it, and it was best to crush them to pieces at once and have it +over. I pondered, and helped tie a bandbox on behind the vehicle, and +after some time found myself in the carryall staring at the felt hat +of the driver an inch or two before my nose, and Miss Hurribattle +established by my side. It occurred to me that it was my place to resume +the conversation, and, in a sudden spasm of originality, I changed a +remark respecting the beauty of the day into an observation on the +steepness of the hill we began to ascend. + +"It is very steep," assented the lady, "and I have a particular +objection to riding up-hill: it always appears to me I am helping the +horses draw. However, it may sometimes be pleasant; for I remember +paying a visit of a fortnight to Boston, when I was a girl, and there I +really thought that hills could not have been placed more conveniently." + +"How so?" inquired I. + +"Why, I stayed with some friends who lived in Charles Street, just on +the bay; consequently we always drove up-hill when we went to a party, +and downhill when we came home." + +"And you were always so much more content to return than to go, that the +accelerated speed of a down-hill passage was agreeable," suggested I, +after having cast about vaguely for an explanation. + +"Oh, dear! no! It was all on account of my back-hair: for in going +up-hill one naturally leans forward,--so, of course, it couldn't get +tumbled; but when we were coming home, it was no matter." + +I glanced slightly at Miss Hurribattle, and thought it strange that a +lady of her present disorderly and straggly appearance could have ever +felt so much interest in fashionable proprieties. She seemed to be +conscious of what was passing in my mind, and suddenly said,-- + +"Did you ever see a lady throw a stone?" + +"I probably have," I replied; "though I do not at present recall any +particular instance." + +"Very well, then,--you will remember that it always seems as if she was +going to throw herself after it. Now I recognize in this a portion of +the mystic instruction that natural phenomena may give us, if we look at +them earnestly; for is it not intended that woman should pursue with her +whole being whatever she undertakes? The man throws his stone with a +little jerk of the hand: he may be a legislator, a philanthropist, a +father, and a merchant, each with distinct portions of himself, and be +each with all the better effect to the others; but when a woman throws +her stone, it is better for her to project herself along with it." + +"But, surely, you cannot believe that she is entitled only to a single +fling at the mark?" + +"On the contrary, let her change her mark as often as she finds it too +easy or too hard to hit. All I insist upon is a temporary concentration +upon one pursuit. You wondered just now that I could ever have cared for +display, or have thought much of my appearance; but at that time I knew +no better, and followed the world with a devotion for which I have now, +I trust, a better object." + +I began to be quite interested in the sincerity and confidence with +which my companion talked to me, and, after a few remarks expressing +concurrence, I framed a question that would draw out the motives of her +connection with the college, should she care to communicate them. + +"It has been fortunate for me," answered Miss Hurribattle, "to have been +born with an activity of temperament that has kept me from that _maladie +des désabusés_ which, when the freshness of youth has passed, frequently +attacks ladies of some intellectual culture who do not marry. A strong +principle of self-assertion, that has long been characteristic of my +family, has left us unbound by that common propriety of sacrificing +our best happiness for the sake of appearing happy to the world. This +induced my father to quit Branton in pretty much the same spirit of +opposition with which Chatterton quitted Bristol. Disgusted with its +local celebrities, and chafing under the petty exactions and petty +gossip to which a sudden loss of fortune had exposed him, he left the +town without communicating to the neighbors his future destination. But +I will not poach upon our friend the Colonel's speciality, and give you +a family-history. It is sufficient to say that a year or two ago I +was led to interest myself in the Soggimarsh College as a ground +unincumbered by the old incredulities of man's best inspirations +which grow so thickly in what are called the highest +civilizations,--incredulities, indeed, which, in the fine figure of +Coleridge, are nothing but credulities after all, only seen from behind, +as they bow and nod assent to the habitual and the fashionable. But I +see you are wondering at the particular position in the Academy which +our catalogue assigns me, and you shall have the explanation. I have for +a long time been painfully impressed with the total neglect of physical +education by the women of America. It seems to me that no very important +moral advance can be achieved while the exquisite organism through which +our impressions come, and through which they should go forth again in +acts, is so perverted. I was very anxious that the Soggimarsh College +should distinctly recognize a correct physical training as being at +least as important as any branch of mental discipline. Accordingly, when +the titles of the professorships were under discussion, it seemed right +not to take my designation from the classes I instruct in history and +philosophy, but from the general gymnastic development of the female +members of the college, which it is likewise my duty to oversee. I know, +of course, that the prejudices of the public would hold me in greater +esteem as a teacher of some ancient lore than in the capacity I assume +before them; but you see I throw my stone in the womanish fashion, and +do not leave enough of myself behind to be troubled about the matter." + +I believe I have good Sir Thomas Browne's fancy of rejoicing to find +people individual in something beside their proper names; and by this, +as well as much more conversation not set down, I had the satisfaction +to discover that Miss Hurribattle had something more than her bold +patronymic to distinguish her from the Misses Smith and Robinson of my +city-acquaintance. I could hardly believe that we had advanced so far to +the footing of old friends, before we reached our destination. As +our carryall turned into Colonel Prowley's avenue, however, a sudden +recollection of the little romance the proprietor had arranged for his +arriving guests came over me like a terrible dream. What a pity it is, I +thought, that a friendly intercourse which I should highly prize must be +disturbed by the awkward consciousness that this old letter-writer +and his sister are watching and misinterpreting with all the zeal of +match-makers who have baited their trap, and are ready to mistake +anything for a nibble! + +We drew up before a formal-looking, old-fashioned house, with piazzas +to the two stories, each bordered with a good extent of unquestionably +modern gutter. The staple growth of the place, in which the house was +set, like the centre of an antique breastpin, seemed to lie in the shrub +called box. This ornamental vegetable stretched down each side of the +gravel walk, hedged in all sorts of ugly geometrical figures that +contained flower-beds, and stood sentinel to the lower line of the +piazza; farther on, you would see it allowed to grow to the height +of three or four feet, to be curiously cut into cubes, pyramids, and +miniature arches. + +Colonel Prowley, who was soon at the door to receive us, was a much less +imposing sort of man than I had imagined him. He appeared short and +modest, and showed a kind face set about half-way up the chin in one of +the old section-of-stove-pipe stocks that buckle up from behind; there +was a little embarrassment in his manner, as if he found it hard to +receive with proper cordiality two dear friends whose faces he had +never before seen. We were taken to the parlor, stiffly neat in all its +appurtenances, introduced to Miss Prowley, and soon after summoned to +dinner. + +There was much satisfaction in sitting down to such a repast as the +Colonel knew how to give, only it made one shudder a little when he told +us the names of great people long passed away who had ranged themselves +about the same piece of mahogany during the days of his father and +grandfather, for fourscore years into the past. However, if such +reminiscences make us reflect upon the mutable character of human +affairs, and send grave speculations of the "fleeting show" and "man's +illusion" concerning which the poet has told us, I find that the best +way is to remember that it is well to make our humble department in the +show as entertaining as we can, and our little fragment of the illusion +as illusive as possible. + +At the head of the table sat the sister of our host, arrayed in the lank +bombazine skirt, tight sleeves, and muslin cravat, which constituted the +old-lady uniform of the past generation, and which in rare instances yet +survives in the country. Upon her right hand was placed the clergyman, +Mr. Clifton, who came to dine every Monday,--it being a convenient +arrangement on account of the washing; and on her left was one Deacon +Reyner, who kept the parish records, and was the local antiquary of the +town. + +One of the pleasantest diversions with which I am acquainted is a dinner +among elderly people of character and originality, who are content to +toss about the ball of conversation among themselves, and allow me to +watch the game. And in this way was I entertained on my arrival at +Foxden; for Miss Hurribattle was directly at her ease, and had plenty +to say; while the brother and sister were content to offer the best +of everything, and did not attempt to draw me out of my silence. I +perceived they were thinking what a pity it was that Miss Hurribattle +and myself had not the equality of age and temper that they had fancied +for us; for I observed how they would follow the streaks of gray that +straggled through the lady's locks, and then glance at the neatly turned +moustache upon which in those days I prided myself, and realize that +their agreeable plans might be destined to disappointment. + +I remember the conversation first fell upon a certain general history +of the Prowley family that its present masculine representative had in +preparation. + +"By the way," said Deacon Reyner, addressing the future historian on +this head, "I have secured a correct copy of poor Prosody's epitaph, as +you asked me the other day." + +Miss Hurribattle, who looked as if she had some doubt whether poor +Prosody was a man or an animal, returned a non-committal, "Indeed! I am +very glad of it," but soon after added, "Was he a favorite dog?" + +"A dog!" exclaimed the Colonel, whose family-history, dates and all, +seemed to course his veins instead of blood, "he was my many times great +uncle! I have surely told you how Noah Prowllie, who came to New England +in 1642, and is supposed to have settled at Foxden some years later, +married Desire, daughter of the Reverend Jabez Pluck. Being a rigid +grammarian,--a character sufficiently rare at that period,--he named +his three sons Orthography, Syntax, and Prosody,--a proceeding that +is understood to have offended the Reverend Jabez, who was naturally +partial to the Scriptural nomenclature then in vogue. His scruples, +I regret to say, were more than justified in the conduct of his +grandchildren. Poor Orthography Prowllie was an idle fellow, who never +got beyond making his mark upon paper, and consequently made none in the +world; Syntax could never agree with anybody; while as for Prosody, poor +fellow"---- + +"It is enough to say that neither his verses nor his life would bear +scanning!" said the Deacon, desiring to keep the conversation off +unpleasant topics. + +"But you certainly had a poet in your family?" said Miss Hurribattle, +determined to repair her blunder by suggesting a potent cause of +congratulation. + +"Indeed we had, Madam!" said the Colonel, with creditable emotion; +"though unfortunately none of his productions have come down to us. But +we have the highest contemporary testimony to his excellence in a copy +of verses prefixed to his posthumous discourse entitled 'The New Snare +of a Maypole, or Satan's own Trap for a Slippery Church.' The lines +were written by his colleague, the Reverend Exaltation Brymm, and are +certainly much to the purpose: I generally keep a copy of them in my +pocket-book." + +"Oh, do read them, brother!" said Miss Prowley, with strong interest. + +Thus adjured, the Colonel produced a piece of paper, put on his +spectacles, and read to this effect:-- + + "New Englande! weep: Thy tuncfull Prowllie's gone, + Who skillfully his Armour buckled on + Agaynst Phyllystine Scorn and Revelrie: + His Sword well-furbished was a Sight to see! + This littel Booke of his shall still be greene + While Sathan's Fangles lorden stand betweene: + Now Pet of Sinne boil up thy dolefull Skum! + Ye juggelling Quakers laugh: his Inkhorn's dumb. + He put XIII Pslames in verse for our Quire, + And with XXVII Pastorals witcht Apollo's Lyre." + +"Do you recollect John Norton's funeral elegy on Ann Bradstreet, the Eve +of our female minstrelsy?" interrogated Miss Hurribattle; "there are two +lines in it which are still in my memory:-- + + 'Could Maro's muse but hear her lively strain, + He would condemn his works to fire again.' + +What a launch upon the sea of fame! and how sad it is that an actual +freight of verses should be preserved in the ship's hold!" + +"Well, well, my kinsman was perhaps wise in trusting none of his psalms +or pastorals to the press, especially as that greatest of poets, +Pope, has since been in the world. But I truly regret that he left no +portrait, nor even so much as an outline in black from which something +might be made up by an imaginative artist. I have judges, majors, and +attorneys, all properly labelled, in the other room, who would be much +improved by a slight dash of the aesthetic element; however, I suppose +it can't be helped now!" + +"Not unless you substitute Saint Josselyn for an ancestor, as Mrs. +Hunesley did the other day," said Miss Prowley. + +"Ha, ha! it might not be a bad plan to follow out the lady's suggestion: +but do tell the story of her strange mistake." + +"Why, you must know that the other day old Doctor Dastick brought his +New-York niece to call upon us. She began to talk to my brother, and +when at last topics of conversation failed, turned to look at the +picture of Saint Josselyn, which could be seen through the open +folding-doors." + +"The gentleman whose sole garment consists of some sort of skin thrown +over his shoulders: you must all have observed it as we came in to +dinner," said our host, in parenthesis. + +"Well, immediately below the Saint hangs a small painting of Uncle +Joshua, in white stockings, cocked hat, and coat of maroon velvet, the +poor gentleman's favorite dress. + +"'Ah!' said Mrs. Hunesley, with her eyes fixed upon the Saint, 'quite a +fine portrait!' + +"'Why, yes,' said my brother, naturally supposing she meant the small +picture below, 'a very fine portrait, and a capital likeness of my Uncle +Joshua.' + +"'Indeed!' said the lady, with a well-bred effort to conceal her +surprise; 'he was taken in a--a--fancy dress, I suppose.' + +"'On the contrary, it was his ordinary costume,' insisted the Colonel. +'I can remember him walking up the broad-aisle at church, dressed just +as you see him there.' + +"'I should not have thought it would have been allowed! Did not the +deacons turn him out?' exclaimed Mrs. Hunesley, in great astonishment. + +"'Turn him out! Why, Madam, he was a deacon himself, and the most +popular man in the parish.' + +"'Well, I had no idea that such things had ever been permitted in this +country! I should have supposed that the fear of such an example on the +young would have induced people to keep him in confinement.' + +"'Good heavens, Madam!' remonstrated the Colonel, roused to a desperate +vindication of the family-honor, 'let me tell you that his excellent +influence on the young was the crowning virtue of his character. He used +to go about town with his pockets filled with nuts and gingerbread to +reward them when they were good.' + +"'It is enough,' replied the lady; 'our views of propriety are so +totally different that we will not pursue the subject. I will only say +that--really--in that dress, _I don't see where he could have had any +pockets!_'" + +Deacon Reyner laughed heartily at these strictures upon the proprieties +of his predecessor, and said,-- + +"Of course, the last remark must have brought about an explanation." + +"Why, yes," said Colonel Prowley; "but when we see how slight an +accident resolved the mystery, we should receive with doubt much of the +personal scandal which is tossing about the world." + +The clergyman assented very cordially to this proposition, and added, +that it was a reflection that those of his flock then present would do +well to bear in mind that very evening at Doctor Dastick's bone-party. + +I confess to being a little startled at the spectral name of this +entertainment, and began to puzzle myself whether the Doctor gave +a levee to rapping spirits, or moralized over the skulls in his +collection, like Hamlet in the church-yard. Miss Hurribattle seemed +wandering in the mazes of a similar perplexity, and finally said,-- + +"What is a bone-party? Is it given out of compliment to the dead or the +living?" + +"Nay," said the Deacon, "I don't see how it could be much of a +compliment to the dead." + +"Except upon the principle, _De mortuis nil, nisi bone 'em!_" suggested +Miss Hurribattle, with such perfect gravity that neither Miss Prowley +nor the clergyman suspected the jocular atrocity that was hidden in her +speech. + +"The bone-parties of old Doctor Dastick," explained the Colonel, "are +entertainments peculiar to Foxden; and as there is to be one this +evening to which we are all invited, any anticipation of the diversion +seems likely to diminish whatever of satisfaction may be in prospect. I +will, however, remark, that some of the Doctor's guests are grievously +oppressed by somnolence during his scholastic expositions; as a +protection against which infirmity of the flesh, I do commend an +after-dinner nap. It has been the fashion of the house since the days +of my grandfather; and as he lived to a ripe old age, I do not think it +could have been deleterious." + +Soon after this, Colonel Prowley pushed back his chair from the table +as a signal for the dispersal of the party. And I betook myself to +my chamber, a sober apartment, with very uneven floor and very small +windows, through one of which I peered out upon the box before the +house, and thought over the people whose acquaintance I had just made. +Once only were these musings interrupted by snatches of a conversation +between my host and hostess as they passed across the piazza. + +"When this comes about, sister, as I still believe it must, you shall +adorn a page of my diary with one of your illustrative drawings. A pair +of doves would be appropriate, or perhaps a vine clinging round an oak." + +"And which of our guests is to be represented by the oak?" asked Miss +Prowley, in a tone which betrayed a woman's perception of matrimonial +incongruities. + +"Nay, sister, our young friend has a steadiness of character which would +be ill-mated with some giddy girl from the nursery. So make your vine a +little woody, and the union will be all the firmer." + +As there was no chance of taking a nap after this, I presently descended +to walk in the garden. And there I encountered Miss Hurribattle, who did +not seem to be one of the convenient visitors who can be put to sleep +after dinner. The conversation which I had the honor of renewing with +the lady, though it did not at all advance the whimsical project of +Colonel Prowley, increased my respect for the high instincts of Nature +which prompted her concern in the elevation of woman. She showed me how +a reform, presenting on its surface much that was meagre and partial, +was sustained by those accomplished in the study of the question, no +less from the rigorous necessities of logic than from the demonstrations +of history and experiment. + +And here, perchance, the reader observes that we make but slight +progress towards a solution of the inquiry proposed some pages back. +Yet let it be remembered that in real experience the novelist's art of +foreshadowing the end from the beginning and aiming every petty incident +at the final result is very seldom perceptible. "_Il ne faut pas voyager +pour voir, mais pour ne pas voir_," says the proverb; and the journey of +life is included in its application. We do our rarest deeds, we take our +most important steps, by what seems accident. Instead of forming plans +with remote designs, we find it our best policy to seize circumstances +as they run past us,--knowing, that, if we have strength and quickness +enough, we may take from them all that is required. + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Doctor Dastick's bone-party was certainly an entertainment of unique +description. A kind old gentleman was its originator, who thought to +turn the enthusiasm for lectures, which the Lyceum had developed in +Foxden, into a private and pleasant channel. Possessed with this +praiseworthy design, the Doctor, who had given up practice by reason of +years and competence, remembered a certain cabinet containing fossils, +crystals, fragments of Indian implements, small pieces of the skeletons +of their proprietors, vertebrae of extinct animals, besides a great +amount of miscellaneous rubbish that refused to come to terms and be +classified. Thus it seemed good to the proprietor of this medical +rag-bag to invite the citizens of Foxden to a series of explanatory +lectures upon its varied contents. This would have done well enough, +if the Doctor could only have persuaded himself to select his most +interesting specimens, and read up upon them, so as to retail a little +fluent information after the manner of the lyceum-philosophers. But, +unfortunately, the professional pride of the lecturer induced him to +speak without preparation or discrimination upon any osteological +article which happened to come to hand: which fact, perhaps, accounted +for the prevalent somnolence of the auditory, concerning which I had +been forewarned. + +It is barely possible that these midsummer-night diversions of Doctor +Dastick were suggested by the fame of evenings which, during the +previous winter, several city physicians (men of eminent scientific +attainments) had devoted to the instruction of their friends. And rumor +could scarcely have overestimated the privilege of listening to the +discursive fireside talk of such accurate observers. Having vividly +realized all that was to be known of their subjects of special +investigation, these distinguished gentlemen would steam steadily +athwart the light winds of conversation and bring their company to +a pleasant haven. The Foxden ex-practitioner, however, lacking the +metropolitan attrition which keeps the intellectual engine in +effective polish, drifted vaguely in a sea of fragmentary information; +--occasionally, to be sure, bumping against some encyclopedic argosy, +but, for the most part, making very leisurely progress, with much +apparent waste in the machinery. A brief extract from my note-book may +furnish an idea of these scientific discourses. + +"Now, my friends," pursues the Doctor, "let us examine another +curiosity,"--here he would take down something that looked like a +mottled paving-stone in a very crumbling condition,--"let us examine it +carefully through the glass,"--here a pause, during which he performed +the operation in question. "What is it? Is it a fossil turtle? No," +--with great deliberation,--"I should say it was _not_ a fossil turtle. +Is it a mass of twigs taken from the stomach of a mastodon? No, on the +whole, it can't be a mass of twigs taken from the stomach of a mastodon. +Is it a specimen of the top of Mount Sinai? No, it is not a specimen +of the top of Mount Sinai. What is it, then? _I--don't--know-- +what--it--is!_" + +Having arrived at this satisfactory conclusion, the Doctor would pass +on to the next specimen, which, having provoked a similar series of +interrogations and negations, would be dismissed with no very different +result. + +There is sometimes an advantage in not being a notable person; at all +events, I thought so, when I saw the Prowleys and their guests of chief +consideration, to wit, the clergyman, deacon, and Miss Hurribattle, +accommodated on the first row of chairs, with their faces under grand +illumination by two camphene-lamps upon the Doctor's table. There +they sat, together with Mrs. Hunesley from New York, two or three +distinguished visitors from the hotel, and the elders of Foxden, looking +wistfully at the bones, as if in envy of their fleshless condition that +sultry August evening. + +It was with real satisfaction that I perceived I was considered worthy +of no more worshipful company than that of the standing stragglers at +the dark end of the parlor. And as the evening breeze came freshly +through the window at the back of the room, I rejoiced heartily in my +lack of title to the consideration of being snugly penned in a more +honorable position. As I found it might be done without attracting +attention, I obeyed a strong impulse that seized me to pass through the +open window to the piazza. Thence I presently descended, and strolled +about the precise gravel-walks, puzzling myself to conjecture how much +of the rich light was owing to the red glow which lingered in the west, +and how much to the full moon just breaking through the trees. My +investigations were suddenly interrupted by the advent of a carryall, +which drove-with great rapidity to the Doctor's gate. It was the very +railway-omnibus that a few hours before had brought Miss Hurribattle and +myself from the station. + +"Hello, Cap'n," called out the driver, complimenting me with that +military title, "can you give a hand to this trunk? I've got to go right +slap back after two more fares." + +I was near the gate, and of course cheerfully acceded to this request. A +heavy trunk was lifted out, and placed just behind the lilac-bushes at +the edge of the lawn. The driver jumped into his omnibus and hurried +away with all speed, lest his two fares should pay themselves to a rival +conveyance. Behind him, however, he had left the proprietress of the +trunk,--a lady of about five-and-twenty, in whose countenance I detected +that strange sort of familiarity that entire strangers sometimes carry +about them. + +"This is Doctor Dastick's, is it not? Do you know whether Mrs. Hunesley +expected me?" she asked, with a grace of manner that was quite +irresistible. + +I informed her that I was a stranger in the place, and was only at the +Doctor's for a single evening; but that I could not think that Mrs. +Hunesley expected anybody, as I had just seen that lady firmly fixed in +the front row of chairs before the Doctor's table,--whence, owing to the +crowd of sitters behind, she would have some difficulty in extricating +herself. + +"Oh, I would not have her called for the world!" gayly exclaimed my +companion. "She has told me all about the dear old Doctor's lectures; +and I would not disturb his learned explanations on any account." + +"I do not think that the company in general would regret an interlude of +modern life and interest," said I. + +"Perhaps not; but nothing seems to me so rude and disagreeable as to +interrupt people, or disturb their attention, when assembled for a +definite object." + +We walked up the gravel-path, and softly entered the hall, where +a shawl and bonnet were deposited. The Doctor's discourse was very +audible, and the unexpected visitor seemed disposed to establish herself +upon one of the hall-chairs, and wait till it was over. There was a +graceful confidence in her movement, which is to me more captivating +than a pretty face; and when I had opportunity to observe more closely, +I was greatly attracted by the sensibility and refinement expressed +through a countenance which otherwise would have been plain. As I seemed +to be whimsically cast in the part of host, and as I perceived the lady +was too well-bred to make my position at all awkward, I proposed the +piazza as a pleasanter place of waiting than that she had chosen. + +And here let me make one of those weighty observations, derived from a +profound experience, which I trust will have a redeeming savor to +the judicious, should this tale of mine fail to command that general +popularity to which I have begun to suspect its title. I have found +that all the fine passages that lighten and enlighten this life of ours +seldom run into the traps we set for them, but seem to take a perverse +satisfaction in descending upon us when we are least prepared for +their reception. I have never been asked out to dine with a gentleman, +devoted, we will say, to the same speciality in which I have a humble +interest, without being sadly disappointed in the talk that my host had +kindly promised me. And when I am going to another country, and a dear +friend gives me a letter to some one whom he tells me I shall be glad to +meet, and from whom I shall gain great instruction, I accept the letter, +knowing very well that the man I shall really be glad to meet, and from +whom I shall truly gain instruction, will present himself on the top +of a diligence, or take a seat at my table at some cheap _café_ or +chop-house. Thus it is, that, when there is every reason why people +should break through the commonplace rubbish on the surface, and +disclose a pure vein of thought and feeling, they rarely contrive to do +it, but reserve their best things for the chances that touch them, when +self-consciousness is asleep, and the unconstrained humanity within +expands to absorb its like. Is it not in every one's experience that +there are persons with whom chance has thrown us for a few hours, whom +we know better, and who know us better, than the friends with whom we +have babbled of green fields, thermometers, and dirty pavements for a +score of years? As I confidently expect an affirmative reply to this +question, I fear no censure in saying that the evening passed on +Doctor Dastick's piazza made me feel there was a possibility of social +intercourse resembling the extravagant spirituality of the mystics, when +the soul bounds to the height of joyful knowledge, and without process +or medium knows complete satisfaction. + +How we came to talk of many things, I cannot remember; but we somehow +found ourselves speaking of matters of near and deep experience without +consciousness of singularity. We admitted those puzzling life-questions +that present themselves, on a still summer evening, when we long to +escape from the conditions of finite being, and yet contemplate +the necessity of working at our tasks shackled by a thousand iron +circumstances. + +"My plan of life, so far as I have any, seems to point to education," +said my companion. "I am thrown in great measure upon my own activity +for support, and have an aunt who is very zealous in the work, and who +has often asked me to become her fellow-laborer. Until now I could never +well leave home; but she has written to me again since"--she stopped, as +if distressed, and with a woman's tact glanced at her mourning-dress to +tell me the story;--"she has written to me earnestly of late upon the +subject. I feel how noble an object it is to live for, and I want an +object, Heaven knows; but there are reasons--perhaps I should say +feelings, not reasons--why I hesitate. I am asked to bind myself for ten +years to the work in a Western college. There are many advantages in a +permanent position, both for the teacher and the institution, but"-- + +Her voice faltered; and I felt that Nature had at times made other +suggestions to that fresh young spirit, other possibilities had dawned +through the future; perhaps they were certainties,--and the thought +passed me with a shudder. + +"Teaching is a terrible drudgery," I said; "the labor and devotion of +the true teacher are yet unrecognized by the world." + +"I am not afraid of the vexations," she replied: "I am very fond of +being with young people; yet I have been taught to think it was happier, +if our affections could be somewhat more concentrated than--In short, +I had better finish an awkward sentence, by saying that I do not feel +quite ready to pledge myself to give up all possibilities connected with +my New-England home." + +It was spoken with such sweet ingenuousness that I was only charmed. The +simple sincerity of the confession seemed to me much better than the +flippant jest and pert talk with which I had heard such subjects treated +while making my observations upon what my city-acquaintances had assured +me was good society. Is it not Sterling who exclaims that a luxurious +and polished life without a true sense of the beautiful and the great is +more barren and sad to see than that of the ignorant and the brutalized? +And if this be true, how shall we imagine a greater satisfaction than to +find the fresh truth of Nature set in a polished and graceful form? For +since it is through form that we take cognizance of all we love and all +we believe, it is well that the sign and idea should merge, and come +complete and whole to govern us aright. + +I should have no objection to meditating after this manner for a page or +two, as well as further hinting what important nothings sparkled upon +Doctor Dastick's piazza that pleasant summer night. But as I must +curtail this biographical fragment in some part or other, it seems best +to do it about that portion where I may trust that the experience of +every reader will supply the deficiency. + +How harshly sounded the creaking of the furniture, and how strangely +commercial and matter-of-fact the voices of the people that announced +the conclusion of the lecture! Mrs. Hunesley managed to get out among +the first, and was heartily glad to see my newly acquired friend, +calling her, "My dear Kate,"--which I thought was a very pretty +name,--and saying that she had not expected her quite so soon. + +I looked into the parlor and saw the Prowley party tumbling over chairs, +and scaling settees, in their haste to meet the cooling breezes of the +piazza. But when they finally accomplished their purpose, and I was +advancing with inquiries and congratulations, I started at seeing the +surprise depicted in the countenance of Miss Hurribattle, as she gazed +in the direction where I stood. + +"Why, Aunt Patience!" exclaimed a voice at my side. + +"Why, Kate Hurribattle!" was the response. + +"How in the name of wonder did you get to Foxden?" + +"How under the sun did _you_ get to Foxden?" + +"Why _I_ am here naturally enough as the guest of my friend Colonel +Prowley." + +"And _I_ am here naturally enough as the guest of my friend Mrs. +Hunesley." + +Now if I had dramatized the little event I have been trying to relate, I +should have reached the precise point where the auditor would button up +his coat, put on his hat, let his patent spring-seat go up with a click, +and begin to leave the theatre with all expedition. What would it matter +to him that I had prepared a circumstantial account of how all petty +objections were got over, or that I had elaborated a peculiarly +felicitous _tag_ which Colonel Prowley would speak at a few backs as +they disappeared into the lobby? The auditor referred to has got an +inkling of how things are to end, and can guess out the particulars as +he hurries off to his business. And here will be observed our decided +advantage in having made sure of the Moral by a vigorous assertion of +the same at the commencement of this narrative; for, thus relieved of +the necessity of a final flutter into the empyrean of ethics, we may +part company in a few easy sentences. + +Although the circumstances I have set down, from being awkwardly packed +in a small compass, may not appear to fit into each other with all the +exactness of a dissecting-map, I am sure, that, as they really occurred +spread over a necessary time, they seemed natural and simple enough. +Mrs. Hunesley, Doctor Dastick's favorite niece, was the schoolmate of +Miss Kate Hurribattle, and what more likely than that she should invite +her friend to pass a few weeks with her at her summer-home in the +country? And could there be a greater necessity than that, meeting daily +as we did through those lovely August weeks, she should become--in +short, that I should marry Miss Hurribattle? + +And when this foolish little romance, which had taken nebulous outline +in the fancy of Colonel Prowley, suddenly fell at his feet a serious +indubitability, the dear, delighted old gentleman was the first to +declare, that, as our engagement had existed for the last seventy years, +it certainly did not seem worth while to wait much longer. At all +events, we did not wait longer than the following Thanksgiving; since +which period my experience leads me to declare, that, if the Miss +Hurribattle of my great-great-uncle's day was at all comparable to the +member of her family I met at Foxden, my respected relative made a great +mistake in living a bachelor. + + + + +RESIGNATION. + + +You know how a little child of three or four years old kicks and howls, +if it do not get its own way. You know how quietly a grown-up man takes +it, when ordinary things fall out otherwise than he wished. A letter, +a newspaper, a magazine, does not arrive by the post on the morning +on which it had been particularly wished for, and counted on with +certainty. The day proves rainy, when a fine day was specially +desirable. The grown-up man is disappointed; but he soon gets reconciled +to the existing state of facts. He did not much expect that things would +turn out as he wished them. Yes: there is nothing like the habit of +being disappointed, to make a man resigned when disappointment comes, +and to enable him to take it quietly. And a habit of practical +resignation grows upon most men, as they advance through life. + +You have often seen a poor beggar, most probably an old man, with some +lingering remains of respectability in his faded appearance, half ask +an alms of a passer-by; and you have seen him, at a word of repulse, or +even on finding no notice taken of his request, meekly turn away: too +beaten and sick at heart for energy; drilled into a dreary resignation +by the long custom of finding everything go against him in this world. +You may have known a poor cripple, who sits all day by the side of the +pavement of a certain street, with a little bundle of tracts in his +hand, watching those who pass by, in the hope that they may give him +something. I wonder, indeed, how the police suffer him to be there: for, +though ostensibly selling the tracts, he is really begging. Hundreds of +times in the long day, he must see people approaching, and hope that +they may spare him a halfpenny, and find ninety-nine out of each hundred +pass without noticing him. It must be a hard school of Resignation. +Disappointments without number have subdued that poor creature into +bearing one disappointment more with scarce an appreciable stir of +heart. But, on the other hand, kings, great nobles, and the like, have +been known, even to the close of life, to violently curse and swear, if +things went against them; going the length of stamping and blaspheming +even at rain and wind, and branches of trees and plashes of mud, which +were of course guiltless of any design of giving offence to these +eminent individuals. There was a great monarch, who, when any little +cross-accident befell him, was wont to fling himself upon the floor, and +there to kick and scream and tear his hair. And around him, meanwhile, +stood his awe-stricken attendants: all doubtless ready to assure +him that there was something noble and graceful in his kicking and +screaming, and that no human being had ever before with such dignity +and magnanimity torn his hair. My friend Mr. Smith tells me that in his +early youth he had a (very slight) acquaintance with a great prince, of +elevated rank and of vast estates. That great prince came very early to +his greatness; and no one had ever ventured, since he could remember, +to tell him he had ever said or done wrong. Accordingly, the prince had +never learned to control himself, nor grown accustomed to bear quietly +what he did not like. And when any one, in conversation, related to him +something which he disapproved, he used to start from his chair, and +rush up and down the apartment, furiously flapping his hands together, +till he had thus blown off the steam produced by the irritation of his +nervous system. That prince was a good man: and so aware was he of +his infirmity, that, when in these fits of passion, he never suffered +himself to say a single word: being aware that he might say what he +would afterwards regret. And though he could not wholly restrain +himself, the entire wrath he felt passed off in flapping. And after +flapping for a few minutes, he sat down again, a reasonable man once +more. All honor to him! For my friend Smith tells me that that prince +was surrounded by toadies, who were ready to praise everything he might +do, even to his flapping. And in particular, there was one humble +retainer, who, whenever his master flapped, was wont to hold up his +hands in an ecstasy of admiration, exclaiming, "It is the flapping of a +god, and not of a man!" + +Now all this lack of Resignation on the part of princes and kings comes +of the fact, that they are so far like children that they have not +become accustomed to be resisted, and to be obliged to forego what they +would like. Resignation comes by the habit of being disappointed, and +of finding things go against you. It is, in the case of ordinary human +beings, just what they expect. Of course, you remember the adage, +"Blessed is he who expecteth nothing, for he shall not be disappointed." +I have a good deal to say about that adage. Reasonableness of +expectation is a great and good thing: despondency is a thing to be +discouraged and put down as far as may be. But meanwhile let me say, +that the corollary drawn from that dismal beatitude seems to me +unfounded in fact. I should say just the contrary. I should say, +"Blessed is he who expecteth nothing, for he will very likely be +disappointed." You know, my reader, whether things do not generally +happen the opposite way from that which you expected. Did you ever try +to keep off an evil you dreaded by interposing this buffer? Did you ever +think you might perhaps prevent a trouble from coming by constantly +anticipating it,--keeping, meanwhile, an under-thought that things +rarely happen as you anticipate them, and thus that your anticipation of +the thing might possibly keep it away? Of course you have; for you are +a human being. And in all common cases, a watch might as well think to +keep a skilful watchmaker in ignorance of the way in which its movements +are produced, as a human being think to prevent another human being from +knowing exactly how he will think and feel in given circumstances. We +have watched the working of our own watches far too closely and long, +my friends, to have the least difficulty in understanding the great +principles upon which the watches of other men go. I cannot look inside +your breast, my reader, and see the machinery that is working there: I +mean the machinery of thought and feeling. But I know exactly how it +works, nevertheless; for I have long watched a machinery precisely like +it. + +There are a great many people in this world who feel that things are all +wrong, that they have missed stays in life, that they are beaten,--and +yet who don't much mind. They are indurated by long use. They do not try +to disguise from themselves the facts. There are some men who diligently +try to disguise the facts, and who in some measure succeed in doing so. +I have known a self-sufficient and disagreeable clergyman who had a +church in a large city. Five-sixths of the seats in the church were +quite empty; yet the clergyman often talked of what a good congregation +he had, with a confidence which would have deceived any one who had not +seen it. I have known a church where it was agony to any one with an ear +to listen to the noise produced when the people were singing; yet the +clergyman often talked of what splendid music he had. I have known an +entirely briefless barrister, whose friends gave out that the sole +reason why he had no briefs was that he did not want any. I have known +students who did not get the prizes for which they competed, but who +declared that the reason of their failure was, that, though they +competed for the prizes, they did not wish to get them. I have known a +fast young woman, after many engagements made and broken, marry as the +last resort a brainless and penniless blackguard; yet all her family +talk in big terms of what a delightful connection she was making. Now, +where all that self-deception is genuine, let us be glad to see it; and +let us not, like Mr. Snarling, take a spiteful pleasure in undeceiving +those who are so happy to be deceived. In most cases, indeed, such +trickery deceives nobody. But where it truly deceives those who +practise it, even if it deceive nobody else, you see there is no true +Resignation. A man who has made a mess of life has no need to be +resigned, if he fancies he has succeeded splendidly. But I look with +great interest, and often with deep respect, at the man or woman who +feels that life has been a failure,--a failure, that is, as regards +_this_ world,--and yet who is quite resigned. Yes: whether it be the +un-soured old maid, sweet-tempered, sympathetic in others' joys, God's +kind angel in the house of sorrow,--or the unappreciated genius, quiet, +subdued, pleased to meet even one who understands him amid a community +which does not,--or the kind-hearted clever man to whom eminent success +has come too late, when those were gone whom it would have made happy: +I reverence and love, more than I can express, the beautiful natures I +have known thus subdued and resigned. + +Yes: human beings get indurated. When you come to know well the history +of a great many people, you will find that it is wonderful what they +have passed through. Most people have suffered a very great deal, +since they came into this world. Yet in their appearance there is no +particular trace of it all. You would not guess, from looking at them, +how hard and how various their lot has been. I once knew a woman, rather +more than middle-aged. I knew her well, and saw her almost every day, +for several years, before I learned that the homely Scotchwoman had seen +distant lands, and had passed through very strange ups and downs, before +she settled into the quiet, orderly life in which I knew her. Yet when +spoken to kindly, by one who expressed surprise that all these trials +had left so little trace, the inward feeling, commonly suppressed, burst +bitterly out, and she exclaimed, "It's a wonder that I'm living at all!" +And it is a wonder that a great many people are living, and looking so +cheerful and so well as they do, when you think what fiery passion, what +crushing sorrow, what terrible losses, what bitter disappointments, what +hard and protracted work they have gone through. Doubtless, great good +comes of it. All wisdom, all experience, comes of suffering. I should +not care much for the counsel of the man whose life had been one long +sunshiny holiday. There is greater depth in the philosophy of Mr. +Dickens than a great portion of his readers discern. You are ready to +smile at the singular way in which Captain Cuttle commended his friend +Jack Bunsby as a man of extraordinary wisdom, whose advice on any point +was of inestimable value. "Here's a man," said Captain Cuttle, "who has +been more beaten about the head than any other living man!" I hail the +words as the recognition of a great principle. To Mr. Bunsby it befell +in a literal sense; but we have all been (in a moral sense) a good deal +beaten about both the head and the heart before we grew good for much. +Out of the travail of his nature, out of the sorrowful history of his +past life, the poet or the moralist draws the deep thought and feeling +which find so straight a way to the hearts of other men. Do you think +Mr. Tennyson would ever have been the great poet he is, if he had not +passed through that season of great grief which has left its noble +record in "In Memoriam"? And a youthful preacher, of vivid imagination +and keen feeling, little fettered by anything in the nature of good +taste, may by strong statements and a fiery manner draw a mob of +unthinking hearers: but thoughtful men and women will not find anything +in all _that_, that awakens the response of their inner nature in its +truest depths; they must have religious instruction into which real +experience has been transfused; and the worth of the instruction will be +in direct proportion to the amount of real experience which is embodied +in it. And after all, it is better to be wise and good than to be gay +and happy, if we must choose between the two things; and it is worth +while to be severely beaten about the head, if _that_ is the condition +on which alone we can gain true wisdom. True wisdom is cheap at almost +any price. But it does not follow at all that you will be happy (in +the vulgar sense) in direct proportion as you are wise. I suppose +most middle-aged people, when they receive the ordinary kind wish at +New-Year's time of a Happy New-Year, feel that _happy_ is not quite the +word; and feel that, too, though well aware that they have abundant +reason for gratitude to a kind Providence. It is not _here_ that we +shall ever be happy,--that is, completely and perfectly happy. Something +will always be coming to worry and distress. And a hundred sad +possibilities hang over us: some of them only too certainly and quickly +drawing near. Yet people are content, in a kind of way. They have learnt +the great lesson of Resignation. + + * * * * * + +There are many worthy people who would be quite fevered and flurried +by good fortune, if it were to come to any very great degree. It would +injure their heart. As for bad fortune, they can stand it nicely, they +have been accustomed to it so long. I have known a very hard-wrought +man, who had passed, rather early in life, through very heavy and +protracted trials. I have heard him say, that, if any malicious enemy +wished to kill him, the course would be to make sure that tidings of +some signal piece of prosperity should arrive by post on each of six or +seven successive days. It would quite unhinge and unsettle him, he said. +His heart would go: his nervous system would break down. People to whom +pieces of good-luck come rare and small have a great curiosity to know +how a man feels when he is suddenly told that he has drawn one of the +greatest prizes in the lottery of life. The kind of feeling, of course, +will depend entirely on the kind of man. Yet very great prizes, in the +way of dignity and duty, do for the most part fall to men who in some +measure deserve them, or who at least are not conspicuously undeserving +of them and unfit for them. So that it is almost impossible that the +great news should elicit merely some unworthy explosion of gratified +self-conceit. The feeling would in almost every case be deeper and +worthier. One would like to be sitting at breakfast with a truly good +man, when the letter from the Prime-Minister comes in, offering him the +Archbishopric of Canterbury. One would like to see how he would take +it. Quietly, I have no doubt. Long preparation has fitted the man +who reaches that position for taking it quietly. A recent Chancellor +publicly stated how _he_ felt, when offered the Great Seal. His first +feeling, that good man said, was of gratification that he had fairly +reached the highest reward of the profession to which he had given +his life; but the feeling which speedily supplanted _that_ was an +overwhelming sense of his responsibility and a grave doubt as to his +qualifications. I have always believed, and sometimes said, that good +fortune--not so great or so sudden as to injure one's nerves or +heart, but kindly and equable--has a most wholesome effect upon human +character. I believe that the happier a man is, the better and kinder +he will be. The greater part of unamiability, ill-temper, impatience, +bitterness, and uncharitableness comes out of unhappiness. It is because +a man is so miserable that he is such a sour, suspicious, fractious, +petted creature. I was amused, this morning, to read in the newspaper an +account of a very small incident which befell the new Primate of England +on his journey back to London, after being enthroned at Canterbury. +The reporter of that small incident takes occasion to record that +the Archbishop had quite charmed his travelling-companions in the +railway-carriage by the geniality and kindliness of his manner. I have +no doubt he did. I am sure he is a truly good Christian man. But think +of what a splendid training for producing geniality and kindliness he +has been going through for a great number of years! Think of the moral +influences which have been bearing on him for the last few weeks! We +should all be kindly and genial, if we had the same chance of being so. +But if Dr. Longley had a living of a hundred pounds a year, a fretful, +ailing wife, a number of half-fed and half-educated little children, a +dirty, miserable house, a bleak country round, and a set of wrong-headed +and insolent parishioners to keep straight, I venture to say he would +have looked, and been, a very different man in that railway-carriage +running up to London. Instead of the genial smiles that delighted his +fellow-travellers, (according to the newspaper-story,) his face would +have been sour, and his speech would have been snappish; he would have +leaned back in the corner of a second-class carriage, sadly calculating +the cost of his journey, and how part of it might be saved by going +without any dinner. Oh, if I found a four-leaved shamrock, I would +undertake to make a mighty deal of certain people I know! I would put an +end to their weary schemings to make the ends meet. I would cut off all +those wretched cares which jar miserably on the shaken nerves. I know +the burst of thankfulness and joy that would come, if some dismal load, +never to be cast off, were taken away. And I would take it off. I would +clear up the horrible muddle. I would make them happy: and in doing +_that_, I know that I should make them good. + + * * * * * + +But I have sought the four-leaved shamrock for a long time, and never +have found it; and so I am growing subdued to the conviction that I +never shall. Let us go back to the matter of Resignation, and think a +little longer about _that_. + +Resignation, in any human being, means that things are not as you would +wish, and yet that you are content. + +Who has all he wishes? There are many houses in this world in which +Resignation is the best thing that can be felt any more. The bitter blow +has fallen; the break has been made; the empty chair is left (perhaps a +very little chair); and never more, while Time goes on, can things be +as they were fondly wished and hoped. Resignation would need to be +cultivated by human beings; for all round us there is a multitude of +things very different from what we would wish. Not in your house, not +in your family, not in your street, not in your parish, not in your +country, and least of all in yourself, can you have things as you would +wish. And you have your choice of two alternatives. You must either +fret yourself into a nervous fever, or you must cultivate the habit of +Resignation. And very often Resignation does not mean that you are at +all reconciled to a thing, but just that you feel you can do nothing +to mend it. Some friend, to whom you are really attached, and whom +you often see, vexes and worries you by some silly and disagreeable +habit,--some habit which it is impossible you should ever like, or ever +even overlook; yet you try to make up your mind to it, because it cannot +be helped, and you would rather submit to it than lose your friend. You +hate the east-wind: it withers and pinches you, in body and soul: +yet you cannot live in a certain beautiful city without feeling the +east-wind many days in the year. And that city's advantages and +attractions are so many and great that no sane man with sound lungs +would abandon the city merely to escape the east-wind. Yet, though +resigned to the east-wind, you are anything but reconciled to it. + +Resignation is not always a good thing. Sometimes it is a very bad +thing. You should never be resigned to things continuing wrong, when you +may rise and set them right. I dare say, in the Romish Church, there +were good men before Luther who were keenly alive to the errors and +evils that had crept into it, but who, in despair of making things +better, tried sadly to fix their thoughts upon other subjects: who +took to illuminating missals, or constructing systems of logic, or +cultivating vegetables in the garden of the monastery, or improving the +music in the chapel: quietly resigned to evils they judged irremediable. +Great reformers have not been resigned men. Luther was not resigned; +Howard was not resigned; Fowell Buxton was not resigned; George +Stephenson was not resigned. And there is hardly a nobler sight than +that of a man who determines that he will NOT make up his mind to the +continuance of some great evil: who determines that he will give his +life to battling with that evil to the last: who determines that either +that evil shall extinguish him, or he shall extinguish it. I reverence +the strong, sanguine mind, that resolves to work a revolution to better +things, and that is not afraid to hope it _can_ work a revolution. And +perhaps, my reader, we should both reverence it all the more that we +find in ourselves very little like it. It is a curious thing, and a sad +thing, to remark in how many people there is too much resignation. It +kills out energy. It is a weak, fretful, unhappy thing. People are +reconciled, in a sad sort of way, to the fashion in which things go on. +You have seen a poor, slatternly mother, in a way-side cottage, who has +observed her little children playing in the road before it, in the way +of passing carriages, angrily ordering the little things to come away +from their dangerous and dirty play; yet, when the children disobey +her, and remain where they were, just saying no more, making no farther +effort. You have known a master tell his man-servant to do something +about stable or garden, yet, when the servant does not do it, taking no +notice: seeing that he has been disobeyed, yet wearily resigned, feeling +that there is no use in always fighting. And I do not speak of the not +unfrequent cases in which the master, after giving his orders, comes to +discover that it is best they should not be carried out, and is very +glad to see them disregarded: I mean when he is dissatisfied that what +he has directed is not done, and wishes that it were done, and feels +worried by the whole affair, yet is so devoid of energy as to rest in a +fretful resignation. Sometimes there is a sort of sense as if one had +discharged his conscience by making a weak effort in the direction of +doing a thing, an effort which had not the slightest chance of being +successful. When I was a little boy, many years since, I used to +think this; and I was led to thinking it by remarking a singular +characteristic in the conduct of a school-companion. In those days, if +you were chasing some other boy who had injured or offended you, with +the design of retaliation, if you found you could not catch him, by +reason of his superior speed, you would have recourse to the following +expedient. If your companion was within a little space of you, though a +space you felt you could not make less, you would suddenly stick out one +of your feet, which would hook round his, and he, stumbling over it, +would fall. I trust I am not suggesting a mischievous and dangerous +trick to any boy of the present generation. Indeed, I have the firmest +belief that existing boys know all we used to know, and possibly more. +All this is by way of rendering intelligible what I have to say of my +old companion. He was not a good runner. And when another boy gave him +a sudden flick with a knotted handkerchief, or the like, he had little +chance of catching that other boy. Yet I have often seen him, when +chasing another, before finally abandoning the pursuit, stick out his +foot in the regular way, though the boy he was chasing was yards beyond +his reach. Often did the present writer meditate on that phenomenon, in +the days of his boyhood. It appeared curious that it should afford +some comfort to the evaded pursuer, to make an offer at upsetting the +escaping youth,--an offer which could not possibly be successful. But +very often, in after-life, have I beheld in the conduct of grown-up men +and women the moral likeness of that futile sticking-out of the foot. +I have beheld human beings who lived in houses always untidy and +disorderly, or whose affairs were in a horrible confusion and +entanglement, who now and then seemed roused to a a feeling that this +would not do, who querulously bemoaned their miserable lot, and made +some faint and futile attempt to set things right, attempts which never +had a chance to succeed, and which ended in nothing. Yet it seemed +somehow to pacify the querulous heart. I have known a clergyman, in a +parish with a bad population, seem suddenly to waken up to a conviction +that he must do something to mend matters, and set agoing some weak +little machinery, which could produce no appreciable result, and +which came to a stop in a few weeks. Yet that faint offer appeared to +discharge the claims of conscience, and after it the clergyman remained +long time in a comatose state of unhealthy Resignation. But it is a +miserable and a wrong kind of Resignation which dwells in that man who +sinks down, beaten and hopeless, in the presence of a recognized evil. +Such a man may be in a sense resigned, but, he cannot possibly be +content. + +If you should ever, when you have reached middle age, turn over the +diary or the letters you wrote in the hopeful though foolish days when +you were eighteen or twenty, you will be aware how quietly and gradually +the lesson of Resignation has been taught you. You would have got into +a terrible state of excitement, if any one had told you then that you +would have to forego your most cherished hopes and wishes of that time; +and it would have tried you even more severely to be assured that in +not many years you would not care a single straw for the things and the +persons who were then uppermost in your mind and heart. What an entirely +new set of friends and interests is that which now surrounds you! +and how completely the old ones are gone: gone, like the sunsets you +remember in the summers of your childhood; gone, like the primroses that +grew in the woods where you wandered as a boy! Said my friend Smith to +me, a few days ago: "You remember Miss Jones, and all about that? I +met her yesterday, after ten years. She is a fat, middle-aged, +ordinary-looking woman. What a terrific fool I was!" Smith spoke to me +in the confidence of friendship; yet I think he was a little mortified +at the heartiness with which I agreed with him on the subject of his +former folly. He had got over it completely; and in seeing that he was +(at a certain period) a fool, he had come to discern that of which his +friends had always been aware. Of course, early interests do not always +die out. You remember Dr. Chalmers, and the ridiculous exhibition about +the wretched little likeness of an early sweetheart, not seen for forty +years, and long since in her grave. You remember the singular way in +which he signified his remembrance of her, in his famous and honored +age. I don't mean the crying, nor the walking up and down the +garden-walk calling her by fine names. I mean the taking out his card: +not his _carte_; you could understand _that_: but his visiting-card +bearing his name, and sticking it behind the portrait with two wafers. +Probably it pleased him to do so; and assuredly it did harm to no one +else. And we have all heard of the like things. Early affections are +sometimes, doubtless, cherished in the memory of the old. But still, +more material interests come in, and the old affection is crowded out +of its old place in the heart. And so those comparatively fanciful +disappointments sit lightly. The romance is gone. The mid-day sun +beats down, and _there_ lies the dusty way. When the cantankerous and +unamiable mother of Christopher North stopped his marriage with a person +at least as respectable as herself, on the ground that the person was +not good enough, we are told that the future professor nearly went +mad, and that he never quite got over it. But really, judging from +his writings and his biography, he bore up under it, after a little, +wonderfully well. + +But looking back to the days which the old yellow letters bring back, +you will think to yourself, Where are the hopes and anticipations of +that time? You expected to be a great man, no doubt. Well, you know you +are not. You are a small man, and never will be anything else; yet +you are quite resigned. If there be an argument which stirs me to +indignation at its futility, and to wonder that any mortal ever regarded +it as of the slightest force, it is that which is set out in the famous +soliloquy in "Cato," as to the Immortality of the Soul. Will any sane +man say, that, if in this world you wish for a thing very much, and +anticipate it very clearly and confidently, you are therefore sure to +get it? If that were so, many a little schoolboy would end by driving +his carriage and four, who ends by driving no carriage at all. I have +heard of a man whose private papers were found after his death all +written over with his signature as he expected it would be when he +became Lord Chancellor. Let us say his peerage was to be as Lord Smith. +There it was, SMITH, C., SMITH, C., written in every conceivable +fashion, so that the signature, when needed, might be easy and imposing. +That man had very vividly anticipated the woolsack, the gold robe, and +all the rest. It need hardly be said, he attained none of these. The +famous argument, you know of course, is, that man has a great longing to +be immortal, and that therefore he is sure to be immortal. Rubbish! It +is not true that any longing after immortality exists in the heart of +a hundredth portion of the race. And if it were true, it would prove +immortality no more than the manifold signatures of SMITH, C., proved +that Smith was indeed to be Chancellor. No: we cling to the doctrine +of a Future Life; we could not live without it; but we believe it, not +because of undefined longings within ourselves, not because of reviving +plants and flowers, not because of the chrysalis and the butterfly,--but +because "our Saviour, Jesus Christ, hath abolished death, and brought +life and immortality to light through the gospel." + +There is something very curious, and very touching, in thinking +how clear and distinct, and how often recurring, were our early +anticipations of things that were never to be. In this world, the fact +is for the most part the opposite of what it should be to give force to +Plato's (or Cato's) argument: the thing you vividly anticipate is the +thing that is least likely to come. The thing you don't much care for, +the thing you don't expect, is the likeliest. And even if the event +prove what you anticipated, the circumstances, and the feeling of it, +will be quite different from what you anticipated. A certain little girl +three years old was told that in a little while she was to go with her +parents to a certain city, a hundred miles off,--a city which may be +called Altenburg as well as anything else. It was a great delight to her +to anticipate that journey, and to anticipate it very circumstantially. +It was a delight to her to sit down at evening on her father's knee, +and to tell him all about how it would be in going to Altenburg. It was +always the same thing. Always, first, how sandwiches would be made,--how +they would all get into the carriage, (which would come round to the +door,) and drive away to a certain railway-station,--how they would get +their tickets, and the train would come up, and they would all get into +a carriage together, and lean back in corners, and eat the sandwiches, +and look out of the windows, and so on. But when the journey was +actually made, every single circumstance in the little girl's +anticipations proved wrong. Of course, they were not intentionally made +wrong. Her parents would have carried out to the letter, if they could, +what the little thing had so clearly pictured and so often repeated. But +it proved to be needful to go by an entirely different way and in an +entirely different fashion. All those little details, dwelt on so much, +and with so much interest, were things never to be. It is even so with +the anticipations of larger and older children. How distinctly, how +fully, my friend, we have pictured out to our minds a mode of life, a +home and the country round it, and the multitude of little things which +make up the habitude of being, which we long since resigned ourselves to +knowing could never prove realities! No doubt, it is all right and well. +Even Saint Paul, with all his gift of prophecy, was not allowed to +foresee what was to happen to himself. You know how he wrote that he +would do a certain thing, "so soon as I shall see how it will go with +me." + +But our times are in the Best Hand. And the one thing about our lot, my +reader, that we may think of with perfect contentment, is that they +are so. I know nothing more admirable in spirit, and few things more +charmingly expressed, than that little poem by Mrs. Waring which sets +out that comfortable thought. You know it, of course. You should have +it in your memory; and let it be one of the first things your children +learn by heart. It may well come next after, "O God of Bethel": it +breathes the self-same tone. And let me close these thoughts with one of +its verses:-- + + "There are briers besetting every path, + Which call for patient care: + There is a cross in every lot, + And an earnest need for prayer: + But a lowly heart that leans on Thee + Is happy anywhere!" + + THE FLAG. + + There's a flag hangs over my threshold, whose folds are more dear to me + Than the blood that thrills in my bosom its earnest of liberty; + And dear are the stars it harbors in its sunny field of blue + As the hope of a further heaven that lights all our dim lives through. + + But now should my guests be merry, the house is in holiday guise, + Looking out through its burnished windows like a score of welcoming eyes. + Come hither, my brothers who wander in saintliness and in sin! + Come hither, ye pilgrims of Nature! my heart doth invite you in. + + My wine is not of the choicest, yet bears it an honest brand; + And the bread that I bid you lighten I break with no sparing hand; + But pause, ere you pass to taste it, one act must accomplished be: + Salute the flag in its virtue, before ye sit down with me. + + The flag of our stately battles, not struggles of wrath and greed: + Its stripes were a holy lesson, its spangles a deathless creed; + 'T was red with the blood of freemen, and white with the fear of the foe, + And the stars that fight in their courses 'gainst tyrants its symbols + know. + + Come hither, thou son of my mother! we were reared in the self-same + arms; + Thou hast many a pleasant gesture, thy mind hath its gifts and charms; + But my heart is as stern to question as mine eyes are of sorrows full: + Salute the flag in its virtue, or pass on where others rule. + + Thou lord of a thousand acres, with heaps of uncounted gold, + The steeds of thy stall are haughty, thy lackeys cunning and bold: + I envy no jot of thy splendor, I rail at thy follies none: + Salute the flag in its virtue, or leave my poor house alone. + + Fair lady with silken trappings, high waving thy stainless plume, + We welcome thee to our numbers, a flower of costliest bloom: + Let a hundred maids live widowed to furnish thy bridal bed; + But pause where the flag doth question, and bend thy triumphant head. + + Take down now your flaunting banner, for a scout comes breathless and + pale, + With the terror of death upon him; of failure is all his tale: + "They have fled while the flag waved o'er them! they've turned to the + foe their back! + They are scattered, pursued, and slaughtered! the fields are all rout + and wrack!" + + Pass hence, then, the friends I gathered, a goodly company! + All ye that have manhood in you, go, perish for Liberty! + But I and the babes God gave me will wait with uplifted hearts, + With the firm smile ready to kindle, and the will to perform our parts. + + When the last true heart lies bloodless, when the fierce and the false + have won, + I'll press in turn to my bosom each daughter and either son; + Bid them loose the flag from its bearings, and we'll lay us down to rest + With the glory of home about us, and its freedom locked in our breast. + + + + +WET-WEATHER WORK. + +BY A FARMER. + + +I. + + +It is raining; and being in-doors, I look out from my library-window, +across a quiet country-road, so near that I could toss my pen into the +middle of it. + +A thatched stile is opposite, flanked by a straggling hedge of +Osage-orange; and from the stile the ground falls away in green and +gradual slope to a great plateau of measured and fenced fields, +checkered, a month since, with bluish lines of Swedes, with the ragged +purple of mangels, and the feathery emerald-green of carrots. There are +umber-colored patches of fresh-turned furrows; here and there the mossy, +luxurious verdure of new-springing rye; gray stubble; the ragged brown +of discolored, frost-bitten rag-weed; next, a line of tree-tops, +thickening as they drop to the near bed of a river, and beyond the +river-basin showing again, with tufts of hemlock among naked oaks and +maples; then roofs, cupolas; ambitious lookouts of suburban houses, +spires, belfries, turrets: all these commingling in a long line of +white, brown, and gray, which in sunny weather is backed by purple +hills, and flanked one way by a shining streak of water, and the other +by a stretch of low, wooded mountains that turn from purple to blue, and +so blend with the northern sky. + +Is the picture clear? A road; a farm-flat of party-colored checkers; a +near wood, that conceals the sunken meadow of a river; a farther wood, +that skirts a town,--that seems to overgrow the town, so that only a +confused line of roofs, belfries, spires, towers, rise above the wood; +and these tallest spires and turrets lying in relief against a purple +hill-side, that is as far beyond the town as the town is beyond my +window; and the purple hill-side trending southward to a lake-like gleam +of water, where a light-house shines upon a point; and northward, as I +said, these same purple hills bearing away to paler purple, and then to +blue, and then to haze. + +Thus much is seen, when I look directly eastward; but by an oblique +glance southward (always from my library-window) the checkered farm-land +is repeated in long perspective: here and there is a farm-house with +its clustered out-buildings; here and there a blotch of wood, or of +orcharding; here and there a bright sheen of winter-grain; and the level +ends only where a slight fringe of tree-tops, and the iron cordon of a +railway that leaps over a marshy creek upon trestle-work, separate it +from Long Island Sound. + +To the north, under such oblique glance as can be caught, the farm-lands +in smaller inclosures stretch half a mile to the skirts of a quiet +village. A few tall chimneys smoke there lazily, and below them you see +as many quick and repeated puffs of white steam. Two white spires and +a tower are in bold relief against the precipitous basaltic cliff, at +whose foot the village seems to nestle. Yet the mountain is not wholly +precipitous; for the columnar masses been fretted away by a thousand +frosts, making a sloping _débris_ below, and leaving above the +iron-yellow scars of fresh cleavage, the older blotches of gray, and the +still older stain of lichens. Nor is the summit bald, but tufted with +dwarf cedars and oaks, which, as they file away on either flank, mingle +with a heavier growth of hickories and chest-nuts. A few stunted kalmias +and hemlock-spruces have found foothold in the clefts upon the face of +the rock, showing a tawny green, that blends prettily with the scars, +lichens, and weather-stains of the cliff; all which show under a sunset +light richly and changefully as the breast of a dove. + +But just now there is no glow of sunset; raining still. Indeed, I do not +know why I should have described at such length a mere landscape, (than +which I know few fairer,) unless because of a rainy day it is always +in my eye, and that now, having invited a few outsiders to such +entertainment as may belong to my wet farm-days, I should present to +them at once my oldest acquaintance,--the view from my library-window. + +But as yet it is only coarsely outlined. We may some day return to it +with a fond particularity; for let me warn the reader that I have that +love of such scenes, nay, for the very verdure of the lawn, that I could +put an ink-mark for every blade of the fresh-springing grass, and yet +feel that the tale of its beauty, and of its emerald wealth, were not +half told. + +This day we spend in-doors, and busy ourselves with the whims, +doctrines, and economics of a few + + +OLD-TIME FARMERS. + + +The shelves where they rest in vellum and in dust are only an +arm's-length from the window; so that I can relieve the stiff classicism +of Flaxman's rendering of the "Works and Days," or the tedious iteration +of Columella and Crescenzio, by a glance outside into the rain-cloud, +under which lies always the checkered illustration of the farming of +to-day, and beyond which the spires stand in sentinel. + +Hesiod is currently reckoned one of the oldest farm-writers; but there +is not enough in his homely poem ("Works and Days") out of which to +conjure a farm-system. He gives good advice, indeed, about the weather, +about ploughing when the ground is not too wet, about the proper timber +to put to a plough-beam, about building a house, and taking a bride. +But, on the other hand, he gives very bad advice, where, as in Book II., +(line 244,) he recommends to stint the oxen in winter, and (line 285) to +put three parts of water to the Biblian wine. + +Mr. Gladstone notes the fact that Homer talks only in a grandiose way of +rural life and employments, as if there were no small landholders in his +day; but Hesiod, who must have lived within a century of Homer, with +his modest homeliness, does not confirm this view. He tells us a farmer +should keep two ploughs, and be cautious how he lends either of them. +His household stipulations, too, are most moderate, whether on the score +of the bride, the maid, or the "forty-year-old" ploughman; and for +guardianship of the premises the proprietor is recommended to keep "a +sharp-toothed cur." + +This reminds us how Ulysses, on his return from voyaging, found seated +round his good bailiff Eumaeus four savage watch-dogs, who straightway +(and here Homer must have nodded) attack their old master, and are +driven off only by a good pelting of stones. + +This Eumaeus, by the way, may be regarded as the Homeric representative +farmer, as well as bailiff and swineherd,--the great original of Gurth, +who might have prepared a supper for Cedric the Saxon very much as +Eumaeus extemporized one upon his Greek farm for Ulysses. Pope +shall tell of this bit of cookery in rhyme that has a ring of the +Rappahannock:-- + + "His vest succinct then girding round his waist, + Forth rushed the swain with hospitable haste, + Straight to the lodgements of his herd he run, + Where the fat porkers slept beneath the sun; + Of two his cutlass launched the spouting blood; + These quartered, singed, and fixed on forks of wood, + All hasty on the hissing coals he threw; + And, smoking, back the tasteful viands drew, + Broachers, and all." + +This is roast pig: nothing more elegant or digestible. For the credit of +Greek farmers, I am sorry that Eumaeus has nothing better to offer his +landlord,--the most abominable dish, Charles Lamb and his pleasant +fable to the contrary notwithstanding, that was ever set before a +Christian. + +To return to Hesiod, we suspect that he was only a small farmer--if +he had ever farmed at all--in the foggy latitude of Boeotia, and knew +nothing of the sunny wealth in the south of the peninsula, or of such +princely estates as Eumaeus managed in the Ionian seas. Flaxman has +certainly not given him the look of a large proprietor in his outlines: +his toilet is severely scant, and the old gentleman appears to have lost +two of his fingers in a chaff-cutter. As for Perses, who is represented +as listening to the sage,[A] his dress is in the extreme of classic +scantiness,--being, in fact, a mere night-shirt, and a tight fit at +that. + +[Footnote A: Flaxman's _Illustrations of "Works and Days,"_ Plate I.] + +But we dismiss Hesiod, the first of the heathen farm-writers, with a +loving thought of his pretty Pandora, whom the goddesses so bedecked, +whom Jove looks on (in Flaxman's picture) with such sharp approval, and +whose attributes the poet has compacted into one resonant line, daintily +rendered by Cooke,-- + + "Thus the sex began + A lovely mischief to the soul of man." + +I next beg to pull from his place on the shelf, and to present to the +reader, my friend General Xenophon, a most graceful writer, a capital +huntsman, an able strategist, an experienced farmer, and, if we may +believe Laertius, "handsome beyond expression." + +It is refreshing to find such qualities united in one man at any time, +and doubly refreshing to find them in a person so far removed from the +charities of today that the malcontents cannot pull his character in +pieces. To be sure, he was guilty of a few acts of pillage in the course +of his Persian campaign; but he tells the story of it in his "Anabasis" +with a brave front: his purse was low, and needed replenishment; there +is no cover put up, of disorderly sutlers or camp-followers. + +The farming reputation of the General rests upon his "Economics" and +his horse-treatise ([Greek: Hippikae]). + +Economy has come to have a contorted meaning in our day, as if it +were only--saving. Its true gist is better expressed by the word +_management_; and in that old-fashioned sense it forms a significant +title for Xenophon's book: management of the household, management of +flocks, of servants, of land, of property in general. + +At the very outset we find this bit of practical wisdom, which is put +into the mouth of Socrates, who is replying to Critobulus:--"Those +things should be called goods that are beneficial to the master. Neither +can those lands be called goods which by a man's unskilful management +put him to more expense than he receives profit by them; nor may those +lands be called goods which do not bring a good farmer such a profit as +may give him a good living." + +Thereafter (sec. vii.) he introduces the good Ischomachus, who, it +appears, has a thrifty wife at home, and from that source flow in a +great many capital hints upon domestic management. The apartments, the +exposure, the cleanliness, the order, are all considered in such an +admirably practical, common-sense way as would make the old Greek a good +lecturer to the sewing-circles of our time. And when the wife of +the wise Ischomachus, in an unfortunate moment, puts on _rouge_ +and cosmetics, the grave husband meets her with this complimentary +rebuke:--"Can there be anything in Nature more complete than yourself?" + +"The science of husbandry," he says, and it might be said of the science +in most times, "is extremely profitable to those who understand it; +but it brings the greatest trouble and misery upon those farmers who +undertake it without knowledge." (sec. xv.) + +Where Xenophon comes to speak of the details of farm-labor, of +ploughings and fallowings, there is all that precision and particularity +of mention, added to a shrewd sagacity, which one might look for in the +columns of the "Country Gentleman." He even describes how a field should +be thrown into narrow lands, in order to promote a more effectual +surface-drainage. In the midst of it, however, we come upon a stereorary +maxim, which is, to say the least, of doubtful worth:--"Nor is there any +sort of earth which will not make very rich manure, by being laid a due +time in standing water, till it is fully impregnated with the virtue of +the water." His British translator, Professor Bradley, does, indeed, +give a little note of corroborative testimony. But I would not advise +any active farmer, on the authority either of General Xenophon or of +Professor Bradley, to transport his surface-soil very largely to the +nearest frog-pond, in the hope of finding it transmuted into manure. The +absorptive and retentive capacity of soils is, to be sure, the bone just +now of very particular contention; but whatever that capacity may be, +it certainly needs something more palpable than the virtue of standing +water for its profitable development. + +Here, again, is very neat evidence of how much simple good sense has +to do with husbandry: Socrates, who is supposed to have no particular +knowledge of the craft, says to his interlocutor,--"You have satisfied +me that I am not ignorant in husbandry; and yet I never had any master +to instruct me in it." + +"It is not," says Xenophon, "difference in knowledge or opportunities of +knowledge that makes some farmers rich and others poor; but that which +makes some poor and some rich is that the former are negligent and lazy, +the latter industrious and thrifty." + +Next, we have this masculine _ergo_:--"Therefore we may know that those +who will not learn such sciences as they might get their living by, or +do not fall into husbandry, are either downright fools, or else propose +to get their living by robbery or by begging." (sec. xx.) + +This is a good clean cut at politicians, office-holders, and other +such beggar craft, through more than a score of centuries,--clean as +classicism can make it: the Attic euphony in it, and all the aroma of +age. + +Once more, and it is the last of the "Oeconomica," we give this charming +bit of New-Englandism:--"I remember my father had an excellent rule," +(_Ischomachus loquitur_,) "which he advised me to follow: that, if ever +I bought any land, I should by no means purchase that which had been +already well-improved, but should choose such as had never been tilled, +either through neglect of the owner, or for want of capacity to do it; +for he observed, that, if I were to purchase improved grounds, I must +pay a high price for them, and then I could not propose to advance their +value, and must also lose the pleasure of improving them myself, or of +seeing them thrive better by my endeavors." + +When Xenophon wrote his rural treatises, (including the [Greek: +Kunaegetikos],) he was living in that delightful region of country which +lies westward of the mountains of Arcadia, looking toward the Ionian +Sea. Here, too, he wrote the story of his retreat, and his wanderings +among the mountains of Armenia; here he talked with his friends, and +made other such _symposia_ as he has given us a taste of at the house of +Callias the Athenian; here he ranged over the whole country-side with +his horses and dogs: a stalwart and lithe old gentleman, without a +doubt; able to mount a horse or to manage one, with the supplest of the +grooms; and with a keen eye, as his book shows, for the good points in +horse-flesh. A man might make a worse mistake than to buy a horse after +Xenophon's instructions, to-day. A spavin or a wind-gall did not escape +the old gentleman's eye, and he never bought a horse without proving his +wind and handling him well about the mouth and ears. His grooms were +taught their duties with nice speciality: the mane and tail to be +thoroughly washed; the food and bed to be properly and regularly +prepared; and treatment to be always gentle and kind. + +Exception may perhaps be taken to his doctrine in regard to +stall-floors. Moist ones, he says, injure the hoof: "Better to have +stones inserted in the ground close to one another, equal in size to +their hoofs; for such stalls consolidate the hoofs of those standing on +them, beside strengthening the hollow of the foot." + +After certain directions for rough riding and leaping, he advises +hunting through thickets, if wild animals are to be found. Otherwise, +the following pleasant diversion is named, which I beg to suggest to +sub-lieutenants in training for dragoon-service:--"It is a useful +exercise for two horsemen to agree between themselves, that one shall +retire through all sorts of rough places, and as he flees, is to turn +about from time to time and present his spear; and the other shall +pursue, having javelins blunted with balls, and a spear of the same +description, and whenever he comes within javelin-throw, he is to hurl +the blunted weapon at the party retreating, and whenever he comes within +spear-reach, he is to strike him with it." + +Putting aside his horsemanship, in which he must have been nearly +perfect, there was very much that was grand about the old Greek,--very +much that makes us strangely love the man, who, when his soldiers lay +benumbed under the snows on the heights of Armenia, threw off his +general's coat, or blanket, or what not, and set himself resolutely to +wood-chopping and to cheering them. The farmer knew how. + +Such men win battles. He has his joke, too, with Cheirisophus, the +Lacedaemonian, about the thieving propensity of his townspeople, and +invites him, in virtue of it, to _steal_ a difficult march upon the +enemy. And Cheirisophus grimly retorts upon Xenophon, that Athenians are +said to be great experts in stealing the public money, especially the +high officers. This sounds home-like! When I come upon such things, I +forget the parasangs and the Taochians and the dead Cyrus, and seem to +be reading out of American newspapers. + +It is quite out of the question to claim Theocritus as a farm-writer; +and yet in all old literature there is not to be found such a lively +bevy of heifers, and wanton kids, and "butting rams," and stalwart +herdsmen, who milk the cows "upon the sly," as in the "Idyls" of the +musical Sicilian. + +There is no doubt but Theocritus knew the country to a charm: he knew +all its roughnesses, and the thorns that scratched the bare legs of the +goatherds; he knew the lank heifers, that fed, "like grasshoppers," only +on dew; he knew what clatter the brooks made, tumbling headlong adown +the rocks,-- + + [Greek: apo tus petras kataleibetai ypsothen ydor] + +he knew, moreover, all the charms and coyness of the country-nymphs, +giving even a rural twist to his praises of the courtly Helen:-- + + "In shape, in height, in stately presence + fair, + Straight as a furrow gliding from the + share."[B] + +[Footnote B: Elton's translation, I think. I do not vouch for its +correctness.] + +A man must have had an eye for good ploughing and a lithe figure, as +well as a keen scent for the odor of fresh-turned earth, to make such a +comparison as that! + +Theocritus was no French sentimentalist; he would have protested against +the tame elegancies of the Roman Bucolics; and the _sospiri ardenti_ and +_miserelli aman_ of Guarini would have driven him mad. He is as brisk as +the wind upon a breezy down. His cow-tenders are swart and bare-legged, +and love with a vengeance. There is no miserable tooting upon flutes, +but an uproarious song that shakes the woods; and if it comes to a +matter of kissing, there are no "reluctant lips," but a smack that makes +the vales resound. + +It is no Boucher we have here, nor Watteau: cosmetics and rosettes are +far away; tunics are short, and cheeks are nut-brown. It is Teniers, +rather:--boors, indeed; but they are live boors, and not manikin +shepherds. + +I shall call out another Sicilian here, named Moschus, were it only +for his picture of a fine, sturdy bullock: it occurs in his "Rape of +Europa":-- + + "With yellow hue his sleekened body beams; + His forehead with a snowy circle gleams; + Horns, equal-bending, from his brow emerge, + And to a moonlight crescent orbing verge." + +Nothing can be finer than the way in which this "milky steer," with +Europa on his back, goes sailing over the brine, his "feet all oars." +Meantime, she, the pretty truant, + + "Grasps with one hand his curved projecting horn, + And with the other closely drawn compressed + The fluttering foldings of her purple vest, + Whene'er its fringed hem was dashed with dew + Of the salt sea-foam that in circles flew: + Wide o'er Europa's shoulders to the gale + The ruffled robe heaved swelling, like a sail." + +Moschus is as rich as the Veronese at Venice; and his picture is truer +to the premium standard. The painting shows a pampered animal, with +over-red blotches on his white hide, and is by half too fat to breast +such "salt sea-foam" as flashes on the Idyl of Moschus. + +Another poet, Aratus of Cilicia, whose very name has a smack of tillage, +has left us a book about the weather [Greek: Dosaemeia] which is +quite as good to mark down a hay-day by as the later meteorologies of +Professor Espy or Judge Butler. + +Besides which, our friend Aratus holds the abiding honor of having been +quoted by St. Paul, in his speech to the Athenians on Mars Hill:-- + +"For in Him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain also of +your own poets have said: 'For we are also His offspring.'" + +And Aratus, (after Elton,)-- + + "On thee our being hangs; in thee we move; + All are thy offspring, and the seed of Jove." + +Scattered through the lesser Greek poets, and up and down the Anthology, +are charming bits of rurality, redolent of the fields and of field-life, +with which it would be easy to fill up the measure of this rainy day, +and beat off the Grecian couplets to the tinkle of the eave-drops. Up +and down, the cicada chirps; the locust, "encourager of sleep," sings +his drowsy song; boozy Anacreon flings grapes; the purple violets and +the daffodils crown the perfumed head of Heliodora; and the reverent +Simonides likens our life to the grass. + +Nor will I part company with these, or close up the Greek ranks +of farmers, (in which I must not forget the great schoolmaster, +Theophrastus,) until I cull a sample of the Anthology, and plant it +for a guidon at the head of the column,--a little bannerol of music, +touching upon our topic, as daintily as the bees touch the flowering +tips of the wild thyme. + +It is by Zonas the Sardian:-- + + [Greek: Ai o agete nxouthai oimblaeides akra melissai, + _K.T.L.,] + +and the rendering by Mr. Hay:-- + + "Ye nimble honey-making bees, the flowers are in their prime; + Come now and taste the little buds of sweetly breathing thyme, + Of tender poppies all so fair, or bits of raisin sweet, + Or down that decks the apple tribe, or fragrant violet; + Come, nibble on,--your vessels store with honey while you can, + In order that the hive-protecting, bee-preserving Pan + May have a tasting for himself, and that the hand so rude, + That cuts away the comb, may leave yourselves some little food." + +Leaving now this murmur of the bees upon the banks of the Pactolus, +will slip over-seas to Tusculum, where Cato was born, who was the oldest +of the Roman writers upon agriculture; and thence into the Sabine +territory, where, upon an estate of his father's, in the midst of the +beautiful country lying northward of the Monte Gennaro, (the Lucretilis +of Horace,) he learned the art of good farming. + +In what this art consisted in his day, he tells us in short, crackling +speech;--"_Primum_, bene arare; _secundum_, arare; _tertium_, +stercorare." For the rest, he says, choose good seed, sow thickly, and +pull all the weeds. Nothing more would be needed to grow as good a crop +upon the checkered plateau under my window as ever fattened among the +Sabine Hills. + +Has the art come to a stand-still, then; and shall we take to reading +Cato on fair days, as well as rainy? + +There has been advance, without doubt; but all the advance in the world +would not take away the edge from truths, stated as Cato knew how to +state them. There is very much of what is called Agricultural Science, +nowadays, which is--rubbish. Science is sound, and agriculture always an +honest art; but the mixture, not uncommonly, is bad,--no fair marriage, +but a monstrous concubinage, with a monstrous progeny of muddy treatises +and disquisitions which confuse more than they instruct. In contrast +with such, it is no wonder that the observations of such a man as Cato, +whose energies had been kept alive by service in the field, and whose +tongue had been educated in the Roman Senate, should carry weight with +them. The grand truths on which successful agriculture rests, and which +simple experience long ago demonstrated, cannot be kept out of view, nor +can they be dwarfed by any imposition of learning. Science may explain +them, or illustrate or extend; but it cannot shake their preponderating +influence upon the crop of the year. As respects many other arts, +the initial truths may be lost sight of, and overlaid by the mass +of succeeding developments,--not falsified, but so belittled as +practically to be counted for nothing. In this respect, agriculture is +exceptional. The old story is always the safe story: you must plough and +plough again; and manure; and sow good seed, and enough; and pull the +weeds; and as sure as the rain falls, the crop will come. + +Many nice additions to this method of treatment, which my fine-farming +friends will suggest, are anticipated by the old Roman, if we look far +enough into his book. Thus, he knew the uses of a harrow; he knew the +wisdom of ploughing in a green crop; he had steeps for his seed; he knew +how to drain off the surface-water,--nay, there is very much in his +account of the proper preparation of ground for olive-trees, or +vine-setting, which looks like a mastery of the principles that govern +the modern system of drainage.[C] + +[Footnote C: XLIII. "Sulcos, si locus aquosus erit, alveatos esse +oportet," etc.] + +Of what particular service recent investigations in science have been to +the practical farmer, and what positive and available aid, beyond what +could be derived from a careful study of the Roman masters, they put +into the hands of an intelligent worker, who is tilling ground simply +for pecuniary advantage, I shall hope to inquire and discourse upon, +some other day: when that day comes, we will fling out the banner of the +nineteenth century, and give a gun to Liebig, and Johnson, and the rest. + +Meantime, as a farmer who endeavors to keep posted in all the devices +for pushing lands which have an awkward habit of yielding poor crops +into the better habit of yielding large ones, I will not attempt to +conceal the chagrin with which I find this curmudgeon of a Roman +Senator, living two centuries before Christ, and northward of Monte +Gennaro, who never heard of "Hovey's Root-Cutter," or of the law of +primaries, laying down rules[D] of culture so clear, so apt, so full, +that I, who have the advantages of two thousand years, find nothing in +them to laugh at, unless it be a few oblations to the gods;[E] and this, +considering that I am just now burning a little incense (Havana) to the +nymph Volutia, is uncalled for. + +[Footnote D: This mention, of course, excludes the Senator's _formulae_ +for unguents, aperients, cattle-nostrums, and pickled pork.] + +[Footnote E: CXXXIV. Cato, _De Re Rusticâ_.] + +And if Senator Cato were to wake up to-morrow, in the white house that +stares through the rain yonder, and were to open his little musty vellum +of slipshod maxims, and, in faith of it, start a rival farm in the bean +line, or in vine-growing,--keeping clear of the newspapers,--I make no +doubt but he would prove as thrifty a neighbor as my good friend the +Deacon. + +We nineteenth-century men, at work among our cabbages, clipping off the +purslane and the twitch-grass, are disposed to assume a very complacent +attitude, as we lean upon our hoe-handles,--as if we were doing tall +things in the way of illustrating physiology and the cognate sciences. +But the truth is, old Laertes, near three thousand years ago, in his +slouch cap and greasy beard, was hoeing up in the same way his purslane +and twitch-grass, in his bean-patch on the hills of Ithaca. The +difference between us, so far as the crop and the tools go, is, after +all, ignominiously small. _He_ dreaded the weevil in his beans, and _we_ +the club-foot in our cabbages; _we_ have the "Herald," and _he_ had +none; _we_ have "Plantation-Bitters," and _he_ had his jug of the +Biblian wine. + +M. Varro, another Roman farmer, lies between the same covers "De Re +Rusticâ" with Cato, and seems to have had more literary tact, though +less of blunt sagacity. Yet he challenges at once our confidence by +telling us so frankly the occasion of his writing upon such a subject. +Life, he says, is a bubble,--and the life of an old man a bubble about +to break. He is eighty, and must pack his luggage to go out of this +world. ("_Annus octogesimus admonet me, ut sarcinas colligam antequam +proficiscar e vitâ_.") Therefore he, writes down for his wife, Fundania, +the rules by which she may manage the farm. + +And a very respectably old lady she must have been, to deal with the +_villici_ and the _coloni_, if her age bore suitable relation to that +of her husband. The ripe maturity of many of the rural writers I have +introduced cannot fail to strike one. Thus, Xenophon gained a strength +in his Elian fields that carried him into the nineties; Cato lived to be +over eighty; and now we have Varro, writing his book out by Tusculum at +eighty, and surviving to counsel with Fundania ten years more. Pliny, +too, (the elder,) who, if not a farmer, had his country-seats, and left +very much to establish our acquaintance with the Roman rural life, was +a hale, much-enduring man, of such soldierly habits and large +abstemiousness as to warrant a good fourscore,--if he had not fallen +under that murderous cloud of ashes from Mount Vesuvius, in the year 79. + +The poets, doubtless, burnt out earlier, as they usually do. Virgil, +whom I shall come to speak of presently, certainly did: he died at +fifty-one. Tibullus, whose opening Idyl is as pretty a bit of gasconade +about living in a cottage in the country, upon love and a few +vegetables, as a maiden could wish for, did not reach the fifties; and +Martial, whose "Faustine Villa," if nothing else, entitles him to rural +oblation, fell short of the sixties. + +Varro indulges in some sharp sneers at those who had written on the same +subject before him. This was natural enough in a man of his pursuits: he +had written four hundred books! + +Of Columella we know scarcely more than that he lived somewhere about +the time of Tiberius, that he was a man of wealth, that he travelled +extensively through Gaul, Italy, and Greece, observing intelligently +different methods of culture, and that he has given the fullest existing +compend of ancient agriculture. In his chapter upon Gardening he warms +into hexameters; but the rest is stately and euphonious prose. In his +opening chapter, he does not forego such praises of the farmer's life +as sound like a lawyer's address before a county-society on a fair-day. +Cincinnatus and his plough come in for it; and Fabricius and Curius +Dentatus; with which names, luckily, our orators cannot whet their +periods, since Columella's mention of them is about all we know of their +farming. + +He falls into the way, moreover, of lamenting, as people obstinately +continue to do, the "good old times," when men were better than "now," +and when the reasonable delights of the garden and the fields engrossed +them to the neglect of the circus and the theatres. But when he opens +upon his subject proper, it is in grandiose, Spanish style, (he was +a native of Cadiz,) with a maxim broad enough to cover all possible +conditions:--"_Qui studium agricolationi dederit, sciat haec sibi +advocanda: prudentiam rei, facultatem impendendi voluntatem agendi_." +Or, as Tremellius says,--"That man will master the business, _qui et +colere sciet, et poterit, et volet_." + +This is comprehensive, if not encouraging. That "_facultatem +impendendi_" is a tremendous bolster to farming as to anything else; it +is only another shape of the "_poterit_," and the "_poterit"_ only +a scholarly rendering of pounds and pence. As if Tremellius had +said,--That man will make his way at farming who understands the +business, who has the money to apply to it, and who is willing to bleed +freely. + +With a kindred sagacity this shrewd Roman advises a man to slip upon his +farm often, in order that his steward may keep sharply at his work; he +even suggests that the landlord make a feint of coming, when he has no +intention thereto, that he may gain a day's alertness from the bailiff. +The book is of course a measure of the advances made in farming during +the two hundred years elapsed since Cato's time; but those advances were +not great. There was advance in power to systematize facts, advance in +literary aptitude, but no very noticeable gain in methods of culture. +Columella gives the results of wider observation, and of more persistent +study; but, for aught I can see, a man could get a crop of lentils +as well with Cato as with Columbia; a man would house his flocks and +servants as well out of the one as the other; in short, a man would grow +into the "_facultatem impendendi_" as swiftly under the teachings of the +Senator as of the later writer of the reign of Tiberius. + +It is but dull work to follow those teachings; here and there I warm +into a little sympathy, as I catch sight, in his Latin dress, of our +old friend _Curculio;_ here and there I sniff a fruit that seems +familiar,--as the _fraga_, or a _morum;_ and here and there comes +blushing into the crabbed text the sweet name of some home-flower,--a +lily, a narcissus, or a rose. The chief value of the work of Columella, +however, lies in its clear showing-forth of the relative importance +given to different crops, under Roman culture, and to the raising of +cattle, poultry, fish, etc.; as compared with crops. Knowing this, we +know very much that will help us toward an estimate of the domestic life +of the Romans. We learn, with surprise, how little they regarded their +oxen, save as working-animals,--whether the milk-white steers of +Clitumnus, or the dun Campanian cattle, whose descendants show their +long-horned stateliness to this day in the Roman forum. The sheep, too, +whether of Tarentum or of Canusium, were regarded as of value chiefly +for their wool and milk; and it is surely amazing, that men who could +appreciate the iambics of Horace and the eloquence of Cicero should +have shown so little fancy for a fat saddle of mutton or for a mottled +sirloin of beef. + +I change from Columella to Virgil, and from Virgil back to some pleasant +Idyl of Tibullus, and from Tibullus to the pretty prate of Horace about +the Sabine Hills; I stroll through Pliny's villa, eying the clipped +box-trees; I hear the rattle in the tennis-court; I watch the tall Roman +girls-- + + "Grandes virgines proborum colonorum"-- + +marching along with their wicker-baskets filled with curds and +fresh-plucked thrushes, until there comes over me a confusion of times +and places. + +--The sound of the battle of to-day dies; the fresh blood-stains +fade; and I seem to wake upon the heights of Tusculum, in the days of +Tiberius. The farm-flat below is a miniature Campagna, along which I +see stretching straight to the city the shining pavement of the Via +Tusculana. The spires yonder melt into mist, and in place of them I see +the marble house-walls of which Augustus boasted. As yet the grander +monuments of the Empire are not built; but there is a blotch of cliff +which may be the Tarpeian Rock, and beside it a huge hulk of building on +the Capitoline Hill, where sat the Roman Senate. A little hitherward are +the gay turrets of the villa of Maecenas, and of the princely houses on +the Palatine Hill, and in the foreground the stately tomb of Cecilia +Metella. I see the barriers of a hippodrome, (where now howling +jockeys make the twilight hideous); a _gestatio_, with its lines +of cherry-trees, is before me, and the velvety lavender-green of +olive-orchards covers the hills behind. Vines grow upon the slope +eastward,-- + + "Neve tibi ad solem vergant vineta cadentem,"-- + +twining around, and flinging off a great wealth of tendrils from their +supporting-poles (_pedamenta_). The figs begin to show the purple bloom +of fruitage, and the _villicus_, who has just now come in from the +_atriolum_, reports a good crop, and asks if it would not be well to +apply a few loads of marl (_tofacea_) to the summer fallow, which Cato +is just now breaking up with the Campanian steers, for barley. + +Scipio, a stanch Numidian, has gone to market with three asses loaded +with cabbages and asparagus. Villicus tells me that the poultry in the +fattening-coops (as close-shut as the Strasburg geese)[F] are doing +well, and he has added a _soupçon_ of sweetening to their barley-gruel. +The young doves have their legs faithfully broken, ("_obteras crura_") +and are placidly fattening on their stumps. The thrush-house is properly +darkened, only enough light entering to show the food to some three or +four thousand birds, which are in course of cramming for the market. The +_cochlearium_ has a good stock of snails and mussels; and the little +dormice are growing into fine condition for an approaching Imperial +banquet. + +[Footnote F: "Locus ad hanc rem desideratur maxime calidus, et minimi +luminis, in quo singulae caveis angustioribus vel sportis inclusae +pendeant aves, sed ita coarctatae, _ne versari posslnt_."--Columella, +Lib. VIII. cap. vii.] + +Villicus reports the clip of the Tarentine sheep unusually fine, and +free from burrs. The new must is all a-foam in the _vinaria;_ and around +the inner cellar (_gaudendem est!_) there is a tier of urns, as large as +school-boys, brimming with ripe Falernian. + +If it were not stormy, I might order out the farm-chariot, or +_curriculum_, which is, after all, but a low, dumpy kind of horse-cart, +and take a drive over the lava pavement of the Via Tusculana, to learn +what news is astir, and what the citizens talk of in the forum. Is all +quiet upon the Rhine? How is it possibly with Germanicus? And what of +that story of the arrest of Seneca? It could hardly have happened, they +say, in the good old days of the Republic. + +And with this mention, as with the sound of a gun, the Roman pastoral +dream is broken. The Campagna, the olive-orchards, the _columbarium_, +fall back to their old places in the blurred type of Columella. The +Campanian steers are unyoked, and stabled in the text of Varro. The +turrets of the villa of Maecenas, and of the palaces of Sylla and the +Caesars, give place to the spires of a New-England town,--southward of +which I see through the mist a solitary flag flying over a soldiers' +hospital. It reminds of nearer and deadlier perils than ever environed +the Roman Republic,--perils out of which if the wisdom and courage of +the people do not find a way, some new Caesar will point it with the +sword. + +Looking northward, I see there is a bight of blue in the sky; and a lee +set of dark-gray and purple clouds is folding down over the eastern +horizon,--against which the spires and the flag show clearer than ever. +It means that the rain has stopped; and the rain having stopped, my +in-door work is done. + + * * * * * + + +GOLDEN WEDDING. + + +The reader whose eye is arrested by my title will doubtless anticipate a +romance on that ever-old, ever-new theme of a certain god with a torch +leading two souls bound together by iron concealed in flower-wreaths, +until, alas! life seems ordinary enough to be symbolized by _tin_,--of +the tin-wedding entering into the refiner's fire, and, by sure +transmutation, rising from the baser metal to the paler, but purer +silver,--of the subtile alchemy of years, which, in human life's great +crucible, + + "Transmute, so potent are the spells they know + Into pure gold the silver of to-day." + +Perhaps, reader, you are not altogether to be disappointed; and yet, for +the present, it is only a glass of sparkling wine I wish you to take +with me. You will please read on that delicate strip of paper around the +bottle's neck the name in gilt,--"Golden Wedding." At once you +grow transcendental, and suppose that some German vine-dresser in +Catawba-land--by the way, Gerritt Smith's gardener is a nephew of +Schiller!--was dreaming of the marriage of the Sun with the Vine, his +darling plant, in whose juice linger and sparkle the light and joy of +many faded days. But no, it was named from a real Golden Wedding. + +Let me take you--as the clairvoyants say--to a large, sooty, toiling +city in the West. From street to street you shall go, and see but little +to excite your admiration, unless you are a constant believer that _work +is worship_. But here, in the centre of the city, is a noble old mansion +with its beautiful park around it, which a traveller who saw it once +compared to a pearl on the breast of a blacksmith. Here it was that the +Golden Wedding took place. + +Who that was there can ever forget it? In my own memory that throng of +the worthy, the beautiful, the gay of a great city will stand as the one +fulfilment which Fate has given me of many Oriental promissory dreams, +most of which she has failed to honor. In that great company you might +have traced all the circles of that city's growth, as you may trace a +tree's history in its rings. That lady there was the first white baby +born here, where now over two hundred thousand human beings reside. Here +are the pioneers who filled the first log-huts on the city's site, +until they overflowed through the roofs. And here is an inner circle of +children, and an outer one of grandchildren, about the two who are the +heart of this beautiful celebration. Can that lovely, erect, blooming +lady be a bride of fifty years? Looking at her, one would say it is a +great and unnecessary mistake of ours to grow old. But more closely must +we look at that quaint old man by her side. Lately he has passed away; +but every day of his long life left a trace worthy to be noted well. His +eighty years and twenty-five days of life comprise an epitome of the +history and growth of a great community. Not so would you at first +interpret that plain old man; though, to a knowing eye, that eye, clear +with looking at the duty that lies nearest, that mouth, telling of +patient, unimpulsive energy, that broadness about the brow, would be +guaranties of a marked life. + +And now for my story, which you must let me tell in a rambling way; for +any systematic biography of that man would be like putting one of his +own Catawba-vines into your herbarium. + +I introduce you to a fair-haired, handsome youth, on the deck of a small +steamboat, which is bearing him to his fortune in the great West. He is +penniless. His father was wealthy; but in the war he was a Tory, and, in +the confiscation of his property, his sin was visited upon his son. But +he was not the boy to repine, with youth and the great West before him. +And now as from the steamer's deck he sees a fine landscape with a few +log-houses on it, he believes that it is one day to be a great city, and +concludes to stop there. So he is put ashore with his trunk. + +He has already determined to study law. He goes to the one judge +who resides there, and is taken as a student into his office. More +log-houses are built; a court-house is erected; and presently that +institution at sight of which the shipwrecked Englishman fell on his +knees and thanked God he was in a Christian land--the gallows--made its +appearance. So the young man had a fair practice. + +The records of the West, if they are ever written, will testify how +often whimsical Fortune thrusts her favors on men against their will. +This very judge with whom our youth studied law became environed with +pecuniary difficulties, and wished once to satisfy a claim of a few +hundred dollars by deeding away a sheep-pasture of a few acres, which +was of no sort of use to him. But when he went to get his wife's +signature to the conveyance, she burst into tears; she knew, she said, +that the pasture was worthless; but she had in her childhood heard there +the tinkling of the bells of her father's sheep; it was very foolish, +she knew, but now that they had all passed away, the bells over in the +pasture tinkled on in her memory, and she hated to give it up. The kind +husband would not insist, but went sadly to his work. It was not long +before the sheep-pasture was worth a million dollars! Sentiment, you +see, is not always an unproductive article. + +But this case was scarcely so curious as that which presently thrust a +goodly capital on the hands of our young law-student. His first case in +the court was that of a horse-thief, whom he induced a jury to acquit. +When he came to his client for a fee, the scapegrace whispered that +he had nothing on earth wherewith to pay the fee except two old +whiskey-stills and--_a horse_. When he heard this last word, the +lawyer's conscience gave him a twinge. After a moment's reflection, he +said,--"You will need the horse; and you had best make him take you as +far as possible from this region of country. I must be satisfied with +the whiskey-stills." It was not for a long time that he thought even to +inquire about the stills. When he did so, he found them in possession +of a man who implored him not to take them away, and promised to pay +something for them. Finding that he could not do this, he begged our +hero to accept as payment for them a few acres of barren land, which, +with great reluctance, he agreed to do. Erelong the tide of emigration +set westward, and this land is to-day worth two million dollars! + +But his subsequent life showed that the man's fortune was not luck; for +by economy, not by hoarding,--by foresight, and a generous trust to all +laborers who wished to lease lands, his wealth grew to nearly fifteen +million dollars. + +When he found that he had enough to live comfortably upon, he retired +from the bar, and devoted himself to horticulture. He found that the +region in which he lived was adapted to the growth of the vine, and +began his experiments, which, during his life, extended to the culture +of more than forty varieties. He laid before the community, from time to +time, a report of his successes, he called on all to come and taste the +wines he made, until the tidings went over the earth, and from Germany, +France, Italy, came vine-dressers and wine-makers, who covered every +hill-side for miles around him with vintages. + +Those who came from afar to inquire into this new branch of industry, +for which he had opened the way, were surprised to meet the +millionnaire, the Catawba-Prince, in his plain garb and with his humble +habits. + +How many stories I could tell you of this unintentional, odd homeliness +of manner and life, from which he never departed, and which those around +him found it impossible to depart from, even in respect to the style of +the coffin in which he was laid, and the procession which followed him +to the beautiful cemetery! His dress was always that of a man of the +humblest fortunes; and Dame Gossip says that he was so fond of his old +coat, that, when a change became absolutely necessary, his daughters +were obliged to prepare the new one, and substitute it for the old +whilst he was asleep, so that in the morning he should put it on +unconsciously, or, if he discovered the change; must wear the new or +none. The same dame has it that a youth, who afterward became his +son-in-law, having caught sight somewhere of one of the old man's +daughters, desired to know her, and that, in the park, which was open to +all, he met the old gentleman, whom he supposed to be the gardener, and +offered him a bribe, if he would bring the lady out among the roses. The +old man accepted the bribe, and returned with the lady, whom, with a +sly twinkle of the eye, he introduced as "my daughter" to the blushing +youth. And again it is told, that once, on a very warm day, the old man, +having to wait for a friend, sat down on a stone just outside of his own +gate, took off his hat, and, closing his eyes, dozed a little. When he +got up, he found a silver quarter in his hat. Whether it was put there +by some one who really thought he was an object of charity, or by a wag, +the old man appreciated the joke, and, with a smile, put it into the +pocket out of which had to come forty thousand dollars for annual taxes. +These stories may or may not be true; but in some sense such stories +have a certain truth, whether invented or not. They can live and +circulate only in a community where they are characteristic of the +person of whom they are told. Generous men are not pursued by stories of +parsimony; mean men never hear even untrue stories of their generosity. + +And this last remark leads me to speak of the relation in which the +wealthiest man of the West stood to the throngs of the poor and the +suffering who surrounded him. + +If, in the city, you had gone to the President of the Boorioboola-Gha +Sewing-Circle, or to the Tract-Society Rooms, or to the clergy, and +inquired whether the city's richest man was charitable, you would have +received an ominous shrug in reply. Vainly have they gone to him for any +such charities. Vainly did they go to him for some "poor, but worthy and +Christian woman." + +"I will give nothing," he replied; "there are enough who will give to +her; what I have to give shall go to the _unworthy_ poor, whom none +will help,--the Devil's poor, Sir,--those whom Christians leave to the +Devil." + +Many a minister has been sorely puzzled by the receipt of a fifty-dollar +bill "for the relief of the depraved." His office was constantly +thronged with outcasts, who were generally relieved by small sums. In +his relations with these people, his simplicity and eccentricity were +noted by all who knew him. Among many stories which I know to be true, I +select the following. + +Some six or eight years ago the winter was very cold; the river was +frozen, and all the "wharf-rats" were thrown out of work. A near +relative of the old gentleman came to the city, and passed the night at +his house. After tea he sauntered to the office to take a quiet cigar. +To his surprise, he found it filled with a crowd--more than fifty--of +brawny, beastly-looking men. The presence of the childlike old man, his +face beaming with shrewdness and kindly humor, seemed alone to keep them +from being a mob. His manner to them said,--"You poor wretches, I know +how reckless you are; yet I am not sure but I should be as bad, had I +been exposed to the same bad influences." These houseless vagrants had +been coming every night, while the river was frozen, to get a dime for a +night's lodging. + +The young man had been forced by the unpleasantness of the crowd to go +and enjoy his cigar outside. As he sat there, the ugly crowd filed out +quietly, each with his dime, (the clerk distributing,) till the last +man. He seemed to feel very ill-used, and was scarcely clear of the +door-way before he gave vent to his indignation:--"I'll be d----d, if I +don't let Old ---- know that I won't be put off with a five-cent piece +and a three-cent piece! Let me ketch him out, and I'll mash his," etc., +etc. + +Glowing with righteous indignation, and glad of the opportunity, the +young relative rushed in and exclaimed,-- + +"Mr. ----! I have had many occasions to remonstrate with you on your +indiscriminate charities, your encouragement of beggary and vice. The +wretch who went out last is breathing threats of personal violence +against you, because he has been put off with a five-cent piece and a +three-cent piece!" + +How was the indignant remonstrant mortified, when the old man simply +turned his head to the clerk and said,-- + +"Mark, why did you not give that man his dime?" + +"I had given out all the dimes, Sir, and I gave him all I had left." + +"See that he gets his extra two cents the next time he comes. I have no +doubt I should have been mad, if I had been in his place." + +A forlorn-looking man once came and asked for help. + +"I am afraid to give you money. I think I know how you will spend it." + +Of course the man protested that strong drink was an abomination unto +him,--that what his nature most craved was "pure, fresh milk." + +The old man, with a look in which it would be hard to say whether +shrewdness or credulity predominated, at once hastened to the +milk-cellar and returned with a glass of milk; the fellow swallowed the +dose with an eager reluctance quite comical to behold, but which excited +no movement in the muscles of the old gentleman's face. + +On a raw, wet winter's day, a loafer applied for a pair of shoes. He had +on an old, shambling pair, out at both toes. The old Wine-Prince was +sitting with a pair of slippers on, and had his own shoes warming at the +fire. + +"Well," said he to the applicant, "you do look rather badly off, for +such a cold, wet day; here, see if these shoes will fit you," handing +his own. + +The fellow tried them on and pronounced them a complete fit, and went on +his way rejoicing. The clerk was amused, half an hour after, to see the +old gentleman searching for his shoes and wondering what had become of +them. He was reminded that he had given them to the beggar. On further +inquiry, he found that he had no other pair in the house. + +The following significant story was told me by the son of the old man. I +present it in nearly his own words. + +"Adjoining me in the country lives an old German who nearly seventy +years ago was _sold_ in New York for his passage. A confectioner of +Baltimore bought him for seven years' service, and he went with his +master to fulfil his obligation. When his time was out, he turned his +face towards the setting sun, and started to seek his fortune. On +arriving in Pittsburg, having no money, he engaged to 'work his way' +down the river on a flat-boat. He stopped at the little village, as our +city then was, and opened a shop. He was skilful, and succeeded. He came +to my father, and bought, on ten years' credit, a place in the country, +where, in course of time, he built a house, and, with my father's +assistance, planted a vineyard. He then gave up all other business but +that of the vine-dresser. + +"One day, in the autumn, a few years ago, I overtook the old man on +horseback, on his way to town. After wishing me a cheery good-morning, +he said,-- + +"'I am on my way to town, to sell your father my wine.' + +"'He will be glad to get it; he is buying wine, and yours is made so +carefully that he will be glad to have it.' + +"'I mean to sell it to him for fifty cents a gallon.' + +"'Oh,' said I, 'don't offer it at that. I know he is paying double that +sum.' + +"'Nevertheless, I mean to sell it to him for half a dollar.' + +"I looked inquiringly. + +"'Well, Sir, I was but a boy when I left Germany; but I was old +enough to remember that a man, after a hard day's work, could go to a +wine-house, and for two cents could get a tumblerful. It did him good, +and he went home to his family fresher and brighter for his wine. He +was never drunk, and never wasted his earnings to appease a diseased +appetite. I want to see that state of things brought about here. Our +poor people drink whiskey. I want them to have cheap wine in its place. +Fifty cents a gallon will pay me well this year for my capital and +labor, and next year I think I can sell it for forty cents.' + +"'But, my friend, see how this will work. You will sell your wine to Mr. +---- for fifty cents; and he will send it to his wine-cellar, and they +will bottle it and sell it for all they can get.' + +"'That's _their_ lookout,' said the Teuton; 'I shall have done my duty.' + +"It was rather hard to get an advantage of my father, but I thought now +I had him. On reaching the city, I sought him out, and told the story +with all its circumstances. + +"'Now, Sir, in presence of the example of this old German,--sold in New +York for his passage, faithfully fulfilling the years of his servitude, +working his way to a small competency by savings and industry,--will you +dare to let the world hear of you, a rich man, making a profit on wine?' + +"The old man's eye dropped an instant, then he said,-- + +"'My son, Heaven knows I do not wish to make money out of wine. I have +given much time and much money for the last fifty years to make this +doubtful experiment successful. I have paid high prices for wine, and +used all other means in my power to make it remunerative,--to induce +others to plant vineyards. If I should now take your suggestion and +bring wine down to a low price, I should ruin the enterprise. But let +the extended cultivation of the grape be once firmly established, and +then competition will bring it low enough.' + +"'Well,' said I, 'that may be good worldly wisdom; but I like the spirit +of the old Dutchman better, after all.' + +"'There I agree with you; for once, you are right.'" + +A most careful accountant has shown that his contributions to +grape-culture amounted to one-fourth of his whole fortune: a clear loss +to him, but not to the public. + +Though the lips of Christendom repeat, Sunday after Sunday, the warning +that the left hand should not know what the right hand doeth, yet it is +very apt to judge of a man's liberality by the paragraphs concerning him +in the newspapers. The old gentleman once gave his city several acres of +land for an observatory which was to be erected; and there is no doubt +that he had reason to conclude, as have others, that it was the worst, +as it was the most public, charity of his life. That his private +charities were numerous and without self-crediting, the present writer +_happens_ to know. Once, after going through the great wine-cellar where +millions were coined, I went through the barracks in the upper portion +of the same building, where a wretched tenantry of the Devil's poor +lived in squalor. Each of these families was required to pay room-rent +to the millionnaire. As I passed along, I found one man and woman in +wrathful distress. They must pay their rent, or be turned out of their +rooms. The rent was two or three dollars. I said,-- + +"The old gentleman will not turn you out." + +"You do not know him; he will be sure to, if we do not pay him every +cent." + +I determined to search him out and represent the case. I could not find +him; but before I concluded my search, I found that the poor people had +been compelled to sell a table and some chairs to pay the rent. The next +day I saw them again, and found them heartily abusing the old man as +"a stingy brute," who would "sell the chairs from under them." Yet I +observed that they had _a new table and three new chairs_. When I asked +them how they came by them, they said they had been sent by an unknown +hand, which they supposed to be mine. A thought struck me, and after +some trouble I ferreted out the fact, that, although the rich old man +had, for reasons connected with the good order of the barracks, +always exacted every cent of the rent from each tenant, whatever the +consequences, he had many times, as in this case, secretly returned more +than it had cost them to pay it. They were left to believe him a hard +man, and often attributed his benefits to societies and persons whose +charity would have been stifled by the whiskey-stench of their rooms. + +Thus, then, went on his life, until the day when the Golden Wedding +was to be celebrated. That year, the sons, with the vine-dressers, the +bottlers, corkers, and all, gathered together and said,-- + +"Come, now! let us this year make a wine that shall be like the nectar +for a true man's soul!" + +So, with one accord, they gathered the richest grapes, and selected from +them; then they made the wine-press clean and sweet, and cast the grapes +therein. One great hiss,--a spurt of gold flushed with rubies,--and all +that is acrid is left, all that is rich and sweet is borne away, to be +labelled "GOLDEN WEDDING." + +And now, as I taste it, it seems to me flavored beyond all earthly wine, +as if it were the expression of an humble and faithful man, who had a +legitimate object, which he obtained by steadfastness. The wine-makers +maintain, that wine, though long confined in bottles, sympathizes still +with the vines from which it was pressed; and when the season of the +flowering of vines comes, it is always agitated anew. Surely the Catawba +must ever sparkle afresh, when in it, as now, we pledge the memory of +the brave and wise pioneer whose life climbed to its maturity along with +the purple clusters which so had garnered the frost and sunshine of a +life as well as of the seasons. + + + + +THE SILURIAN BEACH. + + +With what interest do we look upon any relic of early human history! +The monument that tells of a civilization whose hieroglyphic records we +cannot even decipher, the slightest trace of a nation that vanished and +left no sign of its life except the rough tools and utensils buried +in the old site of its towns or villages, arouses our imagination and +excites our curiosity. Men gaze with awe at the inscription on an +ancient Egyptian or Assyrian stone; they hold with reverential touch the +yellow parchment-roll whose dim, defaced characters record the meagre +learning of a buried nationality; and the announcement, that for +centuries the tropical forests of Central America have hidden within +their tangled growth the ruined homes and temples of a past race, stirs +the civilized world with a strange, deep wonder. + +To me it seems that to look on the first land that was ever lifted above +the waste of waters, to follow the shore where the earliest animals and +plants were created when the thought of God first expressed itself +in organic forms, to hold in one's hand a bit of stone from an old +sea-beach, hardened into rock thousands of centuries ago, and studded +with the beings that once crept upon its surface or were stranded there +by some retreating wave, is even of deeper interest to men than the +relics of their own race, for these things tell more directly of the +thoughts and creative acts of God. + +Standing in the neighborhood of Whitehall, near Lake George, one may +look along such a sea-shore, and see it stretching westward and sloping +gently southward as far as the eye can reach. It must have had a very +gradual slope, and the waters must have been very shallow; for at that +time no great mountains had been uplifted, and deep oceans are always +the concomitants of lofty heights. We do not, however, judge of this by +inference merely; we have an evidence of the shallowness of the sea +in those days in the character of the shells found in the Silurian +deposits, which shows that they belonged in shoal waters. + +Indeed, the fossil remains of all times tell us almost as much of the +physical condition of the world at different epochs as they do of its +animal and vegetable population. When Robinson Crusoe first caught sight +of the footprint on the sand, he saw in it more than the mere footprint, +for it spoke to him of the presence of men on his desert island. We +walk on the old geological shores, like Crusoe along his beach, and the +footprints we find there tell us, too, more than we actually see in +them. The crust of our earth is a great cemetery where the rocks are +tombstones on which the buried dead have written their own epitaphs. +They tell us not only who they were and when and where they lived, but +much also of the circumstances under which they lived. We ascertain +the prevalence of certain physical conditions at special epochs by the +presence of animals and plants whose existence and maintenance required +such a state of things, more than by any positive knowledge respecting +it. Where we find the remains of quadrupeds corresponding to our +ruminating animals, we infer not only land, but grassy meadows also, and +an extensive vegetation; where we find none but marine animals, we know +the ocean must have covered the earth; the remains of large reptiles, +representing, though in gigantic size, the half aquatic, half +terrestrial reptiles of our own period, indicate to us the existence +of spreading marshes still soaked by the retreating waters; while the +traces of such animals as live now in sand and shoal waters, or in mud, +speak to us of shelving sandy beaches and of mud-flats. The eye of the +Trilobite tells us that the sun shone on the old beach where he +lived; for there is nothing in Nature without a purpose, and when so +complicated an organ was made to receive the light, there must have been +light to enter it. The immense vegetable deposits in the Carboniferous +period announce the introduction of an extensive terrestrial vegetation; +and the impressions left by the wood and leaves of the trees show +that these first forests must have grown in a damp soil and a moist +atmosphere. In short, all the remains of animals and plants hidden in +the rocks have something to tell of the climatic conditions and the +general circumstances under which they lived, and the study of fossils +is to the naturalist a thermometer by which he reads the variations of +temperature in past times, a plummet by which he sounds the depths of +the ancient oceans,--a register, in fact, of all the important physical +changes the earth has undergone. + +But although the animals of the early geological deposits indicate +shallow seas by their similarity to our shoal-water animals, it must not +be supposed that they are by any means the same. On the contrary, the +old shells, crustacea, corals, etc., represent types which have existed +in all times with the same essential structural elements, but under +different specific forms in the several geological periods. And here +it may not be amiss to say something of what are called by naturalists +_representative types_. + +The statement that different sets of animals and plants have +characterized the successive epochs is often understood as indicating +a difference of another kind than that which distinguishes animals now +living in different parts of the world. This is a mistake. There are +so-called representative types all over the globe, united to each other +by structural relations and separated by specific differences of +the same kind as those that unite and separate animals of different +geological periods. Take, for instance, mud-flats or sandy shores in the +same latitudes of Europe and America; we find living on each animals of +the same structural character and of the same general appearance, +but with certain specific differences, as of color, size, external +appendages, etc. They represent each other on the two continents. +The American wolves, foxes, bears, rabbits, are not the same as the +European, but those of one continent are as true to their respective +types as those of the other; under a somewhat different aspect they +represent the same groups of animals. In certain latitudes, or under +conditions of nearer proximity, these differences may be less marked. +It is well known that there is a great monotony of type, not only among +animals and plants, but in the human races also, throughout the Arctic +regions; and the animals characteristic of the high North reappear under +such identical forms in the neighborhood of the snow-fields in lofty +mountains, that to trace the difference between the ptarmigans, rabbits, +and other gnawing animals of the Alps, for instance, and those of the +Arctics, is among the most difficult problems of modern science. + +And so is it also with the animated world of past ages; in similar +deposits of sand, mud, or lime, in adjoining regions of the same +geological age, identical remains of animals and plants may be +found, while at greater distances, but under similar circumstances, +representative species may occur. In very remote regions, however, +whether the circumstances be similar or dissimilar, the general aspect +of the organic world differs greatly, remoteness in space being thus in +some measure an indication of the degree of affinity between different +faunae. In deposits of different geological periods immediately +following each other we sometimes find remains of animals and plants so +closely allied to those of earlier or later periods that at first sight +the specific differences are hardly discernible. The difficulty of +solving these questions, and of appreciating correctly the differences +and similarities between such closely allied organisms, explains the +antagonistic views of many naturalists respecting the range of existence +of animals, during longer or shorter geological periods; and the +superficial way in which discussions concerning the transition of +species are carried on is mainly owing to an ignorance of the conditions +above alluded to. My own personal observation and experience in these +matters have led me to the conviction that every geological period +has had its own representatives, and that no single species has been +repeated in successive ages. + +The laws regulating the geographical distribution of animals and their +combination into distinct or zoological provinces called faunae with +definite limits are very imperfectly understood as yet; but so closely +are all things linked together from the beginning till to-day that I am +convinced we shall never find the clue to their meaning till we carry on +our investigations in the past and the present simultaneously. The same +principle according to which animal and vegetable life is distributed +over the surface of the earth now prevailed in the earliest geological +periods. The geological deposits of all times have had their +characteristic faunae under various zones, their zoological provinces +presenting special combinations of animal and vegetable life over +certain regions, and their representative types reproducing in different +countries, but under similar latitudes, the same groups with specific +differences. + +Of course, the nearer we approach the beginning of organic life, the +less marked do we find the differences to be, and for a very obvious +reason. The inequalities of the earth's surface, her mountain-barriers +protecting whole continents from the Arctic winds, her open plains +exposing others to the full force of the polar blasts, her snug valleys +and her lofty heights, her table-lands and rolling prairies, her +river-systems and her dry deserts, her cold ocean-currents pouring down +from the high North on some of her shores, while warm ones from tropical +seas carry their softer influence to others,--in short, all the +contrasts in the external configuration of the globe, with the physical +conditions attendant upon them, are naturally accompanied by a +corresponding variety in animal and vegetable life. + +But in the Silurian age, when there were no elevations higher than +the Canadian hills, when water covered the face of the earth with the +exception of a few isolated portions lifted above the almost universal +ocean, how monotonous must have been the conditions of life! And what +should we expect to find on those first shores? If we are walking on a +sea-beach to-day, we do not look for animals that haunt the forests or +roam over the open plains, or for those that live in sheltered valleys +or in inland regions or on mountain-heights. We look for Shells, for +Mussels and Barnacles, for Crabs, for Shrimps, for Marine Worms, for +Star-Fishes and Sea-Urchins, and we may find here and there a fish +stranded on the sand or tangled in the sea-weed. Let us remember, then, +that, in the Silurian period, the world, so far as it was raised above +the ocean, was a beach, and let us seek there for such creatures as God +has made to live on sea-shores, and not belittle the Creative work, +or say that He first scattered the seeds of life in meagre or stinted +measure, because we do not find air-breathing animals when there was +no fitting atmosphere to feed their lungs, insects with no terrestrial +plants to live upon, reptiles without marshes, birds without trees, +cattle without grass, all things, in short, without the essential +conditions for their existence. + +What we do find--and these, as I shall endeavor to show my readers, in +such profusion that it would seem as if God, in the joy of creation, had +compensated Himself for a less variety of forms in the greater richness +of the early types--is an immense number of beings belonging to the four +primary divisions of the Animal Kingdom, but only to those classes whose +representatives are marine, whose home then, as now, was either in the +sea or along its shores. In other words, the first organic creation +expressed in its totality the structural conception since carried out in +such wonderful variety of details, and purposely limited then, because +the world, which was to be the home of the higher animals, was not yet +made ready to receive them. + +I am fully aware that the intimate relations between the organic and +physical world are interpreted by many as indicating the absence, rather +than the presence, of an intelligent Creator. They argue, that the +dependence of animals on material laws gives us the clue to their origin +as well as to their maintenance. Were this influence as absolute and +unvarying as the purely mechanical action of physical circumstances +must necessarily be, this inference might have some pretence to +logical probability,--though it seems to me unnecessary, under any +circumstances, to resort to climatic influences or the action of any +physical laws to explain the thoughtful distribution of the organic and +inorganic world, so evidently intended to secure for all beings what +best suits their nature and their needs. But the truth is, that, while +these harmonious relations underlie the whole creation in such a manner +as to indicate a great central plan, of which all things are a part, +there is at the same time a freedom, an arbitrary element in the mode of +carrying it out, which seems to point to the exercise of an individual +will; for, side by side with facts, apparently the direct result of +physical laws, are other facts, the nature of which shows a complete +independence of external influences. + +Take, for instance, the similarity above alluded to between the fauna of +the Arctics and that of the Alps, certainly showing a direct relation +between climatic conditions and animal and vegetable life. Yet even +there, where the shades of specific difference between many animals +and plants of the same class are so slight as to battle the keenest +investigators, we have representative types both in the Animal and +Vegetable Kingdoms as distinct and peculiar as those of widely removed +and strongly contrasted climatic conditions. Shall we attribute the +similarities and the differences alike to physical causes? Compare, for +example, the Reindeer of the Arctics with the Ibex and the Chamois, +representing the same group in the Alps. Even on mountain-heights of +similar altitudes, where not only climate, but other physical conditions +would suggest a recurrence of identical animals, we do not find the +same, but representative types. The Ibex of the Alps differs, for +instance, from that of the Pyrenees, that of the Pyrenees from those of +the Caucasus and Himalayas, these again from each other and from that of +the Altai. + +But perhaps the most conclusive proof that we must seek for the origin +of organic life outside of physical causes consists in the permanence of +the fundamental types, while the species representing these types have +differed in every geological period. Now what we call typical features +of structure are in themselves no more stable or permanent than specific +features. If physical causes, such as light, heat, moisture, food, +habits of life, etc., acting upon individuals, have gradually in +successive generations changed the character of the species to which +they belong, why not that of the class and the branch also? If we judge +this question from the material side at all, we must, in order to judge +it fairly, look at it wholly from that point of view. If these specific +changes are brought about in this way, it is because external causes +have positive permanent effects upon the substances of which animals are +built: they have power to change their hair, to change their skin, to +change certain external appendages or ornamentations, and any other of +those ultimate features which naturalists call specific characters. +Now I would ask what there is in the substances out of which class +characters are built that would make them less susceptible to such +external influences than these specific characters. In many instances +the former are more delicate, more sensitive, far more fragile and +transient in their material nature than the latter. And yet never, in +all the chances and changes of time, have we seen any alteration in the +mode of respiration, of reproduction, of circulation, or in any of the +systems of organs which characterize the more comprehensive groups of +the Animal Kingdom, although they are quite as much under the immediate +influence of physical causes as those structural features which have +been constantly changing. + +The woody fibre of the Pine-trees has had the same structure from the +Carboniferous age to this day, while their mode of branching and the +forms of their cones and leaves have been different in each period +according to their respective species. The combination of rings, the +structure of the wings, and the articulations of the legs are the same +in the Cockroaches of the Carboniferous age as in those which infest our +ships and our dwellings to-day, while the proportion of their parts is +on quite another scale. The tissue of the Corals in the Silurian age is +identical in chemical combination and organic structure with that of the +Corals of our modern reefs, and yet the extensive researches upon this +class for which we are indebted to Milne Edwards and Haime have not +revealed a single species extending through successive geological ages, +but show us, on the contrary, that every age has had its own kinds, +differing among themselves in the same way as those of the Gulf of +Mexico differ now from those of the Indian Ocean and the Pacific. The +scales of the oldest known fishes in the Silurian beds have the same +microscopic structure as those of their representative types today, and +yet I have never seen a single fossil fish presenting the same specific +characters in the successive geological epochs. The teeth of the oldest +Sharks show the same microscopic structure as those of the present time, +and we do not lack opportunities for comparison, since the former are as +common in the mountain-limestone of Ireland as are those of the living +Sharks on any beach where our fishermen boil them for the sake of their +oil, and yet the Sharks appear under different generic and specific +forms in each geological age. + +But without multiplying examples, which might be adduced _ad infinitum_, +to show permanence of type combined with repeated changes of species, +suffice it to say, that, while the general features in the framework of +the organic world and the materials of which that framework is +built, though quite as subject to the influence of physical external +circumstances as any so-called specific-features, have remained +perfectly intact from the beginning of Creation till now, so that not +the smallest difference is to be discerned in these respects between the +oldest representatives of the oldest types in the oldest Silurian rocks +and their successors through all the geological ages up to the present +day, the species have been different in each epoch. It is surely a fair +question to ask the advocates of the transmutation theory, whether they +attribute to physical laws the discernment that would lead them to +change the specific features, but to respect all those characters by +which the higher structural combinations of the Animal Kingdom are +preserved without alteration,--in other words, to maintain the organic +plan, while constantly diversifying the mode of expressing it. If so, it +would perhaps be as well to call them by another name, since they show +all the comprehensive wisdom of an intelligent Creator. Until they can +tell us why certain features of animals and plants are permanent under +conditions which, according to their view, have power to change certain +other features no more perishable or transient in themselves, the +supporters of the development theory will have failed to substantiate +their peculiar scientific doctrine. + +But this discussion has led us far away from our starting point, and +interrupted our walk along the Silurian beach; let us return to gather a +few specimens there, and compare them with the more familiar ones of our +own shores. I have said that the beach was a shelving one, and covered +of course with shoal waters; but as I have no desire to mislead my +readers, or to present truths as generally accepted which are still +subject to dispute, I would state here that the parallel ridges across +the State of New York, considered by some geologists as the successive +shores of a receding ocean, are believed by others to be the +inequalities on the bottom of a shallow sea. Not only, however, does the +general character of these successive terraces suggest the idea that +they must have been shores, but the ripple-marks upon them are as +distinct as upon any modern beach. The regular rise and fall of the +water is registered there in waving, undulating lines as clearly as on +the sand-beaches of Newport or Nahant; and we can see on any one of +those ancient shores the track left by the waves as they rippled back at +ebb of the tide thousands of centuries ago. One can often see where some +obstacle interrupted the course of the water, causing it to break around +it; and such an indentation even retains the soft, muddy, plastic look +that we observe on the present beaches, where the resistance made by any +pebble or shell to the retreating wave has given it greater force at +that point, so that the sand around the spot is soaked and loosened. +There is still another sign, equally familiar to those who have watched +the action of water on a beach. Where a shore is very shelving and flat, +so that the waves do not recede in ripples from it, but in one unbroken +sheet, the sand and small pebbles are dragged and form lines which +diverge whenever the water meets an obstacle, thus forming sharp angles +on the sand. Such marks are as distinct on the oldest Silurian rocks as +if they had been made yesterday. Nor are these the only indications of +the same fact. There are certain animals living always upon sandy or +muddy shores, which require for their well-being that the beach should +be left dry a part of the day. These animals, moving about in the sand +or mud from which the water has retreated, leave their tracks there; and +if, at such a time, the wind is blowing dust over the beach, and the sun +is hot enough to bake it upon the impressions so formed, they are left +in a kind of mould. Such trails and furrows, made by small Shells or +Crustacea, are also found in plenty on the oldest deposits. + +Admitting it, then, to be a beach, let us begin with the lowest type of +the Animal Kingdom, and see what Radiates are to be found there. There +are plenty of Corals, but they are not the same kinds of Corals as those +that build up our reefs and islands now. The modern Coral animals are +chiefly Polyps, but the prevailing Corals of the Silurian age were +Acalephian Hydroids, animals which indeed resemble Polyps in certain +external features, and have been mistaken for them, but which are +nevertheless Acalephs by their internal structure; for, instead of +having the vertical partitions dividing the body into chambers, so +characteristic of the Polyps, they are divided by tubes corresponding to +the radiating tubes of the Acalephs proper, these tubes being themselves +divided at regular distances by horizontal floors, so that they never +run uninterruptedly from top to bottom of the body. I subjoin a woodcut +of a Silurian Coral, which does not, however, show the peculiar internal +structure, but gives some idea of the general appearance of the old +Hydroid Corals. We have but one Acalephian Coral now living, the +Millepore; and it was by comparing that with these ancient ones that I +first detected their relation to the Acalephs. For the true Acalephs or +Jelly-Fishes we shall look in vain; but the presence of the Acalephian +Corals establishes the existence of the type, and we cannot expect to +find those kinds preserved which are wholly destitute of hard parts. I +do not attempt any description of the Polyps proper, because the early +Corals of that class are comparatively few, and do not present features +sufficiently characteristic to attract the notice of the casual +observer. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +Of the Echinoderms, the class of Radiates represented now by our +Star-Fishes and Sea-Urchins, we may gather any quantity, though the old +fashioned forms are very different from the living ones. I have dwelt at +such length in a former article[A] on the wonderful beauty and variety +of the Crinoids, or "Stone Lilies," as they have been called, from their +resemblance to flowers, that I will only briefly allude to them here. +The subjoined wood-cut represents one with a closed cup; but the number +of their different patterns is hardly to be counted, and I would invite +any one who questions the abundant expression of life in those days to +look at some slabs of ancient limestone in the Zoölogical Museum at +Cambridge, where the stems of the Crinoids are tangled together as +thickly as sea-weed on the shore. Indeed, some of our rock-deposits +consist chiefly of the fragments of their remains. + +[Footnote A: See _Methods of Study in Natural History, Atlantic +Monthly_, No. LVII., July, 1862.] + +[Illustration] + +The Mollusks were also represented then, as now, by their three +classes,--Acephala, Gasteropoda, and Cephalopoda. The Acephala or +Bivalves we shall find in great numbers, but of a very different pattern +from the Oysters, Clams, and Mussels of recent times. The annexed +wood-cut represents one of these Brachiopods, which form a very +characteristic type of the Silurian deposits. The square cut of the +upper edge, where the two valves meet along the back and are united by +a hinge, is altogether old-fashioned, and unknown among our modern +Bivalves. The wood-cut does not show the inequality of the two valves, +also a very characteristic feature of this group,--one valve being flat +and fitting closely into the other, which is more spreading and much +fuller. These, also, were represented by a great variety of species, and +we find them crowded together as closely in the ancient rocks as Oysters +or Clams or Mussels on any of our modern shores. Besides these, there +were the Bryozoa, a small kind of Mollusk allied to the Clams, and very +busy then in the ancient Coral work. They grew in communities, and the +separate individuals are so minute that a Bryozoan stock looks like +some delicate moss. They still have their place among the Reef-Building +Corals, but play an insignificant part in comparison with that of their +predecessors. + +Of the Silurian Univalves or Gasteropods there is not much to tell, for +their spiral shells were so brittle that scarcely any perfect specimens +are known, though their broken remains are found in such quantities as +to show that this class also was very fully represented in the earliest +creation. But the highest class of Mollusks, the Cephalopods or +Chambered Shells, or Cuttle-Fishes, as they are called when the animal +is unprotected by a shell, are, on the contrary, very well preserved, +and they are very numerous. Of these I will speak somewhat more in +detail, because their geological history is a very curious one. + +[Illustration] + +The Chambered Nautilus is familiar to all, since, from the exquisite +beauty of its shell, it is especially sought for by conchologists; +but it is nevertheless not so common in our days as the Squids and +Cuttle-Fishes, which are the most numerous modern representatives of the +class. In the earliest geological days, on the contrary, those with a +shell predominated, differing from the later ones, however, in having +the shell perfectly straight instead of curved, though its internal +structure was the same as it is now and has ever been. Then, as now, the +animal shut himself out from his last year's home, building his annual +wall behind him, till his whole shell was divided into successive +chambers, all of which were connected by a siphon. Some of the shells of +this kind belonging to the Silurian deposits are enormous: giants of the +sea they must have been in those days. They have been found fifteen +feet long, and as large round as a man's body. One can imagine that the +Cuttle-Fish inhabiting such a shell must have been a formidable animal. +These straight-chambered shells of the Silurian and Devonian seas are +called Orthoceratites (see wood-cut below). We shall meet them again +hereafter, under another name and with a different form; for, as they +advance in the geological ages, they not only assume the curved outline +with ever closer whorls till it culminates in the compact coil of the +Ammonites of the middle periods, but the partitions, which are perfectly +plain walls in these earlier forms, become scalloped and involuted along +the edges in the later ones, making the most delicate and exquisite +tracery on the surface of the shell. + +Of Articulates we find only two classes, Worms and Crustacea. Insects +there were none,--for, as we have seen, this early world was wholly +marine. There is little to be said of the Worms, for their soft bodies, +unprotected by any hard covering, could hardly be preserved; but, +like the marine Worms of our own times, they were in the habit of +constructing envelopes for themselves, built of sand, or sometimes from +a secretion of their own bodies, and these cases we find in the earliest +deposits, giving us assurance that the Worms were represented there. +I should add, however, that many impressions described as produced by +Worms are more likely to have been the tracks of Crustacea. + +But by far the most characteristic class of Articulates in ancient times +were the Crustaceans. The Trilobites stand in the same relation to the +modern Crustacea as the Crinoids do to the modern Echinoderms. They were +then the sole representatives of the class, and the variety and richness +of the type are most extraordinary. They were of nearly equal breadth +for the whole length of the body, and rounded at the two ends, so as +to form an oval outline. To give any adequate idea of the number and +variety of species would fill a volume, but I may enumerate some of +the more striking differences: as, for instance, the greater or less +prominence of the anterior shield,--the preponderance of the posterior +end in some, while in others the two ends are nearly equal,--the +presence or absence of prongs on the shield and of spines along the +sides of the body,--appendages on the head in some species, of which +others are entirely destitute,--and the smooth outline of some, while +in others the surface is broken by a variety of external ornamentation. +Such are a few of the more prominent differences among them. But the +general structural features are the same in all. The middle region of +the body is always divided in uniform rings, lobed in the middle so as +to make a ridge along the back with a slight depression on either side +of it. It is from this three-lobed division that they receive their +name. The subjoined wood-cut represents a characteristic Silurian +Trilobite. + +[Illustration] + +There is no group more prominent in the earliest creations than this one +of the Trilobites, and so exclusively do they belong to them, that, as +we shall see, in proportion as the later representatives of the class +come in, these old-world Crustaceans drop out of the ranks, fall behind, +as it were, in the long procession of animals, and are left in the +ancient deposits. Even in the Carboniferous period but few are to +be found: they had their day in the Silurian and Devonian ages. In +consequence of their solid exterior, the preservation of these animals +is very complete; and their attitudes are often so natural, and the +condition of all their parts so perfect, that one would say they had +died yesterday rather than countless centuries ago. + +Their geological history has been very thoroughly studied; not only are +we familiar with all their adult characters, but even their embryology +is well known to naturalists. It is, indeed, wonderful that the mode of +growth of animals which died out in the Carboniferous period should +be better known to us than that of many living types. But it is +nevertheless true that their embryonic forms have been found perfectly +preserved in the rocks, and Barrande, in his "Système Silurien de la +Bohème," gives us all the stages of their development, from the time +when the animal is merely sketched out as a simple furrow in the embryo +to its mature condition. So complete is the sequence, that the plate on +which their embryonic changes are illustrated contains more than thirty +figures, all representing different phases of their growth. There is not +a living Crab represented so fully in any of our scientific works as is +that one species of Trilobite whose whole story Barrande has traced from +the egg to its adult size. Such facts should make those who rest +their fanciful theories of the origin and development of life on the +imperfection of the geological record, filling up the supposed lapses to +suit themselves, more cautious as to their results. + +We have found, then, Radiates, Mollusks, and Articulates in plenty; +and now what is to be said of Vertebrates in these old times,--of the +highest and most important division of the Animal Kingdom, that to which +we ourselves belong? They were represented by Fishes alone; and the Fish +chapter in the history of the early organic world is a curious, and, +as it seems to me, a very significant one. We shall find no perfect +specimens; and he would be a daring, not to say a presumptuous thinker, +who would venture to reconstruct a fish of the Silurian age from any +remains that are left to us. But still we find enough to indicate +clearly the style of those old fishes, and to show, by comparison with +the living types, to what group of modern times they belong. We should +naturally expect to find the Vertebrates introduced in their simplest +form; but this is by no means the case: the common fishes, as Cod, +Herring, Mackerel, and the like, were unknown in those days. + +But there are two groups of so-called fishes, differing from these by +some marked features, among which we may find the modern representatives +of these earliest Vertebrates. Of these two groups one consists chiefly +now of the Gar-Pikes of our Western waters, though the Sturgeons share +also in some of their features. In these fishes there is a singular +union of reptilian with fish-like characters. The systems of circulation +and of respiration in them are more complicated than in the common +fishes; the structure of the skull resembles that of the skull in +reptiles, and they have other reptilian characters, such as their +ability to move the head upon the neck independently of the body, and +the connection of the vertebrae by ball-and-socket joint, instead of +by inverted cones, as in the ordinary fishes. Their scales are also +peculiar, being covered by enamel so hard, that, if struck with steel, +they will emit sparks like flint. It is on account of this peculiarity +that the whole group has been called Ganoid. Now, though we have +not found as yet any complete specimens of Silurian fishes, their +disconnected remains are scattered profusely in the early deposits. The +scales, parts of the backbone, parts of the skull, the teeth, are found +in a tolerable state of preservation; and these indications, fragmentary +as they are, give us the clue to the character of the most ancient +fishes. A large proportion of them were no doubt Ganoids; for they had +the same peculiar articulation of the vertebrae, the flexibility of the +neck, and the hard scales so characteristic of our Gar-Pikes. + +There is another type of these ancient Vertebrates, which has also +its representatives among our modern fishes. These are the Sharks and +Skates, or, as the Greeks used to call them, the Selachians,--making a +very appropriate distinction between them and common fishes, on account +of the difference in the structure of the skeleton. In Selachians the +quality of the bones is granular, instead of fibrous, as in fishes; the +arches above and below the backbone are formed by flat plates, instead +of the spines so characteristic of all the fish proper; and the skull +consists of a solid box, instead of being built of overlapping pieces +like the true fish-skull. They differ also in their teeth, which, +instead of being implanted in the bone by a root, as in fishes, are +loosely set in the gum without any connection with the bone, and are +movable, being arranged in several rows one behind another, the back +rows moving forward to take the place of the front ones when the latter +are worn off. They are unlike the common fishes also in having the +backbone continued to the very end of the tail, which is cut in uneven +lobes, the upper lobe being the longer of the two, while the terminal +fin, so constant a feature in fishes, is wanting. The Selachians +resemble higher Vertebrate types not only in the small number of their +eggs, and in the closer connection of the young with the mother, but +also in their embryological development, which has many features in +common with that of birds and turtles. Of this group, also, we find +numerous remains in the ancient geological deposits; and though we have +not the means of distinguishing the species, we have ample evidence for +determining the type. + +This combination of higher with lower features in the earlier organic +forms is very striking, and becomes still more significant when we find +that many of the later types recall the more ancient ones. I have called +these more comprehensive groups of former times, combining characters of +different classes, synthetic or prophetic types; and we might as fitly +give the name of retrospective types to many of the later groups, for +they recall the past, as the former anticipate the future. And it is not +only among the Fishes and the Reptiles that we find these combinations. +The most numerous of the ancient Radiates are the Acalephlan Corals, +combining, in the Hydroid form, the Polyp-like mode of life, habits, and +general appearance with the structure of Acalephs. The Crinoids, with +the closed cups in some, and the open, star-like crowns in others, unite +features of the present Star-Fishes and Sea-Urchins, and, by their stem +attaching them to the ground, include also a Polyp-like character; while +the Trilobites, with their uniform rings and their prominent anterior +shield, unite characters of Worms and Crustacea. + +These early types seem to sketch in broad, general characters the +Creative purpose, and to include in the first average expression of the +plan all its structural possibilities. The Crinoid forms include the +thought of the modern Star-Fishes and Sea-Urchins; the simple chambered +shells of the Silurian anticipate the more complicated structure of the +later ones; the Trilobites give the most comprehensive expression of the +Articulate type; while the early Fishes not only prophesy the Reptiles +which are to come, but also hint at Birds and even at Mammalia by their +embryonic development and their mode of reproduction. + +Looked at from this point of view, the animal world is an intellectual +Creation, complete in all its parts, and coherent throughout; and when +we find, that, although these ancient types have become obsolete and +been replaced by modern ones, yet there are always a few old-fashioned +individuals, left behind, as it were, to give the key to the history +of their race, as the Gar-Pike, for instance, to explain the ancient +Fishes, the Millepore to explain the old Acalephian Corals, the Nautilus +to be the modern exponent of the Ammonites and Orthoceratites of past +times, we cannot avoid the impression that this Creative work has been +intended also to be educational for Man, and to teach him his own +relation to the organic world. The embryology of the modern types +confirms this idea, for here we find an epitome of their geological +history. The embryo of the present Star-Fishes recalls the Crinoids; +the embryo of the Crab recalls the Trilobites; the embryo of the +Vertebrates, including even that of the higher Mammalia, recalls the +ancient Fishes. Does not this fact, that the individual animal in its +growth recalls the history of its type, prove that the Creative Thought +in its immediate present action embraces all that has gone before, as +its first organic expression included all that was to come? The study of +Nature in its highest meaning shows us the present doubly rich with all +the past, and the past linked and interwoven with the present, not lying +divorced and dead behind it. + +I have spoken of the Silurian beach as if there were but one, not only +because I wished to limit my sketch, and to attempt at least to give +it the vividness of a special locality, but also because a single such +shore will give us as good an idea of the characteristic fauna of the +time as if we drew our material from a wider range. There are, however, +a great number of parallel ridges belonging to the Silurian and Devonian +periods, running from east to west, not only through the State of New +York, but far beyond, through the States of Michigan and Wisconsin into +Minnesota; one may follow nine or ten such successive shores in unbroken +lines, from the neighborhood of Lake Champlain to the Far West. They +have all the irregularities of modern sea-shores, running up to form +little bays here, and jutting out in promontories there; and upon each +one are found animals of the same kind, but differing in species from +those of the preceding. + +Although the early geological periods are more legible in North America, +because they are exposed over such extensive tracts of land, yet they +have been studied in many other parts of the globe. In Norway, in +Germany, in France, in Russia, in Siberia, in Kamtchatka, in parts of +South America, in short, wherever the civilization of the white race has +extended, Silurian deposits have been observed, and everywhere they +bear the same testimony to a profuse and varied creation. The earth was +teeming then with life as now, and in whatever corner of its surface the +geologist finds the old strata, they hold a dead fauna as numerous as +that which lives and moves above it. Nor do we find that there was any +gradual increase or decrease of any organic forms at the beginning and +close of the successive periods. On the contrary, the opening scenes of +every chapter in the world's history have been crowded with life, and +its last leaves as full and varied as its first. + +I think the impression that the faunae of the early geological periods +were more scanty than those of later times arises partly from the fact +that the present creation is made a standard of comparison for all +preceding creations. Of course, the collections of living types in any +museum must be more numerous than those of fossil forms, for the simple +reason that almost the whole of the present surface of the earth, with +the animals and plants inhabiting it, is known to us, whereas the +deposits of the Silurian and Devonian periods are exposed to view only +over comparatively limited tracts and in disconnected regions. But let +us compare a given extent of Silurian or Devonian sea-shore with an +equal extent of sea-shore belonging to our own time, and we shall +soon be convinced that the one is as populous as the other. On the +New-England coast there are about one hundred and fifty different kinds +of fishes, in the Gulf of Mexico two hundred and fifty, in the Red Sea +about the same. We may allow in present times an average of two hundred +or two hundred and fifty different kinds of fishes to an extent of ocean +covering about four hundred miles. Now I have made a special study of +the Devonian rocks of Northern Europe, in the Baltic and along the shore +of the German Ocean. I have found in those deposits alone one hundred +and ten kinds of fossil fishes. To judge of the total number of species +belonging to those early ages by the number known to exist now is about +as reasonable as to infer that because Aristotle, familiar only with the +waters of Greece, recorded less than three hundred kinds of fishes in +his limited fishing-ground, therefore these were all the fishes then +living. The fishing-ground of the geologist in the Silurian and Devonian +periods is even more circumscribed than his, and belongs, besides, not +to a living, but to a dead world, far more difficult to decipher. + +But the sciences of Geology and Palaeontology are making such rapid +progress, now that they go hand in hand, that our familiarity with past +creations is daily increasing. We know already that extinct animals +exist all over the world: heaped together under the snows of +Siberia,--lying thick beneath the Indian soil,--found wherever English +settlers till the ground or work the mines of Australia,--figured in the +old Encyclopaedias of China, where the Chinese philosophers have drawn +them with the accuracy of their nation,--built into the most beautiful +temples of classic lands, for even the stones of the Parthenon are full +of the fragments of these old fossils, and if any chance had directed +the attention of Aristotle towards them, the science of Palaeontology +would not have waited for its founder till Cuvier was born,--in short, +in every corner of the earth where the investigations of civilized men +have penetrated, from the Arctic to Patagonia and the Cape of Good Hope, +these relics tell us of successive populations lying far behind our own, +and belonging to distinct periods of the world's history. + + * * * * * + +In my next article I shall give some account of the marshes and forests +of the Carboniferous age, with their characteristic vegetation and +inhabitants. + + + + +CORALIE. + + + Pale water-flowers, + That quiver in the quick turn of the brook, + And thou, dim nook,-- + Dimmer in twilight,--call again to me + Visions of life and glory that were ours, + When first she led me here, young Coralie! + + No longer blest, + Yet standing here in silence, may not we + Fancy or feign + That little flowers do fall about thy rest + In silver mist and tender-dropping rain, + And that thy world is peace, loved Coralie? + + Our friendships flee, + And, darkening all things with her mighty shade, + Comes Misery. + No longer look the faces that we see, + With the old eyes; and Woe itself shall fade, + Nor even this be left us, Coralie! + + Feelings and fears + That once were ours have perished in the mould, + And grief is cold: + Hearts may be dead to grief; and if our tears + Are failing or forgetful, there will be + Mourners about thy bed, lost Coralie! + + The brook-flowers shine, + And a faint song the falling water has,-- + But not for thee! + The dull night weepeth, and the sorrowing pine + Drops his dead hair upon thy young grave-grass, + My Coralie! my Coralie! + + * * * * * + + I took from its glass a flower, + To lay on her grave with dull accusing tears; + But the heart of the flower fell out as I handled the rose, + And my heart is shattered, and soon will wither away. + + I watch the changing shadows, + And the patch of windy sunshine upon the hill, + And the long blue woods; and a grief no tongue can tell + Breaks at my eyes in drops of bitter rain. + + I hear her baby-wagon, + And the little wheels go over my heart; + Oh, when will the light of the darkened house return? + Oh, when will she come who made the hills so fair? + + I sit by the parlor-window, + When twilight deepens, and winds get cold without; + But the blessed feet no more come up the walk, + And my little girl and I cry softly together. + + * * * * * + + +SOJOURNER TRUTH, THE LIBYAN SIBYL. + + +Many years ago, the few readers of radical Abolitionist papers must +often have seen the singular name of Sojourner Truth, announced as a +frequent speaker at Anti-Slavery meetings, and as travelling on a +sort of self-appointed agency through the country. I had myself often +remarked the name, but never met the individual. On one occasion, when +our house was filled with company, several eminent clergymen being our +guests, notice was brought up to me that Sojourner Truth was below, and +requested an interview. Knowing nothing of her but her singular name, I +went down, prepared to make the interview short, as the pressure of many +other engagements demanded. + +When I went into the room, a tall, spare form arose to meet me. She was +evidently a full-blooded African, and though now aged and worn with many +hardships, still gave the impression of a physical development which +in early youth must have been as fine a specimen of the torrid zone as +Cumberworth's celebrated statuette of the Negro Woman at the Fountain. +Indeed, she so strongly reminded me of that figure, that, when I recall +the events of her life, as she narrated them to me, I imagine her as a +living, breathing impersonation of that work of art. + +I do not recollect ever to have been conversant with any one who had +more of that silent and subtle power which we call personal presence +than this woman. In the modern Spiritualistic phraseology, she would +be described as having a strong sphere. Her tall form, as she rose up +before me, is still vivid to my mind. She was dressed in some stout, +grayish stuff, neat and clean, though dusty from travel. On her head +she wore a bright Madras handkerchief, arranged as a turban, after the +manner of her race. She seemed perfectly self-possessed and at her +ease,--in fact, there was almost an unconscious superiority, not unmixed +with a solemn twinkle of humor, in the odd, composed manner in which she +looked down on me. Her whole air had at times a gloomy sort of drollery +which impressed one strangely. + +"So, this is _you_," she said. + +"Yes," I answered. + +"Well, honey, de Lord bless ye! I jes' thought I'd like to come an' have +a look at ye. You's heerd o' me, I reckon?" she added. + +"Yes, I think I have. You go about lecturing, do you not?" + +"Yes, honey, that's what I do. The Lord has made me a sign unto this +nation, an' I go round a-testifyin', an' showin' on 'em their sins agin +my people." + +So saying, she took a seat, and, stooping over and crossing her arms on +her knees, she looked down on the floor, and appeared to fall into a +sort of reverie. + +Her great gloomy eyes and her dark face seemed to work with some +undercurrent of feeling; she sighed deeply, and occasionally broke +out,-- + +"O Lord! O Lord! Oh, the tears, an' the groans, an' the moans! O Lord!" + +I should have said that she was accompanied by a little grandson of ten +years,--the fattest, jolliest woolly-headed little specimen of Africa +that one can imagine. He was grinning and showing his glistening white +teeth in a state of perpetual merriment, and at this moment broke out +into an audible giggle, which disturbed the reverie into which his +relative was falling. + +She looked at him with an indulgent sadness, and then at me. + +"Laws, Ma'am, _he_ don't know nothin' about it,--_he_ don't. Why, I've +seen them poor critters, beat an' 'bused an' hunted, brought in all +torn,--ears hangin' all in rags, where the dogs been a-bitin' of 'em!" + +This set off our little African Puck into another giggle, in which he +seemed perfectly convulsed. + +She surveyed him soberly, without the slightest irritation. + +"Well, you may bless the Lord you _can_ laugh; but I tell you, 't wa'n't +no laughin' matter." + +By this time I thought her manner so original that it might be worth +while to call down my friends; and she seemed perfectly well pleased +with the idea. An audience was what she wanted,--it mattered not whether +high or low, learned or ignorant. She had things to say, and was ready +to say them at all times, and to any one. + +I called down Dr. Beecher, Professor Allen, and two or three other +clergymen, who, together with my husband and family, made a roomful. No +princess could have received a drawing-room with more composed dignity +than Sojourner her audience. She stood among them, calm and erect, as +one of her own native palm-trees waving alone in the desert. I presented +one after another to her, and at last said,-- + +"Sojourner, this is Dr. Beecher. He is a very celebrated preacher." + +"_Is_ he?" she said, offering her hand in a condescending manner, and +looking down on his white head. "Ye dear lamb, I'm glad to see ye! De +Lord bless ye! I loves preachers. I'm a kind o' preacher myself." + +"You are?" said Dr. Beecher. "Do you preach from the Bible?" + +"No, honey, can't preach from de Bible,--can't read a letter." + +"Why, Sojourner, what do you preach from, then?" + +Her answer was given with a solemn power of voice, peculiar to herself, +that hushed every one in the room. + +"When I preaches, I has jest one text to preach from, an' I always +preaches from this one. _My_ text is, 'WHEN I FOUND JESUS.'" + +"Well, you couldn't have a better one," said one of the ministers. + +She paid no attention to him, but stood and seemed swelling with her own +thoughts, and then began this narration:-- + +"Well, now, I'll jest have to go back, an' tell ye all about it. Ye see, +we was all brought over from Africa, father an' mother an' I, an' a lot +more of us; an' we was sold up an' down, an' hither an' yon; an' I can +'member, when I was a little thing, not bigger than this 'ere," pointing +to her grandson, "how my ole mammy would sit out o' doors in the +evenin', an' look up at the stars an' groan. She'd groan an' groan, an' +says I to her,-- + +"'Mammy, what makes you groan so?' + +"An' she'd say,-- + +"'Matter enough, chile! I'm groanin' to think o' my poor children: they +don't know where I be, an' I don't know where they be; they looks up at +the stars, an' I looks up at the stars, but I can't tell where they be. + +"'Now,' she said, 'chile, when you're grown up, you may be sold away +from your mother an' all your ole friends, an' have great troubles come +on ye; an' when you has these troubles come on ye, ye jes' go to God, +an' He'll help ye.' + +"An' says I to her,-- + +"'Who is God, anyhow, mammy?' + +"An' says she,-- + +"'Why, chile, you jes' look up _dar_! It's Him that made all _dem_!' + +"Well, I didn't mind much 'bout God in them days. I grew up pretty +lively an' strong, an' could row a boat, or ride a horse, or work round, +an' do 'most anything. + +"At last I got sold away to a real hard massa an' missis. Oh, I tell +you, they _was_ hard! 'Peared like I couldn't please 'em, nohow. An' +then I thought o' what my old mammy told me about God; an' I thought I'd +got into trouble, sure enough, an' I wanted to find God, an' I heerd +some one tell a story about a man that met God on a threshin'-floor, an' +I thought, 'Well an' good, I'll have a threshin'-floor, too.' So I went +down in the lot, an' I threshed down a place real hard, an' I used to go +down there every day, an' pray an' cry with all my might, a-prayin' to +the Lord to make my massa an' missis better, but it didn't seem to do no +good; an' so says I, one day,-- + +"'O God, I been a-askin' ye, an' askin' ye, an' askin' ye, for all this +long time, to make my massa an' missis better, an' you don't do it, an' +what _can_ be the reason? Why, maybe you _can't._ Well, I shouldn't +wonder ef you couldn't. Well, now, I tell you, I'll make a bargain with +you. Ef you'll help me to git away from my massa an' missis, I'll agree +to be good; but ef you don't help me, I really don't think I can be. +Now,' says I, 'I want to git away; but the trouble's jest here: ef I try +to git away in the night, I can't see; an' ef I try to git away in the +daytime, they'll see me, an' be after me.' + +"Then the Lord said to me, 'Git up two or three hours afore daylight, +an' start off.' + +"An' says I, 'Thank 'ee, Lord! that's a good thought.' + +"So up I got, about three o'clock in the mornin', an' I started an' +travelled pretty fast, till, when the sun rose, I was clear away from +our place an' our folks, an' out o' sight. An' then I begun to think I +didn't know nothin' where to go. So I kneeled down, and says I,-- + +"'Well, Lord, you've started me out, an' now please to show me where to +go.' + +"Then the Lord made a house appear to me, an' He said to me that I was +to walk on till I saw that house, an' then go in an' ask the people to +take me. An' I travelled all day, an' didn't come to the house till late +at night; but when I saw it, sure enough, I went in, an' I told the +folks that the Lord sent me; an' they was Quakers, an' real kind they +was to me. They jes' took me in, an' did for me as kind as ef I'd been +one of 'em; an' after they'd giv me supper, they took me into a room +where there was a great, tall, white bed; an' they told me to sleep +there. Well, honey, I was kind o' skeered when they left me alone with +that great white bed; 'cause I never had been in a bed in my life. It +never came into my mind they could mean me to sleep in it. An' so I jes' +camped down under it, on the floor, an' then I slep' pretty well. In the +mornin', when they came in, they asked me of I hadn't been asleep; an' I +said, 'Yes, I never slep' better.' An' they said, 'Why, you haven't been +in the bed!' An' says I, 'Laws, you didn't think o' sech a thing as my +sleepin' in dat 'ar' _bed_, did you? I never heerd o' sech a thing in my +life.' + +"Well, ye see, honey, I stayed an' lived with 'em. An' now jes' look +here: instead o' keepin' my promise an' bein' good, as I told the Lord I +would, jest as soon as everything got a-goin' easy, _I forgot all about +God_. + +"Pretty well don't need no help; an' I gin up prayin.' I lived there two +or three years, an' then the slaves in New York were all set free, an' +ole massa came to our house to make a visit, an' he asked me ef I didn't +want to go back an' see the folks on the ole place. An' I told him I +did. So he said, ef I'd jes' git into the wagon with him, he'd carry me +over. Well, jest as I was goin' out to git into the wagon, _I met God_! +an' says I, 'O God, I didn't know as you was so great!' An' I turned +right round an' come into the house, an' set down in my room; for 't was +God all around me. I could feel it burnin', burnin', burnin' all around +me, an' goin' through me; an' I saw I was so wicked, it seemed as ef it +would burn me up. An' I said, 'O somebody, somebody, stand between God +an' me! for it burns me!' Then, honey, when I said so, I felt as it were +somethin' like an _amberill_ [umbrella] that came between me an' the +light, an' I felt it was _somebody_,--somebody that stood between me an' +God; an' it felt cool, like a shade; an' says I, 'Who's this that stands +between me an' God? Is it old Cato?' He was a pious old preacher; but +then I seemed to see Cato in the light, an' he was all polluted an' +vile, like me; an' I said, 'Is it old Sally?' an' then I saw her, an' +she seemed jes' so. An' then says I, '_Who_ is this?' An' then, honey, +for a while it was like the sun shinin' in a pail o' water, when it +moves up an' down; for I begun to feel 't was somebody that loved me; +an' I tried to know him. An' I said, 'I know you! I know you! I know +you!'--an' then I said, 'I don't know you! I don't know you! I don't +know you!' An' when I said, 'I know you, I know you,' the light came; +an' when I said, 'I don't know you, I don't know you,' it went, jes' +like the sun in a pail o' water. An' finally somethin' spoke out in me +an' said, '_This is Jesus _!' An' I spoke out with all my might, an' +says I, '_This is Jesus_! Glory be to God!' An' then the whole world +grew bright, an' the trees they waved an' waved in glory, an' every +little bit o' stone on the ground shone like glass; an' I shouted an' +said, 'Praise, praise, praise to the Lord!' An' I begun to feel sech +a love in my soul as I never felt before,--love to all creatures. An' +then, all of a sudden, it stopped, an' I said, 'Dar's de white folks, +that have abused you an' beat you an' abused your people,--think o' +them!' But then there came another rush of love through my soul, an' I +cried out loud,--'Lord, Lord, I can love _even de white folks_!' + +"Honey, I jes' walked round an' round in a dream. Jesus loved me! I +knowed it,--I felt it. Jesus was my Jesus. Jesus would love me always. I +didn't dare tell nobody; 't was a great secret. Everything had been got +away from me that I ever had; an' I thought that ef I let white folks +know about this, maybe they'd get _Him_ away,--so I said, 'I'll keep +this close. I won't let any one know.'" + +"But, Sojourner, had you never been told about Jesus Christ?" + +"No, honey. I hadn't heerd no preachin',--been to no meetin'. Nobody +hadn't told me. I'd kind o' heerd of Jesus, but thought he was like +Gineral Lafayette, or some o' them. But one night there was a Methodist +meetin' somewhere in our parts, an' I went; an' they got up an' begun +for to tell der 'speriences; an' de fust one begun to speak. I started, +'cause he told about Jesus. 'Why,' says I to myself, 'dat man's found +him, too!' An' another got up an' spoke, an' I said, 'He's found him, +too!' An' finally I said, 'Why, they all know him!' I was so happy! An' +then they sung this hymn": (Here Sojourner sang, in a strange, cracked +voice, but evidently with all her soul and might, mispronouncing the +English, but seeming to derive as much elevation and comfort from bad +English as from good):-- + + "There is a holy city, + A world of light above. + Above the stairs and regions,[A] + Built by the God of love. + + "An everlasting temple, + And saints arrayed in white + There serve their great Redeemer + And dwell with him in light. + + "The meanest child of glory + Outshines the radiant sun; + But who can speak the splendor + Of Jesus on his throne? + + "Is this the man of sorrows + Who stood at Pilate's bar, + Condemned by haughty Herod + And by his men of war? + + "He seems a mighty conqueror, + Who spoiled the powers below, + And ransomed many captives + From everlasting woe. + + "The hosts of saints around him + Proclaim his work of grace, + The patriarchs and prophets, + And all the godly race, + + "Who speak of fiery trials + And tortures on their way; + They came from tribulation + To everlasting day. + + "And what shall be my journey, + How long I'll stay below, + Or what shall be my trials, + Are not for me to know. + + "In every day of trouble + I'll raise my thoughts on high, + I'll think of that bright temple + And crowns above the sky." + +[Footnote A: Starry regions.] + +I put in this whole hymn, because Sojourner, carried away with her own +feeling, sang it from beginning to end with a triumphant energy that +held the whole circle around her intently listening. She sang with +the strong barbaric accent of the native African, and with those +indescribable upward turns and those deep gutturals which give such a +wild, peculiar power to the negro singing,--but above all, with such an +overwhelming energy of personal appropriation that the hymn seemed to be +fused in the furnace of her feelings and come out recrystallized as a +production of her own. + +It is said that Rachel was wont to chant the "Marseillaise" in a manner +that made her seem, for the time, the very spirit and impersonation of +the gaunt, wild, hungry, avenging mob which rose against aristocratic +oppression; and in like manner, Sojourner, singing this hymn, seemed to +impersonate the fervor of Ethiopia, wild, savage, hunted of all nations, +but burning after God in her tropic heart, and stretching her scarred +hands towards the glory to be revealed. + +"Well, den ye see, after a while I thought I'd go back an' see de folks +on de ole place. Well, you know, de law had passed dat de culled folks +was all free; an' my old missis, she had a daughter married about dis +time who went to live in Alabama,--an' what did she do but give her my +son, a boy about de age of dis yer, for her to take down to Alabama? +When I got back to de ole place, they told me about it, an' I went right +up to see ole missis, an' says I,-- + +"'Missis, have you been an' sent my son away down to Alabama?' + +"'Yes, I have,' says she; 'he's gone to live with your young missis.' + +"'Oh, Missis,' says I, 'how could you do it?' + +"'Poh!' says she, 'what a fuss you make about a little nigger! Got more +of 'em now than you know what to do with.' + +"I tell you, I stretched up. I felt as tall as the world! + +"'Missis,' says I, '_I'll have my son back agin!_' + +"She laughed. + +"'_You_ will, you nigger? How you goin' to do it? You ha'n't got no +money.' + +"'No, Missis,--but _God_ has,--an' you'll see He'll help me!'--an' I +turned round an' went out. + +"Oh, but I _was_ angry to have her speak to me so haughty an' so +scornful, as ef my chile wasn't worth anything. I said to God, 'O Lord, +render unto her double!' It was a dreadful prayer, an' I didn't know how +true it would come. + +"Well, I didn't rightly know which way to turn; but I went to the Lord, +an' I said to Him, 'O Lord, ef I was as rich as you be, an' you was as +poor as I be, I'd help you,--you _know_ I would; and, oh, do help me!' +An' I felt sure then that He would. + +"Well, I talked with people, an' they said I must git the case before a +grand jury. So I went into the town when they was holdin' a court, to +see ef I could find any grand jury. An' I stood round the +court-house, an' when they was a-comin' out, I walked right up to the +grandest-lookin' one I could see, an' says I to him,-- + +"'Sir, be you a grand jury?' + +"An' then he wanted to know why I asked, an' I told him all about it; +an' he asked me all sorts of questions, an' finally he says to me,-- + +"'I think, ef you pay me ten dollars, that I'd agree to git your son for +you.' An' says he, pointin' to a house over the way, 'You go 'long an' +tell your story to the folks in that house, an' I guess they'll give you +the money.' + +"Well, I went, an' I told them, an' they gave me twenty dollars; an' +then I thought to myself, 'Ef ten dollars will git him, twenty dollars +will git him _sartin_.' So I carried it to the man all out, an' said,-- + +"'Take it all,--only be sure an' git him' + +"Well, finally they got the boy brought back; an' then they tried to +frighten him, an' to make him say that I wasn't his mammy, an' that he +didn't know me; but they couldn't make it out. They gave him to me, +an' I took him an' carried him home; an' when I came to take off his +clothes, there was his poor little back all covered with scars an' hard +lumps, where they'd flogged him. + +"Well, you see, honey, I told you how I prayed the Lord to render unto +her double. Well, it came true; for I was up at ole missis' house not +long after, an' I heerd 'em readin' a letter to her how her daughter's +husband had murdered her,--how he'd thrown her down an' stamped the life +out of her, when he was in liquor; an' my ole missis, she giv a screech, +an' fell flat on the floor. Then says I, 'O Lord, I didn't mean all +that! You took me up too quick.' + +"Well, I went in an' tended that poor critter all night. She was out of +her mind,--a-cryin', an' callin' for her daughter; an' I held her poor +ole head on my arm, an' watched for her as ef she 'd been my babby. An' +I watched by her, an' took care on her all through her sickness after +that, an' she died in my arms, poor thing!" + +"Well, Sojourner, did you always go by this name?" + +"No, 'deed! My name was Isabella; but when I left the house of bondage, +I left everything behind. I wa'n't goin' to keep nothin' of Egypt on me, +an' so I went to the Lord an' asked Him to give me a new name. And the +Lord gave me Sojourner, because I was to travel up an' down the land, +showin' the people their sins, an' bein' a sign unto them. Afterwards +I told the Lord I wanted another name, 'cause everybody else had two +names; and the Lord gave me Truth, because I was to declare the truth to +the people. + +"Ye see some ladies have given me a white satin banner," she said, +pulling out of her pocket and unfolding a white banner, printed with +many texts, such as, "Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all +the inhabitants thereof," and others of like nature. "Well," she said, +"I journeys round to camp-meetins, an' wherever folks is, an' I sets up +my banner, an' then I sings, an' then folks always comes up round me, +an' then I preaches to 'em. I tells 'em about Jesus, an' I tells 'em +about the sins of this people. A great many always comes to hear me; an' +they 're right good to me, too, an' say they want to hear me agin." + +We all thought it likely; and as the company left her, they shook hands +with her, and thanked her for her very original sermon; and one of the +ministers was overheard to say to another, "There's more of the gospel +in that story than in most sermons." + +Sojourner stayed several days with us, a welcome guest. Her conversation +was so strong, simple, shrewd, and with such a droll flavoring of humor, +that the Professor was wont to say of an evening, "Come, I am dull, +can't you get Sojourner up here to talk a little?" She would come up +into the parlor, and sit among pictures and ornaments, in her simple +stuff gown, with her heavy travelling-shoes, the central object of +attention both to parents and children, always ready to talk or to sing, +and putting into the common flow of conversation the keen edge of some +shrewd remark. + +"Sojourner, what do you think of Women's Rights?" + +"Well, honey, I 's ben to der meetins, an' harked a good deal. Dey +wanted me fur to speak. So I got up. Says I,--'Sisters, I a'n't clear +what you'd be after. Ef women want any rights more 'n dey 's got, why +don't dey jes' _take 'em_, an' not be talkin' about it?' Some on 'em +came round me, an' asked why I didn't wear Bloomers. An' I told 'em I +had Bloomers enough when I was in bondage. You see," she said, "dey used +to weave what dey called nigger-cloth, an' each one of us got jes' sech +a strip, an' had to wear it width-wise. Them that was short got along +pretty well, but as for me"--She gave an indescribably droll glance at +her long limbs and then at us, and added,--"Tell _you_, I had enough of +Bloomers in them days." + +Sojourner then proceeded to give her views of the relative capacity of +the sexes, in her own way. + +"S'pose a man's mind holds a quart, an' a-woman's don't hold but a pint; +ef her pint is _full_, it's as good as his quart." + +Sojourner was fond of singing an extraordinary lyric, commencing,-- + + "I'm on my way to Canada, + That cold, but happy land; + The dire effects of Slavery + I can no longer stand. + O righteous Father, + Do look down on me + And help me on to Canada, + Where colored folks are free!" + +The lyric ran on to state, that, when the fugitive crosses the Canada +line, + + "The Queen comes down unto the shore, + With arms extended wide, + To welcome the poor fugitive + Safe onto Freedom's side." + +In the truth thus set forth she seemed to have the most simple faith. + +But her chief delight was to talk of "glory," and to sing hymns whose +burden was,-- + + "O glory, glory, glory, + Won't you come along with me?" + +and when left to herself, she would often hum these with great delight, +nodding her head. + +On one occasion, I remember her sitting at a window singing and +fervently keeping time with her bead, the little black Puck of a +grandson meanwhile, amusing himself with ornamenting her red-and-yellow +turban with green dandelion-curls, which shook and trembled with her +emotions, causing him perfect convulsions of delight. + +"Sojourner," said the Professor to her, one day, when he heard her +singing, "you seem to be very sure about heaven." + +"Well, I be," she answered, triumphantly. + +"What makes you so sure there is any heaven?" + +"Well, 'cause I got such a hankerin' arter it in here," she +said,--giving a thump on her breast with her usual energy. + +There was at the time an invalid in the house, and Sojourner, on +learning it, felt a mission to go and comfort her. It was curious to see +the tall, gaunt, dusky figure stalk up to the bed with such an air of +conscious authority, and take on herself the office of consoler +with such a mixture of authority and tenderness. She talked as from +above,--and at the same time, if a pillow needed changing or any office +to be rendered, she did it with a strength and handiness that inspired +trust. One felt as if the dark, strange woman were quite able to take up +the invalid in her bosom, and bear her as a lamb, both physically and +spiritually. There was both power and sweetness in that great warm soul +and that vigorous frame. + +At length, Sojourner, true to her name, departed. She had her mission +elsewhere. Where now she is I know not; but she left deep memories +behind her. + +To these recollections of my own I will add one more anecdote, related +by Wendell Phillips. + +Speaking of the power of Rachel to move and bear down a whole audience +by a few simple words, he said he never knew but one other human being +that had that power, and that other was Sojourner Truth. He related a +scene of which he was witness. It was at a crowded public meeting in +Faneuil Hall, where Frederick Douglas was one of the chief speakers. +Douglas had been describing the wrongs of the black race, and as he +proceeded, he grew more and more excited, and finally ended by saying +that they had no hope of justice from the whites, no possible hope +except in their own right arms. It must come to blood; they must fight +for themselves, and redeem themselves, or it would never be done. + +Sojourner was sitting, tall and dark, on the very front seat, facing the +platform; and in the hush of deep feeling, after Douglas sat down, she +spoke out in her deep, peculiar voice, heard all over the house,-- + +"Frederick, is _God dead_?" + +The effect was perfectly electrical, and thrilled through the whole +house, changing as by a flash the whole feeling of the audience. Not +another word she said or needed to say; it was enough. + +It is with a sad feeling that one contemplates noble minds and bodies, +nobly and grandly formed human beings, that have come to us cramped, +scarred, maimed, out of the prison-house of bondage. One longs to know +what such beings might have become, if suffered to unfold and expand +under the kindly developing influences of education. + +It is the theory of some writers, that to the African is reserved, +in the later and palmier days of the earth, the full and harmonious +development of the religious element in man. The African seems to seize +on the tropical fervor and luxuriance of Scripture imagery as something +native; he appears to feel himself to be of the same blood with those +old burning, simple souls, the patriarchs, prophets, and seers, whose +impassioned words seem only grafted as foreign plants on the cooler +stock of the Occidental mind. + +I cannot but think that Sojourner with the same culture might have +spoken words as eloquent and undying as those of the African Saint +Augustine or Tertullian. How grand and queenly a woman she might have +been, with her wonderful physical vigor, her great heaving sea of +emotion, her power of spiritual conception, her quick penetration, and +her boundless energy! We might conceive an African type of woman so +largely made and moulded, so much fuller in all the elements of life, +physical and spiritual, that the dark hue of the skin should seem only +to add an appropriate charm,--as Milton says of his Penseroso, whom he +imagines + + "Black, but such as in esteem + Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, + Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove + To set her beauty's praise above + The sea-nymph's." + +But though Sojourner Truth has passed away from among us as a wave of +the sea, her memory still lives in one of the loftiest and most original +works of modern art, the Libyan Sibyl, by Mr. Story, which attracted +so much attention in the late World's Exhibition. Some years ago, when +visiting Rome, I related Sojourner's history to Mr. Story at a breakfast +at his house. Already had his mind begun to turn to Egypt in search of +a type of art which should represent a larger and more vigorous +development of nature than the cold elegance of Greek lines. His +glorious Cleopatra was then in process of evolution, and his mind was +working out the problem of her broadly developed nature, of all that +slumbering weight and fulness of passion with which this statue seems +charged, as a heavy thunder-cloud is charged with electricity. + +The history of Sojourner Truth worked in his mind and led him into the +deeper recesses of the African nature,--those unexplored depths of being +and feeling, mighty and dark as the gigantic depths of tropical forests, +mysterious as the hidden rivers and mines of that burning continent +whose life-history is yet to be. A few days after, he told me that he +had conceived the idea of a statue which he should call the Libyan +Sibyl. Two years subsequently, I revisited Rome, and found the gorgeous +Cleopatra finished, a thing to marvel at, as the creation of a new style +of beauty, a new manner of art. Mr. Story requested me to come and +repeat to him the history of Sojourner Truth, saying that the conception +had never left him. I did so; and a day or two after, he showed me the +clay model of the Libyan Sibyl. I have never seen the marble statue; but +am told by those who have, that it was by far the most impressive work +of art at the Exhibition. + +A notice of the two statues from the London "Athenaeum" must supply a +description which I cannot give. + +"The Cleopatra and the Sibyl are seated, partly draped, with the +characteristic Egyptian gown, that gathers about the _torso_ and falls +freely around the limbs; the first is covered to the bosom, the second +bare to the hips. Queenly Cleopatra rests back against her chair in +meditative ease, leaning her cheek against one hand, whose elbow the +rail of the seat sustains; the other is outstretched upon her knee, +nipping its forefinger upon the thumb thoughtfully, as though some firm, +wilful purpose filled her brain, as it seems to set those luxurious +features to a smile as if the whole woman 'would.' Upon her head is +the coif, bearing in front the mystic _uraeus_, or twining basilisk of +sovereignty, while from its sides depend the wide Egyptian lappels, or +wings, that fall upon her shoulders. The _Sibilla Libica_ has crossed +her knees,--an action universally held amongst the ancients as +indicative of reticence or secrecy, and of power to bind. A +secret-keeping looking dame she is, in the full-bloom proportions of +ripe womanhood, wherein choosing to place his figure the sculptor has +deftly gone between the disputed point whether these women were blooming +and wise in youth, or deeply furrowed with age and burdened with the +knowledge of centuries, as Virgil, Livy, and Gellius say. Good artistic +example might be quoted on both sides. Her forward elbow is propped upon +one knee; and to keep her secrets closer, for this Libyan woman is the +closest of all the Sibyls, she rests her shut mouth upon one closed +palm, as if holding the African mystery deep in the brooding brain that +looks out through mournful, warning eyes, seen under the wide shade +of the strange horned (ammonite) crest, that bears the mystery of the +Tetragrammaton upon its upturned front. Over her full bosom, mother of +myriads as she was, hangs the same symbol. Her face has a Nubian cast, +her hair wavy and plaited, as is meet." + +We hope to see the day when copies both of the Cleopatra and the Libyan +Sibyl shall adorn the Capitol at Washington. + + + + +AMERICAN HORTICULTURE. + + +Horticulture in the United States has, except in a commercial sense, +been subordinate to the pursuit of wealth. Before man can indulge in +objects of elegance and refinement, he must have secured the comforts of +life: the _utile_ must lead the _dulce_, a well-stocked kitchen-garden +precede the parterre. We have now, however, in the older sections of the +Union, at least, passed through the ordeal of a young nation: elegance +is following the plain and practical; the spacious mansion, with its +luxurious appurtenances, is succeeding the cottage, as this in turn +was the successor of the cabin. The perception of the picturesque is a +natural result of earlier steps in the path of refinement: man may build +from a vulgar ambition for distinction, but he seldom plants unless +prompted by love of Nature and elevated impulses. Lord Bacon, in his +essay "Of Gardens," says, "When ages grow to civility and elegancy, men +come to build stately sooner than to garden finely; as if gardening were +the greater perfection." A case which seems to confirm this position +occurs to us. The site of a noble building, erected for our Government, +was adorned by wide-spreading trees, the growth of generations, which, +after the building was completed, the architect cut down before his axe +could be arrested. On being reproached for his Vandalism, he retorted,-- +"Trees may be seen everywhere, but such a Grecian portico as +that--where?" + +Among a young people like ourselves, the nursery and the market-garden +hold prominent places in horticultural pursuits; the latter yields a +prompt return for the investment of capital and labor, and just in +proportion as demand increases, so will be the exertion to meet it. Thus +we find the markets of the cities amply supplied with every luxury of +fruit and vegetable: the seasons are anticipated by artificial means, +glass is brought into requisition, and the tables of the wealthy are +furnished with a profusion unknown to royalty in an earlier age. + +The capacity of Americans to mould circumstances to themselves rather +than adapt themselves to circumstances, to remove obstacles, to +accomplish by the aid of machinery much that other peoples reach through +toil alone, has passed into a proverb: hence it need hardly cause +surprise, if unexampled success attend efforts at market-gardening, +bringing to the very doors of the comparatively poor vegetables and +fruits which in Europe are enjoyed only by the higher classes. As an +illustration,--where but in America are peaches planted by a single +individual by tens of thousands, and carried to market on steamboats +chartered for the special purpose, in quantities of one or two thousand +bushels at a trip? + +The earlier American nurseries were few in number, and, compared with +some now existing, of quite limited extent,--though equal, perhaps, in +proportion to population. The first of which there is any record, and +probably the earliest established, was that of John Bartram, near +Philadelphia, about the year 1730. Here were congregated many of the +prominent native plants and trees, preparatory to exportation to +Europe,--also the fruits and plants of the other hemisphere, obtained +in exchange for American productions. The specimen trees planted by the +elder Bartram and his descendants still adorn the grounds, classic +to the botanist and the lover of Nature: long may they stand, living +memorials of generations passed away, our earliest evidence of a taste +for horticulture! + +The next nursery in the order of date is that of Prince, in Flushing, +New York, established, we believe, prior to the Revolution, and +continued by the family to the present day. Flushing has become a centre +in the nursery-trade, and many acres thereabout are covered with young +trees intended for transplantation. A stroll round the village would +lead one to suppose the chief interest of the inhabitants was bound up +in the nursery-business, as is that of Lynn in shoes, and of Lowell +in cotton goods. Prominent among the Flushing nurseries are those of +Parsons, which, though of comparatively recent origin, abound in rich +treasures. + +The nurseries of the brothers David and Cuthbert Landreth appear to have +been the third in the order of succession. They were established at +Philadelphia shortly after the Revolution, and within the limits of the +city. The increase of population and their expanding trade caused a +removal to another and more ample field of culture, which, for nearly +half a century, was the resort of most people of taste who visited +Philadelphia. + +Nurseries are now found everywhere. The Far West has some which count +the young trees by millions, and fruit-trees of single kinds by the +hundred thousand. The Hoveys, of Boston, have long been prominent, not +only as nurserymen, but as writers on horticulture. Elwanger and Barry, +of Rochester, New York, have a large breadth of land, we forbear to +state our impression of the number of acres, covered by nursery-stock. +Professional florists also have multiplied to an unlimited +extent, exhibiting the growth of refining taste. Plants suited +to window-culture, and bouquets of choice flowers, are sold on +street-corners, and carried from door to door. Cameilias, of which +we recollect single flowers having been sold at a dollar, can now be +purchased at fifty cents the plant. + +It might be curious, in reference to this subject of horticulture, to +institute an inquiry as to cause and effect. Have the increased means of +gratifying taste expanded it, or has taste rapidly developed created the +means of supply? Doubtless there has been reaction from both directions, +each operating on the other. One striking exhibition of pure taste +among us is the formation of picturesque arboretums, especially of +terebinthinate trees, and others allied to the Coniferae. This taste, so +diligently cultivated in England, has found zealous worshippers among +us, and some admirable collections have been formed. The cemetery of +Laurel Hill, at Philadelphia, under the critical eye and taste of the +proprietor, Mr. John Jay Smith, that of Mount Auburn, in Cambridge, of +Greenwood, New York, and the cemetery in Cincinnati, have afforded fine +specimens of rare trees, though, from the nature of their purposes, +picturesque effect could not be reached, except so far as aided by +irregularity of surface. And here we would remark, in connection with +this subject, that one regulation of the Cincinnati cemetery is worthy +of imitation. No arbitrary railings or ill-kept hedges bound the +individual lots; all is open, and the visitor, as he drives through the +grounds, is charmed by the effect,--a park studded with monuments: the +social distinctions, which, perhaps, necessarily separated in life, have +disappeared in death. + +In connection with landscape-gardening, one American name stands +conspicuous,--the name of one who, if not, in point of time, the first +teacher of the art in this country, has at least done more than +any other to direct attention to it,--to exhibit defects, suggest +improvements, create beauties, and invest his subject with such a charm +and interest as to captivate many minds which might otherwise have been +long insensible to the dormant beauty within their reach, or that which +they themselves had the power to produce: we refer, of course, to the +late Andrew J. Downing. With naturally fine artistic perceptions, his +original occupation of a nurseryman gave direction to his subsequent +pursuits. Under different circumstances, his taste might, perhaps, have +been turned to painting, sculpture, or architecture: indeed, to the last +he paid no inconsiderable attention; and as the result, many a rural +homestead, which might otherwise have been a bleak house, is conspicuous +as the abode of taste and elegance. + +Among the prominent private arboretums in our country may be mentioned +that of Mr. Sargent at Wodeneshe. Mr. Sargent, as may be seen by his +supplement to Downing's "Landscape-Gardening," is an enthusiast in the +culture of conifers; he is reputed to have made liberal importations, +and the results of his attempts at acclimation, given to the public, +have aided others in like endeavors. Judge Field, of Princeton, New +Jersey, has a pinetum of much value; some of his specimens are of rare +excellence. He, also, has been a diligent importer. + + * * * * * + +Though our sketch of the present state of horticulture among us is quite +imperfect, affording but an indistinct glimpse of the ample field which +invites our view, it would scarcely be pardonable, were we to overlook a +branch of rural industry in which horticultural success is interested, +and without which the practical pleasures and family-comfort of rural +homes would be greatly abridged. We refer to garden-seed culture. It may +be that the purchaser of a paper of seed for the kitchen-garden seldom +stops to consider the minute care which has been required to secure its +purity; most probably, in many cases, he makes the purchase as though it +were the mere product of mechanical skill, which, after the machinery is +perfected, and the steam-engine has been set in motion, turns out the +finished article, of use or ornament, with scarcely an effort of mind to +direct its movements. Not so in the production of seeds: many are the +hours of watchful care to be bestowed upon it, and stern and unyielding +are its demands on the skilled eye and the untiring hand. It is because +in some cases the eye is not skilled, and the hand often tires, that +so many seeds of more than doubtful worth are imposed upon the +market, filling the village and cross-road shops with the germs of +disappointment. The history of the seed-culture in the United States is +not without interest to those who, like many readers of the "Atlantic," +reside in the quiet country; to every family thus situated the certainty +of obtaining seeds of trustworthy quality--certain to vegetate, and sure +to prove true to name--is of more importance than can be appreciated by +those who rely upon the city-market, and have at all times and seasons +ample supplies of vegetables within easy reach. On looking round for +some individual establishment which we may use as the representative of +this branch of industry, we naturally turn to Bloomsdale, as the most +prominent and widest-known of seed-farms; and if the reader will join us +in a trip thither, we shall be pleased with his company, and perchance +he may not wholly regret the time occupied in the excursion. The period +we shall choose for the visit is the close of the month of June. + +On a bright day we take our seats in the cars at Jersey City, provided +with the talisman to insure an attentive reception. Onward we whirl +through fertile fields and smiling villages; Newark, Brunswick, +Princeton, are successively passed; shortly we reach the Delaware at +Trenton; a run of a few miles through Penn's Manor, the garden-spot of +the Proprietary Governor, brings us to Bristol, the station from which +we most readily reach our destination. As we approach the grounds from +the front, a prominent object meets the eye, a noble white pine of +gigantic proportions, somewhat the worse for many a winter's storm, but +which still stands in all its majestic grandeur, as it has stood whilst +generations have come and passed away. On entering the premises, we find +ourselves in the midst of a lawn of ten acres in the English style. To +enumerate the various trees, in groups or single specimens, which most +invite our notice, would interfere with the main object of our visit. We +have come for a special purpose, and we can only allude to a very few +of the species to which our attention may be supposed to be directed. A +white spruce, in rich luxuriance, measuring, as the branches trail upon +the sward, upwards of sixty feet in circumference; the Himalayan white +pine, with its deep fringe-like foliage, twenty-five feet in height; the +Cephalonian fir, with leaves as pungent as an Auricaria, twenty feet +high, and many specimens of the same kind of nearly equal magnitude; +yews, of more than half a century's growth; a purple beech, of thirty +feet in height, its branches as many in circumference, contrasting with +the green around; numerous specimens of balm of Gilead, silver firs, and +Norway spruces, unsurpassed in beauty of form, the last presenting every +variety of habit in which it delights to sport: these are some of the +gems of the lawn. But we must hurry onward to the practical business in +view. + +The harvest, which, in seed-culture, lasts for many consecutive weeks, +has just commenced. The first important crop that ripens is the +turnip,--which is now being cut. The work is performed by the use of +grass-hooks or toothless sickles; stem after stem is cut, until the hand +is full, when they are deposited in canvas sheets; as these are filled, +boys stand ready to spread others; men follow to tie up those which have +been filled; others succeed, driving teams, and loading wagons, with +ample shelvings, with sheet-full piled on sheet-full, until the sturdy +oxen are required to test their strength in drawing them to the +drying-houses; arrived there, each sheet-full is separately removed by +rope and tackle, and the contents deposited on the skeleton scaffolding +within the building, there to remain until the seed is sufficiently +cured and dry enough to thresh. These drying-houses are buildings +of uniform character, two stories in height and fifty feet square, +constructed so as to expose their contents to sun and air, and each +provided with a carefully laid threshing-floor, extending through the +building, with pent-house for movable engine. When the houses are full +and the hulm in a fit state for threshing, the engine is started and +the work begun. One man, relieved by others from time to time, (for the +labor requires activity, and consequently is exhausting,) feeds the +thresher, which, with its armed teeth, moves with such velocity as to +appear like a solid cylinder. Here there is no stopping for horses +to take breath and rest their weary limbs,--puff, puff, onward the +work,--steam as great a triumph in threshing as in printing or spinning. +Men and boys are stationed at the rear of the thresher to remove the +straw, and roughly separate the seed from the shattered hulm,--others +again being engaged in thrusting the dried crop from the scaffolds, and +placing it in suitable position for the feeders. When one drying-house +has thus been emptied, the engine is removed to another; the same +process is pursued until the circuit of the buildings has been made, and +thus the ceaseless round (ceaseless at least for a season) is continued. +As soon as the crop in the first house has been threshed, the work of +winnowing is commenced, and skilled hands thus engaged follow on in the +track of the engine. As each crop is cleaned and put in merchantable +order, it is placed in bags of two bushels each and carried to the +storehouses and granaries, there to await a requisition from the +city-warehouse. + +We have just witnessed the process of saving the crop of turnip-seed. +And how much may that reach? is a natural inquiry. Of all the varieties, +including the ruta-baga, about one thousand bushels, is the response. We +should have thought a thousand pounds would supply the entire Union; but +we are reminded it is in part exported to far distant lands. And what is +the crop so much like turnip, but still green, and apparently of more +vigorous growth? That is one of the varieties of cabbage, of which +several standard kinds are under cultivation. Another adjoining is +radish; still another, beet; and thus we pass from kind to kind, until +we have exhausted a long catalogue of sorts. + +Let us stop our walk over the grounds for a few moments, taking seats +under the shadow of a tree, and make some inquiries as to the place +itself, its extent, the course of culture, the description of manures +used, etc. Our cicerone assents to the proposal, and proceeds to answer +our general inquiries. Bloomsdale contains in round numbers four hundred +acres; it has a frontage on the Delaware of upwards of a mile, is +bounded on the west by the Delaware Canal, and is divided into two +nearly equal parts by the Philadelphia and Trenton Railroad. The soil is +a light loam, easily worked, suited to rapid percolation, admitting of +labor immediately after heavy rain, and not liable to suffer by drought. +The manures used are principally crude, obtained from the city, and +landed on the premises from shallops continually plying, laden with the +"sinews of farming." Street-scrapings are more used than stable-manure; +bone-dust and guano enter largely into the account; and the aggregate +annual expenditure foots up a sum almost equivalent to the fee-simple of +an ordinary farm. The culture is that denominated drill; but of course +much of it is simply straight lines drawn by the plough, in which the +roots for seeding are planted by hand. The ground, with the exception of +the lawn and a portion occupied from time to time by grass for home use, +is divided by wagon-roads into squares and parallelograms; cross fences +are not used; and each crop forms a distinct feature, accessible at any +stage of growth. The several varieties of each kind, as, for instance, +those of turnip, cabbage, beet, lettuce, are planted widely apart, to +guard against possible admixture; but the chances of that result must +be much less than is popularly supposed, efforts having been used +experimentally to test its practicability, and that between kindred +closely allied, without success. Although the extent of the grounds +would appear to be formidable, even for a farm conducted in the usual +mode, it is insufficient for the demands on the proprietors, without +diligent exertion and prompt recropping,--two crops in each year being +exacted, only a small part of the land escaping double duty, the extent +annually ploughed thus amounting to nearly twice the area of the farm. +The heavy hauling is performed by oxen, the culture principally by +mules, which are preferred to horses, as being less liable to injury, +and better adapted to the narrow drill culture practised. + +The seeds of Bloomsdale have attained a world-wide reputation, and, to +quote an expression used in reference to them, "are almost as well +known on the Ganges as on the Mississippi or Ohio." They are regularly +exported to the British possessions in India, to the shores of the +Pacific, throughout the West Indies, and occasionally to Australia. +The drier atmosphere of this country ripens them better than the humid +climate of England, adapting them to exportation; and it is no slight +triumph to see them preferred by Englishmen on English soil. At home, +thousands of hamlets, south and west of Philadelphia, until interrupted +by the war, were supplied with Landreth's seeds. The business, founded +nearly three-quarters of a century ago, is now conducted by the second +and third generations of the family with which it originated. Thus +has success been achieved through long and patient industry steadily +directed to the same pursuit, and a reputation built up for American +seeds, despite the want of national protection. + + + + +THE EAST AND THE WEST. + +[This poem was written by THEODORE WINTHROP seven years ago, and after +his death was found among his unpublished papers.] + + + We of the East spread our sails to the sea, + You of the West stride over the land; + Both are to scatter the hopes of the Free, + As the sower sheds golden grain from his hand. + + 'Tis ours to circle the stormy bends + Of a continent, yours its ridge to cross; + We must double the capes where a long world ends, + Lone cliffs where two limitless oceans toss. + + They meet and are baffled 'mid tempest and wrath, + Breezes are skirmishing, angry winds roar, + While poised on some desperate plunge of our path + We count up the blackening wrecks on the shore. + + And you through dreary and thirsty ways, + Where rivers are sand and winds are dust, + Through sultry nights and feverish days, + Move westward still as the sunsets must: + + Where the scorched air quivers along the slopes, + Where the slow-footed cattle lie down and die, + Where horizons draw backward till baffled hopes + Are weary of measureless waste and sky. + + Yes, ours to battle relentless gales, + And yours the brave and the patient way; + But we hold the storms in our trusty sails, + And for you the life-giving fountains play. + + There are stars above us, and stars for you,-- + Rest on the path, and calm on the main: + Storms are but zephyrs, when hearts are true; + We are no weaklings, quick to complain, + + When lightnings flash bivouac-fires into gloom, + And with crashing of forests the rains sheet down,-- + Or when ships plunge onward where night-clouds loom, + Defiant of darkness and meeting its frown. + + These are the days of motion and march; + Now we are ardent, and young, and brave: + Let them that come after us build the arch + Of our triumph, and plant with the laurel our grave. + + Time enough to rear temples when heroes are dead, + Time enough to sing paeans after the fight: + Prophets urge onward the future's tread; + We,--_we_ are to kindle its beacon-light. + + Our sires lit torches of quenchless flame + To illumine our darkness, if night should be; + But day is a friend to our standards, and shame + Be ours, if we win not a victory! + + Man is nobler than men have been, + Souls are vaster than souls have dreamed; + There are broader oceans than eyes have seen, + Noons more glowing than yet have beamed. + + Creeping shadows cower low on our land; + These shall not dim our grander day: + Stainless knights must be those who stand + Full in the van of a world's array! + + When shall we cease our meagre distrust? + When to each other our true hearts yield? + To make this world an Eden, we must + Fling away each weapon and shield, + + And meet each man as a friend and mate, + Trample and spurn and forget our pride, + Glad to accept an equal fate, + Laboring, conquering side by side. + + + + +PERSONAL REMINISCENCES OF THE LATE HENRY THOMAS BUCKLE. + + +_Cairo, Egypt, February 6th, 1862._ I am afraid I repeat myself in +talking about the beauty of the climate here, but to-day is so lovely +that I cannot refrain from recurring to the subject. While you are +shivering under the blasts of winter, we have a genuine June morning: +the air soft and pure, the atmosphere clear, innumerable birds chirping +in the trees opposite the windows, (for the Arabs never interfere with +birds,) and the aspect of things from our balcony overlooking the +Esbekieh, or public square, as pleasant as one could wish. The beautiful +weather, too, is constant. + +But I must tell you of my dining yesterday with Mrs. R., to meet Mr. +Buckle, the author of the History of Civilization, who has just returned +from his two or three months' voyage upon the Nile, in which he pushed +as far as Nubia. He is now staying for a little while in Cairo, or +rather in his _dahabieh_, or boat, (which he says is more comfortable +than any hotel,) moored in the river at Boolak, the port of the town. +Mrs. R., the daughter of Lady Duff Gordon, and granddaughter of Mrs. +Austin, is a most attractive and accomplished young lady; her husband is +the manager in Egypt of the great banking-house of Briggs and Company, +in which he is a partner. Their usual residence is at Alexandria; but +at this season "all the world" of Egypt comes to Cairo, to enjoy the +beautiful weather here, while it is raining incessantly in Alexandria, +only a hundred and thirty miles distant. Mrs. R. in asking Mr. Thayer, +our Consul-General, to meet Mr. Buckle, with very great kindness +included me in the invitation. The only other lady present was Miss +P., a niece of the late Countess of Blessington, herself the author +of several pleasant stories, and of a poem which gained a prize in +competition with one by Mrs. Browning and another by Owen Meredith: she +is spending the winter with Mrs. R. There were also present C., who +conducts the house of Briggs and Company in Cairo; O., another banker; +and Hekekyan Bey, an Armenian, a well-read and intelligent man, formerly +Minister of Public Instruction under Mehemet Ali, and still, I believe, +in receipt of a pension from the Viceroy's government, in consideration +of his public services, which have been valuable. + +The dinner was at an hotel called the Restaurant d'Auric. We assembled +in Mrs. R.'s drawing-room, an apartment in the banking-house at a little +distance, and walked to the hotel. The company fell into two groups, +each lighted by a swarthy _boab_ or lackey carrying a _mushal_ or +lantern; and I happened to walk with Mr. Buckle, so that I had a brief +talk with him in the street, before the general conversation began at +the table. He remarked upon the extraordinary devotion exhibited by +Delane of the London Times to the interests and politics of Lord +Palmerston. Becoming interested in our conversation, we strayed away +from the rest, and were walking about a quarter of a mile down the +_bazaar_, when (are you surprised to hear?) Mr. Buckle was missed, +the two _boabs_ came running after us, and we were cited to the +dinner-table. + +Buckle, of course, was the card. He talked with a velocity and fulness +of facts that was wonderful. The rest of us could do little but listen +and ask questions. And yet he did not seem to be lecturing us; the +stream of his conversation flowed along easily and naturally. Nor was it +didactic; Buckle's range of reading has covered everything in elegant +literature, as well as the ponderous works whose titles make so +formidable a list at the beginning of his History, and, as he remembers +everything he has read, he can produce his stores upon the moment for +the illustration of whatever subject happens to come up. + +In the first place, let me say how delightful it was to discover his +cordial interest in our own country. He expresses a strong hope that +England will take no part against us, and do nothing to break the +blockade. He is going to write about America; indeed, his next volume, +besides containing a complete view of the German philosophy, will treat +of the United States. But he will visit us before he writes. Although +appreciating the great work of De Tocqueville, he complains of the +general inadequacy of European criticism upon America. Gasparin's books, +by the way, he has not seen. For his own part, he considers the subject +too vast, he says, and the testimony too conflicting, to permit him +to write upon it before he has seen the country; and meanwhile he +scrupulously refrains from forming any conclusive opinions. + +Subject to this reservation of judgment, however, he remarked that +he was inclined to think that George III forced us prematurely into +democracy, although the natural tendency of things both in America and +England was towards it; and he thought that perhaps we had established +a political democracy without having yet achieved an intellectual +democracy: the two ought to go hand in hand together. The common people +in England, he said, are by far the most useful class of society. He had +been especially pleased by the numerous letters he had received from +working-men who had read his book. These letters often surprised him +by the acuteness and capacity displayed by their writers. The nobility +would perish utterly, if it were not constantly recruited from +commoners. Lord Brougham was the first member of the secular peerage who +continued after his elevation to sign his name in full, "H. Brougham," +which he did to show his continued sympathy with the class from which he +sprang. Buckle remarked that the history of the peasantry of no European +country has ever been written, or ever can be written, and without it +the record of the doings of kings and nobles is mere chaff. Surnames +were not introduced until the eleventh century, and it is only since +that period that genealogy has become possible. + +Another very pleasant thing is Mr. Buckle's cordial appreciation of +young men. He repeated the story, which I believe is in his book, +that, when Harvey announced to the world his great discovery of the +circulation of the blood, among the physicians who received it was none +above the age of forty. Mr. Thayer described to Buckle some of our +friends who have read his book with especial satisfaction. He evidently +took pleasure in this proof of appreciation, and said that this was the +class of readers he sought. "In fact, the young men," he said, "are the +only readers of much value; it is they who shape the future." He said +that Thackeray and Delane had told him he would find Boston very like +England. He knows but few Bostonians. He had corresponded with Theodore +Parker, whom he considered a remarkable man; he had preserved but one of +his letters, which he returned to Mrs. Parker, in answer to her request +for materials to aid her in preparing the memoir of her late +husband. Buckle says that he does not generally preserve other than +business-letters. + +Mr. Buckle gave an amusing account of the origin of the wigs which the +lawyers wear in England, and which, by the way, struck me as infinitely +ludicrous when I saw them on the heads of the judges and counsel in +Westminster Hall. Originally the clergy were forbidden to practise law, +and, as they were the best lawyers, the wig was worn to conceal the +tonsure. He had anecdotes to tell of Johnson, Lamb, Macaulay, Voltaire, +Talleyrand, etc., and quoted passages from Burke and from Junius at +length in the exact words. Junius he considers proved to be Sir Philip +Francis. He told a good story against Wordsworth, contained in a letter +from Lamb to Talfourd, which the latter showed to Buckle, but had +considered among the things too personal to be published. Wordsworth +was decrying Shakspeare. "Pooh!" he said, "it is all very easy: I could +write like Shakspeare myself, if I had a mind to!" "Precisely so," +rejoined Lamb,--"_if you had a mind to_." + +Mr. Buckle does not think much of the ancient Egyptian civilization, +differing in this respect _toto caelo_ from Hekekyan Bey, who finds +in the monuments proofs of the existence of an expansive popular +government. Buckle declares that the machines, as figured in the +hieroglyphics, are of the most primitive kind,--and that the learning, +by all accounts, was confined to the priests, and covered a very narrow +range, exhibiting no traces of acquaintance with the higher useful arts. +He says it is a fallacy to suppose that savages are bodily superior to +civilized men. Captain Cook found that his sailors could outwork the +islanders. I remarked, in confirmation, that our Harvard boat-clubs +won the prizes in rowing-matches against all comers. Buckle seemed +interested, and asked for a more particular account, which, of course, I +took great pleasure in giving. C., like a true Englishman, doubted +the general fact, and said the Thames watermen out-rowed their +university-clubs. + +For Turkish civilization Mr. Buckle has not the slightest respect,--said +he could write the whole of it on the back of his hand; and here +Hekekyan Bey cordially agreed with him. Buckle is very fond of chess, +and can play two games at once blindfold. He inquired very particularly +about a native here who it is said can play four or six in this manner, +and said he should like to try a game with him. He had seen Paulsen, but +not Morphy. + +Mr. Thayer asked him if in England he had been subjected to personal +hostility for his opinions, or to anything like social ostracism. He +said, generally not. A letter from a clergyman to an acquaintance in +England, expressing intense antipathy to him, although he had never seen +the writer, was the only evidence of this kind of opposition. "In fact," +said he, naively, "the people of England have such an admiration of any +kind of _intellectual splendor_ that they will forgive for its sake the +most objectionable doctrines." He told us that the portion of his book +which relates to Spain, although by no means complimentary to that +country, has been translated and published separately there. T. remarked +that to this circumstance, no doubt, we may ascribe some part of the +modern regeneration of Spain, the leading statesmen being persuaded to a +more liberal policy; but this view Buckle disclaimed with an eagerness +seeming to be something more than the offspring of modesty. + +After dinner we returned to Mrs. R.'s apartments, where we had tea. +Buckle and Hekekyan now got into an animated discussion upon the ancient +Egyptian civilization, which scarcely gave the rest of us a chance to +put in a single word. It was, however, exceedingly interesting to sit +and listen. Indeed, although there was nothing awful about Buckle, one +felt a little abashed to intrude his own remarks in such a presence. You +will be amused to hear that Mrs. R., who had seen me but once before, +told T. that she did not think I seemed to have much to say for myself. +Pray tell this in circles where they accuse me of monopolizing the +conversation. We stayed until nearly midnight, and then, taking our +leave, Buckle accompanied T. and myself as far as the door of our hotel. +Buckle received most kindly all suggestions made to him of books to be +read upon American affairs, and people to be seen in the United States. + +_February 7th_. To-day we made a party to drive to see the Howling +Dervishes, who howl on Fridays. Friday is sometimes called "the +Mahometan Sunday," which is a correct phrase, if the especial +celebration of religious services is meant; but it is not at all a day +of rest: we found the people continuing their various avocations as +usual. At the mosque we met Mr. Buckle, a little careless in his +dress,--in this respect affording a not disagreeable contrast to +the studied jauntiness which Englishmen are apt to affect in their +travelling-gear. Nobody is allowed to press the floor of the mosque with +shoes upon the feet. T. and I, warned by our former experience, had +brought pieces of cotton cloth to tie over our shoes; and some cloth +slippers of a bright orange color, such as the Arabs are fond of +using, had been provided, which Miss P. slipped directly over her +walking-boots. Buckle, with careless indifference, pulled off his shoes +and walked in in his stockinged feet. His figure is tall and slender, +although he is a large man; he stoops a little in standing; his head, +well-shaped, is partly bald; and although his features are not striking +in themselves, they are rendered so by his animated expression. The +photograph which I have seen is a wretched caricature. + +The performances of the Dervishes were precisely the same as those which +I witnessed in the same place a fortnight ago, and may be found most +exactly described by Mr. Trollope (who saw them two or three years +since) in his admirable novel of "The Bertrams," Chapter 38. If I +desired to tell you what we saw, I could not do better than to adopt +Mr. Trollope's language without alteration. This will prove to you the +sameness of this singular religious rite. Driving back, Miss P. helped +us to recall some of the incidents of the dinner of the preceding day. +She used to see almost all the distinguished literary characters at the +house of her aunt; but she told us that she never met anybody whose +conversation could bear comparison with that of Buckle, excepting Lord +Brougham and Alexander Dumas. The latter disgusts by his insufferable +egotism. Miss P. also gave us a very entertaining account of an Arab +wedding which she attended a day or two ago in company with Mrs. R. +As soon as they were inside the house they were separated from their +escort, and were admitted to the apartment where the bride was obliged +to sit in state for three days, covered with jewelry, clusters of +diamonds literally plastered upon her cheeks and forehead. + +_February 10th_. Yesterday Mr. Thayer entertained Mr. Buckle at dinner. +The party included Mrs. R. and some of the guests whom we had met at her +table. We had hoped also for the presence of Mr. R., who was expected to +come up from Alexandria; but the train failed to bring him. Mr. Thayer +also invited Sir James Outram, but he is too unwell to come, although +expressing himself pleased with the invitation. The landlord of the +hotel where the consul-general is staying (Hotel des Ambassadeurs) was +very proud of the occasion, and the entertainment, although simple, +was elegant. An oval table was found of exactly the right size to seat +eight. Buckle was in excellent spirits, and, as before, was the life of +the party. We had been terribly afraid lest he and Hekekyan should get +into another long disputation, for the excellent Bey has fortified +himself with new materials; but the ladies were taken into our +confidence to aid in turning the conversation, if it should be +necessary, all of which made a great deal of entertainment; but there +proved to be no occasion for anything of the sort. + +Buckle told some capital stories: among them, one against Alison, almost +too good to be true, namely, that in the first edition of his History he +mentioned among the causes of the French Devolution "the timber-duty," +because he had read in a French pamphlet that there were popular +discontents about the _droits de timbre_.[A] Alison's History, he said, +is the very worst that ever was written. He cited a good definition, +(Addison's, I believe,) that "fine writing is that which is true without +being obvious." In the course of the conversation, in which, as before, +Buckle touched points in the whole circle of literature and science, +giving us quotations even in Hebrew from the Talmud and the Bible, he +made a very pretty compliment to our host, introduced as adroitly as +from the lips of a professed courtier, but evidently spoken on the +moment. It was something in this way. Hekekyan and Buckle were in an +argument, and Buckle said, "Ah, you mistake a necessary condition for +the cause." "What is cause but necessary condition?" asked Hekekyan. +"Very different: two men can't fight a duel without meeting, but every +two men who meet don't fight a duel." "But they couldn't fight a duel +without meeting," persisted Hekekyan. "Yes," rejoined Buckle; "but +the meeting isn't the cause of the duel. Why, there could not be a +dinner-party, unless the company met; but our meeting here to-day isn't +the cause of the dinner: the cause of the dinner is the kindness of our +host." "Or rather, of the landlord," said N. "Oh, no! of the American +government," said C. "Ah," said Buckle, "those things are not the +cause: the cause of our good dinner, I maintain, is only the charming +hospitality of the consul-general." Is not this metaphysics made easy, +and prettily employed? + +[Footnote A: It is fair to say that an examination of the chapter on +the causes of the French Revolution, in several editions of Alison's +History, including the first, gives this story no support.] + +After dinner we had tea and coffee; the ladies, in Egypt, could scarcely +do less than allow tobacco, and Mr. Buckle particularly enjoyed some +choice cigars which T. was able to offer him. The party did not break up +until nearly midnight, when all the guests retired together. + +_February 11th_. To my pleasure, the train from Alexandria yesterday +afternoon brought Mr. B., of New York, and his very agreeable family, +with whom I crossed the Atlantic in the Persia last October. They went +at first to another hotel, but to-day they have determined to come to +that at which we are staying. I called upon them on their arrival, and +asked the gentlemen to join us at dinner, and afterwards in going, in +company with Mr. Buckle, whom Mr. Thayer had previously invited, to +attend a _fantasia_, or exhibition of singing and dancing, by Arab +professionals, at the house of Mr. Savallan, a wealthy French banker, +who has lived a long time in the Levant and has in some degree adopted +Oriental customs. He has lately sold to the Viceroy a tooth-brush, comb, +and hair-brush, for the handsome price of fourteen thousand dollars. +They were doubtless richly set with jewels; but the profit on these +transactions is immense. Mr. B. accepted the invitation for dinner, and +Mr. W. joined us afterwards. + +At dinner I was seated next to Mr. Buckle, and thus had an opportunity +for private conversation. He asked about American books, and told me his +opinion of those he had read. He said that Quincy's History of Harvard +University was the latest book on America he received before leaving +England. He preferred Kent's exposition of the United States +Constitution to Story's, although this also he had consulted and used. +He had not seen Mr. Charles Francis Adams's complete edition of the +works of his grandfather, nor Parton's Life of Jackson, both of which I +begged him to read, particularly the chapters in the former in which are +traced the steps in the progress of making the American Constitutions. +He told me about his library in London, which is surpassed (among +private libraries) only by that belonging to Mr. Van de Weyer, the +Belgian Minister, whose wife is the daughter of our Bostonian Mr. Bates, +of Barings. Buckle has twenty-two thousand volumes, all selected by +himself; and he takes great pleasure in them. He spends eight or nine +hundred pounds a year upon his library. He owns copies of all the books +referred to in his History; some of them are very old and rare. He +also possesses a considerable collection, made likewise by himself, of +curiosities in natural history; he has added largely to it in Egypt, +where, in fact, he has been buying with open hands. He said he could not +be perfectly happy in leaving the country, if obliged to go away without +a crocodile's egg, a trophy which as yet he has been unable to obtain. + +He told me his plan of travel in America. He will not set out until our +domestic troubles are composed, for he desires to see the practical +working of our institutions in their normal state, not confused and +disturbed by the excitements of war. He would go first to Boston and +New York, the intellectual and commercial heads (as he said) of the +republic,--and to Washington, the political capital. He would then like +to pass from the Northern into the Southern States, but asked if he +could travel safely in the latter, in view of his extreme opinions in +detestation of slavery. I assured him that nobody would dare to molest +one so well known, even if our war did not abate forever the nuisance +of lynching, to say nothing of its probable effect in promoting the +extinction of slavery. From the Southern States he said he would wish to +pass into Mexico, thence to Peru and to Chili; then to cross the Pacific +Ocean to Japan, to China, to India, and so back by the overland route +to England. This magnificent scheme he has seriously resolved upon, and +proposes to devote to it two or three years. He undertakes it partly for +information and partly for relaxation of his mental faculties, which he +has injured by overwork, and which imperatively demand repose. He asked +many questions with regard to matters of detail,--whether he would find +conveyance by steamers in the Pacific, and of what sort would be the +accommodations in them and in sailing-vessels. He asked at what season +he had best arrive in the United States, and whether he had better +land at New York or at Boston. Boston he said he regarded as "the +intellectual head of the country, and New York, you know, for trade." I +answered his questions as well as I could, and told him he must not omit +seeing our Western country, and some of the new cities, like Chicago. He +asked me if I knew "a Mrs. Child," who had written him a letter and sent +him her book about the history of religion. I knew of course that he +meant "The Progress of Religious Ideas," by Mrs. L. Maria Child. He had +been pleased with the letter, and with the book. + +The conversation becoming general, Mr. B., of New York, told a story of +an old Congressional debate in which John Randolph derisively compared +Edward Everett to Richelieu: Buckle at once said he should regard it as +a compliment of the very highest kind to be compared to Richelieu. You +will smile, perhaps, if I tell you that I could not resist asking Buckle +if he had read Dumas's historical novels, and he said he had not, +although he had felt an inclination to do so. He asked one or two +questions about them, and gave a rapid generalization of the history of +France at that time. + +This conversation at the dinner-table of course was by far the +pleasantest part of the evening, for the _fantasia_ did not amount to +much, although the house was a fine one, the host most cordial, and the +novelty of the entertainment was enjoyable. + +_February 12th_. Mr. Buckle called upon T. and myself in the +afternoon, and sat talking between two and three hours. I wish I could +give you a full report of all that he said. He told us of the only +lecture he ever delivered; it was before the Royal Institution, March +19, 1858, and was printed in "Fraser's Magazine" for April, just +afterwards. It may be found reprinted in America in "Littell's Living +Age," No. 734. The subject was "The Influence of Women on the Progress +of Knowledge." Murchison, Owen, and Faraday told him afterwards, +separately, that they were perfectly satisfied with it, which is +certainly a strong combination of authority. He told us all about his +education, which is interesting, for he has been most truly self-taught. +When he was a boy, he was so delicate that it was thought he could not +live; the celebrated Dr. Abernethy, who was a particular friend of his +father, saw how important it was to keep him from mental excitement, and +begged that he might not be troubled by lessons. Accordingly, he was +never sent to school at any time, except for a brief period to a +clergyman who had directions not to make him study; and he was never +regularly taught anything. Until eight years of age he hardly knew his +letters. At the age of fifteen he found out Shakespeare and read it with +great zest. At seventeen he conceived the plan of his book, and resolved +to do two things to make himself fit to write it: first, he resolved to +devote four hours a day to the study of physical science, in order that +he might be able fully to understand and to unfold its relations with +history; secondly, he resolved to devote an equal portion of each day to +the study of English composition and practice in writing, in order that +he might be able to set forth his opinions with force and perspicuity. +To these resolutions he adhered for twelve years. Every day, after +breakfast, he shut himself up for four hours with his experiments and +his investigations; and afterwards devoted four hours to analyzing the +style of the best English authors, inquiring (as he said) "where it was +that I wrote worse than they." He studied not only in England, but in +Germany and other European countries. He learned all the languages which +he knows (and he knows nearly all I ever heard of) without the aid of a +master in any, excepting German, in which he began with a master, but +soon dismissed him, because he hindered more than he helped. He read +Hebrew with a Jewish rabbi, but that was after he had learned the +language. He considers the knowledge of languages valuable only as the +stepping-stone to other learning, and spoke with contempt of a person in +Egypt who was mentioned to him as speaking eight languages familiarly. + +"Has he done anything?" + +"No." + +"Then he is only fit to be a courier." + +Buckle is not a university-man, although both his father and grandfather +were educated at Cambridge. + +He has long since abandoned the practice of writing at night, and now +does not put pen to paper after three o'clock in the afternoon. When at +home, in London, he walks every day, for about an hour and a half, at +noon; frequently dines out and reads perhaps an hour after coming home. +He goes exclusively to dinner-parties, because they take less time than +others. When he is engaged in composition, he walks about the room, +sometimes excitedly, his mind engrossed with his subject, until he has +composed an entire paragraph, when he sits down and writes it, never +retouching, nor composing sentence by sentence, which he thinks has a +tendency to give an abrupt and jerky effect to what is written. Traces +of this, he thinks, may be found in Macaulay's style. + +Mr. Thayer showed him the little stock of books he happened to have with +him at Cairo. Mr. Buckle looked them over with interest, expressing his +opinions upon them. One of them, Mr. Bayle St. John's little book on the +Turkish question, he borrowed, although he said that he denied himself +all reading on this journey, undertaken for mental rest, and had brought +no books with him. We got upon the inevitable subject of international +copyright, which he discussed in a spirit of remarkable candor. His +own experience was this: that the Messrs. Appleton reprinted his first +volume without compensation, asking him to furnish materials for a +prefatory memoir, of which request he took no notice; afterwards, when +the second volume was published, they sent him something, I believe +fifty pounds. In due course of time, receiving a request from Theodore +Parker to that effect, he wrote a letter to aid him in the preparation +of a memoir for the Messrs. Appleton's Cyclopaedia.[B] + +[Footnote B: In this memoir it is stated that Mr. Buckle was born at +Lee, November 24,1822. If this date be correct, his age, at the time of +his death at Damascus, May 29, 1862, fell short of forty years by five +days less than six months. In conversation, however, at this time, +February, 1862, he spoke of his age as thirty-eight, notwithstanding the +surprise that was expressed, for he appeared several years older. Mr. +Glennie, in his letter describing the circumstances of Mr. Buckle's +death, mentions his age as thirty-nine.] + +I pointed out to Mr. Buckle the very important distinction between +_copyright for the British author_ and _monopoly for the British +publisher_. I told him that the American people and their +representatives in Congress would not have the least objection to paying +a trifling addition to the cost of books, which would make, upon the +immense editions sold of the popular books, a handsome compensation to +the foreign authors,--but that they have very decided objections to the +English system of enormously high prices for books. I instanced to him +several books which can be bought in the United States for a quarter or +half a dollar, while in England they cannot be purchased for less than +a guinea and a half, that is, for seven or eight dollars,--although the +author gains very little by these high prices, which, indeed, would be +absolutely prohibitory of the circulation of the books in the United +States. And since the great literary market of the United States has +been created at the public expense, by the maintenance of the system of +universal education, it is perhaps not unreasonable that our legislators +should insist upon preserving, by the competition among publishers, the +advantages of low prices of books, in pursuance of a policy which +looks to a wide circulation. In Great Britain the publishers follow +a different policy and insist on selling books at high prices to a +comparatively small circle of readers. + +Mr. Buckle was kind enough to listen attentively to this sort of +reasoning and had the candor to admit that it is entitled to some degree +of weight. Indeed, he said at once that he had earnestly wished to bring +out a cheap edition of his own book in England, omitting the notes and +references, for the use of the working-classes, of whose appreciation, +as I have previously mentioned, he had received many gratifying proofs; +he had made his arrangements for this purpose, but was prevented from +carrying them out by the opposition of his publishers, who objected +that such an edition would injure _their_ interest in the more +costly edition. But Mr. Buckle freely declared that he would, in his +circumstances, rather forego the profit on the sale of his book than +restrict its circulation. + +I may, perhaps, be permitted to mention that another English author +related to me his home experience, precisely to the same effect, in +which the vested interests of his publishers thwarted him in his wish +to publish an edition of his writings at a low price for general +circulation. It is quite certain that the British public must themselves +be disenthralled from the tyranny of high prices with which they are now +burdened, before they can ask to bring another land under the dominion +of their exclusive system in literature. + +This conversation led to a description of the reading public +in America,--of the intelligence and independence of our +working-people,--of their habits of life and of thought,--about which +Buckle manifested great interest, asking many intelligent questions. + +Mr. Buckle is in easy circumstances, and attends personally to the +management of his money. He finds no difficulty in letting it upon +first-class mortgages, at five per cent., and does not expect a higher +rate of interest. + +_February 13th._ To-night there was a religious celebration, including +an illumination, in the mosque at the Citadel. We had expected to go +and see it; and Mr. T. had invited Mr. B. and his party, as well as Mr. +Buckle, and the two lads by whom he is accompanied in his journeyings, +to go with us. These young gentlemen are sons of a dear friend of Mr. +Buckle's, no longer living. + +But at the last moment before dinner the advice was strongly given on +all sides that we should not go, lest some bigoted Mussulmans should +take offence, and there might be a disturbance. Not long ago, a party of +Englishmen behaved very badly in the mosque on a similar occasion, from +which has resulted a disturbed state of feeling. It of course cannot be +pleasant to people of any religious belief to have their ceremonies made +a spectacle for curiosity; and although the _moudier_ (mayor of the +city) promised ample protection, the plan was given up, and the company +being gathered, we had a pleasant evening together. The presence of the +ladies of Mr. B.'s party gave the opportunity to see Mr. Buckle again +under the inspiration of ladies' society, which he especially enjoys, +and in the lighter conversation suited to which he shines with not less +distinction than when conversing upon abstruse topics. + +In the course of the evening, in the midst of conversation in which he +was taking an animated part, Mr. Buckle exhibited symptoms of faintness. +Fresh air was at once admitted to the room, which was full of +cigar-smoke; water and more powerful restoratives were brought, but +these he declined. After a few minutes' repose upon the divan, he +declared that he was perfectly recovered, and half an hour afterwards +took his leave with the boys. We were quite anxious until we heard that +he had safely reached his boat, in which he is still living. + +_February 14th._ Returning from the Turkish bath, I found a valentine +in the shape of a telegraphic despatch only thirteen days from +Boston,--thirty-six hours from Liverpool. It was dated at Boston the +1st, forwarded from Liverpool at 10 A.M. of the 13th, and reached +Alexandria at 11.55 A.M. of the 14th, whence it was transmitted to Cairo +without delay. This is almost equal to the Arabian Nights. The distance +travelled by the despatch is about six thousand miles. + +_February 15th_. This day we had an excursion to the Petrified Forest. +It was got up partly to give us all a taste of camel-riding, and it +was originally expected that everybody would go on camels; then it was +agreed that half should go on camels, and "ride-and-tie." In this view, +one camel and one donkey were ordered for T. and myself. But Mr. B. was +subsequently persuaded that with four horses he could have a carriage +dragged through the desert to the forest, which would be more +comfortable for the ladies; and he made that arrangement in his own and +their behalf. Freddy B. is a first-rate horseman, and an Arab steed was +ordered for him. Mr. Buckle was determined to go in a thing called a +_mazetta_, a sort of huge bedstead with curtains, borne on the back of a +camel, big enough to carry a small family, in which he expected to find +room for himself and the two boys travelling with him. Besides these, +the party included the Reverend Mr. Lansing, the excellent head of the +American mission here, the Honorable W.S., a young Englishman, and his +tutor, the Reverend Mr. S., whose agreeable company had been bespoken +when the camel-project was in full strength. + +On looking down from the balcony at the transportation-train marshalled +for the occasion, amid the admiring gaze of all the idlers of Cairo, +I was at first a little chagrined to find, as the final result of the +various arrangements, that, besides the camels, the _mazetta_, the +carriage-and-four, and the proud-stepping horse, there appeared but one +donkey, that selected for me. But I was, in truth, very well off. To +begin with, it was not thought prudent that Mr. Buckle should use the +_mazetta_ until the procession had got beyond the narrow streets of +Cairo, lest the camel bearing it should take fright and knock the whole +thing to pieces against the wall of a house. Accordingly, he and his +charges took donkeys, and I rode off with them, at the head of the +column. By-and-by Mr. Buckle changed to the conveyance originally +proposed, but a very short experiment (literally, I suspect) sickened +him of the _mazetta_, whose motion is precisely that of a ship in a +storm, and he sent back to the town for donkeys. At the next halt the +ladies took him into the carriage, where he found himself, as he said, +"in clover," and that was the end of his greatness in camel-riding. This +remark, by the way, suggested a name ("Clover") for our boat in our +voyage up the Nile just afterwards; but patriotism prevailed, and we +named her "Union." It pretty soon appeared that the camel which T. was +riding was young and frisky; the animal was accordingly pronounced +unsafe, and T. changed to a donkey which had fortunately been brought +along for a reserve. The Honorable W.S.'s camel, from the saddle +becoming unfastened, pitched rider and saddle to the ground, a fall of +five or six feet: fortunately no harm was done, and he bravely mounted +again. The saddle upon the camel which the Reverend Mr. S. rode split +in two, and the seat must have been a torture; but he bore it like a +martyr, never flinching. But camel-stock had so far depreciated, +and donkeys gone up, that I was able to try as much as I liked of +camel-riding now and then, at the same time obliging a friend by the use +of my donkey meanwhile. Riding a camel at a walk is the same sort of +thing as riding a very hard-trotting horse without stirrups, and with +no chance to grasp the animal fairly to hold your seat. When the camel +trots, you may imagine yourself on a treadmill. + +The journey to the forest, about ten miles, was safely accomplished. We +found the petrifactions duly wonderful. An excellent luncheon was +laid out, after which we had an hour and a half of very entertaining +conversation, in which Mr. Buckle and Rev. Mr. S. held the leading +parts,--all around us as desolate and silent as one could imagine. It +was interesting to observe the manner in which Buckle estimated eminent +names, grouping them in some instances by threes, a favorite conceit +with him. John Stuart Mill, of all living men, he considers as +possessing the greatest mind in the world. Aristotle, Newton, and +Shakspeare are the greatest the world has produced in past times. Homer, +Dante, and Shakspeare are the only three great poets. Johnson, Gibbon, +and Parr are the three writers who have done the greatest harm to the +English language. Of Hallam he has a strong admiration. He spoke of +Sydney Smith as the greatest English wit, and of Selwyn as next to him, +and described Macaulay's memory as unequalled in conversation. + +For the return-trip, the donkeys generally were preferred. Miss B., with +spirit, tried camel-riding for a while, and so did Master F. We stopped +to look at the tombs of the Caliphs, and reached the hotel at nightfall, +somewhat fatigued, but satisfied with the day's expedition. + +_February 16th._ The morning was gratefully devoted to rest. In the +afternoon, attended service at the Mission, where Rev. Mr. S. preached +an interesting discourse from John xv. 1-4. On the way home met Mr. +Buckle, who came in, and was persuaded to stay to dinner. In speaking +of religion, he said that there is no doctrine or truth in Christianity +that had not been announced before, but that Christianity is by far the +noblest religion in existence. The chief point of its superiority is +the prominence it gives to the humane and philanthropic element; and +in giving this prominence lies its originality. He believes in a Great +First Cause, but does not arrive at his belief by any process of +reasoning satisfactory to himself. Paley's argument, from the evidence +of design, he regards as futile: if the beauty of this world indicates +a creating cause, the beauty of that great cause would suggest another, +and so on. He believes in a future state, and declared most impressively +that life would be insupportable to him, if he thought he were forever +to be separated from one person,--alluding, it is probable, to his +mother, to whose memory he dedicates the second volume of his book.[C] +He has no doubt that in the future state we shall recognize one another; +whether we shall have the same bodies he has no opinion, although he +regards matter as indestructible. He declares himself unable to form any +judgment as to the mode of future existence. Religion, he says, is on +the increase in the world, but theology is declining. + +[Footnote C: The words he uses are,--"To the memory of my mother I +_consecrate_ this volume."] + +Mr. Buckle characterized as the sublimest passage in Shakspeare the +lines in the "Merchant of Venice,"-- + + "Look how the floor of heaven + Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold! + There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st + But in his motion like an angel sings, + Still quiring to the young-eyed cherabims: + Such harmony is in immortal souls! + But whilst this muddy vesture of decay + Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it." + +Mr. Thayer suggested the similarity between the closing part of this +passage, about our deafness to the music of the stars, owing to the +"muddy vesture," and the sonnet of Blanco White which speaks of the +starry splendors to which our eyes are blinded by the light of day:-- + + "Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew + Thee, from report divine, and heard thy name, + Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, + This glorious canopy of light and blue? + Yet 'neath the curtain of translucent dew, + Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, + Hesperus with the host of heaven came, + And lo! creation widened in man's view. + Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed + Within thy beams, O Sun? or who could find, + Whilst fly and leaf and insect stood revealed, + That to such countless orbs thou mad'st us blind? + Why do we, then, shun Death with anxious strife? + If Light can thus deceive, wherefore not Life?" + +Mr. Buckle seemed to be struck by the comparison. He proceeded to speak +of Blanco White's memoirs as painfully interesting, and said that he +had always liked Archbishop Whately for adhering to White after the +desertion of the latter by old friends on account of his change of +belief. + + * * * * * + +The next few days were occupied in preparations for the voyage up the +Nile in company with my New York friends. Mr. Buckle had very kindly +taken great interest in our plans, and had earnestly advised me to go. +"You will do very wrong indeed," he said, "if you do not go." On the +19th of February we embarked; and as we saluted his boat, lying just +below us in the Nile, while our own shoved off, I little thought that I +should never see him again,--that his brilliant career was so shortly to +come to an untimely end. The serious conversation just recorded was the +last in which I took part with him. + +Mr. Buckle remained in Cairo until the beginning of March, when he set +out with the two boys, and Mr. J.S. Stuart Glennie, across the Desert, +for Sinai and Petra. Greatly improved in health by the six weeks in +the Desert, (according to Mr. Glennie's letter,) he undertook the more +fatiguing travelling on horseback through Palestine. He fell ill on the +27th of April, but recovered his health, as it seemed, to such an extent +that Mr. Glennie parted from him on the 21st of May. On the 29th of May, +at Damascus, Mr. Buckle died. Among the incoherent utterances of his +illness, it was possible to distinguish the exclamation, "Oh, my book, +my book, I shall never finish my book!" + +And beyond the grief felt in the loss of the kind friend and agreeable +companion, our plaint, in common with the whole world, ever must be, +that he did not live to finish his book. + + + + +CAVALRY SONG. + + + The squadron is forming, the war-bugles play. + To saddle, brave comrades, stout hearts for a fray! + Our captain is mounted,--strike spurs, and away! + + No breeze shakes the blossoms or tosses the grain; + But the wind of our speed floats the galloper's mane, + As he feels the bold rider's firm hand on the rein. + + Lo, dim in the starlight their white tents appear! + Ride softly! ride slowly! the onset is near! + More slowly! more softly! the sentry may hear! + + Now fall on the Rebel--a tempest of flame! + Strike down the false banner whose triumph were shame! + Strike, strike for the true flag, for freedom and fame! + + Hurrah! sheathe your swords! the carnage is done. + All red with our valor, we welcome the sun. + Up, up with the stars! we have won! we have won! + + + + +NO FAILURE FOR THE NORTH. + + +We have reached a point in the history of our national troubles where it +seems desirable to examine our present position, and to consider whether +we ought to surrender ourselves to despair, or congratulate ourselves on +decided success,--whether we should abandon all attempts to restore the +Union, assert the dignity of the Constitution, and punish treason, or +nerve ourselves to new effort, and determine to persevere in a righteous +cause so long as a single able-bodied man remains or a dollar of +available property is unexpended. + +It may be, it must be, conceded that we commenced the contest with very +crude and inadequate notions of what war really is. We proposed to +decide the issue by appealing to the census and the tax-list,--tribunals +naturally enough occurring to a mercantile and manufacturing +community,--but how if the enemy prefer cannon and cold steel? Our first +campaign was in the field of statistics, and we found the results highly +satisfactory. Our great numerical superiority, aided by our immense +material resources, gave us an early and an easy victory. We outnumbered +the enemy everywhere, defeated them in every pitched battle, starved +them by a vigilant blockade, secured meanwhile the sympathy and support +of the whole civilized world by the holiness of our cause, and commanded +its respect by the display of our material power and our military +capacity,--and in a few short months crushed the Rebellion, restored +the Union, vindicated the Constitution, hung the arch-traitors, and saw +peace in all our borders. This was our campaign--on paper. But war is +something more than a sum in arithmetic. A campaign cannot be decided by +the rule of three. No finite power can control every contingency, and +have all the chances in its favor. + +A Moorish legend, given to us in the graceful narrative of Washington +Irving, relates, that an Arabian astrologer constructed for the pacific +Aben Hafuz, King of Granada, a magical mode of repulsing all invaders +without risking the lives of his subjects or diminishing the contents of +the royal treasury. He caused a tower to be built, in the upper part of +which was a circular hall with windows looking towards every point of +the compass, and before each window a table supporting a mimic army of +horse and foot. On the top of the tower was a bronze figure of a Moorish +horseman, fixed on a pivot, with elevated lance. Whenever a foe was at +hand, the figure would turn in that direction, and level his lance as if +for action. No sooner was it reported to the vigilant monarch that the +magic horseman indicated the approach of an enemy, than His Majesty +hastened to the circular hall, selected the table at the point of the +compass indicated by the horseman's spear, touched with the point of a +magic lance some of the pigmy effigies before him, and belabored others +with the butt-end. A scene of confusion at once ensued in the mimic +army. Part fell dead, and the rest, turning their weapons upon each +other, fought with the utmost fury. The same scene was repeated in the +ranks of the advancing enemy. Each renewed attempt at invasion was +foiled by this easy and economical expedient, until the King enjoyed +rest even from rumors of wars. + +Now this is a pleasing fiction, and highly creditable to the light and +airy fancy of the Moors. It almost makes one sigh that an astrologer so +fertile in resources is not still extant. It is difficult to conceive, +indeed, of a more felicitous arrangement for a monarch devoted to his +ease, and proof against all temptations to military glory, or for a +people wedded to peaceful pursuits, and ambitious only of material +prosperity. But no such fascinating substitute for fields of carnage is +available in our degenerate days,--"_C'est charmant, mais ce n'est pas +la guerre_." + +Nor yet is any useful example furnished by the warlike qualities of the +army raised by Peter Stuyvesant for the reduction of Fort Casimir: not +even when we remember that it included "the Van Higginbottoms, a race of +schoolmasters, armed with ferules and birchen rods,--the Van Bummels, +renowned for feats of the trenches,--the Van Bunschotens, who were the +first that did kick with the left foot,"--with many other warriors +equally fierce and formidable. We must, however reluctantly, leave such +romantic legends and facetious chronicles, and learn more practical +lessons from the sober and instructive page of history. We shall there +find that war means alternate success and defeat, alternate hope and +disappointment, great suffering in the field, many vacant chairs at +many firesides, immense expenditures with little apparent result, "the +best-laid schemes" foiled by a thousand unexpected contingencies, +lamentable indecision in the cabinet, glaring blunders in the field, +stagnation of industry, and heavy taxation. + + "War is a game, which, were the nations wise, + Kings would not play at." + +But nations are not always wise, and war often becomes a necessity. +When, then, the necessity arises, it should be met manfully. The +question once deliberately decided that peace is no longer consistent +with national honor or national safety, the dread alternative must be +accepted with all its hazards and all its horrors. To organize only in +anticipation of certain and speedy success, to despise and underrate the +enemy, to inquire with how small an army and how limited an expenditure +the war can be carried on, is as unstatesmanlike as it is in flat +defiance of all historical teaching. But if we carry our folly still +farther in the same direction,--if we fail to take into grave account +the most obvious and inevitable incidents of actual warfare,--if in +our overweening confidence we neglect discipline, underrate the prime +importance of promptness and decision in action, certainty and celerity +in movement, and energy and activity in pursuit,--if, in a word, we +expect that the defences of the enemy are to fall into our hands by +means as unwarlike as those that decided the fate of Jericho, or dream +that because our cause is just every precedent in history and every +principle in human nature will be overruled in our favor,--then we +deserve to be outgeneralled, and are fortunate, if we escape final and +disastrous defeat. + +Now has not this been precisely our cardinal and capital error, and +are we not to-day suffering its natural consequences? To the blind and +unreasoning confidence with which we began this war has succeeded a +reaction running into the very opposite extreme. We are given over to +a despondency quite as unwarrantable as the extravagance of our early +hopes. We demanded and expected impossibilities. Forgetting that the age +of miracles has passed, many are now bitterly complaining that nothing +has been accomplished, and predicting that all future efforts will +terminate in similar failure. Two years have not elapsed since the first +gun was fired at Fort Sumter; and yet we are amazed and mortified that +our forces have not overrun the whole South, that victory has not +crowned our arms in every battle, and that our flag does not float +triumphant over every acre of every State once called Confederate. +Whether this most desirable result could have been accomplished, if this +or that policy had been adopted at the outset, is one of those problems +that will never be solved; nor is the inquiry at present pertinent or +profitable. Let us rather ask whether, in view of the means actually +employed, our discontent with the existing condition of affairs is not +unmanly and unreasonable. We are to measure results, not by the efforts +that we ought to have put forth, nor by those which we should put forth, +if, with our dear-bought experience, we were called upon once more to +undertake such a gigantic enterprise. We must recall the aspect of +affairs when we first embarked on this perilous sea. We must remember +how ignorant we were of all the danger before us, how imperfect was the +chart by which our course was to be determined, how many shoals and +sunken rocks and crosscurrents we were to encounter, as yet unknown +to any pilot on board our noble ship of state, how little we knew of +navigation in such angry waters, under so stormy a sky. + +Turn back the pages of history for two short years, and dwell a moment +on the picture presented to our eyes. A nation, enjoying to the utmost +the substantial benefits belonging to fifty years of profound peace and +unexampled prosperity, enervated by those habits of luxury which wealth +easily accumulated always fosters, with a standing army hardly large +enough to protect our Western frontier from the incursions of hostile +Indians, and a navy ludicrously small in proportion to the extent of our +sea-coast and the value of our commerce, is suddenly plunged into a war +covering such an extent of territory and calling for such an array of +power by sea and land as to dwarf into insignificance all modern wars, +hardly excepting the military operations of Napoleon I. + +And it must be remembered that education and habit had trained us to an +implicit reliance on the sufficiency of our laws and the competency of +our Constitution to meet and decide every issue that could possibly be +presented. We could conceive of no public wrongs which could not be +redressed by an appeal to the ballot-box, and of no private injuries for +which our statutes did not provide a suitable remedy. + +We were not only a law-abiding, but a peace-loving people. The report of +the revolver was not heard in our streets, nor was the glitter of the +bowie-knife seen in our bar-rooms. We deprecated mob-violence, and +disliked the summary proceedings of Judge Lynch. We took no pains to +conceal our horror of unnecessary bloodshed, and shared the views of +civilized Christendom about duelling. Now and then, to be sure, a +Southerner in one of his sportive moods would stab an inattentive waiter +in some Northern hotel, or a chivalrous son of South Carolina, elegantly +idling away a few years in a New-England university, would shoot some +base-born tutor, or, as an episode in Congressional proceedings, the +member from Arkansas would threaten to pull the nose, spit in the +face, and gouge out the eyes of the (profane participled) sneaking +Yankee,--meaning thereby a quiet, inoffensive member from Massachusetts. +But these incidents of Southern civilization were not frequent enough to +become fashionable. We still clung to our plebeian prejudices against +lawless violence, and persisted in believing that a swaggering bully +could not be an ornament to cultivated and refined society. In fact, +some excellent individuals at the North went so far as to seek to +disseminate these old-fashioned notions among their Southern brethren, +and made annual subscriptions to what was known (alas, that we must +use the historic tense!) as the "Southern Aid Society," having for its +praiseworthy object the support of ministers who should preach the +gospel to our ardent and impulsive neighbors. What a sad and significant +commentary is it upon the ingratitude of depraved human nature, that the +condescending clergyman who whilom consented to collect the offerings +of these discriminating philanthropists is now a chaplain in the +Confederate army, and is invoking the most signal judgments of Heaven +upon his former friends and fellow-laborers! + +This, then, was our condition, and these were our habits, when we were +rudely awakened from our dreams of peace by the roar of cannon and the +clash of arms. What wonder that the startling summons found us all +unready for such a crisis? What wonder that our early preparations to +confront the issue thus forced upon us without note of warning were +hasty, incomplete, and quite inadequate to the emergency? Is it +discreditable to us that we were slow to appreciate the bitterness and +intensity of that hatred, which, long smouldering under the surface of +Southern society, burst forth at once into a wide-spread conflagration, +severing like flax all the ties of kindred, and all the bonds of +individual friendship and national intercourse which had united us for +half a century? Here was a section of our Union which had always +enjoyed equal rights with us under the Constitution, and had known the +Government only by its blessings,--nay, more, had actually, by the +confession of its own statesmen, controlled the internal administration +and dictated the foreign policy of the country since the adoption of the +Constitution; which had no substantial grievance to complain of, and +no fanciful injury which could not be readily redressed by legal and +constitutional methods. Are we to be blamed because we could not easily +bring ourselves to believe that an integral part of our nation, with +such a history, could, under a pretence so bald as to insult the common +sense of Christendom, rush headlong into a war which must close all its +avenues of commerce, paralyze all its industry, threaten the existence +of its cherished and peculiar institution,--in a word, whether +successful or unsuccessful, inevitably result in its political suicide? +At this very moment, accustomed as we have been for many sad and weary +months to the daily development of Southern folly and madness, it is +difficult, when we withdraw our minds from the present, to realize that +the whole war is not a hideous nightmare. + +In view of all this, I ask, is it strange that we did not at once +comprehend all our danger, and did not enter the field with all our +forces,--determined to fight with desperate energy until every trace of +rebellion was crushed out? If, disturbed at midnight by footsteps in +your chamber, you start up from sound slumber to see a truculent-looking +vagabond prowling about your room with a lighted candle, do you not at +once spring to your feet, collar the intruder, and shout lustily for +help, if he prove too strong for you? Prompt and vigorous action in such +a case is simply the impulse of instinct. But how if you recognize in +the untimely visitor a member of your own household? Will you seize and +overpower him without asking a single question, or waiting for a word of +explanation? Will you not pause for some overt act of hostility, some +convincing proof of a fell purpose? Suppose it transpire that he really +means mischief, and you lose an important advantage by your delay to +strike. You may regret the result; but does it in the least tend to show +that you were cowardly or careless? Now was not this our exact dilemma? +Although the origin of the war and the circumstances attendant upon its +commencement are a thrice-told tale, are we not in danger of overlooking +their bearing upon all our subsequent action? And shall we not act +wisely, if we recur to them again and again, during this momentous +contest? + +But, asks a timid Conservative,--from whose patient button the fingers +of an ardent apostle of peace have recently and most reluctantly +parted,--has not this war been shamefully mismanaged by the +Administration? have not contractors grown rich while soldiers have +suffered? have not incompetent generals been unjustly advanced, and +skilful commanders been summarily shelved? have we gained any advantages +at all commensurate with our loss of blood and our expenditure of money? +would not a cessation of hostilities on any terms be better than such +a war as we are now waging? If we might venture to suggest a word of +caution to our desponding friend, before attempting a reply to his +broadside of questions, we would say: Beware how you indulge in too much +conversation with a certain class of our citizens, whose hearty loyalty +has been more than doubted, and whose conversion to the beauties of +peace and the horrors of war is so sudden as to be very suspicious. +Examine their antecedents, and you will find, that, when "border +ruffians" in Kansas threatened with fire and sword the inoffensive +emigrants from New England, these gentlemen saw nothing unusual in such +proceedings, and answered all remonstrances with ridicule. Put them to +the question to-day, and it will appear, that, from the very beginning +of the struggle, all their sympathies have been with the South. They +will tell you that Northern Abolitionists are alone responsible for the +war; that the secession of the Southern States may have been unwise, +but was not unreasonable; that they have always condemned coercion and +advocated compromise; and that there is no safe and satisfactory way out +of our existing difficulties but--_peace_. What do they mean by peace? +Such peace as the highwayman, armed to the teeth, offers to the belated +traveller! Such peace as Benedict Arnold sought to negotiate with the +English general! They know that the South will accept no terms but the +acknowledgment of her independence, or the abject and unconditional +submission of the Free States. They reject the first alternative, +because they dare not go before the North on such an issue. Disguise it +as they may, they are willing to adopt the second. The party to which, +without an exception, these men belong, is powerless without the +cooperation of the South, and would consider no sacrifice of principle +too great, and no humiliation of the North too degrading, if it promised +the restoration of their political supremacy. Avoid all such men. +Distrust their advice. That way dishonor lies, and national disgrace. +If you are not "armed so strong in honesty" as to be proof against +such treasonable talk, you will soon be aware of a softening of your +backbone, and a lamentable loss of earnest, active patriotism. Take +counsel rather of your own common sense. Looking at the question in its +narrowest and most selfish bearings, you _know_ that we can neither +recede nor stand still. Submission Is slavery. Disunion paves the way +for endless secession, and eternal warfare between rising and rival +republics. + +But there are other symptoms of disloyalty besides this persistent +demand for peace. There are indications of a desire to array sections of +the North against each other, and--Heaven save the mark!--by the +very politicians who have been most bitter in their denunciation of +"geographical parties." Here comes a little Western lawyer, with +unlimited resources of slang and slender capital of ideas, barely +redeemed from being an absolute blackguard by the humanizing influences +of a New England college, but showing fewer and fewer symptoms of +civilization as he forgets the lessons of his collegiate life; and _he_ +delights an audience of New York "roughs," adopted citizens of Celtic +extraction, and lager-loving Germans, (do not cocks always crow longest +and loudest on a dung-hill?) by the novel information, that "Puritanism +is a reptile" and the cause of all our troubles, and that we shall never +fulfil our national destiny until Puritanism has been crushed. Let us +not elevate this nauseating nonsense into importance by attempting a +reply. Such men must be left to follow out their inevitable instincts. +They are not worth the trouble necessary to civilize them. Mr. Rarey +succeeded in taming a zebra from the London Zoölogical Gardens; but +a single lesson could not permanently reclaim the beast, and it soon +relapsed into its native and normal ferocity. One experiment sufficed +to show the power of the artist; no possible increase of value in the +educated animal would have justified a prolonged and perfect training. + +You ask if we have gained any advantages commensurate with our efforts, +or with the high-sounding phrase of our declared purpose. Let us look at +this a moment. Suppose we begin with a glance at the other side of +the picture. Has all the boasting, have all the promises, been on the +Federal side? Did we hear nothing of the Confederate flag floating over +Faneuil Hall?--nothing of Washington falling into the hands of the +enemy?--nothing of a festive winter in Philadelphia and a +general distribution of spoils in New York?--nothing of foreign +intervention?--nothing of the cowardice of Northern Mudsills and +the omnipotence of King Cotton? Decidedly, the Rebels began with a +sufficiently startling programme. Let us see how far they have carried +it out. As they were clearly the assailants, we have an undoubted right +to ask what they have accomplished _aggressively_. We say, then, that, +excepting in the case of one brief raid, the soil of a single Free State +has never been polluted by the hostile tread of an invading force; that +every battle-field has been within the limits of States claimed as +Confederate; that, while the war has desolated whole States represented +in the Confederate Congress, not an acre north of Mason and Dixon's line +has suffered from the ravages of the Rebel armies. Was ever another +scorpion more completely surrounded and shut in by a cordon of fire? + +This is surely something, but it is by no means all. Have _we_ +accomplished nothing aggressively? We will call into court a witness +from the enemy's camp. Hear the recent testimony of a leading journal, +published in the Confederate capital:[A]-- + +[Footnote A: _Richmond Examiner_, January 20th, 1863.] + +"It is not altogether an empty boast on the part of the Yankees, that +they hold all that they have ever held, and that another year or two of +such progress as they have already made will find them masters of the +Southern Confederacy. They who think independence is to be achieved by +brilliant but inconsequential victories would do well to look at the +magnitude of Yankee possessions in our country. Maryland, Kentucky, and +Missouri are claimed as constituent parts of the Confederation: they are +as much in the power of Lincoln as Maine and Minnesota. The pledge once +deemed foolish by the South, that he would 'hold, occupy, and possess' +all the forts belonging to the United States Government, has been +redeemed almost to the letter by Lincoln. Forts Pickens, [Sumter?] and +Morgan we still retain; but, with these exceptions, all the strongholds +on the seaboard, from Fortress Monroe to the Rio Grande, are in the +hands of the enemy. Very consoling and very easy to say that it was +impossible to prevent all this, and that the occupation of the outer +edge of the Republic amounts to nothing. Drowry's Bluff and Vicksburg +give the lie to the first assertion; and the onward movement of +Rosecrans towards Alabama, the presence of Grant in North Mississippi +and of Curtis in Middle Arkansas, to say nothing of Banks at New Orleans +and Baton Rouge, set at rest the silly dream that a thin strip of +sea-coast only is in possession of our foes. The truth is, the Yankees +are in great force in the very heart of the Confederacy; they swarm on +all our borders; they threaten every important city yet belonging to us; +and nearly two hundred thousand of them are within two days' march of +the Confederate capital. This is no fiction. It is a fact so positive +that no one can deny it." + +But this reluctant recital by no means exhausts the record of our +successes. We have put into the field a volunteer force, fully armed and +equipped, which, whether we consider its magnitude, the rapidity with +which it has been raised, its fighting qualities, its patient endurance +of unaccustomed hardships, or its intelligent appreciation of the +principles involved in the contest, is without a counterpart in history. +And yet more, from the invention and achievements of our iron-clads +dates a new era in naval warfare, while in the value and variety of our +ordnance we have taken the lead of all civilized nations. Can you find +in all this nothing to quicken the pulse of your patriotism? Is here no +ground for encouragement, no incitement to renewed effort? + +But you complain of corruption among contractors, and of knavery among +politicians. Will you point me to a single war, ever waged on the face +of the earth, where all the rulers were above reproach and all their +subordinates unselfish? But what will you do about it? Grant that many +contractors have made dishonest fortunes out of the calamities of their +country, and that there are officeholders with whom "Stand by the +Constitution!" means, Stand by the public crib from which we are +richly and regularly fed, and "Uphold the Administration!" should be +translated, Give us our full four years' enjoyment of the loaves and +fishes. What then? Shall a few worthless straws here, and a few heaps +of offal there, arrest or check the onward march of a mighty army, +the steady progression of a great principle? Away with such trumpery +considerations! Punish with the utmost severity of the law every public +plunderer whose crimes can be dragged into the light of day; send to the +Coventry of universal contempt every lagging and lukewarm official; but, +in the name of all that is holy in purpose and noble in action, _move +on!_ To hesitate is worse than folly; to delay is more than madness. +The salvation of our country trembles in the balance. The fate of free +institutions for--who shall say how long?--may hang upon the issue of +the struggle. + +Your catalogue of grievances, however, is still incomplete. You are +dissatisfied with our generalship as displayed in the field, and with +the wisdom of our policy as developed by the cabinet. Unquestionably you +have a constitutional right to grumble to your heart's content; but are +you not aware that such complaints are as old as the history of the +human race? Do you believe this to be the first war that was ever +mismanaged, and that our undoubted blunders are either novel or peculiar +to Republics? There never was a greater mistake. If there were brave men +before Agamemnon, and wise counsellors before Ulysses, there certainly +have been incompetent commanders before Major-General A., and shallow +statesmen before Secretary B. We do not monopolize executive imbecility, +nor are our military blunders without parallel or precedent. To +attribute our occasional reverses and our indecisive victories, our +inaction in the field and our confusion in the cabinet, to our peculiar +form of government, is as inconsequential as it would be to trace all +our disasters to the color of President Lincoln's hair or the number of +General Halleck's children. + +The enemies of free institutions, hardly yet recovered from their +astonishment at beholding an army of volunteers, superior in number +and quality to any the world ever saw, spring into existence with such +marvellous rapidity as to eclipse, in sober fact, the fabulous birth +of Minerva full-armed from the head of Jove, or their still greater +surprise at seeing the immense expenses of so gigantic a war readily met +without assistance from abroad, by large loans cheerfully made and heavy +taxation patiently borne, are reduced to the necessity of exulting over +what they term our "total want of military genius," and our "incapacity +to conduct a campaign successfully." + +It is useless to deny that we may have challenged criticism and provoked +a smile by our large promise and our smaller performance. But are we the +sole and exclusive proprietors of this experience? Where in the past or +the present shall we find a great and powerful nation much addicted to +modesty or self-depreciation? Least of all, should we have expected such +venomous criticism and such unsparing ridicule from England. To be sure, +we have long since ceased to look for sympathy or even justice at her +hands. We have come to understand and appreciate the tone and temper of +her ruling classes towards this country. In addition to their inherited +antipathy to Republics, they believe in sober earnest what one of their +greatest wits said jocosely, that "the great object for which the +Anglo-Saxon race appears to have been created is the making of calico." +And whatever interferes, or threatens to interfere, with this ennobling +occupation is sure to incur their passive displeasure, if not their +active hostility. We expect nothing, therefore, from their good-will; +but we have a right to demand, as a matter of good taste, that, in +criticizing our campaigns, they shall not wholly ignore their own +military blunders, especially those so recent as to be fresh in the +recollection of every third-form school-boy in the kingdom. For, if +campaigns carried on with the smallest possible result in proportion to +the magnitude of the sacrifice of money and life,--if a succession of +incompetent generals in command,--if critical military opportunities +neglected and enormous strategic blunders committed,--if indecision, +nepotism, and red tape at home, envy, want of unity, and incapacity +among officers, and unnecessary and inexcusable hardship among the +privates,--if all this declares the decadence of a Government, then was +the sun of England hastening to its setting during the Crimean War. + +We hear much said abroad about our indecisive battles, our barren +victories, our failure to take advantage of the crippled condition of +a defeated enemy, and our unaccountable disinclination to follow up a +successful attack by a prompt pursuit. Now, not for the sake of excusing +or palliating the numerous and grave errors into which we have fallen +during our own unhappy struggle, nor yet to exonerate from censure +any civil officers or military leaders who may be wholly or in part +responsible for these errors, but simply to demonstrate that they are +liable to occur under any form of government, and, indeed, have recently +befallen the very Government whose rulers now hold us to the strictest +account, and are most eager to convict us of extraordinary misconduct +and incapacity, we propose, very briefly, and without further +introduction, to examine the record of the English army during the +Crimean War. + +The first important battle fought on the Peninsula was that of the Alma. +We will give, as concisely as possible, so much of the history of this +engagement, compiled from authentic English sources, as will present a +correct picture of the plans formed and the results accomplished. + +"The 15th of August, 1854, was the date first fixed for the sailing of +the allied forces from Varna to the Crimea. It was postponed until the +20th, then till the 22d, then the 26th,--then successively to the 1st, +2d, and 7th of September; that is, the French fleet left Varna on the +5th, and the English sailed from the neighboring port of Baltschik +on the 7th." It is admitted that "these delays hazarded not only the +success, but even the practicability of the whole design, as between the +15th and 25th of September the great equinoctial gales sweep over the +Black Sea, and lash it into tempests of the most destructive nature." + +The voyage, however, was accomplished in safety, and on the 14th of +September the Allies arrived at the Crimea, off a place called the "Old +Fort," only about thirty miles north of Sebastopol. The whole army was +composed of 27,000 English, 24,000 French, and 8,000 Turks. The landing +occupied the 14th, 15th, and 16th of September. At nine o'clock, A.M., +of September 19th, the army began the advance, and on the evening of +the same day rested for the night within sight of the Russian forces, +strongly intrenched on the banks of the Alma, about twelve miles distant +from the "Old Fort." Early in the afternoon of the following day the +Allies attacked the stronghold of the enemy, and in less than three +hours the Russian intrenchments were successfully stormed, and the +Russian army was in full retreat. The English and French troops fought +with determined and distinguished bravery, and their victory was +complete. But what was decided by this bloody struggle? Bad generalship +on the part of the Russians, certainly; but what else? Mr. Russell +says,--"This great battle was not decisive, so far as the fate of +Sebastopol was concerned, merely because we lacked either the means or +the military genius to make it so." The victory was not followed up, the +retreating foe were not pursued, ample time was given to the enemy to +reorganize and retrieve their losses, and the evening of the eventful +20th of September found the allied forces no nearer the capture of +Sebastopol than they were before the battle. + +Did "the Alma" crown the allied generals with fresh and well-earned +laurels? We appeal once more to Mr. Russell:--"I may inquire, Was there +any generalship shown by any of the allied generals at the Alma? We have +Lord Raglan painted by one of his staff, trotting in front of his army, +amid a shower of balls, 'just as if he were riding down Rotten Row,' +with a kind nod for every one, and leaving his generals to fight it +out as best they could; riding across the stream through the French +Riflemen, not knowing where he was going to, or where the enemy were, +till fate led him to a little knoll, from which he saw some of the +Russian guns on his flank; whereupon he sent an order to Turner's +battery for guns, and seemed surprised that they could not be dragged +across a stream and up a hill which presented some difficulties to an +unencumbered horseman; then cantering off to join the Guards just ere +they made their charge, and finding it all over while he was in a +hollow of the ground." Lord Raglan, let it be remembered, was the +Commander-in-Chief of the English forces. And again:--"The Light +Division was strangely handled. Sir George Brown, whose sight was so +indifferent that he had to get one of his officers to lead his horse +across the river, seemed not to know where his division was.... If the +conduct of a campaign be a succession of errors, the Crimean expedition +was certainly carried on _secundum artem_." Once more, on the same +point, and quoting from the same authority:--"All the Russian officers +with whom I have conversed, all the testimony I have heard or read, +coincide on these two points: first, that, if, on the 25th, we had moved +to Bakschiserai in pursuit of the Russians, we should have found their +army in a state of the most complete demoralization, and might have +forced the great majority of them to surrender as prisoners of war, in a +sort of _cul-de-sac,_ from which but few could have escaped; secondly, +that, had we advanced directly against Sebastopol, the town would have +surrendered, after some slight show of resistance to save the honor of +the officers." Certainly, such generalship as this did not promise very +well for the results of the campaign. + +Let us follow the movements of the Allies a little farther. On the +morning of September 25th, the combined forces took up their line of +march southward. On the 26th, they reached and occupied the town of +Balaklava, about six miles distant from Sebastopol. On the 28th of the +same month, Lord Raglan wrote to the Duke of Newcastle, then Secretary +of War, "We are busily engaged in disembarking our siege-train and +provisions, and we are most desirous of undertaking the attack of +Sebastopol _without the loss of a day_." And yet it is not until October +10th that the Allies commence digging their trenches before the town. +Meanwhile the allied army was anxious and impatient. "'When will the +siege commence?' was the constant inquiry of the wearied and expectant +troops. 'To-morrow,' was the usual response, 'most probably to-morrow.' +But day after day came and went, and the Allies still rusted in +inaction, while the Russians worked day and night at strengthening their +defences." "The time dragged heavily on; still the Russians worked with +incredible industry, and still the cannon of the Allies had not yet +opened their thunders upon Sebastopol." On the 17th of October, +twenty-one days after the occupation of Balaklava, the allied forces +commenced fire by land and sea on the stronghold of the enemy. The +bombardment continued from half-past six, A.M., until nightfall, but is +conceded to have been a complete and mortifying failure. From this time +until the 5th of November, it will not be contended that any substantial +advantage was gained by the invading forces, or that material progress +was made towards the reduction of the Russian Gibraltar. + +Then came the Battle of Inkerman, a gallant and desperate sortie of the +Russians, bravely and successfully resisted by the besiegers. The loss +of life on both sides was terrible. To what extent was _this_ battle +decisive? Mr. Russell shall give his own testimony on this point:--"We +had nothing to rejoice over, and almost everything to deplore, in the +Battle of Inkerman. We defeated the enemy, indeed, but had not advanced +one step nearer the citadel of Sebastopol." In other words, the Allies +had repulsed the Russians, but had barely escaped annihilation, while, +from having been the besiegers, they became the besieged, and remained +so until largely reinforced from home. "A heavy responsibility," says +Mr. Russell, "rests on those whose neglect enabled the enemy to attack +us where we were least prepared for it, and whose indifference led them +to despise precautions which, taken in time, might have saved us many +valuable lives, and have trebled the loss of the enemy." The English +not only committed the serious error of underrating the enemy, and +neglecting the most ordinary precautions against surprise, but, during +the whole of the desperate and bloody fight, they gave no proof whatever +of generalship. The stubborn, unyielding bravery of the troops was +the salvation of the army. "We owed the victory, such as it was, to +strength, not to superior intelligence and foresight. It was a soldiers' +battle, in which we were saved by the muscle, nerve, and courage of our +men." Humanity shudders and the heart sickens over the sufferings +of that gallant army of martyrs to cabinet incapacity and military +imbecility during the long and dreary winter of 1854-55. + +On the 9th of April, 1855, commenced the second grand bombardment of +Sebastopol, which, though continuing for twelve days, resulted, like the +first, in mortifying failure, no serious or irreparable injuries being +caused to the main defences of the enemy. "The real strength of the +place remained unimpaired. That which was injured during the day the +Russians repaired as if by magic during the night. The particulars of +this twelve days' bombardment are wearisome. The same wasted energy, the +same night-skirmishes without effect, the same battering and repairing, +the same unwearied exertions On the part of the Allies and wonderful +endurance and resistance on the part of the Russians, together with, on +each side, the same loss of life and frightful mutilations." + +Two months were passed in comparative inaction, the sad monotony being +varied only by ineffective sorties and indecisive skirmishes. On the +18th of June, the first grand assault of the Malakhoff and Redan was +attempted. The allied troops displayed the utmost gallantry, and did all +that brave men could do under disgracefully incompetent commanders, but +were repulsed with horrible slaughter. No one can read the details of +the fruitless massacre, without fully confirming the indignant testimony +of an intelligent eye-witness, writing from the camp:-- + +"I know not what may have been the feelings of your home public, on +reading the telegraphic news of our defeat, (for I presume the scribes +at head-quarters made no attempt to conceal the naked truth, that our +repulse was neither more nor less than a defeat,) but here mingled shame +and indignation were general throughout the camp. Officers and men alike +felt that disgrace had been incurred, and that solely in consequence +of the unredeemed mismanagement of their generals. Remembering the +confusion which characterized the commencement of our movement, and +coupling this with the murderous preparations made by the enemy, you +will be at no loss to understand that success was most improbable. +During the whole affair, Lord Raglan and Sir George Brown were ensconced +within our eight-gun battery; but, though this afforded a good view of +the scene of the struggle, and of the disorders which marked it, +they appeared to be unable to give any efficient directions for the +correction of our multiplied blunders. When the whole sad scene was +ended, our men straggled back to the camp in a state of dispirited +confusion, well in keeping with the mob-like disorder in which they had +been throughout the assault." + +The final bombardment of Sebastopol took place on the 5th of September, +followed on the 8th by the renewed assault of the French on the +Malakhoff and of the English on the Redan. Skilful generalship, adequate +forces, and desperate bravery gave victory to the French, and "the key +to Sebastopol" remained in their hands. Meanwhile the English assault +upon the Redan was repulsed with frightful sacrifice of life. It will +not be contended that the French owed any part of their success to +superior good-fortune. Indeed, all the extrinsic advantages were on the +side of the English. The French were to lead off in the assault, and the +tricolor waving over the captured fortification was to be the signal for +the advance of the English. If the French succeeded, every sentiment of +personal ambition and national pride would stimulate their allies to +achieve an equal victory. If the French failed, the English had only to +remain in their trenches. + +Now let us examine the comparative generalship displayed in the two +assaults. We are quite willing that English authority should draw the +contrast. "The preparations of the French were actually scientific in +their vigorous attention to every matter calculated to lead to victory: +nothing appeared to have been forgotten, nothing neglected. Even the +watches of the leading officers had been regulated, that there might not +be the smallest error with regard to time. It is a painful reflection +that this carefulness of preparation, and prescience with respect to +probabilities, was not shown by the English general and his associates +in arranging the mode of attack. When the orders were promulgated, on +the 7th, many officers shook their heads doubtingly, and observed, +in deprecating tones, 'This looks like another 18th of June.' It was +generally observed that the attacking columns were not strong enough, +that they were too far behind, and that the trenches did not afford room +for a sufficient number of men." + +The signal for the French assault was given: thirty thousand men, weary +of long inactivity, and burning to add new lustre to the bright record +of their country's military glory,--drums and trumpets meanwhile +sounding the charge, and the air resounding with shouts of _"Vive +l'Empereur,"_--darted from their trenches, swarmed up the embankments, +dashed over the parapet, swept the enemy like chaff before them; and the +Malakhoff was won. Hours of the fiercest fighting found the French still +masters of the situation; at nightfall the Russian general sullenly drew +off his defeated forces, and the victory was complete. + +It is painful to turn from this brilliant picture to the sombre coloring +and the dreary details of the attack on the Redan. To three thousand +doomed men was assigned the perilous undertaking. Incredible as it +may appear, in view of previous failure, there seems to have been no +adequate preparation, no intelligible plan, no competent leader. It +was simply brute force assailing brute force. The few men who actually +entered the Redan neglected to spike the guns; no reinforcements came to +their aid; everything was blind excitement, and headlong, undisciplined +haste. "The men of the different regiments became mingled together in +inextricable confusion. The Nineteenth men did not care for the officers +of the Eighty-Eighth, nor did the soldiers of the Twenty-Third heed the +command of an officer who did not belong to their regiment. The officers +could not find their men,--the men lost sight of their officers." But +why dwell on what soon became mere butchery? The loss of the storming +party, in killed, wounded, and missing, was 2447. + +Considered as a military movement, it would seem to be conceded that no +grosser blunder could have been made than the selection of so small a +force for so desperate an undertaking. There was no chance of success +but by attacking simultaneously both flanks and the salient of the +Redan. The storming party was barely large enough for the assault of the +salient, thus exposing the handful of men to a murderous and fatally +destructive fire from the flanks. This was bad enough, certainly, but +worse remains behind. English critics have most severely censured +our generals for sometimes placing new recruits in posts of danger, +requiring cool heads, steady nerves, and the habit of discipline. +Perhaps they have forgotten the following incident. Among the picked men +selected out of the entire British forces as this very storming party +were raw recruits from the Ninety-Seventh Regiment, who were designated +for this perilous service as a punishment for their cowardice in a +recent skirmish!--and to make this punishment still more severe, they +were ordered to _lead off_ in the assault! An historian of the war +says,--"The inexperience of some of these recruits seems almost +incredible. One young fellow, who came to the field-hospital with a +broken arm and a bullet in his shoulder, carried his firelock with him, +but confessed that he had never fired it off, _as he was unable to do +so_. The piece, upon being examined, was found to be in perfect order. +Such poor undisciplined lads, fresh from the plough, ought never on +any occasion to have been pitted against the well-drilled soldiers of +Russia; but it was something worse than blundering to lead them on +to the assault of a formidable work like the Redan. Such generalship +recalls to our mind the remark of the Russian officer with regard to +the military force of England, that 'it was an army of lions led by +donkeys.'" Mr. Russell states that many of these recruits "had only been +enlisted a few days, and had never fired a rifle in their lives." + +Now will it be believed that General Codrington, to whom was committed +the planning and directing of this ill-starred and disastrous +enterprise, succeeded Sir James Simpson as Commander-in-Chief of Her +Majesty's forces in the Crimea? How must the shade of Admiral Byng have +haunted Her Majesty's Government, unless it was a most forgiving ghost! +If General Codrington's promotion could have been delayed a little +more than eighteen months, it might have occurred appropriately on the +centennial anniversary of the death of that ill-fated naval commander, +convicted by court-martial and shot for "not doing his utmost"! + +On the evening of the 8th of September, the Russians blew up their +magazines, fired the buildings, and evacuated the town. So fell +Sebastopol, after a siege of three hundred and forty-five days. It has +been considered by the English a bit of very choice pleasantry to +allude to our oft-recurring statement, that "the decisive blow had been +struck," and that "the backbone of the Rebellion was broken." It may +not be impertinent to remind them, that the report, first circulated in +France and England in the latter part of September, 1854, and fortified +by minute details, that Sebastopol--the backbone of Russian resistance +to the allied arms--had fallen, was repeated and reiterated from time to +time during the war, until the phrase, "_Sebastopol est pris_," passed +into a by-word, and did good service in relieving the cruelly overworked +Greek Kalends. + +And now we come naturally to the consideration of another and an +important inquiry. Did the beginning of the war find, or did its +progress develop or create, a single English general of commanding +military capacity, competent to handle in the field even so small an +army as the British contingent in the Crimea? Of Lord Raglan Mr. Russell +says, and without doubt says truly,--"That he was a great chief, or even +a moderately able general, I have every reason to doubt, and I look in +vain for any proof of it, whilst he commanded the English army in the +Crimea." Another authority says,--"The conviction that he was not a +great general is universal and uncontradicted. He could perform the +ordinary duties of a general satisfactorily, but he was lamentably +deficient in those qualities which constitute military genius. He +possessed considerable professional experience, great application, and +remarkable powers of endurance; but he lacked the energy, vehemence, +and decision of character which are essential to the constitution of a +successful military chieftain." To his hesitation in council, and his +want of energy and promptness in action, have always been attributed, in +large measure, the ruinous delays and the fearful suffering in the army +which he commanded. Lord Raglan died in June, 1855, in his sixty-seventh +year. General Simpson succeeded him. "It was believed at the time," +writes Mr. Russell, "and now is almost notorious, that he opposed his +own appointment, and bore testimony to his own incapacity." "He was slow +and cautious in council, and it is no wonder that where Lord Raglan +failed, General Simpson did not meet with success." The English press +and people demanded his recall. His incompetency was everywhere +acknowledged, and indeed he himself would have been the last man to +deny it. In about three months from the date of General Simpson's +appointment, "the Queen was graciously pleased to permit him to resign +the command of the army." As we have already seen, his place was filled +by General Codrington. This officer was as signally rewarded, because +he had failed, as he could have been, if he had succeeded. Mr. +Russell quotes approvingly the comment of a French officer upon this +appointment:--"If General Codrington had taken the Redan, what more +could you have done for him than to make him General, and to give him +command of the army? But he did not take it, and he is made General and +Commander-in-Chief." With equal discrimination, Sir James Simpson was +created Field-Marshal! The remainder of the campaign gave General +Codrington no further opportunity of displaying his qualities for +command. No other important action occurred before the termination of +hostilities. + +Great credit is certainly due to Mr. Russell for fearlessly exposing the +errors and incompetency of the three officers successively at the head +of the English army, in spite of "much obloquy, vituperation, and +injustice," and for bearing his invariable and eloquent testimony to the +bravery, endurance, and patience of the British private soldier. + +In this brief recital of English blunders during the Crimean War, we +have made no mention of the desperate and disastrous "charge of the +Light Brigade," the gross and culpable inefficiency of the Baltic fleet +under Admiral Sir Charles Napier, and other instances of military +incapacity no less monstrous. Enough, however, has been told to more +than justify the very mild summing-up of Mr. Russell, that the "war +had exposed the weakness of our military organization in the grave +emergencies of a winter campaign, and the canker of a long peace +was unmistakably manifested in our desolated camps and decimated +battalions." + +Why should we add to this dismal recital the appalling sufferings of +the soldiers,--helpless victims to bad management at home and shameful +neglect in the field,--the long, freezing nights of trench-work under a +driving rain, "without warm or water-proof clothing,--the trenches two +and three feet deep with mud, snow, and half-frozen slush, so that many, +when they took off their shoes, were unable to get their swollen feet +into them again, and might be seen barefooted about the camp, the snow +half a foot deep on the ground,"--creeping for shelter into "miserable +tents pitched as it were at the bottom of a marsh, where twelve or +fourteen unhappy creatures lay soaking without change of clothing" until +they were called out again to their worse than slave-labor,--disease, +brought on by exhaustion, exposure, overwork, and deficient food, +sweeping the men off by thousands, and yet no sufficient supply of +medical stores and no adequate number of medical attendants, not a soul +seeming to care for their comfort or even for their lives,--so neglected +and ill-treated that "the wretched beggar who wandered about the streets +of London led the life of a prince compared with the British soldiers +who were fighting for their country, and who were complacently assured +by the home authorities that they were the best-appointed army in +Europe." The world knows the whole sad story by heart. And is it not +written in the volumes of evidence sworn to before the Commission +appointed by Parliament to inquire into the condition of the army? + +Nor is it necessary to dwell upon the extent to which the home +administration was responsible for the general mismanagement of the war, +in its main features and its minute details,--nor the thoroughly English +stolidity with which all complaints were received by every member of the +Government, from the cabinet minister who dictated pompous and unmeaning +despatches, down to the meanest official who measured red tape,--nor the +intense and universal popular indignation which, after a year "full of +horrors," compelled the resignation of the Aberdeen Ministry. Lord Derby +did not, perhaps, overstate the verdict of the nation, when he said in +the House of Lords,--"From the very first to the very last, there has +been apparent in the course pursued by Her Majesty's Government a want +of previous preparation,--a total want of prescience; and they have +appeared to live from day to day providing for each successive exigency +_after it arose, and not before it arose_. TOO LATE have been the fatal +words applicable to the whole conduct of Her Majesty's Government in the +course of the war." The change in the Ministry, however, by no means +cured all the evils which had existed; for, although the sufferings of +the soldiers--thanks in large part to the providential appearance and +heroic conduct of Florence Nightingale--were greatly diminished, still, +as we have seen, the military blunders continued to the close of the +war. + +Now, if we do not greatly mistake, the lesson which this country should +learn from the mortifying experience of the English army in the Crimea +is not one of exultation over its lamentable and unnecessary errors, but +rather of indifference to the insulting criticism of a nation which can +so ill afford to be critical, and of determination to profit in every +possible way by those blunders which might have been avoided. The +history of all wars, moreover, should teach us that now and then there +comes a time when to hold the olive-branch in one hand and the sword in +the other, especially if the olive-branch is kept in the foreground and +the sword in the background, involves not only a sad waste of energy, +but is mistaken kindness to our enemies. + +Those who have read--and who has not?--the charming story of "Rab and +his Friends" will remember the incident which, for the sake of brevity, +we reluctantly condense. A small, thorough-bred terrier, after being +rudely interrupted in his encounter with a large shepherd's-dog, darts +off, fatally bent on mischief, to seek a new canine antagonist. He +discovers him in the person of a huge mastiff, quietly sauntering along +in a peaceful frame of mind, all unsuspicious of danger. The angry +terrier makes straight at him, and fastens on his throat. The rest of +the story shall be told in the graphic language of the author. "To our +astonishment, the great creature does nothing but stand still, hold +himself up, and roar,--yes, roar: a long, serious, remonstrative roar. +How is this? _He is muzzled_! The bailies had proclaimed a general +muzzling, and his master, studying strength and economy mainly, had +encompassed his huge jaws in a home-made apparatus, constructed out of +the leather of some ancient _breeching_. His mouth was open as far as it +could; his lips curled up in rage,--a sort of terrible grin; his teeth +gleaming, ready, from out the darkness; the strap across his mouth tense +as a bowstring; his whole frame stiff with indignation and surprise; his +roar asking us all round, 'Did you ever see the like of this?' He looked +a statue of anger and astonishment, done in Aberdeen granite. We soon +had a crowd; the chicken held on. 'A knife!' cried Bob; and a cobbler +gave him his knife: you know the kind of knife, worn away obliquely to +a point, and always keen. I put its edge to the tense leather; it ran +before it; and then!--one sudden jerk of that enormous head, a sort of +dirty mist about his mouth, no noise,--and the bright and fierce little +fellow is dropped, limp and dead." + +If we draw a useful moral from this homely incident, it will not be the +first time that the unerring sagacity of animals has been serviceable +to man. A stealthy, cunning, unscrupulous, desperate, devilish foe has +seized the nation by the throat and threatens its life. The Government +is strong, courageous, determined, abundantly able to make a successful +resistance, and even to kill the insolent enemy; but--_it is +muzzled_: muzzled here by conservative counsels, and there by radical +complaints,--by the over-cautious policy of one general, and the +headlong haste of another,--by a too tender regard for slavery in +some States, and by a too zealous anxiety for instant emancipation in +others,--by fear of provoking opposition in one quarter, and by a blind +defiance of all obstacles in another. Now what shall be done? Shall we +hesitate, despond, despair? Never! _For Heaven's sake, take off the +muzzle._ Use every weapon which the God of Battles has placed in our +hands. Put forth all the power of the nation. Encourage and promote all +fighting generals; cashier all officers who are determined to make war +on peace principles; arm, equip, and discipline negroes, not to burn, +plunder, and massacre, but to meet their and our enemies in fair and +open fight.[B] Demonstrate to the world that we are terribly in earnest. +Waste no time in discussing the chance of foreign intervention. Postpone +Pacific railroads, international telegraphs, polygamy in Utah, African +colonization, everything, to the engrossing and emergent crisis which +now confronts the Government. Make the contest sharp, short, and +decisive. Put down the Rebellion, vindicate the majesty of the Law, the +sacredness of the Union, and the integrity of the Constitution. There +will be time enough, after this is done, to discuss all minor questions +and all collateral issues. One paramount duty lies directly before us. +Let us perform this duty fearlessly, and leave the future with God. + +[Footnote B: The opposition to the employment of negro regiments, if +made by traitors North or South, can be easily comprehended,--if made by +loyal men, is wholly inexplicable. Your neighbor's house takes fire at +night. The flames, long smouldering, make rapid progress, and threaten +the comfort, certainly, if not the lives of his household, and the +total destruction of his property. The alarm is given. An engine comes +promptly to the rescue. It is just in season to save his dwelling. +The firemen spring with ready alacrity to their places. But stop! He +suddenly discovers the appalling fact that they are negroes! True, +there is not a moment to be lost. No other engine is, or can be, within +helping distance. The least delay means poverty and a houseless family. +And yet he rudely dismisses the dusky firemen, folds his arms with +Spartan stoicism, and, looking complacently on the burning building, +says, _"Better this than to rely on the assistance of niggers!"_ _Is it_ +Spartan stoicism? Is it not rather stark lunacy? And would you not take +immediate measures to provide such a man with permanent quarters in a +mad-house?] + + + + +REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES. + + +_Roba di Roma_. By WILLIAM W. STORY. 2 vols. 8vo. pp. 355, 369. London: +Chapman & Hall. 1863. + +The father of the celebrated Mr. Jonathan Wild was in the habit of +saying, that "travelling was travelling in one part of the world as +well as another; it consisted in being such a time from home, and in +traversing so many leagues; and he appealed to experience whether most +of our travellers in France and Italy did not prove at their return +that they might have been sent as profitably to Norway and Greenland." +Fielding himself, the author of this sarcasm, was a very different kind +of traveller, as his Lisbon journal shows; but we think he told no more +than the truth in regard to the far greater part of those idle people +who powder themselves with dust from the highways and blur their +memories with a whirl through the galleries of Europe. They go out +empty, to come home unprofitably full. They go abroad to escape +themselves, and fail, as Goethe says they always must, in the attempt to +jump away from their own shadows. And yet even the dullest man, if he +went honestly about it, might bring home something worth having from the +dullest place. If Ovid, instead of sentimentalizing in the "Tristia," +had left behind him a treatise on the language of the Getae which he +learned, we should have thanked him for something more truly valuable +than all his poems. Could men only learn how comfortably the world can +get along without the various information which they bring home about +themselves! Honest observation and report will long continue, we fear, +to be one of the rarest of human things, so much more easily are +spectacles to be had than eyes, so much cheaper is fine writing than +exactness. Let any one who has sincerely endeavored to get anything like +facts with regard to the battles of our civil war only consider how much +more he has learned concerning the splendid emotions of the reporter +than the events of the fight, (unless he has had the good luck of a peep +into the correspondence of some pricelessly uncultivated private,) and +he will feel that narrative, simple as it seems, can be well done by two +kinds of men only,--those of the highest genius and culture, and those +wholly without either. + +It gradually becomes clear to us that the easiest things can be done +with ease only by the very fewest people, and those specially endowed to +that end. The English language, for instance, can show but one sincere +diarist, Pepys; and yet it would seem a simple matter enough to jot +down the events of every day for one's self without thinking of Mrs. +Posterity Grundy, who has a perverse way, as if she were a testatrix and +not an heir, of forgetting precisely those who pay most assiduous court +to her. One would think, too, that to travel and tell what you have seen +should be tolerably easy; but in ninety-nine books out of a hundred does +not the tourist bore us with the sensations he thinks he ought to have +experienced, instead of letting us know what he saw and felt? If authors +would only consider that the way to write an enlivening book is not by +seeing and saying just what would be expected of them, but precisely the +reverse, the public would be gainers. What tortures have we not seen the +worthiest people go through in endeavoring to get up the appropriate +emotion before some famous work in a foreign gallery, when the only +sincere feeling they had was a praiseworthy desire to escape! If one +does not like the Venus of Milo, let him not fret about it, for he may +be sure she never will. + +Montaigne felt obliged to separate himself from travelling-companions +whose only notion of their function was that of putting so many leagues +a day behind them. His theory was that of Ulysses, who was not content +with seeing the cities of many men, but would learn their minds +also. And this way of taking time enough, while we think it the best +everywhere, is especially excellent in a country so much the reverse of +_ fast_ as Italy, where impressions need to steep themselves in the sun +and ripen slowly as peaches, and where _carpe diem_ should be translated +_take your own time_. But is there any particular reason why everybody +should go to Italy, or, having done so, should tell everybody else what +he supposes he ought to have seen there? Surely, there must be some +adequate cause for so constant an effect. + +Boswell, in a letter to Sir Andrew Mitchell, says, that, if he could +only _see Rome_, "it would give him talk for a lifetime." The utmost +stretch of his longing is to pass "four months on classic ground," after +which he will come back to Auchinleck _uti conciva satur_,--a condition +in which we fear the poor fellow returned thither only too often, though +unhappily in no metaphorical sense. We rather think, that, apart from +the pleasure of saying he had been there, Boswell was really drawn to +Italy by the fact that it was classic ground, and this not so much by +its association with great events as with great men, for whom, with +all his weaknesses, he had an invincible predilection. But Italy has a +magnetic virtue quite peculiar to her, which compels alike steel and +straw, finding something in men of the most diverse temperaments by +which to draw them to herself. Like the Siren, she sings to every +voyager a different song, that lays hold on the special weakness of his +nature. The German goes thither because Winckelmann and Goethe went, +and because he can find there a sausage stronger than his own; the +Frenchman, that he may flavor his infidelity with a bitter dash of +Ultramontanism, or find fresher zest in his chattering boulevard +after the sombre loneliness of Rome; the Englishman, because the same +Providence that hears the young ravens when they cry is careful to +furnish prey to the courier also, and because his money will make him +a _Milor in partibus_. But to the American, especially if he be of an +imaginative temper, Italy has a deeper charm. She gives him cheaply what +gold cannot buy for him at home, a Past at once legendary and authentic, +and in which he has an equal claim with every other foreigner. In +England he is a poor relation whose right in the entail of home +traditions has been docked by revolution; of France his notions are +purely English, and he can scarce help feeling something like contempt +for a people who habitually conceal their meaning in French; but Rome is +the mother-country of every boy who has devoured Plutarch or taken his +daily doses of Florus. Italy gives us antiquity with good roads, cheap +living, and, above all, a sense of freedom from responsibility. For +him who has escaped thither there is no longer any tyranny of public +opinion; its fetters drop from his limbs when he touches that +consecrated shore, and he rejoices in the recovery of his own +individuality. He is no longer met at every turn with "Under which king, +bezonian? Speak, or die!" He is not forced to take one side or the +other about table-tipping, or the merits of General Blank, or the +constitutionality of anarchy. He has found an Eden where he need not +hide his natural self in the livery of any opinion, and may be as happy +as Adam, if he be wise enough to keep clear of the apple of High +Art. This may be very weak, but it is also very agreeable to certain +temperaments; and to be weak is to be miserable only where it is a duty +to be strong. + +Coming from a country where everything seems shifting like a quicksand, +where men shed their homes as snakes their skins, where you may meet +a three-story house, or even a church, on the highway, bitten by the +universal gad-fly of bettering its position, where we have known a tree +to be cut down merely because "it had got to be so old," the sense +of permanence, unchangeableness, and repose which Italy gives us is +delightful. The oft-repeated _non è più come era prima_ may be true +enough of Rome politically, but it is not true of it in most other +respects. To be sure, gas and railroads have got in at last; but one may +still read by a _lucerna_ and travel by _vettura_, if he like, using +Alberti as a guide-book, and putting up at the Bearas a certain +keen-eyed Gascon did three centuries ago. + +Mr. Story has taken Italy with due deliberation, having lived there now +some fifteen years. He has thus been enabled to let things come to him, +instead of running after them; and his sensations have had time to ripen +slowly toward the true moment of projection, without being shaken and +hurried, or huddled one atop of the other. We doubt if the picturesque +can be profitably done by the job, for in aesthetics the proverb that +half a loaf is better than no bread does not hold. An Italian _festa_, +we suspect, if you make it a matter of business, will turn its +business-side to you, and you will go away without having been admitted +to the delightful confidence of its innocent gayety and unpremeditated +charm. Tourists must often have remarked, in making an excursion to a +ruin or bit of picturesque scenery, that what chance threw in to boot +was by far the best part of their bargain, for the most beautiful +experiences come not by observation. The crumbling temple lured them +forth, but it was only to see a sunset or to hear a nightingale. + +What between winters in Rome and summers in one or the other +mountain-town, with intervals of absence now at Florence and now at +Siena, Mr. Story has had such opportunities as fall to the lot of very +few foreigners. For, in studying the ways of a people, it is as with +wild animals,--you must be long enough among them to get them _wonted_, +so that you may catch them at unawares. His book is on the whole a +delightful one, and would have been so without qualification, had he +confined it to a relation of his own experiences. Where he narrates or +describes, he is always lively and interesting; where he disserts or +grows learned, he gives up his vantage-ground, and must consent to be +dull like everybody else. Anybody can be learned, anybody except Dr. +Holmes dull; but not everybody can be a poet and artist. The chapter on +the Evil Eye is a marvel of misplaced erudition. The author has hunted +all antiquity like a policeman, and arrested high and low on the least +suspicion of a squint. Horace and Jodocus Damhouder, (to whose harmless +Dam our impatience tempts us to add an _n_,) Tibullus and Johannes +Wouwerus, St. Augustine and Turnebus, with a motley mob of Jews, +Christians, Greeks, Romans, Arabians, and Lord-knows-whats, are all +thrust into the dock cheek by jowl. For ourselves, we would have taken +Mr. Story's word for it, without the attestation of these long-winded +old monsters, who wrote about charms and enchantments in a style +as potent in disenchantment as holy-water, and who bored their own +generation too thoroughly to have any claim upon the button of ours. +Every age is sure of its own fleas without poking over the rag-bag +of the past; and of all things, a superstition has the least need of +proving the antiquity of its pedigree, since its very etymology is +better than the certificate of all the Heralds' Colleges put together. +We are surprised that so clever and lively a man as Mr. Story, should +not have seen that in such matters one live fact is better than fifty +dead ones, and that even in history it is not so much the facts as what +the historian has contrived to see in them that gives life to his work. + +But learning makes a small part of Mr. Story's book; only, as the +concluding chapter happens to bristle with quotations and references, +thickly as the nave of St. Peter's on a festival with bayonets, this is +the last taste left in the mouth. The really valuable parts of the book +(and they make much the larger part of it) are those in which the author +relates his own experiences. After so many volumes stuffed like a +_chiffonnier's_ basket with the shreds of ancient Rome, it is really +refreshing to come upon a book which makes us feel that Italy is still +inhabited by very human beings, and contains something more than the +tombs of the Scipios, and inscriptions interesting only to people +who think a dead Roman donkey better than a living Italian lion. The +chapters on Street-Music in Rome, on Games, on Gaffes and Theatres, on +Villeggiatura and the Vintage, on the Ghetto, the Markets, and Summer +in the City, are all of them delightful and new. They really teach us +something, while the learning, we are sorry to say, does nothing of the +kind. Several of these chapters our readers will remember enjoying in +the "Atlantic." They are good for those who have been in Italy, for +those who are going thither, and, above all, for those who must stay at +home. They contain the most cheerful and picturesque descriptions of +Italian life and scenery we have ever met with. And we cannot be too +thankful to Mr. Story that he leaves a theme so poetical in itself to +_be_ poetical, without any officious help from himself, and that, though +an artist, he does not enter on any of those disquisitions which would +have made Sir Joshua shift his trumpet. On the whole, we are inclined +to forgive him the polyglot lumber of his chapter on the Evil Eye in +consideration of the scenery and galleries which he has spared us. We +think we see symptoms that the Nature-mania which began with Rousseau +is on the decline, and that men and their ways are getting into fashion +again as worth study. The good time is perhaps coming when some gallant +fellow will out with it that he hates mountains, and will be greeted +with a shout of delight from his emancipated brethren. + +Mr. Story is a person of very remarkable endowments. An accomplished +musician and poet, (we ought to have said before how remarkably good the +translations in these volumes are,) a skilful draughtsman, the author of +reputable law-books, he would seem to have been in danger of verifying +the old saw, had he not proved himself so eminently a master in +sculpture. We think the country is deeply indebted to Mr. Story for +having won so complete a triumph at the London World's Fair with his +Cleopatra and Libyan Sibyl, at a time when English statesmen and +newspapers were assuring the world that America was relapsing into +barbarism. Those statues, if we may trust the unvarying witness of +judicious persons, are conceived and executed in a style altogether +above the stone-cutting level of the day, and give proof of real +imaginative power. Mr. Story's genius and culture, with the fresh spur +of so marked a success, will, we are sure, produce other works to his +own honor and that of his country. For we feel that we have a country +still,--feel it the more deeply for our suffering, and our hope +deferred,--and out of the darkness of to-day we have still faith to see +a fairer America rising, a higher ideal of freedom, to warm the soul of +the artist and nerve the arm of the soldier. + + +_Hand-Book of Universal Literature._ From the Latest and Best +Authorities. By MRS. ANNE C.L. BOTTA. A New Edition. 12mo. Boston: +Ticknor and Fields. 1862. + +A thing once done assumes a magical simplicity. No matter what may have +been the previous difficulty, or how much work may be involved in +the result, yet, when the work is done, the problem solved, all the +difficulty and labor promptly disappear from view, as if in dread of +being led captive in triumphal procession after the Caesar who has +mastered them. Thus, it does not seem at all strange that we should have +a book professing to guide us through all the intricacies of general +literature; indeed, now that the work is put into our hands, it seems so +easy of accomplishment that the only marvel would appear to be that we +have had none hitherto. Yet the conditions necessary to such a work are +of the rarest to be found; not so rare, indeed, when each is considered +separately, but rarely to be met with in combination. + +In order even to attempt a work of this nature, its utility must first +be fully appreciated; but, unfortunately, those whose need is the +greatest, as being immediately present, would on that very account be +incompetent to supply the need, while those who by dint of patient study +have brought themselves up to the point of competency for the task no +longer realize the want,--just as men who have become rich by industry +forget the necessities of poverty, which were the earliest spurs upon +their energy. + +The great majority of readers, therefore, have good reason to thank +Mrs. Botta, that, after having met a great educational need in her own +experience, she has benevolently set about supplying the same need in +the experience of others. The same motive which has led her to do +this has also made her work, from the peculiar manner in which it is +conducted, an important contribution toward a more perfect educational +system than generally prevails; though we would not do her the injustice +to imply that what she has done claims merit on this account alone or +chiefly. It _does_ claim merit in this way, and of a very high order, +because it avoids a prominent fault that vitiates most works intended to +promote the general diffusion of knowledge. The fault referred to is the +same which De Quincey, in a note to his "Political Economy," has called +the greatest vice of teaching,--namely, that the teacher does not +readily enter into, as an inheritance, the difficulties of the pupil. +Merely to have corrected this fault, to have met the popular mind +half-way and upon its own ground, was to furnish an important condition +hitherto lacking in the field chosen. + +The extent of the work--embracing, as it does, the whole field of +literature--imposes other and more difficult conditions. Originality, +in any primary sense, was of course an impossibility; a single lifetime +would not suffice even for the most cursory examination of original +materials on so grand a scale. It was necessary, therefore, to select +and make use of the best authorities, critical and historical, those +whose researches have been most valuable and comprehensive, in each +particular department of the field. These authorities were to be found, +not in a single language, but in several; and even after they were +found, and the various results of their investigations put at their just +estimate, the important work of selection had then only just +commenced. Here were the master-critics and antiquaries,--the Müllers, +Champollions, and all. Some use must be made of each; but the compass, +no less than the design, of the work demanded the exclusion of all +secondary and unimportant matter, yet in such a manner that the ideal +unity should not be at all disturbed. Here was required, not merely tact +and discrimination, but a high degree of philosophical analysis; and +since this was valueless except as it was followed by comprehensive +synthesis, the power of artistic combination was no less requisite to +the complete result. + +From the foregoing remarks it must not be supposed that there has been +throughout a remodelling of all the material used. On the contrary, +it is one of the most important of the features which give value and +interest to the work, that in frequent instances the material has been +presented precisely as it came to hand; a felicitous or humorous turn +of a sentence, a pointed antithesis, a happy grouping of historic +incidents, or a vigorous clinching of manifold thoughts in a single +expression, has been happily preserved where by others it might have +been ejected, or marred in the changing, for the sake of giving to the +work a factitious claim to an originality which, in such a field, is +plainly the least desirable characteristic. Our most hearty thanks are +due to Mrs. Botta that she has been willing to sacrifice what at the +best would have been a spurious claim to the purely legitimate one, +of having conquered almost insuperable difficulties, and, by the most +conscientious fidelity, elaborated a really valuable treatise, where +before there existed none at all. + +So great as has been the need of this work, so great will be the +appreciation of it at the hands of the reading public. A whole has been +given where hitherto only parts had existed, and those for the most part +inaccessible to the general reader. + +We have no space to enlarge upon the many particular excellences of the +book. It is vivacious in style, having none of the tedium belonging to +most works of this description. There is very much concerning ancient +religion, and concerning the classification of languages, as well +as respecting the peculiarities of each, that has never before been +presented in a popular form. We have rarely, indeed, seen so much that +was valuable, and so well digested, compressed within such limited +bounds. + + +_The New American Cyclopaedia_; a Popular Dictionary of General +Knowledge. Edited by GEORGE RIPLEY and CHARLES A. DANA. 16 vols. royal +8vo. New York: D. Appleton & Co. + +The sixteenth and concluding volume of the "New American Cyclopaedia" +brings Messrs. Ripley and Dana to the end of one of the most laborious +and important literary works ever undertaken in this country; and +the voice of the public, we are sure, will be all but unanimous in +congratulating them upon the generally satisfactory manner in which they +have performed their task. The cost of the work, according to a New-York +journal, has been over four hundred thousand dollars. Six years have +been spent in its execution, and nearly five hundred writers have been +employed to contribute to it. Naturally, the articles are of very +unequal merit; but it is fair to remark that a high standard of +scholarship and literary polish has evidently been aimed at, from the +first volume to the last, and there is scarcely any point upon which the +"New American Cyclopaedia" may not safely challenge comparison with any +work of similar pretensions in the English language. + +Practically, none of the cyclopaedia previously accessible in our +language has now much value. Such works as "Rees's," the "Edinburgh," +the "London," and the "Penny" Cyclopaedias, the "Encyclopaedia +Metropolitana," and the excellent, though rather brief, "Encyclopedia +Americana" of Dr. Francis Lieber, the only one, except the "New +American," ever written in this country, however good in their day, have +long been entirely out of date. The "English Cyclopaedia" of Charles +Knight, and the eighth edition of the famous "Encyclopaedia Britannica," +were completed while the work of Messrs. Ripley and Dana was yet in +progress; but they are so different from the latter in their scope and +execution, and so much more costly, that they can hardly be said +to rival it. The first-named is a revised issue of the old "Penny +Cyclopaedia" of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, +and retains some of the best features of that excellent work. Its +arrangement seems to us peculiarly inconvenient; but its most +glaring defect is the lack of American subjects, and the slipshod, +unsatisfactory, and inaccurate manner in which the few that are found in +it have been treated. The "Encyclopaedia Britannica" is open to the same +objection. The first edition of this great work appeared over ninety +years ago. It contained neither historical, biographical, nor +geographical articles, and was rather a collection of treatises on the +principal arts and sciences than a cyclopaedia in the common acceptation +of the term. It has since been five times almost remodelled, arranged +alphabetically, and greatly enlarged; but it still preserves its old +distinguishing feature of treating great scientific and historical +subjects exhaustively under a single head: for instance, there are two +elaborate historical articles on "Britain" and "England," but none +on Charles I. or Charles II.; long articles on "Animal Kingdom" and +"Mammalia,"--so long, in fact, that it is almost impossible to find +anything in them without an index,--but none on the separate animals. +For the scholar, this plan, perhaps, has its advantages; but, for the +unlearned reader, who turns to his cyclopaedia to find an intelligible +account of the habits of some particular creature, without caring +greatly what its precise place may be in the zoölogical kingdom, or +looks for a name without knowing whether it belongs to a fish or a +river, no book that professes to be a manual of reference could well be +arranged on a more inconvenient principle. One of the chief duties of +a cyclopaedia is to save trouble,--to put one on the high-road to +knowledge, without unnecessary delay in finding the guide-boards. But +send a half-educated man to look for a scrap of learning in an article +of a hundred pages, and one might as well at once turn him loose into +a library. And what is worse, the unwieldy dimensions of these great +articles are out of all proportion to the information they contain. We +venture to assert that the ponderous "Encyclopaedia Britannica," with +its twenty-two quarto volumes, will tell less, for instance, about the +Horse, or about Louis XIV., than the much smaller work of Messrs. Ripley +and Dana. In the "New American Cyclopaedia" there are few articles +over twenty pages long. The leading subjects in the sciences, such as +"Anatomy," "Botany," "Physiology," etc., have from three to ten pages +each,--enough to give an outline of the principles and history of the +science. The great geographical and political divisions of the globe are +treated at somewhat greater length. Every important plant, beast, bird, +and fish, every large town, river, lake, province, and mountain, every +notable monarch, and every great battle, (not forgetting "Bull Run" and +the "Chickahominy Campaign,") is the subject of a separate article. + +Next to this very convenient subdivision of topics, the most striking +merit of the new cyclopaedia is, perhaps, comprehensiveness. Among its +faults, very few faults of omission can fairly be charged; and, indeed, +it seems to us rather to err in giving too many articles, especially on +American second-rate preachers, politicians, and literary men, all of +whom are no doubt ticketed for immortality by a select circle of friends +and admirers, but in whom the public at large take the faintest possible +interest. On the other hand, the space given to such heroes is small; +and so long as they do not exclude more valuable matter, but only add a +little to the bulk of the volumes, they do no great harm, and may chance +to be useful. In the department of natural history this work is much +fuller than any other general dictionary. It is also especially complete +in technology and law, (the latter department having been under the +care of Professor Theophilus Parsons,) and sufficiently so in medicine, +theology, and other branches of science. + +Among the articles upon which its success and reputation will chiefly +rest are those relating to technology. With scarcely an exception, they +are plain, practical, and full of common sense. Those on "Cotton" and +"Wool" and their manufactures, the various metals and the ways of +working them, (the article on "Zinc" is the best we have ever seen on +that subject,) "Gas," "Ship," "Railroad," "Telegraph," "Sewing-Machine," +"Steam," and "Sugar," are compact summaries of valuable knowledge, and +will go far to commend the work to a class of persons who, except in +our own country, are not much given to reading or book-buying. They +vindicate the claims of the Cyclopaedia to be a popular dictionary, not +intended solely for the scholar's library, but directed to the wants of +the artisan and man of business. It is not too much to say of many of +them,--of "Ship," for instance, and "Telegraph,"--that, apart from +their value as records of industrial progress and invention, they are +interesting enough to furnish a very pleasant hour's occupation to the +desultory reader. + +The other scientific articles are mostly written in a clear, +unpretending style, with a sparing use of technical expressions; and +so far as we have discovered, they do ample justice to all recent +discoveries. The articles by Professor Bache on the "Tides," Professor +Dalton on "Embryology," Professor J.D. Dana on "Crystallography," +Dr. W.H. Draper on the "Nervous System," Professor James Hall on +"Palaeontology," Professor Henry, of the Smithsonian Institution, +on "Magnetism" and "Meteorology," James T. Hodge on "Earth" and +"Electricity," Frank H. Storer on "Chemistry" and kindred subjects, Dr. +Reuben on "Heat," "Light," "Vision," "Winds," etc., and the philological +contributions of Dr. Kraitsir and Professor Whitney, do the highest +credit to the work in which they appear. The forbidding appearance of +Dr. Kraitsir's articles will get more notice than their deep +learning. We cannot but regret that such valuable papers as those on +"Hieroglyphics," "Cuneiform Inscriptions," "Indian Languages," and we +may add, though belonging to another class of subjects, "Brahma" and +"Buddha," by the same author, should not have been dressed with a little +more taste, and the naked deformity of barbarous paradigms covered +with some of the ornaments of a readable style. It is the more a pity, +because the articles are well worth any care that could be spent upon +them. + +The biographical articles are sufficiently numerous, and, though rigidly +condensed, are full enough for all ordinary purposes. There are few such +elaborate biographies as those contributed by Macaulay, De Quincey, and +others, to the "Encyclopaedia Britannica"; but Mr. Bancroft's "Jonathan +Edwards," Mr. Everett's "Hallam," "Washington," and "Daniel Webster," +President Felton's "Agassiz," Professor Lowell's "Dante," Professor +Schaff's "Luther" and "Melancthon," Mr. Seward's "DeWitt Clinton," A. +W. Thayer's "Beethoven," "Handel," "Haydn," and "Mozart," Richard Grant +White's "Shakespeare," and the articles on "Patrick Henry," "Washington +Irving," "Milton," "Southey," "Schiller," "Swift," and many others we +might name, are admirable specimens of literary composition. Among +miscellaneous articles that deserve particular praise are a well-written +and elaborate history of the Jewish people and literature under the +title "Hebrews"; a picturesque account of "London"; a summary of all +that is known about "Japan"; excellent histories of "Newspapers" and +"Periodical Literature"; a brilliant article on "Athens" by the +late President Felton; a review of "Arctic Discovery"; valuable and +exceedingly interesting papers on "Army," "Artillery," "Infantry," and +"Cavalry," with one on "Gunnery" by Commodore Charles Henry Davis; +"Painting"; "Sculpture"; "Serfs"; "Slavery"; "Hungary"; and the best +published account of the "Mormons." The article on the "United States" +fills one hundred and twenty pages, including thirty-three pages of +fresh statistical tables, and gives an admirable summary of our history +down to last September; it closes with a comprehensive survey of +American literature. The supplement gives a biography of nearly every +general in the Union and Rebel armies. + +The promises of the editors on the score of impartiality have been well +kept. It would be too much to expect them to satisfy everybody, or +never to be caught tripping; but in the great questions of religion and +politics, they seem to have preserved a happy mean between the outspoken +freedom of the partisan and the halting timidity of the man who never +commits himself because he never has an opinion. Their contributors +represent nearly every Christian creed, every shade of politics, and +every part of the English-speaking world, from Salt Lake City to London, +and from Mobile to Montreal. + +We have only to add that the Cyclopaedia does fuller justice to our own +country than she has ever received from such a book before; that the +historical and statistical articles present the latest accessible +information; and that, so far as our opportunities of examination +permit us to judge, the book, though of course not free from errors, is +accurate to a more than ordinary degree. The labor of the editors has +been careful and conscientious; and they have produced a work which must +long endure as a valuable contribution to American literature and a +credit to American scholarship. + + +_Manual of Geology:_ treating of the Principles of the Science with +Special Reference to American Geological History, etc. By JAMES D. DANA. +8vo. Philadelphia: Theodore Bliss & Co. London: Trabner & Co. + + +No work on any science has yet been published in our language more +exhaustive of facts, more clear in statement, or more philosophical +in general character and arrangement, than Dana's "Mineralogy," as +presented in its last and revised edition. + +Of course, the announcement of a "Manual of Geology" by the same author +could not fail to excite hopes that a long-felt want on the part of the +American public was to be met, a void in our scientific literature to be +filled. Nor are we disappointed in our expectations, now that the work +has appeared and time has been given for its careful perusal. On the +contrary, we feel a degree of satisfaction that might perhaps express +itself too strongly in praise, if we were not withheld by the +supposition that a proper notice of the contents of the volume would do +more for its appreciation by the reader than any language of eulogy. + +What, then, is the distinctive character of the work, and wherein do the +contents so differ from previous publications as to claim our especial +notice? + +In the first place, we would state, that, while it is a manual of +general geological knowledge concerning the history of the earth and of +life on its surface, and full of information concerning the strata and +geological phenomena of all parts of our globe, it is yet peculiar, +inasmuch as it treats of the principles of the science with special +reference to American Geological History. In this will be found its +great value to American students; for who of them has not had his +patience tried, and his enthusiasm often chilled, in vain attempts to +solve the questions which have sometimes arisen in his mind concerning +American geology, and has not sought their solution in the only way +open to him,--a consultation of innumerable State Reports, and other +publications, not half of which were accessible when required? + +Another distinctive feature of the work is the prominence given to +Historical Geology, or that portion which treats of the successive +formation of the strata of the different periods, and of the development +and characteristics of the life upon the surface. The whole treatment of +this exhibits in a marked degree the extended research and philosophical +ability of the author. + +GENERAL CONTEXTS AND DIVISIONS OF THE WORK. + +_Physiographic Geology_.--This embraces a general survey of the earth's +features: its continents, oceans, lakes, river-systems, oceanic and +atmospheric currents, climates, distribution of forest-regions, deserts, +etc. + +_Lithological Geology_.--This treats of the rocks, and of their +arrangement: the first embracing an account of all the important +chemical elements that enter into their constitution, the minerals and +organic materials that occur in their composition, and the kinds and +distinguishing characteristics of those that make up the earth's +surface; the second presenting the arrangement of rocks, stratified and +unstratified,--the structure due to deposition and other agencies,--the +dislocations of strata, and the consequent faults and distortions of +fossils contained in them,--together with considerations upon the age +and chronological division of all the strata of the earth's surface. + +_Historical Geology_.--This third part of the volume, and that which +peculiarly characterizes the work, opens with some general remarks upon +the divisions in Geological History, and the announcement of certain +important principles to be kept in view while considering the subject. +The progress of life is then described as the basis of subdivision into +Geological Ages; and the subdivisions of geological time are presented +as follows:-- + + I. Azoic Time or Age. + + II. Palaeozoic Time. + 1. The Age of Mollusks, or Silurian. + 2. The Age of Fishes, or Devonian. + 3. The Age of Coal Plants, or Carboniferous. + + III. Mesozoic Time. + 4. The Age of Reptiles. + + IV. Cenozoic Time. + 5. The Age of Mammals. + + V. Era of Mind. + 6. The Age of Man. + +And in connection with this is given a table of the further subdivision +of this history into Geological Periods, and a map showing the +distribution of the rocks of each of these periods over the surface of +the United States. + +The great divisions above given are, as stated, essentially the same as +proposed by Professor Agassiz, who, however, made the era of Fishes to +embrace the first and second ages of Palaeozoic Time, the Silurian and +the Devonian, instead of restricting it, as now done, to the latter, and +calling the former the Age of Mollusks. + +Following these general considerations, each great division of geologic +time is successively taken up, commencing with the Azoic. Each period +of the several divisions is treated of in order; and the rocks of +each epoch and their distribution described, first, as they exhibit +themselves in America,--then, more briefly, as they appear in Europe. +A full account of the life that manifested itself in each epoch, both +vegetable and animal, is likewise given in the same order. The igneous +and other disturbing agencies are then considered, and general remarks +added upon the geography, the character of the surface, and various +phenomena of the period. + +The whole of this portion of the work is abundantly illustrated with +well-executed figures of all the characteristic species that distinguish +the several periods, mostly drawn from American examples. + +_Dynamical Geology_.--This particular branch of the subject is made +less prominent than usual in geological works, but it will not be found +lacking in any point. + +The subject is presented in the following order:-- + +1. Life as an agent in protecting, destroying, and making rocks. + +2. Cohesive Attraction. + +3. The Atmosphere as a mechanical agent. + +4. Water as a mechanical agent. + +5. Heat as an agent in volcanic phenomena, igneous eruptions, +metamorphism, veins, etc. + +6. Movements of the earth's crust, plication of strata, origin of +mountains, earthquakes, etc. + +7. Chemistry of Rocks. + +Under the first head, we have much interesting matter concerning peat +and coral formations, coral reefs and their origin, illustrated with +figures. + +Under the head of Water as an Agent, some plates are given, new to the +general reader, of the remarkable _cañons_ of the Colorado, which so +well illustrate the powerful agency of this element in wearing away +for itself deep channels in the strata. Under the same head is an +interesting essay upon Glaciers, with figures, one of which is a reduced +copy of a sketch in Agassiz's great work, representing the Glacier of +Zermatt, in the Monte-Rosa region. + +Under the head of Heat as an Agent, we have, as might be expected, +interesting and valuable matter upon volcanic phenomena, and those of +metamorphism. + +We have thus briefly passed in review the contents of the work, and +without criticism, too, for we would scarcely have a sentence in the +book altered or omitted. Yet we do not always concur in all the views +expressed or implied by the author. For instance, we consider the +evidence of the Jurassic age of the Ichnolitic strata of the sandstone +of the Connecticut River too strong to allow of their being any longer +classed among the Triassic. We certainly differ from him in much that is +said upon the subject of Man, as of one species. Yet we do not care to +dwell upon these points, especially the latter. Our author will not +expect to find all readers agreeing with him upon such mooted questions. + +We do not think that we overestimate the value of this work, when +we express our belief that its publication will mark an era in our +geological progress. By this we do not mean to imply that its character +is such as to be of great service to those among us who are already +learned in the geology and palaeontology of our continent; but we do +mean to affirm, that, by the efficient aid which this work will be to +them, thousands and tens of thousands who have sought hitherto for +information on its great subjects, when seeking was literally "groping +in darkness," will be helped forward to a degree of knowledge respecting +the history and life of our globe which they could not otherwise have +attained. + + +_Elements of Military Art and History_: comprising the History and +Tactics of the Separate Arms, the Combination of the Arms, and the Minor +Operations of War. By EDWARD DE LA BARRE DUPARCQ, Captain of Engineers +in the Army of France, and Professor of the Military Art in the School +of Saint-Cyr. Translated and edited by BRIGADIER-GENERAL GEORGE W. +CULLUM, Chief of Staff of the General-in-Chief of the Armies of the +United States. 8vo. New York: D. Van Nostrand. + +War has its science and its art. There is a domain of general +_principles_, which have their application in all the active operations +of war; and military _science_ is but the sum of these principles in +their theory and practice. The _art_ of war deals more directly with +the details and practical direction of military affairs, and abounds in +_rules_ of action, organization, and administration. Military science +and art are equally the results of experience in war. Principles of +strategy have grown out of the exercise of the highest military mind in +weighing the general features of campaigns, and from the perceptive and +logical recognition of those elements essential to success. The art +of war has grown up as a body of practices, traditions, and rules, +naturally resulting from the immense sum of experience in military life +and action among all nations. It is, indeed, so inwoven with military +history that the two should be studied in connection. Military art is +more mature than military science; and in war, as in the practice of +other professions and trades, definite and empirical rules for daily +guidance, based mainly on practice, serve almost to exclude science and +to keep it unprogressive. When, however, a Napoleonic mind becomes truly +imbued with vital military principles, its most successful strokes +may result from a bold disregard of rules under the lead of higher +intelligence. But as military science is very imperfect, and as +Hannibals, Fredericks, and Napoleons are not every-day products, it +behooves lesser lights to study the art of war most conscientiously, in +the hope of at least escaping the fatal category of blunders which crude +officers are forever repeating. + +The publication of a really good book on Military Art and History is, +just now, a fortunate event, and its appearance two years since might +have saved us much costly and mortifying experience. Enlightened men +of all nations concede to the French school of soldiers and military +authors a certain preeminence, due partly to the genius of the people +and partly to the immense vital growth of war-craft under Napoleon. +Barre Duparcq is one of the most favorably known among recent military +writers in France. As an engineer officer and Professor of Military +Art in the famous school of Saint-Cyr, he has been led to study +fortification, military history, army-organization, and the art of war +with a methodical thoroughness, which, besides other highly valued +works, has given us its ripe fruit in the volume before us. If not the +very best, this is certainly among the best of the numerous volumes +devoted to this topic; and General Cullum's judgment in selecting this +work for translation is fully justified by the admirable system, clear +and learned, but brief exposition, and entirely trustworthy quality, +which even hasty readers must recognize. Could this book be put into the +hands and heads of our numerous intelligent, but untrained officers, it +would work a transformation supremely needed. It is lamentable to think +how many precious lives and how much national honor have been thrown +away from the lack of just that portion of military instruction which +is here offered in a single volume. Though no one book can make an +accomplished officer, we may say that no officer can read Duparcq's +Elements without positive advantage and real progress as a soldier. +The topics treated, with constant illustration from history, are, +the organization and functions of the four arms, infantry, cavalry, +artillery, and engineers; organization of active armies; marches and +battles; outposts; detachments; armed reconnoissances; passage of +rivers; convoys; partisans; redoubts; barricades; heights; roads; farms +or houses; forages; defiles; villages; and field hygiene. + +General Cullum is well known as one of the most proficient students +of military science and art in our service, and is amply qualified to +prepare an original textbook on this subject. That he should have +found time to translate Duparcq's work, amid his arduous and important +services as General Halleck's chief of staff and chief engineer during +the remarkable Western campaign, shows an industry only to be explained +by his intense realization of the need of a book like this, as an +antidote to that deficient military instruction which has been so +replete with bad results. The translation is a faithful and lucid +rendering of the original, and the technical words and expressions are +generally satisfactory equivalents of the French terms. + +We venture to express the hope that this painful war will lead to a +fresh and successful study of military science and art in relation to +American campaign-elements, so that future contingencies can be more +creditably met than was that which Secession suddenly precipitated on +us. + + +_Rejoinder to Mrs. Stowe's Reply to the Address of the Women of +England_. + +Emily Faithfull, "printer and publisher in ordinary to Her Majesty," has +issued from the "Victoria Press," in London, a small pamphlet with the +above title, written at the request of a committee of British women by +Miss Frances Power Cobbe, author of "Intuitive Morals." As Mrs. Stowe's +"Reply" was first printed in this magazine, we here give the whole +"Rejoinder." + +"The following Address has been written with the belief that it embodies +the general sentiments of English women on the subject of Slavery. It +has been decided to seek no signatures on the present occasion, rather +than repeat the vast undertaking of obtaining any number which should +adequately correspond with the half-million names appended to the former +Address. + +"MADAM,--You have asked of the women of England a solemn question. You +have recalled the Address which half a million of us once sent you, +appealing to our sisters in America to raise their voices against +Slavery; and you demand, Where is now the spirit which dictated that +appeal? You quote the evidence of our press and our public speakers, +that the righteous indignation against Slavery which once kindled in all +English hearts has waned, if it have not died out; and you allege that +we have been wanting in generous faith and sympathy for the North in her +great struggle, and have even descended to afford countenance, if +not assistance, to the South. You challenge us to account for this +dereliction from our former ardent sentiments, and you ask wherefore it +is that _now_, when the conflict has assumed its most terrible form, and +the peaceful persuasions of philanthropists have been superseded by +the shock of contending armies spreading desolation through your +land,--_now_ we stand afar off, viewing coldly that awful contest, and +sending, instead of cheering words of sympathy and faith, only doubts +and lamentations over a 'fratricidal war,' and regrets partitioned with +strange impartiality between the sufferers in the cause of free America, +and those who have, in their own audacious words,' founded their +commonwealth on the institution of Slavery.' You retort our old appeal +in the face of these things, and you say to us, 'Sisters, you have +spoken well; we have heard you; we have heeded; we have striven in the +cause, even unto death; we have sealed our devotion by desolate hearth +and darkened homestead,--by the blood of sons, husbands, and brothers. +In many of our dwellings the very light of our lives has gone out, and +yet we accept the lifelong darkness as our own part in this great and +awful expiation, by which the bonds of wickedness shall be loosed, and +abiding peace established on the foundation of righteousness. Sisters, +what have _you_ done, and what do you mean to do? In view of the decline +of the noble anti-slavery fire in England, in view of all the facts +and admissions recited from your own papers, we beg leave, in solemn +sadness, to return to you your own words:-- + +"'A common origin, a common faith, and, we sincerely believe, a common +cause, urge us at the present moment to address you on the subject of +the fearful encouragement and support which is being afforded by England +to a slave-holding Confederacy. We appeal to you as sisters, as wives, +as mothers, to raise your voices to your fellow-citizens, and your +prayers to God, for the removal of this affliction and disgrace from the +Christian world.' + +"Madam, in answering this solemn appeal, we do not desire to detail the +causes which may, in a measure, explain or palliate this failure in +our national sympathy, whose existence (in so far as it is true) we +profoundly deplore. Enough, and more than enough, debate has been +already held on the complicated motives which have blended in your +war, as in all other human concerns, and on the occasional acts of +questionable spirit which must inevitably attend the public policy and +sentiments of a nation engaged in deadliest conflict and bleeding at +every pore. Somewhat you may perhaps forgive to those who have withheld +their full sympathies, jealous that a most righteous cause should +be maintained with any save the most untainted motives and the most +unbending rectitude, and who have failed even yet to read in your policy +the full _desire_ to accomplish that end of universal emancipation +whereto Providence is visibly directing the course of events. +Somewhat, also, may be forgiven to those who have been misled by the +misrepresentations of a portion of our press, and offended by the +inimical spirit of your own. But, Madam, although many lips have been +closed which ought to have spoken to you words of blessing, though the +voice of England which has reached you has lacked that full tone of +heartfelt sympathy you had justly anticipated, yet believe not that +our nation is truly alienated from yours, or apostate to the great +principles of freedom which were once our glory. The heart of England is +sound at the core: Slavery is now and ever an abomination in our eyes; +nor has the dastard proposition to recognize the Confederate States +failed to call forth indignant rejection, and that even with peculiar +earnestness from those suffering operatives whose relief such a measure +might have secured. It is to assure you of this, to vindicate ourselves +from the shame of turning back in the hour of trial,--most foreign to +our common Saxon race,--that we, the Women of England, offer you this +response. + +"We do not less abhor Slavery now than when your eloquent words called +out an echo of feeling throughout Europe, such as no other appeal for +the wronged or the miserable ever produced. We abhor Slavery, judging it +simply as _human beings_, and because of all the agonies and tortures it +has occasioned. We abhor it, judging it especially as _women_, because +of all the unspeakable wrongs, the hideous degradation, it has inflicted +on our sex. But we abhor it not only because of these its results, nor +with a hatred which would be withdrawn, were they disputable now or +remediable hereafter. We abhor Slavery for itself, and for its own +enormous iniquity,--even the robbing from a human being of that freedom +which it was the supreme gift of Omnipotence to bestow. We hold, that, +were it in the power of the slaveholder to make his slaves absolutely +happy, Slavery would not less be an injustice and a crime. Happiness is +not to be measured against freedom, else would God have left us brutes, +not men, and spared us all the sorrows of struggling humanity. And +whereas it has been argued that the negro is of a race inferior to his +master, and that therefore it is justifiable to enslave him, we reply, +that the right to freedom is not founded on the equality of the holder +to any other human being, else were every white man also lawfully to be +enslaved by every other stronger or wiser than himself. But the right to +freedom is founded simply and solely on the moral nature wherewith God +has endowed every man and woman of the human race, enabling them, by its +use, to attain to that virtue which is the end of their creation. And +whereas others, again, have defended Slavery on the grounds of the +supposed Divine sanction to be found for it in the Scriptures, we reply, +that we deplore the condition of those whose religion can lend itself +to the task of seeking to appeal to God for the permission of an +institution which the consciences He has made unequivocally loathe +and condemn. Nor shall we hesitate to stigmatize such an appeal as +hypocrisy, until the theologians who make it advance a step farther, and +tell us that they are prepared to represent Jesus of Nazareth as one +who, in fitting time and place, might have been a purchaser and a master +of slaves. Thus, Madam, do we still condemn and abhor Slavery, as we +have ever done, as in itself, and in its own nature, utterly evil and +utterly indefensible; and we consider its vast and terrible results of +cruelty and immorality to be only the natural fruit of so stupendous a +wrong. + +"We have not withheld from your nation either the tribute of admiration +for the vast sacrifices you have made, or of sympathy for the +bereavements and sufferings you have endured. But the expression of such +admiration and sympathy from the truest hearts among us has been almost +silenced by the solemn joy wherewith we have beheld your country purging +herself, even through seas of blood, for her guilty participation in the +crimes of the past, and preparing for herself the stainless future of 'a +land wherein dwelleth righteousness.' We have rejoiced in the midst of +sorrow to know that the doom of Slavery was written by a Divine Hand, +even from the hour when its upholders dared to believe it possible in +the face of Heaven to build up a State upon an injustice. We have looked +with awe-struck consciences to this great revelation of the moral laws +which govern the nations of the earth, and show to men who sought for +God in the records of distant ages that the Living Lord still rules +on high, and is working out even before our eyes the delivery of the +captive and the punishment of the oppressor. The greatest national sin +of Christian times has wrought the greatest national overthrow. The +hidden evil of the land, which long smouldered underground, has blazed +forth at last like a volcano, bursting in sunder the most solid of human +institutions, and pouring the lava-streams of ruin and desolation even +to the remotest shores where the spoil of guilt had been partaken. But +while we behold with awe, in the present calamity, the manifestation of +Supreme Justice, we look with confident hope to the final issue to which +it must lead. In whatever mode that end may be brought out, and through +whatever struggles America may yet be doomed to pass, we are assured +that only one termination can await a conflict between a nation which +has abjured its complicity with crime and a confederation which exists +but to perpetuate that crime forever. It is not now, in the presence of +the events of the last three years, that we shall be tempted to fear +that Wrong and Robbery, and the systematic degradation of woman, may +possibly prove to be principles of stability, capable of producing the +security and consolidation of a commonwealth! Your courage in this +Titanic strife,--the lavish devotion with which the best blood of your +land has been poured out on the field, and the tears of childless +mothers shed in homes never before visited by the sorrows of war,--the +patriotic generosity with which your treasures have been cast into the +gulf opened suddenly in your busy and prosperous land, even as of old +in the forum of ancient Rome,--these noble acts of yours inspire with +confidence in you, no less than pride in the indomitable energies of +our common race. But above your valor and your patriotism, we look with +still higher hope to those moral laws whose vindication is involved in +the issue of the conflict; and we feel assured, that, while for the +Slave-Power the future can hold no possibility of enduring prosperity, +for Free America it promises the regeneration of a higher and holier +national existence, when the one great blot which marred the glory of +the past shall have been expiated and effaced forever. + +"This, Madam, is the belief and these are the hopes of thousands of +Englishmen. They are, we are persuaded, even more universally the +belief and hopes of the Women of England, whose hearts the complicated +difficulties of politics and the miserable jealousies of national +rivalry do not distract from the great principles underlying the +contest. The failure of English sympathy whereof you complain is +but partial at the most, and for that partial failure we deeply and +sorrowfully grieve. But the nation at large is still true; and wherever +it has been possible to learn the feelings of the great masses, no lack +of ardent feeling has ever been found in England for the Northern cause. +Though senseless words and inhuman jests have been bandied across the +Atlantic, yet we are assured that in the heart of both our nations +survives unchanged that _kindred_ regard and respect whose property it +is, above other human feelings, to be indestructible. At this hour of +your own greatest need and direful struggle,--at this hour, when a +pirate from our ports is ravaging your shores, as you believe (albeit +erroneously) with our guilty connivance--at this very hour you have come +forward with noblest generosity, and sent us the rich vessel which has +brought food to our starving people. The _Griswold_ has been your answer +to the _Alabama_. It is a magnanimous, a sublime one; and English hearts +are not too cold to read it aright, or to cherish through all future +time the memory thereof. Scorn and hate are transient and evanescent +things; charity and love have in them the elements of immortality. + +"Madam, we answer your Appeal by this rejoinder, and send this message +through your honored hands to our sisters in America: Our hearts +are with you in unchanged sympathy for your holy cause, in undying +abhorrence of Slavery, in profound sorrow for your present afflictions, +and in firmest faith in the final overthrow of that unrighteous Power +whose corner-stone is an injustice and a crime. + +"IN BEHALF OF + +"THE WOMEN OF ENGLAND." + + * * * * * + + +RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS + +RECEIVED BY THE EDITORS OF THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + + +The Pentateuch and Book of Joshua critically Examined. By the Right Rev. +John William Colenso, D.D., Bishop of Natal. New York. D. Appleton & Co. +12mo. pp. 229. $1.25. + +The Spiritual Point of View: or, The Glass Reversed, An Answer to Bishop +Colenso. By M. Mahan, D.D., St.-Mark's-in-the-Bowery Professor of +Ecclesiastical History in the General Theological Seminary. New York. D. +Appleton & Co. 12mo. pp. 114. 75 cts. + +Biographical Sketches of Illinois Officers engaged in the War against +the Rebellion of 1881. By James Grant Wilson. Chicago. James Barnet. +8vo. paper. pp. 110. 50 cts. + +Walter's Tour in the East. By Daniel C. Eddy, D.D., Author of "The Percy +Family," "Walter in Egypt." New York. Sheldon & Co. 16mo. pp. 222. 60 +cts. + +Answers to Ever-Recurring Questions from the People. (A Sequel to the +Penetralia.) By Andrew Jackson Davis, Author of Several Volumes on the +Harmonial Philosophy. New York. A.J. Davis & Co. 12mo. pp. 417. $1.25. + +Seven Little People and their Friends. Illustrated by F.A. Chapman. New +York. A.D.F. Randolph. 16mo. pp. 240. 75 cts. + +The Pirates of the Prairies; or, Adventures in the American Desert. By +Gustave Aimard. Philadelphia. T.B. Peterson & Brothers. 8vo. paper, pp. +152. 50 cts. + +The Siege of Richmond: a Narrative of the Military Operations of +Major-General George B. McClellan during the Months of May and June, +1862. By Joel Cook, Special Correspondent of the Philadelphia Press +with the Army of the Potomac. Philadelphia. George W. Childs. 12mo. pp. +viii., 358. $1.25. + +The Phantom Bouquet; a Popular Treatise on the Art of skeletonizing +Leaves and Seed-Vessels, and adapting them to embellish the Home of +Taste. By Edward Parrish, Member of the Academy of Natural Sciences of +Philadelphia, etc. Philadelphia. J.B. Lippincott & Co. 12mo. pp. 47. 75 +cts. + +Manual of Geology: treating of the Principles of the Science with +Especial Reference to American Geological History, for the Use of +Colleges, Academies, and Schools of Science. By James D. Dana, M.A., +LL.D., Silliman Professor of Geology and Natural History in Yale +College, Author of "A System of Mineralogy," of Reports of Wilkes's +Exploring Expedition, on Geology, on Zoöphytes, and on Crustacea, etc. +Illustrated by a Chart of the World, and over a Thousand Figures, mostly +from American Sources. Philadelphia. Theodore Bliss & Co. 8vo. pp. xvi., +798. $5.00. + +The Old Merchants of New York. By Walter Barrett, Clerk. New York. G.W. +Carleton. 12mo. pp. 472. $1.50. + +Miriam. By Marion Harland. New York. Sheldon & Co. 12mo. pp. 549. $1.25. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Atlantic Monthly, Vol. XI., April, +1863, No. LXVI., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY *** + +***** This file should be named 12023-8.txt or 12023-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/0/2/12023/ + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed +Proofreaders. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/12023-8.zip b/old/12023-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..494f5b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12023-8.zip diff --git a/old/12023.txt b/old/12023.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4a3b794 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12023.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8676 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Atlantic Monthly, Vol. XI., April, 1863, +No. LXVI., 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, Vol. XI., April, 1863, No. LXVI. + A Magazine Of Literature, Art, And Politics. + +Author: Various + +Release Date: July 15, 2004 [EBook #12023] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY *** + + + + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed +Proofreaders. Produced from page scans provided by Cornell University. + + + + + +THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + +A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS. + +VOL. XI.--APRIL, 1863.--NO. LXVI. + + + + +ON THE VICISSITUDES OF KEATS'S FAME. + + + [Joseph Severn, the author of the following paper, scarcely needs + introduction to the readers of the "Atlantic Monthly"; but no + one will object to reperusing, in connection with his valuable + contribution, this extract from the Preface to "Adonais," which + Shelley wrote in 1821:-- + + "He [Keats] was accompanied to Rome and attended in his last illness + by Mr. Severn, a young artist of the highest promise, who, I have + been informed, 'almost risked his own life, and sacrificed every + prospect, to unwearied attendance upon his dying friend.' Had I + known these circumstances before the completion of my poem, I should + have been tempted to add my full tribute of applause to the more + solid recompense which the virtuous man finds in the recollection of + his own motives. Mr. Severn can dispense with a reward from 'such + stuff as dreams are made of.' His conduct is a noble augury of the + success of his future career. May the unextinguished spirit of his + illustrious friend animate the creations of his pencil, and plead + against oblivion for his name!" + + Mr. Severn is residing in Rome at the present time, from which city + he transmits this paper.] + +I well remember being struck with the clear and independent manner which +Washington Allston, in the year 1818, expressed his opinion of John +Keats's verse, when the young poet's writings first appeared, amid the +ridicule of most English readers, Mr. Allston was at that time the only +discriminating judge among the strangers to Keats who were residing +abroad, and he took occasion to emphasize in my hearing his opinion of +the early effusions of the young poet in words like these:--"They are +crude materials of real poetry, and Keats is sure to become a great +poet." + +It is a singular pleasure to the few in personal friends of Keats in +England (who may still have to defend him against the old and worn-out +slanders) that in America he has always had a solid fame, independent of +the old English prejudices. + +Here in Rome, as I write, I look back through forty years of worldly +changes to behold Keats's dear image again in memory. It seems as if he +should be living with me now, inasmuch as I never could understand his +strange and contradictory death, his falling away so suddenly from +health and strength. He had that fine compactness of person which we +regard as the promise of longevity, and no mind was ever more exultant +in youthful feeling. I cannot summon a sufficient reason why in one +short year he should have been thus cut off, "with all his imperfections +on his head." Was it that he lived too soon,--that the world he sought +was not ready for him? + +For more than the year I am now dwelling on, he had fostered a tender +and enduring love for a young girl nearly of his own age, and this love +was reciprocal, not only in itself, but in all the worldly advantages +arising from it of fortune on her part and fame on his. It was +encouraged by the sole parent of the lady; and the fond mother was happy +in seeing her daughter so betrothed, and pleased that her inheritance +would fall to so worthy an object as Keats. This was all well settled in +the minds and hearts of the mutual friends of both parties, when poor +Keats, soon after the death of his younger brother, unaccountably showed +signs of consumption; at least, he himself thought so, though the +doctors were widely undecided about it. By degrees it began to be deemed +needful that the young poet should go to Italy, even to preserve his +life. This was at last accomplished, but too late; and now that I am +reviewing all the progress of his illness from his first symptoms, +I cannot but think his life might have been preserved by an Italian +sojourn, if it had been adopted in time, and if circumstances had been +improved as they presented themselves. And, further, if he had had the +good fortune to go to America, which he partly contemplated before the +death of his younger brother, not only would his life and health have +been preserved, but his early fame would have been insured. He would +have lived independent of the London world, which was striving to drag +him down in his poetic career, and adding to the sufferings which I +consider the immediate cause of his early death. + +In Italy he always shrank from speaking in direct terms of the actual +things which were killing him. Certainly the "Blackwood" attack was one +of the least of his miseries, for he never even mentioned it to me. The +greater trouble which was ingulfing him he signified in a hundred ways. +Was it to be wondered at, that at the time when the happiest life was +presented to his view, when it was arranged that he was to marry a young +person of beauty and fortune, when the little knot of friends who +valued him saw such a future for the beloved poet, and he himself, with +generous, unselfish feelings, looked forward to it more delighted on +their account,--was it to be wondered at, that, on the appearance of +consumption, his ardent mind should have sunk into despair? He seemed +struck down from the highest happiness to the lowest misery. He +felt crushed at the prospect of being cut off at the early age of +twenty-four, when the cup was at his lips, and he was beginning to drink +that draught of delight which was to last his mortal life through, which +would have insured to him the happiness of home, (happiness he had never +felt, for he was an orphan,) and which was to be a barrier for him +against a cold and (to him) a malignant world. + +He kept continually in his hand a polished, oval, white carnelian, the +gift of his widowing love, and at times it seemed his only consolation, +the only thing left him in this world clearly tangible. Many letters +which he was unable to read came for him. Some he allowed me to read +to him; others were too worldly,--for, as he said, he had "already +journeyed far beyond them." There were two letters, I remember, for +which he had no words, but he made me understand that I was to place +them on his heart within his winding-sheet. + +Those bright falcon eyes, which I had known only in joyous intercourse, +while revelling in books and Nature, or while he was reciting his +own poetry, now beamed an unearthly brightness and a penetrating +steadfastness that could not be looked at. It was not the fear of +death,--on the contrary, he earnestly wished to die,--but it was the +fear of lingering on and on, that now distressed him; and this was +wholly on my account. Amidst the world of emotions that were crowding +and increasing as his end approached, I could always see that his +generous concern for me in my isolated position at Rome was one of +his greatest cares. In a little basket of medicines I had bought at +Gravesend at his request there was a bottle of laudanum, and this I +afterwards found was destined by him "to close his mortal career," when +no hope was left, and to prevent a long, lingering death, for my poor +sake. When the dismal time came, and Sir James Clark was unable to +encounter Keats's penetrating look and eager demand, he insisted on +having the bottle, which I had already put away. Then came the most +touching scenes. He now explained to me the exact procedure of his +gradual dissolution, enumerated my deprivations and toils, and dwelt +upon the danger to my life, and certainly to my fortunes, from my +continued attendance upon him. One whole day was spent in earnest +representations of this sort, to which, at the same time that they +wrung my heart to hear and his to utter, I was obliged to oppose a firm +resistance. On the second day, his tender appeal turned to despair, in +all the power of his ardent imagination and bursting heart. + +From day to day, after this time, he would always demand of Sir James +Clark, "How long is this _posthumous_ life of mine to last?" On finding +me inflexible in my purpose of remaining with him, he became calm, and +tranquilly said that he was sure why I held up so patiently was owing +to my Christian faith, and that he was disgusted with himself for ever +appearing before me in such savage guise; that he now felt convinced how +much every human being required the support of religion, that he might +die decently. "Here am I," said he, "with desperation in death that +would disgrace the commonest fellow. Now, my dear Severn, I am sure, if +you could get some of the works of Jeremy Taylor to read to me, I might +become _really_ a Christian, and leave this world in peace." Most +fortunately, I was able to procure the "Holy Living and Dying." I read +some passages to him, and prayed with him, and I could tell by the grasp +of his dear hand that his mind was reviving. He was a great lover of +Jeremy Taylor, and it did not seem to require much effort in him to +embrace the Holy Spirit in these comforting works. + +Thus he gained strength of mind from day to day just in proportion as +his poor body grew weaker and weaker. At last I had the consolation of +finding him calm, trusting, and more prepared for his end than I was. He +tranquilly rehearsed to me what would be the process of his dying, what +I was to do, and how I was to _bear it_. He was even minute in his +details, evidently rejoicing that his death was at hand. In all he then +uttered he breathed a simple, Christian spirit; indeed, I always think +that he died a Christian, that "Mercy" was trembling on his dying lips, +and that his tortured soul was received by those Blessed Hands which +could alone welcome it.[A] + +[Footnote A: Whilst this was passing at Rome, another scene of the +tragedy was enacting in London. The violence of the Tory party in +attacking Keats had increased after his leaving England, but he had +found able defenders, and amongst them Mr. John Scott, the editor of +the "Champion," who published a powerful vindication of Keats, with a +denunciation of the party-spirit of his critics. This led to a challenge +from Mr. Scott to Mr. Lockhart, who was then one of the editors of +"Blackwood." The challenge was shifted over to a Mr. Christie, and he +and Mr. Scott fought at Chalk Farm, with the tragic result of the death +of Keats's defender,--and this within a few days of the poet's death at +Rome. The deplorable catastrophe was not without its compensations, for +ever after there was a more chastened feeling in both parties.] + +After the death of Keats, my countrymen in Rome seemed to vie with one +another in evincing the greatest kindness towards me. I found myself in +the midst of persons who admired and encouraged my beautiful pursuit of +painting, in which I was then indeed but a very poor student, but with +my eyes opening and my soul awakening to a new region of Art, and +beginning to feel the wings growing for artistic flights I had always +been dreaming about. + +In all this, however, there was a solitary drawback: there were few +Englishmen at Rome who knew Keats's works, and I could scarcely persuade +any one to make the effort to read them, such was the prejudice against +him as a poet; but when his gravestone was placed, with his own +expressive line, "Here lies one whose name was writ in water," then a +host started up, not of admirers, but of scoffers, and a silly jest was +often repeated in my hearing, "Here lies one whose name was writ in +water, and _his works in milk and water_"; and this I was condemned +to hear for years repeated, as though it had been a pasquinade; but I +should explain that it was from those who were not aware that I was the +friend of Keats. + +At the first Easter after his death I had a singular encounter with the +late venerable poet, Samuel Rogers, at the table of Sir George Beaumont, +the distinguished amateur artist. Perhaps in compliment to my friendship +for Keats, the subject of his death was mentioned by Sir George, and +he asked Mr. Rogers if he had been acquainted with the young poet in +England. Mr. Rogers replied, that he had had more acquaintance than he +liked, for the poems were tedious enough, and the author had come upon +him several times for money. This was an intolerable falsehood, and I +could not restrain myself until I had corrected him, which I did with my +utmost forbearance,--explaining that Sir. Rogers must have mistaken some +other person for Keats,--that I was positive my friend had never done +such a thing in any shape, or even had occasion to do it,--that he +possessed a small independence in money, and _a large one in mind_. + +The old poet received the correction, with much kindness, and thanked +me for so effectually setting him right. Indeed, this encounter was the +groundwork of a long and to me advantageous friendship between us. I +soon discovered that it was the principle of his sarcastic wit not only +to sacrifice all truth to it, but even all his friends, and that he did +not care to know any who would not allow themselves to be abused for +the purpose of lighting up his breakfast with sparkling wit, though +not quite, indeed, at the expense of the persons then present. I well +remember, on one occasion afterwards, Mr. Rogers was entertaining +us with a volley of sarcasms upon a disagreeable lawyer, who made +pretensions to knowledge and standing not to be borne; on this occasion +the old poet went on, not only to the end of the breakfast, but to the +announcement of the very man himself on an accidental visit, and then, +with a bland smile and a cordial shake of the hand, he said to him, +"My dear fellow, we have all been talking about you up to this very +minute,"--and looking at his company still at table, and with a +significant wink, he, with extraordinary adroitness and experienced +tact, repeated many of the good things, reversing the meaning of them, +and giving us the enjoyment of the _double-entendre._ The visitor was +charmed, nor even dreamed of the ugliness of his position. This incident +gave me a painful and repugnant impression of Mr. Rogers, yet no doubt +it was after the manner of his time, and such as had been the fashion in +Walpole's and Johnson's days. + +I should be unjust to the venerable poet not to add, that +notwithstanding what is here related of him, be oftentimes showed +himself the generous and noble-hearted man. I think that in all my long +acquaintance with him he evinced a kind of indirect regret that he had +commenced with me in such an ugly attack on dear Keats, whose fame, +when I went to England in 1838, was not only well established, but was +increasing from day to day, and Mr. Rogers was often at the pains to +tell me so, and to relate the many histories of poets who had been less +fortunate than Keats. + +It was in the year of the Reform Bill, 1830, that I first heard of the +Paris edition (Galignani's) of Keats's works, and I confess that I was +quite taken by surprise, nor could I really believe the report until I +saw the book with the engraved portrait from my own drawing; for, after +all the vicissitudes of Keats's fame which I had witnessed, I could not +easily understand his becoming the poet of "the million." I had now the +continued gratification in Rome of receiving frequent visits from the +admirers of Keats and Shelley, who sought every way of showing kindness +to me. One great cause of this change, no doubt, was the rise of all +kinds of mysticism in religious opinions, which often associated +themselves with Shelley's poetry, and I then for the first time heard +him named as the only really religious poet of the age. To the growing +fame of Keats I can attribute some of the pleasantest and most valuable +associations of my after-life, as it included almost the whole society +of gifted young men at that time called "Young England." Here I may +allude to the extraordinary change I now observed in the manners and +morals of Englishmen generally: the foppish love of dress was in a great +measure abandoned, and all intellectual pursuits were caught up with +avidity, and even made fashionable. + +The most remarkable example of the strange capriciousness of Keats's +fame which fell under my personal observation occurred in my later Roman +years, during the painful visit of Sir Walter Scott to Rome in the +winding-up days of his eventful life, when he was broken down not only +by incurable illness and premature old age, but also by the accumulated +misfortunes of fatal speculations and the heavy responsibility of making +up all with the pen then trembling in his failing hand. + +I had been indirectly made known to him by his favorite ward and +_protegee_, the late Lady Northampton, who, accustomed to write to him +monthly, often made mention of me; for I was on terms of friendship with +all her family, an intimacy which in great part arose from the delight +she always had in Keats's poetry, being herself a poetess, and a most +enlightened and liberal critic. + +When Sir Walter arrived, he received me like an old and attached friend; +indeed, he involuntarily tried to make me fill up the terrible void +then recently created by the death of Lady Northampton at the age of +thirty-seven years. I went at his request to breakfast with him every +morning, when he invariably commenced talking of his lost friend, of her +beauty, her singularly varied accomplishments, of his growing delight in +watching her from a child in the Island of Mull, and of his making her +so often the model of his most successful female characters, the Lady +of the Lake and Flora MacIvor particularly. Then he would stop short to +lament her unlooked-for death with tears and groans of bitterness such +as I had never before witnessed in any one,--his head sinking down on +his heaving breast. When he revived, (and this agonizing scene took +place every morning,) he implored me to pity him, and not heed his +weakness,--that in his great misfortunes, in all their complications, he +had looked forward to Rome and his dear Lady Northampton as his last and +certain hope of repose; she was to be his comfort in the winding-up of +life's pilgrimage: now, on his arrival, his life and fortune almost +exhausted, she was gone! _gone!_ After these pathetic outpourings, he +would gradually recover his old cheerfulness, his expressive gray eye +would sparkle even in tears, and soon that wonderful power he had for +description would show itself, when he would often stand up to enact +the incident of which he spoke, so ardent was he, and so earnest in the +recital. + +Each morning, at his request, I took for his examination some little +picture or sketch that might interest him, and amongst the rest a +picture of Keats, (now in the National Portrait Gallery of London,) but +this I was surprised to find was the only production of mine that seemed +not to interest him; he remained silent about it, but on all the others +he was ready with interesting comments and speculations. Observing this, +and wondering within myself at his apathy with regard to the young lost +poet, as I had reason to be proud of Keats's growing fame, I ventured to +talk about him, and of the extraordinary caprices of that fame, which at +last had found its resting-place in the hearts of _all real lovers of +poetry._ + +I soon perceived that I was touching on an embarrassing theme, and I +became quite bewildered on seeing Miss Scott turn away her face, already +crimsoned with emotion. Sir Walter then falteringly remarked, "Yes, yes, +the world finds out these things _for itself at last,_" and taking my +hand, closed the interview,--our last, for the following night he +was taken seriously ill, and I never saw him again, as his physician +immediately hurried him away from Rome. + +The incomprehensibleness of this scene induced me to mention it on the +same day to Mr. Woodhouse, the active and discriminating friend of +Keats, who had collected every written record of the poet, and to whom +we owe the preservation of many of the finest of his productions. He was +astonished at my recital, and at my being ignorant of the fact that _Sir +Walter Scott was a prominent contributor to the Review which through its +false and malicious criticisms had always been considered to have caused +the death of Keats_. + +My surprise was as great as his at my having lived all those seventeen +years in Rome and been so removed from the great world, that this, a +fact so interesting to me to know, had never reached me. I had been +unconsciously the painful means of disturbing poor old Sir Walter with +a subject so sore and unwelcome that I could only conclude it must have +been the immediate cause of his sudden illness. Nothing could be farther +from my nature than to have been guilty of such seemingly wanton +inhumanity; but I had no opportunity afterwards of explaining the truth, +or of justifying my conduct in any way. + +This was the last striking incident connected with Keats's fame which +fell within my own experience, and perhaps may have been the last, or +one of the last, symptoms of that party-spirit which in the artificial +times of George IV. was so common even among poets in their treatment of +one another,--they assuming to be mere politicians, and striving to be +oblivious of their heart-ennobling pursuit. + +It only remains for me to speak of my return to Rome in 1861, after an +absence of twenty years, and of the favorable change and the enlargement +during that time of Keats's fame,--not as manifested by new editions of +his works, or by the contests of publishers about him, or by the way in +which most new works are illustrated with quotations from him, or by the +fact that some favorite lines of his have passed into proverbs, but by +the touching evidence of his _silent grave_. That grave, which I can +remember as once the object of ridicule, has now become the poetic +shrine of the world's pilgrims who care and strive to live in the happy +and imaginative region of poetry. The head-stone, having twice sunk, +owing to its faulty foundation, has been twice renewed by loving +strangers, and each time, as I am informed, these strangers were +Americans. Here they do not strew flowers, as was the wont of olden +times, but they pluck everything that is green and living on the grave +of the poet. The _Custode_ tells me, that, notwithstanding all his pains +in sowing and planting, he cannot "meet the great consumption." Latterly +an English lady, alarmed at the rapid disappearance of the verdure on +and around the grave, actually left an annual sum to renew it. When the +_Custode_ complained to me of the continued thefts, and asked what he +was to do, I replied, "Sow and plant twice as much; extend the poet's +domain; for, as it was so scanty during his short life, surely it ought +to be afforded to him twofold in his grave." + +Here on my return to Rome, all kinds of happy associations with the poet +surround me, but none so touching as my recent meeting with his sister. +I had known her in her childhood, during my first acquaintance with +Keats, but had never seen her since. I knew of her marriage to a +distinguished Spanish patriot, Senor Llanos, and of her permanent +residence in Spain; but it was reserved for me to have the felicity of +thus accidentally meeting her, like a new-found sister, in Rome. This +city has an additional sacredness for both of us as the closing scene of +her illustrious brother's life, and I am held by her and her charming +family in loving regard as the last faithful friend of the poet. That I +may indulge the pleasures of memory and unite them with the sympathy of +present incidents, I am now engaged on a picture of the poet's grave, +and am treating it with all the picturesque advantages which the antique +locality gives me, as well as the elevated associations which this +poetic shrine inspires. The classic story of Endymion being the subject +of Keats's principal poem, I have introduced a young Roman shepherd +sleeping against the head-stone with his flock about him, whilst the +moon from behind the pyramid illuminates his figure and serves to +realize the poet's favorite theme in the presence of his grave. This +interesting incident is not fanciful, but is what I actually saw on an +autumn evening at Monte Tertanio the year following the poet's death. + + * * * * * + + +A SPASM OF SENSE. + + +The conjunction of amiability and sense in the same individual renders +that individual's position in a world like this very disagreeable. +Amiability without sense, or sense without amiability, runs along +smoothly enough. The former takes things as they are. It receives all +glitter as pure gold, and does not see that it is custom alone which +varnishes wrong with a shiny coat of respectability, and glorifies +selfishness with the aureole of sacrifice. It sets down all collisions +as foreordained, and never observes that they occur because people will +not smooth off their angles, but sharpen them, and not only sharpen +them, but run them into you. It forgets that the Lord made man upright, +but he hath sought out many inventions. It attributes all the confusion +and inaptitude which it finds to the nature of things, and never +suspects that the Devil goes around in the night, thrusting the square +men into the round places, and the round men into the square places. It +never notices that the reason why the rope does not unwind easily is +because one strand is a world too large and another a world too small, +and so it sticks where it ought to roll, and rolls where it ought to +stick. It makes sweet, faint efforts with tender fingers and palpitating +heart to oil the wheels and polish up the machine, and does not for a +moment imagine that the hitch is owing to original incompatibility of +parts and purposes, that the whole machine must be pulled to pieces +and made over, and that nothing will be done by standing patiently by, +trying to soothe away the creaking and wheezing and groaning of the +laboring, lumbering thing, by laying on a little drop of sweet-oil with +a pin-feather. As it does not see any of these things that are happening +before its eyes, of course it is shallowly happy. And on the other hand, +he who does see them and is not amiable is grimly and Grendally happy. +He likes to say disagreeable things, and all this dismay and disaster +scatter disagreeable things broadcast along his path, so that all he +has to do is to pick them up and say them. Therefore this world is his +paradise. He would not know what to do with himself in a world where +matters were sorted and folded and laid away ready for you when you +wanted them. He likes to see human affairs mixing themselves up in +irretrievable confusion. If he detects a symptom of straightening, it +shall go hard but he will thrust in his own fingers and snarl a thread +or two. He is delighted to find dogged duty and eager desire butting +each other. All the irresistible forces crashing against all the +immovable bodies give him no shock, only a pleasant titillation. He is +never so happy as when men are taking hold of things by the blade, and +cutting their hands, and losing blood. He tells them of it, but not in +order to relieve so much as to "aggravate" them; and he does aggravate +them, and is satisfied. Oh, but he is an aggravating person! + +It is you, you who combine the heart of a seraph with the head of a +cherub, who know what trouble is. You see where the shoe pinches, but +your whole soul relucts from pointing out the tender place. You see why +things go wrong, and how they might be set right; but you have a mortal +dread of being thought meddlesome and impertinent, or cold and cruel, +or restless and arrogant, if you attempt to demolish the wrong or rebel +against the custom. When you draw your bow at an abuse, people think you +are trying to bring down religion and propriety and humanity. But your +conscience will not let you see the abuse raving to and fro over the +earth without taking aim; so, either way, you are cut to the heart. + +I love men. I adore women. I value their good opinion. There is much in +them to applaud and imitate. There is much in them to elicit faith and +reverence. If, only, one could see their good qualities alone, or, +seeing their vapid and vicious ones, could contemplate them with no +touch of tenderness for the owner, life might indeed be lovely. As it +is, while I am at one moment rapt in enthusiastic admiration of the +strength and grace, the power and pathos, the hidden resources, the +profound capabilities of my race, at another, I could wish, Nero-like, +that all mankind were concentrated in one person and all womankind +in another, that I might take them, after the fashion of rural +schoolmasters, and shake their heads together. Condemnation and reproach +are not in my line; but there is so much in the world that merits +condemnation and reproach and receives indifference and even reward, +there is so much acquiescence in wrong doing and wrong thinking, so much +letting things jolt along in the same rut wherein we and they were born, +without inquiring whether, lifted into another groove, they might not +run more easily, that, if one who does see the difficulty holds his +peace, the very stones will cry out. However gladly one would lie on +a bed of roses and glide silken-sailed down the stream of life, how +exquisitely painful soever it may be to say what you fear and feel may +give pain, it is only a Sybarite who sets ease above righteousness, only +a coward who misses victory through dread of defeat. + +There are many false ideas afloat regarding womanly duties. I do not +design now to open anew any vulgar, worn-out, woman's-rightsy question. +Every remark that could be made on that theme has been made--but one, +and that I will take the liberty to make now in a single sentence and +close the discussion. It is this: the man who gave rubber-boots to women +did more to elevate woman than all the theorizers, male or female, that +ever were born. + +But without any suspicious lunges into that dubious region which lies +outside of woman's universally acknowledged "sphere," (a blight rest +upon the word!) there is within the pale, within the boundary-line which +the most conservative never dreamed of questioning, room for a great +divergence of ideas. Now divergence of ideas does not necessarily imply +fighting at short range. People may adopt a course of conduct which +you do not approve; yet you may feel it your duty to make no open +animadversion. Circumstances may have suggested such a course to them, +or forced it upon them; and perhaps, considering all things, it is the +best they can do. But when, encouraged by your silence, they publish it +to the world, not only as relatively, but intrinsically, the best and +most desirable,--when, not content with swallowing it themselves as +medicine, they insist on ramming it down your throat as food,--it is +time to buckle on your armor and have at them. + +A little book, published by the Tract Society, called "The Mother and +her Work," has been doing just this thing. It is a modest little book. +It makes no pretensions to literary or other superiority. It has much +excellent counsel, pious reflection, and comfortable suggestion. Being +a little book, it costs but little, and it will console, refresh, and +instruct weary, conscientious mothers, and so have a large circulation, +a wide influence, and do an immense amount of mischief. For the Evil One +in his senses never sends out poison labelled "POISON." He mixes it in +with great quantities of innocent and nutritive flour and sugar. He +shapes it in cunning shapes of pigs and lambs and hearts and birds and +braids. He tints it with gay hues of green and pink and rose, and puts +it in the confectioner's glass windows, where you buy--what? Poison? No, +indeed! Candy, at prices to suit the purchasers. So this good and pious +little book has such a preponderance of goodness and piety that the +poison in it will not be detected, except by chemical analysis. It +will go down sweetly, like grapes of Beulah. Nobody will suspect he +is poisoned; but just so far as it reaches and touches, the social +dyspepsia will be aggravated. + +I submit a few atoms of the poison revealed by careful examination. + +"The mother's is a _most honorable_ calling. 'What a pity that one so +gifted should be so tied down!' remarks a superficial observer, as she +looks upon the mother of a young and increasing family. The pale, thin +face and feeble step, bespeaking the multiplied and wearying cares of +domestic life, elicit an earnest sympathy from the many, thoughtlessly +flitting across her pathway, and the remark passes from mouth to mouth, +'How I pity her! What a shame it is! She is completely worn down with so +many children.' It may be, however, that this young mother is one who +needs and asks no pity," etc. + +"But the _true mother_ yields herself uncomplainingly, yea, cheerfully, +to the wholesome privation, solitude, and self-denial allotted +her.....Was she fond of travelling, of visiting the wonderful in Nature +and in Art, of mingling in new and often-varying scenes? Now she has +found 'an abiding city,' and no allurements are strong enough to tempt +her thence. Had society charms for her, and in the social circle and the +festive throng were her chief delights? Now she stays at home, and the +gorgeous saloon and brilliant assemblage give place to the nursery and +the baby. Was she devoted to literary pursuits? Now the library is +seldom visited, the cherished studies are neglected, the rattle and the +doll are substituted for the pen. Her piano is silent, while she chants +softly and sweetly the soothing lullaby. Her dress can last another +season now, and the hat--oh, she does not care, if it is not in the +latest mode, for she has a baby to look after, and has no time for +herself. Even the ride and the walk are given up, perhaps too often, +with the excuse, 'Baby-tending is exercise enough for me.' Her whole +life is reversed." + +The assumption is that all this is just as it should be. The thoughtless +person may fancy that it is a pity; but it is not a pity. This is +a model mother and a model state of things. It is not simply to be +submitted to, not simply to be patiently borne; it is to be aspired to +as the noblest and holiest state. + +That is the strychnine. You may counsel people to take joyfully the +spoiling of their goods, and comfort, encourage, and strengthen them by +so doing; but when you tell them that to be robbed and plundered is of +itself a priceless blessing, the highest stage of human development, +you do them harm; because, in general, falsehood is always harmful, and +because, in particular, so far as you influence them at all, you prevent +them from taking measures to stop the wrong-doing. You ought to counsel +them to bear with Christian resignation what they cannot help; but you +ought with equal fervor to counsel them to look around and see if there +are not many things which they can help, and if there are, by all means +to help them. What is inevitable comes to us from God, no matter how +many hands it passes through; but submission to unnecessary evils is +cowardice or laziness; and extolling of the evil as good is sheer +ignorance, or perversity, or servility. Even the ills that must be borne +should be borne under protest, lest patience degenerate into slavery. +Christian character is never formed by acquiescence in or apotheosis of +wrong. + +The principle that underlies these extracts, and makes them ministrative +of evil, is the principle that a woman can benefit her children by +sacrificing herself. It teaches, that pale, thin faces and feeble steps +are excellent things in young mothers,--provided they are gained by +maternal duties. We infer that it is meet, right, and the bounden +duty of such to give up society, reading, riding, music, and become +indifferent to dress, cultivation, recreation, to everything, in short, +except taking care of the children. It is all just as wrong as it can +be. It is wrong morally; it is wrong socially; wrong in principle, wrong +in practice. It is a blunder as well as a crime, for it works woe. It is +a wrong means to accomplish an end; and it does not accomplish the end, +after all, but demolishes it. + +On the contrary, the duty and dignity of a mother require that she +should never subordinate herself to her children. When she does so, she +does it to their manifest injury and her own. Of course, if illness or +accident demand unusual care, she does well to grow thin and pale in +bestowing unusual care. But when a mother in the ordinary routine of +life grows thin and pale, gives up riding, reading, and the amusements +and occupations of life, there is a wrong somewhere, and her children +shall reap the fruits of it. The father and mother are the head of the +family, the most comely and the most honorable part. They cannot benefit +their children by descending from their Heaven-appointed places, and +becoming perpetual and exclusive feet and hands. This is the great +fault of American mothers. They swamp themselves in a slough of +self-sacrifice. They are smothered in their own sweetness. They dash +into domesticity with an impetus and abandonment that annihilate +themselves. They sink into their families like a light in a poisonous +well, and are extinguished. + +One hears much complaint of the direction and character of female +education. It is dolefully affirmed that young ladies learn how to sing +operas, but not how to keep house,--that they can conjugate Greek verbs, +but cannot make bread,--that they are good for pretty toying, but not +for homely using. Doubtless there is foundation for this remark, or it +would never have been made. But I have been in the East, and the West, +and the North, and the South; I know that I have seen the best society, +and I am sure I have seen very bad, if not the worst; and I never met a +woman whose superior education, whose piano, whose pencil, whose German, +or French, or any school-accomplishments, or even whose novels, clashed +with her domestic duties. I have read of them in books; I did hear of +one once; but I never met one,--not one. I have seen women, through love +of gossip, through indolence, through sheer famine of mental _pabulum_, +leave undone things that ought to be done,--rush to the assembly, +the lecture-room, the sewing-circle, or vegetate in squalid, shabby, +unwholesome homes; but I never saw education run to ruin. So it seems to +me that we are needlessly alarmed in that direction. + +But I have seen scores and scores of women leave school, leave their +piano and drawing and fancy-work, and all manner of pretty and pleasant +things, and marry and bury themselves. You hear of them about six times +in ten years, and there is a baby each time. They crawl out of the +farther end of the ten years, sallow and wrinkled and lank,--teeth gone, +hair gone, roses gone, plumpness gone,--freshness, and vivacity, and +sparkle, everything that is dewy, and springing, and spontaneous, gone, +gone, gone forever. This our Tract-Society book puts very prettily. "She +wraps herself in the robes of infantile simplicity, and, burying +her womanly nature in the tomb of childhood, patiently awaits the +sure-coming resurrection in the form of a noble, high-minded, +world-stirring son, or a virtuous, lovely daughter. The nursery is the +mother's chrysalis. Let her abide for a little season, and she shall +emerge triumphantly, with ethereal wings and a happy flight." + +But the nursery has no business to be the mother's chrysalis. God never +intended her to wind herself up into a cocoon. If He had, He would have +made her a caterpillar. She has no right to bury her womanly nature in +the tomb of childhood. It will surely be required at her hands. It was +given her to sun itself in the broad, bright day, to root itself fast +and firm in the earth, to spread itself wide to the sky, that her +children in their infancy and youth and maturity, that her husband in +his strength and his weakness, that her kinsfolk and neighbors and the +poor of the land, the halt and the blind and all Christ's little ones, +may sit under its shadow with great delight. No woman has a right to +sacrifice her own soul to problematical, high-minded, world-stirring +sons, and virtuous, lovely daughters. To be the mother of such, one +might perhaps pour out one's life in draughts so copious that the +fountain should run dry; but world-stirring people are extremely rare. +One in a century is a liberal allowance. The overwhelming probabilities +are, that her sons will be lawyers and shoemakers and farmers and +commission-merchants, her daughters nice, "smart," pretty girls, +all good, honest, kind-hearted, commonplace people, not at all +world-stirring, not at all the people one would glory to merge one's +self in. If the mother is not satisfied with this, if she wants them +otherwise, she must be otherwise. The surest way to have high-minded +children is to be high-minded yourself. A man cannot burrow in his +counting-room for ten or twenty of the best years of his life, and come +out as much of a man and as little of a mole as he went in. But the +twenty years should have ministered to his manhood, instead of trampling +on it. Still less can a woman bury herself in her nursery, and come out +without harm. But the years should have done her great good. This world +is not made for a tomb, but a garden. You are to be a seed, not a death. +Plant yourself, and you will sprout. Bury yourself, and you can only +decay. For a dead opportunity there is no resurrection. The only +enjoyment, the only use to be attained in this world, must be attained +on the wing. Each day brings its own happiness, its own benefit; but it +has none to spare. What escapes to-day is escaped forever. To-morrow has +no overflow to atone for the lost yesterdays. + +Few things are more painful to look upon than the self-renunciation, +the self-abnegation of mothers,--painful both for its testimony and its +prophecy. Its testimony is of over-care, over-work, over-weariness, the +abuse of capacities that were bestowed for most sacred uses, an utter +waste of most pure and life-giving waters. Its prophecy is of early +decline and decadence, forfeiture of position and power, and worst, +perhaps, of all, irreparable loss and grievous wrong to the children for +whom all is sacrificed. + +God gives to the mother supremacy in her family. It belongs to her to +maintain it. This cannot be done without exertion. The temptation to +come down from her throne and become a mere hewer of wood, and drawer of +water is very strong. It is so much easier to work with the hands than +with the head. One can chop sticks all day serenely unperplexed. But to +administer a government demands observation and knowledge and judgment +and resolution and inexhaustible patience. Yet, however uneasy lies the +head that wears the crown of womanhood, that crown cannot be bartered +away for any baser wreath without infinite harm. In both cases there +must be sacrifice; but in the one case it is unto death, in the other +unto life. If the mother stands on high ground, she brings her children +up to her own level; if she sinks, they sink with her. + +To maintain her rank, no exertion is too great, no means too small. +Dress is one of the most obvious things to a child. If the mother wears +cheap or shabby or ill-assorted clothes, while the children's are fine +and harmonious, it is impossible that they should not receive the +impression that they are of more consequence than their mother. +Therefore, for her children's sake, if not for her own, the mother +should always be well-dressed. Her baby, so far as it is concerned in +the matter, instead of being an excuse for a faded bonnet, should be an +inducement for a fresh one. It is not a question of riches or poverty; +it is a thing of relations. It is simply that the mother's dress--her +morning and evening and street and church dress--should be quite as good +as, and if there is any difference, better than her child's. It is of no +manner of consequence how a child is clad, provided only its health be +not injured, its taste corrupted, or its self-respect wounded. Children +look prettier in the cheapest and simplest materials than in the richest +and most elaborate. But how common is it to see the children gayly +caparisoned in silk and feathers and flounces, while the mother is +enveloped in an atmosphere of cottony fadiness! One would take the child +to be mistress and the mother a servant. "But," the mother says, "I +do not care for dress, and Caroline does. She, poor child, would be +mortified not to be dressed like the other children." Then do you teach +her better. Plant in her mind a higher standard of self-respect. Don't +tell her you cannot afford to do for her thus and thus; that will +scatter premature thorns along her path; but say that you do not approve +of it; it is proper for her to dress in such and such a way. And be so +nobly and grandly a woman that she shall have faith in you. + +It is essential also that the mother have sense, intelligence, +comprehension. + +As much as she can add of education and accomplishments will increase +her stock in trade. Her reading and riding and music, instead of being +neglected for her children's sake, should for their sake be scrupulously +cultivated. Of the two things, it is a thousand times better that they +should be attended by a nurserymaid in their infancy than by a feeble, +timid, inefficient matron in their youth. The mother can oversee half +a dozen children with a nurse; but she needs all her strength, all +her mind, her own eyes, and ears, and quick perceptions, and delicate +intuition, and calm self-possession, when her sturdy boys and wild young +girls are leaping and bounding and careering into their lusty life. All +manner of novel temptations beset them,--perils by night and perils by +day,--perils in the house and by the way. Their fierce and hungry young +souls, rioting in awakening consciousness, ravening for pleasure, strong +and tumultuous, snatch eagerly at every bait. They want then a mother +able to curb, and guide, and rule them; and only a mother who commands +their respect can do this. Let them see her sought for her social +worth,--let them see that she is familiar with all the conditions +of their life,--that her vision is at once broader and keener than +theirs,--that her feet have travelled along the paths they are just +beginning to explore,--that she knows all the phases alike of their +strength and their weakness,--and her influence over them is unbounded. +Let them see her uncertain, uncomfortable, hesitating, fearful without +discrimination, leaning where she ought to support, interfering without +power of suggesting, counselling, but not controlling, with no presence, +no bearing, no experience, no prestige, and they will carry matters with +a high hand. They will overrule her decisions, and their love will not +be unmingled with contempt. It will be strong enough to prick them when +they have done wrong, but not strong enough to keep them from doing +wrong. + +Nothing gives a young girl such vantage-ground in society and in life as +a mother,--a sensible, amiable, brilliant, and commanding woman. Under +the shelter of such a mother's wing, the neophyte is safe. This mother +will attract to herself the wittiest and the wisest. The young girl can +see society in its best phases, without being herself drawn out into +its glare. She forms her own style on the purest models. She gains +confidence, without losing modesty. Familiar with wisdom, she will not +be dazed by folly. Having the opportunity to make observations before +she begins to be observed, she does not become the prey of the weak and +the wicked. Her taste is strengthened and refined, her standard elevates +itself, her judgment acquires a firm basis. But cast upon her own +resources, her own blank inexperience, at her first entrance into the +world, with nothing to stand between her and what is openly vapid and +covertly vicious, with no clear eye to detect for her the false and +distinguish the true, no strong, firm, judicious hand to guide tenderly +and undeviatingly, to repress without irritating and encourage without +emboldening, what wonder that the peach-bloom loses its delicacy, +deepening into _rouge_ or hardening into brass, and the happy young life +is stranded on a cruel shore? + +Hence it follows that our social gatherings consist, to so lamentable +an extent, of pert youngsters or faded oldsters. Thence come those +abominable "young people's parties," where a score or two or three of +boys and girls meet and manage after their own hearts. Thence it happens +that conversation seems to be taking its place among the Lost Arts, and +the smallest of small talk reigns in its stead. Society, instead of +giving its tone to the children, takes it from them, and since it cannot +be juvenile, becomes insipid, and because it is too old to prattle, +jabbers. Talkers are everywhere, but where are the men that say things? +Where are the people that can be listened to and quoted? Where are the +flinty people whose contact strikes fire? Where are the electric people +who thrill a whole circle with sudden vitality? Where are the strong +people who hedge themselves around with their individuality, and will be +roused by no prince's kiss, but taken only by storm, yet, once captured, +are sweeter than the dews of Hymettus? Where are the seers, the +prophets, the Magi, who shall unfold for us the secrets of the sky and +the seas, and the mystery of human hearts? + +Yet fathers and mothers not only acquiesce in this state of things, +they approve of it. They foster it. They are forward to annihilate +themselves. They are careful to let their darlings go out alone, lest +they be a restraint upon them,--as if that were not what parents were +made for. If they were what they ought to be, the restraint would be +not only wholesome, but impalpable. The relation between parents and +children should be such that pleasure shall not be quite perfect, unless +shared by both. Parents ought to take such a tender, proud, intellectual +interest in the pursuits and amusements of their children that the +children shall feel the glory of the victory dimmed, unless their +parents are there to witness it. If the presence of a sensible mother is +felt as a restraint, it shows conclusively that restraint is needed. + +A woman also needs self-cultivation, both physical and mental, in order +to self-respect. Undoubtedly Diogenes glorified himself in his tub. But +people in general, and women in universal, except the geniuses,--need +the pomp of circumstance. A slouchy garb is both effect and cause of +a slouchy mind. A woman who lets go her hold upon dress, literature, +music, amusement, will almost inevitably slide down into a bog of muggy +moral indolence. She will lose her spirit; and when the spirit is +gone out of a woman, there is not much left of her. When she cheapens +herself, she diminishes her value. Especially when the evanescent charms +of mere youth are gone, when the responsibilities of life have left +their mark upon her, is it indispensable that she attend to all the +fitnesses of externals, and strengthen and polish all her mental +and social qualities. By this I do not mean that women should allow +themselves to lose their beauty as they increase in years. Men grow +handsomer as they grow older. There is no reason, there ought to be no +reason, why women should not. They will have a different kind of beauty, +but it will be just as truly beauty and more impressive and attractive +than the beauty of sixteen. It is absurd to suppose that God has made +women so that their glory passes away in half a dozen years. It is +absurd to suppose that thought and feeling and passion and purpose, +all holy instincts and impulses, can chisel away on a woman's face for +thirty, forty, fifty years, and leave that face at the end worse than +they found it. They found it a negative,--mere skin and bone, blood and +muscle and fat. They can but leave their mark upon it, and the mark of +good is good. Pity does not have the same finger-touch as revenge. Love +does not hold the same brush as hatred. Sympathy and gratitude and +benevolence have a different sign-manual from cruelty and carelessness +and deceit. All these busy little sprites draw their fine lines, lay +on their fine colors; the face lights up under their tiny hands; the +prisoned soul shines clearer and clearer through, and there is the +consecration and the poet's dream. + +But such beauty is made, not born. Care and weariness and despondency +come of themselves, and groove their own furrows. Hope and intelligence +and interest and buoyancy must be wooed for their gentle and genial +touch. A mother must battle against the tendencies that drag her +downward. She must take pains to grow, or she will not grow. She +must sedulously cultivate her mind and heart, or her old age will be +ungraceful; and if she lose freshness without acquiring ripeness, she is +indeed in an evil case. The first, the most important trust which God +has given to any one is himself. To secure this trust, He has made us so +that in no possible way can we benefit the world so much as by making +the most of ourselves. Indulging our whims, or, inordinately, our just +tastes, is not developing ourselves; but neither is leaving our own +fields to grow thorns and thistles, that we may plant somebody else's +garden-plot, keeping our charge. Even were it possible for a mother to +work well to her children in thus working ill to herself, I do not think +she would be justified in doing it. Her account is not complete when she +says, "Here are they whom thou hast given me." She must first say, "Here +am I." But when it is seen that suicide is also child-murder, it must +appear that she is under doubly heavy bonds for herself. + +Husbands, moreover, have claims, though wives often ignore them. It +is the commonest thing in the world to see parents tender of their +children's feelings, alive to their wants, indulgent to their tastes, +kind, considerate, and forbearing, but to each other hasty, careless, +and cold. Conjugal love often seems to die out before parental love. +It ought not so to be. Husband and wife should each stand first in the +other's estimation. They have no right to forget each other's comfort, +convenience, sensitiveness, tastes, or happiness in those of their +children. Nothing can discharge them from the obligations which they are +under to each other. But if a woman lets herself become shabby, drudgy, +and commonplace as a wife, in her efforts to be perfect as a mother, can +she expect to retain the consideration that is due to the wife? Not a +man in the world but would rather see his wife tidy, neat, and elegant +in her attire, easy and assured in her bearing, intelligent and +vivacious in her talk, than the contrary; and if she neglect these +things, ought she to be surprised, if he turns to fresh woods and +pastures new for the diversion and entertainment which he seeks in vain +at home? This is quaky ground, but I know where I am, and I am not +afraid. I don't expect men or women to say that they agree with me, but +I am right for all that. Let us bring our common sense to bear on this +point, and not be fooled by reiteration. Cause and effect obtain here as +elsewhere. If you add two and two, the result is four, however much +you may try to blink it. People do not always tell lies, when they are +telling what is not the truth; but falsehood is still disastrous. +Men and women think they believe a thousand things which they do not +believe; but as long as they think so, it is just as bad as if it +were so. Men talk--and women listen and echo--about the overpowering +loveliness and charm of a young mother surrounded by her blooming +family, ministering to their wants and absorbed in their welfare, +self-denying and self-forgetful; and she is lovely and charming; but +if this is all, it is little more than the charm and loveliness of a +picture. It is not magnetic and irresistible. It has the semblance, but +not the smell of life. It is pretty to look at, but it is not vigorous +for command. Her husband will have a certain kind of admiration and +love. Her wish will be law within a certain very limited sphere; but +beyond that he will not take her into his counsels and confidence. A +woman must make herself obvious to her husband, or he will drift out +beyond her horizon. She will be to him very nearly what she wills and +works to be. If she adapts herself to her children and does not adapt +herself to her husband, he will fall into the arrangement, and the two +will fall apart. I do not mean that they will quarrel, but they will +lead separate lives. They will be no longer husband and wife. There will +be a domestic alliance, but no marriage. A predominant interest in +the same objects binds them together after a fashion; but marriage is +something beyond that. If a woman wishes and purposes to be the friend +of her husband,--if she would be valuable to him, not simply as the +nurse of his children and the directress of his household, but as a +woman fresh and fair and fascinating, to him intrinsically lovely and +attractive, she should make an effort for it. It is not by any means +a thing that comes of itself, or that can be left to itself. She must +read, and observe, and think, and rest up to it. Men, as a general +thing, will not tell you so. They talk about having the slippers ready, +and enjoin women to be domestic. But men are blockheads,--dear, and +affectionate, and generous blockheads,--benevolent, large-hearted, and +chivalrous,--kind, and patient, and hard-working,--but stupid where +women are concerned. Indispensable and delightful as they are in real +life, pleasant and comfortable as women actually find them, not one in +ten thousand but makes a dunce of himself the moment he opens his mouth +to theorize about women. Besides, they have an axe to grind. The +pretty things they inculcate--slippers, and coffee, and care, and +courtesy--ought indeed to be done, but the others ought not to be left +undone. And to the former women seldom need to be exhorted. They take to +them naturally. A great many more women bore boorish husbands with +fond little attentions than wound appreciative ones by neglect. Women +domesticate themselves to death already. What they want is cultivation. +They need to be stimulated to develop a large, comprehensive, catholic +life, in which their domestic duties shall have an appropriate niche, +and not dwindle down to a narrow and servile one, over which those +duties shall spread and occupy the whole space. + +This mistake is the foundation of a world of wretchedness and ruin. I +can see Satan standing at the mother's elbow. He follows her around into +the nursery and the kitchen. He tosses up the babies and the omelets, +delivers dutiful harangues about the inappropriateness of the piano +and the library, and grins fiendishly in his sleeve at the wreck he is +making,--a wreck not necessarily of character, but of happiness; for I +suppose Satan has so bad a disposition, that, if he cannot do all the +harm he would wish, he will still do all he can. It is true that there +are thousands of noble men married to fond and foolish women, and they +are both happy. Well, the fond and foolish women are very fortunate. +They have fallen into hands that will entreat them tenderly, and they +will not perceive that anything is kept back. Nor are the noble men +wholly unfortunate, in that they have not taken to their hearths shrews. +But this is not marriage. + +There are women less foolish. They see their husbands attracted in other +directions more often and more easily than in theirs. They have too much +sterling worth and profound faith to be vulgarly jealous. They fear +nothing like shame or crime; but they feel the fact that their own +preoccupation with homely household duties precludes real companionship; +the interchange of emotions, thoughts, sentiments, a living and palpable +and vivid contact of mind with mind, of heart with heart. They see +others whose leisure ministers to grace, accomplishments, piquancy, and +attractiveness, and the moth flies towards the light by his own nature. +Because he is a wise and virtuous and honorable moth, he does not dart +into the flame. He does not even scorch his wings. He never thinks of +such a thing. He merely circles around the pleasant light, sunning +himself in it without much thought one way or another, only feeling +that it is pleasant; but meanwhile Mrs. Moth sits at home in darkness, +mending the children's clothes, which is not exhilarating. Many a woman +who feels that she possesses her husband's affection misses something. +She does not secure his fervor, his admiration. His love is honest and +solid, but a little dormant, and therefore dull. It does not brace, and +tone, and stimulate. She wants not the love only, but the keenness and +edge and flavor of the love; and she suffers untold pangs. I know it, +for I have seen it. It is not a thing to be uttered. Most women do +not admit it even to themselves; but it is revealed by a lift of the +eyelash, by a quiver of the eye, by a tone of the voice, by a trick of +the finger. + +But what is the good of saying all this, if a woman cannot help herself? +The children must be seen to, and the work must be done, and after that +she has no time left. The "mother of a young and increasing family," +with her "pale, thin face and feeble step," and her "multiplied and +wearying cares," is "completely worn down with so many children." She +has neither time nor spirit for self-culture, beyond what she may obtain +in the nursery. What satisfaction is there in proving that she is far +below where she ought to be, if inexorable circumstance prevent her from +climbing higher? What use is there in telling her that she will alienate +her husband and injure her children by her course, when there is no +other course for her to pursue? What can she do about it? + +There is one thing that she need not do. She need not sit down and write +a book, affirming that it is the most glorious and desirable condition +imaginable. She need not lift up her voice and declare that "she lives +above the ills and disquietudes of her condition, in an atmosphere of +love and peace and pleasure far beyond the storms and conflicts of this +material life." Who ever heard of the mother of a young and increasing +family living in an atmosphere of peace, not to say pleasure, above +conflicts and storms? Who does not know that the private history of +every family with the ordinary allowance of brains is a record of +incessant internecine warfare? If she said less, we might believe her. +When she says so much, we cannot help suspecting. To make the best of +anything, it is not necessary to declare that it is the best thing. +Children must be taken care of, but it is altogether probable that there +are too many of them. Some people think that opinion several times more +atrocious than murder in the first degree; but I see no atrocity in it, +and there is none. I think there is an immense quantity of nonsense +about, regarding this thing. For my part, I don't credit half of it. I +believe in Malthus,--a great deal more than Malthus did himself. The +prosperity of a country is often measured by its population; but quite +likely it should be taken in inverse ratio. I certainly do not see why +the mere multiplication of the species is so indicative of prosperity. +Mobs are not so altogether lovely that one should desire their +indefinite increase. A village is honorable, not according to the +number, but the character of its residents. The drunkards and the +paupers and the thieves and the idiots rather diminish than increase its +respectability. It seems to me that the world would be greatly benefited +by thinning out. Most of the places that I have seen would be much +improved by being decimated, not to say quinqueted or bisected. If +people are stubborn and rebellious, stiff-necked and uncircumcised, +in heart and ears, the fewer of them the better. A small population, +trained to honor and virtue, to liberality of culture and breadth of +view, to self-reliance and self-respect, is a thousand times better than +an overcrowded one with everything at loose ends. As with the village, +so with the family. There ought to be no more children than can be +healthily and thoroughly reared, as regards the moral, physical, and +intellectual nature both of themselves and their parents. All beyond +this is wrong and disastrous. I know of no greater crime, than to give +life to souls, and then degrade them, or suffer them to be degraded. +Children are the poor man's blessing and Cornelia's jewels, just so long +as Cornelia and the poor man can make adequate provision for them. But +the ragged, filthy, squalid, unearthly little wretches that wallow +before the poor man's shanty-door are the poor man's shame and curse. +The sickly, sallow, sorrowful little ones, shadowed too early by life's +cares, are something other than a blessing. When Cornelia finds her +children too many for her, when her step trembles and her cheek fades, +when the sparkle flats out of her wine of life and her salt has lost its +savor, her jewels are Tarpeian jewels. One child educated by healthy and +happy parents is better than seven dragging their mother into the grave, +notwithstanding the unmeasured reprobation of our little book. Of +course, if they can stand seven, very well. Seven and seventy times +seven, if you like, only let them be buds, not blights. If we obeyed the +laws of God, children would be like spring blossoms. They would impart +as much freshness and strength as they abstract. They are a natural +institution, and Nature is eminently healthy. But when they "come +crowding into the home-nest," as our book daintily says, they are a +nuisance. God never meant the home-nest to be crowded. There is room +enough and elbow-room enough in this world for everything that ought to +be in it. The moment there is crowding, you may be sure something wrong +is going on. Either a bad thing is happening, or too much of a good +thing, which counts up just the same. The parents begin to repair +the evil by a greater one. They attempt to patch their own rents by +dilapidating their children. They recruit their own exhausted energies +by laying hold of the young energies around them, and older children are +bored, and fretted, and deformed in figure and temper by the care +of younger children. This is horrible. Some care and task and +responsibility are good for a child's own development; but every care, +every toil, every atom of labor that is laid upon children beyond +what is solely the best for their own character is intolerable and +inexcusable oppression. Parents have no right to lighten their own +burdens by imposing them upon the children. The poor things had nothing +to do with being born. They came into the world without any volition of +their own. Their existence began only to serve the pleasure or the pride +of others. It was a culpable cruelty, in the first place, to introduce +them into a sphere where no adequate provision could be made for their +comfort and culture; but to shoulder them, after they get here, with +the load which belongs to their parents is outrageous. Earth is not a +paradise at best, and at worst it is very near the other place. The +least we can do is to make the way as smooth as possible for the +new-comers. There is not the least danger that it will be too smooth. +If you stagger under the weight which you have imprudently assumed, +stagger. But don't be such an unutterable coward and brute as to +illumine your own life by darkening the young lives which sprang from +yours. I often wonder that children do not open their mouths and curse +the father that begat and the mother that bore them. I often wonder that +parents do not tremble lest the cry of the children whom they oppress go +up into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and bring down wrath upon +their guilty heads. It was well that God planted filial affection and +reverence as an instinct in the human breast. If it depended upon +reason, it would have but a precarious existence. + +I wish women would have the sense and courage--I will not say, to +say what they think, for that is not always desirable--but to think +according to the facts. They have a strong desire to please men, which +is quite right and natural; but in their eagerness to do this, they +sometimes forget what is due to themselves. To think namby-pambyism for +the sake of pleasing men is running benevolence into the ground. Not +that women consciously do this, but they do it. They don't mean to +pander to false masculine notions, but they do. They don't know that +they are pandering to them, but they are. Men say silly things, partly +because they don't know any better, and partly because they don't want +any better. They are strong, and can generally make shift to bear their +end of the pole without being crushed. So they are tolerably content. +They are not very much to blame. People cannot be expected to start on +a crusade against ills of which they have but a vague and cloudy +conception. The edge does not cut them, and so they think it is not much +of a sword after all. But women have, or ought to have, a more subtile +and intimate acquaintance with realities. They ought to know what is +fact and what is fol-de-rol. They ought to distinguish between the +really noble and the simply physical, not to say faulty. If men do not, +it is women's duty to help them. I think, if women would only not be +quite so afraid of being thought unwomanly, they would be a great +deal more womanly than they are. To be brave, and single-minded, and +discriminating, and judicious, and clear-sighted, and self-reliant, and +decisive, that is pure womanly. To be womanish is not to be womanly. To +be flabby, and plastic, and weak, and acquiescent, and insipid, is not +womanly. And I could wish sometimes that women would not be quite +so patient. They often exhibit a degree of long-suffering entirely +unwarrantable. There is no use in suffering, unless you cannot help it; +and a good, stout, resolute protest would often be a great deal more +wise, and Christian, and beneficial on all sides, than so much patient +endurance. A little spirit and "spunk" would go a great way towards +setting the world right. It is not necessary to be a termagant. The +firmest will and the stoutest heart may be combined with the gentlest +delicacy. Tameness is not the stuff that the finest women are made of. +Nobody can be more kind, considerate, or sympathizing towards weakness +or weariness than men, if they only know it exists; and it is a wrong to +them to go on bolstering them up in their bungling opinions, when a few +sensible ideas, wisely administered, would do so much to enlighten them, +and reveal the path which needs only to be revealed to secure their +unhesitating entrance upon it. It is absurd to suppose that unvarying +acquiescence is necessary to secure and retain their esteem, and that a +frank avowal of differing opinions, even if they were wrong, would work +its forfeiture. A respect held on so frail a tenure were little worth. +But it is not so. I believe that manhood and womanhood are too truly +harmonious to need iron bands, too truly noble to require the props of +falsehood. Truth, simple and sincere, without partiality and without +hypocrisy, is the best food for both. If any are to be found on either +side too weak to administer or digest it, the remedy is not to mix it +with folly or falsehood, for they are poisons, but to strengthen the +organisms with wholesome tonics,--not undiluted, perhaps, but certainly +unadulterated. + +O Edmund Sparkler, you builded better than you knew, when you reared +eulogiums upon the woman with no nonsense about her! + + + + +MY SHIP. + + + Mist on the shore, and dark on the sand, + The chilly gulls swept over my head, + When a stately ship drew near the land,-- + Onward in silent grace she sped. + + Lonely, I threw but a coward's glance + Upon the brave ship tall and free, + Joyfully dancing her mystic dance, + As if skies were blue and smooth the sea. + + I breathed the forgotten odors of Spain, + Remembered my castles so far removed, + For they brought the distant faith again + That one who loves shall be beloved. + + Then the goodly galleon suddenly + Dropped anchor close to the barren strand, + And various cargoes, all for me, + Laid on the bosom of my land. + + O friend! her cargoes were thy love, + The stately ship thy presence fair; + Her pointed sails, like wings above, + Shall fill with praises and with prayer. + + * * * * * + + +BETROTHAL BY PROXY: A ROMANCE OF GENEALOGY. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +Ye who listen with impatience to the Reports of Historical Societies and +have hitherto neglected to subscribe to an Antiquarian Journal, ye who +imagine that there can be no intelligent and practical reply to the +_cui bono?_ shake of the head which declines to supply the funds for a +genealogical investigation, attend to the history of my adventure in +Foxden. + +There!--I like to begin with the Moral; for no sensible man will leave +the point and purpose of his testimony to the languid curiosity of a +spent reader. Dr. Johnson never did so; and who am I to question his +literary infallibility? So if you do not take kindly to the solemn +rumble of the Johnsonese mail-coach of a sentence in which we set out, +receive the purport of it thus: It is of advantage to be on good terms +with one's ancestors: Also; men absorbed in this practical present may +be all the better for a little counter irritation with the driest twigs +of the family-tree. + +And now, _Why did I marry Miss Hurribattle?_ I am sure I had no +intention of doing so. In the first place, when about eighteen years of +age, I had firmly determined never to marry anybody. Then there were so +many nice _tea-ing_ families in the Atlantic city whose principal street +was decorated by my modest counsellor's sign, that I really must excuse +the rather unpleasant wonder of several friends at my out-of-the-way +selection. That a somewhat experienced advocate, who had resisted for +three years the fascinations of city belle-ship, should spend the legal +vacation in a visit to an old gentleman he never saw before, and return +affianced to a lady nobody had ever heard of,--I own there was something +temptingly discussible in the circumstance; and knowing that fine relish +for personal topics which distinguishes the American _conversazione_, +how could I hope to escape? At first, it was a little awkward, when I +went to a party, to see people who were talking together glance at me +and murmur on with increased interest. Sometimes, when the wave of talk +retreated a little, I would catch the prattle of some retiring rill to +this effect: "But who are these Hurribattles? What an odd name! I wonder +if that had anything to do with it." + +The querist, whoever he or she might be, had unconsciously struck upon +the explanation of the whole matter. Yes, it was the name: it had a +great deal to do with it. And if you will allow me to step back a little +into the past, and thence begin over again in good storyteller fashion, +I will endeavor to make you understand how it all came about. + +If I were obliged to designate in one word the profession and calling +of Colonel Prowley of Foxden, I should say he was a _Correspondent_. Of +course I do not mean a regular newspaper-correspondent, paid to concoct +letters from Paris in the office of the "Foxden Regulator"; nor yet the +amateur ditto, who is never tired of making family-tours to the White +Mountains. But rather was he a gentleman, with an immense epistolary +acquaintance all over the country, whose main business in life consisted +in writing letters to all sorts of persons in a great variety of places. +And this he did as his particular contribution towards the solution +of this question: What in the world--or rather, what in the United +States--is a man to do who accumulates sufficient property to relieve +him from the necessities of active business? The answers offered to this +inquiry of the Democratic Sphinx are, as we all know, various enough. +Some men, of ready assurance and fluent speech, go into politics; some +doze in libraries; some get up trotting-matches and yacht-races; while +others dodge the difficulty altogether by going to disport themselves +among the arts and letters of a foreign land. Colonel Prowley, +with considerable originality, was moved to find employment in +_letter-writing_, pursuing it with the same daily relish which many +people find for gossip or small-talk. And this is the way in which I +came to be favored with the good gentleman's communications. About three +years ago a friend in England procured for me a book that I had long +coveted,--Morton's "New English Canaan," printed at Amsterdam in the +year 1637. This little volume, after the novelty of a fresh perusal was +past, I happened to lend to a young gentleman of our boarding-house, who +prepared short notices of books for one of the evening papers. He, it +would appear, thought that some account of my acquisition might supply +the matter for his diurnal paragraph. At all events, I received, some +days after, a letter dated from Foxden, and bearing the signature of +Elijah Prowley. It was couched in the old-fashioned style of compliment +and excuses for the liberty taken,--which liberty consisted in +requesting to have a fac-simile made of a certain page of a work that he +had traced through a newspaper-article to my possession. The object, he +said, was to supply the deficiency in a copy of the "Canaan" that had a +place in his own library. Of course the request was complied with, and +the correspondence begun. + +The Colonel, to do him justice, wrote very entertaining letters, despite +the somewhat antiquated phraseology in which his sentiments were +clothed. Indeed, I soon found in his epistles all the variety of the +_grab-bag_ at a country-fair, in which the purchaser of the right of +_grab_ fumbles with pleasing uncertainty as to whether he is to draw +forth a hymn-book or a shaving-brush, a packet of note-paper or a box +of patent polish for stoves. At one time he would communicate the +particulars of some antiquarian discovery at Foxden; at another he would +copy for me the weekly bill of the town mortality, or journalize the +parish quarrels about the repairs of the stove-funnel in Mr. Clifton's +church. + +I was well pleased to find that the little notes of acknowledgment +which I despatched after the receipt of these leviathans seemed to +be considered a sufficient representation of capital to justify the +enormous rate of epistolary interest which the Colonel bestowed. I liked +the style of my correspondent. It did me good to meet with the strong +old expressions of our ancestors that were turning up in unexpected +places. If the dear old phrases were sometimes better or worse than the +fact they expressed, they must have improved what was good, and gibbeted +more effectually what to the times seemed evil. Who would now think of +designating a parcel of serious savages "the praying Indians of Natick"? +And yet there is a sound and a power about the words that would go far +to convert the skeptical aborigines in their own despite. Why, there +was something rich and nervous in the talk of the very lawmakers. "The +accursed sect of the Quakers,"--what a fine spirit such an accusative +case gives to the dry formula of a legal enactment! the beat of the drum +by which the edict was proclaimed in the streets of Boston seems only an +appropriate accompaniment to so stirring a denunciation. Then to invite +a brother to "exercise prophecy,"--as Winthrop used to call the business +of preaching,--there is really something soul-invigorating in the very +sound. No wonder the people could stand a good two-hours' discourse +under so satisfactory a title! + +I suppose, then, that much of my original relish for the communications +of my Foxden correspondent came from his mastery over the antique +glossary, and perhaps the rather ancient style of thought that fitted +well the method of conveyance. Indeed, a good course of Bishop +Copleston's "magic-lanthorn school" made me peculiarly susceptible to +the refreshment of changing the gorgeous haze of modern philosophers for +the sharpness and vitality with which old-fashioned people clothe such +ideas as are vouchsafed to them. + +I soon found that my friend had that passion for what may be called +petty antiquarian research which is so puzzling to those who escape its +contagion. Also that a pride of family, that lingers persistently in +some parts of New England, seemed to concentrate itself and envelop him +as in a cloud. He had attained the age of sixty a bachelor,--perhaps +from finding no person in Foxden of sufficiently clear lineage to be +united with the Squire's family,--or perhaps because he had a sister, +five years older than himself, who fulfilled the duties of companion and +housekeeper. + +How strange a sensation it is to feel a real friendship and familiarity +with one we have never seen! Yet if people are drawn together by those +mysterious affinities which, like the daughters of the horse-leech, are +ever crying, "Give, give," a few bits of paper bridge over space well +enough, and enable us to recognize abroad the scattered fragments that +complete ourselves. + +The Colonel studied up my ancestors, who, it appears, were once people +of sufficient consideration in the land, and finally transferred the +interest to myself. At one time he took the trouble to go down to +Branton, about forty miles from Foxden, for the purpose of verifying +inquiries about progenitors of mine who had originally settled in that +place. He advised me, as a son, in my reading and business; and although +I often dismissed his suggestions as the whims of an old-fashioned +recluse, I was always touched by the simplicity and sincere interest +that prompted them. He would mysteriously hint that something might one +day occur to give tangible proof of the regard in which he held me; but +as I paid little heed to such warnings, I was totally unprepared for the +plan developed in the letter of which an extract is here presented:-- + +"Concerning the propriety of your marrying, my dear young friend, my +sister and myself have long known but one opinion; the only difficulty +that has exercised us being, whom, among my divers correspondents, we +could most heartily commend to your selection. Now it is known to you +that I have striven for some time past to trace the descendants of the +old family of Hurribattel, who seem to have disappeared from Branton +about the year ten in the present century. The interest I have taken in +the research comes from the fact that your great-great-uncle appears +at one time to have been affianced to a lady of that family. For what +reason an alliance which had everything to recommend it was broken off +I have sorely puzzled myself to conjecture, but linger always in the +labyrinths of doubt. Some months ago I received a catalogue from the +Soggimarsh College in the Far West, to whose funds I had contributed a +modest subscription. I was thrown into an ecstasy of astonishment, when, +in glancing over the names of the honorable Faculty, my attention was +arrested by words to this effect: _Miss Hurribattle, Professor of +Calisthenics and Female Deportment_. Of course, I wrote to her +immediately, and received right cordial replies to all inquiries. She +seemed much interested in the union of the families that was formerly +contemplated, and much desires to see you as the representative of your +great-great-uncle. I need only add, that, so far as may be judged by the +happy vein of her correspondence, she has at present no ensnarement +of the heart, and has agreed to pay me a visit at Foxden the first of +August next, when, by reason of the vacation, she will be at liberty for +five weeks. Your own visit to me, so often postponed, is, as I believe, +definitively fixed for the same time. So I expect you both, and need not +enlarge on the strange delight it would give me, if a family-engagement +of seventy years' standing should be closed by a marriage beneath my +roof." + +There was something so preposterous in this desperate match-making +between people whom they had never seen, that Colonel Prowley and +his sister had taken into their hands, that it really made a greater +impression upon me than if the parties had been less unlikely to +come together. A Professor of Calisthenics! Could anything be more +unpromising? Yet, when my friend copied for me some extracts from the +lady's letters that were sensible and feminine, I thought how odd it +would be, if something should come of it, after all. I often found +myself skipping Colonel Prowley's accounts of old Doctor Dastick, Mrs. +Hunesley, and other great people of his town, and pondering upon the +notices of his Western correspondent. I began to have a mysterious +presentiment--which, in view of the calisthenics, I could not +explain--that we might be not unadapted to each other. In any case, +the lady's fine family-name was a recommendation that I knew how to +appreciate. They have very young professors out West, I thought, and +this is merely a temporary position; besides, I had a friend who married +a female physician, and the match has turned out a very happy one. So +I played with the idea, half in jest and half seriously, and looked +forward with much interest to my visit to Foxden. + + +CHAPTER II + + +It was near noon, on an August day, when the train left me at the Foxden +station. Upon casting my eyes about to see what was to be done next, +I observed a very shabby and rickety carryall, with the legend +"Railway-Omnibus" freshly painted upon its side. + +"It is better than a mile and a half up to Colonel Prowley's; but I +calculate I can take you there, after I've left this lady," responded +the proprietor of this turnout, in reply to a question of mine. + +"But I want to go to Colonel Prowley's, too," said a feminine voice at +my side. + +"Well, now that's _com_plete," acquiesced the driver. "I'll just go get +the baggage, and put you both through right away." + +Of course I turned to view my companion. She was a middle-aged +lady, something disordered in dress and hair, with a sharply marked +countenance, and that diffusive sort of eye that seems to take one in as +a speck which breaks the view of more interesting objects lying on the +verge of the horizon. Yet her face was dimpled by those indescribable +changing lines which indicate that a cessation of impulse has not marked +the wearer's retreat from youth, and make us feel anew how blessed a +thing it is for the character to keep our impulses strong within us, and +to be strong ourselves in their restraint. + +I was doubting whether to begin those little shivers and sidelings with +which people who feel that they ought to be acquainted, but have nobody +to introduce them, endeavor to supply the deficiency, when the lady +abruptly pronounced my name, and inquired if I responded thereto. + +"I thought it must be you," she said, on being satisfied regarding my +identity, "for the Colonel wrote me that he expected you about this +time. I feel we shall become friends. I am Miss Hurribattle." + +Although I had a strong suspicion who it must be, yet a cold surprise +seemed to run through me, when the dire certainty so suddenly declared +itself. I dropped my carpet-bag, as if all my daintily built castles +were in it, and it was best to crush them to pieces at once and have it +over. I pondered, and helped tie a bandbox on behind the vehicle, and +after some time found myself in the carryall staring at the felt hat +of the driver an inch or two before my nose, and Miss Hurribattle +established by my side. It occurred to me that it was my place to resume +the conversation, and, in a sudden spasm of originality, I changed a +remark respecting the beauty of the day into an observation on the +steepness of the hill we began to ascend. + +"It is very steep," assented the lady, "and I have a particular +objection to riding up-hill: it always appears to me I am helping the +horses draw. However, it may sometimes be pleasant; for I remember +paying a visit of a fortnight to Boston, when I was a girl, and there I +really thought that hills could not have been placed more conveniently." + +"How so?" inquired I. + +"Why, I stayed with some friends who lived in Charles Street, just on +the bay; consequently we always drove up-hill when we went to a party, +and downhill when we came home." + +"And you were always so much more content to return than to go, that the +accelerated speed of a down-hill passage was agreeable," suggested I, +after having cast about vaguely for an explanation. + +"Oh, dear! no! It was all on account of my back-hair: for in going +up-hill one naturally leans forward,--so, of course, it couldn't get +tumbled; but when we were coming home, it was no matter." + +I glanced slightly at Miss Hurribattle, and thought it strange that a +lady of her present disorderly and straggly appearance could have ever +felt so much interest in fashionable proprieties. She seemed to be +conscious of what was passing in my mind, and suddenly said,-- + +"Did you ever see a lady throw a stone?" + +"I probably have," I replied; "though I do not at present recall any +particular instance." + +"Very well, then,--you will remember that it always seems as if she was +going to throw herself after it. Now I recognize in this a portion of +the mystic instruction that natural phenomena may give us, if we look at +them earnestly; for is it not intended that woman should pursue with her +whole being whatever she undertakes? The man throws his stone with a +little jerk of the hand: he may be a legislator, a philanthropist, a +father, and a merchant, each with distinct portions of himself, and be +each with all the better effect to the others; but when a woman throws +her stone, it is better for her to project herself along with it." + +"But, surely, you cannot believe that she is entitled only to a single +fling at the mark?" + +"On the contrary, let her change her mark as often as she finds it too +easy or too hard to hit. All I insist upon is a temporary concentration +upon one pursuit. You wondered just now that I could ever have cared for +display, or have thought much of my appearance; but at that time I knew +no better, and followed the world with a devotion for which I have now, +I trust, a better object." + +I began to be quite interested in the sincerity and confidence with +which my companion talked to me, and, after a few remarks expressing +concurrence, I framed a question that would draw out the motives of her +connection with the college, should she care to communicate them. + +"It has been fortunate for me," answered Miss Hurribattle, "to have been +born with an activity of temperament that has kept me from that _maladie +des desabuses_ which, when the freshness of youth has passed, frequently +attacks ladies of some intellectual culture who do not marry. A strong +principle of self-assertion, that has long been characteristic of my +family, has left us unbound by that common propriety of sacrificing +our best happiness for the sake of appearing happy to the world. This +induced my father to quit Branton in pretty much the same spirit of +opposition with which Chatterton quitted Bristol. Disgusted with its +local celebrities, and chafing under the petty exactions and petty +gossip to which a sudden loss of fortune had exposed him, he left the +town without communicating to the neighbors his future destination. But +I will not poach upon our friend the Colonel's speciality, and give you +a family-history. It is sufficient to say that a year or two ago I +was led to interest myself in the Soggimarsh College as a ground +unincumbered by the old incredulities of man's best inspirations +which grow so thickly in what are called the highest +civilizations,--incredulities, indeed, which, in the fine figure of +Coleridge, are nothing but credulities after all, only seen from behind, +as they bow and nod assent to the habitual and the fashionable. But I +see you are wondering at the particular position in the Academy which +our catalogue assigns me, and you shall have the explanation. I have for +a long time been painfully impressed with the total neglect of physical +education by the women of America. It seems to me that no very important +moral advance can be achieved while the exquisite organism through which +our impressions come, and through which they should go forth again in +acts, is so perverted. I was very anxious that the Soggimarsh College +should distinctly recognize a correct physical training as being at +least as important as any branch of mental discipline. Accordingly, when +the titles of the professorships were under discussion, it seemed right +not to take my designation from the classes I instruct in history and +philosophy, but from the general gymnastic development of the female +members of the college, which it is likewise my duty to oversee. I know, +of course, that the prejudices of the public would hold me in greater +esteem as a teacher of some ancient lore than in the capacity I assume +before them; but you see I throw my stone in the womanish fashion, and +do not leave enough of myself behind to be troubled about the matter." + +I believe I have good Sir Thomas Browne's fancy of rejoicing to find +people individual in something beside their proper names; and by this, +as well as much more conversation not set down, I had the satisfaction +to discover that Miss Hurribattle had something more than her bold +patronymic to distinguish her from the Misses Smith and Robinson of my +city-acquaintance. I could hardly believe that we had advanced so far to +the footing of old friends, before we reached our destination. As +our carryall turned into Colonel Prowley's avenue, however, a sudden +recollection of the little romance the proprietor had arranged for his +arriving guests came over me like a terrible dream. What a pity it is, I +thought, that a friendly intercourse which I should highly prize must be +disturbed by the awkward consciousness that this old letter-writer +and his sister are watching and misinterpreting with all the zeal of +match-makers who have baited their trap, and are ready to mistake +anything for a nibble! + +We drew up before a formal-looking, old-fashioned house, with piazzas +to the two stories, each bordered with a good extent of unquestionably +modern gutter. The staple growth of the place, in which the house was +set, like the centre of an antique breastpin, seemed to lie in the shrub +called box. This ornamental vegetable stretched down each side of the +gravel walk, hedged in all sorts of ugly geometrical figures that +contained flower-beds, and stood sentinel to the lower line of the +piazza; farther on, you would see it allowed to grow to the height +of three or four feet, to be curiously cut into cubes, pyramids, and +miniature arches. + +Colonel Prowley, who was soon at the door to receive us, was a much less +imposing sort of man than I had imagined him. He appeared short and +modest, and showed a kind face set about half-way up the chin in one of +the old section-of-stove-pipe stocks that buckle up from behind; there +was a little embarrassment in his manner, as if he found it hard to +receive with proper cordiality two dear friends whose faces he had +never before seen. We were taken to the parlor, stiffly neat in all its +appurtenances, introduced to Miss Prowley, and soon after summoned to +dinner. + +There was much satisfaction in sitting down to such a repast as the +Colonel knew how to give, only it made one shudder a little when he told +us the names of great people long passed away who had ranged themselves +about the same piece of mahogany during the days of his father and +grandfather, for fourscore years into the past. However, if such +reminiscences make us reflect upon the mutable character of human +affairs, and send grave speculations of the "fleeting show" and "man's +illusion" concerning which the poet has told us, I find that the best +way is to remember that it is well to make our humble department in the +show as entertaining as we can, and our little fragment of the illusion +as illusive as possible. + +At the head of the table sat the sister of our host, arrayed in the lank +bombazine skirt, tight sleeves, and muslin cravat, which constituted the +old-lady uniform of the past generation, and which in rare instances yet +survives in the country. Upon her right hand was placed the clergyman, +Mr. Clifton, who came to dine every Monday,--it being a convenient +arrangement on account of the washing; and on her left was one Deacon +Reyner, who kept the parish records, and was the local antiquary of the +town. + +One of the pleasantest diversions with which I am acquainted is a dinner +among elderly people of character and originality, who are content to +toss about the ball of conversation among themselves, and allow me to +watch the game. And in this way was I entertained on my arrival at +Foxden; for Miss Hurribattle was directly at her ease, and had plenty +to say; while the brother and sister were content to offer the best +of everything, and did not attempt to draw me out of my silence. I +perceived they were thinking what a pity it was that Miss Hurribattle +and myself had not the equality of age and temper that they had fancied +for us; for I observed how they would follow the streaks of gray that +straggled through the lady's locks, and then glance at the neatly turned +moustache upon which in those days I prided myself, and realize that +their agreeable plans might be destined to disappointment. + +I remember the conversation first fell upon a certain general history +of the Prowley family that its present masculine representative had in +preparation. + +"By the way," said Deacon Reyner, addressing the future historian on +this head, "I have secured a correct copy of poor Prosody's epitaph, as +you asked me the other day." + +Miss Hurribattle, who looked as if she had some doubt whether poor +Prosody was a man or an animal, returned a non-committal, "Indeed! I am +very glad of it," but soon after added, "Was he a favorite dog?" + +"A dog!" exclaimed the Colonel, whose family-history, dates and all, +seemed to course his veins instead of blood, "he was my many times great +uncle! I have surely told you how Noah Prowllie, who came to New England +in 1642, and is supposed to have settled at Foxden some years later, +married Desire, daughter of the Reverend Jabez Pluck. Being a rigid +grammarian,--a character sufficiently rare at that period,--he named +his three sons Orthography, Syntax, and Prosody,--a proceeding that +is understood to have offended the Reverend Jabez, who was naturally +partial to the Scriptural nomenclature then in vogue. His scruples, +I regret to say, were more than justified in the conduct of his +grandchildren. Poor Orthography Prowllie was an idle fellow, who never +got beyond making his mark upon paper, and consequently made none in the +world; Syntax could never agree with anybody; while as for Prosody, poor +fellow"---- + +"It is enough to say that neither his verses nor his life would bear +scanning!" said the Deacon, desiring to keep the conversation off +unpleasant topics. + +"But you certainly had a poet in your family?" said Miss Hurribattle, +determined to repair her blunder by suggesting a potent cause of +congratulation. + +"Indeed we had, Madam!" said the Colonel, with creditable emotion; +"though unfortunately none of his productions have come down to us. But +we have the highest contemporary testimony to his excellence in a copy +of verses prefixed to his posthumous discourse entitled 'The New Snare +of a Maypole, or Satan's own Trap for a Slippery Church.' The lines +were written by his colleague, the Reverend Exaltation Brymm, and are +certainly much to the purpose: I generally keep a copy of them in my +pocket-book." + +"Oh, do read them, brother!" said Miss Prowley, with strong interest. + +Thus adjured, the Colonel produced a piece of paper, put on his +spectacles, and read to this effect:-- + + "New Englande! weep: Thy tuncfull Prowllie's gone, + Who skillfully his Armour buckled on + Agaynst Phyllystine Scorn and Revelrie: + His Sword well-furbished was a Sight to see! + This littel Booke of his shall still be greene + While Sathan's Fangles lorden stand betweene: + Now Pet of Sinne boil up thy dolefull Skum! + Ye juggelling Quakers laugh: his Inkhorn's dumb. + He put XIII Pslames in verse for our Quire, + And with XXVII Pastorals witcht Apollo's Lyre." + +"Do you recollect John Norton's funeral elegy on Ann Bradstreet, the Eve +of our female minstrelsy?" interrogated Miss Hurribattle; "there are two +lines in it which are still in my memory:-- + + 'Could Maro's muse but hear her lively strain, + He would condemn his works to fire again.' + +What a launch upon the sea of fame! and how sad it is that an actual +freight of verses should be preserved in the ship's hold!" + +"Well, well, my kinsman was perhaps wise in trusting none of his psalms +or pastorals to the press, especially as that greatest of poets, +Pope, has since been in the world. But I truly regret that he left no +portrait, nor even so much as an outline in black from which something +might be made up by an imaginative artist. I have judges, majors, and +attorneys, all properly labelled, in the other room, who would be much +improved by a slight dash of the aesthetic element; however, I suppose +it can't be helped now!" + +"Not unless you substitute Saint Josselyn for an ancestor, as Mrs. +Hunesley did the other day," said Miss Prowley. + +"Ha, ha! it might not be a bad plan to follow out the lady's suggestion: +but do tell the story of her strange mistake." + +"Why, you must know that the other day old Doctor Dastick brought his +New-York niece to call upon us. She began to talk to my brother, and +when at last topics of conversation failed, turned to look at the +picture of Saint Josselyn, which could be seen through the open +folding-doors." + +"The gentleman whose sole garment consists of some sort of skin thrown +over his shoulders: you must all have observed it as we came in to +dinner," said our host, in parenthesis. + +"Well, immediately below the Saint hangs a small painting of Uncle +Joshua, in white stockings, cocked hat, and coat of maroon velvet, the +poor gentleman's favorite dress. + +"'Ah!' said Mrs. Hunesley, with her eyes fixed upon the Saint, 'quite a +fine portrait!' + +"'Why, yes,' said my brother, naturally supposing she meant the small +picture below, 'a very fine portrait, and a capital likeness of my Uncle +Joshua.' + +"'Indeed!' said the lady, with a well-bred effort to conceal her +surprise; 'he was taken in a--a--fancy dress, I suppose.' + +"'On the contrary, it was his ordinary costume,' insisted the Colonel. +'I can remember him walking up the broad-aisle at church, dressed just +as you see him there.' + +"'I should not have thought it would have been allowed! Did not the +deacons turn him out?' exclaimed Mrs. Hunesley, in great astonishment. + +"'Turn him out! Why, Madam, he was a deacon himself, and the most +popular man in the parish.' + +"'Well, I had no idea that such things had ever been permitted in this +country! I should have supposed that the fear of such an example on the +young would have induced people to keep him in confinement.' + +"'Good heavens, Madam!' remonstrated the Colonel, roused to a desperate +vindication of the family-honor, 'let me tell you that his excellent +influence on the young was the crowning virtue of his character. He used +to go about town with his pockets filled with nuts and gingerbread to +reward them when they were good.' + +"'It is enough,' replied the lady; 'our views of propriety are so +totally different that we will not pursue the subject. I will only say +that--really--in that dress, _I don't see where he could have had any +pockets!_'" + +Deacon Reyner laughed heartily at these strictures upon the proprieties +of his predecessor, and said,-- + +"Of course, the last remark must have brought about an explanation." + +"Why, yes," said Colonel Prowley; "but when we see how slight an +accident resolved the mystery, we should receive with doubt much of the +personal scandal which is tossing about the world." + +The clergyman assented very cordially to this proposition, and added, +that it was a reflection that those of his flock then present would do +well to bear in mind that very evening at Doctor Dastick's bone-party. + +I confess to being a little startled at the spectral name of this +entertainment, and began to puzzle myself whether the Doctor gave +a levee to rapping spirits, or moralized over the skulls in his +collection, like Hamlet in the church-yard. Miss Hurribattle seemed +wandering in the mazes of a similar perplexity, and finally said,-- + +"What is a bone-party? Is it given out of compliment to the dead or the +living?" + +"Nay," said the Deacon, "I don't see how it could be much of a +compliment to the dead." + +"Except upon the principle, _De mortuis nil, nisi bone 'em!_" suggested +Miss Hurribattle, with such perfect gravity that neither Miss Prowley +nor the clergyman suspected the jocular atrocity that was hidden in her +speech. + +"The bone-parties of old Doctor Dastick," explained the Colonel, "are +entertainments peculiar to Foxden; and as there is to be one this +evening to which we are all invited, any anticipation of the diversion +seems likely to diminish whatever of satisfaction may be in prospect. I +will, however, remark, that some of the Doctor's guests are grievously +oppressed by somnolence during his scholastic expositions; as a +protection against which infirmity of the flesh, I do commend an +after-dinner nap. It has been the fashion of the house since the days +of my grandfather; and as he lived to a ripe old age, I do not think it +could have been deleterious." + +Soon after this, Colonel Prowley pushed back his chair from the table +as a signal for the dispersal of the party. And I betook myself to +my chamber, a sober apartment, with very uneven floor and very small +windows, through one of which I peered out upon the box before the +house, and thought over the people whose acquaintance I had just made. +Once only were these musings interrupted by snatches of a conversation +between my host and hostess as they passed across the piazza. + +"When this comes about, sister, as I still believe it must, you shall +adorn a page of my diary with one of your illustrative drawings. A pair +of doves would be appropriate, or perhaps a vine clinging round an oak." + +"And which of our guests is to be represented by the oak?" asked Miss +Prowley, in a tone which betrayed a woman's perception of matrimonial +incongruities. + +"Nay, sister, our young friend has a steadiness of character which would +be ill-mated with some giddy girl from the nursery. So make your vine a +little woody, and the union will be all the firmer." + +As there was no chance of taking a nap after this, I presently descended +to walk in the garden. And there I encountered Miss Hurribattle, who did +not seem to be one of the convenient visitors who can be put to sleep +after dinner. The conversation which I had the honor of renewing with +the lady, though it did not at all advance the whimsical project of +Colonel Prowley, increased my respect for the high instincts of Nature +which prompted her concern in the elevation of woman. She showed me how +a reform, presenting on its surface much that was meagre and partial, +was sustained by those accomplished in the study of the question, no +less from the rigorous necessities of logic than from the demonstrations +of history and experiment. + +And here, perchance, the reader observes that we make but slight +progress towards a solution of the inquiry proposed some pages back. +Yet let it be remembered that in real experience the novelist's art of +foreshadowing the end from the beginning and aiming every petty incident +at the final result is very seldom perceptible. "_Il ne faut pas voyager +pour voir, mais pour ne pas voir_," says the proverb; and the journey of +life is included in its application. We do our rarest deeds, we take our +most important steps, by what seems accident. Instead of forming plans +with remote designs, we find it our best policy to seize circumstances +as they run past us,--knowing, that, if we have strength and quickness +enough, we may take from them all that is required. + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Doctor Dastick's bone-party was certainly an entertainment of unique +description. A kind old gentleman was its originator, who thought to +turn the enthusiasm for lectures, which the Lyceum had developed in +Foxden, into a private and pleasant channel. Possessed with this +praiseworthy design, the Doctor, who had given up practice by reason of +years and competence, remembered a certain cabinet containing fossils, +crystals, fragments of Indian implements, small pieces of the skeletons +of their proprietors, vertebrae of extinct animals, besides a great +amount of miscellaneous rubbish that refused to come to terms and be +classified. Thus it seemed good to the proprietor of this medical +rag-bag to invite the citizens of Foxden to a series of explanatory +lectures upon its varied contents. This would have done well enough, +if the Doctor could only have persuaded himself to select his most +interesting specimens, and read up upon them, so as to retail a little +fluent information after the manner of the lyceum-philosophers. But, +unfortunately, the professional pride of the lecturer induced him to +speak without preparation or discrimination upon any osteological +article which happened to come to hand: which fact, perhaps, accounted +for the prevalent somnolence of the auditory, concerning which I had +been forewarned. + +It is barely possible that these midsummer-night diversions of Doctor +Dastick were suggested by the fame of evenings which, during the +previous winter, several city physicians (men of eminent scientific +attainments) had devoted to the instruction of their friends. And rumor +could scarcely have overestimated the privilege of listening to the +discursive fireside talk of such accurate observers. Having vividly +realized all that was to be known of their subjects of special +investigation, these distinguished gentlemen would steam steadily +athwart the light winds of conversation and bring their company to +a pleasant haven. The Foxden ex-practitioner, however, lacking the +metropolitan attrition which keeps the intellectual engine in +effective polish, drifted vaguely in a sea of fragmentary information; +--occasionally, to be sure, bumping against some encyclopedic argosy, +but, for the most part, making very leisurely progress, with much +apparent waste in the machinery. A brief extract from my note-book may +furnish an idea of these scientific discourses. + +"Now, my friends," pursues the Doctor, "let us examine another +curiosity,"--here he would take down something that looked like a +mottled paving-stone in a very crumbling condition,--"let us examine it +carefully through the glass,"--here a pause, during which he performed +the operation in question. "What is it? Is it a fossil turtle? No," +--with great deliberation,--"I should say it was _not_ a fossil turtle. +Is it a mass of twigs taken from the stomach of a mastodon? No, on the +whole, it can't be a mass of twigs taken from the stomach of a mastodon. +Is it a specimen of the top of Mount Sinai? No, it is not a specimen +of the top of Mount Sinai. What is it, then? _I--don't--know-- +what--it--is!_" + +Having arrived at this satisfactory conclusion, the Doctor would pass +on to the next specimen, which, having provoked a similar series of +interrogations and negations, would be dismissed with no very different +result. + +There is sometimes an advantage in not being a notable person; at all +events, I thought so, when I saw the Prowleys and their guests of chief +consideration, to wit, the clergyman, deacon, and Miss Hurribattle, +accommodated on the first row of chairs, with their faces under grand +illumination by two camphene-lamps upon the Doctor's table. There +they sat, together with Mrs. Hunesley from New York, two or three +distinguished visitors from the hotel, and the elders of Foxden, looking +wistfully at the bones, as if in envy of their fleshless condition that +sultry August evening. + +It was with real satisfaction that I perceived I was considered worthy +of no more worshipful company than that of the standing stragglers at +the dark end of the parlor. And as the evening breeze came freshly +through the window at the back of the room, I rejoiced heartily in my +lack of title to the consideration of being snugly penned in a more +honorable position. As I found it might be done without attracting +attention, I obeyed a strong impulse that seized me to pass through the +open window to the piazza. Thence I presently descended, and strolled +about the precise gravel-walks, puzzling myself to conjecture how much +of the rich light was owing to the red glow which lingered in the west, +and how much to the full moon just breaking through the trees. My +investigations were suddenly interrupted by the advent of a carryall, +which drove-with great rapidity to the Doctor's gate. It was the very +railway-omnibus that a few hours before had brought Miss Hurribattle and +myself from the station. + +"Hello, Cap'n," called out the driver, complimenting me with that +military title, "can you give a hand to this trunk? I've got to go right +slap back after two more fares." + +I was near the gate, and of course cheerfully acceded to this request. A +heavy trunk was lifted out, and placed just behind the lilac-bushes at +the edge of the lawn. The driver jumped into his omnibus and hurried +away with all speed, lest his two fares should pay themselves to a rival +conveyance. Behind him, however, he had left the proprietress of the +trunk,--a lady of about five-and-twenty, in whose countenance I detected +that strange sort of familiarity that entire strangers sometimes carry +about them. + +"This is Doctor Dastick's, is it not? Do you know whether Mrs. Hunesley +expected me?" she asked, with a grace of manner that was quite +irresistible. + +I informed her that I was a stranger in the place, and was only at the +Doctor's for a single evening; but that I could not think that Mrs. +Hunesley expected anybody, as I had just seen that lady firmly fixed in +the front row of chairs before the Doctor's table,--whence, owing to the +crowd of sitters behind, she would have some difficulty in extricating +herself. + +"Oh, I would not have her called for the world!" gayly exclaimed my +companion. "She has told me all about the dear old Doctor's lectures; +and I would not disturb his learned explanations on any account." + +"I do not think that the company in general would regret an interlude of +modern life and interest," said I. + +"Perhaps not; but nothing seems to me so rude and disagreeable as to +interrupt people, or disturb their attention, when assembled for a +definite object." + +We walked up the gravel-path, and softly entered the hall, where +a shawl and bonnet were deposited. The Doctor's discourse was very +audible, and the unexpected visitor seemed disposed to establish herself +upon one of the hall-chairs, and wait till it was over. There was a +graceful confidence in her movement, which is to me more captivating +than a pretty face; and when I had opportunity to observe more closely, +I was greatly attracted by the sensibility and refinement expressed +through a countenance which otherwise would have been plain. As I seemed +to be whimsically cast in the part of host, and as I perceived the lady +was too well-bred to make my position at all awkward, I proposed the +piazza as a pleasanter place of waiting than that she had chosen. + +And here let me make one of those weighty observations, derived from a +profound experience, which I trust will have a redeeming savor to +the judicious, should this tale of mine fail to command that general +popularity to which I have begun to suspect its title. I have found +that all the fine passages that lighten and enlighten this life of ours +seldom run into the traps we set for them, but seem to take a perverse +satisfaction in descending upon us when we are least prepared for +their reception. I have never been asked out to dine with a gentleman, +devoted, we will say, to the same speciality in which I have a humble +interest, without being sadly disappointed in the talk that my host had +kindly promised me. And when I am going to another country, and a dear +friend gives me a letter to some one whom he tells me I shall be glad to +meet, and from whom I shall gain great instruction, I accept the letter, +knowing very well that the man I shall really be glad to meet, and from +whom I shall truly gain instruction, will present himself on the top +of a diligence, or take a seat at my table at some cheap _cafe_ or +chop-house. Thus it is, that, when there is every reason why people +should break through the commonplace rubbish on the surface, and +disclose a pure vein of thought and feeling, they rarely contrive to do +it, but reserve their best things for the chances that touch them, when +self-consciousness is asleep, and the unconstrained humanity within +expands to absorb its like. Is it not in every one's experience that +there are persons with whom chance has thrown us for a few hours, whom +we know better, and who know us better, than the friends with whom we +have babbled of green fields, thermometers, and dirty pavements for a +score of years? As I confidently expect an affirmative reply to this +question, I fear no censure in saying that the evening passed on +Doctor Dastick's piazza made me feel there was a possibility of social +intercourse resembling the extravagant spirituality of the mystics, when +the soul bounds to the height of joyful knowledge, and without process +or medium knows complete satisfaction. + +How we came to talk of many things, I cannot remember; but we somehow +found ourselves speaking of matters of near and deep experience without +consciousness of singularity. We admitted those puzzling life-questions +that present themselves, on a still summer evening, when we long to +escape from the conditions of finite being, and yet contemplate +the necessity of working at our tasks shackled by a thousand iron +circumstances. + +"My plan of life, so far as I have any, seems to point to education," +said my companion. "I am thrown in great measure upon my own activity +for support, and have an aunt who is very zealous in the work, and who +has often asked me to become her fellow-laborer. Until now I could never +well leave home; but she has written to me again since"--she stopped, as +if distressed, and with a woman's tact glanced at her mourning-dress to +tell me the story;--"she has written to me earnestly of late upon the +subject. I feel how noble an object it is to live for, and I want an +object, Heaven knows; but there are reasons--perhaps I should say +feelings, not reasons--why I hesitate. I am asked to bind myself for ten +years to the work in a Western college. There are many advantages in a +permanent position, both for the teacher and the institution, but"-- + +Her voice faltered; and I felt that Nature had at times made other +suggestions to that fresh young spirit, other possibilities had dawned +through the future; perhaps they were certainties,--and the thought +passed me with a shudder. + +"Teaching is a terrible drudgery," I said; "the labor and devotion of +the true teacher are yet unrecognized by the world." + +"I am not afraid of the vexations," she replied: "I am very fond of +being with young people; yet I have been taught to think it was happier, +if our affections could be somewhat more concentrated than--In short, +I had better finish an awkward sentence, by saying that I do not feel +quite ready to pledge myself to give up all possibilities connected with +my New-England home." + +It was spoken with such sweet ingenuousness that I was only charmed. The +simple sincerity of the confession seemed to me much better than the +flippant jest and pert talk with which I had heard such subjects treated +while making my observations upon what my city-acquaintances had assured +me was good society. Is it not Sterling who exclaims that a luxurious +and polished life without a true sense of the beautiful and the great is +more barren and sad to see than that of the ignorant and the brutalized? +And if this be true, how shall we imagine a greater satisfaction than to +find the fresh truth of Nature set in a polished and graceful form? For +since it is through form that we take cognizance of all we love and all +we believe, it is well that the sign and idea should merge, and come +complete and whole to govern us aright. + +I should have no objection to meditating after this manner for a page or +two, as well as further hinting what important nothings sparkled upon +Doctor Dastick's piazza that pleasant summer night. But as I must +curtail this biographical fragment in some part or other, it seems best +to do it about that portion where I may trust that the experience of +every reader will supply the deficiency. + +How harshly sounded the creaking of the furniture, and how strangely +commercial and matter-of-fact the voices of the people that announced +the conclusion of the lecture! Mrs. Hunesley managed to get out among +the first, and was heartily glad to see my newly acquired friend, +calling her, "My dear Kate,"--which I thought was a very pretty +name,--and saying that she had not expected her quite so soon. + +I looked into the parlor and saw the Prowley party tumbling over chairs, +and scaling settees, in their haste to meet the cooling breezes of the +piazza. But when they finally accomplished their purpose, and I was +advancing with inquiries and congratulations, I started at seeing the +surprise depicted in the countenance of Miss Hurribattle, as she gazed +in the direction where I stood. + +"Why, Aunt Patience!" exclaimed a voice at my side. + +"Why, Kate Hurribattle!" was the response. + +"How in the name of wonder did you get to Foxden?" + +"How under the sun did _you_ get to Foxden?" + +"Why _I_ am here naturally enough as the guest of my friend Colonel +Prowley." + +"And _I_ am here naturally enough as the guest of my friend Mrs. +Hunesley." + +Now if I had dramatized the little event I have been trying to relate, I +should have reached the precise point where the auditor would button up +his coat, put on his hat, let his patent spring-seat go up with a click, +and begin to leave the theatre with all expedition. What would it matter +to him that I had prepared a circumstantial account of how all petty +objections were got over, or that I had elaborated a peculiarly +felicitous _tag_ which Colonel Prowley would speak at a few backs as +they disappeared into the lobby? The auditor referred to has got an +inkling of how things are to end, and can guess out the particulars as +he hurries off to his business. And here will be observed our decided +advantage in having made sure of the Moral by a vigorous assertion of +the same at the commencement of this narrative; for, thus relieved of +the necessity of a final flutter into the empyrean of ethics, we may +part company in a few easy sentences. + +Although the circumstances I have set down, from being awkwardly packed +in a small compass, may not appear to fit into each other with all the +exactness of a dissecting-map, I am sure, that, as they really occurred +spread over a necessary time, they seemed natural and simple enough. +Mrs. Hunesley, Doctor Dastick's favorite niece, was the schoolmate of +Miss Kate Hurribattle, and what more likely than that she should invite +her friend to pass a few weeks with her at her summer-home in the +country? And could there be a greater necessity than that, meeting daily +as we did through those lovely August weeks, she should become--in +short, that I should marry Miss Hurribattle? + +And when this foolish little romance, which had taken nebulous outline +in the fancy of Colonel Prowley, suddenly fell at his feet a serious +indubitability, the dear, delighted old gentleman was the first to +declare, that, as our engagement had existed for the last seventy years, +it certainly did not seem worth while to wait much longer. At all +events, we did not wait longer than the following Thanksgiving; since +which period my experience leads me to declare, that, if the Miss +Hurribattle of my great-great-uncle's day was at all comparable to the +member of her family I met at Foxden, my respected relative made a great +mistake in living a bachelor. + + + + +RESIGNATION. + + +You know how a little child of three or four years old kicks and howls, +if it do not get its own way. You know how quietly a grown-up man takes +it, when ordinary things fall out otherwise than he wished. A letter, +a newspaper, a magazine, does not arrive by the post on the morning +on which it had been particularly wished for, and counted on with +certainty. The day proves rainy, when a fine day was specially +desirable. The grown-up man is disappointed; but he soon gets reconciled +to the existing state of facts. He did not much expect that things would +turn out as he wished them. Yes: there is nothing like the habit of +being disappointed, to make a man resigned when disappointment comes, +and to enable him to take it quietly. And a habit of practical +resignation grows upon most men, as they advance through life. + +You have often seen a poor beggar, most probably an old man, with some +lingering remains of respectability in his faded appearance, half ask +an alms of a passer-by; and you have seen him, at a word of repulse, or +even on finding no notice taken of his request, meekly turn away: too +beaten and sick at heart for energy; drilled into a dreary resignation +by the long custom of finding everything go against him in this world. +You may have known a poor cripple, who sits all day by the side of the +pavement of a certain street, with a little bundle of tracts in his +hand, watching those who pass by, in the hope that they may give him +something. I wonder, indeed, how the police suffer him to be there: for, +though ostensibly selling the tracts, he is really begging. Hundreds of +times in the long day, he must see people approaching, and hope that +they may spare him a halfpenny, and find ninety-nine out of each hundred +pass without noticing him. It must be a hard school of Resignation. +Disappointments without number have subdued that poor creature into +bearing one disappointment more with scarce an appreciable stir of +heart. But, on the other hand, kings, great nobles, and the like, have +been known, even to the close of life, to violently curse and swear, if +things went against them; going the length of stamping and blaspheming +even at rain and wind, and branches of trees and plashes of mud, which +were of course guiltless of any design of giving offence to these +eminent individuals. There was a great monarch, who, when any little +cross-accident befell him, was wont to fling himself upon the floor, and +there to kick and scream and tear his hair. And around him, meanwhile, +stood his awe-stricken attendants: all doubtless ready to assure +him that there was something noble and graceful in his kicking and +screaming, and that no human being had ever before with such dignity +and magnanimity torn his hair. My friend Mr. Smith tells me that in his +early youth he had a (very slight) acquaintance with a great prince, of +elevated rank and of vast estates. That great prince came very early to +his greatness; and no one had ever ventured, since he could remember, +to tell him he had ever said or done wrong. Accordingly, the prince had +never learned to control himself, nor grown accustomed to bear quietly +what he did not like. And when any one, in conversation, related to him +something which he disapproved, he used to start from his chair, and +rush up and down the apartment, furiously flapping his hands together, +till he had thus blown off the steam produced by the irritation of his +nervous system. That prince was a good man: and so aware was he of +his infirmity, that, when in these fits of passion, he never suffered +himself to say a single word: being aware that he might say what he +would afterwards regret. And though he could not wholly restrain +himself, the entire wrath he felt passed off in flapping. And after +flapping for a few minutes, he sat down again, a reasonable man once +more. All honor to him! For my friend Smith tells me that that prince +was surrounded by toadies, who were ready to praise everything he might +do, even to his flapping. And in particular, there was one humble +retainer, who, whenever his master flapped, was wont to hold up his +hands in an ecstasy of admiration, exclaiming, "It is the flapping of a +god, and not of a man!" + +Now all this lack of Resignation on the part of princes and kings comes +of the fact, that they are so far like children that they have not +become accustomed to be resisted, and to be obliged to forego what they +would like. Resignation comes by the habit of being disappointed, and +of finding things go against you. It is, in the case of ordinary human +beings, just what they expect. Of course, you remember the adage, +"Blessed is he who expecteth nothing, for he shall not be disappointed." +I have a good deal to say about that adage. Reasonableness of +expectation is a great and good thing: despondency is a thing to be +discouraged and put down as far as may be. But meanwhile let me say, +that the corollary drawn from that dismal beatitude seems to me +unfounded in fact. I should say just the contrary. I should say, +"Blessed is he who expecteth nothing, for he will very likely be +disappointed." You know, my reader, whether things do not generally +happen the opposite way from that which you expected. Did you ever try +to keep off an evil you dreaded by interposing this buffer? Did you ever +think you might perhaps prevent a trouble from coming by constantly +anticipating it,--keeping, meanwhile, an under-thought that things +rarely happen as you anticipate them, and thus that your anticipation of +the thing might possibly keep it away? Of course you have; for you are +a human being. And in all common cases, a watch might as well think to +keep a skilful watchmaker in ignorance of the way in which its movements +are produced, as a human being think to prevent another human being from +knowing exactly how he will think and feel in given circumstances. We +have watched the working of our own watches far too closely and long, +my friends, to have the least difficulty in understanding the great +principles upon which the watches of other men go. I cannot look inside +your breast, my reader, and see the machinery that is working there: I +mean the machinery of thought and feeling. But I know exactly how it +works, nevertheless; for I have long watched a machinery precisely like +it. + +There are a great many people in this world who feel that things are all +wrong, that they have missed stays in life, that they are beaten,--and +yet who don't much mind. They are indurated by long use. They do not try +to disguise from themselves the facts. There are some men who diligently +try to disguise the facts, and who in some measure succeed in doing so. +I have known a self-sufficient and disagreeable clergyman who had a +church in a large city. Five-sixths of the seats in the church were +quite empty; yet the clergyman often talked of what a good congregation +he had, with a confidence which would have deceived any one who had not +seen it. I have known a church where it was agony to any one with an ear +to listen to the noise produced when the people were singing; yet the +clergyman often talked of what splendid music he had. I have known an +entirely briefless barrister, whose friends gave out that the sole +reason why he had no briefs was that he did not want any. I have known +students who did not get the prizes for which they competed, but who +declared that the reason of their failure was, that, though they +competed for the prizes, they did not wish to get them. I have known a +fast young woman, after many engagements made and broken, marry as the +last resort a brainless and penniless blackguard; yet all her family +talk in big terms of what a delightful connection she was making. Now, +where all that self-deception is genuine, let us be glad to see it; and +let us not, like Mr. Snarling, take a spiteful pleasure in undeceiving +those who are so happy to be deceived. In most cases, indeed, such +trickery deceives nobody. But where it truly deceives those who +practise it, even if it deceive nobody else, you see there is no true +Resignation. A man who has made a mess of life has no need to be +resigned, if he fancies he has succeeded splendidly. But I look with +great interest, and often with deep respect, at the man or woman who +feels that life has been a failure,--a failure, that is, as regards +_this_ world,--and yet who is quite resigned. Yes: whether it be the +un-soured old maid, sweet-tempered, sympathetic in others' joys, God's +kind angel in the house of sorrow,--or the unappreciated genius, quiet, +subdued, pleased to meet even one who understands him amid a community +which does not,--or the kind-hearted clever man to whom eminent success +has come too late, when those were gone whom it would have made happy: +I reverence and love, more than I can express, the beautiful natures I +have known thus subdued and resigned. + +Yes: human beings get indurated. When you come to know well the history +of a great many people, you will find that it is wonderful what they +have passed through. Most people have suffered a very great deal, +since they came into this world. Yet in their appearance there is no +particular trace of it all. You would not guess, from looking at them, +how hard and how various their lot has been. I once knew a woman, rather +more than middle-aged. I knew her well, and saw her almost every day, +for several years, before I learned that the homely Scotchwoman had seen +distant lands, and had passed through very strange ups and downs, before +she settled into the quiet, orderly life in which I knew her. Yet when +spoken to kindly, by one who expressed surprise that all these trials +had left so little trace, the inward feeling, commonly suppressed, burst +bitterly out, and she exclaimed, "It's a wonder that I'm living at all!" +And it is a wonder that a great many people are living, and looking so +cheerful and so well as they do, when you think what fiery passion, what +crushing sorrow, what terrible losses, what bitter disappointments, what +hard and protracted work they have gone through. Doubtless, great good +comes of it. All wisdom, all experience, comes of suffering. I should +not care much for the counsel of the man whose life had been one long +sunshiny holiday. There is greater depth in the philosophy of Mr. +Dickens than a great portion of his readers discern. You are ready to +smile at the singular way in which Captain Cuttle commended his friend +Jack Bunsby as a man of extraordinary wisdom, whose advice on any point +was of inestimable value. "Here's a man," said Captain Cuttle, "who has +been more beaten about the head than any other living man!" I hail the +words as the recognition of a great principle. To Mr. Bunsby it befell +in a literal sense; but we have all been (in a moral sense) a good deal +beaten about both the head and the heart before we grew good for much. +Out of the travail of his nature, out of the sorrowful history of his +past life, the poet or the moralist draws the deep thought and feeling +which find so straight a way to the hearts of other men. Do you think +Mr. Tennyson would ever have been the great poet he is, if he had not +passed through that season of great grief which has left its noble +record in "In Memoriam"? And a youthful preacher, of vivid imagination +and keen feeling, little fettered by anything in the nature of good +taste, may by strong statements and a fiery manner draw a mob of +unthinking hearers: but thoughtful men and women will not find anything +in all _that_, that awakens the response of their inner nature in its +truest depths; they must have religious instruction into which real +experience has been transfused; and the worth of the instruction will be +in direct proportion to the amount of real experience which is embodied +in it. And after all, it is better to be wise and good than to be gay +and happy, if we must choose between the two things; and it is worth +while to be severely beaten about the head, if _that_ is the condition +on which alone we can gain true wisdom. True wisdom is cheap at almost +any price. But it does not follow at all that you will be happy (in +the vulgar sense) in direct proportion as you are wise. I suppose +most middle-aged people, when they receive the ordinary kind wish at +New-Year's time of a Happy New-Year, feel that _happy_ is not quite the +word; and feel that, too, though well aware that they have abundant +reason for gratitude to a kind Providence. It is not _here_ that we +shall ever be happy,--that is, completely and perfectly happy. Something +will always be coming to worry and distress. And a hundred sad +possibilities hang over us: some of them only too certainly and quickly +drawing near. Yet people are content, in a kind of way. They have learnt +the great lesson of Resignation. + + * * * * * + +There are many worthy people who would be quite fevered and flurried +by good fortune, if it were to come to any very great degree. It would +injure their heart. As for bad fortune, they can stand it nicely, they +have been accustomed to it so long. I have known a very hard-wrought +man, who had passed, rather early in life, through very heavy and +protracted trials. I have heard him say, that, if any malicious enemy +wished to kill him, the course would be to make sure that tidings of +some signal piece of prosperity should arrive by post on each of six or +seven successive days. It would quite unhinge and unsettle him, he said. +His heart would go: his nervous system would break down. People to whom +pieces of good-luck come rare and small have a great curiosity to know +how a man feels when he is suddenly told that he has drawn one of the +greatest prizes in the lottery of life. The kind of feeling, of course, +will depend entirely on the kind of man. Yet very great prizes, in the +way of dignity and duty, do for the most part fall to men who in some +measure deserve them, or who at least are not conspicuously undeserving +of them and unfit for them. So that it is almost impossible that the +great news should elicit merely some unworthy explosion of gratified +self-conceit. The feeling would in almost every case be deeper and +worthier. One would like to be sitting at breakfast with a truly good +man, when the letter from the Prime-Minister comes in, offering him the +Archbishopric of Canterbury. One would like to see how he would take +it. Quietly, I have no doubt. Long preparation has fitted the man +who reaches that position for taking it quietly. A recent Chancellor +publicly stated how _he_ felt, when offered the Great Seal. His first +feeling, that good man said, was of gratification that he had fairly +reached the highest reward of the profession to which he had given +his life; but the feeling which speedily supplanted _that_ was an +overwhelming sense of his responsibility and a grave doubt as to his +qualifications. I have always believed, and sometimes said, that good +fortune--not so great or so sudden as to injure one's nerves or +heart, but kindly and equable--has a most wholesome effect upon human +character. I believe that the happier a man is, the better and kinder +he will be. The greater part of unamiability, ill-temper, impatience, +bitterness, and uncharitableness comes out of unhappiness. It is because +a man is so miserable that he is such a sour, suspicious, fractious, +petted creature. I was amused, this morning, to read in the newspaper an +account of a very small incident which befell the new Primate of England +on his journey back to London, after being enthroned at Canterbury. +The reporter of that small incident takes occasion to record that +the Archbishop had quite charmed his travelling-companions in the +railway-carriage by the geniality and kindliness of his manner. I have +no doubt he did. I am sure he is a truly good Christian man. But think +of what a splendid training for producing geniality and kindliness he +has been going through for a great number of years! Think of the moral +influences which have been bearing on him for the last few weeks! We +should all be kindly and genial, if we had the same chance of being so. +But if Dr. Longley had a living of a hundred pounds a year, a fretful, +ailing wife, a number of half-fed and half-educated little children, a +dirty, miserable house, a bleak country round, and a set of wrong-headed +and insolent parishioners to keep straight, I venture to say he would +have looked, and been, a very different man in that railway-carriage +running up to London. Instead of the genial smiles that delighted his +fellow-travellers, (according to the newspaper-story,) his face would +have been sour, and his speech would have been snappish; he would have +leaned back in the corner of a second-class carriage, sadly calculating +the cost of his journey, and how part of it might be saved by going +without any dinner. Oh, if I found a four-leaved shamrock, I would +undertake to make a mighty deal of certain people I know! I would put an +end to their weary schemings to make the ends meet. I would cut off all +those wretched cares which jar miserably on the shaken nerves. I know +the burst of thankfulness and joy that would come, if some dismal load, +never to be cast off, were taken away. And I would take it off. I would +clear up the horrible muddle. I would make them happy: and in doing +_that_, I know that I should make them good. + + * * * * * + +But I have sought the four-leaved shamrock for a long time, and never +have found it; and so I am growing subdued to the conviction that I +never shall. Let us go back to the matter of Resignation, and think a +little longer about _that_. + +Resignation, in any human being, means that things are not as you would +wish, and yet that you are content. + +Who has all he wishes? There are many houses in this world in which +Resignation is the best thing that can be felt any more. The bitter blow +has fallen; the break has been made; the empty chair is left (perhaps a +very little chair); and never more, while Time goes on, can things be +as they were fondly wished and hoped. Resignation would need to be +cultivated by human beings; for all round us there is a multitude of +things very different from what we would wish. Not in your house, not +in your family, not in your street, not in your parish, not in your +country, and least of all in yourself, can you have things as you would +wish. And you have your choice of two alternatives. You must either +fret yourself into a nervous fever, or you must cultivate the habit of +Resignation. And very often Resignation does not mean that you are at +all reconciled to a thing, but just that you feel you can do nothing +to mend it. Some friend, to whom you are really attached, and whom +you often see, vexes and worries you by some silly and disagreeable +habit,--some habit which it is impossible you should ever like, or ever +even overlook; yet you try to make up your mind to it, because it cannot +be helped, and you would rather submit to it than lose your friend. You +hate the east-wind: it withers and pinches you, in body and soul: +yet you cannot live in a certain beautiful city without feeling the +east-wind many days in the year. And that city's advantages and +attractions are so many and great that no sane man with sound lungs +would abandon the city merely to escape the east-wind. Yet, though +resigned to the east-wind, you are anything but reconciled to it. + +Resignation is not always a good thing. Sometimes it is a very bad +thing. You should never be resigned to things continuing wrong, when you +may rise and set them right. I dare say, in the Romish Church, there +were good men before Luther who were keenly alive to the errors and +evils that had crept into it, but who, in despair of making things +better, tried sadly to fix their thoughts upon other subjects: who +took to illuminating missals, or constructing systems of logic, or +cultivating vegetables in the garden of the monastery, or improving the +music in the chapel: quietly resigned to evils they judged irremediable. +Great reformers have not been resigned men. Luther was not resigned; +Howard was not resigned; Fowell Buxton was not resigned; George +Stephenson was not resigned. And there is hardly a nobler sight than +that of a man who determines that he will NOT make up his mind to the +continuance of some great evil: who determines that he will give his +life to battling with that evil to the last: who determines that either +that evil shall extinguish him, or he shall extinguish it. I reverence +the strong, sanguine mind, that resolves to work a revolution to better +things, and that is not afraid to hope it _can_ work a revolution. And +perhaps, my reader, we should both reverence it all the more that we +find in ourselves very little like it. It is a curious thing, and a sad +thing, to remark in how many people there is too much resignation. It +kills out energy. It is a weak, fretful, unhappy thing. People are +reconciled, in a sad sort of way, to the fashion in which things go on. +You have seen a poor, slatternly mother, in a way-side cottage, who has +observed her little children playing in the road before it, in the way +of passing carriages, angrily ordering the little things to come away +from their dangerous and dirty play; yet, when the children disobey +her, and remain where they were, just saying no more, making no farther +effort. You have known a master tell his man-servant to do something +about stable or garden, yet, when the servant does not do it, taking no +notice: seeing that he has been disobeyed, yet wearily resigned, feeling +that there is no use in always fighting. And I do not speak of the not +unfrequent cases in which the master, after giving his orders, comes to +discover that it is best they should not be carried out, and is very +glad to see them disregarded: I mean when he is dissatisfied that what +he has directed is not done, and wishes that it were done, and feels +worried by the whole affair, yet is so devoid of energy as to rest in a +fretful resignation. Sometimes there is a sort of sense as if one had +discharged his conscience by making a weak effort in the direction of +doing a thing, an effort which had not the slightest chance of being +successful. When I was a little boy, many years since, I used to +think this; and I was led to thinking it by remarking a singular +characteristic in the conduct of a school-companion. In those days, if +you were chasing some other boy who had injured or offended you, with +the design of retaliation, if you found you could not catch him, by +reason of his superior speed, you would have recourse to the following +expedient. If your companion was within a little space of you, though a +space you felt you could not make less, you would suddenly stick out one +of your feet, which would hook round his, and he, stumbling over it, +would fall. I trust I am not suggesting a mischievous and dangerous +trick to any boy of the present generation. Indeed, I have the firmest +belief that existing boys know all we used to know, and possibly more. +All this is by way of rendering intelligible what I have to say of my +old companion. He was not a good runner. And when another boy gave him +a sudden flick with a knotted handkerchief, or the like, he had little +chance of catching that other boy. Yet I have often seen him, when +chasing another, before finally abandoning the pursuit, stick out his +foot in the regular way, though the boy he was chasing was yards beyond +his reach. Often did the present writer meditate on that phenomenon, in +the days of his boyhood. It appeared curious that it should afford +some comfort to the evaded pursuer, to make an offer at upsetting the +escaping youth,--an offer which could not possibly be successful. But +very often, in after-life, have I beheld in the conduct of grown-up men +and women the moral likeness of that futile sticking-out of the foot. +I have beheld human beings who lived in houses always untidy and +disorderly, or whose affairs were in a horrible confusion and +entanglement, who now and then seemed roused to a a feeling that this +would not do, who querulously bemoaned their miserable lot, and made +some faint and futile attempt to set things right, attempts which never +had a chance to succeed, and which ended in nothing. Yet it seemed +somehow to pacify the querulous heart. I have known a clergyman, in a +parish with a bad population, seem suddenly to waken up to a conviction +that he must do something to mend matters, and set agoing some weak +little machinery, which could produce no appreciable result, and +which came to a stop in a few weeks. Yet that faint offer appeared to +discharge the claims of conscience, and after it the clergyman remained +long time in a comatose state of unhealthy Resignation. But it is a +miserable and a wrong kind of Resignation which dwells in that man who +sinks down, beaten and hopeless, in the presence of a recognized evil. +Such a man may be in a sense resigned, but, he cannot possibly be +content. + +If you should ever, when you have reached middle age, turn over the +diary or the letters you wrote in the hopeful though foolish days when +you were eighteen or twenty, you will be aware how quietly and gradually +the lesson of Resignation has been taught you. You would have got into +a terrible state of excitement, if any one had told you then that you +would have to forego your most cherished hopes and wishes of that time; +and it would have tried you even more severely to be assured that in +not many years you would not care a single straw for the things and the +persons who were then uppermost in your mind and heart. What an entirely +new set of friends and interests is that which now surrounds you! +and how completely the old ones are gone: gone, like the sunsets you +remember in the summers of your childhood; gone, like the primroses that +grew in the woods where you wandered as a boy! Said my friend Smith to +me, a few days ago: "You remember Miss Jones, and all about that? I +met her yesterday, after ten years. She is a fat, middle-aged, +ordinary-looking woman. What a terrific fool I was!" Smith spoke to me +in the confidence of friendship; yet I think he was a little mortified +at the heartiness with which I agreed with him on the subject of his +former folly. He had got over it completely; and in seeing that he was +(at a certain period) a fool, he had come to discern that of which his +friends had always been aware. Of course, early interests do not always +die out. You remember Dr. Chalmers, and the ridiculous exhibition about +the wretched little likeness of an early sweetheart, not seen for forty +years, and long since in her grave. You remember the singular way in +which he signified his remembrance of her, in his famous and honored +age. I don't mean the crying, nor the walking up and down the +garden-walk calling her by fine names. I mean the taking out his card: +not his _carte_; you could understand _that_: but his visiting-card +bearing his name, and sticking it behind the portrait with two wafers. +Probably it pleased him to do so; and assuredly it did harm to no one +else. And we have all heard of the like things. Early affections are +sometimes, doubtless, cherished in the memory of the old. But still, +more material interests come in, and the old affection is crowded out +of its old place in the heart. And so those comparatively fanciful +disappointments sit lightly. The romance is gone. The mid-day sun +beats down, and _there_ lies the dusty way. When the cantankerous and +unamiable mother of Christopher North stopped his marriage with a person +at least as respectable as herself, on the ground that the person was +not good enough, we are told that the future professor nearly went +mad, and that he never quite got over it. But really, judging from +his writings and his biography, he bore up under it, after a little, +wonderfully well. + +But looking back to the days which the old yellow letters bring back, +you will think to yourself, Where are the hopes and anticipations of +that time? You expected to be a great man, no doubt. Well, you know you +are not. You are a small man, and never will be anything else; yet +you are quite resigned. If there be an argument which stirs me to +indignation at its futility, and to wonder that any mortal ever regarded +it as of the slightest force, it is that which is set out in the famous +soliloquy in "Cato," as to the Immortality of the Soul. Will any sane +man say, that, if in this world you wish for a thing very much, and +anticipate it very clearly and confidently, you are therefore sure to +get it? If that were so, many a little schoolboy would end by driving +his carriage and four, who ends by driving no carriage at all. I have +heard of a man whose private papers were found after his death all +written over with his signature as he expected it would be when he +became Lord Chancellor. Let us say his peerage was to be as Lord Smith. +There it was, SMITH, C., SMITH, C., written in every conceivable +fashion, so that the signature, when needed, might be easy and imposing. +That man had very vividly anticipated the woolsack, the gold robe, and +all the rest. It need hardly be said, he attained none of these. The +famous argument, you know of course, is, that man has a great longing to +be immortal, and that therefore he is sure to be immortal. Rubbish! It +is not true that any longing after immortality exists in the heart of +a hundredth portion of the race. And if it were true, it would prove +immortality no more than the manifold signatures of SMITH, C., proved +that Smith was indeed to be Chancellor. No: we cling to the doctrine +of a Future Life; we could not live without it; but we believe it, not +because of undefined longings within ourselves, not because of reviving +plants and flowers, not because of the chrysalis and the butterfly,--but +because "our Saviour, Jesus Christ, hath abolished death, and brought +life and immortality to light through the gospel." + +There is something very curious, and very touching, in thinking +how clear and distinct, and how often recurring, were our early +anticipations of things that were never to be. In this world, the fact +is for the most part the opposite of what it should be to give force to +Plato's (or Cato's) argument: the thing you vividly anticipate is the +thing that is least likely to come. The thing you don't much care for, +the thing you don't expect, is the likeliest. And even if the event +prove what you anticipated, the circumstances, and the feeling of it, +will be quite different from what you anticipated. A certain little girl +three years old was told that in a little while she was to go with her +parents to a certain city, a hundred miles off,--a city which may be +called Altenburg as well as anything else. It was a great delight to her +to anticipate that journey, and to anticipate it very circumstantially. +It was a delight to her to sit down at evening on her father's knee, +and to tell him all about how it would be in going to Altenburg. It was +always the same thing. Always, first, how sandwiches would be made,--how +they would all get into the carriage, (which would come round to the +door,) and drive away to a certain railway-station,--how they would get +their tickets, and the train would come up, and they would all get into +a carriage together, and lean back in corners, and eat the sandwiches, +and look out of the windows, and so on. But when the journey was +actually made, every single circumstance in the little girl's +anticipations proved wrong. Of course, they were not intentionally made +wrong. Her parents would have carried out to the letter, if they could, +what the little thing had so clearly pictured and so often repeated. But +it proved to be needful to go by an entirely different way and in an +entirely different fashion. All those little details, dwelt on so much, +and with so much interest, were things never to be. It is even so with +the anticipations of larger and older children. How distinctly, how +fully, my friend, we have pictured out to our minds a mode of life, a +home and the country round it, and the multitude of little things which +make up the habitude of being, which we long since resigned ourselves to +knowing could never prove realities! No doubt, it is all right and well. +Even Saint Paul, with all his gift of prophecy, was not allowed to +foresee what was to happen to himself. You know how he wrote that he +would do a certain thing, "so soon as I shall see how it will go with +me." + +But our times are in the Best Hand. And the one thing about our lot, my +reader, that we may think of with perfect contentment, is that they +are so. I know nothing more admirable in spirit, and few things more +charmingly expressed, than that little poem by Mrs. Waring which sets +out that comfortable thought. You know it, of course. You should have +it in your memory; and let it be one of the first things your children +learn by heart. It may well come next after, "O God of Bethel": it +breathes the self-same tone. And let me close these thoughts with one of +its verses:-- + + "There are briers besetting every path, + Which call for patient care: + There is a cross in every lot, + And an earnest need for prayer: + But a lowly heart that leans on Thee + Is happy anywhere!" + + THE FLAG. + + There's a flag hangs over my threshold, whose folds are more dear to me + Than the blood that thrills in my bosom its earnest of liberty; + And dear are the stars it harbors in its sunny field of blue + As the hope of a further heaven that lights all our dim lives through. + + But now should my guests be merry, the house is in holiday guise, + Looking out through its burnished windows like a score of welcoming eyes. + Come hither, my brothers who wander in saintliness and in sin! + Come hither, ye pilgrims of Nature! my heart doth invite you in. + + My wine is not of the choicest, yet bears it an honest brand; + And the bread that I bid you lighten I break with no sparing hand; + But pause, ere you pass to taste it, one act must accomplished be: + Salute the flag in its virtue, before ye sit down with me. + + The flag of our stately battles, not struggles of wrath and greed: + Its stripes were a holy lesson, its spangles a deathless creed; + 'T was red with the blood of freemen, and white with the fear of the foe, + And the stars that fight in their courses 'gainst tyrants its symbols + know. + + Come hither, thou son of my mother! we were reared in the self-same + arms; + Thou hast many a pleasant gesture, thy mind hath its gifts and charms; + But my heart is as stern to question as mine eyes are of sorrows full: + Salute the flag in its virtue, or pass on where others rule. + + Thou lord of a thousand acres, with heaps of uncounted gold, + The steeds of thy stall are haughty, thy lackeys cunning and bold: + I envy no jot of thy splendor, I rail at thy follies none: + Salute the flag in its virtue, or leave my poor house alone. + + Fair lady with silken trappings, high waving thy stainless plume, + We welcome thee to our numbers, a flower of costliest bloom: + Let a hundred maids live widowed to furnish thy bridal bed; + But pause where the flag doth question, and bend thy triumphant head. + + Take down now your flaunting banner, for a scout comes breathless and + pale, + With the terror of death upon him; of failure is all his tale: + "They have fled while the flag waved o'er them! they've turned to the + foe their back! + They are scattered, pursued, and slaughtered! the fields are all rout + and wrack!" + + Pass hence, then, the friends I gathered, a goodly company! + All ye that have manhood in you, go, perish for Liberty! + But I and the babes God gave me will wait with uplifted hearts, + With the firm smile ready to kindle, and the will to perform our parts. + + When the last true heart lies bloodless, when the fierce and the false + have won, + I'll press in turn to my bosom each daughter and either son; + Bid them loose the flag from its bearings, and we'll lay us down to rest + With the glory of home about us, and its freedom locked in our breast. + + + + +WET-WEATHER WORK. + +BY A FARMER. + + +I. + + +It is raining; and being in-doors, I look out from my library-window, +across a quiet country-road, so near that I could toss my pen into the +middle of it. + +A thatched stile is opposite, flanked by a straggling hedge of +Osage-orange; and from the stile the ground falls away in green and +gradual slope to a great plateau of measured and fenced fields, +checkered, a month since, with bluish lines of Swedes, with the ragged +purple of mangels, and the feathery emerald-green of carrots. There are +umber-colored patches of fresh-turned furrows; here and there the mossy, +luxurious verdure of new-springing rye; gray stubble; the ragged brown +of discolored, frost-bitten rag-weed; next, a line of tree-tops, +thickening as they drop to the near bed of a river, and beyond the +river-basin showing again, with tufts of hemlock among naked oaks and +maples; then roofs, cupolas; ambitious lookouts of suburban houses, +spires, belfries, turrets: all these commingling in a long line of +white, brown, and gray, which in sunny weather is backed by purple +hills, and flanked one way by a shining streak of water, and the other +by a stretch of low, wooded mountains that turn from purple to blue, and +so blend with the northern sky. + +Is the picture clear? A road; a farm-flat of party-colored checkers; a +near wood, that conceals the sunken meadow of a river; a farther wood, +that skirts a town,--that seems to overgrow the town, so that only a +confused line of roofs, belfries, spires, towers, rise above the wood; +and these tallest spires and turrets lying in relief against a purple +hill-side, that is as far beyond the town as the town is beyond my +window; and the purple hill-side trending southward to a lake-like gleam +of water, where a light-house shines upon a point; and northward, as I +said, these same purple hills bearing away to paler purple, and then to +blue, and then to haze. + +Thus much is seen, when I look directly eastward; but by an oblique +glance southward (always from my library-window) the checkered farm-land +is repeated in long perspective: here and there is a farm-house with +its clustered out-buildings; here and there a blotch of wood, or of +orcharding; here and there a bright sheen of winter-grain; and the level +ends only where a slight fringe of tree-tops, and the iron cordon of a +railway that leaps over a marshy creek upon trestle-work, separate it +from Long Island Sound. + +To the north, under such oblique glance as can be caught, the farm-lands +in smaller inclosures stretch half a mile to the skirts of a quiet +village. A few tall chimneys smoke there lazily, and below them you see +as many quick and repeated puffs of white steam. Two white spires and +a tower are in bold relief against the precipitous basaltic cliff, at +whose foot the village seems to nestle. Yet the mountain is not wholly +precipitous; for the columnar masses been fretted away by a thousand +frosts, making a sloping _debris_ below, and leaving above the +iron-yellow scars of fresh cleavage, the older blotches of gray, and the +still older stain of lichens. Nor is the summit bald, but tufted with +dwarf cedars and oaks, which, as they file away on either flank, mingle +with a heavier growth of hickories and chest-nuts. A few stunted kalmias +and hemlock-spruces have found foothold in the clefts upon the face of +the rock, showing a tawny green, that blends prettily with the scars, +lichens, and weather-stains of the cliff; all which show under a sunset +light richly and changefully as the breast of a dove. + +But just now there is no glow of sunset; raining still. Indeed, I do not +know why I should have described at such length a mere landscape, (than +which I know few fairer,) unless because of a rainy day it is always +in my eye, and that now, having invited a few outsiders to such +entertainment as may belong to my wet farm-days, I should present to +them at once my oldest acquaintance,--the view from my library-window. + +But as yet it is only coarsely outlined. We may some day return to it +with a fond particularity; for let me warn the reader that I have that +love of such scenes, nay, for the very verdure of the lawn, that I could +put an ink-mark for every blade of the fresh-springing grass, and yet +feel that the tale of its beauty, and of its emerald wealth, were not +half told. + +This day we spend in-doors, and busy ourselves with the whims, +doctrines, and economics of a few + + +OLD-TIME FARMERS. + + +The shelves where they rest in vellum and in dust are only an +arm's-length from the window; so that I can relieve the stiff classicism +of Flaxman's rendering of the "Works and Days," or the tedious iteration +of Columella and Crescenzio, by a glance outside into the rain-cloud, +under which lies always the checkered illustration of the farming of +to-day, and beyond which the spires stand in sentinel. + +Hesiod is currently reckoned one of the oldest farm-writers; but there +is not enough in his homely poem ("Works and Days") out of which to +conjure a farm-system. He gives good advice, indeed, about the weather, +about ploughing when the ground is not too wet, about the proper timber +to put to a plough-beam, about building a house, and taking a bride. +But, on the other hand, he gives very bad advice, where, as in Book II., +(line 244,) he recommends to stint the oxen in winter, and (line 285) to +put three parts of water to the Biblian wine. + +Mr. Gladstone notes the fact that Homer talks only in a grandiose way of +rural life and employments, as if there were no small landholders in his +day; but Hesiod, who must have lived within a century of Homer, with +his modest homeliness, does not confirm this view. He tells us a farmer +should keep two ploughs, and be cautious how he lends either of them. +His household stipulations, too, are most moderate, whether on the score +of the bride, the maid, or the "forty-year-old" ploughman; and for +guardianship of the premises the proprietor is recommended to keep "a +sharp-toothed cur." + +This reminds us how Ulysses, on his return from voyaging, found seated +round his good bailiff Eumaeus four savage watch-dogs, who straightway +(and here Homer must have nodded) attack their old master, and are +driven off only by a good pelting of stones. + +This Eumaeus, by the way, may be regarded as the Homeric representative +farmer, as well as bailiff and swineherd,--the great original of Gurth, +who might have prepared a supper for Cedric the Saxon very much as +Eumaeus extemporized one upon his Greek farm for Ulysses. Pope +shall tell of this bit of cookery in rhyme that has a ring of the +Rappahannock:-- + + "His vest succinct then girding round his waist, + Forth rushed the swain with hospitable haste, + Straight to the lodgements of his herd he run, + Where the fat porkers slept beneath the sun; + Of two his cutlass launched the spouting blood; + These quartered, singed, and fixed on forks of wood, + All hasty on the hissing coals he threw; + And, smoking, back the tasteful viands drew, + Broachers, and all." + +This is roast pig: nothing more elegant or digestible. For the credit of +Greek farmers, I am sorry that Eumaeus has nothing better to offer his +landlord,--the most abominable dish, Charles Lamb and his pleasant +fable to the contrary notwithstanding, that was ever set before a +Christian. + +To return to Hesiod, we suspect that he was only a small farmer--if +he had ever farmed at all--in the foggy latitude of Boeotia, and knew +nothing of the sunny wealth in the south of the peninsula, or of such +princely estates as Eumaeus managed in the Ionian seas. Flaxman has +certainly not given him the look of a large proprietor in his outlines: +his toilet is severely scant, and the old gentleman appears to have lost +two of his fingers in a chaff-cutter. As for Perses, who is represented +as listening to the sage,[A] his dress is in the extreme of classic +scantiness,--being, in fact, a mere night-shirt, and a tight fit at +that. + +[Footnote A: Flaxman's _Illustrations of "Works and Days,"_ Plate I.] + +But we dismiss Hesiod, the first of the heathen farm-writers, with a +loving thought of his pretty Pandora, whom the goddesses so bedecked, +whom Jove looks on (in Flaxman's picture) with such sharp approval, and +whose attributes the poet has compacted into one resonant line, daintily +rendered by Cooke,-- + + "Thus the sex began + A lovely mischief to the soul of man." + +I next beg to pull from his place on the shelf, and to present to the +reader, my friend General Xenophon, a most graceful writer, a capital +huntsman, an able strategist, an experienced farmer, and, if we may +believe Laertius, "handsome beyond expression." + +It is refreshing to find such qualities united in one man at any time, +and doubly refreshing to find them in a person so far removed from the +charities of today that the malcontents cannot pull his character in +pieces. To be sure, he was guilty of a few acts of pillage in the course +of his Persian campaign; but he tells the story of it in his "Anabasis" +with a brave front: his purse was low, and needed replenishment; there +is no cover put up, of disorderly sutlers or camp-followers. + +The farming reputation of the General rests upon his "Economics" and +his horse-treatise ([Greek: Hippikae]). + +Economy has come to have a contorted meaning in our day, as if it +were only--saving. Its true gist is better expressed by the word +_management_; and in that old-fashioned sense it forms a significant +title for Xenophon's book: management of the household, management of +flocks, of servants, of land, of property in general. + +At the very outset we find this bit of practical wisdom, which is put +into the mouth of Socrates, who is replying to Critobulus:--"Those +things should be called goods that are beneficial to the master. Neither +can those lands be called goods which by a man's unskilful management +put him to more expense than he receives profit by them; nor may those +lands be called goods which do not bring a good farmer such a profit as +may give him a good living." + +Thereafter (sec. vii.) he introduces the good Ischomachus, who, it +appears, has a thrifty wife at home, and from that source flow in a +great many capital hints upon domestic management. The apartments, the +exposure, the cleanliness, the order, are all considered in such an +admirably practical, common-sense way as would make the old Greek a good +lecturer to the sewing-circles of our time. And when the wife of +the wise Ischomachus, in an unfortunate moment, puts on _rouge_ +and cosmetics, the grave husband meets her with this complimentary +rebuke:--"Can there be anything in Nature more complete than yourself?" + +"The science of husbandry," he says, and it might be said of the science +in most times, "is extremely profitable to those who understand it; +but it brings the greatest trouble and misery upon those farmers who +undertake it without knowledge." (sec. xv.) + +Where Xenophon comes to speak of the details of farm-labor, of +ploughings and fallowings, there is all that precision and particularity +of mention, added to a shrewd sagacity, which one might look for in the +columns of the "Country Gentleman." He even describes how a field should +be thrown into narrow lands, in order to promote a more effectual +surface-drainage. In the midst of it, however, we come upon a stereorary +maxim, which is, to say the least, of doubtful worth:--"Nor is there any +sort of earth which will not make very rich manure, by being laid a due +time in standing water, till it is fully impregnated with the virtue of +the water." His British translator, Professor Bradley, does, indeed, +give a little note of corroborative testimony. But I would not advise +any active farmer, on the authority either of General Xenophon or of +Professor Bradley, to transport his surface-soil very largely to the +nearest frog-pond, in the hope of finding it transmuted into manure. The +absorptive and retentive capacity of soils is, to be sure, the bone just +now of very particular contention; but whatever that capacity may be, +it certainly needs something more palpable than the virtue of standing +water for its profitable development. + +Here, again, is very neat evidence of how much simple good sense has +to do with husbandry: Socrates, who is supposed to have no particular +knowledge of the craft, says to his interlocutor,--"You have satisfied +me that I am not ignorant in husbandry; and yet I never had any master +to instruct me in it." + +"It is not," says Xenophon, "difference in knowledge or opportunities of +knowledge that makes some farmers rich and others poor; but that which +makes some poor and some rich is that the former are negligent and lazy, +the latter industrious and thrifty." + +Next, we have this masculine _ergo_:--"Therefore we may know that those +who will not learn such sciences as they might get their living by, or +do not fall into husbandry, are either downright fools, or else propose +to get their living by robbery or by begging." (sec. xx.) + +This is a good clean cut at politicians, office-holders, and other +such beggar craft, through more than a score of centuries,--clean as +classicism can make it: the Attic euphony in it, and all the aroma of +age. + +Once more, and it is the last of the "Oeconomica," we give this charming +bit of New-Englandism:--"I remember my father had an excellent rule," +(_Ischomachus loquitur_,) "which he advised me to follow: that, if ever +I bought any land, I should by no means purchase that which had been +already well-improved, but should choose such as had never been tilled, +either through neglect of the owner, or for want of capacity to do it; +for he observed, that, if I were to purchase improved grounds, I must +pay a high price for them, and then I could not propose to advance their +value, and must also lose the pleasure of improving them myself, or of +seeing them thrive better by my endeavors." + +When Xenophon wrote his rural treatises, (including the [Greek: +Kunaegetikos],) he was living in that delightful region of country which +lies westward of the mountains of Arcadia, looking toward the Ionian +Sea. Here, too, he wrote the story of his retreat, and his wanderings +among the mountains of Armenia; here he talked with his friends, and +made other such _symposia_ as he has given us a taste of at the house of +Callias the Athenian; here he ranged over the whole country-side with +his horses and dogs: a stalwart and lithe old gentleman, without a +doubt; able to mount a horse or to manage one, with the supplest of the +grooms; and with a keen eye, as his book shows, for the good points in +horse-flesh. A man might make a worse mistake than to buy a horse after +Xenophon's instructions, to-day. A spavin or a wind-gall did not escape +the old gentleman's eye, and he never bought a horse without proving his +wind and handling him well about the mouth and ears. His grooms were +taught their duties with nice speciality: the mane and tail to be +thoroughly washed; the food and bed to be properly and regularly +prepared; and treatment to be always gentle and kind. + +Exception may perhaps be taken to his doctrine in regard to +stall-floors. Moist ones, he says, injure the hoof: "Better to have +stones inserted in the ground close to one another, equal in size to +their hoofs; for such stalls consolidate the hoofs of those standing on +them, beside strengthening the hollow of the foot." + +After certain directions for rough riding and leaping, he advises +hunting through thickets, if wild animals are to be found. Otherwise, +the following pleasant diversion is named, which I beg to suggest to +sub-lieutenants in training for dragoon-service:--"It is a useful +exercise for two horsemen to agree between themselves, that one shall +retire through all sorts of rough places, and as he flees, is to turn +about from time to time and present his spear; and the other shall +pursue, having javelins blunted with balls, and a spear of the same +description, and whenever he comes within javelin-throw, he is to hurl +the blunted weapon at the party retreating, and whenever he comes within +spear-reach, he is to strike him with it." + +Putting aside his horsemanship, in which he must have been nearly +perfect, there was very much that was grand about the old Greek,--very +much that makes us strangely love the man, who, when his soldiers lay +benumbed under the snows on the heights of Armenia, threw off his +general's coat, or blanket, or what not, and set himself resolutely to +wood-chopping and to cheering them. The farmer knew how. + +Such men win battles. He has his joke, too, with Cheirisophus, the +Lacedaemonian, about the thieving propensity of his townspeople, and +invites him, in virtue of it, to _steal_ a difficult march upon the +enemy. And Cheirisophus grimly retorts upon Xenophon, that Athenians are +said to be great experts in stealing the public money, especially the +high officers. This sounds home-like! When I come upon such things, I +forget the parasangs and the Taochians and the dead Cyrus, and seem to +be reading out of American newspapers. + +It is quite out of the question to claim Theocritus as a farm-writer; +and yet in all old literature there is not to be found such a lively +bevy of heifers, and wanton kids, and "butting rams," and stalwart +herdsmen, who milk the cows "upon the sly," as in the "Idyls" of the +musical Sicilian. + +There is no doubt but Theocritus knew the country to a charm: he knew +all its roughnesses, and the thorns that scratched the bare legs of the +goatherds; he knew the lank heifers, that fed, "like grasshoppers," only +on dew; he knew what clatter the brooks made, tumbling headlong adown +the rocks,-- + + [Greek: apo tus petras kataleibetai ypsothen ydor] + +he knew, moreover, all the charms and coyness of the country-nymphs, +giving even a rural twist to his praises of the courtly Helen:-- + + "In shape, in height, in stately presence + fair, + Straight as a furrow gliding from the + share."[B] + +[Footnote B: Elton's translation, I think. I do not vouch for its +correctness.] + +A man must have had an eye for good ploughing and a lithe figure, as +well as a keen scent for the odor of fresh-turned earth, to make such a +comparison as that! + +Theocritus was no French sentimentalist; he would have protested against +the tame elegancies of the Roman Bucolics; and the _sospiri ardenti_ and +_miserelli aman_ of Guarini would have driven him mad. He is as brisk as +the wind upon a breezy down. His cow-tenders are swart and bare-legged, +and love with a vengeance. There is no miserable tooting upon flutes, +but an uproarious song that shakes the woods; and if it comes to a +matter of kissing, there are no "reluctant lips," but a smack that makes +the vales resound. + +It is no Boucher we have here, nor Watteau: cosmetics and rosettes are +far away; tunics are short, and cheeks are nut-brown. It is Teniers, +rather:--boors, indeed; but they are live boors, and not manikin +shepherds. + +I shall call out another Sicilian here, named Moschus, were it only +for his picture of a fine, sturdy bullock: it occurs in his "Rape of +Europa":-- + + "With yellow hue his sleekened body beams; + His forehead with a snowy circle gleams; + Horns, equal-bending, from his brow emerge, + And to a moonlight crescent orbing verge." + +Nothing can be finer than the way in which this "milky steer," with +Europa on his back, goes sailing over the brine, his "feet all oars." +Meantime, she, the pretty truant, + + "Grasps with one hand his curved projecting horn, + And with the other closely drawn compressed + The fluttering foldings of her purple vest, + Whene'er its fringed hem was dashed with dew + Of the salt sea-foam that in circles flew: + Wide o'er Europa's shoulders to the gale + The ruffled robe heaved swelling, like a sail." + +Moschus is as rich as the Veronese at Venice; and his picture is truer +to the premium standard. The painting shows a pampered animal, with +over-red blotches on his white hide, and is by half too fat to breast +such "salt sea-foam" as flashes on the Idyl of Moschus. + +Another poet, Aratus of Cilicia, whose very name has a smack of tillage, +has left us a book about the weather [Greek: Dosaemeia] which is +quite as good to mark down a hay-day by as the later meteorologies of +Professor Espy or Judge Butler. + +Besides which, our friend Aratus holds the abiding honor of having been +quoted by St. Paul, in his speech to the Athenians on Mars Hill:-- + +"For in Him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain also of +your own poets have said: 'For we are also His offspring.'" + +And Aratus, (after Elton,)-- + + "On thee our being hangs; in thee we move; + All are thy offspring, and the seed of Jove." + +Scattered through the lesser Greek poets, and up and down the Anthology, +are charming bits of rurality, redolent of the fields and of field-life, +with which it would be easy to fill up the measure of this rainy day, +and beat off the Grecian couplets to the tinkle of the eave-drops. Up +and down, the cicada chirps; the locust, "encourager of sleep," sings +his drowsy song; boozy Anacreon flings grapes; the purple violets and +the daffodils crown the perfumed head of Heliodora; and the reverent +Simonides likens our life to the grass. + +Nor will I part company with these, or close up the Greek ranks +of farmers, (in which I must not forget the great schoolmaster, +Theophrastus,) until I cull a sample of the Anthology, and plant it +for a guidon at the head of the column,--a little bannerol of music, +touching upon our topic, as daintily as the bees touch the flowering +tips of the wild thyme. + +It is by Zonas the Sardian:-- + + [Greek: Ai o agete nxouthai oimblaeides akra melissai, + _K.T.L.,] + +and the rendering by Mr. Hay:-- + + "Ye nimble honey-making bees, the flowers are in their prime; + Come now and taste the little buds of sweetly breathing thyme, + Of tender poppies all so fair, or bits of raisin sweet, + Or down that decks the apple tribe, or fragrant violet; + Come, nibble on,--your vessels store with honey while you can, + In order that the hive-protecting, bee-preserving Pan + May have a tasting for himself, and that the hand so rude, + That cuts away the comb, may leave yourselves some little food." + +Leaving now this murmur of the bees upon the banks of the Pactolus, +will slip over-seas to Tusculum, where Cato was born, who was the oldest +of the Roman writers upon agriculture; and thence into the Sabine +territory, where, upon an estate of his father's, in the midst of the +beautiful country lying northward of the Monte Gennaro, (the Lucretilis +of Horace,) he learned the art of good farming. + +In what this art consisted in his day, he tells us in short, crackling +speech;--"_Primum_, bene arare; _secundum_, arare; _tertium_, +stercorare." For the rest, he says, choose good seed, sow thickly, and +pull all the weeds. Nothing more would be needed to grow as good a crop +upon the checkered plateau under my window as ever fattened among the +Sabine Hills. + +Has the art come to a stand-still, then; and shall we take to reading +Cato on fair days, as well as rainy? + +There has been advance, without doubt; but all the advance in the world +would not take away the edge from truths, stated as Cato knew how to +state them. There is very much of what is called Agricultural Science, +nowadays, which is--rubbish. Science is sound, and agriculture always an +honest art; but the mixture, not uncommonly, is bad,--no fair marriage, +but a monstrous concubinage, with a monstrous progeny of muddy treatises +and disquisitions which confuse more than they instruct. In contrast +with such, it is no wonder that the observations of such a man as Cato, +whose energies had been kept alive by service in the field, and whose +tongue had been educated in the Roman Senate, should carry weight with +them. The grand truths on which successful agriculture rests, and which +simple experience long ago demonstrated, cannot be kept out of view, nor +can they be dwarfed by any imposition of learning. Science may explain +them, or illustrate or extend; but it cannot shake their preponderating +influence upon the crop of the year. As respects many other arts, +the initial truths may be lost sight of, and overlaid by the mass +of succeeding developments,--not falsified, but so belittled as +practically to be counted for nothing. In this respect, agriculture is +exceptional. The old story is always the safe story: you must plough and +plough again; and manure; and sow good seed, and enough; and pull the +weeds; and as sure as the rain falls, the crop will come. + +Many nice additions to this method of treatment, which my fine-farming +friends will suggest, are anticipated by the old Roman, if we look far +enough into his book. Thus, he knew the uses of a harrow; he knew the +wisdom of ploughing in a green crop; he had steeps for his seed; he knew +how to drain off the surface-water,--nay, there is very much in his +account of the proper preparation of ground for olive-trees, or +vine-setting, which looks like a mastery of the principles that govern +the modern system of drainage.[C] + +[Footnote C: XLIII. "Sulcos, si locus aquosus erit, alveatos esse +oportet," etc.] + +Of what particular service recent investigations in science have been to +the practical farmer, and what positive and available aid, beyond what +could be derived from a careful study of the Roman masters, they put +into the hands of an intelligent worker, who is tilling ground simply +for pecuniary advantage, I shall hope to inquire and discourse upon, +some other day: when that day comes, we will fling out the banner of the +nineteenth century, and give a gun to Liebig, and Johnson, and the rest. + +Meantime, as a farmer who endeavors to keep posted in all the devices +for pushing lands which have an awkward habit of yielding poor crops +into the better habit of yielding large ones, I will not attempt to +conceal the chagrin with which I find this curmudgeon of a Roman +Senator, living two centuries before Christ, and northward of Monte +Gennaro, who never heard of "Hovey's Root-Cutter," or of the law of +primaries, laying down rules[D] of culture so clear, so apt, so full, +that I, who have the advantages of two thousand years, find nothing in +them to laugh at, unless it be a few oblations to the gods;[E] and this, +considering that I am just now burning a little incense (Havana) to the +nymph Volutia, is uncalled for. + +[Footnote D: This mention, of course, excludes the Senator's _formulae_ +for unguents, aperients, cattle-nostrums, and pickled pork.] + +[Footnote E: CXXXIV. Cato, _De Re Rustica_.] + +And if Senator Cato were to wake up to-morrow, in the white house that +stares through the rain yonder, and were to open his little musty vellum +of slipshod maxims, and, in faith of it, start a rival farm in the bean +line, or in vine-growing,--keeping clear of the newspapers,--I make no +doubt but he would prove as thrifty a neighbor as my good friend the +Deacon. + +We nineteenth-century men, at work among our cabbages, clipping off the +purslane and the twitch-grass, are disposed to assume a very complacent +attitude, as we lean upon our hoe-handles,--as if we were doing tall +things in the way of illustrating physiology and the cognate sciences. +But the truth is, old Laertes, near three thousand years ago, in his +slouch cap and greasy beard, was hoeing up in the same way his purslane +and twitch-grass, in his bean-patch on the hills of Ithaca. The +difference between us, so far as the crop and the tools go, is, after +all, ignominiously small. _He_ dreaded the weevil in his beans, and _we_ +the club-foot in our cabbages; _we_ have the "Herald," and _he_ had +none; _we_ have "Plantation-Bitters," and _he_ had his jug of the +Biblian wine. + +M. Varro, another Roman farmer, lies between the same covers "De Re +Rustica" with Cato, and seems to have had more literary tact, though +less of blunt sagacity. Yet he challenges at once our confidence by +telling us so frankly the occasion of his writing upon such a subject. +Life, he says, is a bubble,--and the life of an old man a bubble about +to break. He is eighty, and must pack his luggage to go out of this +world. ("_Annus octogesimus admonet me, ut sarcinas colligam antequam +proficiscar e vita_.") Therefore he, writes down for his wife, Fundania, +the rules by which she may manage the farm. + +And a very respectably old lady she must have been, to deal with the +_villici_ and the _coloni_, if her age bore suitable relation to that +of her husband. The ripe maturity of many of the rural writers I have +introduced cannot fail to strike one. Thus, Xenophon gained a strength +in his Elian fields that carried him into the nineties; Cato lived to be +over eighty; and now we have Varro, writing his book out by Tusculum at +eighty, and surviving to counsel with Fundania ten years more. Pliny, +too, (the elder,) who, if not a farmer, had his country-seats, and left +very much to establish our acquaintance with the Roman rural life, was +a hale, much-enduring man, of such soldierly habits and large +abstemiousness as to warrant a good fourscore,--if he had not fallen +under that murderous cloud of ashes from Mount Vesuvius, in the year 79. + +The poets, doubtless, burnt out earlier, as they usually do. Virgil, +whom I shall come to speak of presently, certainly did: he died at +fifty-one. Tibullus, whose opening Idyl is as pretty a bit of gasconade +about living in a cottage in the country, upon love and a few +vegetables, as a maiden could wish for, did not reach the fifties; and +Martial, whose "Faustine Villa," if nothing else, entitles him to rural +oblation, fell short of the sixties. + +Varro indulges in some sharp sneers at those who had written on the same +subject before him. This was natural enough in a man of his pursuits: he +had written four hundred books! + +Of Columella we know scarcely more than that he lived somewhere about +the time of Tiberius, that he was a man of wealth, that he travelled +extensively through Gaul, Italy, and Greece, observing intelligently +different methods of culture, and that he has given the fullest existing +compend of ancient agriculture. In his chapter upon Gardening he warms +into hexameters; but the rest is stately and euphonious prose. In his +opening chapter, he does not forego such praises of the farmer's life +as sound like a lawyer's address before a county-society on a fair-day. +Cincinnatus and his plough come in for it; and Fabricius and Curius +Dentatus; with which names, luckily, our orators cannot whet their +periods, since Columella's mention of them is about all we know of their +farming. + +He falls into the way, moreover, of lamenting, as people obstinately +continue to do, the "good old times," when men were better than "now," +and when the reasonable delights of the garden and the fields engrossed +them to the neglect of the circus and the theatres. But when he opens +upon his subject proper, it is in grandiose, Spanish style, (he was +a native of Cadiz,) with a maxim broad enough to cover all possible +conditions:--"_Qui studium agricolationi dederit, sciat haec sibi +advocanda: prudentiam rei, facultatem impendendi voluntatem agendi_." +Or, as Tremellius says,--"That man will master the business, _qui et +colere sciet, et poterit, et volet_." + +This is comprehensive, if not encouraging. That "_facultatem +impendendi_" is a tremendous bolster to farming as to anything else; it +is only another shape of the "_poterit_," and the "_poterit"_ only +a scholarly rendering of pounds and pence. As if Tremellius had +said,--That man will make his way at farming who understands the +business, who has the money to apply to it, and who is willing to bleed +freely. + +With a kindred sagacity this shrewd Roman advises a man to slip upon his +farm often, in order that his steward may keep sharply at his work; he +even suggests that the landlord make a feint of coming, when he has no +intention thereto, that he may gain a day's alertness from the bailiff. +The book is of course a measure of the advances made in farming during +the two hundred years elapsed since Cato's time; but those advances were +not great. There was advance in power to systematize facts, advance in +literary aptitude, but no very noticeable gain in methods of culture. +Columella gives the results of wider observation, and of more persistent +study; but, for aught I can see, a man could get a crop of lentils +as well with Cato as with Columbia; a man would house his flocks and +servants as well out of the one as the other; in short, a man would grow +into the "_facultatem impendendi_" as swiftly under the teachings of the +Senator as of the later writer of the reign of Tiberius. + +It is but dull work to follow those teachings; here and there I warm +into a little sympathy, as I catch sight, in his Latin dress, of our +old friend _Curculio;_ here and there I sniff a fruit that seems +familiar,--as the _fraga_, or a _morum;_ and here and there comes +blushing into the crabbed text the sweet name of some home-flower,--a +lily, a narcissus, or a rose. The chief value of the work of Columella, +however, lies in its clear showing-forth of the relative importance +given to different crops, under Roman culture, and to the raising of +cattle, poultry, fish, etc.; as compared with crops. Knowing this, we +know very much that will help us toward an estimate of the domestic life +of the Romans. We learn, with surprise, how little they regarded their +oxen, save as working-animals,--whether the milk-white steers of +Clitumnus, or the dun Campanian cattle, whose descendants show their +long-horned stateliness to this day in the Roman forum. The sheep, too, +whether of Tarentum or of Canusium, were regarded as of value chiefly +for their wool and milk; and it is surely amazing, that men who could +appreciate the iambics of Horace and the eloquence of Cicero should +have shown so little fancy for a fat saddle of mutton or for a mottled +sirloin of beef. + +I change from Columella to Virgil, and from Virgil back to some pleasant +Idyl of Tibullus, and from Tibullus to the pretty prate of Horace about +the Sabine Hills; I stroll through Pliny's villa, eying the clipped +box-trees; I hear the rattle in the tennis-court; I watch the tall Roman +girls-- + + "Grandes virgines proborum colonorum"-- + +marching along with their wicker-baskets filled with curds and +fresh-plucked thrushes, until there comes over me a confusion of times +and places. + +--The sound of the battle of to-day dies; the fresh blood-stains +fade; and I seem to wake upon the heights of Tusculum, in the days of +Tiberius. The farm-flat below is a miniature Campagna, along which I +see stretching straight to the city the shining pavement of the Via +Tusculana. The spires yonder melt into mist, and in place of them I see +the marble house-walls of which Augustus boasted. As yet the grander +monuments of the Empire are not built; but there is a blotch of cliff +which may be the Tarpeian Rock, and beside it a huge hulk of building on +the Capitoline Hill, where sat the Roman Senate. A little hitherward are +the gay turrets of the villa of Maecenas, and of the princely houses on +the Palatine Hill, and in the foreground the stately tomb of Cecilia +Metella. I see the barriers of a hippodrome, (where now howling +jockeys make the twilight hideous); a _gestatio_, with its lines +of cherry-trees, is before me, and the velvety lavender-green of +olive-orchards covers the hills behind. Vines grow upon the slope +eastward,-- + + "Neve tibi ad solem vergant vineta cadentem,"-- + +twining around, and flinging off a great wealth of tendrils from their +supporting-poles (_pedamenta_). The figs begin to show the purple bloom +of fruitage, and the _villicus_, who has just now come in from the +_atriolum_, reports a good crop, and asks if it would not be well to +apply a few loads of marl (_tofacea_) to the summer fallow, which Cato +is just now breaking up with the Campanian steers, for barley. + +Scipio, a stanch Numidian, has gone to market with three asses loaded +with cabbages and asparagus. Villicus tells me that the poultry in the +fattening-coops (as close-shut as the Strasburg geese)[F] are doing +well, and he has added a _soupcon_ of sweetening to their barley-gruel. +The young doves have their legs faithfully broken, ("_obteras crura_") +and are placidly fattening on their stumps. The thrush-house is properly +darkened, only enough light entering to show the food to some three or +four thousand birds, which are in course of cramming for the market. The +_cochlearium_ has a good stock of snails and mussels; and the little +dormice are growing into fine condition for an approaching Imperial +banquet. + +[Footnote F: "Locus ad hanc rem desideratur maxime calidus, et minimi +luminis, in quo singulae caveis angustioribus vel sportis inclusae +pendeant aves, sed ita coarctatae, _ne versari posslnt_."--Columella, +Lib. VIII. cap. vii.] + +Villicus reports the clip of the Tarentine sheep unusually fine, and +free from burrs. The new must is all a-foam in the _vinaria;_ and around +the inner cellar (_gaudendem est!_) there is a tier of urns, as large as +school-boys, brimming with ripe Falernian. + +If it were not stormy, I might order out the farm-chariot, or +_curriculum_, which is, after all, but a low, dumpy kind of horse-cart, +and take a drive over the lava pavement of the Via Tusculana, to learn +what news is astir, and what the citizens talk of in the forum. Is all +quiet upon the Rhine? How is it possibly with Germanicus? And what of +that story of the arrest of Seneca? It could hardly have happened, they +say, in the good old days of the Republic. + +And with this mention, as with the sound of a gun, the Roman pastoral +dream is broken. The Campagna, the olive-orchards, the _columbarium_, +fall back to their old places in the blurred type of Columella. The +Campanian steers are unyoked, and stabled in the text of Varro. The +turrets of the villa of Maecenas, and of the palaces of Sylla and the +Caesars, give place to the spires of a New-England town,--southward of +which I see through the mist a solitary flag flying over a soldiers' +hospital. It reminds of nearer and deadlier perils than ever environed +the Roman Republic,--perils out of which if the wisdom and courage of +the people do not find a way, some new Caesar will point it with the +sword. + +Looking northward, I see there is a bight of blue in the sky; and a lee +set of dark-gray and purple clouds is folding down over the eastern +horizon,--against which the spires and the flag show clearer than ever. +It means that the rain has stopped; and the rain having stopped, my +in-door work is done. + + * * * * * + + +GOLDEN WEDDING. + + +The reader whose eye is arrested by my title will doubtless anticipate a +romance on that ever-old, ever-new theme of a certain god with a torch +leading two souls bound together by iron concealed in flower-wreaths, +until, alas! life seems ordinary enough to be symbolized by _tin_,--of +the tin-wedding entering into the refiner's fire, and, by sure +transmutation, rising from the baser metal to the paler, but purer +silver,--of the subtile alchemy of years, which, in human life's great +crucible, + + "Transmute, so potent are the spells they know + Into pure gold the silver of to-day." + +Perhaps, reader, you are not altogether to be disappointed; and yet, for +the present, it is only a glass of sparkling wine I wish you to take +with me. You will please read on that delicate strip of paper around the +bottle's neck the name in gilt,--"Golden Wedding." At once you +grow transcendental, and suppose that some German vine-dresser in +Catawba-land--by the way, Gerritt Smith's gardener is a nephew of +Schiller!--was dreaming of the marriage of the Sun with the Vine, his +darling plant, in whose juice linger and sparkle the light and joy of +many faded days. But no, it was named from a real Golden Wedding. + +Let me take you--as the clairvoyants say--to a large, sooty, toiling +city in the West. From street to street you shall go, and see but little +to excite your admiration, unless you are a constant believer that _work +is worship_. But here, in the centre of the city, is a noble old mansion +with its beautiful park around it, which a traveller who saw it once +compared to a pearl on the breast of a blacksmith. Here it was that the +Golden Wedding took place. + +Who that was there can ever forget it? In my own memory that throng of +the worthy, the beautiful, the gay of a great city will stand as the one +fulfilment which Fate has given me of many Oriental promissory dreams, +most of which she has failed to honor. In that great company you might +have traced all the circles of that city's growth, as you may trace a +tree's history in its rings. That lady there was the first white baby +born here, where now over two hundred thousand human beings reside. Here +are the pioneers who filled the first log-huts on the city's site, +until they overflowed through the roofs. And here is an inner circle of +children, and an outer one of grandchildren, about the two who are the +heart of this beautiful celebration. Can that lovely, erect, blooming +lady be a bride of fifty years? Looking at her, one would say it is a +great and unnecessary mistake of ours to grow old. But more closely must +we look at that quaint old man by her side. Lately he has passed away; +but every day of his long life left a trace worthy to be noted well. His +eighty years and twenty-five days of life comprise an epitome of the +history and growth of a great community. Not so would you at first +interpret that plain old man; though, to a knowing eye, that eye, clear +with looking at the duty that lies nearest, that mouth, telling of +patient, unimpulsive energy, that broadness about the brow, would be +guaranties of a marked life. + +And now for my story, which you must let me tell in a rambling way; for +any systematic biography of that man would be like putting one of his +own Catawba-vines into your herbarium. + +I introduce you to a fair-haired, handsome youth, on the deck of a small +steamboat, which is bearing him to his fortune in the great West. He is +penniless. His father was wealthy; but in the war he was a Tory, and, in +the confiscation of his property, his sin was visited upon his son. But +he was not the boy to repine, with youth and the great West before him. +And now as from the steamer's deck he sees a fine landscape with a few +log-houses on it, he believes that it is one day to be a great city, and +concludes to stop there. So he is put ashore with his trunk. + +He has already determined to study law. He goes to the one judge +who resides there, and is taken as a student into his office. More +log-houses are built; a court-house is erected; and presently that +institution at sight of which the shipwrecked Englishman fell on his +knees and thanked God he was in a Christian land--the gallows--made its +appearance. So the young man had a fair practice. + +The records of the West, if they are ever written, will testify how +often whimsical Fortune thrusts her favors on men against their will. +This very judge with whom our youth studied law became environed with +pecuniary difficulties, and wished once to satisfy a claim of a few +hundred dollars by deeding away a sheep-pasture of a few acres, which +was of no sort of use to him. But when he went to get his wife's +signature to the conveyance, she burst into tears; she knew, she said, +that the pasture was worthless; but she had in her childhood heard there +the tinkling of the bells of her father's sheep; it was very foolish, +she knew, but now that they had all passed away, the bells over in the +pasture tinkled on in her memory, and she hated to give it up. The kind +husband would not insist, but went sadly to his work. It was not long +before the sheep-pasture was worth a million dollars! Sentiment, you +see, is not always an unproductive article. + +But this case was scarcely so curious as that which presently thrust a +goodly capital on the hands of our young law-student. His first case in +the court was that of a horse-thief, whom he induced a jury to acquit. +When he came to his client for a fee, the scapegrace whispered that +he had nothing on earth wherewith to pay the fee except two old +whiskey-stills and--_a horse_. When he heard this last word, the +lawyer's conscience gave him a twinge. After a moment's reflection, he +said,--"You will need the horse; and you had best make him take you as +far as possible from this region of country. I must be satisfied with +the whiskey-stills." It was not for a long time that he thought even to +inquire about the stills. When he did so, he found them in possession +of a man who implored him not to take them away, and promised to pay +something for them. Finding that he could not do this, he begged our +hero to accept as payment for them a few acres of barren land, which, +with great reluctance, he agreed to do. Erelong the tide of emigration +set westward, and this land is to-day worth two million dollars! + +But his subsequent life showed that the man's fortune was not luck; for +by economy, not by hoarding,--by foresight, and a generous trust to all +laborers who wished to lease lands, his wealth grew to nearly fifteen +million dollars. + +When he found that he had enough to live comfortably upon, he retired +from the bar, and devoted himself to horticulture. He found that the +region in which he lived was adapted to the growth of the vine, and +began his experiments, which, during his life, extended to the culture +of more than forty varieties. He laid before the community, from time to +time, a report of his successes, he called on all to come and taste the +wines he made, until the tidings went over the earth, and from Germany, +France, Italy, came vine-dressers and wine-makers, who covered every +hill-side for miles around him with vintages. + +Those who came from afar to inquire into this new branch of industry, +for which he had opened the way, were surprised to meet the +millionnaire, the Catawba-Prince, in his plain garb and with his humble +habits. + +How many stories I could tell you of this unintentional, odd homeliness +of manner and life, from which he never departed, and which those around +him found it impossible to depart from, even in respect to the style of +the coffin in which he was laid, and the procession which followed him +to the beautiful cemetery! His dress was always that of a man of the +humblest fortunes; and Dame Gossip says that he was so fond of his old +coat, that, when a change became absolutely necessary, his daughters +were obliged to prepare the new one, and substitute it for the old +whilst he was asleep, so that in the morning he should put it on +unconsciously, or, if he discovered the change; must wear the new or +none. The same dame has it that a youth, who afterward became his +son-in-law, having caught sight somewhere of one of the old man's +daughters, desired to know her, and that, in the park, which was open to +all, he met the old gentleman, whom he supposed to be the gardener, and +offered him a bribe, if he would bring the lady out among the roses. The +old man accepted the bribe, and returned with the lady, whom, with a +sly twinkle of the eye, he introduced as "my daughter" to the blushing +youth. And again it is told, that once, on a very warm day, the old man, +having to wait for a friend, sat down on a stone just outside of his own +gate, took off his hat, and, closing his eyes, dozed a little. When he +got up, he found a silver quarter in his hat. Whether it was put there +by some one who really thought he was an object of charity, or by a wag, +the old man appreciated the joke, and, with a smile, put it into the +pocket out of which had to come forty thousand dollars for annual taxes. +These stories may or may not be true; but in some sense such stories +have a certain truth, whether invented or not. They can live and +circulate only in a community where they are characteristic of the +person of whom they are told. Generous men are not pursued by stories of +parsimony; mean men never hear even untrue stories of their generosity. + +And this last remark leads me to speak of the relation in which the +wealthiest man of the West stood to the throngs of the poor and the +suffering who surrounded him. + +If, in the city, you had gone to the President of the Boorioboola-Gha +Sewing-Circle, or to the Tract-Society Rooms, or to the clergy, and +inquired whether the city's richest man was charitable, you would have +received an ominous shrug in reply. Vainly have they gone to him for any +such charities. Vainly did they go to him for some "poor, but worthy and +Christian woman." + +"I will give nothing," he replied; "there are enough who will give to +her; what I have to give shall go to the _unworthy_ poor, whom none +will help,--the Devil's poor, Sir,--those whom Christians leave to the +Devil." + +Many a minister has been sorely puzzled by the receipt of a fifty-dollar +bill "for the relief of the depraved." His office was constantly +thronged with outcasts, who were generally relieved by small sums. In +his relations with these people, his simplicity and eccentricity were +noted by all who knew him. Among many stories which I know to be true, I +select the following. + +Some six or eight years ago the winter was very cold; the river was +frozen, and all the "wharf-rats" were thrown out of work. A near +relative of the old gentleman came to the city, and passed the night at +his house. After tea he sauntered to the office to take a quiet cigar. +To his surprise, he found it filled with a crowd--more than fifty--of +brawny, beastly-looking men. The presence of the childlike old man, his +face beaming with shrewdness and kindly humor, seemed alone to keep them +from being a mob. His manner to them said,--"You poor wretches, I know +how reckless you are; yet I am not sure but I should be as bad, had I +been exposed to the same bad influences." These houseless vagrants had +been coming every night, while the river was frozen, to get a dime for a +night's lodging. + +The young man had been forced by the unpleasantness of the crowd to go +and enjoy his cigar outside. As he sat there, the ugly crowd filed out +quietly, each with his dime, (the clerk distributing,) till the last +man. He seemed to feel very ill-used, and was scarcely clear of the +door-way before he gave vent to his indignation:--"I'll be d----d, if I +don't let Old ---- know that I won't be put off with a five-cent piece +and a three-cent piece! Let me ketch him out, and I'll mash his," etc., +etc. + +Glowing with righteous indignation, and glad of the opportunity, the +young relative rushed in and exclaimed,-- + +"Mr. ----! I have had many occasions to remonstrate with you on your +indiscriminate charities, your encouragement of beggary and vice. The +wretch who went out last is breathing threats of personal violence +against you, because he has been put off with a five-cent piece and a +three-cent piece!" + +How was the indignant remonstrant mortified, when the old man simply +turned his head to the clerk and said,-- + +"Mark, why did you not give that man his dime?" + +"I had given out all the dimes, Sir, and I gave him all I had left." + +"See that he gets his extra two cents the next time he comes. I have no +doubt I should have been mad, if I had been in his place." + +A forlorn-looking man once came and asked for help. + +"I am afraid to give you money. I think I know how you will spend it." + +Of course the man protested that strong drink was an abomination unto +him,--that what his nature most craved was "pure, fresh milk." + +The old man, with a look in which it would be hard to say whether +shrewdness or credulity predominated, at once hastened to the +milk-cellar and returned with a glass of milk; the fellow swallowed the +dose with an eager reluctance quite comical to behold, but which excited +no movement in the muscles of the old gentleman's face. + +On a raw, wet winter's day, a loafer applied for a pair of shoes. He had +on an old, shambling pair, out at both toes. The old Wine-Prince was +sitting with a pair of slippers on, and had his own shoes warming at the +fire. + +"Well," said he to the applicant, "you do look rather badly off, for +such a cold, wet day; here, see if these shoes will fit you," handing +his own. + +The fellow tried them on and pronounced them a complete fit, and went on +his way rejoicing. The clerk was amused, half an hour after, to see the +old gentleman searching for his shoes and wondering what had become of +them. He was reminded that he had given them to the beggar. On further +inquiry, he found that he had no other pair in the house. + +The following significant story was told me by the son of the old man. I +present it in nearly his own words. + +"Adjoining me in the country lives an old German who nearly seventy +years ago was _sold_ in New York for his passage. A confectioner of +Baltimore bought him for seven years' service, and he went with his +master to fulfil his obligation. When his time was out, he turned his +face towards the setting sun, and started to seek his fortune. On +arriving in Pittsburg, having no money, he engaged to 'work his way' +down the river on a flat-boat. He stopped at the little village, as our +city then was, and opened a shop. He was skilful, and succeeded. He came +to my father, and bought, on ten years' credit, a place in the country, +where, in course of time, he built a house, and, with my father's +assistance, planted a vineyard. He then gave up all other business but +that of the vine-dresser. + +"One day, in the autumn, a few years ago, I overtook the old man on +horseback, on his way to town. After wishing me a cheery good-morning, +he said,-- + +"'I am on my way to town, to sell your father my wine.' + +"'He will be glad to get it; he is buying wine, and yours is made so +carefully that he will be glad to have it.' + +"'I mean to sell it to him for fifty cents a gallon.' + +"'Oh,' said I, 'don't offer it at that. I know he is paying double that +sum.' + +"'Nevertheless, I mean to sell it to him for half a dollar.' + +"I looked inquiringly. + +"'Well, Sir, I was but a boy when I left Germany; but I was old +enough to remember that a man, after a hard day's work, could go to a +wine-house, and for two cents could get a tumblerful. It did him good, +and he went home to his family fresher and brighter for his wine. He +was never drunk, and never wasted his earnings to appease a diseased +appetite. I want to see that state of things brought about here. Our +poor people drink whiskey. I want them to have cheap wine in its place. +Fifty cents a gallon will pay me well this year for my capital and +labor, and next year I think I can sell it for forty cents.' + +"'But, my friend, see how this will work. You will sell your wine to Mr. +---- for fifty cents; and he will send it to his wine-cellar, and they +will bottle it and sell it for all they can get.' + +"'That's _their_ lookout,' said the Teuton; 'I shall have done my duty.' + +"It was rather hard to get an advantage of my father, but I thought now +I had him. On reaching the city, I sought him out, and told the story +with all its circumstances. + +"'Now, Sir, in presence of the example of this old German,--sold in New +York for his passage, faithfully fulfilling the years of his servitude, +working his way to a small competency by savings and industry,--will you +dare to let the world hear of you, a rich man, making a profit on wine?' + +"The old man's eye dropped an instant, then he said,-- + +"'My son, Heaven knows I do not wish to make money out of wine. I have +given much time and much money for the last fifty years to make this +doubtful experiment successful. I have paid high prices for wine, and +used all other means in my power to make it remunerative,--to induce +others to plant vineyards. If I should now take your suggestion and +bring wine down to a low price, I should ruin the enterprise. But let +the extended cultivation of the grape be once firmly established, and +then competition will bring it low enough.' + +"'Well,' said I, 'that may be good worldly wisdom; but I like the spirit +of the old Dutchman better, after all.' + +"'There I agree with you; for once, you are right.'" + +A most careful accountant has shown that his contributions to +grape-culture amounted to one-fourth of his whole fortune: a clear loss +to him, but not to the public. + +Though the lips of Christendom repeat, Sunday after Sunday, the warning +that the left hand should not know what the right hand doeth, yet it is +very apt to judge of a man's liberality by the paragraphs concerning him +in the newspapers. The old gentleman once gave his city several acres of +land for an observatory which was to be erected; and there is no doubt +that he had reason to conclude, as have others, that it was the worst, +as it was the most public, charity of his life. That his private +charities were numerous and without self-crediting, the present writer +_happens_ to know. Once, after going through the great wine-cellar where +millions were coined, I went through the barracks in the upper portion +of the same building, where a wretched tenantry of the Devil's poor +lived in squalor. Each of these families was required to pay room-rent +to the millionnaire. As I passed along, I found one man and woman in +wrathful distress. They must pay their rent, or be turned out of their +rooms. The rent was two or three dollars. I said,-- + +"The old gentleman will not turn you out." + +"You do not know him; he will be sure to, if we do not pay him every +cent." + +I determined to search him out and represent the case. I could not find +him; but before I concluded my search, I found that the poor people had +been compelled to sell a table and some chairs to pay the rent. The next +day I saw them again, and found them heartily abusing the old man as +"a stingy brute," who would "sell the chairs from under them." Yet I +observed that they had _a new table and three new chairs_. When I asked +them how they came by them, they said they had been sent by an unknown +hand, which they supposed to be mine. A thought struck me, and after +some trouble I ferreted out the fact, that, although the rich old man +had, for reasons connected with the good order of the barracks, +always exacted every cent of the rent from each tenant, whatever the +consequences, he had many times, as in this case, secretly returned more +than it had cost them to pay it. They were left to believe him a hard +man, and often attributed his benefits to societies and persons whose +charity would have been stifled by the whiskey-stench of their rooms. + +Thus, then, went on his life, until the day when the Golden Wedding +was to be celebrated. That year, the sons, with the vine-dressers, the +bottlers, corkers, and all, gathered together and said,-- + +"Come, now! let us this year make a wine that shall be like the nectar +for a true man's soul!" + +So, with one accord, they gathered the richest grapes, and selected from +them; then they made the wine-press clean and sweet, and cast the grapes +therein. One great hiss,--a spurt of gold flushed with rubies,--and all +that is acrid is left, all that is rich and sweet is borne away, to be +labelled "GOLDEN WEDDING." + +And now, as I taste it, it seems to me flavored beyond all earthly wine, +as if it were the expression of an humble and faithful man, who had a +legitimate object, which he obtained by steadfastness. The wine-makers +maintain, that wine, though long confined in bottles, sympathizes still +with the vines from which it was pressed; and when the season of the +flowering of vines comes, it is always agitated anew. Surely the Catawba +must ever sparkle afresh, when in it, as now, we pledge the memory of +the brave and wise pioneer whose life climbed to its maturity along with +the purple clusters which so had garnered the frost and sunshine of a +life as well as of the seasons. + + + + +THE SILURIAN BEACH. + + +With what interest do we look upon any relic of early human history! +The monument that tells of a civilization whose hieroglyphic records we +cannot even decipher, the slightest trace of a nation that vanished and +left no sign of its life except the rough tools and utensils buried +in the old site of its towns or villages, arouses our imagination and +excites our curiosity. Men gaze with awe at the inscription on an +ancient Egyptian or Assyrian stone; they hold with reverential touch the +yellow parchment-roll whose dim, defaced characters record the meagre +learning of a buried nationality; and the announcement, that for +centuries the tropical forests of Central America have hidden within +their tangled growth the ruined homes and temples of a past race, stirs +the civilized world with a strange, deep wonder. + +To me it seems that to look on the first land that was ever lifted above +the waste of waters, to follow the shore where the earliest animals and +plants were created when the thought of God first expressed itself +in organic forms, to hold in one's hand a bit of stone from an old +sea-beach, hardened into rock thousands of centuries ago, and studded +with the beings that once crept upon its surface or were stranded there +by some retreating wave, is even of deeper interest to men than the +relics of their own race, for these things tell more directly of the +thoughts and creative acts of God. + +Standing in the neighborhood of Whitehall, near Lake George, one may +look along such a sea-shore, and see it stretching westward and sloping +gently southward as far as the eye can reach. It must have had a very +gradual slope, and the waters must have been very shallow; for at that +time no great mountains had been uplifted, and deep oceans are always +the concomitants of lofty heights. We do not, however, judge of this by +inference merely; we have an evidence of the shallowness of the sea +in those days in the character of the shells found in the Silurian +deposits, which shows that they belonged in shoal waters. + +Indeed, the fossil remains of all times tell us almost as much of the +physical condition of the world at different epochs as they do of its +animal and vegetable population. When Robinson Crusoe first caught sight +of the footprint on the sand, he saw in it more than the mere footprint, +for it spoke to him of the presence of men on his desert island. We +walk on the old geological shores, like Crusoe along his beach, and the +footprints we find there tell us, too, more than we actually see in +them. The crust of our earth is a great cemetery where the rocks are +tombstones on which the buried dead have written their own epitaphs. +They tell us not only who they were and when and where they lived, but +much also of the circumstances under which they lived. We ascertain +the prevalence of certain physical conditions at special epochs by the +presence of animals and plants whose existence and maintenance required +such a state of things, more than by any positive knowledge respecting +it. Where we find the remains of quadrupeds corresponding to our +ruminating animals, we infer not only land, but grassy meadows also, and +an extensive vegetation; where we find none but marine animals, we know +the ocean must have covered the earth; the remains of large reptiles, +representing, though in gigantic size, the half aquatic, half +terrestrial reptiles of our own period, indicate to us the existence +of spreading marshes still soaked by the retreating waters; while the +traces of such animals as live now in sand and shoal waters, or in mud, +speak to us of shelving sandy beaches and of mud-flats. The eye of the +Trilobite tells us that the sun shone on the old beach where he +lived; for there is nothing in Nature without a purpose, and when so +complicated an organ was made to receive the light, there must have been +light to enter it. The immense vegetable deposits in the Carboniferous +period announce the introduction of an extensive terrestrial vegetation; +and the impressions left by the wood and leaves of the trees show +that these first forests must have grown in a damp soil and a moist +atmosphere. In short, all the remains of animals and plants hidden in +the rocks have something to tell of the climatic conditions and the +general circumstances under which they lived, and the study of fossils +is to the naturalist a thermometer by which he reads the variations of +temperature in past times, a plummet by which he sounds the depths of +the ancient oceans,--a register, in fact, of all the important physical +changes the earth has undergone. + +But although the animals of the early geological deposits indicate +shallow seas by their similarity to our shoal-water animals, it must not +be supposed that they are by any means the same. On the contrary, the +old shells, crustacea, corals, etc., represent types which have existed +in all times with the same essential structural elements, but under +different specific forms in the several geological periods. And here +it may not be amiss to say something of what are called by naturalists +_representative types_. + +The statement that different sets of animals and plants have +characterized the successive epochs is often understood as indicating +a difference of another kind than that which distinguishes animals now +living in different parts of the world. This is a mistake. There are +so-called representative types all over the globe, united to each other +by structural relations and separated by specific differences of +the same kind as those that unite and separate animals of different +geological periods. Take, for instance, mud-flats or sandy shores in the +same latitudes of Europe and America; we find living on each animals of +the same structural character and of the same general appearance, +but with certain specific differences, as of color, size, external +appendages, etc. They represent each other on the two continents. +The American wolves, foxes, bears, rabbits, are not the same as the +European, but those of one continent are as true to their respective +types as those of the other; under a somewhat different aspect they +represent the same groups of animals. In certain latitudes, or under +conditions of nearer proximity, these differences may be less marked. +It is well known that there is a great monotony of type, not only among +animals and plants, but in the human races also, throughout the Arctic +regions; and the animals characteristic of the high North reappear under +such identical forms in the neighborhood of the snow-fields in lofty +mountains, that to trace the difference between the ptarmigans, rabbits, +and other gnawing animals of the Alps, for instance, and those of the +Arctics, is among the most difficult problems of modern science. + +And so is it also with the animated world of past ages; in similar +deposits of sand, mud, or lime, in adjoining regions of the same +geological age, identical remains of animals and plants may be +found, while at greater distances, but under similar circumstances, +representative species may occur. In very remote regions, however, +whether the circumstances be similar or dissimilar, the general aspect +of the organic world differs greatly, remoteness in space being thus in +some measure an indication of the degree of affinity between different +faunae. In deposits of different geological periods immediately +following each other we sometimes find remains of animals and plants so +closely allied to those of earlier or later periods that at first sight +the specific differences are hardly discernible. The difficulty of +solving these questions, and of appreciating correctly the differences +and similarities between such closely allied organisms, explains the +antagonistic views of many naturalists respecting the range of existence +of animals, during longer or shorter geological periods; and the +superficial way in which discussions concerning the transition of +species are carried on is mainly owing to an ignorance of the conditions +above alluded to. My own personal observation and experience in these +matters have led me to the conviction that every geological period +has had its own representatives, and that no single species has been +repeated in successive ages. + +The laws regulating the geographical distribution of animals and their +combination into distinct or zoological provinces called faunae with +definite limits are very imperfectly understood as yet; but so closely +are all things linked together from the beginning till to-day that I am +convinced we shall never find the clue to their meaning till we carry on +our investigations in the past and the present simultaneously. The same +principle according to which animal and vegetable life is distributed +over the surface of the earth now prevailed in the earliest geological +periods. The geological deposits of all times have had their +characteristic faunae under various zones, their zoological provinces +presenting special combinations of animal and vegetable life over +certain regions, and their representative types reproducing in different +countries, but under similar latitudes, the same groups with specific +differences. + +Of course, the nearer we approach the beginning of organic life, the +less marked do we find the differences to be, and for a very obvious +reason. The inequalities of the earth's surface, her mountain-barriers +protecting whole continents from the Arctic winds, her open plains +exposing others to the full force of the polar blasts, her snug valleys +and her lofty heights, her table-lands and rolling prairies, her +river-systems and her dry deserts, her cold ocean-currents pouring down +from the high North on some of her shores, while warm ones from tropical +seas carry their softer influence to others,--in short, all the +contrasts in the external configuration of the globe, with the physical +conditions attendant upon them, are naturally accompanied by a +corresponding variety in animal and vegetable life. + +But in the Silurian age, when there were no elevations higher than +the Canadian hills, when water covered the face of the earth with the +exception of a few isolated portions lifted above the almost universal +ocean, how monotonous must have been the conditions of life! And what +should we expect to find on those first shores? If we are walking on a +sea-beach to-day, we do not look for animals that haunt the forests or +roam over the open plains, or for those that live in sheltered valleys +or in inland regions or on mountain-heights. We look for Shells, for +Mussels and Barnacles, for Crabs, for Shrimps, for Marine Worms, for +Star-Fishes and Sea-Urchins, and we may find here and there a fish +stranded on the sand or tangled in the sea-weed. Let us remember, then, +that, in the Silurian period, the world, so far as it was raised above +the ocean, was a beach, and let us seek there for such creatures as God +has made to live on sea-shores, and not belittle the Creative work, +or say that He first scattered the seeds of life in meagre or stinted +measure, because we do not find air-breathing animals when there was +no fitting atmosphere to feed their lungs, insects with no terrestrial +plants to live upon, reptiles without marshes, birds without trees, +cattle without grass, all things, in short, without the essential +conditions for their existence. + +What we do find--and these, as I shall endeavor to show my readers, in +such profusion that it would seem as if God, in the joy of creation, had +compensated Himself for a less variety of forms in the greater richness +of the early types--is an immense number of beings belonging to the four +primary divisions of the Animal Kingdom, but only to those classes whose +representatives are marine, whose home then, as now, was either in the +sea or along its shores. In other words, the first organic creation +expressed in its totality the structural conception since carried out in +such wonderful variety of details, and purposely limited then, because +the world, which was to be the home of the higher animals, was not yet +made ready to receive them. + +I am fully aware that the intimate relations between the organic and +physical world are interpreted by many as indicating the absence, rather +than the presence, of an intelligent Creator. They argue, that the +dependence of animals on material laws gives us the clue to their origin +as well as to their maintenance. Were this influence as absolute and +unvarying as the purely mechanical action of physical circumstances +must necessarily be, this inference might have some pretence to +logical probability,--though it seems to me unnecessary, under any +circumstances, to resort to climatic influences or the action of any +physical laws to explain the thoughtful distribution of the organic and +inorganic world, so evidently intended to secure for all beings what +best suits their nature and their needs. But the truth is, that, while +these harmonious relations underlie the whole creation in such a manner +as to indicate a great central plan, of which all things are a part, +there is at the same time a freedom, an arbitrary element in the mode of +carrying it out, which seems to point to the exercise of an individual +will; for, side by side with facts, apparently the direct result of +physical laws, are other facts, the nature of which shows a complete +independence of external influences. + +Take, for instance, the similarity above alluded to between the fauna of +the Arctics and that of the Alps, certainly showing a direct relation +between climatic conditions and animal and vegetable life. Yet even +there, where the shades of specific difference between many animals +and plants of the same class are so slight as to battle the keenest +investigators, we have representative types both in the Animal and +Vegetable Kingdoms as distinct and peculiar as those of widely removed +and strongly contrasted climatic conditions. Shall we attribute the +similarities and the differences alike to physical causes? Compare, for +example, the Reindeer of the Arctics with the Ibex and the Chamois, +representing the same group in the Alps. Even on mountain-heights of +similar altitudes, where not only climate, but other physical conditions +would suggest a recurrence of identical animals, we do not find the +same, but representative types. The Ibex of the Alps differs, for +instance, from that of the Pyrenees, that of the Pyrenees from those of +the Caucasus and Himalayas, these again from each other and from that of +the Altai. + +But perhaps the most conclusive proof that we must seek for the origin +of organic life outside of physical causes consists in the permanence of +the fundamental types, while the species representing these types have +differed in every geological period. Now what we call typical features +of structure are in themselves no more stable or permanent than specific +features. If physical causes, such as light, heat, moisture, food, +habits of life, etc., acting upon individuals, have gradually in +successive generations changed the character of the species to which +they belong, why not that of the class and the branch also? If we judge +this question from the material side at all, we must, in order to judge +it fairly, look at it wholly from that point of view. If these specific +changes are brought about in this way, it is because external causes +have positive permanent effects upon the substances of which animals are +built: they have power to change their hair, to change their skin, to +change certain external appendages or ornamentations, and any other of +those ultimate features which naturalists call specific characters. +Now I would ask what there is in the substances out of which class +characters are built that would make them less susceptible to such +external influences than these specific characters. In many instances +the former are more delicate, more sensitive, far more fragile and +transient in their material nature than the latter. And yet never, in +all the chances and changes of time, have we seen any alteration in the +mode of respiration, of reproduction, of circulation, or in any of the +systems of organs which characterize the more comprehensive groups of +the Animal Kingdom, although they are quite as much under the immediate +influence of physical causes as those structural features which have +been constantly changing. + +The woody fibre of the Pine-trees has had the same structure from the +Carboniferous age to this day, while their mode of branching and the +forms of their cones and leaves have been different in each period +according to their respective species. The combination of rings, the +structure of the wings, and the articulations of the legs are the same +in the Cockroaches of the Carboniferous age as in those which infest our +ships and our dwellings to-day, while the proportion of their parts is +on quite another scale. The tissue of the Corals in the Silurian age is +identical in chemical combination and organic structure with that of the +Corals of our modern reefs, and yet the extensive researches upon this +class for which we are indebted to Milne Edwards and Haime have not +revealed a single species extending through successive geological ages, +but show us, on the contrary, that every age has had its own kinds, +differing among themselves in the same way as those of the Gulf of +Mexico differ now from those of the Indian Ocean and the Pacific. The +scales of the oldest known fishes in the Silurian beds have the same +microscopic structure as those of their representative types today, and +yet I have never seen a single fossil fish presenting the same specific +characters in the successive geological epochs. The teeth of the oldest +Sharks show the same microscopic structure as those of the present time, +and we do not lack opportunities for comparison, since the former are as +common in the mountain-limestone of Ireland as are those of the living +Sharks on any beach where our fishermen boil them for the sake of their +oil, and yet the Sharks appear under different generic and specific +forms in each geological age. + +But without multiplying examples, which might be adduced _ad infinitum_, +to show permanence of type combined with repeated changes of species, +suffice it to say, that, while the general features in the framework of +the organic world and the materials of which that framework is +built, though quite as subject to the influence of physical external +circumstances as any so-called specific-features, have remained +perfectly intact from the beginning of Creation till now, so that not +the smallest difference is to be discerned in these respects between the +oldest representatives of the oldest types in the oldest Silurian rocks +and their successors through all the geological ages up to the present +day, the species have been different in each epoch. It is surely a fair +question to ask the advocates of the transmutation theory, whether they +attribute to physical laws the discernment that would lead them to +change the specific features, but to respect all those characters by +which the higher structural combinations of the Animal Kingdom are +preserved without alteration,--in other words, to maintain the organic +plan, while constantly diversifying the mode of expressing it. If so, it +would perhaps be as well to call them by another name, since they show +all the comprehensive wisdom of an intelligent Creator. Until they can +tell us why certain features of animals and plants are permanent under +conditions which, according to their view, have power to change certain +other features no more perishable or transient in themselves, the +supporters of the development theory will have failed to substantiate +their peculiar scientific doctrine. + +But this discussion has led us far away from our starting point, and +interrupted our walk along the Silurian beach; let us return to gather a +few specimens there, and compare them with the more familiar ones of our +own shores. I have said that the beach was a shelving one, and covered +of course with shoal waters; but as I have no desire to mislead my +readers, or to present truths as generally accepted which are still +subject to dispute, I would state here that the parallel ridges across +the State of New York, considered by some geologists as the successive +shores of a receding ocean, are believed by others to be the +inequalities on the bottom of a shallow sea. Not only, however, does the +general character of these successive terraces suggest the idea that +they must have been shores, but the ripple-marks upon them are as +distinct as upon any modern beach. The regular rise and fall of the +water is registered there in waving, undulating lines as clearly as on +the sand-beaches of Newport or Nahant; and we can see on any one of +those ancient shores the track left by the waves as they rippled back at +ebb of the tide thousands of centuries ago. One can often see where some +obstacle interrupted the course of the water, causing it to break around +it; and such an indentation even retains the soft, muddy, plastic look +that we observe on the present beaches, where the resistance made by any +pebble or shell to the retreating wave has given it greater force at +that point, so that the sand around the spot is soaked and loosened. +There is still another sign, equally familiar to those who have watched +the action of water on a beach. Where a shore is very shelving and flat, +so that the waves do not recede in ripples from it, but in one unbroken +sheet, the sand and small pebbles are dragged and form lines which +diverge whenever the water meets an obstacle, thus forming sharp angles +on the sand. Such marks are as distinct on the oldest Silurian rocks as +if they had been made yesterday. Nor are these the only indications of +the same fact. There are certain animals living always upon sandy or +muddy shores, which require for their well-being that the beach should +be left dry a part of the day. These animals, moving about in the sand +or mud from which the water has retreated, leave their tracks there; and +if, at such a time, the wind is blowing dust over the beach, and the sun +is hot enough to bake it upon the impressions so formed, they are left +in a kind of mould. Such trails and furrows, made by small Shells or +Crustacea, are also found in plenty on the oldest deposits. + +Admitting it, then, to be a beach, let us begin with the lowest type of +the Animal Kingdom, and see what Radiates are to be found there. There +are plenty of Corals, but they are not the same kinds of Corals as those +that build up our reefs and islands now. The modern Coral animals are +chiefly Polyps, but the prevailing Corals of the Silurian age were +Acalephian Hydroids, animals which indeed resemble Polyps in certain +external features, and have been mistaken for them, but which are +nevertheless Acalephs by their internal structure; for, instead of +having the vertical partitions dividing the body into chambers, so +characteristic of the Polyps, they are divided by tubes corresponding to +the radiating tubes of the Acalephs proper, these tubes being themselves +divided at regular distances by horizontal floors, so that they never +run uninterruptedly from top to bottom of the body. I subjoin a woodcut +of a Silurian Coral, which does not, however, show the peculiar internal +structure, but gives some idea of the general appearance of the old +Hydroid Corals. We have but one Acalephian Coral now living, the +Millepore; and it was by comparing that with these ancient ones that I +first detected their relation to the Acalephs. For the true Acalephs or +Jelly-Fishes we shall look in vain; but the presence of the Acalephian +Corals establishes the existence of the type, and we cannot expect to +find those kinds preserved which are wholly destitute of hard parts. I +do not attempt any description of the Polyps proper, because the early +Corals of that class are comparatively few, and do not present features +sufficiently characteristic to attract the notice of the casual +observer. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + +Of the Echinoderms, the class of Radiates represented now by our +Star-Fishes and Sea-Urchins, we may gather any quantity, though the old +fashioned forms are very different from the living ones. I have dwelt at +such length in a former article[A] on the wonderful beauty and variety +of the Crinoids, or "Stone Lilies," as they have been called, from their +resemblance to flowers, that I will only briefly allude to them here. +The subjoined wood-cut represents one with a closed cup; but the number +of their different patterns is hardly to be counted, and I would invite +any one who questions the abundant expression of life in those days to +look at some slabs of ancient limestone in the Zooelogical Museum at +Cambridge, where the stems of the Crinoids are tangled together as +thickly as sea-weed on the shore. Indeed, some of our rock-deposits +consist chiefly of the fragments of their remains. + +[Footnote A: See _Methods of Study in Natural History, Atlantic +Monthly_, No. LVII., July, 1862.] + +[Illustration] + +The Mollusks were also represented then, as now, by their three +classes,--Acephala, Gasteropoda, and Cephalopoda. The Acephala or +Bivalves we shall find in great numbers, but of a very different pattern +from the Oysters, Clams, and Mussels of recent times. The annexed +wood-cut represents one of these Brachiopods, which form a very +characteristic type of the Silurian deposits. The square cut of the +upper edge, where the two valves meet along the back and are united by +a hinge, is altogether old-fashioned, and unknown among our modern +Bivalves. The wood-cut does not show the inequality of the two valves, +also a very characteristic feature of this group,--one valve being flat +and fitting closely into the other, which is more spreading and much +fuller. These, also, were represented by a great variety of species, and +we find them crowded together as closely in the ancient rocks as Oysters +or Clams or Mussels on any of our modern shores. Besides these, there +were the Bryozoa, a small kind of Mollusk allied to the Clams, and very +busy then in the ancient Coral work. They grew in communities, and the +separate individuals are so minute that a Bryozoan stock looks like +some delicate moss. They still have their place among the Reef-Building +Corals, but play an insignificant part in comparison with that of their +predecessors. + +Of the Silurian Univalves or Gasteropods there is not much to tell, for +their spiral shells were so brittle that scarcely any perfect specimens +are known, though their broken remains are found in such quantities as +to show that this class also was very fully represented in the earliest +creation. But the highest class of Mollusks, the Cephalopods or +Chambered Shells, or Cuttle-Fishes, as they are called when the animal +is unprotected by a shell, are, on the contrary, very well preserved, +and they are very numerous. Of these I will speak somewhat more in +detail, because their geological history is a very curious one. + +[Illustration] + +The Chambered Nautilus is familiar to all, since, from the exquisite +beauty of its shell, it is especially sought for by conchologists; +but it is nevertheless not so common in our days as the Squids and +Cuttle-Fishes, which are the most numerous modern representatives of the +class. In the earliest geological days, on the contrary, those with a +shell predominated, differing from the later ones, however, in having +the shell perfectly straight instead of curved, though its internal +structure was the same as it is now and has ever been. Then, as now, the +animal shut himself out from his last year's home, building his annual +wall behind him, till his whole shell was divided into successive +chambers, all of which were connected by a siphon. Some of the shells of +this kind belonging to the Silurian deposits are enormous: giants of the +sea they must have been in those days. They have been found fifteen +feet long, and as large round as a man's body. One can imagine that the +Cuttle-Fish inhabiting such a shell must have been a formidable animal. +These straight-chambered shells of the Silurian and Devonian seas are +called Orthoceratites (see wood-cut below). We shall meet them again +hereafter, under another name and with a different form; for, as they +advance in the geological ages, they not only assume the curved outline +with ever closer whorls till it culminates in the compact coil of the +Ammonites of the middle periods, but the partitions, which are perfectly +plain walls in these earlier forms, become scalloped and involuted along +the edges in the later ones, making the most delicate and exquisite +tracery on the surface of the shell. + +Of Articulates we find only two classes, Worms and Crustacea. Insects +there were none,--for, as we have seen, this early world was wholly +marine. There is little to be said of the Worms, for their soft bodies, +unprotected by any hard covering, could hardly be preserved; but, +like the marine Worms of our own times, they were in the habit of +constructing envelopes for themselves, built of sand, or sometimes from +a secretion of their own bodies, and these cases we find in the earliest +deposits, giving us assurance that the Worms were represented there. +I should add, however, that many impressions described as produced by +Worms are more likely to have been the tracks of Crustacea. + +But by far the most characteristic class of Articulates in ancient times +were the Crustaceans. The Trilobites stand in the same relation to the +modern Crustacea as the Crinoids do to the modern Echinoderms. They were +then the sole representatives of the class, and the variety and richness +of the type are most extraordinary. They were of nearly equal breadth +for the whole length of the body, and rounded at the two ends, so as +to form an oval outline. To give any adequate idea of the number and +variety of species would fill a volume, but I may enumerate some of +the more striking differences: as, for instance, the greater or less +prominence of the anterior shield,--the preponderance of the posterior +end in some, while in others the two ends are nearly equal,--the +presence or absence of prongs on the shield and of spines along the +sides of the body,--appendages on the head in some species, of which +others are entirely destitute,--and the smooth outline of some, while +in others the surface is broken by a variety of external ornamentation. +Such are a few of the more prominent differences among them. But the +general structural features are the same in all. The middle region of +the body is always divided in uniform rings, lobed in the middle so as +to make a ridge along the back with a slight depression on either side +of it. It is from this three-lobed division that they receive their +name. The subjoined wood-cut represents a characteristic Silurian +Trilobite. + +[Illustration] + +There is no group more prominent in the earliest creations than this one +of the Trilobites, and so exclusively do they belong to them, that, as +we shall see, in proportion as the later representatives of the class +come in, these old-world Crustaceans drop out of the ranks, fall behind, +as it were, in the long procession of animals, and are left in the +ancient deposits. Even in the Carboniferous period but few are to +be found: they had their day in the Silurian and Devonian ages. In +consequence of their solid exterior, the preservation of these animals +is very complete; and their attitudes are often so natural, and the +condition of all their parts so perfect, that one would say they had +died yesterday rather than countless centuries ago. + +Their geological history has been very thoroughly studied; not only are +we familiar with all their adult characters, but even their embryology +is well known to naturalists. It is, indeed, wonderful that the mode of +growth of animals which died out in the Carboniferous period should +be better known to us than that of many living types. But it is +nevertheless true that their embryonic forms have been found perfectly +preserved in the rocks, and Barrande, in his "Systeme Silurien de la +Boheme," gives us all the stages of their development, from the time +when the animal is merely sketched out as a simple furrow in the embryo +to its mature condition. So complete is the sequence, that the plate on +which their embryonic changes are illustrated contains more than thirty +figures, all representing different phases of their growth. There is not +a living Crab represented so fully in any of our scientific works as is +that one species of Trilobite whose whole story Barrande has traced from +the egg to its adult size. Such facts should make those who rest +their fanciful theories of the origin and development of life on the +imperfection of the geological record, filling up the supposed lapses to +suit themselves, more cautious as to their results. + +We have found, then, Radiates, Mollusks, and Articulates in plenty; +and now what is to be said of Vertebrates in these old times,--of the +highest and most important division of the Animal Kingdom, that to which +we ourselves belong? They were represented by Fishes alone; and the Fish +chapter in the history of the early organic world is a curious, and, +as it seems to me, a very significant one. We shall find no perfect +specimens; and he would be a daring, not to say a presumptuous thinker, +who would venture to reconstruct a fish of the Silurian age from any +remains that are left to us. But still we find enough to indicate +clearly the style of those old fishes, and to show, by comparison with +the living types, to what group of modern times they belong. We should +naturally expect to find the Vertebrates introduced in their simplest +form; but this is by no means the case: the common fishes, as Cod, +Herring, Mackerel, and the like, were unknown in those days. + +But there are two groups of so-called fishes, differing from these by +some marked features, among which we may find the modern representatives +of these earliest Vertebrates. Of these two groups one consists chiefly +now of the Gar-Pikes of our Western waters, though the Sturgeons share +also in some of their features. In these fishes there is a singular +union of reptilian with fish-like characters. The systems of circulation +and of respiration in them are more complicated than in the common +fishes; the structure of the skull resembles that of the skull in +reptiles, and they have other reptilian characters, such as their +ability to move the head upon the neck independently of the body, and +the connection of the vertebrae by ball-and-socket joint, instead of +by inverted cones, as in the ordinary fishes. Their scales are also +peculiar, being covered by enamel so hard, that, if struck with steel, +they will emit sparks like flint. It is on account of this peculiarity +that the whole group has been called Ganoid. Now, though we have +not found as yet any complete specimens of Silurian fishes, their +disconnected remains are scattered profusely in the early deposits. The +scales, parts of the backbone, parts of the skull, the teeth, are found +in a tolerable state of preservation; and these indications, fragmentary +as they are, give us the clue to the character of the most ancient +fishes. A large proportion of them were no doubt Ganoids; for they had +the same peculiar articulation of the vertebrae, the flexibility of the +neck, and the hard scales so characteristic of our Gar-Pikes. + +There is another type of these ancient Vertebrates, which has also +its representatives among our modern fishes. These are the Sharks and +Skates, or, as the Greeks used to call them, the Selachians,--making a +very appropriate distinction between them and common fishes, on account +of the difference in the structure of the skeleton. In Selachians the +quality of the bones is granular, instead of fibrous, as in fishes; the +arches above and below the backbone are formed by flat plates, instead +of the spines so characteristic of all the fish proper; and the skull +consists of a solid box, instead of being built of overlapping pieces +like the true fish-skull. They differ also in their teeth, which, +instead of being implanted in the bone by a root, as in fishes, are +loosely set in the gum without any connection with the bone, and are +movable, being arranged in several rows one behind another, the back +rows moving forward to take the place of the front ones when the latter +are worn off. They are unlike the common fishes also in having the +backbone continued to the very end of the tail, which is cut in uneven +lobes, the upper lobe being the longer of the two, while the terminal +fin, so constant a feature in fishes, is wanting. The Selachians +resemble higher Vertebrate types not only in the small number of their +eggs, and in the closer connection of the young with the mother, but +also in their embryological development, which has many features in +common with that of birds and turtles. Of this group, also, we find +numerous remains in the ancient geological deposits; and though we have +not the means of distinguishing the species, we have ample evidence for +determining the type. + +This combination of higher with lower features in the earlier organic +forms is very striking, and becomes still more significant when we find +that many of the later types recall the more ancient ones. I have called +these more comprehensive groups of former times, combining characters of +different classes, synthetic or prophetic types; and we might as fitly +give the name of retrospective types to many of the later groups, for +they recall the past, as the former anticipate the future. And it is not +only among the Fishes and the Reptiles that we find these combinations. +The most numerous of the ancient Radiates are the Acalephlan Corals, +combining, in the Hydroid form, the Polyp-like mode of life, habits, and +general appearance with the structure of Acalephs. The Crinoids, with +the closed cups in some, and the open, star-like crowns in others, unite +features of the present Star-Fishes and Sea-Urchins, and, by their stem +attaching them to the ground, include also a Polyp-like character; while +the Trilobites, with their uniform rings and their prominent anterior +shield, unite characters of Worms and Crustacea. + +These early types seem to sketch in broad, general characters the +Creative purpose, and to include in the first average expression of the +plan all its structural possibilities. The Crinoid forms include the +thought of the modern Star-Fishes and Sea-Urchins; the simple chambered +shells of the Silurian anticipate the more complicated structure of the +later ones; the Trilobites give the most comprehensive expression of the +Articulate type; while the early Fishes not only prophesy the Reptiles +which are to come, but also hint at Birds and even at Mammalia by their +embryonic development and their mode of reproduction. + +Looked at from this point of view, the animal world is an intellectual +Creation, complete in all its parts, and coherent throughout; and when +we find, that, although these ancient types have become obsolete and +been replaced by modern ones, yet there are always a few old-fashioned +individuals, left behind, as it were, to give the key to the history +of their race, as the Gar-Pike, for instance, to explain the ancient +Fishes, the Millepore to explain the old Acalephian Corals, the Nautilus +to be the modern exponent of the Ammonites and Orthoceratites of past +times, we cannot avoid the impression that this Creative work has been +intended also to be educational for Man, and to teach him his own +relation to the organic world. The embryology of the modern types +confirms this idea, for here we find an epitome of their geological +history. The embryo of the present Star-Fishes recalls the Crinoids; +the embryo of the Crab recalls the Trilobites; the embryo of the +Vertebrates, including even that of the higher Mammalia, recalls the +ancient Fishes. Does not this fact, that the individual animal in its +growth recalls the history of its type, prove that the Creative Thought +in its immediate present action embraces all that has gone before, as +its first organic expression included all that was to come? The study of +Nature in its highest meaning shows us the present doubly rich with all +the past, and the past linked and interwoven with the present, not lying +divorced and dead behind it. + +I have spoken of the Silurian beach as if there were but one, not only +because I wished to limit my sketch, and to attempt at least to give +it the vividness of a special locality, but also because a single such +shore will give us as good an idea of the characteristic fauna of the +time as if we drew our material from a wider range. There are, however, +a great number of parallel ridges belonging to the Silurian and Devonian +periods, running from east to west, not only through the State of New +York, but far beyond, through the States of Michigan and Wisconsin into +Minnesota; one may follow nine or ten such successive shores in unbroken +lines, from the neighborhood of Lake Champlain to the Far West. They +have all the irregularities of modern sea-shores, running up to form +little bays here, and jutting out in promontories there; and upon each +one are found animals of the same kind, but differing in species from +those of the preceding. + +Although the early geological periods are more legible in North America, +because they are exposed over such extensive tracts of land, yet they +have been studied in many other parts of the globe. In Norway, in +Germany, in France, in Russia, in Siberia, in Kamtchatka, in parts of +South America, in short, wherever the civilization of the white race has +extended, Silurian deposits have been observed, and everywhere they +bear the same testimony to a profuse and varied creation. The earth was +teeming then with life as now, and in whatever corner of its surface the +geologist finds the old strata, they hold a dead fauna as numerous as +that which lives and moves above it. Nor do we find that there was any +gradual increase or decrease of any organic forms at the beginning and +close of the successive periods. On the contrary, the opening scenes of +every chapter in the world's history have been crowded with life, and +its last leaves as full and varied as its first. + +I think the impression that the faunae of the early geological periods +were more scanty than those of later times arises partly from the fact +that the present creation is made a standard of comparison for all +preceding creations. Of course, the collections of living types in any +museum must be more numerous than those of fossil forms, for the simple +reason that almost the whole of the present surface of the earth, with +the animals and plants inhabiting it, is known to us, whereas the +deposits of the Silurian and Devonian periods are exposed to view only +over comparatively limited tracts and in disconnected regions. But let +us compare a given extent of Silurian or Devonian sea-shore with an +equal extent of sea-shore belonging to our own time, and we shall +soon be convinced that the one is as populous as the other. On the +New-England coast there are about one hundred and fifty different kinds +of fishes, in the Gulf of Mexico two hundred and fifty, in the Red Sea +about the same. We may allow in present times an average of two hundred +or two hundred and fifty different kinds of fishes to an extent of ocean +covering about four hundred miles. Now I have made a special study of +the Devonian rocks of Northern Europe, in the Baltic and along the shore +of the German Ocean. I have found in those deposits alone one hundred +and ten kinds of fossil fishes. To judge of the total number of species +belonging to those early ages by the number known to exist now is about +as reasonable as to infer that because Aristotle, familiar only with the +waters of Greece, recorded less than three hundred kinds of fishes in +his limited fishing-ground, therefore these were all the fishes then +living. The fishing-ground of the geologist in the Silurian and Devonian +periods is even more circumscribed than his, and belongs, besides, not +to a living, but to a dead world, far more difficult to decipher. + +But the sciences of Geology and Palaeontology are making such rapid +progress, now that they go hand in hand, that our familiarity with past +creations is daily increasing. We know already that extinct animals +exist all over the world: heaped together under the snows of +Siberia,--lying thick beneath the Indian soil,--found wherever English +settlers till the ground or work the mines of Australia,--figured in the +old Encyclopaedias of China, where the Chinese philosophers have drawn +them with the accuracy of their nation,--built into the most beautiful +temples of classic lands, for even the stones of the Parthenon are full +of the fragments of these old fossils, and if any chance had directed +the attention of Aristotle towards them, the science of Palaeontology +would not have waited for its founder till Cuvier was born,--in short, +in every corner of the earth where the investigations of civilized men +have penetrated, from the Arctic to Patagonia and the Cape of Good Hope, +these relics tell us of successive populations lying far behind our own, +and belonging to distinct periods of the world's history. + + * * * * * + +In my next article I shall give some account of the marshes and forests +of the Carboniferous age, with their characteristic vegetation and +inhabitants. + + + + +CORALIE. + + + Pale water-flowers, + That quiver in the quick turn of the brook, + And thou, dim nook,-- + Dimmer in twilight,--call again to me + Visions of life and glory that were ours, + When first she led me here, young Coralie! + + No longer blest, + Yet standing here in silence, may not we + Fancy or feign + That little flowers do fall about thy rest + In silver mist and tender-dropping rain, + And that thy world is peace, loved Coralie? + + Our friendships flee, + And, darkening all things with her mighty shade, + Comes Misery. + No longer look the faces that we see, + With the old eyes; and Woe itself shall fade, + Nor even this be left us, Coralie! + + Feelings and fears + That once were ours have perished in the mould, + And grief is cold: + Hearts may be dead to grief; and if our tears + Are failing or forgetful, there will be + Mourners about thy bed, lost Coralie! + + The brook-flowers shine, + And a faint song the falling water has,-- + But not for thee! + The dull night weepeth, and the sorrowing pine + Drops his dead hair upon thy young grave-grass, + My Coralie! my Coralie! + + * * * * * + + I took from its glass a flower, + To lay on her grave with dull accusing tears; + But the heart of the flower fell out as I handled the rose, + And my heart is shattered, and soon will wither away. + + I watch the changing shadows, + And the patch of windy sunshine upon the hill, + And the long blue woods; and a grief no tongue can tell + Breaks at my eyes in drops of bitter rain. + + I hear her baby-wagon, + And the little wheels go over my heart; + Oh, when will the light of the darkened house return? + Oh, when will she come who made the hills so fair? + + I sit by the parlor-window, + When twilight deepens, and winds get cold without; + But the blessed feet no more come up the walk, + And my little girl and I cry softly together. + + * * * * * + + +SOJOURNER TRUTH, THE LIBYAN SIBYL. + + +Many years ago, the few readers of radical Abolitionist papers must +often have seen the singular name of Sojourner Truth, announced as a +frequent speaker at Anti-Slavery meetings, and as travelling on a +sort of self-appointed agency through the country. I had myself often +remarked the name, but never met the individual. On one occasion, when +our house was filled with company, several eminent clergymen being our +guests, notice was brought up to me that Sojourner Truth was below, and +requested an interview. Knowing nothing of her but her singular name, I +went down, prepared to make the interview short, as the pressure of many +other engagements demanded. + +When I went into the room, a tall, spare form arose to meet me. She was +evidently a full-blooded African, and though now aged and worn with many +hardships, still gave the impression of a physical development which +in early youth must have been as fine a specimen of the torrid zone as +Cumberworth's celebrated statuette of the Negro Woman at the Fountain. +Indeed, she so strongly reminded me of that figure, that, when I recall +the events of her life, as she narrated them to me, I imagine her as a +living, breathing impersonation of that work of art. + +I do not recollect ever to have been conversant with any one who had +more of that silent and subtle power which we call personal presence +than this woman. In the modern Spiritualistic phraseology, she would +be described as having a strong sphere. Her tall form, as she rose up +before me, is still vivid to my mind. She was dressed in some stout, +grayish stuff, neat and clean, though dusty from travel. On her head +she wore a bright Madras handkerchief, arranged as a turban, after the +manner of her race. She seemed perfectly self-possessed and at her +ease,--in fact, there was almost an unconscious superiority, not unmixed +with a solemn twinkle of humor, in the odd, composed manner in which she +looked down on me. Her whole air had at times a gloomy sort of drollery +which impressed one strangely. + +"So, this is _you_," she said. + +"Yes," I answered. + +"Well, honey, de Lord bless ye! I jes' thought I'd like to come an' have +a look at ye. You's heerd o' me, I reckon?" she added. + +"Yes, I think I have. You go about lecturing, do you not?" + +"Yes, honey, that's what I do. The Lord has made me a sign unto this +nation, an' I go round a-testifyin', an' showin' on 'em their sins agin +my people." + +So saying, she took a seat, and, stooping over and crossing her arms on +her knees, she looked down on the floor, and appeared to fall into a +sort of reverie. + +Her great gloomy eyes and her dark face seemed to work with some +undercurrent of feeling; she sighed deeply, and occasionally broke +out,-- + +"O Lord! O Lord! Oh, the tears, an' the groans, an' the moans! O Lord!" + +I should have said that she was accompanied by a little grandson of ten +years,--the fattest, jolliest woolly-headed little specimen of Africa +that one can imagine. He was grinning and showing his glistening white +teeth in a state of perpetual merriment, and at this moment broke out +into an audible giggle, which disturbed the reverie into which his +relative was falling. + +She looked at him with an indulgent sadness, and then at me. + +"Laws, Ma'am, _he_ don't know nothin' about it,--_he_ don't. Why, I've +seen them poor critters, beat an' 'bused an' hunted, brought in all +torn,--ears hangin' all in rags, where the dogs been a-bitin' of 'em!" + +This set off our little African Puck into another giggle, in which he +seemed perfectly convulsed. + +She surveyed him soberly, without the slightest irritation. + +"Well, you may bless the Lord you _can_ laugh; but I tell you, 't wa'n't +no laughin' matter." + +By this time I thought her manner so original that it might be worth +while to call down my friends; and she seemed perfectly well pleased +with the idea. An audience was what she wanted,--it mattered not whether +high or low, learned or ignorant. She had things to say, and was ready +to say them at all times, and to any one. + +I called down Dr. Beecher, Professor Allen, and two or three other +clergymen, who, together with my husband and family, made a roomful. No +princess could have received a drawing-room with more composed dignity +than Sojourner her audience. She stood among them, calm and erect, as +one of her own native palm-trees waving alone in the desert. I presented +one after another to her, and at last said,-- + +"Sojourner, this is Dr. Beecher. He is a very celebrated preacher." + +"_Is_ he?" she said, offering her hand in a condescending manner, and +looking down on his white head. "Ye dear lamb, I'm glad to see ye! De +Lord bless ye! I loves preachers. I'm a kind o' preacher myself." + +"You are?" said Dr. Beecher. "Do you preach from the Bible?" + +"No, honey, can't preach from de Bible,--can't read a letter." + +"Why, Sojourner, what do you preach from, then?" + +Her answer was given with a solemn power of voice, peculiar to herself, +that hushed every one in the room. + +"When I preaches, I has jest one text to preach from, an' I always +preaches from this one. _My_ text is, 'WHEN I FOUND JESUS.'" + +"Well, you couldn't have a better one," said one of the ministers. + +She paid no attention to him, but stood and seemed swelling with her own +thoughts, and then began this narration:-- + +"Well, now, I'll jest have to go back, an' tell ye all about it. Ye see, +we was all brought over from Africa, father an' mother an' I, an' a lot +more of us; an' we was sold up an' down, an' hither an' yon; an' I can +'member, when I was a little thing, not bigger than this 'ere," pointing +to her grandson, "how my ole mammy would sit out o' doors in the +evenin', an' look up at the stars an' groan. She'd groan an' groan, an' +says I to her,-- + +"'Mammy, what makes you groan so?' + +"An' she'd say,-- + +"'Matter enough, chile! I'm groanin' to think o' my poor children: they +don't know where I be, an' I don't know where they be; they looks up at +the stars, an' I looks up at the stars, but I can't tell where they be. + +"'Now,' she said, 'chile, when you're grown up, you may be sold away +from your mother an' all your ole friends, an' have great troubles come +on ye; an' when you has these troubles come on ye, ye jes' go to God, +an' He'll help ye.' + +"An' says I to her,-- + +"'Who is God, anyhow, mammy?' + +"An' says she,-- + +"'Why, chile, you jes' look up _dar_! It's Him that made all _dem_!' + +"Well, I didn't mind much 'bout God in them days. I grew up pretty +lively an' strong, an' could row a boat, or ride a horse, or work round, +an' do 'most anything. + +"At last I got sold away to a real hard massa an' missis. Oh, I tell +you, they _was_ hard! 'Peared like I couldn't please 'em, nohow. An' +then I thought o' what my old mammy told me about God; an' I thought I'd +got into trouble, sure enough, an' I wanted to find God, an' I heerd +some one tell a story about a man that met God on a threshin'-floor, an' +I thought, 'Well an' good, I'll have a threshin'-floor, too.' So I went +down in the lot, an' I threshed down a place real hard, an' I used to go +down there every day, an' pray an' cry with all my might, a-prayin' to +the Lord to make my massa an' missis better, but it didn't seem to do no +good; an' so says I, one day,-- + +"'O God, I been a-askin' ye, an' askin' ye, an' askin' ye, for all this +long time, to make my massa an' missis better, an' you don't do it, an' +what _can_ be the reason? Why, maybe you _can't._ Well, I shouldn't +wonder ef you couldn't. Well, now, I tell you, I'll make a bargain with +you. Ef you'll help me to git away from my massa an' missis, I'll agree +to be good; but ef you don't help me, I really don't think I can be. +Now,' says I, 'I want to git away; but the trouble's jest here: ef I try +to git away in the night, I can't see; an' ef I try to git away in the +daytime, they'll see me, an' be after me.' + +"Then the Lord said to me, 'Git up two or three hours afore daylight, +an' start off.' + +"An' says I, 'Thank 'ee, Lord! that's a good thought.' + +"So up I got, about three o'clock in the mornin', an' I started an' +travelled pretty fast, till, when the sun rose, I was clear away from +our place an' our folks, an' out o' sight. An' then I begun to think I +didn't know nothin' where to go. So I kneeled down, and says I,-- + +"'Well, Lord, you've started me out, an' now please to show me where to +go.' + +"Then the Lord made a house appear to me, an' He said to me that I was +to walk on till I saw that house, an' then go in an' ask the people to +take me. An' I travelled all day, an' didn't come to the house till late +at night; but when I saw it, sure enough, I went in, an' I told the +folks that the Lord sent me; an' they was Quakers, an' real kind they +was to me. They jes' took me in, an' did for me as kind as ef I'd been +one of 'em; an' after they'd giv me supper, they took me into a room +where there was a great, tall, white bed; an' they told me to sleep +there. Well, honey, I was kind o' skeered when they left me alone with +that great white bed; 'cause I never had been in a bed in my life. It +never came into my mind they could mean me to sleep in it. An' so I jes' +camped down under it, on the floor, an' then I slep' pretty well. In the +mornin', when they came in, they asked me of I hadn't been asleep; an' I +said, 'Yes, I never slep' better.' An' they said, 'Why, you haven't been +in the bed!' An' says I, 'Laws, you didn't think o' sech a thing as my +sleepin' in dat 'ar' _bed_, did you? I never heerd o' sech a thing in my +life.' + +"Well, ye see, honey, I stayed an' lived with 'em. An' now jes' look +here: instead o' keepin' my promise an' bein' good, as I told the Lord I +would, jest as soon as everything got a-goin' easy, _I forgot all about +God_. + +"Pretty well don't need no help; an' I gin up prayin.' I lived there two +or three years, an' then the slaves in New York were all set free, an' +ole massa came to our house to make a visit, an' he asked me ef I didn't +want to go back an' see the folks on the ole place. An' I told him I +did. So he said, ef I'd jes' git into the wagon with him, he'd carry me +over. Well, jest as I was goin' out to git into the wagon, _I met God_! +an' says I, 'O God, I didn't know as you was so great!' An' I turned +right round an' come into the house, an' set down in my room; for 't was +God all around me. I could feel it burnin', burnin', burnin' all around +me, an' goin' through me; an' I saw I was so wicked, it seemed as ef it +would burn me up. An' I said, 'O somebody, somebody, stand between God +an' me! for it burns me!' Then, honey, when I said so, I felt as it were +somethin' like an _amberill_ [umbrella] that came between me an' the +light, an' I felt it was _somebody_,--somebody that stood between me an' +God; an' it felt cool, like a shade; an' says I, 'Who's this that stands +between me an' God? Is it old Cato?' He was a pious old preacher; but +then I seemed to see Cato in the light, an' he was all polluted an' +vile, like me; an' I said, 'Is it old Sally?' an' then I saw her, an' +she seemed jes' so. An' then says I, '_Who_ is this?' An' then, honey, +for a while it was like the sun shinin' in a pail o' water, when it +moves up an' down; for I begun to feel 't was somebody that loved me; +an' I tried to know him. An' I said, 'I know you! I know you! I know +you!'--an' then I said, 'I don't know you! I don't know you! I don't +know you!' An' when I said, 'I know you, I know you,' the light came; +an' when I said, 'I don't know you, I don't know you,' it went, jes' +like the sun in a pail o' water. An' finally somethin' spoke out in me +an' said, '_This is Jesus _!' An' I spoke out with all my might, an' +says I, '_This is Jesus_! Glory be to God!' An' then the whole world +grew bright, an' the trees they waved an' waved in glory, an' every +little bit o' stone on the ground shone like glass; an' I shouted an' +said, 'Praise, praise, praise to the Lord!' An' I begun to feel sech +a love in my soul as I never felt before,--love to all creatures. An' +then, all of a sudden, it stopped, an' I said, 'Dar's de white folks, +that have abused you an' beat you an' abused your people,--think o' +them!' But then there came another rush of love through my soul, an' I +cried out loud,--'Lord, Lord, I can love _even de white folks_!' + +"Honey, I jes' walked round an' round in a dream. Jesus loved me! I +knowed it,--I felt it. Jesus was my Jesus. Jesus would love me always. I +didn't dare tell nobody; 't was a great secret. Everything had been got +away from me that I ever had; an' I thought that ef I let white folks +know about this, maybe they'd get _Him_ away,--so I said, 'I'll keep +this close. I won't let any one know.'" + +"But, Sojourner, had you never been told about Jesus Christ?" + +"No, honey. I hadn't heerd no preachin',--been to no meetin'. Nobody +hadn't told me. I'd kind o' heerd of Jesus, but thought he was like +Gineral Lafayette, or some o' them. But one night there was a Methodist +meetin' somewhere in our parts, an' I went; an' they got up an' begun +for to tell der 'speriences; an' de fust one begun to speak. I started, +'cause he told about Jesus. 'Why,' says I to myself, 'dat man's found +him, too!' An' another got up an' spoke, an' I said, 'He's found him, +too!' An' finally I said, 'Why, they all know him!' I was so happy! An' +then they sung this hymn": (Here Sojourner sang, in a strange, cracked +voice, but evidently with all her soul and might, mispronouncing the +English, but seeming to derive as much elevation and comfort from bad +English as from good):-- + + "There is a holy city, + A world of light above. + Above the stairs and regions,[A] + Built by the God of love. + + "An everlasting temple, + And saints arrayed in white + There serve their great Redeemer + And dwell with him in light. + + "The meanest child of glory + Outshines the radiant sun; + But who can speak the splendor + Of Jesus on his throne? + + "Is this the man of sorrows + Who stood at Pilate's bar, + Condemned by haughty Herod + And by his men of war? + + "He seems a mighty conqueror, + Who spoiled the powers below, + And ransomed many captives + From everlasting woe. + + "The hosts of saints around him + Proclaim his work of grace, + The patriarchs and prophets, + And all the godly race, + + "Who speak of fiery trials + And tortures on their way; + They came from tribulation + To everlasting day. + + "And what shall be my journey, + How long I'll stay below, + Or what shall be my trials, + Are not for me to know. + + "In every day of trouble + I'll raise my thoughts on high, + I'll think of that bright temple + And crowns above the sky." + +[Footnote A: Starry regions.] + +I put in this whole hymn, because Sojourner, carried away with her own +feeling, sang it from beginning to end with a triumphant energy that +held the whole circle around her intently listening. She sang with +the strong barbaric accent of the native African, and with those +indescribable upward turns and those deep gutturals which give such a +wild, peculiar power to the negro singing,--but above all, with such an +overwhelming energy of personal appropriation that the hymn seemed to be +fused in the furnace of her feelings and come out recrystallized as a +production of her own. + +It is said that Rachel was wont to chant the "Marseillaise" in a manner +that made her seem, for the time, the very spirit and impersonation of +the gaunt, wild, hungry, avenging mob which rose against aristocratic +oppression; and in like manner, Sojourner, singing this hymn, seemed to +impersonate the fervor of Ethiopia, wild, savage, hunted of all nations, +but burning after God in her tropic heart, and stretching her scarred +hands towards the glory to be revealed. + +"Well, den ye see, after a while I thought I'd go back an' see de folks +on de ole place. Well, you know, de law had passed dat de culled folks +was all free; an' my old missis, she had a daughter married about dis +time who went to live in Alabama,--an' what did she do but give her my +son, a boy about de age of dis yer, for her to take down to Alabama? +When I got back to de ole place, they told me about it, an' I went right +up to see ole missis, an' says I,-- + +"'Missis, have you been an' sent my son away down to Alabama?' + +"'Yes, I have,' says she; 'he's gone to live with your young missis.' + +"'Oh, Missis,' says I, 'how could you do it?' + +"'Poh!' says she, 'what a fuss you make about a little nigger! Got more +of 'em now than you know what to do with.' + +"I tell you, I stretched up. I felt as tall as the world! + +"'Missis,' says I, '_I'll have my son back agin!_' + +"She laughed. + +"'_You_ will, you nigger? How you goin' to do it? You ha'n't got no +money.' + +"'No, Missis,--but _God_ has,--an' you'll see He'll help me!'--an' I +turned round an' went out. + +"Oh, but I _was_ angry to have her speak to me so haughty an' so +scornful, as ef my chile wasn't worth anything. I said to God, 'O Lord, +render unto her double!' It was a dreadful prayer, an' I didn't know how +true it would come. + +"Well, I didn't rightly know which way to turn; but I went to the Lord, +an' I said to Him, 'O Lord, ef I was as rich as you be, an' you was as +poor as I be, I'd help you,--you _know_ I would; and, oh, do help me!' +An' I felt sure then that He would. + +"Well, I talked with people, an' they said I must git the case before a +grand jury. So I went into the town when they was holdin' a court, to +see ef I could find any grand jury. An' I stood round the +court-house, an' when they was a-comin' out, I walked right up to the +grandest-lookin' one I could see, an' says I to him,-- + +"'Sir, be you a grand jury?' + +"An' then he wanted to know why I asked, an' I told him all about it; +an' he asked me all sorts of questions, an' finally he says to me,-- + +"'I think, ef you pay me ten dollars, that I'd agree to git your son for +you.' An' says he, pointin' to a house over the way, 'You go 'long an' +tell your story to the folks in that house, an' I guess they'll give you +the money.' + +"Well, I went, an' I told them, an' they gave me twenty dollars; an' +then I thought to myself, 'Ef ten dollars will git him, twenty dollars +will git him _sartin_.' So I carried it to the man all out, an' said,-- + +"'Take it all,--only be sure an' git him' + +"Well, finally they got the boy brought back; an' then they tried to +frighten him, an' to make him say that I wasn't his mammy, an' that he +didn't know me; but they couldn't make it out. They gave him to me, +an' I took him an' carried him home; an' when I came to take off his +clothes, there was his poor little back all covered with scars an' hard +lumps, where they'd flogged him. + +"Well, you see, honey, I told you how I prayed the Lord to render unto +her double. Well, it came true; for I was up at ole missis' house not +long after, an' I heerd 'em readin' a letter to her how her daughter's +husband had murdered her,--how he'd thrown her down an' stamped the life +out of her, when he was in liquor; an' my ole missis, she giv a screech, +an' fell flat on the floor. Then says I, 'O Lord, I didn't mean all +that! You took me up too quick.' + +"Well, I went in an' tended that poor critter all night. She was out of +her mind,--a-cryin', an' callin' for her daughter; an' I held her poor +ole head on my arm, an' watched for her as ef she 'd been my babby. An' +I watched by her, an' took care on her all through her sickness after +that, an' she died in my arms, poor thing!" + +"Well, Sojourner, did you always go by this name?" + +"No, 'deed! My name was Isabella; but when I left the house of bondage, +I left everything behind. I wa'n't goin' to keep nothin' of Egypt on me, +an' so I went to the Lord an' asked Him to give me a new name. And the +Lord gave me Sojourner, because I was to travel up an' down the land, +showin' the people their sins, an' bein' a sign unto them. Afterwards +I told the Lord I wanted another name, 'cause everybody else had two +names; and the Lord gave me Truth, because I was to declare the truth to +the people. + +"Ye see some ladies have given me a white satin banner," she said, +pulling out of her pocket and unfolding a white banner, printed with +many texts, such as, "Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all +the inhabitants thereof," and others of like nature. "Well," she said, +"I journeys round to camp-meetins, an' wherever folks is, an' I sets up +my banner, an' then I sings, an' then folks always comes up round me, +an' then I preaches to 'em. I tells 'em about Jesus, an' I tells 'em +about the sins of this people. A great many always comes to hear me; an' +they 're right good to me, too, an' say they want to hear me agin." + +We all thought it likely; and as the company left her, they shook hands +with her, and thanked her for her very original sermon; and one of the +ministers was overheard to say to another, "There's more of the gospel +in that story than in most sermons." + +Sojourner stayed several days with us, a welcome guest. Her conversation +was so strong, simple, shrewd, and with such a droll flavoring of humor, +that the Professor was wont to say of an evening, "Come, I am dull, +can't you get Sojourner up here to talk a little?" She would come up +into the parlor, and sit among pictures and ornaments, in her simple +stuff gown, with her heavy travelling-shoes, the central object of +attention both to parents and children, always ready to talk or to sing, +and putting into the common flow of conversation the keen edge of some +shrewd remark. + +"Sojourner, what do you think of Women's Rights?" + +"Well, honey, I 's ben to der meetins, an' harked a good deal. Dey +wanted me fur to speak. So I got up. Says I,--'Sisters, I a'n't clear +what you'd be after. Ef women want any rights more 'n dey 's got, why +don't dey jes' _take 'em_, an' not be talkin' about it?' Some on 'em +came round me, an' asked why I didn't wear Bloomers. An' I told 'em I +had Bloomers enough when I was in bondage. You see," she said, "dey used +to weave what dey called nigger-cloth, an' each one of us got jes' sech +a strip, an' had to wear it width-wise. Them that was short got along +pretty well, but as for me"--She gave an indescribably droll glance at +her long limbs and then at us, and added,--"Tell _you_, I had enough of +Bloomers in them days." + +Sojourner then proceeded to give her views of the relative capacity of +the sexes, in her own way. + +"S'pose a man's mind holds a quart, an' a-woman's don't hold but a pint; +ef her pint is _full_, it's as good as his quart." + +Sojourner was fond of singing an extraordinary lyric, commencing,-- + + "I'm on my way to Canada, + That cold, but happy land; + The dire effects of Slavery + I can no longer stand. + O righteous Father, + Do look down on me + And help me on to Canada, + Where colored folks are free!" + +The lyric ran on to state, that, when the fugitive crosses the Canada +line, + + "The Queen comes down unto the shore, + With arms extended wide, + To welcome the poor fugitive + Safe onto Freedom's side." + +In the truth thus set forth she seemed to have the most simple faith. + +But her chief delight was to talk of "glory," and to sing hymns whose +burden was,-- + + "O glory, glory, glory, + Won't you come along with me?" + +and when left to herself, she would often hum these with great delight, +nodding her head. + +On one occasion, I remember her sitting at a window singing and +fervently keeping time with her bead, the little black Puck of a +grandson meanwhile, amusing himself with ornamenting her red-and-yellow +turban with green dandelion-curls, which shook and trembled with her +emotions, causing him perfect convulsions of delight. + +"Sojourner," said the Professor to her, one day, when he heard her +singing, "you seem to be very sure about heaven." + +"Well, I be," she answered, triumphantly. + +"What makes you so sure there is any heaven?" + +"Well, 'cause I got such a hankerin' arter it in here," she +said,--giving a thump on her breast with her usual energy. + +There was at the time an invalid in the house, and Sojourner, on +learning it, felt a mission to go and comfort her. It was curious to see +the tall, gaunt, dusky figure stalk up to the bed with such an air of +conscious authority, and take on herself the office of consoler +with such a mixture of authority and tenderness. She talked as from +above,--and at the same time, if a pillow needed changing or any office +to be rendered, she did it with a strength and handiness that inspired +trust. One felt as if the dark, strange woman were quite able to take up +the invalid in her bosom, and bear her as a lamb, both physically and +spiritually. There was both power and sweetness in that great warm soul +and that vigorous frame. + +At length, Sojourner, true to her name, departed. She had her mission +elsewhere. Where now she is I know not; but she left deep memories +behind her. + +To these recollections of my own I will add one more anecdote, related +by Wendell Phillips. + +Speaking of the power of Rachel to move and bear down a whole audience +by a few simple words, he said he never knew but one other human being +that had that power, and that other was Sojourner Truth. He related a +scene of which he was witness. It was at a crowded public meeting in +Faneuil Hall, where Frederick Douglas was one of the chief speakers. +Douglas had been describing the wrongs of the black race, and as he +proceeded, he grew more and more excited, and finally ended by saying +that they had no hope of justice from the whites, no possible hope +except in their own right arms. It must come to blood; they must fight +for themselves, and redeem themselves, or it would never be done. + +Sojourner was sitting, tall and dark, on the very front seat, facing the +platform; and in the hush of deep feeling, after Douglas sat down, she +spoke out in her deep, peculiar voice, heard all over the house,-- + +"Frederick, is _God dead_?" + +The effect was perfectly electrical, and thrilled through the whole +house, changing as by a flash the whole feeling of the audience. Not +another word she said or needed to say; it was enough. + +It is with a sad feeling that one contemplates noble minds and bodies, +nobly and grandly formed human beings, that have come to us cramped, +scarred, maimed, out of the prison-house of bondage. One longs to know +what such beings might have become, if suffered to unfold and expand +under the kindly developing influences of education. + +It is the theory of some writers, that to the African is reserved, +in the later and palmier days of the earth, the full and harmonious +development of the religious element in man. The African seems to seize +on the tropical fervor and luxuriance of Scripture imagery as something +native; he appears to feel himself to be of the same blood with those +old burning, simple souls, the patriarchs, prophets, and seers, whose +impassioned words seem only grafted as foreign plants on the cooler +stock of the Occidental mind. + +I cannot but think that Sojourner with the same culture might have +spoken words as eloquent and undying as those of the African Saint +Augustine or Tertullian. How grand and queenly a woman she might have +been, with her wonderful physical vigor, her great heaving sea of +emotion, her power of spiritual conception, her quick penetration, and +her boundless energy! We might conceive an African type of woman so +largely made and moulded, so much fuller in all the elements of life, +physical and spiritual, that the dark hue of the skin should seem only +to add an appropriate charm,--as Milton says of his Penseroso, whom he +imagines + + "Black, but such as in esteem + Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, + Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove + To set her beauty's praise above + The sea-nymph's." + +But though Sojourner Truth has passed away from among us as a wave of +the sea, her memory still lives in one of the loftiest and most original +works of modern art, the Libyan Sibyl, by Mr. Story, which attracted +so much attention in the late World's Exhibition. Some years ago, when +visiting Rome, I related Sojourner's history to Mr. Story at a breakfast +at his house. Already had his mind begun to turn to Egypt in search of +a type of art which should represent a larger and more vigorous +development of nature than the cold elegance of Greek lines. His +glorious Cleopatra was then in process of evolution, and his mind was +working out the problem of her broadly developed nature, of all that +slumbering weight and fulness of passion with which this statue seems +charged, as a heavy thunder-cloud is charged with electricity. + +The history of Sojourner Truth worked in his mind and led him into the +deeper recesses of the African nature,--those unexplored depths of being +and feeling, mighty and dark as the gigantic depths of tropical forests, +mysterious as the hidden rivers and mines of that burning continent +whose life-history is yet to be. A few days after, he told me that he +had conceived the idea of a statue which he should call the Libyan +Sibyl. Two years subsequently, I revisited Rome, and found the gorgeous +Cleopatra finished, a thing to marvel at, as the creation of a new style +of beauty, a new manner of art. Mr. Story requested me to come and +repeat to him the history of Sojourner Truth, saying that the conception +had never left him. I did so; and a day or two after, he showed me the +clay model of the Libyan Sibyl. I have never seen the marble statue; but +am told by those who have, that it was by far the most impressive work +of art at the Exhibition. + +A notice of the two statues from the London "Athenaeum" must supply a +description which I cannot give. + +"The Cleopatra and the Sibyl are seated, partly draped, with the +characteristic Egyptian gown, that gathers about the _torso_ and falls +freely around the limbs; the first is covered to the bosom, the second +bare to the hips. Queenly Cleopatra rests back against her chair in +meditative ease, leaning her cheek against one hand, whose elbow the +rail of the seat sustains; the other is outstretched upon her knee, +nipping its forefinger upon the thumb thoughtfully, as though some firm, +wilful purpose filled her brain, as it seems to set those luxurious +features to a smile as if the whole woman 'would.' Upon her head is +the coif, bearing in front the mystic _uraeus_, or twining basilisk of +sovereignty, while from its sides depend the wide Egyptian lappels, or +wings, that fall upon her shoulders. The _Sibilla Libica_ has crossed +her knees,--an action universally held amongst the ancients as +indicative of reticence or secrecy, and of power to bind. A +secret-keeping looking dame she is, in the full-bloom proportions of +ripe womanhood, wherein choosing to place his figure the sculptor has +deftly gone between the disputed point whether these women were blooming +and wise in youth, or deeply furrowed with age and burdened with the +knowledge of centuries, as Virgil, Livy, and Gellius say. Good artistic +example might be quoted on both sides. Her forward elbow is propped upon +one knee; and to keep her secrets closer, for this Libyan woman is the +closest of all the Sibyls, she rests her shut mouth upon one closed +palm, as if holding the African mystery deep in the brooding brain that +looks out through mournful, warning eyes, seen under the wide shade +of the strange horned (ammonite) crest, that bears the mystery of the +Tetragrammaton upon its upturned front. Over her full bosom, mother of +myriads as she was, hangs the same symbol. Her face has a Nubian cast, +her hair wavy and plaited, as is meet." + +We hope to see the day when copies both of the Cleopatra and the Libyan +Sibyl shall adorn the Capitol at Washington. + + + + +AMERICAN HORTICULTURE. + + +Horticulture in the United States has, except in a commercial sense, +been subordinate to the pursuit of wealth. Before man can indulge in +objects of elegance and refinement, he must have secured the comforts of +life: the _utile_ must lead the _dulce_, a well-stocked kitchen-garden +precede the parterre. We have now, however, in the older sections of the +Union, at least, passed through the ordeal of a young nation: elegance +is following the plain and practical; the spacious mansion, with its +luxurious appurtenances, is succeeding the cottage, as this in turn +was the successor of the cabin. The perception of the picturesque is a +natural result of earlier steps in the path of refinement: man may build +from a vulgar ambition for distinction, but he seldom plants unless +prompted by love of Nature and elevated impulses. Lord Bacon, in his +essay "Of Gardens," says, "When ages grow to civility and elegancy, men +come to build stately sooner than to garden finely; as if gardening were +the greater perfection." A case which seems to confirm this position +occurs to us. The site of a noble building, erected for our Government, +was adorned by wide-spreading trees, the growth of generations, which, +after the building was completed, the architect cut down before his axe +could be arrested. On being reproached for his Vandalism, he retorted,-- +"Trees may be seen everywhere, but such a Grecian portico as +that--where?" + +Among a young people like ourselves, the nursery and the market-garden +hold prominent places in horticultural pursuits; the latter yields a +prompt return for the investment of capital and labor, and just in +proportion as demand increases, so will be the exertion to meet it. Thus +we find the markets of the cities amply supplied with every luxury of +fruit and vegetable: the seasons are anticipated by artificial means, +glass is brought into requisition, and the tables of the wealthy are +furnished with a profusion unknown to royalty in an earlier age. + +The capacity of Americans to mould circumstances to themselves rather +than adapt themselves to circumstances, to remove obstacles, to +accomplish by the aid of machinery much that other peoples reach through +toil alone, has passed into a proverb: hence it need hardly cause +surprise, if unexampled success attend efforts at market-gardening, +bringing to the very doors of the comparatively poor vegetables and +fruits which in Europe are enjoyed only by the higher classes. As an +illustration,--where but in America are peaches planted by a single +individual by tens of thousands, and carried to market on steamboats +chartered for the special purpose, in quantities of one or two thousand +bushels at a trip? + +The earlier American nurseries were few in number, and, compared with +some now existing, of quite limited extent,--though equal, perhaps, in +proportion to population. The first of which there is any record, and +probably the earliest established, was that of John Bartram, near +Philadelphia, about the year 1730. Here were congregated many of the +prominent native plants and trees, preparatory to exportation to +Europe,--also the fruits and plants of the other hemisphere, obtained +in exchange for American productions. The specimen trees planted by the +elder Bartram and his descendants still adorn the grounds, classic +to the botanist and the lover of Nature: long may they stand, living +memorials of generations passed away, our earliest evidence of a taste +for horticulture! + +The next nursery in the order of date is that of Prince, in Flushing, +New York, established, we believe, prior to the Revolution, and +continued by the family to the present day. Flushing has become a centre +in the nursery-trade, and many acres thereabout are covered with young +trees intended for transplantation. A stroll round the village would +lead one to suppose the chief interest of the inhabitants was bound up +in the nursery-business, as is that of Lynn in shoes, and of Lowell +in cotton goods. Prominent among the Flushing nurseries are those of +Parsons, which, though of comparatively recent origin, abound in rich +treasures. + +The nurseries of the brothers David and Cuthbert Landreth appear to have +been the third in the order of succession. They were established at +Philadelphia shortly after the Revolution, and within the limits of the +city. The increase of population and their expanding trade caused a +removal to another and more ample field of culture, which, for nearly +half a century, was the resort of most people of taste who visited +Philadelphia. + +Nurseries are now found everywhere. The Far West has some which count +the young trees by millions, and fruit-trees of single kinds by the +hundred thousand. The Hoveys, of Boston, have long been prominent, not +only as nurserymen, but as writers on horticulture. Elwanger and Barry, +of Rochester, New York, have a large breadth of land, we forbear to +state our impression of the number of acres, covered by nursery-stock. +Professional florists also have multiplied to an unlimited +extent, exhibiting the growth of refining taste. Plants suited +to window-culture, and bouquets of choice flowers, are sold on +street-corners, and carried from door to door. Cameilias, of which +we recollect single flowers having been sold at a dollar, can now be +purchased at fifty cents the plant. + +It might be curious, in reference to this subject of horticulture, to +institute an inquiry as to cause and effect. Have the increased means of +gratifying taste expanded it, or has taste rapidly developed created the +means of supply? Doubtless there has been reaction from both directions, +each operating on the other. One striking exhibition of pure taste +among us is the formation of picturesque arboretums, especially of +terebinthinate trees, and others allied to the Coniferae. This taste, so +diligently cultivated in England, has found zealous worshippers among +us, and some admirable collections have been formed. The cemetery of +Laurel Hill, at Philadelphia, under the critical eye and taste of the +proprietor, Mr. John Jay Smith, that of Mount Auburn, in Cambridge, of +Greenwood, New York, and the cemetery in Cincinnati, have afforded fine +specimens of rare trees, though, from the nature of their purposes, +picturesque effect could not be reached, except so far as aided by +irregularity of surface. And here we would remark, in connection with +this subject, that one regulation of the Cincinnati cemetery is worthy +of imitation. No arbitrary railings or ill-kept hedges bound the +individual lots; all is open, and the visitor, as he drives through the +grounds, is charmed by the effect,--a park studded with monuments: the +social distinctions, which, perhaps, necessarily separated in life, have +disappeared in death. + +In connection with landscape-gardening, one American name stands +conspicuous,--the name of one who, if not, in point of time, the first +teacher of the art in this country, has at least done more than +any other to direct attention to it,--to exhibit defects, suggest +improvements, create beauties, and invest his subject with such a charm +and interest as to captivate many minds which might otherwise have been +long insensible to the dormant beauty within their reach, or that which +they themselves had the power to produce: we refer, of course, to the +late Andrew J. Downing. With naturally fine artistic perceptions, his +original occupation of a nurseryman gave direction to his subsequent +pursuits. Under different circumstances, his taste might, perhaps, have +been turned to painting, sculpture, or architecture: indeed, to the last +he paid no inconsiderable attention; and as the result, many a rural +homestead, which might otherwise have been a bleak house, is conspicuous +as the abode of taste and elegance. + +Among the prominent private arboretums in our country may be mentioned +that of Mr. Sargent at Wodeneshe. Mr. Sargent, as may be seen by his +supplement to Downing's "Landscape-Gardening," is an enthusiast in the +culture of conifers; he is reputed to have made liberal importations, +and the results of his attempts at acclimation, given to the public, +have aided others in like endeavors. Judge Field, of Princeton, New +Jersey, has a pinetum of much value; some of his specimens are of rare +excellence. He, also, has been a diligent importer. + + * * * * * + +Though our sketch of the present state of horticulture among us is quite +imperfect, affording but an indistinct glimpse of the ample field which +invites our view, it would scarcely be pardonable, were we to overlook a +branch of rural industry in which horticultural success is interested, +and without which the practical pleasures and family-comfort of rural +homes would be greatly abridged. We refer to garden-seed culture. It may +be that the purchaser of a paper of seed for the kitchen-garden seldom +stops to consider the minute care which has been required to secure its +purity; most probably, in many cases, he makes the purchase as though it +were the mere product of mechanical skill, which, after the machinery is +perfected, and the steam-engine has been set in motion, turns out the +finished article, of use or ornament, with scarcely an effort of mind to +direct its movements. Not so in the production of seeds: many are the +hours of watchful care to be bestowed upon it, and stern and unyielding +are its demands on the skilled eye and the untiring hand. It is because +in some cases the eye is not skilled, and the hand often tires, that +so many seeds of more than doubtful worth are imposed upon the +market, filling the village and cross-road shops with the germs of +disappointment. The history of the seed-culture in the United States is +not without interest to those who, like many readers of the "Atlantic," +reside in the quiet country; to every family thus situated the certainty +of obtaining seeds of trustworthy quality--certain to vegetate, and sure +to prove true to name--is of more importance than can be appreciated by +those who rely upon the city-market, and have at all times and seasons +ample supplies of vegetables within easy reach. On looking round for +some individual establishment which we may use as the representative of +this branch of industry, we naturally turn to Bloomsdale, as the most +prominent and widest-known of seed-farms; and if the reader will join us +in a trip thither, we shall be pleased with his company, and perchance +he may not wholly regret the time occupied in the excursion. The period +we shall choose for the visit is the close of the month of June. + +On a bright day we take our seats in the cars at Jersey City, provided +with the talisman to insure an attentive reception. Onward we whirl +through fertile fields and smiling villages; Newark, Brunswick, +Princeton, are successively passed; shortly we reach the Delaware at +Trenton; a run of a few miles through Penn's Manor, the garden-spot of +the Proprietary Governor, brings us to Bristol, the station from which +we most readily reach our destination. As we approach the grounds from +the front, a prominent object meets the eye, a noble white pine of +gigantic proportions, somewhat the worse for many a winter's storm, but +which still stands in all its majestic grandeur, as it has stood whilst +generations have come and passed away. On entering the premises, we find +ourselves in the midst of a lawn of ten acres in the English style. To +enumerate the various trees, in groups or single specimens, which most +invite our notice, would interfere with the main object of our visit. We +have come for a special purpose, and we can only allude to a very few +of the species to which our attention may be supposed to be directed. A +white spruce, in rich luxuriance, measuring, as the branches trail upon +the sward, upwards of sixty feet in circumference; the Himalayan white +pine, with its deep fringe-like foliage, twenty-five feet in height; the +Cephalonian fir, with leaves as pungent as an Auricaria, twenty feet +high, and many specimens of the same kind of nearly equal magnitude; +yews, of more than half a century's growth; a purple beech, of thirty +feet in height, its branches as many in circumference, contrasting with +the green around; numerous specimens of balm of Gilead, silver firs, and +Norway spruces, unsurpassed in beauty of form, the last presenting every +variety of habit in which it delights to sport: these are some of the +gems of the lawn. But we must hurry onward to the practical business in +view. + +The harvest, which, in seed-culture, lasts for many consecutive weeks, +has just commenced. The first important crop that ripens is the +turnip,--which is now being cut. The work is performed by the use of +grass-hooks or toothless sickles; stem after stem is cut, until the hand +is full, when they are deposited in canvas sheets; as these are filled, +boys stand ready to spread others; men follow to tie up those which have +been filled; others succeed, driving teams, and loading wagons, with +ample shelvings, with sheet-full piled on sheet-full, until the sturdy +oxen are required to test their strength in drawing them to the +drying-houses; arrived there, each sheet-full is separately removed by +rope and tackle, and the contents deposited on the skeleton scaffolding +within the building, there to remain until the seed is sufficiently +cured and dry enough to thresh. These drying-houses are buildings +of uniform character, two stories in height and fifty feet square, +constructed so as to expose their contents to sun and air, and each +provided with a carefully laid threshing-floor, extending through the +building, with pent-house for movable engine. When the houses are full +and the hulm in a fit state for threshing, the engine is started and +the work begun. One man, relieved by others from time to time, (for the +labor requires activity, and consequently is exhausting,) feeds the +thresher, which, with its armed teeth, moves with such velocity as to +appear like a solid cylinder. Here there is no stopping for horses +to take breath and rest their weary limbs,--puff, puff, onward the +work,--steam as great a triumph in threshing as in printing or spinning. +Men and boys are stationed at the rear of the thresher to remove the +straw, and roughly separate the seed from the shattered hulm,--others +again being engaged in thrusting the dried crop from the scaffolds, and +placing it in suitable position for the feeders. When one drying-house +has thus been emptied, the engine is removed to another; the same +process is pursued until the circuit of the buildings has been made, and +thus the ceaseless round (ceaseless at least for a season) is continued. +As soon as the crop in the first house has been threshed, the work of +winnowing is commenced, and skilled hands thus engaged follow on in the +track of the engine. As each crop is cleaned and put in merchantable +order, it is placed in bags of two bushels each and carried to the +storehouses and granaries, there to await a requisition from the +city-warehouse. + +We have just witnessed the process of saving the crop of turnip-seed. +And how much may that reach? is a natural inquiry. Of all the varieties, +including the ruta-baga, about one thousand bushels, is the response. We +should have thought a thousand pounds would supply the entire Union; but +we are reminded it is in part exported to far distant lands. And what is +the crop so much like turnip, but still green, and apparently of more +vigorous growth? That is one of the varieties of cabbage, of which +several standard kinds are under cultivation. Another adjoining is +radish; still another, beet; and thus we pass from kind to kind, until +we have exhausted a long catalogue of sorts. + +Let us stop our walk over the grounds for a few moments, taking seats +under the shadow of a tree, and make some inquiries as to the place +itself, its extent, the course of culture, the description of manures +used, etc. Our cicerone assents to the proposal, and proceeds to answer +our general inquiries. Bloomsdale contains in round numbers four hundred +acres; it has a frontage on the Delaware of upwards of a mile, is +bounded on the west by the Delaware Canal, and is divided into two +nearly equal parts by the Philadelphia and Trenton Railroad. The soil is +a light loam, easily worked, suited to rapid percolation, admitting of +labor immediately after heavy rain, and not liable to suffer by drought. +The manures used are principally crude, obtained from the city, and +landed on the premises from shallops continually plying, laden with the +"sinews of farming." Street-scrapings are more used than stable-manure; +bone-dust and guano enter largely into the account; and the aggregate +annual expenditure foots up a sum almost equivalent to the fee-simple of +an ordinary farm. The culture is that denominated drill; but of course +much of it is simply straight lines drawn by the plough, in which the +roots for seeding are planted by hand. The ground, with the exception of +the lawn and a portion occupied from time to time by grass for home use, +is divided by wagon-roads into squares and parallelograms; cross fences +are not used; and each crop forms a distinct feature, accessible at any +stage of growth. The several varieties of each kind, as, for instance, +those of turnip, cabbage, beet, lettuce, are planted widely apart, to +guard against possible admixture; but the chances of that result must +be much less than is popularly supposed, efforts having been used +experimentally to test its practicability, and that between kindred +closely allied, without success. Although the extent of the grounds +would appear to be formidable, even for a farm conducted in the usual +mode, it is insufficient for the demands on the proprietors, without +diligent exertion and prompt recropping,--two crops in each year being +exacted, only a small part of the land escaping double duty, the extent +annually ploughed thus amounting to nearly twice the area of the farm. +The heavy hauling is performed by oxen, the culture principally by +mules, which are preferred to horses, as being less liable to injury, +and better adapted to the narrow drill culture practised. + +The seeds of Bloomsdale have attained a world-wide reputation, and, to +quote an expression used in reference to them, "are almost as well +known on the Ganges as on the Mississippi or Ohio." They are regularly +exported to the British possessions in India, to the shores of the +Pacific, throughout the West Indies, and occasionally to Australia. +The drier atmosphere of this country ripens them better than the humid +climate of England, adapting them to exportation; and it is no slight +triumph to see them preferred by Englishmen on English soil. At home, +thousands of hamlets, south and west of Philadelphia, until interrupted +by the war, were supplied with Landreth's seeds. The business, founded +nearly three-quarters of a century ago, is now conducted by the second +and third generations of the family with which it originated. Thus +has success been achieved through long and patient industry steadily +directed to the same pursuit, and a reputation built up for American +seeds, despite the want of national protection. + + + + +THE EAST AND THE WEST. + +[This poem was written by THEODORE WINTHROP seven years ago, and after +his death was found among his unpublished papers.] + + + We of the East spread our sails to the sea, + You of the West stride over the land; + Both are to scatter the hopes of the Free, + As the sower sheds golden grain from his hand. + + 'Tis ours to circle the stormy bends + Of a continent, yours its ridge to cross; + We must double the capes where a long world ends, + Lone cliffs where two limitless oceans toss. + + They meet and are baffled 'mid tempest and wrath, + Breezes are skirmishing, angry winds roar, + While poised on some desperate plunge of our path + We count up the blackening wrecks on the shore. + + And you through dreary and thirsty ways, + Where rivers are sand and winds are dust, + Through sultry nights and feverish days, + Move westward still as the sunsets must: + + Where the scorched air quivers along the slopes, + Where the slow-footed cattle lie down and die, + Where horizons draw backward till baffled hopes + Are weary of measureless waste and sky. + + Yes, ours to battle relentless gales, + And yours the brave and the patient way; + But we hold the storms in our trusty sails, + And for you the life-giving fountains play. + + There are stars above us, and stars for you,-- + Rest on the path, and calm on the main: + Storms are but zephyrs, when hearts are true; + We are no weaklings, quick to complain, + + When lightnings flash bivouac-fires into gloom, + And with crashing of forests the rains sheet down,-- + Or when ships plunge onward where night-clouds loom, + Defiant of darkness and meeting its frown. + + These are the days of motion and march; + Now we are ardent, and young, and brave: + Let them that come after us build the arch + Of our triumph, and plant with the laurel our grave. + + Time enough to rear temples when heroes are dead, + Time enough to sing paeans after the fight: + Prophets urge onward the future's tread; + We,--_we_ are to kindle its beacon-light. + + Our sires lit torches of quenchless flame + To illumine our darkness, if night should be; + But day is a friend to our standards, and shame + Be ours, if we win not a victory! + + Man is nobler than men have been, + Souls are vaster than souls have dreamed; + There are broader oceans than eyes have seen, + Noons more glowing than yet have beamed. + + Creeping shadows cower low on our land; + These shall not dim our grander day: + Stainless knights must be those who stand + Full in the van of a world's array! + + When shall we cease our meagre distrust? + When to each other our true hearts yield? + To make this world an Eden, we must + Fling away each weapon and shield, + + And meet each man as a friend and mate, + Trample and spurn and forget our pride, + Glad to accept an equal fate, + Laboring, conquering side by side. + + + + +PERSONAL REMINISCENCES OF THE LATE HENRY THOMAS BUCKLE. + + +_Cairo, Egypt, February 6th, 1862._ I am afraid I repeat myself in +talking about the beauty of the climate here, but to-day is so lovely +that I cannot refrain from recurring to the subject. While you are +shivering under the blasts of winter, we have a genuine June morning: +the air soft and pure, the atmosphere clear, innumerable birds chirping +in the trees opposite the windows, (for the Arabs never interfere with +birds,) and the aspect of things from our balcony overlooking the +Esbekieh, or public square, as pleasant as one could wish. The beautiful +weather, too, is constant. + +But I must tell you of my dining yesterday with Mrs. R., to meet Mr. +Buckle, the author of the History of Civilization, who has just returned +from his two or three months' voyage upon the Nile, in which he pushed +as far as Nubia. He is now staying for a little while in Cairo, or +rather in his _dahabieh_, or boat, (which he says is more comfortable +than any hotel,) moored in the river at Boolak, the port of the town. +Mrs. R., the daughter of Lady Duff Gordon, and granddaughter of Mrs. +Austin, is a most attractive and accomplished young lady; her husband is +the manager in Egypt of the great banking-house of Briggs and Company, +in which he is a partner. Their usual residence is at Alexandria; but +at this season "all the world" of Egypt comes to Cairo, to enjoy the +beautiful weather here, while it is raining incessantly in Alexandria, +only a hundred and thirty miles distant. Mrs. R. in asking Mr. Thayer, +our Consul-General, to meet Mr. Buckle, with very great kindness +included me in the invitation. The only other lady present was Miss +P., a niece of the late Countess of Blessington, herself the author +of several pleasant stories, and of a poem which gained a prize in +competition with one by Mrs. Browning and another by Owen Meredith: she +is spending the winter with Mrs. R. There were also present C., who +conducts the house of Briggs and Company in Cairo; O., another banker; +and Hekekyan Bey, an Armenian, a well-read and intelligent man, formerly +Minister of Public Instruction under Mehemet Ali, and still, I believe, +in receipt of a pension from the Viceroy's government, in consideration +of his public services, which have been valuable. + +The dinner was at an hotel called the Restaurant d'Auric. We assembled +in Mrs. R.'s drawing-room, an apartment in the banking-house at a little +distance, and walked to the hotel. The company fell into two groups, +each lighted by a swarthy _boab_ or lackey carrying a _mushal_ or +lantern; and I happened to walk with Mr. Buckle, so that I had a brief +talk with him in the street, before the general conversation began at +the table. He remarked upon the extraordinary devotion exhibited by +Delane of the London Times to the interests and politics of Lord +Palmerston. Becoming interested in our conversation, we strayed away +from the rest, and were walking about a quarter of a mile down the +_bazaar_, when (are you surprised to hear?) Mr. Buckle was missed, +the two _boabs_ came running after us, and we were cited to the +dinner-table. + +Buckle, of course, was the card. He talked with a velocity and fulness +of facts that was wonderful. The rest of us could do little but listen +and ask questions. And yet he did not seem to be lecturing us; the +stream of his conversation flowed along easily and naturally. Nor was it +didactic; Buckle's range of reading has covered everything in elegant +literature, as well as the ponderous works whose titles make so +formidable a list at the beginning of his History, and, as he remembers +everything he has read, he can produce his stores upon the moment for +the illustration of whatever subject happens to come up. + +In the first place, let me say how delightful it was to discover his +cordial interest in our own country. He expresses a strong hope that +England will take no part against us, and do nothing to break the +blockade. He is going to write about America; indeed, his next volume, +besides containing a complete view of the German philosophy, will treat +of the United States. But he will visit us before he writes. Although +appreciating the great work of De Tocqueville, he complains of the +general inadequacy of European criticism upon America. Gasparin's books, +by the way, he has not seen. For his own part, he considers the subject +too vast, he says, and the testimony too conflicting, to permit him +to write upon it before he has seen the country; and meanwhile he +scrupulously refrains from forming any conclusive opinions. + +Subject to this reservation of judgment, however, he remarked that +he was inclined to think that George III forced us prematurely into +democracy, although the natural tendency of things both in America and +England was towards it; and he thought that perhaps we had established +a political democracy without having yet achieved an intellectual +democracy: the two ought to go hand in hand together. The common people +in England, he said, are by far the most useful class of society. He had +been especially pleased by the numerous letters he had received from +working-men who had read his book. These letters often surprised him +by the acuteness and capacity displayed by their writers. The nobility +would perish utterly, if it were not constantly recruited from +commoners. Lord Brougham was the first member of the secular peerage who +continued after his elevation to sign his name in full, "H. Brougham," +which he did to show his continued sympathy with the class from which he +sprang. Buckle remarked that the history of the peasantry of no European +country has ever been written, or ever can be written, and without it +the record of the doings of kings and nobles is mere chaff. Surnames +were not introduced until the eleventh century, and it is only since +that period that genealogy has become possible. + +Another very pleasant thing is Mr. Buckle's cordial appreciation of +young men. He repeated the story, which I believe is in his book, +that, when Harvey announced to the world his great discovery of the +circulation of the blood, among the physicians who received it was none +above the age of forty. Mr. Thayer described to Buckle some of our +friends who have read his book with especial satisfaction. He evidently +took pleasure in this proof of appreciation, and said that this was the +class of readers he sought. "In fact, the young men," he said, "are the +only readers of much value; it is they who shape the future." He said +that Thackeray and Delane had told him he would find Boston very like +England. He knows but few Bostonians. He had corresponded with Theodore +Parker, whom he considered a remarkable man; he had preserved but one of +his letters, which he returned to Mrs. Parker, in answer to her request +for materials to aid her in preparing the memoir of her late +husband. Buckle says that he does not generally preserve other than +business-letters. + +Mr. Buckle gave an amusing account of the origin of the wigs which the +lawyers wear in England, and which, by the way, struck me as infinitely +ludicrous when I saw them on the heads of the judges and counsel in +Westminster Hall. Originally the clergy were forbidden to practise law, +and, as they were the best lawyers, the wig was worn to conceal the +tonsure. He had anecdotes to tell of Johnson, Lamb, Macaulay, Voltaire, +Talleyrand, etc., and quoted passages from Burke and from Junius at +length in the exact words. Junius he considers proved to be Sir Philip +Francis. He told a good story against Wordsworth, contained in a letter +from Lamb to Talfourd, which the latter showed to Buckle, but had +considered among the things too personal to be published. Wordsworth +was decrying Shakspeare. "Pooh!" he said, "it is all very easy: I could +write like Shakspeare myself, if I had a mind to!" "Precisely so," +rejoined Lamb,--"_if you had a mind to_." + +Mr. Buckle does not think much of the ancient Egyptian civilization, +differing in this respect _toto caelo_ from Hekekyan Bey, who finds +in the monuments proofs of the existence of an expansive popular +government. Buckle declares that the machines, as figured in the +hieroglyphics, are of the most primitive kind,--and that the learning, +by all accounts, was confined to the priests, and covered a very narrow +range, exhibiting no traces of acquaintance with the higher useful arts. +He says it is a fallacy to suppose that savages are bodily superior to +civilized men. Captain Cook found that his sailors could outwork the +islanders. I remarked, in confirmation, that our Harvard boat-clubs +won the prizes in rowing-matches against all comers. Buckle seemed +interested, and asked for a more particular account, which, of course, I +took great pleasure in giving. C., like a true Englishman, doubted +the general fact, and said the Thames watermen out-rowed their +university-clubs. + +For Turkish civilization Mr. Buckle has not the slightest respect,--said +he could write the whole of it on the back of his hand; and here +Hekekyan Bey cordially agreed with him. Buckle is very fond of chess, +and can play two games at once blindfold. He inquired very particularly +about a native here who it is said can play four or six in this manner, +and said he should like to try a game with him. He had seen Paulsen, but +not Morphy. + +Mr. Thayer asked him if in England he had been subjected to personal +hostility for his opinions, or to anything like social ostracism. He +said, generally not. A letter from a clergyman to an acquaintance in +England, expressing intense antipathy to him, although he had never seen +the writer, was the only evidence of this kind of opposition. "In fact," +said he, naively, "the people of England have such an admiration of any +kind of _intellectual splendor_ that they will forgive for its sake the +most objectionable doctrines." He told us that the portion of his book +which relates to Spain, although by no means complimentary to that +country, has been translated and published separately there. T. remarked +that to this circumstance, no doubt, we may ascribe some part of the +modern regeneration of Spain, the leading statesmen being persuaded to a +more liberal policy; but this view Buckle disclaimed with an eagerness +seeming to be something more than the offspring of modesty. + +After dinner we returned to Mrs. R.'s apartments, where we had tea. +Buckle and Hekekyan now got into an animated discussion upon the ancient +Egyptian civilization, which scarcely gave the rest of us a chance to +put in a single word. It was, however, exceedingly interesting to sit +and listen. Indeed, although there was nothing awful about Buckle, one +felt a little abashed to intrude his own remarks in such a presence. You +will be amused to hear that Mrs. R., who had seen me but once before, +told T. that she did not think I seemed to have much to say for myself. +Pray tell this in circles where they accuse me of monopolizing the +conversation. We stayed until nearly midnight, and then, taking our +leave, Buckle accompanied T. and myself as far as the door of our hotel. +Buckle received most kindly all suggestions made to him of books to be +read upon American affairs, and people to be seen in the United States. + +_February 7th_. To-day we made a party to drive to see the Howling +Dervishes, who howl on Fridays. Friday is sometimes called "the +Mahometan Sunday," which is a correct phrase, if the especial +celebration of religious services is meant; but it is not at all a day +of rest: we found the people continuing their various avocations as +usual. At the mosque we met Mr. Buckle, a little careless in his +dress,--in this respect affording a not disagreeable contrast to +the studied jauntiness which Englishmen are apt to affect in their +travelling-gear. Nobody is allowed to press the floor of the mosque with +shoes upon the feet. T. and I, warned by our former experience, had +brought pieces of cotton cloth to tie over our shoes; and some cloth +slippers of a bright orange color, such as the Arabs are fond of +using, had been provided, which Miss P. slipped directly over her +walking-boots. Buckle, with careless indifference, pulled off his shoes +and walked in in his stockinged feet. His figure is tall and slender, +although he is a large man; he stoops a little in standing; his head, +well-shaped, is partly bald; and although his features are not striking +in themselves, they are rendered so by his animated expression. The +photograph which I have seen is a wretched caricature. + +The performances of the Dervishes were precisely the same as those which +I witnessed in the same place a fortnight ago, and may be found most +exactly described by Mr. Trollope (who saw them two or three years +since) in his admirable novel of "The Bertrams," Chapter 38. If I +desired to tell you what we saw, I could not do better than to adopt +Mr. Trollope's language without alteration. This will prove to you the +sameness of this singular religious rite. Driving back, Miss P. helped +us to recall some of the incidents of the dinner of the preceding day. +She used to see almost all the distinguished literary characters at the +house of her aunt; but she told us that she never met anybody whose +conversation could bear comparison with that of Buckle, excepting Lord +Brougham and Alexander Dumas. The latter disgusts by his insufferable +egotism. Miss P. also gave us a very entertaining account of an Arab +wedding which she attended a day or two ago in company with Mrs. R. +As soon as they were inside the house they were separated from their +escort, and were admitted to the apartment where the bride was obliged +to sit in state for three days, covered with jewelry, clusters of +diamonds literally plastered upon her cheeks and forehead. + +_February 10th_. Yesterday Mr. Thayer entertained Mr. Buckle at dinner. +The party included Mrs. R. and some of the guests whom we had met at her +table. We had hoped also for the presence of Mr. R., who was expected to +come up from Alexandria; but the train failed to bring him. Mr. Thayer +also invited Sir James Outram, but he is too unwell to come, although +expressing himself pleased with the invitation. The landlord of the +hotel where the consul-general is staying (Hotel des Ambassadeurs) was +very proud of the occasion, and the entertainment, although simple, +was elegant. An oval table was found of exactly the right size to seat +eight. Buckle was in excellent spirits, and, as before, was the life of +the party. We had been terribly afraid lest he and Hekekyan should get +into another long disputation, for the excellent Bey has fortified +himself with new materials; but the ladies were taken into our +confidence to aid in turning the conversation, if it should be +necessary, all of which made a great deal of entertainment; but there +proved to be no occasion for anything of the sort. + +Buckle told some capital stories: among them, one against Alison, almost +too good to be true, namely, that in the first edition of his History he +mentioned among the causes of the French Devolution "the timber-duty," +because he had read in a French pamphlet that there were popular +discontents about the _droits de timbre_.[A] Alison's History, he said, +is the very worst that ever was written. He cited a good definition, +(Addison's, I believe,) that "fine writing is that which is true without +being obvious." In the course of the conversation, in which, as before, +Buckle touched points in the whole circle of literature and science, +giving us quotations even in Hebrew from the Talmud and the Bible, he +made a very pretty compliment to our host, introduced as adroitly as +from the lips of a professed courtier, but evidently spoken on the +moment. It was something in this way. Hekekyan and Buckle were in an +argument, and Buckle said, "Ah, you mistake a necessary condition for +the cause." "What is cause but necessary condition?" asked Hekekyan. +"Very different: two men can't fight a duel without meeting, but every +two men who meet don't fight a duel." "But they couldn't fight a duel +without meeting," persisted Hekekyan. "Yes," rejoined Buckle; "but +the meeting isn't the cause of the duel. Why, there could not be a +dinner-party, unless the company met; but our meeting here to-day isn't +the cause of the dinner: the cause of the dinner is the kindness of our +host." "Or rather, of the landlord," said N. "Oh, no! of the American +government," said C. "Ah," said Buckle, "those things are not the +cause: the cause of our good dinner, I maintain, is only the charming +hospitality of the consul-general." Is not this metaphysics made easy, +and prettily employed? + +[Footnote A: It is fair to say that an examination of the chapter on +the causes of the French Revolution, in several editions of Alison's +History, including the first, gives this story no support.] + +After dinner we had tea and coffee; the ladies, in Egypt, could scarcely +do less than allow tobacco, and Mr. Buckle particularly enjoyed some +choice cigars which T. was able to offer him. The party did not break up +until nearly midnight, when all the guests retired together. + +_February 11th_. To my pleasure, the train from Alexandria yesterday +afternoon brought Mr. B., of New York, and his very agreeable family, +with whom I crossed the Atlantic in the Persia last October. They went +at first to another hotel, but to-day they have determined to come to +that at which we are staying. I called upon them on their arrival, and +asked the gentlemen to join us at dinner, and afterwards in going, in +company with Mr. Buckle, whom Mr. Thayer had previously invited, to +attend a _fantasia_, or exhibition of singing and dancing, by Arab +professionals, at the house of Mr. Savallan, a wealthy French banker, +who has lived a long time in the Levant and has in some degree adopted +Oriental customs. He has lately sold to the Viceroy a tooth-brush, comb, +and hair-brush, for the handsome price of fourteen thousand dollars. +They were doubtless richly set with jewels; but the profit on these +transactions is immense. Mr. B. accepted the invitation for dinner, and +Mr. W. joined us afterwards. + +At dinner I was seated next to Mr. Buckle, and thus had an opportunity +for private conversation. He asked about American books, and told me his +opinion of those he had read. He said that Quincy's History of Harvard +University was the latest book on America he received before leaving +England. He preferred Kent's exposition of the United States +Constitution to Story's, although this also he had consulted and used. +He had not seen Mr. Charles Francis Adams's complete edition of the +works of his grandfather, nor Parton's Life of Jackson, both of which I +begged him to read, particularly the chapters in the former in which are +traced the steps in the progress of making the American Constitutions. +He told me about his library in London, which is surpassed (among +private libraries) only by that belonging to Mr. Van de Weyer, the +Belgian Minister, whose wife is the daughter of our Bostonian Mr. Bates, +of Barings. Buckle has twenty-two thousand volumes, all selected by +himself; and he takes great pleasure in them. He spends eight or nine +hundred pounds a year upon his library. He owns copies of all the books +referred to in his History; some of them are very old and rare. He +also possesses a considerable collection, made likewise by himself, of +curiosities in natural history; he has added largely to it in Egypt, +where, in fact, he has been buying with open hands. He said he could not +be perfectly happy in leaving the country, if obliged to go away without +a crocodile's egg, a trophy which as yet he has been unable to obtain. + +He told me his plan of travel in America. He will not set out until our +domestic troubles are composed, for he desires to see the practical +working of our institutions in their normal state, not confused and +disturbed by the excitements of war. He would go first to Boston and +New York, the intellectual and commercial heads (as he said) of the +republic,--and to Washington, the political capital. He would then like +to pass from the Northern into the Southern States, but asked if he +could travel safely in the latter, in view of his extreme opinions in +detestation of slavery. I assured him that nobody would dare to molest +one so well known, even if our war did not abate forever the nuisance +of lynching, to say nothing of its probable effect in promoting the +extinction of slavery. From the Southern States he said he would wish to +pass into Mexico, thence to Peru and to Chili; then to cross the Pacific +Ocean to Japan, to China, to India, and so back by the overland route +to England. This magnificent scheme he has seriously resolved upon, and +proposes to devote to it two or three years. He undertakes it partly for +information and partly for relaxation of his mental faculties, which he +has injured by overwork, and which imperatively demand repose. He asked +many questions with regard to matters of detail,--whether he would find +conveyance by steamers in the Pacific, and of what sort would be the +accommodations in them and in sailing-vessels. He asked at what season +he had best arrive in the United States, and whether he had better +land at New York or at Boston. Boston he said he regarded as "the +intellectual head of the country, and New York, you know, for trade." I +answered his questions as well as I could, and told him he must not omit +seeing our Western country, and some of the new cities, like Chicago. He +asked me if I knew "a Mrs. Child," who had written him a letter and sent +him her book about the history of religion. I knew of course that he +meant "The Progress of Religious Ideas," by Mrs. L. Maria Child. He had +been pleased with the letter, and with the book. + +The conversation becoming general, Mr. B., of New York, told a story of +an old Congressional debate in which John Randolph derisively compared +Edward Everett to Richelieu: Buckle at once said he should regard it as +a compliment of the very highest kind to be compared to Richelieu. You +will smile, perhaps, if I tell you that I could not resist asking Buckle +if he had read Dumas's historical novels, and he said he had not, +although he had felt an inclination to do so. He asked one or two +questions about them, and gave a rapid generalization of the history of +France at that time. + +This conversation at the dinner-table of course was by far the +pleasantest part of the evening, for the _fantasia_ did not amount to +much, although the house was a fine one, the host most cordial, and the +novelty of the entertainment was enjoyable. + +_February 12th_. Mr. Buckle called upon T. and myself in the +afternoon, and sat talking between two and three hours. I wish I could +give you a full report of all that he said. He told us of the only +lecture he ever delivered; it was before the Royal Institution, March +19, 1858, and was printed in "Fraser's Magazine" for April, just +afterwards. It may be found reprinted in America in "Littell's Living +Age," No. 734. The subject was "The Influence of Women on the Progress +of Knowledge." Murchison, Owen, and Faraday told him afterwards, +separately, that they were perfectly satisfied with it, which is +certainly a strong combination of authority. He told us all about his +education, which is interesting, for he has been most truly self-taught. +When he was a boy, he was so delicate that it was thought he could not +live; the celebrated Dr. Abernethy, who was a particular friend of his +father, saw how important it was to keep him from mental excitement, and +begged that he might not be troubled by lessons. Accordingly, he was +never sent to school at any time, except for a brief period to a +clergyman who had directions not to make him study; and he was never +regularly taught anything. Until eight years of age he hardly knew his +letters. At the age of fifteen he found out Shakespeare and read it with +great zest. At seventeen he conceived the plan of his book, and resolved +to do two things to make himself fit to write it: first, he resolved to +devote four hours a day to the study of physical science, in order that +he might be able fully to understand and to unfold its relations with +history; secondly, he resolved to devote an equal portion of each day to +the study of English composition and practice in writing, in order that +he might be able to set forth his opinions with force and perspicuity. +To these resolutions he adhered for twelve years. Every day, after +breakfast, he shut himself up for four hours with his experiments and +his investigations; and afterwards devoted four hours to analyzing the +style of the best English authors, inquiring (as he said) "where it was +that I wrote worse than they." He studied not only in England, but in +Germany and other European countries. He learned all the languages which +he knows (and he knows nearly all I ever heard of) without the aid of a +master in any, excepting German, in which he began with a master, but +soon dismissed him, because he hindered more than he helped. He read +Hebrew with a Jewish rabbi, but that was after he had learned the +language. He considers the knowledge of languages valuable only as the +stepping-stone to other learning, and spoke with contempt of a person in +Egypt who was mentioned to him as speaking eight languages familiarly. + +"Has he done anything?" + +"No." + +"Then he is only fit to be a courier." + +Buckle is not a university-man, although both his father and grandfather +were educated at Cambridge. + +He has long since abandoned the practice of writing at night, and now +does not put pen to paper after three o'clock in the afternoon. When at +home, in London, he walks every day, for about an hour and a half, at +noon; frequently dines out and reads perhaps an hour after coming home. +He goes exclusively to dinner-parties, because they take less time than +others. When he is engaged in composition, he walks about the room, +sometimes excitedly, his mind engrossed with his subject, until he has +composed an entire paragraph, when he sits down and writes it, never +retouching, nor composing sentence by sentence, which he thinks has a +tendency to give an abrupt and jerky effect to what is written. Traces +of this, he thinks, may be found in Macaulay's style. + +Mr. Thayer showed him the little stock of books he happened to have with +him at Cairo. Mr. Buckle looked them over with interest, expressing his +opinions upon them. One of them, Mr. Bayle St. John's little book on the +Turkish question, he borrowed, although he said that he denied himself +all reading on this journey, undertaken for mental rest, and had brought +no books with him. We got upon the inevitable subject of international +copyright, which he discussed in a spirit of remarkable candor. His +own experience was this: that the Messrs. Appleton reprinted his first +volume without compensation, asking him to furnish materials for a +prefatory memoir, of which request he took no notice; afterwards, when +the second volume was published, they sent him something, I believe +fifty pounds. In due course of time, receiving a request from Theodore +Parker to that effect, he wrote a letter to aid him in the preparation +of a memoir for the Messrs. Appleton's Cyclopaedia.[B] + +[Footnote B: In this memoir it is stated that Mr. Buckle was born at +Lee, November 24,1822. If this date be correct, his age, at the time of +his death at Damascus, May 29, 1862, fell short of forty years by five +days less than six months. In conversation, however, at this time, +February, 1862, he spoke of his age as thirty-eight, notwithstanding the +surprise that was expressed, for he appeared several years older. Mr. +Glennie, in his letter describing the circumstances of Mr. Buckle's +death, mentions his age as thirty-nine.] + +I pointed out to Mr. Buckle the very important distinction between +_copyright for the British author_ and _monopoly for the British +publisher_. I told him that the American people and their +representatives in Congress would not have the least objection to paying +a trifling addition to the cost of books, which would make, upon the +immense editions sold of the popular books, a handsome compensation to +the foreign authors,--but that they have very decided objections to the +English system of enormously high prices for books. I instanced to him +several books which can be bought in the United States for a quarter or +half a dollar, while in England they cannot be purchased for less than +a guinea and a half, that is, for seven or eight dollars,--although the +author gains very little by these high prices, which, indeed, would be +absolutely prohibitory of the circulation of the books in the United +States. And since the great literary market of the United States has +been created at the public expense, by the maintenance of the system of +universal education, it is perhaps not unreasonable that our legislators +should insist upon preserving, by the competition among publishers, the +advantages of low prices of books, in pursuance of a policy which +looks to a wide circulation. In Great Britain the publishers follow +a different policy and insist on selling books at high prices to a +comparatively small circle of readers. + +Mr. Buckle was kind enough to listen attentively to this sort of +reasoning and had the candor to admit that it is entitled to some degree +of weight. Indeed, he said at once that he had earnestly wished to bring +out a cheap edition of his own book in England, omitting the notes and +references, for the use of the working-classes, of whose appreciation, +as I have previously mentioned, he had received many gratifying proofs; +he had made his arrangements for this purpose, but was prevented from +carrying them out by the opposition of his publishers, who objected +that such an edition would injure _their_ interest in the more +costly edition. But Mr. Buckle freely declared that he would, in his +circumstances, rather forego the profit on the sale of his book than +restrict its circulation. + +I may, perhaps, be permitted to mention that another English author +related to me his home experience, precisely to the same effect, in +which the vested interests of his publishers thwarted him in his wish +to publish an edition of his writings at a low price for general +circulation. It is quite certain that the British public must themselves +be disenthralled from the tyranny of high prices with which they are now +burdened, before they can ask to bring another land under the dominion +of their exclusive system in literature. + +This conversation led to a description of the reading public +in America,--of the intelligence and independence of our +working-people,--of their habits of life and of thought,--about which +Buckle manifested great interest, asking many intelligent questions. + +Mr. Buckle is in easy circumstances, and attends personally to the +management of his money. He finds no difficulty in letting it upon +first-class mortgages, at five per cent., and does not expect a higher +rate of interest. + +_February 13th._ To-night there was a religious celebration, including +an illumination, in the mosque at the Citadel. We had expected to go +and see it; and Mr. T. had invited Mr. B. and his party, as well as Mr. +Buckle, and the two lads by whom he is accompanied in his journeyings, +to go with us. These young gentlemen are sons of a dear friend of Mr. +Buckle's, no longer living. + +But at the last moment before dinner the advice was strongly given on +all sides that we should not go, lest some bigoted Mussulmans should +take offence, and there might be a disturbance. Not long ago, a party of +Englishmen behaved very badly in the mosque on a similar occasion, from +which has resulted a disturbed state of feeling. It of course cannot be +pleasant to people of any religious belief to have their ceremonies made +a spectacle for curiosity; and although the _moudier_ (mayor of the +city) promised ample protection, the plan was given up, and the company +being gathered, we had a pleasant evening together. The presence of the +ladies of Mr. B.'s party gave the opportunity to see Mr. Buckle again +under the inspiration of ladies' society, which he especially enjoys, +and in the lighter conversation suited to which he shines with not less +distinction than when conversing upon abstruse topics. + +In the course of the evening, in the midst of conversation in which he +was taking an animated part, Mr. Buckle exhibited symptoms of faintness. +Fresh air was at once admitted to the room, which was full of +cigar-smoke; water and more powerful restoratives were brought, but +these he declined. After a few minutes' repose upon the divan, he +declared that he was perfectly recovered, and half an hour afterwards +took his leave with the boys. We were quite anxious until we heard that +he had safely reached his boat, in which he is still living. + +_February 14th._ Returning from the Turkish bath, I found a valentine +in the shape of a telegraphic despatch only thirteen days from +Boston,--thirty-six hours from Liverpool. It was dated at Boston the +1st, forwarded from Liverpool at 10 A.M. of the 13th, and reached +Alexandria at 11.55 A.M. of the 14th, whence it was transmitted to Cairo +without delay. This is almost equal to the Arabian Nights. The distance +travelled by the despatch is about six thousand miles. + +_February 15th_. This day we had an excursion to the Petrified Forest. +It was got up partly to give us all a taste of camel-riding, and it +was originally expected that everybody would go on camels; then it was +agreed that half should go on camels, and "ride-and-tie." In this view, +one camel and one donkey were ordered for T. and myself. But Mr. B. was +subsequently persuaded that with four horses he could have a carriage +dragged through the desert to the forest, which would be more +comfortable for the ladies; and he made that arrangement in his own and +their behalf. Freddy B. is a first-rate horseman, and an Arab steed was +ordered for him. Mr. Buckle was determined to go in a thing called a +_mazetta_, a sort of huge bedstead with curtains, borne on the back of a +camel, big enough to carry a small family, in which he expected to find +room for himself and the two boys travelling with him. Besides these, +the party included the Reverend Mr. Lansing, the excellent head of the +American mission here, the Honorable W.S., a young Englishman, and his +tutor, the Reverend Mr. S., whose agreeable company had been bespoken +when the camel-project was in full strength. + +On looking down from the balcony at the transportation-train marshalled +for the occasion, amid the admiring gaze of all the idlers of Cairo, +I was at first a little chagrined to find, as the final result of the +various arrangements, that, besides the camels, the _mazetta_, the +carriage-and-four, and the proud-stepping horse, there appeared but one +donkey, that selected for me. But I was, in truth, very well off. To +begin with, it was not thought prudent that Mr. Buckle should use the +_mazetta_ until the procession had got beyond the narrow streets of +Cairo, lest the camel bearing it should take fright and knock the whole +thing to pieces against the wall of a house. Accordingly, he and his +charges took donkeys, and I rode off with them, at the head of the +column. By-and-by Mr. Buckle changed to the conveyance originally +proposed, but a very short experiment (literally, I suspect) sickened +him of the _mazetta_, whose motion is precisely that of a ship in a +storm, and he sent back to the town for donkeys. At the next halt the +ladies took him into the carriage, where he found himself, as he said, +"in clover," and that was the end of his greatness in camel-riding. This +remark, by the way, suggested a name ("Clover") for our boat in our +voyage up the Nile just afterwards; but patriotism prevailed, and we +named her "Union." It pretty soon appeared that the camel which T. was +riding was young and frisky; the animal was accordingly pronounced +unsafe, and T. changed to a donkey which had fortunately been brought +along for a reserve. The Honorable W.S.'s camel, from the saddle +becoming unfastened, pitched rider and saddle to the ground, a fall of +five or six feet: fortunately no harm was done, and he bravely mounted +again. The saddle upon the camel which the Reverend Mr. S. rode split +in two, and the seat must have been a torture; but he bore it like a +martyr, never flinching. But camel-stock had so far depreciated, +and donkeys gone up, that I was able to try as much as I liked of +camel-riding now and then, at the same time obliging a friend by the use +of my donkey meanwhile. Riding a camel at a walk is the same sort of +thing as riding a very hard-trotting horse without stirrups, and with +no chance to grasp the animal fairly to hold your seat. When the camel +trots, you may imagine yourself on a treadmill. + +The journey to the forest, about ten miles, was safely accomplished. We +found the petrifactions duly wonderful. An excellent luncheon was +laid out, after which we had an hour and a half of very entertaining +conversation, in which Mr. Buckle and Rev. Mr. S. held the leading +parts,--all around us as desolate and silent as one could imagine. It +was interesting to observe the manner in which Buckle estimated eminent +names, grouping them in some instances by threes, a favorite conceit +with him. John Stuart Mill, of all living men, he considers as +possessing the greatest mind in the world. Aristotle, Newton, and +Shakspeare are the greatest the world has produced in past times. Homer, +Dante, and Shakspeare are the only three great poets. Johnson, Gibbon, +and Parr are the three writers who have done the greatest harm to the +English language. Of Hallam he has a strong admiration. He spoke of +Sydney Smith as the greatest English wit, and of Selwyn as next to him, +and described Macaulay's memory as unequalled in conversation. + +For the return-trip, the donkeys generally were preferred. Miss B., with +spirit, tried camel-riding for a while, and so did Master F. We stopped +to look at the tombs of the Caliphs, and reached the hotel at nightfall, +somewhat fatigued, but satisfied with the day's expedition. + +_February 16th._ The morning was gratefully devoted to rest. In the +afternoon, attended service at the Mission, where Rev. Mr. S. preached +an interesting discourse from John xv. 1-4. On the way home met Mr. +Buckle, who came in, and was persuaded to stay to dinner. In speaking +of religion, he said that there is no doctrine or truth in Christianity +that had not been announced before, but that Christianity is by far the +noblest religion in existence. The chief point of its superiority is +the prominence it gives to the humane and philanthropic element; and +in giving this prominence lies its originality. He believes in a Great +First Cause, but does not arrive at his belief by any process of +reasoning satisfactory to himself. Paley's argument, from the evidence +of design, he regards as futile: if the beauty of this world indicates +a creating cause, the beauty of that great cause would suggest another, +and so on. He believes in a future state, and declared most impressively +that life would be insupportable to him, if he thought he were forever +to be separated from one person,--alluding, it is probable, to his +mother, to whose memory he dedicates the second volume of his book.[C] +He has no doubt that in the future state we shall recognize one another; +whether we shall have the same bodies he has no opinion, although he +regards matter as indestructible. He declares himself unable to form any +judgment as to the mode of future existence. Religion, he says, is on +the increase in the world, but theology is declining. + +[Footnote C: The words he uses are,--"To the memory of my mother I +_consecrate_ this volume."] + +Mr. Buckle characterized as the sublimest passage in Shakspeare the +lines in the "Merchant of Venice,"-- + + "Look how the floor of heaven + Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold! + There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st + But in his motion like an angel sings, + Still quiring to the young-eyed cherabims: + Such harmony is in immortal souls! + But whilst this muddy vesture of decay + Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it." + +Mr. Thayer suggested the similarity between the closing part of this +passage, about our deafness to the music of the stars, owing to the +"muddy vesture," and the sonnet of Blanco White which speaks of the +starry splendors to which our eyes are blinded by the light of day:-- + + "Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew + Thee, from report divine, and heard thy name, + Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, + This glorious canopy of light and blue? + Yet 'neath the curtain of translucent dew, + Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, + Hesperus with the host of heaven came, + And lo! creation widened in man's view. + Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed + Within thy beams, O Sun? or who could find, + Whilst fly and leaf and insect stood revealed, + That to such countless orbs thou mad'st us blind? + Why do we, then, shun Death with anxious strife? + If Light can thus deceive, wherefore not Life?" + +Mr. Buckle seemed to be struck by the comparison. He proceeded to speak +of Blanco White's memoirs as painfully interesting, and said that he +had always liked Archbishop Whately for adhering to White after the +desertion of the latter by old friends on account of his change of +belief. + + * * * * * + +The next few days were occupied in preparations for the voyage up the +Nile in company with my New York friends. Mr. Buckle had very kindly +taken great interest in our plans, and had earnestly advised me to go. +"You will do very wrong indeed," he said, "if you do not go." On the +19th of February we embarked; and as we saluted his boat, lying just +below us in the Nile, while our own shoved off, I little thought that I +should never see him again,--that his brilliant career was so shortly to +come to an untimely end. The serious conversation just recorded was the +last in which I took part with him. + +Mr. Buckle remained in Cairo until the beginning of March, when he set +out with the two boys, and Mr. J.S. Stuart Glennie, across the Desert, +for Sinai and Petra. Greatly improved in health by the six weeks in +the Desert, (according to Mr. Glennie's letter,) he undertook the more +fatiguing travelling on horseback through Palestine. He fell ill on the +27th of April, but recovered his health, as it seemed, to such an extent +that Mr. Glennie parted from him on the 21st of May. On the 29th of May, +at Damascus, Mr. Buckle died. Among the incoherent utterances of his +illness, it was possible to distinguish the exclamation, "Oh, my book, +my book, I shall never finish my book!" + +And beyond the grief felt in the loss of the kind friend and agreeable +companion, our plaint, in common with the whole world, ever must be, +that he did not live to finish his book. + + + + +CAVALRY SONG. + + + The squadron is forming, the war-bugles play. + To saddle, brave comrades, stout hearts for a fray! + Our captain is mounted,--strike spurs, and away! + + No breeze shakes the blossoms or tosses the grain; + But the wind of our speed floats the galloper's mane, + As he feels the bold rider's firm hand on the rein. + + Lo, dim in the starlight their white tents appear! + Ride softly! ride slowly! the onset is near! + More slowly! more softly! the sentry may hear! + + Now fall on the Rebel--a tempest of flame! + Strike down the false banner whose triumph were shame! + Strike, strike for the true flag, for freedom and fame! + + Hurrah! sheathe your swords! the carnage is done. + All red with our valor, we welcome the sun. + Up, up with the stars! we have won! we have won! + + + + +NO FAILURE FOR THE NORTH. + + +We have reached a point in the history of our national troubles where it +seems desirable to examine our present position, and to consider whether +we ought to surrender ourselves to despair, or congratulate ourselves on +decided success,--whether we should abandon all attempts to restore the +Union, assert the dignity of the Constitution, and punish treason, or +nerve ourselves to new effort, and determine to persevere in a righteous +cause so long as a single able-bodied man remains or a dollar of +available property is unexpended. + +It may be, it must be, conceded that we commenced the contest with very +crude and inadequate notions of what war really is. We proposed to +decide the issue by appealing to the census and the tax-list,--tribunals +naturally enough occurring to a mercantile and manufacturing +community,--but how if the enemy prefer cannon and cold steel? Our first +campaign was in the field of statistics, and we found the results highly +satisfactory. Our great numerical superiority, aided by our immense +material resources, gave us an early and an easy victory. We outnumbered +the enemy everywhere, defeated them in every pitched battle, starved +them by a vigilant blockade, secured meanwhile the sympathy and support +of the whole civilized world by the holiness of our cause, and commanded +its respect by the display of our material power and our military +capacity,--and in a few short months crushed the Rebellion, restored +the Union, vindicated the Constitution, hung the arch-traitors, and saw +peace in all our borders. This was our campaign--on paper. But war is +something more than a sum in arithmetic. A campaign cannot be decided by +the rule of three. No finite power can control every contingency, and +have all the chances in its favor. + +A Moorish legend, given to us in the graceful narrative of Washington +Irving, relates, that an Arabian astrologer constructed for the pacific +Aben Hafuz, King of Granada, a magical mode of repulsing all invaders +without risking the lives of his subjects or diminishing the contents of +the royal treasury. He caused a tower to be built, in the upper part of +which was a circular hall with windows looking towards every point of +the compass, and before each window a table supporting a mimic army of +horse and foot. On the top of the tower was a bronze figure of a Moorish +horseman, fixed on a pivot, with elevated lance. Whenever a foe was at +hand, the figure would turn in that direction, and level his lance as if +for action. No sooner was it reported to the vigilant monarch that the +magic horseman indicated the approach of an enemy, than His Majesty +hastened to the circular hall, selected the table at the point of the +compass indicated by the horseman's spear, touched with the point of a +magic lance some of the pigmy effigies before him, and belabored others +with the butt-end. A scene of confusion at once ensued in the mimic +army. Part fell dead, and the rest, turning their weapons upon each +other, fought with the utmost fury. The same scene was repeated in the +ranks of the advancing enemy. Each renewed attempt at invasion was +foiled by this easy and economical expedient, until the King enjoyed +rest even from rumors of wars. + +Now this is a pleasing fiction, and highly creditable to the light and +airy fancy of the Moors. It almost makes one sigh that an astrologer so +fertile in resources is not still extant. It is difficult to conceive, +indeed, of a more felicitous arrangement for a monarch devoted to his +ease, and proof against all temptations to military glory, or for a +people wedded to peaceful pursuits, and ambitious only of material +prosperity. But no such fascinating substitute for fields of carnage is +available in our degenerate days,--"_C'est charmant, mais ce n'est pas +la guerre_." + +Nor yet is any useful example furnished by the warlike qualities of the +army raised by Peter Stuyvesant for the reduction of Fort Casimir: not +even when we remember that it included "the Van Higginbottoms, a race of +schoolmasters, armed with ferules and birchen rods,--the Van Bummels, +renowned for feats of the trenches,--the Van Bunschotens, who were the +first that did kick with the left foot,"--with many other warriors +equally fierce and formidable. We must, however reluctantly, leave such +romantic legends and facetious chronicles, and learn more practical +lessons from the sober and instructive page of history. We shall there +find that war means alternate success and defeat, alternate hope and +disappointment, great suffering in the field, many vacant chairs at +many firesides, immense expenditures with little apparent result, "the +best-laid schemes" foiled by a thousand unexpected contingencies, +lamentable indecision in the cabinet, glaring blunders in the field, +stagnation of industry, and heavy taxation. + + "War is a game, which, were the nations wise, + Kings would not play at." + +But nations are not always wise, and war often becomes a necessity. +When, then, the necessity arises, it should be met manfully. The +question once deliberately decided that peace is no longer consistent +with national honor or national safety, the dread alternative must be +accepted with all its hazards and all its horrors. To organize only in +anticipation of certain and speedy success, to despise and underrate the +enemy, to inquire with how small an army and how limited an expenditure +the war can be carried on, is as unstatesmanlike as it is in flat +defiance of all historical teaching. But if we carry our folly still +farther in the same direction,--if we fail to take into grave account +the most obvious and inevitable incidents of actual warfare,--if in +our overweening confidence we neglect discipline, underrate the prime +importance of promptness and decision in action, certainty and celerity +in movement, and energy and activity in pursuit,--if, in a word, we +expect that the defences of the enemy are to fall into our hands by +means as unwarlike as those that decided the fate of Jericho, or dream +that because our cause is just every precedent in history and every +principle in human nature will be overruled in our favor,--then we +deserve to be outgeneralled, and are fortunate, if we escape final and +disastrous defeat. + +Now has not this been precisely our cardinal and capital error, and +are we not to-day suffering its natural consequences? To the blind and +unreasoning confidence with which we began this war has succeeded a +reaction running into the very opposite extreme. We are given over to +a despondency quite as unwarrantable as the extravagance of our early +hopes. We demanded and expected impossibilities. Forgetting that the age +of miracles has passed, many are now bitterly complaining that nothing +has been accomplished, and predicting that all future efforts will +terminate in similar failure. Two years have not elapsed since the first +gun was fired at Fort Sumter; and yet we are amazed and mortified that +our forces have not overrun the whole South, that victory has not +crowned our arms in every battle, and that our flag does not float +triumphant over every acre of every State once called Confederate. +Whether this most desirable result could have been accomplished, if this +or that policy had been adopted at the outset, is one of those problems +that will never be solved; nor is the inquiry at present pertinent or +profitable. Let us rather ask whether, in view of the means actually +employed, our discontent with the existing condition of affairs is not +unmanly and unreasonable. We are to measure results, not by the efforts +that we ought to have put forth, nor by those which we should put forth, +if, with our dear-bought experience, we were called upon once more to +undertake such a gigantic enterprise. We must recall the aspect of +affairs when we first embarked on this perilous sea. We must remember +how ignorant we were of all the danger before us, how imperfect was the +chart by which our course was to be determined, how many shoals and +sunken rocks and crosscurrents we were to encounter, as yet unknown +to any pilot on board our noble ship of state, how little we knew of +navigation in such angry waters, under so stormy a sky. + +Turn back the pages of history for two short years, and dwell a moment +on the picture presented to our eyes. A nation, enjoying to the utmost +the substantial benefits belonging to fifty years of profound peace and +unexampled prosperity, enervated by those habits of luxury which wealth +easily accumulated always fosters, with a standing army hardly large +enough to protect our Western frontier from the incursions of hostile +Indians, and a navy ludicrously small in proportion to the extent of our +sea-coast and the value of our commerce, is suddenly plunged into a war +covering such an extent of territory and calling for such an array of +power by sea and land as to dwarf into insignificance all modern wars, +hardly excepting the military operations of Napoleon I. + +And it must be remembered that education and habit had trained us to an +implicit reliance on the sufficiency of our laws and the competency of +our Constitution to meet and decide every issue that could possibly be +presented. We could conceive of no public wrongs which could not be +redressed by an appeal to the ballot-box, and of no private injuries for +which our statutes did not provide a suitable remedy. + +We were not only a law-abiding, but a peace-loving people. The report of +the revolver was not heard in our streets, nor was the glitter of the +bowie-knife seen in our bar-rooms. We deprecated mob-violence, and +disliked the summary proceedings of Judge Lynch. We took no pains to +conceal our horror of unnecessary bloodshed, and shared the views of +civilized Christendom about duelling. Now and then, to be sure, a +Southerner in one of his sportive moods would stab an inattentive waiter +in some Northern hotel, or a chivalrous son of South Carolina, elegantly +idling away a few years in a New-England university, would shoot some +base-born tutor, or, as an episode in Congressional proceedings, the +member from Arkansas would threaten to pull the nose, spit in the +face, and gouge out the eyes of the (profane participled) sneaking +Yankee,--meaning thereby a quiet, inoffensive member from Massachusetts. +But these incidents of Southern civilization were not frequent enough to +become fashionable. We still clung to our plebeian prejudices against +lawless violence, and persisted in believing that a swaggering bully +could not be an ornament to cultivated and refined society. In fact, +some excellent individuals at the North went so far as to seek to +disseminate these old-fashioned notions among their Southern brethren, +and made annual subscriptions to what was known (alas, that we must +use the historic tense!) as the "Southern Aid Society," having for its +praiseworthy object the support of ministers who should preach the +gospel to our ardent and impulsive neighbors. What a sad and significant +commentary is it upon the ingratitude of depraved human nature, that the +condescending clergyman who whilom consented to collect the offerings +of these discriminating philanthropists is now a chaplain in the +Confederate army, and is invoking the most signal judgments of Heaven +upon his former friends and fellow-laborers! + +This, then, was our condition, and these were our habits, when we were +rudely awakened from our dreams of peace by the roar of cannon and the +clash of arms. What wonder that the startling summons found us all +unready for such a crisis? What wonder that our early preparations to +confront the issue thus forced upon us without note of warning were +hasty, incomplete, and quite inadequate to the emergency? Is it +discreditable to us that we were slow to appreciate the bitterness and +intensity of that hatred, which, long smouldering under the surface of +Southern society, burst forth at once into a wide-spread conflagration, +severing like flax all the ties of kindred, and all the bonds of +individual friendship and national intercourse which had united us for +half a century? Here was a section of our Union which had always +enjoyed equal rights with us under the Constitution, and had known the +Government only by its blessings,--nay, more, had actually, by the +confession of its own statesmen, controlled the internal administration +and dictated the foreign policy of the country since the adoption of the +Constitution; which had no substantial grievance to complain of, and +no fanciful injury which could not be readily redressed by legal and +constitutional methods. Are we to be blamed because we could not easily +bring ourselves to believe that an integral part of our nation, with +such a history, could, under a pretence so bald as to insult the common +sense of Christendom, rush headlong into a war which must close all its +avenues of commerce, paralyze all its industry, threaten the existence +of its cherished and peculiar institution,--in a word, whether +successful or unsuccessful, inevitably result in its political suicide? +At this very moment, accustomed as we have been for many sad and weary +months to the daily development of Southern folly and madness, it is +difficult, when we withdraw our minds from the present, to realize that +the whole war is not a hideous nightmare. + +In view of all this, I ask, is it strange that we did not at once +comprehend all our danger, and did not enter the field with all our +forces,--determined to fight with desperate energy until every trace of +rebellion was crushed out? If, disturbed at midnight by footsteps in +your chamber, you start up from sound slumber to see a truculent-looking +vagabond prowling about your room with a lighted candle, do you not at +once spring to your feet, collar the intruder, and shout lustily for +help, if he prove too strong for you? Prompt and vigorous action in such +a case is simply the impulse of instinct. But how if you recognize in +the untimely visitor a member of your own household? Will you seize and +overpower him without asking a single question, or waiting for a word of +explanation? Will you not pause for some overt act of hostility, some +convincing proof of a fell purpose? Suppose it transpire that he really +means mischief, and you lose an important advantage by your delay to +strike. You may regret the result; but does it in the least tend to show +that you were cowardly or careless? Now was not this our exact dilemma? +Although the origin of the war and the circumstances attendant upon its +commencement are a thrice-told tale, are we not in danger of overlooking +their bearing upon all our subsequent action? And shall we not act +wisely, if we recur to them again and again, during this momentous +contest? + +But, asks a timid Conservative,--from whose patient button the fingers +of an ardent apostle of peace have recently and most reluctantly +parted,--has not this war been shamefully mismanaged by the +Administration? have not contractors grown rich while soldiers have +suffered? have not incompetent generals been unjustly advanced, and +skilful commanders been summarily shelved? have we gained any advantages +at all commensurate with our loss of blood and our expenditure of money? +would not a cessation of hostilities on any terms be better than such +a war as we are now waging? If we might venture to suggest a word of +caution to our desponding friend, before attempting a reply to his +broadside of questions, we would say: Beware how you indulge in too much +conversation with a certain class of our citizens, whose hearty loyalty +has been more than doubted, and whose conversion to the beauties of +peace and the horrors of war is so sudden as to be very suspicious. +Examine their antecedents, and you will find, that, when "border +ruffians" in Kansas threatened with fire and sword the inoffensive +emigrants from New England, these gentlemen saw nothing unusual in such +proceedings, and answered all remonstrances with ridicule. Put them to +the question to-day, and it will appear, that, from the very beginning +of the struggle, all their sympathies have been with the South. They +will tell you that Northern Abolitionists are alone responsible for the +war; that the secession of the Southern States may have been unwise, +but was not unreasonable; that they have always condemned coercion and +advocated compromise; and that there is no safe and satisfactory way out +of our existing difficulties but--_peace_. What do they mean by peace? +Such peace as the highwayman, armed to the teeth, offers to the belated +traveller! Such peace as Benedict Arnold sought to negotiate with the +English general! They know that the South will accept no terms but the +acknowledgment of her independence, or the abject and unconditional +submission of the Free States. They reject the first alternative, +because they dare not go before the North on such an issue. Disguise it +as they may, they are willing to adopt the second. The party to which, +without an exception, these men belong, is powerless without the +cooperation of the South, and would consider no sacrifice of principle +too great, and no humiliation of the North too degrading, if it promised +the restoration of their political supremacy. Avoid all such men. +Distrust their advice. That way dishonor lies, and national disgrace. +If you are not "armed so strong in honesty" as to be proof against +such treasonable talk, you will soon be aware of a softening of your +backbone, and a lamentable loss of earnest, active patriotism. Take +counsel rather of your own common sense. Looking at the question in its +narrowest and most selfish bearings, you _know_ that we can neither +recede nor stand still. Submission Is slavery. Disunion paves the way +for endless secession, and eternal warfare between rising and rival +republics. + +But there are other symptoms of disloyalty besides this persistent +demand for peace. There are indications of a desire to array sections of +the North against each other, and--Heaven save the mark!--by the +very politicians who have been most bitter in their denunciation of +"geographical parties." Here comes a little Western lawyer, with +unlimited resources of slang and slender capital of ideas, barely +redeemed from being an absolute blackguard by the humanizing influences +of a New England college, but showing fewer and fewer symptoms of +civilization as he forgets the lessons of his collegiate life; and _he_ +delights an audience of New York "roughs," adopted citizens of Celtic +extraction, and lager-loving Germans, (do not cocks always crow longest +and loudest on a dung-hill?) by the novel information, that "Puritanism +is a reptile" and the cause of all our troubles, and that we shall never +fulfil our national destiny until Puritanism has been crushed. Let us +not elevate this nauseating nonsense into importance by attempting a +reply. Such men must be left to follow out their inevitable instincts. +They are not worth the trouble necessary to civilize them. Mr. Rarey +succeeded in taming a zebra from the London Zooelogical Gardens; but +a single lesson could not permanently reclaim the beast, and it soon +relapsed into its native and normal ferocity. One experiment sufficed +to show the power of the artist; no possible increase of value in the +educated animal would have justified a prolonged and perfect training. + +You ask if we have gained any advantages commensurate with our efforts, +or with the high-sounding phrase of our declared purpose. Let us look at +this a moment. Suppose we begin with a glance at the other side of +the picture. Has all the boasting, have all the promises, been on the +Federal side? Did we hear nothing of the Confederate flag floating over +Faneuil Hall?--nothing of Washington falling into the hands of the +enemy?--nothing of a festive winter in Philadelphia and a +general distribution of spoils in New York?--nothing of foreign +intervention?--nothing of the cowardice of Northern Mudsills and +the omnipotence of King Cotton? Decidedly, the Rebels began with a +sufficiently startling programme. Let us see how far they have carried +it out. As they were clearly the assailants, we have an undoubted right +to ask what they have accomplished _aggressively_. We say, then, that, +excepting in the case of one brief raid, the soil of a single Free State +has never been polluted by the hostile tread of an invading force; that +every battle-field has been within the limits of States claimed as +Confederate; that, while the war has desolated whole States represented +in the Confederate Congress, not an acre north of Mason and Dixon's line +has suffered from the ravages of the Rebel armies. Was ever another +scorpion more completely surrounded and shut in by a cordon of fire? + +This is surely something, but it is by no means all. Have _we_ +accomplished nothing aggressively? We will call into court a witness +from the enemy's camp. Hear the recent testimony of a leading journal, +published in the Confederate capital:[A]-- + +[Footnote A: _Richmond Examiner_, January 20th, 1863.] + +"It is not altogether an empty boast on the part of the Yankees, that +they hold all that they have ever held, and that another year or two of +such progress as they have already made will find them masters of the +Southern Confederacy. They who think independence is to be achieved by +brilliant but inconsequential victories would do well to look at the +magnitude of Yankee possessions in our country. Maryland, Kentucky, and +Missouri are claimed as constituent parts of the Confederation: they are +as much in the power of Lincoln as Maine and Minnesota. The pledge once +deemed foolish by the South, that he would 'hold, occupy, and possess' +all the forts belonging to the United States Government, has been +redeemed almost to the letter by Lincoln. Forts Pickens, [Sumter?] and +Morgan we still retain; but, with these exceptions, all the strongholds +on the seaboard, from Fortress Monroe to the Rio Grande, are in the +hands of the enemy. Very consoling and very easy to say that it was +impossible to prevent all this, and that the occupation of the outer +edge of the Republic amounts to nothing. Drowry's Bluff and Vicksburg +give the lie to the first assertion; and the onward movement of +Rosecrans towards Alabama, the presence of Grant in North Mississippi +and of Curtis in Middle Arkansas, to say nothing of Banks at New Orleans +and Baton Rouge, set at rest the silly dream that a thin strip of +sea-coast only is in possession of our foes. The truth is, the Yankees +are in great force in the very heart of the Confederacy; they swarm on +all our borders; they threaten every important city yet belonging to us; +and nearly two hundred thousand of them are within two days' march of +the Confederate capital. This is no fiction. It is a fact so positive +that no one can deny it." + +But this reluctant recital by no means exhausts the record of our +successes. We have put into the field a volunteer force, fully armed and +equipped, which, whether we consider its magnitude, the rapidity with +which it has been raised, its fighting qualities, its patient endurance +of unaccustomed hardships, or its intelligent appreciation of the +principles involved in the contest, is without a counterpart in history. +And yet more, from the invention and achievements of our iron-clads +dates a new era in naval warfare, while in the value and variety of our +ordnance we have taken the lead of all civilized nations. Can you find +in all this nothing to quicken the pulse of your patriotism? Is here no +ground for encouragement, no incitement to renewed effort? + +But you complain of corruption among contractors, and of knavery among +politicians. Will you point me to a single war, ever waged on the face +of the earth, where all the rulers were above reproach and all their +subordinates unselfish? But what will you do about it? Grant that many +contractors have made dishonest fortunes out of the calamities of their +country, and that there are officeholders with whom "Stand by the +Constitution!" means, Stand by the public crib from which we are +richly and regularly fed, and "Uphold the Administration!" should be +translated, Give us our full four years' enjoyment of the loaves and +fishes. What then? Shall a few worthless straws here, and a few heaps +of offal there, arrest or check the onward march of a mighty army, +the steady progression of a great principle? Away with such trumpery +considerations! Punish with the utmost severity of the law every public +plunderer whose crimes can be dragged into the light of day; send to the +Coventry of universal contempt every lagging and lukewarm official; but, +in the name of all that is holy in purpose and noble in action, _move +on!_ To hesitate is worse than folly; to delay is more than madness. +The salvation of our country trembles in the balance. The fate of free +institutions for--who shall say how long?--may hang upon the issue of +the struggle. + +Your catalogue of grievances, however, is still incomplete. You are +dissatisfied with our generalship as displayed in the field, and with +the wisdom of our policy as developed by the cabinet. Unquestionably you +have a constitutional right to grumble to your heart's content; but are +you not aware that such complaints are as old as the history of the +human race? Do you believe this to be the first war that was ever +mismanaged, and that our undoubted blunders are either novel or peculiar +to Republics? There never was a greater mistake. If there were brave men +before Agamemnon, and wise counsellors before Ulysses, there certainly +have been incompetent commanders before Major-General A., and shallow +statesmen before Secretary B. We do not monopolize executive imbecility, +nor are our military blunders without parallel or precedent. To +attribute our occasional reverses and our indecisive victories, our +inaction in the field and our confusion in the cabinet, to our peculiar +form of government, is as inconsequential as it would be to trace all +our disasters to the color of President Lincoln's hair or the number of +General Halleck's children. + +The enemies of free institutions, hardly yet recovered from their +astonishment at beholding an army of volunteers, superior in number +and quality to any the world ever saw, spring into existence with such +marvellous rapidity as to eclipse, in sober fact, the fabulous birth +of Minerva full-armed from the head of Jove, or their still greater +surprise at seeing the immense expenses of so gigantic a war readily met +without assistance from abroad, by large loans cheerfully made and heavy +taxation patiently borne, are reduced to the necessity of exulting over +what they term our "total want of military genius," and our "incapacity +to conduct a campaign successfully." + +It is useless to deny that we may have challenged criticism and provoked +a smile by our large promise and our smaller performance. But are we the +sole and exclusive proprietors of this experience? Where in the past or +the present shall we find a great and powerful nation much addicted to +modesty or self-depreciation? Least of all, should we have expected such +venomous criticism and such unsparing ridicule from England. To be sure, +we have long since ceased to look for sympathy or even justice at her +hands. We have come to understand and appreciate the tone and temper of +her ruling classes towards this country. In addition to their inherited +antipathy to Republics, they believe in sober earnest what one of their +greatest wits said jocosely, that "the great object for which the +Anglo-Saxon race appears to have been created is the making of calico." +And whatever interferes, or threatens to interfere, with this ennobling +occupation is sure to incur their passive displeasure, if not their +active hostility. We expect nothing, therefore, from their good-will; +but we have a right to demand, as a matter of good taste, that, in +criticizing our campaigns, they shall not wholly ignore their own +military blunders, especially those so recent as to be fresh in the +recollection of every third-form school-boy in the kingdom. For, if +campaigns carried on with the smallest possible result in proportion to +the magnitude of the sacrifice of money and life,--if a succession of +incompetent generals in command,--if critical military opportunities +neglected and enormous strategic blunders committed,--if indecision, +nepotism, and red tape at home, envy, want of unity, and incapacity +among officers, and unnecessary and inexcusable hardship among the +privates,--if all this declares the decadence of a Government, then was +the sun of England hastening to its setting during the Crimean War. + +We hear much said abroad about our indecisive battles, our barren +victories, our failure to take advantage of the crippled condition of +a defeated enemy, and our unaccountable disinclination to follow up a +successful attack by a prompt pursuit. Now, not for the sake of excusing +or palliating the numerous and grave errors into which we have fallen +during our own unhappy struggle, nor yet to exonerate from censure +any civil officers or military leaders who may be wholly or in part +responsible for these errors, but simply to demonstrate that they are +liable to occur under any form of government, and, indeed, have recently +befallen the very Government whose rulers now hold us to the strictest +account, and are most eager to convict us of extraordinary misconduct +and incapacity, we propose, very briefly, and without further +introduction, to examine the record of the English army during the +Crimean War. + +The first important battle fought on the Peninsula was that of the Alma. +We will give, as concisely as possible, so much of the history of this +engagement, compiled from authentic English sources, as will present a +correct picture of the plans formed and the results accomplished. + +"The 15th of August, 1854, was the date first fixed for the sailing of +the allied forces from Varna to the Crimea. It was postponed until the +20th, then till the 22d, then the 26th,--then successively to the 1st, +2d, and 7th of September; that is, the French fleet left Varna on the +5th, and the English sailed from the neighboring port of Baltschik +on the 7th." It is admitted that "these delays hazarded not only the +success, but even the practicability of the whole design, as between the +15th and 25th of September the great equinoctial gales sweep over the +Black Sea, and lash it into tempests of the most destructive nature." + +The voyage, however, was accomplished in safety, and on the 14th of +September the Allies arrived at the Crimea, off a place called the "Old +Fort," only about thirty miles north of Sebastopol. The whole army was +composed of 27,000 English, 24,000 French, and 8,000 Turks. The landing +occupied the 14th, 15th, and 16th of September. At nine o'clock, A.M., +of September 19th, the army began the advance, and on the evening of +the same day rested for the night within sight of the Russian forces, +strongly intrenched on the banks of the Alma, about twelve miles distant +from the "Old Fort." Early in the afternoon of the following day the +Allies attacked the stronghold of the enemy, and in less than three +hours the Russian intrenchments were successfully stormed, and the +Russian army was in full retreat. The English and French troops fought +with determined and distinguished bravery, and their victory was +complete. But what was decided by this bloody struggle? Bad generalship +on the part of the Russians, certainly; but what else? Mr. Russell +says,--"This great battle was not decisive, so far as the fate of +Sebastopol was concerned, merely because we lacked either the means or +the military genius to make it so." The victory was not followed up, the +retreating foe were not pursued, ample time was given to the enemy to +reorganize and retrieve their losses, and the evening of the eventful +20th of September found the allied forces no nearer the capture of +Sebastopol than they were before the battle. + +Did "the Alma" crown the allied generals with fresh and well-earned +laurels? We appeal once more to Mr. Russell:--"I may inquire, Was there +any generalship shown by any of the allied generals at the Alma? We have +Lord Raglan painted by one of his staff, trotting in front of his army, +amid a shower of balls, 'just as if he were riding down Rotten Row,' +with a kind nod for every one, and leaving his generals to fight it +out as best they could; riding across the stream through the French +Riflemen, not knowing where he was going to, or where the enemy were, +till fate led him to a little knoll, from which he saw some of the +Russian guns on his flank; whereupon he sent an order to Turner's +battery for guns, and seemed surprised that they could not be dragged +across a stream and up a hill which presented some difficulties to an +unencumbered horseman; then cantering off to join the Guards just ere +they made their charge, and finding it all over while he was in a +hollow of the ground." Lord Raglan, let it be remembered, was the +Commander-in-Chief of the English forces. And again:--"The Light +Division was strangely handled. Sir George Brown, whose sight was so +indifferent that he had to get one of his officers to lead his horse +across the river, seemed not to know where his division was.... If the +conduct of a campaign be a succession of errors, the Crimean expedition +was certainly carried on _secundum artem_." Once more, on the same +point, and quoting from the same authority:--"All the Russian officers +with whom I have conversed, all the testimony I have heard or read, +coincide on these two points: first, that, if, on the 25th, we had moved +to Bakschiserai in pursuit of the Russians, we should have found their +army in a state of the most complete demoralization, and might have +forced the great majority of them to surrender as prisoners of war, in a +sort of _cul-de-sac,_ from which but few could have escaped; secondly, +that, had we advanced directly against Sebastopol, the town would have +surrendered, after some slight show of resistance to save the honor of +the officers." Certainly, such generalship as this did not promise very +well for the results of the campaign. + +Let us follow the movements of the Allies a little farther. On the +morning of September 25th, the combined forces took up their line of +march southward. On the 26th, they reached and occupied the town of +Balaklava, about six miles distant from Sebastopol. On the 28th of the +same month, Lord Raglan wrote to the Duke of Newcastle, then Secretary +of War, "We are busily engaged in disembarking our siege-train and +provisions, and we are most desirous of undertaking the attack of +Sebastopol _without the loss of a day_." And yet it is not until October +10th that the Allies commence digging their trenches before the town. +Meanwhile the allied army was anxious and impatient. "'When will the +siege commence?' was the constant inquiry of the wearied and expectant +troops. 'To-morrow,' was the usual response, 'most probably to-morrow.' +But day after day came and went, and the Allies still rusted in +inaction, while the Russians worked day and night at strengthening their +defences." "The time dragged heavily on; still the Russians worked with +incredible industry, and still the cannon of the Allies had not yet +opened their thunders upon Sebastopol." On the 17th of October, +twenty-one days after the occupation of Balaklava, the allied forces +commenced fire by land and sea on the stronghold of the enemy. The +bombardment continued from half-past six, A.M., until nightfall, but is +conceded to have been a complete and mortifying failure. From this time +until the 5th of November, it will not be contended that any substantial +advantage was gained by the invading forces, or that material progress +was made towards the reduction of the Russian Gibraltar. + +Then came the Battle of Inkerman, a gallant and desperate sortie of the +Russians, bravely and successfully resisted by the besiegers. The loss +of life on both sides was terrible. To what extent was _this_ battle +decisive? Mr. Russell shall give his own testimony on this point:--"We +had nothing to rejoice over, and almost everything to deplore, in the +Battle of Inkerman. We defeated the enemy, indeed, but had not advanced +one step nearer the citadel of Sebastopol." In other words, the Allies +had repulsed the Russians, but had barely escaped annihilation, while, +from having been the besiegers, they became the besieged, and remained +so until largely reinforced from home. "A heavy responsibility," says +Mr. Russell, "rests on those whose neglect enabled the enemy to attack +us where we were least prepared for it, and whose indifference led them +to despise precautions which, taken in time, might have saved us many +valuable lives, and have trebled the loss of the enemy." The English +not only committed the serious error of underrating the enemy, and +neglecting the most ordinary precautions against surprise, but, during +the whole of the desperate and bloody fight, they gave no proof whatever +of generalship. The stubborn, unyielding bravery of the troops was +the salvation of the army. "We owed the victory, such as it was, to +strength, not to superior intelligence and foresight. It was a soldiers' +battle, in which we were saved by the muscle, nerve, and courage of our +men." Humanity shudders and the heart sickens over the sufferings +of that gallant army of martyrs to cabinet incapacity and military +imbecility during the long and dreary winter of 1854-55. + +On the 9th of April, 1855, commenced the second grand bombardment of +Sebastopol, which, though continuing for twelve days, resulted, like the +first, in mortifying failure, no serious or irreparable injuries being +caused to the main defences of the enemy. "The real strength of the +place remained unimpaired. That which was injured during the day the +Russians repaired as if by magic during the night. The particulars of +this twelve days' bombardment are wearisome. The same wasted energy, the +same night-skirmishes without effect, the same battering and repairing, +the same unwearied exertions On the part of the Allies and wonderful +endurance and resistance on the part of the Russians, together with, on +each side, the same loss of life and frightful mutilations." + +Two months were passed in comparative inaction, the sad monotony being +varied only by ineffective sorties and indecisive skirmishes. On the +18th of June, the first grand assault of the Malakhoff and Redan was +attempted. The allied troops displayed the utmost gallantry, and did all +that brave men could do under disgracefully incompetent commanders, but +were repulsed with horrible slaughter. No one can read the details of +the fruitless massacre, without fully confirming the indignant testimony +of an intelligent eye-witness, writing from the camp:-- + +"I know not what may have been the feelings of your home public, on +reading the telegraphic news of our defeat, (for I presume the scribes +at head-quarters made no attempt to conceal the naked truth, that our +repulse was neither more nor less than a defeat,) but here mingled shame +and indignation were general throughout the camp. Officers and men alike +felt that disgrace had been incurred, and that solely in consequence +of the unredeemed mismanagement of their generals. Remembering the +confusion which characterized the commencement of our movement, and +coupling this with the murderous preparations made by the enemy, you +will be at no loss to understand that success was most improbable. +During the whole affair, Lord Raglan and Sir George Brown were ensconced +within our eight-gun battery; but, though this afforded a good view of +the scene of the struggle, and of the disorders which marked it, +they appeared to be unable to give any efficient directions for the +correction of our multiplied blunders. When the whole sad scene was +ended, our men straggled back to the camp in a state of dispirited +confusion, well in keeping with the mob-like disorder in which they had +been throughout the assault." + +The final bombardment of Sebastopol took place on the 5th of September, +followed on the 8th by the renewed assault of the French on the +Malakhoff and of the English on the Redan. Skilful generalship, adequate +forces, and desperate bravery gave victory to the French, and "the key +to Sebastopol" remained in their hands. Meanwhile the English assault +upon the Redan was repulsed with frightful sacrifice of life. It will +not be contended that the French owed any part of their success to +superior good-fortune. Indeed, all the extrinsic advantages were on the +side of the English. The French were to lead off in the assault, and the +tricolor waving over the captured fortification was to be the signal for +the advance of the English. If the French succeeded, every sentiment of +personal ambition and national pride would stimulate their allies to +achieve an equal victory. If the French failed, the English had only to +remain in their trenches. + +Now let us examine the comparative generalship displayed in the two +assaults. We are quite willing that English authority should draw the +contrast. "The preparations of the French were actually scientific in +their vigorous attention to every matter calculated to lead to victory: +nothing appeared to have been forgotten, nothing neglected. Even the +watches of the leading officers had been regulated, that there might not +be the smallest error with regard to time. It is a painful reflection +that this carefulness of preparation, and prescience with respect to +probabilities, was not shown by the English general and his associates +in arranging the mode of attack. When the orders were promulgated, on +the 7th, many officers shook their heads doubtingly, and observed, +in deprecating tones, 'This looks like another 18th of June.' It was +generally observed that the attacking columns were not strong enough, +that they were too far behind, and that the trenches did not afford room +for a sufficient number of men." + +The signal for the French assault was given: thirty thousand men, weary +of long inactivity, and burning to add new lustre to the bright record +of their country's military glory,--drums and trumpets meanwhile +sounding the charge, and the air resounding with shouts of _"Vive +l'Empereur,"_--darted from their trenches, swarmed up the embankments, +dashed over the parapet, swept the enemy like chaff before them; and the +Malakhoff was won. Hours of the fiercest fighting found the French still +masters of the situation; at nightfall the Russian general sullenly drew +off his defeated forces, and the victory was complete. + +It is painful to turn from this brilliant picture to the sombre coloring +and the dreary details of the attack on the Redan. To three thousand +doomed men was assigned the perilous undertaking. Incredible as it +may appear, in view of previous failure, there seems to have been no +adequate preparation, no intelligible plan, no competent leader. It +was simply brute force assailing brute force. The few men who actually +entered the Redan neglected to spike the guns; no reinforcements came to +their aid; everything was blind excitement, and headlong, undisciplined +haste. "The men of the different regiments became mingled together in +inextricable confusion. The Nineteenth men did not care for the officers +of the Eighty-Eighth, nor did the soldiers of the Twenty-Third heed the +command of an officer who did not belong to their regiment. The officers +could not find their men,--the men lost sight of their officers." But +why dwell on what soon became mere butchery? The loss of the storming +party, in killed, wounded, and missing, was 2447. + +Considered as a military movement, it would seem to be conceded that no +grosser blunder could have been made than the selection of so small a +force for so desperate an undertaking. There was no chance of success +but by attacking simultaneously both flanks and the salient of the +Redan. The storming party was barely large enough for the assault of the +salient, thus exposing the handful of men to a murderous and fatally +destructive fire from the flanks. This was bad enough, certainly, but +worse remains behind. English critics have most severely censured +our generals for sometimes placing new recruits in posts of danger, +requiring cool heads, steady nerves, and the habit of discipline. +Perhaps they have forgotten the following incident. Among the picked men +selected out of the entire British forces as this very storming party +were raw recruits from the Ninety-Seventh Regiment, who were designated +for this perilous service as a punishment for their cowardice in a +recent skirmish!--and to make this punishment still more severe, they +were ordered to _lead off_ in the assault! An historian of the war +says,--"The inexperience of some of these recruits seems almost +incredible. One young fellow, who came to the field-hospital with a +broken arm and a bullet in his shoulder, carried his firelock with him, +but confessed that he had never fired it off, _as he was unable to do +so_. The piece, upon being examined, was found to be in perfect order. +Such poor undisciplined lads, fresh from the plough, ought never on +any occasion to have been pitted against the well-drilled soldiers of +Russia; but it was something worse than blundering to lead them on +to the assault of a formidable work like the Redan. Such generalship +recalls to our mind the remark of the Russian officer with regard to +the military force of England, that 'it was an army of lions led by +donkeys.'" Mr. Russell states that many of these recruits "had only been +enlisted a few days, and had never fired a rifle in their lives." + +Now will it be believed that General Codrington, to whom was committed +the planning and directing of this ill-starred and disastrous +enterprise, succeeded Sir James Simpson as Commander-in-Chief of Her +Majesty's forces in the Crimea? How must the shade of Admiral Byng have +haunted Her Majesty's Government, unless it was a most forgiving ghost! +If General Codrington's promotion could have been delayed a little +more than eighteen months, it might have occurred appropriately on the +centennial anniversary of the death of that ill-fated naval commander, +convicted by court-martial and shot for "not doing his utmost"! + +On the evening of the 8th of September, the Russians blew up their +magazines, fired the buildings, and evacuated the town. So fell +Sebastopol, after a siege of three hundred and forty-five days. It has +been considered by the English a bit of very choice pleasantry to +allude to our oft-recurring statement, that "the decisive blow had been +struck," and that "the backbone of the Rebellion was broken." It may +not be impertinent to remind them, that the report, first circulated in +France and England in the latter part of September, 1854, and fortified +by minute details, that Sebastopol--the backbone of Russian resistance +to the allied arms--had fallen, was repeated and reiterated from time to +time during the war, until the phrase, "_Sebastopol est pris_," passed +into a by-word, and did good service in relieving the cruelly overworked +Greek Kalends. + +And now we come naturally to the consideration of another and an +important inquiry. Did the beginning of the war find, or did its +progress develop or create, a single English general of commanding +military capacity, competent to handle in the field even so small an +army as the British contingent in the Crimea? Of Lord Raglan Mr. Russell +says, and without doubt says truly,--"That he was a great chief, or even +a moderately able general, I have every reason to doubt, and I look in +vain for any proof of it, whilst he commanded the English army in the +Crimea." Another authority says,--"The conviction that he was not a +great general is universal and uncontradicted. He could perform the +ordinary duties of a general satisfactorily, but he was lamentably +deficient in those qualities which constitute military genius. He +possessed considerable professional experience, great application, and +remarkable powers of endurance; but he lacked the energy, vehemence, +and decision of character which are essential to the constitution of a +successful military chieftain." To his hesitation in council, and his +want of energy and promptness in action, have always been attributed, in +large measure, the ruinous delays and the fearful suffering in the army +which he commanded. Lord Raglan died in June, 1855, in his sixty-seventh +year. General Simpson succeeded him. "It was believed at the time," +writes Mr. Russell, "and now is almost notorious, that he opposed his +own appointment, and bore testimony to his own incapacity." "He was slow +and cautious in council, and it is no wonder that where Lord Raglan +failed, General Simpson did not meet with success." The English press +and people demanded his recall. His incompetency was everywhere +acknowledged, and indeed he himself would have been the last man to +deny it. In about three months from the date of General Simpson's +appointment, "the Queen was graciously pleased to permit him to resign +the command of the army." As we have already seen, his place was filled +by General Codrington. This officer was as signally rewarded, because +he had failed, as he could have been, if he had succeeded. Mr. +Russell quotes approvingly the comment of a French officer upon this +appointment:--"If General Codrington had taken the Redan, what more +could you have done for him than to make him General, and to give him +command of the army? But he did not take it, and he is made General and +Commander-in-Chief." With equal discrimination, Sir James Simpson was +created Field-Marshal! The remainder of the campaign gave General +Codrington no further opportunity of displaying his qualities for +command. No other important action occurred before the termination of +hostilities. + +Great credit is certainly due to Mr. Russell for fearlessly exposing the +errors and incompetency of the three officers successively at the head +of the English army, in spite of "much obloquy, vituperation, and +injustice," and for bearing his invariable and eloquent testimony to the +bravery, endurance, and patience of the British private soldier. + +In this brief recital of English blunders during the Crimean War, we +have made no mention of the desperate and disastrous "charge of the +Light Brigade," the gross and culpable inefficiency of the Baltic fleet +under Admiral Sir Charles Napier, and other instances of military +incapacity no less monstrous. Enough, however, has been told to more +than justify the very mild summing-up of Mr. Russell, that the "war +had exposed the weakness of our military organization in the grave +emergencies of a winter campaign, and the canker of a long peace +was unmistakably manifested in our desolated camps and decimated +battalions." + +Why should we add to this dismal recital the appalling sufferings of +the soldiers,--helpless victims to bad management at home and shameful +neglect in the field,--the long, freezing nights of trench-work under a +driving rain, "without warm or water-proof clothing,--the trenches two +and three feet deep with mud, snow, and half-frozen slush, so that many, +when they took off their shoes, were unable to get their swollen feet +into them again, and might be seen barefooted about the camp, the snow +half a foot deep on the ground,"--creeping for shelter into "miserable +tents pitched as it were at the bottom of a marsh, where twelve or +fourteen unhappy creatures lay soaking without change of clothing" until +they were called out again to their worse than slave-labor,--disease, +brought on by exhaustion, exposure, overwork, and deficient food, +sweeping the men off by thousands, and yet no sufficient supply of +medical stores and no adequate number of medical attendants, not a soul +seeming to care for their comfort or even for their lives,--so neglected +and ill-treated that "the wretched beggar who wandered about the streets +of London led the life of a prince compared with the British soldiers +who were fighting for their country, and who were complacently assured +by the home authorities that they were the best-appointed army in +Europe." The world knows the whole sad story by heart. And is it not +written in the volumes of evidence sworn to before the Commission +appointed by Parliament to inquire into the condition of the army? + +Nor is it necessary to dwell upon the extent to which the home +administration was responsible for the general mismanagement of the war, +in its main features and its minute details,--nor the thoroughly English +stolidity with which all complaints were received by every member of the +Government, from the cabinet minister who dictated pompous and unmeaning +despatches, down to the meanest official who measured red tape,--nor the +intense and universal popular indignation which, after a year "full of +horrors," compelled the resignation of the Aberdeen Ministry. Lord Derby +did not, perhaps, overstate the verdict of the nation, when he said in +the House of Lords,--"From the very first to the very last, there has +been apparent in the course pursued by Her Majesty's Government a want +of previous preparation,--a total want of prescience; and they have +appeared to live from day to day providing for each successive exigency +_after it arose, and not before it arose_. TOO LATE have been the fatal +words applicable to the whole conduct of Her Majesty's Government in the +course of the war." The change in the Ministry, however, by no means +cured all the evils which had existed; for, although the sufferings of +the soldiers--thanks in large part to the providential appearance and +heroic conduct of Florence Nightingale--were greatly diminished, still, +as we have seen, the military blunders continued to the close of the +war. + +Now, if we do not greatly mistake, the lesson which this country should +learn from the mortifying experience of the English army in the Crimea +is not one of exultation over its lamentable and unnecessary errors, but +rather of indifference to the insulting criticism of a nation which can +so ill afford to be critical, and of determination to profit in every +possible way by those blunders which might have been avoided. The +history of all wars, moreover, should teach us that now and then there +comes a time when to hold the olive-branch in one hand and the sword in +the other, especially if the olive-branch is kept in the foreground and +the sword in the background, involves not only a sad waste of energy, +but is mistaken kindness to our enemies. + +Those who have read--and who has not?--the charming story of "Rab and +his Friends" will remember the incident which, for the sake of brevity, +we reluctantly condense. A small, thorough-bred terrier, after being +rudely interrupted in his encounter with a large shepherd's-dog, darts +off, fatally bent on mischief, to seek a new canine antagonist. He +discovers him in the person of a huge mastiff, quietly sauntering along +in a peaceful frame of mind, all unsuspicious of danger. The angry +terrier makes straight at him, and fastens on his throat. The rest of +the story shall be told in the graphic language of the author. "To our +astonishment, the great creature does nothing but stand still, hold +himself up, and roar,--yes, roar: a long, serious, remonstrative roar. +How is this? _He is muzzled_! The bailies had proclaimed a general +muzzling, and his master, studying strength and economy mainly, had +encompassed his huge jaws in a home-made apparatus, constructed out of +the leather of some ancient _breeching_. His mouth was open as far as it +could; his lips curled up in rage,--a sort of terrible grin; his teeth +gleaming, ready, from out the darkness; the strap across his mouth tense +as a bowstring; his whole frame stiff with indignation and surprise; his +roar asking us all round, 'Did you ever see the like of this?' He looked +a statue of anger and astonishment, done in Aberdeen granite. We soon +had a crowd; the chicken held on. 'A knife!' cried Bob; and a cobbler +gave him his knife: you know the kind of knife, worn away obliquely to +a point, and always keen. I put its edge to the tense leather; it ran +before it; and then!--one sudden jerk of that enormous head, a sort of +dirty mist about his mouth, no noise,--and the bright and fierce little +fellow is dropped, limp and dead." + +If we draw a useful moral from this homely incident, it will not be the +first time that the unerring sagacity of animals has been serviceable +to man. A stealthy, cunning, unscrupulous, desperate, devilish foe has +seized the nation by the throat and threatens its life. The Government +is strong, courageous, determined, abundantly able to make a successful +resistance, and even to kill the insolent enemy; but--_it is +muzzled_: muzzled here by conservative counsels, and there by radical +complaints,--by the over-cautious policy of one general, and the +headlong haste of another,--by a too tender regard for slavery in +some States, and by a too zealous anxiety for instant emancipation in +others,--by fear of provoking opposition in one quarter, and by a blind +defiance of all obstacles in another. Now what shall be done? Shall we +hesitate, despond, despair? Never! _For Heaven's sake, take off the +muzzle._ Use every weapon which the God of Battles has placed in our +hands. Put forth all the power of the nation. Encourage and promote all +fighting generals; cashier all officers who are determined to make war +on peace principles; arm, equip, and discipline negroes, not to burn, +plunder, and massacre, but to meet their and our enemies in fair and +open fight.[B] Demonstrate to the world that we are terribly in earnest. +Waste no time in discussing the chance of foreign intervention. Postpone +Pacific railroads, international telegraphs, polygamy in Utah, African +colonization, everything, to the engrossing and emergent crisis which +now confronts the Government. Make the contest sharp, short, and +decisive. Put down the Rebellion, vindicate the majesty of the Law, the +sacredness of the Union, and the integrity of the Constitution. There +will be time enough, after this is done, to discuss all minor questions +and all collateral issues. One paramount duty lies directly before us. +Let us perform this duty fearlessly, and leave the future with God. + +[Footnote B: The opposition to the employment of negro regiments, if +made by traitors North or South, can be easily comprehended,--if made by +loyal men, is wholly inexplicable. Your neighbor's house takes fire at +night. The flames, long smouldering, make rapid progress, and threaten +the comfort, certainly, if not the lives of his household, and the +total destruction of his property. The alarm is given. An engine comes +promptly to the rescue. It is just in season to save his dwelling. +The firemen spring with ready alacrity to their places. But stop! He +suddenly discovers the appalling fact that they are negroes! True, +there is not a moment to be lost. No other engine is, or can be, within +helping distance. The least delay means poverty and a houseless family. +And yet he rudely dismisses the dusky firemen, folds his arms with +Spartan stoicism, and, looking complacently on the burning building, +says, _"Better this than to rely on the assistance of niggers!"_ _Is it_ +Spartan stoicism? Is it not rather stark lunacy? And would you not take +immediate measures to provide such a man with permanent quarters in a +mad-house?] + + + + +REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES. + + +_Roba di Roma_. By WILLIAM W. STORY. 2 vols. 8vo. pp. 355, 369. London: +Chapman & Hall. 1863. + +The father of the celebrated Mr. Jonathan Wild was in the habit of +saying, that "travelling was travelling in one part of the world as +well as another; it consisted in being such a time from home, and in +traversing so many leagues; and he appealed to experience whether most +of our travellers in France and Italy did not prove at their return +that they might have been sent as profitably to Norway and Greenland." +Fielding himself, the author of this sarcasm, was a very different kind +of traveller, as his Lisbon journal shows; but we think he told no more +than the truth in regard to the far greater part of those idle people +who powder themselves with dust from the highways and blur their +memories with a whirl through the galleries of Europe. They go out +empty, to come home unprofitably full. They go abroad to escape +themselves, and fail, as Goethe says they always must, in the attempt to +jump away from their own shadows. And yet even the dullest man, if he +went honestly about it, might bring home something worth having from the +dullest place. If Ovid, instead of sentimentalizing in the "Tristia," +had left behind him a treatise on the language of the Getae which he +learned, we should have thanked him for something more truly valuable +than all his poems. Could men only learn how comfortably the world can +get along without the various information which they bring home about +themselves! Honest observation and report will long continue, we fear, +to be one of the rarest of human things, so much more easily are +spectacles to be had than eyes, so much cheaper is fine writing than +exactness. Let any one who has sincerely endeavored to get anything like +facts with regard to the battles of our civil war only consider how much +more he has learned concerning the splendid emotions of the reporter +than the events of the fight, (unless he has had the good luck of a peep +into the correspondence of some pricelessly uncultivated private,) and +he will feel that narrative, simple as it seems, can be well done by two +kinds of men only,--those of the highest genius and culture, and those +wholly without either. + +It gradually becomes clear to us that the easiest things can be done +with ease only by the very fewest people, and those specially endowed to +that end. The English language, for instance, can show but one sincere +diarist, Pepys; and yet it would seem a simple matter enough to jot +down the events of every day for one's self without thinking of Mrs. +Posterity Grundy, who has a perverse way, as if she were a testatrix and +not an heir, of forgetting precisely those who pay most assiduous court +to her. One would think, too, that to travel and tell what you have seen +should be tolerably easy; but in ninety-nine books out of a hundred does +not the tourist bore us with the sensations he thinks he ought to have +experienced, instead of letting us know what he saw and felt? If authors +would only consider that the way to write an enlivening book is not by +seeing and saying just what would be expected of them, but precisely the +reverse, the public would be gainers. What tortures have we not seen the +worthiest people go through in endeavoring to get up the appropriate +emotion before some famous work in a foreign gallery, when the only +sincere feeling they had was a praiseworthy desire to escape! If one +does not like the Venus of Milo, let him not fret about it, for he may +be sure she never will. + +Montaigne felt obliged to separate himself from travelling-companions +whose only notion of their function was that of putting so many leagues +a day behind them. His theory was that of Ulysses, who was not content +with seeing the cities of many men, but would learn their minds +also. And this way of taking time enough, while we think it the best +everywhere, is especially excellent in a country so much the reverse of +_ fast_ as Italy, where impressions need to steep themselves in the sun +and ripen slowly as peaches, and where _carpe diem_ should be translated +_take your own time_. But is there any particular reason why everybody +should go to Italy, or, having done so, should tell everybody else what +he supposes he ought to have seen there? Surely, there must be some +adequate cause for so constant an effect. + +Boswell, in a letter to Sir Andrew Mitchell, says, that, if he could +only _see Rome_, "it would give him talk for a lifetime." The utmost +stretch of his longing is to pass "four months on classic ground," after +which he will come back to Auchinleck _uti conciva satur_,--a condition +in which we fear the poor fellow returned thither only too often, though +unhappily in no metaphorical sense. We rather think, that, apart from +the pleasure of saying he had been there, Boswell was really drawn to +Italy by the fact that it was classic ground, and this not so much by +its association with great events as with great men, for whom, with +all his weaknesses, he had an invincible predilection. But Italy has a +magnetic virtue quite peculiar to her, which compels alike steel and +straw, finding something in men of the most diverse temperaments by +which to draw them to herself. Like the Siren, she sings to every +voyager a different song, that lays hold on the special weakness of his +nature. The German goes thither because Winckelmann and Goethe went, +and because he can find there a sausage stronger than his own; the +Frenchman, that he may flavor his infidelity with a bitter dash of +Ultramontanism, or find fresher zest in his chattering boulevard +after the sombre loneliness of Rome; the Englishman, because the same +Providence that hears the young ravens when they cry is careful to +furnish prey to the courier also, and because his money will make him +a _Milor in partibus_. But to the American, especially if he be of an +imaginative temper, Italy has a deeper charm. She gives him cheaply what +gold cannot buy for him at home, a Past at once legendary and authentic, +and in which he has an equal claim with every other foreigner. In +England he is a poor relation whose right in the entail of home +traditions has been docked by revolution; of France his notions are +purely English, and he can scarce help feeling something like contempt +for a people who habitually conceal their meaning in French; but Rome is +the mother-country of every boy who has devoured Plutarch or taken his +daily doses of Florus. Italy gives us antiquity with good roads, cheap +living, and, above all, a sense of freedom from responsibility. For +him who has escaped thither there is no longer any tyranny of public +opinion; its fetters drop from his limbs when he touches that +consecrated shore, and he rejoices in the recovery of his own +individuality. He is no longer met at every turn with "Under which king, +bezonian? Speak, or die!" He is not forced to take one side or the +other about table-tipping, or the merits of General Blank, or the +constitutionality of anarchy. He has found an Eden where he need not +hide his natural self in the livery of any opinion, and may be as happy +as Adam, if he be wise enough to keep clear of the apple of High +Art. This may be very weak, but it is also very agreeable to certain +temperaments; and to be weak is to be miserable only where it is a duty +to be strong. + +Coming from a country where everything seems shifting like a quicksand, +where men shed their homes as snakes their skins, where you may meet +a three-story house, or even a church, on the highway, bitten by the +universal gad-fly of bettering its position, where we have known a tree +to be cut down merely because "it had got to be so old," the sense +of permanence, unchangeableness, and repose which Italy gives us is +delightful. The oft-repeated _non e piu come era prima_ may be true +enough of Rome politically, but it is not true of it in most other +respects. To be sure, gas and railroads have got in at last; but one may +still read by a _lucerna_ and travel by _vettura_, if he like, using +Alberti as a guide-book, and putting up at the Bearas a certain +keen-eyed Gascon did three centuries ago. + +Mr. Story has taken Italy with due deliberation, having lived there now +some fifteen years. He has thus been enabled to let things come to him, +instead of running after them; and his sensations have had time to ripen +slowly toward the true moment of projection, without being shaken and +hurried, or huddled one atop of the other. We doubt if the picturesque +can be profitably done by the job, for in aesthetics the proverb that +half a loaf is better than no bread does not hold. An Italian _festa_, +we suspect, if you make it a matter of business, will turn its +business-side to you, and you will go away without having been admitted +to the delightful confidence of its innocent gayety and unpremeditated +charm. Tourists must often have remarked, in making an excursion to a +ruin or bit of picturesque scenery, that what chance threw in to boot +was by far the best part of their bargain, for the most beautiful +experiences come not by observation. The crumbling temple lured them +forth, but it was only to see a sunset or to hear a nightingale. + +What between winters in Rome and summers in one or the other +mountain-town, with intervals of absence now at Florence and now at +Siena, Mr. Story has had such opportunities as fall to the lot of very +few foreigners. For, in studying the ways of a people, it is as with +wild animals,--you must be long enough among them to get them _wonted_, +so that you may catch them at unawares. His book is on the whole a +delightful one, and would have been so without qualification, had he +confined it to a relation of his own experiences. Where he narrates or +describes, he is always lively and interesting; where he disserts or +grows learned, he gives up his vantage-ground, and must consent to be +dull like everybody else. Anybody can be learned, anybody except Dr. +Holmes dull; but not everybody can be a poet and artist. The chapter on +the Evil Eye is a marvel of misplaced erudition. The author has hunted +all antiquity like a policeman, and arrested high and low on the least +suspicion of a squint. Horace and Jodocus Damhouder, (to whose harmless +Dam our impatience tempts us to add an _n_,) Tibullus and Johannes +Wouwerus, St. Augustine and Turnebus, with a motley mob of Jews, +Christians, Greeks, Romans, Arabians, and Lord-knows-whats, are all +thrust into the dock cheek by jowl. For ourselves, we would have taken +Mr. Story's word for it, without the attestation of these long-winded +old monsters, who wrote about charms and enchantments in a style +as potent in disenchantment as holy-water, and who bored their own +generation too thoroughly to have any claim upon the button of ours. +Every age is sure of its own fleas without poking over the rag-bag +of the past; and of all things, a superstition has the least need of +proving the antiquity of its pedigree, since its very etymology is +better than the certificate of all the Heralds' Colleges put together. +We are surprised that so clever and lively a man as Mr. Story, should +not have seen that in such matters one live fact is better than fifty +dead ones, and that even in history it is not so much the facts as what +the historian has contrived to see in them that gives life to his work. + +But learning makes a small part of Mr. Story's book; only, as the +concluding chapter happens to bristle with quotations and references, +thickly as the nave of St. Peter's on a festival with bayonets, this is +the last taste left in the mouth. The really valuable parts of the book +(and they make much the larger part of it) are those in which the author +relates his own experiences. After so many volumes stuffed like a +_chiffonnier's_ basket with the shreds of ancient Rome, it is really +refreshing to come upon a book which makes us feel that Italy is still +inhabited by very human beings, and contains something more than the +tombs of the Scipios, and inscriptions interesting only to people +who think a dead Roman donkey better than a living Italian lion. The +chapters on Street-Music in Rome, on Games, on Gaffes and Theatres, on +Villeggiatura and the Vintage, on the Ghetto, the Markets, and Summer +in the City, are all of them delightful and new. They really teach us +something, while the learning, we are sorry to say, does nothing of the +kind. Several of these chapters our readers will remember enjoying in +the "Atlantic." They are good for those who have been in Italy, for +those who are going thither, and, above all, for those who must stay at +home. They contain the most cheerful and picturesque descriptions of +Italian life and scenery we have ever met with. And we cannot be too +thankful to Mr. Story that he leaves a theme so poetical in itself to +_be_ poetical, without any officious help from himself, and that, though +an artist, he does not enter on any of those disquisitions which would +have made Sir Joshua shift his trumpet. On the whole, we are inclined +to forgive him the polyglot lumber of his chapter on the Evil Eye in +consideration of the scenery and galleries which he has spared us. We +think we see symptoms that the Nature-mania which began with Rousseau +is on the decline, and that men and their ways are getting into fashion +again as worth study. The good time is perhaps coming when some gallant +fellow will out with it that he hates mountains, and will be greeted +with a shout of delight from his emancipated brethren. + +Mr. Story is a person of very remarkable endowments. An accomplished +musician and poet, (we ought to have said before how remarkably good the +translations in these volumes are,) a skilful draughtsman, the author of +reputable law-books, he would seem to have been in danger of verifying +the old saw, had he not proved himself so eminently a master in +sculpture. We think the country is deeply indebted to Mr. Story for +having won so complete a triumph at the London World's Fair with his +Cleopatra and Libyan Sibyl, at a time when English statesmen and +newspapers were assuring the world that America was relapsing into +barbarism. Those statues, if we may trust the unvarying witness of +judicious persons, are conceived and executed in a style altogether +above the stone-cutting level of the day, and give proof of real +imaginative power. Mr. Story's genius and culture, with the fresh spur +of so marked a success, will, we are sure, produce other works to his +own honor and that of his country. For we feel that we have a country +still,--feel it the more deeply for our suffering, and our hope +deferred,--and out of the darkness of to-day we have still faith to see +a fairer America rising, a higher ideal of freedom, to warm the soul of +the artist and nerve the arm of the soldier. + + +_Hand-Book of Universal Literature._ From the Latest and Best +Authorities. By MRS. ANNE C.L. BOTTA. A New Edition. 12mo. Boston: +Ticknor and Fields. 1862. + +A thing once done assumes a magical simplicity. No matter what may have +been the previous difficulty, or how much work may be involved in +the result, yet, when the work is done, the problem solved, all the +difficulty and labor promptly disappear from view, as if in dread of +being led captive in triumphal procession after the Caesar who has +mastered them. Thus, it does not seem at all strange that we should have +a book professing to guide us through all the intricacies of general +literature; indeed, now that the work is put into our hands, it seems so +easy of accomplishment that the only marvel would appear to be that we +have had none hitherto. Yet the conditions necessary to such a work are +of the rarest to be found; not so rare, indeed, when each is considered +separately, but rarely to be met with in combination. + +In order even to attempt a work of this nature, its utility must first +be fully appreciated; but, unfortunately, those whose need is the +greatest, as being immediately present, would on that very account be +incompetent to supply the need, while those who by dint of patient study +have brought themselves up to the point of competency for the task no +longer realize the want,--just as men who have become rich by industry +forget the necessities of poverty, which were the earliest spurs upon +their energy. + +The great majority of readers, therefore, have good reason to thank +Mrs. Botta, that, after having met a great educational need in her own +experience, she has benevolently set about supplying the same need in +the experience of others. The same motive which has led her to do +this has also made her work, from the peculiar manner in which it is +conducted, an important contribution toward a more perfect educational +system than generally prevails; though we would not do her the injustice +to imply that what she has done claims merit on this account alone or +chiefly. It _does_ claim merit in this way, and of a very high order, +because it avoids a prominent fault that vitiates most works intended to +promote the general diffusion of knowledge. The fault referred to is the +same which De Quincey, in a note to his "Political Economy," has called +the greatest vice of teaching,--namely, that the teacher does not +readily enter into, as an inheritance, the difficulties of the pupil. +Merely to have corrected this fault, to have met the popular mind +half-way and upon its own ground, was to furnish an important condition +hitherto lacking in the field chosen. + +The extent of the work--embracing, as it does, the whole field of +literature--imposes other and more difficult conditions. Originality, +in any primary sense, was of course an impossibility; a single lifetime +would not suffice even for the most cursory examination of original +materials on so grand a scale. It was necessary, therefore, to select +and make use of the best authorities, critical and historical, those +whose researches have been most valuable and comprehensive, in each +particular department of the field. These authorities were to be found, +not in a single language, but in several; and even after they were +found, and the various results of their investigations put at their just +estimate, the important work of selection had then only just +commenced. Here were the master-critics and antiquaries,--the Muellers, +Champollions, and all. Some use must be made of each; but the compass, +no less than the design, of the work demanded the exclusion of all +secondary and unimportant matter, yet in such a manner that the ideal +unity should not be at all disturbed. Here was required, not merely tact +and discrimination, but a high degree of philosophical analysis; and +since this was valueless except as it was followed by comprehensive +synthesis, the power of artistic combination was no less requisite to +the complete result. + +From the foregoing remarks it must not be supposed that there has been +throughout a remodelling of all the material used. On the contrary, +it is one of the most important of the features which give value and +interest to the work, that in frequent instances the material has been +presented precisely as it came to hand; a felicitous or humorous turn +of a sentence, a pointed antithesis, a happy grouping of historic +incidents, or a vigorous clinching of manifold thoughts in a single +expression, has been happily preserved where by others it might have +been ejected, or marred in the changing, for the sake of giving to the +work a factitious claim to an originality which, in such a field, is +plainly the least desirable characteristic. Our most hearty thanks are +due to Mrs. Botta that she has been willing to sacrifice what at the +best would have been a spurious claim to the purely legitimate one, +of having conquered almost insuperable difficulties, and, by the most +conscientious fidelity, elaborated a really valuable treatise, where +before there existed none at all. + +So great as has been the need of this work, so great will be the +appreciation of it at the hands of the reading public. A whole has been +given where hitherto only parts had existed, and those for the most part +inaccessible to the general reader. + +We have no space to enlarge upon the many particular excellences of the +book. It is vivacious in style, having none of the tedium belonging to +most works of this description. There is very much concerning ancient +religion, and concerning the classification of languages, as well +as respecting the peculiarities of each, that has never before been +presented in a popular form. We have rarely, indeed, seen so much that +was valuable, and so well digested, compressed within such limited +bounds. + + +_The New American Cyclopaedia_; a Popular Dictionary of General +Knowledge. Edited by GEORGE RIPLEY and CHARLES A. DANA. 16 vols. royal +8vo. New York: D. Appleton & Co. + +The sixteenth and concluding volume of the "New American Cyclopaedia" +brings Messrs. Ripley and Dana to the end of one of the most laborious +and important literary works ever undertaken in this country; and +the voice of the public, we are sure, will be all but unanimous in +congratulating them upon the generally satisfactory manner in which they +have performed their task. The cost of the work, according to a New-York +journal, has been over four hundred thousand dollars. Six years have +been spent in its execution, and nearly five hundred writers have been +employed to contribute to it. Naturally, the articles are of very +unequal merit; but it is fair to remark that a high standard of +scholarship and literary polish has evidently been aimed at, from the +first volume to the last, and there is scarcely any point upon which the +"New American Cyclopaedia" may not safely challenge comparison with any +work of similar pretensions in the English language. + +Practically, none of the cyclopaedia previously accessible in our +language has now much value. Such works as "Rees's," the "Edinburgh," +the "London," and the "Penny" Cyclopaedias, the "Encyclopaedia +Metropolitana," and the excellent, though rather brief, "Encyclopedia +Americana" of Dr. Francis Lieber, the only one, except the "New +American," ever written in this country, however good in their day, have +long been entirely out of date. The "English Cyclopaedia" of Charles +Knight, and the eighth edition of the famous "Encyclopaedia Britannica," +were completed while the work of Messrs. Ripley and Dana was yet in +progress; but they are so different from the latter in their scope and +execution, and so much more costly, that they can hardly be said +to rival it. The first-named is a revised issue of the old "Penny +Cyclopaedia" of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, +and retains some of the best features of that excellent work. Its +arrangement seems to us peculiarly inconvenient; but its most +glaring defect is the lack of American subjects, and the slipshod, +unsatisfactory, and inaccurate manner in which the few that are found in +it have been treated. The "Encyclopaedia Britannica" is open to the same +objection. The first edition of this great work appeared over ninety +years ago. It contained neither historical, biographical, nor +geographical articles, and was rather a collection of treatises on the +principal arts and sciences than a cyclopaedia in the common acceptation +of the term. It has since been five times almost remodelled, arranged +alphabetically, and greatly enlarged; but it still preserves its old +distinguishing feature of treating great scientific and historical +subjects exhaustively under a single head: for instance, there are two +elaborate historical articles on "Britain" and "England," but none +on Charles I. or Charles II.; long articles on "Animal Kingdom" and +"Mammalia,"--so long, in fact, that it is almost impossible to find +anything in them without an index,--but none on the separate animals. +For the scholar, this plan, perhaps, has its advantages; but, for the +unlearned reader, who turns to his cyclopaedia to find an intelligible +account of the habits of some particular creature, without caring +greatly what its precise place may be in the zooelogical kingdom, or +looks for a name without knowing whether it belongs to a fish or a +river, no book that professes to be a manual of reference could well be +arranged on a more inconvenient principle. One of the chief duties of +a cyclopaedia is to save trouble,--to put one on the high-road to +knowledge, without unnecessary delay in finding the guide-boards. But +send a half-educated man to look for a scrap of learning in an article +of a hundred pages, and one might as well at once turn him loose into +a library. And what is worse, the unwieldy dimensions of these great +articles are out of all proportion to the information they contain. We +venture to assert that the ponderous "Encyclopaedia Britannica," with +its twenty-two quarto volumes, will tell less, for instance, about the +Horse, or about Louis XIV., than the much smaller work of Messrs. Ripley +and Dana. In the "New American Cyclopaedia" there are few articles +over twenty pages long. The leading subjects in the sciences, such as +"Anatomy," "Botany," "Physiology," etc., have from three to ten pages +each,--enough to give an outline of the principles and history of the +science. The great geographical and political divisions of the globe are +treated at somewhat greater length. Every important plant, beast, bird, +and fish, every large town, river, lake, province, and mountain, every +notable monarch, and every great battle, (not forgetting "Bull Run" and +the "Chickahominy Campaign,") is the subject of a separate article. + +Next to this very convenient subdivision of topics, the most striking +merit of the new cyclopaedia is, perhaps, comprehensiveness. Among its +faults, very few faults of omission can fairly be charged; and, indeed, +it seems to us rather to err in giving too many articles, especially on +American second-rate preachers, politicians, and literary men, all of +whom are no doubt ticketed for immortality by a select circle of friends +and admirers, but in whom the public at large take the faintest possible +interest. On the other hand, the space given to such heroes is small; +and so long as they do not exclude more valuable matter, but only add a +little to the bulk of the volumes, they do no great harm, and may chance +to be useful. In the department of natural history this work is much +fuller than any other general dictionary. It is also especially complete +in technology and law, (the latter department having been under the +care of Professor Theophilus Parsons,) and sufficiently so in medicine, +theology, and other branches of science. + +Among the articles upon which its success and reputation will chiefly +rest are those relating to technology. With scarcely an exception, they +are plain, practical, and full of common sense. Those on "Cotton" and +"Wool" and their manufactures, the various metals and the ways of +working them, (the article on "Zinc" is the best we have ever seen on +that subject,) "Gas," "Ship," "Railroad," "Telegraph," "Sewing-Machine," +"Steam," and "Sugar," are compact summaries of valuable knowledge, and +will go far to commend the work to a class of persons who, except in +our own country, are not much given to reading or book-buying. They +vindicate the claims of the Cyclopaedia to be a popular dictionary, not +intended solely for the scholar's library, but directed to the wants of +the artisan and man of business. It is not too much to say of many of +them,--of "Ship," for instance, and "Telegraph,"--that, apart from +their value as records of industrial progress and invention, they are +interesting enough to furnish a very pleasant hour's occupation to the +desultory reader. + +The other scientific articles are mostly written in a clear, +unpretending style, with a sparing use of technical expressions; and +so far as we have discovered, they do ample justice to all recent +discoveries. The articles by Professor Bache on the "Tides," Professor +Dalton on "Embryology," Professor J.D. Dana on "Crystallography," +Dr. W.H. Draper on the "Nervous System," Professor James Hall on +"Palaeontology," Professor Henry, of the Smithsonian Institution, +on "Magnetism" and "Meteorology," James T. Hodge on "Earth" and +"Electricity," Frank H. Storer on "Chemistry" and kindred subjects, Dr. +Reuben on "Heat," "Light," "Vision," "Winds," etc., and the philological +contributions of Dr. Kraitsir and Professor Whitney, do the highest +credit to the work in which they appear. The forbidding appearance of +Dr. Kraitsir's articles will get more notice than their deep +learning. We cannot but regret that such valuable papers as those on +"Hieroglyphics," "Cuneiform Inscriptions," "Indian Languages," and we +may add, though belonging to another class of subjects, "Brahma" and +"Buddha," by the same author, should not have been dressed with a little +more taste, and the naked deformity of barbarous paradigms covered +with some of the ornaments of a readable style. It is the more a pity, +because the articles are well worth any care that could be spent upon +them. + +The biographical articles are sufficiently numerous, and, though rigidly +condensed, are full enough for all ordinary purposes. There are few such +elaborate biographies as those contributed by Macaulay, De Quincey, and +others, to the "Encyclopaedia Britannica"; but Mr. Bancroft's "Jonathan +Edwards," Mr. Everett's "Hallam," "Washington," and "Daniel Webster," +President Felton's "Agassiz," Professor Lowell's "Dante," Professor +Schaff's "Luther" and "Melancthon," Mr. Seward's "DeWitt Clinton," A. +W. Thayer's "Beethoven," "Handel," "Haydn," and "Mozart," Richard Grant +White's "Shakespeare," and the articles on "Patrick Henry," "Washington +Irving," "Milton," "Southey," "Schiller," "Swift," and many others we +might name, are admirable specimens of literary composition. Among +miscellaneous articles that deserve particular praise are a well-written +and elaborate history of the Jewish people and literature under the +title "Hebrews"; a picturesque account of "London"; a summary of all +that is known about "Japan"; excellent histories of "Newspapers" and +"Periodical Literature"; a brilliant article on "Athens" by the +late President Felton; a review of "Arctic Discovery"; valuable and +exceedingly interesting papers on "Army," "Artillery," "Infantry," and +"Cavalry," with one on "Gunnery" by Commodore Charles Henry Davis; +"Painting"; "Sculpture"; "Serfs"; "Slavery"; "Hungary"; and the best +published account of the "Mormons." The article on the "United States" +fills one hundred and twenty pages, including thirty-three pages of +fresh statistical tables, and gives an admirable summary of our history +down to last September; it closes with a comprehensive survey of +American literature. The supplement gives a biography of nearly every +general in the Union and Rebel armies. + +The promises of the editors on the score of impartiality have been well +kept. It would be too much to expect them to satisfy everybody, or +never to be caught tripping; but in the great questions of religion and +politics, they seem to have preserved a happy mean between the outspoken +freedom of the partisan and the halting timidity of the man who never +commits himself because he never has an opinion. Their contributors +represent nearly every Christian creed, every shade of politics, and +every part of the English-speaking world, from Salt Lake City to London, +and from Mobile to Montreal. + +We have only to add that the Cyclopaedia does fuller justice to our own +country than she has ever received from such a book before; that the +historical and statistical articles present the latest accessible +information; and that, so far as our opportunities of examination +permit us to judge, the book, though of course not free from errors, is +accurate to a more than ordinary degree. The labor of the editors has +been careful and conscientious; and they have produced a work which must +long endure as a valuable contribution to American literature and a +credit to American scholarship. + + +_Manual of Geology:_ treating of the Principles of the Science with +Special Reference to American Geological History, etc. By JAMES D. DANA. +8vo. Philadelphia: Theodore Bliss & Co. London: Trabner & Co. + + +No work on any science has yet been published in our language more +exhaustive of facts, more clear in statement, or more philosophical +in general character and arrangement, than Dana's "Mineralogy," as +presented in its last and revised edition. + +Of course, the announcement of a "Manual of Geology" by the same author +could not fail to excite hopes that a long-felt want on the part of the +American public was to be met, a void in our scientific literature to be +filled. Nor are we disappointed in our expectations, now that the work +has appeared and time has been given for its careful perusal. On the +contrary, we feel a degree of satisfaction that might perhaps express +itself too strongly in praise, if we were not withheld by the +supposition that a proper notice of the contents of the volume would do +more for its appreciation by the reader than any language of eulogy. + +What, then, is the distinctive character of the work, and wherein do the +contents so differ from previous publications as to claim our especial +notice? + +In the first place, we would state, that, while it is a manual of +general geological knowledge concerning the history of the earth and of +life on its surface, and full of information concerning the strata and +geological phenomena of all parts of our globe, it is yet peculiar, +inasmuch as it treats of the principles of the science with special +reference to American Geological History. In this will be found its +great value to American students; for who of them has not had his +patience tried, and his enthusiasm often chilled, in vain attempts to +solve the questions which have sometimes arisen in his mind concerning +American geology, and has not sought their solution in the only way +open to him,--a consultation of innumerable State Reports, and other +publications, not half of which were accessible when required? + +Another distinctive feature of the work is the prominence given to +Historical Geology, or that portion which treats of the successive +formation of the strata of the different periods, and of the development +and characteristics of the life upon the surface. The whole treatment of +this exhibits in a marked degree the extended research and philosophical +ability of the author. + +GENERAL CONTEXTS AND DIVISIONS OF THE WORK. + +_Physiographic Geology_.--This embraces a general survey of the earth's +features: its continents, oceans, lakes, river-systems, oceanic and +atmospheric currents, climates, distribution of forest-regions, deserts, +etc. + +_Lithological Geology_.--This treats of the rocks, and of their +arrangement: the first embracing an account of all the important +chemical elements that enter into their constitution, the minerals and +organic materials that occur in their composition, and the kinds and +distinguishing characteristics of those that make up the earth's +surface; the second presenting the arrangement of rocks, stratified and +unstratified,--the structure due to deposition and other agencies,--the +dislocations of strata, and the consequent faults and distortions of +fossils contained in them,--together with considerations upon the age +and chronological division of all the strata of the earth's surface. + +_Historical Geology_.--This third part of the volume, and that which +peculiarly characterizes the work, opens with some general remarks upon +the divisions in Geological History, and the announcement of certain +important principles to be kept in view while considering the subject. +The progress of life is then described as the basis of subdivision into +Geological Ages; and the subdivisions of geological time are presented +as follows:-- + + I. Azoic Time or Age. + + II. Palaeozoic Time. + 1. The Age of Mollusks, or Silurian. + 2. The Age of Fishes, or Devonian. + 3. The Age of Coal Plants, or Carboniferous. + + III. Mesozoic Time. + 4. The Age of Reptiles. + + IV. Cenozoic Time. + 5. The Age of Mammals. + + V. Era of Mind. + 6. The Age of Man. + +And in connection with this is given a table of the further subdivision +of this history into Geological Periods, and a map showing the +distribution of the rocks of each of these periods over the surface of +the United States. + +The great divisions above given are, as stated, essentially the same as +proposed by Professor Agassiz, who, however, made the era of Fishes to +embrace the first and second ages of Palaeozoic Time, the Silurian and +the Devonian, instead of restricting it, as now done, to the latter, and +calling the former the Age of Mollusks. + +Following these general considerations, each great division of geologic +time is successively taken up, commencing with the Azoic. Each period +of the several divisions is treated of in order; and the rocks of +each epoch and their distribution described, first, as they exhibit +themselves in America,--then, more briefly, as they appear in Europe. +A full account of the life that manifested itself in each epoch, both +vegetable and animal, is likewise given in the same order. The igneous +and other disturbing agencies are then considered, and general remarks +added upon the geography, the character of the surface, and various +phenomena of the period. + +The whole of this portion of the work is abundantly illustrated with +well-executed figures of all the characteristic species that distinguish +the several periods, mostly drawn from American examples. + +_Dynamical Geology_.--This particular branch of the subject is made +less prominent than usual in geological works, but it will not be found +lacking in any point. + +The subject is presented in the following order:-- + +1. Life as an agent in protecting, destroying, and making rocks. + +2. Cohesive Attraction. + +3. The Atmosphere as a mechanical agent. + +4. Water as a mechanical agent. + +5. Heat as an agent in volcanic phenomena, igneous eruptions, +metamorphism, veins, etc. + +6. Movements of the earth's crust, plication of strata, origin of +mountains, earthquakes, etc. + +7. Chemistry of Rocks. + +Under the first head, we have much interesting matter concerning peat +and coral formations, coral reefs and their origin, illustrated with +figures. + +Under the head of Water as an Agent, some plates are given, new to the +general reader, of the remarkable _canons_ of the Colorado, which so +well illustrate the powerful agency of this element in wearing away +for itself deep channels in the strata. Under the same head is an +interesting essay upon Glaciers, with figures, one of which is a reduced +copy of a sketch in Agassiz's great work, representing the Glacier of +Zermatt, in the Monte-Rosa region. + +Under the head of Heat as an Agent, we have, as might be expected, +interesting and valuable matter upon volcanic phenomena, and those of +metamorphism. + +We have thus briefly passed in review the contents of the work, and +without criticism, too, for we would scarcely have a sentence in the +book altered or omitted. Yet we do not always concur in all the views +expressed or implied by the author. For instance, we consider the +evidence of the Jurassic age of the Ichnolitic strata of the sandstone +of the Connecticut River too strong to allow of their being any longer +classed among the Triassic. We certainly differ from him in much that is +said upon the subject of Man, as of one species. Yet we do not care to +dwell upon these points, especially the latter. Our author will not +expect to find all readers agreeing with him upon such mooted questions. + +We do not think that we overestimate the value of this work, when +we express our belief that its publication will mark an era in our +geological progress. By this we do not mean to imply that its character +is such as to be of great service to those among us who are already +learned in the geology and palaeontology of our continent; but we do +mean to affirm, that, by the efficient aid which this work will be to +them, thousands and tens of thousands who have sought hitherto for +information on its great subjects, when seeking was literally "groping +in darkness," will be helped forward to a degree of knowledge respecting +the history and life of our globe which they could not otherwise have +attained. + + +_Elements of Military Art and History_: comprising the History and +Tactics of the Separate Arms, the Combination of the Arms, and the Minor +Operations of War. By EDWARD DE LA BARRE DUPARCQ, Captain of Engineers +in the Army of France, and Professor of the Military Art in the School +of Saint-Cyr. Translated and edited by BRIGADIER-GENERAL GEORGE W. +CULLUM, Chief of Staff of the General-in-Chief of the Armies of the +United States. 8vo. New York: D. Van Nostrand. + +War has its science and its art. There is a domain of general +_principles_, which have their application in all the active operations +of war; and military _science_ is but the sum of these principles in +their theory and practice. The _art_ of war deals more directly with +the details and practical direction of military affairs, and abounds in +_rules_ of action, organization, and administration. Military science +and art are equally the results of experience in war. Principles of +strategy have grown out of the exercise of the highest military mind in +weighing the general features of campaigns, and from the perceptive and +logical recognition of those elements essential to success. The art +of war has grown up as a body of practices, traditions, and rules, +naturally resulting from the immense sum of experience in military life +and action among all nations. It is, indeed, so inwoven with military +history that the two should be studied in connection. Military art is +more mature than military science; and in war, as in the practice of +other professions and trades, definite and empirical rules for daily +guidance, based mainly on practice, serve almost to exclude science and +to keep it unprogressive. When, however, a Napoleonic mind becomes truly +imbued with vital military principles, its most successful strokes +may result from a bold disregard of rules under the lead of higher +intelligence. But as military science is very imperfect, and as +Hannibals, Fredericks, and Napoleons are not every-day products, it +behooves lesser lights to study the art of war most conscientiously, in +the hope of at least escaping the fatal category of blunders which crude +officers are forever repeating. + +The publication of a really good book on Military Art and History is, +just now, a fortunate event, and its appearance two years since might +have saved us much costly and mortifying experience. Enlightened men +of all nations concede to the French school of soldiers and military +authors a certain preeminence, due partly to the genius of the people +and partly to the immense vital growth of war-craft under Napoleon. +Barre Duparcq is one of the most favorably known among recent military +writers in France. As an engineer officer and Professor of Military +Art in the famous school of Saint-Cyr, he has been led to study +fortification, military history, army-organization, and the art of war +with a methodical thoroughness, which, besides other highly valued +works, has given us its ripe fruit in the volume before us. If not the +very best, this is certainly among the best of the numerous volumes +devoted to this topic; and General Cullum's judgment in selecting this +work for translation is fully justified by the admirable system, clear +and learned, but brief exposition, and entirely trustworthy quality, +which even hasty readers must recognize. Could this book be put into the +hands and heads of our numerous intelligent, but untrained officers, it +would work a transformation supremely needed. It is lamentable to think +how many precious lives and how much national honor have been thrown +away from the lack of just that portion of military instruction which +is here offered in a single volume. Though no one book can make an +accomplished officer, we may say that no officer can read Duparcq's +Elements without positive advantage and real progress as a soldier. +The topics treated, with constant illustration from history, are, +the organization and functions of the four arms, infantry, cavalry, +artillery, and engineers; organization of active armies; marches and +battles; outposts; detachments; armed reconnoissances; passage of +rivers; convoys; partisans; redoubts; barricades; heights; roads; farms +or houses; forages; defiles; villages; and field hygiene. + +General Cullum is well known as one of the most proficient students +of military science and art in our service, and is amply qualified to +prepare an original textbook on this subject. That he should have +found time to translate Duparcq's work, amid his arduous and important +services as General Halleck's chief of staff and chief engineer during +the remarkable Western campaign, shows an industry only to be explained +by his intense realization of the need of a book like this, as an +antidote to that deficient military instruction which has been so +replete with bad results. The translation is a faithful and lucid +rendering of the original, and the technical words and expressions are +generally satisfactory equivalents of the French terms. + +We venture to express the hope that this painful war will lead to a +fresh and successful study of military science and art in relation to +American campaign-elements, so that future contingencies can be more +creditably met than was that which Secession suddenly precipitated on +us. + + +_Rejoinder to Mrs. Stowe's Reply to the Address of the Women of +England_. + +Emily Faithfull, "printer and publisher in ordinary to Her Majesty," has +issued from the "Victoria Press," in London, a small pamphlet with the +above title, written at the request of a committee of British women by +Miss Frances Power Cobbe, author of "Intuitive Morals." As Mrs. Stowe's +"Reply" was first printed in this magazine, we here give the whole +"Rejoinder." + +"The following Address has been written with the belief that it embodies +the general sentiments of English women on the subject of Slavery. It +has been decided to seek no signatures on the present occasion, rather +than repeat the vast undertaking of obtaining any number which should +adequately correspond with the half-million names appended to the former +Address. + +"MADAM,--You have asked of the women of England a solemn question. You +have recalled the Address which half a million of us once sent you, +appealing to our sisters in America to raise their voices against +Slavery; and you demand, Where is now the spirit which dictated that +appeal? You quote the evidence of our press and our public speakers, +that the righteous indignation against Slavery which once kindled in all +English hearts has waned, if it have not died out; and you allege that +we have been wanting in generous faith and sympathy for the North in her +great struggle, and have even descended to afford countenance, if +not assistance, to the South. You challenge us to account for this +dereliction from our former ardent sentiments, and you ask wherefore it +is that _now_, when the conflict has assumed its most terrible form, and +the peaceful persuasions of philanthropists have been superseded by +the shock of contending armies spreading desolation through your +land,--_now_ we stand afar off, viewing coldly that awful contest, and +sending, instead of cheering words of sympathy and faith, only doubts +and lamentations over a 'fratricidal war,' and regrets partitioned with +strange impartiality between the sufferers in the cause of free America, +and those who have, in their own audacious words,' founded their +commonwealth on the institution of Slavery.' You retort our old appeal +in the face of these things, and you say to us, 'Sisters, you have +spoken well; we have heard you; we have heeded; we have striven in the +cause, even unto death; we have sealed our devotion by desolate hearth +and darkened homestead,--by the blood of sons, husbands, and brothers. +In many of our dwellings the very light of our lives has gone out, and +yet we accept the lifelong darkness as our own part in this great and +awful expiation, by which the bonds of wickedness shall be loosed, and +abiding peace established on the foundation of righteousness. Sisters, +what have _you_ done, and what do you mean to do? In view of the decline +of the noble anti-slavery fire in England, in view of all the facts +and admissions recited from your own papers, we beg leave, in solemn +sadness, to return to you your own words:-- + +"'A common origin, a common faith, and, we sincerely believe, a common +cause, urge us at the present moment to address you on the subject of +the fearful encouragement and support which is being afforded by England +to a slave-holding Confederacy. We appeal to you as sisters, as wives, +as mothers, to raise your voices to your fellow-citizens, and your +prayers to God, for the removal of this affliction and disgrace from the +Christian world.' + +"Madam, in answering this solemn appeal, we do not desire to detail the +causes which may, in a measure, explain or palliate this failure in +our national sympathy, whose existence (in so far as it is true) we +profoundly deplore. Enough, and more than enough, debate has been +already held on the complicated motives which have blended in your +war, as in all other human concerns, and on the occasional acts of +questionable spirit which must inevitably attend the public policy and +sentiments of a nation engaged in deadliest conflict and bleeding at +every pore. Somewhat you may perhaps forgive to those who have withheld +their full sympathies, jealous that a most righteous cause should +be maintained with any save the most untainted motives and the most +unbending rectitude, and who have failed even yet to read in your policy +the full _desire_ to accomplish that end of universal emancipation +whereto Providence is visibly directing the course of events. +Somewhat, also, may be forgiven to those who have been misled by the +misrepresentations of a portion of our press, and offended by the +inimical spirit of your own. But, Madam, although many lips have been +closed which ought to have spoken to you words of blessing, though the +voice of England which has reached you has lacked that full tone of +heartfelt sympathy you had justly anticipated, yet believe not that +our nation is truly alienated from yours, or apostate to the great +principles of freedom which were once our glory. The heart of England is +sound at the core: Slavery is now and ever an abomination in our eyes; +nor has the dastard proposition to recognize the Confederate States +failed to call forth indignant rejection, and that even with peculiar +earnestness from those suffering operatives whose relief such a measure +might have secured. It is to assure you of this, to vindicate ourselves +from the shame of turning back in the hour of trial,--most foreign to +our common Saxon race,--that we, the Women of England, offer you this +response. + +"We do not less abhor Slavery now than when your eloquent words called +out an echo of feeling throughout Europe, such as no other appeal for +the wronged or the miserable ever produced. We abhor Slavery, judging it +simply as _human beings_, and because of all the agonies and tortures it +has occasioned. We abhor it, judging it especially as _women_, because +of all the unspeakable wrongs, the hideous degradation, it has inflicted +on our sex. But we abhor it not only because of these its results, nor +with a hatred which would be withdrawn, were they disputable now or +remediable hereafter. We abhor Slavery for itself, and for its own +enormous iniquity,--even the robbing from a human being of that freedom +which it was the supreme gift of Omnipotence to bestow. We hold, that, +were it in the power of the slaveholder to make his slaves absolutely +happy, Slavery would not less be an injustice and a crime. Happiness is +not to be measured against freedom, else would God have left us brutes, +not men, and spared us all the sorrows of struggling humanity. And +whereas it has been argued that the negro is of a race inferior to his +master, and that therefore it is justifiable to enslave him, we reply, +that the right to freedom is not founded on the equality of the holder +to any other human being, else were every white man also lawfully to be +enslaved by every other stronger or wiser than himself. But the right to +freedom is founded simply and solely on the moral nature wherewith God +has endowed every man and woman of the human race, enabling them, by its +use, to attain to that virtue which is the end of their creation. And +whereas others, again, have defended Slavery on the grounds of the +supposed Divine sanction to be found for it in the Scriptures, we reply, +that we deplore the condition of those whose religion can lend itself +to the task of seeking to appeal to God for the permission of an +institution which the consciences He has made unequivocally loathe +and condemn. Nor shall we hesitate to stigmatize such an appeal as +hypocrisy, until the theologians who make it advance a step farther, and +tell us that they are prepared to represent Jesus of Nazareth as one +who, in fitting time and place, might have been a purchaser and a master +of slaves. Thus, Madam, do we still condemn and abhor Slavery, as we +have ever done, as in itself, and in its own nature, utterly evil and +utterly indefensible; and we consider its vast and terrible results of +cruelty and immorality to be only the natural fruit of so stupendous a +wrong. + +"We have not withheld from your nation either the tribute of admiration +for the vast sacrifices you have made, or of sympathy for the +bereavements and sufferings you have endured. But the expression of such +admiration and sympathy from the truest hearts among us has been almost +silenced by the solemn joy wherewith we have beheld your country purging +herself, even through seas of blood, for her guilty participation in the +crimes of the past, and preparing for herself the stainless future of 'a +land wherein dwelleth righteousness.' We have rejoiced in the midst of +sorrow to know that the doom of Slavery was written by a Divine Hand, +even from the hour when its upholders dared to believe it possible in +the face of Heaven to build up a State upon an injustice. We have looked +with awe-struck consciences to this great revelation of the moral laws +which govern the nations of the earth, and show to men who sought for +God in the records of distant ages that the Living Lord still rules +on high, and is working out even before our eyes the delivery of the +captive and the punishment of the oppressor. The greatest national sin +of Christian times has wrought the greatest national overthrow. The +hidden evil of the land, which long smouldered underground, has blazed +forth at last like a volcano, bursting in sunder the most solid of human +institutions, and pouring the lava-streams of ruin and desolation even +to the remotest shores where the spoil of guilt had been partaken. But +while we behold with awe, in the present calamity, the manifestation of +Supreme Justice, we look with confident hope to the final issue to which +it must lead. In whatever mode that end may be brought out, and through +whatever struggles America may yet be doomed to pass, we are assured +that only one termination can await a conflict between a nation which +has abjured its complicity with crime and a confederation which exists +but to perpetuate that crime forever. It is not now, in the presence of +the events of the last three years, that we shall be tempted to fear +that Wrong and Robbery, and the systematic degradation of woman, may +possibly prove to be principles of stability, capable of producing the +security and consolidation of a commonwealth! Your courage in this +Titanic strife,--the lavish devotion with which the best blood of your +land has been poured out on the field, and the tears of childless +mothers shed in homes never before visited by the sorrows of war,--the +patriotic generosity with which your treasures have been cast into the +gulf opened suddenly in your busy and prosperous land, even as of old +in the forum of ancient Rome,--these noble acts of yours inspire with +confidence in you, no less than pride in the indomitable energies of +our common race. But above your valor and your patriotism, we look with +still higher hope to those moral laws whose vindication is involved in +the issue of the conflict; and we feel assured, that, while for the +Slave-Power the future can hold no possibility of enduring prosperity, +for Free America it promises the regeneration of a higher and holier +national existence, when the one great blot which marred the glory of +the past shall have been expiated and effaced forever. + +"This, Madam, is the belief and these are the hopes of thousands of +Englishmen. They are, we are persuaded, even more universally the +belief and hopes of the Women of England, whose hearts the complicated +difficulties of politics and the miserable jealousies of national +rivalry do not distract from the great principles underlying the +contest. The failure of English sympathy whereof you complain is +but partial at the most, and for that partial failure we deeply and +sorrowfully grieve. But the nation at large is still true; and wherever +it has been possible to learn the feelings of the great masses, no lack +of ardent feeling has ever been found in England for the Northern cause. +Though senseless words and inhuman jests have been bandied across the +Atlantic, yet we are assured that in the heart of both our nations +survives unchanged that _kindred_ regard and respect whose property it +is, above other human feelings, to be indestructible. At this hour of +your own greatest need and direful struggle,--at this hour, when a +pirate from our ports is ravaging your shores, as you believe (albeit +erroneously) with our guilty connivance--at this very hour you have come +forward with noblest generosity, and sent us the rich vessel which has +brought food to our starving people. The _Griswold_ has been your answer +to the _Alabama_. It is a magnanimous, a sublime one; and English hearts +are not too cold to read it aright, or to cherish through all future +time the memory thereof. Scorn and hate are transient and evanescent +things; charity and love have in them the elements of immortality. + +"Madam, we answer your Appeal by this rejoinder, and send this message +through your honored hands to our sisters in America: Our hearts +are with you in unchanged sympathy for your holy cause, in undying +abhorrence of Slavery, in profound sorrow for your present afflictions, +and in firmest faith in the final overthrow of that unrighteous Power +whose corner-stone is an injustice and a crime. + +"IN BEHALF OF + +"THE WOMEN OF ENGLAND." + + * * * * * + + +RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS + +RECEIVED BY THE EDITORS OF THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + + +The Pentateuch and Book of Joshua critically Examined. By the Right Rev. +John William Colenso, D.D., Bishop of Natal. New York. D. 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Dana, M.A., +LL.D., Silliman Professor of Geology and Natural History in Yale +College, Author of "A System of Mineralogy," of Reports of Wilkes's +Exploring Expedition, on Geology, on Zooephytes, and on Crustacea, etc. +Illustrated by a Chart of the World, and over a Thousand Figures, mostly +from American Sources. Philadelphia. Theodore Bliss & Co. 8vo. pp. xvi., +798. $5.00. + +The Old Merchants of New York. By Walter Barrett, Clerk. New York. G.W. +Carleton. 12mo. pp. 472. $1.50. + +Miriam. By Marion Harland. New York. Sheldon & Co. 12mo. pp. 549. $1.25. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Atlantic Monthly, Vol. XI., April, +1863, No. LXVI., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY *** + +***** This file should be named 12023.txt or 12023.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/0/2/12023/ + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed +Proofreaders. 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