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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:39:45 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:39:45 -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/12372-0.txt b/12372-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1a9804 --- /dev/null +++ b/12372-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8907 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12372 *** + +THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + +A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS. + + * * * * * + +VOL. I.--APRIL, 1858.--NO. VI. + + * * * * * + + +THE HUNDRED DAYS. + +PERSONAL REMINISCENCES. + + +That period of history between the 20th of March and the 28th of June, +1815, being the interregnum in the reign of Louis the Eighteenth, +caused by the arrival of Napoleon from Elba and his assumption of the +government of France, is known as "The Hundred Days." + +It is as interesting as it was eventful, and has been duly chronicled +wherever facts have been gathered to gratify a curiosity that is not yet +weary of dwelling on the point of time which saw the Star of Destiny +once more in the ascendant before it sank forever. + +Whatever is connected with this remarkable epoch is worthy of +remembrance, and whoever can add the interest of a personal experience, +though it be limited and unimportant, should be satisfied, in the +recital, to adopt that familiar form which may give to his recollections +the strongest impress of reality. + +I was at that time a schoolboy in Paris. The institution to which I was +attached was connected with one of the National Lyceums, which were +colleges where students resided in large numbers, and where classes from +private schools also regularly attended, each studying in its respective +place and going to the Lyceum at hours of lecture or recitation. All +these establishments were, under Napoleon, to a certain degree military. +The roll of the drum roused the scholar to his daily work; a uniform +with the imperial button was the only dress allowed to be worn; and the +physical as well as the intellectual training was such, that very little +additional preparation was required to qualify the inmate of the Lyceum +for the duties and privations of the soldier's life. The transition +was not unnatural; and the boy who breakfasted in the open air, in +midwinter, on a piece of dry bread and as much water as he chose to pump +for himself,--who was turned adrift, without cap or overcoat, from the +study-room into the storm or sunshine of an open enclosure, to amuse +himself in his recess as he best might,--whose continual talk with his +comrades was of the bivouac or the battle-field,--and who considered the +great object of life to be the development of faculties best fitted to +excel in the art of destruction, would not be astonished to find himself +sleeping on the bare ground with a levy of raw conscripts. + +I was in daily intercourse with several hundred young men, and it +may not be uninteresting to dwell a moment on the character of my +companions, especially as they may be considered a fair type of the +youth of France generally at that time. It is, moreover, a topic with +which few are familiar. There were not many Americans in that country at +that period. I knew of only one at school in Paris beside myself. + +If the brilliant glories of the Empire dazzled the mature mind of +age, they wrought into delirium the impulsive brain of youth, whose +impressions do not wait for any aid from the judgment, but burn into the +soul, never to be totally effaced. The early boyhood of those with whom +I was associated had been one of continual excitement. Hardly had the +hasty but eloquent bulletin told the Parisians that the name of another +bloody field was to be inscribed among the victories of France, and the +cannon of the Invalides thundered out their notes of triumph, when again +the mutilated veterans were on duty at their scarcely cooled pieces and +the newswomen in the streets were shrilly proclaiming some new triumph +of the imperial arms. Then came the details, thrilling a warlike people, +and the trophies which symbolized success,--banners torn and stained +in desperate conflict, destined to hang over Christian altars until the +turning current of fortune should drift them back,--parks of artillery +rumbling through the streets, to be melted into statue or triumphal +column,--and, amid the spoils of war, everything most glorious in Art to +fill that wondrous gallery, the like of which the eye of man will never +look upon again. At last, in some short respite of those fighting days, +came back the conquerors themselves, to enjoy a fleeting period of rest +and fame ere they should stiffen on Russian snows, or swell the streams +which bathe the walls of Leipsic, or blacken, with countless dead, the +plains stretching between the Rhine and their own proud capital. + +By no portion of the people were these things gathered with such avidity +and regarded with such all-absorbing interest as by the schoolboys of +Paris. Every step of the "Grand Army" was watched with deep solicitude +and commented upon with no doubtful criticism. They made themselves +acquainted with the relative merit of each division, and could tell +which arm of the service most contributed to the result of any +particular battle. They collected information from all sources,--from +accounts in newspapers, from army letters, from casual conversation with +some maimed straggler fresh from the scene of war. Each boy, as he +made his periodical visit to his family, brought back something to the +general fund of anecdote. The fire that burned in their young bosoms was +fed by tales of daring, and there was a halo round deeds of blood which +effectually concealed the woe and misery they caused. There was but one +side of the medal visible, and the figures on that were so bold and +beautiful that no one cared for or thought of the ugly death's-head on +the reverse. The fearful consumption of human life which drained the +land, sweeping off almost one entire generation of able-bodied men, and +leaving the tillage of the fields to the decrepitude of age, feebly +aided by female hands, gave ample opportunity to gratify the ardent +minds panting to exchange the tame drudgery of school and college for +the limited, but to them world-wide, authority of the subaltern's sword +and epaulet. There seemed to them but one road to advancement. The +profession of arms was the sole pursuit which opened a career bounded +only by the wildest dreams of ambition. What had been could be; and the +fortunate soldier might find no check in the progressive honors of his +course, until his brows should be encircled by the insignia of royalty. +It required more than mortal courage for a young man to intimate a +preference for some more peaceful occupation. A learned profession might +be sneeringly tolerated; but woe to him who spoke of agriculture, +or commerce, or the mechanic arts! There was little comfort for the +luckless wight who, in some unguarded moment, gave utterance to such +ignoble aspirations. Henceforth he was, like the Pariah of India, cut +off from human sympathy, and the young gentlemen whose tastes and +tendencies led them to prefer the more aristocratic trade of butchery +felt that there was a line of demarcation which completely and +conclusively separated them from him. + +This predilection for military life received no small encouragement +from the occasional visit of some young Caesar, whose uniform had been +tarnished in the experiences of one campaign, and who returned to his +former associates to indulge in an hour of unalloyed glorification. + +Napoleon, when he entered the Tuileries after prostrating some hostile +kingdom, never felt more importance than did the young lieutenant in his +service when he passed the ponderous doors which ushered him into the +presence of his old schoolfellows. What a host of admirers crowded +around him! What an honor and privilege to be standing in the presence, +and even pressing the hand or rushing into the embrace, of an officer +who had really seen bayonet-charges and heard the whistling of +grapeshot! How the older ones monopolized the distinguished visitor, and +how the little boys crowded the outer circle to catch a word from the +military oracle, proudly happy if they could get a distant nod of +recognition! And then the questions which were showered upon him, too +numerous and varied to be answered. And how he described the forced +marches, and the manoeuvring, and the great battle!--how the cannonade +seemed the breaking up of heaven and earth, and the solid ground shook +under the charges of cavalry; how, yet louder than all, rang the +imperial battle-cry, maddening those who uttered it; how death was +everywhere, and yet he escaped unharmed, or with some slight wound which +trebled his importance to his admiring auditors. He would then tell how, +after hours of desperate fighting, the Emperor, seeing that the decisive +moment had arrived, ordered up the Imperial Guard; how the veterans, +whose hairs had bleached in the smoke of a hundred battles, advanced to +fulfil their mission; how with firm tread and lofty bearing, proud +in the recollections of the past and strong in the consciousness of +strength, they entered the well-fought field; and how from rank to rank +of their exhausted countrymen pealed the shout of exultation, for +they knew that the hour of their deliverance had come; and then, with +overwhelming might, all branches of the service, comprised in that +magnificent reserve, swept like a whirlwind, driving before them +horse and foot, artillery, equipage, and standards, all mingled in +irremediable confusion. + +With what freedom did our young hero comment on the campaign, speaking +such names as Lannes and Ney, Murat and Massena, like household words! +He did not, perhaps, state that the favorable result of things was +entirely owing to his presence, but it might be inferred that it was +well he threw in his sword when the fortunes of the Empire trembled in +the balance. + +Under such influences, and with the excitement produced by the +marvellous success of the French armies, it is not singular that young +men looked eagerly forward to a participation in the prodigies and +splendors of their time,--that they should turn disdainfully from the +paths of honest industry, and that everything which constitutes the true +wealth and greatness of a state should have been despised or forgotten +in the lurid and blood-stained glare of military glory, which cowered +like an incubus on the breast of Europe. The battle-fields were beyond +the frontiers of their own country; the calamities of war were too far +distant to obtrude their disheartening features; and no lamentations +mingled with the public rejoicings. Many a broken-hearted mother mourned +in secret for her son lying in his bloody grave; but individual grief +was disregarded in the madness which pervaded all classes, vain-glorious +from repeated and uninterrupted success. + +But the time had come when the storm was to pour in desolation over the +fields of France, and the nations which had trembled at her power were +to tender back to her the bitter cup of humiliation. The unaccustomed +sound of hostile cannon broke in on the dreams of invincibility which +had entranced the people, and deeds of violence and blood, which had +been complacently regarded when the theatre of action was on foreign +territory, seemed quite another thing when the scene was shifted to +their own vineyards and villages. + +The genius of Napoleon never exhibited such vast fertility of resources +as when he battled for life and empire in his own dominions. Every foot +of ground was wrested from him at an expense of life which thinned the +innumerable hosts pressing onward to his destruction. He stood at bay +against all Europe in arms; and so desperately did he contend against +the vast odds opposed to him, and so rapidly did he move from one +invading column to another, successively beating back division upon +division, that his astonished foes, awed by his superhuman exertions, +had wellnigh turned their faces to the Rhine in panic-stricken retreat. +But the line of invasion was so widely extended that even his ubiquity +could not compass it. His wonderful power of concentration was of little +avail to him when the mere skeletons of regiments answered to his call, +and, along his weakened line, the neglected gleanings left by the +conscription, now hastily garnered in this last extremity, greeted him +in the treble notes of childhood. The voices of the bearded men, which +once hailed his presence, were hushed in death. They had shouted his +name in triumph over Europe, and it had quivered on their lips when +parched with the moral agony. Their bones were whitening the sands of +Egypt, the harvests of Italy had long waved over them, their +unnumbered graves lay thick in the German's Fatherland, and +the floods of the Berezina were yet giving up their unburied +dead. The remnant of that once invincible army did all that +could be done; but there were limits to endurance, and exhaustion +anticipated the hour of combat. Men fell dead in their ranks, untouched +by shot or steel; and yet the survivors pressed on to take up the +positions assigned by their leader, who seemed to be proof against +either fatigue or despair. His last bold move, on which he staked his +empire, was a splendid effort, but it failed him. It was the daring play +of a desperate gamester, and nearly checkmated his opponents. But when, +instead of pursuing him, they marched on Paris, he left his army to +follow as it could, and hastened to anticipate his enemies. When about +fifteen miles from Paris, he received news of the battle of Montmartre +and the capitulation of the city. The post-house where he encountered +this intelligence was within sight of the place where I passed my +vacations. I often looked at it with interest, for it was there that the +vision first flashed before him of his broken empire and the utter ruin +which bade farewell to hope. He had become familiar with reverses. His +veteran legions had perished in unequal strife with the elements, or +melted away in the hot flame of conflict; his most devoted adherents +had fallen around him; yet his iron soul bore up against his changing +fortunes, and from the wrecks of storm and battle there returned + + -------"the conqueror's broken car, + The conqueror's yet unbroken heart." + +But the spirit which had never quailed before his enemies was crushed +by the desertion of his friends. He had now to feel that treason and +ingratitude are attendants on adversity, and that the worshippers of +power, like the Gheber devotee, turn their faces reverently towards the +rising sun. + +There are few things in history so touching as the position of Napoleon +at Fontainebleau, during the few days which preceded his abdication +and departure for the Island of Elba. Nearly all his superior officers +forsook him, not even finding time to bid him adieu. Men whom he had +covered with wealth and honors, who had most obsequiously courted his +smiles, and been most vehement in their protestations of fidelity, were +the first to leave him in his misfortune, forgetting, in their anxiety +to conciliate his successor, to make the slightest stipulation for the +protection of their benefactor. He was left in the vast apartments of +that deserted palace, with hardly the footsteps of a domestic servant to +break its monastic stillness; and, for the first time in his eventful +life, he sat, hour after hour, without movement, brooding over his +despair. At last, when all was ready for his departure, he called up +something of his old energy, and again stood in the presence of what +remained of the Imperial Guard, which was faithful to the end. These +brave men had often encircled him, like a wall of granite, in the hour +of utmost peril, and they were now before him, to look upon him, as they +thought, for the last time. He struggled to retain his firmness, but +the effort was beyond human resolution; his pride gave way before his +bursting heart, and the stern vanquisher of nations wept with his old +comrades. + +Napoleon was gone. His empire was in the dust. The streets of his capital +were filled with strangers, and the volatile Parisians were almost +compensated for the degradation, in their wonder at the novel garb and +uncouth figures of their enemies. The Cossacks of the Don had made their +threatened "hurra," and bivouacked on the banks of the Seine. Prussian +and Austrian cannon pointed down all the great thoroughfares, and by +their side, day and night, the burning match suggested the penalty of +any popular commotion. The Bourbons were at the Tuileries, and France +appeared to have moved back to the place whence she had started on her +course of redemption. At length, slowly and prudently, the allied armies +commenced their homeward march, and the reigning family were left to +their own resources, to reconcile as they could the heterogeneous +materials stranded by the receding tide of revolution. But concession +formed no part of their character, and reconciliation was an unknown +element in their plan of government. They took possession of the throne +as though they had only been absent on a pleasure excursion, and, +ignoring twenty years of _parvenu_ glory, affected to be merely +continuing an uninterrupted sovereignty. The pithy remark of Talleyrand, +that "they had learned nothing and forgotten nothing," was abundantly +verified. Close following in their wake, came hordes of emigrants +famished by long exile and clamorous for the restitution of ancient +privileges. There was nothing in common between them and the men of the +Republic, or of the Empire. They assumed an air of superiority, which +the latter answered with the most undisguised contempt. Ridicule, that +fearful political engine, which, especially in France, is sufficient to +batter down the hopes of any aspirant who lays himself open to it, and +which Napoleon himself, in his greatest power, feared more than foreign +armies or intestine conspiracies, was most unsparingly directed against +them. The print-shops exposed them in every possible form of caricature, +the theatres burlesqued their pretensions, songs and epigrams +contributed to their discomfiture, and all the ingenuity of a witty +and laughter-loving people was unmercifully poured out upon this +resurrection of antediluvian remains. Their royal patrons came in for a +full share of the general derision, but they seemed entirely unmindful +that there was such a thing as popular opinion, or any other will than +their own. There were objects all around them which might have preached +to them of the uncertainty of human grandeur and the vanity of kingly +pride, reminding them that there is but a step from the palace to the +scaffold, which step had been taken by more than one of their family. +The walls of their abode were yet marked by musket-balls, mementos of +a day of appalling violence, and from the windows they could see the +public square where the guillotine had permanently stood and the +pavement had been crimsoned with the blood of their race. They had +awakened from a long sleep, among a new order of men, who were strangers +to them, and who looked upon them as beings long since buried, but +now, unnaturally and indecorously, protruded upon living society. They +commenced by placing themselves in antagonism to the nation, and erected +a barrier which effectually divided them from the people. The history of +the Republic and the Empire was to be blotted out; it was a forbidden +theme in their presence, and whatever reminded them of it was carefully +hidden from their legitimate vision. The remains of the Old Guard were +removed to the provinces or drafted into new regiments; leaders, whose +very names stirred France like the blast of a trumpet, were almost +unknown in the royal circle; and the great Exile was never to be +mentioned without the liability to a charge of treason. + +During all this time of change, the youth of France, shut up in schools +and colleges, kept pace with the outer world in information, and +outstripped it in manifestations of feeling. I can judge of public +sentiment only by inferences drawn from occasional observation, or the +recorded opinions of others. I believe that many did not regret the fall +of Napoleon, being weary of perpetual war, and hoping that the accession +of the Bourbons would establish permanent peace. I believe that those +who had attained the summit of military rank were not unwilling to pass +some portion of their lives in the luxury of their own homes. I believe +that there were mothers who rejoiced that the dreaded conscription had +ended, and that their sons were spared to them. I believe all this, +because I understood it so to be. But whatever may have been the hopes +of the lovers of tranquillity, or the wishes of warriors worn out in +service, or the maternal instincts which would avert the iron hand +clutching at new victims for the shrine of Moloch, I can answer that the +boys remained staunch Bonapartists, for I was in the midst of them, and +I have the fullest faith that those about me were exponents of the whole +generation just entering on the stage of action. During the decline of +the Empire, when defeat might be supposed to have quenched the fire of +their enthusiasm, they remained unchanged, firmly trusting that glory +would retrace her steps and once more follow the imperial eagles. And +now, when their idol was overthrown, their veneration had not diminished +nor wavered. Napoleon, with his four hundred grenadiers, at Elba, was +still the Emperor; and those who, as they conceived, had usurped his +government, received no small share of hatred and execration. Amidst +abandonment and ingratitude, when some deserted and others reviled him, +the boys were true as steel. It was not solely because the career which +was open to them closed with his abdication, but a nobler feeling of +devotion animated them in his hour of trial, and survived his downfall. + +Many of our instructors were well satisfied with the new state of +things. Some of the older ones had been educated as priests, and were +officiating in their calling, when the Revolution broke in upon them, +trampling alike on sacred shrine and holy vestment. The shaven crown was +a warrant for execution, and it rolled beneath the guillotine, or fell +by cold-blooded murder at the altar where it ministered. Infuriated +mobs hunted them like bloodhounds; and the cloisters of convent and +monastery, which had hitherto been disturbed only by footsteps gliding +quietly from cell to chapel, or the hum of voices mingling in devotion, +now echoed the tread of armed ruffians and resounded with ribaldry and +imprecations. An old man, who was for a time my teacher, told me many a +tale of those days. He had narrowly escaped, once, by concealing himself +under the floor of his room. He said that he felt the pressure, as +his pursuers repeatedly passed over him, and could hear their avowed +intention to hang him at the next lamp-post,--a mode of execution not +uncommon, when hot violence could not wait the slow processes of law. + +These men saw in the Restoration a hope that the good old times would +come back,--that the crucifix would again be an emblem of temporal +power, mightier than the sword,--that the cowled monk would become the +counsellor of kings, and once more take his share in the administration +of empires. + +But if they expected to commence operations by subjecting their pupils +to their own legitimate standard, and to bring about a tame acquiescence +in the existing order of things, they were wofully mistaken. +Conservatism never struggled with a more determined set of radicals. +Their life and action were treason. They talked it, and wrote it, and +sang it. There was no form in which they could express it that they left +untouched. They covered the walls with grotesque representations of the +royal family; they shouted out parodies of Bourbon songs; and there was +not a hero of the old _régime_, from Hugh Capet down, whose virtues were +not celebrated under the name of Napoleon. It was in vain that orders +were issued not to mention him. They might as well have told the young +rebels not to breathe. "Not mention him! They would like to see who +could stop them!" And they yelled out his name in utter defiance of +regulation and discipline. + +Wonder was occasionally expressed, whether the time would come which +would restore him to France. And now "the time had come, and the man." + +While the assembled sovereigns were parcelling out the farm of Europe, +in lots to suit purchasers, its late master decided to claim a few acres +for his own use, and, as he set foot on his old domain, he is said to +have exclaimed,--"The Congress of Vienna is dissolved!" + +It was a beautiful afternoon of early spring, when a class returned from +the Lyceum with news almost too great for utterance. One had in his hand +a coarse, dingy piece of paper, which he waved above his head, and +the others followed him with looks portending tidings of no ordinary +character. That paper was the address of Napoleon to the army, on +landing from Elba. It was rudely done, the materials were of the most +common description, the print was scarcely legible,--but it was headed +with the imperial eagle, and it contained words which none of his old +soldiers could withstand. How it reached Paris, simultaneously with the +intelligence of his landing, is beyond my comprehension; but copies of +it were rapidly circulated, and all the inhabitants of Paris knew its +contents before they slept that night. + +I know of no writer who has so thoroughly understood the wonderful +eloquence of Napoleon as Lord Brougham. He has pronounced the address +to the Old Guard, at Fontainebleau, "a masterpiece of dignified and +pathetic composition"; and the speech at the Champ de Mars, he says, +"is to be placed amongst the most perfect pieces of simple and majestic +eloquence." Napoleon certainly knew well the people with whom he had to +deal, and his concise, nervous, comprehensive sentences told upon French +feeling like shocks of a galvanic battery. What would have been absurd, +if addressed to the soldiers of any other nation, was exactly the thing +to fire his own with irresistible energy. At the battle of the Pyramids +he said to them, "Forty centuries look upon your deeds," and they +understood him. He pointed to "the sun of Austerlitz," at the dawn of +many a decisive day, and they felt that it rose to look on their +eagles victorious. If the criterion of eloquence be its power over the +passions, that of Napoleon Bonaparte has been rarely equalled. It was +always the right thing at the right time, and produced precisely the +effect it aimed at. It was never more apparent than in the address in +question. There were passages which thrilled the martial spirit of the +land, and quickened into life the old associations connected with days +of glory. Marshal Ney said, at his trial, that there was one sentence[A] +in it which no French soldier could resist, and which drew the whole of +his army over to the Emperor. + +[Footnote A: "La victoire marchera au pas de charge."] + +Such was the paper, which was read amidst the mad demonstrations of +my schoolfellows. Their extravagance knew no limits; studies were +neglected; and the recitations, next morning, demonstrated to our +discomforted teachers that the minds of their pupils had passed the +night on the march from Cannes to Paris. + +The court journals spoke lightly of the whole matter, pronounced the +"usurper" crazy, and predicted that he would be brought to the capital +in chains. There were sometimes rumors that he was defeated and +slain, and again that he was a prisoner at the mercy of the king. The +telegraphic despatches were not made public, and the utmost care was +practised by the government to conceal the fact that his continually +increasing columns were rapidly approaching. There appeared to be no +alteration in the usual routine of the royal family, and there was no +outward sign of the mortal consternation that was shaking them to the +centre of their souls. The day before the entrance of the Emperor, I +happened to be passing through the court-yard of the Tuileries, when an +array of carriages indicated that the inmates of the palace were about +to take their daily drive. As my position was favorable, I stopped to +look at the display of fine equipages, and soon saw part of the family +come down and go out, as I supposed, for their morning recreation. It +was, however, no party of pleasure, and they did not stop to take breath +until they had passed the frontiers of France. They had information +which was unknown to the public, and they thought it advisable to quit +the premises before the new lessee took possession. + +The next afternoon, my father, who was at that time in Paris, called for +me, told me that a change was evidently about to take place, and wished +me to accompany him. As we passed through the streets, the noise of our +carriage was the only sound heard. Most of the shops were closed; few +persons were abroad, and we scarcely met or passed a single vehicle. As +we drew near the Tuileries the evidences of life increased, and when we +drove into the Place du Carrousel, the quadrangle formed by the palace +and the Louvre, the whole immense area was filled with people; yet the +stillness was awful. Men talked in an undertone, as they stood grouped +together, apparently unwilling to communicate their thoughts beyond +their particular circle. The sound of wheels and the appearance of the +carriage caused many to rush towards us; but, seeing strangers, they let +us pursue our way until we drew up near the Arch of Triumph. + +It was a strange sight, that sea of heads all around us heaving in +portentous silence at the slightest incident. They felt that something, +they hardly knew what, was about to take place. They were ignorant of +the exact state of things; and as the royal standard was still on the +palace, they supposed the king might be there. Now and then, a few +officers, having an air of authority, would walk firmly and quickly +through the crowd, as though they knew their errand and were intent on +executing it. Again, a band of Polytechnic scholars, always popular with +the mob, would be cheered as they hurried onward. Occasionally, small +bodies of soldiers passed, going to relieve guard; and as they bore +the Bourbon badge, they were sometimes noticed by a feeble cry of +allegiance. At last, a drum was heard at one of the passages, and a +larger number of troops entered the square. They were veteran-looking +warriors, and bore upon them the marks of dust-stained travel. Their +bronzed faces were turned towards the flag that floated over the +building, and, as they marched directly towards the entrance, the +multitude crowded around them, and a few voices cried, "Vive le Roi!" +The commanding officer cast a proud look about him, took off his cap, +raised it on the point of his sword, showing the tricolored cockade, and +shouted, "Vive l'Empereur!" The charm was broken; and such a scene as +passed before me no man sees twice in this world. All around those armed +men there burst a cry which, diverging from that centre, spread to +the outer border, till every voice of that huge mass was shrieking in +perfect frenzy. Those nearest to the soldiers rushed upon them, hugging +them like long-lost friends; some danced, or embraced the man next to +them; some laughed like maniacs, and some cried outright. The place, +where a few minutes before there arose only a confused hum of suppressed +whisperings, now roared like a rock-bound sea-coast in a tempest. As if +by magic, men appeared decorated with tricolored ribbons, and all joined +with the soldiers in moving directly toward the place where the white +flag was flapping its misplaced triumph over eyes which glared at it in +hatred and hands which quivered to rend it piecemeal. Their wishes were +anticipated; for the foremost rank had scarcely reached the threshold +of the palace, when down went the ensign of the Bourbons, and the +much-loved tricolor streamed out amidst thunder shouts which seemed to +shake the earth. + +A revolution was accomplished. One dynasty had supplanted another; +and an epoch, over which the statesman ponders and the historian +philosophizes, appeared to be as much a matter-of-course sort of thing +as the removal of one family from a mansion to make room for another. +In this case, however, the good old custom of leaving the tenement in +decent condition was neglected; the last occupants having been too +precipitate in their departure to conform to the usages of good +housekeeping by consulting the comfort and convenience of their +successor. On the contrary, to solace themselves for the mortification +of ejection, the retiring household pocketed some of the loose articles, +denominated crown jewels, which were afterwards recovered, however, by a +swap for one of the family, who was impeded in his retreat and flattered +into the presumption that he was worth exchanging. + +We alighted from our carriage and passed through the basement-passage of +the palace into the garden. We walked to the further end, encountering +people who had heard the shouting and were hurrying to ascertain its +meaning. At a bend of the path we met Mr. Crawford, our Minister at +Paris, with Mr. Erving, U.S. Minister to Spain, and they eagerly +inquired, "What news?" My father turned, and, walking back with them a +few steps to where the building was visible, pointed to the standard at +its summit. Nothing more was necessary. It told the whole story. + +I left them and hurried back to the institution to which I belonged. I +was anxious to relate the events of the day, and, as I was the only one +of the pupils who had witnessed them, I had a welcome which might well +have excited the jealousy of the Emperor. As far as the school was +concerned, I certainly divided honors with him that evening. It was, +however, a limited copartnership, and expired at bedtime. + +Napoleon entered the city about eight o'clock that night. We were nearly +two miles from his line of progress, but we could distinctly trace it +by the roar of voices, which sounded like a continuous roll of distant +thunder. + +I saw him, two days after, at a window of the Tuileries. I stopped +directly under the building, where twenty or thirty persons had +assembled, who were crying out for him with what seemed to me most +presumptuous familiarity. They called him "Little Corporal,"--"Corporal +of the Violet,"--said they wanted to see him, and that he _must_ come to +the window. He looked out twice during the half-hour I staid there, had +on the little cocked hat which has become historical, smiled and nodded +good-naturedly, and seemed to consider that something was due from him +to the "many-headed" at that particular time. Such condescension was not +expected or given in his palmy days, but he felt now his dependence on +the people, and had been brought nearer to them by misfortune. + +It was said, at the time, that he was much elated on his arrival, but +that he grew reserved, if not depressed, as his awful responsibility +became more and more apparent. He had hoped for a division in the Allied +Councils, but they were firm and united, and governed only by the +unalterable determination to overwhelm and destroy him. He saw that +his sole reliance was on the chances of war; that he had to encounter +enemies whose numbers were inexhaustible, and who, having once dethroned +him, would no longer be impeded by the terror of his name. There was, +besides, no time to recruit his diminished battalions, or to gather the +munitions of war. The notes of preparation sounded over Europe, and +already the legions of his foes were hastening to encircle France with +a cordon of steel. The scattered relics of the "Grand Army" which had +erected and sustained his empire were hastily collected, and, as they in +turn reached Paris, were reviewed on the Carrousel and sent forward to +concentre on the battle-ground that was to decide his fate. No branch of +art was idle that could contribute to the approaching conflict. Cannon +were cast with unprecedented rapidity, and the material of war was +turned out to the extent of human ability. But he was deficient in +everything that constitutes an army. Men, horses, arms, equipage, all +were wanting. The long succession of dreadful wars which had decimated +the country had also destroyed, beyond the possibility of immediate +repair, that formidable arm which had decided so many battles, and which +is peculiarly adapted to the impetuosity of the French character. The +cavalry was feeble, and it was evident, even to an unpractised eye, as +the columns marched through the streets, that the horses were unequal to +their riders. The campaign of Moscow had been irretrievably disastrous +to this branch of the service. Thirty thousand horses had perished in +a single night, and the events which succeeded had almost entirely +exhausted this indispensable auxiliary in the tactics of war. + +The expedients to which the government was reduced were evident in +the processions of unwashed citizens, which paraded the streets as a +demonstration of the popular determination to "do or die." Whatever +could be raked from the remote quarters of Paris was marshalled before +the Emperor. Faubourgs, which in the worst days of the Revolution had +produced its worst actors, now poured out their squalid and motley +inhabitants, and astonished the more refined portions of the metropolis +with this eruption of semi-civilization. + + +[To be continued.] + + + + +MY JOURNAL TO MY COUSIN MARY. + +[Concluded.] + + +IV. + +June. + +I can no longer complain that I see no one but Kate, for she has an +ardent admirer in one of our neighbors. He comes daily to watch her, in +the Dumbiedikes style of courtship, and seriously interferes with our +quiet pursuits. Besides this "braw wooer," we have another intruder upon +our privacy. + +Kate told me, a fortnight ago, that she expected a young friend of hers, +a Miss Alice Wellspring, to pay her a visit of some weeks. I did not +have the ingratitude to murmur aloud, but I was secretly devoured by +chagrin. + +How irksome, to have to entertain a young lady; to be obliged to talk +when I did not feel inclined; to listen when I was impatient and weary; +to have to thank her, perhaps fifty times a day, for meaningless +expressions of condolence or affected pity; to tell her every morning +how I was! Intolerable! + +Ten chances to one, she was a giggling, flirting girl,--my utter +abhorrence. I had seldom heard Lina speak of her. I only knew that she +and her half-brother came over from Europe in the same vessel with my +sister, and that, as he had sailed again, the young lady was left rather +desolate, having no near relatives. + +Miss Wellspring arrived a week ago, and I found that my fears had been +groundless. She is an unaffected, pretty little creature,--a perfect +child, with the curliest chestnut hair, deep blue eyes, and the +brightest cheeks, lips, and teeth. She has a laugh that it is a +pleasure to hear, and a quick blush which tempts to mischief. One wants +continually to provoke it, it is so pretty, and the slightest word of +compliment calls it up. + +What the cherry is to the larger and more luscious fruits, or the lily +of the valley to glowing and stately flowers, or what the Pleiades +are among the grander constellations, my sister's _protégée_ is among +women;--it is ridiculous to call her Kate's _friend_. Many men would +find their ideal of loveliness in her. She would surely excite a tender, +protecting, cherishing affection. But where is there room in her for the +wondering admiration, the loving reverence, which would make an attempt +to win her an _aspiration?_ And that is what my love must be, if it is +to have dominion over me. + +Ah, Mary! I forget continually that for me there is no such joy in the +future. + + "Hope springs eternal in the human breast," + +and no reasoning can quell it. I subdue my fancy to my fate sometimes, +as a rational creature ought surely to do; but then I suffer acutely, +and am wretched; while in a careless abandonment of myself to any and +every dream of coming joy I find present contentment. I cannot help +myself. I shall continue to dream, I am sure, until I have grown so old +that I can resign all earthly hopes without sighing. I pray to be spared +the sight of any object which, by rousing within me the desire of +present possession, may renew the struggle with despair, to which I +nearly succumbed when my profession was wrenched from me. + +I was at first surprised to find that my sister cherished a more +exceeding tenderness for her young friend than I had ever seen her +manifest for any one; but my astonishment ceased when I found out that +Alice's half-brother, who bears a different name, is the gentleman I saw +with Kate in the box-tree arbor. + +Since she has been here, Alice has been occupied in writing to different +relatives about the arrangements for her future home,--a matter that +is still unsettled. She brings almost all her letters to us, to be +corrected; for she has a great dread of orthographic errors. + +I was lying upon my couch, in the porch, yesterday, and through the low +window I could see Alice as she sat at her writing-desk. Kate was sewing +beside her, but just out of my sight. The young girl's hand flew over +the paper, and a bright smile lighted up her face as she wrote. + +"This is a different kind of letter from yesterday's, I fancy," said +Kate,--"not a business, but a pleasure letter." + +"Yes, so it is: for it is to Brother Walter, and all about you! When +he wrote to tell me to love you and think much of your advice, and all +that, he said something else, which requires a full answer, I can tell +you!" + +Kate was silent. The letter was finished, and Alice sprang up, tired of +her long application. I heard her kiss my sister, who then said, with a +lame attempt at unconcern,-- + +"I suppose I am to look over your letter while you run about to rest +yourself." + +Alice quickly answered, "No, thank you. I won't give you the trouble. +The subject will make Walter blind to faults." + +"But do you suppose that I have no curiosity as to what you have said +about me?" + +"I have said nothing but good. A little boasting about your conquests is +the worst. I mention your Dumbiedikes most flatteringly. I don't make +fun of him. I only want to scare Walter a bit." + +"But, Alice, you don't know the circumstances. Do let me see the letter; +it may be important"---- + +"No, no! you shall never see it! Indeed, no!" cried the girl, running +across the porch and down the garden. She did not want any fastidious +caution to suppress the fine things she had said, or cause the trouble +of writing another letter. So she ran out of hearing of the entreaties +of her friend. + +Ben came to the door to say that Old Soldier and the cabriolet were +ready for my daily drive. While we were gone, the boy would call and +take Alice's letter to the post. The writer of it was out of sight and +hearing. Here was a dilemma! + +Kate threw her thimble and scissors into her box without her usual care, +and I heard her walking to and fro. She passed the window at every turn, +and I could see that her cheek was very pale, her eyes fixed upon the +floor, and her finger pressed to her lip. She was thinking intently, in +perfect abstraction. I could see the desk with the open letter upon it. +At every turn Kate drew nearer to it. + +It was a moment of intense temptation to my sister. I knew it, and I +watched her struggles with a beating heart. It was a weighty matter with +her. A belief in a successful rival might give Mr. ---- pain,--might +cause him to doubt her truth and affection,--might induce him to forget +her, or cast her off in bitter indignation at her supposed fickleness. +I could see in her face her alarm at these suppositions. Yes, it was a +great temptation to do a very dishonorable action. A word from me would +have ended the trial; for it is only in solitude that we are thus +assailed. But then where would have been her merit? I should only cheat +her out of the sweetest satisfaction in life,--a victory over a wicked +suggestion. My presence would make the Evil One take to flight, and now +she was wrestling with him. I felt sure she would not be conquered; for +I could not have looked on to see her defeat. But who can estimate the +power of a woman's curiosity, where the interests which are her very +life are concerned? + +She paused by the desk. The letter was upside down to her. Her hand was +upon it to turn it, and she said boldly, aloud,--having forgotten me +entirely,-- + +"I have a _right_ to know what she says." + +Then there was a hesitating pause, while she trembled on the brink of +dishonor,--then a revulsion, and an indignant "Pshaw!" + +It was a contemptuous denial of her own flimsy self-justification. She +snatched away her hand, as she said it, with an angry frown. The blood +rushed back to her face. + +"I ought to be ashamed of myself!" she exclaimed, energetically. In a +minute she was bustling about, putting away her things. In passing +the window, now that she was freed from the thraldom of her intense +thinking, she saw me lying where I might have been the witness to her +inclination to wrong. + +She started guiltily, and then began bunglingly to draw from me whether +I had noticed anything of it. I took her hands, and looked her full in +the face. + +"I love you and honor you from the very bottom of my soul, Kate!" + +"Not now! You can't! You must despise me!" she answered, turning away +with a swelling bosom. + +"I declare I never held you in so high estimation. Evil thoughts must +come, even to the holiest saint; but only those who admit and welcome +them are guilty,--not those who repel and conquer them. Surely not!" + +"Thank you, Charlie. That is encouraging and comforting doctrine; and I +think it is true. But what a lesson I have had to-day!" + +"Yes, it has been a striking one. I will write about it to Mary." + +"Oh, no! for mercy's sake don't expose me further!" + +"Then you wish her to think you are too immaculate to be even tempted! +stronger, purer even than our Saviour! for he knew temptation. You are +above it,--are you? Come, Kate,--insincerity, pretension, and cowardice +are not your failings, and I shall tell Mary of this incident, which +has deeply moved me, and will, I know, really interest her. Here comes +Alice." + +The little lady presented herself before us all smiles, concealing one +hand under her apron. + +"Who's lost what I've found?" she cried. + +"One of us, of course," said Kate. + +"No, neither, so far as I know; but it nearly concerns you, Miss Lina, +and I intend to drive a hard bargain." + +"What are your terms?" + +"Promise faithfully to tell me how it came where I found it, and I will +show it to you,--yes, give it to you,--though, perhaps, I have the best +claim to it, as nearest of kin to the owner." + +Kate changed color, but would not betray too much eagerness. + +"I cannot promise," she replied, trying for coolness,--"but if I can, I +will tell you all you want to know about it." + +Alice could hide it no longer. She held up a ring, with a motto on it in +blue enamel. I had seen it upon Kate's finger, but not recently. + +"Where did you find it?" asked my sister, with difficulty. She was very +pale. + +"In the box-tree arbor. How came it there? It _was_ Watty's, for I was +with him when he bought it in Venice. I can believe that it is yours; +but how came it lost, and trampled into the earth? Didn't you care for +it?" + +She questioned with an arch smile. She knew better than that, and she +was burning with curiosity to understand why finding it moved Kate so +deeply. She had a young girl's curiosity about love-affairs. I came to +the conclusion that Kate had offered to return the ring on the day they +parted, and that it fell to the ground, disregarded by both, occupied, +as they were, with great emotions. + +"Come," continued Alice,--"did he, or you, throw it away? Speak, and you +shall have it." + +"I can tell you nothing about it, and I will not claim your +treasure-trove. Keep it, Ally." + +"Indeed, I won't keep other folks' love-tokens! There,--it belongs on +that finger, I know! But do tell me about it!--do! I will tell you +something, if you will. Yes, indeed, I have got a secret you would give +anything to know! Walter told it to me, and it is about you. He spoke of +it in his last letter, and said he meant to--Come, I'll tell you, though +he said I mustn't, if you will only let me into the mystery of this +ring. The secret is in my letter, and I will let you read it, if you +will." + +Lina looked at me with meaning eyes. The contents of the letter were +doubled in value by this confession, and yet this was no temptation at +all. She was not alone. + +"You foolish little thing," she said, kissing the sweet, entreating +face, "do you suppose I will tell you my secrets, when you are so easily +bribed to betray your brother's?" + +Alice's conscience was alarmed. + +"Why!" she ejaculated. "How near I came to betraying confidence,--and +without meaning to do it, either! Oh, how glad I am you did not let me +go on so thoughtlessly! I should have been so sorry for it afterwards! I +know Walter will tell you himself, some day,--but I have no business to +do it, especially as he did not voluntarily make me his confidante; I +found out the affair by accident, and he bound me to secresy. Oh, I +thank you for stopping me when I was forgetting everything in my eager +curiosity! And this letter, too, I offered to show you! How strangely +indiscreet!" + +"Perhaps I read it while you were gone," said Kate, in a low voice. + +"No, you didn't, Kate! You can't make me believe that of you! I know you +too well!" + +"Indeed!" said Kate, blushing violently; "I can tell you, I came very +near it." + +"'A miss is as good as a mile,' Lina. And I know you were far enough +from anything so mean." + +"I was so near as to have my hand upon your letter, Alice dear. One +feather's weight more stress of temptation, and I should have fallen." + +"Pure nonsense! Isn't it, Charles?" + +"Yes. Kate, you need not flatter yourself that you have universal +ability, clever as you are. In anything dishonorable you are a perfect +incapable, and that is all you have proved this morning." + + +V. + +New York; July. + +I was too comfortable, Mary! Such peace could not last, any more than a +soft Indian-summer can put off relentless winter. + +Oh, for those sweet June days when I had my couch wheeled to the deepest +shade of the grove, and lay there from morning until evening, with the +green foliage to curtain me,--the clover-scented wind to play about my +hair, and touch my temples with softest, coolest fingers,--the rushing +brook to sing me to sleep,--the very little blossoms to be obsequious +in dancing motion, to please my eye,--and the holy hush of Nature to +tranquillize my soul! + +I had brought myself, by what I thought the most Christian effort, to +be content with my altered lot. I gave up ambition, active usefulness, +fireside, and family. I tried but for one thing,--peace. + +I had nearly attained it, when there comes an impertinent officer of +fate, known as Dr. G., and he peremptorily orders me out of my gentle +bliss. I am sinking into apathy, forsooth! The warm weather is +prostrating me! I must be stirred to activity by torture, like the +fainting wretch on the rack! I am commanded to travel! I, who cannot +bear the grating of my slow-moving wheels over the smooth gravel-walk, +without compressed lips and corrugated brow! + +The Doctor ordained it; Kate executed it. I am no longer my own master; +and so here I am in New York, resting for a day, on my way to some +retired springs in the Green Mountains, where the water is medicinal, +the air cool and bracing, the scenery transcendent, and the visitors +few. + +I have taken Ben for my valet. He looks quite a gentleman when dressed +in his Sunday clothes, and his Scotch shrewdness serves us many a good +turn. He has the knack of arresting any little advantages floating on +the stream of travel, and securing them for our benefit. + +I journey on my wheeled couch from necessity, as I have not been able to +sit up at all since the heats of June set in. So I have, in this trip, a +novel experience,--on the railroad, being consigned to the baggage car, +and upon the steamboat, to the forward deck. I cannot endure the +close saloons, and prefer the fresh breeze, even when mingled with +tobacco-smoke. I go as freight, and Kate keeps a sharp eye to her +baggage, for she will not leave my side. I tried to flatter her by +saying that the true order of things was reversed,--her sex being +entitled to that name and position, and mine to the relation she now +bore to me. She had the perversity to consider this a _twit_, and gave +me a stinging reply, which I will not repeat to you, because you are a +woman likewise, and would enjoy it too much. + +We left peaceful, green Bosky Dell late in the afternoon, and slept in +Philadelphia that night. Yesterday--the hottest day of the season--we +set out for New York. I thought it was going to be sultry, when, as we +passed Washington Square before sunrise, on our way to the boat, I saw +the blue haze among the trees, as still and soft and hay-scented as if +in the country. Ben often quotes an old Scotch proverb,--"Daylight will +peep through a sma' hole." So beauty will peep through every small +corner that is left to Nature, even under severe restrictions. Witness +our noble trees, walled in by houses and cramped by pavements! + +The streets were quite deserted that morning,--for, being obliged to +ride very slowly, I had set out betimes. No one was up but ourselves and +the squirrels, except one wren, whose twittering sounded strangely loud +in the hushed city. Probably she took that opportunity to try her voice +and note her improvement in singing, for in the rush of day what chance +has she? These country sounds and sights, in the heart of a populous +city, were, for that reason, a thousand-fold more sweet to me than ever. +Their delights were multiplied to me by thinking of the number of hearts +that took them in daily. + +Kate and I rode in a carriage. Ben followed in a wagon, with the trunks +and "jaunting-car-r-r." When we reached the ferry, the porters carried +my couch, and Ben myself, depositing us upon the deck, where I could +look upon the river. The stately flow of the waters impressed me with +dread. They swept by, not swift, not slow,--steady, like fate. Ours +may be a dull river to an artist; but its volume of water, its width, +perhaps even the flat shores, which do not seem to bound it, make it +grand and impressive. + +Kate recalled me from my almost shuddering gaze down into the water, and +drew my attention to a scene very unlike our little picturesque, rural +views at home. The ruddy light of morning made the river glow like the +deep-dyed Brenta, while our dear, unpretending Quaker city showed like +one vast structure of ruby. Vessels of all kinds and sizes (though of +but two colors,--black in shadow, and red in sunlight) lay motionless, +in groups. + +The New York passengers had now collected on the ferry-boat, and I was +all alive to impressions of every kind. A crowd of men and boys around +a soap-peddler burst into a laugh, and I must needs shout out in +irrepressible laughter also, though I did not hear the joke. I was +delighted to mingle my voice with other men's in one common feeling. +Compulsory solitude makes us good democrats. Kate regarded me with +watchful eyes; she was afraid I had become delirious! I was amazed at +myself for this susceptibility,--I, who, accustomed to hotel-life, had +formerly been so impassive, to be thus tickled with a straw! + +The river was soon crossed, and then we took the cars. The heat and +suffocation were intolerable to me, and when we arrived at Amboy I was +so exhausted that strangers thought me dying. But Kate again, though +greatly alarmed herself, defended me from that imputation. One half-hour +on the deck of the boat to New York, with the free ocean-breeze blowing +over me, made me a strong man again,--I mean, strong as usual. It was +inexpressible delight, that ocean-breeze. It makes me draw a long breath +to think of it, and its almost miraculous power of invigoration. But +I will not rhapsodize to one who thinks no more of a sea-breeze every +afternoon than of dessert after dinner. + +With my strength, my sense of amusement at what went on about me revived +in full force. I was so absorbed, that I could not take in the meaning +of anything Kate said to me, unless I fixed my eyes, by a great effort, +upon her face. So she let me stare about me undisturbed, and smiled like +some indulgent mother, amused at my boyishness. I had no idea that so +few months spent in seclusion would make the bustling world so novel to +me. + +Observe, Mary, that I did not become purely egotistical, until I began +to mingle again with "the crowd, the hum, the shock of men." Henceforth +I shall not be able to promise you any other topic than my own +experiences. My individuality is thrust upon my notice momently by my +isolation in this crowd. In solitude I did not dream what a contrast I +had become to my kind. Those strong, quick, shrewd business-men on the +boat set it before me glaringly. + +Soon after I was established upon the forward deck, my attention was +attracted by two boys lying close under the bulwarks. I was struck by +their foreign dress, their coarse voices, and their stupid faces. Two +creatures, I thought, near akin to the beasts of the field. They cowered +in their sheltered corner, and soon fell asleep. One of the busy +boat-hands found them in his way, and gave them a shove or two, but +failed to arouse them. He looked hard at them, pitied their fatigue, +and left them undisturbed. Presently an old Irish woman, a +cake-and-apple-vendor, I suppose, sat down near them upon a coil of +rope, and took from her basket a fine large cherry-pie, which appeared +to be the last of her stock, and reserved as a tit-bit for her dinner. +She turned it round, and eyed it fondly, before she cut it carefully +into many equal parts. Then, with huge satisfaction, she began to devour +it, making a smacking of the lips and working of the whole apparatus +of eating, which proved that she intensely appreciated the uses of +mastication, or else found a wonderful joy in it. "How much above an +intelligent pig is she?" I asked myself. + +While I was pondering this question, I saw that the boy nearest her +stirred in his sleep, struggled uneasily with his torpor, and at last +lifted his head blindly with his eyes yet shut. He sniffed in the +air, like a hungry dog. Yes! The odor of food had certainly reached +him,--that sniff confirmed it,--and his eyes starting open, he sat up, +and looked with grave steadiness at the pie. It was just the face of a +dog that sees a fine piece of beef upon his master's table. He knows it +is not for him,--he has no hope of it,--he does not go about to get it, +nor think of the possibility of having it,--yet he wants it! + +It was a look of unmitigated desire. The woman had disposed of half +of her dainty fare, taking up each triangular piece by the crust, and +biting off the point, dripping with cherry-juice, first, when her +wandering gaze alighted upon the boy. She had another piece just poised, +but she slowly lowered it to the plate, and stared at the hungry face. I +expected her to snarl like a cat, snatch her food and go away. But she +didn't. She counted the pieces,--there were five. She eyed them, and +shook her head. She again raised the tempting morsel,--for the woman was +unmistakably hungry. But the boy's steady look drew the pie from her +lips, and she suddenly held out the plate to him, saying, "There, +honey,--take that. May-be ne'er a morsel's passed yer lips the day." The +boy seized the unexpected boon greedily, but did not forget to give a +duck of his head, by way of acknowledgment. The woman leaned her elbows +on her knees, and watched him while he was devouring it. + +He had demolished two pieces before the other boy awoke at the sound of +eating, which, however, at last reached his ears and aroused him, though +the shout and kick of the boat-hand had not disturbed him. He drew close +to his companion, and watched him with watering mouth, but did not dare +to ask him for a share of what he seemed little disposed to part with. +The big boy finished the third piece, and hesitated about the fourth; +but no, he was a human being,--no brute. He thrust the remainder into +his watcher's hands, and turned his back upon him, so as not to be +tantalized. Beasts indeed! Here were two instances of self-denial, +nowhere to be matched in the whole animal creation, except in that race +which is but little lower than the angels! + +Among the young gentlemen smoking around us, there was one who drew my +attention, and that of every other person present, by his jolly laugh. +He was a short man, with broad shoulders and full chest, but otherwise +slight. He was very good-looking, and had the air of a perfect man of +the world,--but not in any disagreeable sense of the word, for a more +genial fellow I never saw. His _ha! ha!_ was irresistible. Wherever he +took his merry face, good-humor followed. He had a smart clap on the +shoulder for one, a hearty hand-shake for another, a jocular nod for +a third. I envied those whose company he sought,--even those whom he +merely accosted. + +Presently, to my agreeable surprise, he drew near me, threw away his +cigar, on Kate's account, and said,-- + +"Lend me a corner of this machine, Sir? No seats to be had." + +"Certainly," I responded eagerly, and then, with a bow to Kate, he sat +down upon the foot of my couch. He turned his handsome, roguish face to +me, with a look at once quizzical and tenderly commiserating, while he +rattled off all sorts of lively nonsense about the latest news. The +captain, who pitied my situation, I suppose, came up just then, to ask +if anything could be done to make me more comfortable; and he happened +to call both the stranger and myself by our names. I thus learned that +his was Ryerson. + +When he heard mine, he changed color visibly, and looked eagerly at +Kate. I introduced him, and then, with a timidity quite unlike his +former dashing air, he said he had the pleasure of being acquainted with +an admiring friend of hers,--Miss Alice Wellspring. Had she heard from +her lately? + +"Yes; she was very well, staying with her aunt." + +He was aware of that. He had asked the question, because he thought he +could, perhaps, give later information of her than Kate possessed, and +set her mind at rest about the welfare of her young friend, as she must +be anxious. He was glad to say that Miss Wellspring was quite well--two +hours ago. + +Kate made a grimace at me, and answered, that she was "glad to hear it." +Mr. Ryerson looked unutterably grateful, and said he was "sure she must +be." + +"Portentous!" whispered Kate to me, when the young man made a passing +sloop the excuse for turning away to hide his blushing temples. + +She gave him time, and then asked a few questions concerning Alice's +home and friends. He replied, that she was in "a wretched fix." Her aunt +was a vixen, her home a rigorous prison. He sighed deeply, and seemed +unhappy, until the subject was changed,--a relief which Kate had too +much tact to defer long. + +This sunny-hearted fellow made the rest of the journey very short to +me. I think such a spirit is Heaven's very best boon to man. It is a +delightful possession for one's self, and a godsend to one's friends. + +When we reached the Astor House, I was put to bed, like a baby, in the +middle of the afternoon, thoroughly exhausted by the unusual excitement. +The crickets and grasshoppers in the fields at home were sufficiently +noisy to make me pass wakeful nights; but now I dropped asleep amid the +roar of Broadway, which my open windows freely admitted. + +Before I had finished my first nap, I was awakened by whispering voices, +and saw Ben standing by me, pale, and anxiously searching Kate's face +for information. Her eyes were upon her watch, her fingers on my wrist. + +"Pulse good, Ben. We need not be alarmed. It is wholesome repose,--much +better than nervous restlessness. He can bear the journey, if he gets +such sleep as this." + +"Humph!" I thought, shutting my eyes crossly. "Why don't she let a +fellow be in peace, then? It is very hard that I can't get a doze +without being meddled with!" + +"I was just distraught, Miss Kathleen," said Ben; "for it's nigh about +twenty hour sin' he dropped asleep, and I was frighted ontil conshultin' +ye aboot waukin' him." + +I burst into a laugh, and they both joined me in it, from surprise. It +is not often I call upon them for that kind of sympathy. It is generally +in sighs and groans that I ask them--most unwillingly, I am sure--to +participate. + +Kate wrote, some time ago, to our dear little Alice, begging her to join +us in the Green Mountains, for it makes us both unhappy to think of that +pretty child under iron rule; but her aunt refused to let her come to +us. + + +VI. + +C---- Springs. July. + +I am here established, drinking the waters and breathing the mountain +air, but not gaining any marvellous benefit from either of them. When I +repine in Ben's hearing, he sighs deeply, and advises me "to heed the +auld-warld proverb, and 'tak' things by their smooth handle, sin' +there's nae use in grippin' at thorns." Kate, too, reproves me for +hindering my recovery by fretting at its tardiness. She tries to comfort +me, by saying that I ought to be thankful, that, instead of being +obliged to waste my youth in "horrid business," I can lie here observing +and enjoying the beautiful world. Thereupon I overwhelm her with +quotations:--"The horse must be road-worn and world-worn, that he may +thoroughly enjoy his drowsy repose in the sun, where he winks in sleepy +satisfaction";--and Carlyle: "Teufelsdröckh's whole duty and necessity +was, like other men's, to work in the right direction, and no work was +to be had; whereby he became wretched enough";--and, "Blessed is he who +has found his work; let him ask no other blessedness." Then I ask her, +if it is not the utmost wretchedness to have found that work and felt +its blessedness, and then be condemned _not_ to do it. To all this she +replies by singing that old hymn,--I make no apology for writing it down +entire,--perhaps you do not know it,-- + + "Heart, heart, lie still! + Life is fleeting fast; + Strife will soon be past." + "I cannot lie still; + Beat strong I will." + + "Heart, heart, lie still! + Joy's but joy, and pain's but pain; + Either, little loss or gain." + "I cannot lie still; + Beat strong I will." + + "Heart, heart, lie still! + Heaven over all + Rules this earthly ball." + "I cannot lie still; + Beat strong I will." + + "Heart, heart, lie still! + Heaven's sweet grace alone + Can keep in peace its own." + "Let that me fill, + And I am still." + +"Heaven's sweet grace" does not fill my heart; for I am exhausting +myself in longings to walk again,--to be independent. I long to climb +these mountains,--perverse being that I am,--principally to get out of +the way of counsel, sympathy, and tender care. Since I can never so +liberate myself, I am devoured by desire to do so. Kate divines this +new feeling, and respects it; but as this is only another coal of fire +heaped upon my head, of course it does not soothe me. + +Sometimes in the visions of the night I am happy. I dream that I am at +the top of Mount Washington. Cold, pure air rushes by me; clouds lie, +like a gray ocean, beneath me. I am alone upon the giant rock, with the +morning star and the measureless heights of sky. I tremble at the awful +silence,--exult fearfully in it. The clouds roll away, and leave the +world revealed, lying motionless and inanimate at my feet. Yet I am as +far from all sight of humanity as before! Should the whole nation be +swarming below the mountain, armies drawn up before armies, with my eyes +resting upon them, I should not see them, but sit here in sublime peace. +Man's puny form were from this height as undistinguishable as the blades +of grass in the meadows below. I know, that, if all the world stood +beneath, and strained their vision to the utmost upon the very spot +where I stand, I should still be in the strict privacy of invisibility. +This isolation I pine for. But I can never, never feel it--out of a +dream. + +You guess rightly. I am in a repining mood, and must pour out all my +grievances. I feel my helplessness cruelly. + +But I must forget myself a little while, and describe these Springs to +you, with the company here assembled,--only twenty or thirty people. The +house is a good enough one; the country yet very wild. My couch is daily +wheeled to a shady porch which looks down the avenue of trees leading to +the spring, a white marble basin, bubbling over with bright water. + +Gay parties, young ladies with lovers, happy mammas with their children, +fathers with their clinging daughters, pass me,--and I, motionless, +follow them with my eyes down the avenue, until they emerge into the +sunlight about the spring. Many of them give me a kindly greeting; some +stop to stare. The look of pity which saddens nearly every face that +approaches me cuts me to the heart. Can I never give joy, or excite +pleasurable emotion? Must I always be a mute and unwilling petitioner +for sympathy in suffering!--always giving pain? never anything but pain +and pity? + +Sunday. + +There is a summer-house near the spring, and now I lie there, watching +the water-drinkers. Like rain upon the just and unjust, the waters +benefit all,--but surely most those simple souls who take them with +eager hope and bless them with thankful hearts. The first who arrive +are from the hotel, mostly silken sufferers. They stand, glass in hand, +chatting and laughing,--they stoop to dip,--and then they drink. These +persons soon return to the house in groups,--some gayly exchanging +merry words or kindly greetings, but others dragging weary limbs and +discontented spirits back to loneliness. + +The fashionable hour is over, and now comes another class of +health-seekers. A rough, white-covered wagon jolts up. The horse is tied +to a post, a curtain unbuttoned and raised, and from a bed upon the +uneasy floor a pale, delicate boy, shrinking from the light, is lifted +by his burly father. The child is carried to the spring, and puts out a +groping hand when his father bids him drink. He cannot find the +glass, and his father must put it to his lips. He is blind, except to +light,--and that only visits those poor sightless eyes to agonize them! +Where the water flows off below the basin in a clear jet, the father +bathes his boy's forehead, and gently, gently touches his eyelids. But +the child reaches out his wasted hands, and dashes the water against his +face with a sad eagerness. + +Other country vehicles approach. The people are stopping to drink of +this water, on their way to drink of the waters of life in church. They +are smart and smiling in their Sunday clothes. I observe, that, far from +being the old or diseased, they are mostly young men and pretty girls. +The marble spring is a charming trysting-place! + +There are swarms of children here all day long. This is the first time +since I left Kate's apron-string at seven years old, that I have seen +much of children. Boys, to be sure, I was with until I left college; +but the hotel-life I afterwards led kept me quite out of the way of +youngsters. Now, I am much amused at the funny little world that opens +before my notice. They flirt like grown-up people! I heard a little chit +of six say to a youth of five,-- + +"How dare you ask me to go to the spring with you, when you've been and +asked Ellen already? _I_ don't have to put up with half a gentleman!" + +A flashy would-be lady, bustling up to the spring with her little +daughter, burst into a loud laugh at the remark of an acquaintance. + +"Mamma!" said Miss, tempering severity with benign dignity,--"you must +not laugh so loud. It's vulgar." + +Her mother lowered her tone, and looked subdued. Miss turned to a +companion, and said, gravely,-- + +"I have to speak to her about that, often. She don't like it,--but I +_must_ correct her!" + +A little girl--a charming, old-fashioned, _real_ child--came into the +summer-house a few minutes ago, and I gave up my writing to watch her. +After some coy manoeuvring about the door, she drew nearer and nearer to +me, as if I were a snake fascinating a pretty bird. Her tongue +seemed more bashful than the rest of her frame; for she came within +arm's-length, let me catch her, draw her to me, and hold her close to +my side. A novel sensation of fondness for the little thing made me +venture--not without some timidity, I confess--to lay my hand upon her +head, and pass it caressingly over her soft young cheek, meanwhile +saying encouraging things to her, in hopes of hearing her voice and +making her acquaintance. She would not speak, but played with my +buttons, and hung her head. At last I asked,-- + +"Don't you want me to tell you a little story?" + +Her head flew up, her great black eyes wide open, and she said, eagerly, +"Oh, yes! that's what I came for." + +"Did you? Well, what shall it be about?" + +"Why, about yourself,--the prince who was half marble, and couldn't get +up. And I want to see your black marble legs, please!" + +If I had hugged an electrical eel, I could not have been more shocked! I +don't know how I replied, or what became of the child. I was conscious +only of a kind of bitter horror, and almost affright. But when Kate, a +quarter of an hour afterwards, brought her book and sat down beside me, +I could not tell her about it, for laughing. + +The little girl is in sight now. She is standing near the porch, talking +to some other children, gesticulating, and shaking her curls. Probably +she was a deputy from them, to obtain a solution of the mystery of my +motionless limbs. They half believe I am the veritable Prince of the +Black Isles! They alternately listen to her and turn to stare at me; so +I know that I am the subject of their confab. + +Some one is passing them now,--a lady. She pauses to listen. She, too, +glances this way with a sad smile. She comes slowly down the avenue. A +graceful, queenly form, and lovely face! She has drunk of the waters, +and is gone. + +Mary, do you know that gentle girl has added the last drop of bitterness +to my cup? My lot has become unbearable. I gnash my teeth with impotent +rage and despair. + +I _will_ not be the wreck I am! My awakening manhood scorns the thought +of being forever a helpless burden to others. I _demand_ my health, and +all my rights and privileges as a man,--to work,--to support others,--to +bear the burden and heat of the day! Never again can I be content in my +easy couch and my sister's shady grove! + +Ah, Dr. G., you have indeed roused me from apathy! I am in torture, and +Heaven only knows whether on this side of the grave I shall ever find +peace again! + +Poor Kate reads my heart, and weeps daily in secret. Brave Kate, who +shed so few tears over her own grief! + + +VII. + +C---- Springs. August. + +I so continually speak of my illness, Mary, that I fear you have +good right to think me that worst kind of bore, a hypochondriac. But +something is now going on with me that raises all my hopes and fears. I +dare not speak of it to Kate, lest she should be too sanguine, and be +doomed to suffer again the crush of all her hopes. + +I really feel that I could not survive disappointment, should I ever +entertain positive hope of cure. Neither can I endure this suspense +without asking some one's opinion. There is no medical man here in whom +I have confidence, and so I go to you, as a child does to its mother in +its troubles, not knowing what she can do for it, but relying upon her +to do something. + +I will explain what it is that excites me to such an agony of dread and +expectation. When the little girl asked me to let her see my marble +limbs, supposing me the Prince of the Black Isles, she sprang forward in +the eagerness of childish curiosity, and touched my knee with her hand. +I was so amazed at this glimpse into her mind, that for some time I only +tingled with astonishment. But while I was telling Kate about it, it all +came back to me again,--her stunning words, her eager spring, her prompt +grasp of my knee,--and I remembered that I had involuntarily started +away from her childish hand, that is, moved my _motionless_ limb! + +I tried to do it again, but it was impossible. Still I could not help +thinking that I had done it once, under the influence of that electrical +shock. + +Then I have another source of hope. I have never suffered any pain in +my limbs, and they might have been really marble, for all the feeling I +have had in them. Now I begin to be sensible of a wearisome numbness and +aching, which would be hard to bear, if it were not that it gives me the +expectation of returning animation. Do you think I may expect it, and +that I am not quite deluding myself? + + +August 14. + +So I wrote two days ago, Mary, and I was right! That _was_ returning +sensation and motion. I can now move my feet. I cannot yet stand, or +walk, or help myself, any more than before; but I can, by a voluntary +effort, _move_. + +Rejoice with me! I am a happy fellow this day! Dazzling daylight is +peeping through this sma' hole! Remember what I wrote of a certain +lady;--and Ben has hunted me up a law-book, which I am devouring. My +profession, and other blessings, again almost within grasp! This is +wildness, hope run riot, I know; but let me indulge to-day, for it is +this day which has set me free. I never voluntarily stirred before +since the accident,--I mean my lower limbs, of course. After writing a +sentence, I look down at my feet, moving them this way and that, to make +sure that I am not stricken again. + +The day I began this letter I had proof that I had not merely fancied +movement, when the little girl startled me. A clumsy boy stumbled over +my couch, and I shrank, visibly, from receiving upon my feet the pitcher +of water he was carrying. I was in the porch. The beautiful girl who +formerly made my affliction so bitter to me was passing at the moment, +with her arm drawn affectionately through her father's. She saw the +stumble, and sprang forward with a cry of alarm. It looked, certainly, +as if my defenceless feet must receive the crash, and I attempted +instinctively to withdraw them,--partially succeeding! I saw this at the +same time that I heard the sweetest words that ever fell into my heart, +in the most joyful, self-forgetful tones of the sweetest voice! + +"Oh, father! He moved! He moved!" + +Mr. Winston turned to me with congratulations, shaking my hand with +warmth; and then his daughter extended hers,--cordially! Of course my +happiness was brimming! + +I afterwards tried repeatedly to put my feet in motion. I could not do +it. I could not think how to begin,--what power to bring to bear upon +them. This annoyed me beyond measure, and I spent yesterday in wearisome +effort to no purpose. My thinking, willing mind was of no use to me; but +instinctive feeling, and a chapter of accidents, have brought me to my +present state of activity. A wish to change an uncomfortable position in +which Ben left me this morning restored me to voluntary action. I tried +to turn away from the sun-glare, using my elbows, as usual, for motors. +To my surprise, I found myself assisting with my feet,--and by force of +will I persisted in the effort, and continued the action. Having got the +clue to the mystery, I have now only to will and execute. My rebellious +members are brought into subjection! I am king of myself! Hurrah! + +Good-bye, dearest friend. I shake my foot to you,--an action more +expressive of joyful good-will than my best bow. + +I hope my return to health will not cost me dear. I begin to fear losing +the sympathy and affection of those I have learned to love so dearly, +and who have cherished me in their hearts simply because of my +infirmities. When I am a vigorous man, will you care for me? will Kate +centre her life in me? will Miss Ada Winston look at me so often and so +gently? + +Well, don't laugh at me for my grasping disposition! Affection is very +grateful to me, and I should be sorry to do without it, after having +lived in a loving atmosphere so long. + +I believe Ben is as proud of me as he was of his Shanghai, but he has a +proverb which he quotes whenever he sees me much elated: "When the cup's +fu', carry't even." His own cautious Scotch head could do that, perhaps; +but mine is more giddy, and I am afraid I shall spill some drops from my +full cup of joy by too rash advancing. + +Kate is not so wild with delight as I am. She still forbids herself to +exult. Probably she dares not give way to unbounded hope, remembering +the bitterness of her former trial, and dreading its recurrence. She +says it makes her tremble to see my utter abandonment to joyful dreams. + + +August 20. + +It is Kate's fault that you have not received this letter before now. +She kept it to say a few words to you about my recovery, but has at last +yielded to me the pleasure of telling of something far more interesting, +which has occurred since,--not more interesting to me, but probably so +to any one else. + +One evening, Kate went, with everybody from the house, to see the sunset +from the hills above this glen, and I lay alone in the back porch, in +the twilight. A light wagon drove up, and in two minutes a little lady +had run to me, thrown herself upon her knees beside me, and pressed her +sweet lips to my forehead. It was our darling little Alice Wellspring. + +Immediately following her came Mr. Ryerson, in a perfect ecstasy of +laughter, and blushing. + +"We've run away!" whispered she. + +"And got married this morning!" said he. + +"But where was the necessity of elopement?" I asked, bewildered,--Kate +having told me that Alice's aunt was doing her best to "catch Ryerson +for her niece," she having had certain information upon that point from +a near relative. + +"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed he, slapping his knees in intense enjoyment, as he +sat in his old place by my feet. "It is a practical joke,--one that will +have in it what somebody calls the first element of wit,--surprise. A +more astonished and mystified old lady than she will be would be hard to +find! She was so willing!" + +"Don't say anything against Aunt, Harry. I'm safe from her now, and so +are you. She wanted such an ostentatious wedding, Charlie, that I did +not like it, and Harry declared positively that he would not submit to +it. So I had just to go off quietly, and come here to Kate and you, my +best friends in the world, except Walter. After you know Harry, you +won't blame me." + +It was very rash of the child, but really I cannot blame her, as I +should, if she had chosen any one else. Ryerson is one who shows in his +face and in every word and action that he is a kind and noble fellow. + +Kate, to my surprise, is enchanted with this performance. It chimes with +her independent notions, but not with my prudent ones. However, it is +done, and I never saw a more satisfactorily mated couple. It would have +been a cruel pity to see that light, good little heart quelled by a +morose husband, or its timidity frightened into deceitfulness by a +severe one. Now she is as fearless and courageous as a pet canary. + +Ryerson has one grievous fault; he uses all sorts of slang phrases. It +makes his conversation very funny, but Alice don't like it, especially +when he approaches the profane. + +He told a very good story the other day, spiced a little in language. +Everybody laughed outright. Alice looked grave. + +"What is the matter, wifey?" he called out, anxiously; for with him +there is no reserve before strangers. He seems to think the whole world +kin, and himself always the centre of an attached and indulgent family. + +"How could you say those bad words, with a child in the room?" she said, +reproachfully,--pointing to my little black-eyed friend. + +"I only said, 'The Devil,'--that's all! But now I remember,--if a +story is ever so good, and 'the Devil' gets into it, it's no go with +you! But, Allie, you shouldn't be a wet blanket to a fellow! When he +is trying to be entertaining, you might help him out, instead of +extinguishing him! Laugh just a little to set folks going, and make +moral reflections afterwards, for the benefit of the children." + +"You know, Harry, I can't make reflections!" + +"No more you can,--ha! ha! If you could, there would be the Devil to +pay--in curtain lectures, wouldn't there?" + +"Again, Harry!" + +"Pshaw, now, Allie, don't be hard upon me! That was a very little +swear--for the occasion!" + +She will refine him in time. + +Ryerson has infused new spirit into this stiff place. The very day he +came, I observed that various persons, who had held aloof from all +others, drew near to him. The fellow seems the soul of geniality, and +everybody likes him,--from old man to baby. The young girls gather +round him for chat and repartee,--the young men are always calling to +him to come boating, or gunning, or riding with them,--the old gentlemen +go to him with their politics, and the old ladies with their aches. +Young America calls him a "regular brick," for he lends himself to build +up everybody's good-humor. + +He is everything to me. Before he came, Mr. Winston was almost my only +visitor, though other gentlemen occasionally sat with me a few minutes. +But now everybody flocks to my couch, because Harry's head-quarters +are there. He has broken down the shyness my unfortunate situation +maintained between me and others. His cheery "Well, how are you to-day, +old fellow?" sets everybody at ease with me. The ladies have come out +from their pitying reserve. A glass of fresh water from the spring, a +leaf-full of wild berries, a freshly pulled rose, and other little daily +attentions, cheer me into fresh admiration of them "all in general, and +one in particular," as Ryerson says. + +Perhaps you think--I judge so from your letter--that I ought to describe +Miss Winston to you. She is finely----Ah, I find that she is wrapped in +some mysterious, ethereal veil, the folds of which I dare not disturb, +even with reverent hand, and for your sake! Ah, Mary, I aspire! + + +VIII. + +C---- Springs. September. + +The autumn scenery is gorgeous up among these misty hills, but I will +not dwell upon it. I have too much to say of animated human nature, to +more than glance out of doors. Nearly all the boarders are gone. Miss +Winston left last week for her home in Boston. I am desolate indeed! The +day after she went away, I stood upon my own feet without support, for +the first time. Now I walk daily from the house to the spring, with the +help of Kate's or Ben's arm and a cane, though I am still obliged to +remain on my couch nearly all day long. I write this in direct reply to +your question. + +Now for the great exciting subject of the present time. I will give it +in detail, as women like to have stories told. + +The little wife, our Alice, came running into Kate's parlor one day, +while we were both sitting there reading. She was in extreme excitement. +We heard her laughing, just outside the door, in the most joyous manner; +but she pulled a long face as she entered. She sank down upon the floor +by my couch, so as to be on a level with me, took my hand and Kate's, +and then, taking breath, said: + +"Listen, Kate, and don't be agitated." + +Kate was, of course, extremely agitated at once. She divined the subject +about to be introduced, and her heart beat tumultuously. + +"You remember I nearly betrayed Walter's secret once? Well, I am going +to tell it to you now, really." + +"He gave you leave, then!" said Kate, almost breathless. + +"Yes, yes! This is it----Now, Kate, if you look so pale, I can't go on!" + +I motioned to her to proceed at once. + +"Well, he had some engineering to do in Russia, you know. They wanted +to get him to undertake another job,--I don't know, nor care, what it +was,--and he went out to see about it. For Charlie's sake, you let him +go away almost in despair, you cruel girl! Well, when I was visiting +you, he made a little spy of me. I was not to spy you, Kate, but Charlie +here, and let Walter know of the slightest change for the better in him. +Then he was to get some one to attend to his Russian work, and post +right straight home to you, Kate! Well, my aunt wouldn't let me stay +with you,--cross old thing! And she kept me so very close, that I +couldn't watch Charlie at all. Then she went and threatened me with a +long engagement with Harry, only to give me time to get heaps and +heaps of sewing done! I knew the only chance I could get of gaining +information for Walter was just to run off to you with Hal, and cut a +long matter short. Well, so I came, and I wrote to Walter, the very +night I arrived, that the doctor said, Charlie, that you would be quite +well in a month or two! That was a month ago. But Walter had not waited +for me. Perhaps he had other spies. At any rate"---- + +She paused. + +"What? what? Be quick!" cried I, seeing that Kate was almost fainting +from this suspense. + +"He has come!" + +Kate pressed her hand over the joyful cry that burst from her lips, and, +turning away from us, sprang up, and walked to the window. There was a +moment of perfect silence. Kate put her hand behind her, and motioned to +the door. Alice went softly out and closed it. I could not rise, poor +cripple, from intense agitation. + +My sister drew one long, quivering, sobbing breath,--and then she had a +good cry, as women say. It seemed to me enough to give one a headache +for a week, but it refreshed her. After bathing her eyes with some iced +water, she came and leaned over me. + +"Thank God, Kate," I said, "for your sake and mine!" + +"Can you spare me, after you are well again, Charlie,--if he"---- + +"Am I a monster of selfishness and ingratitude?" + +She kissed me, took up her work, and sat down to sew. + +"Kate!" said I, amazed, "what are you doing? Why don't you go down?" + +"What for? To hunt him up at the bar-keeper's desk? or in the stables, +perhaps?" + +"Oh! Ah! Propriety,--yes! But how you can sit there and wait I cannot +conceive." + +There came a knock. I expected her to start up in rapture and admit Mr. +Walter ----. She only said, "Come in!"--calmly. + +Alice peeped in, and asked, "May he come?" + +"Where is he?" I asked. + +"In the parlor, waiting to know." + +"Yes," said Kate, changing color rapidly. + +"Stop, stop, Alice! You two give me each a hand, and help me into my +room." + +"Charlie," said Kate, "you need not go! you must not go!" + +"Ah, my dear sister, I have stood between you and him long enough, I +will do to him as I would be done by. Come, girls, your hands!" + +They placed me in my easy-chair, both kissed me with agitated lips, +and left me. Half an hour afterwards Kate and Mr. ---- petitioned for +admittance to my room. Of course I granted it, and immediately proceeded +to a minute scrutiny of my future brother-in-law. He is a fine fellow, +very scientific, clear in thought, decisive in action, quite reserved, +and very good-looking. This reserve is to Kate his strongest +attraction,--her own nature being so entirely destitute of it, and she +so painfully conscious of her want of self-control. Yes,--he is just the +one Kate would most respect, of all the men I ever saw. + +Is not this happiness,--to find her future not wrecked, but blessed +doubly? for her conduct has made Walter almost worship her. I _am_ happy +to think I have brought her good, rather than ill; but--selfish being +that I am--I am not contented. I have a sigh in my heart yet! + +Bosky Dell. December. + +How it happened that this letter did not go I cannot imagine. I have +just found it in Kate's work-basket; and I open it again, to add the +grand climax. I have been so very minute in my accounts of Kate's +love-affairs, that I feel it would not be fair to slur over mine. So, +dear friend, I open my heart to you in this wise. + +The rage for recovery which took such violent possession of me I believe +effected my cure. In a month from the time I began to walk, I could +go alone, without even a cane. Kate entreated me to remain as long as +possible in the mountains, as she believed my recovery was attributable +to the pure air and healing waters. It was consequently the first of +this month before we arrived at her cottage, where we found good old +Saide so much "frustrated" by delight as to be quite unable to "fly +roun'." Indeed, she could hardly stand. When I walked up to shake hands +with her, she bashfully looked at me out of the "tail of her eye," as +Ben says. Her delicacy was quite shocked by my size! + +"Saide," said I, "you positively look pale!" She really did. You have +seen negroes do so, haven't you? + +"Laws, Missr Charles," she answered, with a coquettish and deprecating +twist, "call dat 'ere stove pale,--will yer?" + +No sooner was Kate established at home, and I in my Walnut-Street +office, than I undertook a trip to Boston. As I approached Miss +Winston's home, all my courage left me. I walked up and down the Common, +in sight of her door, for hours, thinking what a witless fool I was, +to contemplate presenting my penniless self--with hope--before the +millionnaire's daughter! + +At last Mr. Winston came home to dinner and began to go up the steps. I +sprang across the street to him, and my courage came back when I looked +upon his good sensible face. When he recognized me, he seized my hand, +grasped my shoulder, and gave me, with the tears actually in his eyes, a +reception that honors human nature. + +Such genuine friendliness, in an old, distinguished man, to a young +fellow like me, shows that man's heart is noble, with all its depravity. + +When he had gazed some time, almost in amazement, at my tall +proportions, (he never saw them perpendicular before, you know,) he +said,-- + +"Come in, come in, my boy! Some one else must see you! But she can't be +more glad than I am, to see you so well,--that is, I don't see how she +can,--for I _am_ glad, I am _glad_, my boy!" + +Was not this heart-warming? + +When we entered, he stopped before the hat-rack, and told me "just to +walk into the parlor;--his daughter might be there." I could not rush in +impetuously, I had to steady my color. Besides, ought I not to speak to +him first? + +Mr. Winston took off his hat,--hung it up; then his overcoat, and +hung it up. I still stood pondering, with my hand upon the door-knob. +Surprised at my tardiness in entering, he turned and looked at me. I +could not face him. He was silent a minute. I felt that he looked right +through me, and saw my daring intentions. He cleared his throat. I +quailed. He began to speak in a low, agitated voice, that I thought very +ominous in tone. + +"You want to speak to me, perhaps. I think I see that you do. If so, +speak now. A word will explain enough. No need to defer." + +"I want your consent, Sir, to speak to your daughter," I stammered out. + +"My dear boy," said he, clapping me on the shoulder, "she is motherless +and brotherless, and I am an old man. Nothing would give me more +pleasure; for I know you well enough to trust her with you. There,--go +in. I hear her touch the piano." + +He went up stairs. I entered. My eyes swept the long, dim apartment. +In the confusion of profuse luxury I could not distinguish anything at +first,--but soon saw the grand piano at the extreme end of the rooms. I +impetuously strode the whole length of the two parlors,--and she rose +before me with chilling dignity! + +Ah, Mary, that moment's blank dismay! But it was because she thought me +some bold, intruding stranger. When she saw my face, she came to me, and +gave me both her hands, saying,-- + +"Mr. ----! Is it possible? I am happy that you are so well!" + +It was genuine joy; and for a moment we were both simply glad for that +one reason,--that I was well. + +"You seem so tall!" she said, with a rather more conscious tone. She +began to infer what my recovery and presence imported to _her_. I felt +thrilling all over me what they were to me! + +But I must say something. It is not customary to call upon young +ladies, of whom you have never dared to consider yourself other than +an acquaintance merely, and hold their hands while you listen to their +hearts beating. This I must refrain from doing,--and that instantly. + +"Yes," I stammered, "I am well,--I am quite well." Then, losing all +remembrance of etiquette----But you must divine what followed. Truly + + "God's gifts put man's best dreams to + shame!" + +P.S.--Kate will send you her cards, and Ada ours, together with the +proper ceremonious invitations to the weddings, as soon as things are +arranged. + + + + +AMOURS DE VOYAGE. + + +[Continued.] + +III + + Yet to the wondrous St. Peter's, and yet to the solemn Rotonda, + Mingling with heroes and gods, yet to the Vatican walls, + Yet may we go, and recline, while a whole mighty world seems above us + Gathered and fixed to all time into one roofing supreme; + Yet may we, thinking on these things, exclude what is meaner around + us; + Yet, at the worst of the worst, books and a chamber remain; + Yet may we think, and forget, and possess our souls in resistance.-- + Ah, but away from the stir, shouting, and gossip of war, + Where, upon Apennine slope, with the chestnut the oak-trees immingle, + Where amid odorous copse bridle-paths wander and wind, + Where under mulberry-branches the diligent rivulet sparkles, + Or amid cotton and maize peasants their waterworks ply, + Where, over fig-tree and orange in tier upon tier still repeated, + Garden on garden upreared, balconies step to the sky,-- + Ah, that I were, far away from the crowd and the streets of the city, + Under the vine-trellis laid, O my beloved, with thee! + + + I.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER,--_on the way to Florence_. + + Why doesn't Mr. Claude come with us? you ask.--We don't know. + You should know better than we. He talked of the Vatican marbles; + But I can't wholly believe that this was the actual reason,-- + He was so ready before, when we asked him to come and escort us. + Certainly he is odd, my dear Miss Roper. To change so + Suddenly, just for a whim, was not quite fair to the party,-- + Not quite right. I declare, I really am almost offended: + I, his great friend, as you say, have doubtless a title to be so. + Not that I greatly regret it, for dear Georgina distinctly + Wishes for nothing so much as to show her adroitness. But, oh, my + Pen will not write any more;--let us say nothing further about it. + + * * * * * + + Yes, my dear Miss Roper, I certainly called him repulsive; + So I think him, but cannot be sure I have used the expression + Quite as your pupil should; yet he does most truly repel me. + Was it to you I made use of the word? or who was it told you? + Yes, repulsive; observe, it is but when he talks of ideas, + That he is quite unaffected, and free, and expansive, and easy; + I could pronounce him simply a cold intellectual being.-- + When does he make advances?--He thinks that women should woo him; + Yet, if a girl should do so, would be but alarmed and disgusted. + She that should love him must look for small love in return,--like + the ivy + On the stone wall, must expect but rigid and niggard support, and + Even to get that must go searching all round with her humble embraces. + + + II.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE,--_from Rome_. + + Tell me, my friend, do you think that the grain would sprout in the + furrow, + Did it not truly accept as its _summum et ultimum bonum_ + That mere common and may-be indifferent soil it is set in? + Would it have force to develope and open its young cotyledons, + Could it compare, and reflect, and examine one thing with another? + Would it endure to accomplish the round of its natural functions, + Were it endowed with a sense of the general scheme of existence? + While from Marseilles in the steamer we voyaged to Civita Vecchia, + Vexed in the squally seas as we lay by Capraja and Elba, + Standing, uplifted, alone on the heaving poop of the vessel, + Looking around on the waste of the rushing incurious billows, + "This is Nature," I said: "we are born as it were from her waters, + Over her billows that buffet and beat us, her offspring uncared-for, + Casting one single regard of a painful victorious knowledge, + Into her billows that buffet and beat us we sink and are swallowed." + This was the sense in my soul, as I swayed with the poop of the + steamer; + And as unthinking I sat in the ball of the famed Ariadne, + Lo, it looked at me there from the face of a Triton in marble. + It is the simpler thought, and I can believe it the truer. + Let us not talk of growth; we are still in our Aqueous Ages. + + + III.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Farewell, Politics, utterly! What can I do? I cannot + Fight, you know; and to talk I am wholly ashamed. And although I + Gnash my teeth when I look in your French or your English papers, + What is the good of that? Will swearing, I wonder, mend matters? + Cursing and scolding repel the assailants? No, it is idle; + No, whatever befalls, I will hide, will ignore or forget it. + Let the tail shift for itself; I will bury my head. And what's the + Roman Republic to me, or I to the Roman Republic? + Why not fight?--In the first place, I haven't so much as a musket. + In the next, if I had, I shouldn't know how I should use it. + In the third, just at present I'm studying ancient marbles. + In the fourth, I consider I owe my life to my country. + In the fifth,--I forget; but four good reasons are ample. + Meantime, pray, let 'em fight, and be killed. I delight in devotion. + So that I 'list not, hurrah for the glorious army of martyrs! + _Sanguis martyrum semen Ecclesiae_; though it would seem this + Church is indeed of the purely Invisible, Kingdom-Come kind: + Militant here on earth! Triumphant, of course, then, elsewhere! + Ah, good Heaven, but I would I were out far away from the pother! + + + IV.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Not, as we read in the words of the olden-time inspiration, + Are there two several trees in the place we are set to abide in; + But on the apex most high of the Tree of Life in the Garden, + Budding, unfolding, and falling, decaying and flowering ever, + Flowering is set and decaying the transient blossom of Knowledge,-- + + Flowering alone, and decaying, the needless, unfruitful blossom. + Or as the cypress-spires by the fair-flowing stream Hellespontine, + Which from the mythical tomb of the godlike Protesilaus + Rose, sympathetic in grief, to his lovelorn Laodamia, + Evermore growing, and, when in their growth to the prospect attaining, + Over the low sea-banks, of the fatal Ilian city, + Withering still at the sight which still they upgrew to encounter. + Ah, but ye that extrude from the ocean your helpless faces, + Ye over stormy seas leading long and dreary processions, + Ye, too, brood of the wind, whose coming is whence we discern not, + Making your nest on the wave, and your bed on the crested billow, + Skimming rough waters, and crowding wet sands that the tide shall + return to, + Cormorants, ducks, and gulls, fill ye my imagination! + Let us not talk of growth; we are still in our Aqueous Ages. + + + V.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER,--_from Florence_. + + Dearest Miss Roper,--Alas, we are all at Florence quite safe, and + You, we hear, are shut up! indeed, it is sadly distressing! + We were most lucky, they say, to get off when we did from the + troubles. + Now you are really besieged! They tell us it soon will be over; + Only I hope and trust without any fight in the city. + Do you see Mr. Claude?--I thought he might do something for you. + I am quite sure on occasion he really would wish to be useful. + What is he doing? I wonder;--still studying Vatican marbles? + Letters, I hope, pass through. We trust your brother is better. + + + VI.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Juxtaposition, in fine; and what is juxtaposition? + Look you, we travel along in the railway-carriage, or steamer, + And, _pour passer le temps_, till the tedious journey be ended, + Lay aside paper or book, to talk with the girl that is next one; + And, _pour passer le temps_, with the terminus all but in + prospect, + Talk of eternal ties and marriages made in heaven. + Ah, did we really accept with a perfect heart the illusion! + Ah, did we really believe that the Present indeed is the Only! + Or through all transmutation, all shock and convulsion of passion, + Feel we could carry undimmed, unextinguished, the light of our + knowledge! + But for his funeral train which the bridegroom sees in the distance, + Would he so joyfully, think you, fall in with the marriage-procession? + But for that final discharge, would he dare to enlist in that service? + But for that certain release, ever sign to that perilous contract? + But for that exit secure, ever bend to that treacherous doorway?-- + Ah, but the bride, meantime,--do you think she sees it as he does? + But for the steady fore-sense of a freer and larger existence, + Think you that man could consent to be circumscribed here into action? + But for assurance within of a limitless ocean divine, o'er + Whose great tranquil depths unconscious the wind-tost surface + Breaks into ripples of trouble that come and change and endure not,-- + But that in this, of a truth, we have our being, and know it, + Think you we men could submit to live and move as we do here? + Ah, but the women,--God bless them!--they don't think at all about it. + + Yet we must eat and drink, as you say. And as limited beings + Scarcely can hope to attain upon earth to an Actual Abstract, + Leaving to God contemplation, to His hands knowledge confiding, + Sure that in us if it perish, in Him it abideth and dies not, + Let us in His sight accomplish our petty particular doings,-- + Yes, and contented sit down to the victual that He has provided. + Allah is great, no doubt, and Juxtaposition his prophet. + Ah, but the women, alas, they don't look at it in that way! + Juxtaposition is great;--but, my friend, I fear me, the maiden + Hardly would thank or acknowledge the lover that sought to obtain her, + Not as the thing he would wish, but the thing he must even put up + with,-- + Hardly would tender her hand to the wooer that candidly told her + That she is but for a space, an _ad-interim_ solace and + pleasure,-- + That in the end she shall yield to a perfect and absolute something, + Which I then for myself shall behold, and not another,-- + Which amid fondest endearments, meantime I forget not, forsake not. + Ah, ye feminine souls, so loving and so exacting, + Since we cannot escape, must we even submit to deceive you? + Since, so cruel is truth, sincerity shocks and revolts you, + Will you have us your slaves to lie to you, flatter and--leave you? + + + VII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Juxtaposition is great,--but, you tell me, affinity greater. + Ah, my friend, there are many affinities, greater and lesser, + Stronger and weaker; and each, by the favor of juxtaposition, + Potent, efficient, in force,--for a time; but none, let me tell you, + Save by the law of the land and the ruinous force of the will, ah, + None, I fear me, at last quite sure to be final and perfect. + Lo, as I pace in the street, from the peasant-girl to the princess, + _Homo sum, nihil humani a me alienum puto,-- + Vir sum, nihil faeminei_,--and e'en to the uttermost circle, + All that is Nature's is I, and I all things that are Nature's. + Yes, as I walk, I behold, in a luminous, large intuition, + That I can be and become anything that I meet with or look at: + I am the ox in the dray, the ass with the garden-stuff panniers; + I am the dog in the doorway, the kitten that plays in the window, + Here on the stones of the ruin the furtive and fugitive lizard, + Swallow above me that twitters, and fly that is buzzing about me; + Yea, and detect, as I go, by a faint, but a faithful assurance, + E'en from the stones of the street, as from rocks or trees of the + forest, + Something of kindred, a common, though latent vitality, greet me, + And, to escape from our strivings, mistakings, misgrowths, and + perversions, + Fain could demand to return to that perfect and primitive silence, + Fain be enfolded and fixed, as of old, in their rigid embraces. + + + VIII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + And as I walk on my way, I behold them consorting and coupling; + Faithful it seemeth, and fond, very fond, very probably faithful; + And I proceed on my way with a pleasure sincere and unmingled. + Life is beautiful, Eustace, entrancing, enchanting to look at; + As are the streets of a city we pace while the carriage is changing, + As is a chamber filled-in with harmonious, exquisite pictures, + Even so beautiful Earth; and could we eliminate only + This vile hungering impulse, this demon within us of craving, + Life were beatitude, living a perfect divine satisfaction. + + + IX.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + _Mild monastic faces in quiet collegiate cloisters:_ + So let me offer a single and celibatarian phrase a + Tribute to those whom perhaps you do not believe I can honor. + But, from the tumult escaping, 'tis pleasant, of drumming and + shouting, + Hither, oblivious awhile, to withdraw, of the fact or the falsehood, + And amid placid regards and mildly courteous greetings + Yield to the calm and composure and gentle abstraction that reign o'er + _Mild monastic faces in quiet collegiate cloisters._ + Terrible word, Obligation! You should not, Eustace, you should not, + No, you should not have used it. But, O great Heavens, I repel it! + Oh, I cancel, reject, disavow, and repudiate wholly + Every debt in this kind, disclaim every claim, and dishonor, + Yea, my own heart's own writing, my soul's own signature! Ah, no! + I will be free in this; you shall not, none shall, bind me. + No, my friend, if you wish to be told, it was this above all things, + This that charmed me, ah, yes, even this, that she held me to nothing. + No, I could talk as I pleased; come close; fasten ties, as I fancied; + Bind and engage myself deep;--and lo, on the following morning + It was all e'en as before, like losings in games played for nothing. + Yes, when I came, with mean fears in my soul, with a semi-performance + At the first step breaking down in its pitiful rôle of evasion, + When to shuffle I came, to compromise, not meet, engagements, + Lo, with her calm eyes there she met me and knew nothing of it,-- + Stood unexpecting, unconscious. _She_ spoke not of obligations, + Knew not of debt,--ah, no, I believe you, for excellent reasons. + + + X.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Hang this thinking, at last! what good is it? oh, and what evil! + Oh, what mischief and pain! like a clock in a sick man's chamber, + Ticking and ticking, and still through each covert of slumber + pursuing. + What shall I do to thee, O thou Preserver of Men? Have compassion! + Be favorable, and hear! Take from me this regal knowledge! + Let me, contented and mute, with the beasts of the field, my brothers, + Tranquilly, happily lie,--and eat grass, like Nebuchadnezzar! + + + XI.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Tibur is beautiful, too, and the orchard slopes, and the Anio + Falling, falling yet, to the ancient lyrical cadence; + Tibur and Anio's tide; and cool from Lucretilis ever, + With the Digentian stream, and with the Bandusian fountain, + Folded in Sabine recesses, the valley and villa of Horace:-- + So not seeing I sung; so seeing and listening say I, + Here as I sit by the stream, as I gaze at the cell of the Sibyl, + Here with Albunea's home and the grove of Tiburnus beside me.[A] + Tivoli beautiful is, and musical, O Teverone, + Dashing from mountain to plain, thy parted impetuous waters! + Tivoli's waters and rocks; and fair under Monte Gennaro, + (Haunt even yet, I must think, as I wonder and gaze, of the shadows, + Faded and pale, yet immortal, of Faunus, the Nymphs, and the Graces,) + Fair in itself, and yet fairer with human completing creations, + Folded in Sabine recesses the valley and villa of Horace:-- + So not seeing I sung; so now,--nor seeing, nor hearing, + Neither by waterfall lulled, nor folded in sylvan embraces, + Neither by cell of the Sibyl, nor stepping the Monte Gennaro, + Seated on Anio's bank, nor sipping Bandusian waters, + But on Montorio's height, looking down on the tile-clad streets, the + Cupolas, crosses, and domes, the bushes and kitchen-gardens, + Which, by the grace of the Tiber, proclaim themselves Rome of the + Romans,-- + But on Montorio's height, looking forth to the vapory mountains, + Cheating the prisoner Hope with illusions of vision and fancy,-- + But on Montorio's height, with these weary soldiers by me, + Waiting till Oudinot enter, to reinstate Pope and Tourist. + +[Footnote A: + + ----domus Albuneae resonantis, + Et praeceps Anio, et Tiburni lucus, et uda + Mobilibus pomaria rivis.] + + + XII.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER. + + Dear Miss Roper,--It seems, George Vernon, before we left Rome, said + Something to Mr. Claude about what they call his attentions. + Susan, two nights ago, for the first time, heard this from Georgina. + It is _so_ disagreeable, and so annoying, to think of! + If it could only be known, though we never may meet him again, that + It was all George's doing and we were entirely unconscious, + It would extremely relieve--Your ever affectionate Mary. + + P.S. (1). + Here is your letter arrived this moment, just as I wanted. + So you have seen him,--indeed,--and guessed,--how dreadfully clever! + What did he really say? and what was your answer exactly? + Charming!--but wait for a moment, I have not read through the letter. + + P.S. (2). + Ah, my dearest Miss Roper, do just as you fancy about it. + If you think it sincerer to tell him I know of it, do so. + Though I should most extremely dislike it, I know I could manage. + It is the simplest thing, but surely wholly uncalled for. + Do as you please; you know I trust implicitly to you. + Say whatever is right and needful for ending the matter. + Only don't tell Mr. Claude, what I will tell you as a secret, + That I should like very well to show him myself I forget it. + + P.S. (3). + I am to say that the wedding is finally settled for Tuesday. + Ah, my dear Miss Roper, you surely, surely can manage + Not to let it appear that I know of that odious matter. + It would be pleasanter far for myself to treat it exactly + As if it had not occurred; and I do not think he would like it. + I must remember to add, that as soon as the wedding is over + We shall be off, I believe, in a hurry, and travel to Milan, + There to meet friends of Papa's, I am told, at the Croce di Malta; + Then I cannot say whither, but not at present to England. + + + XIII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Yes, on Montorio's height for a last farewell of the city,-- + So it appears; though then I was quite uncertain about it. + So, however, it was. And now to explain the proceeding. + I was to go, as I told you, I think, with the people to Florence. + Only the day before, the foolish family Vernon + Made some uneasy remarks, as we walked to our lodging together, + As to intentions, forsooth, and so forth. I was astounded, + Horrified quite; and obtaining just then, as it chanced, an offer + (No common favor) of seeing the great Ludovisi collection, + Why, I made this a pretence, and wrote that they must excuse me. + How could I go? Great Heaven! to conduct a permitted flirtation + Under those vulgar eyes, the observed of such observers! + Well, but I now, by a series of fine diplomatic inquiries, + Find from a sort of relation, a good and sensible woman, + Who is remaining at Rome with a brother too ill for removal, + That it was wholly unsanctioned, unknown,--not, I think, by Georgina: + She, however, ere this,--and that is the best of the story,-- + She and the Vernon, thank Heaven, are wedded and gone--honey-mooning. + So--on Montorio's height for a last farewell of the city. + Tibur I have not seen, nor the lakes that of old I had dreamt of; + Tibur I shall not see, nor Anio's waters, nor deep en- + Folded in Sabine recesses the valley and villa of Horace; + Tibur I shall not see;--but something better I shall see. + Twice I have tried before, and failed in getting the horses; + Twice I have tried and failed: this time it shall not be a failure. + + * * * * * + + Therefore farewell, ye hills, and ye, ye envineyarded ruins! + Therefore farewell, ye walls, palaces, pillars, and domes! + Therefore farewell, far seen, ye peaks of the mythic Albano, + Seen from Montorio's height, Tibur and Aesula's hills! + Ah, could we once, ere we go, could we stand, while, to ocean + descending, + Sinks o'er the yellow dark plain slowly the yellow broad sun, + Stand, from the forest emerging at sunset, at once in the champaign, + Open, but studded with trees, chestnuts umbrageous and old, + E'en in those fair open fields that incurve to thy beautiful hollow, + Nemi, imbedded in wood, Nemi, inurned in the hill!-- + Therefore farewell, ye plains, and ye hills, and the City Eternal! + Therefore farewell! We depart, but to behold you again! + +[To be continued.] + + + + +THE CATACOMBS OF ROME. + +[Continued.] + + Vix fama nota est, abditis + Quam plena sancti Roma sit; + Quam dives urbanum solum + Sacris sepulchris floreat. + PRUDENTIUS. + + Mille victoriose chiare palme. + PETRARCH. + +II. + +The results of the investigations in the catacombs during the last three +or four years have well rewarded the zeal of their explorers. Since the +great work of the French government was published, in 1851-55, very +curious and important discoveries have been made, and many new minor +facts brought to light. The interest in the investigations has become +more general, and no visit to Rome is now complete without a visit to +one at least of the catacombs. Strangely enough, however, the Romans +themselves, for the most part, feel less concern in these new +revelations of their underground city than the strangers who come from +year to year to make their pilgrimages to Rome. It is an old complaint, +that the Romans care little for their city. "Who are there to-day," says +Petrarch, in one of his letters, "more ignorant of Roman things than the +Roman citizens? And nowhere is Rome less known than in Rome itself." It +is, however, to the Cavaliere de Rossi, himself a Roman, that the most +important of these discoveries are due,--the result of his marvellous +learning and sagacity, and of his hard-working and unwearied energy. The +discovery of the ancient entrance to the Catacombs of St. Callixtus, +and of the chapel within, where St. Cecilia was originally buried, is +a piece of the very romance of Archaeology. The whole history of St. +Cecilia, the glorious Virgin Martyr and the Saint of Music, as connected +with the catacombs, is, indeed, one of the most curious to be found in +the annals of the Church. Legend and fact are strangely mingled in it, +and over it hangs a perplexing mist of doubt, but not so dense as wholly +to conceal all certainty. It is a story of suffering, of piety, of +enthusiasm, of superstition, and of science;--it connects itself in many +points with the progress of corruption in the Church, and it has been +a favorite subject for Art in all ages. The story is at last finished. +Begun sixteen hundred years ago, it has just reached its last chapter. +In order to understand it, we must go back almost to its introduction. + +According to the legend of the Roman Church, as preserved in the "Acts +of St. Cecilia," this young and beautiful saint was martyred in the year +of our Lord 230.[A] She had devoted herself to perpetual virginity, +but her parents had insisted upon marrying her to a youthful and noble +Roman, named Valerian. On the night of her marriage, she succeeded in +so far prevailing upon her husband as to induce him to visit the pope, +Urban, who was lying concealed from his persecutors in the catacombs +which were called after and still bear the name of his predecessor, +Callixtus,[B] on the Appian Way, about two miles from the present walls +of the city. The young man was converted to the Christian faith. The +next day witnessed the conversion of his brother, Tiburtius. Their lives +soon gave evidence of the change in their religion; they were brought +before the prefect, and, refusing to sacrifice to the heathen gods, were +condemned to death. Maximus, an officer of the prefect, was converted +by the young men on the way to execution. They suffered death with +constancy, and Maximus soon underwent the same fate. Nor was Cecilia +long spared. The prefect ordered that she should be put to death in her +own house, by being stifled in the _caldarium_, or hot-air chamber of +her baths. The order was obeyed, and Cecilia entered the place of death; +but a heavenly air and cooling dews filled the chamber, and the fire +built up around it produced no effect. For a whole day and night the +flames were kept up, but the Saint was unharmed. Then Almachius sent an +order that she should be beheaded. The executioner struck her neck three +times with his sword, and left her bleeding, but not dead, upon the +pavement of the bathroom. For three days she lived, attended by faithful +friends, whose hearts were cheered by her courageous constancy; "for she +did not cease to comfort those whom she had nurtured in the faith of the +Lord, and divided among them everything which she had." To Pope Urban, +who visited her as she lay dying, she left in charge the poor whom she +had cared for, and her house, that it might be consecrated as a church. +With this her life ended.[C] Her wasted body was reverently lifted, its +position undisturbed, and laid in the attitude and clothing of life +within a coffin of cypress-wood. The linen cloths with which the blood +of the Martyr had been soaked up were placed at her feet, with that care +that no precious drop should be lost,--a care, of which many evidences +are afforded in the catacombs. In the night, the coffin was carried out +of the city secretly to the Cemetery of Callixtus, and there deposited +by Urban in a grave near to a chamber destined for the graves of the +popes themselves. Here the "Acts of St. Cecilia" close, and, leaving her +pure body to repose for centuries in its tomb hollowed out of the rock, +we trace the history of the catacombs during those centuries in other +sources and by other ways. + +[Footnote A: _The Acts of St. Cecilia_ are generally regarded by the +best Roman Catholic authorities as apochryphal. They bear internal +evidence of their want of correctness, and, in the condition in which +they have come down to us, the date of their compilation cannot be set +before the beginning of the fifth century. At the very outset two facts +stand in open opposition to their statements. The martyrdom of St. +Cecilia is placed in the reign of Alexander Severus, whose mildness +of disposition and whose liberality towards the Christians are well +authenticated. Again, the prefect who condemns her to death, Turchius +Almachius, bears a name unknown to the profane historians of Rome. Many +statements of not less difficulty to reconcile with fact occur in the +course of the _Acts_. But, although their authority in particulars be +thus destroyed, we see no reason for questioning the reality of the +chief events upon which they are founded. The date of the martyrdom of +St. Cecilia may be wrong, the reports of her conversations may be as +fictitious as the speeches ascribed by grave historians to their heroes, +the stories of her miracles may have only that small basis of reality +which is to be found in the effects of superstition and excited +imagination,--but the essential truth of the martyrdom of a young, +beautiful, and rich Roman girl, of her suffering and her serene faith, +and of the veneration and honor in which her memory was held by those +who had known her, may be accepted without reserve. At least, it is +certain, that as early as the beginning of the fourth century the name +of St. Cecilia was reverenced in Rome, and that from that time she has +been one of the chief saints of the Roman calendar.] + +[Footnote B: The Catacombs of St. Callixtus are among the most important +of the underground cemeteries. They were begun before the time of +Callixtus, but were greatly enlarged under his pontificate [A.D. +219-223]. Saint though he be, the character of Callixtus, if we may +judge by the testimony of another saint, Hippolytus, stood greatly in +need of purification. His story is an amusing illustration of the state +of the Roman episcopacy in those times. He had been a slave of a rich +Christian, Carpophorus. His master set him up as a money-dealer in the +Piscina Publica, a much frequented quarter of the city. The Christian +brethren (and widows also are mentioned by Hippolytus) placed their +moneys in his hands for safe-keeping, his credit as the slave of +Carpophorus being good. He appropriated these deposits, ran away to sea, +was pursued, threw himself into the water, was rescued, brought back to +Rome, and condemned to hard labor. Carpophorus bailed him out of the +workhouse,--but he was a bad fellow, got into a riot in a Jewish +synagogue, and was sent to work in the Sardinian mines. By cheating he +got a ticket of leave and returned to Rome. After some years, he was +placed in charge of the cemetery by the bishop or pope, Zephyrinus, and +at his death, some time later, by skilful intrigues he succeeded in +obtaining the bishopric itself. The cemetery is now called that of +_Saint_ Callixtus,--and in the saint the swindler is forgotten.] + +[Footnote C: The passage in the _Acts of St. Cecilia_ which led to her +being esteemed the patroness of music is perhaps the following, which +occurs in the description of the wedding ceremonies: "Cantantibus +organis, Caecilia in corde suo soli Domino decantabat, dicens: 'Fiat cor +meum et corpus meum immaculatum, ut non confundar.'"] + +The consequences of the conversion of Constantine exhibited themselves +not more in the internal character and spirit of the Church than in +its outward forms and arrangements. The period of worldly prosperity +succeeded speedily to a period of severest suffering, and many who +had been exposed to the persecution of Diocletian now rejoiced in the +imperial favor shown to their religion. Such contrasts in life are +not favorable to the growth of the finer spiritual qualities; and the +sunshine of state and court is not that which is needed for quickening +faith or developing simplicity and purity of heart. Churches above +ground could now be frequented without risk, and were the means by which +the wealth and the piety of Christians were to be displayed. The newly +imperialized religion must have its imperial temples, and the little +dark chapels of the catacombs were exchanged for the vast and ornamental +spaces of the new basilicas. It was no longer needful that the dead +should be laid in the secret paths of the rock, and the luxury of +magnificent Christian tombs began to rival that of the sepulchres of +the earlier Romans. The body of St. Peter, which had long, according +to popular tradition, rested in the catacombs of the Vatican, was now +transferred to the great basilica which Constantine, despoiling for the +purpose the tomb of Hadrian of its marbles, erected over the entrance to +the underground cemetery. So, too, the Basilica of St. Paul, on the way +to Ostia, was built over his old grave; and the Catacombs of St. Agnes +were marked by a beautiful church in honor of the Saint, built in part +beneath the soil, that its pavement might be on a level with the upper +story of the catacombs and the faithful might enter them from the +church. + +The older catacombs, whose narrow graves had been filled during the last +quarter of the third century with the bodies of many new martyrs, were +now less used for the purposes of burial, and more for those of worship. +New chapels were hollowed out in their walls; new paintings adorned the +brown rock; the bodies of martyrs were often removed from their original +graves to new and more elaborate tombs; the entrances to the cemeteries +were no longer concealed, but new and ampler ones were made; new +stairways, lined with marble, led down to the streets beneath; +_luminaria_, or passages for light and air, were opened from the surface +of the ground to the most frequented places; and at almost every +entrance a church or an oratory of more or less size was built, for the +shelter of those who might assemble to go down into the catacombs, and +for the performance of the sacred services upon ground hallowed by so +many sacred memories. The worship of the saints began to take form, at +first, in simple, natural, and pious ways, in the fourth century; and +as it grew stronger and stronger with the continually increasing +predominance of the material element in the Roman Church, so the +catacombs, the burial-places of the saints, were more and more visited +by those who desired the protection or the intercession of their +occupants. St. Jerome, who was born about this time in Rome, [A.D. 331,] +has a curious passage concerning his own experiences in the catacombs. +He says: "When I was a boy at Rome, being instructed in liberal studies, +I was accustomed, with others of the same age and disposition, to go on +Sundays to the tombs of the apostles and martyrs, and often to go into +the crypts, which, being dug out in the depths of the earth, have for +walls, on either side of those who enter, the bodies of the buried; and +they are so dark, that the saying of the prophet seems almost fulfilled, +_The living descend into hell._" But as the chapels and sacred tombs +in the catacombs became thus more and more resorted to as places for +worship, the number of burials within them was continually growing +less,--and the change in the spirit of the religion was marked by the +change of character in the paintings and inscriptions on their walls. +By the middle of the fifth century the extension of the catacombs had +ceased, and nearly about the same time the assemblies in them fell off. +The desolation of the Campagna had already begun; Rome had sunk rapidly; +and the churches and burial-places within the walls afforded all the +space that was needed for the assemblies of the living or the dead. + +When the Goths descended upon Italy, ravaging the country as they passed +over it, and sat down before Rome, not content with stripping the land, +they forced their way into the catacombs, searching for treasure, and +seeking also, it seems likely, for the bodies of the martyrs, whom their +imperfect creed did not prevent them from honoring. After they retired, +in the short breathing-space that was given to the unhappy city, various +popes undertook to do something to restore the catacombs,[D]--and one +of them, John III., [A.D. 560-574,] ordered that service should be +performed at certain underground shrines, and that candles and all else +needful for this purpose should be furnished from the Basilica of St. +John Lateran. Just at the close of the sixth century, Gregory the Great +[590-604] again appointed stations in the catacombs at which service +should be held on special days in the course of the year, and a curious +illustration of the veneration in which the relics of the saints were +then held is afforded by a gift which he sent to Theodelinda, queen of +the Lombards. At this time the Lombards were laying all Italy waste. +Their Arian zeal ranged them in religious hate against the Roman +Church,--but Theodelinda was an orthodox believer, and through her +Gregory hoped to secure the conversion of her husband and his subjects. +It was to her that he addressed his famous Dialogues, filled with +the most marvellous stories of holy men and the strangest notions of +religion. Wishing to satisfy her pious desires, and to make her a very +precious gift, he sent to her many phials of oil taken from the lamps +that were kept burning at the shrines of the martyrs in the catacombs. +It was the custom of those who visited these shrines to dip +handkerchiefs, or other bits of cloth, in the reservoirs of oil, to +which a sacred virtue was supposed to be imparted by the neighborhood of +the saints; and even now may often be seen the places where the lamps +were kept lighted.[E] + +[Footnote D: An inscription set up by Vigilius, pope from A.D. 538 to +555, and preserved by Gruter, contains the following lines:-- + + "Dum peritura Getae posuissent castra sub urbe, + Moverunt sanctis bella nefunda prius, + Istaque sacrilego verterunt corde sepulchra + Martyribus quondam rite sacrata piis. + Diruta Vigilius nam mox haec Papa gemiscens, + Hostibus expulsis, omne novavit opus."] + +[Footnote E: The phials sent by Gregory to Queen Theodelinda were +accompanied by a list of the shrines from which they were taken; among +them was that of St. Cecilia. The document closes with the words, "Quae +olea sca temporibus Domini Gregorii Papae adduxit Johannes indignus +et peccator Dominae Theodelindae reginae de Roma." The oils are still +preserved in the treasury of the cathedral at Monza,--and the list +accompanying them has afforded some important facts to the students of +the early martyrology of Rome. A similar belief in the efficacy of oils +burned in lamps before noted images, or at noted shrines, still prevails +in the Papal City. In a little pamphlet lying before us, entitled +_Historic Notices of Maria SSma del Parto, venerated in St. Augustine's +Church in Rome_, published in 1853, is the following passage: "Many who +visited Mary dipped their fingers in the lamps to cross themselves with +the holy oil, by the droppings from which the base of the statue was so +dirtied, that hanging-lamps were substituted in the place of those that +stood around. But that the people might not be deprived of the trust +which they reposed in the holy oil, bits of cotton dipped in it were +wrapped up in paper, and there was a constant demand for them among the +devout." This passage refers to late years, and the custom still exists. +Superstition flourishes at Rome now not less than it did thirteen +hundred years ago; and superstitious practices have a wonderful vitality +in the close air of Romanism.] + +But although the memory of those who had been buried within them was +thus preserved, the catacombs themselves and the churches at their +entrances were falling more and more into decay. Shortly after Gregory's +death, Pope Boniface IV. illustrated his otherwise obscure pontificate +by seeking from the mean and dissolute Emperor Phocas the gift of the +Pantheon for the purpose of consecrating it for a Christian church. The +glorious temple of all the gods was now dedicated [A.D. 608, Sept. 15] +to those who had displaced them, the Virgin and all the Martyrs. Its new +name was S. Maria ad Martyres,--and in order to sanctify its precincts, +the Pope brought into the city and placed under the altars of his new +church twenty-eight wagon-loads of bones, collected from the different +catacombs, and said to be those of martyrs. This is the first notice +that has been preserved of the practice that became very general in +later times of transferring bodies and bones from their graves in the +rock to new ones under the city churches. + +Little more is known of the history of the catacombs during the next +two centuries, but that for them it was a period of desolation and +desertion. The Lombard hordes often ravaged and devastated the Campagna +up to the very gates of the city, and descended into the underground +passages of the cemeteries in search of treasure, of relics, and of +shelter. Paul III., about the middle of the eighth century, took many +bones and much ashes from graves yet unrifled, and distributed them +to the churches. He has left a record of the motives that led him +to disturb dust that had rested so long in quiet. "In the lapse of +centuries," he says, "many cemeteries of the holy martyrs and confessors +of Christ have been neglected and fallen to decay. The impious Lombards +utterly ruined them,--and now among the faithful themselves the old +piety has been replaced by negligence, which has gone so far that even +animals have been allowed to enter them, and cattle have been stalled +within them." Still, although thus desecrated, the graves of the martyrs +continued to be an object of interest to the pilgrims, who, even in +these dangerous times, from year to year came to visit the holy places +of Rome; and itineraries, describing the localities of the catacombs +and of the noted tombs within them, prepared for the guidance of such +pilgrims, not later than the beginning of the ninth century, have +been preserved to us, and have afforded essential and most important +assistance in the recent investigations.[F] + +[Footnote F: Four of these itineraries are known. One of them is +preserved in William of Malmesbury's _Chronicle_. The differences and +the correspondences between them have been of almost equal assistance in +modern days in the determination of doubtful names and localities.] + +About the same time, Pope Paschal I. [A.D. 817-824] greatly interested +himself in searching in the catacombs for such bodies of the saints as +might yet remain in them, and in transferring these relics to churches +and monasteries within the city. A contemporary inscription, still +preserved in the crypt of the ancient church of St. Prassede, (a church +which all lovers of Roman legend and art take delight in,) tells of the +two thousand three hundred martyrs whose remains Paschal had placed +beneath its altars. Nor was this the only church so richly endowed. One +day, in the year 821, Paschal was praying in the church that stood on +the site of the house in which St. Cecilia had suffered martyrdom, and +which was dedicated to her honor. It was now one of the oldest churches +in Rome. Two centuries before, Gregory the Great, St. Gregory, had +restored it,--for it even then stood in need of repairs, and now it was +in greater need than ever. Paschal determined, while praying, that he +would rebuild it from its foundations; but with this determination came +the desire to find the body of the Saint, that her new church might not +want its most precious possession. It was reported that the Lombards had +sought for it and carried it away, and the knowledge of the exact place +of the grave, even, was lost. But Paschal entered vigorously on the +search. He knew that she had been buried in the Cemetery of St. +Callixtus, and tradition declared that her sepulchre had been made near +the Chamber of the Popes. There he sought, but his seeking was vain. + +On a certain day, however,--and here he begins his own story,--in the +Church of St. Peter, as he sat listening to the harmony of the morning +service, drowsiness overcame him, and he fell asleep.[G] As he was +sleeping, a very beautiful maiden of virginal aspect, and in a rich +dress, stood before him, and, looking at him, said,--"We return thee +many thanks; but why without cause, trusting to false reports, hast thou +given up the search for me? Thou hast been so near me that we might have +spoken together." + +[Footnote G: "Quadam die, dum ante Confessionem Beati Petri +Apostoli psallentium matutinali lucescente Dominica residentes +observaremus harmoniam, sopore in aliquo corporis fragilitatem +aggravaute."--_Paschalis Papae Diploma_, as quoted in _L'Histoire de +Sainte Cécile_, par l'Abbé Guéranger. The simplicity of the old Pope's +story is wofully hurt by the grandiloquence of the French Abbé: "Le +Pontife écoutait avec délices l'harmonie des Cantiques que l'Église fait +monter vers le Seigneur au lever du jour. Un assoupissement produit par +la fatigue des veilles saintes vient le saisir sur le siége même où il +présidait dans la majesté apostolique," etc., etc., etc., _ad nauseam._] + +The Pope, as if hurt by her rebuke, and doubtful of his vision, then +asked the name of her who thus addressed him. + +"If thou seekest my name," she said, "I am called Cecilia, the +handmaiden of Christ." + +"How can I believe this," replied the sleeping Pope, "since it was long +ago reported that the body of this most holy martyr was carried away by +the Lombards?" + +The Saint then told him that till this time her body had remained +concealed; but that now he must continue his search, for it pleased God +to reveal it to him; and near her body he would also find other bodies +of saints to be placed with hers in her new-built church. And saying +this, she departed. + +Hereupon a new search was begun, and shortly after, "by the favor of +God, we found her in golden garments, and the cloths with which her +sacred blood had been wiped from her wounds we found rolled up and full +of blood at the feet of the blessed virgin." + +At the same time, the bodies of Valerian, Tiburtius, and Maximus were +found in a neighboring cemetery, and, together with the relics of Pope +Urban,--as well as the body of St. Cecilia,--were placed under the +high altar of her church.[H] The cypress coffin in which she had been +reverently laid at the time of her death was preserved and set within a +marble sarcophagus. No expense was spared by the devout Paschal to adorn +the church that had been so signally favored. All the Art of the time +(and at that time the arts flourished only in the service of the Church) +was called upon to assist in making the new basilica magnificent. The +mosaics which were set up to adorn the apse and the arch of triumph were +among the best works of the century, and, with colors still brilliant +and design still unimpaired, they hold their place at the present +day, and carry back the thought and the imagination of the beholder a +thousand years into the very heart of this old story. Under the great +mosaic of the apse one may still read the inscription, in the rude Latin +of the century, which tells of Paschal's zeal and Rome's joy, closing +with the line, + + "Roma resultat ovans semper ornata per + aevum." + +[Footnote H: It is a remarkable fact, to be explained by the believers +in the virtue of relics, that, notwithstanding the body of St. Cecilia +was deposited perfect in her grave, and, as we shall see, was long after +found complete, no less than five heads of St. Cecilia are declared +to exist, or to have existed,--for one has been lost,--in different +churches. One is in the church of the SS. Quattro Coronati, at Rome, +which possessed it from a very early period; a second is at Paris, a +third at Beauvais, a fourth was at Tours, and we have seen the reliquary +in which a fifth is preserved in the old cathedral of Torcello.] + +And thus once more the body of the virgin was left to repose in peace, +once more the devout could offer their prayers to the Saint at the altar +consecrated by her presence, and once more the superstitious could +increase the number of the miracles wrought by her favor. Through the +long period of the fall and depression of Rome, her church continued to +be a favorite one with the people of the city, and with the pilgrims to +it. From time to time it was repaired and adorned, and in the thirteenth +century the walls of its portico were covered with a series of frescoes, +representing the events of St. Cecilia's life, and the finding of her +body by Paschal. These frescoes--precious as specimens of reawakening +Art, and especially precious at Rome, because of the little that was +done there at that period--were all, save one, long since destroyed +in some "restoration" of the church. The one that was preserved is now +within the church, and represents in its two divisions the burial of the +Saint by Pope Urban, and her appearance in St. Peter's Church to the +sleeping Paschal, whose figure is rendered with amusing naïveté and +literalness. + +Meanwhile, after the translation of St. Cecilia's body, the catacombs +remained much in the same neglected state as before, falling more and +more into ruin, but still visited from year to year by the pilgrims, +whom even pillage and danger could not keep from Rome. For two +centuries,--from the thirteenth to the fifteenth,--scarcely any mention +of them is to be found. Petrarch, in his many letters about Rome, dwells +often on the sacredness of the soil within the city, in whose crypts and +churches so many saints and martyrs lie buried, but hardly refers to the +catacombs themselves, and never in such a way as to show that they were +an object of interest to him, though a lover of all Roman relics and a +faithful worshipper of the saints. It was near the end of the sixteenth +century that a happy accident--the falling in of the road outside the +Porta Salara--brought to light the streets of the Cemetery of St. +Priscilla, and awakened in Antonio Bosio a zeal for the exploration of +the catacombs which led him to devote the remainder of his long life to +the pursuit, and by study, investigation, and observation, to lay +the solid basis of the thorough and comprehensive acquaintance with +subterranean Rome which has been extended by the researches of a long +line of able scholars down to the present day. But to Bosio the +chief honor is due, as the earliest, the most exact, and the most +indefatigable of the explorers. + +It was during his lifetime that the story of St. Cecilia received a +continuation, of which he himself has left us a full account. In +the year 1599, Paolo Emilio Sfondrati, Cardinal of the Title of St. +Cecilia,[I] undertook a thorough restoration of the old basilica erected +by Paschal. He possessed a large collection of relics, and determined +that he would place the most precious of them under the high altar. For +this purpose the vault containing the sarcophagi in which St. Cecilia +and her companions lay must be opened, and on the 20th of October the +work was undertaken. Upon breaking through the wall, two sarcophagi of +white marble were discovered. The Cardinal was on the spot, and, in the +presence of numerous dignitaries of the Church, whom he had sent for as +witnesses, he caused the heavy top of the first of these stone coffins +to be lifted. Within was seen the chest of cypress-wood in which, +according to the old story, the Saint had been originally placed. +Sfondrati with his own hands removed the lid, and within the chest was +found the body of the virgin, with a silken veil spread over her rich +dress, on which could still be seen the stains of blood, while at her +feet yet lay the bloody cloths which had been placed there more than +thirteen centuries before. She was lying upon her right side, her feet a +little drawn up, her arms extended and resting one upon the other, +her neck turned so that her head rested upon the left cheek. Her form +perfectly preserved, and her attitude of the sweetest virginal grace and +modesty, it seemed as if she lay there asleep rather than dead.[J]--The +second sarcophagus was found to contain three bodies, which were +recognized as being, according to tradition, those of Tiburtius, +Valerian, and Maximus. + +[Footnote I: The _Titoli_ of Rome correspond nearly to Parishes. They +date from an early period in the history of the Church.] + +[Footnote J: "Dormientis instar," says Bosio, in his _Relatio +Inventionis et Repositionis S. Caeciliae et Sociorum_. The discovery +of the body of the Saint in this perfect state of preservation has, +of course, been attributed by many Romanist authors to miraculous +interposition. But it is to be accounted for by natural causes. The +soil of the catacombs and of Rome is in many parts remarkable for its +antiseptic qualities. The Cavaliere de Rossi informed us that he had +been present at the opening of an ancient tomb on the Appian Way, in +which the body of a young man had been found in a state of entire +preservation, fresh almost as on the day of its burial, and with it was +a piece of sponge which had apparently been soaked in blood,--for his +death had been by violence. In the winter of 1857, two marble sarcophagi +were found in one of the passages of the Catacombs of St. Callixtus, in +which excavations were then going on, and upon being opened, a body +was found in each, in a state, not of entire, but of almost perfect +preservation. The skin had become somewhat shrunk, and the flesh was +hardened and darkened, but the general form and features were preserved. +Possibly these also may have been the bodies of saints. The sarcophagi +were kept through the winter in the catacombs where they were found, and +their marble lids being removed, covers of glass were fitted to them, so +that the bodies might be seen by the visitors to the catacombs. It was a +frequent custom, chiefly in the fourth and fifth centuries, to bury the +rich in sarcophagi placed within tombs in the catacombs.] + +The day advanced as these discoveries were made, and Sfondrati having +had a chest of wood hastily lined with silk, and brought to a room in +the adjoining convent, which opened into the church, (it is the room +at the left, now used for the first reception of novices,) carried the +cypress chest with its precious contents to this apartment, and placed +it within the new box, which he locked and sealed. Then, taking the key +with him, he hastened to go out to Frascati, where Pope Clement VIII. +was then staying, to avoid the early autumn airs of Rome. The Pope was +in bed with the gout, and gave audience to no one; but when he heard of +the great news that Sfondrati had brought, he desired at once to see +him, and to hear from him the account of the discovery. "The Pope +groaned and grieved that he was not well enough to hasten at once to +visit and salute so great a martyr." But it happened that the famous +annalist, Cardinal Baronius, was then with the Pope at Frascati, and +Clement ordered him to go to Rome forthwith, in his stead, to behold and +venerate the body of the Saint. Sfondrati immediately took Baronius +in his carriage back to the city, and in the evening they reached the +Church of St. Cecilia.[K] Baronius, in the account which he has left +of these transactions, expresses in simple words his astonishment and +delight at seeing the preservation of the cypress chest, and of the body +of the Saint: "When we at length beheld the sacred body, it was then, +that, according to the words of David, 'as we had heard, so we saw, in +the city of the Lord of Hosts, in the city of our God.'[L] For as we had +read that the venerated body of Cecilia had been found and laid away by +Paschal the Pope, so we found it." He describes at length the posture +of the virgin, who lay like one sleeping, in such modest and noble +attitude, that "whoever beheld her was struck with unspeakable +reverence, as if the heavenly Spouse stood by as a guard watching his +sleeping Bride, warning and threatening: 'Awake not my love till she +please.'"[M] The next morning, Baronius performed Mass in the church in +memory and honor of St. Cecilia, and the other saints buried near her, +and then returned to Frascati to report to the Pope what he had seen. It +was resolved to push forward the works on the church with vigor, and +to replace the body of the Saint under its altar on her feast-day, the +twenty-second of November, with the most solemn pontifical ceremony. + +[Footnote K: This account is to be found in the _Annals_ of Baronius, +_ad annum_ 821.] + +[Footnote L: Psalm xlviii. 8.] + +[Footnote M: Song of Solomon, ii. 7.] + +Meanwhile the report of the wonderful discovery spread through Rome, +and caused general excitement and emotion. The Trasteverini, with whom +Cecilia had always been a favorite saint, were filled with joy, with +piety, and superstition. Crowds continually pressed to the church, and +so great was the ardor of worshippers, that the Swiss guards of the +court were needed to preserve order. Lamps were kept constantly burning +around the coffin, which was set near a grating in the wall between the +church and convent, so as to be visible to the devout. "There was +no need of burning perfumes and incense near the sacred body, for a +sweetest odor breathed out from it, like that of roses and lilies." + +Sfondrati, desirous to preserve for future generations a memorial +likeness of the Saint, ordered the sculptor Stefano Maderno to make a +statue which should represent the body of Cecilia as it was found lying +in the cypress chest. Maderno was then a youth of twenty-three years. +Sculpture at this time in Rome had fallen into a miserable condition of +degraded conventionalism and extravagance. But Maderno was touched with +the contagion of the religious enthusiasm of the moment, and his work is +full of simple dignity, noble grace, and tender beauty. No other work +of the time is to be compared with it. It is a memorial not only of the +loveliness of the Saint, but of the self-forgetful religious fervor of +the artist, at a period when every divine impulse seemed to be absent +from the common productions of Art. Rome has no other statue of such +sacred charm, none more inspired with Christian feeling. It lies in +front of the high altar, disfigured by a silver crown and a costly +necklace, the offerings of vulgar and pretentious adoration; but even +thus it is at once a proof and prophecy of what Art is to accomplish +under the influence of the Christian spirit. The inscription that +Sfondrati placed before the statue still exists. It is as follows: +"Behold the image of the most holy virgin Cecilia; whom I, Paul, +Cardinal of the Title of St. Cecilia, saw lying perfect in her +sepulchre; which I have caused to be made in this marble, in the very +position of the body, for you." + +The twenty-second of November arrived. The Pope had recovered from +his gout. The church was splendidly decorated. A solemn procession, +illustrated by the presence of all the great dignitaries of the Church, +of the ambassadors of foreign states, and the nobles of Rome, advanced +up the nave. Clement intoned the Mass. Then proceeding to the cypress +chest, it was lifted by four cardinals, and carried to the vault under +the altar, while the choir chanted the anthem, _O beata Coecilia, +quoe Almachium superâsti, Tiburtium et Valerianum ad martyrii coronam +vocâsti!_ The old coffin, undisturbed, was placed in a silver case; the +last service was performed, and the body of the virgin was once more +laid away to rest. + +We pass now over two centuries and a half. About five years ago the +Cavaliere de Rossi found lying upon the ground, in a _vigna_ bordering +on the Appian Way, about two miles from Rome, a portion of a sepulchral +stone on which were the letters NELIUS MARTYR, the NE broken across. +He immediately conjectured that this was a piece of the stone that had +covered the grave of Pope Cornelius, [A.D. 250-252,] and on the truth of +this conjecture important results depended. It was known that this pope +had been buried in the Catacombs of St. Callixtus; and it was known +also, from the itineraries and some other sources, that his grave was +not in the same chamber with the graves of the other popes who were +buried in those catacombs, but that it was not far away from it. It was +further known, as we have seen, that the chapel in which St. Cecilia +had been buried was close to the Chamber of the Popes. But a tradition +dating from a late period of the Middle Ages had given the name of +Callixtus to the catacombs opening from the Church of St. Sebastian, +at a little greater distance from Rome. In these catacombs the place +supposed to be that of St. Cecilia's grave was pointed out, and an +inscription set up to mark the spot, by a French archbishop, in the +year 1409, still exists. Many indications, however, led De Rossi +to disbelieve this tradition and to distrust this authority. It +contradicted the brief indications of the itineraries, and could not be +reconciled with other established facts. Not far from the place where +the broken inscription was found was an accidental entrance into +catacombs which had been supposed to have been originally connected with +those of St. Sebastian, but were believed by De Rossi to be a portion of +the veritable Catacombs of St. Callixtus, and quite separate from the +former. The paths in this part, however, were stopped up in so many +directions, that it was impossible to get an entrance through them to +such parts as might determine the question. Again, in the neighborhood +of the discovery of the broken stone was an old building, used as a +stable, and for other mean purposes. On examination of it, De Rossi +satisfied himself that it had been originally one of the churches +erected in the fourth century at the entrance of the catacombs, and he +had little doubt that he had now found the place of the main descent +into the Catacombs of St. Callixtus. The discovery was a great one; for +near the main entrance had been the burial-place of the popes, and of +St. Cecilia. De Rossi laid the results of his inductive process of +archaeological reasoning before the pope, who immediately gave orders +for the purchase of the _vigna_, and directions that excavations should +be at once begun.[N] + +[Footnote N: Another curious point was made by De Rossi previously to +the commencement of the explorations. It illustrates the accuracy of his +acquaintance with the underground archaeology. In one of the itineraries +it was said, speaking of the burial-place of Cornelius, that here also +St. Cyprian was buried. Now, as is well known, Cyprian was buried in +Africa, where he had suffered martyrdom. His martyrdom took place on +the same day with that of Cornelius, though in another year; and their +memories were consequently celebrated by the Church on the same day, the +16th of September. De Rossi declared, that, if he discovered the tomb of +St. Cornelius, he should find near it something which would explain the +error of the itinerary in stating that Cyprian's grave also was here. +And such proved to be the fact. On the wall, by the side of the grave, +was found a painting of Cornelius, with his name, "S[=c][=s] Cornelius," +and by the side of this figure was another painting of a bishop in his +robes, with the letters "S[=c][=s] Ciprianus."] + +[Transcriber's note: Here and below the = sign is used to indicate an +overscore.] + +The work was scarcely begun, before an ancient stairway, long ago buried +under accumulated earth and rubbish, was discovered, leading down to the +second story of the catacombs. The passages into which it opened were +filled with earth, but, as this was cleared away, a series of chambers +of unusual size, reaching almost to the surface of the soil, was entered +upon. At the right a wide door led into a large chapel. The walls were +covered with rudely scratched names and inscriptions, some in Greek +and some in Latin. De Rossi, whose eyes were practised in the work, +undertook to decipher these often obscure scribblings. They were for the +most part the inscriptions of the pilgrims who had visited these places, +and their great number gave proof that this was a most important portion +of the cemetery. The majority of these were simply names, or names +accompanied with short expressions of piety. Many, for instance, were in +such form as this,--[Greek: Elaphin eis mneian echete],--"Keep Elaphis +in remembrance." Many were expressions of devotion, written by the +pilgrims for the sake of those who were dear to them, as,--_Vivat in +Domino_, "May he live in the Lord"; _Pet[ite] ut Verecundus cum suis +bene naviget_, "Seek that Verecundus with his companions may voyage +prosperously." The character of the writing, the names and the style, +indicate that these inscriptions belong mostly to the third and fourth +centuries. Among these writings on the wall were one or two which +confirmed De Rossi in the opinion that this must be the sepulchre in +which the greater number of the popes of the third century had been +buried. Carefully preserving all the mass of rubbish which was taken +from the chamber, he set himself to its examination, picking out from +it all the bits and fragments of marble, upon many of which letters +or portions of letters were cut. Most of them were of that elaborate +character which is well known to all readers of the inscriptions from +the catacombs as that of Pope Damasus,--for this Pope [A.D. 366-385] had +devoted himself to putting up new inscriptions over celebrated +graves, and had used a peculiar and sharply cut letter, easy to be +distinguished. It was known that he had put new inscriptions over the +tombs of the popes buried in the Cemetery of St. Callixtus. After most +patient examination, De Rossi succeeded in finding and putting together +the inscriptions of four of these early popes, and, with Cuvier-like +sagacity, he reconstructed, out of a hundred and twelve separate, +minute, and scattered pieces, the metrical inscription in which Damasus +expressed his desire to be buried with them, but his fear of vexing +their sacred ashes.[O] + +[Footnote O: In another part of the catacombs the remainder of the stone +that had been set over the grave of Cornelius was found. It fitted +precisely the piece first found by De Rossi. The letters upon it +were CORN EP. The whole inscription then read, "Cornelius Martyr, +Ep[iscopus.]" It is rare that a bit of broken stone paves the way to +such discoveries. But it must be a man of genius who walks over the +pavement. Cardinal Wiseman has given an imperfect account of these +discoveries in his diverting novel, _Fabiola_.] + +There could no longer be any doubt; this was the Chapel of the +Popes, and that of St. Cecilia must be near by. Proceeding with the +excavations, a door leading into a neighboring crypt was opened. The +crypt was filled with earth and _débris_, which appeared to have +fallen into it through a _luminare_, now choked up with the growth and +accumulated rubbish of centuries. In order to remove the mass of earth +with least risk of injury to the walls of the chamber, it was determined +to take it out through the luminare from above. As the work advanced, +there were discovered on the wall of the luminare itself paintings +of the figures of three men, with a name inscribed at the side of +each,--Policamus, Sebastianus, and Cyrinus. These names inspired fresh +zeal, for they were those of saints who were mentioned in one or more +of the itineraries as having been buried in the same chapel with St. +Cecilia. As the chapel was cleared, a large arcosolium was found, and +near it a painting of a youthful woman, richly attired, adorned with +necklaces and bracelets, and the dress altogether such as might befit +a bride. Below, on the same wall, was a figure of a pope in his robes, +with the name "S[=e][=s] Urbanus" painted at the side: and close to this +figure, a large head of the Saviour, of the Byzantine type, with a glory +in the form of a Greek cross. The character of the paintings showed that +they were of comparatively late date, probably not earlier than the +sixth century, and obviously executed at a time when the chapel was +frequented by worshippers, and before the traditional knowledge of the +exact site of St. Cecilia's sepulchre had been lost. + +The discovery made by Paschal after the place had been deserted was thus +repeated by De Rossi after a second, longer, and more obscure period of +oblivion. The divine vision which had led the ancient Pope, according +to his own account, to the right spot, was now replaced by scientific +investigation. The statements of inspiration were confirmed, as in so +many more conspicuous instances, by the discoveries of science. Cecilia +had lain so near the popes, that she might, as she had said to Paschal, +have spoken to him when he was in their chapel, _as ad as_, "mouth to +mouth." But the questions naturally arose, Why was it that in Paschal's +time, before this chapel was encumbered with earth, it had been so +difficult to find her grave? and, Why had not the Lombards, who had +sought for her sacred body, succeeded in finding it? De Rossi was +able to furnish the solution. In several instances he had found walls +carefully built up in front of tombs so as to conceal them. It was plain +that this must have been done with some definite purpose; and it seems +altogether likely that it was to hide these tombs from sacrilegious +invaders. The walls had been built when the faithful were forced by +the presence of their enemies to desert the catacombs and leave them +unprotected. It was a striking illustration of the veneration in which +these holy places had been held. Upon examination of the floor in front +of the areosolium of this chapel, traces of the foundation of a wall +were discovered, and thus the Lombard failure and Paschal's difficulty +were explained. + +So ends the story of St Cecilia and her tomb. Within her church are the +remains of the bath-chamber where she suffered death. The mosaics of +the apse and the arch of triumph tell of the first finding of her body; +Maderno's statue recalls the fact of its second discovery long after; +and now this newly opened, long forgotten chapel shows where her +precious body was first laid away in peace, brings the legend of her +faithful death into clearer remembrance, and concludes the ancient story +with dramatic and perfect completeness. + +"The Lord discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to +light the shadow of death." + +[To be continued.] + + * * * * * + + +HAPPINESS. + + + Wing-Footed! thou abid'st with him + That asks it not: but he who hath + Watched o'er the waves thy fading path + Will never more on ocean's rim, + At morn or eve, behold returning + Thy high-heaped canvas shoreward yearning: + Thou only teachest us the core + And inmost meaning of No More, + Thou, who first showest us thy face + Turned o'er the shoulder's parting grace, + And whose sad footprints we can trace + Away from every mortal door! + + + + +THE PURE PEARL OF DIVER'S BAY. + + +When the great storms raged along the Atlantic coast, they sometimes +tossed a token into Diver's Bay. In more than one of the rude cabins +composing the fishermen's settlement memorials of shipwreck and disaster +might be found; and these memorials did not always fail to kindle +imagination, and to arouse soft feelings of pity for the calamities they +suggested. + +One morning, that dawned bright and mild after a week of tempest, +Clarice Briton went out with her coarse basket to gather the sea-weed +tossed on the shore. She was the first child out that morning, and on +account of the late storm, which had prevented the usual daily work, the +harvest was a rich one. + +There was always need that Clarice should work with her might when she +found work to do, and she now labored from dawn till sunrise, filling +her basket many times over, until the boards where she spread the weed +to dry were nearly covered. Then she threw herself down to rest by her +father's door. But when the sun was rising she went and sat among the +rocks, and watched the changing of the sky and water, and the flocks of +birds as they came screaming from their nests to dive among the waves +and mount beyond her sight among the mists of morning. She never tired +of watching them, or of gazing on these scenes. She knew the habits of +the shore birds, understood their indications and devices, and whatever +their movements foreboded concerning the weather. Clarice was also +versed in winds and clouds, and knew as well as the wise fishermen what +the north-wind had in store, and what the south-wind would give them. + +While she sat resting a few minutes, and wondering that the other +children of the beach were so long in waking to the pleasant day, +suddenly, as she looked down along the rocks that lay between her and +the water, she saw lying near her feet, securely lodged by the waves +among the stones, a basket. It was a very different affair from that +other, lying a few paces off, with which she went about gathering +sea-weed. It was small, and light, and delicately woven,--embroidered, +too, with floss. When she bent forward and picked it up, long strings +of shiny weed dangled dripping from the handles,--and something beside; +for, as she attempted to remove the traces of wild voyaging, something +that was not weed resisted her efforts, and caused her to raise the lid. +As she did so, a chain, which had been partly secured by the closing of +the lid, was disengaged, and fell into her lap. + +"What's that, Clarice?" said a voice just above her, as she in amazement +lifted the chain, and endeavored to free it from the weed. + +"Oh, Luke, there must have been a wreck! See! I found it just here at +my feet," said Clarice, sorrowfully,--apparently not taken by surprise +by the sudden coming and speaking of Luke Merlyn; she did not even lift +her head, nor for an instant turn to him from what occupied her. + +"There's a ring, too, I declare!" said Luke, coming down to her side; +and he took from her lap a small ring, in which was set a solitary +pearl;--the ring had dropped from the chain. "What next? Look in." + +Clarice opened the basket again, and turned out the white silk lining, +which was soaking and stained with wild sea-travel. "That is all," said +she. + +"That chain is a gold one," remarked Luke Merlyn. "There must have been +a wreck. Who do you suppose these things belonged to? Some lady? Look at +that basket now. She kept her trinkets in it. I suppose lots of 'em got +shook out by the way. I am glad it was you found it, Clarice. Just try +that ring on your finger now; I should think it might fit you." + +He took up the ring and looked at Clarice, but she shrunk back +shuddering. + +"Oh, no!--I should feel as if it would drag me down to the bottom of the +sea after the owner." + +"It's the neatest thing I ever saw, though, Clarice. Look, what a pearl! +You must keep it for your own, any way, if you won't wear it. Nobody +about here is fit but you. The poor little basket, too,--poor little +ark!" + +He took it up and looked it over, much as though it were a dead bird, or +some other pretty thing that once had life, and knew bow to enjoy it. + +"Are you going out to-day, Luke?" asked Clarice. + +"Don't you see I've got the net? Father will be down by the time I'm +ready. We are tired enough hanging about waiting for the blow to be +over." + +"May-be you will see something," said Clarice, in an undertone. "If you +could only find out about the ship, and the poor passengers!" + +"May-be," answered Luke,--saying this to comfort her. "Is your father +going out to-day?" + +"He said he would, last night. I'm glad it came off so pleasant. See +how long this chain is!--a great many times longer than his big +watch-chain!" + +"Worth fifty times as much, too." + +"Is it?" said Clarice, looking up in wonder, almost incredulous;--but +then Luke had said it. + +"This is gold. Come and walk down to the boat, Clarice. How many times +have you filled your basket this morning? You look tired. How did you +come to wake up so soon? I believe I heard you singing, and that was +what brought me out so quick." + +"I haven't sung any, Luke," she answered, looking at him in wonder. + +"Oh, yes!--I'm sure I heard you. I got up and looked out of my window; +there you were. You are the best girl around, Clarice! Come now, why +don't you say I'm the best fellow? Then we'll be even. I am, you know. +But then I want to hear you say so." + +The merry fellow was in earnest, though he laughed. He blushed more +deeply than the girl,--indeed, she did not blush at all,--when he thus +spoke to her. She looked at him a little surprised. + +"Come," said he, with gentle coaxing. "I know what you think. Speak out, +and make me feel happy, all the days of my life. If it wasn't that you +feel so about the ring--But why shouldn't you feel solemn about it? It +belonged to some beautiful lady, I suppose, who lies at rest in the +bottom of the sea by this time. _H.H._"--he read the initials engraved +on the clasp of the chain. + +Clarice, who held the ring, inadvertently turned it that moment to the +light so that her eyes could not fail to perceive that two letters were +also written by a graver underneath the pearl. These letters likewise +were _H.H._ She gave the ring, to Luke, pointing to the initials. + +"Yes, to be sure," said he, examining it with his bright eyes. "It's the +prettiest thing I ever saw. These letters must have stood for something. +Clarice,"--he hesitated a moment,--"Clarice, they might stand for +something yet, _Heart and Hand_. Here they are,--take them,--they're +yours,--my heart and my hand,--till Death comes between!" + +"Don't talk that way, Luke," answered the girl, gravely. "Your father is +waiting for you, I'm sure." + +But Luke did not believe that she was in such haste to be rid of him. + +"He hasn't gone down yet. I've watched," said he. "He'd be willing to +wait, if he knew what I was saying. Besides, if you are in a hurry, it +won't take but a minute to say yes, Clarice. Will you take my heart and +my hand? Here is your ring." + +Clarice took the ring and looked away; but, in looking away, her eyes +fell on Luke, and she smiled. + +"It's the prettiest thing, that ring is, in the world, except you, +Clarice,"--so the smile made him speak. + +"That's new for me," said the girl. "Talk sense, Luke." + +"Handsome is that handsome does, say I. And if you a'n't the best +girl in the Bay, Clary, who is, then? When are you going to say yes?" +demanded the young fellow. + +"Now," replied Clarice, suddenly. + +"Have you taken my heart and hand?" asked the lad as quickly, his face +glowing with delight. + +"Yes." + +"To keep forever, Clarice?" It seemed, after all, incredible. + +"Yes, Luke." And so speaking, the girl meant _yes, forever_. + +Now this promise had not really taken either of these children by +surprise. They had long understood each other. But when they had given +a mutual promise, both looked grave. Clarice stood by the water's edge, +careless that time was passing. Luke was in no hurry for his father. + +But at length a shrill voice called the girl. Dame Briton stood in the +cabin door, and her angry tongue was laden with reproaches ready for +utterance when Clarice should come within easier reach of her voice. + +"I must go," said Clarice to Luke. + +"I'll follow you, to-night. Don't work too hard," he answered. "Take +care of my heart, Clarice." + +A storm broke upon Clarice when she went home to her mother. She bore +the blame of her idleness with tolerable patience, until it seemed as if +the gale would never blow over. At last some quick words escaped her:-- + +"Three bushels of weed lie there on the boards ready spread, and drying. +I gathered them before another creature was stirring in Diver's Bay." +Then she added, more gently, "I found something besides." + +But though Dame Briton heard, she passed this last bit of information +without remark. + +"Idling down there on the beach to see the boys off fishing!" she could +not help saying. "You needn't be up afore the break o' day for work like +that." + +"It was Luke Merlyn." + +"No matter." + +"I showed him what I had found. Ask him if I'm ever too free. He'd know +as quick as anybody,--and care as much." + +Clarice, while speaking this, had departed yet farther both in look and +voice from her usual serenity. + +The dame let her last words pass without taking them up. She was by this +time curious. + +"What did you find?" asked she. + +Clarice showed the basket and the gold chain. Her mother handled both +with wondering admiration, asking many a question. At last she threw the +chain around her neck. + +"It's gold," said she. "It's worth much. If you could pick up the like +of that every day, you might let the old weed-basket drift." + +"I had rather gather weeds till my back was broken doing it, than ever +find another," said Clarice. + +The dame took this for a child's exaggeration; observing which, Clarice +said, sadly,-- + +"Why, don't you see how it came to shore? There's been a wreck in the +storm last week. Oh, may-be I've found all that will tell of it!" + +"What's that in your hand?" asked the dame, who spied the ring. + +Clarice half opened her palm; she did not like to let the ring pass from +her keeping, and all this while she had stood doubting whether or not +she should show it to her mother. + +Dame Briton took it quickly. The dull glitter of greedy eyes fell on the +mild lustre of the pearl, but found no reflection. + +"A ring!" said she, and she tried to fit it to her little finger. It +would not pass the first rough joint. + +"Try it," said she to Clarice. + +"No," was the quiet answer. "But I will keep the ring. It must have been +a lady's. May-be it was a token." + +"May-be it was.--If your father should take that chain to the Port, +he might make a handsome bargain,--if he was worth a snap at +bargains.--Here's something; what be these marks? look here, Clarice." + +The face of the girl flushed a little as she answered,--"_H. H_." + +"_H.H.!_ What does that mean? I wonder." + +"May-be the name of the owner," answered Clarice, timidly. + +She was thinking, not of what the letters might have meant to others, +but of what they had come to signify to her and Luke. + +"Who knows?" answered her mother; and she stood musing and absent, and +her face had a solemn look. + +Clarice now took the basket to the fireplace and held it there till it +was dried. With the drying the colors brightened and the sand was easily +brushed away; but many a stain remained on the once dainty white silk +lining; the basket would hardly have been recognized by its owner. +Having dried and cleansed it as well as she was able, Clarice laid it +away in a chest for safe-keeping, and then ate her breakfast, standing. +After that, she went out to work again until the tide should come in. +She left the chain with her mother, but the ring she had tied to a cord, +and hung it around her neck. + +By this time the children of the fishermen were all out, and the most +industrious of them at work. They scattered among the rocks and crags, +and wandered up and down the coast three miles, gathering sea-weed, +which it was their custom to dry, and then carry to town, the Port, not +many miles distant, where it was purchased by the glassmakers. + +Clarice had neither brother nor sister, and she made little of the +children of the neighboring fishermen; for her life was one of toil, and +her inheritance seemed very different from theirs, though they were all +poor, and ate the crusts of labor. + +Her father, had Nature only given him what she seemed to have intended +at the outset, might have been as successful a fisherman as lived at +the Bay. But he trusted to luck, and contrived to make half of what he +earned a serious damage to him. The remainder was little enough for the +comfort of his family, small though that family was. + +Briton was a good fellow, everybody said. They meant that he was always +ready for sport, and time-wasting, and drinking, and that sort of +generosity which is the shabbiest sort of selfishness. They called him +"Old Briton," but he was not, by many, the oldest man in Diver's Bay; +he might have been the wickedest, had he not been the jolliest, and +incapable of hiding malice in his heart. And if I said he was out and +out the wickedest, I should request that people would refrain from +lifting up their hands in horror, on account of the poor old fellow. We +all know--alas, perhaps, we all love--wickeder souls than could have +been produced from among the older fishermen, had all their sins been +concentrated in one individual. + +Old Briton was what the people called a lucky fisherman. In seasons when +he chose to work, the result was sufficiently obvious, to himself and +others, to astonish both. But even in the best seasons he was a bad +manager. He trusted everybody, and found, to his astonishment, how few +deserve to be trusted. + +Dame Briton was a stout, loud-talking woman, whom experience had not +softened in her ways of speech or thought or action. She was generally +at strife with her husband, but the strife was most illogical. It did +not admit of a single legitimate deduction in the mind of a third +person. It seemed sometimes as if the pair were possessed of the +instincts of those animals which unite for mutual destruction, and as if +their purpose were to fulfil their destiny with the utmost rapidity. + +In the years when Dame Briton, by nature proud and ambitious, was +putting forth the most successful efforts she ever made at decent +housekeeping, endeavoring to transform her husband into such a person as +he was not born to be, striving hard to work her will,--in those years +Clarice was born. + +Is the pearl a product of disease? + +Clarice grew up in the midst of influences not the purest or most +elevating. She was not by nature gay, but silent, truthful, and +industrious. She was no coward by nature, and her training made her +brave and hardy. Sometimes Old Briton called her his boy, and exacted +from her the service of a son. Dame Briton did not quarrel with him for +that; she was as proud as the fisherman of any feat of skill or strength +or courage performed by Clarice. In their way they were both fond of the +child, but their fondness had strange manifestation; and of much tender +speech, or fondling, or praise, the girl stood in no danger. + +Idleness especially was held up before her, from the outset, as the most +destructive evil and dire iniquity of which human creature was capable; +and Old Briton, lounging about all day with his pipe in his mouth,--by +no means a rare spectacle,--did not interfere with the lesson the +child's mother enforced. Winter and summer there was enough for the +little feet and hands to do. So, as Clarice grew up, she earned the best +reputation for industry of any girl in Diver's Bay. + +Before she became the praise of the serious Bay people, Luke Merlyn's +bright eyes were on the little girl, and he had a settled habit of +seeking times and opportunities for quiet talks with her. He liked to +ask and follow her advice in many matters. Many a heavy basket of weeds +had he helped her carry home from the rocks; many a shell and pebble had +he picked up in his coast-work, when he went beyond the limits of the +Bay,--because he knew the good girl had a liking for every pretty thing. + +If Clarice Briton was the finest girl, Luke Merlyn, beyond question, was +the most promising fellow in this little village of fishermen. He was +strong, active, ready for any undertaking that required a bold spirit +and firm hand,--was quicker in thought and readier in speech than any +lad about. He had a little personal vanity,--and good looks to encourage +the same; but he had besides a generous heart, and the conviction was +general, whether expressed or not, that in Luke a man was growing up who +would some day take the lead among the fishermen of Diver's Bay. He had +a livelier fancy, a more active imagination, than any lad thereabout; +these qualities of mind, united to his courage and warmth of heart, +seemed to point toward a future worth arriving at. + + +II. + +When Luke returned from fishing, towards evening, he went down to +Briton's cabin, hardly taking time to remove from his person the traces +of his day of toil, his haste was so great. + +Briton had arrived before him, and now sat at supper with his cup of +grog beside him. When Luke entered, Dame Briton was exhibiting the gold +chain, reserved, in spite of her impatience, till she had cooked the +supper. + +It was partly on account of this chain that Luke had made such haste in +coming. He felt interested in the fortunes of the family to-night, and +he knew Briton's habit of bargaining and throwing away treasure. + +Clarice was standing on the hearth when he arrived. As Luke passed the +window, he thought her face looked very sad; but when he crossed the +threshold, the expression greatly changed, or else he was mistaken. She +had been telling her father how she found the chain,--but concerning the +ring was silent, as in the morning. That ring was still fastened to its +cord, and hung about her neck. With reluctance she had shown it even +to her mother, and by this time, having scarcely thought of anything +beside, it possessed an almost sacred charm to her eyes. Why should I +not say it was the most sacred of all things to her, since that is but +true? + +"Is that the chain," asked Luke, as he came up behind the fisherman's +chair, and clapped Old Briton on the shoulder. "You could trade that for +a silver watch." + +"What's that?" asked Briton, quickly taking up the lad's words; and he +pulled out his pewter watch and laid it on the table. "A silver watch?" +said he. + +"A silver watch, as good as ever run, for that gold chain. Just see how +fine it is!" + +"So, so!" said the fisherman, thoughtfully resting his rough chin in his +broad palm. That was his attitude, when, at home, he contemplated any +of those famous bargains which always turned out so differently from +anything that he anticipated. + +"Let Luke do the trading for ye," said Briton's wife, quickly +recognizing his symptoms. + +She looked from the lad to her daughter, and back again, five or six +times in a second,--seeing more than most people could have seen in +observation apparently so careless and superficial. + +"I kept a sharp look out, Clary, all day, but I saw nothing," said Luke, +going over to the hearth. + +"Nothing,--but," he added, she looked so disappointed, "but, for all +that, some one else may." + +"Oh, I hope so"!" + +"What are you talking about?" asked Briton. + +"The shipwreck," said Luke. + +"Oh!--well, Luke,--will you make the trade, Sir? What do _you_ say, +Clarice? The chain belongs to you, after all," said Briton, with a +laugh,--he could not help the shipwreck. "What are you going to do with +it, my girl?" + +"It is yours, father." + +"Thank ye!--a present!" Old Briton looked well pleased. + +"And if Luke will take it over"-- + +"I'll go to-night," said Luke, ready to start that moment, if such was +the wish of any person in the house. + +Briton laughed. "No, you won't," said he. "What the deuse!--Sit down and +take something. What are you all standing about for? Sit down. You shall +do the trading, Luke. There now, I've said it, and I hope you are all +easy." + +He laughed again; for he knew very well--he had often enough heard it +stated in full--the estimate set on his skill in making a bargain. + +"You haven't seen the ring yet?" said Dame Briton, quite kindly, now +that this matter was settled to her mind. "Where's the ring, Clarice?" + +Other eyes were on the girl besides those of her mother. Old Briton +pushed back his dish, and looked at Clarice. Luke was smiling. That +smile became joyful and beautiful to see, when Clarice, blushing, +removed the string from her neck and showed the ring. + +"That's neat," said Briton, turning the delicate ornament round and +round, examining its chaste workmanship admiringly. "I never saw a +pearl like that, Mother. What do you wear it round your neck for, +Clarice?--put it on your finger." + +Luke Merlyn had come to Briton's cabin to explain how matters stood +between him and Clarice, as well as to look after the other bargain. +Taking advantage of her hesitation, he now said,-- + +"She could not wear it at her work. And it's a token betwixt her and me. +_Heart and Hand_. Don't you see the letters? That's what they mean to +us." + +Luke spoke out so boldly, that Clarice ceased to tremble; and when he +took her hand and held it, she was satisfied to stand there and answer, +that the joined hands were a symbol of the united hearts. + +"What's that, old woman?" asked Briton, looking at his wife, as if for +an explanation. + +"Luke, what do you mean? Are you asking for Clarice?" inquired the dame. + +"Yes, Mrs. Briton." + +"That's right enough, old woman," said Briton; and strong approval, +together with some emotion, was in his voice. + +"Babes in arms, both of 'em! But a promise a'n't no hurt,"--was the +dame's comment. Neither was she quite unmoved, as she looked at the +young pair standing on the hearth; such another, her heart told her, was +not to be found in Diver's Bay. + +"Clarice is a good girl, Luke Merlyn," said Old Briton, solemnly. + +"She is so," confirmed the mother. "So take the ring there for your +token." + +Luke came forward and received the ring from Old Briton, and he laid the +string that held it round Clarice's neck. + +"Take this chain," said Briton, with a softened voice. "It's fitter than +the string, and none too good for Clarice. Take it, Luke, and put the +ring on't." + +"I'm going to trade that chain for a silver watch," said Luke, answering +according to the light he saw in the eyes of Clarice. "That chain is +Clary's wedding present to her father." + +"Thank you, Luke," said Briton,--and he drew his hand across his eyes, +not for a pretence. Then he took up his old pewter watch, the companion +of many years; he looked at it without and within, silently; perhaps was +indulging in a little sentimental reflection; but he put it into his +pocket without speaking, and went on with his supper, as if nothing had +happened. + + * * * * * + +This took place before Clarice was fourteen years of age. At seventeen +she was still living under her father's roof, and between her and Luke +Merlyn the pearl ring still remained a token. + +Luke used to praise her beauty when there was little of it to praise. +He was not blinder when the young face began to be conspicuous for the +growing loveliness of the spirit within. The little slender figure +sprang up into larger, fuller life, with vigor, strength, and grace; the +activity of her thoughts and the brightness of their intelligence became +evident, as well as the tenderness and courage of her heart. Her own +home, and many another, was the better for Clarice. + +Some Sunday in this summer of her seventeenth year, when the missionary +came down to the Bay, they were to be married. It was settled where they +were to live. A few years before, a young artist came to the Bay and +built a cabin near the settlement; there, during the summer months, he +lodged, for several seasons,--spending his time in studying the rocks +of the coast and sailing about in his pleasure-boat. The last autumn he +spent here he gave the cabin to Luke, in consideration of some generous +service, and it was well known that to this home Luke would bring his +wife ere long. + + +III. + +But one bright day of this gay summer of anticipated bridal, Luke Merlyn +went with his father, taking the fishing-nets, and a dozen men beside +sailed or rowed out from the moorings; and all that went returned, save +Merlyn and his son,--returned alive, but rowing desperately, sails +furled, rowing for life in the gale. Nearly all the women and children +of the Bay were down on the beach at nightfall, watching for the coming +of husband, son, and brother; and before dark all had arrived except +Merlyn and his Luke. + +The wind was blowing with terrific violence, and darkness fell on the +deep like despair. But until the windows of heaven were opened, and the +floods poured down, Clarice Briton and her father, and the wife and +children of Merlyn, stood on the beach, or climbed the rocks, and waited +and tried to watch. + +There was little sleep among them all that night. With the first +approach of day, Clarice, who had sat all night by the fire watching +with her fears, was out again waiting till dawn should enable her +to search the shore. She was not long alone. The fishermen gathered +together, and when they saw the poor girl who had come before them, for +her sake they comforted each other, as men dare,--and for her sake, more +than their own, when they saw that there had come in to shore by night +no token of disaster. Doubtless, they argued, Merlyn had put into the +nearest port when the sudden storm arose. As the day advanced, they one +after another got out their boats, and rowed down the bay, but did not +take their nets. + +Bondo Emmins went out with Old Briton, and Clarice heard him say, though +he did not address her, that, if Luke Merlyn was alive, they would never +come home without him. Now Bondo Emmins never loved Luke Merlyn, for +Luke won every prize that Bondo coveted; and Bondo was not a hero to +admire such superior skill. When Clarice heard his words, and saw that +he was going out with her father, her heart stood still; it did not +bless him; she turned away quickly, faint, cold, shivering. What he said +had to her ears the sound of an assurance that this search was vain. + +All day there was sad waiting, weary watching, around Diver's Bay. And +late in the afternoon but one or two of the boats that went out in +search had returned. + +Towards evening Clarice walked away to the Point, three miles off; +thence she could watch the boats as they approached the Bay from the +ocean. Once before, that day, under the scorching noontide sun, she had +gone thither,--and now again, for she could not endure the sympathy of +friends or the wondering watch of curious eyes. It was better than to +stand and wait,--better than to face the grief of Merlyn's wife and +children,--better than to see the pity in her neighbors' faces, or even +than to hear the voice of her own mother. + +The waves had freight for her that evening. When the tide came in, and +her eyes were lifted, gazing afar, scanning the broad expanse of water +with such searching, anxious vision, as, it seemed, nothing could +escape, Luke Merlyn's cap was dashed to her very feet, tossed from the +grave. + +Moving back to escape the encroaching tide, Clarice saw the cap lying, +caught on the cragged point of rock before her. Oh, she knew it well! +She stooped,--she took it up,--she need not wait for any other token. +She dared not look upon the sea again. She turned away. But whither? +Where now was her home? So long a time, since she was a child, it had +been in the heart of Luke! Where was that heart lying? What meant this +token sent to her from the deep sea? Oh, life and love! was not all now +over? Heart still, hand powerless, home lost, she sat on the beach till +night fell. At sunset she stood up to look once more up and down the +mighty field of waters, along the shore, as far as her eyes could +reach,--but saw nothing. Then she sat down again, and waited until long +after the stars appeared. Once or twice the thought that her mother +would wonder at her long absence moved her; but she impatiently +controlled the feeble impulse to arise and return, until she recalled +the words of Bondo Emmins. Luke's mother, too,--and the cap in her care. +If no one else had tidings for her, she had tidings. + +Her father had reached home before her, and there was now no watcher on +the beach, so far as Clarice could discover. Perhaps there was no longer +any doubt in any mind. She hurried to the cabin. At the door she met +Bondo Emmins coming out. He had a lantern in his hand. + +"Is that you, Clarice?" said he. "I was just going to look for you." + +She scanned his face by the glare of the lantern with terrible +eagerness, to see what tidings he had for her. He only looked grave. It +was a face whose signs Clarice had never wholly trusted, but she did not +doubt them now. + +"I have found his cap," said she, in a low, troubled voice. "You said, +that, if he was alive, you would find him. I heard you. What have you +found?" + +"Nothing." + +Then she passed by him, though he would have spoken further. She went +into the house and sat down on the hearth with Luke's cap in her hand, +which she held up before the fire to dry. So she sat one morning holding +the tiny basket which the waves had dashed ashore. + +Briton and his wife looked at each other, and at young Emmins, who, +after a moment's hesitation, had put out the lantern light, and followed +her back into the house. + +"It is his cap," said Bondo, in a low voice, but not so low as to escape +the ear of Clarice. + +"The sea sent it for a token," said she, without turning her gaze from +the fire. + +The old people moved up to the hearth. + +"Sit down, Emmins," said Briton. "You've served us well to-day." In any +trouble Old Briton's comfort was in feeling a stout wall of flesh around +him. + +Bondo sat down. Then he and Briton helped each other explain the course +taken by themselves and the other boat-men that day, and they talked of +what they would do on the morrow; but they failed to comfort Clarice, +or to awaken in her any hope. She knew that in reality they had no hope +themselves. + +"They will never come back," said she. "You will never find them." + +She spoke so calmly that her father was deceived. If this was her +conviction, it would be safe to speak his own. + +"The tide may bring the poor fellows in," said he. + +At these words the cap which the poor girl held fell from her hand. +She spoke no more. No word or cry escaped her,--not by a look did she +acknowledge that there was community in this grief,--as solitary as if +she were alone in the universe, she sat gazing into the fire. She was +not overcome by things external, tangible, as she had been when she sat +alone out on the sea-beach at the Point. The world in an instant seemed +to sink out of her vision, and time from her consciousness; her soul set +out on a search in which her mortal sense had failed,--and here no arm +of flesh could help her. + +"I shall find him," she said, in a whisper. They all heard her, and +looked at one another, trouble and wonder in their faces. "I shall find +him," she repeated, in a louder tone; and she drew herself up, and bent +forward,--but her eyes saw not the cheerful fire-light, her ears took +in no sound of crackling fagot, rising wind, or muttered fear among the +three who sat and looked at her. + +Bondo Emmins had taken up the cap when Clarice dropped it,--he had +examined it inside and out, and passed it to Dame Briton. There was +no mistaking the ownership. Not a child of Diver's Bay but would have +recognized it as the property of Luke Merlyn. The dame passed it to the +old man, who looked at it through tears, and then smoothed it over his +great fist, and came nearer to the fire, and silence fell upon them all. + +At last Dame Briton said, beginning stoutly, but ending with a sob, "Has +anybody seen poor Merlyn's wife? Who'll tell her? Oh! oh!" + +"I will go tell her that Clarice found the cap," said Bondo Emmins, +rising. + +Clarice sat like one in a stupor,--but, that was no dull light shining +from her eyes. Still she seemed deaf and dumb; for, when Bondo bade her +good-night, she did not answer him, nor give the slightest intimation +that she was aware of what passed around her. + +But when he was gone, and her father said,--"Come, Clarice,--now for +bed,--you'll wake the earlier,"--she instantly arose to act on his +suggestion. + +He followed her to the door of her little chamber and lingered there a +moment. He wanted to say something for comfort, but had nothing to say; +so he turned away in silence, and drank a pint of grog. + + +IV. + +Bondo Emmins was not a native of Diver's Bay. Only during the past three +or four years had he lived among the fishermen. He called the place his +home, but now and then indications of restlessness escaped him, and +seemed to promise years of wandering, rather than a life of patient, +contented industry. He and Luke Merlyn were as unlike as any two young +men that ever fished in the same bay. Luke was as firm, constant, +reliable, from the day when he first managed a net, as any veteran whose +gray hairs are honorable. Emmins flashed here and there like a wandering +star; and whatever people might say of him when he was out of sight, he +had the art of charming them to admiration while they were under his +personal influence. He was lavish with his money; almost every cabin had +a gift from him. He could talk forever, and with many was a true oracle. +Though he worked regularly at his business, work seemed turned to play +when he took it in hand. He could shout so as to be heard across the +ocean,--so the children thought; he told stories better than any; and at +the signal of his laughter it seemed as if the walls themselves would +shake to pieces. When he hit on a device, it was strange indeed if +he did not succeed in executing it; and no one was the wiser for the +mortification and inward displeasure of the man, when he failed in any +enterprise. + +When Emmins came to Diver's Bay Clarice Briton was but a child, yet +already the promised wife of Luke Merlyn. If this fact was made known +to him, as very probably it was, Clarice was not a girl to excite his +admiration or win his love. But as time passed on, Emmins found that he +was not the only man in Diver's Bay; of all men to regard as a rival, +there was Luke Merlyn! Luke, who went quietly about his business, +interfering with no one, careful, brave, exact, had a firm place among +the people, which might for a time be overshadowed, but from which he +could not be moved. Two or three times Bondo Emmins stumbled against +that impregnable position, and found that he must take himself out of +the way. A small jealousy, a sharp rivalry, which no one suspected, +quietly sprang up in his mind, and influenced his conduct; and he was +not one who ever attempted to subdue or destroy what he found within +him, he was instead always endeavoring to bring the outer world +into harmony with what he found within. A fine time he had of it, +persistently laboring to make a victim of himself to himself! + +People praised Clarice Briton, and now and then Emmins looked that way, +and saw that the girl, indeed, was well enough. He despised Luke, and +Clarice seemed a very proper match for him. But while Bondo Emmins was +managing in his own way, and cherishing the feeling he had against Luke, +by seeking to prove himself the braver and more skilful fellow, Clarice +was growing older in years and in love, her soul was growing brighter, +her heart was getting lighter, her mind clearer,--her womanhood was +unfolding in a certain lovely manner that was discernible to other eyes +than those of Luke Merlyn. Luke said it was the ring that wrought the +change,--that he could see its light all around her,--that it had a +charm of which they could know nothing save by its results, for its +secret had perished with its owner in the sea. His mermaid he would +sometimes call her,--and declared that often, by that mysterious pearly +light, he saw Clarice when far out at sea, and that at any time by two +words he could bring her to him. She knew the words,--they were as dear +to her as to him. + +While Clarice was thus unfolding to this loveliness through love, Bondo +Emmins suddenly saw her as if for the first time. The vision was to him +as surprising as if the ring had indeed a power of enchantment, and +it had been thrown around him. He was as active and as resolute in +attempting to persuade himself that all this was nothing to him as +he was active and resolute in other endeavors,--but he was not as +successful as he supposed he should be. For it was not enough that +Emmins should laugh at himself, and say that the pretty couple were +meant for each other. Now and then, by accident, he obtained a glimpse +of Clarice's happy heart; the pearl-like secret of their love, which was +none the less a secret because everybody knew that Luke and Clarice were +to be married some day, would sometimes of itself unexpectedly give some +token, which he, it seemed, could better appreciate than any one beside +the parties concerned. When some such glimpse was obtained, some such +token received, Bondo Emmins would retire within himself to a most +gloomy seclusion; there was a world which had been conquered, and +therein he had no foothold. If Clarice wore the pearl in her bosom, on +Luke's head was a crown, and Bondo Emmins just hated him for that. + +But he never thought of a very easy method by which he might have +escaped the trouble of his jealousy. The great highway of ocean was open +before him, and millions of men beside Luke Merlyn were in the world, +millions of women beside Clarice Briton. No! Diver's Bay,--and a score +of people,--and a thought that smelt like brimstone, and fiery enough +to burn through the soul that tried to keep it,--this for +him;--fishing,--making bargains,--visiting at Old Briton's,--making +presents to the dame,--telling stories, singing songs by that fireside, +and growing quieter by every other,--that was the way he did it;--cured +himself of jealousy? No! made himself a fool. + +Old Briton liked this young man; he could appreciate his excellences +even better than he could those of Luke; there were some points +of resemblance between them. Emmins was as careless of money, as +indifferent to growing rich, as Briton ever was; the virtues of the +youth were not such as ever reproached the vices of the veteran. They +could make boisterous merriment in each other's company. Briton's praise +was never lacking when Bondo's name was mentioned. He accepted service +of the youth, and the two were half the time working in partnership. In +the cabin he had always a welcome, and Dame Briton gave him her entire +confidence. + +Luke did not fear, he had once admired the man; and because he was a +peace-maker by nature, and could himself keep the peace, he never took +any of Bondo's scathing speech in anger nor remembered it against him. +Usually he joined in the laugh, unless some brave, manly word were +required; honorable in his nature, he could not be always jealous in +maintaining that of which he felt so secure. + +If Clarice did not penetrate the cause, she clearly saw the fact that +Bondo Emmins had no love for Luke. She might wonder at it, but Luke +suffered no loss in consequence,--it was rather to his praise, she +thought, that this was so. And she remembered the disputes between the +young men which she had chanced to hear, only to decide again, as she +had often decided, in favor of Luke's justice and truth. + +When the time of great trouble came, and this man was going out with her +father in search of Merlyn and his son, her impulse, had she acted on +it, would have prevented him. He looked so strong, so proud, in spite +of his solemn face! He looked so full of life, she could not endure to +think that his eyes might discover the dead body of poor Luke. + +When she came home and found that he had returned with her father, +before her, on the evening of that day of vain search for Merlyn and his +son, a strange satisfaction came to Clarice for a moment,--touched her +heart and passed,--was gone as it came. When she said, "I shall find +him," conviction, as well as determination, was in the words,--and more +beside than entered the ears of those that heard her. + +[To be continued.] + + + + +THE STORY OF KARIN. + +A DANISH LEGEND. + + + Karin the fair, Karin the gay, + She came on the morn of her bridal day,-- + + She came to the mill-pond clear and bright, + And viewed hersel' in the morning light. + + "And oh," she cried, "that my bonny brow + May ever be white and smooth as now! + + "And oh, my hair, that I love to braid, + Be yellow in sunshine, and brown in shade! + + "And oh, my waist, sae slender and fine, + May it never need girdle longer than mine!" + + She lingered and laughed o'er the waters clear, + When sudden she starts, and shrieks in fear:-- + + "Oh, what is this face, sae laidly old, + That looks at my side in the waters cold?" + + She turns around to view the bank, + And the osier willows dark and dank;-- + + And from the fern she sees arise + An aged crone wi' awsome eyes, + + "Ha! ha!" she laughed, "ye're a bonny bride! + See how ye'll fare gin the New Year tide! + + "Ye'll wear a robe sae blithely gran', + An ell-long girdle canna span. + + "When twal-months three shall pass away, + Your berry-brown hair shall be streaked wi' gray. + + "And gin ye be mither of bairnies nine, + Your brow shall be wrinkled and dark as mine." + + Karin she sprang to her feet wi' speed, + And clapped her hands abune her head:-- + + "I pray to the saints and spirits all + That never a child may me mither call!" + + The crone drew near, and the crone she spake:-- + "Nine times flesh and banes shall ache. + + "Laidly and awsome ye shall wane + Wi' toil, and care, and travail-pain." + + "Better," said Karin, "lay me low, + And sink for aye in the water's flow!" + + The crone raised her withered hand on high, + And showed her a tree that stood hard by. + + "And take of the bonny fruit," she said, + "And eat till the seeds are dark and red. + + "Count them less, or count them more, + Nine times you shall number o'er;-- + + "And when each number you shall speak, + Cast seed by seed into the lake." + + Karin she ate of the fruit sae fine; + 'Twas mellow as sand, and sweet as brine. + + Seed by seed she let them fall; + The waters rippled over all. + + But ilka seed as Karin threw, + Uprose a bubble to her view,-- + + Uprose a sigh from out the lake, + As though a baby's heart did break. + + * * * * * + + Twice nine years are come and gone; + Karin the fair she walks her lone. + + She sees around, on ilka side, + Maiden and mither, wife and bride. + + Wan and pale her bonny brow, + Sunken and sad her eyelids now. + + Slow her step, and heavy her breast, + And never an arm whereon to rest. + + The old kirk-porch when Karin spied, + The postern-door was open wide. + + "Wae's me!" she said, "I'll enter in + And shrive me from my every sin." + + 'Twas silence all within the kirk; + The aisle was empty, chill, and mirk. + + The chancel-rails were black and bare; + Nae priest, nae penitent was there. + + Karin knelt, and her prayer she said; + But her heart within her was heavy and dead. + + Her prayer fell back on the cold gray stone; + It would not rise to heaven alone. + + Darker grew the darksome aisle, + Colder felt her heart the while. + + "Wae's me!" she cried, "what is my sin? + Never I wrongèd kith nor kin. + + "But why do I start and quake wi' fear + Lest I a dreadful doom should hear? + + "And what is this light that seems to fall + On the sixth command upon the wall? + + "And who are these I see arise + And look on me wi' stony eyes? + + "A shadowy troop, they flock sae fast + The kirk-yard may not hold the last. + + "Young and old of ilk degree, + Bairns, and bairnies' bairns, I see. + + "All I look on either way, + 'Mother, mother!' seem to say. + + "'We are souls that might have been, + But for your vanity and sin. + + "'We, in numbers multiplied, + Might have lived, and loved, and died,-- + + "'Might have served the Lord in this,-- + Might have met thy soul in bliss. + + "'Mourn for us, then, while you pray, + Who might have been, but never may!'" + + Thus the voices died away,-- + "Might have been, but never may!" + + Karin she left the kirk no more; + Never she passed the postern-door. + + They found her dead at the vesper toll;-- + May Heaven in mercy rest her soul! + + + + +THE ABBÉ DE L'ÉPÉE. + + +It was well said, by one who has himself been a leader in one of the +great philanthropic enterprises of the day,[A] that, "if the truthful +history of any invention were written, we should find concerned in it +the thinker, who dreams, without reaching the means of putting his +imaginings in practice,--the mathematician, who estimates justly the +forces at command, in their relation to each other, but who forgets to +proportion them to the resistance to be encountered,--and so on, through +the thousand intermediates between the dream and the perfect idea, till +one comes who combines the result of the labor of all his predecessors, +and gives to the invention new life, and with it his name." + +[Footnote A: M. Edouard Seguin.] + +Such was the history of the movement for the education of deaf-mutes. +There had been a host of dreamy thinkers, who had invented, on paper, +processes for the instruction of these unfortunates, men like Cardan, +Bonet, Amman, Dalgarno, and Lana-Terzi, whose theories, in after years, +proved seeds of thought to more practical minds. There had been men +who had experimented on the subject till they were satisfied that +the deaf-mute could be taught, but who lacked the nerve, or the +philanthropy, to apply the results they had attained to the general +instruction of the deaf and dumb, or who carefully concealed their +processes, that they might leave them as heir-looms to their +families;--among the former may be reckoned Pedro de Ponce, Wallis, and +Pietro da Castro; among the latter, Pereira and Braidwood. + +Yet there was wanting the man of earnest philanthropic spirit and +practical tact, who should glean from all these whatever of good there +was in their theories, and apply it efficiently in the education of +those who through all the generations since the flood had been dwellers +in the silent land, cut off from intercourse with their fellow-men, and +consigned alike by the philosopher's dictum and the theologian's decree +to the idiot's life and the idiot's destiny. + +It was to such a work that the Abbé de l'Épée consecrated his life. But +he did more than this; he, too, was a discoverer, and to his mind was +revealed, in all its fulness and force, that great principle which lies +at the basis of the system of instruction which he initiated,--"that +there is no more necessary or natural connection between abstract ideas +and the articulate sounds which strike the ear, than there is between +the same ideas and the written characters which address themselves to +the eye." It was this principle, derided by the many, dimly perceived by +the few, which led to the development of _the sign-language_, the means +which God had appointed to unlock the darkened understanding of the +deaf-mute, but which man, in his self-sufficiency and blindness, had +over-looked. + +It is interesting to trace the history of such a man,--to know something +of his childhood,--to learn under what influences he was reared, to what +temptations exposed,--to see the guiding hand of Providence shaping his +course, subjecting him to the discipline of trial, thwarting his most +cherished projects, crushing his fondest hopes, and all, that by these +manifold crosses he may be the better prepared for the place for which +God has destined him. We regret that so little is recorded of this truly +great and good man, but we will lay that little before our readers. + +Charles Michel de l'Épée was born at Versailles, November 5th, 1712. His +father, who held the post of Architect to the King, in an age remarkable +above any other in French history for the prevalence of immorality, +which even the refinement and pretended sanctity of the court and +nobility could not disguise, was a man of deep piety and purity of +character. Amid the lust, selfishness, and hypocrisy of the age, +he constantly sought to impress upon the minds of his children the +importance of truthfulness, the moderation of desire, reverence for God, +and love for their fellow-men. + +To the young Charles Michel compliance with the behests of such a parent +was no difficult task; naturally amiable and obedient, the instructions +of his father sunk deep into his heart. At an early age, he manifested +that love of goodness which made every form of vice utterly distasteful +to him; and in after years, when he heard of the struggles of those who, +with more violent passions or less careful parental training, sought to +lead the Christian life, his own pure and peaceful experience seemed +to him wanting in perfection, because he had so seldom been called to +contend with temptation. + +As manhood approached, and he was required to fix upon a profession, his +heart instinctively turned toward a clerical life, not, as was the case +with so many of the young priests of that day, for its honors, its +power, or its emoluments, but because, in that profession, he might +the better fulfil the earnest desire of his heart to do good to his +fellow-men. He accordingly commenced the study of theology. Here all +went well for a time; but when he sought admission to deacon's orders, +he was met by unexpected opposition. To a pious mind, like that of young +De l'Épée, the consistent and Scriptural views of the Jansenists, not +less than their pure and virtuous lives, were highly attractive, and +through the influence of a clerical friend, a nephew of the celebrated +Bossuet, he had been led to examine and adopt them. The diocesan to whom +he applied for deacon's orders was a Jesuit, and, before he would admit +him, he required him to sign a formula of doctrine which was abhorrent +alike to his reason and his conscience. He refused at once, and, on his +refusal, his application was rejected; and though subsequently admitted +to the diaconate, he was insultingly told by his superior, that he need +not aspire to any higher order, for it should not be granted. + +It was with a saddened heart that he found himself thus compelled to +forego long cherished hopes of usefulness. With that glowing imagination +which characterized him even in old age, he had looked forward to the +time when, as the curate of some retired parish, he might encourage the +devout, reprove and control the erring, and, by his example, counsel, +and prayers, so mould and influence the little community, that it should +seem another Eden. But an overruling Providence had reserved for him a +larger field of usefulness, a more extended mission of mercy, and it was +through the path of trial that he was to be led to it. + +Regarding it as his duty to employ his time, he at length determined +to enter the legal profession. He passed with rapidity through the +preliminary course of study, and was admitted to the bar. The practice +of the law was not, at that time, in France, nor is it, indeed, now, +invested with the high character attaching to it in England. Its +codes and rules bore the impress of a barbarous age; and among its +practitioners, fraud, artifice, and chicanery were the rule, and honesty +the rare and generally unfortunate exception. + +For such a profession the pure-minded De l'Épée found himself entirely +unfitted, and, abandoning it with loathing, his eyes and heart were +again directed toward the profession of his choice, and, this time, +apparently not in vain. His early friend, M. de Bossuet, had been +elevated to the see of Troyes, and, knowing his piety and zeal, offered +him a canonry in his cathedral, and admitted him to priest's orders. +The desire of his heart was now gratified, and he entered upon his new +duties with the utmost ardor. "In all the diocese of Troyes," says one +of his contemporaries, "there was not so faithful a priest." + +But his hopes were soon to be blasted. Monseigneur de Bossuet died, and, +as the Jansenist controversy was at its height, his old enemies, the +Jesuits, exerted their influence with the Archbishop of Paris, and +procured an interdict, prohibiting him from ever again exercising the +functions of the priesthood. + +A severer blow could scarcely have fallen upon him. He sought not for +honor, he asked not for fame or worldly renown; he had only desired to +be useful, to do good to his fellow-men; and now, just as his hopes were +budding into fruition, just as some results of his faithful labors were +beginning to appear, all were cut off by the keen breath of adversity. + +It was while suffering from depression, at his unjust exclusion from +the duties of his calling, that his attention was first directed to the +unfortunate class to whom he was to be the future evangelist, or bringer +of good tidings. Bébian thus relates the incident which led him to +undertake the instruction of the deaf and dumb:-- + +"He happened one day to enter a house, where he found two young females +engaged in needlework, which seemed to occupy their whole attention. He +addressed them, but received no answer. Somewhat surprised at this, he +repeated his question; but still there was no reply; they did not even +lift their eyes from the work before them. In the midst of the Abbé's +wonder at this apparent rudeness, their mother entered the room, and +the mystery was at once explained. With tears she informed him that +her daughters were deaf and dumb; that they had received, by means +of pictures, a little instruction from Father Farnin, a benevolent +ecclesiastic of the order of "Christian Brothers," in the neighborhood; +but that he was now dead, and her poor children were left without any +one to aid their intellectual progress.--'Believing,' said the Abbé, +'that these two unfortunates would live and die in ignorance of +religion, if I made no effort to instruct them, my heart was filled with +compassion, and I promised, that, if they were committed to my charge, I +would do all for them that I was able.'" + +It was in 1755 that the Abbé de l'Épée thus entered upon his great +mission. Six years before, Jacob Rodriguez de Pereira had come from +Spain, and exhibited some deaf and dumb pupils whom he had taught, +before the Academy of Sciences. They were able to speak indifferently +well, and had attained a moderate degree of scientific knowledge. +Pereira himself was a man of great learning, of the most agreeable and +fascinating manners, and possessed, in a high degree, that tact and +address in which the Spanish Jews have never been surpassed. He soon +made a very favorable impression upon the court, and led a pleasant life +in the society of the literary men of the age. During his residence in +France, he taught some five or six mutes of high rank to speak and to +make considerable attainments in science,--charging for this service +most princely fees, and at the same time binding his pupils to perfect +secrecy in regard to his methods, which it was his intention to +bequeathe to his family. This intention was thwarted, however, soon +after his death, by a fire which destroyed nearly all his papers, and to +this day his method has remained a secret, unknown even to his children. +It is certain, however, that he made no use of the sign-language, though +there is some evidence that he invented and practised a system of +syllabic dactylology. Of this, the only successful effort which, up to +that time, had been made in France, to teach deaf-mutes, it is obvious +that De l'Épée could have known nothing, save the fact that it +demonstrated the capacity of some of this class to receive instruction. +It is, indeed, certain, from his own statements, that, at the time of +commencing his labors, he had no knowledge of any works on the subject. +He had somewhere picked up the manual alphabet invented by Bonet in +1620; and in subsequent years he derived some advantages from the works +of Cardan, Bonet, Amman, Wallis, and Dalgarno. + +It was well for the deaf and dumb that he entered upon his work thus +untrammelled by any preconceived theory; for he was thus prepared to +adopt, without prejudice, whatever might facilitate the great object +for which he labored. "I have not," he said, in a letter to Pereira, in +which he challenged an open comparison of their respective systems of +instruction, promising to adopt his, should it prove to be better than +his own,--"I have not the silly pride of desiring to be an inventor; +I only wish to do something for the benefit of the deaf-mutes of all +coming ages." + +We have already adverted to the great principle which lay at the +foundation of his system of instruction. The corollary deduced from +this, that the idea was substantive, and had an existence separate +from and independent of all words, written or spoken, was a startling +proposition in those days, however harmless we may now regard it. +But, convinced of its truth, De l'Épée set to himself the problem of +discovering how this _idea_ could be presented to the mind of the mute +without words; and in their gestures and signs he found his problem +solved. Henceforth, the way, though long and tedious, was plain before +him. To extend, amplify, and systematize this language of signs was his +task. How well he accomplished his work, the records of Deaf and Dumb +Institutions, in Europe and America, testify. Others have entered into +his labors and greatly enlarged the range of sign-expression,--modified +and improved, perhaps, many of its forms; but, because Lord Rosse's +telescope exceeds in power and range the little three-foot tube of +Galileo Galilei, shall we therefore despise the Italian astronomer? To +say that his work, or that of the Abbé De l'Épée, was not perfect, is +only to say that they were mortals like ourselves. + +But it is not only, or mainly, as a philosopher, that we would present +the Abbé De l'Épée to our readers, he was far more than this; he was, in +the highest sense of the word, a philanthropist. While Pereira, in the +liberal compensation he received from French nobles for the instruction +of their mute children, laid the foundation of that fortune by means of +which his grandsons are now enabled to rank with the most eminent of +French financiers, De l'Épée devoted his time and his entire patrimony +to the education of indigent deaf-mutes. His school, which was soon +quite large, was conducted solely at his own expense, and, as his +fortune was but moderate, he was compelled to practise the most careful +economy; yet he would never receive gifts from the wealthy, nor admit to +his instructions their deaf and dumb children. "It is not to the rich," +he would say, "that I have devoted myself; it is to the poor only. Had +it not been for _these_, I should never have attempted the education of +the deaf and dumb." + +In 1780, he was waited upon by the ambassador of the Empress of Russia, +who congratulated him on his success, and tendered him, in her name, +valuable gifts. "Mr. Ambassador," was the reply of the noble old man, "I +never receive money; but have the goodness to say to her Majesty, that, +if my labors have seemed to her worthy of any consideration, I ask, as +an especial favor, that she will send to me from her dominions some +ignorant deaf and dumb child, that I may instruct him." + +When Joseph II., of Austria, visited Paris, he sought out De l'Épée, +and offered him the revenues of one of his estates. To this liberal +proposition the Abbé replied: "Sire, I am now an old man. If your +Majesty desires to confer any gift, upon the deaf and dumb, it is not my +head, already bent towards the grave, that should receive it, but the +good work itself. It is worthy of a great prince to preserve whatever is +useful to mankind." The Emperor, acting upon his suggestion, soon after +sent one of his ecclesiastics to Paris, who, on receiving the necessary +instruction from De l'Épée, established at Vienna the first national +institution for the deaf and dumb. + +A still more striking instance of the self-denial to which his love for +his little flock prompted him is related by Bébian. During the severe +winter of 1788, the Abbé, already in his seventy-seventh year, denied +himself a fire in his apartment, and refused to purchase fuel for this +purpose, lest he should exceed the moderate sum which necessarily +limited the annual expenditure of his establishment. All the +remonstrances of his friends were unavailing; his pupils at length cast +themselves at his feet, and with tears besought him to allow himself +this indulgence, for their sake, if not for his own. Their importunities +finally prevailed; but for a long time he manifested the greatest regret +that he had yielded, often saying, mournfully, "My poor children, I have +wronged you of a hundred crowns!" + +That this deep and abiding affection was fully reciprocated by those +whom he had rescued from a life of helpless wretchedness was often +manifested. He always called them his children, and, indeed, his +relation to them had more of the character of the parent than of the +teacher. On one occasion, not long before his decease, in one of his +familiar conversations with them, he let fall a remark which implied +that his end might be approaching. Though he had often before spoken of +death, yet the idea that _he_ could thus be taken from them had never +entered their minds, and a sudden cry of anguish told how terrible to +them was the thought. Pressing around him, with sobs and wailing, they +laid hold of his garments, as if to detain him from the last long +journey. Himself affected to tears by these tokens of their love for +him, the good Abbé succeeded, at length, in calming their grief; he +spoke to them of death as being, to the good, only the gate which +divides us from heaven; reminded them that the separation, if they were +the friends of God, though painful, would be temporary; that he should +go before them, and await their coming, and that, once reunited, no +further separation would ever occur; while there the tongue would be +unloosed, the ear unsealed, and they would be enabled to enjoy the music +as well as the glories of heaven. Thus quieted, with chastened grief +came holy aspiration; and it is not unreasonable to hope that the world +of bliss, in after years, witnessed the meeting of many of these poor +children with their sainted teacher. + +It is interesting to observe the humility of such a man. The praises +lavished on him seemed not in any way to elate him; and he invariably +refused any commendation for his labors: "He that planteth is nothing, +neither he that watereth, but God, who giveth the increase," was his +reply to one who congratulated him on the success which had attended his +labors. + +With one incident more we must close this "record of a good man's life." +Some years after the opening of his school for deaf-mutes, a deaf and +dumb boy, who had been found wandering in the streets of Paris, was +brought to him. With that habitual piety which was characteristic of +him, De l'Épée received the boy as a gift from Heaven, and accordingly +named him Theodore. The new comer soon awakened an unusual interest +in the mind of the good Abbé. Though dressed in rags when found, his +manners and habits showed that he had been reared in refinement and +luxury. But, until he had received some education, he could give no +account of himself; and the Abbé, though satisfied that he had been the +victim of some foul wrong, held his peace, till the mental development +of his _protégé_ should enable him to describe his early home. Years +passed, and, as each added to his intelligence, young Theodore was able +to call to mind more and more of the events of childhood. He remembered +that his ancestral home had been one of great magnificence, in a large +city, and that he had been taken thence, stripped of his rich apparel, +clothed in rags, and left in the streets of Paris. The Abbé determined, +at once, to attempt to restore his _protégé_ to the rights of which he +had been so cruelly defrauded; but, being himself too infirm to attempt +the journey, he sent the youth, with his steward, and a fellow-pupil +named Didier, to make the tour of all the cities of France till they +should find the home of Theodore. Long and weary was their journey, and +it was not till after having visited almost all of the larger cities, +that they found that the young mute recognized in Toulouse the city of +his birth. Each of its principal streets was evidently familiar to him, +and at length, with a sudden cry, he pointed out a splendid mansion as +his former home. It was found to be the palace of the Count de Solar. +On subsequent inquiry, it appeared that the heir of the estate had been +deaf and dumb; that some years before he had been taken to Paris, and +was said to have died there. The dates corresponded exactly with the +appearance of young Theodore in Paris. As soon as possible, the Abbé +and the Duke de Penthièvre commenced a lawsuit, which resulted in the +restoration of Theodore to his title and property. The defeated party +appealed to the Parliament, and, by continuing the case till after the +death of the Abbé and the Duke, succeeded in obtaining a reversal of the +decision, and the declaration that the claimant was an impostor. Stung +with disappointment at the blighting of his hopes, young Theodore +enlisted in the army, and was slain in his first battle. + +The Abbé de l'Épée died at Paris on the 23d of December, 1789, in the +seventy-eighth year of his age. Had he been spared two years longer, he +would have seen his school, the object of his fond cares, adopted by the +government, and decreed a national support. But though this act, and the +accompanying vote, which declared that it was "done in honor of Charles +Michel de l'Épée, _a man who deserved well of his country_," were +creditable to the National Assembly, and the people whom it represented, +yet we cannot but remember the troublous times that followed,--times in +which no public service, no private goodness, neither the veneration +due to age, the delicacy of womanhood, nor the winsome helplessness +of infancy, was any protection against the insensate vengeance of a +maddened people; and remembering this, we cannot regret that he whose +life had been so peaceful was laid in a quiet grave ere the coming of +the tempest. + +It is but justice, however, to the French people to say, that no name +in their history is heard with more veneration, or with more profound +demonstrations of love and gratitude, than that of the Abbé de l'Épée. +In 1843, the citizens of Versailles, his birth-place, erected a bronze +statue in his honor; and the highest dignitaries of the state, amid the +acclamations of assembled thousands, eulogized his memory. In 1855, the +centennial anniversary of the establishment of his school for deaf-mutes +was celebrated at Paris, and was attended by delegations from most of +the Deaf and Dumb Institutions of Europe. + +But sixty-eight years have elapsed since the death of this noble +philanthropist, and, already, more than two hundred institutions for the +deaf and dumb have been established, on the system projected by him and +improved by his successors; and tens of thousands of mutes throughout +Christendom, in consequence of his generous and self-denying zeal, have +been trained for usefulness in this life, and many of them, we hope, +prepared for a blissful hereafter. To all these the name of the Abbé de +l'Épée has been one cherished in their heart of hearts; and, through +all the future, wherever the understanding of the deaf-mute shall be +enlightened by instruction, his memory shall be blessed. + + + + +WHO IS THE THIEF? + +(_Extracted from the Correspondence of the London Police_.) + + +FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE, OF THE DETECTIVE POLICE, TO SERGEANT +BULMER, OF THE SAME FORCE. + +London, 4th July, 18--. + +Sergeant Bulmer, + +This is to inform you that you are wanted to assist in looking up a case +of importance, which will require all the attention of an experienced +member of the force. The matter of the robbery on which you are now +engaged you will please to shift over to the young man who brings you +this letter. You will tell him all the circumstances of the case, just +as they stand; you will put him up to the progress you have made (if +any) towards detecting the person or persons by whom the money has been +stolen; and you will leave him to make the best he can of the matter now +in your hands. He is to have the whole responsibility of the case, and +the whole credit of his success, if he brings it to a proper issue. + +So much for the orders that I am desired to communicate to you. A word +in your ear, next, about this new man who is to take your place. His +name is Matthew Sharpin; and between ourselves, Sergeant, I don't think +much of him. He has not served his time among the rank and file of the +force. You and I mounted up, step by step, to the places we now fill; +but this stranger, it seems, is to have the chance given him of dashing +into our office at one jump,--supposing he turns out strong enough to +take it. You will naturally ask me how he comes by this privilege. I can +only tell you, that he has some uncommonly strong interest to back him +in certain high quarters, which you and I had better not mention except +under our breaths. He has been a lawyer's clerk; and he looks, to my +mind, rather a mean, underhand sample of that sort of man. According to +his own account,--by the bye, I forgot to say that he is wonderfully +conceited in his opinion of himself, as well as mean and underhand to +look at,--according to his own account, he leaves his old trade and +joins ours of his own free will and preference. You will no more believe +that than I do. My notion is, that he has managed to ferret out some +private information, in connection with the affairs of one of his +master's clients, which makes him rather an awkward customer to keep in +the office for the future, and which, at the same time, gives him hold +enough over his employer to make it dangerous to drive him into a corner +by turning him away. I think the giving him this unheard-of chance among +us is, in plain words, pretty much like giving him hush-money to keep +him quiet. However that may be, Mr. Matthew Sharpin is to have the case +now in your hands; and if he succeeds with it, he pokes his ugly nose +into our office, as sure as fate. You have heard tell of some sad stuff +they have been writing lately in the newspapers, about improving the +efficiency of the Detective Police by mixing up a sharp lawyer's clerk +or two along with them. Well, the experiment is now going to be tried; +and Mr. Matthew Sharpin is the first lucky man who has been pitched on +for the purpose. We shall see how this precious move succeeds. I put +you up to it, Sergeant, so that you may not stand in your own light by +giving the new man any cause to complain of you at head-quarters, and +remain yours, + +Francis Theakstone. + + +FROM MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE. + +London, 5th July, 18--. + +Dear Sir, + +Having now been favored with the necessary instructions from Sergeant +Bulmer, I beg to remind you of certain directions which I have received, +relating to the report of my future proceedings, which I am to prepare +for examination at head-quarters. + +The document in question is to be addressed to you. It is to be not only +a daily report, but an hourly report as well, when circumstances may +require it. All statements which I send to you, in this way, you are, as +I understand, expected to examine carefully before you seal them up and +send them in to the higher authorities. The object of my writing and of +your examining what I have written is, I am informed, to give me, as an +untried hand, the benefit of your advice, in case I want it (which I +venture to think I shall not) at any stage of my proceedings. As the +extraordinary circumstances of the case on which I am now engaged make +it impossible for me to absent myself from the place where the robbery +was committed, until I have made some progress towards discovering the +thief, I am necessarily precluded from consulting you personally. Hence +the necessity of my writing down the various details, which might, +perhaps, be better communicated by word of mouth. This, if I am not +mistaken, is the position in which we are now placed. I state my own +impressions on the subject, in writing, in order that we may clearly +understand each other at the outset,--and have the honor to remain your +obedient servant, + +Matthew Sharpin. + + +FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN. + +London, 5th July, 18--. + +Sir, + +You have begun by wasting time, ink, and paper. We both of us perfectly +well knew the position we stood in towards each other, when I sent you +with my letter to Sergeant Bulmer. There was not the least need to +repeat it in writing. Be so good as to employ your pen, in future, on +the business actually in hand. You have now three separate matters +on which to write me. First, you have to draw up a statement of your +instructions received from Sergeant Bulmer, in order to show us that +nothing has escaped your memory, and that you are thoroughly acquainted +with all the circumstances of the case which has been entrusted to you. +Secondly, you are to inform me what it is you propose to do. Thirdly, +you are to report every inch of your progress, (if you make any,) from +day to day, and, if need be, from hour to hour as well. This is your +duty. As to what _my_ duty may be, when I want you to remind me of it, I +will write and tell you _so_. In the mean time I remain yours, + +Francis Theakstone. + + +FROM MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE. + +London, 6th July, 18--. + +Sir, + +You are rather an elderly person, and, as such, naturally inclined to be +a little jealous of men like me, who are in the prime of their lives +and their faculties. Under these circumstances, it is my duty to be +considerate towards you, and not to bear too hardly on your small +failings. I decline, therefore, altogether, to take offence at the tone +of your letter; I give you the full benefit of the natural generosity of +my nature; I sponge the very existence of your surly communication out +of my memory; in short, Chief Inspector Theakstone, I forgive you, and +proceed to business. + +My first duty is to draw up a full statement of the instructions I have +received from Sergeant Bulmer. Here they are at your service, according +to my version of them. + +At Number Thirteen, Rutherford Street, Soho, there is a stationer's +shop. It is kept by one Mr. Yatman. He is a married man, but has no +family. Besides Mr. and Mrs. Yatman, the other inmates of the house are +a lodger, a young single man named Jay, who occupies the front room on +the second floor,--a shopman, who sleeps in one of the attics,--and a +servant-of-all-work, whose bed is in the back-kitchen. Once a week a +charwoman comes to help this servant. These are all the persons who, on +ordinary occasions, have means of access to the interior of the house, +placed, as a matter of course, at their disposal. + +Mr. Yatman has been in business for many years,--carrying on his affairs +prosperously enough to realize a handsome independence for a person in +his position. Unfortunately for himself, he endeavored to increase +the amount of his property by speculating. He ventured boldly in his +investments, luck went against him, and rather less than two years ago +he found himself a poor man again. All that was saved out of the wreck +of his property was the sum of two hundred pounds. + +Although Mr. Yatman did his best to meet his altered circumstances, by +giving up many of the luxuries and comforts to which he and his wife had +been accustomed, he found it impossible to retrench so far as to allow +of putting by any money from the income produced by his shop. The +business has been declining of late years,--the cheap advertising +stationers having done it injury with the public. Consequently, up +to the last week, the only surplus property possessed by Mr. Yatman +consisted of the two hundred pounds which had been recovered from the +wreck of his fortune. This sum was placed as a deposit in a joint-stock +bank of the highest possible character. + +Eight days ago, Mr. Yatman and his lodger, Mr. Jay, held a conversation +together on the subject of the commercial difficulties, which are +hampering trade in all directions at the present time. Mr. Jay (who +lives by supplying the newspapers with short paragraphs relating to +accidents, offences, and brief records of remarkable occurrences in +general,--who is, in short, what they call a penny-a-liner) told his +landlord that he had been in the city that day, and heard unfavorable +rumors on the subject of the joint-stock banks. The rumors to which he +alluded had already reached the ears of Mr. Yatman from other quarters; +and the confirmation of them by his lodger had such an effect on his +mind,--predisposed, as it was, to alarm, by the experience of his former +losses,--that he resolved to go at once to the bank and withdraw his +deposit. It was then getting on toward the end of the afternoon; and he +arrived just in time to receive his money before the bank closed. + +He received the deposit in bank-notes of the following amounts:--one +fifty-pound note, three twenty-pound notes, six ten-pound notes, and six +five-pound notes. His object in drawing the money in this form was +to have it ready to lay out immediately in trifling loans, on good +security, among the small tradespeople of his district,--some of whom +are sorely pressed for the very means of existence at the present time. +Investments of this kind seemed to Mr. Yatman to be the most safe and +the most profitable on which he could now venture. + +He brought the money back in an envelope placed in his breast pocket; +and asked his shopman, on getting home, to look for a small flat tin +cash-box, which had not been used for years, and which, as Mr. Yatman +remembered it, was exactly of the right size to hold the bank-notes. For +some time the cash-box was searched for in vain. Mr. Yatman called to +his wife to know if she had any idea where it was. The question was +overheard by the servant-of-all-work, who was taking up the tea-tray at +the time, and by Mr. Jay, who was coming down stairs on his way out +to the theatre. Ultimately the cash-box was found by the shopman. Mr. +Yatman placed the bank-notes in it, secured them by a padlock, and +put the box in his coat pocket. It stuck out of the coat pocket a very +little, but enough to be seen. Mr. Yatman remained at home, up stairs, +all that evening. No visitors called. At eleven o'clock he went to bed, +and put the cash-box under his pillow. + +When he and his wife woke the next morning, the box was gone. Payment +of the notes was immediately stopped at the Bank of England; but no news +of the money has been heard of since that time. + +So far, the circumstances of the case are perfectly clear. They point +unmistakably to the conclusion that the robbery must have been committed +by some person living in the house. Suspicion falls, therefore, upon the +servant-of-all-work, upon the shopman, and upon Mr. Jay. The two first +knew that the cash-box was being inquired for by their master, but did +not know what it was he wanted to put into it. They would assume, of +course, that it was money. They both had opportunities (the servant, +when she took away the tea,--and the shopman, when he came, after +shutting up, to give the keys of the till to his master) of seeing the +cash-box in Mr. Yatman's pocket, and of inferring naturally, from its +position there, that he intended to take it into his bedroom with him at +night. + +Mr. Jay, on the other hand, had been told, during the afternoon's +conversation on the subject of joint-stock banks, that his landlord had +a deposit of two hundred pounds in one of them. He also knew that Mr. +Yatman left him with the intention of drawing that money out; and he +heard the inquiry for the cash-box, afterwards, when he was coming down +stairs. He must, therefore, have inferred that the money was in the +house, and that the cash-box was the receptacle intended to contain it. +That he could have had any idea, however, of the place in which Mr. +Yatman intended to keep it for the night is impossible, seeing that he +went out before the box was found, and did not return till his landlord +was in bed. Consequently, if he committed the robbery, he must have gone +into the bedroom purely on speculation. + +Speaking of the bedroom reminds me of the necessity of noticing the +situation of it in the house, and the means that exist of gaining easy +access to it at any hour of the night. The room in question is the back +room on the first floor. In consequence of Mrs. Yatman's constitutional +nervousness on the subject of fire, which makes her apprehend being +burnt alive in her room, in case of accident, by the hampering of the +lock, if the key is turned in it, her husband has never been accustomed +to lock the bedroom door. Both he and his wife are, by their own +admission, heavy sleepers. Consequently, the risk to be run by any +evil-disposed persons wishing to plunder the bedroom was of the most +trifling kind. They could enter the room by merely turning the handle of +the door; and if they moved with ordinary caution, there was no fear +of their waking the sleepers inside. This fact is of importance. It +strengthens our conviction that the money must have been taken by one of +the inmates of the house, because it tends to show that the robbery, in +this case, might have been committed by persons not possessed of the +superior vigilance and cunning of the experienced thief. + +Such are the circumstances, as they were related to Sergeant Bulmer, +when he was first called in to discover the guilty parties, and, if +possible, to recover the lost bank-notes. The strictest inquiry which he +could institute failed of producing the smallest fragment of evidence +against any of the persons on whom suspicion naturally fell. Their +language and behavior, on being informed of the robbery, was perfectly +consistent with the language and behavior of innocent people. Sergeant +Bulmer felt, from the first, that this was a case for private inquiry +and secret observation. He began by recommending Mr. and Mrs. Yatman to +affect a feeling of perfect confidence in the innocence of the persons +living under their roof; and he then opened the campaign by employing +himself in following the goings and comings, and in discovering the +friends, the habits, and the secrets of the maid-of-all-work. + +Three days and nights of exertion on his own part, and on that of others +who were competent to assist his investigations, were enough to satisfy +him that there was no sound cause for suspicion against the girl. + +He next practised the same precautions in relation to the shopman. +There was more difficulty and uncertainty in privately clearing up this +person's character without his knowledge, but the obstacles were at last +smoothed away with tolerable success; and though there is not the same +amount of certainty, in this case, which there was in the case of the +girl, there is still fair reason for believing that the shopman has had +nothing to do with the robbery of the cash-box. + +As a necessary consequence of these proceedings, the range of suspicion +now becomes limited to the lodger, Mr. Jay. When I presented your letter +of introduction to Sergeant Buhner, he had already made some inquiries +on the subject of this young man. The result, so far, has not been at +all favorable. Mr. Jay's habits are irregular; he frequents public +houses, and seems to be familiarly acquainted with a great many +dissolute characters; he is in debt to most of the tradespeople whom +he employs; he has not paid his rent to Mr. Yatman for the last month; +yesterday evening he came home excited by liquor, and last week he was +seen talking to a prize-fighter. In short, though Mr. Jay does call +himself a journalist, in virtue of his penny-a-line contributions to the +newspapers, he is a young man of low tastes, vulgar manners, and bad +habits. Nothing has yet been discovered, in relation to him, which +redounds to his credit in the smallest degree. + +I have now reported, down to the very last details, all the particulars +communicated to me by Sergeant Buhner. I believe you will not find an +omission anywhere; and I think you will admit, though you are prejudiced +against me, that a clearer statement of facts was never laid before you +than the statement I have now made. My next duty is to tell you what I +propose to do, now that the case is confided to my hands. + +In the first place, it is clearly my business to take up the case at +the point where Sergeant Buhner has left it. On his authority, I am +justified in assuming that I have no need to trouble myself about the +maid-of-all-work and the shopman. Their characters are now to be +considered as cleared up. What remains to be privately investigated is +the question of the guilt or innocence of Mr. Jay. Before we give up +the notes for lost, we must make sure, if we can, that he knows nothing +about them. + +This is the plan that I have adopted, with the full approval of Mr. and +Mrs. Yatman, for discovering whether Mr. Jay is or is not the person who +has stolen the cash-box:-- + +I propose, to-day, to present myself at the house in the character of a +young man who is looking for lodgings. The back room on the second floor +will be shown to me as the room to let; and I shall establish myself +there to-night, as a person from the country, who has come to London to +look for a situation in a respectable shop or office. By this means I +shall be living next to the room occupied by Mr. Jay. The partition +between us is mere lath and plaster. I shall make a small hole in it, +near the cornice, through which I can see what Mr. Jay does in his room, +and hear every word that is said when any friend happens to call on him. +Whenever he is at home, I shall be at my post of observation. Whenever +he goes out, I shall be after him. By employing these means of watching +him, I believe I may look forward to the discovery of his secret--if he +knows anything about the lost bank-notes--as to a dead certainty. + +What you may think of my plan of observation I cannot undertake to +say. It appears to me to unite the invaluable merits of boldness +and simplicity. Fortified by this conviction, I close the present +communication with feelings of the most sanguine description in regard +to the future, and remain your obedient servant, + +Matthew Sharpin. + + +FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. + +7th July. + +Sir, + +As you have not honored me with any answer to my last communication, I +assume, that, in spite of your prejudices against me, it has produced +the favorable impression on your mind which I ventured to anticipate. +Gratified and encouraged beyond measure by the token of approval which +your eloquent silence conveys to me, I proceed to report the progress +that has been made in the course of the last twenty-four hours. + +I am now comfortably established next door to Mr. Jay; and I am +delighted to say that I have two holes in the partition, instead of one. +My natural sense of humor has led me into the pardonable extravagance +of giving them both appropriate names. One I call my Peep-Hole, and the +other my Pipe-Hole. The name of the first explains itself; the name of +the second refers to a small tin pipe, or tube, inserted in the hole, +and twisted so that the mouth of it comes close to my ear, when I am +standing at my post of observation. Thus, while I am looking at Mr. Jay +through my Peep-Hole, I can hear every word that may be spoken in his +room through my Pipe-Hole. + +Perfect candor--a virtue which I have possessed from my childhood-- +compels me to acknowledge, before I go any farther, that the ingenious +notion of adding a Pipe-Hole to my proposed Peep-Hole originated with +Mrs. Yatman. This lady--a most intelligent and accomplished person, +simple, and yet distinguished, in her manners--has entered into all my +little plans with an enthusiasm and intelligence which I cannot too +highly praise. Mr. Yatman is so cast down by his loss, that he is quite +incapable of affording me any assistance. Mrs. Yatman, who is evidently +most tenderly attached to him, feels her husband's sad condition of mind +even more acutely than she feels the loss of the money; and is mainly +stimulated to exertion by her desire to assist in raising him from the +miserable state of prostration into which he has now fallen. "The money, +Mr. Sharpin," she said to me yesterday evening, with tears in her eyes, +"the money may be regained by rigid economy and strict attention to +business. It is my husband's wretched state of mind that makes me so +anxious for the discovery of the thief. I may be wrong, but I felt +hopeful of success as soon as you entered the house; and I believe, +that, if the wretch who has robbed us is to be found, you are the man to +discover him." I accepted this gratifying compliment in the spirit in +which it was offered,--firmly believing that I shall be found, sooner or +later, to have thoroughly deserved it. + +Let me now return to business,--that is to say, to my Peep-Hole and my +Pipe-Hole. + +I have enjoyed some hours of calm observation of Mr. Jay. Though rarely +at home, as I understand from Mrs. Yatman, on ordinary occasions, he has +been in-doors the whole of this day. That is suspicious, to begin with. +I have to report, further, that he rose at a late hour this morning, +(always a bad sign in a young man,) and that he lost a great deal +of time, after he was up, in yawning and complaining to himself of +headache. Like other debauched characters, he eat little or nothing for +breakfast. His next proceeding was to smoke a pipe, a dirty clay pipe, +which a gentleman would have been ashamed to put between his lips. When +he had done smoking, he took out pen, ink, and paper, and sat down +to write, with a groan,--whether of remorse for having taken the +bank-notes, or of disgust at the task before him, I am unable to say. +After writing a few lines, (too far away from my Peep-Hole to give me +a chance of reading over his shoulder,) he bent back in his chair, and +amused himself by humming the tunes of popular songs. I recognized "My +Mary Anne," "Bobbin' Around," and "Old Dog Tray," among other melodies. +Whether these do or do not represent secret signals by which he +communicates with his accomplices remains to be seen. After he had +amused himself for some time by humming, he got up and began to walk +about the room, occasionally stopping to add a sentence to the paper on +his desk. Before long, he went to a locked cupboard and opened it. I +strained my eyes eagerly, in expectation of making a discovery. I saw +him take something carefully out of the cupboard,--he turned round,--it +was only a pint-bottle of brandy! Having drunk some of the liquor, this +extremely indolent reprobate lay dawn on his bed again, and in five +minutes was fast asleep. + +After hearing him snoring for at least two hours, I was recalled to +my Peep-Hole by a knock at his door. He jumped up and opened it with +suspicious activity. A very small boy, with a very dirty face, walked +in, said, "Please, Sir, I've come for copy," sat down on a chair with +his legs a long way from the ground, and instantly fell asleep! Mr. Jay +swore an oath, tied a wet towel round his head, and, sitting down to his +paper, began to cover it with writing as fast as his fingers could move +the pen. Occasionally getting up to dip the towel in water and tie it +on again, he continued at this employment for nearly three hours,--then +folded up the leaves of writing, woke the boy, and gave them to him, +with this remarkable expression: "Now, then, young sleepy-head, quick, +march! If you see the Governor, tell him to have the money ready for +me when I call for it." The boy grinned, and disappeared. I was sorely +tempted to follow "sleepy-head," but, on reflection, considered it +safest still to keep my eye on the proceedings of Mr. Jay. + +In half an hour's time, he put on his hat and walked out. Of course, I +put on my hat and walked out also. As I went down stairs, I passed Mrs. +Yatman going up. The lady has been kind enough to undertake, by previous +arrangement between us, to search Mr. Jay's room, while he is out of +the way, and while I am necessarily engaged in the pleasing duty of +following him wherever he goes. On the occasion to which I now refer, +he walked straight to the nearest tavern, and ordered a couple of +mutton-chops for his dinner. I placed myself in the next box to him, and +ordered a couple of mutton-chops for my dinner. Before I had been in the +room a minute, a young man of highly suspicious manners and appearance, +sitting at a table opposite, took his glass of porter in his hand and +joined Mr. Jay. I pretended to be reading the newspaper, and listened, +as in duty bound, with all my might. + +"How are you, my boy?" says the young man. "Jack has been here, +inquiring after you." + +"Did he leave any message?" asks Mr. Jay. + +"Yes," says the other. "He told me, if I met with you, to say that he +wished very particularly to see you to-night; and that he would give you +a look-in, at Rutherford Street, at seven o'clock." + +"All right," says Mr. Jay. "I'll get back in time to see him." + +Upon this, the suspicious-looking young man finished his porter, and, +saying that he was rather in a hurry, took leave of his friend, (perhaps +I should not be wrong, if I said his accomplice?) and left the room. + +At twenty-five minutes and a half past six,--in these serious cases it +is important to be particular about time,--Mr. Jay finished his chops +and paid his bill. At twenty-six minutes and three-quarters, I finished +my chops and paid mine. In ten minutes more I was inside the house in +Rutherford Street, and was received by Mrs. Yatman in the passage. +That charming woman's face exhibited an expression of melancholy and +disappointment which it quite grieved me to see. + +"I am afraid, Ma'am," says I, "that you have not hit on any little +criminating discovery in the lodger's room?" + +She shook her head and sighed. It was a soft, languid, fluttering +sigh,--and, upon my life, it quite upset me. For the moment, I forgot +business, and burned with envy of Mr. Yatman. + +"Don't despair, Ma'am," I said, with an insinuating mildness which +seemed to touch her. "I have heard a mysterious conversation--I know of +a guilty appointment--and I expect great things from my Peep-Hole and my +Pipe-Hole to-night. Pray, don't be alarmed, but I think we are on the +brink of a discovery." + +Here my enthusiastic devotion to business got the better of my tender +feelings. I looked,--winked,--nodded,--left her. + +When I got back to my observatory, I found Mr. Jay digesting his +mutton-chops in an arm-chair, with his pipe in his mouth. On his table +were two tumblers, a jug of water, and the pint-bottle of brandy. It was +then close upon seven o'clock. As the hour struck, the person described +as "Jack" walked in. + +He looked agitated,--I am happy to say he looked violently agitated. The +cheerful glow of anticipated success diffused itself (to use a strong +expression) all over me, from head to foot. With breathless interest I +looked through my Peep-Hole, and saw the visitor--the "Jack" of this +delightful case--sit down, facing me, at the opposite side of the table +to Mr. Jay. Making allowance for the difference in expression which +their countenances just now happened to exhibit, these two abandoned +villains were so much alike in other respects as to lead at once to the +conclusion that they were brothers. Jack was the cleaner man and the +better-dressed of the two. I admit that, at the outset. It is, perhaps, +one of my failings to push justice and impartiality to their utmost +limits. I am no Pharisee; and where Vice has its redeeming point, I say, +let Vice have its due,--yes, yes, by all manner of means, let Vice have +its due. + +"What's the matter now, Jack?" says Mr. Jay. + +"Can't you see it in my face?" says Jack. "My dear fellow, delays are +dangerous. Let us have done with suspense, and risk it, the day after +to-morrow." + +"So soon as that?" cries Mr. Jay, looking very much astonished. "Well, +I'm ready, if you are. But, I say, Jack, is Somebody Else ready, too? +Are you quite sure of that?" + +He smiled, as he spoke,--a frightful smile,--and laid a very strong +emphasis on those two words, "Somebody Else." There is evidently a third +ruffian, a nameless desperado, concerned in the business. + +"Meet us to-morrow," says Jack, "and judge for yourself. Be in the +Regent's Park at eleven in the morning, and look out for us at the +turning that leads to the Avenue Road." + +"I'll be there," says Mr. Jay. "Have a drop of brandy and water. What +are you getting up for? You're not going already?" + +"Yes, I am," says Jack. "The fact is, I'm so excited and agitated, that +I can't sit still anywhere for five minutes together. Ridiculous as it +may appear to you, I'm in a perpetual state of nervous flutter. I can't, +for the life of me, help fearing that we shall be found out. I fancy +that every man who looks twice at me in the street is a spy"---- + +At those words, I thought my legs would have given way under me. Nothing +but strength of mind kept me at my Peep-Hole,--nothing else, I give you +my word of honor. + +"Stuff and nonsense!" cries Mr. Jay, with all the effrontery of a +veteran in crime. "We have kept the secret up to this time, and we will +manage cleverly to the end. Have a drop of brandy and water, and you +will feel as certain about it as I do." + +Jack steadily refused the brandy and water, and steadily persisted +in taking his leave. "I must try if I can't walk it off," he said. +"Remember to-morrow morning,--eleven o'clock,--Avenue-Road side of the +Regent's Park." + +With those words he went out. His hardened relative laughed desperately, +and resumed the dirty clay pipe. + +I sat down on the side of my bed, actually quivering with excitement. It +is clear to me that no attempt has yet been made to change the stolen +bank-notes; and I may add, that Sergeant Bulmer was of that opinion +also, when he left the case in my hands. What is the natural conclusion +to draw from the conversation which I have just set down? Evidently, +that the confederates meet to-morrow to take their respective shares in +the stolen money, and to decide on the safest means of getting the notes +changed the day after. Mr. Jay is, beyond a doubt, the leading criminal +in this business, and he will probably run the chief risk,--that of +changing the fifty-pound note. I shall, therefore, still make it my +business to follow him,--attending at the Regent's Park to-morrow, and +doing my best to hear what is said there. If another appointment is made +for the day after, I shall, of course, go to it. In the mean time, I +shall want the immediate assistance of two competent persons (supposing +the rascals separate after their meeting) to follow the two minor +criminals. It is only fair to add, that, if the rogues all retire +together, I shall probably keep my subordinates in reserve. Being +naturally ambitious, I desire, if possible, to have the whole credit of +discovering this robbery to myself. + + +8th July. + +I have to acknowledge, with thanks, the speedy arrival of my two +subordinates, men of very average abilities, I am afraid; but, +fortunately, I shall always be on the spot to direct them. + +My first business this morning was, necessarily, to prevent possible +mistakes, by accounting to Mr. and Mrs. Yatman for the presence of the +two strangers on the scene. Mr. Yatman (between ourselves, a poor, +feeble man) only shook his head and groaned. Mrs. Yatman (that superior +woman) favored me with a charming look of intelligence. "Oh, Mr. +Sharpin!" she said, "I am so sorry to see those two men! Your sending +for their assistance looks as if you were beginning to be doubtful of +success." I privately winked at her, (she is very good in allowing me to +do so without taking offence,) and told her, in my facetious way, that +she labored under a slight mistake. "It is because I am sure of success, +Ma'am, that I send for them. I am determined to recover the money, not +for my own sake only, but for Mr. Yatman's sake, and for yours." I laid +a considerable amount of stress on those last three words. She said, +"Oh, Mr. Sharpin!" again,--and blushed of a heavenly red,--and looked +down at her work. I could go to the world's end with that woman, if Mr. +Yatman would only die. + +I sent off the two subordinates to wait, until I wanted them, at the +Avenue-Road gate of the Regent's Park. Half an hour afterwards I was +following the same direction myself, at the heels of Mr. Jay. + +The two confederates were punctual to the appointed time. I blush to +record it, but it is, nevertheless, necessary to state, that the third +rogue--the nameless desperado of my report, or, if you prefer it, +the mysterious "Somebody Else" of the conversation between the two +brothers--is----a woman! and, what is worse, a young woman! and, what +is more lamentable still, a nice-looking woman! I have long resisted a +growing conviction, that, wherever there is mischief in this world, an +individual of the fair sex is inevitably certain to be mixed up in it. +After the experience of this morning, I can struggle against that sad +conclusion no longer. I give up the sex,--excepting Mrs. Yatman, I give +up the sex. + +The man named "Jack" offered the woman his arm. Mr. Jay placed himself +on the other side of her. The three then walked away slowly among the +trees. I followed them at a respectful distance. My two subordinates, at +a respectful distance also, followed me. + +It was, I deeply regret to say, impossible to get near enough to them to +overhear their conversation, without running too great a risk of being +discovered. I could only infer from their gestures and actions that they +were all three talking together with extraordinary earnestness on some +subject which deeply interested them. After having been engaged in this +way a full quarter of an hour, they suddenly turned round to retrace +their steps. My presence of mind did not forsake me in this emergency. +I signed to the two subordinates to walk on carelessly and pass them, +while I myself slipped dexterously behind a tree. As they came by me, I +heard "Jack" address these words to Mr. Jay:-- + +"Let us say half-past ten to-morrow morning. And mind you come in a cab. +We had better not risk taking one in this neighborhood." + +Mr. Jay made some brief reply, which I could not overhear. They walked +back to the place at which they had met, shaking hands there with an +audacious cordiality which it quite sickened me to see. Then they +separated. I followed Mr. Jay. My subordinates paid the same delicate +attention to the other two. + +Instead of taking me back to Rutherford Street, Mr. Jay led me to the +Strand. He stopped at a dingy, disreputable-looking house, which, +according to the inscription over the door, was a newspaper office, +but which, in my judgment, had all the external appearance of a place +devoted to the reception of stolen goods. After remaining inside for a +few minutes, he came out, whistling, with his finger and thumb in his +waistcoat pocket. Some men would now have arrested him on the spot. +I remembered the necessity of catching the two confederates, and the +importance of not interfering with the appointment that had been made +for the next morning. Such coolness as this, under trying circumstances, +is rarely to be found, I should imagine, in a young beginner, whose +reputation as a detective policeman is still to make. + +From the house of suspicious appearance Mr. Jay betook himself to a +cigar-divan, and read the magazines over a cheroot. I sat at a table +near him, and read the magazines, likewise, over a cheroot. From the +divan he strolled to the tavern, and had his chops. I strolled to the +tavern, and had my chops. When he had done, he went back to his lodging. +When I had done, I went back to mine. He was overcome with drowsiness +early in the evening, and went to bed. As soon as I heard him snoring, I +was overcome with drowsiness, and went to bed also. + +Early in the morning, my two subordinates came to make their report. +They had seen the man named "Jack" leave the woman at the gate of an +apparently respectable villa-residence, not far from the Regent's Park. +Left to himself, he took a turning to the right, which led to a sort of +suburban street, principally inhabited by shopkeepers. He stopped at +the private door of one of the houses, and let himself in with his own +key,--looking about him as he opened the door, and staring suspiciously +at my men as they lounged along on the opposite side of the way. These +were all the particulars which the subordinates had to communicate. I +kept them in my room to attend on me, if needful, and mounted to my +Peep-Hole to have a look at Mr. Jay. + +He was occupied in dressing himself, and was taking extraordinary pains +to destroy all traces of the natural slovenliness of his appearance. +This was precisely what I expected. A vagabond like Mr. Jay knows the +importance of giving himself a respectable look when he is going to +run the risk of changing a stolen bank-note. At five minutes past ten +o'clock he had given the last brush to his shabby hat and the last +scouring with bread-crumb to his dirty gloves. At ten minutes past ten +he was in the street, on his way to the nearest cab-stand, and I and my +subordinates were close on his heels. + +He took a cab, and we took a cab. I had not overheard them appoint a +place of meeting, when following them in the Park on the previous day; +but I soon found that we were proceeding in the old direction of the +Avenue-Road gate. The cab in which Mr. Jay was riding turned into the +Park slowly. We stopped outside, to avoid exciting suspicion. I got out +to follow the cab on foot. Just as I did so, I saw it stop, and detected +the two confederates approaching it from among the trees. They got in, +and the cab was turned about directly. I ran back to my own cab, and +told the driver to let them pass him, and then to follow as before. + +The man obeyed my directions, but so clumsily as to excite their +suspicions. We had been driving after them about three minutes, +(returning along the road by which we had advanced,) when I looked out +of the window to see how far they might be ahead of us. As I did this, +I saw two hats popped out of the windows of their cab, and two faces +looking back at me. I sank into my place in a cold sweat;--the +expression is coarse, but no other form of words can describe my +condition at that trying moment. + +"We are found out!" I said, faintly, to my two subordinates. They stared +at me in astonishment. My feelings changed instantly from the depth of +despair to the height of indignation. "It is the cabman's fault. Get +out, one of you," I said, with dignity,--"get out, and punch his head." + +Instead of following my directions, (I should wish this act of +disobedience to be reported at head-quarters,) they both looked out of +the window. Before I could pull them back, they both sat down again. +Before I could express my just indignation, they both grinned, and said +to me, "Please to look out, Sir!" + +I did look out. Their cab had stopped. Where? At a church door! + +What effect this discovery might have had upon the ordinary run of +men, I don't know. Being of a religious turn myself, it filled me with +horror. I have often read of the unprincipled cunning of criminal +persons; but I never before heard of three thieves attempting to double +on their pursuers by entering a church! The sacrilegious audacity of +that proceeding is, I should think, unparalleled in the annals of crime. + +I checked my grinning subordinates by a frown. It was easy to see what +was passing in their superficial minds. If I had not been able to look +below the surface, I might, on observing two nicely dressed men and one +nicely dressed woman enter a church before eleven in the morning, on a +week day, have come to the same hasty conclusion at which my inferiors +had evidently arrived. As it was, appearances had no power to impose on +_me_. I got out, and, followed by one of my men, entered the church. The +other man I sent round to watch the vestry door. You may catch a weasel +asleep,--but not your humble servant, Matthew Sharpin! + +We stole up the gallery-stairs, diverged to the organ-loft, and peeped +through the curtains in front. There they were, all three, sitting in a +pew below,--yes, incredible as it may appear, sitting in a pew below! + +Before I could determine what to do, a clergyman made his appearance in +full canonicals, from the vestry door, followed by a clerk. My brain +whirled, and my eyesight grew dim. Dark remembrances of robberies +committed in vestries floated through my mind. I trembled for the +excellent man in full canonicals;--I even trembled for the clerk. + +The clergyman placed himself inside the altar rails. The three +desperadoes approached him. He opened his book, and began to read. +What?--you will ask. + +I answer, without the slightest hesitation; the first lines of the +Marriage Service. + +My subordinate had the audacity to look at me, and then to stuff his +pocket-handkerchief into his mouth. I scorned to pay any attention to +him. After my own eyes had satisfied me that there was a parchment +license in the clergyman's hand, and that it was consequently useless to +come forward and forbid the marriage,--after I had seen this, and after +I had discovered that the man "Jack" was the bridegroom, and that the +man Jay acted the part of father and gave away the bride, I left the +church, followed by my man, and joined the other subordinate outside +the vestry door. Some people in my position would now have felt rather +crestfallen, and would have begun to think that they had made a very +foolish mistake. Not the faintest misgiving of any kind troubled me. I +did not feel in the slightest degree depreciated in my own estimation. +And even now, after a lapse of three hours, my mind remains, I am happy +to say, in the same calm and hopeful condition. + +As soon as I and my subordinates were assembled together, outside the +church, I intimated my intention of still following the other cab, in +spite of what had occurred. My reason for deciding on this course will +appear presently. The two subordinates appeared to be astonished at +my resolution. One of them had the impertinence to say to me, "If you +please, Sir, who is it we are after? A man who has stolen money, or +a man who has stolen a wife?" The other low person encouraged him +by laughing. Both have deserved an official reprimand; and both, I +sincerely trust, will be sure to get it. + +When the marriage ceremony was over, the three got into their cab; and, +once more, our vehicle (neatly hidden round the corner of the church, +so that they could not suspect it to be near them) started to follow +theirs. We traced them to the terminus of the South-Western Railway. The +newly married couple took tickets for Richmond,--paying their fare with +a half sovereign, and so depriving me of the pleasure of arresting them, +which I should certainly have done, if they had offered a bank-note. +They parted from Mr. Jay, saying, "Remember the address,--l4, Babylon +Terrace. You dine with us to-morrow week." Mr. Jay accepted the +invitation, and added, jocosely, that he was going home at once to get +off his clean clothes, and to be comfortable and dirty again for the +rest of the day. I have to report that I saw him home safely, and that +he is comfortable and dirty again (to use his own disgraceful language) +at the present moment. + +Here the affair rests, having by this time reached what I may call its +first stage. I know very well what persons of hasty judgments will be +inclined to say of my proceedings thus far. They will assert that I have +been deceiving myself, all through, in the most absurd way; they will +declare that the suspicious conversations which I have reported referred +solely to the difficulties and dangers of successfully carrying out +a runaway match; and they will appeal to the scene in the church, as +offering undeniable proof of the correctness of their assertions. So let +it be. I dispute nothing, up to this point. But I ask a question, out of +the depths of my own sagacity as a man of the world, which the bitterest +of my enemies will not, I think, find it particularly easy to answer. +Granted the fact of the marriage, what proof does it afford me of +the innocence of the three persons concerned in that clandestine +transaction? It gives me none. On the contrary, it strengthens my +suspicions against Mr. Jay and his confederates, because it suggests a +distinct motive for their stealing the money. A gentleman who is going +to spend his honeymoon at Richmond wants money; and a gentleman who is +in debt to all his tradespeople wants money. Is this an unjustifiable +imputation of bad motives? In the name of outraged Morality, I deny it. +These men have combined together, and have stolen a woman. Why should +they not combine together and steal a cash-box? I take my stand on the +logic of rigid Virtue; and I defy all the sophistry of Vice to move me +an inch out of my position. + +Speaking of virtue, I may add that I have put this view of the case +to Mr. and Mrs. Yatman. That accomplished and charming woman found it +difficult, at first, to follow the close chain of my reasoning. I am +free to confess that she shook her head, and shed tears, and joined +her husband in premature lamentation over the loss of the two hundred +pounds. But a little careful explanation on my part, and a little +attentive listening on hers, ultimately changed her opinion. She now +agrees with me, that there is nothing in this unexpected circumstance of +the clandestine marriage which absolutely tends to divert suspicion from +Mr. Jay, or Mr. "Jack," or the runaway lady,--"audacious hussey" was the +term my fair friend used in speaking of her, but let that pass. It is +more to the purpose to record, that Mrs. Yatman has not lost confidence +in me, and that Mr. Yatman promises to follow her example and do his +best to look hopefully for future results. + +I have now, in the new turn that circumstances have taken, to await +advice from your office. I pause for fresh orders with all the composure +of a man who has got two strings to his bow. When I traced the three +confederates from the church door to the railway terminus, I had two +motives for doing so. First, I followed them as a matter of official +business, believing them still to have been guilty of the robbery. +Secondly, I followed them as a matter of private speculation, with a +view of discovering the place of refuge to which the runaway couple +intended to retreat, and of making my information a marketable commodity +to offer to the young lady's family and friends. Thus, whatever happens, +I may congratulate myself beforehand on not having wasted my time. If +the office approves of my conduct, I have my plan ready for further +proceedings. If the office blames me, I shall take myself off, with +my marketable information, to the genteel villa-residence in the +neighborhood of the Regent's Park. Any way, the affair puts money into +my pocket, and does credit to my penetration, as an uncommonly sharp +man. + +I have only one word more to add, and it is this:--If any individual +ventures to assert that Mr. Jay and his confederates are innocent of +all share in the stealing of the cash-box, I, in return, defy that +individual--though he may even be Chief Inspector Theakstone himself--to +tell me who has committed the robbery at Rutherford Street, Soho. + +Strong in that conviction, + +I have the honor to be +Your very obedient servant, + +Matthew Sharpin. + + +FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO SERGEANT BULMER. + +Birmingham, July 9th. + +Sergeant Bulmer, + +That empty-headed puppy, Mr. Matthew Sharpin, has made a mess of the +case at Rutherford Street, exactly as I expected he would. Business +keeps me in this town; so I write to you to set the matter straight. +I enclose, with this, the pages of feeble scribble-scrabble which the +creature, Sharpin, calls a report. Look them over; and when you have +made your way through all the gabble, I think you will agree with me +that the conceited booby has looked for the thief in every direction but +the right one. The case is perfectly simple, now. Settle it at once; +forward your report to me at this place; and tell Mr. Sharpin that he is +suspended till further notice. + +Yours, + +Francis Theakstone. + + +FROM SERGEANT BULMER TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE. + +London, July 10th. + +Inspector Theakstone, + +Your letter and enclosure came safe to hand. Wise men, they say, may +always learn something, even from a fool. By the time I had got through +Sharpin's maundering report of his own folly, I saw my way clear enough +to the end of the Rutherford-Street case, just as you thought I should. +In half an hour's time I was at the house. The first person I saw there +was Mr. Sharpin himself. + +"Have you come to help me?" says he. + +"Not exactly," says I. "I've come to tell you that you are suspended till +further notice." + +"Very good," says he, not taken down, by so much as a single peg, in +his own estimation. "I thought you would be jealous of me. It's very +natural; and I don't blame you. Walk in, pray, and make yourself at +home. I'm off to do a little detective business on my own account, in +the neighborhood of the Regent's Park. Ta-ta, Sergeant, ta-ta!" + +With those words he took himself out of my way,--which was exactly what +I wanted him to do. As soon as the maid-servant had shut the door, I +told her to inform her master that I wanted to say a word to him in +private. She showed me into the parlor behind the shop; and there was +Mr. Yatman, all alone, reading the newspaper. + +"About this matter of the robbery, Sir," says I. + +He cut me short, peevishly enough,--being naturally a poor, weak, +womanish sort of man. "Yes, yes, I know," says he. "You have come to +tell me that your wonderfully clever man, who has bored holes in my +second-floor partition, has made a mistake, and is off the scent of the +scoundrel who has stolen my money." + +"Yes, Sir," says I. "That _is_ one of the things I came to tell you. But +I have got something else to say, besides that." + +"Can you tell me who the thief is?" says he, more pettish than ever. + +"Yes, Sir," says I, "I think I can." + +He put down the newspaper, and began to look rather anxious and +frightened. + +"Not my shopman?" says he. "I hope, for the man's own sake, it's not my +shopman." + +"Guess again, Sir," says I. + +"That idle slut, the maid?" says he. + +"She is idle, Sir," says I, "and she is also a slut; my first inquiries +about her proved as much as that. But she's not the thief." + +"Then, in the name of Heaven, who is?" says he. + +"Will you please to prepare yourself for a very disagreeable surprise, +Sir?" says I. "And in case you lose your temper, will you excuse my +remarking, that I am the stronger man of the two, and that, if you allow +yourself to lay hands on me, I may unintentionally hurt you, in pure +self-defence?" + +He turned as pale as ashes, and pushed his chair two or three feet away +from me. + +"You have asked me to tell you, Sir, who has taken your money," I went +on. "If you insist on my giving you an answer"-- + +"I do insist," he said, faintly. "Who has taken it?" + +"Your wife has taken it," I said, very quietly, and very positively at +the same time. + +He jumped out of the chair as if I had put a knife into him, and struck +his fist on the table, so heavily that the wood cracked again. + +"Steady, Sir," says I. "Flying into a passion won't help you to the +truth." + +"It's a lie!" says he, with another smack of his fist on the table,--"a +base, vile, infamous lie! How dare you"-- + +He stopped, and fell back into the chair again, looked about him in a +bewildered way, and ended by bursting out crying. + +"When your better sense comes back to you, Sir," says I, "I am sure you +will be gentleman enough to make me an apology for the language you have +just used. In the mean time, please to listen, if you can, to a word of +explanation. Mr. Sharpin has sent in a report to our Inspector, of the +most irregular and ridiculous kind; setting down, not only all his own +foolish doings and sayings, but the doings and sayings of Mrs. Yatman as +well. In most cases, such a document would have been fit only for the +waste-paper basket; but, in this particular case, it so happens that Mr. +Sharpin's budget of nonsense leads to a certain conclusion which the +simpleton of a writer has been quite innocent of suspecting from the +beginning to the end. Of that conclusion I am so sure, that I will +forfeit my place, if it does not turn out that Mrs. Yatman has been +practising upon the folly and conceit of this young man, and that she +has tried to shield herself from discovery by purposely encouraging him +to suspect the wrong persons. I tell you that confidently; and I will +even go farther. I will undertake to give a decided opinion as to why +Mrs. Yatman took the money, and what she has done with it, or with a +part of it. Nobody can look at that lady, Sir, without being struck by +the great taste and beauty of her dress"---- + +As I said those last words, the poor man seemed to find his powers of +speech again. He cut me short directly, as haughtily as if he had been +a duke instead of a stationer. "Try some other means of justifying your +vile calumny against my wife," says he. "Her milliner's bill, for the +past year, is on my file of receipted accounts, at this moment." + +"Excuse me, Sir," says I, "but that proves nothing. Milliners, I must +tell you, have a certain rascally custom which comes within the daily +experience of our office. A married lady who wishes it can keep two +accounts at her dress-maker's:--one is the account which her husband +sees and pays; the other is the private account, which contains all the +extravagant items, and which the wife pays secretly, by instalments, +whenever she can. According to our usual experience, these instalments +are mostly squeezed out of the housekeeping money. In your case, I +suspect no instalments have been paid; proceedings have been threatened; +Mrs. Yatman, knowing your altered circumstances, has felt herself +driven into a corner; and she has paid her private account out of your +cashbox." + +"I won't believe it!" says he. "Every word you speak is an abominable +insult to me and to my wife." + +"Are you man enough, Sir," says I, taking him up short, in order to save +time and words, "to get that receipted bill you spoke of just now, off +the file, and to come with me at once to the milliner's shop where Mrs. +Yatman deals?" + +He turned red in the face at that, got the bill directly, and put on his +hat. I took out of my pocket-book the list containing the numbers of the +lost notes, and we left the house together immediately. + +Arrived at the milliner's, (one of the expensive West-End houses, as I +expected,) I asked for a private interview, on important business, with +the mistress of the concern. It was not the first time that she and I +had met over the same delicate investigation. The moment she set eyes on +me, she sent for her husband. I mentioned who Mr. Yatman was, and what +we wanted. + +"This is strictly private?" says the husband. I nodded my head. + +"And confidential?" says the wife. I nodded again. + +"Do you see any objection, dear, to obliging the Sergeant with a sight +of the books?" says the husband. + +"None in the world, love, if you approve of it," says the wife. + +All this while poor Mr. Yatman sat looking the picture of astonishment +and distress, quite out of place at our polite conference. The books +were brought,--and one minute's look at the pages in which Mrs. Yatman's +name figured was enough, and more than enough, to prove the truth of +every word that I had spoken. + +There, in one book, was the husband's account, which Mr. Yatman had +settled. And there, in the other, was the private account, crossed off +also; the date of settlement being the very day after the loss of the +cash-box. This said private account amounted to the sum of a hundred and +seventy-five pounds, odd shillings; and it extended over a period of +three years. Not a single instalment had been paid on it. Under the last +line was an entry to this effect: "Written to for the third time, June +23d." I pointed to it, and asked the milliner if that meant "last June." +Yes, it did mean last June; and she now deeply regretted to say that it +had been accompanied by a threat of legal proceedings. + +"I thought you gave good customers more than three years' credit?" says +I. + +The milliner looks at Mr. Yatman, and whispers to me,--"Not when a lady's +husband gets into difficulties." + +She pointed to the account as she spoke. The entries after the time when +Mr. Yatman's circumstances became involved were just as extravagant, for +a person in his wife's situation, as the entries for the year before +that period. If the lady had economized in other things, she had +certainly not economized in the matter of dress. + +There was nothing left now but to examine the cash-book, for form's +sake. The money had been paid in notes, the amounts and numbers of which +exactly tallied with the figures set down in my list. + +After that, I thought it best to get Mr. Yatman out of the house +immediately. He was in such a pitiable condition, that I called a cab +and accompanied him home in it. At first, he cried and raved like a +child; but I soon quieted him,--and I must add, to his credit, that he +made me a most handsome apology for his language, as the cab drew up at +his house-door. In return, I tried to give him some advice about how to +set matters right, for the future, with his wife. He paid very little +attention to me, and went up stairs muttering to himself about a +separation. Whether Mrs. Yatman will come cleverly out of the scrape +or not seems doubtful. I should say, myself, that she will go into +screeching hysterics, and so frighten the poor man into forgiving her. +But this is no business of ours. So far as we are concerned, the case +is now at an end; and the present report may come to a conclusion along +with it. + +I remain, accordingly, yours to command, + +Thomas Bulmer. + +P.S.--I have to add, that, on leaving Rutherford Street, I met Mr. +Matthew Sharpin coming back to pack up his things. + +"Only think!" says he, rubbing his hands in great spirits, "I've been +to the genteel villa-residence; and the moment I mentioned my business, +they kicked me out directly. There were two witnesses of the assault; +and it's worth a hundred pounds to me, if it's worth a farthing." + +"I wish you joy of your luck," says I. + +"Thank you," says he. "When may I pay you the same compliment on finding +the thief?" + +"Whenever you like," says I, "for the thief is found." + +"Just what I expected," says he. "I've done all the work; and now you +cut in, and claim all the credit.--Mr. Jay, of course?" + +"No," says I. + +"Who is it, then?" says he. + +"Ask Mrs. Yatman," says I. "She'll tell you." + +"All right! I'd much rather hear it from her than from you," says +he,--and goes into the house in a mighty hurry. + +What do you think of that, Inspector Theakstone? Would you like to stand +in Mr. Sharpin's shoes? I shouldn't, I can promise you! + + +FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN. + +July 12th. + +Sir, + +Sergeant Bulmer has already told you to consider yourself suspended +until further notice. I have now authority to add, that your services as +a member of the Detective Police are positively declined. You will please +to take this letter as notifying officially your dismissal from the +force. + +I may inform you, privately, that your rejection is not intended to cast +any reflections on your character. It merely implies that you are not +quite sharp enough for our purpose. If we are to have a new recruit +among us, we should infinitely prefer Mrs. Yatman. + +Your obedient servant, + +Francis Theakstone. + + * * * * * + +Note on the preceding correspondence--The editor is, unfortunately, not +in a position to add any explanations of importance to the last of the +published letters of Chief Inspector Theakstone. It has been discovered +that Mr. Matthew Sharpin left the house in Rutherford Street a quarter +of an hour after his interview outside of it with Sergeant Bulmer,--his +manner expressing the liveliest emotions of terror and astonishment, and +his left cheek displaying a bright patch of red, which looked as if it +might have been the result of what is popularly termed a smart box on +the ear. He was also heard, by the shopman at Rutherford Street, to use +a very shocking expression in reference to Mrs. Yatman; and was seen to +clinch his fist vindictively, as he ran round the corner of the street. +Nothing more has been heard of him; and it is conjectured that he has +left London with the intention of offering his valuable services to the +provincial police. + +On the interesting domestic subject of Mr. and Mrs. Yatman still less +is known. It has, however, been positively ascertained that the medical +attendant of the family was sent for in a great hurry on the day when +Mr. Yatman returned from the milliner's shop. The neighboring chemist +received, soon afterwards, a prescription of a soothing nature to +make up for Mrs. Yatman. The day after, Mr. Yatman purchased some +smelling-salts at the shop, and afterwards appeared at the circulating +library to ask for a novel that would amuse an invalid lady. It has been +inferred from these circumstances that he has not thought it desirable +to carry out his threat of separating himself from his wife,--at least +in the present (presumed) condition of that lady's sensitive nervous +system. + + * * * * * + + +TELLING THE BEES.[A] + +[Footnote A: A remarkable custom, brought from the Old Country formerly +prevailed in the rural districts of New England. On the death of a +member of the family, the bees were at once informed of the event, and +their hives dressed in mourning. This ceremonial was supposed to be +necessary to prevent the swarms from leaving their hives and seeking a +new home.] + + + Here is the place; right over the hill + Runs the path I took; + You can see the gap in the old wall still, + And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook. + + There is the house, with the gate red-barred, + And the poplars tall; + And the barn's brown length, and the cattle-yard, + And the white horns tossing above the wall. + + There are the bee-hives ranged in the sun; + And down by the brink + Of the brook are her poor flowers, weed-o'errun, + Pansy and daffodil, rose and pink. + + A year has gone, as the tortoise goes, + Heavy and slow; + And the same rose blows, and the same sun glows, + And the same brook sings of a year ago. + + There's the same sweet clover-smell in the breeze; + And the June sun warm + Tangles his wings of fire in the trees, + Setting, as then, over Fernside farm. + + I mind me how with a lover's care + From my Sunday coat + I brushed off the burrs, and smoothed my hair, + And cooled at the brook-side my brow and throat. + + Since we parted, a month had passed,-- + To love, a year; + Down through the beeches, I looked at last + On the little red gate and the well-sweep near. + + I can see it all now,--the slantwise rain + Of light through the leaves, + The sundown's blaze on her window-pane, + The bloom of her roses under the eaves. + + Just the same as a month before,-- + The house and the trees, + The barn's brown gable, the vine by the door,-- + Nothing changed but the hives of bees. + + Before them, under the garden wall, + Forward and back, + Went, drearily singing, the chore-girl small, + Draping each hive with a shred of black. + + Trembling, I listened: the summer sun + Had the chill of snow; + For I knew she was telling the bees of one + Gone on the journey we all must go! + + Then I said to myself, "My Mary weeps + For the dead to-day: + Haply her blind old grandsire sleeps + The fret and the pain of his age away." + + But her dog whined low; on the doorway sill, + With his cane to his chin, + The old man sat; and the chore-girl still + Sung to the bees stealing out and in. + + And the song she was singing ever since + In my ear sounds on:-- + "Stay at home, pretty bees, fly not hence! + Mistress Mary is dead and gone!" + + + + +PERSIAN POETRY. + + +To Baron von Hammer Purgstall, who died in Vienna during the last year, +we owe our best knowledge of the Persians. He has translated into +German, besides the "Divan" of Hafiz, specimens of two hundred poets, +who wrote during a period of five and a half centuries, from A.D. 1000 +to 1550. The seven masters of the Persian Parnassus, Firdousi, Enweri, +Nisami, Dschelaleddin, Saadi, Hafiz, and Dschami, have ceased to be +empty names; and others, like Ferideddin Attar, and Omar Chiam, promise +to rise in Western estimation. That for which mainly books exist is +communicated in these rich extracts. Many qualities go to make a good +telescope,--as the largeness of the field, facility of sweeping the +meridian, achromatic purity of lenses, and so forth,--but the one +eminent value is the space-penetrating power; and there are many virtues +in books, but the essential value is the adding of knowledge to our +stock, by the record of new facts, and, better, by the record of +intuitions, which distribute facts, and are the formulas which supersede +all histories. + +Oriental life and society, especially in the Southern nations, stand in +violent contrast with the multitudinous detail, the secular stability, +and the vast average of comfort of the Western nations. Life in the East +is fierce, short, hazardous, and in extremes. Its elements are few +and simple, not exhibiting the long range and undulation of European +existence, but rapidly reaching the best and the worst. The rich feed on +fruits and game,--the poor, on a watermelon's peel. All or nothing is +the genius of Oriental life. Favor of the Sultan, or his displeasure, is +a question of Fate. A war is undertaken for an epigram or a distich, as +in Europe for a duchy. The prolific sun, and the sudden and rank plenty +which his heat engenders, make subsistence easy. On the other side, the +desert, the simoom, the mirage, the lion, and the plague endanger it, +and life hangs on the contingency of a skin of water more or less. +The very geography of old Persia showed these contrasts. "My father's +empire," said Cyrus to Xenophon, "is so large, that people perish with +cold, at one extremity, whilst they are suffocated with heat, at the +other." The temperament of the people agrees with this life in extremes. +Religion and poetry are all their civilization. The religion teaches +an inexorable Destiny. It distinguishes only two days in each man's +history: his birthday, called _the Day of the Lot_, and the Day of +Judgment. Courage and absolute submission to what is appointed him are +his virtues. + +The favor of the climate, making subsistence easy, and encouraging +an outdoor life, allows to the Eastern nations a highly intellectual +organization,--leaving out of view, at present, the genius of the +Hindoos, (more Oriental in every sense,) whom no people have surpassed +in the grandeur of their ethical statement. The Persians and the Arabs, +with great leisure and few books, are exquisitely sensible to the +pleasures of poetry. Layard has given some details of the effect which +the _improvvisatori_ produced on the children of the desert. "When the +bard improvised an amatory ditty, the young chief's excitement was +almost beyond control. The other Bedouins were scarcely less moved by +these rude measures, which have the same kind of effect on the wild +tribes of the Persian mountains. Such verses, chanted by their +self-taught poets, or by the girls of their encampment, will drive +warriors to the combat, fearless of death, or prove an ample reward, +on their return from the dangers of the _ghazon_, or the fight. The +excitement they produce exceeds that of the grape. He who would +understand the influence of the Homeric ballads in the heroic ages +should witness the effect which similar compositions have upon the wild +nomads of the East." Elsewhere he adds, "Poetry and flowers are the wine +and spirits of the Arab; a couplet is equal to a bottle, and a rose to a +dram, without the evil effect of either." + +The Persian poetry rests on a mythology whose few legends are connected +with the Jewish history, and the anterior traditions of the Pentateuch. +The principal figure in the allusions of Eastern poetry is Solomon. +Solomon had three talismans: first, the signet ring, by which he +commanded the spirits, on the stone of which was engraven the name of +God; second, the glass, in which he saw the secrets of his enemies, and +the causes of all things, figured; the third, the east wind, which was +his horse. His counsellor was Simorg, king of birds, the all-wise fowl, +who had lived ever since the beginning of the world, and now lives alone +on the highest summit of Mount Kaf. No fowler has taken him, and none +now living has seen him. By him Solomon was taught the language of +birds, so that he heard secrets whenever he went into his gardens. When +Solomon travelled, his throne was placed on a carpet of green silk, of +a length and breadth sufficient for all his army to stand upon,--men +placing themselves on his right hand, and the spirits on his left. When +all were in order, the east wind, at his command, took up the carpet, +and transported it, with all that were upon it, whither he pleased,--the +army of birds at the same time flying overhead, and forming a canopy to +shade them from the sun. It is related, that, when the Queen of Sheba +came to visit Solomon, he had built, against her arrival, a palace, of +which the floor or pavement was of glass, laid over running water, in +which fish were swimming. The Queen of Sheba was deceived thereby, and +raised her robes, thinking she was to pass through the water. On the +occasion of Solomon's marriage, all the beasts, laden with presents, +appeared before his throne. Behind them all came the ant with a blade of +grass: Solomon did not despise the gift of the ant. Asaph, the vizier, +at a certain time, lost the seal of Solomon, which one of the Dews, or +evil spirits, found, and, governing in the name of Solomon, deceived the +people. + +Firdousi, the Persian Homer, has written in the _Shah Nameh_ the annals +of the fabulous and heroic kings of the country: of Karun, (the Persian +Croesus.) the immeasurably rich gold-maker, who, with all his treasures, +lies buried not far from the Pyramids, in the sea which bears his name; +of Jamschid, the binder of demons, whose reign lasted seven hundred +years; of Kai Kaus, whose palace was built by demons on Alberz, in which +gold and silver and precious stones were used so lavishly, and such was +the brilliancy produced by their combined effect, that night and day +appeared the same; of Afrasiyab, strong as an elephant, whose shadow +extended for miles, whose heart was bounteous as the ocean, and his +hands like the clouds when rain falls to gladden the earth. The +crocodile in the rolling stream had no safety from Afrasiyab. Yet when +he came to fight against the generals of Kaus, he was but an insect in +the grasp of Rustem, who seized him by the girdle, and dragged him +from his horse. Rustem felt such anger at the arrogance of the King of +Mazinderan, that every hair on his body started up like a spear. The +gripe of his hand cracked the sinews of an enemy. + +These legends,--with Chiser, the fountain of life, Tuba, the tree of +life,--the romances of the loves of Leila and Medschun, of Chosru and +Schirin, and those of the nightingale for the rose,--pearl-diving, and +the virtues of gems,--the cohol, a cosmetic by which pearls and eyebrows +are indelibly stained black,--the bladder in which musk is brought,--the +down of the lip, the mole on the cheek, the eyelash,--lilies, roses, +tulips, and jasmines,--make the staple imagery of Persian odes. + +The Persians have epics and tales, but, for the most part, they affect +short poems and epigrams. Gnomic verses, rules of life, conveyed in a +lively image, especially in an image addressed to the eye, and contained +in a single stanza, were always current in the East; and if the poem +is long, it is only a string of unconnected verses. They use an +inconsecutiveness quite alarming to Western logic, and the connection +between the stanzas of their longer odes is much like that between the +refrain of our old English ballads, + + "The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall," + +or + + "The rain it raineth every day," + +and the main story. + +Take, as specimens of these gnomic verses, the following:-- + + "The secret that should not be blown + Not one of thy nation must know; + You may padlock the gate of a town, + But never the mouth of a foe." + +Or this of Omar Chiam:-- + + "On earth's wide thoroughfares below + Two only men contented go: + Who knows what's right and what's forbid, + And he from whom is knowledge hid." + +Or this of Enweri:-- + + "On prince or bride no diamond stone + Half so gracious ever shone, + As the light of enterprise + Beaming from a young man's eyes." + +Or this of Ibn Jemin:-- + + "Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou + love a life serene: + A woman for thy wife, though she were a + crowned queen; + And, the second, borrowed money, though + the smiling lender say + That he will not demand the debt until the + Judgment Day." + +Or this poem on Friendship:-- + + "He who has a thousand friends has not a + friend to spare, + And he who has one enemy shall meet him + everywhere." + +Here is a poem on a Melon, by Adsched of Meru:-- + + "Color, taste, and smell, smaragdus, sugar, + and musk,-- + Amber for the tongue, for the eye a picture + rare,-- + If you cut the fruit in slices, every slice a + crescent fair,-- + If you leave it whole, the full harvest-moon + is there." + +Hafiz is the prince of Persian poets, and in his extraordinary gifts +adds to some of the attributes of Pindar, Anacreon, Horace, and Burns +the insight of a mystic, that sometimes affords a deeper glance at +Nature than belongs to either of these bards. He accosts all topics with +an easy audacity. "He only," he says, "is fit for company, who knows how +to prize earthly happiness at the value of a night-cap. Our father Adam +sold Paradise for two kernels of wheat; then blame me not, if I hold it +dear at one grapestone." He says to the Shah, "Thou who rulest after +words and thoughts which no ear has heard and no mind has thought, +abide firm until thy young destiny tears off his blue coat from the old +graybeard of the sky." He says,-- + + "I batter the wheel of heaven + When it rolls not rightly by; + I am not one of the snivellers + Who fall thereon and die." + +The rapidity of his turns is always surprising us:-- + + "See how the roses burn! + Bring wine to quench the fire! + Alas! the flames come up with us,-- + We perish with desire." + +After the manner of his nation, he abounds in pregnant sentences which +might be engraved on a sword-blade and almost on a ring. + +"In honor dies he to whom the great seems ever wonderful." + +"Here is the sum, that, when one door opens, another shuts." + +"On every side is an ambush laid by the robber-troops of circumstance; +hence it is that the horseman of life urges on his courser at headlong +speed." + +"The earth is a host who murders his guests." + +"Good is what goes on the road of Nature. On the straight way the +traveller never misses." + + "Alas! till now I had not known + My guide and Fortune's guide are one." + + "The understanding's copper coin + Counts not with the gold of love." + + "'Tis writ on Paradise's gate, + 'Wo to the dupe that yields to Fate!'" + + "The world is a bride superbly dressed;-- + Who weds her for dowry must pay his soul." + + "Loose the knots of the heart; never think on + thy fate: + No Euclid has yet disentangled that snarl." + + "There resides in the grieving + A poison to kill; + Beware to go near them + 'Tis pestilent still." + +Harems and wine-shops only give him a new ground of observation, whence +to draw sometimes a deeper moral than regulated sober life affords,--and +this is foreseen:-- + + "I will be drunk and down with wine; + Treasures we find in a ruined house." + +Riot, he thinks, can snatch from the deeply hidden lot the veil that +covers it:-- + + "To be wise the dull brain so earnestly throbs, + Bring bands of wine for the stupid head." + + "The Builder of heaven + Hath sundered the earth, + So that no footway + Leads out of it forth. + + "On turnpikes of wonder + Wine leads the mind forth, + Straight, sidewise, and upward, + West, southward, and north. + + "Stands the vault adamantine + Until the Doomsday; + The wine-cup shall ferry + Thee o'er it away." + +That hardihood and self-equality of every sound nature, which result +from the feeling that the spirit in him is entire and as good as the +world, which entitle the poet to speak with authority, and make him an +object of interest, and his every phrase and syllable significant, are +in Hafiz, and abundantly fortify and ennoble his tone. + +His was the fluent mind in which every thought and feeling came readily +to the lips. "Loose the knots of the heart," he says. We absorb elements +enough, but have not leaves and lungs for healthy perspiration and +growth. An air of sterility, of incompetence to their proper aims, +belongs to many who have both experience and wisdom. But a large +utterance, a river, that makes its own shores, quick perception and +corresponding expression, a constitution to which every morrow is a new +day, which is equal to the needs of life, at once tender and bold, with +great arteries,--this generosity of ebb and flow satisfies, and we +should be willing to die when our time comes, having had our swing and +gratification. The difference is not so much in the quality of men's +thoughts as in the power of uttering them. What is pent and smouldered +in the dumb actor is not pent in the poet, but passes over into new +form, at once relief and creation. + +The other merit of Hafiz is his intellectual liberty, which is a +certificate of profound thought. We accept the religions and politics +into which we fall; and it is only a few delicate spirits who are +sufficient to see that the whole web of convention is the imbecility +of those whom it entangles,--that the mind suffers no religion and no +empire but its own. It indicates this respect to absolute truth by the +use it makes of the symbols that are most stable and reverend, and +therefore is always provoking the accusation of irreligion. + +Hypocrisy is the perpetual butt of his arrows. + + "Let us draw the cowl through the brook of + wine." + +He tells his mistress, that not the dervis, or the monk, but the lover, +has in his heart the spirit which makes the ascetic and the saint; and +certainly not their cowls and mummeries, but her glances, can impart to +him the fire and virtue needful for such self-denial. Wrong shall not be +wrong to Hafiz, for the name's sake. A law or statute is to him what a +fence is to a nimble schoolboy,--a temptation for a jump. "We would do +nothing but good; else would shame come to us on the day when the soul +must hie hence;--and should they then deny us Paradise, the Houris +themselves would forsake that, and come out to us." + +His complete intellectual emancipation he communicates to the reader. +There is no example of such facility of allusion, such use of all +materials. Nothing is too high, nothing too low, for his occasion. He +fears nothing, he stops for nothing. Love is a leveller, and Allah +becomes a groom, and heaven a closet, in his daring hymns to his +mistress or to his cup-bearer. This boundless charter is the right of +genius. "No evil fate," said Beethoven, "can befall my music, and he to +whom it is become intelligible must become free from all the paltriness +which the others drag about with them." + +We do not wish to strew sugar on bottled spiders, or try to make +mystical divinity out of the Song of Solomon, much less out of the +erotic and bacchanalian songs of Hafiz. Hafiz himself is determined to +defy all such hypocritical interpretation, and tears off his turban and +throws it at the head of the meddling dervis, and throws his glass after +the turban. But the love or the wine of Hafiz is not to be confounded +with vulgar debauch. It is the spirit in which the song is written that +imports, and not the topics. Hafiz praises wine, roses, maidens, boys, +birds, mornings, and music, to give vent to his immense hilarity and +sympathy with every form of beauty and joy; and lays the emphasis on +these to mark his scorn of sanctimony and base prudence. These are the +natural topics and language of his wit and perception. But it is the +play of wit and the joy of song that he loves; and if you mistake him +for a low rioter, he turns short on you with verses which express the +poverty of sensual joys, and to ejaculate with equal fire the most +unpalatable affirmations of heroic sentiment and contempt for the world. +Sometimes it is a glance from the height of thought, as thus:--"Bring +wine; for, in the audience-hall of the soul's independence, what is +sentinel or Sultan? what is the wise man or the intoxicated?"--and +sometimes his feast, feasters, and world are only one pebble more in the +eternal vortex and revolution of Fate:-- + + "I am: what I am + My dust will be again." + +A saint might lend an ear to the riotous fun of Falstaff; for it is +not created to excite the animal appetites, but to vent the joy of a +supernal intelligence. In all poetry, Pindar's rule holds,--[Greek: +sunetois phonei], it speaks to the intelligent; and Hafiz is a poet for +poets, whether he write, as sometimes, with a parrot's, or, as at other +times, with an eagle's quill. + +Every song of Hafiz affords new proof of the unimportance of your +subject to success, provided only the treatment be cordial. In general, +what is more tedious than dedications or panegyrics addressed to +grandees? Yet in the "Divan" you would not skip them, since his muse +seldom supports him better. + + "What lovelier forms things wear, + Now that the Shah comes back!" + +And again:-- + + "Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike + down. + Poises Arcturus aloft morning and evening + his spear." + +And again:-- + + "Mirza! where thy shadow falls, + Beauty sits and Music calls; + Where thy form and favor come, + All good creatures have their home." + +Here are a couple of stately compliments to his Shah, from the kindred +genius of Enweri:-- + + "Not in their houses stand the stars, + But o'er the pinnacles of thine!" + + "From thy worth and weight the stars + gravitate, + And the equipoise of heaven is thy house's + equipoise!" + +It is told of Hafiz, that, when he had written a compliment to a +handsome youth,-- + + "Take my heart in thy hand, O beautiful boy + of Schiraz! + I would give for the mole on thy cheek Samarcand + and Buchara!"-- + +the verses came to the ears of Timour in his palace. Timour taxed Hafiz +with treating disrespectfully his two cities, to raise and adorn which +he had conquered nations. Hafiz replied, "Alas, my lord, if I had not +been so prodigal, I had not been so poor!" + +The Persians had a mode of establishing copyright the most secure of any +contrivance with which we are acquainted. The law of the _ghaselle_, or +shorter ode, requires that the poet insert his name in the last stanza. +Almost every one of several hundreds of poems of Hafiz contains his name +thus interwoven more or less closely with the subject of the piece. It +is itself a test of skill, as this self-naming is not quite easy. We +remember but two or three examples in English poetry: that of Chaucer, +in the "House of Fame"; Jonson's epitaph on his son,-- + + "Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry"; + +and Cowley's,-- + + "The melancholy Cowley lay." + +But it is easy to Hafiz. It gives him the opportunity of the most +playful self-assertion, always gracefully, sometimes almost in the fun +of Falstaff, sometimes with feminine delicacy. He tells us, "The angels +in heaven were lately learning his last pieces." He says, "The fishes +shed their pearls, out of desire and longing, as soon as the ship of +Hafiz swims the deep." + + "Out of the East, and out of the West, + no man understands me; + Oh, the happier I, who confide to none but + the wind! + This morning heard I how the lyre of the + stars resounded, + 'Sweeter tones have we heard from Hafiz!'" + +Again,-- + + "I heard the harp of the planet Venus, and + it said in the early morning, 'I am the disciple + of the sweet-voiced Hafiz!'" + +And again,-- + + "When Hafiz sings, the angels hearken, + and Anaitis, the leader of the starry host, + calls even the Messiah in heaven out to the + dance." + + "No one has unveiled thoughts like Hafiz, + since the locks of the Word-bride were first + curled." + + "Only he despises the verse of Hafiz who + is not himself by nature noble." + +But we must try to give some of these poetic flourishes the metrical +form which they seem to require:-- + + "Fit for the Pleiads' azure chord + The songs I sung, the pearls I bored." + +Another:-- + + "I have no hoarded treasure, + Yet have I rich content; + The first from Allah to the Shah, + The last to Hafiz went." + +Another:-- + + "High heart, O Hafiz! though not thine + Fine gold and silver ore; + More worth to thee the gift of song, + And the clear insight more." + +Again:-- + + "Thou foolish Hafiz! say, do churls + Know the worth of Oman's pearls? + Give the gem which dims the moon + To the noblest, or to none." + +Again:-- + + "O Hafiz! speak not of thy need; + Are not these verses thine? + Then all the poets are agreed, + No man can less repine." + +He asserts his dignity as bard and inspired man of his people. To the +vizier returning from Mecca he says,-- + + "Boast not rashly, prince of pilgrims, of + thy fortune, Thou hast indeed seen the + temple; but I, the Lord of the temple. Nor + has any man inhaled from the musk-bladder + of the merchant, or from the musky morning-wind, + that sweet air which I am permitted to + breathe every hour of the day." + +And with still more vigor in the following lines:-- + + "Oft have I said, I say it once more, + I, a wanderer, do not stray from myself. + I am a kind of parrot; the mirror is holden to me; + What the Eternal says, I stammering say again. + Give me what you will; I eat thistles as roses, + And according to my food I grow and I give. + Scorn me not, but know I have the pearl, + And am only seeking one to receive it." + +And his claim has been admitted from the first. The muleteers and +camel-drivers, on their way through the desert, sing snatches of his +songs, not so much for the thought, as for their joyful temper and tone; +and the cultivated Persians know his poems by heart. Yet Hafiz does not +appear to have set any great value on his songs, since his scholars +collected them for the first time after his death. + +In the following poem the soul is figured as the Phoenix alighting on +the Tree of Life:-- + + "My phoenix long ago secured + His nest in the sky-vault's cope; + In the body's cage immured, + He is weary of life's hope. + + "Round and round this heap of ashes + Now flies the bird amain, + But in that odorous niche of heaven + Nestles the bird again. + + "Once flies he upward, he will perch + On Tuba's golden bough; + His home is on that fruited arch + Which cools the blest below. + + "If over this world of ours + His wings my phoenix spread, + How gracious falls on land and sea + The soul refreshing shade! + + "Either world inhabits he, + Sees oft below him planets roll; + His body is all of air compact, + Of Allah's love his soul." + +Here is an ode which is said to be a favorite with all educated +Persians:-- + + "Come!--the palace of heaven rests on aëry pillars,-- + Come, and bring me wine; our days are wind. + I declare myself the slave of that masculine soul + Which ties and alliance on earth once forever renounces. + Told I thee yester-morn how the Iris of heaven + Brought to me in my cup a gospel of joy? + O high-flying falcon! the Tree of Life is thy perch; + This nook of grief fits thee ill for a nest. + Hearken! they call to thee down from the ramparts of heaven; + I cannot divine what holds thee here in a net. + I, too, have a counsel for thee; oh, mark it and keep it, + Since I received the same from the Master above: + Seek not for faith or for truth in a world of light-minded girls; + A thousand suitors reckons this dangerous bride. + This jest [of the world], which tickles me, leave to my vagabond self. + Accept whatever befalls; uncover thy brow from thy locks; + Neither to me nor to thee was option imparted; + Neither endurance nor truth belongs to the laugh of the rose. + The loving nightingale mourns;--cause enow for mourning;-- + Why envies the bird the streaming verses of Hafiz? + Know that a god bestowed on him eloquent speech." + +Here is a little epitaph that might have come from Simonides:-- + + "Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest + Mad Destiny this tender stripling played: + For a warm breast of ivory to his breast, + She laid a slab of marble on his head." + +The cedar, the cypress, the palm, the olive, and fig-tree, and the birds +that inhabit them, and the garden flowers, are never wanting in these +musky verses, and are always named with effect. "The willows," he says, +"bow themselves to every wind, out of shame for their unfruitfulness." +We may open anywhere on a floral catalogue. + + "By breath of beds of roses drawn, + I found the grove in the morning pure, + In the concert of the nightingales + My drunken brain to cure. + + "With unrelated glance + I looked the rose in the eye; + The rose in the hour of gloaming + Flamed like a lamp hard-by. + + "She was of her beauty proud, + And prouder of her youth, + The while unto her flaming heart + The bulbul gave his truth. + + "The sweet narcissus closed + Its eye, with passion pressed; + The tulips out of envy burned + Moles in their scarlet breast. + + "The lilies white prolonged + Their sworded tongue to the smell; + The clustering anemones + Their pretty secrets tell." + +Presently we have,-- + + ----"All day the rain + Bathed the dark hyacinths in vain, + The flood may pour from morn till night + Nor wash the pretty Indians white." + +And so onward, through many a page. + +The following verse of Omar Chiam seems to belong to Hafiz:-- + + "Each spot where tulips prank their state + Has drunk the life-blood of the great; + The violets yon fields which stain + Are moles of beauties Time hath slain." + +As might this picture of the first days of Spring, from Enweri:-- + + "O'er the garden water goes the wind alone + To rasp and to polish the cheek of the wave; + The fire is quenched on the dear hearth-stone, + But it burns again on the tulips brave." + +Friendship is a favorite topic of the Eastern poets, and they have +matched on this head the absoluteness of Montaigne. + +Hafiz says,-- + +"Thou learnest no secret until thou knowest friendship; since to the +unsound no heavenly knowledge enters." + +Ibn Jemin writes thus:-- + + "Whilst I disdain the populace, + I find no peer in higher place. + Friend is a word of royal tone, + Friend is a poem all alone. + Wisdom is like the elephant, + Lofty and rare inhabitant: + He dwells in deserts or in courts; + With hucksters he has no resorts." + +Dschami says,-- + + "A friend is he, who, hunted as a foe, + So much the kindlier shows him than before; + Throw stones at him, or ruder javelins throw, + He builds with stone and steel a firmer floor." + +Of the amatory poetry of Hafiz we must be very sparing in our citations, +though it forms the staple of the "Divan." He has run through the +whole gamut of passion,--from the sacred, to the borders, and over +the borders, of the profane. The same confusion of high and low, the +celerity of flight and allusion which our colder muses forbid, is +habitual to him. From the plain text,-- + + "The chemist of love + Will this perishing mould, + Were it made out of mire, + Transmute into gold,"-- + +or, from another favorite legend of his chemistry,-- + + "They say, through patience, chalk + Becomes a ruby stone; + Ah, yes, but by the true heart's blood + The chalk is crimson grown,"-- + +he proceeds to the celebration of his passion; and nothing in his +religious or in his scientific traditions is too sacred or too remote to +afford a token of his mistress. The Moon thought she knew her own orbit +well enough; but when she saw the curve on Zuleika's cheek, she was at a +loss:-- + + "And since round lines are drawn + My darling's lips about, + The very Moon looks puzzled on, + And hesitates in doubt + If the sweet curve that rounds thy mouth + Be not her true way to the South." + +His ingenuity never sleeps:-- + + "Ah, could I hide me in my song, + To kiss thy lips from which it flows!"-- + +and plays in a thousand pretty courtesies:-- + + "Fair fall thy soft heart! + A good work wilt thou do? + Oh, pray for the dead + Whom thine eyelashes slew!" + +And what a nest has he found for his bonny bird to take up her abode +in!-- + + "They strew in the path of kings and czars + Jewels and gems of price; + But for thy head I will pluck down stars, + And pave thy way with eyes. + + "I have sought for thee a costlier dome + Than Mahmoud's palace high, + And thou, returning, find thy home + In the apple of Love's eye." + +Nor shall Death snatch her from his pursuit:-- + + "If my darling should depart + And search the skies for prouder friends, + God forbid my angry heart + In other love should seek amends! + + "When the blue horizon's hoop + Me a little pinches here, + On the instant I will die + And go find thee in the sphere." + +Then we have all degrees of passionate abandonment:-- + + "I know this perilous love-lane + No whither the traveller leads, + Yet my fancy the sweet scent of + Thy tangled tresses feeds. + + "In the midnight of thy locks, + I renounce the day; + In the ring of thy rose-lips, + My heart forgets to pray." + +And sometimes his love rises to a religious sentiment:-- + + "Plunge in yon angry waves, + Renouncing doubt and care; + The flowing of the seven broad seas + Shall never wet thy hair. + + "Is Allah's face on thee + Bending with love benign, + And thou not less on Allah's eye + O fairest! turnest thine." + +We add to these fragments of Hafiz a few specimens from other poets. + + +CHODSCHU KERMANI. + +THE EXILE. + + "In Farsistan the violet spreads + Its leaves to the rival sky,-- + I ask, How far is the Tigris flood, + And the vine that grows thereby? + + "Except the amber morning wind, + Not one saluted me here; + There is no man in all Bagdad + To offer the exile cheer. + + "I know that thou, O morning wind, + O'er Kerman's meadow blowest, + And thou, heart-warming nightingale, + My father's orchard knowest. + + "Oh, why did partial Fortune + From that bright land banish me? + So long as I wait in Bagdad, + The Tigris is all I see. + + "The merchant hath stuffs of price, + And gems from the sea-washed strand, + And princes offer me grace + To stay in the Syrian land: + + "But what is gold for but for gifts? + And dark without love is the day; + And all that I see in Bagdad + Is the Tigris to float me away." + + +NISAMI. + + "While roses bloomed along the plain, + The nightingale to the falcon said, + 'Why, of all birds, must thou be dumb? + With closed mouth thou utterest, + Though dying, no last word to man. + Yet sitt'st thou on the hand of princes, + And feedest on the grouse's breast, + Whilst I, who hundred thousand jewels + Squander in a single tone, + Lo! I feed myself with worms, + And my dwelling is the thorn.'-- + The falcon answered, 'Be all ear: + I, experienced in affairs, + See fifty things, say never one; + But thee the people prizes not, + Who, doing nothing, say'st a thousand. + To me, appointed to the chase, + The king's hand gives the grouse's breast; + Whilst a chatterer like thee + Must gnaw worms in the thorn. Farewell!'" + +The following passages exhibit the strong tendency of the Persian poets +to contemplative and religious poetry and to allegory. + + +ENWERI. + +BODY AND SOUL. + + "A painter in China once painted a hall;-- + Such a web never hung on an emperor's wall;-- + One half from his brush with rich colors did run, + The other he touched with a beam of the sun; + So that all which delighted the eye in one side, + The same, point for point, in the other replied. + + "In thee, friend, that Tyrian chamber is found; + Thine the star-pointing roof, and the base on the ground: + Is one half depicted with colors less bright? + Beware that the counterpart blazes with light!" + + +IBN JEMIN. + + "I read on the porch of a palace bold + In a purple tablet letters cast,-- + 'A house, though a million winters old, + A house of earth comes down at last; + Then quarry thy stones from the crystal All, + And build the dome that shall not fall.'" + +"What need," cries the mystic Feisi, "of palaces and tapestry? What need +even of a bed? + + "The eternal Watcher, who doth wake + All night in the body's earthen chest, + Will of thine arms a pillow make, + And a holster of thy breast." + +A stanza of Hilali on a Flute is a luxury of idealism:-- + + "Hear what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains, + Without tongue, yellow-cheeked, full of winds that wail and sigh, + Saying, 'Sweetheart, the old mystery remains, + If I am I, thou thou, or thou art I.'" + +Ferideddin Attar wrote the "Bird Conversations," a mystical tale, in +which the birds, coming together to choose their king, resolve on a +pilgrimage to Mount Kaf, to pay their homage to the Simorg. From this +poem, written five hundred years ago, we cite the following passage, as +a proof of the identity of mysticism in all periods. The tone is quite +modern. In the fable, the birds were soon weary of the length and +difficulties of the way, and at last almost all gave out. Three only +persevered, and arrived before the throne of the Simorg. + + "The bird-soul was ashamed; + Their body was quite annihilated; + They had cleaned themselves from the dust, + And were by the light ensouled. + What was, and was not,--the Past,-- + Was wiped out from their breast. + The sun from near-by beamed + Clearest light into their soul; + The resplendence of the Simorg beamed + As one back from all three. + They knew not, amazed, if they + Were either this or that. + They saw themselves all as Simorg, + Themselves in the eternal Simorg. + When to the Simorg up they looked, + They beheld him among themselves; + And when they looked on each other, + They saw themselves in the Simorg. + A single look grouped the two parties. + The Simorg emerged, the Simorg vanished, + This in that, and that in this, + As the world has never heard. + So remained they, sunk in wonder, + Thoughtless in deepest thinking, + And quite unconscious of themselves. + Speechless prayed they to the Highest + To open this secret, + And to unlock _Thou_ and _We_. + There came an answer without tongue.-- + 'The Highest is a sun-mirror; + Who comes to Him sees himself therein, + Sees body and soul, and soul and body: + When you came to the Simorg, + Three therein appeared to you, + And, had fifty of you come, + So had you seen yourselves as many. + Him has none of us yet seen. + Ants see not the Pleiades. + Can the gnat grasp with his teeth + The body of the elephant? + What you see is He not; + What you hear is He not. + The valleys which you traverse, + The actions which you perform, + They lie under our treatment + And among our properties. + You as three birds are amazed, + Impatient, heartless, confused: + Far over you am I raised, + Since I am in act Simorg. + Ye blot out my highest being, + That ye may find yourselves on my throne; + Forever ye blot out yourselves, + As shadows in the sun. Farewell!'" + +Among the religious customs of the dervises, it seems, is an +astronomical dance, in which the dervis imitates the movements of the +heavenly bodies by spinning on his own axis, whilst, at the same time, +he revolves round the sheikh in the centre, representing the sun; and as +he spins, he sings the song of Seid Nimetollah of Kuhistan:-- + + "Spin the ball! I reel, I hum, + Nor head from foot can I discern, + Nor my heart from love of mine, + Nor the wine-cup from the wine. + All my doing, all my leaving, + Reaches not to my perceiving. + Lost in whirling spheres I rove, + And know only that I love. + + "I am seeker of the stone, + Living gem of Solomon; + From the shore of souls arrived, + In the sea of sense I dived; + But what is land, or what is wave, + To me who only jewel crave? + Love's the air-fed fire intense, + My heart is the frankincense; + As the rich aloes flames, I glow, + Yet the censer cannot know. + I'm all-knowing, yet unknowing; + Stand not, pause not, in my going. + + "Ask not me, as Muftis can + To recite the Alcoran; + Well I love the meaning sweet,-- + I tread the book beneath my feet. + + "Lo! the God's love blazes higher, + Till all difference expire. + What are Moslems? what are Giaours? + All are Love's, and all are ours. + I embrace the true believers, + But I reck not of deceivers. + Firm to heaven my bosom clings, + Heedless of inferior things; + Down on earth there, underfoot, + What men chatter know I not." + + * * * * * + + +THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. + +EVERY MAN HIS OWN BOSWELL. + + +Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle which fits them all. + +----I think, Sir,--said the divinity-student,--you must intend that for +one of the sayings of the Seven Wise Men of Boston you were speaking of +the other day. + +I thank you, my young friend,--was my reply,--but I must say something +better than that, before I could pretend to fill out the number. + +----The schoolmistress wanted to know how many of these sayings there +were on record, and what, and by whom said. + +----Why, let us see,--there is that one of Benjamin Franklin, "the great +Bostonian," after whom this lad was named. To be sure, he said a great +many wise things,--and I don't feel sure he didn't borrow this,--he +speaks as if it were old. But then he applied it so neatly!-- + +"He that has once done you a kindness will be more ready to do you +another than he whom you yourself have obliged." + +Then there is that glorious Epicurean paradox, uttered by my friend, the +Historian, in one of his flashing moments:-- + +"Give us the luxuries of life, and we will dispense with its +necessaries." + +To these must certainly be added that other saying of one of the +wittiest of men:-- + +"Good Americans, when they die, go to Paris." + +----The divinity-student looked grave at this, but said nothing. + +The schoolmistress spoke out, and said she didn't think the wit meant +any irreverence. It was only another way of saying, Paris is a heavenly +place after New York or Boston. + +A jaunty-looking person, who had come in with the young fellow they call +John,--evidently a stranger,--said there was one more wise man's saying +that he had heard; it was about our place, but he didn't know who said +it.--A civil curiosity was manifested by the company to hear the fourth +wise saying. I heard him distinctly whispering to the young fellow who +brought him to dinner, _Shall I tell it?_ To which the answer was, _Go +ahead!_--Well,--he said,--this was what I heard:-- + +"Boston State-House is the hub of the solar system. You couldn't +pry that out of a Boston man, if you had the tire of all creation +straightened out for a crowbar." + +Sir,--said I,--I am gratified with your remark. It expresses with +pleasing vivacity that which I have sometimes heard uttered with +malignant dulness. The satire of the remark is essentially true of +Boston,--and of all other considerable--and inconsiderable--places with +which I have had the privilege of being acquainted. Cockneys think +London is the only place in the world. Frenchmen--you remember the line +about Paris, the Court, the World, etc.--I recollect well, by the way, +a sign in that city which ran thus: "Hotel de l'Univers et des États +Unis"; and as Paris _is_ the universe to a Frenchman, of course the +United States are outside of it.--"See Naples and then die."--It is +quite as bad with smaller places. I have been about, lecturing, you +know, and have found the following propositions to hold true of all of +them. + +1. The axis of the earth sticks out visibly through the centre of each +and every town or city. + +2. If more than fifty years have passed since its foundation, it is +affectionately styled by the inhabitants the "_good old_ town _of_"---- +(whatever its name may happen to be). + +3. Every collection of its inhabitants that comes together to listen +to a stranger is invariably declared to be a "remarkably intelligent +audience." + +4. The climate of the place is particularly favorable to longevity. + +5. It contains several persons of vast talent little known to the world. +(One or two of them, you may perhaps chance to remember, sent short +pieces to the "Paetolian" some time since, which were "respectfully +declined.") + +Boston is just like other places of its size;--only, perhaps, +considering its excellent fish-market, paid fire-department, superior +monthly publications, and correct habit of spelling the English +language, it has some right to look down on the mob of cities. I'll tell +you, though, if you want to know it, what is the real offence of Boston. +It drains a large water-shed of its intellect, and will not itself be +drained. If it would only send away its first-rate men, instead of its +second-rate ones, (no offence to the well-known exceptions, of which we +are always proud,) we should be spared such epigrammatic remarks as that +which the gentleman has quoted. There can never be a real metropolis +in this country, until the biggest centre can drain the lesser ones of +their talent and wealth. I have observed, by the way, that the people +who really live in two great cities are by no means so jealous of each +other, as are those of smaller cities situated within the intellectual +basin, or _suction-range_, of one large one, of the pretensions of any +other. Don't you see why? Because their promising young author and +rising lawyer and large capitalist have been drained off to the +neighboring big city,--their prettiest girl has been exported to the +same market; all their ambition points there, and all their thin gilding +of glory comes from there. I hate little toad-eating cities. + +----Would I be so good as to specify any particular example?--Oh,--an +example? Did you ever see a bear-trap? Never? Well, shouldn't you +like to see me put my foot into one? With sentiments of the highest +consideration I must beg leave to be excused. + +Besides, some of the smaller cities are charming. If they have an old +church or two, a few stately mansions of former grandees, here and there +an old dwelling with the second story projecting, (for the convenience +of shooting the Indians knocking at the front-door with their +tomahawks,)--if they have, scattered about, those mighty-square houses +built something more than half a century ago, and standing like +architectural boulders dropped by the former diluvium of wealth, whose +refluent wave has left them as its monument,--if they have gardens with +elbowed apple trees that push their branches over the high board-fence +and drop their fruit on the side-walk,--if they have a little grass in +the side-streets, enough to betoken quiet without proclaiming decay,--I +think I could go to pieces, after my life's work were done, in one of +those tranquil places, as sweetly as in any cradle that an old man may +be rocked to sleep in. I visit such spots always with infinite delight. +My friend, the Poet, says, that rapidly growing towns are most +unfavorable to the imaginative and reflective faculties. Let a man live +in one of these old quiet places, he says, and the wine of his soul, +which is kept thick and turbid by the rattle of busy streets, settles, +and, as you hold it up, you may see the sun through it by day and the +stars by night. + +----Do I think that the little villages have the conceit of the great +towns?--I don't believe there is much difference. You know how they read +Pope's line in the smallest town in our State of Massachusetts?--Well, +they read it + + "All are but parts of one stupendous HULL!" + +----Every person's feelings have a front-door and a side-door by which +they may be entered. The front-door is on the street. Some keep it +always open; some keep it latched; some, locked; some, bolted,--with a +chain that will let you peep in, but not get in; and some nail it up, +so that nothing can pass its threshold. This front-door leads into +a passage which opens into an ante-room, and this into the interior +apartments. The side-door opens at once into the sacred chambers. + +There is almost always at least one key to this side-door. This is +carried for years hidden in a mother's bosom. Fathers, brothers, +sisters, and friends, often, but by no means so universally, have +duplicates of it. The wedding-ring conveys a right to one; alas, if none +is given with it! + +If nature or accident has put one of these keys into the hands of a +person who has the torturing instinct, I can only solemnly pronounce the +words that Justice utters over its doomed victim,--_The Lord have mercy +on your soul!_ You will probably go mad within a reasonable time,--or, +if you are a man, run off and die with your head on a curb-stone, in +Melbourne or San Francisco,--or, if you are a woman, quarrel and break +your heart, or turn into a pale, jointed petrifaction that moves about +as if it were alive, or play some real life-tragedy or other. + +Be very careful to whom you trust one of these keys of the side-door. +The fact of possessing one renders those even who are dear to you very +terrible at times. You can keep the world out from your front-door, or +receive visitors only when you are ready for them; but those of your own +flesh and blood, or of certain grades of intimacy, can come in at the +side-door, if they will, at any hour and in any mood. Some of them have +a scale of your whole nervous system, and can play all the gamut of your +sensibilities in semitones,--touching the naked nerve-pulps as a pianist +strikes the keys of his instrument. I am satisfied that there are as +great masters of this nerve-playing as Vieuxtemps or Thalberg in their +lines of performance. Married life is the school in which the most +accomplished artists in this department are found. A delicate woman +is the best instrument; she has such a magnificent compass of +sensibilities! From the deep inward moan which follows pressure on the +great nerves of right, to the sharp cry as the filaments of taste are +struck with a crashing sweep, is a range which no other instrument +possesses. A few exercises on it dally at home fit a man wonderfully for +his habitual labors, and refresh him immensely as he returns from them. +No stranger can get a great many notes of torture out of a human soul; +it takes one that knows it well,--parent, child, brother, sister, +intimate. Be very careful to whom you give a side-door key; too many +have them already. + +----You remember the old story of the tender-hearted man, who placed a +frozen viper in his bosom, and was stung by it when it became thawed? If +we take a cold-blooded creature into our bosom, better that it should +sting us and we should die than that its chill should slowly steal into +our hearts; warm it we never can! I have seen faces of women that were +fair to look upon, yet one could see that the icicles were forming +round these women's hearts. I knew what freezing image lay on the white +breasts beneath the laces! + +A very simple _intellectual_ mechanism answers the necessities of +friendship, and even of the most intimate relations of life. If a watch +tells us the hour and the minute, we can be content to carry it about +with us for a life-time, though it has no second-hand, and is not +a repeater, nor a musical watch,--though it is not enamelled nor +jewelled,--in short, though it has little beyond the wheels required +for a trustworthy instrument, added to a good face and a pair of useful +hands. The more wheels there are in a watch or a brain, the more trouble +they are to take care of. The movements of exaltation which belong to +genius are egotistic by their very nature. A calm, clear mind, not +subject to the spasms and crises that are so often met with in creative +or intensely perceptive natures, is the best basis for love or +friendship.--Observe, I am talking about _minds_. I won't say, the more +intellect, the less capacity for loving; for that would do wrong to the +understanding and reason;--but, on the other hand, that the brain often +runs away with the heart's best blood, which gives the world a few pages +of wisdom or sentiment or poetry, instead of making one other heart +happy, I have no question. + +If one's intimate in love or friendship cannot or does not share +all one's intellectual tastes or pursuits, that is a small matter. +Intellectual companions can be found easily in men and books. After all, +if we think of it, most of the world's loves and friendships have been +between people that could not read nor spell. + +But to radiate the heat of the affections into a clod, which absorbs all +that is poured into it, but never warms beneath the sunshine of smiles +or the pressure of hand or lip,--this is the great martyrdom of +sensitive beings,--most of all in that perpetual _auto da fé_ where +young womanhood is the sacrifice. + +----You noticed, perhaps, what I just said about the loves and +friendships of illiterate persons,--that is, of the human race, with a +few exceptions here and there. I like books,--I was born and bred among +them, and have the easy feeling, when I get into their presence, that a +stable-boy has among horses. I don't think I undervalue them either as +companions or as instructors. But I can't help remembering that the +world's great men have not commonly been great scholars, nor its great +scholars great men. The Hebrew patriarchs had small libraries, I think, +if any; yet they represent to our imaginations a very complete idea of +manhood, and, I think, if we could ask in Abraham to dine with us men of +letters next Saturday, we should feel honored by his company. + +What I wanted to say about books is this: that there are times in which +every active mind feels itself above any and all human books. + +----I think a man must have a good opinion of himself, Sir,--said the +divinity-student,--who should feel himself above Shakspeare at any time. + +My young friend,--I replied,--the man who is never conscious of any +state of feeling or of intellectual effort entirely beyond expression +by any form of words whatsoever is a mere creature of language. I can +hardly believe there are any such men. Why, think for a moment of the +power of music. The nerves that make us alive to it spread out (so the +Professor tells me) in the most sensitive region of the marrow, just +where it is widening to run upwards into the hemispheres. It has its +seat in the region of sense rather than of thought. Yet it produces +a continuous and, as it were, logical sequence of emotional and +intellectual changes; but how different from trains of thought proper! +how entirely beyond the reach of symbols!--Think of human passions as +compared with all phrases! Did you ever hear of a man's growing lean by +the reading of "Romeo and Juliet," or blowing his brains out because +Desdemona was maligned? There are a good many symbols, even, that are +more expressive than words. I remember a young wife who had to part with +her husband for a time. She did not write a mournful poem; indeed, she +was a silent person, and perhaps hardly said a word about it; but she +quietly turned of a deep orange color with jaundice. A great many people +in this world have but one form of rhetoric for their profoundest +experiences,--namely, to waste away and die. When a man can _read_, his +paroxysm of feeling is passing. When he can _read_, his thought has +slackened its hold.--You talk about reading Shakspeare, using him as an +expression for the highest intellect, and you wonder that any common +person should be so presumptuous as to suppose his thought can rise +above the text which lies before him. But think a moment. A child's +reading of Shakspeare is one thing, and Coleridge's or Schlegel's +reading of him is another. The saturation-point of each mind differs +from that of every other. But I think it is as true for the small mind +which can only take up a little as for the great one which takes up +much, that the suggested trains of thought and feeling ought always +to rise above--not the author, but the reader's mental version of the +author, whoever he may be. + +I think most readers of Shakspeare sometimes find themselves thrown into +exalted mental conditions like those produced by music. Then they may +drop the book, to pass at once into the region of thought without words. +We may happen to be very dull folks, you and I, and probably are, unless +there is some particular reason to suppose the contrary. But we get +glimpses now and then of a sphere of spiritual possibilities, where we, +dull as we are now, may sail in vast circles round the largest compass +of earthly intelligences. + +----I confess there are times when I feel like the friend I mentioned +to you some time ago,--I hate the very sight of a book. Sometimes it +becomes almost a physical necessity to talk out what is in the mind, +before putting anything else into it. It is very bad to have thoughts +and feelings, which were meant to come out in talk, _strike in_, as they +say of some complaints that ought to show outwardly. + +I always believed in life rather than in books. I suppose every day +of earth, with its hundred thousand deaths and something more of +births,--with its loves and hates, its triumphs and defeats, its pangs +and blisses, has more of humanity in it than all the books that were +ever written, put together. I believe the flowers growing at this moment +send up more fragrance to heaven than was ever exhaled from all the +essences ever distilled. + +----Don't I read up various matters to talk about at this table or +elsewhere?--No, that is the last thing I would do. I will tell you my +rule. Talk about those subjects you have had long in your mind, and +listen to what others say about subjects you have studied but recently. +Knowledge and timber shouldn't be much used till they are seasoned. + +----Physiologists and metaphysicians have had their attention turned a +good deal of late to the automatic and involuntary actions of the mind. +Put an idea into your intelligence and leave it there an hour, a day, a +year, without ever having occasion to refer to it. When, at last, +you return to it, you do not find it as it was when acquired. It has +domiciliated itself, so to speak,--become at home,--entered into +relations with your other thoughts, and integrated itself with the whole +fabric of the mind. Or take a simple and familiar example. You forget +a name, in conversation,--go on talking, without making any effort to +recall it,--and presently the mind evolves it by its own involuntary and +unconscious action, while you were pursuing another train of thought, +and the name rises of itself to your lips. + +There are some curious observations I should like to make about the +mental machinery, but I think we are getting rather didactic. + +----I should be gratified, if Benjamin Franklin would let me know +something of his progress in the French language. I rather liked that +exercise he read us the other day, though I must confess I should hardly +dare to translate it, for fear some people in a remote city where I once +lived might think I was drawing their portraits. + +----Yes, Paris is a famous place for societies. I don't know whether the +piece I mentioned from the French author was intended simply as Natural +History, or whether there was not a little malice in his description. +At any rate, when I gave my translation to B.F. to turn back again into +French, one reason was that I thought it would sound a little bald in +English, and some people might think it was meant to have some local +bearing or other,--which the author, of course, didn't mean, inasmuch as +he could not be acquainted with anything on this side the water. + +[The above remarks were addressed to the schoolmistress, to whom I +handed the paper after looking it over. The divinity-student came +and read over her shoulder,--very curious, apparently, but his eyes +wandered, I thought. Seeing that her breathing was a little hurried and +high, or _thoracic_, as my friend, the Professor, calls it, I watched +her a little more closely.--It is none of my business.--After all, it +is the imponderables that move the world,--heat, electricity, +love.--_Habet_.] + +This is the piece that Benjamin Franklin made into boarding-school +French, such as you see here; don't expect too much;--the mistakes give +a relish to it, I think. + + +LES SOCIÉTÉS POLYPHYSIOPHILOSOPHIQUES. + +Ces Sociétés là sont une Institution pour suppléer aux besoins d'esprit +et de coeur de ces individus qui ont survécu à leurs émotions à l'égard +du beau sexe, et qui n'ont pas la distraction de l'habitude de boire. + +Pour devenir membre d'une de ces Sociétés, on doit avoir le moins +de cheveux possible. S'il y en reste plusieurs qui resistent aux +dépilatoires naturelles et autres, on doit avoir quelques connaissances, +n'importe dans quel genre. Dès le moment qu'on ouvre la porte de la +Société, on a un grand intérêt dans toutes les choses dont on ne sait +rien. Ainsi, un microscopiste démontre un nouveau _flexor_ du _tarse_ +d'un _melolontha vulgaris_. Douze savans improvisés, portans des +besicles, et qui ne connaissent rien des insectes, si ce n'est les +morsures du _culex_, se précipitent sur l'instrument, et voient--une +grande bulle d'air, dont ils s'émerveillent avec effusion. Ce qui est +un spectacle plein d'instruction--pour ceux qui ne sont pas de ladite +Société. Tous les membres regardent les chimistes en particulier avec +un air d'intelligence parfaite pendant qu'ils prouvent dans un discours +d'une demi heure que O^6 N^3 H^5 C^6 etc. font quelque chose qui n'est +bonne à rien, mais qui probablement a une odeur très désagréable, selon +l'habitude des produits chimiques. Après celà , vient un mathématicien +qui vous bourre avec des _a+b_ et vous rapporte enfin un _x+y_, dont +vous n'avez pas besoin et qui ne change nullement vos relations avec +la vie. Un naturaliste vous parle des formations spéciales des animaux +excessivement inconnus, dont vous n'avez jamais soupçonné l'existence. +Ainsi il vous décrit les _follicules_ de _l'appendix vermiformis_ d'un +_dzigguetai_. Vous ne savez pas ce que c'est qu'un _follicule_. Vous ne +savez pas ce que c'est qu'un _appendix vermiformis_. Vous n'avez +jamais entendu parler du _dzigguetai_. Ainsi vous gagnez toutes ces +connaissances à la fois, qui s'attachent à votre esprit comme l'eau +adhére aux plumes d'un canard. On connait toutes les langues _ex +officio_ en devenant membre d'une de ces Sociétés. Ainsi quand on entend +lire un Essai sur les dialectes Tchutchiens, on comprend tout celà de +suite, et s'instruit énormément. + +Il y a deux espèces d'individus qu'on trouve toujours à ces Sociétiés: +1° Le membre à questions; 2° Le membre à "Bylaws." + +La _question_ est une spécialité. Celui qui en fait métier ne fait +jamais des réponses. La question est une manière très commode de dire +les choses suivantes: "Me voilà ! Je ne suis pas fossil, moi,--je respire +encore! J'ai des idées,--voyez mon intelligence! Vous ne croyiez pas, +vous autres, que je savais quelque chose de celà ! Ah, nous avons un +peu de sagacité, voyez vous! Nous ne sommes nullement la bête qu'on +pense!"--_Le faiseur de questions donne peu d'attention aux réponses +qu'on fait; ce n'est pas là dans sa spécialité._ + +Le membre à "Bylaws" est le bouchon de toutes les émotions mousseuses +et généreuses qui se montrent dans la Société. C'est un empereur +manqué,--un tyran à la troisième trituration. C'est un esprit dur, +borné, exact, grand dans les petitesses, petit dans les grandeurs, selon +le mot du grand Jefferson. On ne l'aime pas dans la Société, mais on le +respecte et on le craint. Il n'y a qu'un mot pour ce membre audessus +de "Bylaws." Ce mot est pour lui ce que l'Om est aux Hindous. C'est sa +religion; il n'y a rien audelà . Ce mot là c'est la CONSTITUTION! + +Lesdites Sociétés publient des feuilletons de tems en tems. On les +trouve abandonnés à sa porte, nus comme des enfans nouveau-nés, faute +de membrane cutanée, ou même papyracée. Si on aime la botanique, on y +trouve une mémoire sur les coquilles; si on fait des études zoölogiques, +on trouve un grand tas de q[square root]-1, ce qui doit étre infiniment +plus commode que les encyclopédies. Ainsi il est clair comme la +métaphysique qu'on doit devenir membre d'une Société telle que nous +décrivons. + + Recette pour le Dépilatoire Physiophilosophique. + Chaux vive lb. ss. Eau bouillante Oj. + Dépilez avec. Polissez ensuite. + +----I told the boy that his translation into French was creditable to +him; and some of the company wishing to hear what there was in the piece +that made me smile, I turned it into English for them, as well as I +could, on the spot. + +The landlady's daughter seemed to be much amused by the idea that, +a depilatory could take the place of literary and scientific +accomplishments; she wanted me to print the piece, so that she might +send a copy of it to her cousin in Mizzourah; she didn't think he'd +have to do anything to the outside of his head to get into any of +the societies; he had to wear a wig once, when he played a part in a +tabullo. + +No,--said I,--I shouldn't think of printing that in English. I'll tell +you why. As soon as you get a few thousand people together in a town, +there is somebody that every sharp thing you say is sure to hit. What +if a thing was written in Paris or in Pekin?--that makes no difference. +Everybody in those cities, or almost everybody, has his counterpart +here, and in all large places.--You never studied averages, as I have +had occasion to. + +I'll tell you how I came to know so much about averages. There was +one season when I was lecturing, commonly, five evenings in the week, +through most of the lecturing period. I soon found, as most speakers do, +that it was pleasanter to work one lecture than to keep several in hand. + +----Don't you get sick to death of one lecture?--said the landlady's +daughter,--who had a new dress on that day, and was in spirits for +conversation. + +I was going to talk about averages,--I said,--but I have no objection to +telling you about lectures, to begin with. + +A new lecture always has a certain excitement connected with its +delivery. One thinks well of it, as of most things fresh from his mind. +After a few deliveries of it, one gets tired and then disgusted with +its repetition. Go on delivering it, and the disgust passes off, until, +after one has repeated it a hundred or a hundred and fifty times, he +rather enjoys the hundred and first or hundred and fifty-first time, +before a new audience. But this is on one condition,--that he never lays +the lecture down and lets it cool. If he does, there comes on a +loathing for it which is intense, so that the sight of the old battered +manuscript is as bad as sea-sickness. + +A new lecture is just like any other new tool. We use it for a while +with pleasure. Then it blisters our hands, and we hate to touch it. +By-and-by our hands get callous, and then we have no longer any +sensitiveness about it. But if we give it up, the calluses disappear; +and if we meddle with it again, we miss the novelty and get the +blisters.--The story is often quoted of Whitefield, that he said a +sermon was good for nothing until it had been preached forty times. +A lecture doesn't begin to be old until it has passed its hundredth +delivery; and some, I think, have doubled, if not quadrupled, that +number. These old lectures are a man's best, commonly; they improve by +age, also,--like the pipes, fiddles, and poems I told you of the other +day. One learns to make the most of their strong points and to carry off +their weak ones, to take out the really good things which don't tell on +the audience, and put in cheaper things that do. All this degrades +him, of course, but it improves the lecture for general delivery. A +thoroughly popular lecture ought to have nothing in it which five +hundred people cannot all take in a flash, just as it is uttered. + +----No, indeed,--I should be very sorry to say anything disrespectful +of audiences. I have been kindly treated by a great many, and may +occasionally face one hereafter. But I tell you the _average_ intellect +of five hundred persons, taken as they come, is not very high. It may be +sound and safe, so far as it goes, but it is not very rapid or profound. +A lecture ought to be something which all can understand, about +something which interests everybody. I think, that, if any experienced +lecturer gives you a different account from this, it will probably be +one of those eloquent or forcible speakers who hold an audience by the +charm of their manner, whatever they talk about,--even when they don't +talk very well. + +But an _average_, which was what I meant to speak about, is one of the +most extraordinary subjects of observation and study. It is awful in its +uniformity, in its automatic necessity of action. Two communities of +ants or bees are exactly alike in all their actions, so far as we can +see. Two lyceum assemblies, of five hundred each, are so nearly alike, +that they are absolutely undistinguishable in many cases by any definite +mark, and there is nothing but the place and time by which one can tell +the "remarkably intelligent audience" of a town in New York or Ohio from +one in any New England town of similar size. Of course, if any principle +of selection has come in, as in those special associations of young +men which are common in cities, it deranges the uniformity of the +assemblage. But let there be no such interfering circumstances, and one +knows pretty well even the look the audience will have, before he goes +in. Front seats: a few old folks,--shiny-headed,--slant up best ear +towards the speaker,--drop off asleep after a while, when the air begins +to get a little narcotic with carbonic acid. Bright women's faces, young +and middle-aged, a little behind these, but toward the front--(pick out +the best, and lecture mainly to that). Here and there a countenance +sharp and scholarlike, and a dozen pretty female ones sprinkled about. +An indefinite number of pairs of young people,--happy, but not always +very attentive. Boys in the back-ground, more or less quiet. Dull faces +here, there,--in how many places! I don't say dull _people_, but faces +without a ray of sympathy or a movement of expression. They are what +kill the lecturer. These negative faces with their vacuous eyes and +stony lineaments pump and suck the warm soul out of him;--that is the +chief reason why lecturers grow so pale before the season is over. They +render _latent_ any amount of vital caloric; they act on our minds as +those cold-blooded creatures I was talking about act on our hearts. + +Out of all these inevitable elements the audience is generated,--a great +compound vertebrate, as much like fifty others you have seen as any two +mammals of the same species are like each other. Each audience laughs, +and each cries, in just the same places of your lecture; that is, if you +make one laugh or cry, you make all. Even those little indescribable +movements which a lecturer takes cognizance of, just as a driver notices +his horse's cocking his ears, are sure to come in exactly the same place +of your lecture, always. I declare to you, that, as the monk said about +the picture in the convent,--that he sometimes thought the living +tenants were the shadows, and the painted figures the realities,--I +have sometimes felt as if I were a wandering spirit, and this great +unchanging multivertebrate which I faced night after night was one +ever-listening animal, which writhed along after me wherever I fled, and +coiled at my feet every evening, turning up to me the same sleepless +eyes which I thought I had closed with my last drowsy incantation! + +----Oh, yes! A thousand kindly and courteous acts,--a thousand faces +that melted individually out of my recollection as the April snow melts, +but only to steal away and find the beds of flowers whose roots are +memory, but which blossom in poetry and dreams. I am not ungrateful, nor +unconscious of all the good feeling and intelligence everywhere to be +met with through the vast parish to which the lecturer ministers. But +when I set forth, leading a string of my mind's daughters to market, as +the country-folk fetch in their strings of horses----Pardon me, that +was a coarse fellow who sneered at the sympathy wasted on an unhappy +lecturer, as if, because he was decently paid for his services, he had +therefore sold his sensibilities.--Family men get dreadfully homesick. +In the remote and bleak village the heart returns to the red blaze of +the logs in one's fireplace at home. + + "There are his young barbarians all at play,"-- + +if he owns any youthful savages.--No, the world has a million roosts for +a man, but only one nest. + +----It is a fine thing to be an oracle to which an appeal is always made +in all discussions. The men of facts wait their turn in grim silence, +with that slight tension about the nostrils which the consciousness +of earning a "settler" in the form of a fact or a revolver gives the +individual thus armed. When a person is really full of information, and +does not abuse it to crush conversation, his part is to that of the real +talkers what the instrumental accompaniment is in a trio or quartette of +vocalists. + +----What do I mean by the real talkers?--Why, the people with fresh +ideas, of course, and plenty of good warm words to dress them in. Facts +always yield the place of honor, in conversation, to thoughts about +facts; but if a false note is uttered, down comes the finger on the key +and the man of facts asserts his true dignity. I have known three of +these men of facts, at least, who were always formidable,--and one of +them was tyrannical. + +----Yes, a man sometimes makes a grand appearance on a particular +occasion; but these men knew something about almost everything, and +never made mistakes.--He? _Veneers_ in first-rate style. The mahogany +scales off now and then in spots, and then you see the cheap light +stuff.--I found ---- very fine in conversational information, the other +day, when we were in company. The talk ran upon mountains. He was +wonderfully well acquainted with the leading facts about the Andes, the +Apennines, and the Appalachians; he had nothing in particular to +say about Ararat, Ben Nevis, and various other mountains that were +mentioned. By and by some Revolutionary anecdote came up, and he showed +singular familiarity with the lives of the Adamses, and gave many +details relating to Major André. A point of Natural History being +suggested, he gave an excellent account of the air-bladder of fishes. +He was very full upon the subject of agriculture, but retired from the +conversation when horticulture was introduced in the discussion. So +he seemed well acquainted with the geology of anthracite, but did not +pretend to know anything of other kinds of coal. There was something so +odd about the extent and limitations of his knowledge, that I suspected +all at once what might be the meaning of it, and waited till I got an +opportunity.--Have you seen the "New American Cyclopaedia?" said I.--I +have, he replied; I received an early copy.--How far does it go?--He +turned red, and answered,--To Araguay.--Oh, said I to myself,--not quite +so far as Ararat;--that is the reason he knew nothing about it; but he +must have read all the rest straight through, and, if he can remember +what is in this volume until he has read all those that are to come, he +will know more than I ever thought he would. + +Since I had this experience, I hear that somebody else has related a +similar story. I didn't borrow it, for all that.--I made a comparison +at table some time since, which has often been quoted and received many +compliments. It was that of the mind of a bigot to the pupil of the eye; +the more light you pour on it, the more it contracts. The simile is a +very obvious, and, I suppose I may now say, a happy one; for it has just +been shown me that it occurs in a Preface to certain Political Poems of +Thomas Moore's, published long before my remark was repeated. When a +person of fair character for literary honesty uses an image such as +another has employed before him, the presumption is, that he has struck +upon it independently, or unconsciously recalled it, supposing it his +own. + +It is impossible to tell, in a great many cases, whether a comparison +which suddenly suggests itself is a new conception or a recollection. I +told you the other day that I never wrote a line of verse that seemed to +me comparatively good, but it appeared old at once, and often as if it +had been borrowed. But I confess I never suspected the above comparison +of being old, except from the fact of its obviousness. It is proper, +however, that I proceed by a formal instrument to relinquish all claim +to any property in an idea given to the world at about the time when +I had just joined the class in which Waster Thomas Moore was then a +somewhat advanced scholar. + +I, therefore, in full possession of my native honesty, but knowing the +liability of all men to be elected to public office, and for that reason +feeling uncertain how soon I may be in danger of losing it, do hereby +renounce all claim to being considered the _first_ person who gave +utterance to a certain simile or comparison referred to in the +accompanying documents, and relating to the pupil of the eye on the one +part and the mind of the bigot on the other. I hereby relinquish all +glory and profit, and especially all claims to letters from +autograph collectors, founded upon my supposed property in the above +comparison,--knowing well, that, according to the laws of literature, +they who speak first hold the fee of the thing said. I do also agree +that all Editors of Cyclopedias and Biographical Dictionaries, all +Publishers of Reviews and Papers, and all Critics writing therein, +shall be at liberty to retract or qualify any opinion predicated on +the supposition that I was the sole and undisputed author of the above +comparison. But, inasmuch as I do affirm that the comparison aforesaid +was uttered by me in the firm belief that it was new and wholly my own, +and as I have good reason to think that I had never seen or heard it +when first expressed by me, and as it is well known that different +persons may independently utter the same idea,--as is evinced by that +familiar line from Donatus,-- + + "Pereant illi qui ante nos nostra dixcrunt,"-- + +now, therefore, I do request by this instrument that all well-disposed +persons will abstain from asserting or implying that I am open to any +accusation whatsoever touching the said comparison, and, if they have +so asserted or implied, that they will have the manliness forthwith to +retract the same assertion or insinuation. + +I think few persons have a greater disgust for plagiarism than myself. +If I had even suspected that the idea in question was borrowed,--I +should have disclaimed originality, or mentioned the coincidence, as +I once did in a case where I had happened to hit on an idea of +Swift's.--But what shall I do about these verses I was going to read +you? I am afraid that half mankind would accuse me of stealing their +thoughts, if I printed them. I am convinced that several of you, +especially if you are getting a little on in life, will recognize some +of these sentiments as having passed through your consciousness at some +time. I can't help it,--it is too late now. The verses are written, and +you must have them. Listen, then, and you shall hear + + +WHAT WE ALL THINK. + + That age was older once than now, + In spite of locks untimely shed, + Or silvered on the youthful brow; + That babes make love and children wed. + + That sunshine had a heavenly glow, + Which faded with those "good old days," + When winters came with deeper snow, + And autumns with a softer haze. + + That--mother, sister, wife, or child-- + The "best of women" each has known. + Were schoolboys ever half so wild? + How young the grandpapas have grown! + + That _but for this_ our souls were free, + And _but for that_ our lives were blest; + That in some season yet to be + Our cares will leave us time to rest. + + Whene'er we groan with ache or pain, + Some common ailment of the race,-- + Though doctors think the matter plain,-- + That ours is "a peculiar case." + + That when like babes with fingers burned + We count one bitter maxim more, + Our lesson all the world has learned, + And men are wiser than before. + + That when we sob o'er fancied woes, + The angels hovering overhead + Count every pitying drop that flows + And love us for the tears we shed. + + That when we stand with tearless eye + And turn the beggar from our door, + They still approve us when we sigh, + "Ah, had I but _one thousand more_!" + + That weakness smoothed the path of sin, + In half the slips our youth has known; + And whatsoe'er its blame has been, + That Mercy flowers on faults outgrown. + + Though temples crowd the crumbled brink + O'erhanging truth's eternal flow, + Their tablets bold with _what we think_, + Their echoes dumb to _what we know_; + + That one unquestioned text we read, + All doubt beyond, all fear above, + Nor crackling pile nor cursing creed + Can burn or blot it: GOD is LOVE! + + * * * * * + + +SANDALPHON. + + + Have you read in the Talmud of old, + In the legends the Rabbins have told + Of the limitless realms of the air, + Have you read it,--the marvellous story + Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory, + Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer? + + How, erect, at the outermost gate + Of the City Celestial he waits, + With his feet on the ladder of light, + That, crowded with angels unnumbered, + By Jacob was seen, as he slumbered + Alone in the desert at night? + + The Angels of Wind and of Fire + Chant only one hymn, and expire + With the song's irresistible stress,-- + Expire in their rapture and wonder, + As harp-strings are broken asunder + By the music they throb to express. + + But serene in the rapturous throng, + Unmoved by the rush of the song, + With eyes unimpassioned and slow, + Among the dead angels, the deathless + Sandalphon stands listening, breathless, + To sounds that ascend from below,-- + + From the spirits on earth that adore, + From the souls that entreat and implore + In the frenzy and passion of prayer,-- + From the hearts that are broken with losses, + And weary with dragging the crosses + Too heavy for mortals to bear. + + And he gathers the prayers as he stands, + And they change into flowers in his hands, + Into garlands of purple and red; + And beneath the great arch of the portal, + Through the streets of the City Immortal, + Is wafted the fragrance they shed. + + It is but a legend, I know,-- + A fable, a phantom, a show + Of the ancient Rabbinical lore; + Yet the old mediaeval tradition, + The beautiful, strange superstition, + But haunts me and holds me the more. + + When I look from my window at night, + And the welkin above is all white, + All throbbing and panting with stars, + Among them majestic is standing + Sandalphon the angel, expanding + His pinions in nebulous bars. + + And the legend, I feel, is a part + Of the hunger and thirst of the heart, + The frenzy and fire of the brain, + That grasps at the fruitage forbidden, + The golden pomegranates of Eden, + To quiet its fever and pain. + + * * * * * + + +MR. BUCHANAN'S ADMINISTRATION. + + +Mr. Buchanan came into power with the prestige of experience; he was +known to have been long in public life; he had been a senator, a +secretary, a diplomatist, and almost everything else which is supposed +to fit a man for the practical conduct of affairs. + +This presumed fitness for office greatly assisted his chances in the +Presidential campaign; and it assisted him especially with those timid +and conservative minds, of which there are many, apt to conceive that a +familiarity with the business and details of government is the same as +statesmanship, and to confound the skill and facility acquired by mere +routine with a genuine ability in execution. Had these men, however, +looked more closely into Mr. Buchanan's official career, they would have +found causes for suspecting the validity of their judgment, in the very +length and variety of his services. They would have discovered, that, +long as these had been and various as they had been, they were quite +undistinguished by any peculiar evidences of capacity or aptitude. + +He had been, senator, secretary, and diplomatist, it is true; but in no +one of these positions had he achieved any remarkable successes. The +occasion could not be indicated on which he had risen above the average +level of respectability as a public man. There were no salient points in +his course,--no splendid developments of mastery,--no great reports, or +speeches, or measures, to cause him to be remembered,--and no leading +thoughts or acts, to awaken a high and general feeling of admiration on +the part of his countrymen. He was never such a senator as Webster +was, nor such a secretary as Clay, nor such a diplomatist as Marey. +Throughout his protracted official existence, he followed in the wake +of his party submissively, doing its appointed work with patience, and +vindicating its declared policy with skill, but never emerging as a +distinct and prominent figure. He never exhibited any peculiar largeness +of mind or loftiness of character; and though he spoke well and wrote +well, and played the part of a cool and wary manager, he was scarcely +considered a commanding spirit among his fellows. Amid that array of +luminaries, indeed, which adorned the Senate, where his chief reputation +was made,--among such men as Calhoun, Clay, Webster, Benton, and +Wright,--he shone with a diminished lustre. + +Now, forty years of action, in the most conspicuous spheres, +unillustrated by a single incident which mankind has, or will have, +reason to cite and applaud, were not astonishing evidence of fitness for +the chief magistracy; and the event has shown, that Mr. Buchanan was to +be regarded as an old politician rather than a practised statesman, that +the most serviceable soldier in the ranks may prove to be an indifferent +general in command,--and that the experience, for which he was vaunted +and trusted, was not that ripening discipline of the mind and heart, + + -------"which doth attain + To something of prophetic strain,"-- + +but that other unlearning use and wont, which + + ----"chews on wisdom past, + And totters on in blunders to the last." + +His administration has been a series of blunders, and worse; it +has evinced no mastery; on the other hand, it may be arraigned for +inconsistencies the most palpable, for proceedings the most awkward, for +a general impotence which places it on a level with that of Tyler or +Pierce, and for signal offences against the national sense of decorum +and duty. + +It is scarcely a year since Mr. Buchanan assumed the reins at +Washington. He assumed them under circumstances by which he and his +party and the whole country had been taught a great lesson of +political duty. The infamous mismanagement of Kansas, by his immediate +predecessor, had just shattered the most powerful of our party +organizations, and caused a mighty uprising of the masses of the North +in defence of menaced freedom. His election was carried amid the +extremest hazards, and with the utmost difficulty. Two months more of +such ardent debate and such popular enlightenment as were then going +forward would have resulted in his defeat. As it was, nearly every +Northern State--no matter how firm its previous adherence to the +Democratic party--was aroused to a strenuous opposition. Nearly every +Northern State pronounced by a stupendous majority against him and +against his cause. Nothing but a systematic disguise of the true +questions at issue by his own party, and a gratuitous complication of +the canvass by means of a foolish third party, saved his followers from +the most complete and shameful rout that had been given for many years +to any political array. Men of every class, of every shade of faith, +joined in that hearty protest against the spirit which animated the +Democratic administration, and joined in it, that they might utter the +severest rebuke in their power, of its meanness and perfidy. + +Mr. Buchanan ought to have read the warning which was thus blazed across +the political skies, like the hand-writing upon the wall. He ought to +have discerned in this general movement the signs of a deep, earnest, +and irrepressible conviction on the part of the North. It is no slight +cause which can start such general and enthusiastic expressions of +popular feeling; they cannot be manufactured; they are not the work of +mere party excitement; there is nothing spurious and nothing hollow in +them; but they well up from the deep heart of nations, showing that a +chord of sympathy has been touched, with which it is fatal to tamper or +to sport. Call it fanaticism, if you will; call it delusion; call it +anything; but recollect also that it is out of such feelings that +revolutions are born, and by them that awful national crises are +determined. + +But Mr. Buchanan has not profited, as we shall see, by the monition. His +initial act, the choice of a cabinet, in which the only man of national +reputation was superannuated, and the others were of little note, gave +small hope that he would do so; and his subsequent mistakes might have +been augured from the calibre of the counsellors by whom he chose to +be surrounded.--But let the men pass, since our object is to discuss +measures. + +The questions with which the President and his cabinet have had to deal, +without following them in the order either of time or importance, may +be classified as the Mormon question, the Financial question, the +Filibuster question, and the Kansas question. All these required, for +a proper adjustment of them, firmness rather than ability,--a clear +perception of the principles of right, rather than abstruse policy,--and +vigor of execution, rather than profound diplomatic skill. Yet we do not +perceive that our government has displayed, in regard to the treatment +of any of these questions, either firmness or ability. It has employed +policy enough and diplomacy enough, but the policy has been incoherent +and the diplomacy shallow. At the end of the first year of its rule, the +most striking result of its general management is the open defection of +many of its most powerful friends, and the increased earnestness and +energy of all its foes. + +The difficulty with the Mormons originated, before the accession of the +present administration, in a hasty and improper extension of the Federal +authority over a people whose customs and religious opinions were +utterly incompatible with those of our own people. The inhabitants of +Utah were averse from the outset to the kind of government provided for +them at Washington. Having adopted a form of society more like that of +Congo and Dahomey than of the United States, and having accepted too +literally the prevalent dogma, that every community has the right to +form its own institutions for itself,--they preferred the polygamy +of barbarism to the monogamy of civilization, and the rod of the +priest-prophet Brigham or the seal of Elder Pratt to the sceptre +of Governor Steptoe or the sword of Colonel Johnston. Under these +circumstances, the duty of the government of the United States was to +relinquish its pretensions to supremacy over a nation opposed to its +rule, or to maintain that supremacy, if it were necessary, with a strong +and unflinching hand. Mr. Buchanan, on his own principles of popular +sovereignty, as far as we can understand them, ought, logically, to have +adopted the former course, but (as the interests of Slavery were not +involved) he elected to pursue the latter; and he has pursued it with an +impotence which has cost the nation already many millions of +dollars, and which has involved the "army of Utah" in inextricable +embarrassments, allowing them to be shut up in the snows of the +mountains before they could strike a blow or reach the first object of +their expedition. Not very well appointed in the beginning, this little +force was despatched to the Plains when it was too late in the season; a +part of it was needlessly delayed in assisting to choke down freedom in +Kansas; and when it attained the hills which guard the passages to the +valley of the Salt Lake, it found the canons obstructed by snow, and +the roads impassable. The supplies required for its subsistence were +scattered in useless profusion from Leavenworth to Fort Laramie, and +assistance and action were alike hopeless until the arrival of the +spring.[A] + +[Footnote: A: More recently the energy and wisdom of Col. Johnston +have repaired some of the mischief produced by the dilatoriness of his +superiors.] + +The same feebleness, which left the poor soldier to perish in the +desert, has brought an overflowing treasury nearly to default. Mr. +Buchanan, in his Message, discussed the existing financial crisis with +much sounding phrase and very decided emphasis. He rebuked the action of +the banks, which had presumed to issue notes to the amount of more than +three times that of their specie, in a tone of lofty and indignant +virtue. He commended them to the strictest vigilance and to the +exemplary discipline of the State legislatures, while descanting at +large upon the safety, the economy, the beauty, and the glory of a sound +hard-money currency. When he entered upon his office, he found the +Treasury replete with eagles and dimes; it was so flush, that, in the +joy of his heart, he ordered the debts of the United States to be +redeemed at a premium of sixteen _per cent_.; and he and his followers +were disposed to jubilate over the singular spectacle, that, while all +other institutions were failing, the Treasury of the United States was +firm and resplendent in its large possession of gold. It was deemed a +rare wisdom and success, indeed, which could utter a note of triumph in +the midst of so universal a cry of despair; it was deemed a rare piece +of liberality, that the government should come to the aid of society in +an hour of such dark distress. The stocks of the United States, which +had been originally sold at a small advance, were bought back on a very +large advance; the usurers and the stock-jobbers received sixteen _per +cent_. for what they had bought at a premium of but two or three _per +cent_.; and an unparalleled glory shone around the easy vomitories of +the Treasury. The foresight and the sagacity of the proceeding were +marvellous! In less than a quarter by the moon, the coffers of the +government were empty,--the very clerks in its employ went about the +streets borrowing money to pay their board-bills,--and the grand-master +of the vaults, Mr. Cobb, counting his fingers in despair over the vacant +prospect, was compelled, in the extremity of his distress, to fill +his limp sacks with paper. Of the nineteen millions of gold which in +September distended the public purse, little or nothing remained in +December, while in its place were paper bills,--founded, not upon a +basis of one-third specie, but upon a basis of--_We promise to pay_! It +was a sad application of the high-sounding doctrines of the Message,--a +dreadful descent for a pure hard-money government,--and a lamentable +conversion of the pompous swagger of October into the shivering collapse +of January! + +It may be said, that, by this pre-purchase of its own stocks, running at +an interest of six _per cent_., the government has saved the amount of +interest which would else have accrued between the time of the purchase +and the time of ultimate redemption. And this is true to some +extent,--and it would show an admirable economy, if the Treasury had had +no other use for its money. A government, like an individual, having a +large balance of superfluous cash on hand, can do no better with it than +to pay off its debts; but to do this, when there was every prospect of a +Mormon war to raise the expenditure, little prospect of retrenchment +in any branch of service, and a daily diminishing revenue at all +points,--it was purely a piece of folly, a want of ordinary forecast, to +get rid of the cash in hand. Mr. Buchanan and Mr. Cobb were guilty of +this folly, and, for the sake of the poor _éclat_ of coming to the +relief of the money-market, (which was no great relief, after all,) they +sacrificed the hard-money pretensions of the government, and sunk its +character to the level of that of the needy "kiteflier" in Wall Street. +Their true course, in the existing condition and aspect of affairs, was +to retain their capital, and to institute a most rigid economy, a most +searching reduction, in every branch of the public service. We have, +however, yet to learn whether any such economy and reduction have been +effected. + +All this was simply weakness; but in turning from the conduct of +the Finances by the administration, to consider its management of +Filibusterism, we pass from the consideration of acts of mere debility +to the consideration of acts which have a color of duplicity in them. +On the Filibusters, as on the Finances, the First Annual Message of the +President was outspoken and forcible. It characterized the past and +proposed doings of William Walker and his crew, as the common sense +and common conscience of the world had already characterised them, as +nothing short of piracy and murder. Recognizing the obligations of +fraternity and peace as the rule of right in international relations, it +pledged the utmost vigilance and energy of the Federal powers against +every semblance of freebootery. In pursuance of this promise, orders +were issued to the various civil and naval authorities, (orders not very +clear, it is true, but clear enough to bear but one meaning in honest +and simple minds,) to the effect that they should maintain a sharp +watch, and execute a summary arrest of every person suspected of or +discovered in unlawful enterprises. The authorities on land, to whom it +was easy to hold secret communication with Washington, were found to +have very blind eyes and very slippery hands. General Walker and his +confederates were taken at New Orleans, but they passed through +the courts far more rapidly than goods are apt to pass through the +custom-houses. Under a merely nominal recognizance, he sailed away with +flying colors, and amid the plaudits of an admiring crowd, among whom, +it is to be presumed, the authorities took care to be only not too +conspicuous. + +But the authorities on the sea, who could not so readily get a cue from +Wellington, with the directness, in construing orders, which is the +habit of the military mind, took their instructions at the word. +Commanded to intercept all marauders and pirates, they kept a look-out +for Walker. He eluded the guns of Captain Chatard, but Commodore +Paulding seized him in the very act of invading a friendly soil. +Hoisting him on board of a war-ship, he returned him in pressing haste +to the President. Commodore Paulding, who had read the Message, and read +the instructions of Secretary Cass, doubtless supposed that black meant +black, and white, white. Perhaps, also, in the unsophisticated pride +with which he contemplated the promptitude and decision of his action, +in saving an innocent people from a sanguinary ruffian, and in +maintaining the honor of his country unsullied, dim visions crossed his +mind of a letter of thanks from the President, and of the vote of a +sword by Congress. Alas for such hopes! Commodore Paulding was clearly +not a politician; he did not know that black meant white and white meant +black,--nor that the present of a filibuster, which he sent to the +President, was the present of something worse than an elephant. It +was the present of a herd of elephants,--of a sea of troubles. Mr. +Buchanan's fine denunciations of freebooters had only been fine words +for the public ear; secretly he cherished a _penchant_ for freebooters, +or rather for the friends of freebooters; and, under those +circumstances, to be presented, by his own agent, with the very chief +of the freebooters, as a criminal and a scamp, was the most unheard-of +simplicity of understanding, and the most astounding literalness of +obedience, in any subordinate. What to do was the question. He had +menaced Chatard with a cashiering for allowing Walker to escape; and +here was Paulding, who did not allow him to escape,--so he menaced +Paulding likewise; and by way of capping the climax of absurdities, he +set Walker himself at large, to go about the country clamoring to be +sent back, at the expense of the government, to the scenes of his late +innocent occupations and virtuous designs, whence he had been ruthlessly +torn by an over-officious sailor. + +The history of the farce is both argument and comment. Walker was either +a citizen of the United States, levying war upon a friendly foreign +state, and as such amenable to the penalties of our neutrality laws,--or +he was a citizen of Nicaragua, as he pretended to be, abusing our +protection to organize warlike enterprises against his fellow-citizens, +and as such also amenable to our neutrality laws. In either capacity, +and however taken, he should have been severely dealt with by the +President. But, unfortunately, Mr. Buchanan, not left to his own +instincts of right, is surrounded by assistants who have other than +great public motives for their conduct. Walker's schemes were not +individual schemes, were not simple projects of piracy and plunder, +got up on his own responsibility and for his own ends. Connected with +important collateral issues, they received the sympathy and support of +others more potent than himself. He was, in a word, the instrument +of the propagandist slave-holders, the fear of whom is ever before a +President's eyes. As the old barbarian Arbogastes used to say to the +later Roman emperors, whom he helped to elevate, "The power which made +you is the power which can break you," so these modern masters of the +throne dictate and guide its policy. Mr. Buchanan was their man as much +as Walker was, and, however grand his speeches before the public, he +must do their bidding when things came to the trial. + +But this allusion brings us, by an obvious transition, to the last and +most important question submitted to the administration,--the question +of Kansas,--in the management of which, we think, it will be found that +all the before-noted deficiencies of the government have been combined +with a criminal disregard of settled principles and almost universal +convictions. In reference to Kansas, as in reference to the other +topics, the President began with fair and seductive promises. He did +not, it is true, either in his Message or anywhere else, that we know +of, narrate the actual history of the long contest which has divided +that Territory, but he did hold up for the future the brightest hopes +of an honest and equitable adjustment of all the past difficulties. He +selected and commissioned Robert J. Walker, as Governor, for the express +purpose of "pacifying Kansas." Pretending to overlook the past causes +of trouble, he announced that everything would now be set right by new +elections, in which the whole people should have full opportunity +of declaring their will. Mr. Walker went to Kansas with a full +determination to carry out this amiable promise of the President. Both +he and his secretary, Mr. Stanton, labored strenuously to convince +the people of the Territory of his honest purposes, and, by dint of +persuasions, pledges, assurances, and oaths, at length succeeded in +procuring a pretty general exercise of the franchise. The result was a +signal overthrow of the minority which had so long ruled by fraud and +violence; and the sincerity of the President is tested by the fact, +avouched by both Walker and Stanton, that, from the moment of the +success of the Free-State party, he was wroth towards his servants. +Stanton was removed and Walker compelled to resign, though their only +offence was a laborious prosecution of the President's own policy. Ever +since then, he has strained every nerve, and at this moment is straining +every nerve, to defeat the well-known legally demonstrated wish of the +majority. In the face of his own plighted word, and of the emphatic +assurances of his agents, sanctioned by himself, he insists upon +imposing on them officers whom they detest and an instrument of +government which they spurn. These people of Kansas,--who were to +be "pacified,"--to be conciliated,--to be guarantied a just +administration,--are denounced in the most virulent and abusive terms as +refractory, and are threatened with the coercion of a military force, +because they are unwilling to submit to outrage! + +The excuse offered by the President for this perfidious course is +the Lecompton Constitution, which he professes to consider a legal +instrument, framed by a legal Convention, and approved by a legal +election of the people,--and which is therefore not to be set aside +except by the same sovereign power by which it was created. It would be +a good excuse, if it were not a transparent and monstrous quibble from +beginning to end. The Lecompton Constitution has no one element of +legality in it; from the _Whereas_, to the signatures, it is an +imposture;--for neither had the Legislature, that called the Convention +in which it was made, lawful authority to do so,--nor was that +Convention lawfully constituted,--nor was the alleged adoption of it by +the people more than a trick. + +A Territory is an inchoate and dependent community, which can be erected +into a State only in two ways: first, formally, by an enabling act of +Congress, giving permission to the inhabitants to set up for themselves; +and second, informally, by a spontaneous and general movement of the +people, which Congress must afterwards legitimate. In either case, the +consent of Congress, first or last, is necessary to the validity of the +proceeding. But a Territorial Legislature, which is the mere creature of +Congress, having no powers but what are strictly conveyed to it in the +Organic Act instituting the Territorial government, cannot originate +a movement to supersede itself, and also to abrogate the authority +of Congress. The attempt to do so, as declared by General Jackson's +cabinet, in the case of Arkansas, would be, not simply null and void, +but unlawful, rebellious; and the President would be obliged to suppress +it, if called upon, by force of arms. The Organic Act is the supreme law +of the Territory, which can be altered or revoked only by the authority +from which it emanated; and every measure commenced or prosecuted with a +design to annul that law, to subvert the Territorial government, or +to put in force in its place a new government, without the consent of +Congress, is a flagrant usurpation. + +Now the Lecompton Convention was called not merely without the consent +of Congress, but against its consent; it was called by and under the +arrangements of the Territorial Legislature; it was not the spontaneous +act of the people, a large majority of whom condemned the movement +and refused to participate in it; and thus, in its inception, it was +unlawful. It was neither regularly nor irregularly proper;--the supreme +legislature had not acknowledged it; the masses of society had not +acknowledged it; and the entire project possessed no other character +than that of a factious scheme for perpetuating the power of a few +pro-slavery demagogues. + +But, if we grant the right of the Territorial Legislature to originate +such a movement, the manner in which it was carried into effect would +still brand it with the marks of illegality. A census and registry of +voters had been provided for in the law authorizing the Convention, as +the basis of an apportionment of the delegates, and that provision was +not complied with. In nineteen out of the thirty-eight counties no +registry was made, and in the others it was imperfectly made. "In some +of the counties," according to the evidence of Mr. Stanton, then acting +Governor, "the officers were probably deterred and discouraged by the +people from their duty of taking the census," (although he adds that he +does not know that such was the fact,) "while in others the officers +utterly refused to do their duty." "I know," he says, "that the people +of some of those counties ardently desired to be represented in the +Convention, for they afterwards, under the statements of Governor Walker +and myself, that they would probably be admitted, elected delegates and +sent them up to the Convention; but they were not admitted to seats." +In consequence of this failure or refusal to do their duty, only +the geographical half or the numerical fourth of the Territory was +represented in the Convention. Nor is it any excuse for the defaulting +officers, even if it had been true, that some of the people opposed the +execution of their duty. They professed to be acting under law; their +functions were plainly prescribed to them; and they were bound to make +the census and registry, whatever the disposition of the people. In a +land of laws, it is the law, and not any mere prevailing sentiment, +which prescribes and limits official duty. There is, however, no +evidence that the discharge of their task was rendered impossible by the +popular opposition, while there is evidence that they were very willing +to neglect it, and very willing to allow any obstacle, no matter how +trivial, to obstruct their performance of it. They were, in truth, as +everybody knows, the simple tools of the faction which started this +Convention movement, and not at all desirous to secure a fair and +adequate representation of the inhabitants. + +That many of the people should be careless of the registration, and even +unfriendly to it, is natural, because they disapproved the plan, and +were hostile to the ends of the Convention. They doubted the authority +by which it had been summoned; they doubted both the validity and the +probable fairness of an election under such authority; and, moreover, +they were indifferent as to its proceedings, because they had been +assured that they would be called upon to pronounce _pro_ or _con_ upon +its results. The Convention, as actually constituted when assembled, +consisted of sixty delegates, representing about 1,800 voters, in an +electoral body of 12,000 in all,--or one delegate to thirty voters! A +convention so composed ought to have been ashamed of the very pretence +of acting in the name of the whole people. It would have been ashamed of +it, if it had contained men sincerely anxious to reflect the will of the +great body of the citizens. It would have been as much ashamed of it, +as any honest man would be to pass himself off as the agent of a person +whom he had never known, or who openly derided and despised him. But +this precious body--each man of whom represented thirty men besides +himself, in a voting population of 12,000--was not sensible to such +considerations. By a miserable chicane, it had got into a position to do +mischief, and it proceeded to do it, with as much alacrity and headlong +zeal as rogues are apt to exhibit when the prize is great and the +opportunity short. An election for the Legislature, held subsequently to +that for the Convention, showing a public opinion decidedly adverse to +it, the sole study of its members thenceforth seemed to be, how they +could most adroitly and effectively nullify the ascendency of the +majority. For this end alone they consulted, and caballed, and +calculated, and junketed; and the Lecompton Constitution, with the +Schedule annexed, was the worthy fruit of their labors. + +It is monstrous in Mr. Buchanan to assume that a body so contrived and +so acting expressed in any sense the sovereign will of the people. But, +not to dwell upon this point, let us suppose that the Convention had +been summoned by a competent authority, that it had been fairly chosen +by its small constituency, and that its proceedings had been managed +with ordinary decorum,--would the Constitution it framed be valid, in +the face of a clear popular condemnation? We hold that it would not, +because, in our estimation, and in the estimation of every intelligent +American, the very essence of republicanism is "the consent of the +governed." It is the highest function of political sovereignty to devise +and ordain the organic law of society, the vital form of its being; and +the characteristic difference between the despotic or oligarchical and +the republican government is, that in the one case the function is +exercised by a monarch or a class, and in the other by the body of the +citizens. This distinctive feature of our politics, as opposed to +all others, regards the will of the people, directly or indirectly +expressed, as alone giving validity to law; our National Constitution, +and every one of our thirty-one State Constitutions, proceeds upon +that principle; every act of legislation in the Congress and the State +Assemblies supposes it; and every decision of every Court has that for +its basis. Constitutions have been adopted, undoubtedly, without a +distinct submission of them to the ratification of the people; but in +such cases there has been no serious agitation of the public mind, no +important conflict or division of opinion, rendering such ratification +necessary,--and, in the absence of dispute, the general assent of the +community to the action of its delegates might fairly be presumed. But +in no case, in which great and debatable questions were involved, has +any Convention dared to close its labors without providing for their +reference to the popular sanction; much less has there been any instance +in which a Convention has dared to make its own work final, in the +face of a known or apprehended repugnance of the constituency. The +politicians who should have proposed such a thing would have been +overwhelmed with unmeasured indignation and scorn. No sentiment more +livingly pervades our national mind, no sentiment is juster in itself, +than that they who are to live under the laws ought to decide on the +character of the laws,--that they whose persons, property, welfare, +happiness, life, are to be controlled by a Constitution of Government, +ought to participate in the formation of that government. + +Conscious of this truth, and of its profound hold on the popular heart, +Mr. Buchanan instructed Governor Walker to see the Kansas Constitution +submitted to the people,--to protect them against fraud and violence in +voting upon it,--and to proclaim, in the event of any interference with +their rights, that the Constitution "would be and ought to be rejected +by Congress." Walker was voluble in proclamations to that end. The +trainers of the Constitution, aware of its invalidity without the +sanction of the people, provided for its submission to "approval" +or "disapproval," to "ratification" or "rejection"; and yet, by the +paltriest juggle in recorded history, devised, in the same breath, a +method of taking the vote, which completely nullified its own terms. +No man was allowed to "disapprove" it, no man was allowed to "reject" +it,--except in regard to a single section,--and before he could vote for +or against that, he was obliged to vote in favor of all the rest. If +there had been a hundred thousand voters in the Territory opposed to +the Constitution, and but one voter in its favor, the hundred thousand +voters could not have voted upon it at all, but the one voter +could,--and the vote of that one would have been construed into a +popular approval, while the will of all the others would have been +practically void. By this pitiful stratagem, it was supposed, the +double exigency of Mr. Buchanan's often repeated sentiments, and of +the pro-slavery cause, which dreaded a popular vote, was completely +satisfied; and the President of the United States, reckless of his +position and his fame, lent himself to the shameless and despicable +palter. He not only lent himself to it, but he has openly argued its +propriety, and is now making the adherence of his friends to such +baseness the test of their party fidelity. In the name of Democracy,--of +that sacred and sublime principle into which we, as a nation, have been +baptized,--which declares the inalienable rights of man,--and which, +as it makes the tour of the earth, hand and hand with Christianity, is +lifting the many from the dust, where for ages they have been trampled, +into political life and dignity,--he converts a paltry swindle into its +standard and creed, and prostitutes its glorious mission, as a redeeming +influence among men, into a ministry of slavery and outrage. + +Mr. Buchanan knows--we believe better than any man in the country--that +the Lecompton Constitution is not the act of the people of Kansas. By +the election of the 4th of January--an election which was perfectly +valid, because it was held under the authority of a Territorial +Legislature superior to the Convention--it was solemnly and +unequivocally condemned. This of itself was enough to demonstrate that +fact. But all the Democratic Governors of the Territory--with the single +exception of Shannon, and the recently appointed acting Governor, +Denver, who is prudently silent--testify urgently to the same truth. +Reeder, Geary, and Walker, together with the late acting Governor, +Stanton, asseverate, in the most earnest and emphatic manner, that the +majority in Kansas is for making it a Free State,--that the minority +which has ruled is a factious minority, and that they have obtained and +perpetuated their ascendency by a most unblushing series of crimes and +frauds. Yet, in the teeth of this evidence,--of repeated elections,--of +his own witnesses turning against him,--the President adheres to the +infamous plans of the pro-slavery leaders; and, if not arrested by the +rebukes of the North, he will insist on imposing their odious measures +upon their long-suffering victims. + +Looking at the administration of Mr. Buchanan simply from the point of +view of an enlightened statesmanship, we find nothing in it that is not +contemptible; but when we regard it as the accredited exponent of the +moral sense of a majority of our people, it is saved from contempt, +indeed, but saved only because contempt is merged in a deeper feeling +of humiliation and apprehension. Unparalleled as the outrages in Kansas +have been, we regard them as insignificant in comparison with the +deadlier fact that the Chief Magistrate of the Republic should strive to +defend them by the small wiles of a village attorney,--that, when the +honor of a nation and the principle of self-government are at stake, he +should show himself unconscious of a higher judicature or a nobler +style of pleading than those which would serve for a case of petty +larceny,--and that he should be abetted by more than half the national +representatives, while he brings down a case of public conscience to the +moral level of those who are content with the maculate safety which they +owe to a flaw in an indictment, or with the dingy innocence which is +certified to by the disagreement of a jury. + +These things are the logical consequences of that profound national +demoralization which followed the enactment of the Fugitive Slave Bill +and alone made its execution possible,--a demoralization wilfully +brought about, for selfish ends, in that sad time which saw our greatest +advocates and our acutest politicians spending all their energy of mind +and subtlety of argument to persuade the people that there was no higher +law than that rule of custom and chicane woven of the split hairs of +immemorial sophistry, and whose strongest fibre is at the mercy of an +obstinate traverse juror,--no law higher than the decree of party, +ratified by a popular majority achieved by the waiters on Presidential +providence, through immigrant voters whom the gurgling oratory of +the whiskey-barrel is potent to convince, and whose sole notion of +jurisprudence is based upon experience of the comparative toughness +of Celtic skulls and blackthorn shillalahs. And such arguments were +listened to, such advocates commended for patriotism, in a land from +whose thirty thousand pulpits God and Christ are preached weekly to +hearers who profess belief in the Divine government of the world and the +irreversible verdicts of conscience! + +The capacity of the English race for self-government is measured by +their regard as well for the forms as the essence of law. A race +conservative beyond all others of what is established, averse beyond all +others to the heroic remedy of forcible revolution, they have yet three +times in the space of a century and a half assumed the chances of +rebellion and the certain perils of civil war, rather than submit to +have Right infringed by Prerogative, and the scales of Justice made a +cheat by false weights that kept the shape but lacked the substance of +legitimate precedent. We are forced to think that there must be a bend +sinister in the escutcheon of the descendants of such men, when we find +them setting the form above the substance, and accepting as law that +which is deadly to the spirit while it is true to the letter of +legality. It is a spectacle portentous of moral lapse and social +disorganization, to see a statesman, who has had fifty years' experience +of American politics, quibbling in defence of Executive violence against +a free community, as if the conscience of the nation were no more august +a tribunal than a police justice sitting upon a paltry case of assault. +Yet more portentous is it to see a great people consenting that fraud +should be made national by the voice of a Congress in which the casting +vote may be bought by a tide-waitership, and then invested with the +solemnity of law by a Court whose members are selected, not for +uprightness of character or breadth of mind, but by the inverse test of +their capacity for cringing in subservience to party, and for narrowing +a judgment already slender as the line of personal interest, till it +becomes so threadlike as to bend at the touch, nay, at the breath, of +sectional rapacity. Have we, then, forgotten that the true prosperity of +a nation is moral, and not material? that its strength depends, not on +the width of its boundaries, nor the bulk of its census, but on its +magnanimity, its honor, its fidelity to conscience? There is a Fate +which spins and cuts the threads of national as of individual life, and +the case of God against the people of these United States is not to be +debated before any such petty tribunal as Mr. Buchanan and his advisers +seem to suppose. The sceptre which dropped successively from the grasp +of Egypt, Assyria, Carthage, Greece, Rome, fell from a hand palsied by +the moral degeneracy of the people; and the emasculate usurper or the +foreign barbarian snatched and squandered the heritage of civilization +which escheated for want of legitimate heirs of the old royal race, +whose divine right was the imperial brain, and who found their strength +in a national virtue which individualized itself in every citizen. The +wind that moans among the columns of the Parthenon, or rustles through +the weeds on the palaces of the Caesars, whimpers no truer prophecies +than that venal breath which, at a signal from the patron in the White +House, bends all one way the obsequious leaves of a partisan press, +ominous of popular decadence. + +Do our leading politicians, and the prominent bankers and merchants who +sustain them, know what a dangerous lesson they are setting to a people +whose affairs are controlled by universal suffrage, when they affirm +that to be right which can by any false pretence be voted so? Does not +he who undermines national principle sap the foundations of individual +property also? If burglary may be committed on a commonwealth under +form of law, is there any logic that will protect a bank-vault or a +strong-box? When Mr. Buchanan, with a Jew broker at one elbow and a +Frenchman at the other, (strange representatives of American diplomacy!) +signed his name to the Ostend circular, was he not setting a +writing-lesson for American youth to copy, and one which the pirate hand +of Walker _did_ copy in ungainly letters of fire and blood in Nicaragua? + +The vice of universal suffrage is the infinitesimal subdivision of +personal responsibility. The guilt of every national sin comes back to +the voter in a fraction the denominator of which is several millions. +It is idle to talk of the responsibility of officials to their +constituencies or to the people. The President of the United States, +during his four years of office, is less amenable to public opinion than +the Queen of England through her ministers; senators, with embassies in +prospect, laugh at instructions; representatives think they have made a +good bargain when they exchange the barren approval of constituencies +for the smile of one whom a lucky death, perhaps, has converted into +the Presidential Midas of the moment; and in a nation of adventurers, +success is too easily allowed to sanctify a speculation by which a man +sells his pitiful self for a better price than even a Jew could get for +the Saviour of the world. It cannot be too often repeated, that the only +responsibility which is of saving efficacy in a Democracy is that of +every individual man in it to his conscience and his God. As long +as any one of us holds the ballot in his hand, he is truly, what we +sometimes vaguely boast, a sovereign,--a constituent part of Destiny; +the infinite Future is his vassal; History holds her iron stylus as +his scribe; Lachesis awaits his word to close or to suspend her fatal +shears;--but the moment his vote is cast, he becomes the serf of +circumstance, at the mercy of the white-livered representative's +cowardice, or the venal one's itching palm. Our only safety, then, is +in the aggregate fidelity to personal rectitude, which may lessen the +chances of representative dishonesty, or, at the worst, constitute a +public opinion that shall make the whole country a penitentiary for +such treason, and turn the price of public honor to fairy-money, whose +withered leaves but mock the possessor with the futile memory of +self-degradation. Let every man remember, that, though he may be a +nothing in himself, yet every cipher gains the power of multiplying by +ten when it is placed on the _right side_ of whatever unit for the time +represents the cause of truth and justice. What we need is a thorough +awakening of the individual conscience; and if we once become aware how +the still and stealthy ashes of political apathy and moral insensibility +are slipping under our feet and hurrying us with them toward the +crater's irrevocable core, it may be that the effort of self-preservation +called forth by the danger will make us love the daring energy and the +dependence on our individual strength, that alone can keep us free and +worthy to be freemen. + +While we hold the moral aspect of the great question now before the +country to be cardinal, there are also some practical ones which the +Republican party ought never to lose sight of. To move a people among +whom the Anglo-Saxon element is predominant, we will not say, with Lord +Bacon, that we must convince their pockets, but we do believe that moral +must always go hand in hand with common sense. They will take up arms +for a principle, but they must have confidence in each other and in +their leaders. Conscience is a good tutor to tell a man on which side to +act, but she leaves the question of _How to act_ to every man's prudence +and judgment. An over-nice conscience has before now turned the stomach +of a great cause on the eve of action. Cromwell knew when to split hairs +and when skulls. The North has too generally allowed its strength to be +divided by personal preferences and by-questions, till it has almost +seemed as if a moral principle had less constringent force to hold +its followers together than the gravitation of private interest, the +Newtonian law of that system whereof the dollar is the central sun, +which has hitherto made the owners of slaves unitary, and given them the +power which springs from concentration and the success which is sure +to follow concert of action. We have spent our strength in quarrelling +about the character of men, when we should have been watchful only of +the character of measures. A scruple of conscience has no right to +outweigh a pound of duty, though it ought to make a ton of private +interest kick the beam. The great aim of the Republican party should +be to gain one victory for the Free States. One victory will make us a +unit, and is equal to a reinforcement of fifty thousand men. The genius +of success in politics or war is to know Opportunity at first sight. +There is no mistress so easily tired as Fortune. We must waste no more +time in investigating the motives of our recruits. Have we not faith +enough in our cause to believe that it will lift all to its own level of +patriotism and devotion? Let us, then, welcome all allies, from whatever +quarter, and not inquire into their past history as minutely as if we +were the assignees of the Recording Angel and could search his books at +pleasure. When Soult was operating in the South of France, the defection +of two German regiments crippled all his combinations and gave the +advantage to Wellington. Ought Wellington to have refused their aid? For +our own part, if Mr. Douglas be the best tactician, the best master of +political combination, we are willing to forget all past differences and +serve under him cheerfully, rather than lose the battle under a general +who has agreed with us all his life. When we remember, that, of the two +great cathedrals of Europe, one is dedicated to Saint Peter who denied +his Lord under temptation, and the other to Saint Paul who spent his +early manhood in persecuting true believers, and that both these patrons +of the Church, differing as they did in many points of doctrine, were +united in martyrdom for their belief, we cannot but think that there is +room even for repentant renegades in the camp of the faithful. + +While we insist that Morals should govern the _motives_ of political +action, and that no party can be permanently strong which has not the +reserve of a great principle behind it, we affirm with no less strength +of conviction that the details of our National Housekeeping should be +managed by practical sense and worldly forethought. The policy of states +moves along the beaten highways of experience, and, where terrestrial +guide-posts are plenty, we need not ask our way of the stars. The +advantage of our opponents has been that they have always had some sharp +practical measure, some definite and immediate object, to oppose to our +voluminous propositions of abstract right. Again and again the whirlwind +of oratorical enthusiasm has roused and heaped up the threatening masses +of the Free States, and again and again we have seen them collapse like +a water-spout, into a crumbling heap of disintegrated bubbles, before +the compact bullet of political audacity. While our legislatures have +been resolving and re-resolving the principles of the Declaration of +Independence, our adversaries have pushed their trenches, parallel after +parallel, against the very citadel of our political equality. A +siege, if uninterrupted, is a mere matter of time, and must end in +capitulation. Our only safety is in assuming the offensive. Are we to be +terrified any longer by such Chinese devices of warfare as the cry of +Disunion,--a threat as hollow as the mask from which it issues, as +harmless as the periodical suicides of Mantalini, as insincere as +the spoiled child's refusal of his supper? We have no desire for a +dissolution of our confederacy, though it is not for us to fear it. We +will not allow it; we will not permit the Southern half of our dominion +to become a Hayti. But there is no danger; the law that binds our system +of confederate stars together is of stronger fibre than to be snapped by +the trembling finger of Toombs or cut by the bloodless sword of Davis; +the march of the Universe is not to be stayed because some gentleman in +Buncombe declares that his sweet-potato-patch shall not go along with +it. But we have no apprehension. The sweet attraction which knits the +sons of Virginia to the Treasury has lost none of its controlling force. +We must make up our minds to keep these deep-descended gentlemen in the +Union, and must convince them that we have a work to accomplish in it +and by means of it. If our Southern brethren have the curse of Canaan in +their pious keeping, if the responsibility lie upon them to avenge the +insults of Noah, on us devolves a more comprehensive obligation and the +vindication of an elder doom;--it is for us to assert and to secure the +claim of every son of Adam to the common inheritance ratified by the +sentence, "In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou earn thy bread." We are +to establish no aristocracy of race or complexion, no caste which Nature +and Revelation alike refuse to recognize, but the indefeasible right of +man to the soil which he subdues, and the muscles with which he subdues +it. If this be a sectional creed, it is a sectionality which at least +includes three hundred and fifty-nine degrees of the circle of man's +political aspiration and physical activity, and we may well be easy +under the imputation. + +But so rapid has been the downward course of our national politics under +the guidance of our oligarchical Democracy, that the question on which +we take issue, whatever it may once have been, is no longer a sectional +one, and concerns not the slavery of the negro, but that of the Northern +white man. Whatever doubt there may be about the physical degeneration +of the race, it is more than certain that the people of the Northern +States have no longer the moral stature of their illustrious ancestry; +that their puny souls could find room enough in but the gauntlet finger +of that armor of faith and constancy and self-devotion which fitted +closely to the limbs of those who laid so broad the foundations of our +polity as to make our recreancy possible and safe for us. It wellnigh +seems as if our type should suffer a slave-change,--as if the fair hair +and skin of those ancestral _non Angli sed angeli_ should crisp into +wool and darken to the swarthy livery of servility. No Northern man can +hold any office under the national government, however petty, without an +open recantation of those principles which he drew in with his mother's +milk,--those principles which, in the better days of the republic, +even a slaveholder could write down in the great charter of our +liberties,--those principles which now only the bells and cannon +are allowed to utter on the Fourth of July or the Seventeenth of +June,--bells that may next call out the citizen-soldiery to aid in the +rendition of a slave,--cannon whose brazen lips may next rebuke the +freedom whose praises they but yesterday so emptily thundered. + +When we look back upon the providential series of events which prepared +this continent for the experiment of Democracy,--when we think of those +forefathers for whom our mother England shed down from her august +breasts the nutriment of ordered liberty, not unmixed with her best +blood in the day of her trial,--when we remember the first two acts of +our drama, that cost one king his head and his son a throne, and that +third which cost another the fairest appanage of his crown and gave a +new Hero to mankind,--we cannot believe it possible that this great +scene, stretching from ocean to ocean, was prepared by the Almighty +only for such men as Mr. Buchanan and his peers to show their feats of +juggling on, even though the thimble-rig be on so colossal a scale that +the stake is a territory larger than Britain. We cannot believe that +this unhistoried continent,--this virgin leaf in the great diary of +man's conquest over the planet, on which our fathers wrote two words of +epic grandeur,--Plymouth and Bunker Hill,--is to bear for its colophon +the record of men who inherited greatness and left it pusillanimity,--a +republic, and made it anarchy,--freedom, and were content as serfs,--of +men who, born to the noblest estate of grand ideas and fair expectancies +the world had ever seen, bequeathed the sordid price of them in gold. +The change is sad 'twixt Now and Then: the Great Republic is without +influence in the councils of the world; to be an American, in Europe, is +to be the accomplice of filibusters and slave-traders; instead of men +and thought, as was hoped of us, we send to the Old World cotton, corn, +and tobacco, and are but as one of her outlying farms. Are we basely +content with our pecuniary good-fortune? Do we look on the tall column +of figures on the credit side of our national ledger as a sufficing +monument of our glory as a people? Are we of the North better off as +provinces of the Slave-holding States than as colonies of Great Britain? +Are we content with our share in the administration of national affairs, +because we are to have the ministry to Austria, and because the +newspapers promise that James Gordon Bennett shall be sent out of the +country to fill it? + +We of the Free States are confessedly without our fair share of +influence in the administration of national affairs. Its foreign and +domestic policy are both directed by principles often hostile to our +interests, sometimes abhorrent to our sense of right and honor. Under +loud professions of Democracy, the powers of the central government and +of the Executive have increased till they have scarcely a match among +the despotisms of Europe, and more than justify the prophetic fears of +practical statesmen like Samuel Adams and foresighted politicians like +Jefferson. Unquestionably superior in numbers, and claiming an equal +preeminence in wealth, intelligence, and civilization, we have steadily +lost in political power and in the consideration which springs from it. +Is the preponderance of the South due to any natural superiority of an +Aristocracy over a Democracy? to any mental inferiority, to lack of +courage, of political ability, of continuity of purpose, on our own +part? We should be slow to find the cause in reasons like these; but we +_do_ find it in that moral disintegration, the necessary result of that +falsehood to our own sense of right forced upon us by the slave-system, +and which, beginning with our public men, has gradually spread to the +Press, the Pulpit, nay, worse than all, the Home, till it is hard to +find a private conscience that is not tainted with the contagious mange. + +For what have we not seen within the last few years? We have seen the +nomination to office made dependent, not on the candidate's being large +enough to fill, but small enough to take it. Holding the purity of +elections as a first article of our creed, we have seen one-third of +the population of a Territory control the other two-thirds by false or +illegal votes; hereditary foes of a standing army, we have seen four +thousand troops stationed in Kansas to make forged ballots good by real +bullets; lovers of fair play, we have seen a cowardly rabble from the +Slave States protected by Federal bayonets while they committed robbery, +arson, and Sepoy atrocities against women, and the Democratic party +forced to swallow this nauseous mixture of force, fraud, and Executive +usurpation, under the name of Popular Sovereignty. We have seen Freedom +pronounced sectional and Slavery national by the highest tribunal of the +republic. We have seen the legislatures of Southern States passing acts +for the renewal and encouragement of the slave-trade. We have seen the +attempted assassination of a senator in his seat justified and applauded +by public meetings and the resolutions of State Assemblies. We have +seen a pirate, for the hanging of whom the conscious Earth would have +produced a tree, had none before existed, threaten the successor of +Washington with the exposure of his complicity, if he did not publicly +violate the faith he had publicly pledged.--But enough, and more than +enough. + +It lies in the hands of the people of the Free States to rescue +themselves and the country by peaceable reform, ere it be too late, and +there be no remedy left but that dangerous one of revolution, toward +which Mr. Buchanan and his advisers seem bent on driving them. But the +reform must be wide and deep, and its political objects must be attained +by household means. Our sense of private honor and integrity must be +quickened; our consciousness of responsibility to God and man for the +success of this experiment in practical Democracy, in order to which the +destiny of a hemisphere has been entrusted to us, must be roused and +exalted; we must learn to feel that the safety of universal suffrage +lies in the sensitiveness of the individual voter to every abuse of +delegated authority, every treachery to representative duty, as a +stain upon his own personal integrity; we must become convinced that +a government without conscience is the necessary result of a people +careless of their duties, and therefore unworthy of their rights. +Prosperity has deadened and bewildered us. It is time we remembered +that History does not concern herself about material wealth,--that the +life-blood of a nation is not that yellow tide which fluctuates in +the arteries of Trade,--that its true revenues are religion, justice, +sobriety, magnanimity, and the fair amenities of Art,--that it is only +by the soul that any people has achieved greatness and made lasting +conquests over the future. We believe there is virtue enough left in the +North and West to infuse health into our body politic; we believe that +America will reassume that moral influence among the nations which +she has allowed to fall into abeyance; and that our eagle, whose +morning-flight the world watched with hope and expectation, shall no +longer troop with unclean buzzards, but rouse himself and seek his eyrie +to brood new eaglets that in time shall share with him the lordship of +these Western heavens, and shall learn of him to shake the thunder from +their invincible wings. + + * * * * * + + +LITERARY NOTICES. + + +_Library of Old Authors_. London: John Russell Smith, 1856-7. + +Many of our older readers can remember the anticipation with which they +looked for each successive volume of the late Dr. Young's excellent +series of old English prose-writers, and the delight with which they +carried it home, fresh from the press and the bindery in its appropriate +livery of evergreen. To most of us it was our first introduction to the +highest society of letters, and we still feel grateful to the departed +scholar who gave us to share the conversation of such men as Latimer, +More, Sidney, Taylor, Browne, Fuller, and Walton. What a sense of +security in an old book which Time has criticized for us! What a +precious feeling of seclusion in having a double wall of centuries +between us and the heats and clamors of contemporary literature! How +limpid seems the thought, how pure the old wine of scholarship that +has been settling for so many generations in those silent crypts and +Falernian _amphorae_ of the Past! No other writers speak to us with the +authority of those whose ordinary speech was that of our translation +of the Scriptures; to no modern is that frank unconsciousness possible +which was natural to a period when yet reviews were not; and no later +style breathes that country charm characteristic of days ere the +metropolis drew all literary activity to itself, and the trampling feet +of the multitude had banished the lark and the daisy from the fresh +privacies of language. Truly, as compared with the present, these +old voices seem to come from the morning fields and not the paved +thoroughfares of thought. + +Even the "Retrospective Review" continues to be good reading, in virtue +of the antique aroma (for wine only acquires its _bouquet_ by age) which +pervades its pages. Its sixteen volumes are so many tickets of admission +to the vast and devious vaults of the sixteenth and seventeenth +centuries, through which we wander, tasting a thimbleful of rich Canary, +honeyed Cyprus, or subacidulous Hock, from what dusty butt or keg our +fancy chooses. The years during which this Review was published were +altogether the most fruitful in genuine appreciation of old English +literature. Books were prized for their imaginative, and not their +antiquarian value, by young writers who sat at the feet of Lamb and +Coleridge. Rarities of style, of thought, of fancy were sought, rather +than the barren scarcities of typography. But another race of men seems +to have sprung up, in whom the futile enthusiasm of the collector +predominates, who substitute archaeologic perversity for aesthetic +scholarship, and the worthless profusion of the curiosity-shop for +the sifted exclusiveness of the cabinet of Art. They forget, in their +fanaticism for antiquity, that the dust of never so many centuries is +impotent to transform a curiosity into a gem, that only good books +absorb tone-mellowness from age, and that a baptismal register which +proves a patriarchal longevity (if existence be life) cannot make +mediocrity anything but a bore, or garrulous commonplace entertaining. +There are volumes which have the old age of Plato, rich with gathering +experience, meditation, and wisdom, which seem to have sucked color and +ripeness from the genial autumns of all the select intelligences that +have steeped them in the sunshine of their love and appreciation;--these +quaint freaks of russet tell of Montaigne; these stripes of crimson +fire, of Shakespeare; this sober gold, of Sir Thomas Browne; this +purpling bloom, of Lamb;--in such fruits we taste the legendary gardens +of Alcinoüs and the orchards of Atlas; and there are volumes again which +can claim only the inglorious senility of Old Parr or older Jenkins, +which have outlived their half dozen of kings to be the prize of showmen +and treasuries of the born-to-be-forgotten trifles of a hundred years +ago. + +We confess a bibliothecarian avarice that gives all books a value in our +eyes; there is for us a recondite wisdom in the phrase, "A book is a +book"; from the time when we made the first catalogue of our library, in +which "Bible, large, 1 vol.," and "Bible, small, 1 vol.," asserted their +alphabetic individuality and were the sole _B_s in our little hive, we +have had a weakness even for those checker-board volumes that only fill +up; we cannot breathe the thin air of that Pepysian self-denial, that +Himalayan selectness, which, content with one book-case, would have no +tomes in it but _porphyrogeniti_, books of the bluest blood, making room +for choicer newcomers by a continuous ostracism to the garret of present +incumbents. There is to us a sacredness in a volume, however dull; we +live over again the author's lonely labors and tremulous hopes; we see +him, on his first appearance after parturition, "as well as could be +expected," a nervous sympathy yet surviving between the late-severed +umbilical cord and the wondrous offspring, doubtfully entering the +Mermaid, or the Devil Tavern, or the Coffee-house of Will or Button, +blushing under the eye of Ben or Dryden or Addison, as if they must +needs know him for the author of the "Modest Enquiry into the Present +State of Dramatique Poetry," or of the "Unities briefly considered by +Philomusus," of which they have never heard and never will hear so much +as the names; we see the country-gentlemen (sole cause of its surviving +to our day) who buy it as a book no gentleman's library can be complete +without; we see the spend-thrift heir, whose horses and hounds and +Pharaonic troops of friends, drowned in a Red Sea of claret, bring it to +the hammer, the tall octavo in tree-calf following the ancestral oaks +of the park. Such a volume is sacred to us. But it must be the original +foundling of the book-stall, the engraved blazon of some extinct +baronetcy within its cover, its leaves enshrining memorial flowers of +some passion which the church-yard smothered while the Stuarts were yet +unkinged, suggestive of the trail of laced ruffles, burnt here and there +with ashes from the pipe of some dozing poet, its binding worn and +weather-stained, that has felt the inquisitive finger, perhaps, of +Malone, or thrilled to the touch of Lamb, doubtful between desire and +the odd sixpence. When it comes to a question of reprinting, we are more +choice. The new duodecimo is bald and bare, indeed, compared with its +battered prototype that could draw us with a single hair of association. + +It is not easy to divine the rule which has governed Mr. Smith in making +the selections for his series. A choice of old authors should be a +_florilegium_, and not a botanist's _hortus siccus_, to which grasses +are as important as the single shy blossom of a summer. The old-maidenly +genius of antiquarianism seems to have presided over the editing of +the "Library." We should be inclined to surmise that the works to be +reprinted had been commonly suggested by gentlemen with whom they were +especial favorites, or who were ambitious that their own names should +be signalized on the title-pages with the suffix of EDITOR. The volumes +already published are: Increase Mather's "Remarkable Providences"; the +poems of Drummond of Hawthornden; the "Visions" of Piers Ploughman; the +works in prose and verse of Sir Thomas Overbury; the "Hymns and Songs" +and the "Hallelujah" of George Wither; the poems of Southwell; Selden's +"Table-talk"; the "Enchiridion" of Quarles; the dramatic works of +Marston and Webster; and Chapman's translation of Homer. The volume of +Mather is curious and entertaining, and fit to stand on the same +shelf with the "Magnalia" of his book-suffocated son. Cunningham's +comparatively recent edition, we should think, might satisfy for a long +time to come the demand for Drummond, whose chief value to posterity is +as the Boswell of Ben Jonson. Sir Thomas Overbury's "Characters" are +interesting illustrations of contemporary manners, and a mine of +footnotes to the works of better men,--but, with the exception of "The +Fair and Happy Milkmaid," they are dull enough to have pleased James the +First; his "Wife" is a _cento_ of far-fetched conceits,--here a tomtit, +and there a hen mistaken for a pheasant, like the contents of a +cockney's game-bag; and his chief interest for us lies in his having +been mixed up with an inexplicable tragedy and poisoned in the Tower, +not without suspicion of royal complicity. The "Piers Ploughman" is +a reprint, with very little improvement that we can discover, of +Mr. Wright's former edition. It would have been very well to have +republished the "Fair Virtue," and "Shepherd's Hunting" of George +Wither, which contain all the true poetry he ever wrote; but we can +imagine nothing more dreary than the seven hundred pages of his "Hymns +and Songs," whose only use, that we can conceive of, would be as penal +reading for incorrigible poetasters. If a steady course of these did not +bring them out of their nonsenses, nothing short of hanging would. Take +this as a sample, hit on by opening at random:-- + + "Rottenness my bones possest; + Trembling fear possessed me; + I that troublous day might rest: + For, when his approaches be + Onward to the people made, + His strong troops will them invade." + +Southwell is, if possible, worse. He paraphrases David and puts into his +mouth such punning conceits as "Fears are my feres," and in his "Saint +Peter's Complaint" makes that rashest and shortest-spoken of the +Apostles drawl through thirty pages of maudlin repentance, in which the +distinctions between the north and northeast sides of a sentimentality +are worthy of Duns Scotus. It does not follow, that, because a man is +hanged for his faith, he is able to write good verses. We would almost +match the fortitude that quails not at the good Jesuit's poems with his +own which carried him serenely to the fatal tree. The stuff of which +poets are made, whether finer or not, is of a very different fibre from +that which is used in the tough fabric of martyrs. It is time that +an earnest protest should be uttered against the wrong done to the +religious sentiment by the greater part of what is called religious +poetry, and which is commonly a painful something misnamed by the noun +and misqualified by the adjective. To dilute David, and make doggerel of +that majestic prose of the Prophets which has the glow and wide-orbited +metre of constellations, may be a useful occupation to keep +country-gentlemen out of litigation or retired clergymen from polemics; +but to regard these metrical mechanics as sacred because nobody wishes +to touch them, as meritorious because no one can be merry in their +company,--to rank them in the same class with those ancient songs of the +Church, sweet with the breath of saints, sparkling with the tears of +forgiven penitents, and warm with the fervor of martyrs,--nay, to set +them up beside such poems as those of Herbert, composed in the upper +chambers of the soul that open toward the sun's rising, is to confound +piety with dulness, and the manna of heaven with its sickening namesake +from the apothecary's drawer. The "Enchiridion" of Quarles is +hardly worthy of the author of the "Emblems," and is by no means an +unattainable book in other editions,--nor a matter of heartbreak, if it +were so. Of the dramatic works of Marston it is enough to say that they +are truly _works_ to the reader, but in no sense dramatic, nor worth the +paper they blot. He seems to have been deemed worthy of republication +because he was the contemporary of true poets; and if all the Tuppers +of the nineteenth century will buy his plays on the same principle, the +sale will be a remunerative one. The Homer of Chapman is so precious +a gift, that we are ready to forgive all Mr. Smith's shortcomings in +consideration of it. It is a vast _placer_, full of nuggets for the +philologist and the lover of poetry. + +Having now run cursorily through the series of Mr. Smith's reprints, we +come to the closer question of _How are they edited?_ Whatever the merit +of the original works, the editors, whether self-elected or chosen by +the publisher, should be accurate and scholarly. The editing of the +Homer we can heartily commend; and Dr. Rimbault, who carried the works +of Overbury through the press, has done his work well; but the +other volumes of the Library are very creditable neither to English +scholarship nor to English typography. The Introductions to some of +them are enough to make us think that we are fallen to the necessity +of reprinting our old authors because the art of writing correct and +graceful English has been lost. William B. Turnbull, Esq., of Lincoln's +Inn, Barrister at Law, says, for instance, in his Introduction to +Southwell: "There was resident at Uxendon, near Harrow on the Hill, +in Middlesex, a Catholic family of the name of Bellamy whom [which] +Southwell was in the habit of visiting and providing with religious +instruction when he exchanged his ordinary [ordinarily] close +confinement for a purer atmosphere." (pp. xxii.-xxiii.) Again, (p. +xxii.,) "He had, in this manner, for six years, pursued, with very great +success, the objects of his mission, when these were abruptly terminated +by his foul betrayal into the hands of his enemies in 1592." We should +like to have Mr. Turnbull explain how the _objects_ of a mission could +be terminated by a betrayal, however it might be with the mission +itself. From the many similar flowers in the Introduction to Mather's +"Providences," by Mr. George Offor, (in whom, we fear, we recognize +a countryman,) we select the following: "It was at this period when, +[that,] oppressed by the ruthless hand of persecution, our pilgrim +fathers, threatened with torture and death, succumbed not to man, but +trusting on [in] an almighty arm, braved the dangers of an almost +unknown ocean, and threw themselves into the arms of men called savages, +who proved more beneficent than national Christians." To whom or what +our pilgrim fathers _did_ succumb, and what "national Christians" are, +we leave, with the song of the Sirens, to conjecture. Speaking of the +"Providences," Mr. Offor says, that "they faithfully delineate the state +of public opinion two hundred years ago, the most striking feature being +an implicit faith in the power of the [in-]visible world to hold visible +intercourse with man:--not the angels to bless poor erring mortals, but +of demons imparting power to witches and warlocks to injure, terrify and +destroy,"--a sentence which we defy any witch or warlock, though he +were Michael Scott himself, to parse with the astutest demonic aid. +On another page, he says of Dr. Mather, that "he was one of the first +divines who discovered that very many strange events, which were +considered preternatural, had occurred in the course of nature or by +deceitful juggling; that the Devil could not speak English, nor prevail +with Protestants; the smell of herbs alarms the Devil; that medicine +drives out Satan!" We do not wonder that Mr. Offor put a mark of +exclamation at the end of this surprising sentence, but we do confess +our astonishment that the vermilion pencil of the proof-reader suffered +it to pass unchallenged. Leaving its bad English out of the question, +we find, on referring to Mather's text, that he was never guilty of the +absurdity of believing that Satan was less eloquent in English than +in any other language; that it was the British (Welsh) tongue which a +certain demon whose education had been neglected (not _the_ Devil) could +not speak; that Mather is not fool enough to say that the Fiend cannot +prevail with Protestants, nor that the smell of herbs alarms him, nor +that medicine drives him out. + +Mr. Offor is superbly Protestant and iconoclastic,--not sparing, as we +have seen, even Priscian's head among the rest; but, _en revanche_, Mr. +Turnbull is ultramontane beyond the editors of the _Civiltà Cattolica_. +He allows himself to say, that, "after Southwell's death, one of his +sisters, a Catholic in heart, but timidly and blameably simulating +heresy, wrought, with some relics of the martyr, several cures on +persons afflicted with desperate and deadly diseases, which had baffled +the skill of all physicians." Mr. Turnbull is, we suspect, a recent +convert, or it would occur to him that doctors are still secure of a +lucrative practice in countries full of the relics of greater saints +than even Southwell. That father was hanged (according to Protestants) +for treason, and the relic which put the whole pharmacopoeia to shame +was, if we mistake not, his neckerchief. But whatever the merits of the +Jesuit himself, and however it may gratify Mr. Turnbull's catechumenical +enthusiasm to exalt the curative properties of this integument of his, +even at the expense of Jesuits' bark, we cannot but think that he has +shown a credulity that unfits him for writing a fair narrative of his +hero's life, or making a tolerably just estimate of his verses. It is +possible, however, that these last seem prosaic as a neck-tie only to +heretical readers. + +Anything more helplessly inadequate than Mr. Offor's preliminary +dissertation on Witchcraft we never read; but we could hardly expect +much from an editor whose citations from the book he is editing show +that he had either not read or not understood it. + +We have singled out the Introductions of Messrs. Turnbull and Offor for +special animadversion because they are on the whole the worst, both of +them being offensively sectarian, while that of Mr. Offor in particular +gives us almost no information whatever. Some of the others are not +without grave faults, chief among which is a vague declamation, +especially out of place in critical essays, where it serves only to +weary the reader and awaken his distrust. In his Introduction to +Wither's "Hallelujah," for instance, Mr. Farr informs us that "nearly +all the best poets of the latter half of the sixteenth century--for that +was the period when the Reformation was fully established--and the whole +of the seventeenth century were sacred poets," and that "even Shakspeare +and the contemporary dramatists of his age sometimes attuned their +well-strung harps to the songs of Zion." Comment on statements like +these would be as useless as the assertions themselves are absurd. + +We have quoted these examples only to justify us in saying, that Mr. +Smith must select his editors with more care, if he wishes that his +"Library of Old Authors" should deserve the confidence and thereby gain +the good word of intelligent readers,--without which such a series can +neither win nor keep the patronage of the public. It is impossible that +men who cannot construct an English sentence correctly, and who do not +know the value of clearness in writing, should be able to disentangle +the knots which slovenly printers have tied in the thread of an old +author's meaning; and it is more than doubtful whether they who assert +carelessly, cite inaccurately, and write loosely are not by nature +disqualified for doing thoroughly what they undertake to do. If it were +unreasonable to demand of every one who assumes to edit one of our early +poets the critical acumen, the genial sense, the illimitable reading, +the philological scholarship, which in combination would alone make +the ideal editor, it is not presumptuous to expect some one of these +qualifications singly, and we have the right to insist upon patience and +accuracy, which are within the reach of every one, and without which all +the others are wellnigh vain. Now to this virtue of accuracy Mr. Offor +specifically lays claim in one of his remarkable sentences: "We are +bound to admire," he says, "the accuracy and beauty of this specimen of +typography. Following in the path of my late friend William Pickering, +our publisher rivals the Aldine and Elzevir presses, which have been so +universally admired." We should think that it was the product of those +presses which had been admired, and that Mr. Smith presents a still +worthier object of admiration when he contrives to follow a path and +rival a press at the same time. But let that pass;--it is the claim to +accuracy which we dispute; and we deliberately affirm, that, as far as +we are able to judge by the volumes we have examined, no claim more +unfounded was ever set up. In some cases, as we shall show presently, +the blunders of the original work have been followed with painful +accuracy in the reprint; but many others have been added by the +carelessness of Mr. Smith's printers or editors. In the thirteen +pages of Mr. Offor's own Introduction we have found as many as seven +typographical errors,--unless some of them are to be excused on the +ground that Mr. Offor's studies have not yet led him into those arcana +where we are taught such recondite mysteries of language as that verbs +agree with their nominatives. In Mr. Farr's Introduction to the "Hymns +and Songs" nine short extracts from other poems of Wither are quoted, +and in these we have found no less than seven misprints or false +readings which materially affect the sense. Textual inaccuracy is a +grave fault in the new edition of an old poet; and Mr. Farr is not +only liable to this charge, but also to that of making blundering +misstatements which are calculated to mislead the careless or uncritical +reader. Infected by the absurd cant which has been prevalent for the +last dozen years among literary sciolists, he says,--"The language used +by Wither in all his various works--whether secular or sacred--is pure +Saxon." Taken literally, this assertion is manifestly ridiculous, and, +allowing it every possible limitation, it is not only untrue of Wither, +but of every English poet, from Chaucer down. The translators of our +Bible made use of the German version, and a poet versifying the English +Scriptures would therefore be likely to use more words of Teutonic +origin than in his original compositions. But no English poet can write +English poetry except in English,--that is, in that compound of Teutonic +and Romanic which derives its heartiness and strength from the one and +its canorous elegance from the other. The Saxon language does not sing, +and, though its tough mortar serve to hold together the less compact +Latin words, porous with vowels, it is to the Latin that our verse owes +majesty, harmony, variety, and the capacity for rhyme. A quotation of +six lines from Wither ends at the top of the very page on which Mr. Parr +lays down his extraordinary _dictum_, and we will let this answer him, +Italicizing the words of Romanic derivation:-- + + "Her true _beauty_ leaves behind + _Apprehensions_ in the mind, + Of more sweetness than all _art_ + Or _inventions_ can _impart_; + Thoughts too deep to be _expressed_, + And too strong to be _suppressed_." + +But space fails us, and we shall take up the editions of Marston and +Webster in a future article. + + +_Galleries and Cabinets of Art in Great Britain_, etc. By DR. WAAGEN. +Forming a Supplemental Volume to the "Treasures of Art in Great +Britain." 8vo. London. 1857. + +The Manchester Exhibition, although containing a vast number of works +of Art, displayed but a small portion of the treasures of painting and +sculpture scattered through Great Britain, in the city and country +houses of the upper classes. Every year is adding greatly to the number +and value of both private and public galleries in England. It is but +three years since Dr. Waagen published his three ponderous volumes on +the "Treasures of Art in Great Britain," and he has already found new +material for a fourth, not less cumbrous than its predecessors. The +larger part of this last volume is, indeed, composed of descriptions of +galleries existing at the time of the publication of his first work, but +the most interesting portion of it relates to the acquisitions that have +been made within the last three years. + +A better taste, and a truer appreciation of the relative merits of works +of Art, prevails in England now than at any previous time, and the +recent acquisitions are distinguished not more by their number than by +their intrinsic value. The National Gallery has at last begun to make +its purchases upon a systematic plan, and is endeavoring to form such a +collection as shall exhibit the historic progress of the various schools +of painting. The late additions to it have been of peculiar interest in +this view; including some very admirable pictures by masters whose works +are rare and of real importance. Among them are very noble works of +some of the chief earlier Florentine, Umbrian, and Venetian masters; +especially a beautiful picture by Benozzo Gozzoli, (the Virgin enthroned +with the infant Saviour in her arms and surrounded by Saints,)--a +thoroughly characteristic specimen of Giovanni Bellini, (also a Virgin +holding the Child,) in which the deep, fervent, and tender spirit, the +manly feeling, and the unsurpassed purity of color of this great master +are well shown,--and one of the finest existing pictures of Perugino, +the three lower and principal compartments of an altarpiece painted for +the Certosa at Pavia. We know, indeed, no work by the master of Raphael +to be set above this. Two of the best pictures of Paul Veronese have +also just been added to the National Gallery. + +Still more important are the recent private purchases. The Duke of +Northumberland procured in Rome, in 1850, the whole of Camuccini's +famous collection. It contained seventy-four pictures, and many of +them of great value. Among them was a small, but precious picture +by Giotto,--a beautiful little Raphael,--three undoubted works of +Titian,--and, most precious of all, a picture, formerly in the Ludovisi +collection, painted jointly by Giovanni Bellini and Titian. It is the +Descent of the Gods to taste the Fruits of the Earth, half-comic in +conception, but remarkable for the grace of some of its figures; the +landscape is by Titian, and Dr. Waagen says, justly, that "it is, +without comparison, the finest that up to that period had ever been +painted,"--and we would add, few finer have been painted since. + +Meanwhile Sir Charles Eastlake has obtained a picture by Mantegna, and +another by Bellini, both of which rank very high among the works of +these masters, and both in excellent condition. And Mr. Alexander +Barker, whose collection is becoming one of the best selected and most +interesting in England, has purchased several pictures of great value, +especially one by Verocchio, the master of Leonardo da Vinci, which Dr. +Waagen speaks of as "the most important picture I know by this rare +master." Mr. Barker has also made an addition to his collection so +recent as not to be described even in this last volume of the "Art +Treasures," but which is of unsurpassed interest. He has purchased from +the Manfrini Gallery at Venice, a gallery which has long been famous as +containing some of the best works of the Venetian school, eighteen of +its best pictures, and was lately in treaty for a still larger number. +He has already secured Titian's portrait of Ariosto, Giorgione's +portrait of a woman with a guitar, and other works by these masters, by +Palma Vecchio, Giovanni Bellini, and other chief Venetian painters. We +trust that he may bring to England (if it must leave Venice) Bellini's +St. Jerome, a picture of the most precious character. + +This catalogue, long as it already is, by no means completes the list of +the last three years' gains of pictures for England. Such a record shows +how compact with treasures the little island is becoming. And meanwhile, +what is America doing in this way? The overestimate of the importance +and value of Mr. Belmont's collection in New York shows how far the +American public yet is from knowing its own ignorance and poverty in +respect to Art. + +No praise can be given to the execution of Dr. Waagen's book. His +descriptions of pictures are rarely characteristic; his tone and +standard of judgment are worthless; his style of writing is poor; his +inaccuracies frequent; and his flunkeyism intolerable. It would be an +excellent undertaking for a competent person, using Dr. Waagen's book +as a basis, to compress the account of the principal private galleries, +those which really contain pictures of value, into one small and +portable volume,--to serve as a handbook for travellers in England, as +well as for a guide to the present place of pictures interesting in the +history of artists and of Art. Such a volume, if well done, would be of +vastly more value than these heavy four. The usual delightful liberality +of English collectors in opening their galleries to the public on +certain days would make such a volume something more than a mere +tantalizing exposition of treasures that could not be seen, and would +render it, to all lovers of Art, an indispensable companion in England. +We may add that this liberality might be imitated with advantage by the +directors of some collections in which the public have a greater claim. +We tried once in vain to get sight of the portraits of Alleyn and +Burbage at Bulwich College, and were prevented from seeing the Hogarths +in the Sloane Museum by the length of time required for the preliminary +ceremonies. + + +_The New American Cyclopaedia._ A Popular Dictionary of General +Knowledge. Edited by GEORGE RIPLEY and CHAS. A. DANA. Vol. I. +A--ARAGUAY. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 8vo. + +The design of this work is to furnish the American public with a +Cyclopaedia which shall be readable as well as valuable,--possessing +all the advantages of a dictionary of knowledge for the purposes of +reference, and all the interest which results from a scholarly treatment +of the subjects. Judging from the first volume, it will occupy a middle +ground between the great Encyclopaedias and the numerous special +Dictionaries of Art and Science; and if its plan be carried out with the +vigor and skill which mark its commencement, it will, when completed, be +the best and most condensed Cyclopaedia for popular use in any language. +The guaranty for its successful completion is to be found in the +character and abilities of the editors, and the resources at their +command. Mr. Ripley is an accomplished man of letters, familiar with the +whole field of literature and philosophy, gifted with a mental aptitude +equally for facts and ideas, a fanatic for no particular branch of +knowledge, but with a genial appreciation of each, and endowed with a +largeness and catholicity of mind which eminently fit him to mould the +multitudinous materials of a work like the present into the form of a +prescribed plan. Mr. Dana is well known as one of the chief editors +of the most influential journal in the country, as combining vigorous +intellect with indefatigable industry, and as capable, both in the +domain of facts and in the domain of principles, of "toiling terribly." +The resources of the editors are, literally, almost too numerous +to mention. They include the different Encyclopaedias and popular +Conversations-Lexicons in various languages,--recent biographies, +histories, books of travel, and scientific treatises,--the opportunities +of research afforded by the best private and public libraries,--and a +body of contributors, scattered over different portions of the United +States and Europe, of whom nearly a hundred have written for the present +volume, and, in some cases, have contributed the results of personal +observation, research, and discovery. These contributors are selected +with a view to their proficiency and celebrity in their several +departments. The scientific articles are written by scientific men; +those on technology and machinery, by practical machinists and +engineers; those on military and naval affairs, by officers of the army +and navy; and those which relate to the history and doctrines of the +various Christian churches and denominations, by men who have both the +knowledge of their subjects which comes from study and the knowledge +which comes from sympathy. + +The plan of the editors implies a perfect neutrality in regard to all +controverted points in politics, science, philosophy, and religion; +and though they cannot avoid controversy as a fact in the history of +opinion, it is their purpose to have the Cyclopaedia give an impartial +statement of various opinions without an intrusion of their own or those +of their contributors. In considering how far, in the first volume, they +have succeeded in their general design, it must be remembered that a +Cyclopaedia which shall be satisfactory to all readers alike is an ideal +which the human imagination may contemplate, but which seems to be +beyond the reach of human wit practically to attain. Besides, each +reader is apt to have a pet interest in certain persons, events, topics, +beliefs, which stand in his own mind for universal knowledge, and he is +naturally vexed to find how their importance dwindles when they appear +in relation to the whole of nature and human life. In respect to +Biography, especially in a Cyclopaedia which admits lives of the living +as well as the dead, and to whose biographical department a great +variety of authors contribute, there is an inherent difficulty of +preserving the proper gradation of reputations. Doubtless, many an +American gentleman will find that this Cyclopaedia gives him an +importance, in comparison with the rest of the world, which time will +not sanction; and doubtless, some of the dead _A_s, if rapped into +utterance by the modern process of spiritual communication, would +complain of the curt statement which coffined their souls in a space +more limited than that now occupied by their bodies. The biographies, +however, of John Adams, John Quincy Adams, Addison, Aeschylus, Mark +Anthony, Alfieri, Akenside, Allston, Agassiz, and a number of others, +are evidently by "eminent hands," and, as compared with the rest, are +treated with more fulness and richness of detail, with an easier and +more genial mastery of the subjects, and with less fear of being +redundant in good things. Still, most of the biographies serve the +primary purpose of the work as a book of reference, and contain as large +an amount of information as could well be crammed into so limited a +space. + +Such a variety of minds have been engaged on the present volume, that +among its twenty-five hundred articles will be found every kind of +style, from austere scientific statement, to brilliant wit and fancy. +Two subjects, never before included in a Cyclopaedia in the English +language, namely, Aesthetics and Absolute, are ably, though far too +briefly treated. Entertainment is not overlooked in the plan of the +editors, and there are some articles, like those on Almacks, Actors, and +Adventures, which contain information at once curious and amusing. +The article "Americanism" might have been made much more valuable and +pleasing, had the subject been treated at greater length, with more +insight into the reasons which led to the establishment of an American +verbal mint, and with a more complete list of the felicities of its +coinage. The articles which refer to bodily health, such as those on +Appetite, Age, Aliment, Total Abstinence, contain important facts and +admirable suggestions in condensed statements. Agriculture, Agricultural +Schools, and Agricultural Chemistry are evidently the work of writers +who appreciate the practical wants of the farmer, as well as understand +the aids which science can furnish him. Two divisions of the globe, +Africa and America, come within the scope of the present volume, and, +though the special reader will notice in the articles devoted to them +some omissions, and some statements which may require modification, they +bear the general marks of industry, vigilance, and research. The paper +on Anaesthetics is evidently by a writer who meant to be impartial, but +still injustice is done to the claims of Dr. Jackson, and we trust that +in the next edition some of the statements will be corrected, even if +the whole question of the discovery is not more thoroughly argued. It +seems curious that a discovery which destroys pain should be a constant +cause of pain to every person in any way connected with it. It may not +be within the province of a Cyclopaedia to undertake the decision of a +question still so vehemently controverted; but we think it might be so +stated as to include all the facts, harmonize portions at least of +the conflicting evidence, and put some people "out of pain." We must +attribute it to a careless reading of the proof-sheets that the editors +have allowed the concluding paragraph in the article "Adams" to intrude +village gossip into a work which should be an example to American +scholarship, and not a receptacle of newspaper scandal. + +In conclusion, we think that the impression which an examination of the +present volume, considered as a whole, leaves on the mind is, that the +editors have generally succeeded in making it both comprehensive and +compact,--comprehensive without being superficial, and compact without +being dry and dull. As a book for the desultory reader, it will be found +full of interest and attractiveness, while it is abundantly capable of +bearing severer tests than any to which the desultory reader will be +likely to subject it. Minor faults can easily be detected, but we think +its great merits are much more obvious than its little defects. The +probability is, that, when completed, it will be found to contain +articles by almost every person of literary and scientific note in the +United States; for the wide and friendly relations which the editors +hold with American authors and _savans_, of all sects, parties, and +sections, will enable them to obtain valuable contributions, even if +the general interest in the success of an American Cyclopaedia were not +sufficient of itself to draw the intellect of the country to its pages. +As a work which promises to be so honorable to the literature of the +country, we trust that it will meet with a public patronage commensurate +with its deserts. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 6, +April, 1858, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12372 *** 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..dfd0989 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12372 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12372) diff --git a/old/12372-8.txt b/old/12372-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3dec03d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12372-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9331 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 6, April, 1858, 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. 1, No. 6, April, 1858 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: May 18, 2004 [EBook #12372] +[Date last updated: May 21, 2005] + +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. I.--APRIL, 1858.--NO. VI. + + * * * * * + + +THE HUNDRED DAYS. + +PERSONAL REMINISCENCES. + + +That period of history between the 20th of March and the 28th of June, +1815, being the interregnum in the reign of Louis the Eighteenth, +caused by the arrival of Napoleon from Elba and his assumption of the +government of France, is known as "The Hundred Days." + +It is as interesting as it was eventful, and has been duly chronicled +wherever facts have been gathered to gratify a curiosity that is not yet +weary of dwelling on the point of time which saw the Star of Destiny +once more in the ascendant before it sank forever. + +Whatever is connected with this remarkable epoch is worthy of +remembrance, and whoever can add the interest of a personal experience, +though it be limited and unimportant, should be satisfied, in the +recital, to adopt that familiar form which may give to his recollections +the strongest impress of reality. + +I was at that time a schoolboy in Paris. The institution to which I was +attached was connected with one of the National Lyceums, which were +colleges where students resided in large numbers, and where classes from +private schools also regularly attended, each studying in its respective +place and going to the Lyceum at hours of lecture or recitation. All +these establishments were, under Napoleon, to a certain degree military. +The roll of the drum roused the scholar to his daily work; a uniform +with the imperial button was the only dress allowed to be worn; and the +physical as well as the intellectual training was such, that very little +additional preparation was required to qualify the inmate of the Lyceum +for the duties and privations of the soldier's life. The transition +was not unnatural; and the boy who breakfasted in the open air, in +midwinter, on a piece of dry bread and as much water as he chose to pump +for himself,--who was turned adrift, without cap or overcoat, from the +study-room into the storm or sunshine of an open enclosure, to amuse +himself in his recess as he best might,--whose continual talk with his +comrades was of the bivouac or the battle-field,--and who considered the +great object of life to be the development of faculties best fitted to +excel in the art of destruction, would not be astonished to find himself +sleeping on the bare ground with a levy of raw conscripts. + +I was in daily intercourse with several hundred young men, and it +may not be uninteresting to dwell a moment on the character of my +companions, especially as they may be considered a fair type of the +youth of France generally at that time. It is, moreover, a topic with +which few are familiar. There were not many Americans in that country at +that period. I knew of only one at school in Paris beside myself. + +If the brilliant glories of the Empire dazzled the mature mind of +age, they wrought into delirium the impulsive brain of youth, whose +impressions do not wait for any aid from the judgment, but burn into the +soul, never to be totally effaced. The early boyhood of those with whom +I was associated had been one of continual excitement. Hardly had the +hasty but eloquent bulletin told the Parisians that the name of another +bloody field was to be inscribed among the victories of France, and the +cannon of the Invalides thundered out their notes of triumph, when again +the mutilated veterans were on duty at their scarcely cooled pieces and +the newswomen in the streets were shrilly proclaiming some new triumph +of the imperial arms. Then came the details, thrilling a warlike people, +and the trophies which symbolized success,--banners torn and stained +in desperate conflict, destined to hang over Christian altars until the +turning current of fortune should drift them back,--parks of artillery +rumbling through the streets, to be melted into statue or triumphal +column,--and, amid the spoils of war, everything most glorious in Art to +fill that wondrous gallery, the like of which the eye of man will never +look upon again. At last, in some short respite of those fighting days, +came back the conquerors themselves, to enjoy a fleeting period of rest +and fame ere they should stiffen on Russian snows, or swell the streams +which bathe the walls of Leipsic, or blacken, with countless dead, the +plains stretching between the Rhine and their own proud capital. + +By no portion of the people were these things gathered with such avidity +and regarded with such all-absorbing interest as by the schoolboys of +Paris. Every step of the "Grand Army" was watched with deep solicitude +and commented upon with no doubtful criticism. They made themselves +acquainted with the relative merit of each division, and could tell +which arm of the service most contributed to the result of any +particular battle. They collected information from all sources,--from +accounts in newspapers, from army letters, from casual conversation with +some maimed straggler fresh from the scene of war. Each boy, as he +made his periodical visit to his family, brought back something to the +general fund of anecdote. The fire that burned in their young bosoms was +fed by tales of daring, and there was a halo round deeds of blood which +effectually concealed the woe and misery they caused. There was but one +side of the medal visible, and the figures on that were so bold and +beautiful that no one cared for or thought of the ugly death's-head on +the reverse. The fearful consumption of human life which drained the +land, sweeping off almost one entire generation of able-bodied men, and +leaving the tillage of the fields to the decrepitude of age, feebly +aided by female hands, gave ample opportunity to gratify the ardent +minds panting to exchange the tame drudgery of school and college for +the limited, but to them world-wide, authority of the subaltern's sword +and epaulet. There seemed to them but one road to advancement. The +profession of arms was the sole pursuit which opened a career bounded +only by the wildest dreams of ambition. What had been could be; and the +fortunate soldier might find no check in the progressive honors of his +course, until his brows should be encircled by the insignia of royalty. +It required more than mortal courage for a young man to intimate a +preference for some more peaceful occupation. A learned profession might +be sneeringly tolerated; but woe to him who spoke of agriculture, +or commerce, or the mechanic arts! There was little comfort for the +luckless wight who, in some unguarded moment, gave utterance to such +ignoble aspirations. Henceforth he was, like the Pariah of India, cut +off from human sympathy, and the young gentlemen whose tastes and +tendencies led them to prefer the more aristocratic trade of butchery +felt that there was a line of demarcation which completely and +conclusively separated them from him. + +This predilection for military life received no small encouragement +from the occasional visit of some young Caesar, whose uniform had been +tarnished in the experiences of one campaign, and who returned to his +former associates to indulge in an hour of unalloyed glorification. + +Napoleon, when he entered the Tuileries after prostrating some hostile +kingdom, never felt more importance than did the young lieutenant in his +service when he passed the ponderous doors which ushered him into the +presence of his old schoolfellows. What a host of admirers crowded +around him! What an honor and privilege to be standing in the presence, +and even pressing the hand or rushing into the embrace, of an officer +who had really seen bayonet-charges and heard the whistling of +grapeshot! How the older ones monopolized the distinguished visitor, and +how the little boys crowded the outer circle to catch a word from the +military oracle, proudly happy if they could get a distant nod of +recognition! And then the questions which were showered upon him, too +numerous and varied to be answered. And how he described the forced +marches, and the manoeuvring, and the great battle!--how the cannonade +seemed the breaking up of heaven and earth, and the solid ground shook +under the charges of cavalry; how, yet louder than all, rang the +imperial battle-cry, maddening those who uttered it; how death was +everywhere, and yet he escaped unharmed, or with some slight wound which +trebled his importance to his admiring auditors. He would then tell how, +after hours of desperate fighting, the Emperor, seeing that the decisive +moment had arrived, ordered up the Imperial Guard; how the veterans, +whose hairs had bleached in the smoke of a hundred battles, advanced to +fulfil their mission; how with firm tread and lofty bearing, proud +in the recollections of the past and strong in the consciousness of +strength, they entered the well-fought field; and how from rank to rank +of their exhausted countrymen pealed the shout of exultation, for +they knew that the hour of their deliverance had come; and then, with +overwhelming might, all branches of the service, comprised in that +magnificent reserve, swept like a whirlwind, driving before them +horse and foot, artillery, equipage, and standards, all mingled in +irremediable confusion. + +With what freedom did our young hero comment on the campaign, speaking +such names as Lannes and Ney, Murat and Massena, like household words! +He did not, perhaps, state that the favorable result of things was +entirely owing to his presence, but it might be inferred that it was +well he threw in his sword when the fortunes of the Empire trembled in +the balance. + +Under such influences, and with the excitement produced by the +marvellous success of the French armies, it is not singular that young +men looked eagerly forward to a participation in the prodigies and +splendors of their time,--that they should turn disdainfully from the +paths of honest industry, and that everything which constitutes the true +wealth and greatness of a state should have been despised or forgotten +in the lurid and blood-stained glare of military glory, which cowered +like an incubus on the breast of Europe. The battle-fields were beyond +the frontiers of their own country; the calamities of war were too far +distant to obtrude their disheartening features; and no lamentations +mingled with the public rejoicings. Many a broken-hearted mother mourned +in secret for her son lying in his bloody grave; but individual grief +was disregarded in the madness which pervaded all classes, vain-glorious +from repeated and uninterrupted success. + +But the time had come when the storm was to pour in desolation over the +fields of France, and the nations which had trembled at her power were +to tender back to her the bitter cup of humiliation. The unaccustomed +sound of hostile cannon broke in on the dreams of invincibility which +had entranced the people, and deeds of violence and blood, which had +been complacently regarded when the theatre of action was on foreign +territory, seemed quite another thing when the scene was shifted to +their own vineyards and villages. + +The genius of Napoleon never exhibited such vast fertility of resources +as when he battled for life and empire in his own dominions. Every foot +of ground was wrested from him at an expense of life which thinned the +innumerable hosts pressing onward to his destruction. He stood at bay +against all Europe in arms; and so desperately did he contend against +the vast odds opposed to him, and so rapidly did he move from one +invading column to another, successively beating back division upon +division, that his astonished foes, awed by his superhuman exertions, +had wellnigh turned their faces to the Rhine in panic-stricken retreat. +But the line of invasion was so widely extended that even his ubiquity +could not compass it. His wonderful power of concentration was of little +avail to him when the mere skeletons of regiments answered to his call, +and, along his weakened line, the neglected gleanings left by the +conscription, now hastily garnered in this last extremity, greeted him +in the treble notes of childhood. The voices of the bearded men, which +once hailed his presence, were hushed in death. They had shouted his +name in triumph over Europe, and it had quivered on their lips when +parched with the moral agony. Their bones were whitening the sands of +Egypt, the harvests of Italy had long waved over them, their +unnumbered graves lay thick in the German's Fatherland, and +the floods of the Berezina were yet giving up their unburied +dead. The remnant of that once invincible army did all that +could be done; but there were limits to endurance, and exhaustion +anticipated the hour of combat. Men fell dead in their ranks, untouched +by shot or steel; and yet the survivors pressed on to take up the +positions assigned by their leader, who seemed to be proof against +either fatigue or despair. His last bold move, on which he staked his +empire, was a splendid effort, but it failed him. It was the daring play +of a desperate gamester, and nearly checkmated his opponents. But when, +instead of pursuing him, they marched on Paris, he left his army to +follow as it could, and hastened to anticipate his enemies. When about +fifteen miles from Paris, he received news of the battle of Montmartre +and the capitulation of the city. The post-house where he encountered +this intelligence was within sight of the place where I passed my +vacations. I often looked at it with interest, for it was there that the +vision first flashed before him of his broken empire and the utter ruin +which bade farewell to hope. He had become familiar with reverses. His +veteran legions had perished in unequal strife with the elements, or +melted away in the hot flame of conflict; his most devoted adherents +had fallen around him; yet his iron soul bore up against his changing +fortunes, and from the wrecks of storm and battle there returned + + -------"the conqueror's broken car, + The conqueror's yet unbroken heart." + +But the spirit which had never quailed before his enemies was crushed +by the desertion of his friends. He had now to feel that treason and +ingratitude are attendants on adversity, and that the worshippers of +power, like the Gheber devotee, turn their faces reverently towards the +rising sun. + +There are few things in history so touching as the position of Napoleon +at Fontainebleau, during the few days which preceded his abdication +and departure for the Island of Elba. Nearly all his superior officers +forsook him, not even finding time to bid him adieu. Men whom he had +covered with wealth and honors, who had most obsequiously courted his +smiles, and been most vehement in their protestations of fidelity, were +the first to leave him in his misfortune, forgetting, in their anxiety +to conciliate his successor, to make the slightest stipulation for the +protection of their benefactor. He was left in the vast apartments of +that deserted palace, with hardly the footsteps of a domestic servant to +break its monastic stillness; and, for the first time in his eventful +life, he sat, hour after hour, without movement, brooding over his +despair. At last, when all was ready for his departure, he called up +something of his old energy, and again stood in the presence of what +remained of the Imperial Guard, which was faithful to the end. These +brave men had often encircled him, like a wall of granite, in the hour +of utmost peril, and they were now before him, to look upon him, as they +thought, for the last time. He struggled to retain his firmness, but +the effort was beyond human resolution; his pride gave way before his +bursting heart, and the stern vanquisher of nations wept with his old +comrades. + +Napoleon was gone. His empire was in the dust. The streets of his capital +were filled with strangers, and the volatile Parisians were almost +compensated for the degradation, in their wonder at the novel garb and +uncouth figures of their enemies. The Cossacks of the Don had made their +threatened "hurra," and bivouacked on the banks of the Seine. Prussian +and Austrian cannon pointed down all the great thoroughfares, and by +their side, day and night, the burning match suggested the penalty of +any popular commotion. The Bourbons were at the Tuileries, and France +appeared to have moved back to the place whence she had started on her +course of redemption. At length, slowly and prudently, the allied armies +commenced their homeward march, and the reigning family were left to +their own resources, to reconcile as they could the heterogeneous +materials stranded by the receding tide of revolution. But concession +formed no part of their character, and reconciliation was an unknown +element in their plan of government. They took possession of the throne +as though they had only been absent on a pleasure excursion, and, +ignoring twenty years of _parvenu_ glory, affected to be merely +continuing an uninterrupted sovereignty. The pithy remark of Talleyrand, +that "they had learned nothing and forgotten nothing," was abundantly +verified. Close following in their wake, came hordes of emigrants +famished by long exile and clamorous for the restitution of ancient +privileges. There was nothing in common between them and the men of the +Republic, or of the Empire. They assumed an air of superiority, which +the latter answered with the most undisguised contempt. Ridicule, that +fearful political engine, which, especially in France, is sufficient to +batter down the hopes of any aspirant who lays himself open to it, and +which Napoleon himself, in his greatest power, feared more than foreign +armies or intestine conspiracies, was most unsparingly directed against +them. The print-shops exposed them in every possible form of caricature, +the theatres burlesqued their pretensions, songs and epigrams +contributed to their discomfiture, and all the ingenuity of a witty +and laughter-loving people was unmercifully poured out upon this +resurrection of antediluvian remains. Their royal patrons came in for a +full share of the general derision, but they seemed entirely unmindful +that there was such a thing as popular opinion, or any other will than +their own. There were objects all around them which might have preached +to them of the uncertainty of human grandeur and the vanity of kingly +pride, reminding them that there is but a step from the palace to the +scaffold, which step had been taken by more than one of their family. +The walls of their abode were yet marked by musket-balls, mementos of +a day of appalling violence, and from the windows they could see the +public square where the guillotine had permanently stood and the +pavement had been crimsoned with the blood of their race. They had +awakened from a long sleep, among a new order of men, who were strangers +to them, and who looked upon them as beings long since buried, but +now, unnaturally and indecorously, protruded upon living society. They +commenced by placing themselves in antagonism to the nation, and erected +a barrier which effectually divided them from the people. The history of +the Republic and the Empire was to be blotted out; it was a forbidden +theme in their presence, and whatever reminded them of it was carefully +hidden from their legitimate vision. The remains of the Old Guard were +removed to the provinces or drafted into new regiments; leaders, whose +very names stirred France like the blast of a trumpet, were almost +unknown in the royal circle; and the great Exile was never to be +mentioned without the liability to a charge of treason. + +During all this time of change, the youth of France, shut up in schools +and colleges, kept pace with the outer world in information, and +outstripped it in manifestations of feeling. I can judge of public +sentiment only by inferences drawn from occasional observation, or the +recorded opinions of others. I believe that many did not regret the fall +of Napoleon, being weary of perpetual war, and hoping that the accession +of the Bourbons would establish permanent peace. I believe that those +who had attained the summit of military rank were not unwilling to pass +some portion of their lives in the luxury of their own homes. I believe +that there were mothers who rejoiced that the dreaded conscription had +ended, and that their sons were spared to them. I believe all this, +because I understood it so to be. But whatever may have been the hopes +of the lovers of tranquillity, or the wishes of warriors worn out in +service, or the maternal instincts which would avert the iron hand +clutching at new victims for the shrine of Moloch, I can answer that the +boys remained staunch Bonapartists, for I was in the midst of them, and +I have the fullest faith that those about me were exponents of the whole +generation just entering on the stage of action. During the decline of +the Empire, when defeat might be supposed to have quenched the fire of +their enthusiasm, they remained unchanged, firmly trusting that glory +would retrace her steps and once more follow the imperial eagles. And +now, when their idol was overthrown, their veneration had not diminished +nor wavered. Napoleon, with his four hundred grenadiers, at Elba, was +still the Emperor; and those who, as they conceived, had usurped his +government, received no small share of hatred and execration. Amidst +abandonment and ingratitude, when some deserted and others reviled him, +the boys were true as steel. It was not solely because the career which +was open to them closed with his abdication, but a nobler feeling of +devotion animated them in his hour of trial, and survived his downfall. + +Many of our instructors were well satisfied with the new state of +things. Some of the older ones had been educated as priests, and were +officiating in their calling, when the Revolution broke in upon them, +trampling alike on sacred shrine and holy vestment. The shaven crown was +a warrant for execution, and it rolled beneath the guillotine, or fell +by cold-blooded murder at the altar where it ministered. Infuriated +mobs hunted them like bloodhounds; and the cloisters of convent and +monastery, which had hitherto been disturbed only by footsteps gliding +quietly from cell to chapel, or the hum of voices mingling in devotion, +now echoed the tread of armed ruffians and resounded with ribaldry and +imprecations. An old man, who was for a time my teacher, told me many a +tale of those days. He had narrowly escaped, once, by concealing himself +under the floor of his room. He said that he felt the pressure, as +his pursuers repeatedly passed over him, and could hear their avowed +intention to hang him at the next lamp-post,--a mode of execution not +uncommon, when hot violence could not wait the slow processes of law. + +These men saw in the Restoration a hope that the good old times would +come back,--that the crucifix would again be an emblem of temporal +power, mightier than the sword,--that the cowled monk would become the +counsellor of kings, and once more take his share in the administration +of empires. + +But if they expected to commence operations by subjecting their pupils +to their own legitimate standard, and to bring about a tame acquiescence +in the existing order of things, they were wofully mistaken. +Conservatism never struggled with a more determined set of radicals. +Their life and action were treason. They talked it, and wrote it, and +sang it. There was no form in which they could express it that they left +untouched. They covered the walls with grotesque representations of the +royal family; they shouted out parodies of Bourbon songs; and there was +not a hero of the old _régime_, from Hugh Capet down, whose virtues were +not celebrated under the name of Napoleon. It was in vain that orders +were issued not to mention him. They might as well have told the young +rebels not to breathe. "Not mention him! They would like to see who +could stop them!" And they yelled out his name in utter defiance of +regulation and discipline. + +Wonder was occasionally expressed, whether the time would come which +would restore him to France. And now "the time had come, and the man." + +While the assembled sovereigns were parcelling out the farm of Europe, +in lots to suit purchasers, its late master decided to claim a few acres +for his own use, and, as he set foot on his old domain, he is said to +have exclaimed,--"The Congress of Vienna is dissolved!" + +It was a beautiful afternoon of early spring, when a class returned from +the Lyceum with news almost too great for utterance. One had in his hand +a coarse, dingy piece of paper, which he waved above his head, and +the others followed him with looks portending tidings of no ordinary +character. That paper was the address of Napoleon to the army, on +landing from Elba. It was rudely done, the materials were of the most +common description, the print was scarcely legible,--but it was headed +with the imperial eagle, and it contained words which none of his old +soldiers could withstand. How it reached Paris, simultaneously with the +intelligence of his landing, is beyond my comprehension; but copies of +it were rapidly circulated, and all the inhabitants of Paris knew its +contents before they slept that night. + +I know of no writer who has so thoroughly understood the wonderful +eloquence of Napoleon as Lord Brougham. He has pronounced the address +to the Old Guard, at Fontainebleau, "a masterpiece of dignified and +pathetic composition"; and the speech at the Champ de Mars, he says, +"is to be placed amongst the most perfect pieces of simple and majestic +eloquence." Napoleon certainly knew well the people with whom he had to +deal, and his concise, nervous, comprehensive sentences told upon French +feeling like shocks of a galvanic battery. What would have been absurd, +if addressed to the soldiers of any other nation, was exactly the thing +to fire his own with irresistible energy. At the battle of the Pyramids +he said to them, "Forty centuries look upon your deeds," and they +understood him. He pointed to "the sun of Austerlitz," at the dawn of +many a decisive day, and they felt that it rose to look on their +eagles victorious. If the criterion of eloquence be its power over the +passions, that of Napoleon Bonaparte has been rarely equalled. It was +always the right thing at the right time, and produced precisely the +effect it aimed at. It was never more apparent than in the address in +question. There were passages which thrilled the martial spirit of the +land, and quickened into life the old associations connected with days +of glory. Marshal Ney said, at his trial, that there was one sentence[A] +in it which no French soldier could resist, and which drew the whole of +his army over to the Emperor. + +[Footnote A: "La victoire marchera au pas de charge."] + +Such was the paper, which was read amidst the mad demonstrations of +my schoolfellows. Their extravagance knew no limits; studies were +neglected; and the recitations, next morning, demonstrated to our +discomforted teachers that the minds of their pupils had passed the +night on the march from Cannes to Paris. + +The court journals spoke lightly of the whole matter, pronounced the +"usurper" crazy, and predicted that he would be brought to the capital +in chains. There were sometimes rumors that he was defeated and +slain, and again that he was a prisoner at the mercy of the king. The +telegraphic despatches were not made public, and the utmost care was +practised by the government to conceal the fact that his continually +increasing columns were rapidly approaching. There appeared to be no +alteration in the usual routine of the royal family, and there was no +outward sign of the mortal consternation that was shaking them to the +centre of their souls. The day before the entrance of the Emperor, I +happened to be passing through the court-yard of the Tuileries, when an +array of carriages indicated that the inmates of the palace were about +to take their daily drive. As my position was favorable, I stopped to +look at the display of fine equipages, and soon saw part of the family +come down and go out, as I supposed, for their morning recreation. It +was, however, no party of pleasure, and they did not stop to take breath +until they had passed the frontiers of France. They had information +which was unknown to the public, and they thought it advisable to quit +the premises before the new lessee took possession. + +The next afternoon, my father, who was at that time in Paris, called for +me, told me that a change was evidently about to take place, and wished +me to accompany him. As we passed through the streets, the noise of our +carriage was the only sound heard. Most of the shops were closed; few +persons were abroad, and we scarcely met or passed a single vehicle. As +we drew near the Tuileries the evidences of life increased, and when we +drove into the Place du Carrousel, the quadrangle formed by the palace +and the Louvre, the whole immense area was filled with people; yet the +stillness was awful. Men talked in an undertone, as they stood grouped +together, apparently unwilling to communicate their thoughts beyond +their particular circle. The sound of wheels and the appearance of the +carriage caused many to rush towards us; but, seeing strangers, they let +us pursue our way until we drew up near the Arch of Triumph. + +It was a strange sight, that sea of heads all around us heaving in +portentous silence at the slightest incident. They felt that something, +they hardly knew what, was about to take place. They were ignorant of +the exact state of things; and as the royal standard was still on the +palace, they supposed the king might be there. Now and then, a few +officers, having an air of authority, would walk firmly and quickly +through the crowd, as though they knew their errand and were intent on +executing it. Again, a band of Polytechnic scholars, always popular with +the mob, would be cheered as they hurried onward. Occasionally, small +bodies of soldiers passed, going to relieve guard; and as they bore +the Bourbon badge, they were sometimes noticed by a feeble cry of +allegiance. At last, a drum was heard at one of the passages, and a +larger number of troops entered the square. They were veteran-looking +warriors, and bore upon them the marks of dust-stained travel. Their +bronzed faces were turned towards the flag that floated over the +building, and, as they marched directly towards the entrance, the +multitude crowded around them, and a few voices cried, "Vive le Roi!" +The commanding officer cast a proud look about him, took off his cap, +raised it on the point of his sword, showing the tricolored cockade, and +shouted, "Vive l'Empereur!" The charm was broken; and such a scene as +passed before me no man sees twice in this world. All around those armed +men there burst a cry which, diverging from that centre, spread to +the outer border, till every voice of that huge mass was shrieking in +perfect frenzy. Those nearest to the soldiers rushed upon them, hugging +them like long-lost friends; some danced, or embraced the man next to +them; some laughed like maniacs, and some cried outright. The place, +where a few minutes before there arose only a confused hum of suppressed +whisperings, now roared like a rock-bound sea-coast in a tempest. As if +by magic, men appeared decorated with tricolored ribbons, and all joined +with the soldiers in moving directly toward the place where the white +flag was flapping its misplaced triumph over eyes which glared at it in +hatred and hands which quivered to rend it piecemeal. Their wishes were +anticipated; for the foremost rank had scarcely reached the threshold +of the palace, when down went the ensign of the Bourbons, and the +much-loved tricolor streamed out amidst thunder shouts which seemed to +shake the earth. + +A revolution was accomplished. One dynasty had supplanted another; +and an epoch, over which the statesman ponders and the historian +philosophizes, appeared to be as much a matter-of-course sort of thing +as the removal of one family from a mansion to make room for another. +In this case, however, the good old custom of leaving the tenement in +decent condition was neglected; the last occupants having been too +precipitate in their departure to conform to the usages of good +housekeeping by consulting the comfort and convenience of their +successor. On the contrary, to solace themselves for the mortification +of ejection, the retiring household pocketed some of the loose articles, +denominated crown jewels, which were afterwards recovered, however, by a +swap for one of the family, who was impeded in his retreat and flattered +into the presumption that he was worth exchanging. + +We alighted from our carriage and passed through the basement-passage of +the palace into the garden. We walked to the further end, encountering +people who had heard the shouting and were hurrying to ascertain its +meaning. At a bend of the path we met Mr. Crawford, our Minister at +Paris, with Mr. Erving, U.S. Minister to Spain, and they eagerly +inquired, "What news?" My father turned, and, walking back with them a +few steps to where the building was visible, pointed to the standard at +its summit. Nothing more was necessary. It told the whole story. + +I left them and hurried back to the institution to which I belonged. I +was anxious to relate the events of the day, and, as I was the only one +of the pupils who had witnessed them, I had a welcome which might well +have excited the jealousy of the Emperor. As far as the school was +concerned, I certainly divided honors with him that evening. It was, +however, a limited copartnership, and expired at bedtime. + +Napoleon entered the city about eight o'clock that night. We were nearly +two miles from his line of progress, but we could distinctly trace it +by the roar of voices, which sounded like a continuous roll of distant +thunder. + +I saw him, two days after, at a window of the Tuileries. I stopped +directly under the building, where twenty or thirty persons had +assembled, who were crying out for him with what seemed to me most +presumptuous familiarity. They called him "Little Corporal,"--"Corporal +of the Violet,"--said they wanted to see him, and that he _must_ come to +the window. He looked out twice during the half-hour I staid there, had +on the little cocked hat which has become historical, smiled and nodded +good-naturedly, and seemed to consider that something was due from him +to the "many-headed" at that particular time. Such condescension was not +expected or given in his palmy days, but he felt now his dependence on +the people, and had been brought nearer to them by misfortune. + +It was said, at the time, that he was much elated on his arrival, but +that he grew reserved, if not depressed, as his awful responsibility +became more and more apparent. He had hoped for a division in the Allied +Councils, but they were firm and united, and governed only by the +unalterable determination to overwhelm and destroy him. He saw that +his sole reliance was on the chances of war; that he had to encounter +enemies whose numbers were inexhaustible, and who, having once dethroned +him, would no longer be impeded by the terror of his name. There was, +besides, no time to recruit his diminished battalions, or to gather the +munitions of war. The notes of preparation sounded over Europe, and +already the legions of his foes were hastening to encircle France with +a cordon of steel. The scattered relics of the "Grand Army" which had +erected and sustained his empire were hastily collected, and, as they in +turn reached Paris, were reviewed on the Carrousel and sent forward to +concentre on the battle-ground that was to decide his fate. No branch of +art was idle that could contribute to the approaching conflict. Cannon +were cast with unprecedented rapidity, and the material of war was +turned out to the extent of human ability. But he was deficient in +everything that constitutes an army. Men, horses, arms, equipage, all +were wanting. The long succession of dreadful wars which had decimated +the country had also destroyed, beyond the possibility of immediate +repair, that formidable arm which had decided so many battles, and which +is peculiarly adapted to the impetuosity of the French character. The +cavalry was feeble, and it was evident, even to an unpractised eye, as +the columns marched through the streets, that the horses were unequal to +their riders. The campaign of Moscow had been irretrievably disastrous +to this branch of the service. Thirty thousand horses had perished in +a single night, and the events which succeeded had almost entirely +exhausted this indispensable auxiliary in the tactics of war. + +The expedients to which the government was reduced were evident in +the processions of unwashed citizens, which paraded the streets as a +demonstration of the popular determination to "do or die." Whatever +could be raked from the remote quarters of Paris was marshalled before +the Emperor. Faubourgs, which in the worst days of the Revolution had +produced its worst actors, now poured out their squalid and motley +inhabitants, and astonished the more refined portions of the metropolis +with this eruption of semi-civilization. + + +[To be continued.] + + + + +MY JOURNAL TO MY COUSIN MARY. + +[Concluded.] + + +IV. + +June. + +I can no longer complain that I see no one but Kate, for she has an +ardent admirer in one of our neighbors. He comes daily to watch her, in +the Dumbiedikes style of courtship, and seriously interferes with our +quiet pursuits. Besides this "braw wooer," we have another intruder upon +our privacy. + +Kate told me, a fortnight ago, that she expected a young friend of hers, +a Miss Alice Wellspring, to pay her a visit of some weeks. I did not +have the ingratitude to murmur aloud, but I was secretly devoured by +chagrin. + +How irksome, to have to entertain a young lady; to be obliged to talk +when I did not feel inclined; to listen when I was impatient and weary; +to have to thank her, perhaps fifty times a day, for meaningless +expressions of condolence or affected pity; to tell her every morning +how I was! Intolerable! + +Ten chances to one, she was a giggling, flirting girl,--my utter +abhorrence. I had seldom heard Lina speak of her. I only knew that she +and her half-brother came over from Europe in the same vessel with my +sister, and that, as he had sailed again, the young lady was left rather +desolate, having no near relatives. + +Miss Wellspring arrived a week ago, and I found that my fears had been +groundless. She is an unaffected, pretty little creature,--a perfect +child, with the curliest chestnut hair, deep blue eyes, and the +brightest cheeks, lips, and teeth. She has a laugh that it is a +pleasure to hear, and a quick blush which tempts to mischief. One wants +continually to provoke it, it is so pretty, and the slightest word of +compliment calls it up. + +What the cherry is to the larger and more luscious fruits, or the lily +of the valley to glowing and stately flowers, or what the Pleiades +are among the grander constellations, my sister's _protégée_ is among +women;--it is ridiculous to call her Kate's _friend_. Many men would +find their ideal of loveliness in her. She would surely excite a tender, +protecting, cherishing affection. But where is there room in her for the +wondering admiration, the loving reverence, which would make an attempt +to win her an _aspiration?_ And that is what my love must be, if it is +to have dominion over me. + +Ah, Mary! I forget continually that for me there is no such joy in the +future. + + "Hope springs eternal in the human breast," + +and no reasoning can quell it. I subdue my fancy to my fate sometimes, +as a rational creature ought surely to do; but then I suffer acutely, +and am wretched; while in a careless abandonment of myself to any and +every dream of coming joy I find present contentment. I cannot help +myself. I shall continue to dream, I am sure, until I have grown so old +that I can resign all earthly hopes without sighing. I pray to be spared +the sight of any object which, by rousing within me the desire of +present possession, may renew the struggle with despair, to which I +nearly succumbed when my profession was wrenched from me. + +I was at first surprised to find that my sister cherished a more +exceeding tenderness for her young friend than I had ever seen her +manifest for any one; but my astonishment ceased when I found out that +Alice's half-brother, who bears a different name, is the gentleman I saw +with Kate in the box-tree arbor. + +Since she has been here, Alice has been occupied in writing to different +relatives about the arrangements for her future home,--a matter that +is still unsettled. She brings almost all her letters to us, to be +corrected; for she has a great dread of orthographic errors. + +I was lying upon my couch, in the porch, yesterday, and through the low +window I could see Alice as she sat at her writing-desk. Kate was sewing +beside her, but just out of my sight. The young girl's hand flew over +the paper, and a bright smile lighted up her face as she wrote. + +"This is a different kind of letter from yesterday's, I fancy," said +Kate,--"not a business, but a pleasure letter." + +"Yes, so it is: for it is to Brother Walter, and all about you! When +he wrote to tell me to love you and think much of your advice, and all +that, he said something else, which requires a full answer, I can tell +you!" + +Kate was silent. The letter was finished, and Alice sprang up, tired of +her long application. I heard her kiss my sister, who then said, with a +lame attempt at unconcern,-- + +"I suppose I am to look over your letter while you run about to rest +yourself." + +Alice quickly answered, "No, thank you. I won't give you the trouble. +The subject will make Walter blind to faults." + +"But do you suppose that I have no curiosity as to what you have said +about me?" + +"I have said nothing but good. A little boasting about your conquests is +the worst. I mention your Dumbiedikes most flatteringly. I don't make +fun of him. I only want to scare Walter a bit." + +"But, Alice, you don't know the circumstances. Do let me see the letter; +it may be important"---- + +"No, no! you shall never see it! Indeed, no!" cried the girl, running +across the porch and down the garden. She did not want any fastidious +caution to suppress the fine things she had said, or cause the trouble +of writing another letter. So she ran out of hearing of the entreaties +of her friend. + +Ben came to the door to say that Old Soldier and the cabriolet were +ready for my daily drive. While we were gone, the boy would call and +take Alice's letter to the post. The writer of it was out of sight and +hearing. Here was a dilemma! + +Kate threw her thimble and scissors into her box without her usual care, +and I heard her walking to and fro. She passed the window at every turn, +and I could see that her cheek was very pale, her eyes fixed upon the +floor, and her finger pressed to her lip. She was thinking intently, in +perfect abstraction. I could see the desk with the open letter upon it. +At every turn Kate drew nearer to it. + +It was a moment of intense temptation to my sister. I knew it, and I +watched her struggles with a beating heart. It was a weighty matter with +her. A belief in a successful rival might give Mr. ---- pain,--might +cause him to doubt her truth and affection,--might induce him to forget +her, or cast her off in bitter indignation at her supposed fickleness. +I could see in her face her alarm at these suppositions. Yes, it was a +great temptation to do a very dishonorable action. A word from me would +have ended the trial; for it is only in solitude that we are thus +assailed. But then where would have been her merit? I should only cheat +her out of the sweetest satisfaction in life,--a victory over a wicked +suggestion. My presence would make the Evil One take to flight, and now +she was wrestling with him. I felt sure she would not be conquered; for +I could not have looked on to see her defeat. But who can estimate the +power of a woman's curiosity, where the interests which are her very +life are concerned? + +She paused by the desk. The letter was upside down to her. Her hand was +upon it to turn it, and she said boldly, aloud,--having forgotten me +entirely,-- + +"I have a _right_ to know what she says." + +Then there was a hesitating pause, while she trembled on the brink of +dishonor,--then a revulsion, and an indignant "Pshaw!" + +It was a contemptuous denial of her own flimsy self-justification. She +snatched away her hand, as she said it, with an angry frown. The blood +rushed back to her face. + +"I ought to be ashamed of myself!" she exclaimed, energetically. In a +minute she was bustling about, putting away her things. In passing +the window, now that she was freed from the thraldom of her intense +thinking, she saw me lying where I might have been the witness to her +inclination to wrong. + +She started guiltily, and then began bunglingly to draw from me whether +I had noticed anything of it. I took her hands, and looked her full in +the face. + +"I love you and honor you from the very bottom of my soul, Kate!" + +"Not now! You can't! You must despise me!" she answered, turning away +with a swelling bosom. + +"I declare I never held you in so high estimation. Evil thoughts must +come, even to the holiest saint; but only those who admit and welcome +them are guilty,--not those who repel and conquer them. Surely not!" + +"Thank you, Charlie. That is encouraging and comforting doctrine; and I +think it is true. But what a lesson I have had to-day!" + +"Yes, it has been a striking one. I will write about it to Mary." + +"Oh, no! for mercy's sake don't expose me further!" + +"Then you wish her to think you are too immaculate to be even tempted! +stronger, purer even than our Saviour! for he knew temptation. You are +above it,--are you? Come, Kate,--insincerity, pretension, and cowardice +are not your failings, and I shall tell Mary of this incident, which +has deeply moved me, and will, I know, really interest her. Here comes +Alice." + +The little lady presented herself before us all smiles, concealing one +hand under her apron. + +"Who's lost what I've found?" she cried. + +"One of us, of course," said Kate. + +"No, neither, so far as I know; but it nearly concerns you, Miss Lina, +and I intend to drive a hard bargain." + +"What are your terms?" + +"Promise faithfully to tell me how it came where I found it, and I will +show it to you,--yes, give it to you,--though, perhaps, I have the best +claim to it, as nearest of kin to the owner." + +Kate changed color, but would not betray too much eagerness. + +"I cannot promise," she replied, trying for coolness,--"but if I can, I +will tell you all you want to know about it." + +Alice could hide it no longer. She held up a ring, with a motto on it in +blue enamel. I had seen it upon Kate's finger, but not recently. + +"Where did you find it?" asked my sister, with difficulty. She was very +pale. + +"In the box-tree arbor. How came it there? It _was_ Watty's, for I was +with him when he bought it in Venice. I can believe that it is yours; +but how came it lost, and trampled into the earth? Didn't you care for +it?" + +She questioned with an arch smile. She knew better than that, and she +was burning with curiosity to understand why finding it moved Kate so +deeply. She had a young girl's curiosity about love-affairs. I came to +the conclusion that Kate had offered to return the ring on the day they +parted, and that it fell to the ground, disregarded by both, occupied, +as they were, with great emotions. + +"Come," continued Alice,--"did he, or you, throw it away? Speak, and you +shall have it." + +"I can tell you nothing about it, and I will not claim your +treasure-trove. Keep it, Ally." + +"Indeed, I won't keep other folks' love-tokens! There,--it belongs on +that finger, I know! But do tell me about it!--do! I will tell you +something, if you will. Yes, indeed, I have got a secret you would give +anything to know! Walter told it to me, and it is about you. He spoke of +it in his last letter, and said he meant to--Come, I'll tell you, though +he said I mustn't, if you will only let me into the mystery of this +ring. The secret is in my letter, and I will let you read it, if you +will." + +Lina looked at me with meaning eyes. The contents of the letter were +doubled in value by this confession, and yet this was no temptation at +all. She was not alone. + +"You foolish little thing," she said, kissing the sweet, entreating +face, "do you suppose I will tell you my secrets, when you are so easily +bribed to betray your brother's?" + +Alice's conscience was alarmed. + +"Why!" she ejaculated. "How near I came to betraying confidence,--and +without meaning to do it, either! Oh, how glad I am you did not let me +go on so thoughtlessly! I should have been so sorry for it afterwards! I +know Walter will tell you himself, some day,--but I have no business to +do it, especially as he did not voluntarily make me his confidante; I +found out the affair by accident, and he bound me to secresy. Oh, I +thank you for stopping me when I was forgetting everything in my eager +curiosity! And this letter, too, I offered to show you! How strangely +indiscreet!" + +"Perhaps I read it while you were gone," said Kate, in a low voice. + +"No, you didn't, Kate! You can't make me believe that of you! I know you +too well!" + +"Indeed!" said Kate, blushing violently; "I can tell you, I came very +near it." + +"'A miss is as good as a mile,' Lina. And I know you were far enough +from anything so mean." + +"I was so near as to have my hand upon your letter, Alice dear. One +feather's weight more stress of temptation, and I should have fallen." + +"Pure nonsense! Isn't it, Charles?" + +"Yes. Kate, you need not flatter yourself that you have universal +ability, clever as you are. In anything dishonorable you are a perfect +incapable, and that is all you have proved this morning." + + +V. + +New York; July. + +I was too comfortable, Mary! Such peace could not last, any more than a +soft Indian-summer can put off relentless winter. + +Oh, for those sweet June days when I had my couch wheeled to the deepest +shade of the grove, and lay there from morning until evening, with the +green foliage to curtain me,--the clover-scented wind to play about my +hair, and touch my temples with softest, coolest fingers,--the rushing +brook to sing me to sleep,--the very little blossoms to be obsequious +in dancing motion, to please my eye,--and the holy hush of Nature to +tranquillize my soul! + +I had brought myself, by what I thought the most Christian effort, to +be content with my altered lot. I gave up ambition, active usefulness, +fireside, and family. I tried but for one thing,--peace. + +I had nearly attained it, when there comes an impertinent officer of +fate, known as Dr. G., and he peremptorily orders me out of my gentle +bliss. I am sinking into apathy, forsooth! The warm weather is +prostrating me! I must be stirred to activity by torture, like the +fainting wretch on the rack! I am commanded to travel! I, who cannot +bear the grating of my slow-moving wheels over the smooth gravel-walk, +without compressed lips and corrugated brow! + +The Doctor ordained it; Kate executed it. I am no longer my own master; +and so here I am in New York, resting for a day, on my way to some +retired springs in the Green Mountains, where the water is medicinal, +the air cool and bracing, the scenery transcendent, and the visitors +few. + +I have taken Ben for my valet. He looks quite a gentleman when dressed +in his Sunday clothes, and his Scotch shrewdness serves us many a good +turn. He has the knack of arresting any little advantages floating on +the stream of travel, and securing them for our benefit. + +I journey on my wheeled couch from necessity, as I have not been able to +sit up at all since the heats of June set in. So I have, in this trip, a +novel experience,--on the railroad, being consigned to the baggage car, +and upon the steamboat, to the forward deck. I cannot endure the +close saloons, and prefer the fresh breeze, even when mingled with +tobacco-smoke. I go as freight, and Kate keeps a sharp eye to her +baggage, for she will not leave my side. I tried to flatter her by +saying that the true order of things was reversed,--her sex being +entitled to that name and position, and mine to the relation she now +bore to me. She had the perversity to consider this a _twit_, and gave +me a stinging reply, which I will not repeat to you, because you are a +woman likewise, and would enjoy it too much. + +We left peaceful, green Bosky Dell late in the afternoon, and slept in +Philadelphia that night. Yesterday--the hottest day of the season--we +set out for New York. I thought it was going to be sultry, when, as we +passed Washington Square before sunrise, on our way to the boat, I saw +the blue haze among the trees, as still and soft and hay-scented as if +in the country. Ben often quotes an old Scotch proverb,--"Daylight will +peep through a sma' hole." So beauty will peep through every small +corner that is left to Nature, even under severe restrictions. Witness +our noble trees, walled in by houses and cramped by pavements! + +The streets were quite deserted that morning,--for, being obliged to +ride very slowly, I had set out betimes. No one was up but ourselves and +the squirrels, except one wren, whose twittering sounded strangely loud +in the hushed city. Probably she took that opportunity to try her voice +and note her improvement in singing, for in the rush of day what chance +has she? These country sounds and sights, in the heart of a populous +city, were, for that reason, a thousand-fold more sweet to me than ever. +Their delights were multiplied to me by thinking of the number of hearts +that took them in daily. + +Kate and I rode in a carriage. Ben followed in a wagon, with the trunks +and "jaunting-car-r-r." When we reached the ferry, the porters carried +my couch, and Ben myself, depositing us upon the deck, where I could +look upon the river. The stately flow of the waters impressed me with +dread. They swept by, not swift, not slow,--steady, like fate. Ours +may be a dull river to an artist; but its volume of water, its width, +perhaps even the flat shores, which do not seem to bound it, make it +grand and impressive. + +Kate recalled me from my almost shuddering gaze down into the water, and +drew my attention to a scene very unlike our little picturesque, rural +views at home. The ruddy light of morning made the river glow like the +deep-dyed Brenta, while our dear, unpretending Quaker city showed like +one vast structure of ruby. Vessels of all kinds and sizes (though of +but two colors,--black in shadow, and red in sunlight) lay motionless, +in groups. + +The New York passengers had now collected on the ferry-boat, and I was +all alive to impressions of every kind. A crowd of men and boys around +a soap-peddler burst into a laugh, and I must needs shout out in +irrepressible laughter also, though I did not hear the joke. I was +delighted to mingle my voice with other men's in one common feeling. +Compulsory solitude makes us good democrats. Kate regarded me with +watchful eyes; she was afraid I had become delirious! I was amazed at +myself for this susceptibility,--I, who, accustomed to hotel-life, had +formerly been so impassive, to be thus tickled with a straw! + +The river was soon crossed, and then we took the cars. The heat and +suffocation were intolerable to me, and when we arrived at Amboy I was +so exhausted that strangers thought me dying. But Kate again, though +greatly alarmed herself, defended me from that imputation. One half-hour +on the deck of the boat to New York, with the free ocean-breeze blowing +over me, made me a strong man again,--I mean, strong as usual. It was +inexpressible delight, that ocean-breeze. It makes me draw a long breath +to think of it, and its almost miraculous power of invigoration. But +I will not rhapsodize to one who thinks no more of a sea-breeze every +afternoon than of dessert after dinner. + +With my strength, my sense of amusement at what went on about me revived +in full force. I was so absorbed, that I could not take in the meaning +of anything Kate said to me, unless I fixed my eyes, by a great effort, +upon her face. So she let me stare about me undisturbed, and smiled like +some indulgent mother, amused at my boyishness. I had no idea that so +few months spent in seclusion would make the bustling world so novel to +me. + +Observe, Mary, that I did not become purely egotistical, until I began +to mingle again with "the crowd, the hum, the shock of men." Henceforth +I shall not be able to promise you any other topic than my own +experiences. My individuality is thrust upon my notice momently by my +isolation in this crowd. In solitude I did not dream what a contrast I +had become to my kind. Those strong, quick, shrewd business-men on the +boat set it before me glaringly. + +Soon after I was established upon the forward deck, my attention was +attracted by two boys lying close under the bulwarks. I was struck by +their foreign dress, their coarse voices, and their stupid faces. Two +creatures, I thought, near akin to the beasts of the field. They cowered +in their sheltered corner, and soon fell asleep. One of the busy +boat-hands found them in his way, and gave them a shove or two, but +failed to arouse them. He looked hard at them, pitied their fatigue, +and left them undisturbed. Presently an old Irish woman, a +cake-and-apple-vendor, I suppose, sat down near them upon a coil of +rope, and took from her basket a fine large cherry-pie, which appeared +to be the last of her stock, and reserved as a tit-bit for her dinner. +She turned it round, and eyed it fondly, before she cut it carefully +into many equal parts. Then, with huge satisfaction, she began to devour +it, making a smacking of the lips and working of the whole apparatus +of eating, which proved that she intensely appreciated the uses of +mastication, or else found a wonderful joy in it. "How much above an +intelligent pig is she?" I asked myself. + +While I was pondering this question, I saw that the boy nearest her +stirred in his sleep, struggled uneasily with his torpor, and at last +lifted his head blindly with his eyes yet shut. He sniffed in the +air, like a hungry dog. Yes! The odor of food had certainly reached +him,--that sniff confirmed it,--and his eyes starting open, he sat up, +and looked with grave steadiness at the pie. It was just the face of a +dog that sees a fine piece of beef upon his master's table. He knows it +is not for him,--he has no hope of it,--he does not go about to get it, +nor think of the possibility of having it,--yet he wants it! + +It was a look of unmitigated desire. The woman had disposed of half +of her dainty fare, taking up each triangular piece by the crust, and +biting off the point, dripping with cherry-juice, first, when her +wandering gaze alighted upon the boy. She had another piece just poised, +but she slowly lowered it to the plate, and stared at the hungry face. I +expected her to snarl like a cat, snatch her food and go away. But she +didn't. She counted the pieces,--there were five. She eyed them, and +shook her head. She again raised the tempting morsel,--for the woman was +unmistakably hungry. But the boy's steady look drew the pie from her +lips, and she suddenly held out the plate to him, saying, "There, +honey,--take that. May-be ne'er a morsel's passed yer lips the day." The +boy seized the unexpected boon greedily, but did not forget to give a +duck of his head, by way of acknowledgment. The woman leaned her elbows +on her knees, and watched him while he was devouring it. + +He had demolished two pieces before the other boy awoke at the sound of +eating, which, however, at last reached his ears and aroused him, though +the shout and kick of the boat-hand had not disturbed him. He drew close +to his companion, and watched him with watering mouth, but did not dare +to ask him for a share of what he seemed little disposed to part with. +The big boy finished the third piece, and hesitated about the fourth; +but no, he was a human being,--no brute. He thrust the remainder into +his watcher's hands, and turned his back upon him, so as not to be +tantalized. Beasts indeed! Here were two instances of self-denial, +nowhere to be matched in the whole animal creation, except in that race +which is but little lower than the angels! + +Among the young gentlemen smoking around us, there was one who drew my +attention, and that of every other person present, by his jolly laugh. +He was a short man, with broad shoulders and full chest, but otherwise +slight. He was very good-looking, and had the air of a perfect man of +the world,--but not in any disagreeable sense of the word, for a more +genial fellow I never saw. His _ha! ha!_ was irresistible. Wherever he +took his merry face, good-humor followed. He had a smart clap on the +shoulder for one, a hearty hand-shake for another, a jocular nod for +a third. I envied those whose company he sought,--even those whom he +merely accosted. + +Presently, to my agreeable surprise, he drew near me, threw away his +cigar, on Kate's account, and said,-- + +"Lend me a corner of this machine, Sir? No seats to be had." + +"Certainly," I responded eagerly, and then, with a bow to Kate, he sat +down upon the foot of my couch. He turned his handsome, roguish face to +me, with a look at once quizzical and tenderly commiserating, while he +rattled off all sorts of lively nonsense about the latest news. The +captain, who pitied my situation, I suppose, came up just then, to ask +if anything could be done to make me more comfortable; and he happened +to call both the stranger and myself by our names. I thus learned that +his was Ryerson. + +When he heard mine, he changed color visibly, and looked eagerly at +Kate. I introduced him, and then, with a timidity quite unlike his +former dashing air, he said he had the pleasure of being acquainted with +an admiring friend of hers,--Miss Alice Wellspring. Had she heard from +her lately? + +"Yes; she was very well, staying with her aunt." + +He was aware of that. He had asked the question, because he thought he +could, perhaps, give later information of her than Kate possessed, and +set her mind at rest about the welfare of her young friend, as she must +be anxious. He was glad to say that Miss Wellspring was quite well--two +hours ago. + +Kate made a grimace at me, and answered, that she was "glad to hear it." +Mr. Ryerson looked unutterably grateful, and said he was "sure she must +be." + +"Portentous!" whispered Kate to me, when the young man made a passing +sloop the excuse for turning away to hide his blushing temples. + +She gave him time, and then asked a few questions concerning Alice's +home and friends. He replied, that she was in "a wretched fix." Her aunt +was a vixen, her home a rigorous prison. He sighed deeply, and seemed +unhappy, until the subject was changed,--a relief which Kate had too +much tact to defer long. + +This sunny-hearted fellow made the rest of the journey very short to +me. I think such a spirit is Heaven's very best boon to man. It is a +delightful possession for one's self, and a godsend to one's friends. + +When we reached the Astor House, I was put to bed, like a baby, in the +middle of the afternoon, thoroughly exhausted by the unusual excitement. +The crickets and grasshoppers in the fields at home were sufficiently +noisy to make me pass wakeful nights; but now I dropped asleep amid the +roar of Broadway, which my open windows freely admitted. + +Before I had finished my first nap, I was awakened by whispering voices, +and saw Ben standing by me, pale, and anxiously searching Kate's face +for information. Her eyes were upon her watch, her fingers on my wrist. + +"Pulse good, Ben. We need not be alarmed. It is wholesome repose,--much +better than nervous restlessness. He can bear the journey, if he gets +such sleep as this." + +"Humph!" I thought, shutting my eyes crossly. "Why don't she let a +fellow be in peace, then? It is very hard that I can't get a doze +without being meddled with!" + +"I was just distraught, Miss Kathleen," said Ben; "for it's nigh about +twenty hour sin' he dropped asleep, and I was frighted ontil conshultin' +ye aboot waukin' him." + +I burst into a laugh, and they both joined me in it, from surprise. It +is not often I call upon them for that kind of sympathy. It is generally +in sighs and groans that I ask them--most unwillingly, I am sure--to +participate. + +Kate wrote, some time ago, to our dear little Alice, begging her to join +us in the Green Mountains, for it makes us both unhappy to think of that +pretty child under iron rule; but her aunt refused to let her come to +us. + + +VI. + +C---- Springs. July. + +I am here established, drinking the waters and breathing the mountain +air, but not gaining any marvellous benefit from either of them. When I +repine in Ben's hearing, he sighs deeply, and advises me "to heed the +auld-warld proverb, and 'tak' things by their smooth handle, sin' +there's nae use in grippin' at thorns." Kate, too, reproves me for +hindering my recovery by fretting at its tardiness. She tries to comfort +me, by saying that I ought to be thankful, that, instead of being +obliged to waste my youth in "horrid business," I can lie here observing +and enjoying the beautiful world. Thereupon I overwhelm her with +quotations:--"The horse must be road-worn and world-worn, that he may +thoroughly enjoy his drowsy repose in the sun, where he winks in sleepy +satisfaction";--and Carlyle: "Teufelsdröckh's whole duty and necessity +was, like other men's, to work in the right direction, and no work was +to be had; whereby he became wretched enough";--and, "Blessed is he who +has found his work; let him ask no other blessedness." Then I ask her, +if it is not the utmost wretchedness to have found that work and felt +its blessedness, and then be condemned _not_ to do it. To all this she +replies by singing that old hymn,--I make no apology for writing it down +entire,--perhaps you do not know it,-- + + "Heart, heart, lie still! + Life is fleeting fast; + Strife will soon be past." + "I cannot lie still; + Beat strong I will." + + "Heart, heart, lie still! + Joy's but joy, and pain's but pain; + Either, little loss or gain." + "I cannot lie still; + Beat strong I will." + + "Heart, heart, lie still! + Heaven over all + Rules this earthly ball." + "I cannot lie still; + Beat strong I will." + + "Heart, heart, lie still! + Heaven's sweet grace alone + Can keep in peace its own." + "Let that me fill, + And I am still." + +"Heaven's sweet grace" does not fill my heart; for I am exhausting +myself in longings to walk again,--to be independent. I long to climb +these mountains,--perverse being that I am,--principally to get out of +the way of counsel, sympathy, and tender care. Since I can never so +liberate myself, I am devoured by desire to do so. Kate divines this +new feeling, and respects it; but as this is only another coal of fire +heaped upon my head, of course it does not soothe me. + +Sometimes in the visions of the night I am happy. I dream that I am at +the top of Mount Washington. Cold, pure air rushes by me; clouds lie, +like a gray ocean, beneath me. I am alone upon the giant rock, with the +morning star and the measureless heights of sky. I tremble at the awful +silence,--exult fearfully in it. The clouds roll away, and leave the +world revealed, lying motionless and inanimate at my feet. Yet I am as +far from all sight of humanity as before! Should the whole nation be +swarming below the mountain, armies drawn up before armies, with my eyes +resting upon them, I should not see them, but sit here in sublime peace. +Man's puny form were from this height as undistinguishable as the blades +of grass in the meadows below. I know, that, if all the world stood +beneath, and strained their vision to the utmost upon the very spot +where I stand, I should still be in the strict privacy of invisibility. +This isolation I pine for. But I can never, never feel it--out of a +dream. + +You guess rightly. I am in a repining mood, and must pour out all my +grievances. I feel my helplessness cruelly. + +But I must forget myself a little while, and describe these Springs to +you, with the company here assembled,--only twenty or thirty people. The +house is a good enough one; the country yet very wild. My couch is daily +wheeled to a shady porch which looks down the avenue of trees leading to +the spring, a white marble basin, bubbling over with bright water. + +Gay parties, young ladies with lovers, happy mammas with their children, +fathers with their clinging daughters, pass me,--and I, motionless, +follow them with my eyes down the avenue, until they emerge into the +sunlight about the spring. Many of them give me a kindly greeting; some +stop to stare. The look of pity which saddens nearly every face that +approaches me cuts me to the heart. Can I never give joy, or excite +pleasurable emotion? Must I always be a mute and unwilling petitioner +for sympathy in suffering!--always giving pain? never anything but pain +and pity? + +Sunday. + +There is a summer-house near the spring, and now I lie there, watching +the water-drinkers. Like rain upon the just and unjust, the waters +benefit all,--but surely most those simple souls who take them with +eager hope and bless them with thankful hearts. The first who arrive +are from the hotel, mostly silken sufferers. They stand, glass in hand, +chatting and laughing,--they stoop to dip,--and then they drink. These +persons soon return to the house in groups,--some gayly exchanging +merry words or kindly greetings, but others dragging weary limbs and +discontented spirits back to loneliness. + +The fashionable hour is over, and now comes another class of +health-seekers. A rough, white-covered wagon jolts up. The horse is tied +to a post, a curtain unbuttoned and raised, and from a bed upon the +uneasy floor a pale, delicate boy, shrinking from the light, is lifted +by his burly father. The child is carried to the spring, and puts out a +groping hand when his father bids him drink. He cannot find the +glass, and his father must put it to his lips. He is blind, except to +light,--and that only visits those poor sightless eyes to agonize them! +Where the water flows off below the basin in a clear jet, the father +bathes his boy's forehead, and gently, gently touches his eyelids. But +the child reaches out his wasted hands, and dashes the water against his +face with a sad eagerness. + +Other country vehicles approach. The people are stopping to drink of +this water, on their way to drink of the waters of life in church. They +are smart and smiling in their Sunday clothes. I observe, that, far from +being the old or diseased, they are mostly young men and pretty girls. +The marble spring is a charming trysting-place! + +There are swarms of children here all day long. This is the first time +since I left Kate's apron-string at seven years old, that I have seen +much of children. Boys, to be sure, I was with until I left college; +but the hotel-life I afterwards led kept me quite out of the way of +youngsters. Now, I am much amused at the funny little world that opens +before my notice. They flirt like grown-up people! I heard a little chit +of six say to a youth of five,-- + +"How dare you ask me to go to the spring with you, when you've been and +asked Ellen already? _I_ don't have to put up with half a gentleman!" + +A flashy would-be lady, bustling up to the spring with her little +daughter, burst into a loud laugh at the remark of an acquaintance. + +"Mamma!" said Miss, tempering severity with benign dignity,--"you must +not laugh so loud. It's vulgar." + +Her mother lowered her tone, and looked subdued. Miss turned to a +companion, and said, gravely,-- + +"I have to speak to her about that, often. She don't like it,--but I +_must_ correct her!" + +A little girl--a charming, old-fashioned, _real_ child--came into the +summer-house a few minutes ago, and I gave up my writing to watch her. +After some coy manoeuvring about the door, she drew nearer and nearer to +me, as if I were a snake fascinating a pretty bird. Her tongue +seemed more bashful than the rest of her frame; for she came within +arm's-length, let me catch her, draw her to me, and hold her close to +my side. A novel sensation of fondness for the little thing made me +venture--not without some timidity, I confess--to lay my hand upon her +head, and pass it caressingly over her soft young cheek, meanwhile +saying encouraging things to her, in hopes of hearing her voice and +making her acquaintance. She would not speak, but played with my +buttons, and hung her head. At last I asked,-- + +"Don't you want me to tell you a little story?" + +Her head flew up, her great black eyes wide open, and she said, eagerly, +"Oh, yes! that's what I came for." + +"Did you? Well, what shall it be about?" + +"Why, about yourself,--the prince who was half marble, and couldn't get +up. And I want to see your black marble legs, please!" + +If I had hugged an electrical eel, I could not have been more shocked! I +don't know how I replied, or what became of the child. I was conscious +only of a kind of bitter horror, and almost affright. But when Kate, a +quarter of an hour afterwards, brought her book and sat down beside me, +I could not tell her about it, for laughing. + +The little girl is in sight now. She is standing near the porch, talking +to some other children, gesticulating, and shaking her curls. Probably +she was a deputy from them, to obtain a solution of the mystery of my +motionless limbs. They half believe I am the veritable Prince of the +Black Isles! They alternately listen to her and turn to stare at me; so +I know that I am the subject of their confab. + +Some one is passing them now,--a lady. She pauses to listen. She, too, +glances this way with a sad smile. She comes slowly down the avenue. A +graceful, queenly form, and lovely face! She has drunk of the waters, +and is gone. + +Mary, do you know that gentle girl has added the last drop of bitterness +to my cup? My lot has become unbearable. I gnash my teeth with impotent +rage and despair. + +I _will_ not be the wreck I am! My awakening manhood scorns the thought +of being forever a helpless burden to others. I _demand_ my health, and +all my rights and privileges as a man,--to work,--to support others,--to +bear the burden and heat of the day! Never again can I be content in my +easy couch and my sister's shady grove! + +Ah, Dr. G., you have indeed roused me from apathy! I am in torture, and +Heaven only knows whether on this side of the grave I shall ever find +peace again! + +Poor Kate reads my heart, and weeps daily in secret. Brave Kate, who +shed so few tears over her own grief! + + +VII. + +C---- Springs. August. + +I so continually speak of my illness, Mary, that I fear you have +good right to think me that worst kind of bore, a hypochondriac. But +something is now going on with me that raises all my hopes and fears. I +dare not speak of it to Kate, lest she should be too sanguine, and be +doomed to suffer again the crush of all her hopes. + +I really feel that I could not survive disappointment, should I ever +entertain positive hope of cure. Neither can I endure this suspense +without asking some one's opinion. There is no medical man here in whom +I have confidence, and so I go to you, as a child does to its mother in +its troubles, not knowing what she can do for it, but relying upon her +to do something. + +I will explain what it is that excites me to such an agony of dread and +expectation. When the little girl asked me to let her see my marble +limbs, supposing me the Prince of the Black Isles, she sprang forward in +the eagerness of childish curiosity, and touched my knee with her hand. +I was so amazed at this glimpse into her mind, that for some time I only +tingled with astonishment. But while I was telling Kate about it, it all +came back to me again,--her stunning words, her eager spring, her prompt +grasp of my knee,--and I remembered that I had involuntarily started +away from her childish hand, that is, moved my _motionless_ limb! + +I tried to do it again, but it was impossible. Still I could not help +thinking that I had done it once, under the influence of that electrical +shock. + +Then I have another source of hope. I have never suffered any pain in +my limbs, and they might have been really marble, for all the feeling I +have had in them. Now I begin to be sensible of a wearisome numbness and +aching, which would be hard to bear, if it were not that it gives me the +expectation of returning animation. Do you think I may expect it, and +that I am not quite deluding myself? + + +August 14. + +So I wrote two days ago, Mary, and I was right! That _was_ returning +sensation and motion. I can now move my feet. I cannot yet stand, or +walk, or help myself, any more than before; but I can, by a voluntary +effort, _move_. + +Rejoice with me! I am a happy fellow this day! Dazzling daylight is +peeping through this sma' hole! Remember what I wrote of a certain +lady;--and Ben has hunted me up a law-book, which I am devouring. My +profession, and other blessings, again almost within grasp! This is +wildness, hope run riot, I know; but let me indulge to-day, for it is +this day which has set me free. I never voluntarily stirred before +since the accident,--I mean my lower limbs, of course. After writing a +sentence, I look down at my feet, moving them this way and that, to make +sure that I am not stricken again. + +The day I began this letter I had proof that I had not merely fancied +movement, when the little girl startled me. A clumsy boy stumbled over +my couch, and I shrank, visibly, from receiving upon my feet the pitcher +of water he was carrying. I was in the porch. The beautiful girl who +formerly made my affliction so bitter to me was passing at the moment, +with her arm drawn affectionately through her father's. She saw the +stumble, and sprang forward with a cry of alarm. It looked, certainly, +as if my defenceless feet must receive the crash, and I attempted +instinctively to withdraw them,--partially succeeding! I saw this at the +same time that I heard the sweetest words that ever fell into my heart, +in the most joyful, self-forgetful tones of the sweetest voice! + +"Oh, father! He moved! He moved!" + +Mr. Winston turned to me with congratulations, shaking my hand with +warmth; and then his daughter extended hers,--cordially! Of course my +happiness was brimming! + +I afterwards tried repeatedly to put my feet in motion. I could not do +it. I could not think how to begin,--what power to bring to bear upon +them. This annoyed me beyond measure, and I spent yesterday in wearisome +effort to no purpose. My thinking, willing mind was of no use to me; but +instinctive feeling, and a chapter of accidents, have brought me to my +present state of activity. A wish to change an uncomfortable position in +which Ben left me this morning restored me to voluntary action. I tried +to turn away from the sun-glare, using my elbows, as usual, for motors. +To my surprise, I found myself assisting with my feet,--and by force of +will I persisted in the effort, and continued the action. Having got the +clue to the mystery, I have now only to will and execute. My rebellious +members are brought into subjection! I am king of myself! Hurrah! + +Good-bye, dearest friend. I shake my foot to you,--an action more +expressive of joyful good-will than my best bow. + +I hope my return to health will not cost me dear. I begin to fear losing +the sympathy and affection of those I have learned to love so dearly, +and who have cherished me in their hearts simply because of my +infirmities. When I am a vigorous man, will you care for me? will Kate +centre her life in me? will Miss Ada Winston look at me so often and so +gently? + +Well, don't laugh at me for my grasping disposition! Affection is very +grateful to me, and I should be sorry to do without it, after having +lived in a loving atmosphere so long. + +I believe Ben is as proud of me as he was of his Shanghai, but he has a +proverb which he quotes whenever he sees me much elated: "When the cup's +fu', carry't even." His own cautious Scotch head could do that, perhaps; +but mine is more giddy, and I am afraid I shall spill some drops from my +full cup of joy by too rash advancing. + +Kate is not so wild with delight as I am. She still forbids herself to +exult. Probably she dares not give way to unbounded hope, remembering +the bitterness of her former trial, and dreading its recurrence. She +says it makes her tremble to see my utter abandonment to joyful dreams. + + +August 20. + +It is Kate's fault that you have not received this letter before now. +She kept it to say a few words to you about my recovery, but has at last +yielded to me the pleasure of telling of something far more interesting, +which has occurred since,--not more interesting to me, but probably so +to any one else. + +One evening, Kate went, with everybody from the house, to see the sunset +from the hills above this glen, and I lay alone in the back porch, in +the twilight. A light wagon drove up, and in two minutes a little lady +had run to me, thrown herself upon her knees beside me, and pressed her +sweet lips to my forehead. It was our darling little Alice Wellspring. + +Immediately following her came Mr. Ryerson, in a perfect ecstasy of +laughter, and blushing. + +"We've run away!" whispered she. + +"And got married this morning!" said he. + +"But where was the necessity of elopement?" I asked, bewildered,--Kate +having told me that Alice's aunt was doing her best to "catch Ryerson +for her niece," she having had certain information upon that point from +a near relative. + +"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed he, slapping his knees in intense enjoyment, as he +sat in his old place by my feet. "It is a practical joke,--one that will +have in it what somebody calls the first element of wit,--surprise. A +more astonished and mystified old lady than she will be would be hard to +find! She was so willing!" + +"Don't say anything against Aunt, Harry. I'm safe from her now, and so +are you. She wanted such an ostentatious wedding, Charlie, that I did +not like it, and Harry declared positively that he would not submit to +it. So I had just to go off quietly, and come here to Kate and you, my +best friends in the world, except Walter. After you know Harry, you +won't blame me." + +It was very rash of the child, but really I cannot blame her, as I +should, if she had chosen any one else. Ryerson is one who shows in his +face and in every word and action that he is a kind and noble fellow. + +Kate, to my surprise, is enchanted with this performance. It chimes with +her independent notions, but not with my prudent ones. However, it is +done, and I never saw a more satisfactorily mated couple. It would have +been a cruel pity to see that light, good little heart quelled by a +morose husband, or its timidity frightened into deceitfulness by a +severe one. Now she is as fearless and courageous as a pet canary. + +Ryerson has one grievous fault; he uses all sorts of slang phrases. It +makes his conversation very funny, but Alice don't like it, especially +when he approaches the profane. + +He told a very good story the other day, spiced a little in language. +Everybody laughed outright. Alice looked grave. + +"What is the matter, wifey?" he called out, anxiously; for with him +there is no reserve before strangers. He seems to think the whole world +kin, and himself always the centre of an attached and indulgent family. + +"How could you say those bad words, with a child in the room?" she said, +reproachfully,--pointing to my little black-eyed friend. + +"I only said, 'The Devil,'--that's all! But now I remember,--if a +story is ever so good, and 'the Devil' gets into it, it's no go with +you! But, Allie, you shouldn't be a wet blanket to a fellow! When he +is trying to be entertaining, you might help him out, instead of +extinguishing him! Laugh just a little to set folks going, and make +moral reflections afterwards, for the benefit of the children." + +"You know, Harry, I can't make reflections!" + +"No more you can,--ha! ha! If you could, there would be the Devil to +pay--in curtain lectures, wouldn't there?" + +"Again, Harry!" + +"Pshaw, now, Allie, don't be hard upon me! That was a very little +swear--for the occasion!" + +She will refine him in time. + +Ryerson has infused new spirit into this stiff place. The very day he +came, I observed that various persons, who had held aloof from all +others, drew near to him. The fellow seems the soul of geniality, and +everybody likes him,--from old man to baby. The young girls gather +round him for chat and repartee,--the young men are always calling to +him to come boating, or gunning, or riding with them,--the old gentlemen +go to him with their politics, and the old ladies with their aches. +Young America calls him a "regular brick," for he lends himself to build +up everybody's good-humor. + +He is everything to me. Before he came, Mr. Winston was almost my only +visitor, though other gentlemen occasionally sat with me a few minutes. +But now everybody flocks to my couch, because Harry's head-quarters +are there. He has broken down the shyness my unfortunate situation +maintained between me and others. His cheery "Well, how are you to-day, +old fellow?" sets everybody at ease with me. The ladies have come out +from their pitying reserve. A glass of fresh water from the spring, a +leaf-full of wild berries, a freshly pulled rose, and other little daily +attentions, cheer me into fresh admiration of them "all in general, and +one in particular," as Ryerson says. + +Perhaps you think--I judge so from your letter--that I ought to describe +Miss Winston to you. She is finely----Ah, I find that she is wrapped in +some mysterious, ethereal veil, the folds of which I dare not disturb, +even with reverent hand, and for your sake! Ah, Mary, I aspire! + + +VIII. + +C---- Springs. September. + +The autumn scenery is gorgeous up among these misty hills, but I will +not dwell upon it. I have too much to say of animated human nature, to +more than glance out of doors. Nearly all the boarders are gone. Miss +Winston left last week for her home in Boston. I am desolate indeed! The +day after she went away, I stood upon my own feet without support, for +the first time. Now I walk daily from the house to the spring, with the +help of Kate's or Ben's arm and a cane, though I am still obliged to +remain on my couch nearly all day long. I write this in direct reply to +your question. + +Now for the great exciting subject of the present time. I will give it +in detail, as women like to have stories told. + +The little wife, our Alice, came running into Kate's parlor one day, +while we were both sitting there reading. She was in extreme excitement. +We heard her laughing, just outside the door, in the most joyous manner; +but she pulled a long face as she entered. She sank down upon the floor +by my couch, so as to be on a level with me, took my hand and Kate's, +and then, taking breath, said: + +"Listen, Kate, and don't be agitated." + +Kate was, of course, extremely agitated at once. She divined the subject +about to be introduced, and her heart beat tumultuously. + +"You remember I nearly betrayed Walter's secret once? Well, I am going +to tell it to you now, really." + +"He gave you leave, then!" said Kate, almost breathless. + +"Yes, yes! This is it----Now, Kate, if you look so pale, I can't go on!" + +I motioned to her to proceed at once. + +"Well, he had some engineering to do in Russia, you know. They wanted +to get him to undertake another job,--I don't know, nor care, what it +was,--and he went out to see about it. For Charlie's sake, you let him +go away almost in despair, you cruel girl! Well, when I was visiting +you, he made a little spy of me. I was not to spy you, Kate, but Charlie +here, and let Walter know of the slightest change for the better in him. +Then he was to get some one to attend to his Russian work, and post +right straight home to you, Kate! Well, my aunt wouldn't let me stay +with you,--cross old thing! And she kept me so very close, that I +couldn't watch Charlie at all. Then she went and threatened me with a +long engagement with Harry, only to give me time to get heaps and +heaps of sewing done! I knew the only chance I could get of gaining +information for Walter was just to run off to you with Hal, and cut a +long matter short. Well, so I came, and I wrote to Walter, the very +night I arrived, that the doctor said, Charlie, that you would be quite +well in a month or two! That was a month ago. But Walter had not waited +for me. Perhaps he had other spies. At any rate"---- + +She paused. + +"What? what? Be quick!" cried I, seeing that Kate was almost fainting +from this suspense. + +"He has come!" + +Kate pressed her hand over the joyful cry that burst from her lips, and, +turning away from us, sprang up, and walked to the window. There was a +moment of perfect silence. Kate put her hand behind her, and motioned to +the door. Alice went softly out and closed it. I could not rise, poor +cripple, from intense agitation. + +My sister drew one long, quivering, sobbing breath,--and then she had a +good cry, as women say. It seemed to me enough to give one a headache +for a week, but it refreshed her. After bathing her eyes with some iced +water, she came and leaned over me. + +"Thank God, Kate," I said, "for your sake and mine!" + +"Can you spare me, after you are well again, Charlie,--if he"---- + +"Am I a monster of selfishness and ingratitude?" + +She kissed me, took up her work, and sat down to sew. + +"Kate!" said I, amazed, "what are you doing? Why don't you go down?" + +"What for? To hunt him up at the bar-keeper's desk? or in the stables, +perhaps?" + +"Oh! Ah! Propriety,--yes! But how you can sit there and wait I cannot +conceive." + +There came a knock. I expected her to start up in rapture and admit Mr. +Walter ----. She only said, "Come in!"--calmly. + +Alice peeped in, and asked, "May he come?" + +"Where is he?" I asked. + +"In the parlor, waiting to know." + +"Yes," said Kate, changing color rapidly. + +"Stop, stop, Alice! You two give me each a hand, and help me into my +room." + +"Charlie," said Kate, "you need not go! you must not go!" + +"Ah, my dear sister, I have stood between you and him long enough, I +will do to him as I would be done by. Come, girls, your hands!" + +They placed me in my easy-chair, both kissed me with agitated lips, +and left me. Half an hour afterwards Kate and Mr. ---- petitioned for +admittance to my room. Of course I granted it, and immediately proceeded +to a minute scrutiny of my future brother-in-law. He is a fine fellow, +very scientific, clear in thought, decisive in action, quite reserved, +and very good-looking. This reserve is to Kate his strongest +attraction,--her own nature being so entirely destitute of it, and she +so painfully conscious of her want of self-control. Yes,--he is just the +one Kate would most respect, of all the men I ever saw. + +Is not this happiness,--to find her future not wrecked, but blessed +doubly? for her conduct has made Walter almost worship her. I _am_ happy +to think I have brought her good, rather than ill; but--selfish being +that I am--I am not contented. I have a sigh in my heart yet! + +Bosky Dell. December. + +How it happened that this letter did not go I cannot imagine. I have +just found it in Kate's work-basket; and I open it again, to add the +grand climax. I have been so very minute in my accounts of Kate's +love-affairs, that I feel it would not be fair to slur over mine. So, +dear friend, I open my heart to you in this wise. + +The rage for recovery which took such violent possession of me I believe +effected my cure. In a month from the time I began to walk, I could +go alone, without even a cane. Kate entreated me to remain as long as +possible in the mountains, as she believed my recovery was attributable +to the pure air and healing waters. It was consequently the first of +this month before we arrived at her cottage, where we found good old +Saide so much "frustrated" by delight as to be quite unable to "fly +roun'." Indeed, she could hardly stand. When I walked up to shake hands +with her, she bashfully looked at me out of the "tail of her eye," as +Ben says. Her delicacy was quite shocked by my size! + +"Saide," said I, "you positively look pale!" She really did. You have +seen negroes do so, haven't you? + +"Laws, Missr Charles," she answered, with a coquettish and deprecating +twist, "call dat 'ere stove pale,--will yer?" + +No sooner was Kate established at home, and I in my Walnut-Street +office, than I undertook a trip to Boston. As I approached Miss +Winston's home, all my courage left me. I walked up and down the Common, +in sight of her door, for hours, thinking what a witless fool I was, +to contemplate presenting my penniless self--with hope--before the +millionnaire's daughter! + +At last Mr. Winston came home to dinner and began to go up the steps. I +sprang across the street to him, and my courage came back when I looked +upon his good sensible face. When he recognized me, he seized my hand, +grasped my shoulder, and gave me, with the tears actually in his eyes, a +reception that honors human nature. + +Such genuine friendliness, in an old, distinguished man, to a young +fellow like me, shows that man's heart is noble, with all its depravity. + +When he had gazed some time, almost in amazement, at my tall +proportions, (he never saw them perpendicular before, you know,) he +said,-- + +"Come in, come in, my boy! Some one else must see you! But she can't be +more glad than I am, to see you so well,--that is, I don't see how she +can,--for I _am_ glad, I am _glad_, my boy!" + +Was not this heart-warming? + +When we entered, he stopped before the hat-rack, and told me "just to +walk into the parlor;--his daughter might be there." I could not rush in +impetuously, I had to steady my color. Besides, ought I not to speak to +him first? + +Mr. Winston took off his hat,--hung it up; then his overcoat, and +hung it up. I still stood pondering, with my hand upon the door-knob. +Surprised at my tardiness in entering, he turned and looked at me. I +could not face him. He was silent a minute. I felt that he looked right +through me, and saw my daring intentions. He cleared his throat. I +quailed. He began to speak in a low, agitated voice, that I thought very +ominous in tone. + +"You want to speak to me, perhaps. I think I see that you do. If so, +speak now. A word will explain enough. No need to defer." + +"I want your consent, Sir, to speak to your daughter," I stammered out. + +"My dear boy," said he, clapping me on the shoulder, "she is motherless +and brotherless, and I am an old man. Nothing would give me more +pleasure; for I know you well enough to trust her with you. There,--go +in. I hear her touch the piano." + +He went up stairs. I entered. My eyes swept the long, dim apartment. +In the confusion of profuse luxury I could not distinguish anything at +first,--but soon saw the grand piano at the extreme end of the rooms. I +impetuously strode the whole length of the two parlors,--and she rose +before me with chilling dignity! + +Ah, Mary, that moment's blank dismay! But it was because she thought me +some bold, intruding stranger. When she saw my face, she came to me, and +gave me both her hands, saying,-- + +"Mr. ----! Is it possible? I am happy that you are so well!" + +It was genuine joy; and for a moment we were both simply glad for that +one reason,--that I was well. + +"You seem so tall!" she said, with a rather more conscious tone. She +began to infer what my recovery and presence imported to _her_. I felt +thrilling all over me what they were to me! + +But I must say something. It is not customary to call upon young +ladies, of whom you have never dared to consider yourself other than +an acquaintance merely, and hold their hands while you listen to their +hearts beating. This I must refrain from doing,--and that instantly. + +"Yes," I stammered, "I am well,--I am quite well." Then, losing all +remembrance of etiquette----But you must divine what followed. Truly + + "God's gifts put man's best dreams to + shame!" + +P.S.--Kate will send you her cards, and Ada ours, together with the +proper ceremonious invitations to the weddings, as soon as things are +arranged. + + + + +AMOURS DE VOYAGE. + + +[Continued.] + +III + + Yet to the wondrous St. Peter's, and yet to the solemn Rotonda, + Mingling with heroes and gods, yet to the Vatican walls, + Yet may we go, and recline, while a whole mighty world seems above us + Gathered and fixed to all time into one roofing supreme; + Yet may we, thinking on these things, exclude what is meaner around + us; + Yet, at the worst of the worst, books and a chamber remain; + Yet may we think, and forget, and possess our souls in resistance.-- + Ah, but away from the stir, shouting, and gossip of war, + Where, upon Apennine slope, with the chestnut the oak-trees immingle, + Where amid odorous copse bridle-paths wander and wind, + Where under mulberry-branches the diligent rivulet sparkles, + Or amid cotton and maize peasants their waterworks ply, + Where, over fig-tree and orange in tier upon tier still repeated, + Garden on garden upreared, balconies step to the sky,-- + Ah, that I were, far away from the crowd and the streets of the city, + Under the vine-trellis laid, O my beloved, with thee! + + + I.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER,--_on the way to Florence_. + + Why doesn't Mr. Claude come with us? you ask.--We don't know. + You should know better than we. He talked of the Vatican marbles; + But I can't wholly believe that this was the actual reason,-- + He was so ready before, when we asked him to come and escort us. + Certainly he is odd, my dear Miss Roper. To change so + Suddenly, just for a whim, was not quite fair to the party,-- + Not quite right. I declare, I really am almost offended: + I, his great friend, as you say, have doubtless a title to be so. + Not that I greatly regret it, for dear Georgina distinctly + Wishes for nothing so much as to show her adroitness. But, oh, my + Pen will not write any more;--let us say nothing further about it. + + * * * * * + + Yes, my dear Miss Roper, I certainly called him repulsive; + So I think him, but cannot be sure I have used the expression + Quite as your pupil should; yet he does most truly repel me. + Was it to you I made use of the word? or who was it told you? + Yes, repulsive; observe, it is but when he talks of ideas, + That he is quite unaffected, and free, and expansive, and easy; + I could pronounce him simply a cold intellectual being.-- + When does he make advances?--He thinks that women should woo him; + Yet, if a girl should do so, would be but alarmed and disgusted. + She that should love him must look for small love in return,--like + the ivy + On the stone wall, must expect but rigid and niggard support, and + Even to get that must go searching all round with her humble embraces. + + + II.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE,--_from Rome_. + + Tell me, my friend, do you think that the grain would sprout in the + furrow, + Did it not truly accept as its _summum et ultimum bonum_ + That mere common and may-be indifferent soil it is set in? + Would it have force to develope and open its young cotyledons, + Could it compare, and reflect, and examine one thing with another? + Would it endure to accomplish the round of its natural functions, + Were it endowed with a sense of the general scheme of existence? + While from Marseilles in the steamer we voyaged to Civita Vecchia, + Vexed in the squally seas as we lay by Capraja and Elba, + Standing, uplifted, alone on the heaving poop of the vessel, + Looking around on the waste of the rushing incurious billows, + "This is Nature," I said: "we are born as it were from her waters, + Over her billows that buffet and beat us, her offspring uncared-for, + Casting one single regard of a painful victorious knowledge, + Into her billows that buffet and beat us we sink and are swallowed." + This was the sense in my soul, as I swayed with the poop of the + steamer; + And as unthinking I sat in the ball of the famed Ariadne, + Lo, it looked at me there from the face of a Triton in marble. + It is the simpler thought, and I can believe it the truer. + Let us not talk of growth; we are still in our Aqueous Ages. + + + III.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Farewell, Politics, utterly! What can I do? I cannot + Fight, you know; and to talk I am wholly ashamed. And although I + Gnash my teeth when I look in your French or your English papers, + What is the good of that? Will swearing, I wonder, mend matters? + Cursing and scolding repel the assailants? No, it is idle; + No, whatever befalls, I will hide, will ignore or forget it. + Let the tail shift for itself; I will bury my head. And what's the + Roman Republic to me, or I to the Roman Republic? + Why not fight?--In the first place, I haven't so much as a musket. + In the next, if I had, I shouldn't know how I should use it. + In the third, just at present I'm studying ancient marbles. + In the fourth, I consider I owe my life to my country. + In the fifth,--I forget; but four good reasons are ample. + Meantime, pray, let 'em fight, and be killed. I delight in devotion. + So that I 'list not, hurrah for the glorious army of martyrs! + _Sanguis martyrum semen Ecclesiae_; though it would seem this + Church is indeed of the purely Invisible, Kingdom-Come kind: + Militant here on earth! Triumphant, of course, then, elsewhere! + Ah, good Heaven, but I would I were out far away from the pother! + + + IV.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Not, as we read in the words of the olden-time inspiration, + Are there two several trees in the place we are set to abide in; + But on the apex most high of the Tree of Life in the Garden, + Budding, unfolding, and falling, decaying and flowering ever, + Flowering is set and decaying the transient blossom of Knowledge,-- + + Flowering alone, and decaying, the needless, unfruitful blossom. + Or as the cypress-spires by the fair-flowing stream Hellespontine, + Which from the mythical tomb of the godlike Protesilaus + Rose, sympathetic in grief, to his lovelorn Laodamia, + Evermore growing, and, when in their growth to the prospect attaining, + Over the low sea-banks, of the fatal Ilian city, + Withering still at the sight which still they upgrew to encounter. + Ah, but ye that extrude from the ocean your helpless faces, + Ye over stormy seas leading long and dreary processions, + Ye, too, brood of the wind, whose coming is whence we discern not, + Making your nest on the wave, and your bed on the crested billow, + Skimming rough waters, and crowding wet sands that the tide shall + return to, + Cormorants, ducks, and gulls, fill ye my imagination! + Let us not talk of growth; we are still in our Aqueous Ages. + + + V.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER,--_from Florence_. + + Dearest Miss Roper,--Alas, we are all at Florence quite safe, and + You, we hear, are shut up! indeed, it is sadly distressing! + We were most lucky, they say, to get off when we did from the + troubles. + Now you are really besieged! They tell us it soon will be over; + Only I hope and trust without any fight in the city. + Do you see Mr. Claude?--I thought he might do something for you. + I am quite sure on occasion he really would wish to be useful. + What is he doing? I wonder;--still studying Vatican marbles? + Letters, I hope, pass through. We trust your brother is better. + + + VI.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Juxtaposition, in fine; and what is juxtaposition? + Look you, we travel along in the railway-carriage, or steamer, + And, _pour passer le temps_, till the tedious journey be ended, + Lay aside paper or book, to talk with the girl that is next one; + And, _pour passer le temps_, with the terminus all but in + prospect, + Talk of eternal ties and marriages made in heaven. + Ah, did we really accept with a perfect heart the illusion! + Ah, did we really believe that the Present indeed is the Only! + Or through all transmutation, all shock and convulsion of passion, + Feel we could carry undimmed, unextinguished, the light of our + knowledge! + But for his funeral train which the bridegroom sees in the distance, + Would he so joyfully, think you, fall in with the marriage-procession? + But for that final discharge, would he dare to enlist in that service? + But for that certain release, ever sign to that perilous contract? + But for that exit secure, ever bend to that treacherous doorway?-- + Ah, but the bride, meantime,--do you think she sees it as he does? + But for the steady fore-sense of a freer and larger existence, + Think you that man could consent to be circumscribed here into action? + But for assurance within of a limitless ocean divine, o'er + Whose great tranquil depths unconscious the wind-tost surface + Breaks into ripples of trouble that come and change and endure not,-- + But that in this, of a truth, we have our being, and know it, + Think you we men could submit to live and move as we do here? + Ah, but the women,--God bless them!--they don't think at all about it. + + Yet we must eat and drink, as you say. And as limited beings + Scarcely can hope to attain upon earth to an Actual Abstract, + Leaving to God contemplation, to His hands knowledge confiding, + Sure that in us if it perish, in Him it abideth and dies not, + Let us in His sight accomplish our petty particular doings,-- + Yes, and contented sit down to the victual that He has provided. + Allah is great, no doubt, and Juxtaposition his prophet. + Ah, but the women, alas, they don't look at it in that way! + Juxtaposition is great;--but, my friend, I fear me, the maiden + Hardly would thank or acknowledge the lover that sought to obtain her, + Not as the thing he would wish, but the thing he must even put up + with,-- + Hardly would tender her hand to the wooer that candidly told her + That she is but for a space, an _ad-interim_ solace and + pleasure,-- + That in the end she shall yield to a perfect and absolute something, + Which I then for myself shall behold, and not another,-- + Which amid fondest endearments, meantime I forget not, forsake not. + Ah, ye feminine souls, so loving and so exacting, + Since we cannot escape, must we even submit to deceive you? + Since, so cruel is truth, sincerity shocks and revolts you, + Will you have us your slaves to lie to you, flatter and--leave you? + + + VII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Juxtaposition is great,--but, you tell me, affinity greater. + Ah, my friend, there are many affinities, greater and lesser, + Stronger and weaker; and each, by the favor of juxtaposition, + Potent, efficient, in force,--for a time; but none, let me tell you, + Save by the law of the land and the ruinous force of the will, ah, + None, I fear me, at last quite sure to be final and perfect. + Lo, as I pace in the street, from the peasant-girl to the princess, + _Homo sum, nihil humani a me alienum puto,-- + Vir sum, nihil faeminei_,--and e'en to the uttermost circle, + All that is Nature's is I, and I all things that are Nature's. + Yes, as I walk, I behold, in a luminous, large intuition, + That I can be and become anything that I meet with or look at: + I am the ox in the dray, the ass with the garden-stuff panniers; + I am the dog in the doorway, the kitten that plays in the window, + Here on the stones of the ruin the furtive and fugitive lizard, + Swallow above me that twitters, and fly that is buzzing about me; + Yea, and detect, as I go, by a faint, but a faithful assurance, + E'en from the stones of the street, as from rocks or trees of the + forest, + Something of kindred, a common, though latent vitality, greet me, + And, to escape from our strivings, mistakings, misgrowths, and + perversions, + Fain could demand to return to that perfect and primitive silence, + Fain be enfolded and fixed, as of old, in their rigid embraces. + + + VIII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + And as I walk on my way, I behold them consorting and coupling; + Faithful it seemeth, and fond, very fond, very probably faithful; + And I proceed on my way with a pleasure sincere and unmingled. + Life is beautiful, Eustace, entrancing, enchanting to look at; + As are the streets of a city we pace while the carriage is changing, + As is a chamber filled-in with harmonious, exquisite pictures, + Even so beautiful Earth; and could we eliminate only + This vile hungering impulse, this demon within us of craving, + Life were beatitude, living a perfect divine satisfaction. + + + IX.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + _Mild monastic faces in quiet collegiate cloisters:_ + So let me offer a single and celibatarian phrase a + Tribute to those whom perhaps you do not believe I can honor. + But, from the tumult escaping, 'tis pleasant, of drumming and + shouting, + Hither, oblivious awhile, to withdraw, of the fact or the falsehood, + And amid placid regards and mildly courteous greetings + Yield to the calm and composure and gentle abstraction that reign o'er + _Mild monastic faces in quiet collegiate cloisters._ + Terrible word, Obligation! You should not, Eustace, you should not, + No, you should not have used it. But, O great Heavens, I repel it! + Oh, I cancel, reject, disavow, and repudiate wholly + Every debt in this kind, disclaim every claim, and dishonor, + Yea, my own heart's own writing, my soul's own signature! Ah, no! + I will be free in this; you shall not, none shall, bind me. + No, my friend, if you wish to be told, it was this above all things, + This that charmed me, ah, yes, even this, that she held me to nothing. + No, I could talk as I pleased; come close; fasten ties, as I fancied; + Bind and engage myself deep;--and lo, on the following morning + It was all e'en as before, like losings in games played for nothing. + Yes, when I came, with mean fears in my soul, with a semi-performance + At the first step breaking down in its pitiful rôle of evasion, + When to shuffle I came, to compromise, not meet, engagements, + Lo, with her calm eyes there she met me and knew nothing of it,-- + Stood unexpecting, unconscious. _She_ spoke not of obligations, + Knew not of debt,--ah, no, I believe you, for excellent reasons. + + + X.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Hang this thinking, at last! what good is it? oh, and what evil! + Oh, what mischief and pain! like a clock in a sick man's chamber, + Ticking and ticking, and still through each covert of slumber + pursuing. + What shall I do to thee, O thou Preserver of Men? Have compassion! + Be favorable, and hear! Take from me this regal knowledge! + Let me, contented and mute, with the beasts of the field, my brothers, + Tranquilly, happily lie,--and eat grass, like Nebuchadnezzar! + + + XI.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Tibur is beautiful, too, and the orchard slopes, and the Anio + Falling, falling yet, to the ancient lyrical cadence; + Tibur and Anio's tide; and cool from Lucretilis ever, + With the Digentian stream, and with the Bandusian fountain, + Folded in Sabine recesses, the valley and villa of Horace:-- + So not seeing I sung; so seeing and listening say I, + Here as I sit by the stream, as I gaze at the cell of the Sibyl, + Here with Albunea's home and the grove of Tiburnus beside me.[A] + Tivoli beautiful is, and musical, O Teverone, + Dashing from mountain to plain, thy parted impetuous waters! + Tivoli's waters and rocks; and fair under Monte Gennaro, + (Haunt even yet, I must think, as I wonder and gaze, of the shadows, + Faded and pale, yet immortal, of Faunus, the Nymphs, and the Graces,) + Fair in itself, and yet fairer with human completing creations, + Folded in Sabine recesses the valley and villa of Horace:-- + So not seeing I sung; so now,--nor seeing, nor hearing, + Neither by waterfall lulled, nor folded in sylvan embraces, + Neither by cell of the Sibyl, nor stepping the Monte Gennaro, + Seated on Anio's bank, nor sipping Bandusian waters, + But on Montorio's height, looking down on the tile-clad streets, the + Cupolas, crosses, and domes, the bushes and kitchen-gardens, + Which, by the grace of the Tiber, proclaim themselves Rome of the + Romans,-- + But on Montorio's height, looking forth to the vapory mountains, + Cheating the prisoner Hope with illusions of vision and fancy,-- + But on Montorio's height, with these weary soldiers by me, + Waiting till Oudinot enter, to reinstate Pope and Tourist. + +[Footnote A: + + ----domus Albuneae resonantis, + Et praeceps Anio, et Tiburni lucus, et uda + Mobilibus pomaria rivis.] + + + XII.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER. + + Dear Miss Roper,--It seems, George Vernon, before we left Rome, said + Something to Mr. Claude about what they call his attentions. + Susan, two nights ago, for the first time, heard this from Georgina. + It is _so_ disagreeable, and so annoying, to think of! + If it could only be known, though we never may meet him again, that + It was all George's doing and we were entirely unconscious, + It would extremely relieve--Your ever affectionate Mary. + + P.S. (1). + Here is your letter arrived this moment, just as I wanted. + So you have seen him,--indeed,--and guessed,--how dreadfully clever! + What did he really say? and what was your answer exactly? + Charming!--but wait for a moment, I have not read through the letter. + + P.S. (2). + Ah, my dearest Miss Roper, do just as you fancy about it. + If you think it sincerer to tell him I know of it, do so. + Though I should most extremely dislike it, I know I could manage. + It is the simplest thing, but surely wholly uncalled for. + Do as you please; you know I trust implicitly to you. + Say whatever is right and needful for ending the matter. + Only don't tell Mr. Claude, what I will tell you as a secret, + That I should like very well to show him myself I forget it. + + P.S. (3). + I am to say that the wedding is finally settled for Tuesday. + Ah, my dear Miss Roper, you surely, surely can manage + Not to let it appear that I know of that odious matter. + It would be pleasanter far for myself to treat it exactly + As if it had not occurred; and I do not think he would like it. + I must remember to add, that as soon as the wedding is over + We shall be off, I believe, in a hurry, and travel to Milan, + There to meet friends of Papa's, I am told, at the Croce di Malta; + Then I cannot say whither, but not at present to England. + + + XIII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Yes, on Montorio's height for a last farewell of the city,-- + So it appears; though then I was quite uncertain about it. + So, however, it was. And now to explain the proceeding. + I was to go, as I told you, I think, with the people to Florence. + Only the day before, the foolish family Vernon + Made some uneasy remarks, as we walked to our lodging together, + As to intentions, forsooth, and so forth. I was astounded, + Horrified quite; and obtaining just then, as it chanced, an offer + (No common favor) of seeing the great Ludovisi collection, + Why, I made this a pretence, and wrote that they must excuse me. + How could I go? Great Heaven! to conduct a permitted flirtation + Under those vulgar eyes, the observed of such observers! + Well, but I now, by a series of fine diplomatic inquiries, + Find from a sort of relation, a good and sensible woman, + Who is remaining at Rome with a brother too ill for removal, + That it was wholly unsanctioned, unknown,--not, I think, by Georgina: + She, however, ere this,--and that is the best of the story,-- + She and the Vernon, thank Heaven, are wedded and gone--honey-mooning. + So--on Montorio's height for a last farewell of the city. + Tibur I have not seen, nor the lakes that of old I had dreamt of; + Tibur I shall not see, nor Anio's waters, nor deep en- + Folded in Sabine recesses the valley and villa of Horace; + Tibur I shall not see;--but something better I shall see. + Twice I have tried before, and failed in getting the horses; + Twice I have tried and failed: this time it shall not be a failure. + + * * * * * + + Therefore farewell, ye hills, and ye, ye envineyarded ruins! + Therefore farewell, ye walls, palaces, pillars, and domes! + Therefore farewell, far seen, ye peaks of the mythic Albano, + Seen from Montorio's height, Tibur and Aesula's hills! + Ah, could we once, ere we go, could we stand, while, to ocean + descending, + Sinks o'er the yellow dark plain slowly the yellow broad sun, + Stand, from the forest emerging at sunset, at once in the champaign, + Open, but studded with trees, chestnuts umbrageous and old, + E'en in those fair open fields that incurve to thy beautiful hollow, + Nemi, imbedded in wood, Nemi, inurned in the hill!-- + Therefore farewell, ye plains, and ye hills, and the City Eternal! + Therefore farewell! We depart, but to behold you again! + +[To be continued.] + + + + +THE CATACOMBS OF ROME. + +[Continued.] + + Vix fama nota est, abditis + Quam plena sancti Roma sit; + Quam dives urbanum solum + Sacris sepulchris floreat. + PRUDENTIUS. + + Mille victoriose chiare palme. + PETRARCH. + +II. + +The results of the investigations in the catacombs during the last three +or four years have well rewarded the zeal of their explorers. Since the +great work of the French government was published, in 1851-55, very +curious and important discoveries have been made, and many new minor +facts brought to light. The interest in the investigations has become +more general, and no visit to Rome is now complete without a visit to +one at least of the catacombs. Strangely enough, however, the Romans +themselves, for the most part, feel less concern in these new +revelations of their underground city than the strangers who come from +year to year to make their pilgrimages to Rome. It is an old complaint, +that the Romans care little for their city. "Who are there to-day," says +Petrarch, in one of his letters, "more ignorant of Roman things than the +Roman citizens? And nowhere is Rome less known than in Rome itself." It +is, however, to the Cavaliere de Rossi, himself a Roman, that the most +important of these discoveries are due,--the result of his marvellous +learning and sagacity, and of his hard-working and unwearied energy. The +discovery of the ancient entrance to the Catacombs of St. Callixtus, +and of the chapel within, where St. Cecilia was originally buried, is +a piece of the very romance of Archaeology. The whole history of St. +Cecilia, the glorious Virgin Martyr and the Saint of Music, as connected +with the catacombs, is, indeed, one of the most curious to be found in +the annals of the Church. Legend and fact are strangely mingled in it, +and over it hangs a perplexing mist of doubt, but not so dense as wholly +to conceal all certainty. It is a story of suffering, of piety, of +enthusiasm, of superstition, and of science;--it connects itself in many +points with the progress of corruption in the Church, and it has been +a favorite subject for Art in all ages. The story is at last finished. +Begun sixteen hundred years ago, it has just reached its last chapter. +In order to understand it, we must go back almost to its introduction. + +According to the legend of the Roman Church, as preserved in the "Acts +of St. Cecilia," this young and beautiful saint was martyred in the year +of our Lord 230.[A] She had devoted herself to perpetual virginity, +but her parents had insisted upon marrying her to a youthful and noble +Roman, named Valerian. On the night of her marriage, she succeeded in +so far prevailing upon her husband as to induce him to visit the pope, +Urban, who was lying concealed from his persecutors in the catacombs +which were called after and still bear the name of his predecessor, +Callixtus,[B] on the Appian Way, about two miles from the present walls +of the city. The young man was converted to the Christian faith. The +next day witnessed the conversion of his brother, Tiburtius. Their lives +soon gave evidence of the change in their religion; they were brought +before the prefect, and, refusing to sacrifice to the heathen gods, were +condemned to death. Maximus, an officer of the prefect, was converted +by the young men on the way to execution. They suffered death with +constancy, and Maximus soon underwent the same fate. Nor was Cecilia +long spared. The prefect ordered that she should be put to death in her +own house, by being stifled in the _caldarium_, or hot-air chamber of +her baths. The order was obeyed, and Cecilia entered the place of death; +but a heavenly air and cooling dews filled the chamber, and the fire +built up around it produced no effect. For a whole day and night the +flames were kept up, but the Saint was unharmed. Then Almachius sent an +order that she should be beheaded. The executioner struck her neck three +times with his sword, and left her bleeding, but not dead, upon the +pavement of the bathroom. For three days she lived, attended by faithful +friends, whose hearts were cheered by her courageous constancy; "for she +did not cease to comfort those whom she had nurtured in the faith of the +Lord, and divided among them everything which she had." To Pope Urban, +who visited her as she lay dying, she left in charge the poor whom she +had cared for, and her house, that it might be consecrated as a church. +With this her life ended.[C] Her wasted body was reverently lifted, its +position undisturbed, and laid in the attitude and clothing of life +within a coffin of cypress-wood. The linen cloths with which the blood +of the Martyr had been soaked up were placed at her feet, with that care +that no precious drop should be lost,--a care, of which many evidences +are afforded in the catacombs. In the night, the coffin was carried out +of the city secretly to the Cemetery of Callixtus, and there deposited +by Urban in a grave near to a chamber destined for the graves of the +popes themselves. Here the "Acts of St. Cecilia" close, and, leaving her +pure body to repose for centuries in its tomb hollowed out of the rock, +we trace the history of the catacombs during those centuries in other +sources and by other ways. + +[Footnote A: _The Acts of St. Cecilia_ are generally regarded by the +best Roman Catholic authorities as apochryphal. They bear internal +evidence of their want of correctness, and, in the condition in which +they have come down to us, the date of their compilation cannot be set +before the beginning of the fifth century. At the very outset two facts +stand in open opposition to their statements. The martyrdom of St. +Cecilia is placed in the reign of Alexander Severus, whose mildness +of disposition and whose liberality towards the Christians are well +authenticated. Again, the prefect who condemns her to death, Turchius +Almachius, bears a name unknown to the profane historians of Rome. Many +statements of not less difficulty to reconcile with fact occur in the +course of the _Acts_. But, although their authority in particulars be +thus destroyed, we see no reason for questioning the reality of the +chief events upon which they are founded. The date of the martyrdom of +St. Cecilia may be wrong, the reports of her conversations may be as +fictitious as the speeches ascribed by grave historians to their heroes, +the stories of her miracles may have only that small basis of reality +which is to be found in the effects of superstition and excited +imagination,--but the essential truth of the martyrdom of a young, +beautiful, and rich Roman girl, of her suffering and her serene faith, +and of the veneration and honor in which her memory was held by those +who had known her, may be accepted without reserve. At least, it is +certain, that as early as the beginning of the fourth century the name +of St. Cecilia was reverenced in Rome, and that from that time she has +been one of the chief saints of the Roman calendar.] + +[Footnote B: The Catacombs of St. Callixtus are among the most important +of the underground cemeteries. They were begun before the time of +Callixtus, but were greatly enlarged under his pontificate [A.D. +219-223]. Saint though he be, the character of Callixtus, if we may +judge by the testimony of another saint, Hippolytus, stood greatly in +need of purification. His story is an amusing illustration of the state +of the Roman episcopacy in those times. He had been a slave of a rich +Christian, Carpophorus. His master set him up as a money-dealer in the +Piscina Publica, a much frequented quarter of the city. The Christian +brethren (and widows also are mentioned by Hippolytus) placed their +moneys in his hands for safe-keeping, his credit as the slave of +Carpophorus being good. He appropriated these deposits, ran away to sea, +was pursued, threw himself into the water, was rescued, brought back to +Rome, and condemned to hard labor. Carpophorus bailed him out of the +workhouse,--but he was a bad fellow, got into a riot in a Jewish +synagogue, and was sent to work in the Sardinian mines. By cheating he +got a ticket of leave and returned to Rome. After some years, he was +placed in charge of the cemetery by the bishop or pope, Zephyrinus, and +at his death, some time later, by skilful intrigues he succeeded in +obtaining the bishopric itself. The cemetery is now called that of +_Saint_ Callixtus,--and in the saint the swindler is forgotten.] + +[Footnote C: The passage in the _Acts of St. Cecilia_ which led to her +being esteemed the patroness of music is perhaps the following, which +occurs in the description of the wedding ceremonies: "Cantantibus +organis, Caecilia in corde suo soli Domino decantabat, dicens: 'Fiat cor +meum et corpus meum immaculatum, ut non confundar.'"] + +The consequences of the conversion of Constantine exhibited themselves +not more in the internal character and spirit of the Church than in +its outward forms and arrangements. The period of worldly prosperity +succeeded speedily to a period of severest suffering, and many who +had been exposed to the persecution of Diocletian now rejoiced in the +imperial favor shown to their religion. Such contrasts in life are +not favorable to the growth of the finer spiritual qualities; and the +sunshine of state and court is not that which is needed for quickening +faith or developing simplicity and purity of heart. Churches above +ground could now be frequented without risk, and were the means by which +the wealth and the piety of Christians were to be displayed. The newly +imperialized religion must have its imperial temples, and the little +dark chapels of the catacombs were exchanged for the vast and ornamental +spaces of the new basilicas. It was no longer needful that the dead +should be laid in the secret paths of the rock, and the luxury of +magnificent Christian tombs began to rival that of the sepulchres of +the earlier Romans. The body of St. Peter, which had long, according +to popular tradition, rested in the catacombs of the Vatican, was now +transferred to the great basilica which Constantine, despoiling for the +purpose the tomb of Hadrian of its marbles, erected over the entrance to +the underground cemetery. So, too, the Basilica of St. Paul, on the way +to Ostia, was built over his old grave; and the Catacombs of St. Agnes +were marked by a beautiful church in honor of the Saint, built in part +beneath the soil, that its pavement might be on a level with the upper +story of the catacombs and the faithful might enter them from the +church. + +The older catacombs, whose narrow graves had been filled during the last +quarter of the third century with the bodies of many new martyrs, were +now less used for the purposes of burial, and more for those of worship. +New chapels were hollowed out in their walls; new paintings adorned the +brown rock; the bodies of martyrs were often removed from their original +graves to new and more elaborate tombs; the entrances to the cemeteries +were no longer concealed, but new and ampler ones were made; new +stairways, lined with marble, led down to the streets beneath; +_luminaria_, or passages for light and air, were opened from the surface +of the ground to the most frequented places; and at almost every +entrance a church or an oratory of more or less size was built, for the +shelter of those who might assemble to go down into the catacombs, and +for the performance of the sacred services upon ground hallowed by so +many sacred memories. The worship of the saints began to take form, at +first, in simple, natural, and pious ways, in the fourth century; and +as it grew stronger and stronger with the continually increasing +predominance of the material element in the Roman Church, so the +catacombs, the burial-places of the saints, were more and more visited +by those who desired the protection or the intercession of their +occupants. St. Jerome, who was born about this time in Rome, [A.D. 331,] +has a curious passage concerning his own experiences in the catacombs. +He says: "When I was a boy at Rome, being instructed in liberal studies, +I was accustomed, with others of the same age and disposition, to go on +Sundays to the tombs of the apostles and martyrs, and often to go into +the crypts, which, being dug out in the depths of the earth, have for +walls, on either side of those who enter, the bodies of the buried; and +they are so dark, that the saying of the prophet seems almost fulfilled, +_The living descend into hell._" But as the chapels and sacred tombs +in the catacombs became thus more and more resorted to as places for +worship, the number of burials within them was continually growing +less,--and the change in the spirit of the religion was marked by the +change of character in the paintings and inscriptions on their walls. +By the middle of the fifth century the extension of the catacombs had +ceased, and nearly about the same time the assemblies in them fell off. +The desolation of the Campagna had already begun; Rome had sunk rapidly; +and the churches and burial-places within the walls afforded all the +space that was needed for the assemblies of the living or the dead. + +When the Goths descended upon Italy, ravaging the country as they passed +over it, and sat down before Rome, not content with stripping the land, +they forced their way into the catacombs, searching for treasure, and +seeking also, it seems likely, for the bodies of the martyrs, whom their +imperfect creed did not prevent them from honoring. After they retired, +in the short breathing-space that was given to the unhappy city, various +popes undertook to do something to restore the catacombs,[D]--and one +of them, John III., [A.D. 560-574,] ordered that service should be +performed at certain underground shrines, and that candles and all else +needful for this purpose should be furnished from the Basilica of St. +John Lateran. Just at the close of the sixth century, Gregory the Great +[590-604] again appointed stations in the catacombs at which service +should be held on special days in the course of the year, and a curious +illustration of the veneration in which the relics of the saints were +then held is afforded by a gift which he sent to Theodelinda, queen of +the Lombards. At this time the Lombards were laying all Italy waste. +Their Arian zeal ranged them in religious hate against the Roman +Church,--but Theodelinda was an orthodox believer, and through her +Gregory hoped to secure the conversion of her husband and his subjects. +It was to her that he addressed his famous Dialogues, filled with +the most marvellous stories of holy men and the strangest notions of +religion. Wishing to satisfy her pious desires, and to make her a very +precious gift, he sent to her many phials of oil taken from the lamps +that were kept burning at the shrines of the martyrs in the catacombs. +It was the custom of those who visited these shrines to dip +handkerchiefs, or other bits of cloth, in the reservoirs of oil, to +which a sacred virtue was supposed to be imparted by the neighborhood of +the saints; and even now may often be seen the places where the lamps +were kept lighted.[E] + +[Footnote D: An inscription set up by Vigilius, pope from A.D. 538 to +555, and preserved by Gruter, contains the following lines:-- + + "Dum peritura Getae posuissent castra sub urbe, + Moverunt sanctis bella nefunda prius, + Istaque sacrilego verterunt corde sepulchra + Martyribus quondam rite sacrata piis. + Diruta Vigilius nam mox haec Papa gemiscens, + Hostibus expulsis, omne novavit opus."] + +[Footnote E: The phials sent by Gregory to Queen Theodelinda were +accompanied by a list of the shrines from which they were taken; among +them was that of St. Cecilia. The document closes with the words, "Quae +olea sca temporibus Domini Gregorii Papae adduxit Johannes indignus +et peccator Dominae Theodelindae reginae de Roma." The oils are still +preserved in the treasury of the cathedral at Monza,--and the list +accompanying them has afforded some important facts to the students of +the early martyrology of Rome. A similar belief in the efficacy of oils +burned in lamps before noted images, or at noted shrines, still prevails +in the Papal City. In a little pamphlet lying before us, entitled +_Historic Notices of Maria SSma del Parto, venerated in St. Augustine's +Church in Rome_, published in 1853, is the following passage: "Many who +visited Mary dipped their fingers in the lamps to cross themselves with +the holy oil, by the droppings from which the base of the statue was so +dirtied, that hanging-lamps were substituted in the place of those that +stood around. But that the people might not be deprived of the trust +which they reposed in the holy oil, bits of cotton dipped in it were +wrapped up in paper, and there was a constant demand for them among the +devout." This passage refers to late years, and the custom still exists. +Superstition flourishes at Rome now not less than it did thirteen +hundred years ago; and superstitious practices have a wonderful vitality +in the close air of Romanism.] + +But although the memory of those who had been buried within them was +thus preserved, the catacombs themselves and the churches at their +entrances were falling more and more into decay. Shortly after Gregory's +death, Pope Boniface IV. illustrated his otherwise obscure pontificate +by seeking from the mean and dissolute Emperor Phocas the gift of the +Pantheon for the purpose of consecrating it for a Christian church. The +glorious temple of all the gods was now dedicated [A.D. 608, Sept. 15] +to those who had displaced them, the Virgin and all the Martyrs. Its new +name was S. Maria ad Martyres,--and in order to sanctify its precincts, +the Pope brought into the city and placed under the altars of his new +church twenty-eight wagon-loads of bones, collected from the different +catacombs, and said to be those of martyrs. This is the first notice +that has been preserved of the practice that became very general in +later times of transferring bodies and bones from their graves in the +rock to new ones under the city churches. + +Little more is known of the history of the catacombs during the next +two centuries, but that for them it was a period of desolation and +desertion. The Lombard hordes often ravaged and devastated the Campagna +up to the very gates of the city, and descended into the underground +passages of the cemeteries in search of treasure, of relics, and of +shelter. Paul III., about the middle of the eighth century, took many +bones and much ashes from graves yet unrifled, and distributed them +to the churches. He has left a record of the motives that led him +to disturb dust that had rested so long in quiet. "In the lapse of +centuries," he says, "many cemeteries of the holy martyrs and confessors +of Christ have been neglected and fallen to decay. The impious Lombards +utterly ruined them,--and now among the faithful themselves the old +piety has been replaced by negligence, which has gone so far that even +animals have been allowed to enter them, and cattle have been stalled +within them." Still, although thus desecrated, the graves of the martyrs +continued to be an object of interest to the pilgrims, who, even in +these dangerous times, from year to year came to visit the holy places +of Rome; and itineraries, describing the localities of the catacombs +and of the noted tombs within them, prepared for the guidance of such +pilgrims, not later than the beginning of the ninth century, have +been preserved to us, and have afforded essential and most important +assistance in the recent investigations.[F] + +[Footnote F: Four of these itineraries are known. One of them is +preserved in William of Malmesbury's _Chronicle_. The differences and +the correspondences between them have been of almost equal assistance in +modern days in the determination of doubtful names and localities.] + +About the same time, Pope Paschal I. [A.D. 817-824] greatly interested +himself in searching in the catacombs for such bodies of the saints as +might yet remain in them, and in transferring these relics to churches +and monasteries within the city. A contemporary inscription, still +preserved in the crypt of the ancient church of St. Prassede, (a church +which all lovers of Roman legend and art take delight in,) tells of the +two thousand three hundred martyrs whose remains Paschal had placed +beneath its altars. Nor was this the only church so richly endowed. One +day, in the year 821, Paschal was praying in the church that stood on +the site of the house in which St. Cecilia had suffered martyrdom, and +which was dedicated to her honor. It was now one of the oldest churches +in Rome. Two centuries before, Gregory the Great, St. Gregory, had +restored it,--for it even then stood in need of repairs, and now it was +in greater need than ever. Paschal determined, while praying, that he +would rebuild it from its foundations; but with this determination came +the desire to find the body of the Saint, that her new church might not +want its most precious possession. It was reported that the Lombards had +sought for it and carried it away, and the knowledge of the exact place +of the grave, even, was lost. But Paschal entered vigorously on the +search. He knew that she had been buried in the Cemetery of St. +Callixtus, and tradition declared that her sepulchre had been made near +the Chamber of the Popes. There he sought, but his seeking was vain. + +On a certain day, however,--and here he begins his own story,--in the +Church of St. Peter, as he sat listening to the harmony of the morning +service, drowsiness overcame him, and he fell asleep.[G] As he was +sleeping, a very beautiful maiden of virginal aspect, and in a rich +dress, stood before him, and, looking at him, said,--"We return thee +many thanks; but why without cause, trusting to false reports, hast thou +given up the search for me? Thou hast been so near me that we might have +spoken together." + +[Footnote G: "Quadam die, dum ante Confessionem Beati Petri +Apostoli psallentium matutinali lucescente Dominica residentes +observaremus harmoniam, sopore in aliquo corporis fragilitatem +aggravaute."--_Paschalis Papae Diploma_, as quoted in _L'Histoire de +Sainte Cécile_, par l'Abbé Guéranger. The simplicity of the old Pope's +story is wofully hurt by the grandiloquence of the French Abbé: "Le +Pontife écoutait avec délices l'harmonie des Cantiques que l'Église fait +monter vers le Seigneur au lever du jour. Un assoupissement produit par +la fatigue des veilles saintes vient le saisir sur le siége même où il +présidait dans la majesté apostolique," etc., etc., etc., _ad nauseam._] + +The Pope, as if hurt by her rebuke, and doubtful of his vision, then +asked the name of her who thus addressed him. + +"If thou seekest my name," she said, "I am called Cecilia, the +handmaiden of Christ." + +"How can I believe this," replied the sleeping Pope, "since it was long +ago reported that the body of this most holy martyr was carried away by +the Lombards?" + +The Saint then told him that till this time her body had remained +concealed; but that now he must continue his search, for it pleased God +to reveal it to him; and near her body he would also find other bodies +of saints to be placed with hers in her new-built church. And saying +this, she departed. + +Hereupon a new search was begun, and shortly after, "by the favor of +God, we found her in golden garments, and the cloths with which her +sacred blood had been wiped from her wounds we found rolled up and full +of blood at the feet of the blessed virgin." + +At the same time, the bodies of Valerian, Tiburtius, and Maximus were +found in a neighboring cemetery, and, together with the relics of Pope +Urban,--as well as the body of St. Cecilia,--were placed under the +high altar of her church.[H] The cypress coffin in which she had been +reverently laid at the time of her death was preserved and set within a +marble sarcophagus. No expense was spared by the devout Paschal to adorn +the church that had been so signally favored. All the Art of the time +(and at that time the arts flourished only in the service of the Church) +was called upon to assist in making the new basilica magnificent. The +mosaics which were set up to adorn the apse and the arch of triumph were +among the best works of the century, and, with colors still brilliant +and design still unimpaired, they hold their place at the present +day, and carry back the thought and the imagination of the beholder a +thousand years into the very heart of this old story. Under the great +mosaic of the apse one may still read the inscription, in the rude Latin +of the century, which tells of Paschal's zeal and Rome's joy, closing +with the line, + + "Roma resultat ovans semper ornata per + aevum." + +[Footnote H: It is a remarkable fact, to be explained by the believers +in the virtue of relics, that, notwithstanding the body of St. Cecilia +was deposited perfect in her grave, and, as we shall see, was long after +found complete, no less than five heads of St. Cecilia are declared +to exist, or to have existed,--for one has been lost,--in different +churches. One is in the church of the SS. Quattro Coronati, at Rome, +which possessed it from a very early period; a second is at Paris, a +third at Beauvais, a fourth was at Tours, and we have seen the reliquary +in which a fifth is preserved in the old cathedral of Torcello.] + +And thus once more the body of the virgin was left to repose in peace, +once more the devout could offer their prayers to the Saint at the altar +consecrated by her presence, and once more the superstitious could +increase the number of the miracles wrought by her favor. Through the +long period of the fall and depression of Rome, her church continued to +be a favorite one with the people of the city, and with the pilgrims to +it. From time to time it was repaired and adorned, and in the thirteenth +century the walls of its portico were covered with a series of frescoes, +representing the events of St. Cecilia's life, and the finding of her +body by Paschal. These frescoes--precious as specimens of reawakening +Art, and especially precious at Rome, because of the little that was +done there at that period--were all, save one, long since destroyed +in some "restoration" of the church. The one that was preserved is now +within the church, and represents in its two divisions the burial of the +Saint by Pope Urban, and her appearance in St. Peter's Church to the +sleeping Paschal, whose figure is rendered with amusing naïveté and +literalness. + +Meanwhile, after the translation of St. Cecilia's body, the catacombs +remained much in the same neglected state as before, falling more and +more into ruin, but still visited from year to year by the pilgrims, +whom even pillage and danger could not keep from Rome. For two +centuries,--from the thirteenth to the fifteenth,--scarcely any mention +of them is to be found. Petrarch, in his many letters about Rome, dwells +often on the sacredness of the soil within the city, in whose crypts and +churches so many saints and martyrs lie buried, but hardly refers to the +catacombs themselves, and never in such a way as to show that they were +an object of interest to him, though a lover of all Roman relics and a +faithful worshipper of the saints. It was near the end of the sixteenth +century that a happy accident--the falling in of the road outside the +Porta Salara--brought to light the streets of the Cemetery of St. +Priscilla, and awakened in Antonio Bosio a zeal for the exploration of +the catacombs which led him to devote the remainder of his long life to +the pursuit, and by study, investigation, and observation, to lay +the solid basis of the thorough and comprehensive acquaintance with +subterranean Rome which has been extended by the researches of a long +line of able scholars down to the present day. But to Bosio the +chief honor is due, as the earliest, the most exact, and the most +indefatigable of the explorers. + +It was during his lifetime that the story of St. Cecilia received a +continuation, of which he himself has left us a full account. In +the year 1599, Paolo Emilio Sfondrati, Cardinal of the Title of St. +Cecilia,[I] undertook a thorough restoration of the old basilica erected +by Paschal. He possessed a large collection of relics, and determined +that he would place the most precious of them under the high altar. For +this purpose the vault containing the sarcophagi in which St. Cecilia +and her companions lay must be opened, and on the 20th of October the +work was undertaken. Upon breaking through the wall, two sarcophagi of +white marble were discovered. The Cardinal was on the spot, and, in the +presence of numerous dignitaries of the Church, whom he had sent for as +witnesses, he caused the heavy top of the first of these stone coffins +to be lifted. Within was seen the chest of cypress-wood in which, +according to the old story, the Saint had been originally placed. +Sfondrati with his own hands removed the lid, and within the chest was +found the body of the virgin, with a silken veil spread over her rich +dress, on which could still be seen the stains of blood, while at her +feet yet lay the bloody cloths which had been placed there more than +thirteen centuries before. She was lying upon her right side, her feet a +little drawn up, her arms extended and resting one upon the other, +her neck turned so that her head rested upon the left cheek. Her form +perfectly preserved, and her attitude of the sweetest virginal grace and +modesty, it seemed as if she lay there asleep rather than dead.[J]--The +second sarcophagus was found to contain three bodies, which were +recognized as being, according to tradition, those of Tiburtius, +Valerian, and Maximus. + +[Footnote I: The _Titoli_ of Rome correspond nearly to Parishes. They +date from an early period in the history of the Church.] + +[Footnote J: "Dormientis instar," says Bosio, in his _Relatio +Inventionis et Repositionis S. Caeciliae et Sociorum_. The discovery +of the body of the Saint in this perfect state of preservation has, +of course, been attributed by many Romanist authors to miraculous +interposition. But it is to be accounted for by natural causes. The +soil of the catacombs and of Rome is in many parts remarkable for its +antiseptic qualities. The Cavaliere de Rossi informed us that he had +been present at the opening of an ancient tomb on the Appian Way, in +which the body of a young man had been found in a state of entire +preservation, fresh almost as on the day of its burial, and with it was +a piece of sponge which had apparently been soaked in blood,--for his +death had been by violence. In the winter of 1857, two marble sarcophagi +were found in one of the passages of the Catacombs of St. Callixtus, in +which excavations were then going on, and upon being opened, a body +was found in each, in a state, not of entire, but of almost perfect +preservation. The skin had become somewhat shrunk, and the flesh was +hardened and darkened, but the general form and features were preserved. +Possibly these also may have been the bodies of saints. The sarcophagi +were kept through the winter in the catacombs where they were found, and +their marble lids being removed, covers of glass were fitted to them, so +that the bodies might be seen by the visitors to the catacombs. It was a +frequent custom, chiefly in the fourth and fifth centuries, to bury the +rich in sarcophagi placed within tombs in the catacombs.] + +The day advanced as these discoveries were made, and Sfondrati having +had a chest of wood hastily lined with silk, and brought to a room in +the adjoining convent, which opened into the church, (it is the room +at the left, now used for the first reception of novices,) carried the +cypress chest with its precious contents to this apartment, and placed +it within the new box, which he locked and sealed. Then, taking the key +with him, he hastened to go out to Frascati, where Pope Clement VIII. +was then staying, to avoid the early autumn airs of Rome. The Pope was +in bed with the gout, and gave audience to no one; but when he heard of +the great news that Sfondrati had brought, he desired at once to see +him, and to hear from him the account of the discovery. "The Pope +groaned and grieved that he was not well enough to hasten at once to +visit and salute so great a martyr." But it happened that the famous +annalist, Cardinal Baronius, was then with the Pope at Frascati, and +Clement ordered him to go to Rome forthwith, in his stead, to behold and +venerate the body of the Saint. Sfondrati immediately took Baronius +in his carriage back to the city, and in the evening they reached the +Church of St. Cecilia.[K] Baronius, in the account which he has left +of these transactions, expresses in simple words his astonishment and +delight at seeing the preservation of the cypress chest, and of the body +of the Saint: "When we at length beheld the sacred body, it was then, +that, according to the words of David, 'as we had heard, so we saw, in +the city of the Lord of Hosts, in the city of our God.'[L] For as we had +read that the venerated body of Cecilia had been found and laid away by +Paschal the Pope, so we found it." He describes at length the posture +of the virgin, who lay like one sleeping, in such modest and noble +attitude, that "whoever beheld her was struck with unspeakable +reverence, as if the heavenly Spouse stood by as a guard watching his +sleeping Bride, warning and threatening: 'Awake not my love till she +please.'"[M] The next morning, Baronius performed Mass in the church in +memory and honor of St. Cecilia, and the other saints buried near her, +and then returned to Frascati to report to the Pope what he had seen. It +was resolved to push forward the works on the church with vigor, and +to replace the body of the Saint under its altar on her feast-day, the +twenty-second of November, with the most solemn pontifical ceremony. + +[Footnote K: This account is to be found in the _Annals_ of Baronius, +_ad annum_ 821.] + +[Footnote L: Psalm xlviii. 8.] + +[Footnote M: Song of Solomon, ii. 7.] + +Meanwhile the report of the wonderful discovery spread through Rome, +and caused general excitement and emotion. The Trasteverini, with whom +Cecilia had always been a favorite saint, were filled with joy, with +piety, and superstition. Crowds continually pressed to the church, and +so great was the ardor of worshippers, that the Swiss guards of the +court were needed to preserve order. Lamps were kept constantly burning +around the coffin, which was set near a grating in the wall between the +church and convent, so as to be visible to the devout. "There was +no need of burning perfumes and incense near the sacred body, for a +sweetest odor breathed out from it, like that of roses and lilies." + +Sfondrati, desirous to preserve for future generations a memorial +likeness of the Saint, ordered the sculptor Stefano Maderno to make a +statue which should represent the body of Cecilia as it was found lying +in the cypress chest. Maderno was then a youth of twenty-three years. +Sculpture at this time in Rome had fallen into a miserable condition of +degraded conventionalism and extravagance. But Maderno was touched with +the contagion of the religious enthusiasm of the moment, and his work is +full of simple dignity, noble grace, and tender beauty. No other work +of the time is to be compared with it. It is a memorial not only of the +loveliness of the Saint, but of the self-forgetful religious fervor of +the artist, at a period when every divine impulse seemed to be absent +from the common productions of Art. Rome has no other statue of such +sacred charm, none more inspired with Christian feeling. It lies in +front of the high altar, disfigured by a silver crown and a costly +necklace, the offerings of vulgar and pretentious adoration; but even +thus it is at once a proof and prophecy of what Art is to accomplish +under the influence of the Christian spirit. The inscription that +Sfondrati placed before the statue still exists. It is as follows: +"Behold the image of the most holy virgin Cecilia; whom I, Paul, +Cardinal of the Title of St. Cecilia, saw lying perfect in her +sepulchre; which I have caused to be made in this marble, in the very +position of the body, for you." + +The twenty-second of November arrived. The Pope had recovered from +his gout. The church was splendidly decorated. A solemn procession, +illustrated by the presence of all the great dignitaries of the Church, +of the ambassadors of foreign states, and the nobles of Rome, advanced +up the nave. Clement intoned the Mass. Then proceeding to the cypress +chest, it was lifted by four cardinals, and carried to the vault under +the altar, while the choir chanted the anthem, _O beata Coecilia, +quoe Almachium superâsti, Tiburtium et Valerianum ad martyrii coronam +vocâsti!_ The old coffin, undisturbed, was placed in a silver case; the +last service was performed, and the body of the virgin was once more +laid away to rest. + +We pass now over two centuries and a half. About five years ago the +Cavaliere de Rossi found lying upon the ground, in a _vigna_ bordering +on the Appian Way, about two miles from Rome, a portion of a sepulchral +stone on which were the letters NELIUS MARTYR, the NE broken across. +He immediately conjectured that this was a piece of the stone that had +covered the grave of Pope Cornelius, [A.D. 250-252,] and on the truth of +this conjecture important results depended. It was known that this pope +had been buried in the Catacombs of St. Callixtus; and it was known +also, from the itineraries and some other sources, that his grave was +not in the same chamber with the graves of the other popes who were +buried in those catacombs, but that it was not far away from it. It was +further known, as we have seen, that the chapel in which St. Cecilia +had been buried was close to the Chamber of the Popes. But a tradition +dating from a late period of the Middle Ages had given the name of +Callixtus to the catacombs opening from the Church of St. Sebastian, +at a little greater distance from Rome. In these catacombs the place +supposed to be that of St. Cecilia's grave was pointed out, and an +inscription set up to mark the spot, by a French archbishop, in the +year 1409, still exists. Many indications, however, led De Rossi +to disbelieve this tradition and to distrust this authority. It +contradicted the brief indications of the itineraries, and could not be +reconciled with other established facts. Not far from the place where +the broken inscription was found was an accidental entrance into +catacombs which had been supposed to have been originally connected with +those of St. Sebastian, but were believed by De Rossi to be a portion of +the veritable Catacombs of St. Callixtus, and quite separate from the +former. The paths in this part, however, were stopped up in so many +directions, that it was impossible to get an entrance through them to +such parts as might determine the question. Again, in the neighborhood +of the discovery of the broken stone was an old building, used as a +stable, and for other mean purposes. On examination of it, De Rossi +satisfied himself that it had been originally one of the churches +erected in the fourth century at the entrance of the catacombs, and he +had little doubt that he had now found the place of the main descent +into the Catacombs of St. Callixtus. The discovery was a great one; for +near the main entrance had been the burial-place of the popes, and of +St. Cecilia. De Rossi laid the results of his inductive process of +archaeological reasoning before the pope, who immediately gave orders +for the purchase of the _vigna_, and directions that excavations should +be at once begun.[N] + +[Footnote N: Another curious point was made by De Rossi previously to +the commencement of the explorations. It illustrates the accuracy of his +acquaintance with the underground archaeology. In one of the itineraries +it was said, speaking of the burial-place of Cornelius, that here also +St. Cyprian was buried. Now, as is well known, Cyprian was buried in +Africa, where he had suffered martyrdom. His martyrdom took place on +the same day with that of Cornelius, though in another year; and their +memories were consequently celebrated by the Church on the same day, the +16th of September. De Rossi declared, that, if he discovered the tomb of +St. Cornelius, he should find near it something which would explain the +error of the itinerary in stating that Cyprian's grave also was here. +And such proved to be the fact. On the wall, by the side of the grave, +was found a painting of Cornelius, with his name, "S[=c][=s] Cornelius," +and by the side of this figure was another painting of a bishop in his +robes, with the letters "S[=c][=s] Ciprianus."] + +[Transcriber's note: Here and below the = sign is used to indicate an +overscore.] + +The work was scarcely begun, before an ancient stairway, long ago buried +under accumulated earth and rubbish, was discovered, leading down to the +second story of the catacombs. The passages into which it opened were +filled with earth, but, as this was cleared away, a series of chambers +of unusual size, reaching almost to the surface of the soil, was entered +upon. At the right a wide door led into a large chapel. The walls were +covered with rudely scratched names and inscriptions, some in Greek +and some in Latin. De Rossi, whose eyes were practised in the work, +undertook to decipher these often obscure scribblings. They were for the +most part the inscriptions of the pilgrims who had visited these places, +and their great number gave proof that this was a most important portion +of the cemetery. The majority of these were simply names, or names +accompanied with short expressions of piety. Many, for instance, were in +such form as this,--[Greek: Elaphin eis mneian echete],--"Keep Elaphis +in remembrance." Many were expressions of devotion, written by the +pilgrims for the sake of those who were dear to them, as,--_Vivat in +Domino_, "May he live in the Lord"; _Pet[ite] ut Verecundus cum suis +bene naviget_, "Seek that Verecundus with his companions may voyage +prosperously." The character of the writing, the names and the style, +indicate that these inscriptions belong mostly to the third and fourth +centuries. Among these writings on the wall were one or two which +confirmed De Rossi in the opinion that this must be the sepulchre in +which the greater number of the popes of the third century had been +buried. Carefully preserving all the mass of rubbish which was taken +from the chamber, he set himself to its examination, picking out from +it all the bits and fragments of marble, upon many of which letters +or portions of letters were cut. Most of them were of that elaborate +character which is well known to all readers of the inscriptions from +the catacombs as that of Pope Damasus,--for this Pope [A.D. 366-385] had +devoted himself to putting up new inscriptions over celebrated +graves, and had used a peculiar and sharply cut letter, easy to be +distinguished. It was known that he had put new inscriptions over the +tombs of the popes buried in the Cemetery of St. Callixtus. After most +patient examination, De Rossi succeeded in finding and putting together +the inscriptions of four of these early popes, and, with Cuvier-like +sagacity, he reconstructed, out of a hundred and twelve separate, +minute, and scattered pieces, the metrical inscription in which Damasus +expressed his desire to be buried with them, but his fear of vexing +their sacred ashes.[O] + +[Footnote O: In another part of the catacombs the remainder of the stone +that had been set over the grave of Cornelius was found. It fitted +precisely the piece first found by De Rossi. The letters upon it +were CORN EP. The whole inscription then read, "Cornelius Martyr, +Ep[iscopus.]" It is rare that a bit of broken stone paves the way to +such discoveries. But it must be a man of genius who walks over the +pavement. Cardinal Wiseman has given an imperfect account of these +discoveries in his diverting novel, _Fabiola_.] + +There could no longer be any doubt; this was the Chapel of the +Popes, and that of St. Cecilia must be near by. Proceeding with the +excavations, a door leading into a neighboring crypt was opened. The +crypt was filled with earth and _débris_, which appeared to have +fallen into it through a _luminare_, now choked up with the growth and +accumulated rubbish of centuries. In order to remove the mass of earth +with least risk of injury to the walls of the chamber, it was determined +to take it out through the luminare from above. As the work advanced, +there were discovered on the wall of the luminare itself paintings +of the figures of three men, with a name inscribed at the side of +each,--Policamus, Sebastianus, and Cyrinus. These names inspired fresh +zeal, for they were those of saints who were mentioned in one or more +of the itineraries as having been buried in the same chapel with St. +Cecilia. As the chapel was cleared, a large arcosolium was found, and +near it a painting of a youthful woman, richly attired, adorned with +necklaces and bracelets, and the dress altogether such as might befit +a bride. Below, on the same wall, was a figure of a pope in his robes, +with the name "S[=e][=s] Urbanus" painted at the side: and close to this +figure, a large head of the Saviour, of the Byzantine type, with a glory +in the form of a Greek cross. The character of the paintings showed that +they were of comparatively late date, probably not earlier than the +sixth century, and obviously executed at a time when the chapel was +frequented by worshippers, and before the traditional knowledge of the +exact site of St. Cecilia's sepulchre had been lost. + +The discovery made by Paschal after the place had been deserted was thus +repeated by De Rossi after a second, longer, and more obscure period of +oblivion. The divine vision which had led the ancient Pope, according +to his own account, to the right spot, was now replaced by scientific +investigation. The statements of inspiration were confirmed, as in so +many more conspicuous instances, by the discoveries of science. Cecilia +had lain so near the popes, that she might, as she had said to Paschal, +have spoken to him when he was in their chapel, _as ad as_, "mouth to +mouth." But the questions naturally arose, Why was it that in Paschal's +time, before this chapel was encumbered with earth, it had been so +difficult to find her grave? and, Why had not the Lombards, who had +sought for her sacred body, succeeded in finding it? De Rossi was +able to furnish the solution. In several instances he had found walls +carefully built up in front of tombs so as to conceal them. It was plain +that this must have been done with some definite purpose; and it seems +altogether likely that it was to hide these tombs from sacrilegious +invaders. The walls had been built when the faithful were forced by +the presence of their enemies to desert the catacombs and leave them +unprotected. It was a striking illustration of the veneration in which +these holy places had been held. Upon examination of the floor in front +of the areosolium of this chapel, traces of the foundation of a wall +were discovered, and thus the Lombard failure and Paschal's difficulty +were explained. + +So ends the story of St Cecilia and her tomb. Within her church are the +remains of the bath-chamber where she suffered death. The mosaics of +the apse and the arch of triumph tell of the first finding of her body; +Maderno's statue recalls the fact of its second discovery long after; +and now this newly opened, long forgotten chapel shows where her +precious body was first laid away in peace, brings the legend of her +faithful death into clearer remembrance, and concludes the ancient story +with dramatic and perfect completeness. + +"The Lord discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to +light the shadow of death." + +[To be continued.] + + * * * * * + + +HAPPINESS. + + + Wing-Footed! thou abid'st with him + That asks it not: but he who hath + Watched o'er the waves thy fading path + Will never more on ocean's rim, + At morn or eve, behold returning + Thy high-heaped canvas shoreward yearning: + Thou only teachest us the core + And inmost meaning of No More, + Thou, who first showest us thy face + Turned o'er the shoulder's parting grace, + And whose sad footprints we can trace + Away from every mortal door! + + + + +THE PURE PEARL OF DIVER'S BAY. + + +When the great storms raged along the Atlantic coast, they sometimes +tossed a token into Diver's Bay. In more than one of the rude cabins +composing the fishermen's settlement memorials of shipwreck and disaster +might be found; and these memorials did not always fail to kindle +imagination, and to arouse soft feelings of pity for the calamities they +suggested. + +One morning, that dawned bright and mild after a week of tempest, +Clarice Briton went out with her coarse basket to gather the sea-weed +tossed on the shore. She was the first child out that morning, and on +account of the late storm, which had prevented the usual daily work, the +harvest was a rich one. + +There was always need that Clarice should work with her might when she +found work to do, and she now labored from dawn till sunrise, filling +her basket many times over, until the boards where she spread the weed +to dry were nearly covered. Then she threw herself down to rest by her +father's door. But when the sun was rising she went and sat among the +rocks, and watched the changing of the sky and water, and the flocks of +birds as they came screaming from their nests to dive among the waves +and mount beyond her sight among the mists of morning. She never tired +of watching them, or of gazing on these scenes. She knew the habits of +the shore birds, understood their indications and devices, and whatever +their movements foreboded concerning the weather. Clarice was also +versed in winds and clouds, and knew as well as the wise fishermen what +the north-wind had in store, and what the south-wind would give them. + +While she sat resting a few minutes, and wondering that the other +children of the beach were so long in waking to the pleasant day, +suddenly, as she looked down along the rocks that lay between her and +the water, she saw lying near her feet, securely lodged by the waves +among the stones, a basket. It was a very different affair from that +other, lying a few paces off, with which she went about gathering +sea-weed. It was small, and light, and delicately woven,--embroidered, +too, with floss. When she bent forward and picked it up, long strings +of shiny weed dangled dripping from the handles,--and something beside; +for, as she attempted to remove the traces of wild voyaging, something +that was not weed resisted her efforts, and caused her to raise the lid. +As she did so, a chain, which had been partly secured by the closing of +the lid, was disengaged, and fell into her lap. + +"What's that, Clarice?" said a voice just above her, as she in amazement +lifted the chain, and endeavored to free it from the weed. + +"Oh, Luke, there must have been a wreck! See! I found it just here at +my feet," said Clarice, sorrowfully,--apparently not taken by surprise +by the sudden coming and speaking of Luke Merlyn; she did not even lift +her head, nor for an instant turn to him from what occupied her. + +"There's a ring, too, I declare!" said Luke, coming down to her side; +and he took from her lap a small ring, in which was set a solitary +pearl;--the ring had dropped from the chain. "What next? Look in." + +Clarice opened the basket again, and turned out the white silk lining, +which was soaking and stained with wild sea-travel. "That is all," said +she. + +"That chain is a gold one," remarked Luke Merlyn. "There must have been +a wreck. Who do you suppose these things belonged to? Some lady? Look at +that basket now. She kept her trinkets in it. I suppose lots of 'em got +shook out by the way. I am glad it was you found it, Clarice. Just try +that ring on your finger now; I should think it might fit you." + +He took up the ring and looked at Clarice, but she shrunk back +shuddering. + +"Oh, no!--I should feel as if it would drag me down to the bottom of the +sea after the owner." + +"It's the neatest thing I ever saw, though, Clarice. Look, what a pearl! +You must keep it for your own, any way, if you won't wear it. Nobody +about here is fit but you. The poor little basket, too,--poor little +ark!" + +He took it up and looked it over, much as though it were a dead bird, or +some other pretty thing that once had life, and knew bow to enjoy it. + +"Are you going out to-day, Luke?" asked Clarice. + +"Don't you see I've got the net? Father will be down by the time I'm +ready. We are tired enough hanging about waiting for the blow to be +over." + +"May-be you will see something," said Clarice, in an undertone. "If you +could only find out about the ship, and the poor passengers!" + +"May-be," answered Luke,--saying this to comfort her. "Is your father +going out to-day?" + +"He said he would, last night. I'm glad it came off so pleasant. See +how long this chain is!--a great many times longer than his big +watch-chain!" + +"Worth fifty times as much, too." + +"Is it?" said Clarice, looking up in wonder, almost incredulous;--but +then Luke had said it. + +"This is gold. Come and walk down to the boat, Clarice. How many times +have you filled your basket this morning? You look tired. How did you +come to wake up so soon? I believe I heard you singing, and that was +what brought me out so quick." + +"I haven't sung any, Luke," she answered, looking at him in wonder. + +"Oh, yes!--I'm sure I heard you. I got up and looked out of my window; +there you were. You are the best girl around, Clarice! Come now, why +don't you say I'm the best fellow? Then we'll be even. I am, you know. +But then I want to hear you say so." + +The merry fellow was in earnest, though he laughed. He blushed more +deeply than the girl,--indeed, she did not blush at all,--when he thus +spoke to her. She looked at him a little surprised. + +"Come," said he, with gentle coaxing. "I know what you think. Speak out, +and make me feel happy, all the days of my life. If it wasn't that you +feel so about the ring--But why shouldn't you feel solemn about it? It +belonged to some beautiful lady, I suppose, who lies at rest in the +bottom of the sea by this time. _H.H._"--he read the initials engraved +on the clasp of the chain. + +Clarice, who held the ring, inadvertently turned it that moment to the +light so that her eyes could not fail to perceive that two letters were +also written by a graver underneath the pearl. These letters likewise +were _H.H._ She gave the ring, to Luke, pointing to the initials. + +"Yes, to be sure," said he, examining it with his bright eyes. "It's the +prettiest thing I ever saw. These letters must have stood for something. +Clarice,"--he hesitated a moment,--"Clarice, they might stand for +something yet, _Heart and Hand_. Here they are,--take them,--they're +yours,--my heart and my hand,--till Death comes between!" + +"Don't talk that way, Luke," answered the girl, gravely. "Your father is +waiting for you, I'm sure." + +But Luke did not believe that she was in such haste to be rid of him. + +"He hasn't gone down yet. I've watched," said he. "He'd be willing to +wait, if he knew what I was saying. Besides, if you are in a hurry, it +won't take but a minute to say yes, Clarice. Will you take my heart and +my hand? Here is your ring." + +Clarice took the ring and looked away; but, in looking away, her eyes +fell on Luke, and she smiled. + +"It's the prettiest thing, that ring is, in the world, except you, +Clarice,"--so the smile made him speak. + +"That's new for me," said the girl. "Talk sense, Luke." + +"Handsome is that handsome does, say I. And if you a'n't the best +girl in the Bay, Clary, who is, then? When are you going to say yes?" +demanded the young fellow. + +"Now," replied Clarice, suddenly. + +"Have you taken my heart and hand?" asked the lad as quickly, his face +glowing with delight. + +"Yes." + +"To keep forever, Clarice?" It seemed, after all, incredible. + +"Yes, Luke." And so speaking, the girl meant _yes, forever_. + +Now this promise had not really taken either of these children by +surprise. They had long understood each other. But when they had given +a mutual promise, both looked grave. Clarice stood by the water's edge, +careless that time was passing. Luke was in no hurry for his father. + +But at length a shrill voice called the girl. Dame Briton stood in the +cabin door, and her angry tongue was laden with reproaches ready for +utterance when Clarice should come within easier reach of her voice. + +"I must go," said Clarice to Luke. + +"I'll follow you, to-night. Don't work too hard," he answered. "Take +care of my heart, Clarice." + +A storm broke upon Clarice when she went home to her mother. She bore +the blame of her idleness with tolerable patience, until it seemed as if +the gale would never blow over. At last some quick words escaped her:-- + +"Three bushels of weed lie there on the boards ready spread, and drying. +I gathered them before another creature was stirring in Diver's Bay." +Then she added, more gently, "I found something besides." + +But though Dame Briton heard, she passed this last bit of information +without remark. + +"Idling down there on the beach to see the boys off fishing!" she could +not help saying. "You needn't be up afore the break o' day for work like +that." + +"It was Luke Merlyn." + +"No matter." + +"I showed him what I had found. Ask him if I'm ever too free. He'd know +as quick as anybody,--and care as much." + +Clarice, while speaking this, had departed yet farther both in look and +voice from her usual serenity. + +The dame let her last words pass without taking them up. She was by this +time curious. + +"What did you find?" asked she. + +Clarice showed the basket and the gold chain. Her mother handled both +with wondering admiration, asking many a question. At last she threw the +chain around her neck. + +"It's gold," said she. "It's worth much. If you could pick up the like +of that every day, you might let the old weed-basket drift." + +"I had rather gather weeds till my back was broken doing it, than ever +find another," said Clarice. + +The dame took this for a child's exaggeration; observing which, Clarice +said, sadly,-- + +"Why, don't you see how it came to shore? There's been a wreck in the +storm last week. Oh, may-be I've found all that will tell of it!" + +"What's that in your hand?" asked the dame, who spied the ring. + +Clarice half opened her palm; she did not like to let the ring pass from +her keeping, and all this while she had stood doubting whether or not +she should show it to her mother. + +Dame Briton took it quickly. The dull glitter of greedy eyes fell on the +mild lustre of the pearl, but found no reflection. + +"A ring!" said she, and she tried to fit it to her little finger. It +would not pass the first rough joint. + +"Try it," said she to Clarice. + +"No," was the quiet answer. "But I will keep the ring. It must have been +a lady's. May-be it was a token." + +"May-be it was.--If your father should take that chain to the Port, +he might make a handsome bargain,--if he was worth a snap at +bargains.--Here's something; what be these marks? look here, Clarice." + +The face of the girl flushed a little as she answered,--"_H. H_." + +"_H.H.!_ What does that mean? I wonder." + +"May-be the name of the owner," answered Clarice, timidly. + +She was thinking, not of what the letters might have meant to others, +but of what they had come to signify to her and Luke. + +"Who knows?" answered her mother; and she stood musing and absent, and +her face had a solemn look. + +Clarice now took the basket to the fireplace and held it there till it +was dried. With the drying the colors brightened and the sand was easily +brushed away; but many a stain remained on the once dainty white silk +lining; the basket would hardly have been recognized by its owner. +Having dried and cleansed it as well as she was able, Clarice laid it +away in a chest for safe-keeping, and then ate her breakfast, standing. +After that, she went out to work again until the tide should come in. +She left the chain with her mother, but the ring she had tied to a cord, +and hung it around her neck. + +By this time the children of the fishermen were all out, and the most +industrious of them at work. They scattered among the rocks and crags, +and wandered up and down the coast three miles, gathering sea-weed, +which it was their custom to dry, and then carry to town, the Port, not +many miles distant, where it was purchased by the glassmakers. + +Clarice had neither brother nor sister, and she made little of the +children of the neighboring fishermen; for her life was one of toil, and +her inheritance seemed very different from theirs, though they were all +poor, and ate the crusts of labor. + +Her father, had Nature only given him what she seemed to have intended +at the outset, might have been as successful a fisherman as lived at +the Bay. But he trusted to luck, and contrived to make half of what he +earned a serious damage to him. The remainder was little enough for the +comfort of his family, small though that family was. + +Briton was a good fellow, everybody said. They meant that he was always +ready for sport, and time-wasting, and drinking, and that sort of +generosity which is the shabbiest sort of selfishness. They called him +"Old Briton," but he was not, by many, the oldest man in Diver's Bay; +he might have been the wickedest, had he not been the jolliest, and +incapable of hiding malice in his heart. And if I said he was out and +out the wickedest, I should request that people would refrain from +lifting up their hands in horror, on account of the poor old fellow. We +all know--alas, perhaps, we all love--wickeder souls than could have +been produced from among the older fishermen, had all their sins been +concentrated in one individual. + +Old Briton was what the people called a lucky fisherman. In seasons when +he chose to work, the result was sufficiently obvious, to himself and +others, to astonish both. But even in the best seasons he was a bad +manager. He trusted everybody, and found, to his astonishment, how few +deserve to be trusted. + +Dame Briton was a stout, loud-talking woman, whom experience had not +softened in her ways of speech or thought or action. She was generally +at strife with her husband, but the strife was most illogical. It did +not admit of a single legitimate deduction in the mind of a third +person. It seemed sometimes as if the pair were possessed of the +instincts of those animals which unite for mutual destruction, and as if +their purpose were to fulfil their destiny with the utmost rapidity. + +In the years when Dame Briton, by nature proud and ambitious, was +putting forth the most successful efforts she ever made at decent +housekeeping, endeavoring to transform her husband into such a person as +he was not born to be, striving hard to work her will,--in those years +Clarice was born. + +Is the pearl a product of disease? + +Clarice grew up in the midst of influences not the purest or most +elevating. She was not by nature gay, but silent, truthful, and +industrious. She was no coward by nature, and her training made her +brave and hardy. Sometimes Old Briton called her his boy, and exacted +from her the service of a son. Dame Briton did not quarrel with him for +that; she was as proud as the fisherman of any feat of skill or strength +or courage performed by Clarice. In their way they were both fond of the +child, but their fondness had strange manifestation; and of much tender +speech, or fondling, or praise, the girl stood in no danger. + +Idleness especially was held up before her, from the outset, as the most +destructive evil and dire iniquity of which human creature was capable; +and Old Briton, lounging about all day with his pipe in his mouth,--by +no means a rare spectacle,--did not interfere with the lesson the +child's mother enforced. Winter and summer there was enough for the +little feet and hands to do. So, as Clarice grew up, she earned the best +reputation for industry of any girl in Diver's Bay. + +Before she became the praise of the serious Bay people, Luke Merlyn's +bright eyes were on the little girl, and he had a settled habit of +seeking times and opportunities for quiet talks with her. He liked to +ask and follow her advice in many matters. Many a heavy basket of weeds +had he helped her carry home from the rocks; many a shell and pebble had +he picked up in his coast-work, when he went beyond the limits of the +Bay,--because he knew the good girl had a liking for every pretty thing. + +If Clarice Briton was the finest girl, Luke Merlyn, beyond question, was +the most promising fellow in this little village of fishermen. He was +strong, active, ready for any undertaking that required a bold spirit +and firm hand,--was quicker in thought and readier in speech than any +lad about. He had a little personal vanity,--and good looks to encourage +the same; but he had besides a generous heart, and the conviction was +general, whether expressed or not, that in Luke a man was growing up who +would some day take the lead among the fishermen of Diver's Bay. He had +a livelier fancy, a more active imagination, than any lad thereabout; +these qualities of mind, united to his courage and warmth of heart, +seemed to point toward a future worth arriving at. + + +II. + +When Luke returned from fishing, towards evening, he went down to +Briton's cabin, hardly taking time to remove from his person the traces +of his day of toil, his haste was so great. + +Briton had arrived before him, and now sat at supper with his cup of +grog beside him. When Luke entered, Dame Briton was exhibiting the gold +chain, reserved, in spite of her impatience, till she had cooked the +supper. + +It was partly on account of this chain that Luke had made such haste in +coming. He felt interested in the fortunes of the family to-night, and +he knew Briton's habit of bargaining and throwing away treasure. + +Clarice was standing on the hearth when he arrived. As Luke passed the +window, he thought her face looked very sad; but when he crossed the +threshold, the expression greatly changed, or else he was mistaken. She +had been telling her father how she found the chain,--but concerning the +ring was silent, as in the morning. That ring was still fastened to its +cord, and hung about her neck. With reluctance she had shown it even +to her mother, and by this time, having scarcely thought of anything +beside, it possessed an almost sacred charm to her eyes. Why should I +not say it was the most sacred of all things to her, since that is but +true? + +"Is that the chain," asked Luke, as he came up behind the fisherman's +chair, and clapped Old Briton on the shoulder. "You could trade that for +a silver watch." + +"What's that?" asked Briton, quickly taking up the lad's words; and he +pulled out his pewter watch and laid it on the table. "A silver watch?" +said he. + +"A silver watch, as good as ever run, for that gold chain. Just see how +fine it is!" + +"So, so!" said the fisherman, thoughtfully resting his rough chin in his +broad palm. That was his attitude, when, at home, he contemplated any +of those famous bargains which always turned out so differently from +anything that he anticipated. + +"Let Luke do the trading for ye," said Briton's wife, quickly +recognizing his symptoms. + +She looked from the lad to her daughter, and back again, five or six +times in a second,--seeing more than most people could have seen in +observation apparently so careless and superficial. + +"I kept a sharp look out, Clary, all day, but I saw nothing," said Luke, +going over to the hearth. + +"Nothing,--but," he added, she looked so disappointed, "but, for all +that, some one else may." + +"Oh, I hope so"!" + +"What are you talking about?" asked Briton. + +"The shipwreck," said Luke. + +"Oh!--well, Luke,--will you make the trade, Sir? What do _you_ say, +Clarice? The chain belongs to you, after all," said Briton, with a +laugh,--he could not help the shipwreck. "What are you going to do with +it, my girl?" + +"It is yours, father." + +"Thank ye!--a present!" Old Briton looked well pleased. + +"And if Luke will take it over"-- + +"I'll go to-night," said Luke, ready to start that moment, if such was +the wish of any person in the house. + +Briton laughed. "No, you won't," said he. "What the deuse!--Sit down and +take something. What are you all standing about for? Sit down. You shall +do the trading, Luke. There now, I've said it, and I hope you are all +easy." + +He laughed again; for he knew very well--he had often enough heard it +stated in full--the estimate set on his skill in making a bargain. + +"You haven't seen the ring yet?" said Dame Briton, quite kindly, now +that this matter was settled to her mind. "Where's the ring, Clarice?" + +Other eyes were on the girl besides those of her mother. Old Briton +pushed back his dish, and looked at Clarice. Luke was smiling. That +smile became joyful and beautiful to see, when Clarice, blushing, +removed the string from her neck and showed the ring. + +"That's neat," said Briton, turning the delicate ornament round and +round, examining its chaste workmanship admiringly. "I never saw a +pearl like that, Mother. What do you wear it round your neck for, +Clarice?--put it on your finger." + +Luke Merlyn had come to Briton's cabin to explain how matters stood +between him and Clarice, as well as to look after the other bargain. +Taking advantage of her hesitation, he now said,-- + +"She could not wear it at her work. And it's a token betwixt her and me. +_Heart and Hand_. Don't you see the letters? That's what they mean to +us." + +Luke spoke out so boldly, that Clarice ceased to tremble; and when he +took her hand and held it, she was satisfied to stand there and answer, +that the joined hands were a symbol of the united hearts. + +"What's that, old woman?" asked Briton, looking at his wife, as if for +an explanation. + +"Luke, what do you mean? Are you asking for Clarice?" inquired the dame. + +"Yes, Mrs. Briton." + +"That's right enough, old woman," said Briton; and strong approval, +together with some emotion, was in his voice. + +"Babes in arms, both of 'em! But a promise a'n't no hurt,"--was the +dame's comment. Neither was she quite unmoved, as she looked at the +young pair standing on the hearth; such another, her heart told her, was +not to be found in Diver's Bay. + +"Clarice is a good girl, Luke Merlyn," said Old Briton, solemnly. + +"She is so," confirmed the mother. "So take the ring there for your +token." + +Luke came forward and received the ring from Old Briton, and he laid the +string that held it round Clarice's neck. + +"Take this chain," said Briton, with a softened voice. "It's fitter than +the string, and none too good for Clarice. Take it, Luke, and put the +ring on't." + +"I'm going to trade that chain for a silver watch," said Luke, answering +according to the light he saw in the eyes of Clarice. "That chain is +Clary's wedding present to her father." + +"Thank you, Luke," said Briton,--and he drew his hand across his eyes, +not for a pretence. Then he took up his old pewter watch, the companion +of many years; he looked at it without and within, silently; perhaps was +indulging in a little sentimental reflection; but he put it into his +pocket without speaking, and went on with his supper, as if nothing had +happened. + + * * * * * + +This took place before Clarice was fourteen years of age. At seventeen +she was still living under her father's roof, and between her and Luke +Merlyn the pearl ring still remained a token. + +Luke used to praise her beauty when there was little of it to praise. +He was not blinder when the young face began to be conspicuous for the +growing loveliness of the spirit within. The little slender figure +sprang up into larger, fuller life, with vigor, strength, and grace; the +activity of her thoughts and the brightness of their intelligence became +evident, as well as the tenderness and courage of her heart. Her own +home, and many another, was the better for Clarice. + +Some Sunday in this summer of her seventeenth year, when the missionary +came down to the Bay, they were to be married. It was settled where they +were to live. A few years before, a young artist came to the Bay and +built a cabin near the settlement; there, during the summer months, he +lodged, for several seasons,--spending his time in studying the rocks +of the coast and sailing about in his pleasure-boat. The last autumn he +spent here he gave the cabin to Luke, in consideration of some generous +service, and it was well known that to this home Luke would bring his +wife ere long. + + +III. + +But one bright day of this gay summer of anticipated bridal, Luke Merlyn +went with his father, taking the fishing-nets, and a dozen men beside +sailed or rowed out from the moorings; and all that went returned, save +Merlyn and his son,--returned alive, but rowing desperately, sails +furled, rowing for life in the gale. Nearly all the women and children +of the Bay were down on the beach at nightfall, watching for the coming +of husband, son, and brother; and before dark all had arrived except +Merlyn and his Luke. + +The wind was blowing with terrific violence, and darkness fell on the +deep like despair. But until the windows of heaven were opened, and the +floods poured down, Clarice Briton and her father, and the wife and +children of Merlyn, stood on the beach, or climbed the rocks, and waited +and tried to watch. + +There was little sleep among them all that night. With the first +approach of day, Clarice, who had sat all night by the fire watching +with her fears, was out again waiting till dawn should enable her +to search the shore. She was not long alone. The fishermen gathered +together, and when they saw the poor girl who had come before them, for +her sake they comforted each other, as men dare,--and for her sake, more +than their own, when they saw that there had come in to shore by night +no token of disaster. Doubtless, they argued, Merlyn had put into the +nearest port when the sudden storm arose. As the day advanced, they one +after another got out their boats, and rowed down the bay, but did not +take their nets. + +Bondo Emmins went out with Old Briton, and Clarice heard him say, though +he did not address her, that, if Luke Merlyn was alive, they would never +come home without him. Now Bondo Emmins never loved Luke Merlyn, for +Luke won every prize that Bondo coveted; and Bondo was not a hero to +admire such superior skill. When Clarice heard his words, and saw that +he was going out with her father, her heart stood still; it did not +bless him; she turned away quickly, faint, cold, shivering. What he said +had to her ears the sound of an assurance that this search was vain. + +All day there was sad waiting, weary watching, around Diver's Bay. And +late in the afternoon but one or two of the boats that went out in +search had returned. + +Towards evening Clarice walked away to the Point, three miles off; +thence she could watch the boats as they approached the Bay from the +ocean. Once before, that day, under the scorching noontide sun, she had +gone thither,--and now again, for she could not endure the sympathy of +friends or the wondering watch of curious eyes. It was better than to +stand and wait,--better than to face the grief of Merlyn's wife and +children,--better than to see the pity in her neighbors' faces, or even +than to hear the voice of her own mother. + +The waves had freight for her that evening. When the tide came in, and +her eyes were lifted, gazing afar, scanning the broad expanse of water +with such searching, anxious vision, as, it seemed, nothing could +escape, Luke Merlyn's cap was dashed to her very feet, tossed from the +grave. + +Moving back to escape the encroaching tide, Clarice saw the cap lying, +caught on the cragged point of rock before her. Oh, she knew it well! +She stooped,--she took it up,--she need not wait for any other token. +She dared not look upon the sea again. She turned away. But whither? +Where now was her home? So long a time, since she was a child, it had +been in the heart of Luke! Where was that heart lying? What meant this +token sent to her from the deep sea? Oh, life and love! was not all now +over? Heart still, hand powerless, home lost, she sat on the beach till +night fell. At sunset she stood up to look once more up and down the +mighty field of waters, along the shore, as far as her eyes could +reach,--but saw nothing. Then she sat down again, and waited until long +after the stars appeared. Once or twice the thought that her mother +would wonder at her long absence moved her; but she impatiently +controlled the feeble impulse to arise and return, until she recalled +the words of Bondo Emmins. Luke's mother, too,--and the cap in her care. +If no one else had tidings for her, she had tidings. + +Her father had reached home before her, and there was now no watcher on +the beach, so far as Clarice could discover. Perhaps there was no longer +any doubt in any mind. She hurried to the cabin. At the door she met +Bondo Emmins coming out. He had a lantern in his hand. + +"Is that you, Clarice?" said he. "I was just going to look for you." + +She scanned his face by the glare of the lantern with terrible +eagerness, to see what tidings he had for her. He only looked grave. It +was a face whose signs Clarice had never wholly trusted, but she did not +doubt them now. + +"I have found his cap," said she, in a low, troubled voice. "You said, +that, if he was alive, you would find him. I heard you. What have you +found?" + +"Nothing." + +Then she passed by him, though he would have spoken further. She went +into the house and sat down on the hearth with Luke's cap in her hand, +which she held up before the fire to dry. So she sat one morning holding +the tiny basket which the waves had dashed ashore. + +Briton and his wife looked at each other, and at young Emmins, who, +after a moment's hesitation, had put out the lantern light, and followed +her back into the house. + +"It is his cap," said Bondo, in a low voice, but not so low as to escape +the ear of Clarice. + +"The sea sent it for a token," said she, without turning her gaze from +the fire. + +The old people moved up to the hearth. + +"Sit down, Emmins," said Briton. "You've served us well to-day." In any +trouble Old Briton's comfort was in feeling a stout wall of flesh around +him. + +Bondo sat down. Then he and Briton helped each other explain the course +taken by themselves and the other boat-men that day, and they talked of +what they would do on the morrow; but they failed to comfort Clarice, +or to awaken in her any hope. She knew that in reality they had no hope +themselves. + +"They will never come back," said she. "You will never find them." + +She spoke so calmly that her father was deceived. If this was her +conviction, it would be safe to speak his own. + +"The tide may bring the poor fellows in," said he. + +At these words the cap which the poor girl held fell from her hand. +She spoke no more. No word or cry escaped her,--not by a look did she +acknowledge that there was community in this grief,--as solitary as if +she were alone in the universe, she sat gazing into the fire. She was +not overcome by things external, tangible, as she had been when she sat +alone out on the sea-beach at the Point. The world in an instant seemed +to sink out of her vision, and time from her consciousness; her soul set +out on a search in which her mortal sense had failed,--and here no arm +of flesh could help her. + +"I shall find him," she said, in a whisper. They all heard her, and +looked at one another, trouble and wonder in their faces. "I shall find +him," she repeated, in a louder tone; and she drew herself up, and bent +forward,--but her eyes saw not the cheerful fire-light, her ears took +in no sound of crackling fagot, rising wind, or muttered fear among the +three who sat and looked at her. + +Bondo Emmins had taken up the cap when Clarice dropped it,--he had +examined it inside and out, and passed it to Dame Briton. There was +no mistaking the ownership. Not a child of Diver's Bay but would have +recognized it as the property of Luke Merlyn. The dame passed it to the +old man, who looked at it through tears, and then smoothed it over his +great fist, and came nearer to the fire, and silence fell upon them all. + +At last Dame Briton said, beginning stoutly, but ending with a sob, "Has +anybody seen poor Merlyn's wife? Who'll tell her? Oh! oh!" + +"I will go tell her that Clarice found the cap," said Bondo Emmins, +rising. + +Clarice sat like one in a stupor,--but, that was no dull light shining +from her eyes. Still she seemed deaf and dumb; for, when Bondo bade her +good-night, she did not answer him, nor give the slightest intimation +that she was aware of what passed around her. + +But when he was gone, and her father said,--"Come, Clarice,--now for +bed,--you'll wake the earlier,"--she instantly arose to act on his +suggestion. + +He followed her to the door of her little chamber and lingered there a +moment. He wanted to say something for comfort, but had nothing to say; +so he turned away in silence, and drank a pint of grog. + + +IV. + +Bondo Emmins was not a native of Diver's Bay. Only during the past three +or four years had he lived among the fishermen. He called the place his +home, but now and then indications of restlessness escaped him, and +seemed to promise years of wandering, rather than a life of patient, +contented industry. He and Luke Merlyn were as unlike as any two young +men that ever fished in the same bay. Luke was as firm, constant, +reliable, from the day when he first managed a net, as any veteran whose +gray hairs are honorable. Emmins flashed here and there like a wandering +star; and whatever people might say of him when he was out of sight, he +had the art of charming them to admiration while they were under his +personal influence. He was lavish with his money; almost every cabin had +a gift from him. He could talk forever, and with many was a true oracle. +Though he worked regularly at his business, work seemed turned to play +when he took it in hand. He could shout so as to be heard across the +ocean,--so the children thought; he told stories better than any; and at +the signal of his laughter it seemed as if the walls themselves would +shake to pieces. When he hit on a device, it was strange indeed if +he did not succeed in executing it; and no one was the wiser for the +mortification and inward displeasure of the man, when he failed in any +enterprise. + +When Emmins came to Diver's Bay Clarice Briton was but a child, yet +already the promised wife of Luke Merlyn. If this fact was made known +to him, as very probably it was, Clarice was not a girl to excite his +admiration or win his love. But as time passed on, Emmins found that he +was not the only man in Diver's Bay; of all men to regard as a rival, +there was Luke Merlyn! Luke, who went quietly about his business, +interfering with no one, careful, brave, exact, had a firm place among +the people, which might for a time be overshadowed, but from which he +could not be moved. Two or three times Bondo Emmins stumbled against +that impregnable position, and found that he must take himself out of +the way. A small jealousy, a sharp rivalry, which no one suspected, +quietly sprang up in his mind, and influenced his conduct; and he was +not one who ever attempted to subdue or destroy what he found within +him, he was instead always endeavoring to bring the outer world +into harmony with what he found within. A fine time he had of it, +persistently laboring to make a victim of himself to himself! + +People praised Clarice Briton, and now and then Emmins looked that way, +and saw that the girl, indeed, was well enough. He despised Luke, and +Clarice seemed a very proper match for him. But while Bondo Emmins was +managing in his own way, and cherishing the feeling he had against Luke, +by seeking to prove himself the braver and more skilful fellow, Clarice +was growing older in years and in love, her soul was growing brighter, +her heart was getting lighter, her mind clearer,--her womanhood was +unfolding in a certain lovely manner that was discernible to other eyes +than those of Luke Merlyn. Luke said it was the ring that wrought the +change,--that he could see its light all around her,--that it had a +charm of which they could know nothing save by its results, for its +secret had perished with its owner in the sea. His mermaid he would +sometimes call her,--and declared that often, by that mysterious pearly +light, he saw Clarice when far out at sea, and that at any time by two +words he could bring her to him. She knew the words,--they were as dear +to her as to him. + +While Clarice was thus unfolding to this loveliness through love, Bondo +Emmins suddenly saw her as if for the first time. The vision was to him +as surprising as if the ring had indeed a power of enchantment, and +it had been thrown around him. He was as active and as resolute in +attempting to persuade himself that all this was nothing to him as +he was active and resolute in other endeavors,--but he was not as +successful as he supposed he should be. For it was not enough that +Emmins should laugh at himself, and say that the pretty couple were +meant for each other. Now and then, by accident, he obtained a glimpse +of Clarice's happy heart; the pearl-like secret of their love, which was +none the less a secret because everybody knew that Luke and Clarice were +to be married some day, would sometimes of itself unexpectedly give some +token, which he, it seemed, could better appreciate than any one beside +the parties concerned. When some such glimpse was obtained, some such +token received, Bondo Emmins would retire within himself to a most +gloomy seclusion; there was a world which had been conquered, and +therein he had no foothold. If Clarice wore the pearl in her bosom, on +Luke's head was a crown, and Bondo Emmins just hated him for that. + +But he never thought of a very easy method by which he might have +escaped the trouble of his jealousy. The great highway of ocean was open +before him, and millions of men beside Luke Merlyn were in the world, +millions of women beside Clarice Briton. No! Diver's Bay,--and a score +of people,--and a thought that smelt like brimstone, and fiery enough +to burn through the soul that tried to keep it,--this for +him;--fishing,--making bargains,--visiting at Old Briton's,--making +presents to the dame,--telling stories, singing songs by that fireside, +and growing quieter by every other,--that was the way he did it;--cured +himself of jealousy? No! made himself a fool. + +Old Briton liked this young man; he could appreciate his excellences +even better than he could those of Luke; there were some points +of resemblance between them. Emmins was as careless of money, as +indifferent to growing rich, as Briton ever was; the virtues of the +youth were not such as ever reproached the vices of the veteran. They +could make boisterous merriment in each other's company. Briton's praise +was never lacking when Bondo's name was mentioned. He accepted service +of the youth, and the two were half the time working in partnership. In +the cabin he had always a welcome, and Dame Briton gave him her entire +confidence. + +Luke did not fear, he had once admired the man; and because he was a +peace-maker by nature, and could himself keep the peace, he never took +any of Bondo's scathing speech in anger nor remembered it against him. +Usually he joined in the laugh, unless some brave, manly word were +required; honorable in his nature, he could not be always jealous in +maintaining that of which he felt so secure. + +If Clarice did not penetrate the cause, she clearly saw the fact that +Bondo Emmins had no love for Luke. She might wonder at it, but Luke +suffered no loss in consequence,--it was rather to his praise, she +thought, that this was so. And she remembered the disputes between the +young men which she had chanced to hear, only to decide again, as she +had often decided, in favor of Luke's justice and truth. + +When the time of great trouble came, and this man was going out with her +father in search of Merlyn and his son, her impulse, had she acted on +it, would have prevented him. He looked so strong, so proud, in spite +of his solemn face! He looked so full of life, she could not endure to +think that his eyes might discover the dead body of poor Luke. + +When she came home and found that he had returned with her father, +before her, on the evening of that day of vain search for Merlyn and his +son, a strange satisfaction came to Clarice for a moment,--touched her +heart and passed,--was gone as it came. When she said, "I shall find +him," conviction, as well as determination, was in the words,--and more +beside than entered the ears of those that heard her. + +[To be continued.] + + + + +THE STORY OF KARIN. + +A DANISH LEGEND. + + + Karin the fair, Karin the gay, + She came on the morn of her bridal day,-- + + She came to the mill-pond clear and bright, + And viewed hersel' in the morning light. + + "And oh," she cried, "that my bonny brow + May ever be white and smooth as now! + + "And oh, my hair, that I love to braid, + Be yellow in sunshine, and brown in shade! + + "And oh, my waist, sae slender and fine, + May it never need girdle longer than mine!" + + She lingered and laughed o'er the waters clear, + When sudden she starts, and shrieks in fear:-- + + "Oh, what is this face, sae laidly old, + That looks at my side in the waters cold?" + + She turns around to view the bank, + And the osier willows dark and dank;-- + + And from the fern she sees arise + An aged crone wi' awsome eyes, + + "Ha! ha!" she laughed, "ye're a bonny bride! + See how ye'll fare gin the New Year tide! + + "Ye'll wear a robe sae blithely gran', + An ell-long girdle canna span. + + "When twal-months three shall pass away, + Your berry-brown hair shall be streaked wi' gray. + + "And gin ye be mither of bairnies nine, + Your brow shall be wrinkled and dark as mine." + + Karin she sprang to her feet wi' speed, + And clapped her hands abune her head:-- + + "I pray to the saints and spirits all + That never a child may me mither call!" + + The crone drew near, and the crone she spake:-- + "Nine times flesh and banes shall ache. + + "Laidly and awsome ye shall wane + Wi' toil, and care, and travail-pain." + + "Better," said Karin, "lay me low, + And sink for aye in the water's flow!" + + The crone raised her withered hand on high, + And showed her a tree that stood hard by. + + "And take of the bonny fruit," she said, + "And eat till the seeds are dark and red. + + "Count them less, or count them more, + Nine times you shall number o'er;-- + + "And when each number you shall speak, + Cast seed by seed into the lake." + + Karin she ate of the fruit sae fine; + 'Twas mellow as sand, and sweet as brine. + + Seed by seed she let them fall; + The waters rippled over all. + + But ilka seed as Karin threw, + Uprose a bubble to her view,-- + + Uprose a sigh from out the lake, + As though a baby's heart did break. + + * * * * * + + Twice nine years are come and gone; + Karin the fair she walks her lone. + + She sees around, on ilka side, + Maiden and mither, wife and bride. + + Wan and pale her bonny brow, + Sunken and sad her eyelids now. + + Slow her step, and heavy her breast, + And never an arm whereon to rest. + + The old kirk-porch when Karin spied, + The postern-door was open wide. + + "Wae's me!" she said, "I'll enter in + And shrive me from my every sin." + + 'Twas silence all within the kirk; + The aisle was empty, chill, and mirk. + + The chancel-rails were black and bare; + Nae priest, nae penitent was there. + + Karin knelt, and her prayer she said; + But her heart within her was heavy and dead. + + Her prayer fell back on the cold gray stone; + It would not rise to heaven alone. + + Darker grew the darksome aisle, + Colder felt her heart the while. + + "Wae's me!" she cried, "what is my sin? + Never I wrongèd kith nor kin. + + "But why do I start and quake wi' fear + Lest I a dreadful doom should hear? + + "And what is this light that seems to fall + On the sixth command upon the wall? + + "And who are these I see arise + And look on me wi' stony eyes? + + "A shadowy troop, they flock sae fast + The kirk-yard may not hold the last. + + "Young and old of ilk degree, + Bairns, and bairnies' bairns, I see. + + "All I look on either way, + 'Mother, mother!' seem to say. + + "'We are souls that might have been, + But for your vanity and sin. + + "'We, in numbers multiplied, + Might have lived, and loved, and died,-- + + "'Might have served the Lord in this,-- + Might have met thy soul in bliss. + + "'Mourn for us, then, while you pray, + Who might have been, but never may!'" + + Thus the voices died away,-- + "Might have been, but never may!" + + Karin she left the kirk no more; + Never she passed the postern-door. + + They found her dead at the vesper toll;-- + May Heaven in mercy rest her soul! + + + + +THE ABBÉ DE L'ÉPÉE. + + +It was well said, by one who has himself been a leader in one of the +great philanthropic enterprises of the day,[A] that, "if the truthful +history of any invention were written, we should find concerned in it +the thinker, who dreams, without reaching the means of putting his +imaginings in practice,--the mathematician, who estimates justly the +forces at command, in their relation to each other, but who forgets to +proportion them to the resistance to be encountered,--and so on, through +the thousand intermediates between the dream and the perfect idea, till +one comes who combines the result of the labor of all his predecessors, +and gives to the invention new life, and with it his name." + +[Footnote A: M. Edouard Seguin.] + +Such was the history of the movement for the education of deaf-mutes. +There had been a host of dreamy thinkers, who had invented, on paper, +processes for the instruction of these unfortunates, men like Cardan, +Bonet, Amman, Dalgarno, and Lana-Terzi, whose theories, in after years, +proved seeds of thought to more practical minds. There had been men +who had experimented on the subject till they were satisfied that +the deaf-mute could be taught, but who lacked the nerve, or the +philanthropy, to apply the results they had attained to the general +instruction of the deaf and dumb, or who carefully concealed their +processes, that they might leave them as heir-looms to their +families;--among the former may be reckoned Pedro de Ponce, Wallis, and +Pietro da Castro; among the latter, Pereira and Braidwood. + +Yet there was wanting the man of earnest philanthropic spirit and +practical tact, who should glean from all these whatever of good there +was in their theories, and apply it efficiently in the education of +those who through all the generations since the flood had been dwellers +in the silent land, cut off from intercourse with their fellow-men, and +consigned alike by the philosopher's dictum and the theologian's decree +to the idiot's life and the idiot's destiny. + +It was to such a work that the Abbé de l'Épée consecrated his life. But +he did more than this; he, too, was a discoverer, and to his mind was +revealed, in all its fulness and force, that great principle which lies +at the basis of the system of instruction which he initiated,--"that +there is no more necessary or natural connection between abstract ideas +and the articulate sounds which strike the ear, than there is between +the same ideas and the written characters which address themselves to +the eye." It was this principle, derided by the many, dimly perceived by +the few, which led to the development of _the sign-language_, the means +which God had appointed to unlock the darkened understanding of the +deaf-mute, but which man, in his self-sufficiency and blindness, had +over-looked. + +It is interesting to trace the history of such a man,--to know something +of his childhood,--to learn under what influences he was reared, to what +temptations exposed,--to see the guiding hand of Providence shaping his +course, subjecting him to the discipline of trial, thwarting his most +cherished projects, crushing his fondest hopes, and all, that by these +manifold crosses he may be the better prepared for the place for which +God has destined him. We regret that so little is recorded of this truly +great and good man, but we will lay that little before our readers. + +Charles Michel de l'Épée was born at Versailles, November 5th, 1712. His +father, who held the post of Architect to the King, in an age remarkable +above any other in French history for the prevalence of immorality, +which even the refinement and pretended sanctity of the court and +nobility could not disguise, was a man of deep piety and purity of +character. Amid the lust, selfishness, and hypocrisy of the age, +he constantly sought to impress upon the minds of his children the +importance of truthfulness, the moderation of desire, reverence for God, +and love for their fellow-men. + +To the young Charles Michel compliance with the behests of such a parent +was no difficult task; naturally amiable and obedient, the instructions +of his father sunk deep into his heart. At an early age, he manifested +that love of goodness which made every form of vice utterly distasteful +to him; and in after years, when he heard of the struggles of those who, +with more violent passions or less careful parental training, sought to +lead the Christian life, his own pure and peaceful experience seemed +to him wanting in perfection, because he had so seldom been called to +contend with temptation. + +As manhood approached, and he was required to fix upon a profession, his +heart instinctively turned toward a clerical life, not, as was the case +with so many of the young priests of that day, for its honors, its +power, or its emoluments, but because, in that profession, he might +the better fulfil the earnest desire of his heart to do good to his +fellow-men. He accordingly commenced the study of theology. Here all +went well for a time; but when he sought admission to deacon's orders, +he was met by unexpected opposition. To a pious mind, like that of young +De l'Épée, the consistent and Scriptural views of the Jansenists, not +less than their pure and virtuous lives, were highly attractive, and +through the influence of a clerical friend, a nephew of the celebrated +Bossuet, he had been led to examine and adopt them. The diocesan to whom +he applied for deacon's orders was a Jesuit, and, before he would admit +him, he required him to sign a formula of doctrine which was abhorrent +alike to his reason and his conscience. He refused at once, and, on his +refusal, his application was rejected; and though subsequently admitted +to the diaconate, he was insultingly told by his superior, that he need +not aspire to any higher order, for it should not be granted. + +It was with a saddened heart that he found himself thus compelled to +forego long cherished hopes of usefulness. With that glowing imagination +which characterized him even in old age, he had looked forward to the +time when, as the curate of some retired parish, he might encourage the +devout, reprove and control the erring, and, by his example, counsel, +and prayers, so mould and influence the little community, that it should +seem another Eden. But an overruling Providence had reserved for him a +larger field of usefulness, a more extended mission of mercy, and it was +through the path of trial that he was to be led to it. + +Regarding it as his duty to employ his time, he at length determined +to enter the legal profession. He passed with rapidity through the +preliminary course of study, and was admitted to the bar. The practice +of the law was not, at that time, in France, nor is it, indeed, now, +invested with the high character attaching to it in England. Its +codes and rules bore the impress of a barbarous age; and among its +practitioners, fraud, artifice, and chicanery were the rule, and honesty +the rare and generally unfortunate exception. + +For such a profession the pure-minded De l'Épée found himself entirely +unfitted, and, abandoning it with loathing, his eyes and heart were +again directed toward the profession of his choice, and, this time, +apparently not in vain. His early friend, M. de Bossuet, had been +elevated to the see of Troyes, and, knowing his piety and zeal, offered +him a canonry in his cathedral, and admitted him to priest's orders. +The desire of his heart was now gratified, and he entered upon his new +duties with the utmost ardor. "In all the diocese of Troyes," says one +of his contemporaries, "there was not so faithful a priest." + +But his hopes were soon to be blasted. Monseigneur de Bossuet died, and, +as the Jansenist controversy was at its height, his old enemies, the +Jesuits, exerted their influence with the Archbishop of Paris, and +procured an interdict, prohibiting him from ever again exercising the +functions of the priesthood. + +A severer blow could scarcely have fallen upon him. He sought not for +honor, he asked not for fame or worldly renown; he had only desired to +be useful, to do good to his fellow-men; and now, just as his hopes were +budding into fruition, just as some results of his faithful labors were +beginning to appear, all were cut off by the keen breath of adversity. + +It was while suffering from depression, at his unjust exclusion from +the duties of his calling, that his attention was first directed to the +unfortunate class to whom he was to be the future evangelist, or bringer +of good tidings. Bébian thus relates the incident which led him to +undertake the instruction of the deaf and dumb:-- + +"He happened one day to enter a house, where he found two young females +engaged in needlework, which seemed to occupy their whole attention. He +addressed them, but received no answer. Somewhat surprised at this, he +repeated his question; but still there was no reply; they did not even +lift their eyes from the work before them. In the midst of the Abbé's +wonder at this apparent rudeness, their mother entered the room, and +the mystery was at once explained. With tears she informed him that +her daughters were deaf and dumb; that they had received, by means +of pictures, a little instruction from Father Farnin, a benevolent +ecclesiastic of the order of "Christian Brothers," in the neighborhood; +but that he was now dead, and her poor children were left without any +one to aid their intellectual progress.--'Believing,' said the Abbé, +'that these two unfortunates would live and die in ignorance of +religion, if I made no effort to instruct them, my heart was filled with +compassion, and I promised, that, if they were committed to my charge, I +would do all for them that I was able.'" + +It was in 1755 that the Abbé de l'Épée thus entered upon his great +mission. Six years before, Jacob Rodriguez de Pereira had come from +Spain, and exhibited some deaf and dumb pupils whom he had taught, +before the Academy of Sciences. They were able to speak indifferently +well, and had attained a moderate degree of scientific knowledge. +Pereira himself was a man of great learning, of the most agreeable and +fascinating manners, and possessed, in a high degree, that tact and +address in which the Spanish Jews have never been surpassed. He soon +made a very favorable impression upon the court, and led a pleasant life +in the society of the literary men of the age. During his residence in +France, he taught some five or six mutes of high rank to speak and to +make considerable attainments in science,--charging for this service +most princely fees, and at the same time binding his pupils to perfect +secrecy in regard to his methods, which it was his intention to +bequeathe to his family. This intention was thwarted, however, soon +after his death, by a fire which destroyed nearly all his papers, and to +this day his method has remained a secret, unknown even to his children. +It is certain, however, that he made no use of the sign-language, though +there is some evidence that he invented and practised a system of +syllabic dactylology. Of this, the only successful effort which, up to +that time, had been made in France, to teach deaf-mutes, it is obvious +that De l'Épée could have known nothing, save the fact that it +demonstrated the capacity of some of this class to receive instruction. +It is, indeed, certain, from his own statements, that, at the time of +commencing his labors, he had no knowledge of any works on the subject. +He had somewhere picked up the manual alphabet invented by Bonet in +1620; and in subsequent years he derived some advantages from the works +of Cardan, Bonet, Amman, Wallis, and Dalgarno. + +It was well for the deaf and dumb that he entered upon his work thus +untrammelled by any preconceived theory; for he was thus prepared to +adopt, without prejudice, whatever might facilitate the great object +for which he labored. "I have not," he said, in a letter to Pereira, in +which he challenged an open comparison of their respective systems of +instruction, promising to adopt his, should it prove to be better than +his own,--"I have not the silly pride of desiring to be an inventor; +I only wish to do something for the benefit of the deaf-mutes of all +coming ages." + +We have already adverted to the great principle which lay at the +foundation of his system of instruction. The corollary deduced from +this, that the idea was substantive, and had an existence separate +from and independent of all words, written or spoken, was a startling +proposition in those days, however harmless we may now regard it. +But, convinced of its truth, De l'Épée set to himself the problem of +discovering how this _idea_ could be presented to the mind of the mute +without words; and in their gestures and signs he found his problem +solved. Henceforth, the way, though long and tedious, was plain before +him. To extend, amplify, and systematize this language of signs was his +task. How well he accomplished his work, the records of Deaf and Dumb +Institutions, in Europe and America, testify. Others have entered into +his labors and greatly enlarged the range of sign-expression,--modified +and improved, perhaps, many of its forms; but, because Lord Rosse's +telescope exceeds in power and range the little three-foot tube of +Galileo Galilei, shall we therefore despise the Italian astronomer? To +say that his work, or that of the Abbé De l'Épée, was not perfect, is +only to say that they were mortals like ourselves. + +But it is not only, or mainly, as a philosopher, that we would present +the Abbé De l'Épée to our readers, he was far more than this; he was, in +the highest sense of the word, a philanthropist. While Pereira, in the +liberal compensation he received from French nobles for the instruction +of their mute children, laid the foundation of that fortune by means of +which his grandsons are now enabled to rank with the most eminent of +French financiers, De l'Épée devoted his time and his entire patrimony +to the education of indigent deaf-mutes. His school, which was soon +quite large, was conducted solely at his own expense, and, as his +fortune was but moderate, he was compelled to practise the most careful +economy; yet he would never receive gifts from the wealthy, nor admit to +his instructions their deaf and dumb children. "It is not to the rich," +he would say, "that I have devoted myself; it is to the poor only. Had +it not been for _these_, I should never have attempted the education of +the deaf and dumb." + +In 1780, he was waited upon by the ambassador of the Empress of Russia, +who congratulated him on his success, and tendered him, in her name, +valuable gifts. "Mr. Ambassador," was the reply of the noble old man, "I +never receive money; but have the goodness to say to her Majesty, that, +if my labors have seemed to her worthy of any consideration, I ask, as +an especial favor, that she will send to me from her dominions some +ignorant deaf and dumb child, that I may instruct him." + +When Joseph II., of Austria, visited Paris, he sought out De l'Épée, +and offered him the revenues of one of his estates. To this liberal +proposition the Abbé replied: "Sire, I am now an old man. If your +Majesty desires to confer any gift, upon the deaf and dumb, it is not my +head, already bent towards the grave, that should receive it, but the +good work itself. It is worthy of a great prince to preserve whatever is +useful to mankind." The Emperor, acting upon his suggestion, soon after +sent one of his ecclesiastics to Paris, who, on receiving the necessary +instruction from De l'Épée, established at Vienna the first national +institution for the deaf and dumb. + +A still more striking instance of the self-denial to which his love for +his little flock prompted him is related by Bébian. During the severe +winter of 1788, the Abbé, already in his seventy-seventh year, denied +himself a fire in his apartment, and refused to purchase fuel for this +purpose, lest he should exceed the moderate sum which necessarily +limited the annual expenditure of his establishment. All the +remonstrances of his friends were unavailing; his pupils at length cast +themselves at his feet, and with tears besought him to allow himself +this indulgence, for their sake, if not for his own. Their importunities +finally prevailed; but for a long time he manifested the greatest regret +that he had yielded, often saying, mournfully, "My poor children, I have +wronged you of a hundred crowns!" + +That this deep and abiding affection was fully reciprocated by those +whom he had rescued from a life of helpless wretchedness was often +manifested. He always called them his children, and, indeed, his +relation to them had more of the character of the parent than of the +teacher. On one occasion, not long before his decease, in one of his +familiar conversations with them, he let fall a remark which implied +that his end might be approaching. Though he had often before spoken of +death, yet the idea that _he_ could thus be taken from them had never +entered their minds, and a sudden cry of anguish told how terrible to +them was the thought. Pressing around him, with sobs and wailing, they +laid hold of his garments, as if to detain him from the last long +journey. Himself affected to tears by these tokens of their love for +him, the good Abbé succeeded, at length, in calming their grief; he +spoke to them of death as being, to the good, only the gate which +divides us from heaven; reminded them that the separation, if they were +the friends of God, though painful, would be temporary; that he should +go before them, and await their coming, and that, once reunited, no +further separation would ever occur; while there the tongue would be +unloosed, the ear unsealed, and they would be enabled to enjoy the music +as well as the glories of heaven. Thus quieted, with chastened grief +came holy aspiration; and it is not unreasonable to hope that the world +of bliss, in after years, witnessed the meeting of many of these poor +children with their sainted teacher. + +It is interesting to observe the humility of such a man. The praises +lavished on him seemed not in any way to elate him; and he invariably +refused any commendation for his labors: "He that planteth is nothing, +neither he that watereth, but God, who giveth the increase," was his +reply to one who congratulated him on the success which had attended his +labors. + +With one incident more we must close this "record of a good man's life." +Some years after the opening of his school for deaf-mutes, a deaf and +dumb boy, who had been found wandering in the streets of Paris, was +brought to him. With that habitual piety which was characteristic of +him, De l'Épée received the boy as a gift from Heaven, and accordingly +named him Theodore. The new comer soon awakened an unusual interest +in the mind of the good Abbé. Though dressed in rags when found, his +manners and habits showed that he had been reared in refinement and +luxury. But, until he had received some education, he could give no +account of himself; and the Abbé, though satisfied that he had been the +victim of some foul wrong, held his peace, till the mental development +of his _protégé_ should enable him to describe his early home. Years +passed, and, as each added to his intelligence, young Theodore was able +to call to mind more and more of the events of childhood. He remembered +that his ancestral home had been one of great magnificence, in a large +city, and that he had been taken thence, stripped of his rich apparel, +clothed in rags, and left in the streets of Paris. The Abbé determined, +at once, to attempt to restore his _protégé_ to the rights of which he +had been so cruelly defrauded; but, being himself too infirm to attempt +the journey, he sent the youth, with his steward, and a fellow-pupil +named Didier, to make the tour of all the cities of France till they +should find the home of Theodore. Long and weary was their journey, and +it was not till after having visited almost all of the larger cities, +that they found that the young mute recognized in Toulouse the city of +his birth. Each of its principal streets was evidently familiar to him, +and at length, with a sudden cry, he pointed out a splendid mansion as +his former home. It was found to be the palace of the Count de Solar. +On subsequent inquiry, it appeared that the heir of the estate had been +deaf and dumb; that some years before he had been taken to Paris, and +was said to have died there. The dates corresponded exactly with the +appearance of young Theodore in Paris. As soon as possible, the Abbé +and the Duke de Penthièvre commenced a lawsuit, which resulted in the +restoration of Theodore to his title and property. The defeated party +appealed to the Parliament, and, by continuing the case till after the +death of the Abbé and the Duke, succeeded in obtaining a reversal of the +decision, and the declaration that the claimant was an impostor. Stung +with disappointment at the blighting of his hopes, young Theodore +enlisted in the army, and was slain in his first battle. + +The Abbé de l'Épée died at Paris on the 23d of December, 1789, in the +seventy-eighth year of his age. Had he been spared two years longer, he +would have seen his school, the object of his fond cares, adopted by the +government, and decreed a national support. But though this act, and the +accompanying vote, which declared that it was "done in honor of Charles +Michel de l'Épée, _a man who deserved well of his country_," were +creditable to the National Assembly, and the people whom it represented, +yet we cannot but remember the troublous times that followed,--times in +which no public service, no private goodness, neither the veneration +due to age, the delicacy of womanhood, nor the winsome helplessness +of infancy, was any protection against the insensate vengeance of a +maddened people; and remembering this, we cannot regret that he whose +life had been so peaceful was laid in a quiet grave ere the coming of +the tempest. + +It is but justice, however, to the French people to say, that no name +in their history is heard with more veneration, or with more profound +demonstrations of love and gratitude, than that of the Abbé de l'Épée. +In 1843, the citizens of Versailles, his birth-place, erected a bronze +statue in his honor; and the highest dignitaries of the state, amid the +acclamations of assembled thousands, eulogized his memory. In 1855, the +centennial anniversary of the establishment of his school for deaf-mutes +was celebrated at Paris, and was attended by delegations from most of +the Deaf and Dumb Institutions of Europe. + +But sixty-eight years have elapsed since the death of this noble +philanthropist, and, already, more than two hundred institutions for the +deaf and dumb have been established, on the system projected by him and +improved by his successors; and tens of thousands of mutes throughout +Christendom, in consequence of his generous and self-denying zeal, have +been trained for usefulness in this life, and many of them, we hope, +prepared for a blissful hereafter. To all these the name of the Abbé de +l'Épée has been one cherished in their heart of hearts; and, through +all the future, wherever the understanding of the deaf-mute shall be +enlightened by instruction, his memory shall be blessed. + + + + +WHO IS THE THIEF? + +(_Extracted from the Correspondence of the London Police_.) + + +FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE, OF THE DETECTIVE POLICE, TO SERGEANT +BULMER, OF THE SAME FORCE. + +London, 4th July, 18--. + +Sergeant Bulmer, + +This is to inform you that you are wanted to assist in looking up a case +of importance, which will require all the attention of an experienced +member of the force. The matter of the robbery on which you are now +engaged you will please to shift over to the young man who brings you +this letter. You will tell him all the circumstances of the case, just +as they stand; you will put him up to the progress you have made (if +any) towards detecting the person or persons by whom the money has been +stolen; and you will leave him to make the best he can of the matter now +in your hands. He is to have the whole responsibility of the case, and +the whole credit of his success, if he brings it to a proper issue. + +So much for the orders that I am desired to communicate to you. A word +in your ear, next, about this new man who is to take your place. His +name is Matthew Sharpin; and between ourselves, Sergeant, I don't think +much of him. He has not served his time among the rank and file of the +force. You and I mounted up, step by step, to the places we now fill; +but this stranger, it seems, is to have the chance given him of dashing +into our office at one jump,--supposing he turns out strong enough to +take it. You will naturally ask me how he comes by this privilege. I can +only tell you, that he has some uncommonly strong interest to back him +in certain high quarters, which you and I had better not mention except +under our breaths. He has been a lawyer's clerk; and he looks, to my +mind, rather a mean, underhand sample of that sort of man. According to +his own account,--by the bye, I forgot to say that he is wonderfully +conceited in his opinion of himself, as well as mean and underhand to +look at,--according to his own account, he leaves his old trade and +joins ours of his own free will and preference. You will no more believe +that than I do. My notion is, that he has managed to ferret out some +private information, in connection with the affairs of one of his +master's clients, which makes him rather an awkward customer to keep in +the office for the future, and which, at the same time, gives him hold +enough over his employer to make it dangerous to drive him into a corner +by turning him away. I think the giving him this unheard-of chance among +us is, in plain words, pretty much like giving him hush-money to keep +him quiet. However that may be, Mr. Matthew Sharpin is to have the case +now in your hands; and if he succeeds with it, he pokes his ugly nose +into our office, as sure as fate. You have heard tell of some sad stuff +they have been writing lately in the newspapers, about improving the +efficiency of the Detective Police by mixing up a sharp lawyer's clerk +or two along with them. Well, the experiment is now going to be tried; +and Mr. Matthew Sharpin is the first lucky man who has been pitched on +for the purpose. We shall see how this precious move succeeds. I put +you up to it, Sergeant, so that you may not stand in your own light by +giving the new man any cause to complain of you at head-quarters, and +remain yours, + +Francis Theakstone. + + +FROM MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE. + +London, 5th July, 18--. + +Dear Sir, + +Having now been favored with the necessary instructions from Sergeant +Bulmer, I beg to remind you of certain directions which I have received, +relating to the report of my future proceedings, which I am to prepare +for examination at head-quarters. + +The document in question is to be addressed to you. It is to be not only +a daily report, but an hourly report as well, when circumstances may +require it. All statements which I send to you, in this way, you are, as +I understand, expected to examine carefully before you seal them up and +send them in to the higher authorities. The object of my writing and of +your examining what I have written is, I am informed, to give me, as an +untried hand, the benefit of your advice, in case I want it (which I +venture to think I shall not) at any stage of my proceedings. As the +extraordinary circumstances of the case on which I am now engaged make +it impossible for me to absent myself from the place where the robbery +was committed, until I have made some progress towards discovering the +thief, I am necessarily precluded from consulting you personally. Hence +the necessity of my writing down the various details, which might, +perhaps, be better communicated by word of mouth. This, if I am not +mistaken, is the position in which we are now placed. I state my own +impressions on the subject, in writing, in order that we may clearly +understand each other at the outset,--and have the honor to remain your +obedient servant, + +Matthew Sharpin. + + +FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN. + +London, 5th July, 18--. + +Sir, + +You have begun by wasting time, ink, and paper. We both of us perfectly +well knew the position we stood in towards each other, when I sent you +with my letter to Sergeant Bulmer. There was not the least need to +repeat it in writing. Be so good as to employ your pen, in future, on +the business actually in hand. You have now three separate matters +on which to write me. First, you have to draw up a statement of your +instructions received from Sergeant Bulmer, in order to show us that +nothing has escaped your memory, and that you are thoroughly acquainted +with all the circumstances of the case which has been entrusted to you. +Secondly, you are to inform me what it is you propose to do. Thirdly, +you are to report every inch of your progress, (if you make any,) from +day to day, and, if need be, from hour to hour as well. This is your +duty. As to what _my_ duty may be, when I want you to remind me of it, I +will write and tell you _so_. In the mean time I remain yours, + +Francis Theakstone. + + +FROM MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE. + +London, 6th July, 18--. + +Sir, + +You are rather an elderly person, and, as such, naturally inclined to be +a little jealous of men like me, who are in the prime of their lives +and their faculties. Under these circumstances, it is my duty to be +considerate towards you, and not to bear too hardly on your small +failings. I decline, therefore, altogether, to take offence at the tone +of your letter; I give you the full benefit of the natural generosity of +my nature; I sponge the very existence of your surly communication out +of my memory; in short, Chief Inspector Theakstone, I forgive you, and +proceed to business. + +My first duty is to draw up a full statement of the instructions I have +received from Sergeant Bulmer. Here they are at your service, according +to my version of them. + +At Number Thirteen, Rutherford Street, Soho, there is a stationer's +shop. It is kept by one Mr. Yatman. He is a married man, but has no +family. Besides Mr. and Mrs. Yatman, the other inmates of the house are +a lodger, a young single man named Jay, who occupies the front room on +the second floor,--a shopman, who sleeps in one of the attics,--and a +servant-of-all-work, whose bed is in the back-kitchen. Once a week a +charwoman comes to help this servant. These are all the persons who, on +ordinary occasions, have means of access to the interior of the house, +placed, as a matter of course, at their disposal. + +Mr. Yatman has been in business for many years,--carrying on his affairs +prosperously enough to realize a handsome independence for a person in +his position. Unfortunately for himself, he endeavored to increase +the amount of his property by speculating. He ventured boldly in his +investments, luck went against him, and rather less than two years ago +he found himself a poor man again. All that was saved out of the wreck +of his property was the sum of two hundred pounds. + +Although Mr. Yatman did his best to meet his altered circumstances, by +giving up many of the luxuries and comforts to which he and his wife had +been accustomed, he found it impossible to retrench so far as to allow +of putting by any money from the income produced by his shop. The +business has been declining of late years,--the cheap advertising +stationers having done it injury with the public. Consequently, up +to the last week, the only surplus property possessed by Mr. Yatman +consisted of the two hundred pounds which had been recovered from the +wreck of his fortune. This sum was placed as a deposit in a joint-stock +bank of the highest possible character. + +Eight days ago, Mr. Yatman and his lodger, Mr. Jay, held a conversation +together on the subject of the commercial difficulties, which are +hampering trade in all directions at the present time. Mr. Jay (who +lives by supplying the newspapers with short paragraphs relating to +accidents, offences, and brief records of remarkable occurrences in +general,--who is, in short, what they call a penny-a-liner) told his +landlord that he had been in the city that day, and heard unfavorable +rumors on the subject of the joint-stock banks. The rumors to which he +alluded had already reached the ears of Mr. Yatman from other quarters; +and the confirmation of them by his lodger had such an effect on his +mind,--predisposed, as it was, to alarm, by the experience of his former +losses,--that he resolved to go at once to the bank and withdraw his +deposit. It was then getting on toward the end of the afternoon; and he +arrived just in time to receive his money before the bank closed. + +He received the deposit in bank-notes of the following amounts:--one +fifty-pound note, three twenty-pound notes, six ten-pound notes, and six +five-pound notes. His object in drawing the money in this form was +to have it ready to lay out immediately in trifling loans, on good +security, among the small tradespeople of his district,--some of whom +are sorely pressed for the very means of existence at the present time. +Investments of this kind seemed to Mr. Yatman to be the most safe and +the most profitable on which he could now venture. + +He brought the money back in an envelope placed in his breast pocket; +and asked his shopman, on getting home, to look for a small flat tin +cash-box, which had not been used for years, and which, as Mr. Yatman +remembered it, was exactly of the right size to hold the bank-notes. For +some time the cash-box was searched for in vain. Mr. Yatman called to +his wife to know if she had any idea where it was. The question was +overheard by the servant-of-all-work, who was taking up the tea-tray at +the time, and by Mr. Jay, who was coming down stairs on his way out +to the theatre. Ultimately the cash-box was found by the shopman. Mr. +Yatman placed the bank-notes in it, secured them by a padlock, and +put the box in his coat pocket. It stuck out of the coat pocket a very +little, but enough to be seen. Mr. Yatman remained at home, up stairs, +all that evening. No visitors called. At eleven o'clock he went to bed, +and put the cash-box under his pillow. + +When he and his wife woke the next morning, the box was gone. Payment +of the notes was immediately stopped at the Bank of England; but no news +of the money has been heard of since that time. + +So far, the circumstances of the case are perfectly clear. They point +unmistakably to the conclusion that the robbery must have been committed +by some person living in the house. Suspicion falls, therefore, upon the +servant-of-all-work, upon the shopman, and upon Mr. Jay. The two first +knew that the cash-box was being inquired for by their master, but did +not know what it was he wanted to put into it. They would assume, of +course, that it was money. They both had opportunities (the servant, +when she took away the tea,--and the shopman, when he came, after +shutting up, to give the keys of the till to his master) of seeing the +cash-box in Mr. Yatman's pocket, and of inferring naturally, from its +position there, that he intended to take it into his bedroom with him at +night. + +Mr. Jay, on the other hand, had been told, during the afternoon's +conversation on the subject of joint-stock banks, that his landlord had +a deposit of two hundred pounds in one of them. He also knew that Mr. +Yatman left him with the intention of drawing that money out; and he +heard the inquiry for the cash-box, afterwards, when he was coming down +stairs. He must, therefore, have inferred that the money was in the +house, and that the cash-box was the receptacle intended to contain it. +That he could have had any idea, however, of the place in which Mr. +Yatman intended to keep it for the night is impossible, seeing that he +went out before the box was found, and did not return till his landlord +was in bed. Consequently, if he committed the robbery, he must have gone +into the bedroom purely on speculation. + +Speaking of the bedroom reminds me of the necessity of noticing the +situation of it in the house, and the means that exist of gaining easy +access to it at any hour of the night. The room in question is the back +room on the first floor. In consequence of Mrs. Yatman's constitutional +nervousness on the subject of fire, which makes her apprehend being +burnt alive in her room, in case of accident, by the hampering of the +lock, if the key is turned in it, her husband has never been accustomed +to lock the bedroom door. Both he and his wife are, by their own +admission, heavy sleepers. Consequently, the risk to be run by any +evil-disposed persons wishing to plunder the bedroom was of the most +trifling kind. They could enter the room by merely turning the handle of +the door; and if they moved with ordinary caution, there was no fear +of their waking the sleepers inside. This fact is of importance. It +strengthens our conviction that the money must have been taken by one of +the inmates of the house, because it tends to show that the robbery, in +this case, might have been committed by persons not possessed of the +superior vigilance and cunning of the experienced thief. + +Such are the circumstances, as they were related to Sergeant Bulmer, +when he was first called in to discover the guilty parties, and, if +possible, to recover the lost bank-notes. The strictest inquiry which he +could institute failed of producing the smallest fragment of evidence +against any of the persons on whom suspicion naturally fell. Their +language and behavior, on being informed of the robbery, was perfectly +consistent with the language and behavior of innocent people. Sergeant +Bulmer felt, from the first, that this was a case for private inquiry +and secret observation. He began by recommending Mr. and Mrs. Yatman to +affect a feeling of perfect confidence in the innocence of the persons +living under their roof; and he then opened the campaign by employing +himself in following the goings and comings, and in discovering the +friends, the habits, and the secrets of the maid-of-all-work. + +Three days and nights of exertion on his own part, and on that of others +who were competent to assist his investigations, were enough to satisfy +him that there was no sound cause for suspicion against the girl. + +He next practised the same precautions in relation to the shopman. +There was more difficulty and uncertainty in privately clearing up this +person's character without his knowledge, but the obstacles were at last +smoothed away with tolerable success; and though there is not the same +amount of certainty, in this case, which there was in the case of the +girl, there is still fair reason for believing that the shopman has had +nothing to do with the robbery of the cash-box. + +As a necessary consequence of these proceedings, the range of suspicion +now becomes limited to the lodger, Mr. Jay. When I presented your letter +of introduction to Sergeant Buhner, he had already made some inquiries +on the subject of this young man. The result, so far, has not been at +all favorable. Mr. Jay's habits are irregular; he frequents public +houses, and seems to be familiarly acquainted with a great many +dissolute characters; he is in debt to most of the tradespeople whom +he employs; he has not paid his rent to Mr. Yatman for the last month; +yesterday evening he came home excited by liquor, and last week he was +seen talking to a prize-fighter. In short, though Mr. Jay does call +himself a journalist, in virtue of his penny-a-line contributions to the +newspapers, he is a young man of low tastes, vulgar manners, and bad +habits. Nothing has yet been discovered, in relation to him, which +redounds to his credit in the smallest degree. + +I have now reported, down to the very last details, all the particulars +communicated to me by Sergeant Buhner. I believe you will not find an +omission anywhere; and I think you will admit, though you are prejudiced +against me, that a clearer statement of facts was never laid before you +than the statement I have now made. My next duty is to tell you what I +propose to do, now that the case is confided to my hands. + +In the first place, it is clearly my business to take up the case at +the point where Sergeant Buhner has left it. On his authority, I am +justified in assuming that I have no need to trouble myself about the +maid-of-all-work and the shopman. Their characters are now to be +considered as cleared up. What remains to be privately investigated is +the question of the guilt or innocence of Mr. Jay. Before we give up +the notes for lost, we must make sure, if we can, that he knows nothing +about them. + +This is the plan that I have adopted, with the full approval of Mr. and +Mrs. Yatman, for discovering whether Mr. Jay is or is not the person who +has stolen the cash-box:-- + +I propose, to-day, to present myself at the house in the character of a +young man who is looking for lodgings. The back room on the second floor +will be shown to me as the room to let; and I shall establish myself +there to-night, as a person from the country, who has come to London to +look for a situation in a respectable shop or office. By this means I +shall be living next to the room occupied by Mr. Jay. The partition +between us is mere lath and plaster. I shall make a small hole in it, +near the cornice, through which I can see what Mr. Jay does in his room, +and hear every word that is said when any friend happens to call on him. +Whenever he is at home, I shall be at my post of observation. Whenever +he goes out, I shall be after him. By employing these means of watching +him, I believe I may look forward to the discovery of his secret--if he +knows anything about the lost bank-notes--as to a dead certainty. + +What you may think of my plan of observation I cannot undertake to +say. It appears to me to unite the invaluable merits of boldness +and simplicity. Fortified by this conviction, I close the present +communication with feelings of the most sanguine description in regard +to the future, and remain your obedient servant, + +Matthew Sharpin. + + +FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. + +7th July. + +Sir, + +As you have not honored me with any answer to my last communication, I +assume, that, in spite of your prejudices against me, it has produced +the favorable impression on your mind which I ventured to anticipate. +Gratified and encouraged beyond measure by the token of approval which +your eloquent silence conveys to me, I proceed to report the progress +that has been made in the course of the last twenty-four hours. + +I am now comfortably established next door to Mr. Jay; and I am +delighted to say that I have two holes in the partition, instead of one. +My natural sense of humor has led me into the pardonable extravagance +of giving them both appropriate names. One I call my Peep-Hole, and the +other my Pipe-Hole. The name of the first explains itself; the name of +the second refers to a small tin pipe, or tube, inserted in the hole, +and twisted so that the mouth of it comes close to my ear, when I am +standing at my post of observation. Thus, while I am looking at Mr. Jay +through my Peep-Hole, I can hear every word that may be spoken in his +room through my Pipe-Hole. + +Perfect candor--a virtue which I have possessed from my childhood-- +compels me to acknowledge, before I go any farther, that the ingenious +notion of adding a Pipe-Hole to my proposed Peep-Hole originated with +Mrs. Yatman. This lady--a most intelligent and accomplished person, +simple, and yet distinguished, in her manners--has entered into all my +little plans with an enthusiasm and intelligence which I cannot too +highly praise. Mr. Yatman is so cast down by his loss, that he is quite +incapable of affording me any assistance. Mrs. Yatman, who is evidently +most tenderly attached to him, feels her husband's sad condition of mind +even more acutely than she feels the loss of the money; and is mainly +stimulated to exertion by her desire to assist in raising him from the +miserable state of prostration into which he has now fallen. "The money, +Mr. Sharpin," she said to me yesterday evening, with tears in her eyes, +"the money may be regained by rigid economy and strict attention to +business. It is my husband's wretched state of mind that makes me so +anxious for the discovery of the thief. I may be wrong, but I felt +hopeful of success as soon as you entered the house; and I believe, +that, if the wretch who has robbed us is to be found, you are the man to +discover him." I accepted this gratifying compliment in the spirit in +which it was offered,--firmly believing that I shall be found, sooner or +later, to have thoroughly deserved it. + +Let me now return to business,--that is to say, to my Peep-Hole and my +Pipe-Hole. + +I have enjoyed some hours of calm observation of Mr. Jay. Though rarely +at home, as I understand from Mrs. Yatman, on ordinary occasions, he has +been in-doors the whole of this day. That is suspicious, to begin with. +I have to report, further, that he rose at a late hour this morning, +(always a bad sign in a young man,) and that he lost a great deal +of time, after he was up, in yawning and complaining to himself of +headache. Like other debauched characters, he eat little or nothing for +breakfast. His next proceeding was to smoke a pipe, a dirty clay pipe, +which a gentleman would have been ashamed to put between his lips. When +he had done smoking, he took out pen, ink, and paper, and sat down +to write, with a groan,--whether of remorse for having taken the +bank-notes, or of disgust at the task before him, I am unable to say. +After writing a few lines, (too far away from my Peep-Hole to give me +a chance of reading over his shoulder,) he bent back in his chair, and +amused himself by humming the tunes of popular songs. I recognized "My +Mary Anne," "Bobbin' Around," and "Old Dog Tray," among other melodies. +Whether these do or do not represent secret signals by which he +communicates with his accomplices remains to be seen. After he had +amused himself for some time by humming, he got up and began to walk +about the room, occasionally stopping to add a sentence to the paper on +his desk. Before long, he went to a locked cupboard and opened it. I +strained my eyes eagerly, in expectation of making a discovery. I saw +him take something carefully out of the cupboard,--he turned round,--it +was only a pint-bottle of brandy! Having drunk some of the liquor, this +extremely indolent reprobate lay dawn on his bed again, and in five +minutes was fast asleep. + +After hearing him snoring for at least two hours, I was recalled to +my Peep-Hole by a knock at his door. He jumped up and opened it with +suspicious activity. A very small boy, with a very dirty face, walked +in, said, "Please, Sir, I've come for copy," sat down on a chair with +his legs a long way from the ground, and instantly fell asleep! Mr. Jay +swore an oath, tied a wet towel round his head, and, sitting down to his +paper, began to cover it with writing as fast as his fingers could move +the pen. Occasionally getting up to dip the towel in water and tie it +on again, he continued at this employment for nearly three hours,--then +folded up the leaves of writing, woke the boy, and gave them to him, +with this remarkable expression: "Now, then, young sleepy-head, quick, +march! If you see the Governor, tell him to have the money ready for +me when I call for it." The boy grinned, and disappeared. I was sorely +tempted to follow "sleepy-head," but, on reflection, considered it +safest still to keep my eye on the proceedings of Mr. Jay. + +In half an hour's time, he put on his hat and walked out. Of course, I +put on my hat and walked out also. As I went down stairs, I passed Mrs. +Yatman going up. The lady has been kind enough to undertake, by previous +arrangement between us, to search Mr. Jay's room, while he is out of +the way, and while I am necessarily engaged in the pleasing duty of +following him wherever he goes. On the occasion to which I now refer, +he walked straight to the nearest tavern, and ordered a couple of +mutton-chops for his dinner. I placed myself in the next box to him, and +ordered a couple of mutton-chops for my dinner. Before I had been in the +room a minute, a young man of highly suspicious manners and appearance, +sitting at a table opposite, took his glass of porter in his hand and +joined Mr. Jay. I pretended to be reading the newspaper, and listened, +as in duty bound, with all my might. + +"How are you, my boy?" says the young man. "Jack has been here, +inquiring after you." + +"Did he leave any message?" asks Mr. Jay. + +"Yes," says the other. "He told me, if I met with you, to say that he +wished very particularly to see you to-night; and that he would give you +a look-in, at Rutherford Street, at seven o'clock." + +"All right," says Mr. Jay. "I'll get back in time to see him." + +Upon this, the suspicious-looking young man finished his porter, and, +saying that he was rather in a hurry, took leave of his friend, (perhaps +I should not be wrong, if I said his accomplice?) and left the room. + +At twenty-five minutes and a half past six,--in these serious cases it +is important to be particular about time,--Mr. Jay finished his chops +and paid his bill. At twenty-six minutes and three-quarters, I finished +my chops and paid mine. In ten minutes more I was inside the house in +Rutherford Street, and was received by Mrs. Yatman in the passage. +That charming woman's face exhibited an expression of melancholy and +disappointment which it quite grieved me to see. + +"I am afraid, Ma'am," says I, "that you have not hit on any little +criminating discovery in the lodger's room?" + +She shook her head and sighed. It was a soft, languid, fluttering +sigh,--and, upon my life, it quite upset me. For the moment, I forgot +business, and burned with envy of Mr. Yatman. + +"Don't despair, Ma'am," I said, with an insinuating mildness which +seemed to touch her. "I have heard a mysterious conversation--I know of +a guilty appointment--and I expect great things from my Peep-Hole and my +Pipe-Hole to-night. Pray, don't be alarmed, but I think we are on the +brink of a discovery." + +Here my enthusiastic devotion to business got the better of my tender +feelings. I looked,--winked,--nodded,--left her. + +When I got back to my observatory, I found Mr. Jay digesting his +mutton-chops in an arm-chair, with his pipe in his mouth. On his table +were two tumblers, a jug of water, and the pint-bottle of brandy. It was +then close upon seven o'clock. As the hour struck, the person described +as "Jack" walked in. + +He looked agitated,--I am happy to say he looked violently agitated. The +cheerful glow of anticipated success diffused itself (to use a strong +expression) all over me, from head to foot. With breathless interest I +looked through my Peep-Hole, and saw the visitor--the "Jack" of this +delightful case--sit down, facing me, at the opposite side of the table +to Mr. Jay. Making allowance for the difference in expression which +their countenances just now happened to exhibit, these two abandoned +villains were so much alike in other respects as to lead at once to the +conclusion that they were brothers. Jack was the cleaner man and the +better-dressed of the two. I admit that, at the outset. It is, perhaps, +one of my failings to push justice and impartiality to their utmost +limits. I am no Pharisee; and where Vice has its redeeming point, I say, +let Vice have its due,--yes, yes, by all manner of means, let Vice have +its due. + +"What's the matter now, Jack?" says Mr. Jay. + +"Can't you see it in my face?" says Jack. "My dear fellow, delays are +dangerous. Let us have done with suspense, and risk it, the day after +to-morrow." + +"So soon as that?" cries Mr. Jay, looking very much astonished. "Well, +I'm ready, if you are. But, I say, Jack, is Somebody Else ready, too? +Are you quite sure of that?" + +He smiled, as he spoke,--a frightful smile,--and laid a very strong +emphasis on those two words, "Somebody Else." There is evidently a third +ruffian, a nameless desperado, concerned in the business. + +"Meet us to-morrow," says Jack, "and judge for yourself. Be in the +Regent's Park at eleven in the morning, and look out for us at the +turning that leads to the Avenue Road." + +"I'll be there," says Mr. Jay. "Have a drop of brandy and water. What +are you getting up for? You're not going already?" + +"Yes, I am," says Jack. "The fact is, I'm so excited and agitated, that +I can't sit still anywhere for five minutes together. Ridiculous as it +may appear to you, I'm in a perpetual state of nervous flutter. I can't, +for the life of me, help fearing that we shall be found out. I fancy +that every man who looks twice at me in the street is a spy"---- + +At those words, I thought my legs would have given way under me. Nothing +but strength of mind kept me at my Peep-Hole,--nothing else, I give you +my word of honor. + +"Stuff and nonsense!" cries Mr. Jay, with all the effrontery of a +veteran in crime. "We have kept the secret up to this time, and we will +manage cleverly to the end. Have a drop of brandy and water, and you +will feel as certain about it as I do." + +Jack steadily refused the brandy and water, and steadily persisted +in taking his leave. "I must try if I can't walk it off," he said. +"Remember to-morrow morning,--eleven o'clock,--Avenue-Road side of the +Regent's Park." + +With those words he went out. His hardened relative laughed desperately, +and resumed the dirty clay pipe. + +I sat down on the side of my bed, actually quivering with excitement. It +is clear to me that no attempt has yet been made to change the stolen +bank-notes; and I may add, that Sergeant Bulmer was of that opinion +also, when he left the case in my hands. What is the natural conclusion +to draw from the conversation which I have just set down? Evidently, +that the confederates meet to-morrow to take their respective shares in +the stolen money, and to decide on the safest means of getting the notes +changed the day after. Mr. Jay is, beyond a doubt, the leading criminal +in this business, and he will probably run the chief risk,--that of +changing the fifty-pound note. I shall, therefore, still make it my +business to follow him,--attending at the Regent's Park to-morrow, and +doing my best to hear what is said there. If another appointment is made +for the day after, I shall, of course, go to it. In the mean time, I +shall want the immediate assistance of two competent persons (supposing +the rascals separate after their meeting) to follow the two minor +criminals. It is only fair to add, that, if the rogues all retire +together, I shall probably keep my subordinates in reserve. Being +naturally ambitious, I desire, if possible, to have the whole credit of +discovering this robbery to myself. + + +8th July. + +I have to acknowledge, with thanks, the speedy arrival of my two +subordinates, men of very average abilities, I am afraid; but, +fortunately, I shall always be on the spot to direct them. + +My first business this morning was, necessarily, to prevent possible +mistakes, by accounting to Mr. and Mrs. Yatman for the presence of the +two strangers on the scene. Mr. Yatman (between ourselves, a poor, +feeble man) only shook his head and groaned. Mrs. Yatman (that superior +woman) favored me with a charming look of intelligence. "Oh, Mr. +Sharpin!" she said, "I am so sorry to see those two men! Your sending +for their assistance looks as if you were beginning to be doubtful of +success." I privately winked at her, (she is very good in allowing me to +do so without taking offence,) and told her, in my facetious way, that +she labored under a slight mistake. "It is because I am sure of success, +Ma'am, that I send for them. I am determined to recover the money, not +for my own sake only, but for Mr. Yatman's sake, and for yours." I laid +a considerable amount of stress on those last three words. She said, +"Oh, Mr. Sharpin!" again,--and blushed of a heavenly red,--and looked +down at her work. I could go to the world's end with that woman, if Mr. +Yatman would only die. + +I sent off the two subordinates to wait, until I wanted them, at the +Avenue-Road gate of the Regent's Park. Half an hour afterwards I was +following the same direction myself, at the heels of Mr. Jay. + +The two confederates were punctual to the appointed time. I blush to +record it, but it is, nevertheless, necessary to state, that the third +rogue--the nameless desperado of my report, or, if you prefer it, +the mysterious "Somebody Else" of the conversation between the two +brothers--is----a woman! and, what is worse, a young woman! and, what +is more lamentable still, a nice-looking woman! I have long resisted a +growing conviction, that, wherever there is mischief in this world, an +individual of the fair sex is inevitably certain to be mixed up in it. +After the experience of this morning, I can struggle against that sad +conclusion no longer. I give up the sex,--excepting Mrs. Yatman, I give +up the sex. + +The man named "Jack" offered the woman his arm. Mr. Jay placed himself +on the other side of her. The three then walked away slowly among the +trees. I followed them at a respectful distance. My two subordinates, at +a respectful distance also, followed me. + +It was, I deeply regret to say, impossible to get near enough to them to +overhear their conversation, without running too great a risk of being +discovered. I could only infer from their gestures and actions that they +were all three talking together with extraordinary earnestness on some +subject which deeply interested them. After having been engaged in this +way a full quarter of an hour, they suddenly turned round to retrace +their steps. My presence of mind did not forsake me in this emergency. +I signed to the two subordinates to walk on carelessly and pass them, +while I myself slipped dexterously behind a tree. As they came by me, I +heard "Jack" address these words to Mr. Jay:-- + +"Let us say half-past ten to-morrow morning. And mind you come in a cab. +We had better not risk taking one in this neighborhood." + +Mr. Jay made some brief reply, which I could not overhear. They walked +back to the place at which they had met, shaking hands there with an +audacious cordiality which it quite sickened me to see. Then they +separated. I followed Mr. Jay. My subordinates paid the same delicate +attention to the other two. + +Instead of taking me back to Rutherford Street, Mr. Jay led me to the +Strand. He stopped at a dingy, disreputable-looking house, which, +according to the inscription over the door, was a newspaper office, +but which, in my judgment, had all the external appearance of a place +devoted to the reception of stolen goods. After remaining inside for a +few minutes, he came out, whistling, with his finger and thumb in his +waistcoat pocket. Some men would now have arrested him on the spot. +I remembered the necessity of catching the two confederates, and the +importance of not interfering with the appointment that had been made +for the next morning. Such coolness as this, under trying circumstances, +is rarely to be found, I should imagine, in a young beginner, whose +reputation as a detective policeman is still to make. + +From the house of suspicious appearance Mr. Jay betook himself to a +cigar-divan, and read the magazines over a cheroot. I sat at a table +near him, and read the magazines, likewise, over a cheroot. From the +divan he strolled to the tavern, and had his chops. I strolled to the +tavern, and had my chops. When he had done, he went back to his lodging. +When I had done, I went back to mine. He was overcome with drowsiness +early in the evening, and went to bed. As soon as I heard him snoring, I +was overcome with drowsiness, and went to bed also. + +Early in the morning, my two subordinates came to make their report. +They had seen the man named "Jack" leave the woman at the gate of an +apparently respectable villa-residence, not far from the Regent's Park. +Left to himself, he took a turning to the right, which led to a sort of +suburban street, principally inhabited by shopkeepers. He stopped at +the private door of one of the houses, and let himself in with his own +key,--looking about him as he opened the door, and staring suspiciously +at my men as they lounged along on the opposite side of the way. These +were all the particulars which the subordinates had to communicate. I +kept them in my room to attend on me, if needful, and mounted to my +Peep-Hole to have a look at Mr. Jay. + +He was occupied in dressing himself, and was taking extraordinary pains +to destroy all traces of the natural slovenliness of his appearance. +This was precisely what I expected. A vagabond like Mr. Jay knows the +importance of giving himself a respectable look when he is going to +run the risk of changing a stolen bank-note. At five minutes past ten +o'clock he had given the last brush to his shabby hat and the last +scouring with bread-crumb to his dirty gloves. At ten minutes past ten +he was in the street, on his way to the nearest cab-stand, and I and my +subordinates were close on his heels. + +He took a cab, and we took a cab. I had not overheard them appoint a +place of meeting, when following them in the Park on the previous day; +but I soon found that we were proceeding in the old direction of the +Avenue-Road gate. The cab in which Mr. Jay was riding turned into the +Park slowly. We stopped outside, to avoid exciting suspicion. I got out +to follow the cab on foot. Just as I did so, I saw it stop, and detected +the two confederates approaching it from among the trees. They got in, +and the cab was turned about directly. I ran back to my own cab, and +told the driver to let them pass him, and then to follow as before. + +The man obeyed my directions, but so clumsily as to excite their +suspicions. We had been driving after them about three minutes, +(returning along the road by which we had advanced,) when I looked out +of the window to see how far they might be ahead of us. As I did this, +I saw two hats popped out of the windows of their cab, and two faces +looking back at me. I sank into my place in a cold sweat;--the +expression is coarse, but no other form of words can describe my +condition at that trying moment. + +"We are found out!" I said, faintly, to my two subordinates. They stared +at me in astonishment. My feelings changed instantly from the depth of +despair to the height of indignation. "It is the cabman's fault. Get +out, one of you," I said, with dignity,--"get out, and punch his head." + +Instead of following my directions, (I should wish this act of +disobedience to be reported at head-quarters,) they both looked out of +the window. Before I could pull them back, they both sat down again. +Before I could express my just indignation, they both grinned, and said +to me, "Please to look out, Sir!" + +I did look out. Their cab had stopped. Where? At a church door! + +What effect this discovery might have had upon the ordinary run of +men, I don't know. Being of a religious turn myself, it filled me with +horror. I have often read of the unprincipled cunning of criminal +persons; but I never before heard of three thieves attempting to double +on their pursuers by entering a church! The sacrilegious audacity of +that proceeding is, I should think, unparalleled in the annals of crime. + +I checked my grinning subordinates by a frown. It was easy to see what +was passing in their superficial minds. If I had not been able to look +below the surface, I might, on observing two nicely dressed men and one +nicely dressed woman enter a church before eleven in the morning, on a +week day, have come to the same hasty conclusion at which my inferiors +had evidently arrived. As it was, appearances had no power to impose on +_me_. I got out, and, followed by one of my men, entered the church. The +other man I sent round to watch the vestry door. You may catch a weasel +asleep,--but not your humble servant, Matthew Sharpin! + +We stole up the gallery-stairs, diverged to the organ-loft, and peeped +through the curtains in front. There they were, all three, sitting in a +pew below,--yes, incredible as it may appear, sitting in a pew below! + +Before I could determine what to do, a clergyman made his appearance in +full canonicals, from the vestry door, followed by a clerk. My brain +whirled, and my eyesight grew dim. Dark remembrances of robberies +committed in vestries floated through my mind. I trembled for the +excellent man in full canonicals;--I even trembled for the clerk. + +The clergyman placed himself inside the altar rails. The three +desperadoes approached him. He opened his book, and began to read. +What?--you will ask. + +I answer, without the slightest hesitation; the first lines of the +Marriage Service. + +My subordinate had the audacity to look at me, and then to stuff his +pocket-handkerchief into his mouth. I scorned to pay any attention to +him. After my own eyes had satisfied me that there was a parchment +license in the clergyman's hand, and that it was consequently useless to +come forward and forbid the marriage,--after I had seen this, and after +I had discovered that the man "Jack" was the bridegroom, and that the +man Jay acted the part of father and gave away the bride, I left the +church, followed by my man, and joined the other subordinate outside +the vestry door. Some people in my position would now have felt rather +crestfallen, and would have begun to think that they had made a very +foolish mistake. Not the faintest misgiving of any kind troubled me. I +did not feel in the slightest degree depreciated in my own estimation. +And even now, after a lapse of three hours, my mind remains, I am happy +to say, in the same calm and hopeful condition. + +As soon as I and my subordinates were assembled together, outside the +church, I intimated my intention of still following the other cab, in +spite of what had occurred. My reason for deciding on this course will +appear presently. The two subordinates appeared to be astonished at +my resolution. One of them had the impertinence to say to me, "If you +please, Sir, who is it we are after? A man who has stolen money, or +a man who has stolen a wife?" The other low person encouraged him +by laughing. Both have deserved an official reprimand; and both, I +sincerely trust, will be sure to get it. + +When the marriage ceremony was over, the three got into their cab; and, +once more, our vehicle (neatly hidden round the corner of the church, +so that they could not suspect it to be near them) started to follow +theirs. We traced them to the terminus of the South-Western Railway. The +newly married couple took tickets for Richmond,--paying their fare with +a half sovereign, and so depriving me of the pleasure of arresting them, +which I should certainly have done, if they had offered a bank-note. +They parted from Mr. Jay, saying, "Remember the address,--l4, Babylon +Terrace. You dine with us to-morrow week." Mr. Jay accepted the +invitation, and added, jocosely, that he was going home at once to get +off his clean clothes, and to be comfortable and dirty again for the +rest of the day. I have to report that I saw him home safely, and that +he is comfortable and dirty again (to use his own disgraceful language) +at the present moment. + +Here the affair rests, having by this time reached what I may call its +first stage. I know very well what persons of hasty judgments will be +inclined to say of my proceedings thus far. They will assert that I have +been deceiving myself, all through, in the most absurd way; they will +declare that the suspicious conversations which I have reported referred +solely to the difficulties and dangers of successfully carrying out +a runaway match; and they will appeal to the scene in the church, as +offering undeniable proof of the correctness of their assertions. So let +it be. I dispute nothing, up to this point. But I ask a question, out of +the depths of my own sagacity as a man of the world, which the bitterest +of my enemies will not, I think, find it particularly easy to answer. +Granted the fact of the marriage, what proof does it afford me of +the innocence of the three persons concerned in that clandestine +transaction? It gives me none. On the contrary, it strengthens my +suspicions against Mr. Jay and his confederates, because it suggests a +distinct motive for their stealing the money. A gentleman who is going +to spend his honeymoon at Richmond wants money; and a gentleman who is +in debt to all his tradespeople wants money. Is this an unjustifiable +imputation of bad motives? In the name of outraged Morality, I deny it. +These men have combined together, and have stolen a woman. Why should +they not combine together and steal a cash-box? I take my stand on the +logic of rigid Virtue; and I defy all the sophistry of Vice to move me +an inch out of my position. + +Speaking of virtue, I may add that I have put this view of the case +to Mr. and Mrs. Yatman. That accomplished and charming woman found it +difficult, at first, to follow the close chain of my reasoning. I am +free to confess that she shook her head, and shed tears, and joined +her husband in premature lamentation over the loss of the two hundred +pounds. But a little careful explanation on my part, and a little +attentive listening on hers, ultimately changed her opinion. She now +agrees with me, that there is nothing in this unexpected circumstance of +the clandestine marriage which absolutely tends to divert suspicion from +Mr. Jay, or Mr. "Jack," or the runaway lady,--"audacious hussey" was the +term my fair friend used in speaking of her, but let that pass. It is +more to the purpose to record, that Mrs. Yatman has not lost confidence +in me, and that Mr. Yatman promises to follow her example and do his +best to look hopefully for future results. + +I have now, in the new turn that circumstances have taken, to await +advice from your office. I pause for fresh orders with all the composure +of a man who has got two strings to his bow. When I traced the three +confederates from the church door to the railway terminus, I had two +motives for doing so. First, I followed them as a matter of official +business, believing them still to have been guilty of the robbery. +Secondly, I followed them as a matter of private speculation, with a +view of discovering the place of refuge to which the runaway couple +intended to retreat, and of making my information a marketable commodity +to offer to the young lady's family and friends. Thus, whatever happens, +I may congratulate myself beforehand on not having wasted my time. If +the office approves of my conduct, I have my plan ready for further +proceedings. If the office blames me, I shall take myself off, with +my marketable information, to the genteel villa-residence in the +neighborhood of the Regent's Park. Any way, the affair puts money into +my pocket, and does credit to my penetration, as an uncommonly sharp +man. + +I have only one word more to add, and it is this:--If any individual +ventures to assert that Mr. Jay and his confederates are innocent of +all share in the stealing of the cash-box, I, in return, defy that +individual--though he may even be Chief Inspector Theakstone himself--to +tell me who has committed the robbery at Rutherford Street, Soho. + +Strong in that conviction, + +I have the honor to be +Your very obedient servant, + +Matthew Sharpin. + + +FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO SERGEANT BULMER. + +Birmingham, July 9th. + +Sergeant Bulmer, + +That empty-headed puppy, Mr. Matthew Sharpin, has made a mess of the +case at Rutherford Street, exactly as I expected he would. Business +keeps me in this town; so I write to you to set the matter straight. +I enclose, with this, the pages of feeble scribble-scrabble which the +creature, Sharpin, calls a report. Look them over; and when you have +made your way through all the gabble, I think you will agree with me +that the conceited booby has looked for the thief in every direction but +the right one. The case is perfectly simple, now. Settle it at once; +forward your report to me at this place; and tell Mr. Sharpin that he is +suspended till further notice. + +Yours, + +Francis Theakstone. + + +FROM SERGEANT BULMER TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE. + +London, July 10th. + +Inspector Theakstone, + +Your letter and enclosure came safe to hand. Wise men, they say, may +always learn something, even from a fool. By the time I had got through +Sharpin's maundering report of his own folly, I saw my way clear enough +to the end of the Rutherford-Street case, just as you thought I should. +In half an hour's time I was at the house. The first person I saw there +was Mr. Sharpin himself. + +"Have you come to help me?" says he. + +"Not exactly," says I. "I've come to tell you that you are suspended till +further notice." + +"Very good," says he, not taken down, by so much as a single peg, in +his own estimation. "I thought you would be jealous of me. It's very +natural; and I don't blame you. Walk in, pray, and make yourself at +home. I'm off to do a little detective business on my own account, in +the neighborhood of the Regent's Park. Ta-ta, Sergeant, ta-ta!" + +With those words he took himself out of my way,--which was exactly what +I wanted him to do. As soon as the maid-servant had shut the door, I +told her to inform her master that I wanted to say a word to him in +private. She showed me into the parlor behind the shop; and there was +Mr. Yatman, all alone, reading the newspaper. + +"About this matter of the robbery, Sir," says I. + +He cut me short, peevishly enough,--being naturally a poor, weak, +womanish sort of man. "Yes, yes, I know," says he. "You have come to +tell me that your wonderfully clever man, who has bored holes in my +second-floor partition, has made a mistake, and is off the scent of the +scoundrel who has stolen my money." + +"Yes, Sir," says I. "That _is_ one of the things I came to tell you. But +I have got something else to say, besides that." + +"Can you tell me who the thief is?" says he, more pettish than ever. + +"Yes, Sir," says I, "I think I can." + +He put down the newspaper, and began to look rather anxious and +frightened. + +"Not my shopman?" says he. "I hope, for the man's own sake, it's not my +shopman." + +"Guess again, Sir," says I. + +"That idle slut, the maid?" says he. + +"She is idle, Sir," says I, "and she is also a slut; my first inquiries +about her proved as much as that. But she's not the thief." + +"Then, in the name of Heaven, who is?" says he. + +"Will you please to prepare yourself for a very disagreeable surprise, +Sir?" says I. "And in case you lose your temper, will you excuse my +remarking, that I am the stronger man of the two, and that, if you allow +yourself to lay hands on me, I may unintentionally hurt you, in pure +self-defence?" + +He turned as pale as ashes, and pushed his chair two or three feet away +from me. + +"You have asked me to tell you, Sir, who has taken your money," I went +on. "If you insist on my giving you an answer"-- + +"I do insist," he said, faintly. "Who has taken it?" + +"Your wife has taken it," I said, very quietly, and very positively at +the same time. + +He jumped out of the chair as if I had put a knife into him, and struck +his fist on the table, so heavily that the wood cracked again. + +"Steady, Sir," says I. "Flying into a passion won't help you to the +truth." + +"It's a lie!" says he, with another smack of his fist on the table,--"a +base, vile, infamous lie! How dare you"-- + +He stopped, and fell back into the chair again, looked about him in a +bewildered way, and ended by bursting out crying. + +"When your better sense comes back to you, Sir," says I, "I am sure you +will be gentleman enough to make me an apology for the language you have +just used. In the mean time, please to listen, if you can, to a word of +explanation. Mr. Sharpin has sent in a report to our Inspector, of the +most irregular and ridiculous kind; setting down, not only all his own +foolish doings and sayings, but the doings and sayings of Mrs. Yatman as +well. In most cases, such a document would have been fit only for the +waste-paper basket; but, in this particular case, it so happens that Mr. +Sharpin's budget of nonsense leads to a certain conclusion which the +simpleton of a writer has been quite innocent of suspecting from the +beginning to the end. Of that conclusion I am so sure, that I will +forfeit my place, if it does not turn out that Mrs. Yatman has been +practising upon the folly and conceit of this young man, and that she +has tried to shield herself from discovery by purposely encouraging him +to suspect the wrong persons. I tell you that confidently; and I will +even go farther. I will undertake to give a decided opinion as to why +Mrs. Yatman took the money, and what she has done with it, or with a +part of it. Nobody can look at that lady, Sir, without being struck by +the great taste and beauty of her dress"---- + +As I said those last words, the poor man seemed to find his powers of +speech again. He cut me short directly, as haughtily as if he had been +a duke instead of a stationer. "Try some other means of justifying your +vile calumny against my wife," says he. "Her milliner's bill, for the +past year, is on my file of receipted accounts, at this moment." + +"Excuse me, Sir," says I, "but that proves nothing. Milliners, I must +tell you, have a certain rascally custom which comes within the daily +experience of our office. A married lady who wishes it can keep two +accounts at her dress-maker's:--one is the account which her husband +sees and pays; the other is the private account, which contains all the +extravagant items, and which the wife pays secretly, by instalments, +whenever she can. According to our usual experience, these instalments +are mostly squeezed out of the housekeeping money. In your case, I +suspect no instalments have been paid; proceedings have been threatened; +Mrs. Yatman, knowing your altered circumstances, has felt herself +driven into a corner; and she has paid her private account out of your +cashbox." + +"I won't believe it!" says he. "Every word you speak is an abominable +insult to me and to my wife." + +"Are you man enough, Sir," says I, taking him up short, in order to save +time and words, "to get that receipted bill you spoke of just now, off +the file, and to come with me at once to the milliner's shop where Mrs. +Yatman deals?" + +He turned red in the face at that, got the bill directly, and put on his +hat. I took out of my pocket-book the list containing the numbers of the +lost notes, and we left the house together immediately. + +Arrived at the milliner's, (one of the expensive West-End houses, as I +expected,) I asked for a private interview, on important business, with +the mistress of the concern. It was not the first time that she and I +had met over the same delicate investigation. The moment she set eyes on +me, she sent for her husband. I mentioned who Mr. Yatman was, and what +we wanted. + +"This is strictly private?" says the husband. I nodded my head. + +"And confidential?" says the wife. I nodded again. + +"Do you see any objection, dear, to obliging the Sergeant with a sight +of the books?" says the husband. + +"None in the world, love, if you approve of it," says the wife. + +All this while poor Mr. Yatman sat looking the picture of astonishment +and distress, quite out of place at our polite conference. The books +were brought,--and one minute's look at the pages in which Mrs. Yatman's +name figured was enough, and more than enough, to prove the truth of +every word that I had spoken. + +There, in one book, was the husband's account, which Mr. Yatman had +settled. And there, in the other, was the private account, crossed off +also; the date of settlement being the very day after the loss of the +cash-box. This said private account amounted to the sum of a hundred and +seventy-five pounds, odd shillings; and it extended over a period of +three years. Not a single instalment had been paid on it. Under the last +line was an entry to this effect: "Written to for the third time, June +23d." I pointed to it, and asked the milliner if that meant "last June." +Yes, it did mean last June; and she now deeply regretted to say that it +had been accompanied by a threat of legal proceedings. + +"I thought you gave good customers more than three years' credit?" says +I. + +The milliner looks at Mr. Yatman, and whispers to me,--"Not when a lady's +husband gets into difficulties." + +She pointed to the account as she spoke. The entries after the time when +Mr. Yatman's circumstances became involved were just as extravagant, for +a person in his wife's situation, as the entries for the year before +that period. If the lady had economized in other things, she had +certainly not economized in the matter of dress. + +There was nothing left now but to examine the cash-book, for form's +sake. The money had been paid in notes, the amounts and numbers of which +exactly tallied with the figures set down in my list. + +After that, I thought it best to get Mr. Yatman out of the house +immediately. He was in such a pitiable condition, that I called a cab +and accompanied him home in it. At first, he cried and raved like a +child; but I soon quieted him,--and I must add, to his credit, that he +made me a most handsome apology for his language, as the cab drew up at +his house-door. In return, I tried to give him some advice about how to +set matters right, for the future, with his wife. He paid very little +attention to me, and went up stairs muttering to himself about a +separation. Whether Mrs. Yatman will come cleverly out of the scrape +or not seems doubtful. I should say, myself, that she will go into +screeching hysterics, and so frighten the poor man into forgiving her. +But this is no business of ours. So far as we are concerned, the case +is now at an end; and the present report may come to a conclusion along +with it. + +I remain, accordingly, yours to command, + +Thomas Bulmer. + +P.S.--I have to add, that, on leaving Rutherford Street, I met Mr. +Matthew Sharpin coming back to pack up his things. + +"Only think!" says he, rubbing his hands in great spirits, "I've been +to the genteel villa-residence; and the moment I mentioned my business, +they kicked me out directly. There were two witnesses of the assault; +and it's worth a hundred pounds to me, if it's worth a farthing." + +"I wish you joy of your luck," says I. + +"Thank you," says he. "When may I pay you the same compliment on finding +the thief?" + +"Whenever you like," says I, "for the thief is found." + +"Just what I expected," says he. "I've done all the work; and now you +cut in, and claim all the credit.--Mr. Jay, of course?" + +"No," says I. + +"Who is it, then?" says he. + +"Ask Mrs. Yatman," says I. "She'll tell you." + +"All right! I'd much rather hear it from her than from you," says +he,--and goes into the house in a mighty hurry. + +What do you think of that, Inspector Theakstone? Would you like to stand +in Mr. Sharpin's shoes? I shouldn't, I can promise you! + + +FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN. + +July 12th. + +Sir, + +Sergeant Bulmer has already told you to consider yourself suspended +until further notice. I have now authority to add, that your services as +a member of the Detective Police are positively declined. You will please +to take this letter as notifying officially your dismissal from the +force. + +I may inform you, privately, that your rejection is not intended to cast +any reflections on your character. It merely implies that you are not +quite sharp enough for our purpose. If we are to have a new recruit +among us, we should infinitely prefer Mrs. Yatman. + +Your obedient servant, + +Francis Theakstone. + + * * * * * + +Note on the preceding correspondence--The editor is, unfortunately, not +in a position to add any explanations of importance to the last of the +published letters of Chief Inspector Theakstone. It has been discovered +that Mr. Matthew Sharpin left the house in Rutherford Street a quarter +of an hour after his interview outside of it with Sergeant Bulmer,--his +manner expressing the liveliest emotions of terror and astonishment, and +his left cheek displaying a bright patch of red, which looked as if it +might have been the result of what is popularly termed a smart box on +the ear. He was also heard, by the shopman at Rutherford Street, to use +a very shocking expression in reference to Mrs. Yatman; and was seen to +clinch his fist vindictively, as he ran round the corner of the street. +Nothing more has been heard of him; and it is conjectured that he has +left London with the intention of offering his valuable services to the +provincial police. + +On the interesting domestic subject of Mr. and Mrs. Yatman still less +is known. It has, however, been positively ascertained that the medical +attendant of the family was sent for in a great hurry on the day when +Mr. Yatman returned from the milliner's shop. The neighboring chemist +received, soon afterwards, a prescription of a soothing nature to +make up for Mrs. Yatman. The day after, Mr. Yatman purchased some +smelling-salts at the shop, and afterwards appeared at the circulating +library to ask for a novel that would amuse an invalid lady. It has been +inferred from these circumstances that he has not thought it desirable +to carry out his threat of separating himself from his wife,--at least +in the present (presumed) condition of that lady's sensitive nervous +system. + + * * * * * + + +TELLING THE BEES.[A] + +[Footnote A: A remarkable custom, brought from the Old Country formerly +prevailed in the rural districts of New England. On the death of a +member of the family, the bees were at once informed of the event, and +their hives dressed in mourning. This ceremonial was supposed to be +necessary to prevent the swarms from leaving their hives and seeking a +new home.] + + + Here is the place; right over the hill + Runs the path I took; + You can see the gap in the old wall still, + And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook. + + There is the house, with the gate red-barred, + And the poplars tall; + And the barn's brown length, and the cattle-yard, + And the white horns tossing above the wall. + + There are the bee-hives ranged in the sun; + And down by the brink + Of the brook are her poor flowers, weed-o'errun, + Pansy and daffodil, rose and pink. + + A year has gone, as the tortoise goes, + Heavy and slow; + And the same rose blows, and the same sun glows, + And the same brook sings of a year ago. + + There's the same sweet clover-smell in the breeze; + And the June sun warm + Tangles his wings of fire in the trees, + Setting, as then, over Fernside farm. + + I mind me how with a lover's care + From my Sunday coat + I brushed off the burrs, and smoothed my hair, + And cooled at the brook-side my brow and throat. + + Since we parted, a month had passed,-- + To love, a year; + Down through the beeches, I looked at last + On the little red gate and the well-sweep near. + + I can see it all now,--the slantwise rain + Of light through the leaves, + The sundown's blaze on her window-pane, + The bloom of her roses under the eaves. + + Just the same as a month before,-- + The house and the trees, + The barn's brown gable, the vine by the door,-- + Nothing changed but the hives of bees. + + Before them, under the garden wall, + Forward and back, + Went, drearily singing, the chore-girl small, + Draping each hive with a shred of black. + + Trembling, I listened: the summer sun + Had the chill of snow; + For I knew she was telling the bees of one + Gone on the journey we all must go! + + Then I said to myself, "My Mary weeps + For the dead to-day: + Haply her blind old grandsire sleeps + The fret and the pain of his age away." + + But her dog whined low; on the doorway sill, + With his cane to his chin, + The old man sat; and the chore-girl still + Sung to the bees stealing out and in. + + And the song she was singing ever since + In my ear sounds on:-- + "Stay at home, pretty bees, fly not hence! + Mistress Mary is dead and gone!" + + + + +PERSIAN POETRY. + + +To Baron von Hammer Purgstall, who died in Vienna during the last year, +we owe our best knowledge of the Persians. He has translated into +German, besides the "Divan" of Hafiz, specimens of two hundred poets, +who wrote during a period of five and a half centuries, from A.D. 1000 +to 1550. The seven masters of the Persian Parnassus, Firdousi, Enweri, +Nisami, Dschelaleddin, Saadi, Hafiz, and Dschami, have ceased to be +empty names; and others, like Ferideddin Attar, and Omar Chiam, promise +to rise in Western estimation. That for which mainly books exist is +communicated in these rich extracts. Many qualities go to make a good +telescope,--as the largeness of the field, facility of sweeping the +meridian, achromatic purity of lenses, and so forth,--but the one +eminent value is the space-penetrating power; and there are many virtues +in books, but the essential value is the adding of knowledge to our +stock, by the record of new facts, and, better, by the record of +intuitions, which distribute facts, and are the formulas which supersede +all histories. + +Oriental life and society, especially in the Southern nations, stand in +violent contrast with the multitudinous detail, the secular stability, +and the vast average of comfort of the Western nations. Life in the East +is fierce, short, hazardous, and in extremes. Its elements are few +and simple, not exhibiting the long range and undulation of European +existence, but rapidly reaching the best and the worst. The rich feed on +fruits and game,--the poor, on a watermelon's peel. All or nothing is +the genius of Oriental life. Favor of the Sultan, or his displeasure, is +a question of Fate. A war is undertaken for an epigram or a distich, as +in Europe for a duchy. The prolific sun, and the sudden and rank plenty +which his heat engenders, make subsistence easy. On the other side, the +desert, the simoom, the mirage, the lion, and the plague endanger it, +and life hangs on the contingency of a skin of water more or less. +The very geography of old Persia showed these contrasts. "My father's +empire," said Cyrus to Xenophon, "is so large, that people perish with +cold, at one extremity, whilst they are suffocated with heat, at the +other." The temperament of the people agrees with this life in extremes. +Religion and poetry are all their civilization. The religion teaches +an inexorable Destiny. It distinguishes only two days in each man's +history: his birthday, called _the Day of the Lot_, and the Day of +Judgment. Courage and absolute submission to what is appointed him are +his virtues. + +The favor of the climate, making subsistence easy, and encouraging +an outdoor life, allows to the Eastern nations a highly intellectual +organization,--leaving out of view, at present, the genius of the +Hindoos, (more Oriental in every sense,) whom no people have surpassed +in the grandeur of their ethical statement. The Persians and the Arabs, +with great leisure and few books, are exquisitely sensible to the +pleasures of poetry. Layard has given some details of the effect which +the _improvvisatori_ produced on the children of the desert. "When the +bard improvised an amatory ditty, the young chief's excitement was +almost beyond control. The other Bedouins were scarcely less moved by +these rude measures, which have the same kind of effect on the wild +tribes of the Persian mountains. Such verses, chanted by their +self-taught poets, or by the girls of their encampment, will drive +warriors to the combat, fearless of death, or prove an ample reward, +on their return from the dangers of the _ghazon_, or the fight. The +excitement they produce exceeds that of the grape. He who would +understand the influence of the Homeric ballads in the heroic ages +should witness the effect which similar compositions have upon the wild +nomads of the East." Elsewhere he adds, "Poetry and flowers are the wine +and spirits of the Arab; a couplet is equal to a bottle, and a rose to a +dram, without the evil effect of either." + +The Persian poetry rests on a mythology whose few legends are connected +with the Jewish history, and the anterior traditions of the Pentateuch. +The principal figure in the allusions of Eastern poetry is Solomon. +Solomon had three talismans: first, the signet ring, by which he +commanded the spirits, on the stone of which was engraven the name of +God; second, the glass, in which he saw the secrets of his enemies, and +the causes of all things, figured; the third, the east wind, which was +his horse. His counsellor was Simorg, king of birds, the all-wise fowl, +who had lived ever since the beginning of the world, and now lives alone +on the highest summit of Mount Kaf. No fowler has taken him, and none +now living has seen him. By him Solomon was taught the language of +birds, so that he heard secrets whenever he went into his gardens. When +Solomon travelled, his throne was placed on a carpet of green silk, of +a length and breadth sufficient for all his army to stand upon,--men +placing themselves on his right hand, and the spirits on his left. When +all were in order, the east wind, at his command, took up the carpet, +and transported it, with all that were upon it, whither he pleased,--the +army of birds at the same time flying overhead, and forming a canopy to +shade them from the sun. It is related, that, when the Queen of Sheba +came to visit Solomon, he had built, against her arrival, a palace, of +which the floor or pavement was of glass, laid over running water, in +which fish were swimming. The Queen of Sheba was deceived thereby, and +raised her robes, thinking she was to pass through the water. On the +occasion of Solomon's marriage, all the beasts, laden with presents, +appeared before his throne. Behind them all came the ant with a blade of +grass: Solomon did not despise the gift of the ant. Asaph, the vizier, +at a certain time, lost the seal of Solomon, which one of the Dews, or +evil spirits, found, and, governing in the name of Solomon, deceived the +people. + +Firdousi, the Persian Homer, has written in the _Shah Nameh_ the annals +of the fabulous and heroic kings of the country: of Karun, (the Persian +Croesus.) the immeasurably rich gold-maker, who, with all his treasures, +lies buried not far from the Pyramids, in the sea which bears his name; +of Jamschid, the binder of demons, whose reign lasted seven hundred +years; of Kai Kaus, whose palace was built by demons on Alberz, in which +gold and silver and precious stones were used so lavishly, and such was +the brilliancy produced by their combined effect, that night and day +appeared the same; of Afrasiyab, strong as an elephant, whose shadow +extended for miles, whose heart was bounteous as the ocean, and his +hands like the clouds when rain falls to gladden the earth. The +crocodile in the rolling stream had no safety from Afrasiyab. Yet when +he came to fight against the generals of Kaus, he was but an insect in +the grasp of Rustem, who seized him by the girdle, and dragged him +from his horse. Rustem felt such anger at the arrogance of the King of +Mazinderan, that every hair on his body started up like a spear. The +gripe of his hand cracked the sinews of an enemy. + +These legends,--with Chiser, the fountain of life, Tuba, the tree of +life,--the romances of the loves of Leila and Medschun, of Chosru and +Schirin, and those of the nightingale for the rose,--pearl-diving, and +the virtues of gems,--the cohol, a cosmetic by which pearls and eyebrows +are indelibly stained black,--the bladder in which musk is brought,--the +down of the lip, the mole on the cheek, the eyelash,--lilies, roses, +tulips, and jasmines,--make the staple imagery of Persian odes. + +The Persians have epics and tales, but, for the most part, they affect +short poems and epigrams. Gnomic verses, rules of life, conveyed in a +lively image, especially in an image addressed to the eye, and contained +in a single stanza, were always current in the East; and if the poem +is long, it is only a string of unconnected verses. They use an +inconsecutiveness quite alarming to Western logic, and the connection +between the stanzas of their longer odes is much like that between the +refrain of our old English ballads, + + "The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall," + +or + + "The rain it raineth every day," + +and the main story. + +Take, as specimens of these gnomic verses, the following:-- + + "The secret that should not be blown + Not one of thy nation must know; + You may padlock the gate of a town, + But never the mouth of a foe." + +Or this of Omar Chiam:-- + + "On earth's wide thoroughfares below + Two only men contented go: + Who knows what's right and what's forbid, + And he from whom is knowledge hid." + +Or this of Enweri:-- + + "On prince or bride no diamond stone + Half so gracious ever shone, + As the light of enterprise + Beaming from a young man's eyes." + +Or this of Ibn Jemin:-- + + "Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou + love a life serene: + A woman for thy wife, though she were a + crowned queen; + And, the second, borrowed money, though + the smiling lender say + That he will not demand the debt until the + Judgment Day." + +Or this poem on Friendship:-- + + "He who has a thousand friends has not a + friend to spare, + And he who has one enemy shall meet him + everywhere." + +Here is a poem on a Melon, by Adsched of Meru:-- + + "Color, taste, and smell, smaragdus, sugar, + and musk,-- + Amber for the tongue, for the eye a picture + rare,-- + If you cut the fruit in slices, every slice a + crescent fair,-- + If you leave it whole, the full harvest-moon + is there." + +Hafiz is the prince of Persian poets, and in his extraordinary gifts +adds to some of the attributes of Pindar, Anacreon, Horace, and Burns +the insight of a mystic, that sometimes affords a deeper glance at +Nature than belongs to either of these bards. He accosts all topics with +an easy audacity. "He only," he says, "is fit for company, who knows how +to prize earthly happiness at the value of a night-cap. Our father Adam +sold Paradise for two kernels of wheat; then blame me not, if I hold it +dear at one grapestone." He says to the Shah, "Thou who rulest after +words and thoughts which no ear has heard and no mind has thought, +abide firm until thy young destiny tears off his blue coat from the old +graybeard of the sky." He says,-- + + "I batter the wheel of heaven + When it rolls not rightly by; + I am not one of the snivellers + Who fall thereon and die." + +The rapidity of his turns is always surprising us:-- + + "See how the roses burn! + Bring wine to quench the fire! + Alas! the flames come up with us,-- + We perish with desire." + +After the manner of his nation, he abounds in pregnant sentences which +might be engraved on a sword-blade and almost on a ring. + +"In honor dies he to whom the great seems ever wonderful." + +"Here is the sum, that, when one door opens, another shuts." + +"On every side is an ambush laid by the robber-troops of circumstance; +hence it is that the horseman of life urges on his courser at headlong +speed." + +"The earth is a host who murders his guests." + +"Good is what goes on the road of Nature. On the straight way the +traveller never misses." + + "Alas! till now I had not known + My guide and Fortune's guide are one." + + "The understanding's copper coin + Counts not with the gold of love." + + "'Tis writ on Paradise's gate, + 'Wo to the dupe that yields to Fate!'" + + "The world is a bride superbly dressed;-- + Who weds her for dowry must pay his soul." + + "Loose the knots of the heart; never think on + thy fate: + No Euclid has yet disentangled that snarl." + + "There resides in the grieving + A poison to kill; + Beware to go near them + 'Tis pestilent still." + +Harems and wine-shops only give him a new ground of observation, whence +to draw sometimes a deeper moral than regulated sober life affords,--and +this is foreseen:-- + + "I will be drunk and down with wine; + Treasures we find in a ruined house." + +Riot, he thinks, can snatch from the deeply hidden lot the veil that +covers it:-- + + "To be wise the dull brain so earnestly throbs, + Bring bands of wine for the stupid head." + + "The Builder of heaven + Hath sundered the earth, + So that no footway + Leads out of it forth. + + "On turnpikes of wonder + Wine leads the mind forth, + Straight, sidewise, and upward, + West, southward, and north. + + "Stands the vault adamantine + Until the Doomsday; + The wine-cup shall ferry + Thee o'er it away." + +That hardihood and self-equality of every sound nature, which result +from the feeling that the spirit in him is entire and as good as the +world, which entitle the poet to speak with authority, and make him an +object of interest, and his every phrase and syllable significant, are +in Hafiz, and abundantly fortify and ennoble his tone. + +His was the fluent mind in which every thought and feeling came readily +to the lips. "Loose the knots of the heart," he says. We absorb elements +enough, but have not leaves and lungs for healthy perspiration and +growth. An air of sterility, of incompetence to their proper aims, +belongs to many who have both experience and wisdom. But a large +utterance, a river, that makes its own shores, quick perception and +corresponding expression, a constitution to which every morrow is a new +day, which is equal to the needs of life, at once tender and bold, with +great arteries,--this generosity of ebb and flow satisfies, and we +should be willing to die when our time comes, having had our swing and +gratification. The difference is not so much in the quality of men's +thoughts as in the power of uttering them. What is pent and smouldered +in the dumb actor is not pent in the poet, but passes over into new +form, at once relief and creation. + +The other merit of Hafiz is his intellectual liberty, which is a +certificate of profound thought. We accept the religions and politics +into which we fall; and it is only a few delicate spirits who are +sufficient to see that the whole web of convention is the imbecility +of those whom it entangles,--that the mind suffers no religion and no +empire but its own. It indicates this respect to absolute truth by the +use it makes of the symbols that are most stable and reverend, and +therefore is always provoking the accusation of irreligion. + +Hypocrisy is the perpetual butt of his arrows. + + "Let us draw the cowl through the brook of + wine." + +He tells his mistress, that not the dervis, or the monk, but the lover, +has in his heart the spirit which makes the ascetic and the saint; and +certainly not their cowls and mummeries, but her glances, can impart to +him the fire and virtue needful for such self-denial. Wrong shall not be +wrong to Hafiz, for the name's sake. A law or statute is to him what a +fence is to a nimble schoolboy,--a temptation for a jump. "We would do +nothing but good; else would shame come to us on the day when the soul +must hie hence;--and should they then deny us Paradise, the Houris +themselves would forsake that, and come out to us." + +His complete intellectual emancipation he communicates to the reader. +There is no example of such facility of allusion, such use of all +materials. Nothing is too high, nothing too low, for his occasion. He +fears nothing, he stops for nothing. Love is a leveller, and Allah +becomes a groom, and heaven a closet, in his daring hymns to his +mistress or to his cup-bearer. This boundless charter is the right of +genius. "No evil fate," said Beethoven, "can befall my music, and he to +whom it is become intelligible must become free from all the paltriness +which the others drag about with them." + +We do not wish to strew sugar on bottled spiders, or try to make +mystical divinity out of the Song of Solomon, much less out of the +erotic and bacchanalian songs of Hafiz. Hafiz himself is determined to +defy all such hypocritical interpretation, and tears off his turban and +throws it at the head of the meddling dervis, and throws his glass after +the turban. But the love or the wine of Hafiz is not to be confounded +with vulgar debauch. It is the spirit in which the song is written that +imports, and not the topics. Hafiz praises wine, roses, maidens, boys, +birds, mornings, and music, to give vent to his immense hilarity and +sympathy with every form of beauty and joy; and lays the emphasis on +these to mark his scorn of sanctimony and base prudence. These are the +natural topics and language of his wit and perception. But it is the +play of wit and the joy of song that he loves; and if you mistake him +for a low rioter, he turns short on you with verses which express the +poverty of sensual joys, and to ejaculate with equal fire the most +unpalatable affirmations of heroic sentiment and contempt for the world. +Sometimes it is a glance from the height of thought, as thus:--"Bring +wine; for, in the audience-hall of the soul's independence, what is +sentinel or Sultan? what is the wise man or the intoxicated?"--and +sometimes his feast, feasters, and world are only one pebble more in the +eternal vortex and revolution of Fate:-- + + "I am: what I am + My dust will be again." + +A saint might lend an ear to the riotous fun of Falstaff; for it is +not created to excite the animal appetites, but to vent the joy of a +supernal intelligence. In all poetry, Pindar's rule holds,--[Greek: +sunetois phonei], it speaks to the intelligent; and Hafiz is a poet for +poets, whether he write, as sometimes, with a parrot's, or, as at other +times, with an eagle's quill. + +Every song of Hafiz affords new proof of the unimportance of your +subject to success, provided only the treatment be cordial. In general, +what is more tedious than dedications or panegyrics addressed to +grandees? Yet in the "Divan" you would not skip them, since his muse +seldom supports him better. + + "What lovelier forms things wear, + Now that the Shah comes back!" + +And again:-- + + "Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike + down. + Poises Arcturus aloft morning and evening + his spear." + +And again:-- + + "Mirza! where thy shadow falls, + Beauty sits and Music calls; + Where thy form and favor come, + All good creatures have their home." + +Here are a couple of stately compliments to his Shah, from the kindred +genius of Enweri:-- + + "Not in their houses stand the stars, + But o'er the pinnacles of thine!" + + "From thy worth and weight the stars + gravitate, + And the equipoise of heaven is thy house's + equipoise!" + +It is told of Hafiz, that, when he had written a compliment to a +handsome youth,-- + + "Take my heart in thy hand, O beautiful boy + of Schiraz! + I would give for the mole on thy cheek Samarcand + and Buchara!"-- + +the verses came to the ears of Timour in his palace. Timour taxed Hafiz +with treating disrespectfully his two cities, to raise and adorn which +he had conquered nations. Hafiz replied, "Alas, my lord, if I had not +been so prodigal, I had not been so poor!" + +The Persians had a mode of establishing copyright the most secure of any +contrivance with which we are acquainted. The law of the _ghaselle_, or +shorter ode, requires that the poet insert his name in the last stanza. +Almost every one of several hundreds of poems of Hafiz contains his name +thus interwoven more or less closely with the subject of the piece. It +is itself a test of skill, as this self-naming is not quite easy. We +remember but two or three examples in English poetry: that of Chaucer, +in the "House of Fame"; Jonson's epitaph on his son,-- + + "Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry"; + +and Cowley's,-- + + "The melancholy Cowley lay." + +But it is easy to Hafiz. It gives him the opportunity of the most +playful self-assertion, always gracefully, sometimes almost in the fun +of Falstaff, sometimes with feminine delicacy. He tells us, "The angels +in heaven were lately learning his last pieces." He says, "The fishes +shed their pearls, out of desire and longing, as soon as the ship of +Hafiz swims the deep." + + "Out of the East, and out of the West, + no man understands me; + Oh, the happier I, who confide to none but + the wind! + This morning heard I how the lyre of the + stars resounded, + 'Sweeter tones have we heard from Hafiz!'" + +Again,-- + + "I heard the harp of the planet Venus, and + it said in the early morning, 'I am the disciple + of the sweet-voiced Hafiz!'" + +And again,-- + + "When Hafiz sings, the angels hearken, + and Anaitis, the leader of the starry host, + calls even the Messiah in heaven out to the + dance." + + "No one has unveiled thoughts like Hafiz, + since the locks of the Word-bride were first + curled." + + "Only he despises the verse of Hafiz who + is not himself by nature noble." + +But we must try to give some of these poetic flourishes the metrical +form which they seem to require:-- + + "Fit for the Pleiads' azure chord + The songs I sung, the pearls I bored." + +Another:-- + + "I have no hoarded treasure, + Yet have I rich content; + The first from Allah to the Shah, + The last to Hafiz went." + +Another:-- + + "High heart, O Hafiz! though not thine + Fine gold and silver ore; + More worth to thee the gift of song, + And the clear insight more." + +Again:-- + + "Thou foolish Hafiz! say, do churls + Know the worth of Oman's pearls? + Give the gem which dims the moon + To the noblest, or to none." + +Again:-- + + "O Hafiz! speak not of thy need; + Are not these verses thine? + Then all the poets are agreed, + No man can less repine." + +He asserts his dignity as bard and inspired man of his people. To the +vizier returning from Mecca he says,-- + + "Boast not rashly, prince of pilgrims, of + thy fortune, Thou hast indeed seen the + temple; but I, the Lord of the temple. Nor + has any man inhaled from the musk-bladder + of the merchant, or from the musky morning-wind, + that sweet air which I am permitted to + breathe every hour of the day." + +And with still more vigor in the following lines:-- + + "Oft have I said, I say it once more, + I, a wanderer, do not stray from myself. + I am a kind of parrot; the mirror is holden to me; + What the Eternal says, I stammering say again. + Give me what you will; I eat thistles as roses, + And according to my food I grow and I give. + Scorn me not, but know I have the pearl, + And am only seeking one to receive it." + +And his claim has been admitted from the first. The muleteers and +camel-drivers, on their way through the desert, sing snatches of his +songs, not so much for the thought, as for their joyful temper and tone; +and the cultivated Persians know his poems by heart. Yet Hafiz does not +appear to have set any great value on his songs, since his scholars +collected them for the first time after his death. + +In the following poem the soul is figured as the Phoenix alighting on +the Tree of Life:-- + + "My phoenix long ago secured + His nest in the sky-vault's cope; + In the body's cage immured, + He is weary of life's hope. + + "Round and round this heap of ashes + Now flies the bird amain, + But in that odorous niche of heaven + Nestles the bird again. + + "Once flies he upward, he will perch + On Tuba's golden bough; + His home is on that fruited arch + Which cools the blest below. + + "If over this world of ours + His wings my phoenix spread, + How gracious falls on land and sea + The soul refreshing shade! + + "Either world inhabits he, + Sees oft below him planets roll; + His body is all of air compact, + Of Allah's love his soul." + +Here is an ode which is said to be a favorite with all educated +Persians:-- + + "Come!--the palace of heaven rests on aëry pillars,-- + Come, and bring me wine; our days are wind. + I declare myself the slave of that masculine soul + Which ties and alliance on earth once forever renounces. + Told I thee yester-morn how the Iris of heaven + Brought to me in my cup a gospel of joy? + O high-flying falcon! the Tree of Life is thy perch; + This nook of grief fits thee ill for a nest. + Hearken! they call to thee down from the ramparts of heaven; + I cannot divine what holds thee here in a net. + I, too, have a counsel for thee; oh, mark it and keep it, + Since I received the same from the Master above: + Seek not for faith or for truth in a world of light-minded girls; + A thousand suitors reckons this dangerous bride. + This jest [of the world], which tickles me, leave to my vagabond self. + Accept whatever befalls; uncover thy brow from thy locks; + Neither to me nor to thee was option imparted; + Neither endurance nor truth belongs to the laugh of the rose. + The loving nightingale mourns;--cause enow for mourning;-- + Why envies the bird the streaming verses of Hafiz? + Know that a god bestowed on him eloquent speech." + +Here is a little epitaph that might have come from Simonides:-- + + "Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest + Mad Destiny this tender stripling played: + For a warm breast of ivory to his breast, + She laid a slab of marble on his head." + +The cedar, the cypress, the palm, the olive, and fig-tree, and the birds +that inhabit them, and the garden flowers, are never wanting in these +musky verses, and are always named with effect. "The willows," he says, +"bow themselves to every wind, out of shame for their unfruitfulness." +We may open anywhere on a floral catalogue. + + "By breath of beds of roses drawn, + I found the grove in the morning pure, + In the concert of the nightingales + My drunken brain to cure. + + "With unrelated glance + I looked the rose in the eye; + The rose in the hour of gloaming + Flamed like a lamp hard-by. + + "She was of her beauty proud, + And prouder of her youth, + The while unto her flaming heart + The bulbul gave his truth. + + "The sweet narcissus closed + Its eye, with passion pressed; + The tulips out of envy burned + Moles in their scarlet breast. + + "The lilies white prolonged + Their sworded tongue to the smell; + The clustering anemones + Their pretty secrets tell." + +Presently we have,-- + + ----"All day the rain + Bathed the dark hyacinths in vain, + The flood may pour from morn till night + Nor wash the pretty Indians white." + +And so onward, through many a page. + +The following verse of Omar Chiam seems to belong to Hafiz:-- + + "Each spot where tulips prank their state + Has drunk the life-blood of the great; + The violets yon fields which stain + Are moles of beauties Time hath slain." + +As might this picture of the first days of Spring, from Enweri:-- + + "O'er the garden water goes the wind alone + To rasp and to polish the cheek of the wave; + The fire is quenched on the dear hearth-stone, + But it burns again on the tulips brave." + +Friendship is a favorite topic of the Eastern poets, and they have +matched on this head the absoluteness of Montaigne. + +Hafiz says,-- + +"Thou learnest no secret until thou knowest friendship; since to the +unsound no heavenly knowledge enters." + +Ibn Jemin writes thus:-- + + "Whilst I disdain the populace, + I find no peer in higher place. + Friend is a word of royal tone, + Friend is a poem all alone. + Wisdom is like the elephant, + Lofty and rare inhabitant: + He dwells in deserts or in courts; + With hucksters he has no resorts." + +Dschami says,-- + + "A friend is he, who, hunted as a foe, + So much the kindlier shows him than before; + Throw stones at him, or ruder javelins throw, + He builds with stone and steel a firmer floor." + +Of the amatory poetry of Hafiz we must be very sparing in our citations, +though it forms the staple of the "Divan." He has run through the +whole gamut of passion,--from the sacred, to the borders, and over +the borders, of the profane. The same confusion of high and low, the +celerity of flight and allusion which our colder muses forbid, is +habitual to him. From the plain text,-- + + "The chemist of love + Will this perishing mould, + Were it made out of mire, + Transmute into gold,"-- + +or, from another favorite legend of his chemistry,-- + + "They say, through patience, chalk + Becomes a ruby stone; + Ah, yes, but by the true heart's blood + The chalk is crimson grown,"-- + +he proceeds to the celebration of his passion; and nothing in his +religious or in his scientific traditions is too sacred or too remote to +afford a token of his mistress. The Moon thought she knew her own orbit +well enough; but when she saw the curve on Zuleika's cheek, she was at a +loss:-- + + "And since round lines are drawn + My darling's lips about, + The very Moon looks puzzled on, + And hesitates in doubt + If the sweet curve that rounds thy mouth + Be not her true way to the South." + +His ingenuity never sleeps:-- + + "Ah, could I hide me in my song, + To kiss thy lips from which it flows!"-- + +and plays in a thousand pretty courtesies:-- + + "Fair fall thy soft heart! + A good work wilt thou do? + Oh, pray for the dead + Whom thine eyelashes slew!" + +And what a nest has he found for his bonny bird to take up her abode +in!-- + + "They strew in the path of kings and czars + Jewels and gems of price; + But for thy head I will pluck down stars, + And pave thy way with eyes. + + "I have sought for thee a costlier dome + Than Mahmoud's palace high, + And thou, returning, find thy home + In the apple of Love's eye." + +Nor shall Death snatch her from his pursuit:-- + + "If my darling should depart + And search the skies for prouder friends, + God forbid my angry heart + In other love should seek amends! + + "When the blue horizon's hoop + Me a little pinches here, + On the instant I will die + And go find thee in the sphere." + +Then we have all degrees of passionate abandonment:-- + + "I know this perilous love-lane + No whither the traveller leads, + Yet my fancy the sweet scent of + Thy tangled tresses feeds. + + "In the midnight of thy locks, + I renounce the day; + In the ring of thy rose-lips, + My heart forgets to pray." + +And sometimes his love rises to a religious sentiment:-- + + "Plunge in yon angry waves, + Renouncing doubt and care; + The flowing of the seven broad seas + Shall never wet thy hair. + + "Is Allah's face on thee + Bending with love benign, + And thou not less on Allah's eye + O fairest! turnest thine." + +We add to these fragments of Hafiz a few specimens from other poets. + + +CHODSCHU KERMANI. + +THE EXILE. + + "In Farsistan the violet spreads + Its leaves to the rival sky,-- + I ask, How far is the Tigris flood, + And the vine that grows thereby? + + "Except the amber morning wind, + Not one saluted me here; + There is no man in all Bagdad + To offer the exile cheer. + + "I know that thou, O morning wind, + O'er Kerman's meadow blowest, + And thou, heart-warming nightingale, + My father's orchard knowest. + + "Oh, why did partial Fortune + From that bright land banish me? + So long as I wait in Bagdad, + The Tigris is all I see. + + "The merchant hath stuffs of price, + And gems from the sea-washed strand, + And princes offer me grace + To stay in the Syrian land: + + "But what is gold for but for gifts? + And dark without love is the day; + And all that I see in Bagdad + Is the Tigris to float me away." + + +NISAMI. + + "While roses bloomed along the plain, + The nightingale to the falcon said, + 'Why, of all birds, must thou be dumb? + With closed mouth thou utterest, + Though dying, no last word to man. + Yet sitt'st thou on the hand of princes, + And feedest on the grouse's breast, + Whilst I, who hundred thousand jewels + Squander in a single tone, + Lo! I feed myself with worms, + And my dwelling is the thorn.'-- + The falcon answered, 'Be all ear: + I, experienced in affairs, + See fifty things, say never one; + But thee the people prizes not, + Who, doing nothing, say'st a thousand. + To me, appointed to the chase, + The king's hand gives the grouse's breast; + Whilst a chatterer like thee + Must gnaw worms in the thorn. Farewell!'" + +The following passages exhibit the strong tendency of the Persian poets +to contemplative and religious poetry and to allegory. + + +ENWERI. + +BODY AND SOUL. + + "A painter in China once painted a hall;-- + Such a web never hung on an emperor's wall;-- + One half from his brush with rich colors did run, + The other he touched with a beam of the sun; + So that all which delighted the eye in one side, + The same, point for point, in the other replied. + + "In thee, friend, that Tyrian chamber is found; + Thine the star-pointing roof, and the base on the ground: + Is one half depicted with colors less bright? + Beware that the counterpart blazes with light!" + + +IBN JEMIN. + + "I read on the porch of a palace bold + In a purple tablet letters cast,-- + 'A house, though a million winters old, + A house of earth comes down at last; + Then quarry thy stones from the crystal All, + And build the dome that shall not fall.'" + +"What need," cries the mystic Feisi, "of palaces and tapestry? What need +even of a bed? + + "The eternal Watcher, who doth wake + All night in the body's earthen chest, + Will of thine arms a pillow make, + And a holster of thy breast." + +A stanza of Hilali on a Flute is a luxury of idealism:-- + + "Hear what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains, + Without tongue, yellow-cheeked, full of winds that wail and sigh, + Saying, 'Sweetheart, the old mystery remains, + If I am I, thou thou, or thou art I.'" + +Ferideddin Attar wrote the "Bird Conversations," a mystical tale, in +which the birds, coming together to choose their king, resolve on a +pilgrimage to Mount Kaf, to pay their homage to the Simorg. From this +poem, written five hundred years ago, we cite the following passage, as +a proof of the identity of mysticism in all periods. The tone is quite +modern. In the fable, the birds were soon weary of the length and +difficulties of the way, and at last almost all gave out. Three only +persevered, and arrived before the throne of the Simorg. + + "The bird-soul was ashamed; + Their body was quite annihilated; + They had cleaned themselves from the dust, + And were by the light ensouled. + What was, and was not,--the Past,-- + Was wiped out from their breast. + The sun from near-by beamed + Clearest light into their soul; + The resplendence of the Simorg beamed + As one back from all three. + They knew not, amazed, if they + Were either this or that. + They saw themselves all as Simorg, + Themselves in the eternal Simorg. + When to the Simorg up they looked, + They beheld him among themselves; + And when they looked on each other, + They saw themselves in the Simorg. + A single look grouped the two parties. + The Simorg emerged, the Simorg vanished, + This in that, and that in this, + As the world has never heard. + So remained they, sunk in wonder, + Thoughtless in deepest thinking, + And quite unconscious of themselves. + Speechless prayed they to the Highest + To open this secret, + And to unlock _Thou_ and _We_. + There came an answer without tongue.-- + 'The Highest is a sun-mirror; + Who comes to Him sees himself therein, + Sees body and soul, and soul and body: + When you came to the Simorg, + Three therein appeared to you, + And, had fifty of you come, + So had you seen yourselves as many. + Him has none of us yet seen. + Ants see not the Pleiades. + Can the gnat grasp with his teeth + The body of the elephant? + What you see is He not; + What you hear is He not. + The valleys which you traverse, + The actions which you perform, + They lie under our treatment + And among our properties. + You as three birds are amazed, + Impatient, heartless, confused: + Far over you am I raised, + Since I am in act Simorg. + Ye blot out my highest being, + That ye may find yourselves on my throne; + Forever ye blot out yourselves, + As shadows in the sun. Farewell!'" + +Among the religious customs of the dervises, it seems, is an +astronomical dance, in which the dervis imitates the movements of the +heavenly bodies by spinning on his own axis, whilst, at the same time, +he revolves round the sheikh in the centre, representing the sun; and as +he spins, he sings the song of Seid Nimetollah of Kuhistan:-- + + "Spin the ball! I reel, I hum, + Nor head from foot can I discern, + Nor my heart from love of mine, + Nor the wine-cup from the wine. + All my doing, all my leaving, + Reaches not to my perceiving. + Lost in whirling spheres I rove, + And know only that I love. + + "I am seeker of the stone, + Living gem of Solomon; + From the shore of souls arrived, + In the sea of sense I dived; + But what is land, or what is wave, + To me who only jewel crave? + Love's the air-fed fire intense, + My heart is the frankincense; + As the rich aloes flames, I glow, + Yet the censer cannot know. + I'm all-knowing, yet unknowing; + Stand not, pause not, in my going. + + "Ask not me, as Muftis can + To recite the Alcoran; + Well I love the meaning sweet,-- + I tread the book beneath my feet. + + "Lo! the God's love blazes higher, + Till all difference expire. + What are Moslems? what are Giaours? + All are Love's, and all are ours. + I embrace the true believers, + But I reck not of deceivers. + Firm to heaven my bosom clings, + Heedless of inferior things; + Down on earth there, underfoot, + What men chatter know I not." + + * * * * * + + +THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. + +EVERY MAN HIS OWN BOSWELL. + + +Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle which fits them all. + +----I think, Sir,--said the divinity-student,--you must intend that for +one of the sayings of the Seven Wise Men of Boston you were speaking of +the other day. + +I thank you, my young friend,--was my reply,--but I must say something +better than that, before I could pretend to fill out the number. + +----The schoolmistress wanted to know how many of these sayings there +were on record, and what, and by whom said. + +----Why, let us see,--there is that one of Benjamin Franklin, "the great +Bostonian," after whom this lad was named. To be sure, he said a great +many wise things,--and I don't feel sure he didn't borrow this,--he +speaks as if it were old. But then he applied it so neatly!-- + +"He that has once done you a kindness will be more ready to do you +another than he whom you yourself have obliged." + +Then there is that glorious Epicurean paradox, uttered by my friend, the +Historian, in one of his flashing moments:-- + +"Give us the luxuries of life, and we will dispense with its +necessaries." + +To these must certainly be added that other saying of one of the +wittiest of men:-- + +"Good Americans, when they die, go to Paris." + +----The divinity-student looked grave at this, but said nothing. + +The schoolmistress spoke out, and said she didn't think the wit meant +any irreverence. It was only another way of saying, Paris is a heavenly +place after New York or Boston. + +A jaunty-looking person, who had come in with the young fellow they call +John,--evidently a stranger,--said there was one more wise man's saying +that he had heard; it was about our place, but he didn't know who said +it.--A civil curiosity was manifested by the company to hear the fourth +wise saying. I heard him distinctly whispering to the young fellow who +brought him to dinner, _Shall I tell it?_ To which the answer was, _Go +ahead!_--Well,--he said,--this was what I heard:-- + +"Boston State-House is the hub of the solar system. You couldn't +pry that out of a Boston man, if you had the tire of all creation +straightened out for a crowbar." + +Sir,--said I,--I am gratified with your remark. It expresses with +pleasing vivacity that which I have sometimes heard uttered with +malignant dulness. The satire of the remark is essentially true of +Boston,--and of all other considerable--and inconsiderable--places with +which I have had the privilege of being acquainted. Cockneys think +London is the only place in the world. Frenchmen--you remember the line +about Paris, the Court, the World, etc.--I recollect well, by the way, +a sign in that city which ran thus: "Hotel de l'Univers et des États +Unis"; and as Paris _is_ the universe to a Frenchman, of course the +United States are outside of it.--"See Naples and then die."--It is +quite as bad with smaller places. I have been about, lecturing, you +know, and have found the following propositions to hold true of all of +them. + +1. The axis of the earth sticks out visibly through the centre of each +and every town or city. + +2. If more than fifty years have passed since its foundation, it is +affectionately styled by the inhabitants the "_good old_ town _of_"---- +(whatever its name may happen to be). + +3. Every collection of its inhabitants that comes together to listen +to a stranger is invariably declared to be a "remarkably intelligent +audience." + +4. The climate of the place is particularly favorable to longevity. + +5. It contains several persons of vast talent little known to the world. +(One or two of them, you may perhaps chance to remember, sent short +pieces to the "Paetolian" some time since, which were "respectfully +declined.") + +Boston is just like other places of its size;--only, perhaps, +considering its excellent fish-market, paid fire-department, superior +monthly publications, and correct habit of spelling the English +language, it has some right to look down on the mob of cities. I'll tell +you, though, if you want to know it, what is the real offence of Boston. +It drains a large water-shed of its intellect, and will not itself be +drained. If it would only send away its first-rate men, instead of its +second-rate ones, (no offence to the well-known exceptions, of which we +are always proud,) we should be spared such epigrammatic remarks as that +which the gentleman has quoted. There can never be a real metropolis +in this country, until the biggest centre can drain the lesser ones of +their talent and wealth. I have observed, by the way, that the people +who really live in two great cities are by no means so jealous of each +other, as are those of smaller cities situated within the intellectual +basin, or _suction-range_, of one large one, of the pretensions of any +other. Don't you see why? Because their promising young author and +rising lawyer and large capitalist have been drained off to the +neighboring big city,--their prettiest girl has been exported to the +same market; all their ambition points there, and all their thin gilding +of glory comes from there. I hate little toad-eating cities. + +----Would I be so good as to specify any particular example?--Oh,--an +example? Did you ever see a bear-trap? Never? Well, shouldn't you +like to see me put my foot into one? With sentiments of the highest +consideration I must beg leave to be excused. + +Besides, some of the smaller cities are charming. If they have an old +church or two, a few stately mansions of former grandees, here and there +an old dwelling with the second story projecting, (for the convenience +of shooting the Indians knocking at the front-door with their +tomahawks,)--if they have, scattered about, those mighty-square houses +built something more than half a century ago, and standing like +architectural boulders dropped by the former diluvium of wealth, whose +refluent wave has left them as its monument,--if they have gardens with +elbowed apple trees that push their branches over the high board-fence +and drop their fruit on the side-walk,--if they have a little grass in +the side-streets, enough to betoken quiet without proclaiming decay,--I +think I could go to pieces, after my life's work were done, in one of +those tranquil places, as sweetly as in any cradle that an old man may +be rocked to sleep in. I visit such spots always with infinite delight. +My friend, the Poet, says, that rapidly growing towns are most +unfavorable to the imaginative and reflective faculties. Let a man live +in one of these old quiet places, he says, and the wine of his soul, +which is kept thick and turbid by the rattle of busy streets, settles, +and, as you hold it up, you may see the sun through it by day and the +stars by night. + +----Do I think that the little villages have the conceit of the great +towns?--I don't believe there is much difference. You know how they read +Pope's line in the smallest town in our State of Massachusetts?--Well, +they read it + + "All are but parts of one stupendous HULL!" + +----Every person's feelings have a front-door and a side-door by which +they may be entered. The front-door is on the street. Some keep it +always open; some keep it latched; some, locked; some, bolted,--with a +chain that will let you peep in, but not get in; and some nail it up, +so that nothing can pass its threshold. This front-door leads into +a passage which opens into an ante-room, and this into the interior +apartments. The side-door opens at once into the sacred chambers. + +There is almost always at least one key to this side-door. This is +carried for years hidden in a mother's bosom. Fathers, brothers, +sisters, and friends, often, but by no means so universally, have +duplicates of it. The wedding-ring conveys a right to one; alas, if none +is given with it! + +If nature or accident has put one of these keys into the hands of a +person who has the torturing instinct, I can only solemnly pronounce the +words that Justice utters over its doomed victim,--_The Lord have mercy +on your soul!_ You will probably go mad within a reasonable time,--or, +if you are a man, run off and die with your head on a curb-stone, in +Melbourne or San Francisco,--or, if you are a woman, quarrel and break +your heart, or turn into a pale, jointed petrifaction that moves about +as if it were alive, or play some real life-tragedy or other. + +Be very careful to whom you trust one of these keys of the side-door. +The fact of possessing one renders those even who are dear to you very +terrible at times. You can keep the world out from your front-door, or +receive visitors only when you are ready for them; but those of your own +flesh and blood, or of certain grades of intimacy, can come in at the +side-door, if they will, at any hour and in any mood. Some of them have +a scale of your whole nervous system, and can play all the gamut of your +sensibilities in semitones,--touching the naked nerve-pulps as a pianist +strikes the keys of his instrument. I am satisfied that there are as +great masters of this nerve-playing as Vieuxtemps or Thalberg in their +lines of performance. Married life is the school in which the most +accomplished artists in this department are found. A delicate woman +is the best instrument; she has such a magnificent compass of +sensibilities! From the deep inward moan which follows pressure on the +great nerves of right, to the sharp cry as the filaments of taste are +struck with a crashing sweep, is a range which no other instrument +possesses. A few exercises on it dally at home fit a man wonderfully for +his habitual labors, and refresh him immensely as he returns from them. +No stranger can get a great many notes of torture out of a human soul; +it takes one that knows it well,--parent, child, brother, sister, +intimate. Be very careful to whom you give a side-door key; too many +have them already. + +----You remember the old story of the tender-hearted man, who placed a +frozen viper in his bosom, and was stung by it when it became thawed? If +we take a cold-blooded creature into our bosom, better that it should +sting us and we should die than that its chill should slowly steal into +our hearts; warm it we never can! I have seen faces of women that were +fair to look upon, yet one could see that the icicles were forming +round these women's hearts. I knew what freezing image lay on the white +breasts beneath the laces! + +A very simple _intellectual_ mechanism answers the necessities of +friendship, and even of the most intimate relations of life. If a watch +tells us the hour and the minute, we can be content to carry it about +with us for a life-time, though it has no second-hand, and is not +a repeater, nor a musical watch,--though it is not enamelled nor +jewelled,--in short, though it has little beyond the wheels required +for a trustworthy instrument, added to a good face and a pair of useful +hands. The more wheels there are in a watch or a brain, the more trouble +they are to take care of. The movements of exaltation which belong to +genius are egotistic by their very nature. A calm, clear mind, not +subject to the spasms and crises that are so often met with in creative +or intensely perceptive natures, is the best basis for love or +friendship.--Observe, I am talking about _minds_. I won't say, the more +intellect, the less capacity for loving; for that would do wrong to the +understanding and reason;--but, on the other hand, that the brain often +runs away with the heart's best blood, which gives the world a few pages +of wisdom or sentiment or poetry, instead of making one other heart +happy, I have no question. + +If one's intimate in love or friendship cannot or does not share +all one's intellectual tastes or pursuits, that is a small matter. +Intellectual companions can be found easily in men and books. After all, +if we think of it, most of the world's loves and friendships have been +between people that could not read nor spell. + +But to radiate the heat of the affections into a clod, which absorbs all +that is poured into it, but never warms beneath the sunshine of smiles +or the pressure of hand or lip,--this is the great martyrdom of +sensitive beings,--most of all in that perpetual _auto da fé_ where +young womanhood is the sacrifice. + +----You noticed, perhaps, what I just said about the loves and +friendships of illiterate persons,--that is, of the human race, with a +few exceptions here and there. I like books,--I was born and bred among +them, and have the easy feeling, when I get into their presence, that a +stable-boy has among horses. I don't think I undervalue them either as +companions or as instructors. But I can't help remembering that the +world's great men have not commonly been great scholars, nor its great +scholars great men. The Hebrew patriarchs had small libraries, I think, +if any; yet they represent to our imaginations a very complete idea of +manhood, and, I think, if we could ask in Abraham to dine with us men of +letters next Saturday, we should feel honored by his company. + +What I wanted to say about books is this: that there are times in which +every active mind feels itself above any and all human books. + +----I think a man must have a good opinion of himself, Sir,--said the +divinity-student,--who should feel himself above Shakspeare at any time. + +My young friend,--I replied,--the man who is never conscious of any +state of feeling or of intellectual effort entirely beyond expression +by any form of words whatsoever is a mere creature of language. I can +hardly believe there are any such men. Why, think for a moment of the +power of music. The nerves that make us alive to it spread out (so the +Professor tells me) in the most sensitive region of the marrow, just +where it is widening to run upwards into the hemispheres. It has its +seat in the region of sense rather than of thought. Yet it produces +a continuous and, as it were, logical sequence of emotional and +intellectual changes; but how different from trains of thought proper! +how entirely beyond the reach of symbols!--Think of human passions as +compared with all phrases! Did you ever hear of a man's growing lean by +the reading of "Romeo and Juliet," or blowing his brains out because +Desdemona was maligned? There are a good many symbols, even, that are +more expressive than words. I remember a young wife who had to part with +her husband for a time. She did not write a mournful poem; indeed, she +was a silent person, and perhaps hardly said a word about it; but she +quietly turned of a deep orange color with jaundice. A great many people +in this world have but one form of rhetoric for their profoundest +experiences,--namely, to waste away and die. When a man can _read_, his +paroxysm of feeling is passing. When he can _read_, his thought has +slackened its hold.--You talk about reading Shakspeare, using him as an +expression for the highest intellect, and you wonder that any common +person should be so presumptuous as to suppose his thought can rise +above the text which lies before him. But think a moment. A child's +reading of Shakspeare is one thing, and Coleridge's or Schlegel's +reading of him is another. The saturation-point of each mind differs +from that of every other. But I think it is as true for the small mind +which can only take up a little as for the great one which takes up +much, that the suggested trains of thought and feeling ought always +to rise above--not the author, but the reader's mental version of the +author, whoever he may be. + +I think most readers of Shakspeare sometimes find themselves thrown into +exalted mental conditions like those produced by music. Then they may +drop the book, to pass at once into the region of thought without words. +We may happen to be very dull folks, you and I, and probably are, unless +there is some particular reason to suppose the contrary. But we get +glimpses now and then of a sphere of spiritual possibilities, where we, +dull as we are now, may sail in vast circles round the largest compass +of earthly intelligences. + +----I confess there are times when I feel like the friend I mentioned +to you some time ago,--I hate the very sight of a book. Sometimes it +becomes almost a physical necessity to talk out what is in the mind, +before putting anything else into it. It is very bad to have thoughts +and feelings, which were meant to come out in talk, _strike in_, as they +say of some complaints that ought to show outwardly. + +I always believed in life rather than in books. I suppose every day +of earth, with its hundred thousand deaths and something more of +births,--with its loves and hates, its triumphs and defeats, its pangs +and blisses, has more of humanity in it than all the books that were +ever written, put together. I believe the flowers growing at this moment +send up more fragrance to heaven than was ever exhaled from all the +essences ever distilled. + +----Don't I read up various matters to talk about at this table or +elsewhere?--No, that is the last thing I would do. I will tell you my +rule. Talk about those subjects you have had long in your mind, and +listen to what others say about subjects you have studied but recently. +Knowledge and timber shouldn't be much used till they are seasoned. + +----Physiologists and metaphysicians have had their attention turned a +good deal of late to the automatic and involuntary actions of the mind. +Put an idea into your intelligence and leave it there an hour, a day, a +year, without ever having occasion to refer to it. When, at last, +you return to it, you do not find it as it was when acquired. It has +domiciliated itself, so to speak,--become at home,--entered into +relations with your other thoughts, and integrated itself with the whole +fabric of the mind. Or take a simple and familiar example. You forget +a name, in conversation,--go on talking, without making any effort to +recall it,--and presently the mind evolves it by its own involuntary and +unconscious action, while you were pursuing another train of thought, +and the name rises of itself to your lips. + +There are some curious observations I should like to make about the +mental machinery, but I think we are getting rather didactic. + +----I should be gratified, if Benjamin Franklin would let me know +something of his progress in the French language. I rather liked that +exercise he read us the other day, though I must confess I should hardly +dare to translate it, for fear some people in a remote city where I once +lived might think I was drawing their portraits. + +----Yes, Paris is a famous place for societies. I don't know whether the +piece I mentioned from the French author was intended simply as Natural +History, or whether there was not a little malice in his description. +At any rate, when I gave my translation to B.F. to turn back again into +French, one reason was that I thought it would sound a little bald in +English, and some people might think it was meant to have some local +bearing or other,--which the author, of course, didn't mean, inasmuch as +he could not be acquainted with anything on this side the water. + +[The above remarks were addressed to the schoolmistress, to whom I +handed the paper after looking it over. The divinity-student came +and read over her shoulder,--very curious, apparently, but his eyes +wandered, I thought. Seeing that her breathing was a little hurried and +high, or _thoracic_, as my friend, the Professor, calls it, I watched +her a little more closely.--It is none of my business.--After all, it +is the imponderables that move the world,--heat, electricity, +love.--_Habet_.] + +This is the piece that Benjamin Franklin made into boarding-school +French, such as you see here; don't expect too much;--the mistakes give +a relish to it, I think. + + +LES SOCIÉTÉS POLYPHYSIOPHILOSOPHIQUES. + +Ces Sociétés là sont une Institution pour suppléer aux besoins d'esprit +et de coeur de ces individus qui ont survécu à leurs émotions à l'égard +du beau sexe, et qui n'ont pas la distraction de l'habitude de boire. + +Pour devenir membre d'une de ces Sociétés, on doit avoir le moins +de cheveux possible. S'il y en reste plusieurs qui resistent aux +dépilatoires naturelles et autres, on doit avoir quelques connaissances, +n'importe dans quel genre. Dès le moment qu'on ouvre la porte de la +Société, on a un grand intérêt dans toutes les choses dont on ne sait +rien. Ainsi, un microscopiste démontre un nouveau _flexor_ du _tarse_ +d'un _melolontha vulgaris_. Douze savans improvisés, portans des +besicles, et qui ne connaissent rien des insectes, si ce n'est les +morsures du _culex_, se précipitent sur l'instrument, et voient--une +grande bulle d'air, dont ils s'émerveillent avec effusion. Ce qui est +un spectacle plein d'instruction--pour ceux qui ne sont pas de ladite +Société. Tous les membres regardent les chimistes en particulier avec +un air d'intelligence parfaite pendant qu'ils prouvent dans un discours +d'une demi heure que O^6 N^3 H^5 C^6 etc. font quelque chose qui n'est +bonne à rien, mais qui probablement a une odeur très désagréable, selon +l'habitude des produits chimiques. Après celà, vient un mathématicien +qui vous bourre avec des _a+b_ et vous rapporte enfin un _x+y_, dont +vous n'avez pas besoin et qui ne change nullement vos relations avec +la vie. Un naturaliste vous parle des formations spéciales des animaux +excessivement inconnus, dont vous n'avez jamais soupçonné l'existence. +Ainsi il vous décrit les _follicules_ de _l'appendix vermiformis_ d'un +_dzigguetai_. Vous ne savez pas ce que c'est qu'un _follicule_. Vous ne +savez pas ce que c'est qu'un _appendix vermiformis_. Vous n'avez +jamais entendu parler du _dzigguetai_. Ainsi vous gagnez toutes ces +connaissances à la fois, qui s'attachent à votre esprit comme l'eau +adhére aux plumes d'un canard. On connait toutes les langues _ex +officio_ en devenant membre d'une de ces Sociétés. Ainsi quand on entend +lire un Essai sur les dialectes Tchutchiens, on comprend tout celà de +suite, et s'instruit énormément. + +Il y a deux espèces d'individus qu'on trouve toujours à ces Sociétiés: +1° Le membre à questions; 2° Le membre à "Bylaws." + +La _question_ est une spécialité. Celui qui en fait métier ne fait +jamais des réponses. La question est une manière très commode de dire +les choses suivantes: "Me voilà! Je ne suis pas fossil, moi,--je respire +encore! J'ai des idées,--voyez mon intelligence! Vous ne croyiez pas, +vous autres, que je savais quelque chose de celà! Ah, nous avons un +peu de sagacité, voyez vous! Nous ne sommes nullement la bête qu'on +pense!"--_Le faiseur de questions donne peu d'attention aux réponses +qu'on fait; ce n'est pas là dans sa spécialité._ + +Le membre à "Bylaws" est le bouchon de toutes les émotions mousseuses +et généreuses qui se montrent dans la Société. C'est un empereur +manqué,--un tyran à la troisième trituration. C'est un esprit dur, +borné, exact, grand dans les petitesses, petit dans les grandeurs, selon +le mot du grand Jefferson. On ne l'aime pas dans la Société, mais on le +respecte et on le craint. Il n'y a qu'un mot pour ce membre audessus +de "Bylaws." Ce mot est pour lui ce que l'Om est aux Hindous. C'est sa +religion; il n'y a rien audelà. Ce mot là c'est la CONSTITUTION! + +Lesdites Sociétés publient des feuilletons de tems en tems. On les +trouve abandonnés à sa porte, nus comme des enfans nouveau-nés, faute +de membrane cutanée, ou même papyracée. Si on aime la botanique, on y +trouve une mémoire sur les coquilles; si on fait des études zoölogiques, +on trouve un grand tas de q[square root]-1, ce qui doit étre infiniment +plus commode que les encyclopédies. Ainsi il est clair comme la +métaphysique qu'on doit devenir membre d'une Société telle que nous +décrivons. + + Recette pour le Dépilatoire Physiophilosophique. + Chaux vive lb. ss. Eau bouillante Oj. + Dépilez avec. Polissez ensuite. + +----I told the boy that his translation into French was creditable to +him; and some of the company wishing to hear what there was in the piece +that made me smile, I turned it into English for them, as well as I +could, on the spot. + +The landlady's daughter seemed to be much amused by the idea that, +a depilatory could take the place of literary and scientific +accomplishments; she wanted me to print the piece, so that she might +send a copy of it to her cousin in Mizzourah; she didn't think he'd +have to do anything to the outside of his head to get into any of +the societies; he had to wear a wig once, when he played a part in a +tabullo. + +No,--said I,--I shouldn't think of printing that in English. I'll tell +you why. As soon as you get a few thousand people together in a town, +there is somebody that every sharp thing you say is sure to hit. What +if a thing was written in Paris or in Pekin?--that makes no difference. +Everybody in those cities, or almost everybody, has his counterpart +here, and in all large places.--You never studied averages, as I have +had occasion to. + +I'll tell you how I came to know so much about averages. There was +one season when I was lecturing, commonly, five evenings in the week, +through most of the lecturing period. I soon found, as most speakers do, +that it was pleasanter to work one lecture than to keep several in hand. + +----Don't you get sick to death of one lecture?--said the landlady's +daughter,--who had a new dress on that day, and was in spirits for +conversation. + +I was going to talk about averages,--I said,--but I have no objection to +telling you about lectures, to begin with. + +A new lecture always has a certain excitement connected with its +delivery. One thinks well of it, as of most things fresh from his mind. +After a few deliveries of it, one gets tired and then disgusted with +its repetition. Go on delivering it, and the disgust passes off, until, +after one has repeated it a hundred or a hundred and fifty times, he +rather enjoys the hundred and first or hundred and fifty-first time, +before a new audience. But this is on one condition,--that he never lays +the lecture down and lets it cool. If he does, there comes on a +loathing for it which is intense, so that the sight of the old battered +manuscript is as bad as sea-sickness. + +A new lecture is just like any other new tool. We use it for a while +with pleasure. Then it blisters our hands, and we hate to touch it. +By-and-by our hands get callous, and then we have no longer any +sensitiveness about it. But if we give it up, the calluses disappear; +and if we meddle with it again, we miss the novelty and get the +blisters.--The story is often quoted of Whitefield, that he said a +sermon was good for nothing until it had been preached forty times. +A lecture doesn't begin to be old until it has passed its hundredth +delivery; and some, I think, have doubled, if not quadrupled, that +number. These old lectures are a man's best, commonly; they improve by +age, also,--like the pipes, fiddles, and poems I told you of the other +day. One learns to make the most of their strong points and to carry off +their weak ones, to take out the really good things which don't tell on +the audience, and put in cheaper things that do. All this degrades +him, of course, but it improves the lecture for general delivery. A +thoroughly popular lecture ought to have nothing in it which five +hundred people cannot all take in a flash, just as it is uttered. + +----No, indeed,--I should be very sorry to say anything disrespectful +of audiences. I have been kindly treated by a great many, and may +occasionally face one hereafter. But I tell you the _average_ intellect +of five hundred persons, taken as they come, is not very high. It may be +sound and safe, so far as it goes, but it is not very rapid or profound. +A lecture ought to be something which all can understand, about +something which interests everybody. I think, that, if any experienced +lecturer gives you a different account from this, it will probably be +one of those eloquent or forcible speakers who hold an audience by the +charm of their manner, whatever they talk about,--even when they don't +talk very well. + +But an _average_, which was what I meant to speak about, is one of the +most extraordinary subjects of observation and study. It is awful in its +uniformity, in its automatic necessity of action. Two communities of +ants or bees are exactly alike in all their actions, so far as we can +see. Two lyceum assemblies, of five hundred each, are so nearly alike, +that they are absolutely undistinguishable in many cases by any definite +mark, and there is nothing but the place and time by which one can tell +the "remarkably intelligent audience" of a town in New York or Ohio from +one in any New England town of similar size. Of course, if any principle +of selection has come in, as in those special associations of young +men which are common in cities, it deranges the uniformity of the +assemblage. But let there be no such interfering circumstances, and one +knows pretty well even the look the audience will have, before he goes +in. Front seats: a few old folks,--shiny-headed,--slant up best ear +towards the speaker,--drop off asleep after a while, when the air begins +to get a little narcotic with carbonic acid. Bright women's faces, young +and middle-aged, a little behind these, but toward the front--(pick out +the best, and lecture mainly to that). Here and there a countenance +sharp and scholarlike, and a dozen pretty female ones sprinkled about. +An indefinite number of pairs of young people,--happy, but not always +very attentive. Boys in the back-ground, more or less quiet. Dull faces +here, there,--in how many places! I don't say dull _people_, but faces +without a ray of sympathy or a movement of expression. They are what +kill the lecturer. These negative faces with their vacuous eyes and +stony lineaments pump and suck the warm soul out of him;--that is the +chief reason why lecturers grow so pale before the season is over. They +render _latent_ any amount of vital caloric; they act on our minds as +those cold-blooded creatures I was talking about act on our hearts. + +Out of all these inevitable elements the audience is generated,--a great +compound vertebrate, as much like fifty others you have seen as any two +mammals of the same species are like each other. Each audience laughs, +and each cries, in just the same places of your lecture; that is, if you +make one laugh or cry, you make all. Even those little indescribable +movements which a lecturer takes cognizance of, just as a driver notices +his horse's cocking his ears, are sure to come in exactly the same place +of your lecture, always. I declare to you, that, as the monk said about +the picture in the convent,--that he sometimes thought the living +tenants were the shadows, and the painted figures the realities,--I +have sometimes felt as if I were a wandering spirit, and this great +unchanging multivertebrate which I faced night after night was one +ever-listening animal, which writhed along after me wherever I fled, and +coiled at my feet every evening, turning up to me the same sleepless +eyes which I thought I had closed with my last drowsy incantation! + +----Oh, yes! A thousand kindly and courteous acts,--a thousand faces +that melted individually out of my recollection as the April snow melts, +but only to steal away and find the beds of flowers whose roots are +memory, but which blossom in poetry and dreams. I am not ungrateful, nor +unconscious of all the good feeling and intelligence everywhere to be +met with through the vast parish to which the lecturer ministers. But +when I set forth, leading a string of my mind's daughters to market, as +the country-folk fetch in their strings of horses----Pardon me, that +was a coarse fellow who sneered at the sympathy wasted on an unhappy +lecturer, as if, because he was decently paid for his services, he had +therefore sold his sensibilities.--Family men get dreadfully homesick. +In the remote and bleak village the heart returns to the red blaze of +the logs in one's fireplace at home. + + "There are his young barbarians all at play,"-- + +if he owns any youthful savages.--No, the world has a million roosts for +a man, but only one nest. + +----It is a fine thing to be an oracle to which an appeal is always made +in all discussions. The men of facts wait their turn in grim silence, +with that slight tension about the nostrils which the consciousness +of earning a "settler" in the form of a fact or a revolver gives the +individual thus armed. When a person is really full of information, and +does not abuse it to crush conversation, his part is to that of the real +talkers what the instrumental accompaniment is in a trio or quartette of +vocalists. + +----What do I mean by the real talkers?--Why, the people with fresh +ideas, of course, and plenty of good warm words to dress them in. Facts +always yield the place of honor, in conversation, to thoughts about +facts; but if a false note is uttered, down comes the finger on the key +and the man of facts asserts his true dignity. I have known three of +these men of facts, at least, who were always formidable,--and one of +them was tyrannical. + +----Yes, a man sometimes makes a grand appearance on a particular +occasion; but these men knew something about almost everything, and +never made mistakes.--He? _Veneers_ in first-rate style. The mahogany +scales off now and then in spots, and then you see the cheap light +stuff.--I found ---- very fine in conversational information, the other +day, when we were in company. The talk ran upon mountains. He was +wonderfully well acquainted with the leading facts about the Andes, the +Apennines, and the Appalachians; he had nothing in particular to +say about Ararat, Ben Nevis, and various other mountains that were +mentioned. By and by some Revolutionary anecdote came up, and he showed +singular familiarity with the lives of the Adamses, and gave many +details relating to Major André. A point of Natural History being +suggested, he gave an excellent account of the air-bladder of fishes. +He was very full upon the subject of agriculture, but retired from the +conversation when horticulture was introduced in the discussion. So +he seemed well acquainted with the geology of anthracite, but did not +pretend to know anything of other kinds of coal. There was something so +odd about the extent and limitations of his knowledge, that I suspected +all at once what might be the meaning of it, and waited till I got an +opportunity.--Have you seen the "New American Cyclopaedia?" said I.--I +have, he replied; I received an early copy.--How far does it go?--He +turned red, and answered,--To Araguay.--Oh, said I to myself,--not quite +so far as Ararat;--that is the reason he knew nothing about it; but he +must have read all the rest straight through, and, if he can remember +what is in this volume until he has read all those that are to come, he +will know more than I ever thought he would. + +Since I had this experience, I hear that somebody else has related a +similar story. I didn't borrow it, for all that.--I made a comparison +at table some time since, which has often been quoted and received many +compliments. It was that of the mind of a bigot to the pupil of the eye; +the more light you pour on it, the more it contracts. The simile is a +very obvious, and, I suppose I may now say, a happy one; for it has just +been shown me that it occurs in a Preface to certain Political Poems of +Thomas Moore's, published long before my remark was repeated. When a +person of fair character for literary honesty uses an image such as +another has employed before him, the presumption is, that he has struck +upon it independently, or unconsciously recalled it, supposing it his +own. + +It is impossible to tell, in a great many cases, whether a comparison +which suddenly suggests itself is a new conception or a recollection. I +told you the other day that I never wrote a line of verse that seemed to +me comparatively good, but it appeared old at once, and often as if it +had been borrowed. But I confess I never suspected the above comparison +of being old, except from the fact of its obviousness. It is proper, +however, that I proceed by a formal instrument to relinquish all claim +to any property in an idea given to the world at about the time when +I had just joined the class in which Waster Thomas Moore was then a +somewhat advanced scholar. + +I, therefore, in full possession of my native honesty, but knowing the +liability of all men to be elected to public office, and for that reason +feeling uncertain how soon I may be in danger of losing it, do hereby +renounce all claim to being considered the _first_ person who gave +utterance to a certain simile or comparison referred to in the +accompanying documents, and relating to the pupil of the eye on the one +part and the mind of the bigot on the other. I hereby relinquish all +glory and profit, and especially all claims to letters from +autograph collectors, founded upon my supposed property in the above +comparison,--knowing well, that, according to the laws of literature, +they who speak first hold the fee of the thing said. I do also agree +that all Editors of Cyclopedias and Biographical Dictionaries, all +Publishers of Reviews and Papers, and all Critics writing therein, +shall be at liberty to retract or qualify any opinion predicated on +the supposition that I was the sole and undisputed author of the above +comparison. But, inasmuch as I do affirm that the comparison aforesaid +was uttered by me in the firm belief that it was new and wholly my own, +and as I have good reason to think that I had never seen or heard it +when first expressed by me, and as it is well known that different +persons may independently utter the same idea,--as is evinced by that +familiar line from Donatus,-- + + "Pereant illi qui ante nos nostra dixcrunt,"-- + +now, therefore, I do request by this instrument that all well-disposed +persons will abstain from asserting or implying that I am open to any +accusation whatsoever touching the said comparison, and, if they have +so asserted or implied, that they will have the manliness forthwith to +retract the same assertion or insinuation. + +I think few persons have a greater disgust for plagiarism than myself. +If I had even suspected that the idea in question was borrowed,--I +should have disclaimed originality, or mentioned the coincidence, as +I once did in a case where I had happened to hit on an idea of +Swift's.--But what shall I do about these verses I was going to read +you? I am afraid that half mankind would accuse me of stealing their +thoughts, if I printed them. I am convinced that several of you, +especially if you are getting a little on in life, will recognize some +of these sentiments as having passed through your consciousness at some +time. I can't help it,--it is too late now. The verses are written, and +you must have them. Listen, then, and you shall hear + + +WHAT WE ALL THINK. + + That age was older once than now, + In spite of locks untimely shed, + Or silvered on the youthful brow; + That babes make love and children wed. + + That sunshine had a heavenly glow, + Which faded with those "good old days," + When winters came with deeper snow, + And autumns with a softer haze. + + That--mother, sister, wife, or child-- + The "best of women" each has known. + Were schoolboys ever half so wild? + How young the grandpapas have grown! + + That _but for this_ our souls were free, + And _but for that_ our lives were blest; + That in some season yet to be + Our cares will leave us time to rest. + + Whene'er we groan with ache or pain, + Some common ailment of the race,-- + Though doctors think the matter plain,-- + That ours is "a peculiar case." + + That when like babes with fingers burned + We count one bitter maxim more, + Our lesson all the world has learned, + And men are wiser than before. + + That when we sob o'er fancied woes, + The angels hovering overhead + Count every pitying drop that flows + And love us for the tears we shed. + + That when we stand with tearless eye + And turn the beggar from our door, + They still approve us when we sigh, + "Ah, had I but _one thousand more_!" + + That weakness smoothed the path of sin, + In half the slips our youth has known; + And whatsoe'er its blame has been, + That Mercy flowers on faults outgrown. + + Though temples crowd the crumbled brink + O'erhanging truth's eternal flow, + Their tablets bold with _what we think_, + Their echoes dumb to _what we know_; + + That one unquestioned text we read, + All doubt beyond, all fear above, + Nor crackling pile nor cursing creed + Can burn or blot it: GOD is LOVE! + + * * * * * + + +SANDALPHON. + + + Have you read in the Talmud of old, + In the legends the Rabbins have told + Of the limitless realms of the air, + Have you read it,--the marvellous story + Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory, + Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer? + + How, erect, at the outermost gate + Of the City Celestial he waits, + With his feet on the ladder of light, + That, crowded with angels unnumbered, + By Jacob was seen, as he slumbered + Alone in the desert at night? + + The Angels of Wind and of Fire + Chant only one hymn, and expire + With the song's irresistible stress,-- + Expire in their rapture and wonder, + As harp-strings are broken asunder + By the music they throb to express. + + But serene in the rapturous throng, + Unmoved by the rush of the song, + With eyes unimpassioned and slow, + Among the dead angels, the deathless + Sandalphon stands listening, breathless, + To sounds that ascend from below,-- + + From the spirits on earth that adore, + From the souls that entreat and implore + In the frenzy and passion of prayer,-- + From the hearts that are broken with losses, + And weary with dragging the crosses + Too heavy for mortals to bear. + + And he gathers the prayers as he stands, + And they change into flowers in his hands, + Into garlands of purple and red; + And beneath the great arch of the portal, + Through the streets of the City Immortal, + Is wafted the fragrance they shed. + + It is but a legend, I know,-- + A fable, a phantom, a show + Of the ancient Rabbinical lore; + Yet the old mediaeval tradition, + The beautiful, strange superstition, + But haunts me and holds me the more. + + When I look from my window at night, + And the welkin above is all white, + All throbbing and panting with stars, + Among them majestic is standing + Sandalphon the angel, expanding + His pinions in nebulous bars. + + And the legend, I feel, is a part + Of the hunger and thirst of the heart, + The frenzy and fire of the brain, + That grasps at the fruitage forbidden, + The golden pomegranates of Eden, + To quiet its fever and pain. + + * * * * * + + +MR. BUCHANAN'S ADMINISTRATION. + + +Mr. Buchanan came into power with the prestige of experience; he was +known to have been long in public life; he had been a senator, a +secretary, a diplomatist, and almost everything else which is supposed +to fit a man for the practical conduct of affairs. + +This presumed fitness for office greatly assisted his chances in the +Presidential campaign; and it assisted him especially with those timid +and conservative minds, of which there are many, apt to conceive that a +familiarity with the business and details of government is the same as +statesmanship, and to confound the skill and facility acquired by mere +routine with a genuine ability in execution. Had these men, however, +looked more closely into Mr. Buchanan's official career, they would have +found causes for suspecting the validity of their judgment, in the very +length and variety of his services. They would have discovered, that, +long as these had been and various as they had been, they were quite +undistinguished by any peculiar evidences of capacity or aptitude. + +He had been, senator, secretary, and diplomatist, it is true; but in no +one of these positions had he achieved any remarkable successes. The +occasion could not be indicated on which he had risen above the average +level of respectability as a public man. There were no salient points in +his course,--no splendid developments of mastery,--no great reports, or +speeches, or measures, to cause him to be remembered,--and no leading +thoughts or acts, to awaken a high and general feeling of admiration on +the part of his countrymen. He was never such a senator as Webster +was, nor such a secretary as Clay, nor such a diplomatist as Marey. +Throughout his protracted official existence, he followed in the wake +of his party submissively, doing its appointed work with patience, and +vindicating its declared policy with skill, but never emerging as a +distinct and prominent figure. He never exhibited any peculiar largeness +of mind or loftiness of character; and though he spoke well and wrote +well, and played the part of a cool and wary manager, he was scarcely +considered a commanding spirit among his fellows. Amid that array of +luminaries, indeed, which adorned the Senate, where his chief reputation +was made,--among such men as Calhoun, Clay, Webster, Benton, and +Wright,--he shone with a diminished lustre. + +Now, forty years of action, in the most conspicuous spheres, +unillustrated by a single incident which mankind has, or will have, +reason to cite and applaud, were not astonishing evidence of fitness for +the chief magistracy; and the event has shown, that Mr. Buchanan was to +be regarded as an old politician rather than a practised statesman, that +the most serviceable soldier in the ranks may prove to be an indifferent +general in command,--and that the experience, for which he was vaunted +and trusted, was not that ripening discipline of the mind and heart, + + -------"which doth attain + To something of prophetic strain,"-- + +but that other unlearning use and wont, which + + ----"chews on wisdom past, + And totters on in blunders to the last." + +His administration has been a series of blunders, and worse; it +has evinced no mastery; on the other hand, it may be arraigned for +inconsistencies the most palpable, for proceedings the most awkward, for +a general impotence which places it on a level with that of Tyler or +Pierce, and for signal offences against the national sense of decorum +and duty. + +It is scarcely a year since Mr. Buchanan assumed the reins at +Washington. He assumed them under circumstances by which he and his +party and the whole country had been taught a great lesson of +political duty. The infamous mismanagement of Kansas, by his immediate +predecessor, had just shattered the most powerful of our party +organizations, and caused a mighty uprising of the masses of the North +in defence of menaced freedom. His election was carried amid the +extremest hazards, and with the utmost difficulty. Two months more of +such ardent debate and such popular enlightenment as were then going +forward would have resulted in his defeat. As it was, nearly every +Northern State--no matter how firm its previous adherence to the +Democratic party--was aroused to a strenuous opposition. Nearly every +Northern State pronounced by a stupendous majority against him and +against his cause. Nothing but a systematic disguise of the true +questions at issue by his own party, and a gratuitous complication of +the canvass by means of a foolish third party, saved his followers from +the most complete and shameful rout that had been given for many years +to any political array. Men of every class, of every shade of faith, +joined in that hearty protest against the spirit which animated the +Democratic administration, and joined in it, that they might utter the +severest rebuke in their power, of its meanness and perfidy. + +Mr. Buchanan ought to have read the warning which was thus blazed across +the political skies, like the hand-writing upon the wall. He ought to +have discerned in this general movement the signs of a deep, earnest, +and irrepressible conviction on the part of the North. It is no slight +cause which can start such general and enthusiastic expressions of +popular feeling; they cannot be manufactured; they are not the work of +mere party excitement; there is nothing spurious and nothing hollow in +them; but they well up from the deep heart of nations, showing that a +chord of sympathy has been touched, with which it is fatal to tamper or +to sport. Call it fanaticism, if you will; call it delusion; call it +anything; but recollect also that it is out of such feelings that +revolutions are born, and by them that awful national crises are +determined. + +But Mr. Buchanan has not profited, as we shall see, by the monition. His +initial act, the choice of a cabinet, in which the only man of national +reputation was superannuated, and the others were of little note, gave +small hope that he would do so; and his subsequent mistakes might have +been augured from the calibre of the counsellors by whom he chose to +be surrounded.--But let the men pass, since our object is to discuss +measures. + +The questions with which the President and his cabinet have had to deal, +without following them in the order either of time or importance, may +be classified as the Mormon question, the Financial question, the +Filibuster question, and the Kansas question. All these required, for +a proper adjustment of them, firmness rather than ability,--a clear +perception of the principles of right, rather than abstruse policy,--and +vigor of execution, rather than profound diplomatic skill. Yet we do not +perceive that our government has displayed, in regard to the treatment +of any of these questions, either firmness or ability. It has employed +policy enough and diplomacy enough, but the policy has been incoherent +and the diplomacy shallow. At the end of the first year of its rule, the +most striking result of its general management is the open defection of +many of its most powerful friends, and the increased earnestness and +energy of all its foes. + +The difficulty with the Mormons originated, before the accession of the +present administration, in a hasty and improper extension of the Federal +authority over a people whose customs and religious opinions were +utterly incompatible with those of our own people. The inhabitants of +Utah were averse from the outset to the kind of government provided for +them at Washington. Having adopted a form of society more like that of +Congo and Dahomey than of the United States, and having accepted too +literally the prevalent dogma, that every community has the right to +form its own institutions for itself,--they preferred the polygamy +of barbarism to the monogamy of civilization, and the rod of the +priest-prophet Brigham or the seal of Elder Pratt to the sceptre +of Governor Steptoe or the sword of Colonel Johnston. Under these +circumstances, the duty of the government of the United States was to +relinquish its pretensions to supremacy over a nation opposed to its +rule, or to maintain that supremacy, if it were necessary, with a strong +and unflinching hand. Mr. Buchanan, on his own principles of popular +sovereignty, as far as we can understand them, ought, logically, to have +adopted the former course, but (as the interests of Slavery were not +involved) he elected to pursue the latter; and he has pursued it with an +impotence which has cost the nation already many millions of +dollars, and which has involved the "army of Utah" in inextricable +embarrassments, allowing them to be shut up in the snows of the +mountains before they could strike a blow or reach the first object of +their expedition. Not very well appointed in the beginning, this little +force was despatched to the Plains when it was too late in the season; a +part of it was needlessly delayed in assisting to choke down freedom in +Kansas; and when it attained the hills which guard the passages to the +valley of the Salt Lake, it found the canons obstructed by snow, and +the roads impassable. The supplies required for its subsistence were +scattered in useless profusion from Leavenworth to Fort Laramie, and +assistance and action were alike hopeless until the arrival of the +spring.[A] + +[Footnote: A: More recently the energy and wisdom of Col. Johnston +have repaired some of the mischief produced by the dilatoriness of his +superiors.] + +The same feebleness, which left the poor soldier to perish in the +desert, has brought an overflowing treasury nearly to default. Mr. +Buchanan, in his Message, discussed the existing financial crisis with +much sounding phrase and very decided emphasis. He rebuked the action of +the banks, which had presumed to issue notes to the amount of more than +three times that of their specie, in a tone of lofty and indignant +virtue. He commended them to the strictest vigilance and to the +exemplary discipline of the State legislatures, while descanting at +large upon the safety, the economy, the beauty, and the glory of a sound +hard-money currency. When he entered upon his office, he found the +Treasury replete with eagles and dimes; it was so flush, that, in the +joy of his heart, he ordered the debts of the United States to be +redeemed at a premium of sixteen _per cent_.; and he and his followers +were disposed to jubilate over the singular spectacle, that, while all +other institutions were failing, the Treasury of the United States was +firm and resplendent in its large possession of gold. It was deemed a +rare wisdom and success, indeed, which could utter a note of triumph in +the midst of so universal a cry of despair; it was deemed a rare piece +of liberality, that the government should come to the aid of society in +an hour of such dark distress. The stocks of the United States, which +had been originally sold at a small advance, were bought back on a very +large advance; the usurers and the stock-jobbers received sixteen _per +cent_. for what they had bought at a premium of but two or three _per +cent_.; and an unparalleled glory shone around the easy vomitories of +the Treasury. The foresight and the sagacity of the proceeding were +marvellous! In less than a quarter by the moon, the coffers of the +government were empty,--the very clerks in its employ went about the +streets borrowing money to pay their board-bills,--and the grand-master +of the vaults, Mr. Cobb, counting his fingers in despair over the vacant +prospect, was compelled, in the extremity of his distress, to fill +his limp sacks with paper. Of the nineteen millions of gold which in +September distended the public purse, little or nothing remained in +December, while in its place were paper bills,--founded, not upon a +basis of one-third specie, but upon a basis of--_We promise to pay_! It +was a sad application of the high-sounding doctrines of the Message,--a +dreadful descent for a pure hard-money government,--and a lamentable +conversion of the pompous swagger of October into the shivering collapse +of January! + +It may be said, that, by this pre-purchase of its own stocks, running at +an interest of six _per cent_., the government has saved the amount of +interest which would else have accrued between the time of the purchase +and the time of ultimate redemption. And this is true to some +extent,--and it would show an admirable economy, if the Treasury had had +no other use for its money. A government, like an individual, having a +large balance of superfluous cash on hand, can do no better with it than +to pay off its debts; but to do this, when there was every prospect of a +Mormon war to raise the expenditure, little prospect of retrenchment +in any branch of service, and a daily diminishing revenue at all +points,--it was purely a piece of folly, a want of ordinary forecast, to +get rid of the cash in hand. Mr. Buchanan and Mr. Cobb were guilty of +this folly, and, for the sake of the poor _éclat_ of coming to the +relief of the money-market, (which was no great relief, after all,) they +sacrificed the hard-money pretensions of the government, and sunk its +character to the level of that of the needy "kiteflier" in Wall Street. +Their true course, in the existing condition and aspect of affairs, was +to retain their capital, and to institute a most rigid economy, a most +searching reduction, in every branch of the public service. We have, +however, yet to learn whether any such economy and reduction have been +effected. + +All this was simply weakness; but in turning from the conduct of +the Finances by the administration, to consider its management of +Filibusterism, we pass from the consideration of acts of mere debility +to the consideration of acts which have a color of duplicity in them. +On the Filibusters, as on the Finances, the First Annual Message of the +President was outspoken and forcible. It characterized the past and +proposed doings of William Walker and his crew, as the common sense +and common conscience of the world had already characterised them, as +nothing short of piracy and murder. Recognizing the obligations of +fraternity and peace as the rule of right in international relations, it +pledged the utmost vigilance and energy of the Federal powers against +every semblance of freebootery. In pursuance of this promise, orders +were issued to the various civil and naval authorities, (orders not very +clear, it is true, but clear enough to bear but one meaning in honest +and simple minds,) to the effect that they should maintain a sharp +watch, and execute a summary arrest of every person suspected of or +discovered in unlawful enterprises. The authorities on land, to whom it +was easy to hold secret communication with Washington, were found to +have very blind eyes and very slippery hands. General Walker and his +confederates were taken at New Orleans, but they passed through +the courts far more rapidly than goods are apt to pass through the +custom-houses. Under a merely nominal recognizance, he sailed away with +flying colors, and amid the plaudits of an admiring crowd, among whom, +it is to be presumed, the authorities took care to be only not too +conspicuous. + +But the authorities on the sea, who could not so readily get a cue from +Wellington, with the directness, in construing orders, which is the +habit of the military mind, took their instructions at the word. +Commanded to intercept all marauders and pirates, they kept a look-out +for Walker. He eluded the guns of Captain Chatard, but Commodore +Paulding seized him in the very act of invading a friendly soil. +Hoisting him on board of a war-ship, he returned him in pressing haste +to the President. Commodore Paulding, who had read the Message, and read +the instructions of Secretary Cass, doubtless supposed that black meant +black, and white, white. Perhaps, also, in the unsophisticated pride +with which he contemplated the promptitude and decision of his action, +in saving an innocent people from a sanguinary ruffian, and in +maintaining the honor of his country unsullied, dim visions crossed his +mind of a letter of thanks from the President, and of the vote of a +sword by Congress. Alas for such hopes! Commodore Paulding was clearly +not a politician; he did not know that black meant white and white meant +black,--nor that the present of a filibuster, which he sent to the +President, was the present of something worse than an elephant. It +was the present of a herd of elephants,--of a sea of troubles. Mr. +Buchanan's fine denunciations of freebooters had only been fine words +for the public ear; secretly he cherished a _penchant_ for freebooters, +or rather for the friends of freebooters; and, under those +circumstances, to be presented, by his own agent, with the very chief +of the freebooters, as a criminal and a scamp, was the most unheard-of +simplicity of understanding, and the most astounding literalness of +obedience, in any subordinate. What to do was the question. He had +menaced Chatard with a cashiering for allowing Walker to escape; and +here was Paulding, who did not allow him to escape,--so he menaced +Paulding likewise; and by way of capping the climax of absurdities, he +set Walker himself at large, to go about the country clamoring to be +sent back, at the expense of the government, to the scenes of his late +innocent occupations and virtuous designs, whence he had been ruthlessly +torn by an over-officious sailor. + +The history of the farce is both argument and comment. Walker was either +a citizen of the United States, levying war upon a friendly foreign +state, and as such amenable to the penalties of our neutrality laws,--or +he was a citizen of Nicaragua, as he pretended to be, abusing our +protection to organize warlike enterprises against his fellow-citizens, +and as such also amenable to our neutrality laws. In either capacity, +and however taken, he should have been severely dealt with by the +President. But, unfortunately, Mr. Buchanan, not left to his own +instincts of right, is surrounded by assistants who have other than +great public motives for their conduct. Walker's schemes were not +individual schemes, were not simple projects of piracy and plunder, +got up on his own responsibility and for his own ends. Connected with +important collateral issues, they received the sympathy and support of +others more potent than himself. He was, in a word, the instrument +of the propagandist slave-holders, the fear of whom is ever before a +President's eyes. As the old barbarian Arbogastes used to say to the +later Roman emperors, whom he helped to elevate, "The power which made +you is the power which can break you," so these modern masters of the +throne dictate and guide its policy. Mr. Buchanan was their man as much +as Walker was, and, however grand his speeches before the public, he +must do their bidding when things came to the trial. + +But this allusion brings us, by an obvious transition, to the last and +most important question submitted to the administration,--the question +of Kansas,--in the management of which, we think, it will be found that +all the before-noted deficiencies of the government have been combined +with a criminal disregard of settled principles and almost universal +convictions. In reference to Kansas, as in reference to the other +topics, the President began with fair and seductive promises. He did +not, it is true, either in his Message or anywhere else, that we know +of, narrate the actual history of the long contest which has divided +that Territory, but he did hold up for the future the brightest hopes +of an honest and equitable adjustment of all the past difficulties. He +selected and commissioned Robert J. Walker, as Governor, for the express +purpose of "pacifying Kansas." Pretending to overlook the past causes +of trouble, he announced that everything would now be set right by new +elections, in which the whole people should have full opportunity +of declaring their will. Mr. Walker went to Kansas with a full +determination to carry out this amiable promise of the President. Both +he and his secretary, Mr. Stanton, labored strenuously to convince +the people of the Territory of his honest purposes, and, by dint of +persuasions, pledges, assurances, and oaths, at length succeeded in +procuring a pretty general exercise of the franchise. The result was a +signal overthrow of the minority which had so long ruled by fraud and +violence; and the sincerity of the President is tested by the fact, +avouched by both Walker and Stanton, that, from the moment of the +success of the Free-State party, he was wroth towards his servants. +Stanton was removed and Walker compelled to resign, though their only +offence was a laborious prosecution of the President's own policy. Ever +since then, he has strained every nerve, and at this moment is straining +every nerve, to defeat the well-known legally demonstrated wish of the +majority. In the face of his own plighted word, and of the emphatic +assurances of his agents, sanctioned by himself, he insists upon +imposing on them officers whom they detest and an instrument of +government which they spurn. These people of Kansas,--who were to +be "pacified,"--to be conciliated,--to be guarantied a just +administration,--are denounced in the most virulent and abusive terms as +refractory, and are threatened with the coercion of a military force, +because they are unwilling to submit to outrage! + +The excuse offered by the President for this perfidious course is +the Lecompton Constitution, which he professes to consider a legal +instrument, framed by a legal Convention, and approved by a legal +election of the people,--and which is therefore not to be set aside +except by the same sovereign power by which it was created. It would be +a good excuse, if it were not a transparent and monstrous quibble from +beginning to end. The Lecompton Constitution has no one element of +legality in it; from the _Whereas_, to the signatures, it is an +imposture;--for neither had the Legislature, that called the Convention +in which it was made, lawful authority to do so,--nor was that +Convention lawfully constituted,--nor was the alleged adoption of it by +the people more than a trick. + +A Territory is an inchoate and dependent community, which can be erected +into a State only in two ways: first, formally, by an enabling act of +Congress, giving permission to the inhabitants to set up for themselves; +and second, informally, by a spontaneous and general movement of the +people, which Congress must afterwards legitimate. In either case, the +consent of Congress, first or last, is necessary to the validity of the +proceeding. But a Territorial Legislature, which is the mere creature of +Congress, having no powers but what are strictly conveyed to it in the +Organic Act instituting the Territorial government, cannot originate +a movement to supersede itself, and also to abrogate the authority +of Congress. The attempt to do so, as declared by General Jackson's +cabinet, in the case of Arkansas, would be, not simply null and void, +but unlawful, rebellious; and the President would be obliged to suppress +it, if called upon, by force of arms. The Organic Act is the supreme law +of the Territory, which can be altered or revoked only by the authority +from which it emanated; and every measure commenced or prosecuted with a +design to annul that law, to subvert the Territorial government, or +to put in force in its place a new government, without the consent of +Congress, is a flagrant usurpation. + +Now the Lecompton Convention was called not merely without the consent +of Congress, but against its consent; it was called by and under the +arrangements of the Territorial Legislature; it was not the spontaneous +act of the people, a large majority of whom condemned the movement +and refused to participate in it; and thus, in its inception, it was +unlawful. It was neither regularly nor irregularly proper;--the supreme +legislature had not acknowledged it; the masses of society had not +acknowledged it; and the entire project possessed no other character +than that of a factious scheme for perpetuating the power of a few +pro-slavery demagogues. + +But, if we grant the right of the Territorial Legislature to originate +such a movement, the manner in which it was carried into effect would +still brand it with the marks of illegality. A census and registry of +voters had been provided for in the law authorizing the Convention, as +the basis of an apportionment of the delegates, and that provision was +not complied with. In nineteen out of the thirty-eight counties no +registry was made, and in the others it was imperfectly made. "In some +of the counties," according to the evidence of Mr. Stanton, then acting +Governor, "the officers were probably deterred and discouraged by the +people from their duty of taking the census," (although he adds that he +does not know that such was the fact,) "while in others the officers +utterly refused to do their duty." "I know," he says, "that the people +of some of those counties ardently desired to be represented in the +Convention, for they afterwards, under the statements of Governor Walker +and myself, that they would probably be admitted, elected delegates and +sent them up to the Convention; but they were not admitted to seats." +In consequence of this failure or refusal to do their duty, only +the geographical half or the numerical fourth of the Territory was +represented in the Convention. Nor is it any excuse for the defaulting +officers, even if it had been true, that some of the people opposed the +execution of their duty. They professed to be acting under law; their +functions were plainly prescribed to them; and they were bound to make +the census and registry, whatever the disposition of the people. In a +land of laws, it is the law, and not any mere prevailing sentiment, +which prescribes and limits official duty. There is, however, no +evidence that the discharge of their task was rendered impossible by the +popular opposition, while there is evidence that they were very willing +to neglect it, and very willing to allow any obstacle, no matter how +trivial, to obstruct their performance of it. They were, in truth, as +everybody knows, the simple tools of the faction which started this +Convention movement, and not at all desirous to secure a fair and +adequate representation of the inhabitants. + +That many of the people should be careless of the registration, and even +unfriendly to it, is natural, because they disapproved the plan, and +were hostile to the ends of the Convention. They doubted the authority +by which it had been summoned; they doubted both the validity and the +probable fairness of an election under such authority; and, moreover, +they were indifferent as to its proceedings, because they had been +assured that they would be called upon to pronounce _pro_ or _con_ upon +its results. The Convention, as actually constituted when assembled, +consisted of sixty delegates, representing about 1,800 voters, in an +electoral body of 12,000 in all,--or one delegate to thirty voters! A +convention so composed ought to have been ashamed of the very pretence +of acting in the name of the whole people. It would have been ashamed of +it, if it had contained men sincerely anxious to reflect the will of the +great body of the citizens. It would have been as much ashamed of it, +as any honest man would be to pass himself off as the agent of a person +whom he had never known, or who openly derided and despised him. But +this precious body--each man of whom represented thirty men besides +himself, in a voting population of 12,000--was not sensible to such +considerations. By a miserable chicane, it had got into a position to do +mischief, and it proceeded to do it, with as much alacrity and headlong +zeal as rogues are apt to exhibit when the prize is great and the +opportunity short. An election for the Legislature, held subsequently to +that for the Convention, showing a public opinion decidedly adverse to +it, the sole study of its members thenceforth seemed to be, how they +could most adroitly and effectively nullify the ascendency of the +majority. For this end alone they consulted, and caballed, and +calculated, and junketed; and the Lecompton Constitution, with the +Schedule annexed, was the worthy fruit of their labors. + +It is monstrous in Mr. Buchanan to assume that a body so contrived and +so acting expressed in any sense the sovereign will of the people. But, +not to dwell upon this point, let us suppose that the Convention had +been summoned by a competent authority, that it had been fairly chosen +by its small constituency, and that its proceedings had been managed +with ordinary decorum,--would the Constitution it framed be valid, in +the face of a clear popular condemnation? We hold that it would not, +because, in our estimation, and in the estimation of every intelligent +American, the very essence of republicanism is "the consent of the +governed." It is the highest function of political sovereignty to devise +and ordain the organic law of society, the vital form of its being; and +the characteristic difference between the despotic or oligarchical and +the republican government is, that in the one case the function is +exercised by a monarch or a class, and in the other by the body of the +citizens. This distinctive feature of our politics, as opposed to +all others, regards the will of the people, directly or indirectly +expressed, as alone giving validity to law; our National Constitution, +and every one of our thirty-one State Constitutions, proceeds upon +that principle; every act of legislation in the Congress and the State +Assemblies supposes it; and every decision of every Court has that for +its basis. Constitutions have been adopted, undoubtedly, without a +distinct submission of them to the ratification of the people; but in +such cases there has been no serious agitation of the public mind, no +important conflict or division of opinion, rendering such ratification +necessary,--and, in the absence of dispute, the general assent of the +community to the action of its delegates might fairly be presumed. But +in no case, in which great and debatable questions were involved, has +any Convention dared to close its labors without providing for their +reference to the popular sanction; much less has there been any instance +in which a Convention has dared to make its own work final, in the +face of a known or apprehended repugnance of the constituency. The +politicians who should have proposed such a thing would have been +overwhelmed with unmeasured indignation and scorn. No sentiment more +livingly pervades our national mind, no sentiment is juster in itself, +than that they who are to live under the laws ought to decide on the +character of the laws,--that they whose persons, property, welfare, +happiness, life, are to be controlled by a Constitution of Government, +ought to participate in the formation of that government. + +Conscious of this truth, and of its profound hold on the popular heart, +Mr. Buchanan instructed Governor Walker to see the Kansas Constitution +submitted to the people,--to protect them against fraud and violence in +voting upon it,--and to proclaim, in the event of any interference with +their rights, that the Constitution "would be and ought to be rejected +by Congress." Walker was voluble in proclamations to that end. The +trainers of the Constitution, aware of its invalidity without the +sanction of the people, provided for its submission to "approval" +or "disapproval," to "ratification" or "rejection"; and yet, by the +paltriest juggle in recorded history, devised, in the same breath, a +method of taking the vote, which completely nullified its own terms. +No man was allowed to "disapprove" it, no man was allowed to "reject" +it,--except in regard to a single section,--and before he could vote for +or against that, he was obliged to vote in favor of all the rest. If +there had been a hundred thousand voters in the Territory opposed to +the Constitution, and but one voter in its favor, the hundred thousand +voters could not have voted upon it at all, but the one voter +could,--and the vote of that one would have been construed into a +popular approval, while the will of all the others would have been +practically void. By this pitiful stratagem, it was supposed, the +double exigency of Mr. Buchanan's often repeated sentiments, and of +the pro-slavery cause, which dreaded a popular vote, was completely +satisfied; and the President of the United States, reckless of his +position and his fame, lent himself to the shameless and despicable +palter. He not only lent himself to it, but he has openly argued its +propriety, and is now making the adherence of his friends to such +baseness the test of their party fidelity. In the name of Democracy,--of +that sacred and sublime principle into which we, as a nation, have been +baptized,--which declares the inalienable rights of man,--and which, +as it makes the tour of the earth, hand and hand with Christianity, is +lifting the many from the dust, where for ages they have been trampled, +into political life and dignity,--he converts a paltry swindle into its +standard and creed, and prostitutes its glorious mission, as a redeeming +influence among men, into a ministry of slavery and outrage. + +Mr. Buchanan knows--we believe better than any man in the country--that +the Lecompton Constitution is not the act of the people of Kansas. By +the election of the 4th of January--an election which was perfectly +valid, because it was held under the authority of a Territorial +Legislature superior to the Convention--it was solemnly and +unequivocally condemned. This of itself was enough to demonstrate that +fact. But all the Democratic Governors of the Territory--with the single +exception of Shannon, and the recently appointed acting Governor, +Denver, who is prudently silent--testify urgently to the same truth. +Reeder, Geary, and Walker, together with the late acting Governor, +Stanton, asseverate, in the most earnest and emphatic manner, that the +majority in Kansas is for making it a Free State,--that the minority +which has ruled is a factious minority, and that they have obtained and +perpetuated their ascendency by a most unblushing series of crimes and +frauds. Yet, in the teeth of this evidence,--of repeated elections,--of +his own witnesses turning against him,--the President adheres to the +infamous plans of the pro-slavery leaders; and, if not arrested by the +rebukes of the North, he will insist on imposing their odious measures +upon their long-suffering victims. + +Looking at the administration of Mr. Buchanan simply from the point of +view of an enlightened statesmanship, we find nothing in it that is not +contemptible; but when we regard it as the accredited exponent of the +moral sense of a majority of our people, it is saved from contempt, +indeed, but saved only because contempt is merged in a deeper feeling +of humiliation and apprehension. Unparalleled as the outrages in Kansas +have been, we regard them as insignificant in comparison with the +deadlier fact that the Chief Magistrate of the Republic should strive to +defend them by the small wiles of a village attorney,--that, when the +honor of a nation and the principle of self-government are at stake, he +should show himself unconscious of a higher judicature or a nobler +style of pleading than those which would serve for a case of petty +larceny,--and that he should be abetted by more than half the national +representatives, while he brings down a case of public conscience to the +moral level of those who are content with the maculate safety which they +owe to a flaw in an indictment, or with the dingy innocence which is +certified to by the disagreement of a jury. + +These things are the logical consequences of that profound national +demoralization which followed the enactment of the Fugitive Slave Bill +and alone made its execution possible,--a demoralization wilfully +brought about, for selfish ends, in that sad time which saw our greatest +advocates and our acutest politicians spending all their energy of mind +and subtlety of argument to persuade the people that there was no higher +law than that rule of custom and chicane woven of the split hairs of +immemorial sophistry, and whose strongest fibre is at the mercy of an +obstinate traverse juror,--no law higher than the decree of party, +ratified by a popular majority achieved by the waiters on Presidential +providence, through immigrant voters whom the gurgling oratory of +the whiskey-barrel is potent to convince, and whose sole notion of +jurisprudence is based upon experience of the comparative toughness +of Celtic skulls and blackthorn shillalahs. And such arguments were +listened to, such advocates commended for patriotism, in a land from +whose thirty thousand pulpits God and Christ are preached weekly to +hearers who profess belief in the Divine government of the world and the +irreversible verdicts of conscience! + +The capacity of the English race for self-government is measured by +their regard as well for the forms as the essence of law. A race +conservative beyond all others of what is established, averse beyond all +others to the heroic remedy of forcible revolution, they have yet three +times in the space of a century and a half assumed the chances of +rebellion and the certain perils of civil war, rather than submit to +have Right infringed by Prerogative, and the scales of Justice made a +cheat by false weights that kept the shape but lacked the substance of +legitimate precedent. We are forced to think that there must be a bend +sinister in the escutcheon of the descendants of such men, when we find +them setting the form above the substance, and accepting as law that +which is deadly to the spirit while it is true to the letter of +legality. It is a spectacle portentous of moral lapse and social +disorganization, to see a statesman, who has had fifty years' experience +of American politics, quibbling in defence of Executive violence against +a free community, as if the conscience of the nation were no more august +a tribunal than a police justice sitting upon a paltry case of assault. +Yet more portentous is it to see a great people consenting that fraud +should be made national by the voice of a Congress in which the casting +vote may be bought by a tide-waitership, and then invested with the +solemnity of law by a Court whose members are selected, not for +uprightness of character or breadth of mind, but by the inverse test of +their capacity for cringing in subservience to party, and for narrowing +a judgment already slender as the line of personal interest, till it +becomes so threadlike as to bend at the touch, nay, at the breath, of +sectional rapacity. Have we, then, forgotten that the true prosperity of +a nation is moral, and not material? that its strength depends, not on +the width of its boundaries, nor the bulk of its census, but on its +magnanimity, its honor, its fidelity to conscience? There is a Fate +which spins and cuts the threads of national as of individual life, and +the case of God against the people of these United States is not to be +debated before any such petty tribunal as Mr. Buchanan and his advisers +seem to suppose. The sceptre which dropped successively from the grasp +of Egypt, Assyria, Carthage, Greece, Rome, fell from a hand palsied by +the moral degeneracy of the people; and the emasculate usurper or the +foreign barbarian snatched and squandered the heritage of civilization +which escheated for want of legitimate heirs of the old royal race, +whose divine right was the imperial brain, and who found their strength +in a national virtue which individualized itself in every citizen. The +wind that moans among the columns of the Parthenon, or rustles through +the weeds on the palaces of the Caesars, whimpers no truer prophecies +than that venal breath which, at a signal from the patron in the White +House, bends all one way the obsequious leaves of a partisan press, +ominous of popular decadence. + +Do our leading politicians, and the prominent bankers and merchants who +sustain them, know what a dangerous lesson they are setting to a people +whose affairs are controlled by universal suffrage, when they affirm +that to be right which can by any false pretence be voted so? Does not +he who undermines national principle sap the foundations of individual +property also? If burglary may be committed on a commonwealth under +form of law, is there any logic that will protect a bank-vault or a +strong-box? When Mr. Buchanan, with a Jew broker at one elbow and a +Frenchman at the other, (strange representatives of American diplomacy!) +signed his name to the Ostend circular, was he not setting a +writing-lesson for American youth to copy, and one which the pirate hand +of Walker _did_ copy in ungainly letters of fire and blood in Nicaragua? + +The vice of universal suffrage is the infinitesimal subdivision of +personal responsibility. The guilt of every national sin comes back to +the voter in a fraction the denominator of which is several millions. +It is idle to talk of the responsibility of officials to their +constituencies or to the people. The President of the United States, +during his four years of office, is less amenable to public opinion than +the Queen of England through her ministers; senators, with embassies in +prospect, laugh at instructions; representatives think they have made a +good bargain when they exchange the barren approval of constituencies +for the smile of one whom a lucky death, perhaps, has converted into +the Presidential Midas of the moment; and in a nation of adventurers, +success is too easily allowed to sanctify a speculation by which a man +sells his pitiful self for a better price than even a Jew could get for +the Saviour of the world. It cannot be too often repeated, that the only +responsibility which is of saving efficacy in a Democracy is that of +every individual man in it to his conscience and his God. As long +as any one of us holds the ballot in his hand, he is truly, what we +sometimes vaguely boast, a sovereign,--a constituent part of Destiny; +the infinite Future is his vassal; History holds her iron stylus as +his scribe; Lachesis awaits his word to close or to suspend her fatal +shears;--but the moment his vote is cast, he becomes the serf of +circumstance, at the mercy of the white-livered representative's +cowardice, or the venal one's itching palm. Our only safety, then, is +in the aggregate fidelity to personal rectitude, which may lessen the +chances of representative dishonesty, or, at the worst, constitute a +public opinion that shall make the whole country a penitentiary for +such treason, and turn the price of public honor to fairy-money, whose +withered leaves but mock the possessor with the futile memory of +self-degradation. Let every man remember, that, though he may be a +nothing in himself, yet every cipher gains the power of multiplying by +ten when it is placed on the _right side_ of whatever unit for the time +represents the cause of truth and justice. What we need is a thorough +awakening of the individual conscience; and if we once become aware how +the still and stealthy ashes of political apathy and moral insensibility +are slipping under our feet and hurrying us with them toward the +crater's irrevocable core, it may be that the effort of self-preservation +called forth by the danger will make us love the daring energy and the +dependence on our individual strength, that alone can keep us free and +worthy to be freemen. + +While we hold the moral aspect of the great question now before the +country to be cardinal, there are also some practical ones which the +Republican party ought never to lose sight of. To move a people among +whom the Anglo-Saxon element is predominant, we will not say, with Lord +Bacon, that we must convince their pockets, but we do believe that moral +must always go hand in hand with common sense. They will take up arms +for a principle, but they must have confidence in each other and in +their leaders. Conscience is a good tutor to tell a man on which side to +act, but she leaves the question of _How to act_ to every man's prudence +and judgment. An over-nice conscience has before now turned the stomach +of a great cause on the eve of action. Cromwell knew when to split hairs +and when skulls. The North has too generally allowed its strength to be +divided by personal preferences and by-questions, till it has almost +seemed as if a moral principle had less constringent force to hold +its followers together than the gravitation of private interest, the +Newtonian law of that system whereof the dollar is the central sun, +which has hitherto made the owners of slaves unitary, and given them the +power which springs from concentration and the success which is sure +to follow concert of action. We have spent our strength in quarrelling +about the character of men, when we should have been watchful only of +the character of measures. A scruple of conscience has no right to +outweigh a pound of duty, though it ought to make a ton of private +interest kick the beam. The great aim of the Republican party should +be to gain one victory for the Free States. One victory will make us a +unit, and is equal to a reinforcement of fifty thousand men. The genius +of success in politics or war is to know Opportunity at first sight. +There is no mistress so easily tired as Fortune. We must waste no more +time in investigating the motives of our recruits. Have we not faith +enough in our cause to believe that it will lift all to its own level of +patriotism and devotion? Let us, then, welcome all allies, from whatever +quarter, and not inquire into their past history as minutely as if we +were the assignees of the Recording Angel and could search his books at +pleasure. When Soult was operating in the South of France, the defection +of two German regiments crippled all his combinations and gave the +advantage to Wellington. Ought Wellington to have refused their aid? For +our own part, if Mr. Douglas be the best tactician, the best master of +political combination, we are willing to forget all past differences and +serve under him cheerfully, rather than lose the battle under a general +who has agreed with us all his life. When we remember, that, of the two +great cathedrals of Europe, one is dedicated to Saint Peter who denied +his Lord under temptation, and the other to Saint Paul who spent his +early manhood in persecuting true believers, and that both these patrons +of the Church, differing as they did in many points of doctrine, were +united in martyrdom for their belief, we cannot but think that there is +room even for repentant renegades in the camp of the faithful. + +While we insist that Morals should govern the _motives_ of political +action, and that no party can be permanently strong which has not the +reserve of a great principle behind it, we affirm with no less strength +of conviction that the details of our National Housekeeping should be +managed by practical sense and worldly forethought. The policy of states +moves along the beaten highways of experience, and, where terrestrial +guide-posts are plenty, we need not ask our way of the stars. The +advantage of our opponents has been that they have always had some sharp +practical measure, some definite and immediate object, to oppose to our +voluminous propositions of abstract right. Again and again the whirlwind +of oratorical enthusiasm has roused and heaped up the threatening masses +of the Free States, and again and again we have seen them collapse like +a water-spout, into a crumbling heap of disintegrated bubbles, before +the compact bullet of political audacity. While our legislatures have +been resolving and re-resolving the principles of the Declaration of +Independence, our adversaries have pushed their trenches, parallel after +parallel, against the very citadel of our political equality. A +siege, if uninterrupted, is a mere matter of time, and must end in +capitulation. Our only safety is in assuming the offensive. Are we to be +terrified any longer by such Chinese devices of warfare as the cry of +Disunion,--a threat as hollow as the mask from which it issues, as +harmless as the periodical suicides of Mantalini, as insincere as +the spoiled child's refusal of his supper? We have no desire for a +dissolution of our confederacy, though it is not for us to fear it. We +will not allow it; we will not permit the Southern half of our dominion +to become a Hayti. But there is no danger; the law that binds our system +of confederate stars together is of stronger fibre than to be snapped by +the trembling finger of Toombs or cut by the bloodless sword of Davis; +the march of the Universe is not to be stayed because some gentleman in +Buncombe declares that his sweet-potato-patch shall not go along with +it. But we have no apprehension. The sweet attraction which knits the +sons of Virginia to the Treasury has lost none of its controlling force. +We must make up our minds to keep these deep-descended gentlemen in the +Union, and must convince them that we have a work to accomplish in it +and by means of it. If our Southern brethren have the curse of Canaan in +their pious keeping, if the responsibility lie upon them to avenge the +insults of Noah, on us devolves a more comprehensive obligation and the +vindication of an elder doom;--it is for us to assert and to secure the +claim of every son of Adam to the common inheritance ratified by the +sentence, "In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou earn thy bread." We are +to establish no aristocracy of race or complexion, no caste which Nature +and Revelation alike refuse to recognize, but the indefeasible right of +man to the soil which he subdues, and the muscles with which he subdues +it. If this be a sectional creed, it is a sectionality which at least +includes three hundred and fifty-nine degrees of the circle of man's +political aspiration and physical activity, and we may well be easy +under the imputation. + +But so rapid has been the downward course of our national politics under +the guidance of our oligarchical Democracy, that the question on which +we take issue, whatever it may once have been, is no longer a sectional +one, and concerns not the slavery of the negro, but that of the Northern +white man. Whatever doubt there may be about the physical degeneration +of the race, it is more than certain that the people of the Northern +States have no longer the moral stature of their illustrious ancestry; +that their puny souls could find room enough in but the gauntlet finger +of that armor of faith and constancy and self-devotion which fitted +closely to the limbs of those who laid so broad the foundations of our +polity as to make our recreancy possible and safe for us. It wellnigh +seems as if our type should suffer a slave-change,--as if the fair hair +and skin of those ancestral _non Angli sed angeli_ should crisp into +wool and darken to the swarthy livery of servility. No Northern man can +hold any office under the national government, however petty, without an +open recantation of those principles which he drew in with his mother's +milk,--those principles which, in the better days of the republic, +even a slaveholder could write down in the great charter of our +liberties,--those principles which now only the bells and cannon +are allowed to utter on the Fourth of July or the Seventeenth of +June,--bells that may next call out the citizen-soldiery to aid in the +rendition of a slave,--cannon whose brazen lips may next rebuke the +freedom whose praises they but yesterday so emptily thundered. + +When we look back upon the providential series of events which prepared +this continent for the experiment of Democracy,--when we think of those +forefathers for whom our mother England shed down from her august +breasts the nutriment of ordered liberty, not unmixed with her best +blood in the day of her trial,--when we remember the first two acts of +our drama, that cost one king his head and his son a throne, and that +third which cost another the fairest appanage of his crown and gave a +new Hero to mankind,--we cannot believe it possible that this great +scene, stretching from ocean to ocean, was prepared by the Almighty +only for such men as Mr. Buchanan and his peers to show their feats of +juggling on, even though the thimble-rig be on so colossal a scale that +the stake is a territory larger than Britain. We cannot believe that +this unhistoried continent,--this virgin leaf in the great diary of +man's conquest over the planet, on which our fathers wrote two words of +epic grandeur,--Plymouth and Bunker Hill,--is to bear for its colophon +the record of men who inherited greatness and left it pusillanimity,--a +republic, and made it anarchy,--freedom, and were content as serfs,--of +men who, born to the noblest estate of grand ideas and fair expectancies +the world had ever seen, bequeathed the sordid price of them in gold. +The change is sad 'twixt Now and Then: the Great Republic is without +influence in the councils of the world; to be an American, in Europe, is +to be the accomplice of filibusters and slave-traders; instead of men +and thought, as was hoped of us, we send to the Old World cotton, corn, +and tobacco, and are but as one of her outlying farms. Are we basely +content with our pecuniary good-fortune? Do we look on the tall column +of figures on the credit side of our national ledger as a sufficing +monument of our glory as a people? Are we of the North better off as +provinces of the Slave-holding States than as colonies of Great Britain? +Are we content with our share in the administration of national affairs, +because we are to have the ministry to Austria, and because the +newspapers promise that James Gordon Bennett shall be sent out of the +country to fill it? + +We of the Free States are confessedly without our fair share of +influence in the administration of national affairs. Its foreign and +domestic policy are both directed by principles often hostile to our +interests, sometimes abhorrent to our sense of right and honor. Under +loud professions of Democracy, the powers of the central government and +of the Executive have increased till they have scarcely a match among +the despotisms of Europe, and more than justify the prophetic fears of +practical statesmen like Samuel Adams and foresighted politicians like +Jefferson. Unquestionably superior in numbers, and claiming an equal +preeminence in wealth, intelligence, and civilization, we have steadily +lost in political power and in the consideration which springs from it. +Is the preponderance of the South due to any natural superiority of an +Aristocracy over a Democracy? to any mental inferiority, to lack of +courage, of political ability, of continuity of purpose, on our own +part? We should be slow to find the cause in reasons like these; but we +_do_ find it in that moral disintegration, the necessary result of that +falsehood to our own sense of right forced upon us by the slave-system, +and which, beginning with our public men, has gradually spread to the +Press, the Pulpit, nay, worse than all, the Home, till it is hard to +find a private conscience that is not tainted with the contagious mange. + +For what have we not seen within the last few years? We have seen the +nomination to office made dependent, not on the candidate's being large +enough to fill, but small enough to take it. Holding the purity of +elections as a first article of our creed, we have seen one-third of +the population of a Territory control the other two-thirds by false or +illegal votes; hereditary foes of a standing army, we have seen four +thousand troops stationed in Kansas to make forged ballots good by real +bullets; lovers of fair play, we have seen a cowardly rabble from the +Slave States protected by Federal bayonets while they committed robbery, +arson, and Sepoy atrocities against women, and the Democratic party +forced to swallow this nauseous mixture of force, fraud, and Executive +usurpation, under the name of Popular Sovereignty. We have seen Freedom +pronounced sectional and Slavery national by the highest tribunal of the +republic. We have seen the legislatures of Southern States passing acts +for the renewal and encouragement of the slave-trade. We have seen the +attempted assassination of a senator in his seat justified and applauded +by public meetings and the resolutions of State Assemblies. We have +seen a pirate, for the hanging of whom the conscious Earth would have +produced a tree, had none before existed, threaten the successor of +Washington with the exposure of his complicity, if he did not publicly +violate the faith he had publicly pledged.--But enough, and more than +enough. + +It lies in the hands of the people of the Free States to rescue +themselves and the country by peaceable reform, ere it be too late, and +there be no remedy left but that dangerous one of revolution, toward +which Mr. Buchanan and his advisers seem bent on driving them. But the +reform must be wide and deep, and its political objects must be attained +by household means. Our sense of private honor and integrity must be +quickened; our consciousness of responsibility to God and man for the +success of this experiment in practical Democracy, in order to which the +destiny of a hemisphere has been entrusted to us, must be roused and +exalted; we must learn to feel that the safety of universal suffrage +lies in the sensitiveness of the individual voter to every abuse of +delegated authority, every treachery to representative duty, as a +stain upon his own personal integrity; we must become convinced that +a government without conscience is the necessary result of a people +careless of their duties, and therefore unworthy of their rights. +Prosperity has deadened and bewildered us. It is time we remembered +that History does not concern herself about material wealth,--that the +life-blood of a nation is not that yellow tide which fluctuates in +the arteries of Trade,--that its true revenues are religion, justice, +sobriety, magnanimity, and the fair amenities of Art,--that it is only +by the soul that any people has achieved greatness and made lasting +conquests over the future. We believe there is virtue enough left in the +North and West to infuse health into our body politic; we believe that +America will reassume that moral influence among the nations which +she has allowed to fall into abeyance; and that our eagle, whose +morning-flight the world watched with hope and expectation, shall no +longer troop with unclean buzzards, but rouse himself and seek his eyrie +to brood new eaglets that in time shall share with him the lordship of +these Western heavens, and shall learn of him to shake the thunder from +their invincible wings. + + * * * * * + + +LITERARY NOTICES. + + +_Library of Old Authors_. London: John Russell Smith, 1856-7. + +Many of our older readers can remember the anticipation with which they +looked for each successive volume of the late Dr. Young's excellent +series of old English prose-writers, and the delight with which they +carried it home, fresh from the press and the bindery in its appropriate +livery of evergreen. To most of us it was our first introduction to the +highest society of letters, and we still feel grateful to the departed +scholar who gave us to share the conversation of such men as Latimer, +More, Sidney, Taylor, Browne, Fuller, and Walton. What a sense of +security in an old book which Time has criticized for us! What a +precious feeling of seclusion in having a double wall of centuries +between us and the heats and clamors of contemporary literature! How +limpid seems the thought, how pure the old wine of scholarship that +has been settling for so many generations in those silent crypts and +Falernian _amphorae_ of the Past! No other writers speak to us with the +authority of those whose ordinary speech was that of our translation +of the Scriptures; to no modern is that frank unconsciousness possible +which was natural to a period when yet reviews were not; and no later +style breathes that country charm characteristic of days ere the +metropolis drew all literary activity to itself, and the trampling feet +of the multitude had banished the lark and the daisy from the fresh +privacies of language. Truly, as compared with the present, these +old voices seem to come from the morning fields and not the paved +thoroughfares of thought. + +Even the "Retrospective Review" continues to be good reading, in virtue +of the antique aroma (for wine only acquires its _bouquet_ by age) which +pervades its pages. Its sixteen volumes are so many tickets of admission +to the vast and devious vaults of the sixteenth and seventeenth +centuries, through which we wander, tasting a thimbleful of rich Canary, +honeyed Cyprus, or subacidulous Hock, from what dusty butt or keg our +fancy chooses. The years during which this Review was published were +altogether the most fruitful in genuine appreciation of old English +literature. Books were prized for their imaginative, and not their +antiquarian value, by young writers who sat at the feet of Lamb and +Coleridge. Rarities of style, of thought, of fancy were sought, rather +than the barren scarcities of typography. But another race of men seems +to have sprung up, in whom the futile enthusiasm of the collector +predominates, who substitute archaeologic perversity for aesthetic +scholarship, and the worthless profusion of the curiosity-shop for +the sifted exclusiveness of the cabinet of Art. They forget, in their +fanaticism for antiquity, that the dust of never so many centuries is +impotent to transform a curiosity into a gem, that only good books +absorb tone-mellowness from age, and that a baptismal register which +proves a patriarchal longevity (if existence be life) cannot make +mediocrity anything but a bore, or garrulous commonplace entertaining. +There are volumes which have the old age of Plato, rich with gathering +experience, meditation, and wisdom, which seem to have sucked color and +ripeness from the genial autumns of all the select intelligences that +have steeped them in the sunshine of their love and appreciation;--these +quaint freaks of russet tell of Montaigne; these stripes of crimson +fire, of Shakespeare; this sober gold, of Sir Thomas Browne; this +purpling bloom, of Lamb;--in such fruits we taste the legendary gardens +of Alcinoüs and the orchards of Atlas; and there are volumes again which +can claim only the inglorious senility of Old Parr or older Jenkins, +which have outlived their half dozen of kings to be the prize of showmen +and treasuries of the born-to-be-forgotten trifles of a hundred years +ago. + +We confess a bibliothecarian avarice that gives all books a value in our +eyes; there is for us a recondite wisdom in the phrase, "A book is a +book"; from the time when we made the first catalogue of our library, in +which "Bible, large, 1 vol.," and "Bible, small, 1 vol.," asserted their +alphabetic individuality and were the sole _B_s in our little hive, we +have had a weakness even for those checker-board volumes that only fill +up; we cannot breathe the thin air of that Pepysian self-denial, that +Himalayan selectness, which, content with one book-case, would have no +tomes in it but _porphyrogeniti_, books of the bluest blood, making room +for choicer newcomers by a continuous ostracism to the garret of present +incumbents. There is to us a sacredness in a volume, however dull; we +live over again the author's lonely labors and tremulous hopes; we see +him, on his first appearance after parturition, "as well as could be +expected," a nervous sympathy yet surviving between the late-severed +umbilical cord and the wondrous offspring, doubtfully entering the +Mermaid, or the Devil Tavern, or the Coffee-house of Will or Button, +blushing under the eye of Ben or Dryden or Addison, as if they must +needs know him for the author of the "Modest Enquiry into the Present +State of Dramatique Poetry," or of the "Unities briefly considered by +Philomusus," of which they have never heard and never will hear so much +as the names; we see the country-gentlemen (sole cause of its surviving +to our day) who buy it as a book no gentleman's library can be complete +without; we see the spend-thrift heir, whose horses and hounds and +Pharaonic troops of friends, drowned in a Red Sea of claret, bring it to +the hammer, the tall octavo in tree-calf following the ancestral oaks +of the park. Such a volume is sacred to us. But it must be the original +foundling of the book-stall, the engraved blazon of some extinct +baronetcy within its cover, its leaves enshrining memorial flowers of +some passion which the church-yard smothered while the Stuarts were yet +unkinged, suggestive of the trail of laced ruffles, burnt here and there +with ashes from the pipe of some dozing poet, its binding worn and +weather-stained, that has felt the inquisitive finger, perhaps, of +Malone, or thrilled to the touch of Lamb, doubtful between desire and +the odd sixpence. When it comes to a question of reprinting, we are more +choice. The new duodecimo is bald and bare, indeed, compared with its +battered prototype that could draw us with a single hair of association. + +It is not easy to divine the rule which has governed Mr. Smith in making +the selections for his series. A choice of old authors should be a +_florilegium_, and not a botanist's _hortus siccus_, to which grasses +are as important as the single shy blossom of a summer. The old-maidenly +genius of antiquarianism seems to have presided over the editing of +the "Library." We should be inclined to surmise that the works to be +reprinted had been commonly suggested by gentlemen with whom they were +especial favorites, or who were ambitious that their own names should +be signalized on the title-pages with the suffix of EDITOR. The volumes +already published are: Increase Mather's "Remarkable Providences"; the +poems of Drummond of Hawthornden; the "Visions" of Piers Ploughman; the +works in prose and verse of Sir Thomas Overbury; the "Hymns and Songs" +and the "Hallelujah" of George Wither; the poems of Southwell; Selden's +"Table-talk"; the "Enchiridion" of Quarles; the dramatic works of +Marston and Webster; and Chapman's translation of Homer. The volume of +Mather is curious and entertaining, and fit to stand on the same +shelf with the "Magnalia" of his book-suffocated son. Cunningham's +comparatively recent edition, we should think, might satisfy for a long +time to come the demand for Drummond, whose chief value to posterity is +as the Boswell of Ben Jonson. Sir Thomas Overbury's "Characters" are +interesting illustrations of contemporary manners, and a mine of +footnotes to the works of better men,--but, with the exception of "The +Fair and Happy Milkmaid," they are dull enough to have pleased James the +First; his "Wife" is a _cento_ of far-fetched conceits,--here a tomtit, +and there a hen mistaken for a pheasant, like the contents of a +cockney's game-bag; and his chief interest for us lies in his having +been mixed up with an inexplicable tragedy and poisoned in the Tower, +not without suspicion of royal complicity. The "Piers Ploughman" is +a reprint, with very little improvement that we can discover, of +Mr. Wright's former edition. It would have been very well to have +republished the "Fair Virtue," and "Shepherd's Hunting" of George +Wither, which contain all the true poetry he ever wrote; but we can +imagine nothing more dreary than the seven hundred pages of his "Hymns +and Songs," whose only use, that we can conceive of, would be as penal +reading for incorrigible poetasters. If a steady course of these did not +bring them out of their nonsenses, nothing short of hanging would. Take +this as a sample, hit on by opening at random:-- + + "Rottenness my bones possest; + Trembling fear possessed me; + I that troublous day might rest: + For, when his approaches be + Onward to the people made, + His strong troops will them invade." + +Southwell is, if possible, worse. He paraphrases David and puts into his +mouth such punning conceits as "Fears are my feres," and in his "Saint +Peter's Complaint" makes that rashest and shortest-spoken of the +Apostles drawl through thirty pages of maudlin repentance, in which the +distinctions between the north and northeast sides of a sentimentality +are worthy of Duns Scotus. It does not follow, that, because a man is +hanged for his faith, he is able to write good verses. We would almost +match the fortitude that quails not at the good Jesuit's poems with his +own which carried him serenely to the fatal tree. The stuff of which +poets are made, whether finer or not, is of a very different fibre from +that which is used in the tough fabric of martyrs. It is time that +an earnest protest should be uttered against the wrong done to the +religious sentiment by the greater part of what is called religious +poetry, and which is commonly a painful something misnamed by the noun +and misqualified by the adjective. To dilute David, and make doggerel of +that majestic prose of the Prophets which has the glow and wide-orbited +metre of constellations, may be a useful occupation to keep +country-gentlemen out of litigation or retired clergymen from polemics; +but to regard these metrical mechanics as sacred because nobody wishes +to touch them, as meritorious because no one can be merry in their +company,--to rank them in the same class with those ancient songs of the +Church, sweet with the breath of saints, sparkling with the tears of +forgiven penitents, and warm with the fervor of martyrs,--nay, to set +them up beside such poems as those of Herbert, composed in the upper +chambers of the soul that open toward the sun's rising, is to confound +piety with dulness, and the manna of heaven with its sickening namesake +from the apothecary's drawer. The "Enchiridion" of Quarles is +hardly worthy of the author of the "Emblems," and is by no means an +unattainable book in other editions,--nor a matter of heartbreak, if it +were so. Of the dramatic works of Marston it is enough to say that they +are truly _works_ to the reader, but in no sense dramatic, nor worth the +paper they blot. He seems to have been deemed worthy of republication +because he was the contemporary of true poets; and if all the Tuppers +of the nineteenth century will buy his plays on the same principle, the +sale will be a remunerative one. The Homer of Chapman is so precious +a gift, that we are ready to forgive all Mr. Smith's shortcomings in +consideration of it. It is a vast _placer_, full of nuggets for the +philologist and the lover of poetry. + +Having now run cursorily through the series of Mr. Smith's reprints, we +come to the closer question of _How are they edited?_ Whatever the merit +of the original works, the editors, whether self-elected or chosen by +the publisher, should be accurate and scholarly. The editing of the +Homer we can heartily commend; and Dr. Rimbault, who carried the works +of Overbury through the press, has done his work well; but the +other volumes of the Library are very creditable neither to English +scholarship nor to English typography. The Introductions to some of +them are enough to make us think that we are fallen to the necessity +of reprinting our old authors because the art of writing correct and +graceful English has been lost. William B. Turnbull, Esq., of Lincoln's +Inn, Barrister at Law, says, for instance, in his Introduction to +Southwell: "There was resident at Uxendon, near Harrow on the Hill, +in Middlesex, a Catholic family of the name of Bellamy whom [which] +Southwell was in the habit of visiting and providing with religious +instruction when he exchanged his ordinary [ordinarily] close +confinement for a purer atmosphere." (pp. xxii.-xxiii.) Again, (p. +xxii.,) "He had, in this manner, for six years, pursued, with very great +success, the objects of his mission, when these were abruptly terminated +by his foul betrayal into the hands of his enemies in 1592." We should +like to have Mr. Turnbull explain how the _objects_ of a mission could +be terminated by a betrayal, however it might be with the mission +itself. From the many similar flowers in the Introduction to Mather's +"Providences," by Mr. George Offor, (in whom, we fear, we recognize +a countryman,) we select the following: "It was at this period when, +[that,] oppressed by the ruthless hand of persecution, our pilgrim +fathers, threatened with torture and death, succumbed not to man, but +trusting on [in] an almighty arm, braved the dangers of an almost +unknown ocean, and threw themselves into the arms of men called savages, +who proved more beneficent than national Christians." To whom or what +our pilgrim fathers _did_ succumb, and what "national Christians" are, +we leave, with the song of the Sirens, to conjecture. Speaking of the +"Providences," Mr. Offor says, that "they faithfully delineate the state +of public opinion two hundred years ago, the most striking feature being +an implicit faith in the power of the [in-]visible world to hold visible +intercourse with man:--not the angels to bless poor erring mortals, but +of demons imparting power to witches and warlocks to injure, terrify and +destroy,"--a sentence which we defy any witch or warlock, though he +were Michael Scott himself, to parse with the astutest demonic aid. +On another page, he says of Dr. Mather, that "he was one of the first +divines who discovered that very many strange events, which were +considered preternatural, had occurred in the course of nature or by +deceitful juggling; that the Devil could not speak English, nor prevail +with Protestants; the smell of herbs alarms the Devil; that medicine +drives out Satan!" We do not wonder that Mr. Offor put a mark of +exclamation at the end of this surprising sentence, but we do confess +our astonishment that the vermilion pencil of the proof-reader suffered +it to pass unchallenged. Leaving its bad English out of the question, +we find, on referring to Mather's text, that he was never guilty of the +absurdity of believing that Satan was less eloquent in English than +in any other language; that it was the British (Welsh) tongue which a +certain demon whose education had been neglected (not _the_ Devil) could +not speak; that Mather is not fool enough to say that the Fiend cannot +prevail with Protestants, nor that the smell of herbs alarms him, nor +that medicine drives him out. + +Mr. Offor is superbly Protestant and iconoclastic,--not sparing, as we +have seen, even Priscian's head among the rest; but, _en revanche_, Mr. +Turnbull is ultramontane beyond the editors of the _Civiltà Cattolica_. +He allows himself to say, that, "after Southwell's death, one of his +sisters, a Catholic in heart, but timidly and blameably simulating +heresy, wrought, with some relics of the martyr, several cures on +persons afflicted with desperate and deadly diseases, which had baffled +the skill of all physicians." Mr. Turnbull is, we suspect, a recent +convert, or it would occur to him that doctors are still secure of a +lucrative practice in countries full of the relics of greater saints +than even Southwell. That father was hanged (according to Protestants) +for treason, and the relic which put the whole pharmacopoeia to shame +was, if we mistake not, his neckerchief. But whatever the merits of the +Jesuit himself, and however it may gratify Mr. Turnbull's catechumenical +enthusiasm to exalt the curative properties of this integument of his, +even at the expense of Jesuits' bark, we cannot but think that he has +shown a credulity that unfits him for writing a fair narrative of his +hero's life, or making a tolerably just estimate of his verses. It is +possible, however, that these last seem prosaic as a neck-tie only to +heretical readers. + +Anything more helplessly inadequate than Mr. Offor's preliminary +dissertation on Witchcraft we never read; but we could hardly expect +much from an editor whose citations from the book he is editing show +that he had either not read or not understood it. + +We have singled out the Introductions of Messrs. Turnbull and Offor for +special animadversion because they are on the whole the worst, both of +them being offensively sectarian, while that of Mr. Offor in particular +gives us almost no information whatever. Some of the others are not +without grave faults, chief among which is a vague declamation, +especially out of place in critical essays, where it serves only to +weary the reader and awaken his distrust. In his Introduction to +Wither's "Hallelujah," for instance, Mr. Farr informs us that "nearly +all the best poets of the latter half of the sixteenth century--for that +was the period when the Reformation was fully established--and the whole +of the seventeenth century were sacred poets," and that "even Shakspeare +and the contemporary dramatists of his age sometimes attuned their +well-strung harps to the songs of Zion." Comment on statements like +these would be as useless as the assertions themselves are absurd. + +We have quoted these examples only to justify us in saying, that Mr. +Smith must select his editors with more care, if he wishes that his +"Library of Old Authors" should deserve the confidence and thereby gain +the good word of intelligent readers,--without which such a series can +neither win nor keep the patronage of the public. It is impossible that +men who cannot construct an English sentence correctly, and who do not +know the value of clearness in writing, should be able to disentangle +the knots which slovenly printers have tied in the thread of an old +author's meaning; and it is more than doubtful whether they who assert +carelessly, cite inaccurately, and write loosely are not by nature +disqualified for doing thoroughly what they undertake to do. If it were +unreasonable to demand of every one who assumes to edit one of our early +poets the critical acumen, the genial sense, the illimitable reading, +the philological scholarship, which in combination would alone make +the ideal editor, it is not presumptuous to expect some one of these +qualifications singly, and we have the right to insist upon patience and +accuracy, which are within the reach of every one, and without which all +the others are wellnigh vain. Now to this virtue of accuracy Mr. Offor +specifically lays claim in one of his remarkable sentences: "We are +bound to admire," he says, "the accuracy and beauty of this specimen of +typography. Following in the path of my late friend William Pickering, +our publisher rivals the Aldine and Elzevir presses, which have been so +universally admired." We should think that it was the product of those +presses which had been admired, and that Mr. Smith presents a still +worthier object of admiration when he contrives to follow a path and +rival a press at the same time. But let that pass;--it is the claim to +accuracy which we dispute; and we deliberately affirm, that, as far as +we are able to judge by the volumes we have examined, no claim more +unfounded was ever set up. In some cases, as we shall show presently, +the blunders of the original work have been followed with painful +accuracy in the reprint; but many others have been added by the +carelessness of Mr. Smith's printers or editors. In the thirteen +pages of Mr. Offor's own Introduction we have found as many as seven +typographical errors,--unless some of them are to be excused on the +ground that Mr. Offor's studies have not yet led him into those arcana +where we are taught such recondite mysteries of language as that verbs +agree with their nominatives. In Mr. Farr's Introduction to the "Hymns +and Songs" nine short extracts from other poems of Wither are quoted, +and in these we have found no less than seven misprints or false +readings which materially affect the sense. Textual inaccuracy is a +grave fault in the new edition of an old poet; and Mr. Farr is not +only liable to this charge, but also to that of making blundering +misstatements which are calculated to mislead the careless or uncritical +reader. Infected by the absurd cant which has been prevalent for the +last dozen years among literary sciolists, he says,--"The language used +by Wither in all his various works--whether secular or sacred--is pure +Saxon." Taken literally, this assertion is manifestly ridiculous, and, +allowing it every possible limitation, it is not only untrue of Wither, +but of every English poet, from Chaucer down. The translators of our +Bible made use of the German version, and a poet versifying the English +Scriptures would therefore be likely to use more words of Teutonic +origin than in his original compositions. But no English poet can write +English poetry except in English,--that is, in that compound of Teutonic +and Romanic which derives its heartiness and strength from the one and +its canorous elegance from the other. The Saxon language does not sing, +and, though its tough mortar serve to hold together the less compact +Latin words, porous with vowels, it is to the Latin that our verse owes +majesty, harmony, variety, and the capacity for rhyme. A quotation of +six lines from Wither ends at the top of the very page on which Mr. Parr +lays down his extraordinary _dictum_, and we will let this answer him, +Italicizing the words of Romanic derivation:-- + + "Her true _beauty_ leaves behind + _Apprehensions_ in the mind, + Of more sweetness than all _art_ + Or _inventions_ can _impart_; + Thoughts too deep to be _expressed_, + And too strong to be _suppressed_." + +But space fails us, and we shall take up the editions of Marston and +Webster in a future article. + + +_Galleries and Cabinets of Art in Great Britain_, etc. By DR. WAAGEN. +Forming a Supplemental Volume to the "Treasures of Art in Great +Britain." 8vo. London. 1857. + +The Manchester Exhibition, although containing a vast number of works +of Art, displayed but a small portion of the treasures of painting and +sculpture scattered through Great Britain, in the city and country +houses of the upper classes. Every year is adding greatly to the number +and value of both private and public galleries in England. It is but +three years since Dr. Waagen published his three ponderous volumes on +the "Treasures of Art in Great Britain," and he has already found new +material for a fourth, not less cumbrous than its predecessors. The +larger part of this last volume is, indeed, composed of descriptions of +galleries existing at the time of the publication of his first work, but +the most interesting portion of it relates to the acquisitions that have +been made within the last three years. + +A better taste, and a truer appreciation of the relative merits of works +of Art, prevails in England now than at any previous time, and the +recent acquisitions are distinguished not more by their number than by +their intrinsic value. The National Gallery has at last begun to make +its purchases upon a systematic plan, and is endeavoring to form such a +collection as shall exhibit the historic progress of the various schools +of painting. The late additions to it have been of peculiar interest in +this view; including some very admirable pictures by masters whose works +are rare and of real importance. Among them are very noble works of +some of the chief earlier Florentine, Umbrian, and Venetian masters; +especially a beautiful picture by Benozzo Gozzoli, (the Virgin enthroned +with the infant Saviour in her arms and surrounded by Saints,)--a +thoroughly characteristic specimen of Giovanni Bellini, (also a Virgin +holding the Child,) in which the deep, fervent, and tender spirit, the +manly feeling, and the unsurpassed purity of color of this great master +are well shown,--and one of the finest existing pictures of Perugino, +the three lower and principal compartments of an altarpiece painted for +the Certosa at Pavia. We know, indeed, no work by the master of Raphael +to be set above this. Two of the best pictures of Paul Veronese have +also just been added to the National Gallery. + +Still more important are the recent private purchases. The Duke of +Northumberland procured in Rome, in 1850, the whole of Camuccini's +famous collection. It contained seventy-four pictures, and many of +them of great value. Among them was a small, but precious picture +by Giotto,--a beautiful little Raphael,--three undoubted works of +Titian,--and, most precious of all, a picture, formerly in the Ludovisi +collection, painted jointly by Giovanni Bellini and Titian. It is the +Descent of the Gods to taste the Fruits of the Earth, half-comic in +conception, but remarkable for the grace of some of its figures; the +landscape is by Titian, and Dr. Waagen says, justly, that "it is, +without comparison, the finest that up to that period had ever been +painted,"--and we would add, few finer have been painted since. + +Meanwhile Sir Charles Eastlake has obtained a picture by Mantegna, and +another by Bellini, both of which rank very high among the works of +these masters, and both in excellent condition. And Mr. Alexander +Barker, whose collection is becoming one of the best selected and most +interesting in England, has purchased several pictures of great value, +especially one by Verocchio, the master of Leonardo da Vinci, which Dr. +Waagen speaks of as "the most important picture I know by this rare +master." Mr. Barker has also made an addition to his collection so +recent as not to be described even in this last volume of the "Art +Treasures," but which is of unsurpassed interest. He has purchased from +the Manfrini Gallery at Venice, a gallery which has long been famous as +containing some of the best works of the Venetian school, eighteen of +its best pictures, and was lately in treaty for a still larger number. +He has already secured Titian's portrait of Ariosto, Giorgione's +portrait of a woman with a guitar, and other works by these masters, by +Palma Vecchio, Giovanni Bellini, and other chief Venetian painters. We +trust that he may bring to England (if it must leave Venice) Bellini's +St. Jerome, a picture of the most precious character. + +This catalogue, long as it already is, by no means completes the list of +the last three years' gains of pictures for England. Such a record shows +how compact with treasures the little island is becoming. And meanwhile, +what is America doing in this way? The overestimate of the importance +and value of Mr. Belmont's collection in New York shows how far the +American public yet is from knowing its own ignorance and poverty in +respect to Art. + +No praise can be given to the execution of Dr. Waagen's book. His +descriptions of pictures are rarely characteristic; his tone and +standard of judgment are worthless; his style of writing is poor; his +inaccuracies frequent; and his flunkeyism intolerable. It would be an +excellent undertaking for a competent person, using Dr. Waagen's book +as a basis, to compress the account of the principal private galleries, +those which really contain pictures of value, into one small and +portable volume,--to serve as a handbook for travellers in England, as +well as for a guide to the present place of pictures interesting in the +history of artists and of Art. Such a volume, if well done, would be of +vastly more value than these heavy four. The usual delightful liberality +of English collectors in opening their galleries to the public on +certain days would make such a volume something more than a mere +tantalizing exposition of treasures that could not be seen, and would +render it, to all lovers of Art, an indispensable companion in England. +We may add that this liberality might be imitated with advantage by the +directors of some collections in which the public have a greater claim. +We tried once in vain to get sight of the portraits of Alleyn and +Burbage at Bulwich College, and were prevented from seeing the Hogarths +in the Sloane Museum by the length of time required for the preliminary +ceremonies. + + +_The New American Cyclopaedia._ A Popular Dictionary of General +Knowledge. Edited by GEORGE RIPLEY and CHAS. A. DANA. Vol. I. +A--ARAGUAY. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 8vo. + +The design of this work is to furnish the American public with a +Cyclopaedia which shall be readable as well as valuable,--possessing +all the advantages of a dictionary of knowledge for the purposes of +reference, and all the interest which results from a scholarly treatment +of the subjects. Judging from the first volume, it will occupy a middle +ground between the great Encyclopaedias and the numerous special +Dictionaries of Art and Science; and if its plan be carried out with the +vigor and skill which mark its commencement, it will, when completed, be +the best and most condensed Cyclopaedia for popular use in any language. +The guaranty for its successful completion is to be found in the +character and abilities of the editors, and the resources at their +command. Mr. Ripley is an accomplished man of letters, familiar with the +whole field of literature and philosophy, gifted with a mental aptitude +equally for facts and ideas, a fanatic for no particular branch of +knowledge, but with a genial appreciation of each, and endowed with a +largeness and catholicity of mind which eminently fit him to mould the +multitudinous materials of a work like the present into the form of a +prescribed plan. Mr. Dana is well known as one of the chief editors +of the most influential journal in the country, as combining vigorous +intellect with indefatigable industry, and as capable, both in the +domain of facts and in the domain of principles, of "toiling terribly." +The resources of the editors are, literally, almost too numerous +to mention. They include the different Encyclopaedias and popular +Conversations-Lexicons in various languages,--recent biographies, +histories, books of travel, and scientific treatises,--the opportunities +of research afforded by the best private and public libraries,--and a +body of contributors, scattered over different portions of the United +States and Europe, of whom nearly a hundred have written for the present +volume, and, in some cases, have contributed the results of personal +observation, research, and discovery. These contributors are selected +with a view to their proficiency and celebrity in their several +departments. The scientific articles are written by scientific men; +those on technology and machinery, by practical machinists and +engineers; those on military and naval affairs, by officers of the army +and navy; and those which relate to the history and doctrines of the +various Christian churches and denominations, by men who have both the +knowledge of their subjects which comes from study and the knowledge +which comes from sympathy. + +The plan of the editors implies a perfect neutrality in regard to all +controverted points in politics, science, philosophy, and religion; +and though they cannot avoid controversy as a fact in the history of +opinion, it is their purpose to have the Cyclopaedia give an impartial +statement of various opinions without an intrusion of their own or those +of their contributors. In considering how far, in the first volume, they +have succeeded in their general design, it must be remembered that a +Cyclopaedia which shall be satisfactory to all readers alike is an ideal +which the human imagination may contemplate, but which seems to be +beyond the reach of human wit practically to attain. Besides, each +reader is apt to have a pet interest in certain persons, events, topics, +beliefs, which stand in his own mind for universal knowledge, and he is +naturally vexed to find how their importance dwindles when they appear +in relation to the whole of nature and human life. In respect to +Biography, especially in a Cyclopaedia which admits lives of the living +as well as the dead, and to whose biographical department a great +variety of authors contribute, there is an inherent difficulty of +preserving the proper gradation of reputations. Doubtless, many an +American gentleman will find that this Cyclopaedia gives him an +importance, in comparison with the rest of the world, which time will +not sanction; and doubtless, some of the dead _A_s, if rapped into +utterance by the modern process of spiritual communication, would +complain of the curt statement which coffined their souls in a space +more limited than that now occupied by their bodies. The biographies, +however, of John Adams, John Quincy Adams, Addison, Aeschylus, Mark +Anthony, Alfieri, Akenside, Allston, Agassiz, and a number of others, +are evidently by "eminent hands," and, as compared with the rest, are +treated with more fulness and richness of detail, with an easier and +more genial mastery of the subjects, and with less fear of being +redundant in good things. Still, most of the biographies serve the +primary purpose of the work as a book of reference, and contain as large +an amount of information as could well be crammed into so limited a +space. + +Such a variety of minds have been engaged on the present volume, that +among its twenty-five hundred articles will be found every kind of +style, from austere scientific statement, to brilliant wit and fancy. +Two subjects, never before included in a Cyclopaedia in the English +language, namely, Aesthetics and Absolute, are ably, though far too +briefly treated. Entertainment is not overlooked in the plan of the +editors, and there are some articles, like those on Almacks, Actors, and +Adventures, which contain information at once curious and amusing. +The article "Americanism" might have been made much more valuable and +pleasing, had the subject been treated at greater length, with more +insight into the reasons which led to the establishment of an American +verbal mint, and with a more complete list of the felicities of its +coinage. The articles which refer to bodily health, such as those on +Appetite, Age, Aliment, Total Abstinence, contain important facts and +admirable suggestions in condensed statements. Agriculture, Agricultural +Schools, and Agricultural Chemistry are evidently the work of writers +who appreciate the practical wants of the farmer, as well as understand +the aids which science can furnish him. Two divisions of the globe, +Africa and America, come within the scope of the present volume, and, +though the special reader will notice in the articles devoted to them +some omissions, and some statements which may require modification, they +bear the general marks of industry, vigilance, and research. The paper +on Anaesthetics is evidently by a writer who meant to be impartial, but +still injustice is done to the claims of Dr. Jackson, and we trust that +in the next edition some of the statements will be corrected, even if +the whole question of the discovery is not more thoroughly argued. It +seems curious that a discovery which destroys pain should be a constant +cause of pain to every person in any way connected with it. It may not +be within the province of a Cyclopaedia to undertake the decision of a +question still so vehemently controverted; but we think it might be so +stated as to include all the facts, harmonize portions at least of +the conflicting evidence, and put some people "out of pain." We must +attribute it to a careless reading of the proof-sheets that the editors +have allowed the concluding paragraph in the article "Adams" to intrude +village gossip into a work which should be an example to American +scholarship, and not a receptacle of newspaper scandal. + +In conclusion, we think that the impression which an examination of the +present volume, considered as a whole, leaves on the mind is, that the +editors have generally succeeded in making it both comprehensive and +compact,--comprehensive without being superficial, and compact without +being dry and dull. As a book for the desultory reader, it will be found +full of interest and attractiveness, while it is abundantly capable of +bearing severer tests than any to which the desultory reader will be +likely to subject it. Minor faults can easily be detected, but we think +its great merits are much more obvious than its little defects. The +probability is, that, when completed, it will be found to contain +articles by almost every person of literary and scientific note in the +United States; for the wide and friendly relations which the editors +hold with American authors and _savans_, of all sects, parties, and +sections, will enable them to obtain valuable contributions, even if +the general interest in the success of an American Cyclopaedia were not +sufficient of itself to draw the intellect of the country to its pages. +As a work which promises to be so honorable to the literature of the +country, we trust that it will meet with a public patronage commensurate +with its deserts. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 6, +April, 1858, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY *** + +***** This file should be named 12372-8.txt or 12372-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/3/7/12372/ + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed +Proofreaders. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/12372-8.zip b/old/12372-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..69a7c32 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12372-8.zip diff --git a/old/12372.txt b/old/12372.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9521421 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12372.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9331 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 6, April, 1858, 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. 1, No. 6, April, 1858 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: May 18, 2004 [EBook #12372] +[Date last updated: May 21, 2005] + +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. I.--APRIL, 1858.--NO. VI. + + * * * * * + + +THE HUNDRED DAYS. + +PERSONAL REMINISCENCES. + + +That period of history between the 20th of March and the 28th of June, +1815, being the interregnum in the reign of Louis the Eighteenth, +caused by the arrival of Napoleon from Elba and his assumption of the +government of France, is known as "The Hundred Days." + +It is as interesting as it was eventful, and has been duly chronicled +wherever facts have been gathered to gratify a curiosity that is not yet +weary of dwelling on the point of time which saw the Star of Destiny +once more in the ascendant before it sank forever. + +Whatever is connected with this remarkable epoch is worthy of +remembrance, and whoever can add the interest of a personal experience, +though it be limited and unimportant, should be satisfied, in the +recital, to adopt that familiar form which may give to his recollections +the strongest impress of reality. + +I was at that time a schoolboy in Paris. The institution to which I was +attached was connected with one of the National Lyceums, which were +colleges where students resided in large numbers, and where classes from +private schools also regularly attended, each studying in its respective +place and going to the Lyceum at hours of lecture or recitation. All +these establishments were, under Napoleon, to a certain degree military. +The roll of the drum roused the scholar to his daily work; a uniform +with the imperial button was the only dress allowed to be worn; and the +physical as well as the intellectual training was such, that very little +additional preparation was required to qualify the inmate of the Lyceum +for the duties and privations of the soldier's life. The transition +was not unnatural; and the boy who breakfasted in the open air, in +midwinter, on a piece of dry bread and as much water as he chose to pump +for himself,--who was turned adrift, without cap or overcoat, from the +study-room into the storm or sunshine of an open enclosure, to amuse +himself in his recess as he best might,--whose continual talk with his +comrades was of the bivouac or the battle-field,--and who considered the +great object of life to be the development of faculties best fitted to +excel in the art of destruction, would not be astonished to find himself +sleeping on the bare ground with a levy of raw conscripts. + +I was in daily intercourse with several hundred young men, and it +may not be uninteresting to dwell a moment on the character of my +companions, especially as they may be considered a fair type of the +youth of France generally at that time. It is, moreover, a topic with +which few are familiar. There were not many Americans in that country at +that period. I knew of only one at school in Paris beside myself. + +If the brilliant glories of the Empire dazzled the mature mind of +age, they wrought into delirium the impulsive brain of youth, whose +impressions do not wait for any aid from the judgment, but burn into the +soul, never to be totally effaced. The early boyhood of those with whom +I was associated had been one of continual excitement. Hardly had the +hasty but eloquent bulletin told the Parisians that the name of another +bloody field was to be inscribed among the victories of France, and the +cannon of the Invalides thundered out their notes of triumph, when again +the mutilated veterans were on duty at their scarcely cooled pieces and +the newswomen in the streets were shrilly proclaiming some new triumph +of the imperial arms. Then came the details, thrilling a warlike people, +and the trophies which symbolized success,--banners torn and stained +in desperate conflict, destined to hang over Christian altars until the +turning current of fortune should drift them back,--parks of artillery +rumbling through the streets, to be melted into statue or triumphal +column,--and, amid the spoils of war, everything most glorious in Art to +fill that wondrous gallery, the like of which the eye of man will never +look upon again. At last, in some short respite of those fighting days, +came back the conquerors themselves, to enjoy a fleeting period of rest +and fame ere they should stiffen on Russian snows, or swell the streams +which bathe the walls of Leipsic, or blacken, with countless dead, the +plains stretching between the Rhine and their own proud capital. + +By no portion of the people were these things gathered with such avidity +and regarded with such all-absorbing interest as by the schoolboys of +Paris. Every step of the "Grand Army" was watched with deep solicitude +and commented upon with no doubtful criticism. They made themselves +acquainted with the relative merit of each division, and could tell +which arm of the service most contributed to the result of any +particular battle. They collected information from all sources,--from +accounts in newspapers, from army letters, from casual conversation with +some maimed straggler fresh from the scene of war. Each boy, as he +made his periodical visit to his family, brought back something to the +general fund of anecdote. The fire that burned in their young bosoms was +fed by tales of daring, and there was a halo round deeds of blood which +effectually concealed the woe and misery they caused. There was but one +side of the medal visible, and the figures on that were so bold and +beautiful that no one cared for or thought of the ugly death's-head on +the reverse. The fearful consumption of human life which drained the +land, sweeping off almost one entire generation of able-bodied men, and +leaving the tillage of the fields to the decrepitude of age, feebly +aided by female hands, gave ample opportunity to gratify the ardent +minds panting to exchange the tame drudgery of school and college for +the limited, but to them world-wide, authority of the subaltern's sword +and epaulet. There seemed to them but one road to advancement. The +profession of arms was the sole pursuit which opened a career bounded +only by the wildest dreams of ambition. What had been could be; and the +fortunate soldier might find no check in the progressive honors of his +course, until his brows should be encircled by the insignia of royalty. +It required more than mortal courage for a young man to intimate a +preference for some more peaceful occupation. A learned profession might +be sneeringly tolerated; but woe to him who spoke of agriculture, +or commerce, or the mechanic arts! There was little comfort for the +luckless wight who, in some unguarded moment, gave utterance to such +ignoble aspirations. Henceforth he was, like the Pariah of India, cut +off from human sympathy, and the young gentlemen whose tastes and +tendencies led them to prefer the more aristocratic trade of butchery +felt that there was a line of demarcation which completely and +conclusively separated them from him. + +This predilection for military life received no small encouragement +from the occasional visit of some young Caesar, whose uniform had been +tarnished in the experiences of one campaign, and who returned to his +former associates to indulge in an hour of unalloyed glorification. + +Napoleon, when he entered the Tuileries after prostrating some hostile +kingdom, never felt more importance than did the young lieutenant in his +service when he passed the ponderous doors which ushered him into the +presence of his old schoolfellows. What a host of admirers crowded +around him! What an honor and privilege to be standing in the presence, +and even pressing the hand or rushing into the embrace, of an officer +who had really seen bayonet-charges and heard the whistling of +grapeshot! How the older ones monopolized the distinguished visitor, and +how the little boys crowded the outer circle to catch a word from the +military oracle, proudly happy if they could get a distant nod of +recognition! And then the questions which were showered upon him, too +numerous and varied to be answered. And how he described the forced +marches, and the manoeuvring, and the great battle!--how the cannonade +seemed the breaking up of heaven and earth, and the solid ground shook +under the charges of cavalry; how, yet louder than all, rang the +imperial battle-cry, maddening those who uttered it; how death was +everywhere, and yet he escaped unharmed, or with some slight wound which +trebled his importance to his admiring auditors. He would then tell how, +after hours of desperate fighting, the Emperor, seeing that the decisive +moment had arrived, ordered up the Imperial Guard; how the veterans, +whose hairs had bleached in the smoke of a hundred battles, advanced to +fulfil their mission; how with firm tread and lofty bearing, proud +in the recollections of the past and strong in the consciousness of +strength, they entered the well-fought field; and how from rank to rank +of their exhausted countrymen pealed the shout of exultation, for +they knew that the hour of their deliverance had come; and then, with +overwhelming might, all branches of the service, comprised in that +magnificent reserve, swept like a whirlwind, driving before them +horse and foot, artillery, equipage, and standards, all mingled in +irremediable confusion. + +With what freedom did our young hero comment on the campaign, speaking +such names as Lannes and Ney, Murat and Massena, like household words! +He did not, perhaps, state that the favorable result of things was +entirely owing to his presence, but it might be inferred that it was +well he threw in his sword when the fortunes of the Empire trembled in +the balance. + +Under such influences, and with the excitement produced by the +marvellous success of the French armies, it is not singular that young +men looked eagerly forward to a participation in the prodigies and +splendors of their time,--that they should turn disdainfully from the +paths of honest industry, and that everything which constitutes the true +wealth and greatness of a state should have been despised or forgotten +in the lurid and blood-stained glare of military glory, which cowered +like an incubus on the breast of Europe. The battle-fields were beyond +the frontiers of their own country; the calamities of war were too far +distant to obtrude their disheartening features; and no lamentations +mingled with the public rejoicings. Many a broken-hearted mother mourned +in secret for her son lying in his bloody grave; but individual grief +was disregarded in the madness which pervaded all classes, vain-glorious +from repeated and uninterrupted success. + +But the time had come when the storm was to pour in desolation over the +fields of France, and the nations which had trembled at her power were +to tender back to her the bitter cup of humiliation. The unaccustomed +sound of hostile cannon broke in on the dreams of invincibility which +had entranced the people, and deeds of violence and blood, which had +been complacently regarded when the theatre of action was on foreign +territory, seemed quite another thing when the scene was shifted to +their own vineyards and villages. + +The genius of Napoleon never exhibited such vast fertility of resources +as when he battled for life and empire in his own dominions. Every foot +of ground was wrested from him at an expense of life which thinned the +innumerable hosts pressing onward to his destruction. He stood at bay +against all Europe in arms; and so desperately did he contend against +the vast odds opposed to him, and so rapidly did he move from one +invading column to another, successively beating back division upon +division, that his astonished foes, awed by his superhuman exertions, +had wellnigh turned their faces to the Rhine in panic-stricken retreat. +But the line of invasion was so widely extended that even his ubiquity +could not compass it. His wonderful power of concentration was of little +avail to him when the mere skeletons of regiments answered to his call, +and, along his weakened line, the neglected gleanings left by the +conscription, now hastily garnered in this last extremity, greeted him +in the treble notes of childhood. The voices of the bearded men, which +once hailed his presence, were hushed in death. They had shouted his +name in triumph over Europe, and it had quivered on their lips when +parched with the moral agony. Their bones were whitening the sands of +Egypt, the harvests of Italy had long waved over them, their +unnumbered graves lay thick in the German's Fatherland, and +the floods of the Berezina were yet giving up their unburied +dead. The remnant of that once invincible army did all that +could be done; but there were limits to endurance, and exhaustion +anticipated the hour of combat. Men fell dead in their ranks, untouched +by shot or steel; and yet the survivors pressed on to take up the +positions assigned by their leader, who seemed to be proof against +either fatigue or despair. His last bold move, on which he staked his +empire, was a splendid effort, but it failed him. It was the daring play +of a desperate gamester, and nearly checkmated his opponents. But when, +instead of pursuing him, they marched on Paris, he left his army to +follow as it could, and hastened to anticipate his enemies. When about +fifteen miles from Paris, he received news of the battle of Montmartre +and the capitulation of the city. The post-house where he encountered +this intelligence was within sight of the place where I passed my +vacations. I often looked at it with interest, for it was there that the +vision first flashed before him of his broken empire and the utter ruin +which bade farewell to hope. He had become familiar with reverses. His +veteran legions had perished in unequal strife with the elements, or +melted away in the hot flame of conflict; his most devoted adherents +had fallen around him; yet his iron soul bore up against his changing +fortunes, and from the wrecks of storm and battle there returned + + -------"the conqueror's broken car, + The conqueror's yet unbroken heart." + +But the spirit which had never quailed before his enemies was crushed +by the desertion of his friends. He had now to feel that treason and +ingratitude are attendants on adversity, and that the worshippers of +power, like the Gheber devotee, turn their faces reverently towards the +rising sun. + +There are few things in history so touching as the position of Napoleon +at Fontainebleau, during the few days which preceded his abdication +and departure for the Island of Elba. Nearly all his superior officers +forsook him, not even finding time to bid him adieu. Men whom he had +covered with wealth and honors, who had most obsequiously courted his +smiles, and been most vehement in their protestations of fidelity, were +the first to leave him in his misfortune, forgetting, in their anxiety +to conciliate his successor, to make the slightest stipulation for the +protection of their benefactor. He was left in the vast apartments of +that deserted palace, with hardly the footsteps of a domestic servant to +break its monastic stillness; and, for the first time in his eventful +life, he sat, hour after hour, without movement, brooding over his +despair. At last, when all was ready for his departure, he called up +something of his old energy, and again stood in the presence of what +remained of the Imperial Guard, which was faithful to the end. These +brave men had often encircled him, like a wall of granite, in the hour +of utmost peril, and they were now before him, to look upon him, as they +thought, for the last time. He struggled to retain his firmness, but +the effort was beyond human resolution; his pride gave way before his +bursting heart, and the stern vanquisher of nations wept with his old +comrades. + +Napoleon was gone. His empire was in the dust. The streets of his capital +were filled with strangers, and the volatile Parisians were almost +compensated for the degradation, in their wonder at the novel garb and +uncouth figures of their enemies. The Cossacks of the Don had made their +threatened "hurra," and bivouacked on the banks of the Seine. Prussian +and Austrian cannon pointed down all the great thoroughfares, and by +their side, day and night, the burning match suggested the penalty of +any popular commotion. The Bourbons were at the Tuileries, and France +appeared to have moved back to the place whence she had started on her +course of redemption. At length, slowly and prudently, the allied armies +commenced their homeward march, and the reigning family were left to +their own resources, to reconcile as they could the heterogeneous +materials stranded by the receding tide of revolution. But concession +formed no part of their character, and reconciliation was an unknown +element in their plan of government. They took possession of the throne +as though they had only been absent on a pleasure excursion, and, +ignoring twenty years of _parvenu_ glory, affected to be merely +continuing an uninterrupted sovereignty. The pithy remark of Talleyrand, +that "they had learned nothing and forgotten nothing," was abundantly +verified. Close following in their wake, came hordes of emigrants +famished by long exile and clamorous for the restitution of ancient +privileges. There was nothing in common between them and the men of the +Republic, or of the Empire. They assumed an air of superiority, which +the latter answered with the most undisguised contempt. Ridicule, that +fearful political engine, which, especially in France, is sufficient to +batter down the hopes of any aspirant who lays himself open to it, and +which Napoleon himself, in his greatest power, feared more than foreign +armies or intestine conspiracies, was most unsparingly directed against +them. The print-shops exposed them in every possible form of caricature, +the theatres burlesqued their pretensions, songs and epigrams +contributed to their discomfiture, and all the ingenuity of a witty +and laughter-loving people was unmercifully poured out upon this +resurrection of antediluvian remains. Their royal patrons came in for a +full share of the general derision, but they seemed entirely unmindful +that there was such a thing as popular opinion, or any other will than +their own. There were objects all around them which might have preached +to them of the uncertainty of human grandeur and the vanity of kingly +pride, reminding them that there is but a step from the palace to the +scaffold, which step had been taken by more than one of their family. +The walls of their abode were yet marked by musket-balls, mementos of +a day of appalling violence, and from the windows they could see the +public square where the guillotine had permanently stood and the +pavement had been crimsoned with the blood of their race. They had +awakened from a long sleep, among a new order of men, who were strangers +to them, and who looked upon them as beings long since buried, but +now, unnaturally and indecorously, protruded upon living society. They +commenced by placing themselves in antagonism to the nation, and erected +a barrier which effectually divided them from the people. The history of +the Republic and the Empire was to be blotted out; it was a forbidden +theme in their presence, and whatever reminded them of it was carefully +hidden from their legitimate vision. The remains of the Old Guard were +removed to the provinces or drafted into new regiments; leaders, whose +very names stirred France like the blast of a trumpet, were almost +unknown in the royal circle; and the great Exile was never to be +mentioned without the liability to a charge of treason. + +During all this time of change, the youth of France, shut up in schools +and colleges, kept pace with the outer world in information, and +outstripped it in manifestations of feeling. I can judge of public +sentiment only by inferences drawn from occasional observation, or the +recorded opinions of others. I believe that many did not regret the fall +of Napoleon, being weary of perpetual war, and hoping that the accession +of the Bourbons would establish permanent peace. I believe that those +who had attained the summit of military rank were not unwilling to pass +some portion of their lives in the luxury of their own homes. I believe +that there were mothers who rejoiced that the dreaded conscription had +ended, and that their sons were spared to them. I believe all this, +because I understood it so to be. But whatever may have been the hopes +of the lovers of tranquillity, or the wishes of warriors worn out in +service, or the maternal instincts which would avert the iron hand +clutching at new victims for the shrine of Moloch, I can answer that the +boys remained staunch Bonapartists, for I was in the midst of them, and +I have the fullest faith that those about me were exponents of the whole +generation just entering on the stage of action. During the decline of +the Empire, when defeat might be supposed to have quenched the fire of +their enthusiasm, they remained unchanged, firmly trusting that glory +would retrace her steps and once more follow the imperial eagles. And +now, when their idol was overthrown, their veneration had not diminished +nor wavered. Napoleon, with his four hundred grenadiers, at Elba, was +still the Emperor; and those who, as they conceived, had usurped his +government, received no small share of hatred and execration. Amidst +abandonment and ingratitude, when some deserted and others reviled him, +the boys were true as steel. It was not solely because the career which +was open to them closed with his abdication, but a nobler feeling of +devotion animated them in his hour of trial, and survived his downfall. + +Many of our instructors were well satisfied with the new state of +things. Some of the older ones had been educated as priests, and were +officiating in their calling, when the Revolution broke in upon them, +trampling alike on sacred shrine and holy vestment. The shaven crown was +a warrant for execution, and it rolled beneath the guillotine, or fell +by cold-blooded murder at the altar where it ministered. Infuriated +mobs hunted them like bloodhounds; and the cloisters of convent and +monastery, which had hitherto been disturbed only by footsteps gliding +quietly from cell to chapel, or the hum of voices mingling in devotion, +now echoed the tread of armed ruffians and resounded with ribaldry and +imprecations. An old man, who was for a time my teacher, told me many a +tale of those days. He had narrowly escaped, once, by concealing himself +under the floor of his room. He said that he felt the pressure, as +his pursuers repeatedly passed over him, and could hear their avowed +intention to hang him at the next lamp-post,--a mode of execution not +uncommon, when hot violence could not wait the slow processes of law. + +These men saw in the Restoration a hope that the good old times would +come back,--that the crucifix would again be an emblem of temporal +power, mightier than the sword,--that the cowled monk would become the +counsellor of kings, and once more take his share in the administration +of empires. + +But if they expected to commence operations by subjecting their pupils +to their own legitimate standard, and to bring about a tame acquiescence +in the existing order of things, they were wofully mistaken. +Conservatism never struggled with a more determined set of radicals. +Their life and action were treason. They talked it, and wrote it, and +sang it. There was no form in which they could express it that they left +untouched. They covered the walls with grotesque representations of the +royal family; they shouted out parodies of Bourbon songs; and there was +not a hero of the old _regime_, from Hugh Capet down, whose virtues were +not celebrated under the name of Napoleon. It was in vain that orders +were issued not to mention him. They might as well have told the young +rebels not to breathe. "Not mention him! They would like to see who +could stop them!" And they yelled out his name in utter defiance of +regulation and discipline. + +Wonder was occasionally expressed, whether the time would come which +would restore him to France. And now "the time had come, and the man." + +While the assembled sovereigns were parcelling out the farm of Europe, +in lots to suit purchasers, its late master decided to claim a few acres +for his own use, and, as he set foot on his old domain, he is said to +have exclaimed,--"The Congress of Vienna is dissolved!" + +It was a beautiful afternoon of early spring, when a class returned from +the Lyceum with news almost too great for utterance. One had in his hand +a coarse, dingy piece of paper, which he waved above his head, and +the others followed him with looks portending tidings of no ordinary +character. That paper was the address of Napoleon to the army, on +landing from Elba. It was rudely done, the materials were of the most +common description, the print was scarcely legible,--but it was headed +with the imperial eagle, and it contained words which none of his old +soldiers could withstand. How it reached Paris, simultaneously with the +intelligence of his landing, is beyond my comprehension; but copies of +it were rapidly circulated, and all the inhabitants of Paris knew its +contents before they slept that night. + +I know of no writer who has so thoroughly understood the wonderful +eloquence of Napoleon as Lord Brougham. He has pronounced the address +to the Old Guard, at Fontainebleau, "a masterpiece of dignified and +pathetic composition"; and the speech at the Champ de Mars, he says, +"is to be placed amongst the most perfect pieces of simple and majestic +eloquence." Napoleon certainly knew well the people with whom he had to +deal, and his concise, nervous, comprehensive sentences told upon French +feeling like shocks of a galvanic battery. What would have been absurd, +if addressed to the soldiers of any other nation, was exactly the thing +to fire his own with irresistible energy. At the battle of the Pyramids +he said to them, "Forty centuries look upon your deeds," and they +understood him. He pointed to "the sun of Austerlitz," at the dawn of +many a decisive day, and they felt that it rose to look on their +eagles victorious. If the criterion of eloquence be its power over the +passions, that of Napoleon Bonaparte has been rarely equalled. It was +always the right thing at the right time, and produced precisely the +effect it aimed at. It was never more apparent than in the address in +question. There were passages which thrilled the martial spirit of the +land, and quickened into life the old associations connected with days +of glory. Marshal Ney said, at his trial, that there was one sentence[A] +in it which no French soldier could resist, and which drew the whole of +his army over to the Emperor. + +[Footnote A: "La victoire marchera au pas de charge."] + +Such was the paper, which was read amidst the mad demonstrations of +my schoolfellows. Their extravagance knew no limits; studies were +neglected; and the recitations, next morning, demonstrated to our +discomforted teachers that the minds of their pupils had passed the +night on the march from Cannes to Paris. + +The court journals spoke lightly of the whole matter, pronounced the +"usurper" crazy, and predicted that he would be brought to the capital +in chains. There were sometimes rumors that he was defeated and +slain, and again that he was a prisoner at the mercy of the king. The +telegraphic despatches were not made public, and the utmost care was +practised by the government to conceal the fact that his continually +increasing columns were rapidly approaching. There appeared to be no +alteration in the usual routine of the royal family, and there was no +outward sign of the mortal consternation that was shaking them to the +centre of their souls. The day before the entrance of the Emperor, I +happened to be passing through the court-yard of the Tuileries, when an +array of carriages indicated that the inmates of the palace were about +to take their daily drive. As my position was favorable, I stopped to +look at the display of fine equipages, and soon saw part of the family +come down and go out, as I supposed, for their morning recreation. It +was, however, no party of pleasure, and they did not stop to take breath +until they had passed the frontiers of France. They had information +which was unknown to the public, and they thought it advisable to quit +the premises before the new lessee took possession. + +The next afternoon, my father, who was at that time in Paris, called for +me, told me that a change was evidently about to take place, and wished +me to accompany him. As we passed through the streets, the noise of our +carriage was the only sound heard. Most of the shops were closed; few +persons were abroad, and we scarcely met or passed a single vehicle. As +we drew near the Tuileries the evidences of life increased, and when we +drove into the Place du Carrousel, the quadrangle formed by the palace +and the Louvre, the whole immense area was filled with people; yet the +stillness was awful. Men talked in an undertone, as they stood grouped +together, apparently unwilling to communicate their thoughts beyond +their particular circle. The sound of wheels and the appearance of the +carriage caused many to rush towards us; but, seeing strangers, they let +us pursue our way until we drew up near the Arch of Triumph. + +It was a strange sight, that sea of heads all around us heaving in +portentous silence at the slightest incident. They felt that something, +they hardly knew what, was about to take place. They were ignorant of +the exact state of things; and as the royal standard was still on the +palace, they supposed the king might be there. Now and then, a few +officers, having an air of authority, would walk firmly and quickly +through the crowd, as though they knew their errand and were intent on +executing it. Again, a band of Polytechnic scholars, always popular with +the mob, would be cheered as they hurried onward. Occasionally, small +bodies of soldiers passed, going to relieve guard; and as they bore +the Bourbon badge, they were sometimes noticed by a feeble cry of +allegiance. At last, a drum was heard at one of the passages, and a +larger number of troops entered the square. They were veteran-looking +warriors, and bore upon them the marks of dust-stained travel. Their +bronzed faces were turned towards the flag that floated over the +building, and, as they marched directly towards the entrance, the +multitude crowded around them, and a few voices cried, "Vive le Roi!" +The commanding officer cast a proud look about him, took off his cap, +raised it on the point of his sword, showing the tricolored cockade, and +shouted, "Vive l'Empereur!" The charm was broken; and such a scene as +passed before me no man sees twice in this world. All around those armed +men there burst a cry which, diverging from that centre, spread to +the outer border, till every voice of that huge mass was shrieking in +perfect frenzy. Those nearest to the soldiers rushed upon them, hugging +them like long-lost friends; some danced, or embraced the man next to +them; some laughed like maniacs, and some cried outright. The place, +where a few minutes before there arose only a confused hum of suppressed +whisperings, now roared like a rock-bound sea-coast in a tempest. As if +by magic, men appeared decorated with tricolored ribbons, and all joined +with the soldiers in moving directly toward the place where the white +flag was flapping its misplaced triumph over eyes which glared at it in +hatred and hands which quivered to rend it piecemeal. Their wishes were +anticipated; for the foremost rank had scarcely reached the threshold +of the palace, when down went the ensign of the Bourbons, and the +much-loved tricolor streamed out amidst thunder shouts which seemed to +shake the earth. + +A revolution was accomplished. One dynasty had supplanted another; +and an epoch, over which the statesman ponders and the historian +philosophizes, appeared to be as much a matter-of-course sort of thing +as the removal of one family from a mansion to make room for another. +In this case, however, the good old custom of leaving the tenement in +decent condition was neglected; the last occupants having been too +precipitate in their departure to conform to the usages of good +housekeeping by consulting the comfort and convenience of their +successor. On the contrary, to solace themselves for the mortification +of ejection, the retiring household pocketed some of the loose articles, +denominated crown jewels, which were afterwards recovered, however, by a +swap for one of the family, who was impeded in his retreat and flattered +into the presumption that he was worth exchanging. + +We alighted from our carriage and passed through the basement-passage of +the palace into the garden. We walked to the further end, encountering +people who had heard the shouting and were hurrying to ascertain its +meaning. At a bend of the path we met Mr. Crawford, our Minister at +Paris, with Mr. Erving, U.S. Minister to Spain, and they eagerly +inquired, "What news?" My father turned, and, walking back with them a +few steps to where the building was visible, pointed to the standard at +its summit. Nothing more was necessary. It told the whole story. + +I left them and hurried back to the institution to which I belonged. I +was anxious to relate the events of the day, and, as I was the only one +of the pupils who had witnessed them, I had a welcome which might well +have excited the jealousy of the Emperor. As far as the school was +concerned, I certainly divided honors with him that evening. It was, +however, a limited copartnership, and expired at bedtime. + +Napoleon entered the city about eight o'clock that night. We were nearly +two miles from his line of progress, but we could distinctly trace it +by the roar of voices, which sounded like a continuous roll of distant +thunder. + +I saw him, two days after, at a window of the Tuileries. I stopped +directly under the building, where twenty or thirty persons had +assembled, who were crying out for him with what seemed to me most +presumptuous familiarity. They called him "Little Corporal,"--"Corporal +of the Violet,"--said they wanted to see him, and that he _must_ come to +the window. He looked out twice during the half-hour I staid there, had +on the little cocked hat which has become historical, smiled and nodded +good-naturedly, and seemed to consider that something was due from him +to the "many-headed" at that particular time. Such condescension was not +expected or given in his palmy days, but he felt now his dependence on +the people, and had been brought nearer to them by misfortune. + +It was said, at the time, that he was much elated on his arrival, but +that he grew reserved, if not depressed, as his awful responsibility +became more and more apparent. He had hoped for a division in the Allied +Councils, but they were firm and united, and governed only by the +unalterable determination to overwhelm and destroy him. He saw that +his sole reliance was on the chances of war; that he had to encounter +enemies whose numbers were inexhaustible, and who, having once dethroned +him, would no longer be impeded by the terror of his name. There was, +besides, no time to recruit his diminished battalions, or to gather the +munitions of war. The notes of preparation sounded over Europe, and +already the legions of his foes were hastening to encircle France with +a cordon of steel. The scattered relics of the "Grand Army" which had +erected and sustained his empire were hastily collected, and, as they in +turn reached Paris, were reviewed on the Carrousel and sent forward to +concentre on the battle-ground that was to decide his fate. No branch of +art was idle that could contribute to the approaching conflict. Cannon +were cast with unprecedented rapidity, and the material of war was +turned out to the extent of human ability. But he was deficient in +everything that constitutes an army. Men, horses, arms, equipage, all +were wanting. The long succession of dreadful wars which had decimated +the country had also destroyed, beyond the possibility of immediate +repair, that formidable arm which had decided so many battles, and which +is peculiarly adapted to the impetuosity of the French character. The +cavalry was feeble, and it was evident, even to an unpractised eye, as +the columns marched through the streets, that the horses were unequal to +their riders. The campaign of Moscow had been irretrievably disastrous +to this branch of the service. Thirty thousand horses had perished in +a single night, and the events which succeeded had almost entirely +exhausted this indispensable auxiliary in the tactics of war. + +The expedients to which the government was reduced were evident in +the processions of unwashed citizens, which paraded the streets as a +demonstration of the popular determination to "do or die." Whatever +could be raked from the remote quarters of Paris was marshalled before +the Emperor. Faubourgs, which in the worst days of the Revolution had +produced its worst actors, now poured out their squalid and motley +inhabitants, and astonished the more refined portions of the metropolis +with this eruption of semi-civilization. + + +[To be continued.] + + + + +MY JOURNAL TO MY COUSIN MARY. + +[Concluded.] + + +IV. + +June. + +I can no longer complain that I see no one but Kate, for she has an +ardent admirer in one of our neighbors. He comes daily to watch her, in +the Dumbiedikes style of courtship, and seriously interferes with our +quiet pursuits. Besides this "braw wooer," we have another intruder upon +our privacy. + +Kate told me, a fortnight ago, that she expected a young friend of hers, +a Miss Alice Wellspring, to pay her a visit of some weeks. I did not +have the ingratitude to murmur aloud, but I was secretly devoured by +chagrin. + +How irksome, to have to entertain a young lady; to be obliged to talk +when I did not feel inclined; to listen when I was impatient and weary; +to have to thank her, perhaps fifty times a day, for meaningless +expressions of condolence or affected pity; to tell her every morning +how I was! Intolerable! + +Ten chances to one, she was a giggling, flirting girl,--my utter +abhorrence. I had seldom heard Lina speak of her. I only knew that she +and her half-brother came over from Europe in the same vessel with my +sister, and that, as he had sailed again, the young lady was left rather +desolate, having no near relatives. + +Miss Wellspring arrived a week ago, and I found that my fears had been +groundless. She is an unaffected, pretty little creature,--a perfect +child, with the curliest chestnut hair, deep blue eyes, and the +brightest cheeks, lips, and teeth. She has a laugh that it is a +pleasure to hear, and a quick blush which tempts to mischief. One wants +continually to provoke it, it is so pretty, and the slightest word of +compliment calls it up. + +What the cherry is to the larger and more luscious fruits, or the lily +of the valley to glowing and stately flowers, or what the Pleiades +are among the grander constellations, my sister's _protegee_ is among +women;--it is ridiculous to call her Kate's _friend_. Many men would +find their ideal of loveliness in her. She would surely excite a tender, +protecting, cherishing affection. But where is there room in her for the +wondering admiration, the loving reverence, which would make an attempt +to win her an _aspiration?_ And that is what my love must be, if it is +to have dominion over me. + +Ah, Mary! I forget continually that for me there is no such joy in the +future. + + "Hope springs eternal in the human breast," + +and no reasoning can quell it. I subdue my fancy to my fate sometimes, +as a rational creature ought surely to do; but then I suffer acutely, +and am wretched; while in a careless abandonment of myself to any and +every dream of coming joy I find present contentment. I cannot help +myself. I shall continue to dream, I am sure, until I have grown so old +that I can resign all earthly hopes without sighing. I pray to be spared +the sight of any object which, by rousing within me the desire of +present possession, may renew the struggle with despair, to which I +nearly succumbed when my profession was wrenched from me. + +I was at first surprised to find that my sister cherished a more +exceeding tenderness for her young friend than I had ever seen her +manifest for any one; but my astonishment ceased when I found out that +Alice's half-brother, who bears a different name, is the gentleman I saw +with Kate in the box-tree arbor. + +Since she has been here, Alice has been occupied in writing to different +relatives about the arrangements for her future home,--a matter that +is still unsettled. She brings almost all her letters to us, to be +corrected; for she has a great dread of orthographic errors. + +I was lying upon my couch, in the porch, yesterday, and through the low +window I could see Alice as she sat at her writing-desk. Kate was sewing +beside her, but just out of my sight. The young girl's hand flew over +the paper, and a bright smile lighted up her face as she wrote. + +"This is a different kind of letter from yesterday's, I fancy," said +Kate,--"not a business, but a pleasure letter." + +"Yes, so it is: for it is to Brother Walter, and all about you! When +he wrote to tell me to love you and think much of your advice, and all +that, he said something else, which requires a full answer, I can tell +you!" + +Kate was silent. The letter was finished, and Alice sprang up, tired of +her long application. I heard her kiss my sister, who then said, with a +lame attempt at unconcern,-- + +"I suppose I am to look over your letter while you run about to rest +yourself." + +Alice quickly answered, "No, thank you. I won't give you the trouble. +The subject will make Walter blind to faults." + +"But do you suppose that I have no curiosity as to what you have said +about me?" + +"I have said nothing but good. A little boasting about your conquests is +the worst. I mention your Dumbiedikes most flatteringly. I don't make +fun of him. I only want to scare Walter a bit." + +"But, Alice, you don't know the circumstances. Do let me see the letter; +it may be important"---- + +"No, no! you shall never see it! Indeed, no!" cried the girl, running +across the porch and down the garden. She did not want any fastidious +caution to suppress the fine things she had said, or cause the trouble +of writing another letter. So she ran out of hearing of the entreaties +of her friend. + +Ben came to the door to say that Old Soldier and the cabriolet were +ready for my daily drive. While we were gone, the boy would call and +take Alice's letter to the post. The writer of it was out of sight and +hearing. Here was a dilemma! + +Kate threw her thimble and scissors into her box without her usual care, +and I heard her walking to and fro. She passed the window at every turn, +and I could see that her cheek was very pale, her eyes fixed upon the +floor, and her finger pressed to her lip. She was thinking intently, in +perfect abstraction. I could see the desk with the open letter upon it. +At every turn Kate drew nearer to it. + +It was a moment of intense temptation to my sister. I knew it, and I +watched her struggles with a beating heart. It was a weighty matter with +her. A belief in a successful rival might give Mr. ---- pain,--might +cause him to doubt her truth and affection,--might induce him to forget +her, or cast her off in bitter indignation at her supposed fickleness. +I could see in her face her alarm at these suppositions. Yes, it was a +great temptation to do a very dishonorable action. A word from me would +have ended the trial; for it is only in solitude that we are thus +assailed. But then where would have been her merit? I should only cheat +her out of the sweetest satisfaction in life,--a victory over a wicked +suggestion. My presence would make the Evil One take to flight, and now +she was wrestling with him. I felt sure she would not be conquered; for +I could not have looked on to see her defeat. But who can estimate the +power of a woman's curiosity, where the interests which are her very +life are concerned? + +She paused by the desk. The letter was upside down to her. Her hand was +upon it to turn it, and she said boldly, aloud,--having forgotten me +entirely,-- + +"I have a _right_ to know what she says." + +Then there was a hesitating pause, while she trembled on the brink of +dishonor,--then a revulsion, and an indignant "Pshaw!" + +It was a contemptuous denial of her own flimsy self-justification. She +snatched away her hand, as she said it, with an angry frown. The blood +rushed back to her face. + +"I ought to be ashamed of myself!" she exclaimed, energetically. In a +minute she was bustling about, putting away her things. In passing +the window, now that she was freed from the thraldom of her intense +thinking, she saw me lying where I might have been the witness to her +inclination to wrong. + +She started guiltily, and then began bunglingly to draw from me whether +I had noticed anything of it. I took her hands, and looked her full in +the face. + +"I love you and honor you from the very bottom of my soul, Kate!" + +"Not now! You can't! You must despise me!" she answered, turning away +with a swelling bosom. + +"I declare I never held you in so high estimation. Evil thoughts must +come, even to the holiest saint; but only those who admit and welcome +them are guilty,--not those who repel and conquer them. Surely not!" + +"Thank you, Charlie. That is encouraging and comforting doctrine; and I +think it is true. But what a lesson I have had to-day!" + +"Yes, it has been a striking one. I will write about it to Mary." + +"Oh, no! for mercy's sake don't expose me further!" + +"Then you wish her to think you are too immaculate to be even tempted! +stronger, purer even than our Saviour! for he knew temptation. You are +above it,--are you? Come, Kate,--insincerity, pretension, and cowardice +are not your failings, and I shall tell Mary of this incident, which +has deeply moved me, and will, I know, really interest her. Here comes +Alice." + +The little lady presented herself before us all smiles, concealing one +hand under her apron. + +"Who's lost what I've found?" she cried. + +"One of us, of course," said Kate. + +"No, neither, so far as I know; but it nearly concerns you, Miss Lina, +and I intend to drive a hard bargain." + +"What are your terms?" + +"Promise faithfully to tell me how it came where I found it, and I will +show it to you,--yes, give it to you,--though, perhaps, I have the best +claim to it, as nearest of kin to the owner." + +Kate changed color, but would not betray too much eagerness. + +"I cannot promise," she replied, trying for coolness,--"but if I can, I +will tell you all you want to know about it." + +Alice could hide it no longer. She held up a ring, with a motto on it in +blue enamel. I had seen it upon Kate's finger, but not recently. + +"Where did you find it?" asked my sister, with difficulty. She was very +pale. + +"In the box-tree arbor. How came it there? It _was_ Watty's, for I was +with him when he bought it in Venice. I can believe that it is yours; +but how came it lost, and trampled into the earth? Didn't you care for +it?" + +She questioned with an arch smile. She knew better than that, and she +was burning with curiosity to understand why finding it moved Kate so +deeply. She had a young girl's curiosity about love-affairs. I came to +the conclusion that Kate had offered to return the ring on the day they +parted, and that it fell to the ground, disregarded by both, occupied, +as they were, with great emotions. + +"Come," continued Alice,--"did he, or you, throw it away? Speak, and you +shall have it." + +"I can tell you nothing about it, and I will not claim your +treasure-trove. Keep it, Ally." + +"Indeed, I won't keep other folks' love-tokens! There,--it belongs on +that finger, I know! But do tell me about it!--do! I will tell you +something, if you will. Yes, indeed, I have got a secret you would give +anything to know! Walter told it to me, and it is about you. He spoke of +it in his last letter, and said he meant to--Come, I'll tell you, though +he said I mustn't, if you will only let me into the mystery of this +ring. The secret is in my letter, and I will let you read it, if you +will." + +Lina looked at me with meaning eyes. The contents of the letter were +doubled in value by this confession, and yet this was no temptation at +all. She was not alone. + +"You foolish little thing," she said, kissing the sweet, entreating +face, "do you suppose I will tell you my secrets, when you are so easily +bribed to betray your brother's?" + +Alice's conscience was alarmed. + +"Why!" she ejaculated. "How near I came to betraying confidence,--and +without meaning to do it, either! Oh, how glad I am you did not let me +go on so thoughtlessly! I should have been so sorry for it afterwards! I +know Walter will tell you himself, some day,--but I have no business to +do it, especially as he did not voluntarily make me his confidante; I +found out the affair by accident, and he bound me to secresy. Oh, I +thank you for stopping me when I was forgetting everything in my eager +curiosity! And this letter, too, I offered to show you! How strangely +indiscreet!" + +"Perhaps I read it while you were gone," said Kate, in a low voice. + +"No, you didn't, Kate! You can't make me believe that of you! I know you +too well!" + +"Indeed!" said Kate, blushing violently; "I can tell you, I came very +near it." + +"'A miss is as good as a mile,' Lina. And I know you were far enough +from anything so mean." + +"I was so near as to have my hand upon your letter, Alice dear. One +feather's weight more stress of temptation, and I should have fallen." + +"Pure nonsense! Isn't it, Charles?" + +"Yes. Kate, you need not flatter yourself that you have universal +ability, clever as you are. In anything dishonorable you are a perfect +incapable, and that is all you have proved this morning." + + +V. + +New York; July. + +I was too comfortable, Mary! Such peace could not last, any more than a +soft Indian-summer can put off relentless winter. + +Oh, for those sweet June days when I had my couch wheeled to the deepest +shade of the grove, and lay there from morning until evening, with the +green foliage to curtain me,--the clover-scented wind to play about my +hair, and touch my temples with softest, coolest fingers,--the rushing +brook to sing me to sleep,--the very little blossoms to be obsequious +in dancing motion, to please my eye,--and the holy hush of Nature to +tranquillize my soul! + +I had brought myself, by what I thought the most Christian effort, to +be content with my altered lot. I gave up ambition, active usefulness, +fireside, and family. I tried but for one thing,--peace. + +I had nearly attained it, when there comes an impertinent officer of +fate, known as Dr. G., and he peremptorily orders me out of my gentle +bliss. I am sinking into apathy, forsooth! The warm weather is +prostrating me! I must be stirred to activity by torture, like the +fainting wretch on the rack! I am commanded to travel! I, who cannot +bear the grating of my slow-moving wheels over the smooth gravel-walk, +without compressed lips and corrugated brow! + +The Doctor ordained it; Kate executed it. I am no longer my own master; +and so here I am in New York, resting for a day, on my way to some +retired springs in the Green Mountains, where the water is medicinal, +the air cool and bracing, the scenery transcendent, and the visitors +few. + +I have taken Ben for my valet. He looks quite a gentleman when dressed +in his Sunday clothes, and his Scotch shrewdness serves us many a good +turn. He has the knack of arresting any little advantages floating on +the stream of travel, and securing them for our benefit. + +I journey on my wheeled couch from necessity, as I have not been able to +sit up at all since the heats of June set in. So I have, in this trip, a +novel experience,--on the railroad, being consigned to the baggage car, +and upon the steamboat, to the forward deck. I cannot endure the +close saloons, and prefer the fresh breeze, even when mingled with +tobacco-smoke. I go as freight, and Kate keeps a sharp eye to her +baggage, for she will not leave my side. I tried to flatter her by +saying that the true order of things was reversed,--her sex being +entitled to that name and position, and mine to the relation she now +bore to me. She had the perversity to consider this a _twit_, and gave +me a stinging reply, which I will not repeat to you, because you are a +woman likewise, and would enjoy it too much. + +We left peaceful, green Bosky Dell late in the afternoon, and slept in +Philadelphia that night. Yesterday--the hottest day of the season--we +set out for New York. I thought it was going to be sultry, when, as we +passed Washington Square before sunrise, on our way to the boat, I saw +the blue haze among the trees, as still and soft and hay-scented as if +in the country. Ben often quotes an old Scotch proverb,--"Daylight will +peep through a sma' hole." So beauty will peep through every small +corner that is left to Nature, even under severe restrictions. Witness +our noble trees, walled in by houses and cramped by pavements! + +The streets were quite deserted that morning,--for, being obliged to +ride very slowly, I had set out betimes. No one was up but ourselves and +the squirrels, except one wren, whose twittering sounded strangely loud +in the hushed city. Probably she took that opportunity to try her voice +and note her improvement in singing, for in the rush of day what chance +has she? These country sounds and sights, in the heart of a populous +city, were, for that reason, a thousand-fold more sweet to me than ever. +Their delights were multiplied to me by thinking of the number of hearts +that took them in daily. + +Kate and I rode in a carriage. Ben followed in a wagon, with the trunks +and "jaunting-car-r-r." When we reached the ferry, the porters carried +my couch, and Ben myself, depositing us upon the deck, where I could +look upon the river. The stately flow of the waters impressed me with +dread. They swept by, not swift, not slow,--steady, like fate. Ours +may be a dull river to an artist; but its volume of water, its width, +perhaps even the flat shores, which do not seem to bound it, make it +grand and impressive. + +Kate recalled me from my almost shuddering gaze down into the water, and +drew my attention to a scene very unlike our little picturesque, rural +views at home. The ruddy light of morning made the river glow like the +deep-dyed Brenta, while our dear, unpretending Quaker city showed like +one vast structure of ruby. Vessels of all kinds and sizes (though of +but two colors,--black in shadow, and red in sunlight) lay motionless, +in groups. + +The New York passengers had now collected on the ferry-boat, and I was +all alive to impressions of every kind. A crowd of men and boys around +a soap-peddler burst into a laugh, and I must needs shout out in +irrepressible laughter also, though I did not hear the joke. I was +delighted to mingle my voice with other men's in one common feeling. +Compulsory solitude makes us good democrats. Kate regarded me with +watchful eyes; she was afraid I had become delirious! I was amazed at +myself for this susceptibility,--I, who, accustomed to hotel-life, had +formerly been so impassive, to be thus tickled with a straw! + +The river was soon crossed, and then we took the cars. The heat and +suffocation were intolerable to me, and when we arrived at Amboy I was +so exhausted that strangers thought me dying. But Kate again, though +greatly alarmed herself, defended me from that imputation. One half-hour +on the deck of the boat to New York, with the free ocean-breeze blowing +over me, made me a strong man again,--I mean, strong as usual. It was +inexpressible delight, that ocean-breeze. It makes me draw a long breath +to think of it, and its almost miraculous power of invigoration. But +I will not rhapsodize to one who thinks no more of a sea-breeze every +afternoon than of dessert after dinner. + +With my strength, my sense of amusement at what went on about me revived +in full force. I was so absorbed, that I could not take in the meaning +of anything Kate said to me, unless I fixed my eyes, by a great effort, +upon her face. So she let me stare about me undisturbed, and smiled like +some indulgent mother, amused at my boyishness. I had no idea that so +few months spent in seclusion would make the bustling world so novel to +me. + +Observe, Mary, that I did not become purely egotistical, until I began +to mingle again with "the crowd, the hum, the shock of men." Henceforth +I shall not be able to promise you any other topic than my own +experiences. My individuality is thrust upon my notice momently by my +isolation in this crowd. In solitude I did not dream what a contrast I +had become to my kind. Those strong, quick, shrewd business-men on the +boat set it before me glaringly. + +Soon after I was established upon the forward deck, my attention was +attracted by two boys lying close under the bulwarks. I was struck by +their foreign dress, their coarse voices, and their stupid faces. Two +creatures, I thought, near akin to the beasts of the field. They cowered +in their sheltered corner, and soon fell asleep. One of the busy +boat-hands found them in his way, and gave them a shove or two, but +failed to arouse them. He looked hard at them, pitied their fatigue, +and left them undisturbed. Presently an old Irish woman, a +cake-and-apple-vendor, I suppose, sat down near them upon a coil of +rope, and took from her basket a fine large cherry-pie, which appeared +to be the last of her stock, and reserved as a tit-bit for her dinner. +She turned it round, and eyed it fondly, before she cut it carefully +into many equal parts. Then, with huge satisfaction, she began to devour +it, making a smacking of the lips and working of the whole apparatus +of eating, which proved that she intensely appreciated the uses of +mastication, or else found a wonderful joy in it. "How much above an +intelligent pig is she?" I asked myself. + +While I was pondering this question, I saw that the boy nearest her +stirred in his sleep, struggled uneasily with his torpor, and at last +lifted his head blindly with his eyes yet shut. He sniffed in the +air, like a hungry dog. Yes! The odor of food had certainly reached +him,--that sniff confirmed it,--and his eyes starting open, he sat up, +and looked with grave steadiness at the pie. It was just the face of a +dog that sees a fine piece of beef upon his master's table. He knows it +is not for him,--he has no hope of it,--he does not go about to get it, +nor think of the possibility of having it,--yet he wants it! + +It was a look of unmitigated desire. The woman had disposed of half +of her dainty fare, taking up each triangular piece by the crust, and +biting off the point, dripping with cherry-juice, first, when her +wandering gaze alighted upon the boy. She had another piece just poised, +but she slowly lowered it to the plate, and stared at the hungry face. I +expected her to snarl like a cat, snatch her food and go away. But she +didn't. She counted the pieces,--there were five. She eyed them, and +shook her head. She again raised the tempting morsel,--for the woman was +unmistakably hungry. But the boy's steady look drew the pie from her +lips, and she suddenly held out the plate to him, saying, "There, +honey,--take that. May-be ne'er a morsel's passed yer lips the day." The +boy seized the unexpected boon greedily, but did not forget to give a +duck of his head, by way of acknowledgment. The woman leaned her elbows +on her knees, and watched him while he was devouring it. + +He had demolished two pieces before the other boy awoke at the sound of +eating, which, however, at last reached his ears and aroused him, though +the shout and kick of the boat-hand had not disturbed him. He drew close +to his companion, and watched him with watering mouth, but did not dare +to ask him for a share of what he seemed little disposed to part with. +The big boy finished the third piece, and hesitated about the fourth; +but no, he was a human being,--no brute. He thrust the remainder into +his watcher's hands, and turned his back upon him, so as not to be +tantalized. Beasts indeed! Here were two instances of self-denial, +nowhere to be matched in the whole animal creation, except in that race +which is but little lower than the angels! + +Among the young gentlemen smoking around us, there was one who drew my +attention, and that of every other person present, by his jolly laugh. +He was a short man, with broad shoulders and full chest, but otherwise +slight. He was very good-looking, and had the air of a perfect man of +the world,--but not in any disagreeable sense of the word, for a more +genial fellow I never saw. His _ha! ha!_ was irresistible. Wherever he +took his merry face, good-humor followed. He had a smart clap on the +shoulder for one, a hearty hand-shake for another, a jocular nod for +a third. I envied those whose company he sought,--even those whom he +merely accosted. + +Presently, to my agreeable surprise, he drew near me, threw away his +cigar, on Kate's account, and said,-- + +"Lend me a corner of this machine, Sir? No seats to be had." + +"Certainly," I responded eagerly, and then, with a bow to Kate, he sat +down upon the foot of my couch. He turned his handsome, roguish face to +me, with a look at once quizzical and tenderly commiserating, while he +rattled off all sorts of lively nonsense about the latest news. The +captain, who pitied my situation, I suppose, came up just then, to ask +if anything could be done to make me more comfortable; and he happened +to call both the stranger and myself by our names. I thus learned that +his was Ryerson. + +When he heard mine, he changed color visibly, and looked eagerly at +Kate. I introduced him, and then, with a timidity quite unlike his +former dashing air, he said he had the pleasure of being acquainted with +an admiring friend of hers,--Miss Alice Wellspring. Had she heard from +her lately? + +"Yes; she was very well, staying with her aunt." + +He was aware of that. He had asked the question, because he thought he +could, perhaps, give later information of her than Kate possessed, and +set her mind at rest about the welfare of her young friend, as she must +be anxious. He was glad to say that Miss Wellspring was quite well--two +hours ago. + +Kate made a grimace at me, and answered, that she was "glad to hear it." +Mr. Ryerson looked unutterably grateful, and said he was "sure she must +be." + +"Portentous!" whispered Kate to me, when the young man made a passing +sloop the excuse for turning away to hide his blushing temples. + +She gave him time, and then asked a few questions concerning Alice's +home and friends. He replied, that she was in "a wretched fix." Her aunt +was a vixen, her home a rigorous prison. He sighed deeply, and seemed +unhappy, until the subject was changed,--a relief which Kate had too +much tact to defer long. + +This sunny-hearted fellow made the rest of the journey very short to +me. I think such a spirit is Heaven's very best boon to man. It is a +delightful possession for one's self, and a godsend to one's friends. + +When we reached the Astor House, I was put to bed, like a baby, in the +middle of the afternoon, thoroughly exhausted by the unusual excitement. +The crickets and grasshoppers in the fields at home were sufficiently +noisy to make me pass wakeful nights; but now I dropped asleep amid the +roar of Broadway, which my open windows freely admitted. + +Before I had finished my first nap, I was awakened by whispering voices, +and saw Ben standing by me, pale, and anxiously searching Kate's face +for information. Her eyes were upon her watch, her fingers on my wrist. + +"Pulse good, Ben. We need not be alarmed. It is wholesome repose,--much +better than nervous restlessness. He can bear the journey, if he gets +such sleep as this." + +"Humph!" I thought, shutting my eyes crossly. "Why don't she let a +fellow be in peace, then? It is very hard that I can't get a doze +without being meddled with!" + +"I was just distraught, Miss Kathleen," said Ben; "for it's nigh about +twenty hour sin' he dropped asleep, and I was frighted ontil conshultin' +ye aboot waukin' him." + +I burst into a laugh, and they both joined me in it, from surprise. It +is not often I call upon them for that kind of sympathy. It is generally +in sighs and groans that I ask them--most unwillingly, I am sure--to +participate. + +Kate wrote, some time ago, to our dear little Alice, begging her to join +us in the Green Mountains, for it makes us both unhappy to think of that +pretty child under iron rule; but her aunt refused to let her come to +us. + + +VI. + +C---- Springs. July. + +I am here established, drinking the waters and breathing the mountain +air, but not gaining any marvellous benefit from either of them. When I +repine in Ben's hearing, he sighs deeply, and advises me "to heed the +auld-warld proverb, and 'tak' things by their smooth handle, sin' +there's nae use in grippin' at thorns." Kate, too, reproves me for +hindering my recovery by fretting at its tardiness. She tries to comfort +me, by saying that I ought to be thankful, that, instead of being +obliged to waste my youth in "horrid business," I can lie here observing +and enjoying the beautiful world. Thereupon I overwhelm her with +quotations:--"The horse must be road-worn and world-worn, that he may +thoroughly enjoy his drowsy repose in the sun, where he winks in sleepy +satisfaction";--and Carlyle: "Teufelsdroeckh's whole duty and necessity +was, like other men's, to work in the right direction, and no work was +to be had; whereby he became wretched enough";--and, "Blessed is he who +has found his work; let him ask no other blessedness." Then I ask her, +if it is not the utmost wretchedness to have found that work and felt +its blessedness, and then be condemned _not_ to do it. To all this she +replies by singing that old hymn,--I make no apology for writing it down +entire,--perhaps you do not know it,-- + + "Heart, heart, lie still! + Life is fleeting fast; + Strife will soon be past." + "I cannot lie still; + Beat strong I will." + + "Heart, heart, lie still! + Joy's but joy, and pain's but pain; + Either, little loss or gain." + "I cannot lie still; + Beat strong I will." + + "Heart, heart, lie still! + Heaven over all + Rules this earthly ball." + "I cannot lie still; + Beat strong I will." + + "Heart, heart, lie still! + Heaven's sweet grace alone + Can keep in peace its own." + "Let that me fill, + And I am still." + +"Heaven's sweet grace" does not fill my heart; for I am exhausting +myself in longings to walk again,--to be independent. I long to climb +these mountains,--perverse being that I am,--principally to get out of +the way of counsel, sympathy, and tender care. Since I can never so +liberate myself, I am devoured by desire to do so. Kate divines this +new feeling, and respects it; but as this is only another coal of fire +heaped upon my head, of course it does not soothe me. + +Sometimes in the visions of the night I am happy. I dream that I am at +the top of Mount Washington. Cold, pure air rushes by me; clouds lie, +like a gray ocean, beneath me. I am alone upon the giant rock, with the +morning star and the measureless heights of sky. I tremble at the awful +silence,--exult fearfully in it. The clouds roll away, and leave the +world revealed, lying motionless and inanimate at my feet. Yet I am as +far from all sight of humanity as before! Should the whole nation be +swarming below the mountain, armies drawn up before armies, with my eyes +resting upon them, I should not see them, but sit here in sublime peace. +Man's puny form were from this height as undistinguishable as the blades +of grass in the meadows below. I know, that, if all the world stood +beneath, and strained their vision to the utmost upon the very spot +where I stand, I should still be in the strict privacy of invisibility. +This isolation I pine for. But I can never, never feel it--out of a +dream. + +You guess rightly. I am in a repining mood, and must pour out all my +grievances. I feel my helplessness cruelly. + +But I must forget myself a little while, and describe these Springs to +you, with the company here assembled,--only twenty or thirty people. The +house is a good enough one; the country yet very wild. My couch is daily +wheeled to a shady porch which looks down the avenue of trees leading to +the spring, a white marble basin, bubbling over with bright water. + +Gay parties, young ladies with lovers, happy mammas with their children, +fathers with their clinging daughters, pass me,--and I, motionless, +follow them with my eyes down the avenue, until they emerge into the +sunlight about the spring. Many of them give me a kindly greeting; some +stop to stare. The look of pity which saddens nearly every face that +approaches me cuts me to the heart. Can I never give joy, or excite +pleasurable emotion? Must I always be a mute and unwilling petitioner +for sympathy in suffering!--always giving pain? never anything but pain +and pity? + +Sunday. + +There is a summer-house near the spring, and now I lie there, watching +the water-drinkers. Like rain upon the just and unjust, the waters +benefit all,--but surely most those simple souls who take them with +eager hope and bless them with thankful hearts. The first who arrive +are from the hotel, mostly silken sufferers. They stand, glass in hand, +chatting and laughing,--they stoop to dip,--and then they drink. These +persons soon return to the house in groups,--some gayly exchanging +merry words or kindly greetings, but others dragging weary limbs and +discontented spirits back to loneliness. + +The fashionable hour is over, and now comes another class of +health-seekers. A rough, white-covered wagon jolts up. The horse is tied +to a post, a curtain unbuttoned and raised, and from a bed upon the +uneasy floor a pale, delicate boy, shrinking from the light, is lifted +by his burly father. The child is carried to the spring, and puts out a +groping hand when his father bids him drink. He cannot find the +glass, and his father must put it to his lips. He is blind, except to +light,--and that only visits those poor sightless eyes to agonize them! +Where the water flows off below the basin in a clear jet, the father +bathes his boy's forehead, and gently, gently touches his eyelids. But +the child reaches out his wasted hands, and dashes the water against his +face with a sad eagerness. + +Other country vehicles approach. The people are stopping to drink of +this water, on their way to drink of the waters of life in church. They +are smart and smiling in their Sunday clothes. I observe, that, far from +being the old or diseased, they are mostly young men and pretty girls. +The marble spring is a charming trysting-place! + +There are swarms of children here all day long. This is the first time +since I left Kate's apron-string at seven years old, that I have seen +much of children. Boys, to be sure, I was with until I left college; +but the hotel-life I afterwards led kept me quite out of the way of +youngsters. Now, I am much amused at the funny little world that opens +before my notice. They flirt like grown-up people! I heard a little chit +of six say to a youth of five,-- + +"How dare you ask me to go to the spring with you, when you've been and +asked Ellen already? _I_ don't have to put up with half a gentleman!" + +A flashy would-be lady, bustling up to the spring with her little +daughter, burst into a loud laugh at the remark of an acquaintance. + +"Mamma!" said Miss, tempering severity with benign dignity,--"you must +not laugh so loud. It's vulgar." + +Her mother lowered her tone, and looked subdued. Miss turned to a +companion, and said, gravely,-- + +"I have to speak to her about that, often. She don't like it,--but I +_must_ correct her!" + +A little girl--a charming, old-fashioned, _real_ child--came into the +summer-house a few minutes ago, and I gave up my writing to watch her. +After some coy manoeuvring about the door, she drew nearer and nearer to +me, as if I were a snake fascinating a pretty bird. Her tongue +seemed more bashful than the rest of her frame; for she came within +arm's-length, let me catch her, draw her to me, and hold her close to +my side. A novel sensation of fondness for the little thing made me +venture--not without some timidity, I confess--to lay my hand upon her +head, and pass it caressingly over her soft young cheek, meanwhile +saying encouraging things to her, in hopes of hearing her voice and +making her acquaintance. She would not speak, but played with my +buttons, and hung her head. At last I asked,-- + +"Don't you want me to tell you a little story?" + +Her head flew up, her great black eyes wide open, and she said, eagerly, +"Oh, yes! that's what I came for." + +"Did you? Well, what shall it be about?" + +"Why, about yourself,--the prince who was half marble, and couldn't get +up. And I want to see your black marble legs, please!" + +If I had hugged an electrical eel, I could not have been more shocked! I +don't know how I replied, or what became of the child. I was conscious +only of a kind of bitter horror, and almost affright. But when Kate, a +quarter of an hour afterwards, brought her book and sat down beside me, +I could not tell her about it, for laughing. + +The little girl is in sight now. She is standing near the porch, talking +to some other children, gesticulating, and shaking her curls. Probably +she was a deputy from them, to obtain a solution of the mystery of my +motionless limbs. They half believe I am the veritable Prince of the +Black Isles! They alternately listen to her and turn to stare at me; so +I know that I am the subject of their confab. + +Some one is passing them now,--a lady. She pauses to listen. She, too, +glances this way with a sad smile. She comes slowly down the avenue. A +graceful, queenly form, and lovely face! She has drunk of the waters, +and is gone. + +Mary, do you know that gentle girl has added the last drop of bitterness +to my cup? My lot has become unbearable. I gnash my teeth with impotent +rage and despair. + +I _will_ not be the wreck I am! My awakening manhood scorns the thought +of being forever a helpless burden to others. I _demand_ my health, and +all my rights and privileges as a man,--to work,--to support others,--to +bear the burden and heat of the day! Never again can I be content in my +easy couch and my sister's shady grove! + +Ah, Dr. G., you have indeed roused me from apathy! I am in torture, and +Heaven only knows whether on this side of the grave I shall ever find +peace again! + +Poor Kate reads my heart, and weeps daily in secret. Brave Kate, who +shed so few tears over her own grief! + + +VII. + +C---- Springs. August. + +I so continually speak of my illness, Mary, that I fear you have +good right to think me that worst kind of bore, a hypochondriac. But +something is now going on with me that raises all my hopes and fears. I +dare not speak of it to Kate, lest she should be too sanguine, and be +doomed to suffer again the crush of all her hopes. + +I really feel that I could not survive disappointment, should I ever +entertain positive hope of cure. Neither can I endure this suspense +without asking some one's opinion. There is no medical man here in whom +I have confidence, and so I go to you, as a child does to its mother in +its troubles, not knowing what she can do for it, but relying upon her +to do something. + +I will explain what it is that excites me to such an agony of dread and +expectation. When the little girl asked me to let her see my marble +limbs, supposing me the Prince of the Black Isles, she sprang forward in +the eagerness of childish curiosity, and touched my knee with her hand. +I was so amazed at this glimpse into her mind, that for some time I only +tingled with astonishment. But while I was telling Kate about it, it all +came back to me again,--her stunning words, her eager spring, her prompt +grasp of my knee,--and I remembered that I had involuntarily started +away from her childish hand, that is, moved my _motionless_ limb! + +I tried to do it again, but it was impossible. Still I could not help +thinking that I had done it once, under the influence of that electrical +shock. + +Then I have another source of hope. I have never suffered any pain in +my limbs, and they might have been really marble, for all the feeling I +have had in them. Now I begin to be sensible of a wearisome numbness and +aching, which would be hard to bear, if it were not that it gives me the +expectation of returning animation. Do you think I may expect it, and +that I am not quite deluding myself? + + +August 14. + +So I wrote two days ago, Mary, and I was right! That _was_ returning +sensation and motion. I can now move my feet. I cannot yet stand, or +walk, or help myself, any more than before; but I can, by a voluntary +effort, _move_. + +Rejoice with me! I am a happy fellow this day! Dazzling daylight is +peeping through this sma' hole! Remember what I wrote of a certain +lady;--and Ben has hunted me up a law-book, which I am devouring. My +profession, and other blessings, again almost within grasp! This is +wildness, hope run riot, I know; but let me indulge to-day, for it is +this day which has set me free. I never voluntarily stirred before +since the accident,--I mean my lower limbs, of course. After writing a +sentence, I look down at my feet, moving them this way and that, to make +sure that I am not stricken again. + +The day I began this letter I had proof that I had not merely fancied +movement, when the little girl startled me. A clumsy boy stumbled over +my couch, and I shrank, visibly, from receiving upon my feet the pitcher +of water he was carrying. I was in the porch. The beautiful girl who +formerly made my affliction so bitter to me was passing at the moment, +with her arm drawn affectionately through her father's. She saw the +stumble, and sprang forward with a cry of alarm. It looked, certainly, +as if my defenceless feet must receive the crash, and I attempted +instinctively to withdraw them,--partially succeeding! I saw this at the +same time that I heard the sweetest words that ever fell into my heart, +in the most joyful, self-forgetful tones of the sweetest voice! + +"Oh, father! He moved! He moved!" + +Mr. Winston turned to me with congratulations, shaking my hand with +warmth; and then his daughter extended hers,--cordially! Of course my +happiness was brimming! + +I afterwards tried repeatedly to put my feet in motion. I could not do +it. I could not think how to begin,--what power to bring to bear upon +them. This annoyed me beyond measure, and I spent yesterday in wearisome +effort to no purpose. My thinking, willing mind was of no use to me; but +instinctive feeling, and a chapter of accidents, have brought me to my +present state of activity. A wish to change an uncomfortable position in +which Ben left me this morning restored me to voluntary action. I tried +to turn away from the sun-glare, using my elbows, as usual, for motors. +To my surprise, I found myself assisting with my feet,--and by force of +will I persisted in the effort, and continued the action. Having got the +clue to the mystery, I have now only to will and execute. My rebellious +members are brought into subjection! I am king of myself! Hurrah! + +Good-bye, dearest friend. I shake my foot to you,--an action more +expressive of joyful good-will than my best bow. + +I hope my return to health will not cost me dear. I begin to fear losing +the sympathy and affection of those I have learned to love so dearly, +and who have cherished me in their hearts simply because of my +infirmities. When I am a vigorous man, will you care for me? will Kate +centre her life in me? will Miss Ada Winston look at me so often and so +gently? + +Well, don't laugh at me for my grasping disposition! Affection is very +grateful to me, and I should be sorry to do without it, after having +lived in a loving atmosphere so long. + +I believe Ben is as proud of me as he was of his Shanghai, but he has a +proverb which he quotes whenever he sees me much elated: "When the cup's +fu', carry't even." His own cautious Scotch head could do that, perhaps; +but mine is more giddy, and I am afraid I shall spill some drops from my +full cup of joy by too rash advancing. + +Kate is not so wild with delight as I am. She still forbids herself to +exult. Probably she dares not give way to unbounded hope, remembering +the bitterness of her former trial, and dreading its recurrence. She +says it makes her tremble to see my utter abandonment to joyful dreams. + + +August 20. + +It is Kate's fault that you have not received this letter before now. +She kept it to say a few words to you about my recovery, but has at last +yielded to me the pleasure of telling of something far more interesting, +which has occurred since,--not more interesting to me, but probably so +to any one else. + +One evening, Kate went, with everybody from the house, to see the sunset +from the hills above this glen, and I lay alone in the back porch, in +the twilight. A light wagon drove up, and in two minutes a little lady +had run to me, thrown herself upon her knees beside me, and pressed her +sweet lips to my forehead. It was our darling little Alice Wellspring. + +Immediately following her came Mr. Ryerson, in a perfect ecstasy of +laughter, and blushing. + +"We've run away!" whispered she. + +"And got married this morning!" said he. + +"But where was the necessity of elopement?" I asked, bewildered,--Kate +having told me that Alice's aunt was doing her best to "catch Ryerson +for her niece," she having had certain information upon that point from +a near relative. + +"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed he, slapping his knees in intense enjoyment, as he +sat in his old place by my feet. "It is a practical joke,--one that will +have in it what somebody calls the first element of wit,--surprise. A +more astonished and mystified old lady than she will be would be hard to +find! She was so willing!" + +"Don't say anything against Aunt, Harry. I'm safe from her now, and so +are you. She wanted such an ostentatious wedding, Charlie, that I did +not like it, and Harry declared positively that he would not submit to +it. So I had just to go off quietly, and come here to Kate and you, my +best friends in the world, except Walter. After you know Harry, you +won't blame me." + +It was very rash of the child, but really I cannot blame her, as I +should, if she had chosen any one else. Ryerson is one who shows in his +face and in every word and action that he is a kind and noble fellow. + +Kate, to my surprise, is enchanted with this performance. It chimes with +her independent notions, but not with my prudent ones. However, it is +done, and I never saw a more satisfactorily mated couple. It would have +been a cruel pity to see that light, good little heart quelled by a +morose husband, or its timidity frightened into deceitfulness by a +severe one. Now she is as fearless and courageous as a pet canary. + +Ryerson has one grievous fault; he uses all sorts of slang phrases. It +makes his conversation very funny, but Alice don't like it, especially +when he approaches the profane. + +He told a very good story the other day, spiced a little in language. +Everybody laughed outright. Alice looked grave. + +"What is the matter, wifey?" he called out, anxiously; for with him +there is no reserve before strangers. He seems to think the whole world +kin, and himself always the centre of an attached and indulgent family. + +"How could you say those bad words, with a child in the room?" she said, +reproachfully,--pointing to my little black-eyed friend. + +"I only said, 'The Devil,'--that's all! But now I remember,--if a +story is ever so good, and 'the Devil' gets into it, it's no go with +you! But, Allie, you shouldn't be a wet blanket to a fellow! When he +is trying to be entertaining, you might help him out, instead of +extinguishing him! Laugh just a little to set folks going, and make +moral reflections afterwards, for the benefit of the children." + +"You know, Harry, I can't make reflections!" + +"No more you can,--ha! ha! If you could, there would be the Devil to +pay--in curtain lectures, wouldn't there?" + +"Again, Harry!" + +"Pshaw, now, Allie, don't be hard upon me! That was a very little +swear--for the occasion!" + +She will refine him in time. + +Ryerson has infused new spirit into this stiff place. The very day he +came, I observed that various persons, who had held aloof from all +others, drew near to him. The fellow seems the soul of geniality, and +everybody likes him,--from old man to baby. The young girls gather +round him for chat and repartee,--the young men are always calling to +him to come boating, or gunning, or riding with them,--the old gentlemen +go to him with their politics, and the old ladies with their aches. +Young America calls him a "regular brick," for he lends himself to build +up everybody's good-humor. + +He is everything to me. Before he came, Mr. Winston was almost my only +visitor, though other gentlemen occasionally sat with me a few minutes. +But now everybody flocks to my couch, because Harry's head-quarters +are there. He has broken down the shyness my unfortunate situation +maintained between me and others. His cheery "Well, how are you to-day, +old fellow?" sets everybody at ease with me. The ladies have come out +from their pitying reserve. A glass of fresh water from the spring, a +leaf-full of wild berries, a freshly pulled rose, and other little daily +attentions, cheer me into fresh admiration of them "all in general, and +one in particular," as Ryerson says. + +Perhaps you think--I judge so from your letter--that I ought to describe +Miss Winston to you. She is finely----Ah, I find that she is wrapped in +some mysterious, ethereal veil, the folds of which I dare not disturb, +even with reverent hand, and for your sake! Ah, Mary, I aspire! + + +VIII. + +C---- Springs. September. + +The autumn scenery is gorgeous up among these misty hills, but I will +not dwell upon it. I have too much to say of animated human nature, to +more than glance out of doors. Nearly all the boarders are gone. Miss +Winston left last week for her home in Boston. I am desolate indeed! The +day after she went away, I stood upon my own feet without support, for +the first time. Now I walk daily from the house to the spring, with the +help of Kate's or Ben's arm and a cane, though I am still obliged to +remain on my couch nearly all day long. I write this in direct reply to +your question. + +Now for the great exciting subject of the present time. I will give it +in detail, as women like to have stories told. + +The little wife, our Alice, came running into Kate's parlor one day, +while we were both sitting there reading. She was in extreme excitement. +We heard her laughing, just outside the door, in the most joyous manner; +but she pulled a long face as she entered. She sank down upon the floor +by my couch, so as to be on a level with me, took my hand and Kate's, +and then, taking breath, said: + +"Listen, Kate, and don't be agitated." + +Kate was, of course, extremely agitated at once. She divined the subject +about to be introduced, and her heart beat tumultuously. + +"You remember I nearly betrayed Walter's secret once? Well, I am going +to tell it to you now, really." + +"He gave you leave, then!" said Kate, almost breathless. + +"Yes, yes! This is it----Now, Kate, if you look so pale, I can't go on!" + +I motioned to her to proceed at once. + +"Well, he had some engineering to do in Russia, you know. They wanted +to get him to undertake another job,--I don't know, nor care, what it +was,--and he went out to see about it. For Charlie's sake, you let him +go away almost in despair, you cruel girl! Well, when I was visiting +you, he made a little spy of me. I was not to spy you, Kate, but Charlie +here, and let Walter know of the slightest change for the better in him. +Then he was to get some one to attend to his Russian work, and post +right straight home to you, Kate! Well, my aunt wouldn't let me stay +with you,--cross old thing! And she kept me so very close, that I +couldn't watch Charlie at all. Then she went and threatened me with a +long engagement with Harry, only to give me time to get heaps and +heaps of sewing done! I knew the only chance I could get of gaining +information for Walter was just to run off to you with Hal, and cut a +long matter short. Well, so I came, and I wrote to Walter, the very +night I arrived, that the doctor said, Charlie, that you would be quite +well in a month or two! That was a month ago. But Walter had not waited +for me. Perhaps he had other spies. At any rate"---- + +She paused. + +"What? what? Be quick!" cried I, seeing that Kate was almost fainting +from this suspense. + +"He has come!" + +Kate pressed her hand over the joyful cry that burst from her lips, and, +turning away from us, sprang up, and walked to the window. There was a +moment of perfect silence. Kate put her hand behind her, and motioned to +the door. Alice went softly out and closed it. I could not rise, poor +cripple, from intense agitation. + +My sister drew one long, quivering, sobbing breath,--and then she had a +good cry, as women say. It seemed to me enough to give one a headache +for a week, but it refreshed her. After bathing her eyes with some iced +water, she came and leaned over me. + +"Thank God, Kate," I said, "for your sake and mine!" + +"Can you spare me, after you are well again, Charlie,--if he"---- + +"Am I a monster of selfishness and ingratitude?" + +She kissed me, took up her work, and sat down to sew. + +"Kate!" said I, amazed, "what are you doing? Why don't you go down?" + +"What for? To hunt him up at the bar-keeper's desk? or in the stables, +perhaps?" + +"Oh! Ah! Propriety,--yes! But how you can sit there and wait I cannot +conceive." + +There came a knock. I expected her to start up in rapture and admit Mr. +Walter ----. She only said, "Come in!"--calmly. + +Alice peeped in, and asked, "May he come?" + +"Where is he?" I asked. + +"In the parlor, waiting to know." + +"Yes," said Kate, changing color rapidly. + +"Stop, stop, Alice! You two give me each a hand, and help me into my +room." + +"Charlie," said Kate, "you need not go! you must not go!" + +"Ah, my dear sister, I have stood between you and him long enough, I +will do to him as I would be done by. Come, girls, your hands!" + +They placed me in my easy-chair, both kissed me with agitated lips, +and left me. Half an hour afterwards Kate and Mr. ---- petitioned for +admittance to my room. Of course I granted it, and immediately proceeded +to a minute scrutiny of my future brother-in-law. He is a fine fellow, +very scientific, clear in thought, decisive in action, quite reserved, +and very good-looking. This reserve is to Kate his strongest +attraction,--her own nature being so entirely destitute of it, and she +so painfully conscious of her want of self-control. Yes,--he is just the +one Kate would most respect, of all the men I ever saw. + +Is not this happiness,--to find her future not wrecked, but blessed +doubly? for her conduct has made Walter almost worship her. I _am_ happy +to think I have brought her good, rather than ill; but--selfish being +that I am--I am not contented. I have a sigh in my heart yet! + +Bosky Dell. December. + +How it happened that this letter did not go I cannot imagine. I have +just found it in Kate's work-basket; and I open it again, to add the +grand climax. I have been so very minute in my accounts of Kate's +love-affairs, that I feel it would not be fair to slur over mine. So, +dear friend, I open my heart to you in this wise. + +The rage for recovery which took such violent possession of me I believe +effected my cure. In a month from the time I began to walk, I could +go alone, without even a cane. Kate entreated me to remain as long as +possible in the mountains, as she believed my recovery was attributable +to the pure air and healing waters. It was consequently the first of +this month before we arrived at her cottage, where we found good old +Saide so much "frustrated" by delight as to be quite unable to "fly +roun'." Indeed, she could hardly stand. When I walked up to shake hands +with her, she bashfully looked at me out of the "tail of her eye," as +Ben says. Her delicacy was quite shocked by my size! + +"Saide," said I, "you positively look pale!" She really did. You have +seen negroes do so, haven't you? + +"Laws, Missr Charles," she answered, with a coquettish and deprecating +twist, "call dat 'ere stove pale,--will yer?" + +No sooner was Kate established at home, and I in my Walnut-Street +office, than I undertook a trip to Boston. As I approached Miss +Winston's home, all my courage left me. I walked up and down the Common, +in sight of her door, for hours, thinking what a witless fool I was, +to contemplate presenting my penniless self--with hope--before the +millionnaire's daughter! + +At last Mr. Winston came home to dinner and began to go up the steps. I +sprang across the street to him, and my courage came back when I looked +upon his good sensible face. When he recognized me, he seized my hand, +grasped my shoulder, and gave me, with the tears actually in his eyes, a +reception that honors human nature. + +Such genuine friendliness, in an old, distinguished man, to a young +fellow like me, shows that man's heart is noble, with all its depravity. + +When he had gazed some time, almost in amazement, at my tall +proportions, (he never saw them perpendicular before, you know,) he +said,-- + +"Come in, come in, my boy! Some one else must see you! But she can't be +more glad than I am, to see you so well,--that is, I don't see how she +can,--for I _am_ glad, I am _glad_, my boy!" + +Was not this heart-warming? + +When we entered, he stopped before the hat-rack, and told me "just to +walk into the parlor;--his daughter might be there." I could not rush in +impetuously, I had to steady my color. Besides, ought I not to speak to +him first? + +Mr. Winston took off his hat,--hung it up; then his overcoat, and +hung it up. I still stood pondering, with my hand upon the door-knob. +Surprised at my tardiness in entering, he turned and looked at me. I +could not face him. He was silent a minute. I felt that he looked right +through me, and saw my daring intentions. He cleared his throat. I +quailed. He began to speak in a low, agitated voice, that I thought very +ominous in tone. + +"You want to speak to me, perhaps. I think I see that you do. If so, +speak now. A word will explain enough. No need to defer." + +"I want your consent, Sir, to speak to your daughter," I stammered out. + +"My dear boy," said he, clapping me on the shoulder, "she is motherless +and brotherless, and I am an old man. Nothing would give me more +pleasure; for I know you well enough to trust her with you. There,--go +in. I hear her touch the piano." + +He went up stairs. I entered. My eyes swept the long, dim apartment. +In the confusion of profuse luxury I could not distinguish anything at +first,--but soon saw the grand piano at the extreme end of the rooms. I +impetuously strode the whole length of the two parlors,--and she rose +before me with chilling dignity! + +Ah, Mary, that moment's blank dismay! But it was because she thought me +some bold, intruding stranger. When she saw my face, she came to me, and +gave me both her hands, saying,-- + +"Mr. ----! Is it possible? I am happy that you are so well!" + +It was genuine joy; and for a moment we were both simply glad for that +one reason,--that I was well. + +"You seem so tall!" she said, with a rather more conscious tone. She +began to infer what my recovery and presence imported to _her_. I felt +thrilling all over me what they were to me! + +But I must say something. It is not customary to call upon young +ladies, of whom you have never dared to consider yourself other than +an acquaintance merely, and hold their hands while you listen to their +hearts beating. This I must refrain from doing,--and that instantly. + +"Yes," I stammered, "I am well,--I am quite well." Then, losing all +remembrance of etiquette----But you must divine what followed. Truly + + "God's gifts put man's best dreams to + shame!" + +P.S.--Kate will send you her cards, and Ada ours, together with the +proper ceremonious invitations to the weddings, as soon as things are +arranged. + + + + +AMOURS DE VOYAGE. + + +[Continued.] + +III + + Yet to the wondrous St. Peter's, and yet to the solemn Rotonda, + Mingling with heroes and gods, yet to the Vatican walls, + Yet may we go, and recline, while a whole mighty world seems above us + Gathered and fixed to all time into one roofing supreme; + Yet may we, thinking on these things, exclude what is meaner around + us; + Yet, at the worst of the worst, books and a chamber remain; + Yet may we think, and forget, and possess our souls in resistance.-- + Ah, but away from the stir, shouting, and gossip of war, + Where, upon Apennine slope, with the chestnut the oak-trees immingle, + Where amid odorous copse bridle-paths wander and wind, + Where under mulberry-branches the diligent rivulet sparkles, + Or amid cotton and maize peasants their waterworks ply, + Where, over fig-tree and orange in tier upon tier still repeated, + Garden on garden upreared, balconies step to the sky,-- + Ah, that I were, far away from the crowd and the streets of the city, + Under the vine-trellis laid, O my beloved, with thee! + + + I.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER,--_on the way to Florence_. + + Why doesn't Mr. Claude come with us? you ask.--We don't know. + You should know better than we. He talked of the Vatican marbles; + But I can't wholly believe that this was the actual reason,-- + He was so ready before, when we asked him to come and escort us. + Certainly he is odd, my dear Miss Roper. To change so + Suddenly, just for a whim, was not quite fair to the party,-- + Not quite right. I declare, I really am almost offended: + I, his great friend, as you say, have doubtless a title to be so. + Not that I greatly regret it, for dear Georgina distinctly + Wishes for nothing so much as to show her adroitness. But, oh, my + Pen will not write any more;--let us say nothing further about it. + + * * * * * + + Yes, my dear Miss Roper, I certainly called him repulsive; + So I think him, but cannot be sure I have used the expression + Quite as your pupil should; yet he does most truly repel me. + Was it to you I made use of the word? or who was it told you? + Yes, repulsive; observe, it is but when he talks of ideas, + That he is quite unaffected, and free, and expansive, and easy; + I could pronounce him simply a cold intellectual being.-- + When does he make advances?--He thinks that women should woo him; + Yet, if a girl should do so, would be but alarmed and disgusted. + She that should love him must look for small love in return,--like + the ivy + On the stone wall, must expect but rigid and niggard support, and + Even to get that must go searching all round with her humble embraces. + + + II.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE,--_from Rome_. + + Tell me, my friend, do you think that the grain would sprout in the + furrow, + Did it not truly accept as its _summum et ultimum bonum_ + That mere common and may-be indifferent soil it is set in? + Would it have force to develope and open its young cotyledons, + Could it compare, and reflect, and examine one thing with another? + Would it endure to accomplish the round of its natural functions, + Were it endowed with a sense of the general scheme of existence? + While from Marseilles in the steamer we voyaged to Civita Vecchia, + Vexed in the squally seas as we lay by Capraja and Elba, + Standing, uplifted, alone on the heaving poop of the vessel, + Looking around on the waste of the rushing incurious billows, + "This is Nature," I said: "we are born as it were from her waters, + Over her billows that buffet and beat us, her offspring uncared-for, + Casting one single regard of a painful victorious knowledge, + Into her billows that buffet and beat us we sink and are swallowed." + This was the sense in my soul, as I swayed with the poop of the + steamer; + And as unthinking I sat in the ball of the famed Ariadne, + Lo, it looked at me there from the face of a Triton in marble. + It is the simpler thought, and I can believe it the truer. + Let us not talk of growth; we are still in our Aqueous Ages. + + + III.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Farewell, Politics, utterly! What can I do? I cannot + Fight, you know; and to talk I am wholly ashamed. And although I + Gnash my teeth when I look in your French or your English papers, + What is the good of that? Will swearing, I wonder, mend matters? + Cursing and scolding repel the assailants? No, it is idle; + No, whatever befalls, I will hide, will ignore or forget it. + Let the tail shift for itself; I will bury my head. And what's the + Roman Republic to me, or I to the Roman Republic? + Why not fight?--In the first place, I haven't so much as a musket. + In the next, if I had, I shouldn't know how I should use it. + In the third, just at present I'm studying ancient marbles. + In the fourth, I consider I owe my life to my country. + In the fifth,--I forget; but four good reasons are ample. + Meantime, pray, let 'em fight, and be killed. I delight in devotion. + So that I 'list not, hurrah for the glorious army of martyrs! + _Sanguis martyrum semen Ecclesiae_; though it would seem this + Church is indeed of the purely Invisible, Kingdom-Come kind: + Militant here on earth! Triumphant, of course, then, elsewhere! + Ah, good Heaven, but I would I were out far away from the pother! + + + IV.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Not, as we read in the words of the olden-time inspiration, + Are there two several trees in the place we are set to abide in; + But on the apex most high of the Tree of Life in the Garden, + Budding, unfolding, and falling, decaying and flowering ever, + Flowering is set and decaying the transient blossom of Knowledge,-- + + Flowering alone, and decaying, the needless, unfruitful blossom. + Or as the cypress-spires by the fair-flowing stream Hellespontine, + Which from the mythical tomb of the godlike Protesilaus + Rose, sympathetic in grief, to his lovelorn Laodamia, + Evermore growing, and, when in their growth to the prospect attaining, + Over the low sea-banks, of the fatal Ilian city, + Withering still at the sight which still they upgrew to encounter. + Ah, but ye that extrude from the ocean your helpless faces, + Ye over stormy seas leading long and dreary processions, + Ye, too, brood of the wind, whose coming is whence we discern not, + Making your nest on the wave, and your bed on the crested billow, + Skimming rough waters, and crowding wet sands that the tide shall + return to, + Cormorants, ducks, and gulls, fill ye my imagination! + Let us not talk of growth; we are still in our Aqueous Ages. + + + V.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER,--_from Florence_. + + Dearest Miss Roper,--Alas, we are all at Florence quite safe, and + You, we hear, are shut up! indeed, it is sadly distressing! + We were most lucky, they say, to get off when we did from the + troubles. + Now you are really besieged! They tell us it soon will be over; + Only I hope and trust without any fight in the city. + Do you see Mr. Claude?--I thought he might do something for you. + I am quite sure on occasion he really would wish to be useful. + What is he doing? I wonder;--still studying Vatican marbles? + Letters, I hope, pass through. We trust your brother is better. + + + VI.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Juxtaposition, in fine; and what is juxtaposition? + Look you, we travel along in the railway-carriage, or steamer, + And, _pour passer le temps_, till the tedious journey be ended, + Lay aside paper or book, to talk with the girl that is next one; + And, _pour passer le temps_, with the terminus all but in + prospect, + Talk of eternal ties and marriages made in heaven. + Ah, did we really accept with a perfect heart the illusion! + Ah, did we really believe that the Present indeed is the Only! + Or through all transmutation, all shock and convulsion of passion, + Feel we could carry undimmed, unextinguished, the light of our + knowledge! + But for his funeral train which the bridegroom sees in the distance, + Would he so joyfully, think you, fall in with the marriage-procession? + But for that final discharge, would he dare to enlist in that service? + But for that certain release, ever sign to that perilous contract? + But for that exit secure, ever bend to that treacherous doorway?-- + Ah, but the bride, meantime,--do you think she sees it as he does? + But for the steady fore-sense of a freer and larger existence, + Think you that man could consent to be circumscribed here into action? + But for assurance within of a limitless ocean divine, o'er + Whose great tranquil depths unconscious the wind-tost surface + Breaks into ripples of trouble that come and change and endure not,-- + But that in this, of a truth, we have our being, and know it, + Think you we men could submit to live and move as we do here? + Ah, but the women,--God bless them!--they don't think at all about it. + + Yet we must eat and drink, as you say. And as limited beings + Scarcely can hope to attain upon earth to an Actual Abstract, + Leaving to God contemplation, to His hands knowledge confiding, + Sure that in us if it perish, in Him it abideth and dies not, + Let us in His sight accomplish our petty particular doings,-- + Yes, and contented sit down to the victual that He has provided. + Allah is great, no doubt, and Juxtaposition his prophet. + Ah, but the women, alas, they don't look at it in that way! + Juxtaposition is great;--but, my friend, I fear me, the maiden + Hardly would thank or acknowledge the lover that sought to obtain her, + Not as the thing he would wish, but the thing he must even put up + with,-- + Hardly would tender her hand to the wooer that candidly told her + That she is but for a space, an _ad-interim_ solace and + pleasure,-- + That in the end she shall yield to a perfect and absolute something, + Which I then for myself shall behold, and not another,-- + Which amid fondest endearments, meantime I forget not, forsake not. + Ah, ye feminine souls, so loving and so exacting, + Since we cannot escape, must we even submit to deceive you? + Since, so cruel is truth, sincerity shocks and revolts you, + Will you have us your slaves to lie to you, flatter and--leave you? + + + VII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Juxtaposition is great,--but, you tell me, affinity greater. + Ah, my friend, there are many affinities, greater and lesser, + Stronger and weaker; and each, by the favor of juxtaposition, + Potent, efficient, in force,--for a time; but none, let me tell you, + Save by the law of the land and the ruinous force of the will, ah, + None, I fear me, at last quite sure to be final and perfect. + Lo, as I pace in the street, from the peasant-girl to the princess, + _Homo sum, nihil humani a me alienum puto,-- + Vir sum, nihil faeminei_,--and e'en to the uttermost circle, + All that is Nature's is I, and I all things that are Nature's. + Yes, as I walk, I behold, in a luminous, large intuition, + That I can be and become anything that I meet with or look at: + I am the ox in the dray, the ass with the garden-stuff panniers; + I am the dog in the doorway, the kitten that plays in the window, + Here on the stones of the ruin the furtive and fugitive lizard, + Swallow above me that twitters, and fly that is buzzing about me; + Yea, and detect, as I go, by a faint, but a faithful assurance, + E'en from the stones of the street, as from rocks or trees of the + forest, + Something of kindred, a common, though latent vitality, greet me, + And, to escape from our strivings, mistakings, misgrowths, and + perversions, + Fain could demand to return to that perfect and primitive silence, + Fain be enfolded and fixed, as of old, in their rigid embraces. + + + VIII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + And as I walk on my way, I behold them consorting and coupling; + Faithful it seemeth, and fond, very fond, very probably faithful; + And I proceed on my way with a pleasure sincere and unmingled. + Life is beautiful, Eustace, entrancing, enchanting to look at; + As are the streets of a city we pace while the carriage is changing, + As is a chamber filled-in with harmonious, exquisite pictures, + Even so beautiful Earth; and could we eliminate only + This vile hungering impulse, this demon within us of craving, + Life were beatitude, living a perfect divine satisfaction. + + + IX.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + _Mild monastic faces in quiet collegiate cloisters:_ + So let me offer a single and celibatarian phrase a + Tribute to those whom perhaps you do not believe I can honor. + But, from the tumult escaping, 'tis pleasant, of drumming and + shouting, + Hither, oblivious awhile, to withdraw, of the fact or the falsehood, + And amid placid regards and mildly courteous greetings + Yield to the calm and composure and gentle abstraction that reign o'er + _Mild monastic faces in quiet collegiate cloisters._ + Terrible word, Obligation! You should not, Eustace, you should not, + No, you should not have used it. But, O great Heavens, I repel it! + Oh, I cancel, reject, disavow, and repudiate wholly + Every debt in this kind, disclaim every claim, and dishonor, + Yea, my own heart's own writing, my soul's own signature! Ah, no! + I will be free in this; you shall not, none shall, bind me. + No, my friend, if you wish to be told, it was this above all things, + This that charmed me, ah, yes, even this, that she held me to nothing. + No, I could talk as I pleased; come close; fasten ties, as I fancied; + Bind and engage myself deep;--and lo, on the following morning + It was all e'en as before, like losings in games played for nothing. + Yes, when I came, with mean fears in my soul, with a semi-performance + At the first step breaking down in its pitiful role of evasion, + When to shuffle I came, to compromise, not meet, engagements, + Lo, with her calm eyes there she met me and knew nothing of it,-- + Stood unexpecting, unconscious. _She_ spoke not of obligations, + Knew not of debt,--ah, no, I believe you, for excellent reasons. + + + X.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Hang this thinking, at last! what good is it? oh, and what evil! + Oh, what mischief and pain! like a clock in a sick man's chamber, + Ticking and ticking, and still through each covert of slumber + pursuing. + What shall I do to thee, O thou Preserver of Men? Have compassion! + Be favorable, and hear! Take from me this regal knowledge! + Let me, contented and mute, with the beasts of the field, my brothers, + Tranquilly, happily lie,--and eat grass, like Nebuchadnezzar! + + + XI.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Tibur is beautiful, too, and the orchard slopes, and the Anio + Falling, falling yet, to the ancient lyrical cadence; + Tibur and Anio's tide; and cool from Lucretilis ever, + With the Digentian stream, and with the Bandusian fountain, + Folded in Sabine recesses, the valley and villa of Horace:-- + So not seeing I sung; so seeing and listening say I, + Here as I sit by the stream, as I gaze at the cell of the Sibyl, + Here with Albunea's home and the grove of Tiburnus beside me.[A] + Tivoli beautiful is, and musical, O Teverone, + Dashing from mountain to plain, thy parted impetuous waters! + Tivoli's waters and rocks; and fair under Monte Gennaro, + (Haunt even yet, I must think, as I wonder and gaze, of the shadows, + Faded and pale, yet immortal, of Faunus, the Nymphs, and the Graces,) + Fair in itself, and yet fairer with human completing creations, + Folded in Sabine recesses the valley and villa of Horace:-- + So not seeing I sung; so now,--nor seeing, nor hearing, + Neither by waterfall lulled, nor folded in sylvan embraces, + Neither by cell of the Sibyl, nor stepping the Monte Gennaro, + Seated on Anio's bank, nor sipping Bandusian waters, + But on Montorio's height, looking down on the tile-clad streets, the + Cupolas, crosses, and domes, the bushes and kitchen-gardens, + Which, by the grace of the Tiber, proclaim themselves Rome of the + Romans,-- + But on Montorio's height, looking forth to the vapory mountains, + Cheating the prisoner Hope with illusions of vision and fancy,-- + But on Montorio's height, with these weary soldiers by me, + Waiting till Oudinot enter, to reinstate Pope and Tourist. + +[Footnote A: + + ----domus Albuneae resonantis, + Et praeceps Anio, et Tiburni lucus, et uda + Mobilibus pomaria rivis.] + + + XII.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER. + + Dear Miss Roper,--It seems, George Vernon, before we left Rome, said + Something to Mr. Claude about what they call his attentions. + Susan, two nights ago, for the first time, heard this from Georgina. + It is _so_ disagreeable, and so annoying, to think of! + If it could only be known, though we never may meet him again, that + It was all George's doing and we were entirely unconscious, + It would extremely relieve--Your ever affectionate Mary. + + P.S. (1). + Here is your letter arrived this moment, just as I wanted. + So you have seen him,--indeed,--and guessed,--how dreadfully clever! + What did he really say? and what was your answer exactly? + Charming!--but wait for a moment, I have not read through the letter. + + P.S. (2). + Ah, my dearest Miss Roper, do just as you fancy about it. + If you think it sincerer to tell him I know of it, do so. + Though I should most extremely dislike it, I know I could manage. + It is the simplest thing, but surely wholly uncalled for. + Do as you please; you know I trust implicitly to you. + Say whatever is right and needful for ending the matter. + Only don't tell Mr. Claude, what I will tell you as a secret, + That I should like very well to show him myself I forget it. + + P.S. (3). + I am to say that the wedding is finally settled for Tuesday. + Ah, my dear Miss Roper, you surely, surely can manage + Not to let it appear that I know of that odious matter. + It would be pleasanter far for myself to treat it exactly + As if it had not occurred; and I do not think he would like it. + I must remember to add, that as soon as the wedding is over + We shall be off, I believe, in a hurry, and travel to Milan, + There to meet friends of Papa's, I am told, at the Croce di Malta; + Then I cannot say whither, but not at present to England. + + + XIII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Yes, on Montorio's height for a last farewell of the city,-- + So it appears; though then I was quite uncertain about it. + So, however, it was. And now to explain the proceeding. + I was to go, as I told you, I think, with the people to Florence. + Only the day before, the foolish family Vernon + Made some uneasy remarks, as we walked to our lodging together, + As to intentions, forsooth, and so forth. I was astounded, + Horrified quite; and obtaining just then, as it chanced, an offer + (No common favor) of seeing the great Ludovisi collection, + Why, I made this a pretence, and wrote that they must excuse me. + How could I go? Great Heaven! to conduct a permitted flirtation + Under those vulgar eyes, the observed of such observers! + Well, but I now, by a series of fine diplomatic inquiries, + Find from a sort of relation, a good and sensible woman, + Who is remaining at Rome with a brother too ill for removal, + That it was wholly unsanctioned, unknown,--not, I think, by Georgina: + She, however, ere this,--and that is the best of the story,-- + She and the Vernon, thank Heaven, are wedded and gone--honey-mooning. + So--on Montorio's height for a last farewell of the city. + Tibur I have not seen, nor the lakes that of old I had dreamt of; + Tibur I shall not see, nor Anio's waters, nor deep en- + Folded in Sabine recesses the valley and villa of Horace; + Tibur I shall not see;--but something better I shall see. + Twice I have tried before, and failed in getting the horses; + Twice I have tried and failed: this time it shall not be a failure. + + * * * * * + + Therefore farewell, ye hills, and ye, ye envineyarded ruins! + Therefore farewell, ye walls, palaces, pillars, and domes! + Therefore farewell, far seen, ye peaks of the mythic Albano, + Seen from Montorio's height, Tibur and Aesula's hills! + Ah, could we once, ere we go, could we stand, while, to ocean + descending, + Sinks o'er the yellow dark plain slowly the yellow broad sun, + Stand, from the forest emerging at sunset, at once in the champaign, + Open, but studded with trees, chestnuts umbrageous and old, + E'en in those fair open fields that incurve to thy beautiful hollow, + Nemi, imbedded in wood, Nemi, inurned in the hill!-- + Therefore farewell, ye plains, and ye hills, and the City Eternal! + Therefore farewell! We depart, but to behold you again! + +[To be continued.] + + + + +THE CATACOMBS OF ROME. + +[Continued.] + + Vix fama nota est, abditis + Quam plena sancti Roma sit; + Quam dives urbanum solum + Sacris sepulchris floreat. + PRUDENTIUS. + + Mille victoriose chiare palme. + PETRARCH. + +II. + +The results of the investigations in the catacombs during the last three +or four years have well rewarded the zeal of their explorers. Since the +great work of the French government was published, in 1851-55, very +curious and important discoveries have been made, and many new minor +facts brought to light. The interest in the investigations has become +more general, and no visit to Rome is now complete without a visit to +one at least of the catacombs. Strangely enough, however, the Romans +themselves, for the most part, feel less concern in these new +revelations of their underground city than the strangers who come from +year to year to make their pilgrimages to Rome. It is an old complaint, +that the Romans care little for their city. "Who are there to-day," says +Petrarch, in one of his letters, "more ignorant of Roman things than the +Roman citizens? And nowhere is Rome less known than in Rome itself." It +is, however, to the Cavaliere de Rossi, himself a Roman, that the most +important of these discoveries are due,--the result of his marvellous +learning and sagacity, and of his hard-working and unwearied energy. The +discovery of the ancient entrance to the Catacombs of St. Callixtus, +and of the chapel within, where St. Cecilia was originally buried, is +a piece of the very romance of Archaeology. The whole history of St. +Cecilia, the glorious Virgin Martyr and the Saint of Music, as connected +with the catacombs, is, indeed, one of the most curious to be found in +the annals of the Church. Legend and fact are strangely mingled in it, +and over it hangs a perplexing mist of doubt, but not so dense as wholly +to conceal all certainty. It is a story of suffering, of piety, of +enthusiasm, of superstition, and of science;--it connects itself in many +points with the progress of corruption in the Church, and it has been +a favorite subject for Art in all ages. The story is at last finished. +Begun sixteen hundred years ago, it has just reached its last chapter. +In order to understand it, we must go back almost to its introduction. + +According to the legend of the Roman Church, as preserved in the "Acts +of St. Cecilia," this young and beautiful saint was martyred in the year +of our Lord 230.[A] She had devoted herself to perpetual virginity, +but her parents had insisted upon marrying her to a youthful and noble +Roman, named Valerian. On the night of her marriage, she succeeded in +so far prevailing upon her husband as to induce him to visit the pope, +Urban, who was lying concealed from his persecutors in the catacombs +which were called after and still bear the name of his predecessor, +Callixtus,[B] on the Appian Way, about two miles from the present walls +of the city. The young man was converted to the Christian faith. The +next day witnessed the conversion of his brother, Tiburtius. Their lives +soon gave evidence of the change in their religion; they were brought +before the prefect, and, refusing to sacrifice to the heathen gods, were +condemned to death. Maximus, an officer of the prefect, was converted +by the young men on the way to execution. They suffered death with +constancy, and Maximus soon underwent the same fate. Nor was Cecilia +long spared. The prefect ordered that she should be put to death in her +own house, by being stifled in the _caldarium_, or hot-air chamber of +her baths. The order was obeyed, and Cecilia entered the place of death; +but a heavenly air and cooling dews filled the chamber, and the fire +built up around it produced no effect. For a whole day and night the +flames were kept up, but the Saint was unharmed. Then Almachius sent an +order that she should be beheaded. The executioner struck her neck three +times with his sword, and left her bleeding, but not dead, upon the +pavement of the bathroom. For three days she lived, attended by faithful +friends, whose hearts were cheered by her courageous constancy; "for she +did not cease to comfort those whom she had nurtured in the faith of the +Lord, and divided among them everything which she had." To Pope Urban, +who visited her as she lay dying, she left in charge the poor whom she +had cared for, and her house, that it might be consecrated as a church. +With this her life ended.[C] Her wasted body was reverently lifted, its +position undisturbed, and laid in the attitude and clothing of life +within a coffin of cypress-wood. The linen cloths with which the blood +of the Martyr had been soaked up were placed at her feet, with that care +that no precious drop should be lost,--a care, of which many evidences +are afforded in the catacombs. In the night, the coffin was carried out +of the city secretly to the Cemetery of Callixtus, and there deposited +by Urban in a grave near to a chamber destined for the graves of the +popes themselves. Here the "Acts of St. Cecilia" close, and, leaving her +pure body to repose for centuries in its tomb hollowed out of the rock, +we trace the history of the catacombs during those centuries in other +sources and by other ways. + +[Footnote A: _The Acts of St. Cecilia_ are generally regarded by the +best Roman Catholic authorities as apochryphal. They bear internal +evidence of their want of correctness, and, in the condition in which +they have come down to us, the date of their compilation cannot be set +before the beginning of the fifth century. At the very outset two facts +stand in open opposition to their statements. The martyrdom of St. +Cecilia is placed in the reign of Alexander Severus, whose mildness +of disposition and whose liberality towards the Christians are well +authenticated. Again, the prefect who condemns her to death, Turchius +Almachius, bears a name unknown to the profane historians of Rome. Many +statements of not less difficulty to reconcile with fact occur in the +course of the _Acts_. But, although their authority in particulars be +thus destroyed, we see no reason for questioning the reality of the +chief events upon which they are founded. The date of the martyrdom of +St. Cecilia may be wrong, the reports of her conversations may be as +fictitious as the speeches ascribed by grave historians to their heroes, +the stories of her miracles may have only that small basis of reality +which is to be found in the effects of superstition and excited +imagination,--but the essential truth of the martyrdom of a young, +beautiful, and rich Roman girl, of her suffering and her serene faith, +and of the veneration and honor in which her memory was held by those +who had known her, may be accepted without reserve. At least, it is +certain, that as early as the beginning of the fourth century the name +of St. Cecilia was reverenced in Rome, and that from that time she has +been one of the chief saints of the Roman calendar.] + +[Footnote B: The Catacombs of St. Callixtus are among the most important +of the underground cemeteries. They were begun before the time of +Callixtus, but were greatly enlarged under his pontificate [A.D. +219-223]. Saint though he be, the character of Callixtus, if we may +judge by the testimony of another saint, Hippolytus, stood greatly in +need of purification. His story is an amusing illustration of the state +of the Roman episcopacy in those times. He had been a slave of a rich +Christian, Carpophorus. His master set him up as a money-dealer in the +Piscina Publica, a much frequented quarter of the city. The Christian +brethren (and widows also are mentioned by Hippolytus) placed their +moneys in his hands for safe-keeping, his credit as the slave of +Carpophorus being good. He appropriated these deposits, ran away to sea, +was pursued, threw himself into the water, was rescued, brought back to +Rome, and condemned to hard labor. Carpophorus bailed him out of the +workhouse,--but he was a bad fellow, got into a riot in a Jewish +synagogue, and was sent to work in the Sardinian mines. By cheating he +got a ticket of leave and returned to Rome. After some years, he was +placed in charge of the cemetery by the bishop or pope, Zephyrinus, and +at his death, some time later, by skilful intrigues he succeeded in +obtaining the bishopric itself. The cemetery is now called that of +_Saint_ Callixtus,--and in the saint the swindler is forgotten.] + +[Footnote C: The passage in the _Acts of St. Cecilia_ which led to her +being esteemed the patroness of music is perhaps the following, which +occurs in the description of the wedding ceremonies: "Cantantibus +organis, Caecilia in corde suo soli Domino decantabat, dicens: 'Fiat cor +meum et corpus meum immaculatum, ut non confundar.'"] + +The consequences of the conversion of Constantine exhibited themselves +not more in the internal character and spirit of the Church than in +its outward forms and arrangements. The period of worldly prosperity +succeeded speedily to a period of severest suffering, and many who +had been exposed to the persecution of Diocletian now rejoiced in the +imperial favor shown to their religion. Such contrasts in life are +not favorable to the growth of the finer spiritual qualities; and the +sunshine of state and court is not that which is needed for quickening +faith or developing simplicity and purity of heart. Churches above +ground could now be frequented without risk, and were the means by which +the wealth and the piety of Christians were to be displayed. The newly +imperialized religion must have its imperial temples, and the little +dark chapels of the catacombs were exchanged for the vast and ornamental +spaces of the new basilicas. It was no longer needful that the dead +should be laid in the secret paths of the rock, and the luxury of +magnificent Christian tombs began to rival that of the sepulchres of +the earlier Romans. The body of St. Peter, which had long, according +to popular tradition, rested in the catacombs of the Vatican, was now +transferred to the great basilica which Constantine, despoiling for the +purpose the tomb of Hadrian of its marbles, erected over the entrance to +the underground cemetery. So, too, the Basilica of St. Paul, on the way +to Ostia, was built over his old grave; and the Catacombs of St. Agnes +were marked by a beautiful church in honor of the Saint, built in part +beneath the soil, that its pavement might be on a level with the upper +story of the catacombs and the faithful might enter them from the +church. + +The older catacombs, whose narrow graves had been filled during the last +quarter of the third century with the bodies of many new martyrs, were +now less used for the purposes of burial, and more for those of worship. +New chapels were hollowed out in their walls; new paintings adorned the +brown rock; the bodies of martyrs were often removed from their original +graves to new and more elaborate tombs; the entrances to the cemeteries +were no longer concealed, but new and ampler ones were made; new +stairways, lined with marble, led down to the streets beneath; +_luminaria_, or passages for light and air, were opened from the surface +of the ground to the most frequented places; and at almost every +entrance a church or an oratory of more or less size was built, for the +shelter of those who might assemble to go down into the catacombs, and +for the performance of the sacred services upon ground hallowed by so +many sacred memories. The worship of the saints began to take form, at +first, in simple, natural, and pious ways, in the fourth century; and +as it grew stronger and stronger with the continually increasing +predominance of the material element in the Roman Church, so the +catacombs, the burial-places of the saints, were more and more visited +by those who desired the protection or the intercession of their +occupants. St. Jerome, who was born about this time in Rome, [A.D. 331,] +has a curious passage concerning his own experiences in the catacombs. +He says: "When I was a boy at Rome, being instructed in liberal studies, +I was accustomed, with others of the same age and disposition, to go on +Sundays to the tombs of the apostles and martyrs, and often to go into +the crypts, which, being dug out in the depths of the earth, have for +walls, on either side of those who enter, the bodies of the buried; and +they are so dark, that the saying of the prophet seems almost fulfilled, +_The living descend into hell._" But as the chapels and sacred tombs +in the catacombs became thus more and more resorted to as places for +worship, the number of burials within them was continually growing +less,--and the change in the spirit of the religion was marked by the +change of character in the paintings and inscriptions on their walls. +By the middle of the fifth century the extension of the catacombs had +ceased, and nearly about the same time the assemblies in them fell off. +The desolation of the Campagna had already begun; Rome had sunk rapidly; +and the churches and burial-places within the walls afforded all the +space that was needed for the assemblies of the living or the dead. + +When the Goths descended upon Italy, ravaging the country as they passed +over it, and sat down before Rome, not content with stripping the land, +they forced their way into the catacombs, searching for treasure, and +seeking also, it seems likely, for the bodies of the martyrs, whom their +imperfect creed did not prevent them from honoring. After they retired, +in the short breathing-space that was given to the unhappy city, various +popes undertook to do something to restore the catacombs,[D]--and one +of them, John III., [A.D. 560-574,] ordered that service should be +performed at certain underground shrines, and that candles and all else +needful for this purpose should be furnished from the Basilica of St. +John Lateran. Just at the close of the sixth century, Gregory the Great +[590-604] again appointed stations in the catacombs at which service +should be held on special days in the course of the year, and a curious +illustration of the veneration in which the relics of the saints were +then held is afforded by a gift which he sent to Theodelinda, queen of +the Lombards. At this time the Lombards were laying all Italy waste. +Their Arian zeal ranged them in religious hate against the Roman +Church,--but Theodelinda was an orthodox believer, and through her +Gregory hoped to secure the conversion of her husband and his subjects. +It was to her that he addressed his famous Dialogues, filled with +the most marvellous stories of holy men and the strangest notions of +religion. Wishing to satisfy her pious desires, and to make her a very +precious gift, he sent to her many phials of oil taken from the lamps +that were kept burning at the shrines of the martyrs in the catacombs. +It was the custom of those who visited these shrines to dip +handkerchiefs, or other bits of cloth, in the reservoirs of oil, to +which a sacred virtue was supposed to be imparted by the neighborhood of +the saints; and even now may often be seen the places where the lamps +were kept lighted.[E] + +[Footnote D: An inscription set up by Vigilius, pope from A.D. 538 to +555, and preserved by Gruter, contains the following lines:-- + + "Dum peritura Getae posuissent castra sub urbe, + Moverunt sanctis bella nefunda prius, + Istaque sacrilego verterunt corde sepulchra + Martyribus quondam rite sacrata piis. + Diruta Vigilius nam mox haec Papa gemiscens, + Hostibus expulsis, omne novavit opus."] + +[Footnote E: The phials sent by Gregory to Queen Theodelinda were +accompanied by a list of the shrines from which they were taken; among +them was that of St. Cecilia. The document closes with the words, "Quae +olea sca temporibus Domini Gregorii Papae adduxit Johannes indignus +et peccator Dominae Theodelindae reginae de Roma." The oils are still +preserved in the treasury of the cathedral at Monza,--and the list +accompanying them has afforded some important facts to the students of +the early martyrology of Rome. A similar belief in the efficacy of oils +burned in lamps before noted images, or at noted shrines, still prevails +in the Papal City. In a little pamphlet lying before us, entitled +_Historic Notices of Maria SSma del Parto, venerated in St. Augustine's +Church in Rome_, published in 1853, is the following passage: "Many who +visited Mary dipped their fingers in the lamps to cross themselves with +the holy oil, by the droppings from which the base of the statue was so +dirtied, that hanging-lamps were substituted in the place of those that +stood around. But that the people might not be deprived of the trust +which they reposed in the holy oil, bits of cotton dipped in it were +wrapped up in paper, and there was a constant demand for them among the +devout." This passage refers to late years, and the custom still exists. +Superstition flourishes at Rome now not less than it did thirteen +hundred years ago; and superstitious practices have a wonderful vitality +in the close air of Romanism.] + +But although the memory of those who had been buried within them was +thus preserved, the catacombs themselves and the churches at their +entrances were falling more and more into decay. Shortly after Gregory's +death, Pope Boniface IV. illustrated his otherwise obscure pontificate +by seeking from the mean and dissolute Emperor Phocas the gift of the +Pantheon for the purpose of consecrating it for a Christian church. The +glorious temple of all the gods was now dedicated [A.D. 608, Sept. 15] +to those who had displaced them, the Virgin and all the Martyrs. Its new +name was S. Maria ad Martyres,--and in order to sanctify its precincts, +the Pope brought into the city and placed under the altars of his new +church twenty-eight wagon-loads of bones, collected from the different +catacombs, and said to be those of martyrs. This is the first notice +that has been preserved of the practice that became very general in +later times of transferring bodies and bones from their graves in the +rock to new ones under the city churches. + +Little more is known of the history of the catacombs during the next +two centuries, but that for them it was a period of desolation and +desertion. The Lombard hordes often ravaged and devastated the Campagna +up to the very gates of the city, and descended into the underground +passages of the cemeteries in search of treasure, of relics, and of +shelter. Paul III., about the middle of the eighth century, took many +bones and much ashes from graves yet unrifled, and distributed them +to the churches. He has left a record of the motives that led him +to disturb dust that had rested so long in quiet. "In the lapse of +centuries," he says, "many cemeteries of the holy martyrs and confessors +of Christ have been neglected and fallen to decay. The impious Lombards +utterly ruined them,--and now among the faithful themselves the old +piety has been replaced by negligence, which has gone so far that even +animals have been allowed to enter them, and cattle have been stalled +within them." Still, although thus desecrated, the graves of the martyrs +continued to be an object of interest to the pilgrims, who, even in +these dangerous times, from year to year came to visit the holy places +of Rome; and itineraries, describing the localities of the catacombs +and of the noted tombs within them, prepared for the guidance of such +pilgrims, not later than the beginning of the ninth century, have +been preserved to us, and have afforded essential and most important +assistance in the recent investigations.[F] + +[Footnote F: Four of these itineraries are known. One of them is +preserved in William of Malmesbury's _Chronicle_. The differences and +the correspondences between them have been of almost equal assistance in +modern days in the determination of doubtful names and localities.] + +About the same time, Pope Paschal I. [A.D. 817-824] greatly interested +himself in searching in the catacombs for such bodies of the saints as +might yet remain in them, and in transferring these relics to churches +and monasteries within the city. A contemporary inscription, still +preserved in the crypt of the ancient church of St. Prassede, (a church +which all lovers of Roman legend and art take delight in,) tells of the +two thousand three hundred martyrs whose remains Paschal had placed +beneath its altars. Nor was this the only church so richly endowed. One +day, in the year 821, Paschal was praying in the church that stood on +the site of the house in which St. Cecilia had suffered martyrdom, and +which was dedicated to her honor. It was now one of the oldest churches +in Rome. Two centuries before, Gregory the Great, St. Gregory, had +restored it,--for it even then stood in need of repairs, and now it was +in greater need than ever. Paschal determined, while praying, that he +would rebuild it from its foundations; but with this determination came +the desire to find the body of the Saint, that her new church might not +want its most precious possession. It was reported that the Lombards had +sought for it and carried it away, and the knowledge of the exact place +of the grave, even, was lost. But Paschal entered vigorously on the +search. He knew that she had been buried in the Cemetery of St. +Callixtus, and tradition declared that her sepulchre had been made near +the Chamber of the Popes. There he sought, but his seeking was vain. + +On a certain day, however,--and here he begins his own story,--in the +Church of St. Peter, as he sat listening to the harmony of the morning +service, drowsiness overcame him, and he fell asleep.[G] As he was +sleeping, a very beautiful maiden of virginal aspect, and in a rich +dress, stood before him, and, looking at him, said,--"We return thee +many thanks; but why without cause, trusting to false reports, hast thou +given up the search for me? Thou hast been so near me that we might have +spoken together." + +[Footnote G: "Quadam die, dum ante Confessionem Beati Petri +Apostoli psallentium matutinali lucescente Dominica residentes +observaremus harmoniam, sopore in aliquo corporis fragilitatem +aggravaute."--_Paschalis Papae Diploma_, as quoted in _L'Histoire de +Sainte Cecile_, par l'Abbe Gueranger. The simplicity of the old Pope's +story is wofully hurt by the grandiloquence of the French Abbe: "Le +Pontife ecoutait avec delices l'harmonie des Cantiques que l'Eglise fait +monter vers le Seigneur au lever du jour. Un assoupissement produit par +la fatigue des veilles saintes vient le saisir sur le siege meme ou il +presidait dans la majeste apostolique," etc., etc., etc., _ad nauseam._] + +The Pope, as if hurt by her rebuke, and doubtful of his vision, then +asked the name of her who thus addressed him. + +"If thou seekest my name," she said, "I am called Cecilia, the +handmaiden of Christ." + +"How can I believe this," replied the sleeping Pope, "since it was long +ago reported that the body of this most holy martyr was carried away by +the Lombards?" + +The Saint then told him that till this time her body had remained +concealed; but that now he must continue his search, for it pleased God +to reveal it to him; and near her body he would also find other bodies +of saints to be placed with hers in her new-built church. And saying +this, she departed. + +Hereupon a new search was begun, and shortly after, "by the favor of +God, we found her in golden garments, and the cloths with which her +sacred blood had been wiped from her wounds we found rolled up and full +of blood at the feet of the blessed virgin." + +At the same time, the bodies of Valerian, Tiburtius, and Maximus were +found in a neighboring cemetery, and, together with the relics of Pope +Urban,--as well as the body of St. Cecilia,--were placed under the +high altar of her church.[H] The cypress coffin in which she had been +reverently laid at the time of her death was preserved and set within a +marble sarcophagus. No expense was spared by the devout Paschal to adorn +the church that had been so signally favored. All the Art of the time +(and at that time the arts flourished only in the service of the Church) +was called upon to assist in making the new basilica magnificent. The +mosaics which were set up to adorn the apse and the arch of triumph were +among the best works of the century, and, with colors still brilliant +and design still unimpaired, they hold their place at the present +day, and carry back the thought and the imagination of the beholder a +thousand years into the very heart of this old story. Under the great +mosaic of the apse one may still read the inscription, in the rude Latin +of the century, which tells of Paschal's zeal and Rome's joy, closing +with the line, + + "Roma resultat ovans semper ornata per + aevum." + +[Footnote H: It is a remarkable fact, to be explained by the believers +in the virtue of relics, that, notwithstanding the body of St. Cecilia +was deposited perfect in her grave, and, as we shall see, was long after +found complete, no less than five heads of St. Cecilia are declared +to exist, or to have existed,--for one has been lost,--in different +churches. One is in the church of the SS. Quattro Coronati, at Rome, +which possessed it from a very early period; a second is at Paris, a +third at Beauvais, a fourth was at Tours, and we have seen the reliquary +in which a fifth is preserved in the old cathedral of Torcello.] + +And thus once more the body of the virgin was left to repose in peace, +once more the devout could offer their prayers to the Saint at the altar +consecrated by her presence, and once more the superstitious could +increase the number of the miracles wrought by her favor. Through the +long period of the fall and depression of Rome, her church continued to +be a favorite one with the people of the city, and with the pilgrims to +it. From time to time it was repaired and adorned, and in the thirteenth +century the walls of its portico were covered with a series of frescoes, +representing the events of St. Cecilia's life, and the finding of her +body by Paschal. These frescoes--precious as specimens of reawakening +Art, and especially precious at Rome, because of the little that was +done there at that period--were all, save one, long since destroyed +in some "restoration" of the church. The one that was preserved is now +within the church, and represents in its two divisions the burial of the +Saint by Pope Urban, and her appearance in St. Peter's Church to the +sleeping Paschal, whose figure is rendered with amusing naivete and +literalness. + +Meanwhile, after the translation of St. Cecilia's body, the catacombs +remained much in the same neglected state as before, falling more and +more into ruin, but still visited from year to year by the pilgrims, +whom even pillage and danger could not keep from Rome. For two +centuries,--from the thirteenth to the fifteenth,--scarcely any mention +of them is to be found. Petrarch, in his many letters about Rome, dwells +often on the sacredness of the soil within the city, in whose crypts and +churches so many saints and martyrs lie buried, but hardly refers to the +catacombs themselves, and never in such a way as to show that they were +an object of interest to him, though a lover of all Roman relics and a +faithful worshipper of the saints. It was near the end of the sixteenth +century that a happy accident--the falling in of the road outside the +Porta Salara--brought to light the streets of the Cemetery of St. +Priscilla, and awakened in Antonio Bosio a zeal for the exploration of +the catacombs which led him to devote the remainder of his long life to +the pursuit, and by study, investigation, and observation, to lay +the solid basis of the thorough and comprehensive acquaintance with +subterranean Rome which has been extended by the researches of a long +line of able scholars down to the present day. But to Bosio the +chief honor is due, as the earliest, the most exact, and the most +indefatigable of the explorers. + +It was during his lifetime that the story of St. Cecilia received a +continuation, of which he himself has left us a full account. In +the year 1599, Paolo Emilio Sfondrati, Cardinal of the Title of St. +Cecilia,[I] undertook a thorough restoration of the old basilica erected +by Paschal. He possessed a large collection of relics, and determined +that he would place the most precious of them under the high altar. For +this purpose the vault containing the sarcophagi in which St. Cecilia +and her companions lay must be opened, and on the 20th of October the +work was undertaken. Upon breaking through the wall, two sarcophagi of +white marble were discovered. The Cardinal was on the spot, and, in the +presence of numerous dignitaries of the Church, whom he had sent for as +witnesses, he caused the heavy top of the first of these stone coffins +to be lifted. Within was seen the chest of cypress-wood in which, +according to the old story, the Saint had been originally placed. +Sfondrati with his own hands removed the lid, and within the chest was +found the body of the virgin, with a silken veil spread over her rich +dress, on which could still be seen the stains of blood, while at her +feet yet lay the bloody cloths which had been placed there more than +thirteen centuries before. She was lying upon her right side, her feet a +little drawn up, her arms extended and resting one upon the other, +her neck turned so that her head rested upon the left cheek. Her form +perfectly preserved, and her attitude of the sweetest virginal grace and +modesty, it seemed as if she lay there asleep rather than dead.[J]--The +second sarcophagus was found to contain three bodies, which were +recognized as being, according to tradition, those of Tiburtius, +Valerian, and Maximus. + +[Footnote I: The _Titoli_ of Rome correspond nearly to Parishes. They +date from an early period in the history of the Church.] + +[Footnote J: "Dormientis instar," says Bosio, in his _Relatio +Inventionis et Repositionis S. Caeciliae et Sociorum_. The discovery +of the body of the Saint in this perfect state of preservation has, +of course, been attributed by many Romanist authors to miraculous +interposition. But it is to be accounted for by natural causes. The +soil of the catacombs and of Rome is in many parts remarkable for its +antiseptic qualities. The Cavaliere de Rossi informed us that he had +been present at the opening of an ancient tomb on the Appian Way, in +which the body of a young man had been found in a state of entire +preservation, fresh almost as on the day of its burial, and with it was +a piece of sponge which had apparently been soaked in blood,--for his +death had been by violence. In the winter of 1857, two marble sarcophagi +were found in one of the passages of the Catacombs of St. Callixtus, in +which excavations were then going on, and upon being opened, a body +was found in each, in a state, not of entire, but of almost perfect +preservation. The skin had become somewhat shrunk, and the flesh was +hardened and darkened, but the general form and features were preserved. +Possibly these also may have been the bodies of saints. The sarcophagi +were kept through the winter in the catacombs where they were found, and +their marble lids being removed, covers of glass were fitted to them, so +that the bodies might be seen by the visitors to the catacombs. It was a +frequent custom, chiefly in the fourth and fifth centuries, to bury the +rich in sarcophagi placed within tombs in the catacombs.] + +The day advanced as these discoveries were made, and Sfondrati having +had a chest of wood hastily lined with silk, and brought to a room in +the adjoining convent, which opened into the church, (it is the room +at the left, now used for the first reception of novices,) carried the +cypress chest with its precious contents to this apartment, and placed +it within the new box, which he locked and sealed. Then, taking the key +with him, he hastened to go out to Frascati, where Pope Clement VIII. +was then staying, to avoid the early autumn airs of Rome. The Pope was +in bed with the gout, and gave audience to no one; but when he heard of +the great news that Sfondrati had brought, he desired at once to see +him, and to hear from him the account of the discovery. "The Pope +groaned and grieved that he was not well enough to hasten at once to +visit and salute so great a martyr." But it happened that the famous +annalist, Cardinal Baronius, was then with the Pope at Frascati, and +Clement ordered him to go to Rome forthwith, in his stead, to behold and +venerate the body of the Saint. Sfondrati immediately took Baronius +in his carriage back to the city, and in the evening they reached the +Church of St. Cecilia.[K] Baronius, in the account which he has left +of these transactions, expresses in simple words his astonishment and +delight at seeing the preservation of the cypress chest, and of the body +of the Saint: "When we at length beheld the sacred body, it was then, +that, according to the words of David, 'as we had heard, so we saw, in +the city of the Lord of Hosts, in the city of our God.'[L] For as we had +read that the venerated body of Cecilia had been found and laid away by +Paschal the Pope, so we found it." He describes at length the posture +of the virgin, who lay like one sleeping, in such modest and noble +attitude, that "whoever beheld her was struck with unspeakable +reverence, as if the heavenly Spouse stood by as a guard watching his +sleeping Bride, warning and threatening: 'Awake not my love till she +please.'"[M] The next morning, Baronius performed Mass in the church in +memory and honor of St. Cecilia, and the other saints buried near her, +and then returned to Frascati to report to the Pope what he had seen. It +was resolved to push forward the works on the church with vigor, and +to replace the body of the Saint under its altar on her feast-day, the +twenty-second of November, with the most solemn pontifical ceremony. + +[Footnote K: This account is to be found in the _Annals_ of Baronius, +_ad annum_ 821.] + +[Footnote L: Psalm xlviii. 8.] + +[Footnote M: Song of Solomon, ii. 7.] + +Meanwhile the report of the wonderful discovery spread through Rome, +and caused general excitement and emotion. The Trasteverini, with whom +Cecilia had always been a favorite saint, were filled with joy, with +piety, and superstition. Crowds continually pressed to the church, and +so great was the ardor of worshippers, that the Swiss guards of the +court were needed to preserve order. Lamps were kept constantly burning +around the coffin, which was set near a grating in the wall between the +church and convent, so as to be visible to the devout. "There was +no need of burning perfumes and incense near the sacred body, for a +sweetest odor breathed out from it, like that of roses and lilies." + +Sfondrati, desirous to preserve for future generations a memorial +likeness of the Saint, ordered the sculptor Stefano Maderno to make a +statue which should represent the body of Cecilia as it was found lying +in the cypress chest. Maderno was then a youth of twenty-three years. +Sculpture at this time in Rome had fallen into a miserable condition of +degraded conventionalism and extravagance. But Maderno was touched with +the contagion of the religious enthusiasm of the moment, and his work is +full of simple dignity, noble grace, and tender beauty. No other work +of the time is to be compared with it. It is a memorial not only of the +loveliness of the Saint, but of the self-forgetful religious fervor of +the artist, at a period when every divine impulse seemed to be absent +from the common productions of Art. Rome has no other statue of such +sacred charm, none more inspired with Christian feeling. It lies in +front of the high altar, disfigured by a silver crown and a costly +necklace, the offerings of vulgar and pretentious adoration; but even +thus it is at once a proof and prophecy of what Art is to accomplish +under the influence of the Christian spirit. The inscription that +Sfondrati placed before the statue still exists. It is as follows: +"Behold the image of the most holy virgin Cecilia; whom I, Paul, +Cardinal of the Title of St. Cecilia, saw lying perfect in her +sepulchre; which I have caused to be made in this marble, in the very +position of the body, for you." + +The twenty-second of November arrived. The Pope had recovered from +his gout. The church was splendidly decorated. A solemn procession, +illustrated by the presence of all the great dignitaries of the Church, +of the ambassadors of foreign states, and the nobles of Rome, advanced +up the nave. Clement intoned the Mass. Then proceeding to the cypress +chest, it was lifted by four cardinals, and carried to the vault under +the altar, while the choir chanted the anthem, _O beata Coecilia, +quoe Almachium superasti, Tiburtium et Valerianum ad martyrii coronam +vocasti!_ The old coffin, undisturbed, was placed in a silver case; the +last service was performed, and the body of the virgin was once more +laid away to rest. + +We pass now over two centuries and a half. About five years ago the +Cavaliere de Rossi found lying upon the ground, in a _vigna_ bordering +on the Appian Way, about two miles from Rome, a portion of a sepulchral +stone on which were the letters NELIUS MARTYR, the NE broken across. +He immediately conjectured that this was a piece of the stone that had +covered the grave of Pope Cornelius, [A.D. 250-252,] and on the truth of +this conjecture important results depended. It was known that this pope +had been buried in the Catacombs of St. Callixtus; and it was known +also, from the itineraries and some other sources, that his grave was +not in the same chamber with the graves of the other popes who were +buried in those catacombs, but that it was not far away from it. It was +further known, as we have seen, that the chapel in which St. Cecilia +had been buried was close to the Chamber of the Popes. But a tradition +dating from a late period of the Middle Ages had given the name of +Callixtus to the catacombs opening from the Church of St. Sebastian, +at a little greater distance from Rome. In these catacombs the place +supposed to be that of St. Cecilia's grave was pointed out, and an +inscription set up to mark the spot, by a French archbishop, in the +year 1409, still exists. Many indications, however, led De Rossi +to disbelieve this tradition and to distrust this authority. It +contradicted the brief indications of the itineraries, and could not be +reconciled with other established facts. Not far from the place where +the broken inscription was found was an accidental entrance into +catacombs which had been supposed to have been originally connected with +those of St. Sebastian, but were believed by De Rossi to be a portion of +the veritable Catacombs of St. Callixtus, and quite separate from the +former. The paths in this part, however, were stopped up in so many +directions, that it was impossible to get an entrance through them to +such parts as might determine the question. Again, in the neighborhood +of the discovery of the broken stone was an old building, used as a +stable, and for other mean purposes. On examination of it, De Rossi +satisfied himself that it had been originally one of the churches +erected in the fourth century at the entrance of the catacombs, and he +had little doubt that he had now found the place of the main descent +into the Catacombs of St. Callixtus. The discovery was a great one; for +near the main entrance had been the burial-place of the popes, and of +St. Cecilia. De Rossi laid the results of his inductive process of +archaeological reasoning before the pope, who immediately gave orders +for the purchase of the _vigna_, and directions that excavations should +be at once begun.[N] + +[Footnote N: Another curious point was made by De Rossi previously to +the commencement of the explorations. It illustrates the accuracy of his +acquaintance with the underground archaeology. In one of the itineraries +it was said, speaking of the burial-place of Cornelius, that here also +St. Cyprian was buried. Now, as is well known, Cyprian was buried in +Africa, where he had suffered martyrdom. His martyrdom took place on +the same day with that of Cornelius, though in another year; and their +memories were consequently celebrated by the Church on the same day, the +16th of September. De Rossi declared, that, if he discovered the tomb of +St. Cornelius, he should find near it something which would explain the +error of the itinerary in stating that Cyprian's grave also was here. +And such proved to be the fact. On the wall, by the side of the grave, +was found a painting of Cornelius, with his name, "S[=c][=s] Cornelius," +and by the side of this figure was another painting of a bishop in his +robes, with the letters "S[=c][=s] Ciprianus."] + +[Transcriber's note: Here and below the = sign is used to indicate an +overscore.] + +The work was scarcely begun, before an ancient stairway, long ago buried +under accumulated earth and rubbish, was discovered, leading down to the +second story of the catacombs. The passages into which it opened were +filled with earth, but, as this was cleared away, a series of chambers +of unusual size, reaching almost to the surface of the soil, was entered +upon. At the right a wide door led into a large chapel. The walls were +covered with rudely scratched names and inscriptions, some in Greek +and some in Latin. De Rossi, whose eyes were practised in the work, +undertook to decipher these often obscure scribblings. They were for the +most part the inscriptions of the pilgrims who had visited these places, +and their great number gave proof that this was a most important portion +of the cemetery. The majority of these were simply names, or names +accompanied with short expressions of piety. Many, for instance, were in +such form as this,--[Greek: Elaphin eis mneian echete],--"Keep Elaphis +in remembrance." Many were expressions of devotion, written by the +pilgrims for the sake of those who were dear to them, as,--_Vivat in +Domino_, "May he live in the Lord"; _Pet[ite] ut Verecundus cum suis +bene naviget_, "Seek that Verecundus with his companions may voyage +prosperously." The character of the writing, the names and the style, +indicate that these inscriptions belong mostly to the third and fourth +centuries. Among these writings on the wall were one or two which +confirmed De Rossi in the opinion that this must be the sepulchre in +which the greater number of the popes of the third century had been +buried. Carefully preserving all the mass of rubbish which was taken +from the chamber, he set himself to its examination, picking out from +it all the bits and fragments of marble, upon many of which letters +or portions of letters were cut. Most of them were of that elaborate +character which is well known to all readers of the inscriptions from +the catacombs as that of Pope Damasus,--for this Pope [A.D. 366-385] had +devoted himself to putting up new inscriptions over celebrated +graves, and had used a peculiar and sharply cut letter, easy to be +distinguished. It was known that he had put new inscriptions over the +tombs of the popes buried in the Cemetery of St. Callixtus. After most +patient examination, De Rossi succeeded in finding and putting together +the inscriptions of four of these early popes, and, with Cuvier-like +sagacity, he reconstructed, out of a hundred and twelve separate, +minute, and scattered pieces, the metrical inscription in which Damasus +expressed his desire to be buried with them, but his fear of vexing +their sacred ashes.[O] + +[Footnote O: In another part of the catacombs the remainder of the stone +that had been set over the grave of Cornelius was found. It fitted +precisely the piece first found by De Rossi. The letters upon it +were CORN EP. The whole inscription then read, "Cornelius Martyr, +Ep[iscopus.]" It is rare that a bit of broken stone paves the way to +such discoveries. But it must be a man of genius who walks over the +pavement. Cardinal Wiseman has given an imperfect account of these +discoveries in his diverting novel, _Fabiola_.] + +There could no longer be any doubt; this was the Chapel of the +Popes, and that of St. Cecilia must be near by. Proceeding with the +excavations, a door leading into a neighboring crypt was opened. The +crypt was filled with earth and _debris_, which appeared to have +fallen into it through a _luminare_, now choked up with the growth and +accumulated rubbish of centuries. In order to remove the mass of earth +with least risk of injury to the walls of the chamber, it was determined +to take it out through the luminare from above. As the work advanced, +there were discovered on the wall of the luminare itself paintings +of the figures of three men, with a name inscribed at the side of +each,--Policamus, Sebastianus, and Cyrinus. These names inspired fresh +zeal, for they were those of saints who were mentioned in one or more +of the itineraries as having been buried in the same chapel with St. +Cecilia. As the chapel was cleared, a large arcosolium was found, and +near it a painting of a youthful woman, richly attired, adorned with +necklaces and bracelets, and the dress altogether such as might befit +a bride. Below, on the same wall, was a figure of a pope in his robes, +with the name "S[=e][=s] Urbanus" painted at the side: and close to this +figure, a large head of the Saviour, of the Byzantine type, with a glory +in the form of a Greek cross. The character of the paintings showed that +they were of comparatively late date, probably not earlier than the +sixth century, and obviously executed at a time when the chapel was +frequented by worshippers, and before the traditional knowledge of the +exact site of St. Cecilia's sepulchre had been lost. + +The discovery made by Paschal after the place had been deserted was thus +repeated by De Rossi after a second, longer, and more obscure period of +oblivion. The divine vision which had led the ancient Pope, according +to his own account, to the right spot, was now replaced by scientific +investigation. The statements of inspiration were confirmed, as in so +many more conspicuous instances, by the discoveries of science. Cecilia +had lain so near the popes, that she might, as she had said to Paschal, +have spoken to him when he was in their chapel, _as ad as_, "mouth to +mouth." But the questions naturally arose, Why was it that in Paschal's +time, before this chapel was encumbered with earth, it had been so +difficult to find her grave? and, Why had not the Lombards, who had +sought for her sacred body, succeeded in finding it? De Rossi was +able to furnish the solution. In several instances he had found walls +carefully built up in front of tombs so as to conceal them. It was plain +that this must have been done with some definite purpose; and it seems +altogether likely that it was to hide these tombs from sacrilegious +invaders. The walls had been built when the faithful were forced by +the presence of their enemies to desert the catacombs and leave them +unprotected. It was a striking illustration of the veneration in which +these holy places had been held. Upon examination of the floor in front +of the areosolium of this chapel, traces of the foundation of a wall +were discovered, and thus the Lombard failure and Paschal's difficulty +were explained. + +So ends the story of St Cecilia and her tomb. Within her church are the +remains of the bath-chamber where she suffered death. The mosaics of +the apse and the arch of triumph tell of the first finding of her body; +Maderno's statue recalls the fact of its second discovery long after; +and now this newly opened, long forgotten chapel shows where her +precious body was first laid away in peace, brings the legend of her +faithful death into clearer remembrance, and concludes the ancient story +with dramatic and perfect completeness. + +"The Lord discovereth deep things out of darkness, and bringeth out to +light the shadow of death." + +[To be continued.] + + * * * * * + + +HAPPINESS. + + + Wing-Footed! thou abid'st with him + That asks it not: but he who hath + Watched o'er the waves thy fading path + Will never more on ocean's rim, + At morn or eve, behold returning + Thy high-heaped canvas shoreward yearning: + Thou only teachest us the core + And inmost meaning of No More, + Thou, who first showest us thy face + Turned o'er the shoulder's parting grace, + And whose sad footprints we can trace + Away from every mortal door! + + + + +THE PURE PEARL OF DIVER'S BAY. + + +When the great storms raged along the Atlantic coast, they sometimes +tossed a token into Diver's Bay. In more than one of the rude cabins +composing the fishermen's settlement memorials of shipwreck and disaster +might be found; and these memorials did not always fail to kindle +imagination, and to arouse soft feelings of pity for the calamities they +suggested. + +One morning, that dawned bright and mild after a week of tempest, +Clarice Briton went out with her coarse basket to gather the sea-weed +tossed on the shore. She was the first child out that morning, and on +account of the late storm, which had prevented the usual daily work, the +harvest was a rich one. + +There was always need that Clarice should work with her might when she +found work to do, and she now labored from dawn till sunrise, filling +her basket many times over, until the boards where she spread the weed +to dry were nearly covered. Then she threw herself down to rest by her +father's door. But when the sun was rising she went and sat among the +rocks, and watched the changing of the sky and water, and the flocks of +birds as they came screaming from their nests to dive among the waves +and mount beyond her sight among the mists of morning. She never tired +of watching them, or of gazing on these scenes. She knew the habits of +the shore birds, understood their indications and devices, and whatever +their movements foreboded concerning the weather. Clarice was also +versed in winds and clouds, and knew as well as the wise fishermen what +the north-wind had in store, and what the south-wind would give them. + +While she sat resting a few minutes, and wondering that the other +children of the beach were so long in waking to the pleasant day, +suddenly, as she looked down along the rocks that lay between her and +the water, she saw lying near her feet, securely lodged by the waves +among the stones, a basket. It was a very different affair from that +other, lying a few paces off, with which she went about gathering +sea-weed. It was small, and light, and delicately woven,--embroidered, +too, with floss. When she bent forward and picked it up, long strings +of shiny weed dangled dripping from the handles,--and something beside; +for, as she attempted to remove the traces of wild voyaging, something +that was not weed resisted her efforts, and caused her to raise the lid. +As she did so, a chain, which had been partly secured by the closing of +the lid, was disengaged, and fell into her lap. + +"What's that, Clarice?" said a voice just above her, as she in amazement +lifted the chain, and endeavored to free it from the weed. + +"Oh, Luke, there must have been a wreck! See! I found it just here at +my feet," said Clarice, sorrowfully,--apparently not taken by surprise +by the sudden coming and speaking of Luke Merlyn; she did not even lift +her head, nor for an instant turn to him from what occupied her. + +"There's a ring, too, I declare!" said Luke, coming down to her side; +and he took from her lap a small ring, in which was set a solitary +pearl;--the ring had dropped from the chain. "What next? Look in." + +Clarice opened the basket again, and turned out the white silk lining, +which was soaking and stained with wild sea-travel. "That is all," said +she. + +"That chain is a gold one," remarked Luke Merlyn. "There must have been +a wreck. Who do you suppose these things belonged to? Some lady? Look at +that basket now. She kept her trinkets in it. I suppose lots of 'em got +shook out by the way. I am glad it was you found it, Clarice. Just try +that ring on your finger now; I should think it might fit you." + +He took up the ring and looked at Clarice, but she shrunk back +shuddering. + +"Oh, no!--I should feel as if it would drag me down to the bottom of the +sea after the owner." + +"It's the neatest thing I ever saw, though, Clarice. Look, what a pearl! +You must keep it for your own, any way, if you won't wear it. Nobody +about here is fit but you. The poor little basket, too,--poor little +ark!" + +He took it up and looked it over, much as though it were a dead bird, or +some other pretty thing that once had life, and knew bow to enjoy it. + +"Are you going out to-day, Luke?" asked Clarice. + +"Don't you see I've got the net? Father will be down by the time I'm +ready. We are tired enough hanging about waiting for the blow to be +over." + +"May-be you will see something," said Clarice, in an undertone. "If you +could only find out about the ship, and the poor passengers!" + +"May-be," answered Luke,--saying this to comfort her. "Is your father +going out to-day?" + +"He said he would, last night. I'm glad it came off so pleasant. See +how long this chain is!--a great many times longer than his big +watch-chain!" + +"Worth fifty times as much, too." + +"Is it?" said Clarice, looking up in wonder, almost incredulous;--but +then Luke had said it. + +"This is gold. Come and walk down to the boat, Clarice. How many times +have you filled your basket this morning? You look tired. How did you +come to wake up so soon? I believe I heard you singing, and that was +what brought me out so quick." + +"I haven't sung any, Luke," she answered, looking at him in wonder. + +"Oh, yes!--I'm sure I heard you. I got up and looked out of my window; +there you were. You are the best girl around, Clarice! Come now, why +don't you say I'm the best fellow? Then we'll be even. I am, you know. +But then I want to hear you say so." + +The merry fellow was in earnest, though he laughed. He blushed more +deeply than the girl,--indeed, she did not blush at all,--when he thus +spoke to her. She looked at him a little surprised. + +"Come," said he, with gentle coaxing. "I know what you think. Speak out, +and make me feel happy, all the days of my life. If it wasn't that you +feel so about the ring--But why shouldn't you feel solemn about it? It +belonged to some beautiful lady, I suppose, who lies at rest in the +bottom of the sea by this time. _H.H._"--he read the initials engraved +on the clasp of the chain. + +Clarice, who held the ring, inadvertently turned it that moment to the +light so that her eyes could not fail to perceive that two letters were +also written by a graver underneath the pearl. These letters likewise +were _H.H._ She gave the ring, to Luke, pointing to the initials. + +"Yes, to be sure," said he, examining it with his bright eyes. "It's the +prettiest thing I ever saw. These letters must have stood for something. +Clarice,"--he hesitated a moment,--"Clarice, they might stand for +something yet, _Heart and Hand_. Here they are,--take them,--they're +yours,--my heart and my hand,--till Death comes between!" + +"Don't talk that way, Luke," answered the girl, gravely. "Your father is +waiting for you, I'm sure." + +But Luke did not believe that she was in such haste to be rid of him. + +"He hasn't gone down yet. I've watched," said he. "He'd be willing to +wait, if he knew what I was saying. Besides, if you are in a hurry, it +won't take but a minute to say yes, Clarice. Will you take my heart and +my hand? Here is your ring." + +Clarice took the ring and looked away; but, in looking away, her eyes +fell on Luke, and she smiled. + +"It's the prettiest thing, that ring is, in the world, except you, +Clarice,"--so the smile made him speak. + +"That's new for me," said the girl. "Talk sense, Luke." + +"Handsome is that handsome does, say I. And if you a'n't the best +girl in the Bay, Clary, who is, then? When are you going to say yes?" +demanded the young fellow. + +"Now," replied Clarice, suddenly. + +"Have you taken my heart and hand?" asked the lad as quickly, his face +glowing with delight. + +"Yes." + +"To keep forever, Clarice?" It seemed, after all, incredible. + +"Yes, Luke." And so speaking, the girl meant _yes, forever_. + +Now this promise had not really taken either of these children by +surprise. They had long understood each other. But when they had given +a mutual promise, both looked grave. Clarice stood by the water's edge, +careless that time was passing. Luke was in no hurry for his father. + +But at length a shrill voice called the girl. Dame Briton stood in the +cabin door, and her angry tongue was laden with reproaches ready for +utterance when Clarice should come within easier reach of her voice. + +"I must go," said Clarice to Luke. + +"I'll follow you, to-night. Don't work too hard," he answered. "Take +care of my heart, Clarice." + +A storm broke upon Clarice when she went home to her mother. She bore +the blame of her idleness with tolerable patience, until it seemed as if +the gale would never blow over. At last some quick words escaped her:-- + +"Three bushels of weed lie there on the boards ready spread, and drying. +I gathered them before another creature was stirring in Diver's Bay." +Then she added, more gently, "I found something besides." + +But though Dame Briton heard, she passed this last bit of information +without remark. + +"Idling down there on the beach to see the boys off fishing!" she could +not help saying. "You needn't be up afore the break o' day for work like +that." + +"It was Luke Merlyn." + +"No matter." + +"I showed him what I had found. Ask him if I'm ever too free. He'd know +as quick as anybody,--and care as much." + +Clarice, while speaking this, had departed yet farther both in look and +voice from her usual serenity. + +The dame let her last words pass without taking them up. She was by this +time curious. + +"What did you find?" asked she. + +Clarice showed the basket and the gold chain. Her mother handled both +with wondering admiration, asking many a question. At last she threw the +chain around her neck. + +"It's gold," said she. "It's worth much. If you could pick up the like +of that every day, you might let the old weed-basket drift." + +"I had rather gather weeds till my back was broken doing it, than ever +find another," said Clarice. + +The dame took this for a child's exaggeration; observing which, Clarice +said, sadly,-- + +"Why, don't you see how it came to shore? There's been a wreck in the +storm last week. Oh, may-be I've found all that will tell of it!" + +"What's that in your hand?" asked the dame, who spied the ring. + +Clarice half opened her palm; she did not like to let the ring pass from +her keeping, and all this while she had stood doubting whether or not +she should show it to her mother. + +Dame Briton took it quickly. The dull glitter of greedy eyes fell on the +mild lustre of the pearl, but found no reflection. + +"A ring!" said she, and she tried to fit it to her little finger. It +would not pass the first rough joint. + +"Try it," said she to Clarice. + +"No," was the quiet answer. "But I will keep the ring. It must have been +a lady's. May-be it was a token." + +"May-be it was.--If your father should take that chain to the Port, +he might make a handsome bargain,--if he was worth a snap at +bargains.--Here's something; what be these marks? look here, Clarice." + +The face of the girl flushed a little as she answered,--"_H. H_." + +"_H.H.!_ What does that mean? I wonder." + +"May-be the name of the owner," answered Clarice, timidly. + +She was thinking, not of what the letters might have meant to others, +but of what they had come to signify to her and Luke. + +"Who knows?" answered her mother; and she stood musing and absent, and +her face had a solemn look. + +Clarice now took the basket to the fireplace and held it there till it +was dried. With the drying the colors brightened and the sand was easily +brushed away; but many a stain remained on the once dainty white silk +lining; the basket would hardly have been recognized by its owner. +Having dried and cleansed it as well as she was able, Clarice laid it +away in a chest for safe-keeping, and then ate her breakfast, standing. +After that, she went out to work again until the tide should come in. +She left the chain with her mother, but the ring she had tied to a cord, +and hung it around her neck. + +By this time the children of the fishermen were all out, and the most +industrious of them at work. They scattered among the rocks and crags, +and wandered up and down the coast three miles, gathering sea-weed, +which it was their custom to dry, and then carry to town, the Port, not +many miles distant, where it was purchased by the glassmakers. + +Clarice had neither brother nor sister, and she made little of the +children of the neighboring fishermen; for her life was one of toil, and +her inheritance seemed very different from theirs, though they were all +poor, and ate the crusts of labor. + +Her father, had Nature only given him what she seemed to have intended +at the outset, might have been as successful a fisherman as lived at +the Bay. But he trusted to luck, and contrived to make half of what he +earned a serious damage to him. The remainder was little enough for the +comfort of his family, small though that family was. + +Briton was a good fellow, everybody said. They meant that he was always +ready for sport, and time-wasting, and drinking, and that sort of +generosity which is the shabbiest sort of selfishness. They called him +"Old Briton," but he was not, by many, the oldest man in Diver's Bay; +he might have been the wickedest, had he not been the jolliest, and +incapable of hiding malice in his heart. And if I said he was out and +out the wickedest, I should request that people would refrain from +lifting up their hands in horror, on account of the poor old fellow. We +all know--alas, perhaps, we all love--wickeder souls than could have +been produced from among the older fishermen, had all their sins been +concentrated in one individual. + +Old Briton was what the people called a lucky fisherman. In seasons when +he chose to work, the result was sufficiently obvious, to himself and +others, to astonish both. But even in the best seasons he was a bad +manager. He trusted everybody, and found, to his astonishment, how few +deserve to be trusted. + +Dame Briton was a stout, loud-talking woman, whom experience had not +softened in her ways of speech or thought or action. She was generally +at strife with her husband, but the strife was most illogical. It did +not admit of a single legitimate deduction in the mind of a third +person. It seemed sometimes as if the pair were possessed of the +instincts of those animals which unite for mutual destruction, and as if +their purpose were to fulfil their destiny with the utmost rapidity. + +In the years when Dame Briton, by nature proud and ambitious, was +putting forth the most successful efforts she ever made at decent +housekeeping, endeavoring to transform her husband into such a person as +he was not born to be, striving hard to work her will,--in those years +Clarice was born. + +Is the pearl a product of disease? + +Clarice grew up in the midst of influences not the purest or most +elevating. She was not by nature gay, but silent, truthful, and +industrious. She was no coward by nature, and her training made her +brave and hardy. Sometimes Old Briton called her his boy, and exacted +from her the service of a son. Dame Briton did not quarrel with him for +that; she was as proud as the fisherman of any feat of skill or strength +or courage performed by Clarice. In their way they were both fond of the +child, but their fondness had strange manifestation; and of much tender +speech, or fondling, or praise, the girl stood in no danger. + +Idleness especially was held up before her, from the outset, as the most +destructive evil and dire iniquity of which human creature was capable; +and Old Briton, lounging about all day with his pipe in his mouth,--by +no means a rare spectacle,--did not interfere with the lesson the +child's mother enforced. Winter and summer there was enough for the +little feet and hands to do. So, as Clarice grew up, she earned the best +reputation for industry of any girl in Diver's Bay. + +Before she became the praise of the serious Bay people, Luke Merlyn's +bright eyes were on the little girl, and he had a settled habit of +seeking times and opportunities for quiet talks with her. He liked to +ask and follow her advice in many matters. Many a heavy basket of weeds +had he helped her carry home from the rocks; many a shell and pebble had +he picked up in his coast-work, when he went beyond the limits of the +Bay,--because he knew the good girl had a liking for every pretty thing. + +If Clarice Briton was the finest girl, Luke Merlyn, beyond question, was +the most promising fellow in this little village of fishermen. He was +strong, active, ready for any undertaking that required a bold spirit +and firm hand,--was quicker in thought and readier in speech than any +lad about. He had a little personal vanity,--and good looks to encourage +the same; but he had besides a generous heart, and the conviction was +general, whether expressed or not, that in Luke a man was growing up who +would some day take the lead among the fishermen of Diver's Bay. He had +a livelier fancy, a more active imagination, than any lad thereabout; +these qualities of mind, united to his courage and warmth of heart, +seemed to point toward a future worth arriving at. + + +II. + +When Luke returned from fishing, towards evening, he went down to +Briton's cabin, hardly taking time to remove from his person the traces +of his day of toil, his haste was so great. + +Briton had arrived before him, and now sat at supper with his cup of +grog beside him. When Luke entered, Dame Briton was exhibiting the gold +chain, reserved, in spite of her impatience, till she had cooked the +supper. + +It was partly on account of this chain that Luke had made such haste in +coming. He felt interested in the fortunes of the family to-night, and +he knew Briton's habit of bargaining and throwing away treasure. + +Clarice was standing on the hearth when he arrived. As Luke passed the +window, he thought her face looked very sad; but when he crossed the +threshold, the expression greatly changed, or else he was mistaken. She +had been telling her father how she found the chain,--but concerning the +ring was silent, as in the morning. That ring was still fastened to its +cord, and hung about her neck. With reluctance she had shown it even +to her mother, and by this time, having scarcely thought of anything +beside, it possessed an almost sacred charm to her eyes. Why should I +not say it was the most sacred of all things to her, since that is but +true? + +"Is that the chain," asked Luke, as he came up behind the fisherman's +chair, and clapped Old Briton on the shoulder. "You could trade that for +a silver watch." + +"What's that?" asked Briton, quickly taking up the lad's words; and he +pulled out his pewter watch and laid it on the table. "A silver watch?" +said he. + +"A silver watch, as good as ever run, for that gold chain. Just see how +fine it is!" + +"So, so!" said the fisherman, thoughtfully resting his rough chin in his +broad palm. That was his attitude, when, at home, he contemplated any +of those famous bargains which always turned out so differently from +anything that he anticipated. + +"Let Luke do the trading for ye," said Briton's wife, quickly +recognizing his symptoms. + +She looked from the lad to her daughter, and back again, five or six +times in a second,--seeing more than most people could have seen in +observation apparently so careless and superficial. + +"I kept a sharp look out, Clary, all day, but I saw nothing," said Luke, +going over to the hearth. + +"Nothing,--but," he added, she looked so disappointed, "but, for all +that, some one else may." + +"Oh, I hope so"!" + +"What are you talking about?" asked Briton. + +"The shipwreck," said Luke. + +"Oh!--well, Luke,--will you make the trade, Sir? What do _you_ say, +Clarice? The chain belongs to you, after all," said Briton, with a +laugh,--he could not help the shipwreck. "What are you going to do with +it, my girl?" + +"It is yours, father." + +"Thank ye!--a present!" Old Briton looked well pleased. + +"And if Luke will take it over"-- + +"I'll go to-night," said Luke, ready to start that moment, if such was +the wish of any person in the house. + +Briton laughed. "No, you won't," said he. "What the deuse!--Sit down and +take something. What are you all standing about for? Sit down. You shall +do the trading, Luke. There now, I've said it, and I hope you are all +easy." + +He laughed again; for he knew very well--he had often enough heard it +stated in full--the estimate set on his skill in making a bargain. + +"You haven't seen the ring yet?" said Dame Briton, quite kindly, now +that this matter was settled to her mind. "Where's the ring, Clarice?" + +Other eyes were on the girl besides those of her mother. Old Briton +pushed back his dish, and looked at Clarice. Luke was smiling. That +smile became joyful and beautiful to see, when Clarice, blushing, +removed the string from her neck and showed the ring. + +"That's neat," said Briton, turning the delicate ornament round and +round, examining its chaste workmanship admiringly. "I never saw a +pearl like that, Mother. What do you wear it round your neck for, +Clarice?--put it on your finger." + +Luke Merlyn had come to Briton's cabin to explain how matters stood +between him and Clarice, as well as to look after the other bargain. +Taking advantage of her hesitation, he now said,-- + +"She could not wear it at her work. And it's a token betwixt her and me. +_Heart and Hand_. Don't you see the letters? That's what they mean to +us." + +Luke spoke out so boldly, that Clarice ceased to tremble; and when he +took her hand and held it, she was satisfied to stand there and answer, +that the joined hands were a symbol of the united hearts. + +"What's that, old woman?" asked Briton, looking at his wife, as if for +an explanation. + +"Luke, what do you mean? Are you asking for Clarice?" inquired the dame. + +"Yes, Mrs. Briton." + +"That's right enough, old woman," said Briton; and strong approval, +together with some emotion, was in his voice. + +"Babes in arms, both of 'em! But a promise a'n't no hurt,"--was the +dame's comment. Neither was she quite unmoved, as she looked at the +young pair standing on the hearth; such another, her heart told her, was +not to be found in Diver's Bay. + +"Clarice is a good girl, Luke Merlyn," said Old Briton, solemnly. + +"She is so," confirmed the mother. "So take the ring there for your +token." + +Luke came forward and received the ring from Old Briton, and he laid the +string that held it round Clarice's neck. + +"Take this chain," said Briton, with a softened voice. "It's fitter than +the string, and none too good for Clarice. Take it, Luke, and put the +ring on't." + +"I'm going to trade that chain for a silver watch," said Luke, answering +according to the light he saw in the eyes of Clarice. "That chain is +Clary's wedding present to her father." + +"Thank you, Luke," said Briton,--and he drew his hand across his eyes, +not for a pretence. Then he took up his old pewter watch, the companion +of many years; he looked at it without and within, silently; perhaps was +indulging in a little sentimental reflection; but he put it into his +pocket without speaking, and went on with his supper, as if nothing had +happened. + + * * * * * + +This took place before Clarice was fourteen years of age. At seventeen +she was still living under her father's roof, and between her and Luke +Merlyn the pearl ring still remained a token. + +Luke used to praise her beauty when there was little of it to praise. +He was not blinder when the young face began to be conspicuous for the +growing loveliness of the spirit within. The little slender figure +sprang up into larger, fuller life, with vigor, strength, and grace; the +activity of her thoughts and the brightness of their intelligence became +evident, as well as the tenderness and courage of her heart. Her own +home, and many another, was the better for Clarice. + +Some Sunday in this summer of her seventeenth year, when the missionary +came down to the Bay, they were to be married. It was settled where they +were to live. A few years before, a young artist came to the Bay and +built a cabin near the settlement; there, during the summer months, he +lodged, for several seasons,--spending his time in studying the rocks +of the coast and sailing about in his pleasure-boat. The last autumn he +spent here he gave the cabin to Luke, in consideration of some generous +service, and it was well known that to this home Luke would bring his +wife ere long. + + +III. + +But one bright day of this gay summer of anticipated bridal, Luke Merlyn +went with his father, taking the fishing-nets, and a dozen men beside +sailed or rowed out from the moorings; and all that went returned, save +Merlyn and his son,--returned alive, but rowing desperately, sails +furled, rowing for life in the gale. Nearly all the women and children +of the Bay were down on the beach at nightfall, watching for the coming +of husband, son, and brother; and before dark all had arrived except +Merlyn and his Luke. + +The wind was blowing with terrific violence, and darkness fell on the +deep like despair. But until the windows of heaven were opened, and the +floods poured down, Clarice Briton and her father, and the wife and +children of Merlyn, stood on the beach, or climbed the rocks, and waited +and tried to watch. + +There was little sleep among them all that night. With the first +approach of day, Clarice, who had sat all night by the fire watching +with her fears, was out again waiting till dawn should enable her +to search the shore. She was not long alone. The fishermen gathered +together, and when they saw the poor girl who had come before them, for +her sake they comforted each other, as men dare,--and for her sake, more +than their own, when they saw that there had come in to shore by night +no token of disaster. Doubtless, they argued, Merlyn had put into the +nearest port when the sudden storm arose. As the day advanced, they one +after another got out their boats, and rowed down the bay, but did not +take their nets. + +Bondo Emmins went out with Old Briton, and Clarice heard him say, though +he did not address her, that, if Luke Merlyn was alive, they would never +come home without him. Now Bondo Emmins never loved Luke Merlyn, for +Luke won every prize that Bondo coveted; and Bondo was not a hero to +admire such superior skill. When Clarice heard his words, and saw that +he was going out with her father, her heart stood still; it did not +bless him; she turned away quickly, faint, cold, shivering. What he said +had to her ears the sound of an assurance that this search was vain. + +All day there was sad waiting, weary watching, around Diver's Bay. And +late in the afternoon but one or two of the boats that went out in +search had returned. + +Towards evening Clarice walked away to the Point, three miles off; +thence she could watch the boats as they approached the Bay from the +ocean. Once before, that day, under the scorching noontide sun, she had +gone thither,--and now again, for she could not endure the sympathy of +friends or the wondering watch of curious eyes. It was better than to +stand and wait,--better than to face the grief of Merlyn's wife and +children,--better than to see the pity in her neighbors' faces, or even +than to hear the voice of her own mother. + +The waves had freight for her that evening. When the tide came in, and +her eyes were lifted, gazing afar, scanning the broad expanse of water +with such searching, anxious vision, as, it seemed, nothing could +escape, Luke Merlyn's cap was dashed to her very feet, tossed from the +grave. + +Moving back to escape the encroaching tide, Clarice saw the cap lying, +caught on the cragged point of rock before her. Oh, she knew it well! +She stooped,--she took it up,--she need not wait for any other token. +She dared not look upon the sea again. She turned away. But whither? +Where now was her home? So long a time, since she was a child, it had +been in the heart of Luke! Where was that heart lying? What meant this +token sent to her from the deep sea? Oh, life and love! was not all now +over? Heart still, hand powerless, home lost, she sat on the beach till +night fell. At sunset she stood up to look once more up and down the +mighty field of waters, along the shore, as far as her eyes could +reach,--but saw nothing. Then she sat down again, and waited until long +after the stars appeared. Once or twice the thought that her mother +would wonder at her long absence moved her; but she impatiently +controlled the feeble impulse to arise and return, until she recalled +the words of Bondo Emmins. Luke's mother, too,--and the cap in her care. +If no one else had tidings for her, she had tidings. + +Her father had reached home before her, and there was now no watcher on +the beach, so far as Clarice could discover. Perhaps there was no longer +any doubt in any mind. She hurried to the cabin. At the door she met +Bondo Emmins coming out. He had a lantern in his hand. + +"Is that you, Clarice?" said he. "I was just going to look for you." + +She scanned his face by the glare of the lantern with terrible +eagerness, to see what tidings he had for her. He only looked grave. It +was a face whose signs Clarice had never wholly trusted, but she did not +doubt them now. + +"I have found his cap," said she, in a low, troubled voice. "You said, +that, if he was alive, you would find him. I heard you. What have you +found?" + +"Nothing." + +Then she passed by him, though he would have spoken further. She went +into the house and sat down on the hearth with Luke's cap in her hand, +which she held up before the fire to dry. So she sat one morning holding +the tiny basket which the waves had dashed ashore. + +Briton and his wife looked at each other, and at young Emmins, who, +after a moment's hesitation, had put out the lantern light, and followed +her back into the house. + +"It is his cap," said Bondo, in a low voice, but not so low as to escape +the ear of Clarice. + +"The sea sent it for a token," said she, without turning her gaze from +the fire. + +The old people moved up to the hearth. + +"Sit down, Emmins," said Briton. "You've served us well to-day." In any +trouble Old Briton's comfort was in feeling a stout wall of flesh around +him. + +Bondo sat down. Then he and Briton helped each other explain the course +taken by themselves and the other boat-men that day, and they talked of +what they would do on the morrow; but they failed to comfort Clarice, +or to awaken in her any hope. She knew that in reality they had no hope +themselves. + +"They will never come back," said she. "You will never find them." + +She spoke so calmly that her father was deceived. If this was her +conviction, it would be safe to speak his own. + +"The tide may bring the poor fellows in," said he. + +At these words the cap which the poor girl held fell from her hand. +She spoke no more. No word or cry escaped her,--not by a look did she +acknowledge that there was community in this grief,--as solitary as if +she were alone in the universe, she sat gazing into the fire. She was +not overcome by things external, tangible, as she had been when she sat +alone out on the sea-beach at the Point. The world in an instant seemed +to sink out of her vision, and time from her consciousness; her soul set +out on a search in which her mortal sense had failed,--and here no arm +of flesh could help her. + +"I shall find him," she said, in a whisper. They all heard her, and +looked at one another, trouble and wonder in their faces. "I shall find +him," she repeated, in a louder tone; and she drew herself up, and bent +forward,--but her eyes saw not the cheerful fire-light, her ears took +in no sound of crackling fagot, rising wind, or muttered fear among the +three who sat and looked at her. + +Bondo Emmins had taken up the cap when Clarice dropped it,--he had +examined it inside and out, and passed it to Dame Briton. There was +no mistaking the ownership. Not a child of Diver's Bay but would have +recognized it as the property of Luke Merlyn. The dame passed it to the +old man, who looked at it through tears, and then smoothed it over his +great fist, and came nearer to the fire, and silence fell upon them all. + +At last Dame Briton said, beginning stoutly, but ending with a sob, "Has +anybody seen poor Merlyn's wife? Who'll tell her? Oh! oh!" + +"I will go tell her that Clarice found the cap," said Bondo Emmins, +rising. + +Clarice sat like one in a stupor,--but, that was no dull light shining +from her eyes. Still she seemed deaf and dumb; for, when Bondo bade her +good-night, she did not answer him, nor give the slightest intimation +that she was aware of what passed around her. + +But when he was gone, and her father said,--"Come, Clarice,--now for +bed,--you'll wake the earlier,"--she instantly arose to act on his +suggestion. + +He followed her to the door of her little chamber and lingered there a +moment. He wanted to say something for comfort, but had nothing to say; +so he turned away in silence, and drank a pint of grog. + + +IV. + +Bondo Emmins was not a native of Diver's Bay. Only during the past three +or four years had he lived among the fishermen. He called the place his +home, but now and then indications of restlessness escaped him, and +seemed to promise years of wandering, rather than a life of patient, +contented industry. He and Luke Merlyn were as unlike as any two young +men that ever fished in the same bay. Luke was as firm, constant, +reliable, from the day when he first managed a net, as any veteran whose +gray hairs are honorable. Emmins flashed here and there like a wandering +star; and whatever people might say of him when he was out of sight, he +had the art of charming them to admiration while they were under his +personal influence. He was lavish with his money; almost every cabin had +a gift from him. He could talk forever, and with many was a true oracle. +Though he worked regularly at his business, work seemed turned to play +when he took it in hand. He could shout so as to be heard across the +ocean,--so the children thought; he told stories better than any; and at +the signal of his laughter it seemed as if the walls themselves would +shake to pieces. When he hit on a device, it was strange indeed if +he did not succeed in executing it; and no one was the wiser for the +mortification and inward displeasure of the man, when he failed in any +enterprise. + +When Emmins came to Diver's Bay Clarice Briton was but a child, yet +already the promised wife of Luke Merlyn. If this fact was made known +to him, as very probably it was, Clarice was not a girl to excite his +admiration or win his love. But as time passed on, Emmins found that he +was not the only man in Diver's Bay; of all men to regard as a rival, +there was Luke Merlyn! Luke, who went quietly about his business, +interfering with no one, careful, brave, exact, had a firm place among +the people, which might for a time be overshadowed, but from which he +could not be moved. Two or three times Bondo Emmins stumbled against +that impregnable position, and found that he must take himself out of +the way. A small jealousy, a sharp rivalry, which no one suspected, +quietly sprang up in his mind, and influenced his conduct; and he was +not one who ever attempted to subdue or destroy what he found within +him, he was instead always endeavoring to bring the outer world +into harmony with what he found within. A fine time he had of it, +persistently laboring to make a victim of himself to himself! + +People praised Clarice Briton, and now and then Emmins looked that way, +and saw that the girl, indeed, was well enough. He despised Luke, and +Clarice seemed a very proper match for him. But while Bondo Emmins was +managing in his own way, and cherishing the feeling he had against Luke, +by seeking to prove himself the braver and more skilful fellow, Clarice +was growing older in years and in love, her soul was growing brighter, +her heart was getting lighter, her mind clearer,--her womanhood was +unfolding in a certain lovely manner that was discernible to other eyes +than those of Luke Merlyn. Luke said it was the ring that wrought the +change,--that he could see its light all around her,--that it had a +charm of which they could know nothing save by its results, for its +secret had perished with its owner in the sea. His mermaid he would +sometimes call her,--and declared that often, by that mysterious pearly +light, he saw Clarice when far out at sea, and that at any time by two +words he could bring her to him. She knew the words,--they were as dear +to her as to him. + +While Clarice was thus unfolding to this loveliness through love, Bondo +Emmins suddenly saw her as if for the first time. The vision was to him +as surprising as if the ring had indeed a power of enchantment, and +it had been thrown around him. He was as active and as resolute in +attempting to persuade himself that all this was nothing to him as +he was active and resolute in other endeavors,--but he was not as +successful as he supposed he should be. For it was not enough that +Emmins should laugh at himself, and say that the pretty couple were +meant for each other. Now and then, by accident, he obtained a glimpse +of Clarice's happy heart; the pearl-like secret of their love, which was +none the less a secret because everybody knew that Luke and Clarice were +to be married some day, would sometimes of itself unexpectedly give some +token, which he, it seemed, could better appreciate than any one beside +the parties concerned. When some such glimpse was obtained, some such +token received, Bondo Emmins would retire within himself to a most +gloomy seclusion; there was a world which had been conquered, and +therein he had no foothold. If Clarice wore the pearl in her bosom, on +Luke's head was a crown, and Bondo Emmins just hated him for that. + +But he never thought of a very easy method by which he might have +escaped the trouble of his jealousy. The great highway of ocean was open +before him, and millions of men beside Luke Merlyn were in the world, +millions of women beside Clarice Briton. No! Diver's Bay,--and a score +of people,--and a thought that smelt like brimstone, and fiery enough +to burn through the soul that tried to keep it,--this for +him;--fishing,--making bargains,--visiting at Old Briton's,--making +presents to the dame,--telling stories, singing songs by that fireside, +and growing quieter by every other,--that was the way he did it;--cured +himself of jealousy? No! made himself a fool. + +Old Briton liked this young man; he could appreciate his excellences +even better than he could those of Luke; there were some points +of resemblance between them. Emmins was as careless of money, as +indifferent to growing rich, as Briton ever was; the virtues of the +youth were not such as ever reproached the vices of the veteran. They +could make boisterous merriment in each other's company. Briton's praise +was never lacking when Bondo's name was mentioned. He accepted service +of the youth, and the two were half the time working in partnership. In +the cabin he had always a welcome, and Dame Briton gave him her entire +confidence. + +Luke did not fear, he had once admired the man; and because he was a +peace-maker by nature, and could himself keep the peace, he never took +any of Bondo's scathing speech in anger nor remembered it against him. +Usually he joined in the laugh, unless some brave, manly word were +required; honorable in his nature, he could not be always jealous in +maintaining that of which he felt so secure. + +If Clarice did not penetrate the cause, she clearly saw the fact that +Bondo Emmins had no love for Luke. She might wonder at it, but Luke +suffered no loss in consequence,--it was rather to his praise, she +thought, that this was so. And she remembered the disputes between the +young men which she had chanced to hear, only to decide again, as she +had often decided, in favor of Luke's justice and truth. + +When the time of great trouble came, and this man was going out with her +father in search of Merlyn and his son, her impulse, had she acted on +it, would have prevented him. He looked so strong, so proud, in spite +of his solemn face! He looked so full of life, she could not endure to +think that his eyes might discover the dead body of poor Luke. + +When she came home and found that he had returned with her father, +before her, on the evening of that day of vain search for Merlyn and his +son, a strange satisfaction came to Clarice for a moment,--touched her +heart and passed,--was gone as it came. When she said, "I shall find +him," conviction, as well as determination, was in the words,--and more +beside than entered the ears of those that heard her. + +[To be continued.] + + + + +THE STORY OF KARIN. + +A DANISH LEGEND. + + + Karin the fair, Karin the gay, + She came on the morn of her bridal day,-- + + She came to the mill-pond clear and bright, + And viewed hersel' in the morning light. + + "And oh," she cried, "that my bonny brow + May ever be white and smooth as now! + + "And oh, my hair, that I love to braid, + Be yellow in sunshine, and brown in shade! + + "And oh, my waist, sae slender and fine, + May it never need girdle longer than mine!" + + She lingered and laughed o'er the waters clear, + When sudden she starts, and shrieks in fear:-- + + "Oh, what is this face, sae laidly old, + That looks at my side in the waters cold?" + + She turns around to view the bank, + And the osier willows dark and dank;-- + + And from the fern she sees arise + An aged crone wi' awsome eyes, + + "Ha! ha!" she laughed, "ye're a bonny bride! + See how ye'll fare gin the New Year tide! + + "Ye'll wear a robe sae blithely gran', + An ell-long girdle canna span. + + "When twal-months three shall pass away, + Your berry-brown hair shall be streaked wi' gray. + + "And gin ye be mither of bairnies nine, + Your brow shall be wrinkled and dark as mine." + + Karin she sprang to her feet wi' speed, + And clapped her hands abune her head:-- + + "I pray to the saints and spirits all + That never a child may me mither call!" + + The crone drew near, and the crone she spake:-- + "Nine times flesh and banes shall ache. + + "Laidly and awsome ye shall wane + Wi' toil, and care, and travail-pain." + + "Better," said Karin, "lay me low, + And sink for aye in the water's flow!" + + The crone raised her withered hand on high, + And showed her a tree that stood hard by. + + "And take of the bonny fruit," she said, + "And eat till the seeds are dark and red. + + "Count them less, or count them more, + Nine times you shall number o'er;-- + + "And when each number you shall speak, + Cast seed by seed into the lake." + + Karin she ate of the fruit sae fine; + 'Twas mellow as sand, and sweet as brine. + + Seed by seed she let them fall; + The waters rippled over all. + + But ilka seed as Karin threw, + Uprose a bubble to her view,-- + + Uprose a sigh from out the lake, + As though a baby's heart did break. + + * * * * * + + Twice nine years are come and gone; + Karin the fair she walks her lone. + + She sees around, on ilka side, + Maiden and mither, wife and bride. + + Wan and pale her bonny brow, + Sunken and sad her eyelids now. + + Slow her step, and heavy her breast, + And never an arm whereon to rest. + + The old kirk-porch when Karin spied, + The postern-door was open wide. + + "Wae's me!" she said, "I'll enter in + And shrive me from my every sin." + + 'Twas silence all within the kirk; + The aisle was empty, chill, and mirk. + + The chancel-rails were black and bare; + Nae priest, nae penitent was there. + + Karin knelt, and her prayer she said; + But her heart within her was heavy and dead. + + Her prayer fell back on the cold gray stone; + It would not rise to heaven alone. + + Darker grew the darksome aisle, + Colder felt her heart the while. + + "Wae's me!" she cried, "what is my sin? + Never I wronged kith nor kin. + + "But why do I start and quake wi' fear + Lest I a dreadful doom should hear? + + "And what is this light that seems to fall + On the sixth command upon the wall? + + "And who are these I see arise + And look on me wi' stony eyes? + + "A shadowy troop, they flock sae fast + The kirk-yard may not hold the last. + + "Young and old of ilk degree, + Bairns, and bairnies' bairns, I see. + + "All I look on either way, + 'Mother, mother!' seem to say. + + "'We are souls that might have been, + But for your vanity and sin. + + "'We, in numbers multiplied, + Might have lived, and loved, and died,-- + + "'Might have served the Lord in this,-- + Might have met thy soul in bliss. + + "'Mourn for us, then, while you pray, + Who might have been, but never may!'" + + Thus the voices died away,-- + "Might have been, but never may!" + + Karin she left the kirk no more; + Never she passed the postern-door. + + They found her dead at the vesper toll;-- + May Heaven in mercy rest her soul! + + + + +THE ABBE DE L'EPEE. + + +It was well said, by one who has himself been a leader in one of the +great philanthropic enterprises of the day,[A] that, "if the truthful +history of any invention were written, we should find concerned in it +the thinker, who dreams, without reaching the means of putting his +imaginings in practice,--the mathematician, who estimates justly the +forces at command, in their relation to each other, but who forgets to +proportion them to the resistance to be encountered,--and so on, through +the thousand intermediates between the dream and the perfect idea, till +one comes who combines the result of the labor of all his predecessors, +and gives to the invention new life, and with it his name." + +[Footnote A: M. Edouard Seguin.] + +Such was the history of the movement for the education of deaf-mutes. +There had been a host of dreamy thinkers, who had invented, on paper, +processes for the instruction of these unfortunates, men like Cardan, +Bonet, Amman, Dalgarno, and Lana-Terzi, whose theories, in after years, +proved seeds of thought to more practical minds. There had been men +who had experimented on the subject till they were satisfied that +the deaf-mute could be taught, but who lacked the nerve, or the +philanthropy, to apply the results they had attained to the general +instruction of the deaf and dumb, or who carefully concealed their +processes, that they might leave them as heir-looms to their +families;--among the former may be reckoned Pedro de Ponce, Wallis, and +Pietro da Castro; among the latter, Pereira and Braidwood. + +Yet there was wanting the man of earnest philanthropic spirit and +practical tact, who should glean from all these whatever of good there +was in their theories, and apply it efficiently in the education of +those who through all the generations since the flood had been dwellers +in the silent land, cut off from intercourse with their fellow-men, and +consigned alike by the philosopher's dictum and the theologian's decree +to the idiot's life and the idiot's destiny. + +It was to such a work that the Abbe de l'Epee consecrated his life. But +he did more than this; he, too, was a discoverer, and to his mind was +revealed, in all its fulness and force, that great principle which lies +at the basis of the system of instruction which he initiated,--"that +there is no more necessary or natural connection between abstract ideas +and the articulate sounds which strike the ear, than there is between +the same ideas and the written characters which address themselves to +the eye." It was this principle, derided by the many, dimly perceived by +the few, which led to the development of _the sign-language_, the means +which God had appointed to unlock the darkened understanding of the +deaf-mute, but which man, in his self-sufficiency and blindness, had +over-looked. + +It is interesting to trace the history of such a man,--to know something +of his childhood,--to learn under what influences he was reared, to what +temptations exposed,--to see the guiding hand of Providence shaping his +course, subjecting him to the discipline of trial, thwarting his most +cherished projects, crushing his fondest hopes, and all, that by these +manifold crosses he may be the better prepared for the place for which +God has destined him. We regret that so little is recorded of this truly +great and good man, but we will lay that little before our readers. + +Charles Michel de l'Epee was born at Versailles, November 5th, 1712. His +father, who held the post of Architect to the King, in an age remarkable +above any other in French history for the prevalence of immorality, +which even the refinement and pretended sanctity of the court and +nobility could not disguise, was a man of deep piety and purity of +character. Amid the lust, selfishness, and hypocrisy of the age, +he constantly sought to impress upon the minds of his children the +importance of truthfulness, the moderation of desire, reverence for God, +and love for their fellow-men. + +To the young Charles Michel compliance with the behests of such a parent +was no difficult task; naturally amiable and obedient, the instructions +of his father sunk deep into his heart. At an early age, he manifested +that love of goodness which made every form of vice utterly distasteful +to him; and in after years, when he heard of the struggles of those who, +with more violent passions or less careful parental training, sought to +lead the Christian life, his own pure and peaceful experience seemed +to him wanting in perfection, because he had so seldom been called to +contend with temptation. + +As manhood approached, and he was required to fix upon a profession, his +heart instinctively turned toward a clerical life, not, as was the case +with so many of the young priests of that day, for its honors, its +power, or its emoluments, but because, in that profession, he might +the better fulfil the earnest desire of his heart to do good to his +fellow-men. He accordingly commenced the study of theology. Here all +went well for a time; but when he sought admission to deacon's orders, +he was met by unexpected opposition. To a pious mind, like that of young +De l'Epee, the consistent and Scriptural views of the Jansenists, not +less than their pure and virtuous lives, were highly attractive, and +through the influence of a clerical friend, a nephew of the celebrated +Bossuet, he had been led to examine and adopt them. The diocesan to whom +he applied for deacon's orders was a Jesuit, and, before he would admit +him, he required him to sign a formula of doctrine which was abhorrent +alike to his reason and his conscience. He refused at once, and, on his +refusal, his application was rejected; and though subsequently admitted +to the diaconate, he was insultingly told by his superior, that he need +not aspire to any higher order, for it should not be granted. + +It was with a saddened heart that he found himself thus compelled to +forego long cherished hopes of usefulness. With that glowing imagination +which characterized him even in old age, he had looked forward to the +time when, as the curate of some retired parish, he might encourage the +devout, reprove and control the erring, and, by his example, counsel, +and prayers, so mould and influence the little community, that it should +seem another Eden. But an overruling Providence had reserved for him a +larger field of usefulness, a more extended mission of mercy, and it was +through the path of trial that he was to be led to it. + +Regarding it as his duty to employ his time, he at length determined +to enter the legal profession. He passed with rapidity through the +preliminary course of study, and was admitted to the bar. The practice +of the law was not, at that time, in France, nor is it, indeed, now, +invested with the high character attaching to it in England. Its +codes and rules bore the impress of a barbarous age; and among its +practitioners, fraud, artifice, and chicanery were the rule, and honesty +the rare and generally unfortunate exception. + +For such a profession the pure-minded De l'Epee found himself entirely +unfitted, and, abandoning it with loathing, his eyes and heart were +again directed toward the profession of his choice, and, this time, +apparently not in vain. His early friend, M. de Bossuet, had been +elevated to the see of Troyes, and, knowing his piety and zeal, offered +him a canonry in his cathedral, and admitted him to priest's orders. +The desire of his heart was now gratified, and he entered upon his new +duties with the utmost ardor. "In all the diocese of Troyes," says one +of his contemporaries, "there was not so faithful a priest." + +But his hopes were soon to be blasted. Monseigneur de Bossuet died, and, +as the Jansenist controversy was at its height, his old enemies, the +Jesuits, exerted their influence with the Archbishop of Paris, and +procured an interdict, prohibiting him from ever again exercising the +functions of the priesthood. + +A severer blow could scarcely have fallen upon him. He sought not for +honor, he asked not for fame or worldly renown; he had only desired to +be useful, to do good to his fellow-men; and now, just as his hopes were +budding into fruition, just as some results of his faithful labors were +beginning to appear, all were cut off by the keen breath of adversity. + +It was while suffering from depression, at his unjust exclusion from +the duties of his calling, that his attention was first directed to the +unfortunate class to whom he was to be the future evangelist, or bringer +of good tidings. Bebian thus relates the incident which led him to +undertake the instruction of the deaf and dumb:-- + +"He happened one day to enter a house, where he found two young females +engaged in needlework, which seemed to occupy their whole attention. He +addressed them, but received no answer. Somewhat surprised at this, he +repeated his question; but still there was no reply; they did not even +lift their eyes from the work before them. In the midst of the Abbe's +wonder at this apparent rudeness, their mother entered the room, and +the mystery was at once explained. With tears she informed him that +her daughters were deaf and dumb; that they had received, by means +of pictures, a little instruction from Father Farnin, a benevolent +ecclesiastic of the order of "Christian Brothers," in the neighborhood; +but that he was now dead, and her poor children were left without any +one to aid their intellectual progress.--'Believing,' said the Abbe, +'that these two unfortunates would live and die in ignorance of +religion, if I made no effort to instruct them, my heart was filled with +compassion, and I promised, that, if they were committed to my charge, I +would do all for them that I was able.'" + +It was in 1755 that the Abbe de l'Epee thus entered upon his great +mission. Six years before, Jacob Rodriguez de Pereira had come from +Spain, and exhibited some deaf and dumb pupils whom he had taught, +before the Academy of Sciences. They were able to speak indifferently +well, and had attained a moderate degree of scientific knowledge. +Pereira himself was a man of great learning, of the most agreeable and +fascinating manners, and possessed, in a high degree, that tact and +address in which the Spanish Jews have never been surpassed. He soon +made a very favorable impression upon the court, and led a pleasant life +in the society of the literary men of the age. During his residence in +France, he taught some five or six mutes of high rank to speak and to +make considerable attainments in science,--charging for this service +most princely fees, and at the same time binding his pupils to perfect +secrecy in regard to his methods, which it was his intention to +bequeathe to his family. This intention was thwarted, however, soon +after his death, by a fire which destroyed nearly all his papers, and to +this day his method has remained a secret, unknown even to his children. +It is certain, however, that he made no use of the sign-language, though +there is some evidence that he invented and practised a system of +syllabic dactylology. Of this, the only successful effort which, up to +that time, had been made in France, to teach deaf-mutes, it is obvious +that De l'Epee could have known nothing, save the fact that it +demonstrated the capacity of some of this class to receive instruction. +It is, indeed, certain, from his own statements, that, at the time of +commencing his labors, he had no knowledge of any works on the subject. +He had somewhere picked up the manual alphabet invented by Bonet in +1620; and in subsequent years he derived some advantages from the works +of Cardan, Bonet, Amman, Wallis, and Dalgarno. + +It was well for the deaf and dumb that he entered upon his work thus +untrammelled by any preconceived theory; for he was thus prepared to +adopt, without prejudice, whatever might facilitate the great object +for which he labored. "I have not," he said, in a letter to Pereira, in +which he challenged an open comparison of their respective systems of +instruction, promising to adopt his, should it prove to be better than +his own,--"I have not the silly pride of desiring to be an inventor; +I only wish to do something for the benefit of the deaf-mutes of all +coming ages." + +We have already adverted to the great principle which lay at the +foundation of his system of instruction. The corollary deduced from +this, that the idea was substantive, and had an existence separate +from and independent of all words, written or spoken, was a startling +proposition in those days, however harmless we may now regard it. +But, convinced of its truth, De l'Epee set to himself the problem of +discovering how this _idea_ could be presented to the mind of the mute +without words; and in their gestures and signs he found his problem +solved. Henceforth, the way, though long and tedious, was plain before +him. To extend, amplify, and systematize this language of signs was his +task. How well he accomplished his work, the records of Deaf and Dumb +Institutions, in Europe and America, testify. Others have entered into +his labors and greatly enlarged the range of sign-expression,--modified +and improved, perhaps, many of its forms; but, because Lord Rosse's +telescope exceeds in power and range the little three-foot tube of +Galileo Galilei, shall we therefore despise the Italian astronomer? To +say that his work, or that of the Abbe De l'Epee, was not perfect, is +only to say that they were mortals like ourselves. + +But it is not only, or mainly, as a philosopher, that we would present +the Abbe De l'Epee to our readers, he was far more than this; he was, in +the highest sense of the word, a philanthropist. While Pereira, in the +liberal compensation he received from French nobles for the instruction +of their mute children, laid the foundation of that fortune by means of +which his grandsons are now enabled to rank with the most eminent of +French financiers, De l'Epee devoted his time and his entire patrimony +to the education of indigent deaf-mutes. His school, which was soon +quite large, was conducted solely at his own expense, and, as his +fortune was but moderate, he was compelled to practise the most careful +economy; yet he would never receive gifts from the wealthy, nor admit to +his instructions their deaf and dumb children. "It is not to the rich," +he would say, "that I have devoted myself; it is to the poor only. Had +it not been for _these_, I should never have attempted the education of +the deaf and dumb." + +In 1780, he was waited upon by the ambassador of the Empress of Russia, +who congratulated him on his success, and tendered him, in her name, +valuable gifts. "Mr. Ambassador," was the reply of the noble old man, "I +never receive money; but have the goodness to say to her Majesty, that, +if my labors have seemed to her worthy of any consideration, I ask, as +an especial favor, that she will send to me from her dominions some +ignorant deaf and dumb child, that I may instruct him." + +When Joseph II., of Austria, visited Paris, he sought out De l'Epee, +and offered him the revenues of one of his estates. To this liberal +proposition the Abbe replied: "Sire, I am now an old man. If your +Majesty desires to confer any gift, upon the deaf and dumb, it is not my +head, already bent towards the grave, that should receive it, but the +good work itself. It is worthy of a great prince to preserve whatever is +useful to mankind." The Emperor, acting upon his suggestion, soon after +sent one of his ecclesiastics to Paris, who, on receiving the necessary +instruction from De l'Epee, established at Vienna the first national +institution for the deaf and dumb. + +A still more striking instance of the self-denial to which his love for +his little flock prompted him is related by Bebian. During the severe +winter of 1788, the Abbe, already in his seventy-seventh year, denied +himself a fire in his apartment, and refused to purchase fuel for this +purpose, lest he should exceed the moderate sum which necessarily +limited the annual expenditure of his establishment. All the +remonstrances of his friends were unavailing; his pupils at length cast +themselves at his feet, and with tears besought him to allow himself +this indulgence, for their sake, if not for his own. Their importunities +finally prevailed; but for a long time he manifested the greatest regret +that he had yielded, often saying, mournfully, "My poor children, I have +wronged you of a hundred crowns!" + +That this deep and abiding affection was fully reciprocated by those +whom he had rescued from a life of helpless wretchedness was often +manifested. He always called them his children, and, indeed, his +relation to them had more of the character of the parent than of the +teacher. On one occasion, not long before his decease, in one of his +familiar conversations with them, he let fall a remark which implied +that his end might be approaching. Though he had often before spoken of +death, yet the idea that _he_ could thus be taken from them had never +entered their minds, and a sudden cry of anguish told how terrible to +them was the thought. Pressing around him, with sobs and wailing, they +laid hold of his garments, as if to detain him from the last long +journey. Himself affected to tears by these tokens of their love for +him, the good Abbe succeeded, at length, in calming their grief; he +spoke to them of death as being, to the good, only the gate which +divides us from heaven; reminded them that the separation, if they were +the friends of God, though painful, would be temporary; that he should +go before them, and await their coming, and that, once reunited, no +further separation would ever occur; while there the tongue would be +unloosed, the ear unsealed, and they would be enabled to enjoy the music +as well as the glories of heaven. Thus quieted, with chastened grief +came holy aspiration; and it is not unreasonable to hope that the world +of bliss, in after years, witnessed the meeting of many of these poor +children with their sainted teacher. + +It is interesting to observe the humility of such a man. The praises +lavished on him seemed not in any way to elate him; and he invariably +refused any commendation for his labors: "He that planteth is nothing, +neither he that watereth, but God, who giveth the increase," was his +reply to one who congratulated him on the success which had attended his +labors. + +With one incident more we must close this "record of a good man's life." +Some years after the opening of his school for deaf-mutes, a deaf and +dumb boy, who had been found wandering in the streets of Paris, was +brought to him. With that habitual piety which was characteristic of +him, De l'Epee received the boy as a gift from Heaven, and accordingly +named him Theodore. The new comer soon awakened an unusual interest +in the mind of the good Abbe. Though dressed in rags when found, his +manners and habits showed that he had been reared in refinement and +luxury. But, until he had received some education, he could give no +account of himself; and the Abbe, though satisfied that he had been the +victim of some foul wrong, held his peace, till the mental development +of his _protege_ should enable him to describe his early home. Years +passed, and, as each added to his intelligence, young Theodore was able +to call to mind more and more of the events of childhood. He remembered +that his ancestral home had been one of great magnificence, in a large +city, and that he had been taken thence, stripped of his rich apparel, +clothed in rags, and left in the streets of Paris. The Abbe determined, +at once, to attempt to restore his _protege_ to the rights of which he +had been so cruelly defrauded; but, being himself too infirm to attempt +the journey, he sent the youth, with his steward, and a fellow-pupil +named Didier, to make the tour of all the cities of France till they +should find the home of Theodore. Long and weary was their journey, and +it was not till after having visited almost all of the larger cities, +that they found that the young mute recognized in Toulouse the city of +his birth. Each of its principal streets was evidently familiar to him, +and at length, with a sudden cry, he pointed out a splendid mansion as +his former home. It was found to be the palace of the Count de Solar. +On subsequent inquiry, it appeared that the heir of the estate had been +deaf and dumb; that some years before he had been taken to Paris, and +was said to have died there. The dates corresponded exactly with the +appearance of young Theodore in Paris. As soon as possible, the Abbe +and the Duke de Penthievre commenced a lawsuit, which resulted in the +restoration of Theodore to his title and property. The defeated party +appealed to the Parliament, and, by continuing the case till after the +death of the Abbe and the Duke, succeeded in obtaining a reversal of the +decision, and the declaration that the claimant was an impostor. Stung +with disappointment at the blighting of his hopes, young Theodore +enlisted in the army, and was slain in his first battle. + +The Abbe de l'Epee died at Paris on the 23d of December, 1789, in the +seventy-eighth year of his age. Had he been spared two years longer, he +would have seen his school, the object of his fond cares, adopted by the +government, and decreed a national support. But though this act, and the +accompanying vote, which declared that it was "done in honor of Charles +Michel de l'Epee, _a man who deserved well of his country_," were +creditable to the National Assembly, and the people whom it represented, +yet we cannot but remember the troublous times that followed,--times in +which no public service, no private goodness, neither the veneration +due to age, the delicacy of womanhood, nor the winsome helplessness +of infancy, was any protection against the insensate vengeance of a +maddened people; and remembering this, we cannot regret that he whose +life had been so peaceful was laid in a quiet grave ere the coming of +the tempest. + +It is but justice, however, to the French people to say, that no name +in their history is heard with more veneration, or with more profound +demonstrations of love and gratitude, than that of the Abbe de l'Epee. +In 1843, the citizens of Versailles, his birth-place, erected a bronze +statue in his honor; and the highest dignitaries of the state, amid the +acclamations of assembled thousands, eulogized his memory. In 1855, the +centennial anniversary of the establishment of his school for deaf-mutes +was celebrated at Paris, and was attended by delegations from most of +the Deaf and Dumb Institutions of Europe. + +But sixty-eight years have elapsed since the death of this noble +philanthropist, and, already, more than two hundred institutions for the +deaf and dumb have been established, on the system projected by him and +improved by his successors; and tens of thousands of mutes throughout +Christendom, in consequence of his generous and self-denying zeal, have +been trained for usefulness in this life, and many of them, we hope, +prepared for a blissful hereafter. To all these the name of the Abbe de +l'Epee has been one cherished in their heart of hearts; and, through +all the future, wherever the understanding of the deaf-mute shall be +enlightened by instruction, his memory shall be blessed. + + + + +WHO IS THE THIEF? + +(_Extracted from the Correspondence of the London Police_.) + + +FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE, OF THE DETECTIVE POLICE, TO SERGEANT +BULMER, OF THE SAME FORCE. + +London, 4th July, 18--. + +Sergeant Bulmer, + +This is to inform you that you are wanted to assist in looking up a case +of importance, which will require all the attention of an experienced +member of the force. The matter of the robbery on which you are now +engaged you will please to shift over to the young man who brings you +this letter. You will tell him all the circumstances of the case, just +as they stand; you will put him up to the progress you have made (if +any) towards detecting the person or persons by whom the money has been +stolen; and you will leave him to make the best he can of the matter now +in your hands. He is to have the whole responsibility of the case, and +the whole credit of his success, if he brings it to a proper issue. + +So much for the orders that I am desired to communicate to you. A word +in your ear, next, about this new man who is to take your place. His +name is Matthew Sharpin; and between ourselves, Sergeant, I don't think +much of him. He has not served his time among the rank and file of the +force. You and I mounted up, step by step, to the places we now fill; +but this stranger, it seems, is to have the chance given him of dashing +into our office at one jump,--supposing he turns out strong enough to +take it. You will naturally ask me how he comes by this privilege. I can +only tell you, that he has some uncommonly strong interest to back him +in certain high quarters, which you and I had better not mention except +under our breaths. He has been a lawyer's clerk; and he looks, to my +mind, rather a mean, underhand sample of that sort of man. According to +his own account,--by the bye, I forgot to say that he is wonderfully +conceited in his opinion of himself, as well as mean and underhand to +look at,--according to his own account, he leaves his old trade and +joins ours of his own free will and preference. You will no more believe +that than I do. My notion is, that he has managed to ferret out some +private information, in connection with the affairs of one of his +master's clients, which makes him rather an awkward customer to keep in +the office for the future, and which, at the same time, gives him hold +enough over his employer to make it dangerous to drive him into a corner +by turning him away. I think the giving him this unheard-of chance among +us is, in plain words, pretty much like giving him hush-money to keep +him quiet. However that may be, Mr. Matthew Sharpin is to have the case +now in your hands; and if he succeeds with it, he pokes his ugly nose +into our office, as sure as fate. You have heard tell of some sad stuff +they have been writing lately in the newspapers, about improving the +efficiency of the Detective Police by mixing up a sharp lawyer's clerk +or two along with them. Well, the experiment is now going to be tried; +and Mr. Matthew Sharpin is the first lucky man who has been pitched on +for the purpose. We shall see how this precious move succeeds. I put +you up to it, Sergeant, so that you may not stand in your own light by +giving the new man any cause to complain of you at head-quarters, and +remain yours, + +Francis Theakstone. + + +FROM MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE. + +London, 5th July, 18--. + +Dear Sir, + +Having now been favored with the necessary instructions from Sergeant +Bulmer, I beg to remind you of certain directions which I have received, +relating to the report of my future proceedings, which I am to prepare +for examination at head-quarters. + +The document in question is to be addressed to you. It is to be not only +a daily report, but an hourly report as well, when circumstances may +require it. All statements which I send to you, in this way, you are, as +I understand, expected to examine carefully before you seal them up and +send them in to the higher authorities. The object of my writing and of +your examining what I have written is, I am informed, to give me, as an +untried hand, the benefit of your advice, in case I want it (which I +venture to think I shall not) at any stage of my proceedings. As the +extraordinary circumstances of the case on which I am now engaged make +it impossible for me to absent myself from the place where the robbery +was committed, until I have made some progress towards discovering the +thief, I am necessarily precluded from consulting you personally. Hence +the necessity of my writing down the various details, which might, +perhaps, be better communicated by word of mouth. This, if I am not +mistaken, is the position in which we are now placed. I state my own +impressions on the subject, in writing, in order that we may clearly +understand each other at the outset,--and have the honor to remain your +obedient servant, + +Matthew Sharpin. + + +FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN. + +London, 5th July, 18--. + +Sir, + +You have begun by wasting time, ink, and paper. We both of us perfectly +well knew the position we stood in towards each other, when I sent you +with my letter to Sergeant Bulmer. There was not the least need to +repeat it in writing. Be so good as to employ your pen, in future, on +the business actually in hand. You have now three separate matters +on which to write me. First, you have to draw up a statement of your +instructions received from Sergeant Bulmer, in order to show us that +nothing has escaped your memory, and that you are thoroughly acquainted +with all the circumstances of the case which has been entrusted to you. +Secondly, you are to inform me what it is you propose to do. Thirdly, +you are to report every inch of your progress, (if you make any,) from +day to day, and, if need be, from hour to hour as well. This is your +duty. As to what _my_ duty may be, when I want you to remind me of it, I +will write and tell you _so_. In the mean time I remain yours, + +Francis Theakstone. + + +FROM MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE. + +London, 6th July, 18--. + +Sir, + +You are rather an elderly person, and, as such, naturally inclined to be +a little jealous of men like me, who are in the prime of their lives +and their faculties. Under these circumstances, it is my duty to be +considerate towards you, and not to bear too hardly on your small +failings. I decline, therefore, altogether, to take offence at the tone +of your letter; I give you the full benefit of the natural generosity of +my nature; I sponge the very existence of your surly communication out +of my memory; in short, Chief Inspector Theakstone, I forgive you, and +proceed to business. + +My first duty is to draw up a full statement of the instructions I have +received from Sergeant Bulmer. Here they are at your service, according +to my version of them. + +At Number Thirteen, Rutherford Street, Soho, there is a stationer's +shop. It is kept by one Mr. Yatman. He is a married man, but has no +family. Besides Mr. and Mrs. Yatman, the other inmates of the house are +a lodger, a young single man named Jay, who occupies the front room on +the second floor,--a shopman, who sleeps in one of the attics,--and a +servant-of-all-work, whose bed is in the back-kitchen. Once a week a +charwoman comes to help this servant. These are all the persons who, on +ordinary occasions, have means of access to the interior of the house, +placed, as a matter of course, at their disposal. + +Mr. Yatman has been in business for many years,--carrying on his affairs +prosperously enough to realize a handsome independence for a person in +his position. Unfortunately for himself, he endeavored to increase +the amount of his property by speculating. He ventured boldly in his +investments, luck went against him, and rather less than two years ago +he found himself a poor man again. All that was saved out of the wreck +of his property was the sum of two hundred pounds. + +Although Mr. Yatman did his best to meet his altered circumstances, by +giving up many of the luxuries and comforts to which he and his wife had +been accustomed, he found it impossible to retrench so far as to allow +of putting by any money from the income produced by his shop. The +business has been declining of late years,--the cheap advertising +stationers having done it injury with the public. Consequently, up +to the last week, the only surplus property possessed by Mr. Yatman +consisted of the two hundred pounds which had been recovered from the +wreck of his fortune. This sum was placed as a deposit in a joint-stock +bank of the highest possible character. + +Eight days ago, Mr. Yatman and his lodger, Mr. Jay, held a conversation +together on the subject of the commercial difficulties, which are +hampering trade in all directions at the present time. Mr. Jay (who +lives by supplying the newspapers with short paragraphs relating to +accidents, offences, and brief records of remarkable occurrences in +general,--who is, in short, what they call a penny-a-liner) told his +landlord that he had been in the city that day, and heard unfavorable +rumors on the subject of the joint-stock banks. The rumors to which he +alluded had already reached the ears of Mr. Yatman from other quarters; +and the confirmation of them by his lodger had such an effect on his +mind,--predisposed, as it was, to alarm, by the experience of his former +losses,--that he resolved to go at once to the bank and withdraw his +deposit. It was then getting on toward the end of the afternoon; and he +arrived just in time to receive his money before the bank closed. + +He received the deposit in bank-notes of the following amounts:--one +fifty-pound note, three twenty-pound notes, six ten-pound notes, and six +five-pound notes. His object in drawing the money in this form was +to have it ready to lay out immediately in trifling loans, on good +security, among the small tradespeople of his district,--some of whom +are sorely pressed for the very means of existence at the present time. +Investments of this kind seemed to Mr. Yatman to be the most safe and +the most profitable on which he could now venture. + +He brought the money back in an envelope placed in his breast pocket; +and asked his shopman, on getting home, to look for a small flat tin +cash-box, which had not been used for years, and which, as Mr. Yatman +remembered it, was exactly of the right size to hold the bank-notes. For +some time the cash-box was searched for in vain. Mr. Yatman called to +his wife to know if she had any idea where it was. The question was +overheard by the servant-of-all-work, who was taking up the tea-tray at +the time, and by Mr. Jay, who was coming down stairs on his way out +to the theatre. Ultimately the cash-box was found by the shopman. Mr. +Yatman placed the bank-notes in it, secured them by a padlock, and +put the box in his coat pocket. It stuck out of the coat pocket a very +little, but enough to be seen. Mr. Yatman remained at home, up stairs, +all that evening. No visitors called. At eleven o'clock he went to bed, +and put the cash-box under his pillow. + +When he and his wife woke the next morning, the box was gone. Payment +of the notes was immediately stopped at the Bank of England; but no news +of the money has been heard of since that time. + +So far, the circumstances of the case are perfectly clear. They point +unmistakably to the conclusion that the robbery must have been committed +by some person living in the house. Suspicion falls, therefore, upon the +servant-of-all-work, upon the shopman, and upon Mr. Jay. The two first +knew that the cash-box was being inquired for by their master, but did +not know what it was he wanted to put into it. They would assume, of +course, that it was money. They both had opportunities (the servant, +when she took away the tea,--and the shopman, when he came, after +shutting up, to give the keys of the till to his master) of seeing the +cash-box in Mr. Yatman's pocket, and of inferring naturally, from its +position there, that he intended to take it into his bedroom with him at +night. + +Mr. Jay, on the other hand, had been told, during the afternoon's +conversation on the subject of joint-stock banks, that his landlord had +a deposit of two hundred pounds in one of them. He also knew that Mr. +Yatman left him with the intention of drawing that money out; and he +heard the inquiry for the cash-box, afterwards, when he was coming down +stairs. He must, therefore, have inferred that the money was in the +house, and that the cash-box was the receptacle intended to contain it. +That he could have had any idea, however, of the place in which Mr. +Yatman intended to keep it for the night is impossible, seeing that he +went out before the box was found, and did not return till his landlord +was in bed. Consequently, if he committed the robbery, he must have gone +into the bedroom purely on speculation. + +Speaking of the bedroom reminds me of the necessity of noticing the +situation of it in the house, and the means that exist of gaining easy +access to it at any hour of the night. The room in question is the back +room on the first floor. In consequence of Mrs. Yatman's constitutional +nervousness on the subject of fire, which makes her apprehend being +burnt alive in her room, in case of accident, by the hampering of the +lock, if the key is turned in it, her husband has never been accustomed +to lock the bedroom door. Both he and his wife are, by their own +admission, heavy sleepers. Consequently, the risk to be run by any +evil-disposed persons wishing to plunder the bedroom was of the most +trifling kind. They could enter the room by merely turning the handle of +the door; and if they moved with ordinary caution, there was no fear +of their waking the sleepers inside. This fact is of importance. It +strengthens our conviction that the money must have been taken by one of +the inmates of the house, because it tends to show that the robbery, in +this case, might have been committed by persons not possessed of the +superior vigilance and cunning of the experienced thief. + +Such are the circumstances, as they were related to Sergeant Bulmer, +when he was first called in to discover the guilty parties, and, if +possible, to recover the lost bank-notes. The strictest inquiry which he +could institute failed of producing the smallest fragment of evidence +against any of the persons on whom suspicion naturally fell. Their +language and behavior, on being informed of the robbery, was perfectly +consistent with the language and behavior of innocent people. Sergeant +Bulmer felt, from the first, that this was a case for private inquiry +and secret observation. He began by recommending Mr. and Mrs. Yatman to +affect a feeling of perfect confidence in the innocence of the persons +living under their roof; and he then opened the campaign by employing +himself in following the goings and comings, and in discovering the +friends, the habits, and the secrets of the maid-of-all-work. + +Three days and nights of exertion on his own part, and on that of others +who were competent to assist his investigations, were enough to satisfy +him that there was no sound cause for suspicion against the girl. + +He next practised the same precautions in relation to the shopman. +There was more difficulty and uncertainty in privately clearing up this +person's character without his knowledge, but the obstacles were at last +smoothed away with tolerable success; and though there is not the same +amount of certainty, in this case, which there was in the case of the +girl, there is still fair reason for believing that the shopman has had +nothing to do with the robbery of the cash-box. + +As a necessary consequence of these proceedings, the range of suspicion +now becomes limited to the lodger, Mr. Jay. When I presented your letter +of introduction to Sergeant Buhner, he had already made some inquiries +on the subject of this young man. The result, so far, has not been at +all favorable. Mr. Jay's habits are irregular; he frequents public +houses, and seems to be familiarly acquainted with a great many +dissolute characters; he is in debt to most of the tradespeople whom +he employs; he has not paid his rent to Mr. Yatman for the last month; +yesterday evening he came home excited by liquor, and last week he was +seen talking to a prize-fighter. In short, though Mr. Jay does call +himself a journalist, in virtue of his penny-a-line contributions to the +newspapers, he is a young man of low tastes, vulgar manners, and bad +habits. Nothing has yet been discovered, in relation to him, which +redounds to his credit in the smallest degree. + +I have now reported, down to the very last details, all the particulars +communicated to me by Sergeant Buhner. I believe you will not find an +omission anywhere; and I think you will admit, though you are prejudiced +against me, that a clearer statement of facts was never laid before you +than the statement I have now made. My next duty is to tell you what I +propose to do, now that the case is confided to my hands. + +In the first place, it is clearly my business to take up the case at +the point where Sergeant Buhner has left it. On his authority, I am +justified in assuming that I have no need to trouble myself about the +maid-of-all-work and the shopman. Their characters are now to be +considered as cleared up. What remains to be privately investigated is +the question of the guilt or innocence of Mr. Jay. Before we give up +the notes for lost, we must make sure, if we can, that he knows nothing +about them. + +This is the plan that I have adopted, with the full approval of Mr. and +Mrs. Yatman, for discovering whether Mr. Jay is or is not the person who +has stolen the cash-box:-- + +I propose, to-day, to present myself at the house in the character of a +young man who is looking for lodgings. The back room on the second floor +will be shown to me as the room to let; and I shall establish myself +there to-night, as a person from the country, who has come to London to +look for a situation in a respectable shop or office. By this means I +shall be living next to the room occupied by Mr. Jay. The partition +between us is mere lath and plaster. I shall make a small hole in it, +near the cornice, through which I can see what Mr. Jay does in his room, +and hear every word that is said when any friend happens to call on him. +Whenever he is at home, I shall be at my post of observation. Whenever +he goes out, I shall be after him. By employing these means of watching +him, I believe I may look forward to the discovery of his secret--if he +knows anything about the lost bank-notes--as to a dead certainty. + +What you may think of my plan of observation I cannot undertake to +say. It appears to me to unite the invaluable merits of boldness +and simplicity. Fortified by this conviction, I close the present +communication with feelings of the most sanguine description in regard +to the future, and remain your obedient servant, + +Matthew Sharpin. + + +FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME. + +7th July. + +Sir, + +As you have not honored me with any answer to my last communication, I +assume, that, in spite of your prejudices against me, it has produced +the favorable impression on your mind which I ventured to anticipate. +Gratified and encouraged beyond measure by the token of approval which +your eloquent silence conveys to me, I proceed to report the progress +that has been made in the course of the last twenty-four hours. + +I am now comfortably established next door to Mr. Jay; and I am +delighted to say that I have two holes in the partition, instead of one. +My natural sense of humor has led me into the pardonable extravagance +of giving them both appropriate names. One I call my Peep-Hole, and the +other my Pipe-Hole. The name of the first explains itself; the name of +the second refers to a small tin pipe, or tube, inserted in the hole, +and twisted so that the mouth of it comes close to my ear, when I am +standing at my post of observation. Thus, while I am looking at Mr. Jay +through my Peep-Hole, I can hear every word that may be spoken in his +room through my Pipe-Hole. + +Perfect candor--a virtue which I have possessed from my childhood-- +compels me to acknowledge, before I go any farther, that the ingenious +notion of adding a Pipe-Hole to my proposed Peep-Hole originated with +Mrs. Yatman. This lady--a most intelligent and accomplished person, +simple, and yet distinguished, in her manners--has entered into all my +little plans with an enthusiasm and intelligence which I cannot too +highly praise. Mr. Yatman is so cast down by his loss, that he is quite +incapable of affording me any assistance. Mrs. Yatman, who is evidently +most tenderly attached to him, feels her husband's sad condition of mind +even more acutely than she feels the loss of the money; and is mainly +stimulated to exertion by her desire to assist in raising him from the +miserable state of prostration into which he has now fallen. "The money, +Mr. Sharpin," she said to me yesterday evening, with tears in her eyes, +"the money may be regained by rigid economy and strict attention to +business. It is my husband's wretched state of mind that makes me so +anxious for the discovery of the thief. I may be wrong, but I felt +hopeful of success as soon as you entered the house; and I believe, +that, if the wretch who has robbed us is to be found, you are the man to +discover him." I accepted this gratifying compliment in the spirit in +which it was offered,--firmly believing that I shall be found, sooner or +later, to have thoroughly deserved it. + +Let me now return to business,--that is to say, to my Peep-Hole and my +Pipe-Hole. + +I have enjoyed some hours of calm observation of Mr. Jay. Though rarely +at home, as I understand from Mrs. Yatman, on ordinary occasions, he has +been in-doors the whole of this day. That is suspicious, to begin with. +I have to report, further, that he rose at a late hour this morning, +(always a bad sign in a young man,) and that he lost a great deal +of time, after he was up, in yawning and complaining to himself of +headache. Like other debauched characters, he eat little or nothing for +breakfast. His next proceeding was to smoke a pipe, a dirty clay pipe, +which a gentleman would have been ashamed to put between his lips. When +he had done smoking, he took out pen, ink, and paper, and sat down +to write, with a groan,--whether of remorse for having taken the +bank-notes, or of disgust at the task before him, I am unable to say. +After writing a few lines, (too far away from my Peep-Hole to give me +a chance of reading over his shoulder,) he bent back in his chair, and +amused himself by humming the tunes of popular songs. I recognized "My +Mary Anne," "Bobbin' Around," and "Old Dog Tray," among other melodies. +Whether these do or do not represent secret signals by which he +communicates with his accomplices remains to be seen. After he had +amused himself for some time by humming, he got up and began to walk +about the room, occasionally stopping to add a sentence to the paper on +his desk. Before long, he went to a locked cupboard and opened it. I +strained my eyes eagerly, in expectation of making a discovery. I saw +him take something carefully out of the cupboard,--he turned round,--it +was only a pint-bottle of brandy! Having drunk some of the liquor, this +extremely indolent reprobate lay dawn on his bed again, and in five +minutes was fast asleep. + +After hearing him snoring for at least two hours, I was recalled to +my Peep-Hole by a knock at his door. He jumped up and opened it with +suspicious activity. A very small boy, with a very dirty face, walked +in, said, "Please, Sir, I've come for copy," sat down on a chair with +his legs a long way from the ground, and instantly fell asleep! Mr. Jay +swore an oath, tied a wet towel round his head, and, sitting down to his +paper, began to cover it with writing as fast as his fingers could move +the pen. Occasionally getting up to dip the towel in water and tie it +on again, he continued at this employment for nearly three hours,--then +folded up the leaves of writing, woke the boy, and gave them to him, +with this remarkable expression: "Now, then, young sleepy-head, quick, +march! If you see the Governor, tell him to have the money ready for +me when I call for it." The boy grinned, and disappeared. I was sorely +tempted to follow "sleepy-head," but, on reflection, considered it +safest still to keep my eye on the proceedings of Mr. Jay. + +In half an hour's time, he put on his hat and walked out. Of course, I +put on my hat and walked out also. As I went down stairs, I passed Mrs. +Yatman going up. The lady has been kind enough to undertake, by previous +arrangement between us, to search Mr. Jay's room, while he is out of +the way, and while I am necessarily engaged in the pleasing duty of +following him wherever he goes. On the occasion to which I now refer, +he walked straight to the nearest tavern, and ordered a couple of +mutton-chops for his dinner. I placed myself in the next box to him, and +ordered a couple of mutton-chops for my dinner. Before I had been in the +room a minute, a young man of highly suspicious manners and appearance, +sitting at a table opposite, took his glass of porter in his hand and +joined Mr. Jay. I pretended to be reading the newspaper, and listened, +as in duty bound, with all my might. + +"How are you, my boy?" says the young man. "Jack has been here, +inquiring after you." + +"Did he leave any message?" asks Mr. Jay. + +"Yes," says the other. "He told me, if I met with you, to say that he +wished very particularly to see you to-night; and that he would give you +a look-in, at Rutherford Street, at seven o'clock." + +"All right," says Mr. Jay. "I'll get back in time to see him." + +Upon this, the suspicious-looking young man finished his porter, and, +saying that he was rather in a hurry, took leave of his friend, (perhaps +I should not be wrong, if I said his accomplice?) and left the room. + +At twenty-five minutes and a half past six,--in these serious cases it +is important to be particular about time,--Mr. Jay finished his chops +and paid his bill. At twenty-six minutes and three-quarters, I finished +my chops and paid mine. In ten minutes more I was inside the house in +Rutherford Street, and was received by Mrs. Yatman in the passage. +That charming woman's face exhibited an expression of melancholy and +disappointment which it quite grieved me to see. + +"I am afraid, Ma'am," says I, "that you have not hit on any little +criminating discovery in the lodger's room?" + +She shook her head and sighed. It was a soft, languid, fluttering +sigh,--and, upon my life, it quite upset me. For the moment, I forgot +business, and burned with envy of Mr. Yatman. + +"Don't despair, Ma'am," I said, with an insinuating mildness which +seemed to touch her. "I have heard a mysterious conversation--I know of +a guilty appointment--and I expect great things from my Peep-Hole and my +Pipe-Hole to-night. Pray, don't be alarmed, but I think we are on the +brink of a discovery." + +Here my enthusiastic devotion to business got the better of my tender +feelings. I looked,--winked,--nodded,--left her. + +When I got back to my observatory, I found Mr. Jay digesting his +mutton-chops in an arm-chair, with his pipe in his mouth. On his table +were two tumblers, a jug of water, and the pint-bottle of brandy. It was +then close upon seven o'clock. As the hour struck, the person described +as "Jack" walked in. + +He looked agitated,--I am happy to say he looked violently agitated. The +cheerful glow of anticipated success diffused itself (to use a strong +expression) all over me, from head to foot. With breathless interest I +looked through my Peep-Hole, and saw the visitor--the "Jack" of this +delightful case--sit down, facing me, at the opposite side of the table +to Mr. Jay. Making allowance for the difference in expression which +their countenances just now happened to exhibit, these two abandoned +villains were so much alike in other respects as to lead at once to the +conclusion that they were brothers. Jack was the cleaner man and the +better-dressed of the two. I admit that, at the outset. It is, perhaps, +one of my failings to push justice and impartiality to their utmost +limits. I am no Pharisee; and where Vice has its redeeming point, I say, +let Vice have its due,--yes, yes, by all manner of means, let Vice have +its due. + +"What's the matter now, Jack?" says Mr. Jay. + +"Can't you see it in my face?" says Jack. "My dear fellow, delays are +dangerous. Let us have done with suspense, and risk it, the day after +to-morrow." + +"So soon as that?" cries Mr. Jay, looking very much astonished. "Well, +I'm ready, if you are. But, I say, Jack, is Somebody Else ready, too? +Are you quite sure of that?" + +He smiled, as he spoke,--a frightful smile,--and laid a very strong +emphasis on those two words, "Somebody Else." There is evidently a third +ruffian, a nameless desperado, concerned in the business. + +"Meet us to-morrow," says Jack, "and judge for yourself. Be in the +Regent's Park at eleven in the morning, and look out for us at the +turning that leads to the Avenue Road." + +"I'll be there," says Mr. Jay. "Have a drop of brandy and water. What +are you getting up for? You're not going already?" + +"Yes, I am," says Jack. "The fact is, I'm so excited and agitated, that +I can't sit still anywhere for five minutes together. Ridiculous as it +may appear to you, I'm in a perpetual state of nervous flutter. I can't, +for the life of me, help fearing that we shall be found out. I fancy +that every man who looks twice at me in the street is a spy"---- + +At those words, I thought my legs would have given way under me. Nothing +but strength of mind kept me at my Peep-Hole,--nothing else, I give you +my word of honor. + +"Stuff and nonsense!" cries Mr. Jay, with all the effrontery of a +veteran in crime. "We have kept the secret up to this time, and we will +manage cleverly to the end. Have a drop of brandy and water, and you +will feel as certain about it as I do." + +Jack steadily refused the brandy and water, and steadily persisted +in taking his leave. "I must try if I can't walk it off," he said. +"Remember to-morrow morning,--eleven o'clock,--Avenue-Road side of the +Regent's Park." + +With those words he went out. His hardened relative laughed desperately, +and resumed the dirty clay pipe. + +I sat down on the side of my bed, actually quivering with excitement. It +is clear to me that no attempt has yet been made to change the stolen +bank-notes; and I may add, that Sergeant Bulmer was of that opinion +also, when he left the case in my hands. What is the natural conclusion +to draw from the conversation which I have just set down? Evidently, +that the confederates meet to-morrow to take their respective shares in +the stolen money, and to decide on the safest means of getting the notes +changed the day after. Mr. Jay is, beyond a doubt, the leading criminal +in this business, and he will probably run the chief risk,--that of +changing the fifty-pound note. I shall, therefore, still make it my +business to follow him,--attending at the Regent's Park to-morrow, and +doing my best to hear what is said there. If another appointment is made +for the day after, I shall, of course, go to it. In the mean time, I +shall want the immediate assistance of two competent persons (supposing +the rascals separate after their meeting) to follow the two minor +criminals. It is only fair to add, that, if the rogues all retire +together, I shall probably keep my subordinates in reserve. Being +naturally ambitious, I desire, if possible, to have the whole credit of +discovering this robbery to myself. + + +8th July. + +I have to acknowledge, with thanks, the speedy arrival of my two +subordinates, men of very average abilities, I am afraid; but, +fortunately, I shall always be on the spot to direct them. + +My first business this morning was, necessarily, to prevent possible +mistakes, by accounting to Mr. and Mrs. Yatman for the presence of the +two strangers on the scene. Mr. Yatman (between ourselves, a poor, +feeble man) only shook his head and groaned. Mrs. Yatman (that superior +woman) favored me with a charming look of intelligence. "Oh, Mr. +Sharpin!" she said, "I am so sorry to see those two men! Your sending +for their assistance looks as if you were beginning to be doubtful of +success." I privately winked at her, (she is very good in allowing me to +do so without taking offence,) and told her, in my facetious way, that +she labored under a slight mistake. "It is because I am sure of success, +Ma'am, that I send for them. I am determined to recover the money, not +for my own sake only, but for Mr. Yatman's sake, and for yours." I laid +a considerable amount of stress on those last three words. She said, +"Oh, Mr. Sharpin!" again,--and blushed of a heavenly red,--and looked +down at her work. I could go to the world's end with that woman, if Mr. +Yatman would only die. + +I sent off the two subordinates to wait, until I wanted them, at the +Avenue-Road gate of the Regent's Park. Half an hour afterwards I was +following the same direction myself, at the heels of Mr. Jay. + +The two confederates were punctual to the appointed time. I blush to +record it, but it is, nevertheless, necessary to state, that the third +rogue--the nameless desperado of my report, or, if you prefer it, +the mysterious "Somebody Else" of the conversation between the two +brothers--is----a woman! and, what is worse, a young woman! and, what +is more lamentable still, a nice-looking woman! I have long resisted a +growing conviction, that, wherever there is mischief in this world, an +individual of the fair sex is inevitably certain to be mixed up in it. +After the experience of this morning, I can struggle against that sad +conclusion no longer. I give up the sex,--excepting Mrs. Yatman, I give +up the sex. + +The man named "Jack" offered the woman his arm. Mr. Jay placed himself +on the other side of her. The three then walked away slowly among the +trees. I followed them at a respectful distance. My two subordinates, at +a respectful distance also, followed me. + +It was, I deeply regret to say, impossible to get near enough to them to +overhear their conversation, without running too great a risk of being +discovered. I could only infer from their gestures and actions that they +were all three talking together with extraordinary earnestness on some +subject which deeply interested them. After having been engaged in this +way a full quarter of an hour, they suddenly turned round to retrace +their steps. My presence of mind did not forsake me in this emergency. +I signed to the two subordinates to walk on carelessly and pass them, +while I myself slipped dexterously behind a tree. As they came by me, I +heard "Jack" address these words to Mr. Jay:-- + +"Let us say half-past ten to-morrow morning. And mind you come in a cab. +We had better not risk taking one in this neighborhood." + +Mr. Jay made some brief reply, which I could not overhear. They walked +back to the place at which they had met, shaking hands there with an +audacious cordiality which it quite sickened me to see. Then they +separated. I followed Mr. Jay. My subordinates paid the same delicate +attention to the other two. + +Instead of taking me back to Rutherford Street, Mr. Jay led me to the +Strand. He stopped at a dingy, disreputable-looking house, which, +according to the inscription over the door, was a newspaper office, +but which, in my judgment, had all the external appearance of a place +devoted to the reception of stolen goods. After remaining inside for a +few minutes, he came out, whistling, with his finger and thumb in his +waistcoat pocket. Some men would now have arrested him on the spot. +I remembered the necessity of catching the two confederates, and the +importance of not interfering with the appointment that had been made +for the next morning. Such coolness as this, under trying circumstances, +is rarely to be found, I should imagine, in a young beginner, whose +reputation as a detective policeman is still to make. + +From the house of suspicious appearance Mr. Jay betook himself to a +cigar-divan, and read the magazines over a cheroot. I sat at a table +near him, and read the magazines, likewise, over a cheroot. From the +divan he strolled to the tavern, and had his chops. I strolled to the +tavern, and had my chops. When he had done, he went back to his lodging. +When I had done, I went back to mine. He was overcome with drowsiness +early in the evening, and went to bed. As soon as I heard him snoring, I +was overcome with drowsiness, and went to bed also. + +Early in the morning, my two subordinates came to make their report. +They had seen the man named "Jack" leave the woman at the gate of an +apparently respectable villa-residence, not far from the Regent's Park. +Left to himself, he took a turning to the right, which led to a sort of +suburban street, principally inhabited by shopkeepers. He stopped at +the private door of one of the houses, and let himself in with his own +key,--looking about him as he opened the door, and staring suspiciously +at my men as they lounged along on the opposite side of the way. These +were all the particulars which the subordinates had to communicate. I +kept them in my room to attend on me, if needful, and mounted to my +Peep-Hole to have a look at Mr. Jay. + +He was occupied in dressing himself, and was taking extraordinary pains +to destroy all traces of the natural slovenliness of his appearance. +This was precisely what I expected. A vagabond like Mr. Jay knows the +importance of giving himself a respectable look when he is going to +run the risk of changing a stolen bank-note. At five minutes past ten +o'clock he had given the last brush to his shabby hat and the last +scouring with bread-crumb to his dirty gloves. At ten minutes past ten +he was in the street, on his way to the nearest cab-stand, and I and my +subordinates were close on his heels. + +He took a cab, and we took a cab. I had not overheard them appoint a +place of meeting, when following them in the Park on the previous day; +but I soon found that we were proceeding in the old direction of the +Avenue-Road gate. The cab in which Mr. Jay was riding turned into the +Park slowly. We stopped outside, to avoid exciting suspicion. I got out +to follow the cab on foot. Just as I did so, I saw it stop, and detected +the two confederates approaching it from among the trees. They got in, +and the cab was turned about directly. I ran back to my own cab, and +told the driver to let them pass him, and then to follow as before. + +The man obeyed my directions, but so clumsily as to excite their +suspicions. We had been driving after them about three minutes, +(returning along the road by which we had advanced,) when I looked out +of the window to see how far they might be ahead of us. As I did this, +I saw two hats popped out of the windows of their cab, and two faces +looking back at me. I sank into my place in a cold sweat;--the +expression is coarse, but no other form of words can describe my +condition at that trying moment. + +"We are found out!" I said, faintly, to my two subordinates. They stared +at me in astonishment. My feelings changed instantly from the depth of +despair to the height of indignation. "It is the cabman's fault. Get +out, one of you," I said, with dignity,--"get out, and punch his head." + +Instead of following my directions, (I should wish this act of +disobedience to be reported at head-quarters,) they both looked out of +the window. Before I could pull them back, they both sat down again. +Before I could express my just indignation, they both grinned, and said +to me, "Please to look out, Sir!" + +I did look out. Their cab had stopped. Where? At a church door! + +What effect this discovery might have had upon the ordinary run of +men, I don't know. Being of a religious turn myself, it filled me with +horror. I have often read of the unprincipled cunning of criminal +persons; but I never before heard of three thieves attempting to double +on their pursuers by entering a church! The sacrilegious audacity of +that proceeding is, I should think, unparalleled in the annals of crime. + +I checked my grinning subordinates by a frown. It was easy to see what +was passing in their superficial minds. If I had not been able to look +below the surface, I might, on observing two nicely dressed men and one +nicely dressed woman enter a church before eleven in the morning, on a +week day, have come to the same hasty conclusion at which my inferiors +had evidently arrived. As it was, appearances had no power to impose on +_me_. I got out, and, followed by one of my men, entered the church. The +other man I sent round to watch the vestry door. You may catch a weasel +asleep,--but not your humble servant, Matthew Sharpin! + +We stole up the gallery-stairs, diverged to the organ-loft, and peeped +through the curtains in front. There they were, all three, sitting in a +pew below,--yes, incredible as it may appear, sitting in a pew below! + +Before I could determine what to do, a clergyman made his appearance in +full canonicals, from the vestry door, followed by a clerk. My brain +whirled, and my eyesight grew dim. Dark remembrances of robberies +committed in vestries floated through my mind. I trembled for the +excellent man in full canonicals;--I even trembled for the clerk. + +The clergyman placed himself inside the altar rails. The three +desperadoes approached him. He opened his book, and began to read. +What?--you will ask. + +I answer, without the slightest hesitation; the first lines of the +Marriage Service. + +My subordinate had the audacity to look at me, and then to stuff his +pocket-handkerchief into his mouth. I scorned to pay any attention to +him. After my own eyes had satisfied me that there was a parchment +license in the clergyman's hand, and that it was consequently useless to +come forward and forbid the marriage,--after I had seen this, and after +I had discovered that the man "Jack" was the bridegroom, and that the +man Jay acted the part of father and gave away the bride, I left the +church, followed by my man, and joined the other subordinate outside +the vestry door. Some people in my position would now have felt rather +crestfallen, and would have begun to think that they had made a very +foolish mistake. Not the faintest misgiving of any kind troubled me. I +did not feel in the slightest degree depreciated in my own estimation. +And even now, after a lapse of three hours, my mind remains, I am happy +to say, in the same calm and hopeful condition. + +As soon as I and my subordinates were assembled together, outside the +church, I intimated my intention of still following the other cab, in +spite of what had occurred. My reason for deciding on this course will +appear presently. The two subordinates appeared to be astonished at +my resolution. One of them had the impertinence to say to me, "If you +please, Sir, who is it we are after? A man who has stolen money, or +a man who has stolen a wife?" The other low person encouraged him +by laughing. Both have deserved an official reprimand; and both, I +sincerely trust, will be sure to get it. + +When the marriage ceremony was over, the three got into their cab; and, +once more, our vehicle (neatly hidden round the corner of the church, +so that they could not suspect it to be near them) started to follow +theirs. We traced them to the terminus of the South-Western Railway. The +newly married couple took tickets for Richmond,--paying their fare with +a half sovereign, and so depriving me of the pleasure of arresting them, +which I should certainly have done, if they had offered a bank-note. +They parted from Mr. Jay, saying, "Remember the address,--l4, Babylon +Terrace. You dine with us to-morrow week." Mr. Jay accepted the +invitation, and added, jocosely, that he was going home at once to get +off his clean clothes, and to be comfortable and dirty again for the +rest of the day. I have to report that I saw him home safely, and that +he is comfortable and dirty again (to use his own disgraceful language) +at the present moment. + +Here the affair rests, having by this time reached what I may call its +first stage. I know very well what persons of hasty judgments will be +inclined to say of my proceedings thus far. They will assert that I have +been deceiving myself, all through, in the most absurd way; they will +declare that the suspicious conversations which I have reported referred +solely to the difficulties and dangers of successfully carrying out +a runaway match; and they will appeal to the scene in the church, as +offering undeniable proof of the correctness of their assertions. So let +it be. I dispute nothing, up to this point. But I ask a question, out of +the depths of my own sagacity as a man of the world, which the bitterest +of my enemies will not, I think, find it particularly easy to answer. +Granted the fact of the marriage, what proof does it afford me of +the innocence of the three persons concerned in that clandestine +transaction? It gives me none. On the contrary, it strengthens my +suspicions against Mr. Jay and his confederates, because it suggests a +distinct motive for their stealing the money. A gentleman who is going +to spend his honeymoon at Richmond wants money; and a gentleman who is +in debt to all his tradespeople wants money. Is this an unjustifiable +imputation of bad motives? In the name of outraged Morality, I deny it. +These men have combined together, and have stolen a woman. Why should +they not combine together and steal a cash-box? I take my stand on the +logic of rigid Virtue; and I defy all the sophistry of Vice to move me +an inch out of my position. + +Speaking of virtue, I may add that I have put this view of the case +to Mr. and Mrs. Yatman. That accomplished and charming woman found it +difficult, at first, to follow the close chain of my reasoning. I am +free to confess that she shook her head, and shed tears, and joined +her husband in premature lamentation over the loss of the two hundred +pounds. But a little careful explanation on my part, and a little +attentive listening on hers, ultimately changed her opinion. She now +agrees with me, that there is nothing in this unexpected circumstance of +the clandestine marriage which absolutely tends to divert suspicion from +Mr. Jay, or Mr. "Jack," or the runaway lady,--"audacious hussey" was the +term my fair friend used in speaking of her, but let that pass. It is +more to the purpose to record, that Mrs. Yatman has not lost confidence +in me, and that Mr. Yatman promises to follow her example and do his +best to look hopefully for future results. + +I have now, in the new turn that circumstances have taken, to await +advice from your office. I pause for fresh orders with all the composure +of a man who has got two strings to his bow. When I traced the three +confederates from the church door to the railway terminus, I had two +motives for doing so. First, I followed them as a matter of official +business, believing them still to have been guilty of the robbery. +Secondly, I followed them as a matter of private speculation, with a +view of discovering the place of refuge to which the runaway couple +intended to retreat, and of making my information a marketable commodity +to offer to the young lady's family and friends. Thus, whatever happens, +I may congratulate myself beforehand on not having wasted my time. If +the office approves of my conduct, I have my plan ready for further +proceedings. If the office blames me, I shall take myself off, with +my marketable information, to the genteel villa-residence in the +neighborhood of the Regent's Park. Any way, the affair puts money into +my pocket, and does credit to my penetration, as an uncommonly sharp +man. + +I have only one word more to add, and it is this:--If any individual +ventures to assert that Mr. Jay and his confederates are innocent of +all share in the stealing of the cash-box, I, in return, defy that +individual--though he may even be Chief Inspector Theakstone himself--to +tell me who has committed the robbery at Rutherford Street, Soho. + +Strong in that conviction, + +I have the honor to be +Your very obedient servant, + +Matthew Sharpin. + + +FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO SERGEANT BULMER. + +Birmingham, July 9th. + +Sergeant Bulmer, + +That empty-headed puppy, Mr. Matthew Sharpin, has made a mess of the +case at Rutherford Street, exactly as I expected he would. Business +keeps me in this town; so I write to you to set the matter straight. +I enclose, with this, the pages of feeble scribble-scrabble which the +creature, Sharpin, calls a report. Look them over; and when you have +made your way through all the gabble, I think you will agree with me +that the conceited booby has looked for the thief in every direction but +the right one. The case is perfectly simple, now. Settle it at once; +forward your report to me at this place; and tell Mr. Sharpin that he is +suspended till further notice. + +Yours, + +Francis Theakstone. + + +FROM SERGEANT BULMER TO CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE. + +London, July 10th. + +Inspector Theakstone, + +Your letter and enclosure came safe to hand. Wise men, they say, may +always learn something, even from a fool. By the time I had got through +Sharpin's maundering report of his own folly, I saw my way clear enough +to the end of the Rutherford-Street case, just as you thought I should. +In half an hour's time I was at the house. The first person I saw there +was Mr. Sharpin himself. + +"Have you come to help me?" says he. + +"Not exactly," says I. "I've come to tell you that you are suspended till +further notice." + +"Very good," says he, not taken down, by so much as a single peg, in +his own estimation. "I thought you would be jealous of me. It's very +natural; and I don't blame you. Walk in, pray, and make yourself at +home. I'm off to do a little detective business on my own account, in +the neighborhood of the Regent's Park. Ta-ta, Sergeant, ta-ta!" + +With those words he took himself out of my way,--which was exactly what +I wanted him to do. As soon as the maid-servant had shut the door, I +told her to inform her master that I wanted to say a word to him in +private. She showed me into the parlor behind the shop; and there was +Mr. Yatman, all alone, reading the newspaper. + +"About this matter of the robbery, Sir," says I. + +He cut me short, peevishly enough,--being naturally a poor, weak, +womanish sort of man. "Yes, yes, I know," says he. "You have come to +tell me that your wonderfully clever man, who has bored holes in my +second-floor partition, has made a mistake, and is off the scent of the +scoundrel who has stolen my money." + +"Yes, Sir," says I. "That _is_ one of the things I came to tell you. But +I have got something else to say, besides that." + +"Can you tell me who the thief is?" says he, more pettish than ever. + +"Yes, Sir," says I, "I think I can." + +He put down the newspaper, and began to look rather anxious and +frightened. + +"Not my shopman?" says he. "I hope, for the man's own sake, it's not my +shopman." + +"Guess again, Sir," says I. + +"That idle slut, the maid?" says he. + +"She is idle, Sir," says I, "and she is also a slut; my first inquiries +about her proved as much as that. But she's not the thief." + +"Then, in the name of Heaven, who is?" says he. + +"Will you please to prepare yourself for a very disagreeable surprise, +Sir?" says I. "And in case you lose your temper, will you excuse my +remarking, that I am the stronger man of the two, and that, if you allow +yourself to lay hands on me, I may unintentionally hurt you, in pure +self-defence?" + +He turned as pale as ashes, and pushed his chair two or three feet away +from me. + +"You have asked me to tell you, Sir, who has taken your money," I went +on. "If you insist on my giving you an answer"-- + +"I do insist," he said, faintly. "Who has taken it?" + +"Your wife has taken it," I said, very quietly, and very positively at +the same time. + +He jumped out of the chair as if I had put a knife into him, and struck +his fist on the table, so heavily that the wood cracked again. + +"Steady, Sir," says I. "Flying into a passion won't help you to the +truth." + +"It's a lie!" says he, with another smack of his fist on the table,--"a +base, vile, infamous lie! How dare you"-- + +He stopped, and fell back into the chair again, looked about him in a +bewildered way, and ended by bursting out crying. + +"When your better sense comes back to you, Sir," says I, "I am sure you +will be gentleman enough to make me an apology for the language you have +just used. In the mean time, please to listen, if you can, to a word of +explanation. Mr. Sharpin has sent in a report to our Inspector, of the +most irregular and ridiculous kind; setting down, not only all his own +foolish doings and sayings, but the doings and sayings of Mrs. Yatman as +well. In most cases, such a document would have been fit only for the +waste-paper basket; but, in this particular case, it so happens that Mr. +Sharpin's budget of nonsense leads to a certain conclusion which the +simpleton of a writer has been quite innocent of suspecting from the +beginning to the end. Of that conclusion I am so sure, that I will +forfeit my place, if it does not turn out that Mrs. Yatman has been +practising upon the folly and conceit of this young man, and that she +has tried to shield herself from discovery by purposely encouraging him +to suspect the wrong persons. I tell you that confidently; and I will +even go farther. I will undertake to give a decided opinion as to why +Mrs. Yatman took the money, and what she has done with it, or with a +part of it. Nobody can look at that lady, Sir, without being struck by +the great taste and beauty of her dress"---- + +As I said those last words, the poor man seemed to find his powers of +speech again. He cut me short directly, as haughtily as if he had been +a duke instead of a stationer. "Try some other means of justifying your +vile calumny against my wife," says he. "Her milliner's bill, for the +past year, is on my file of receipted accounts, at this moment." + +"Excuse me, Sir," says I, "but that proves nothing. Milliners, I must +tell you, have a certain rascally custom which comes within the daily +experience of our office. A married lady who wishes it can keep two +accounts at her dress-maker's:--one is the account which her husband +sees and pays; the other is the private account, which contains all the +extravagant items, and which the wife pays secretly, by instalments, +whenever she can. According to our usual experience, these instalments +are mostly squeezed out of the housekeeping money. In your case, I +suspect no instalments have been paid; proceedings have been threatened; +Mrs. Yatman, knowing your altered circumstances, has felt herself +driven into a corner; and she has paid her private account out of your +cashbox." + +"I won't believe it!" says he. "Every word you speak is an abominable +insult to me and to my wife." + +"Are you man enough, Sir," says I, taking him up short, in order to save +time and words, "to get that receipted bill you spoke of just now, off +the file, and to come with me at once to the milliner's shop where Mrs. +Yatman deals?" + +He turned red in the face at that, got the bill directly, and put on his +hat. I took out of my pocket-book the list containing the numbers of the +lost notes, and we left the house together immediately. + +Arrived at the milliner's, (one of the expensive West-End houses, as I +expected,) I asked for a private interview, on important business, with +the mistress of the concern. It was not the first time that she and I +had met over the same delicate investigation. The moment she set eyes on +me, she sent for her husband. I mentioned who Mr. Yatman was, and what +we wanted. + +"This is strictly private?" says the husband. I nodded my head. + +"And confidential?" says the wife. I nodded again. + +"Do you see any objection, dear, to obliging the Sergeant with a sight +of the books?" says the husband. + +"None in the world, love, if you approve of it," says the wife. + +All this while poor Mr. Yatman sat looking the picture of astonishment +and distress, quite out of place at our polite conference. The books +were brought,--and one minute's look at the pages in which Mrs. Yatman's +name figured was enough, and more than enough, to prove the truth of +every word that I had spoken. + +There, in one book, was the husband's account, which Mr. Yatman had +settled. And there, in the other, was the private account, crossed off +also; the date of settlement being the very day after the loss of the +cash-box. This said private account amounted to the sum of a hundred and +seventy-five pounds, odd shillings; and it extended over a period of +three years. Not a single instalment had been paid on it. Under the last +line was an entry to this effect: "Written to for the third time, June +23d." I pointed to it, and asked the milliner if that meant "last June." +Yes, it did mean last June; and she now deeply regretted to say that it +had been accompanied by a threat of legal proceedings. + +"I thought you gave good customers more than three years' credit?" says +I. + +The milliner looks at Mr. Yatman, and whispers to me,--"Not when a lady's +husband gets into difficulties." + +She pointed to the account as she spoke. The entries after the time when +Mr. Yatman's circumstances became involved were just as extravagant, for +a person in his wife's situation, as the entries for the year before +that period. If the lady had economized in other things, she had +certainly not economized in the matter of dress. + +There was nothing left now but to examine the cash-book, for form's +sake. The money had been paid in notes, the amounts and numbers of which +exactly tallied with the figures set down in my list. + +After that, I thought it best to get Mr. Yatman out of the house +immediately. He was in such a pitiable condition, that I called a cab +and accompanied him home in it. At first, he cried and raved like a +child; but I soon quieted him,--and I must add, to his credit, that he +made me a most handsome apology for his language, as the cab drew up at +his house-door. In return, I tried to give him some advice about how to +set matters right, for the future, with his wife. He paid very little +attention to me, and went up stairs muttering to himself about a +separation. Whether Mrs. Yatman will come cleverly out of the scrape +or not seems doubtful. I should say, myself, that she will go into +screeching hysterics, and so frighten the poor man into forgiving her. +But this is no business of ours. So far as we are concerned, the case +is now at an end; and the present report may come to a conclusion along +with it. + +I remain, accordingly, yours to command, + +Thomas Bulmer. + +P.S.--I have to add, that, on leaving Rutherford Street, I met Mr. +Matthew Sharpin coming back to pack up his things. + +"Only think!" says he, rubbing his hands in great spirits, "I've been +to the genteel villa-residence; and the moment I mentioned my business, +they kicked me out directly. There were two witnesses of the assault; +and it's worth a hundred pounds to me, if it's worth a farthing." + +"I wish you joy of your luck," says I. + +"Thank you," says he. "When may I pay you the same compliment on finding +the thief?" + +"Whenever you like," says I, "for the thief is found." + +"Just what I expected," says he. "I've done all the work; and now you +cut in, and claim all the credit.--Mr. Jay, of course?" + +"No," says I. + +"Who is it, then?" says he. + +"Ask Mrs. Yatman," says I. "She'll tell you." + +"All right! I'd much rather hear it from her than from you," says +he,--and goes into the house in a mighty hurry. + +What do you think of that, Inspector Theakstone? Would you like to stand +in Mr. Sharpin's shoes? I shouldn't, I can promise you! + + +FROM CHIEF INSPECTOR THEAKSTONE TO MR. MATTHEW SHARPIN. + +July 12th. + +Sir, + +Sergeant Bulmer has already told you to consider yourself suspended +until further notice. I have now authority to add, that your services as +a member of the Detective Police are positively declined. You will please +to take this letter as notifying officially your dismissal from the +force. + +I may inform you, privately, that your rejection is not intended to cast +any reflections on your character. It merely implies that you are not +quite sharp enough for our purpose. If we are to have a new recruit +among us, we should infinitely prefer Mrs. Yatman. + +Your obedient servant, + +Francis Theakstone. + + * * * * * + +Note on the preceding correspondence--The editor is, unfortunately, not +in a position to add any explanations of importance to the last of the +published letters of Chief Inspector Theakstone. It has been discovered +that Mr. Matthew Sharpin left the house in Rutherford Street a quarter +of an hour after his interview outside of it with Sergeant Bulmer,--his +manner expressing the liveliest emotions of terror and astonishment, and +his left cheek displaying a bright patch of red, which looked as if it +might have been the result of what is popularly termed a smart box on +the ear. He was also heard, by the shopman at Rutherford Street, to use +a very shocking expression in reference to Mrs. Yatman; and was seen to +clinch his fist vindictively, as he ran round the corner of the street. +Nothing more has been heard of him; and it is conjectured that he has +left London with the intention of offering his valuable services to the +provincial police. + +On the interesting domestic subject of Mr. and Mrs. Yatman still less +is known. It has, however, been positively ascertained that the medical +attendant of the family was sent for in a great hurry on the day when +Mr. Yatman returned from the milliner's shop. The neighboring chemist +received, soon afterwards, a prescription of a soothing nature to +make up for Mrs. Yatman. The day after, Mr. Yatman purchased some +smelling-salts at the shop, and afterwards appeared at the circulating +library to ask for a novel that would amuse an invalid lady. It has been +inferred from these circumstances that he has not thought it desirable +to carry out his threat of separating himself from his wife,--at least +in the present (presumed) condition of that lady's sensitive nervous +system. + + * * * * * + + +TELLING THE BEES.[A] + +[Footnote A: A remarkable custom, brought from the Old Country formerly +prevailed in the rural districts of New England. On the death of a +member of the family, the bees were at once informed of the event, and +their hives dressed in mourning. This ceremonial was supposed to be +necessary to prevent the swarms from leaving their hives and seeking a +new home.] + + + Here is the place; right over the hill + Runs the path I took; + You can see the gap in the old wall still, + And the stepping-stones in the shallow brook. + + There is the house, with the gate red-barred, + And the poplars tall; + And the barn's brown length, and the cattle-yard, + And the white horns tossing above the wall. + + There are the bee-hives ranged in the sun; + And down by the brink + Of the brook are her poor flowers, weed-o'errun, + Pansy and daffodil, rose and pink. + + A year has gone, as the tortoise goes, + Heavy and slow; + And the same rose blows, and the same sun glows, + And the same brook sings of a year ago. + + There's the same sweet clover-smell in the breeze; + And the June sun warm + Tangles his wings of fire in the trees, + Setting, as then, over Fernside farm. + + I mind me how with a lover's care + From my Sunday coat + I brushed off the burrs, and smoothed my hair, + And cooled at the brook-side my brow and throat. + + Since we parted, a month had passed,-- + To love, a year; + Down through the beeches, I looked at last + On the little red gate and the well-sweep near. + + I can see it all now,--the slantwise rain + Of light through the leaves, + The sundown's blaze on her window-pane, + The bloom of her roses under the eaves. + + Just the same as a month before,-- + The house and the trees, + The barn's brown gable, the vine by the door,-- + Nothing changed but the hives of bees. + + Before them, under the garden wall, + Forward and back, + Went, drearily singing, the chore-girl small, + Draping each hive with a shred of black. + + Trembling, I listened: the summer sun + Had the chill of snow; + For I knew she was telling the bees of one + Gone on the journey we all must go! + + Then I said to myself, "My Mary weeps + For the dead to-day: + Haply her blind old grandsire sleeps + The fret and the pain of his age away." + + But her dog whined low; on the doorway sill, + With his cane to his chin, + The old man sat; and the chore-girl still + Sung to the bees stealing out and in. + + And the song she was singing ever since + In my ear sounds on:-- + "Stay at home, pretty bees, fly not hence! + Mistress Mary is dead and gone!" + + + + +PERSIAN POETRY. + + +To Baron von Hammer Purgstall, who died in Vienna during the last year, +we owe our best knowledge of the Persians. He has translated into +German, besides the "Divan" of Hafiz, specimens of two hundred poets, +who wrote during a period of five and a half centuries, from A.D. 1000 +to 1550. The seven masters of the Persian Parnassus, Firdousi, Enweri, +Nisami, Dschelaleddin, Saadi, Hafiz, and Dschami, have ceased to be +empty names; and others, like Ferideddin Attar, and Omar Chiam, promise +to rise in Western estimation. That for which mainly books exist is +communicated in these rich extracts. Many qualities go to make a good +telescope,--as the largeness of the field, facility of sweeping the +meridian, achromatic purity of lenses, and so forth,--but the one +eminent value is the space-penetrating power; and there are many virtues +in books, but the essential value is the adding of knowledge to our +stock, by the record of new facts, and, better, by the record of +intuitions, which distribute facts, and are the formulas which supersede +all histories. + +Oriental life and society, especially in the Southern nations, stand in +violent contrast with the multitudinous detail, the secular stability, +and the vast average of comfort of the Western nations. Life in the East +is fierce, short, hazardous, and in extremes. Its elements are few +and simple, not exhibiting the long range and undulation of European +existence, but rapidly reaching the best and the worst. The rich feed on +fruits and game,--the poor, on a watermelon's peel. All or nothing is +the genius of Oriental life. Favor of the Sultan, or his displeasure, is +a question of Fate. A war is undertaken for an epigram or a distich, as +in Europe for a duchy. The prolific sun, and the sudden and rank plenty +which his heat engenders, make subsistence easy. On the other side, the +desert, the simoom, the mirage, the lion, and the plague endanger it, +and life hangs on the contingency of a skin of water more or less. +The very geography of old Persia showed these contrasts. "My father's +empire," said Cyrus to Xenophon, "is so large, that people perish with +cold, at one extremity, whilst they are suffocated with heat, at the +other." The temperament of the people agrees with this life in extremes. +Religion and poetry are all their civilization. The religion teaches +an inexorable Destiny. It distinguishes only two days in each man's +history: his birthday, called _the Day of the Lot_, and the Day of +Judgment. Courage and absolute submission to what is appointed him are +his virtues. + +The favor of the climate, making subsistence easy, and encouraging +an outdoor life, allows to the Eastern nations a highly intellectual +organization,--leaving out of view, at present, the genius of the +Hindoos, (more Oriental in every sense,) whom no people have surpassed +in the grandeur of their ethical statement. The Persians and the Arabs, +with great leisure and few books, are exquisitely sensible to the +pleasures of poetry. Layard has given some details of the effect which +the _improvvisatori_ produced on the children of the desert. "When the +bard improvised an amatory ditty, the young chief's excitement was +almost beyond control. The other Bedouins were scarcely less moved by +these rude measures, which have the same kind of effect on the wild +tribes of the Persian mountains. Such verses, chanted by their +self-taught poets, or by the girls of their encampment, will drive +warriors to the combat, fearless of death, or prove an ample reward, +on their return from the dangers of the _ghazon_, or the fight. The +excitement they produce exceeds that of the grape. He who would +understand the influence of the Homeric ballads in the heroic ages +should witness the effect which similar compositions have upon the wild +nomads of the East." Elsewhere he adds, "Poetry and flowers are the wine +and spirits of the Arab; a couplet is equal to a bottle, and a rose to a +dram, without the evil effect of either." + +The Persian poetry rests on a mythology whose few legends are connected +with the Jewish history, and the anterior traditions of the Pentateuch. +The principal figure in the allusions of Eastern poetry is Solomon. +Solomon had three talismans: first, the signet ring, by which he +commanded the spirits, on the stone of which was engraven the name of +God; second, the glass, in which he saw the secrets of his enemies, and +the causes of all things, figured; the third, the east wind, which was +his horse. His counsellor was Simorg, king of birds, the all-wise fowl, +who had lived ever since the beginning of the world, and now lives alone +on the highest summit of Mount Kaf. No fowler has taken him, and none +now living has seen him. By him Solomon was taught the language of +birds, so that he heard secrets whenever he went into his gardens. When +Solomon travelled, his throne was placed on a carpet of green silk, of +a length and breadth sufficient for all his army to stand upon,--men +placing themselves on his right hand, and the spirits on his left. When +all were in order, the east wind, at his command, took up the carpet, +and transported it, with all that were upon it, whither he pleased,--the +army of birds at the same time flying overhead, and forming a canopy to +shade them from the sun. It is related, that, when the Queen of Sheba +came to visit Solomon, he had built, against her arrival, a palace, of +which the floor or pavement was of glass, laid over running water, in +which fish were swimming. The Queen of Sheba was deceived thereby, and +raised her robes, thinking she was to pass through the water. On the +occasion of Solomon's marriage, all the beasts, laden with presents, +appeared before his throne. Behind them all came the ant with a blade of +grass: Solomon did not despise the gift of the ant. Asaph, the vizier, +at a certain time, lost the seal of Solomon, which one of the Dews, or +evil spirits, found, and, governing in the name of Solomon, deceived the +people. + +Firdousi, the Persian Homer, has written in the _Shah Nameh_ the annals +of the fabulous and heroic kings of the country: of Karun, (the Persian +Croesus.) the immeasurably rich gold-maker, who, with all his treasures, +lies buried not far from the Pyramids, in the sea which bears his name; +of Jamschid, the binder of demons, whose reign lasted seven hundred +years; of Kai Kaus, whose palace was built by demons on Alberz, in which +gold and silver and precious stones were used so lavishly, and such was +the brilliancy produced by their combined effect, that night and day +appeared the same; of Afrasiyab, strong as an elephant, whose shadow +extended for miles, whose heart was bounteous as the ocean, and his +hands like the clouds when rain falls to gladden the earth. The +crocodile in the rolling stream had no safety from Afrasiyab. Yet when +he came to fight against the generals of Kaus, he was but an insect in +the grasp of Rustem, who seized him by the girdle, and dragged him +from his horse. Rustem felt such anger at the arrogance of the King of +Mazinderan, that every hair on his body started up like a spear. The +gripe of his hand cracked the sinews of an enemy. + +These legends,--with Chiser, the fountain of life, Tuba, the tree of +life,--the romances of the loves of Leila and Medschun, of Chosru and +Schirin, and those of the nightingale for the rose,--pearl-diving, and +the virtues of gems,--the cohol, a cosmetic by which pearls and eyebrows +are indelibly stained black,--the bladder in which musk is brought,--the +down of the lip, the mole on the cheek, the eyelash,--lilies, roses, +tulips, and jasmines,--make the staple imagery of Persian odes. + +The Persians have epics and tales, but, for the most part, they affect +short poems and epigrams. Gnomic verses, rules of life, conveyed in a +lively image, especially in an image addressed to the eye, and contained +in a single stanza, were always current in the East; and if the poem +is long, it is only a string of unconnected verses. They use an +inconsecutiveness quite alarming to Western logic, and the connection +between the stanzas of their longer odes is much like that between the +refrain of our old English ballads, + + "The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall," + +or + + "The rain it raineth every day," + +and the main story. + +Take, as specimens of these gnomic verses, the following:-- + + "The secret that should not be blown + Not one of thy nation must know; + You may padlock the gate of a town, + But never the mouth of a foe." + +Or this of Omar Chiam:-- + + "On earth's wide thoroughfares below + Two only men contented go: + Who knows what's right and what's forbid, + And he from whom is knowledge hid." + +Or this of Enweri:-- + + "On prince or bride no diamond stone + Half so gracious ever shone, + As the light of enterprise + Beaming from a young man's eyes." + +Or this of Ibn Jemin:-- + + "Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou + love a life serene: + A woman for thy wife, though she were a + crowned queen; + And, the second, borrowed money, though + the smiling lender say + That he will not demand the debt until the + Judgment Day." + +Or this poem on Friendship:-- + + "He who has a thousand friends has not a + friend to spare, + And he who has one enemy shall meet him + everywhere." + +Here is a poem on a Melon, by Adsched of Meru:-- + + "Color, taste, and smell, smaragdus, sugar, + and musk,-- + Amber for the tongue, for the eye a picture + rare,-- + If you cut the fruit in slices, every slice a + crescent fair,-- + If you leave it whole, the full harvest-moon + is there." + +Hafiz is the prince of Persian poets, and in his extraordinary gifts +adds to some of the attributes of Pindar, Anacreon, Horace, and Burns +the insight of a mystic, that sometimes affords a deeper glance at +Nature than belongs to either of these bards. He accosts all topics with +an easy audacity. "He only," he says, "is fit for company, who knows how +to prize earthly happiness at the value of a night-cap. Our father Adam +sold Paradise for two kernels of wheat; then blame me not, if I hold it +dear at one grapestone." He says to the Shah, "Thou who rulest after +words and thoughts which no ear has heard and no mind has thought, +abide firm until thy young destiny tears off his blue coat from the old +graybeard of the sky." He says,-- + + "I batter the wheel of heaven + When it rolls not rightly by; + I am not one of the snivellers + Who fall thereon and die." + +The rapidity of his turns is always surprising us:-- + + "See how the roses burn! + Bring wine to quench the fire! + Alas! the flames come up with us,-- + We perish with desire." + +After the manner of his nation, he abounds in pregnant sentences which +might be engraved on a sword-blade and almost on a ring. + +"In honor dies he to whom the great seems ever wonderful." + +"Here is the sum, that, when one door opens, another shuts." + +"On every side is an ambush laid by the robber-troops of circumstance; +hence it is that the horseman of life urges on his courser at headlong +speed." + +"The earth is a host who murders his guests." + +"Good is what goes on the road of Nature. On the straight way the +traveller never misses." + + "Alas! till now I had not known + My guide and Fortune's guide are one." + + "The understanding's copper coin + Counts not with the gold of love." + + "'Tis writ on Paradise's gate, + 'Wo to the dupe that yields to Fate!'" + + "The world is a bride superbly dressed;-- + Who weds her for dowry must pay his soul." + + "Loose the knots of the heart; never think on + thy fate: + No Euclid has yet disentangled that snarl." + + "There resides in the grieving + A poison to kill; + Beware to go near them + 'Tis pestilent still." + +Harems and wine-shops only give him a new ground of observation, whence +to draw sometimes a deeper moral than regulated sober life affords,--and +this is foreseen:-- + + "I will be drunk and down with wine; + Treasures we find in a ruined house." + +Riot, he thinks, can snatch from the deeply hidden lot the veil that +covers it:-- + + "To be wise the dull brain so earnestly throbs, + Bring bands of wine for the stupid head." + + "The Builder of heaven + Hath sundered the earth, + So that no footway + Leads out of it forth. + + "On turnpikes of wonder + Wine leads the mind forth, + Straight, sidewise, and upward, + West, southward, and north. + + "Stands the vault adamantine + Until the Doomsday; + The wine-cup shall ferry + Thee o'er it away." + +That hardihood and self-equality of every sound nature, which result +from the feeling that the spirit in him is entire and as good as the +world, which entitle the poet to speak with authority, and make him an +object of interest, and his every phrase and syllable significant, are +in Hafiz, and abundantly fortify and ennoble his tone. + +His was the fluent mind in which every thought and feeling came readily +to the lips. "Loose the knots of the heart," he says. We absorb elements +enough, but have not leaves and lungs for healthy perspiration and +growth. An air of sterility, of incompetence to their proper aims, +belongs to many who have both experience and wisdom. But a large +utterance, a river, that makes its own shores, quick perception and +corresponding expression, a constitution to which every morrow is a new +day, which is equal to the needs of life, at once tender and bold, with +great arteries,--this generosity of ebb and flow satisfies, and we +should be willing to die when our time comes, having had our swing and +gratification. The difference is not so much in the quality of men's +thoughts as in the power of uttering them. What is pent and smouldered +in the dumb actor is not pent in the poet, but passes over into new +form, at once relief and creation. + +The other merit of Hafiz is his intellectual liberty, which is a +certificate of profound thought. We accept the religions and politics +into which we fall; and it is only a few delicate spirits who are +sufficient to see that the whole web of convention is the imbecility +of those whom it entangles,--that the mind suffers no religion and no +empire but its own. It indicates this respect to absolute truth by the +use it makes of the symbols that are most stable and reverend, and +therefore is always provoking the accusation of irreligion. + +Hypocrisy is the perpetual butt of his arrows. + + "Let us draw the cowl through the brook of + wine." + +He tells his mistress, that not the dervis, or the monk, but the lover, +has in his heart the spirit which makes the ascetic and the saint; and +certainly not their cowls and mummeries, but her glances, can impart to +him the fire and virtue needful for such self-denial. Wrong shall not be +wrong to Hafiz, for the name's sake. A law or statute is to him what a +fence is to a nimble schoolboy,--a temptation for a jump. "We would do +nothing but good; else would shame come to us on the day when the soul +must hie hence;--and should they then deny us Paradise, the Houris +themselves would forsake that, and come out to us." + +His complete intellectual emancipation he communicates to the reader. +There is no example of such facility of allusion, such use of all +materials. Nothing is too high, nothing too low, for his occasion. He +fears nothing, he stops for nothing. Love is a leveller, and Allah +becomes a groom, and heaven a closet, in his daring hymns to his +mistress or to his cup-bearer. This boundless charter is the right of +genius. "No evil fate," said Beethoven, "can befall my music, and he to +whom it is become intelligible must become free from all the paltriness +which the others drag about with them." + +We do not wish to strew sugar on bottled spiders, or try to make +mystical divinity out of the Song of Solomon, much less out of the +erotic and bacchanalian songs of Hafiz. Hafiz himself is determined to +defy all such hypocritical interpretation, and tears off his turban and +throws it at the head of the meddling dervis, and throws his glass after +the turban. But the love or the wine of Hafiz is not to be confounded +with vulgar debauch. It is the spirit in which the song is written that +imports, and not the topics. Hafiz praises wine, roses, maidens, boys, +birds, mornings, and music, to give vent to his immense hilarity and +sympathy with every form of beauty and joy; and lays the emphasis on +these to mark his scorn of sanctimony and base prudence. These are the +natural topics and language of his wit and perception. But it is the +play of wit and the joy of song that he loves; and if you mistake him +for a low rioter, he turns short on you with verses which express the +poverty of sensual joys, and to ejaculate with equal fire the most +unpalatable affirmations of heroic sentiment and contempt for the world. +Sometimes it is a glance from the height of thought, as thus:--"Bring +wine; for, in the audience-hall of the soul's independence, what is +sentinel or Sultan? what is the wise man or the intoxicated?"--and +sometimes his feast, feasters, and world are only one pebble more in the +eternal vortex and revolution of Fate:-- + + "I am: what I am + My dust will be again." + +A saint might lend an ear to the riotous fun of Falstaff; for it is +not created to excite the animal appetites, but to vent the joy of a +supernal intelligence. In all poetry, Pindar's rule holds,--[Greek: +sunetois phonei], it speaks to the intelligent; and Hafiz is a poet for +poets, whether he write, as sometimes, with a parrot's, or, as at other +times, with an eagle's quill. + +Every song of Hafiz affords new proof of the unimportance of your +subject to success, provided only the treatment be cordial. In general, +what is more tedious than dedications or panegyrics addressed to +grandees? Yet in the "Divan" you would not skip them, since his muse +seldom supports him better. + + "What lovelier forms things wear, + Now that the Shah comes back!" + +And again:-- + + "Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike + down. + Poises Arcturus aloft morning and evening + his spear." + +And again:-- + + "Mirza! where thy shadow falls, + Beauty sits and Music calls; + Where thy form and favor come, + All good creatures have their home." + +Here are a couple of stately compliments to his Shah, from the kindred +genius of Enweri:-- + + "Not in their houses stand the stars, + But o'er the pinnacles of thine!" + + "From thy worth and weight the stars + gravitate, + And the equipoise of heaven is thy house's + equipoise!" + +It is told of Hafiz, that, when he had written a compliment to a +handsome youth,-- + + "Take my heart in thy hand, O beautiful boy + of Schiraz! + I would give for the mole on thy cheek Samarcand + and Buchara!"-- + +the verses came to the ears of Timour in his palace. Timour taxed Hafiz +with treating disrespectfully his two cities, to raise and adorn which +he had conquered nations. Hafiz replied, "Alas, my lord, if I had not +been so prodigal, I had not been so poor!" + +The Persians had a mode of establishing copyright the most secure of any +contrivance with which we are acquainted. The law of the _ghaselle_, or +shorter ode, requires that the poet insert his name in the last stanza. +Almost every one of several hundreds of poems of Hafiz contains his name +thus interwoven more or less closely with the subject of the piece. It +is itself a test of skill, as this self-naming is not quite easy. We +remember but two or three examples in English poetry: that of Chaucer, +in the "House of Fame"; Jonson's epitaph on his son,-- + + "Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry"; + +and Cowley's,-- + + "The melancholy Cowley lay." + +But it is easy to Hafiz. It gives him the opportunity of the most +playful self-assertion, always gracefully, sometimes almost in the fun +of Falstaff, sometimes with feminine delicacy. He tells us, "The angels +in heaven were lately learning his last pieces." He says, "The fishes +shed their pearls, out of desire and longing, as soon as the ship of +Hafiz swims the deep." + + "Out of the East, and out of the West, + no man understands me; + Oh, the happier I, who confide to none but + the wind! + This morning heard I how the lyre of the + stars resounded, + 'Sweeter tones have we heard from Hafiz!'" + +Again,-- + + "I heard the harp of the planet Venus, and + it said in the early morning, 'I am the disciple + of the sweet-voiced Hafiz!'" + +And again,-- + + "When Hafiz sings, the angels hearken, + and Anaitis, the leader of the starry host, + calls even the Messiah in heaven out to the + dance." + + "No one has unveiled thoughts like Hafiz, + since the locks of the Word-bride were first + curled." + + "Only he despises the verse of Hafiz who + is not himself by nature noble." + +But we must try to give some of these poetic flourishes the metrical +form which they seem to require:-- + + "Fit for the Pleiads' azure chord + The songs I sung, the pearls I bored." + +Another:-- + + "I have no hoarded treasure, + Yet have I rich content; + The first from Allah to the Shah, + The last to Hafiz went." + +Another:-- + + "High heart, O Hafiz! though not thine + Fine gold and silver ore; + More worth to thee the gift of song, + And the clear insight more." + +Again:-- + + "Thou foolish Hafiz! say, do churls + Know the worth of Oman's pearls? + Give the gem which dims the moon + To the noblest, or to none." + +Again:-- + + "O Hafiz! speak not of thy need; + Are not these verses thine? + Then all the poets are agreed, + No man can less repine." + +He asserts his dignity as bard and inspired man of his people. To the +vizier returning from Mecca he says,-- + + "Boast not rashly, prince of pilgrims, of + thy fortune, Thou hast indeed seen the + temple; but I, the Lord of the temple. Nor + has any man inhaled from the musk-bladder + of the merchant, or from the musky morning-wind, + that sweet air which I am permitted to + breathe every hour of the day." + +And with still more vigor in the following lines:-- + + "Oft have I said, I say it once more, + I, a wanderer, do not stray from myself. + I am a kind of parrot; the mirror is holden to me; + What the Eternal says, I stammering say again. + Give me what you will; I eat thistles as roses, + And according to my food I grow and I give. + Scorn me not, but know I have the pearl, + And am only seeking one to receive it." + +And his claim has been admitted from the first. The muleteers and +camel-drivers, on their way through the desert, sing snatches of his +songs, not so much for the thought, as for their joyful temper and tone; +and the cultivated Persians know his poems by heart. Yet Hafiz does not +appear to have set any great value on his songs, since his scholars +collected them for the first time after his death. + +In the following poem the soul is figured as the Phoenix alighting on +the Tree of Life:-- + + "My phoenix long ago secured + His nest in the sky-vault's cope; + In the body's cage immured, + He is weary of life's hope. + + "Round and round this heap of ashes + Now flies the bird amain, + But in that odorous niche of heaven + Nestles the bird again. + + "Once flies he upward, he will perch + On Tuba's golden bough; + His home is on that fruited arch + Which cools the blest below. + + "If over this world of ours + His wings my phoenix spread, + How gracious falls on land and sea + The soul refreshing shade! + + "Either world inhabits he, + Sees oft below him planets roll; + His body is all of air compact, + Of Allah's love his soul." + +Here is an ode which is said to be a favorite with all educated +Persians:-- + + "Come!--the palace of heaven rests on aery pillars,-- + Come, and bring me wine; our days are wind. + I declare myself the slave of that masculine soul + Which ties and alliance on earth once forever renounces. + Told I thee yester-morn how the Iris of heaven + Brought to me in my cup a gospel of joy? + O high-flying falcon! the Tree of Life is thy perch; + This nook of grief fits thee ill for a nest. + Hearken! they call to thee down from the ramparts of heaven; + I cannot divine what holds thee here in a net. + I, too, have a counsel for thee; oh, mark it and keep it, + Since I received the same from the Master above: + Seek not for faith or for truth in a world of light-minded girls; + A thousand suitors reckons this dangerous bride. + This jest [of the world], which tickles me, leave to my vagabond self. + Accept whatever befalls; uncover thy brow from thy locks; + Neither to me nor to thee was option imparted; + Neither endurance nor truth belongs to the laugh of the rose. + The loving nightingale mourns;--cause enow for mourning;-- + Why envies the bird the streaming verses of Hafiz? + Know that a god bestowed on him eloquent speech." + +Here is a little epitaph that might have come from Simonides:-- + + "Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest + Mad Destiny this tender stripling played: + For a warm breast of ivory to his breast, + She laid a slab of marble on his head." + +The cedar, the cypress, the palm, the olive, and fig-tree, and the birds +that inhabit them, and the garden flowers, are never wanting in these +musky verses, and are always named with effect. "The willows," he says, +"bow themselves to every wind, out of shame for their unfruitfulness." +We may open anywhere on a floral catalogue. + + "By breath of beds of roses drawn, + I found the grove in the morning pure, + In the concert of the nightingales + My drunken brain to cure. + + "With unrelated glance + I looked the rose in the eye; + The rose in the hour of gloaming + Flamed like a lamp hard-by. + + "She was of her beauty proud, + And prouder of her youth, + The while unto her flaming heart + The bulbul gave his truth. + + "The sweet narcissus closed + Its eye, with passion pressed; + The tulips out of envy burned + Moles in their scarlet breast. + + "The lilies white prolonged + Their sworded tongue to the smell; + The clustering anemones + Their pretty secrets tell." + +Presently we have,-- + + ----"All day the rain + Bathed the dark hyacinths in vain, + The flood may pour from morn till night + Nor wash the pretty Indians white." + +And so onward, through many a page. + +The following verse of Omar Chiam seems to belong to Hafiz:-- + + "Each spot where tulips prank their state + Has drunk the life-blood of the great; + The violets yon fields which stain + Are moles of beauties Time hath slain." + +As might this picture of the first days of Spring, from Enweri:-- + + "O'er the garden water goes the wind alone + To rasp and to polish the cheek of the wave; + The fire is quenched on the dear hearth-stone, + But it burns again on the tulips brave." + +Friendship is a favorite topic of the Eastern poets, and they have +matched on this head the absoluteness of Montaigne. + +Hafiz says,-- + +"Thou learnest no secret until thou knowest friendship; since to the +unsound no heavenly knowledge enters." + +Ibn Jemin writes thus:-- + + "Whilst I disdain the populace, + I find no peer in higher place. + Friend is a word of royal tone, + Friend is a poem all alone. + Wisdom is like the elephant, + Lofty and rare inhabitant: + He dwells in deserts or in courts; + With hucksters he has no resorts." + +Dschami says,-- + + "A friend is he, who, hunted as a foe, + So much the kindlier shows him than before; + Throw stones at him, or ruder javelins throw, + He builds with stone and steel a firmer floor." + +Of the amatory poetry of Hafiz we must be very sparing in our citations, +though it forms the staple of the "Divan." He has run through the +whole gamut of passion,--from the sacred, to the borders, and over +the borders, of the profane. The same confusion of high and low, the +celerity of flight and allusion which our colder muses forbid, is +habitual to him. From the plain text,-- + + "The chemist of love + Will this perishing mould, + Were it made out of mire, + Transmute into gold,"-- + +or, from another favorite legend of his chemistry,-- + + "They say, through patience, chalk + Becomes a ruby stone; + Ah, yes, but by the true heart's blood + The chalk is crimson grown,"-- + +he proceeds to the celebration of his passion; and nothing in his +religious or in his scientific traditions is too sacred or too remote to +afford a token of his mistress. The Moon thought she knew her own orbit +well enough; but when she saw the curve on Zuleika's cheek, she was at a +loss:-- + + "And since round lines are drawn + My darling's lips about, + The very Moon looks puzzled on, + And hesitates in doubt + If the sweet curve that rounds thy mouth + Be not her true way to the South." + +His ingenuity never sleeps:-- + + "Ah, could I hide me in my song, + To kiss thy lips from which it flows!"-- + +and plays in a thousand pretty courtesies:-- + + "Fair fall thy soft heart! + A good work wilt thou do? + Oh, pray for the dead + Whom thine eyelashes slew!" + +And what a nest has he found for his bonny bird to take up her abode +in!-- + + "They strew in the path of kings and czars + Jewels and gems of price; + But for thy head I will pluck down stars, + And pave thy way with eyes. + + "I have sought for thee a costlier dome + Than Mahmoud's palace high, + And thou, returning, find thy home + In the apple of Love's eye." + +Nor shall Death snatch her from his pursuit:-- + + "If my darling should depart + And search the skies for prouder friends, + God forbid my angry heart + In other love should seek amends! + + "When the blue horizon's hoop + Me a little pinches here, + On the instant I will die + And go find thee in the sphere." + +Then we have all degrees of passionate abandonment:-- + + "I know this perilous love-lane + No whither the traveller leads, + Yet my fancy the sweet scent of + Thy tangled tresses feeds. + + "In the midnight of thy locks, + I renounce the day; + In the ring of thy rose-lips, + My heart forgets to pray." + +And sometimes his love rises to a religious sentiment:-- + + "Plunge in yon angry waves, + Renouncing doubt and care; + The flowing of the seven broad seas + Shall never wet thy hair. + + "Is Allah's face on thee + Bending with love benign, + And thou not less on Allah's eye + O fairest! turnest thine." + +We add to these fragments of Hafiz a few specimens from other poets. + + +CHODSCHU KERMANI. + +THE EXILE. + + "In Farsistan the violet spreads + Its leaves to the rival sky,-- + I ask, How far is the Tigris flood, + And the vine that grows thereby? + + "Except the amber morning wind, + Not one saluted me here; + There is no man in all Bagdad + To offer the exile cheer. + + "I know that thou, O morning wind, + O'er Kerman's meadow blowest, + And thou, heart-warming nightingale, + My father's orchard knowest. + + "Oh, why did partial Fortune + From that bright land banish me? + So long as I wait in Bagdad, + The Tigris is all I see. + + "The merchant hath stuffs of price, + And gems from the sea-washed strand, + And princes offer me grace + To stay in the Syrian land: + + "But what is gold for but for gifts? + And dark without love is the day; + And all that I see in Bagdad + Is the Tigris to float me away." + + +NISAMI. + + "While roses bloomed along the plain, + The nightingale to the falcon said, + 'Why, of all birds, must thou be dumb? + With closed mouth thou utterest, + Though dying, no last word to man. + Yet sitt'st thou on the hand of princes, + And feedest on the grouse's breast, + Whilst I, who hundred thousand jewels + Squander in a single tone, + Lo! I feed myself with worms, + And my dwelling is the thorn.'-- + The falcon answered, 'Be all ear: + I, experienced in affairs, + See fifty things, say never one; + But thee the people prizes not, + Who, doing nothing, say'st a thousand. + To me, appointed to the chase, + The king's hand gives the grouse's breast; + Whilst a chatterer like thee + Must gnaw worms in the thorn. Farewell!'" + +The following passages exhibit the strong tendency of the Persian poets +to contemplative and religious poetry and to allegory. + + +ENWERI. + +BODY AND SOUL. + + "A painter in China once painted a hall;-- + Such a web never hung on an emperor's wall;-- + One half from his brush with rich colors did run, + The other he touched with a beam of the sun; + So that all which delighted the eye in one side, + The same, point for point, in the other replied. + + "In thee, friend, that Tyrian chamber is found; + Thine the star-pointing roof, and the base on the ground: + Is one half depicted with colors less bright? + Beware that the counterpart blazes with light!" + + +IBN JEMIN. + + "I read on the porch of a palace bold + In a purple tablet letters cast,-- + 'A house, though a million winters old, + A house of earth comes down at last; + Then quarry thy stones from the crystal All, + And build the dome that shall not fall.'" + +"What need," cries the mystic Feisi, "of palaces and tapestry? What need +even of a bed? + + "The eternal Watcher, who doth wake + All night in the body's earthen chest, + Will of thine arms a pillow make, + And a holster of thy breast." + +A stanza of Hilali on a Flute is a luxury of idealism:-- + + "Hear what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains, + Without tongue, yellow-cheeked, full of winds that wail and sigh, + Saying, 'Sweetheart, the old mystery remains, + If I am I, thou thou, or thou art I.'" + +Ferideddin Attar wrote the "Bird Conversations," a mystical tale, in +which the birds, coming together to choose their king, resolve on a +pilgrimage to Mount Kaf, to pay their homage to the Simorg. From this +poem, written five hundred years ago, we cite the following passage, as +a proof of the identity of mysticism in all periods. The tone is quite +modern. In the fable, the birds were soon weary of the length and +difficulties of the way, and at last almost all gave out. Three only +persevered, and arrived before the throne of the Simorg. + + "The bird-soul was ashamed; + Their body was quite annihilated; + They had cleaned themselves from the dust, + And were by the light ensouled. + What was, and was not,--the Past,-- + Was wiped out from their breast. + The sun from near-by beamed + Clearest light into their soul; + The resplendence of the Simorg beamed + As one back from all three. + They knew not, amazed, if they + Were either this or that. + They saw themselves all as Simorg, + Themselves in the eternal Simorg. + When to the Simorg up they looked, + They beheld him among themselves; + And when they looked on each other, + They saw themselves in the Simorg. + A single look grouped the two parties. + The Simorg emerged, the Simorg vanished, + This in that, and that in this, + As the world has never heard. + So remained they, sunk in wonder, + Thoughtless in deepest thinking, + And quite unconscious of themselves. + Speechless prayed they to the Highest + To open this secret, + And to unlock _Thou_ and _We_. + There came an answer without tongue.-- + 'The Highest is a sun-mirror; + Who comes to Him sees himself therein, + Sees body and soul, and soul and body: + When you came to the Simorg, + Three therein appeared to you, + And, had fifty of you come, + So had you seen yourselves as many. + Him has none of us yet seen. + Ants see not the Pleiades. + Can the gnat grasp with his teeth + The body of the elephant? + What you see is He not; + What you hear is He not. + The valleys which you traverse, + The actions which you perform, + They lie under our treatment + And among our properties. + You as three birds are amazed, + Impatient, heartless, confused: + Far over you am I raised, + Since I am in act Simorg. + Ye blot out my highest being, + That ye may find yourselves on my throne; + Forever ye blot out yourselves, + As shadows in the sun. Farewell!'" + +Among the religious customs of the dervises, it seems, is an +astronomical dance, in which the dervis imitates the movements of the +heavenly bodies by spinning on his own axis, whilst, at the same time, +he revolves round the sheikh in the centre, representing the sun; and as +he spins, he sings the song of Seid Nimetollah of Kuhistan:-- + + "Spin the ball! I reel, I hum, + Nor head from foot can I discern, + Nor my heart from love of mine, + Nor the wine-cup from the wine. + All my doing, all my leaving, + Reaches not to my perceiving. + Lost in whirling spheres I rove, + And know only that I love. + + "I am seeker of the stone, + Living gem of Solomon; + From the shore of souls arrived, + In the sea of sense I dived; + But what is land, or what is wave, + To me who only jewel crave? + Love's the air-fed fire intense, + My heart is the frankincense; + As the rich aloes flames, I glow, + Yet the censer cannot know. + I'm all-knowing, yet unknowing; + Stand not, pause not, in my going. + + "Ask not me, as Muftis can + To recite the Alcoran; + Well I love the meaning sweet,-- + I tread the book beneath my feet. + + "Lo! the God's love blazes higher, + Till all difference expire. + What are Moslems? what are Giaours? + All are Love's, and all are ours. + I embrace the true believers, + But I reck not of deceivers. + Firm to heaven my bosom clings, + Heedless of inferior things; + Down on earth there, underfoot, + What men chatter know I not." + + * * * * * + + +THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. + +EVERY MAN HIS OWN BOSWELL. + + +Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle which fits them all. + +----I think, Sir,--said the divinity-student,--you must intend that for +one of the sayings of the Seven Wise Men of Boston you were speaking of +the other day. + +I thank you, my young friend,--was my reply,--but I must say something +better than that, before I could pretend to fill out the number. + +----The schoolmistress wanted to know how many of these sayings there +were on record, and what, and by whom said. + +----Why, let us see,--there is that one of Benjamin Franklin, "the great +Bostonian," after whom this lad was named. To be sure, he said a great +many wise things,--and I don't feel sure he didn't borrow this,--he +speaks as if it were old. But then he applied it so neatly!-- + +"He that has once done you a kindness will be more ready to do you +another than he whom you yourself have obliged." + +Then there is that glorious Epicurean paradox, uttered by my friend, the +Historian, in one of his flashing moments:-- + +"Give us the luxuries of life, and we will dispense with its +necessaries." + +To these must certainly be added that other saying of one of the +wittiest of men:-- + +"Good Americans, when they die, go to Paris." + +----The divinity-student looked grave at this, but said nothing. + +The schoolmistress spoke out, and said she didn't think the wit meant +any irreverence. It was only another way of saying, Paris is a heavenly +place after New York or Boston. + +A jaunty-looking person, who had come in with the young fellow they call +John,--evidently a stranger,--said there was one more wise man's saying +that he had heard; it was about our place, but he didn't know who said +it.--A civil curiosity was manifested by the company to hear the fourth +wise saying. I heard him distinctly whispering to the young fellow who +brought him to dinner, _Shall I tell it?_ To which the answer was, _Go +ahead!_--Well,--he said,--this was what I heard:-- + +"Boston State-House is the hub of the solar system. You couldn't +pry that out of a Boston man, if you had the tire of all creation +straightened out for a crowbar." + +Sir,--said I,--I am gratified with your remark. It expresses with +pleasing vivacity that which I have sometimes heard uttered with +malignant dulness. The satire of the remark is essentially true of +Boston,--and of all other considerable--and inconsiderable--places with +which I have had the privilege of being acquainted. Cockneys think +London is the only place in the world. Frenchmen--you remember the line +about Paris, the Court, the World, etc.--I recollect well, by the way, +a sign in that city which ran thus: "Hotel de l'Univers et des Etats +Unis"; and as Paris _is_ the universe to a Frenchman, of course the +United States are outside of it.--"See Naples and then die."--It is +quite as bad with smaller places. I have been about, lecturing, you +know, and have found the following propositions to hold true of all of +them. + +1. The axis of the earth sticks out visibly through the centre of each +and every town or city. + +2. If more than fifty years have passed since its foundation, it is +affectionately styled by the inhabitants the "_good old_ town _of_"---- +(whatever its name may happen to be). + +3. Every collection of its inhabitants that comes together to listen +to a stranger is invariably declared to be a "remarkably intelligent +audience." + +4. The climate of the place is particularly favorable to longevity. + +5. It contains several persons of vast talent little known to the world. +(One or two of them, you may perhaps chance to remember, sent short +pieces to the "Paetolian" some time since, which were "respectfully +declined.") + +Boston is just like other places of its size;--only, perhaps, +considering its excellent fish-market, paid fire-department, superior +monthly publications, and correct habit of spelling the English +language, it has some right to look down on the mob of cities. I'll tell +you, though, if you want to know it, what is the real offence of Boston. +It drains a large water-shed of its intellect, and will not itself be +drained. If it would only send away its first-rate men, instead of its +second-rate ones, (no offence to the well-known exceptions, of which we +are always proud,) we should be spared such epigrammatic remarks as that +which the gentleman has quoted. There can never be a real metropolis +in this country, until the biggest centre can drain the lesser ones of +their talent and wealth. I have observed, by the way, that the people +who really live in two great cities are by no means so jealous of each +other, as are those of smaller cities situated within the intellectual +basin, or _suction-range_, of one large one, of the pretensions of any +other. Don't you see why? Because their promising young author and +rising lawyer and large capitalist have been drained off to the +neighboring big city,--their prettiest girl has been exported to the +same market; all their ambition points there, and all their thin gilding +of glory comes from there. I hate little toad-eating cities. + +----Would I be so good as to specify any particular example?--Oh,--an +example? Did you ever see a bear-trap? Never? Well, shouldn't you +like to see me put my foot into one? With sentiments of the highest +consideration I must beg leave to be excused. + +Besides, some of the smaller cities are charming. If they have an old +church or two, a few stately mansions of former grandees, here and there +an old dwelling with the second story projecting, (for the convenience +of shooting the Indians knocking at the front-door with their +tomahawks,)--if they have, scattered about, those mighty-square houses +built something more than half a century ago, and standing like +architectural boulders dropped by the former diluvium of wealth, whose +refluent wave has left them as its monument,--if they have gardens with +elbowed apple trees that push their branches over the high board-fence +and drop their fruit on the side-walk,--if they have a little grass in +the side-streets, enough to betoken quiet without proclaiming decay,--I +think I could go to pieces, after my life's work were done, in one of +those tranquil places, as sweetly as in any cradle that an old man may +be rocked to sleep in. I visit such spots always with infinite delight. +My friend, the Poet, says, that rapidly growing towns are most +unfavorable to the imaginative and reflective faculties. Let a man live +in one of these old quiet places, he says, and the wine of his soul, +which is kept thick and turbid by the rattle of busy streets, settles, +and, as you hold it up, you may see the sun through it by day and the +stars by night. + +----Do I think that the little villages have the conceit of the great +towns?--I don't believe there is much difference. You know how they read +Pope's line in the smallest town in our State of Massachusetts?--Well, +they read it + + "All are but parts of one stupendous HULL!" + +----Every person's feelings have a front-door and a side-door by which +they may be entered. The front-door is on the street. Some keep it +always open; some keep it latched; some, locked; some, bolted,--with a +chain that will let you peep in, but not get in; and some nail it up, +so that nothing can pass its threshold. This front-door leads into +a passage which opens into an ante-room, and this into the interior +apartments. The side-door opens at once into the sacred chambers. + +There is almost always at least one key to this side-door. This is +carried for years hidden in a mother's bosom. Fathers, brothers, +sisters, and friends, often, but by no means so universally, have +duplicates of it. The wedding-ring conveys a right to one; alas, if none +is given with it! + +If nature or accident has put one of these keys into the hands of a +person who has the torturing instinct, I can only solemnly pronounce the +words that Justice utters over its doomed victim,--_The Lord have mercy +on your soul!_ You will probably go mad within a reasonable time,--or, +if you are a man, run off and die with your head on a curb-stone, in +Melbourne or San Francisco,--or, if you are a woman, quarrel and break +your heart, or turn into a pale, jointed petrifaction that moves about +as if it were alive, or play some real life-tragedy or other. + +Be very careful to whom you trust one of these keys of the side-door. +The fact of possessing one renders those even who are dear to you very +terrible at times. You can keep the world out from your front-door, or +receive visitors only when you are ready for them; but those of your own +flesh and blood, or of certain grades of intimacy, can come in at the +side-door, if they will, at any hour and in any mood. Some of them have +a scale of your whole nervous system, and can play all the gamut of your +sensibilities in semitones,--touching the naked nerve-pulps as a pianist +strikes the keys of his instrument. I am satisfied that there are as +great masters of this nerve-playing as Vieuxtemps or Thalberg in their +lines of performance. Married life is the school in which the most +accomplished artists in this department are found. A delicate woman +is the best instrument; she has such a magnificent compass of +sensibilities! From the deep inward moan which follows pressure on the +great nerves of right, to the sharp cry as the filaments of taste are +struck with a crashing sweep, is a range which no other instrument +possesses. A few exercises on it dally at home fit a man wonderfully for +his habitual labors, and refresh him immensely as he returns from them. +No stranger can get a great many notes of torture out of a human soul; +it takes one that knows it well,--parent, child, brother, sister, +intimate. Be very careful to whom you give a side-door key; too many +have them already. + +----You remember the old story of the tender-hearted man, who placed a +frozen viper in his bosom, and was stung by it when it became thawed? If +we take a cold-blooded creature into our bosom, better that it should +sting us and we should die than that its chill should slowly steal into +our hearts; warm it we never can! I have seen faces of women that were +fair to look upon, yet one could see that the icicles were forming +round these women's hearts. I knew what freezing image lay on the white +breasts beneath the laces! + +A very simple _intellectual_ mechanism answers the necessities of +friendship, and even of the most intimate relations of life. If a watch +tells us the hour and the minute, we can be content to carry it about +with us for a life-time, though it has no second-hand, and is not +a repeater, nor a musical watch,--though it is not enamelled nor +jewelled,--in short, though it has little beyond the wheels required +for a trustworthy instrument, added to a good face and a pair of useful +hands. The more wheels there are in a watch or a brain, the more trouble +they are to take care of. The movements of exaltation which belong to +genius are egotistic by their very nature. A calm, clear mind, not +subject to the spasms and crises that are so often met with in creative +or intensely perceptive natures, is the best basis for love or +friendship.--Observe, I am talking about _minds_. I won't say, the more +intellect, the less capacity for loving; for that would do wrong to the +understanding and reason;--but, on the other hand, that the brain often +runs away with the heart's best blood, which gives the world a few pages +of wisdom or sentiment or poetry, instead of making one other heart +happy, I have no question. + +If one's intimate in love or friendship cannot or does not share +all one's intellectual tastes or pursuits, that is a small matter. +Intellectual companions can be found easily in men and books. After all, +if we think of it, most of the world's loves and friendships have been +between people that could not read nor spell. + +But to radiate the heat of the affections into a clod, which absorbs all +that is poured into it, but never warms beneath the sunshine of smiles +or the pressure of hand or lip,--this is the great martyrdom of +sensitive beings,--most of all in that perpetual _auto da fe_ where +young womanhood is the sacrifice. + +----You noticed, perhaps, what I just said about the loves and +friendships of illiterate persons,--that is, of the human race, with a +few exceptions here and there. I like books,--I was born and bred among +them, and have the easy feeling, when I get into their presence, that a +stable-boy has among horses. I don't think I undervalue them either as +companions or as instructors. But I can't help remembering that the +world's great men have not commonly been great scholars, nor its great +scholars great men. The Hebrew patriarchs had small libraries, I think, +if any; yet they represent to our imaginations a very complete idea of +manhood, and, I think, if we could ask in Abraham to dine with us men of +letters next Saturday, we should feel honored by his company. + +What I wanted to say about books is this: that there are times in which +every active mind feels itself above any and all human books. + +----I think a man must have a good opinion of himself, Sir,--said the +divinity-student,--who should feel himself above Shakspeare at any time. + +My young friend,--I replied,--the man who is never conscious of any +state of feeling or of intellectual effort entirely beyond expression +by any form of words whatsoever is a mere creature of language. I can +hardly believe there are any such men. Why, think for a moment of the +power of music. The nerves that make us alive to it spread out (so the +Professor tells me) in the most sensitive region of the marrow, just +where it is widening to run upwards into the hemispheres. It has its +seat in the region of sense rather than of thought. Yet it produces +a continuous and, as it were, logical sequence of emotional and +intellectual changes; but how different from trains of thought proper! +how entirely beyond the reach of symbols!--Think of human passions as +compared with all phrases! Did you ever hear of a man's growing lean by +the reading of "Romeo and Juliet," or blowing his brains out because +Desdemona was maligned? There are a good many symbols, even, that are +more expressive than words. I remember a young wife who had to part with +her husband for a time. She did not write a mournful poem; indeed, she +was a silent person, and perhaps hardly said a word about it; but she +quietly turned of a deep orange color with jaundice. A great many people +in this world have but one form of rhetoric for their profoundest +experiences,--namely, to waste away and die. When a man can _read_, his +paroxysm of feeling is passing. When he can _read_, his thought has +slackened its hold.--You talk about reading Shakspeare, using him as an +expression for the highest intellect, and you wonder that any common +person should be so presumptuous as to suppose his thought can rise +above the text which lies before him. But think a moment. A child's +reading of Shakspeare is one thing, and Coleridge's or Schlegel's +reading of him is another. The saturation-point of each mind differs +from that of every other. But I think it is as true for the small mind +which can only take up a little as for the great one which takes up +much, that the suggested trains of thought and feeling ought always +to rise above--not the author, but the reader's mental version of the +author, whoever he may be. + +I think most readers of Shakspeare sometimes find themselves thrown into +exalted mental conditions like those produced by music. Then they may +drop the book, to pass at once into the region of thought without words. +We may happen to be very dull folks, you and I, and probably are, unless +there is some particular reason to suppose the contrary. But we get +glimpses now and then of a sphere of spiritual possibilities, where we, +dull as we are now, may sail in vast circles round the largest compass +of earthly intelligences. + +----I confess there are times when I feel like the friend I mentioned +to you some time ago,--I hate the very sight of a book. Sometimes it +becomes almost a physical necessity to talk out what is in the mind, +before putting anything else into it. It is very bad to have thoughts +and feelings, which were meant to come out in talk, _strike in_, as they +say of some complaints that ought to show outwardly. + +I always believed in life rather than in books. I suppose every day +of earth, with its hundred thousand deaths and something more of +births,--with its loves and hates, its triumphs and defeats, its pangs +and blisses, has more of humanity in it than all the books that were +ever written, put together. I believe the flowers growing at this moment +send up more fragrance to heaven than was ever exhaled from all the +essences ever distilled. + +----Don't I read up various matters to talk about at this table or +elsewhere?--No, that is the last thing I would do. I will tell you my +rule. Talk about those subjects you have had long in your mind, and +listen to what others say about subjects you have studied but recently. +Knowledge and timber shouldn't be much used till they are seasoned. + +----Physiologists and metaphysicians have had their attention turned a +good deal of late to the automatic and involuntary actions of the mind. +Put an idea into your intelligence and leave it there an hour, a day, a +year, without ever having occasion to refer to it. When, at last, +you return to it, you do not find it as it was when acquired. It has +domiciliated itself, so to speak,--become at home,--entered into +relations with your other thoughts, and integrated itself with the whole +fabric of the mind. Or take a simple and familiar example. You forget +a name, in conversation,--go on talking, without making any effort to +recall it,--and presently the mind evolves it by its own involuntary and +unconscious action, while you were pursuing another train of thought, +and the name rises of itself to your lips. + +There are some curious observations I should like to make about the +mental machinery, but I think we are getting rather didactic. + +----I should be gratified, if Benjamin Franklin would let me know +something of his progress in the French language. I rather liked that +exercise he read us the other day, though I must confess I should hardly +dare to translate it, for fear some people in a remote city where I once +lived might think I was drawing their portraits. + +----Yes, Paris is a famous place for societies. I don't know whether the +piece I mentioned from the French author was intended simply as Natural +History, or whether there was not a little malice in his description. +At any rate, when I gave my translation to B.F. to turn back again into +French, one reason was that I thought it would sound a little bald in +English, and some people might think it was meant to have some local +bearing or other,--which the author, of course, didn't mean, inasmuch as +he could not be acquainted with anything on this side the water. + +[The above remarks were addressed to the schoolmistress, to whom I +handed the paper after looking it over. The divinity-student came +and read over her shoulder,--very curious, apparently, but his eyes +wandered, I thought. Seeing that her breathing was a little hurried and +high, or _thoracic_, as my friend, the Professor, calls it, I watched +her a little more closely.--It is none of my business.--After all, it +is the imponderables that move the world,--heat, electricity, +love.--_Habet_.] + +This is the piece that Benjamin Franklin made into boarding-school +French, such as you see here; don't expect too much;--the mistakes give +a relish to it, I think. + + +LES SOCIETES POLYPHYSIOPHILOSOPHIQUES. + +Ces Societes la sont une Institution pour suppleer aux besoins d'esprit +et de coeur de ces individus qui ont survecu a leurs emotions a l'egard +du beau sexe, et qui n'ont pas la distraction de l'habitude de boire. + +Pour devenir membre d'une de ces Societes, on doit avoir le moins +de cheveux possible. S'il y en reste plusieurs qui resistent aux +depilatoires naturelles et autres, on doit avoir quelques connaissances, +n'importe dans quel genre. Des le moment qu'on ouvre la porte de la +Societe, on a un grand interet dans toutes les choses dont on ne sait +rien. Ainsi, un microscopiste demontre un nouveau _flexor_ du _tarse_ +d'un _melolontha vulgaris_. Douze savans improvises, portans des +besicles, et qui ne connaissent rien des insectes, si ce n'est les +morsures du _culex_, se precipitent sur l'instrument, et voient--une +grande bulle d'air, dont ils s'emerveillent avec effusion. Ce qui est +un spectacle plein d'instruction--pour ceux qui ne sont pas de ladite +Societe. Tous les membres regardent les chimistes en particulier avec +un air d'intelligence parfaite pendant qu'ils prouvent dans un discours +d'une demi heure que O^6 N^3 H^5 C^6 etc. font quelque chose qui n'est +bonne a rien, mais qui probablement a une odeur tres desagreable, selon +l'habitude des produits chimiques. Apres cela, vient un mathematicien +qui vous bourre avec des _a+b_ et vous rapporte enfin un _x+y_, dont +vous n'avez pas besoin et qui ne change nullement vos relations avec +la vie. Un naturaliste vous parle des formations speciales des animaux +excessivement inconnus, dont vous n'avez jamais soupconne l'existence. +Ainsi il vous decrit les _follicules_ de _l'appendix vermiformis_ d'un +_dzigguetai_. Vous ne savez pas ce que c'est qu'un _follicule_. Vous ne +savez pas ce que c'est qu'un _appendix vermiformis_. Vous n'avez +jamais entendu parler du _dzigguetai_. Ainsi vous gagnez toutes ces +connaissances a la fois, qui s'attachent a votre esprit comme l'eau +adhere aux plumes d'un canard. On connait toutes les langues _ex +officio_ en devenant membre d'une de ces Societes. Ainsi quand on entend +lire un Essai sur les dialectes Tchutchiens, on comprend tout cela de +suite, et s'instruit enormement. + +Il y a deux especes d'individus qu'on trouve toujours a ces Societies: +1 deg. Le membre a questions; 2 deg. Le membre a "Bylaws." + +La _question_ est une specialite. Celui qui en fait metier ne fait +jamais des reponses. La question est une maniere tres commode de dire +les choses suivantes: "Me voila! Je ne suis pas fossil, moi,--je respire +encore! J'ai des idees,--voyez mon intelligence! Vous ne croyiez pas, +vous autres, que je savais quelque chose de cela! Ah, nous avons un +peu de sagacite, voyez vous! Nous ne sommes nullement la bete qu'on +pense!"--_Le faiseur de questions donne peu d'attention aux reponses +qu'on fait; ce n'est pas la dans sa specialite._ + +Le membre a "Bylaws" est le bouchon de toutes les emotions mousseuses +et genereuses qui se montrent dans la Societe. C'est un empereur +manque,--un tyran a la troisieme trituration. C'est un esprit dur, +borne, exact, grand dans les petitesses, petit dans les grandeurs, selon +le mot du grand Jefferson. On ne l'aime pas dans la Societe, mais on le +respecte et on le craint. Il n'y a qu'un mot pour ce membre audessus +de "Bylaws." Ce mot est pour lui ce que l'Om est aux Hindous. C'est sa +religion; il n'y a rien audela. Ce mot la c'est la CONSTITUTION! + +Lesdites Societes publient des feuilletons de tems en tems. On les +trouve abandonnes a sa porte, nus comme des enfans nouveau-nes, faute +de membrane cutanee, ou meme papyracee. Si on aime la botanique, on y +trouve une memoire sur les coquilles; si on fait des etudes zooelogiques, +on trouve un grand tas de q[square root]-1, ce qui doit etre infiniment +plus commode que les encyclopedies. Ainsi il est clair comme la +metaphysique qu'on doit devenir membre d'une Societe telle que nous +decrivons. + + Recette pour le Depilatoire Physiophilosophique. + Chaux vive lb. ss. Eau bouillante Oj. + Depilez avec. Polissez ensuite. + +----I told the boy that his translation into French was creditable to +him; and some of the company wishing to hear what there was in the piece +that made me smile, I turned it into English for them, as well as I +could, on the spot. + +The landlady's daughter seemed to be much amused by the idea that, +a depilatory could take the place of literary and scientific +accomplishments; she wanted me to print the piece, so that she might +send a copy of it to her cousin in Mizzourah; she didn't think he'd +have to do anything to the outside of his head to get into any of +the societies; he had to wear a wig once, when he played a part in a +tabullo. + +No,--said I,--I shouldn't think of printing that in English. I'll tell +you why. As soon as you get a few thousand people together in a town, +there is somebody that every sharp thing you say is sure to hit. What +if a thing was written in Paris or in Pekin?--that makes no difference. +Everybody in those cities, or almost everybody, has his counterpart +here, and in all large places.--You never studied averages, as I have +had occasion to. + +I'll tell you how I came to know so much about averages. There was +one season when I was lecturing, commonly, five evenings in the week, +through most of the lecturing period. I soon found, as most speakers do, +that it was pleasanter to work one lecture than to keep several in hand. + +----Don't you get sick to death of one lecture?--said the landlady's +daughter,--who had a new dress on that day, and was in spirits for +conversation. + +I was going to talk about averages,--I said,--but I have no objection to +telling you about lectures, to begin with. + +A new lecture always has a certain excitement connected with its +delivery. One thinks well of it, as of most things fresh from his mind. +After a few deliveries of it, one gets tired and then disgusted with +its repetition. Go on delivering it, and the disgust passes off, until, +after one has repeated it a hundred or a hundred and fifty times, he +rather enjoys the hundred and first or hundred and fifty-first time, +before a new audience. But this is on one condition,--that he never lays +the lecture down and lets it cool. If he does, there comes on a +loathing for it which is intense, so that the sight of the old battered +manuscript is as bad as sea-sickness. + +A new lecture is just like any other new tool. We use it for a while +with pleasure. Then it blisters our hands, and we hate to touch it. +By-and-by our hands get callous, and then we have no longer any +sensitiveness about it. But if we give it up, the calluses disappear; +and if we meddle with it again, we miss the novelty and get the +blisters.--The story is often quoted of Whitefield, that he said a +sermon was good for nothing until it had been preached forty times. +A lecture doesn't begin to be old until it has passed its hundredth +delivery; and some, I think, have doubled, if not quadrupled, that +number. These old lectures are a man's best, commonly; they improve by +age, also,--like the pipes, fiddles, and poems I told you of the other +day. One learns to make the most of their strong points and to carry off +their weak ones, to take out the really good things which don't tell on +the audience, and put in cheaper things that do. All this degrades +him, of course, but it improves the lecture for general delivery. A +thoroughly popular lecture ought to have nothing in it which five +hundred people cannot all take in a flash, just as it is uttered. + +----No, indeed,--I should be very sorry to say anything disrespectful +of audiences. I have been kindly treated by a great many, and may +occasionally face one hereafter. But I tell you the _average_ intellect +of five hundred persons, taken as they come, is not very high. It may be +sound and safe, so far as it goes, but it is not very rapid or profound. +A lecture ought to be something which all can understand, about +something which interests everybody. I think, that, if any experienced +lecturer gives you a different account from this, it will probably be +one of those eloquent or forcible speakers who hold an audience by the +charm of their manner, whatever they talk about,--even when they don't +talk very well. + +But an _average_, which was what I meant to speak about, is one of the +most extraordinary subjects of observation and study. It is awful in its +uniformity, in its automatic necessity of action. Two communities of +ants or bees are exactly alike in all their actions, so far as we can +see. Two lyceum assemblies, of five hundred each, are so nearly alike, +that they are absolutely undistinguishable in many cases by any definite +mark, and there is nothing but the place and time by which one can tell +the "remarkably intelligent audience" of a town in New York or Ohio from +one in any New England town of similar size. Of course, if any principle +of selection has come in, as in those special associations of young +men which are common in cities, it deranges the uniformity of the +assemblage. But let there be no such interfering circumstances, and one +knows pretty well even the look the audience will have, before he goes +in. Front seats: a few old folks,--shiny-headed,--slant up best ear +towards the speaker,--drop off asleep after a while, when the air begins +to get a little narcotic with carbonic acid. Bright women's faces, young +and middle-aged, a little behind these, but toward the front--(pick out +the best, and lecture mainly to that). Here and there a countenance +sharp and scholarlike, and a dozen pretty female ones sprinkled about. +An indefinite number of pairs of young people,--happy, but not always +very attentive. Boys in the back-ground, more or less quiet. Dull faces +here, there,--in how many places! I don't say dull _people_, but faces +without a ray of sympathy or a movement of expression. They are what +kill the lecturer. These negative faces with their vacuous eyes and +stony lineaments pump and suck the warm soul out of him;--that is the +chief reason why lecturers grow so pale before the season is over. They +render _latent_ any amount of vital caloric; they act on our minds as +those cold-blooded creatures I was talking about act on our hearts. + +Out of all these inevitable elements the audience is generated,--a great +compound vertebrate, as much like fifty others you have seen as any two +mammals of the same species are like each other. Each audience laughs, +and each cries, in just the same places of your lecture; that is, if you +make one laugh or cry, you make all. Even those little indescribable +movements which a lecturer takes cognizance of, just as a driver notices +his horse's cocking his ears, are sure to come in exactly the same place +of your lecture, always. I declare to you, that, as the monk said about +the picture in the convent,--that he sometimes thought the living +tenants were the shadows, and the painted figures the realities,--I +have sometimes felt as if I were a wandering spirit, and this great +unchanging multivertebrate which I faced night after night was one +ever-listening animal, which writhed along after me wherever I fled, and +coiled at my feet every evening, turning up to me the same sleepless +eyes which I thought I had closed with my last drowsy incantation! + +----Oh, yes! A thousand kindly and courteous acts,--a thousand faces +that melted individually out of my recollection as the April snow melts, +but only to steal away and find the beds of flowers whose roots are +memory, but which blossom in poetry and dreams. I am not ungrateful, nor +unconscious of all the good feeling and intelligence everywhere to be +met with through the vast parish to which the lecturer ministers. But +when I set forth, leading a string of my mind's daughters to market, as +the country-folk fetch in their strings of horses----Pardon me, that +was a coarse fellow who sneered at the sympathy wasted on an unhappy +lecturer, as if, because he was decently paid for his services, he had +therefore sold his sensibilities.--Family men get dreadfully homesick. +In the remote and bleak village the heart returns to the red blaze of +the logs in one's fireplace at home. + + "There are his young barbarians all at play,"-- + +if he owns any youthful savages.--No, the world has a million roosts for +a man, but only one nest. + +----It is a fine thing to be an oracle to which an appeal is always made +in all discussions. The men of facts wait their turn in grim silence, +with that slight tension about the nostrils which the consciousness +of earning a "settler" in the form of a fact or a revolver gives the +individual thus armed. When a person is really full of information, and +does not abuse it to crush conversation, his part is to that of the real +talkers what the instrumental accompaniment is in a trio or quartette of +vocalists. + +----What do I mean by the real talkers?--Why, the people with fresh +ideas, of course, and plenty of good warm words to dress them in. Facts +always yield the place of honor, in conversation, to thoughts about +facts; but if a false note is uttered, down comes the finger on the key +and the man of facts asserts his true dignity. I have known three of +these men of facts, at least, who were always formidable,--and one of +them was tyrannical. + +----Yes, a man sometimes makes a grand appearance on a particular +occasion; but these men knew something about almost everything, and +never made mistakes.--He? _Veneers_ in first-rate style. The mahogany +scales off now and then in spots, and then you see the cheap light +stuff.--I found ---- very fine in conversational information, the other +day, when we were in company. The talk ran upon mountains. He was +wonderfully well acquainted with the leading facts about the Andes, the +Apennines, and the Appalachians; he had nothing in particular to +say about Ararat, Ben Nevis, and various other mountains that were +mentioned. By and by some Revolutionary anecdote came up, and he showed +singular familiarity with the lives of the Adamses, and gave many +details relating to Major Andre. A point of Natural History being +suggested, he gave an excellent account of the air-bladder of fishes. +He was very full upon the subject of agriculture, but retired from the +conversation when horticulture was introduced in the discussion. So +he seemed well acquainted with the geology of anthracite, but did not +pretend to know anything of other kinds of coal. There was something so +odd about the extent and limitations of his knowledge, that I suspected +all at once what might be the meaning of it, and waited till I got an +opportunity.--Have you seen the "New American Cyclopaedia?" said I.--I +have, he replied; I received an early copy.--How far does it go?--He +turned red, and answered,--To Araguay.--Oh, said I to myself,--not quite +so far as Ararat;--that is the reason he knew nothing about it; but he +must have read all the rest straight through, and, if he can remember +what is in this volume until he has read all those that are to come, he +will know more than I ever thought he would. + +Since I had this experience, I hear that somebody else has related a +similar story. I didn't borrow it, for all that.--I made a comparison +at table some time since, which has often been quoted and received many +compliments. It was that of the mind of a bigot to the pupil of the eye; +the more light you pour on it, the more it contracts. The simile is a +very obvious, and, I suppose I may now say, a happy one; for it has just +been shown me that it occurs in a Preface to certain Political Poems of +Thomas Moore's, published long before my remark was repeated. When a +person of fair character for literary honesty uses an image such as +another has employed before him, the presumption is, that he has struck +upon it independently, or unconsciously recalled it, supposing it his +own. + +It is impossible to tell, in a great many cases, whether a comparison +which suddenly suggests itself is a new conception or a recollection. I +told you the other day that I never wrote a line of verse that seemed to +me comparatively good, but it appeared old at once, and often as if it +had been borrowed. But I confess I never suspected the above comparison +of being old, except from the fact of its obviousness. It is proper, +however, that I proceed by a formal instrument to relinquish all claim +to any property in an idea given to the world at about the time when +I had just joined the class in which Waster Thomas Moore was then a +somewhat advanced scholar. + +I, therefore, in full possession of my native honesty, but knowing the +liability of all men to be elected to public office, and for that reason +feeling uncertain how soon I may be in danger of losing it, do hereby +renounce all claim to being considered the _first_ person who gave +utterance to a certain simile or comparison referred to in the +accompanying documents, and relating to the pupil of the eye on the one +part and the mind of the bigot on the other. I hereby relinquish all +glory and profit, and especially all claims to letters from +autograph collectors, founded upon my supposed property in the above +comparison,--knowing well, that, according to the laws of literature, +they who speak first hold the fee of the thing said. I do also agree +that all Editors of Cyclopedias and Biographical Dictionaries, all +Publishers of Reviews and Papers, and all Critics writing therein, +shall be at liberty to retract or qualify any opinion predicated on +the supposition that I was the sole and undisputed author of the above +comparison. But, inasmuch as I do affirm that the comparison aforesaid +was uttered by me in the firm belief that it was new and wholly my own, +and as I have good reason to think that I had never seen or heard it +when first expressed by me, and as it is well known that different +persons may independently utter the same idea,--as is evinced by that +familiar line from Donatus,-- + + "Pereant illi qui ante nos nostra dixcrunt,"-- + +now, therefore, I do request by this instrument that all well-disposed +persons will abstain from asserting or implying that I am open to any +accusation whatsoever touching the said comparison, and, if they have +so asserted or implied, that they will have the manliness forthwith to +retract the same assertion or insinuation. + +I think few persons have a greater disgust for plagiarism than myself. +If I had even suspected that the idea in question was borrowed,--I +should have disclaimed originality, or mentioned the coincidence, as +I once did in a case where I had happened to hit on an idea of +Swift's.--But what shall I do about these verses I was going to read +you? I am afraid that half mankind would accuse me of stealing their +thoughts, if I printed them. I am convinced that several of you, +especially if you are getting a little on in life, will recognize some +of these sentiments as having passed through your consciousness at some +time. I can't help it,--it is too late now. The verses are written, and +you must have them. Listen, then, and you shall hear + + +WHAT WE ALL THINK. + + That age was older once than now, + In spite of locks untimely shed, + Or silvered on the youthful brow; + That babes make love and children wed. + + That sunshine had a heavenly glow, + Which faded with those "good old days," + When winters came with deeper snow, + And autumns with a softer haze. + + That--mother, sister, wife, or child-- + The "best of women" each has known. + Were schoolboys ever half so wild? + How young the grandpapas have grown! + + That _but for this_ our souls were free, + And _but for that_ our lives were blest; + That in some season yet to be + Our cares will leave us time to rest. + + Whene'er we groan with ache or pain, + Some common ailment of the race,-- + Though doctors think the matter plain,-- + That ours is "a peculiar case." + + That when like babes with fingers burned + We count one bitter maxim more, + Our lesson all the world has learned, + And men are wiser than before. + + That when we sob o'er fancied woes, + The angels hovering overhead + Count every pitying drop that flows + And love us for the tears we shed. + + That when we stand with tearless eye + And turn the beggar from our door, + They still approve us when we sigh, + "Ah, had I but _one thousand more_!" + + That weakness smoothed the path of sin, + In half the slips our youth has known; + And whatsoe'er its blame has been, + That Mercy flowers on faults outgrown. + + Though temples crowd the crumbled brink + O'erhanging truth's eternal flow, + Their tablets bold with _what we think_, + Their echoes dumb to _what we know_; + + That one unquestioned text we read, + All doubt beyond, all fear above, + Nor crackling pile nor cursing creed + Can burn or blot it: GOD is LOVE! + + * * * * * + + +SANDALPHON. + + + Have you read in the Talmud of old, + In the legends the Rabbins have told + Of the limitless realms of the air, + Have you read it,--the marvellous story + Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory, + Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer? + + How, erect, at the outermost gate + Of the City Celestial he waits, + With his feet on the ladder of light, + That, crowded with angels unnumbered, + By Jacob was seen, as he slumbered + Alone in the desert at night? + + The Angels of Wind and of Fire + Chant only one hymn, and expire + With the song's irresistible stress,-- + Expire in their rapture and wonder, + As harp-strings are broken asunder + By the music they throb to express. + + But serene in the rapturous throng, + Unmoved by the rush of the song, + With eyes unimpassioned and slow, + Among the dead angels, the deathless + Sandalphon stands listening, breathless, + To sounds that ascend from below,-- + + From the spirits on earth that adore, + From the souls that entreat and implore + In the frenzy and passion of prayer,-- + From the hearts that are broken with losses, + And weary with dragging the crosses + Too heavy for mortals to bear. + + And he gathers the prayers as he stands, + And they change into flowers in his hands, + Into garlands of purple and red; + And beneath the great arch of the portal, + Through the streets of the City Immortal, + Is wafted the fragrance they shed. + + It is but a legend, I know,-- + A fable, a phantom, a show + Of the ancient Rabbinical lore; + Yet the old mediaeval tradition, + The beautiful, strange superstition, + But haunts me and holds me the more. + + When I look from my window at night, + And the welkin above is all white, + All throbbing and panting with stars, + Among them majestic is standing + Sandalphon the angel, expanding + His pinions in nebulous bars. + + And the legend, I feel, is a part + Of the hunger and thirst of the heart, + The frenzy and fire of the brain, + That grasps at the fruitage forbidden, + The golden pomegranates of Eden, + To quiet its fever and pain. + + * * * * * + + +MR. BUCHANAN'S ADMINISTRATION. + + +Mr. Buchanan came into power with the prestige of experience; he was +known to have been long in public life; he had been a senator, a +secretary, a diplomatist, and almost everything else which is supposed +to fit a man for the practical conduct of affairs. + +This presumed fitness for office greatly assisted his chances in the +Presidential campaign; and it assisted him especially with those timid +and conservative minds, of which there are many, apt to conceive that a +familiarity with the business and details of government is the same as +statesmanship, and to confound the skill and facility acquired by mere +routine with a genuine ability in execution. Had these men, however, +looked more closely into Mr. Buchanan's official career, they would have +found causes for suspecting the validity of their judgment, in the very +length and variety of his services. They would have discovered, that, +long as these had been and various as they had been, they were quite +undistinguished by any peculiar evidences of capacity or aptitude. + +He had been, senator, secretary, and diplomatist, it is true; but in no +one of these positions had he achieved any remarkable successes. The +occasion could not be indicated on which he had risen above the average +level of respectability as a public man. There were no salient points in +his course,--no splendid developments of mastery,--no great reports, or +speeches, or measures, to cause him to be remembered,--and no leading +thoughts or acts, to awaken a high and general feeling of admiration on +the part of his countrymen. He was never such a senator as Webster +was, nor such a secretary as Clay, nor such a diplomatist as Marey. +Throughout his protracted official existence, he followed in the wake +of his party submissively, doing its appointed work with patience, and +vindicating its declared policy with skill, but never emerging as a +distinct and prominent figure. He never exhibited any peculiar largeness +of mind or loftiness of character; and though he spoke well and wrote +well, and played the part of a cool and wary manager, he was scarcely +considered a commanding spirit among his fellows. Amid that array of +luminaries, indeed, which adorned the Senate, where his chief reputation +was made,--among such men as Calhoun, Clay, Webster, Benton, and +Wright,--he shone with a diminished lustre. + +Now, forty years of action, in the most conspicuous spheres, +unillustrated by a single incident which mankind has, or will have, +reason to cite and applaud, were not astonishing evidence of fitness for +the chief magistracy; and the event has shown, that Mr. Buchanan was to +be regarded as an old politician rather than a practised statesman, that +the most serviceable soldier in the ranks may prove to be an indifferent +general in command,--and that the experience, for which he was vaunted +and trusted, was not that ripening discipline of the mind and heart, + + -------"which doth attain + To something of prophetic strain,"-- + +but that other unlearning use and wont, which + + ----"chews on wisdom past, + And totters on in blunders to the last." + +His administration has been a series of blunders, and worse; it +has evinced no mastery; on the other hand, it may be arraigned for +inconsistencies the most palpable, for proceedings the most awkward, for +a general impotence which places it on a level with that of Tyler or +Pierce, and for signal offences against the national sense of decorum +and duty. + +It is scarcely a year since Mr. Buchanan assumed the reins at +Washington. He assumed them under circumstances by which he and his +party and the whole country had been taught a great lesson of +political duty. The infamous mismanagement of Kansas, by his immediate +predecessor, had just shattered the most powerful of our party +organizations, and caused a mighty uprising of the masses of the North +in defence of menaced freedom. His election was carried amid the +extremest hazards, and with the utmost difficulty. Two months more of +such ardent debate and such popular enlightenment as were then going +forward would have resulted in his defeat. As it was, nearly every +Northern State--no matter how firm its previous adherence to the +Democratic party--was aroused to a strenuous opposition. Nearly every +Northern State pronounced by a stupendous majority against him and +against his cause. Nothing but a systematic disguise of the true +questions at issue by his own party, and a gratuitous complication of +the canvass by means of a foolish third party, saved his followers from +the most complete and shameful rout that had been given for many years +to any political array. Men of every class, of every shade of faith, +joined in that hearty protest against the spirit which animated the +Democratic administration, and joined in it, that they might utter the +severest rebuke in their power, of its meanness and perfidy. + +Mr. Buchanan ought to have read the warning which was thus blazed across +the political skies, like the hand-writing upon the wall. He ought to +have discerned in this general movement the signs of a deep, earnest, +and irrepressible conviction on the part of the North. It is no slight +cause which can start such general and enthusiastic expressions of +popular feeling; they cannot be manufactured; they are not the work of +mere party excitement; there is nothing spurious and nothing hollow in +them; but they well up from the deep heart of nations, showing that a +chord of sympathy has been touched, with which it is fatal to tamper or +to sport. Call it fanaticism, if you will; call it delusion; call it +anything; but recollect also that it is out of such feelings that +revolutions are born, and by them that awful national crises are +determined. + +But Mr. Buchanan has not profited, as we shall see, by the monition. His +initial act, the choice of a cabinet, in which the only man of national +reputation was superannuated, and the others were of little note, gave +small hope that he would do so; and his subsequent mistakes might have +been augured from the calibre of the counsellors by whom he chose to +be surrounded.--But let the men pass, since our object is to discuss +measures. + +The questions with which the President and his cabinet have had to deal, +without following them in the order either of time or importance, may +be classified as the Mormon question, the Financial question, the +Filibuster question, and the Kansas question. All these required, for +a proper adjustment of them, firmness rather than ability,--a clear +perception of the principles of right, rather than abstruse policy,--and +vigor of execution, rather than profound diplomatic skill. Yet we do not +perceive that our government has displayed, in regard to the treatment +of any of these questions, either firmness or ability. It has employed +policy enough and diplomacy enough, but the policy has been incoherent +and the diplomacy shallow. At the end of the first year of its rule, the +most striking result of its general management is the open defection of +many of its most powerful friends, and the increased earnestness and +energy of all its foes. + +The difficulty with the Mormons originated, before the accession of the +present administration, in a hasty and improper extension of the Federal +authority over a people whose customs and religious opinions were +utterly incompatible with those of our own people. The inhabitants of +Utah were averse from the outset to the kind of government provided for +them at Washington. Having adopted a form of society more like that of +Congo and Dahomey than of the United States, and having accepted too +literally the prevalent dogma, that every community has the right to +form its own institutions for itself,--they preferred the polygamy +of barbarism to the monogamy of civilization, and the rod of the +priest-prophet Brigham or the seal of Elder Pratt to the sceptre +of Governor Steptoe or the sword of Colonel Johnston. Under these +circumstances, the duty of the government of the United States was to +relinquish its pretensions to supremacy over a nation opposed to its +rule, or to maintain that supremacy, if it were necessary, with a strong +and unflinching hand. Mr. Buchanan, on his own principles of popular +sovereignty, as far as we can understand them, ought, logically, to have +adopted the former course, but (as the interests of Slavery were not +involved) he elected to pursue the latter; and he has pursued it with an +impotence which has cost the nation already many millions of +dollars, and which has involved the "army of Utah" in inextricable +embarrassments, allowing them to be shut up in the snows of the +mountains before they could strike a blow or reach the first object of +their expedition. Not very well appointed in the beginning, this little +force was despatched to the Plains when it was too late in the season; a +part of it was needlessly delayed in assisting to choke down freedom in +Kansas; and when it attained the hills which guard the passages to the +valley of the Salt Lake, it found the canons obstructed by snow, and +the roads impassable. The supplies required for its subsistence were +scattered in useless profusion from Leavenworth to Fort Laramie, and +assistance and action were alike hopeless until the arrival of the +spring.[A] + +[Footnote: A: More recently the energy and wisdom of Col. Johnston +have repaired some of the mischief produced by the dilatoriness of his +superiors.] + +The same feebleness, which left the poor soldier to perish in the +desert, has brought an overflowing treasury nearly to default. Mr. +Buchanan, in his Message, discussed the existing financial crisis with +much sounding phrase and very decided emphasis. He rebuked the action of +the banks, which had presumed to issue notes to the amount of more than +three times that of their specie, in a tone of lofty and indignant +virtue. He commended them to the strictest vigilance and to the +exemplary discipline of the State legislatures, while descanting at +large upon the safety, the economy, the beauty, and the glory of a sound +hard-money currency. When he entered upon his office, he found the +Treasury replete with eagles and dimes; it was so flush, that, in the +joy of his heart, he ordered the debts of the United States to be +redeemed at a premium of sixteen _per cent_.; and he and his followers +were disposed to jubilate over the singular spectacle, that, while all +other institutions were failing, the Treasury of the United States was +firm and resplendent in its large possession of gold. It was deemed a +rare wisdom and success, indeed, which could utter a note of triumph in +the midst of so universal a cry of despair; it was deemed a rare piece +of liberality, that the government should come to the aid of society in +an hour of such dark distress. The stocks of the United States, which +had been originally sold at a small advance, were bought back on a very +large advance; the usurers and the stock-jobbers received sixteen _per +cent_. for what they had bought at a premium of but two or three _per +cent_.; and an unparalleled glory shone around the easy vomitories of +the Treasury. The foresight and the sagacity of the proceeding were +marvellous! In less than a quarter by the moon, the coffers of the +government were empty,--the very clerks in its employ went about the +streets borrowing money to pay their board-bills,--and the grand-master +of the vaults, Mr. Cobb, counting his fingers in despair over the vacant +prospect, was compelled, in the extremity of his distress, to fill +his limp sacks with paper. Of the nineteen millions of gold which in +September distended the public purse, little or nothing remained in +December, while in its place were paper bills,--founded, not upon a +basis of one-third specie, but upon a basis of--_We promise to pay_! It +was a sad application of the high-sounding doctrines of the Message,--a +dreadful descent for a pure hard-money government,--and a lamentable +conversion of the pompous swagger of October into the shivering collapse +of January! + +It may be said, that, by this pre-purchase of its own stocks, running at +an interest of six _per cent_., the government has saved the amount of +interest which would else have accrued between the time of the purchase +and the time of ultimate redemption. And this is true to some +extent,--and it would show an admirable economy, if the Treasury had had +no other use for its money. A government, like an individual, having a +large balance of superfluous cash on hand, can do no better with it than +to pay off its debts; but to do this, when there was every prospect of a +Mormon war to raise the expenditure, little prospect of retrenchment +in any branch of service, and a daily diminishing revenue at all +points,--it was purely a piece of folly, a want of ordinary forecast, to +get rid of the cash in hand. Mr. Buchanan and Mr. Cobb were guilty of +this folly, and, for the sake of the poor _eclat_ of coming to the +relief of the money-market, (which was no great relief, after all,) they +sacrificed the hard-money pretensions of the government, and sunk its +character to the level of that of the needy "kiteflier" in Wall Street. +Their true course, in the existing condition and aspect of affairs, was +to retain their capital, and to institute a most rigid economy, a most +searching reduction, in every branch of the public service. We have, +however, yet to learn whether any such economy and reduction have been +effected. + +All this was simply weakness; but in turning from the conduct of +the Finances by the administration, to consider its management of +Filibusterism, we pass from the consideration of acts of mere debility +to the consideration of acts which have a color of duplicity in them. +On the Filibusters, as on the Finances, the First Annual Message of the +President was outspoken and forcible. It characterized the past and +proposed doings of William Walker and his crew, as the common sense +and common conscience of the world had already characterised them, as +nothing short of piracy and murder. Recognizing the obligations of +fraternity and peace as the rule of right in international relations, it +pledged the utmost vigilance and energy of the Federal powers against +every semblance of freebootery. In pursuance of this promise, orders +were issued to the various civil and naval authorities, (orders not very +clear, it is true, but clear enough to bear but one meaning in honest +and simple minds,) to the effect that they should maintain a sharp +watch, and execute a summary arrest of every person suspected of or +discovered in unlawful enterprises. The authorities on land, to whom it +was easy to hold secret communication with Washington, were found to +have very blind eyes and very slippery hands. General Walker and his +confederates were taken at New Orleans, but they passed through +the courts far more rapidly than goods are apt to pass through the +custom-houses. Under a merely nominal recognizance, he sailed away with +flying colors, and amid the plaudits of an admiring crowd, among whom, +it is to be presumed, the authorities took care to be only not too +conspicuous. + +But the authorities on the sea, who could not so readily get a cue from +Wellington, with the directness, in construing orders, which is the +habit of the military mind, took their instructions at the word. +Commanded to intercept all marauders and pirates, they kept a look-out +for Walker. He eluded the guns of Captain Chatard, but Commodore +Paulding seized him in the very act of invading a friendly soil. +Hoisting him on board of a war-ship, he returned him in pressing haste +to the President. Commodore Paulding, who had read the Message, and read +the instructions of Secretary Cass, doubtless supposed that black meant +black, and white, white. Perhaps, also, in the unsophisticated pride +with which he contemplated the promptitude and decision of his action, +in saving an innocent people from a sanguinary ruffian, and in +maintaining the honor of his country unsullied, dim visions crossed his +mind of a letter of thanks from the President, and of the vote of a +sword by Congress. Alas for such hopes! Commodore Paulding was clearly +not a politician; he did not know that black meant white and white meant +black,--nor that the present of a filibuster, which he sent to the +President, was the present of something worse than an elephant. It +was the present of a herd of elephants,--of a sea of troubles. Mr. +Buchanan's fine denunciations of freebooters had only been fine words +for the public ear; secretly he cherished a _penchant_ for freebooters, +or rather for the friends of freebooters; and, under those +circumstances, to be presented, by his own agent, with the very chief +of the freebooters, as a criminal and a scamp, was the most unheard-of +simplicity of understanding, and the most astounding literalness of +obedience, in any subordinate. What to do was the question. He had +menaced Chatard with a cashiering for allowing Walker to escape; and +here was Paulding, who did not allow him to escape,--so he menaced +Paulding likewise; and by way of capping the climax of absurdities, he +set Walker himself at large, to go about the country clamoring to be +sent back, at the expense of the government, to the scenes of his late +innocent occupations and virtuous designs, whence he had been ruthlessly +torn by an over-officious sailor. + +The history of the farce is both argument and comment. Walker was either +a citizen of the United States, levying war upon a friendly foreign +state, and as such amenable to the penalties of our neutrality laws,--or +he was a citizen of Nicaragua, as he pretended to be, abusing our +protection to organize warlike enterprises against his fellow-citizens, +and as such also amenable to our neutrality laws. In either capacity, +and however taken, he should have been severely dealt with by the +President. But, unfortunately, Mr. Buchanan, not left to his own +instincts of right, is surrounded by assistants who have other than +great public motives for their conduct. Walker's schemes were not +individual schemes, were not simple projects of piracy and plunder, +got up on his own responsibility and for his own ends. Connected with +important collateral issues, they received the sympathy and support of +others more potent than himself. He was, in a word, the instrument +of the propagandist slave-holders, the fear of whom is ever before a +President's eyes. As the old barbarian Arbogastes used to say to the +later Roman emperors, whom he helped to elevate, "The power which made +you is the power which can break you," so these modern masters of the +throne dictate and guide its policy. Mr. Buchanan was their man as much +as Walker was, and, however grand his speeches before the public, he +must do their bidding when things came to the trial. + +But this allusion brings us, by an obvious transition, to the last and +most important question submitted to the administration,--the question +of Kansas,--in the management of which, we think, it will be found that +all the before-noted deficiencies of the government have been combined +with a criminal disregard of settled principles and almost universal +convictions. In reference to Kansas, as in reference to the other +topics, the President began with fair and seductive promises. He did +not, it is true, either in his Message or anywhere else, that we know +of, narrate the actual history of the long contest which has divided +that Territory, but he did hold up for the future the brightest hopes +of an honest and equitable adjustment of all the past difficulties. He +selected and commissioned Robert J. Walker, as Governor, for the express +purpose of "pacifying Kansas." Pretending to overlook the past causes +of trouble, he announced that everything would now be set right by new +elections, in which the whole people should have full opportunity +of declaring their will. Mr. Walker went to Kansas with a full +determination to carry out this amiable promise of the President. Both +he and his secretary, Mr. Stanton, labored strenuously to convince +the people of the Territory of his honest purposes, and, by dint of +persuasions, pledges, assurances, and oaths, at length succeeded in +procuring a pretty general exercise of the franchise. The result was a +signal overthrow of the minority which had so long ruled by fraud and +violence; and the sincerity of the President is tested by the fact, +avouched by both Walker and Stanton, that, from the moment of the +success of the Free-State party, he was wroth towards his servants. +Stanton was removed and Walker compelled to resign, though their only +offence was a laborious prosecution of the President's own policy. Ever +since then, he has strained every nerve, and at this moment is straining +every nerve, to defeat the well-known legally demonstrated wish of the +majority. In the face of his own plighted word, and of the emphatic +assurances of his agents, sanctioned by himself, he insists upon +imposing on them officers whom they detest and an instrument of +government which they spurn. These people of Kansas,--who were to +be "pacified,"--to be conciliated,--to be guarantied a just +administration,--are denounced in the most virulent and abusive terms as +refractory, and are threatened with the coercion of a military force, +because they are unwilling to submit to outrage! + +The excuse offered by the President for this perfidious course is +the Lecompton Constitution, which he professes to consider a legal +instrument, framed by a legal Convention, and approved by a legal +election of the people,--and which is therefore not to be set aside +except by the same sovereign power by which it was created. It would be +a good excuse, if it were not a transparent and monstrous quibble from +beginning to end. The Lecompton Constitution has no one element of +legality in it; from the _Whereas_, to the signatures, it is an +imposture;--for neither had the Legislature, that called the Convention +in which it was made, lawful authority to do so,--nor was that +Convention lawfully constituted,--nor was the alleged adoption of it by +the people more than a trick. + +A Territory is an inchoate and dependent community, which can be erected +into a State only in two ways: first, formally, by an enabling act of +Congress, giving permission to the inhabitants to set up for themselves; +and second, informally, by a spontaneous and general movement of the +people, which Congress must afterwards legitimate. In either case, the +consent of Congress, first or last, is necessary to the validity of the +proceeding. But a Territorial Legislature, which is the mere creature of +Congress, having no powers but what are strictly conveyed to it in the +Organic Act instituting the Territorial government, cannot originate +a movement to supersede itself, and also to abrogate the authority +of Congress. The attempt to do so, as declared by General Jackson's +cabinet, in the case of Arkansas, would be, not simply null and void, +but unlawful, rebellious; and the President would be obliged to suppress +it, if called upon, by force of arms. The Organic Act is the supreme law +of the Territory, which can be altered or revoked only by the authority +from which it emanated; and every measure commenced or prosecuted with a +design to annul that law, to subvert the Territorial government, or +to put in force in its place a new government, without the consent of +Congress, is a flagrant usurpation. + +Now the Lecompton Convention was called not merely without the consent +of Congress, but against its consent; it was called by and under the +arrangements of the Territorial Legislature; it was not the spontaneous +act of the people, a large majority of whom condemned the movement +and refused to participate in it; and thus, in its inception, it was +unlawful. It was neither regularly nor irregularly proper;--the supreme +legislature had not acknowledged it; the masses of society had not +acknowledged it; and the entire project possessed no other character +than that of a factious scheme for perpetuating the power of a few +pro-slavery demagogues. + +But, if we grant the right of the Territorial Legislature to originate +such a movement, the manner in which it was carried into effect would +still brand it with the marks of illegality. A census and registry of +voters had been provided for in the law authorizing the Convention, as +the basis of an apportionment of the delegates, and that provision was +not complied with. In nineteen out of the thirty-eight counties no +registry was made, and in the others it was imperfectly made. "In some +of the counties," according to the evidence of Mr. Stanton, then acting +Governor, "the officers were probably deterred and discouraged by the +people from their duty of taking the census," (although he adds that he +does not know that such was the fact,) "while in others the officers +utterly refused to do their duty." "I know," he says, "that the people +of some of those counties ardently desired to be represented in the +Convention, for they afterwards, under the statements of Governor Walker +and myself, that they would probably be admitted, elected delegates and +sent them up to the Convention; but they were not admitted to seats." +In consequence of this failure or refusal to do their duty, only +the geographical half or the numerical fourth of the Territory was +represented in the Convention. Nor is it any excuse for the defaulting +officers, even if it had been true, that some of the people opposed the +execution of their duty. They professed to be acting under law; their +functions were plainly prescribed to them; and they were bound to make +the census and registry, whatever the disposition of the people. In a +land of laws, it is the law, and not any mere prevailing sentiment, +which prescribes and limits official duty. There is, however, no +evidence that the discharge of their task was rendered impossible by the +popular opposition, while there is evidence that they were very willing +to neglect it, and very willing to allow any obstacle, no matter how +trivial, to obstruct their performance of it. They were, in truth, as +everybody knows, the simple tools of the faction which started this +Convention movement, and not at all desirous to secure a fair and +adequate representation of the inhabitants. + +That many of the people should be careless of the registration, and even +unfriendly to it, is natural, because they disapproved the plan, and +were hostile to the ends of the Convention. They doubted the authority +by which it had been summoned; they doubted both the validity and the +probable fairness of an election under such authority; and, moreover, +they were indifferent as to its proceedings, because they had been +assured that they would be called upon to pronounce _pro_ or _con_ upon +its results. The Convention, as actually constituted when assembled, +consisted of sixty delegates, representing about 1,800 voters, in an +electoral body of 12,000 in all,--or one delegate to thirty voters! A +convention so composed ought to have been ashamed of the very pretence +of acting in the name of the whole people. It would have been ashamed of +it, if it had contained men sincerely anxious to reflect the will of the +great body of the citizens. It would have been as much ashamed of it, +as any honest man would be to pass himself off as the agent of a person +whom he had never known, or who openly derided and despised him. But +this precious body--each man of whom represented thirty men besides +himself, in a voting population of 12,000--was not sensible to such +considerations. By a miserable chicane, it had got into a position to do +mischief, and it proceeded to do it, with as much alacrity and headlong +zeal as rogues are apt to exhibit when the prize is great and the +opportunity short. An election for the Legislature, held subsequently to +that for the Convention, showing a public opinion decidedly adverse to +it, the sole study of its members thenceforth seemed to be, how they +could most adroitly and effectively nullify the ascendency of the +majority. For this end alone they consulted, and caballed, and +calculated, and junketed; and the Lecompton Constitution, with the +Schedule annexed, was the worthy fruit of their labors. + +It is monstrous in Mr. Buchanan to assume that a body so contrived and +so acting expressed in any sense the sovereign will of the people. But, +not to dwell upon this point, let us suppose that the Convention had +been summoned by a competent authority, that it had been fairly chosen +by its small constituency, and that its proceedings had been managed +with ordinary decorum,--would the Constitution it framed be valid, in +the face of a clear popular condemnation? We hold that it would not, +because, in our estimation, and in the estimation of every intelligent +American, the very essence of republicanism is "the consent of the +governed." It is the highest function of political sovereignty to devise +and ordain the organic law of society, the vital form of its being; and +the characteristic difference between the despotic or oligarchical and +the republican government is, that in the one case the function is +exercised by a monarch or a class, and in the other by the body of the +citizens. This distinctive feature of our politics, as opposed to +all others, regards the will of the people, directly or indirectly +expressed, as alone giving validity to law; our National Constitution, +and every one of our thirty-one State Constitutions, proceeds upon +that principle; every act of legislation in the Congress and the State +Assemblies supposes it; and every decision of every Court has that for +its basis. Constitutions have been adopted, undoubtedly, without a +distinct submission of them to the ratification of the people; but in +such cases there has been no serious agitation of the public mind, no +important conflict or division of opinion, rendering such ratification +necessary,--and, in the absence of dispute, the general assent of the +community to the action of its delegates might fairly be presumed. But +in no case, in which great and debatable questions were involved, has +any Convention dared to close its labors without providing for their +reference to the popular sanction; much less has there been any instance +in which a Convention has dared to make its own work final, in the +face of a known or apprehended repugnance of the constituency. The +politicians who should have proposed such a thing would have been +overwhelmed with unmeasured indignation and scorn. No sentiment more +livingly pervades our national mind, no sentiment is juster in itself, +than that they who are to live under the laws ought to decide on the +character of the laws,--that they whose persons, property, welfare, +happiness, life, are to be controlled by a Constitution of Government, +ought to participate in the formation of that government. + +Conscious of this truth, and of its profound hold on the popular heart, +Mr. Buchanan instructed Governor Walker to see the Kansas Constitution +submitted to the people,--to protect them against fraud and violence in +voting upon it,--and to proclaim, in the event of any interference with +their rights, that the Constitution "would be and ought to be rejected +by Congress." Walker was voluble in proclamations to that end. The +trainers of the Constitution, aware of its invalidity without the +sanction of the people, provided for its submission to "approval" +or "disapproval," to "ratification" or "rejection"; and yet, by the +paltriest juggle in recorded history, devised, in the same breath, a +method of taking the vote, which completely nullified its own terms. +No man was allowed to "disapprove" it, no man was allowed to "reject" +it,--except in regard to a single section,--and before he could vote for +or against that, he was obliged to vote in favor of all the rest. If +there had been a hundred thousand voters in the Territory opposed to +the Constitution, and but one voter in its favor, the hundred thousand +voters could not have voted upon it at all, but the one voter +could,--and the vote of that one would have been construed into a +popular approval, while the will of all the others would have been +practically void. By this pitiful stratagem, it was supposed, the +double exigency of Mr. Buchanan's often repeated sentiments, and of +the pro-slavery cause, which dreaded a popular vote, was completely +satisfied; and the President of the United States, reckless of his +position and his fame, lent himself to the shameless and despicable +palter. He not only lent himself to it, but he has openly argued its +propriety, and is now making the adherence of his friends to such +baseness the test of their party fidelity. In the name of Democracy,--of +that sacred and sublime principle into which we, as a nation, have been +baptized,--which declares the inalienable rights of man,--and which, +as it makes the tour of the earth, hand and hand with Christianity, is +lifting the many from the dust, where for ages they have been trampled, +into political life and dignity,--he converts a paltry swindle into its +standard and creed, and prostitutes its glorious mission, as a redeeming +influence among men, into a ministry of slavery and outrage. + +Mr. Buchanan knows--we believe better than any man in the country--that +the Lecompton Constitution is not the act of the people of Kansas. By +the election of the 4th of January--an election which was perfectly +valid, because it was held under the authority of a Territorial +Legislature superior to the Convention--it was solemnly and +unequivocally condemned. This of itself was enough to demonstrate that +fact. But all the Democratic Governors of the Territory--with the single +exception of Shannon, and the recently appointed acting Governor, +Denver, who is prudently silent--testify urgently to the same truth. +Reeder, Geary, and Walker, together with the late acting Governor, +Stanton, asseverate, in the most earnest and emphatic manner, that the +majority in Kansas is for making it a Free State,--that the minority +which has ruled is a factious minority, and that they have obtained and +perpetuated their ascendency by a most unblushing series of crimes and +frauds. Yet, in the teeth of this evidence,--of repeated elections,--of +his own witnesses turning against him,--the President adheres to the +infamous plans of the pro-slavery leaders; and, if not arrested by the +rebukes of the North, he will insist on imposing their odious measures +upon their long-suffering victims. + +Looking at the administration of Mr. Buchanan simply from the point of +view of an enlightened statesmanship, we find nothing in it that is not +contemptible; but when we regard it as the accredited exponent of the +moral sense of a majority of our people, it is saved from contempt, +indeed, but saved only because contempt is merged in a deeper feeling +of humiliation and apprehension. Unparalleled as the outrages in Kansas +have been, we regard them as insignificant in comparison with the +deadlier fact that the Chief Magistrate of the Republic should strive to +defend them by the small wiles of a village attorney,--that, when the +honor of a nation and the principle of self-government are at stake, he +should show himself unconscious of a higher judicature or a nobler +style of pleading than those which would serve for a case of petty +larceny,--and that he should be abetted by more than half the national +representatives, while he brings down a case of public conscience to the +moral level of those who are content with the maculate safety which they +owe to a flaw in an indictment, or with the dingy innocence which is +certified to by the disagreement of a jury. + +These things are the logical consequences of that profound national +demoralization which followed the enactment of the Fugitive Slave Bill +and alone made its execution possible,--a demoralization wilfully +brought about, for selfish ends, in that sad time which saw our greatest +advocates and our acutest politicians spending all their energy of mind +and subtlety of argument to persuade the people that there was no higher +law than that rule of custom and chicane woven of the split hairs of +immemorial sophistry, and whose strongest fibre is at the mercy of an +obstinate traverse juror,--no law higher than the decree of party, +ratified by a popular majority achieved by the waiters on Presidential +providence, through immigrant voters whom the gurgling oratory of +the whiskey-barrel is potent to convince, and whose sole notion of +jurisprudence is based upon experience of the comparative toughness +of Celtic skulls and blackthorn shillalahs. And such arguments were +listened to, such advocates commended for patriotism, in a land from +whose thirty thousand pulpits God and Christ are preached weekly to +hearers who profess belief in the Divine government of the world and the +irreversible verdicts of conscience! + +The capacity of the English race for self-government is measured by +their regard as well for the forms as the essence of law. A race +conservative beyond all others of what is established, averse beyond all +others to the heroic remedy of forcible revolution, they have yet three +times in the space of a century and a half assumed the chances of +rebellion and the certain perils of civil war, rather than submit to +have Right infringed by Prerogative, and the scales of Justice made a +cheat by false weights that kept the shape but lacked the substance of +legitimate precedent. We are forced to think that there must be a bend +sinister in the escutcheon of the descendants of such men, when we find +them setting the form above the substance, and accepting as law that +which is deadly to the spirit while it is true to the letter of +legality. It is a spectacle portentous of moral lapse and social +disorganization, to see a statesman, who has had fifty years' experience +of American politics, quibbling in defence of Executive violence against +a free community, as if the conscience of the nation were no more august +a tribunal than a police justice sitting upon a paltry case of assault. +Yet more portentous is it to see a great people consenting that fraud +should be made national by the voice of a Congress in which the casting +vote may be bought by a tide-waitership, and then invested with the +solemnity of law by a Court whose members are selected, not for +uprightness of character or breadth of mind, but by the inverse test of +their capacity for cringing in subservience to party, and for narrowing +a judgment already slender as the line of personal interest, till it +becomes so threadlike as to bend at the touch, nay, at the breath, of +sectional rapacity. Have we, then, forgotten that the true prosperity of +a nation is moral, and not material? that its strength depends, not on +the width of its boundaries, nor the bulk of its census, but on its +magnanimity, its honor, its fidelity to conscience? There is a Fate +which spins and cuts the threads of national as of individual life, and +the case of God against the people of these United States is not to be +debated before any such petty tribunal as Mr. Buchanan and his advisers +seem to suppose. The sceptre which dropped successively from the grasp +of Egypt, Assyria, Carthage, Greece, Rome, fell from a hand palsied by +the moral degeneracy of the people; and the emasculate usurper or the +foreign barbarian snatched and squandered the heritage of civilization +which escheated for want of legitimate heirs of the old royal race, +whose divine right was the imperial brain, and who found their strength +in a national virtue which individualized itself in every citizen. The +wind that moans among the columns of the Parthenon, or rustles through +the weeds on the palaces of the Caesars, whimpers no truer prophecies +than that venal breath which, at a signal from the patron in the White +House, bends all one way the obsequious leaves of a partisan press, +ominous of popular decadence. + +Do our leading politicians, and the prominent bankers and merchants who +sustain them, know what a dangerous lesson they are setting to a people +whose affairs are controlled by universal suffrage, when they affirm +that to be right which can by any false pretence be voted so? Does not +he who undermines national principle sap the foundations of individual +property also? If burglary may be committed on a commonwealth under +form of law, is there any logic that will protect a bank-vault or a +strong-box? When Mr. Buchanan, with a Jew broker at one elbow and a +Frenchman at the other, (strange representatives of American diplomacy!) +signed his name to the Ostend circular, was he not setting a +writing-lesson for American youth to copy, and one which the pirate hand +of Walker _did_ copy in ungainly letters of fire and blood in Nicaragua? + +The vice of universal suffrage is the infinitesimal subdivision of +personal responsibility. The guilt of every national sin comes back to +the voter in a fraction the denominator of which is several millions. +It is idle to talk of the responsibility of officials to their +constituencies or to the people. The President of the United States, +during his four years of office, is less amenable to public opinion than +the Queen of England through her ministers; senators, with embassies in +prospect, laugh at instructions; representatives think they have made a +good bargain when they exchange the barren approval of constituencies +for the smile of one whom a lucky death, perhaps, has converted into +the Presidential Midas of the moment; and in a nation of adventurers, +success is too easily allowed to sanctify a speculation by which a man +sells his pitiful self for a better price than even a Jew could get for +the Saviour of the world. It cannot be too often repeated, that the only +responsibility which is of saving efficacy in a Democracy is that of +every individual man in it to his conscience and his God. As long +as any one of us holds the ballot in his hand, he is truly, what we +sometimes vaguely boast, a sovereign,--a constituent part of Destiny; +the infinite Future is his vassal; History holds her iron stylus as +his scribe; Lachesis awaits his word to close or to suspend her fatal +shears;--but the moment his vote is cast, he becomes the serf of +circumstance, at the mercy of the white-livered representative's +cowardice, or the venal one's itching palm. Our only safety, then, is +in the aggregate fidelity to personal rectitude, which may lessen the +chances of representative dishonesty, or, at the worst, constitute a +public opinion that shall make the whole country a penitentiary for +such treason, and turn the price of public honor to fairy-money, whose +withered leaves but mock the possessor with the futile memory of +self-degradation. Let every man remember, that, though he may be a +nothing in himself, yet every cipher gains the power of multiplying by +ten when it is placed on the _right side_ of whatever unit for the time +represents the cause of truth and justice. What we need is a thorough +awakening of the individual conscience; and if we once become aware how +the still and stealthy ashes of political apathy and moral insensibility +are slipping under our feet and hurrying us with them toward the +crater's irrevocable core, it may be that the effort of self-preservation +called forth by the danger will make us love the daring energy and the +dependence on our individual strength, that alone can keep us free and +worthy to be freemen. + +While we hold the moral aspect of the great question now before the +country to be cardinal, there are also some practical ones which the +Republican party ought never to lose sight of. To move a people among +whom the Anglo-Saxon element is predominant, we will not say, with Lord +Bacon, that we must convince their pockets, but we do believe that moral +must always go hand in hand with common sense. They will take up arms +for a principle, but they must have confidence in each other and in +their leaders. Conscience is a good tutor to tell a man on which side to +act, but she leaves the question of _How to act_ to every man's prudence +and judgment. An over-nice conscience has before now turned the stomach +of a great cause on the eve of action. Cromwell knew when to split hairs +and when skulls. The North has too generally allowed its strength to be +divided by personal preferences and by-questions, till it has almost +seemed as if a moral principle had less constringent force to hold +its followers together than the gravitation of private interest, the +Newtonian law of that system whereof the dollar is the central sun, +which has hitherto made the owners of slaves unitary, and given them the +power which springs from concentration and the success which is sure +to follow concert of action. We have spent our strength in quarrelling +about the character of men, when we should have been watchful only of +the character of measures. A scruple of conscience has no right to +outweigh a pound of duty, though it ought to make a ton of private +interest kick the beam. The great aim of the Republican party should +be to gain one victory for the Free States. One victory will make us a +unit, and is equal to a reinforcement of fifty thousand men. The genius +of success in politics or war is to know Opportunity at first sight. +There is no mistress so easily tired as Fortune. We must waste no more +time in investigating the motives of our recruits. Have we not faith +enough in our cause to believe that it will lift all to its own level of +patriotism and devotion? Let us, then, welcome all allies, from whatever +quarter, and not inquire into their past history as minutely as if we +were the assignees of the Recording Angel and could search his books at +pleasure. When Soult was operating in the South of France, the defection +of two German regiments crippled all his combinations and gave the +advantage to Wellington. Ought Wellington to have refused their aid? For +our own part, if Mr. Douglas be the best tactician, the best master of +political combination, we are willing to forget all past differences and +serve under him cheerfully, rather than lose the battle under a general +who has agreed with us all his life. When we remember, that, of the two +great cathedrals of Europe, one is dedicated to Saint Peter who denied +his Lord under temptation, and the other to Saint Paul who spent his +early manhood in persecuting true believers, and that both these patrons +of the Church, differing as they did in many points of doctrine, were +united in martyrdom for their belief, we cannot but think that there is +room even for repentant renegades in the camp of the faithful. + +While we insist that Morals should govern the _motives_ of political +action, and that no party can be permanently strong which has not the +reserve of a great principle behind it, we affirm with no less strength +of conviction that the details of our National Housekeeping should be +managed by practical sense and worldly forethought. The policy of states +moves along the beaten highways of experience, and, where terrestrial +guide-posts are plenty, we need not ask our way of the stars. The +advantage of our opponents has been that they have always had some sharp +practical measure, some definite and immediate object, to oppose to our +voluminous propositions of abstract right. Again and again the whirlwind +of oratorical enthusiasm has roused and heaped up the threatening masses +of the Free States, and again and again we have seen them collapse like +a water-spout, into a crumbling heap of disintegrated bubbles, before +the compact bullet of political audacity. While our legislatures have +been resolving and re-resolving the principles of the Declaration of +Independence, our adversaries have pushed their trenches, parallel after +parallel, against the very citadel of our political equality. A +siege, if uninterrupted, is a mere matter of time, and must end in +capitulation. Our only safety is in assuming the offensive. Are we to be +terrified any longer by such Chinese devices of warfare as the cry of +Disunion,--a threat as hollow as the mask from which it issues, as +harmless as the periodical suicides of Mantalini, as insincere as +the spoiled child's refusal of his supper? We have no desire for a +dissolution of our confederacy, though it is not for us to fear it. We +will not allow it; we will not permit the Southern half of our dominion +to become a Hayti. But there is no danger; the law that binds our system +of confederate stars together is of stronger fibre than to be snapped by +the trembling finger of Toombs or cut by the bloodless sword of Davis; +the march of the Universe is not to be stayed because some gentleman in +Buncombe declares that his sweet-potato-patch shall not go along with +it. But we have no apprehension. The sweet attraction which knits the +sons of Virginia to the Treasury has lost none of its controlling force. +We must make up our minds to keep these deep-descended gentlemen in the +Union, and must convince them that we have a work to accomplish in it +and by means of it. If our Southern brethren have the curse of Canaan in +their pious keeping, if the responsibility lie upon them to avenge the +insults of Noah, on us devolves a more comprehensive obligation and the +vindication of an elder doom;--it is for us to assert and to secure the +claim of every son of Adam to the common inheritance ratified by the +sentence, "In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou earn thy bread." We are +to establish no aristocracy of race or complexion, no caste which Nature +and Revelation alike refuse to recognize, but the indefeasible right of +man to the soil which he subdues, and the muscles with which he subdues +it. If this be a sectional creed, it is a sectionality which at least +includes three hundred and fifty-nine degrees of the circle of man's +political aspiration and physical activity, and we may well be easy +under the imputation. + +But so rapid has been the downward course of our national politics under +the guidance of our oligarchical Democracy, that the question on which +we take issue, whatever it may once have been, is no longer a sectional +one, and concerns not the slavery of the negro, but that of the Northern +white man. Whatever doubt there may be about the physical degeneration +of the race, it is more than certain that the people of the Northern +States have no longer the moral stature of their illustrious ancestry; +that their puny souls could find room enough in but the gauntlet finger +of that armor of faith and constancy and self-devotion which fitted +closely to the limbs of those who laid so broad the foundations of our +polity as to make our recreancy possible and safe for us. It wellnigh +seems as if our type should suffer a slave-change,--as if the fair hair +and skin of those ancestral _non Angli sed angeli_ should crisp into +wool and darken to the swarthy livery of servility. No Northern man can +hold any office under the national government, however petty, without an +open recantation of those principles which he drew in with his mother's +milk,--those principles which, in the better days of the republic, +even a slaveholder could write down in the great charter of our +liberties,--those principles which now only the bells and cannon +are allowed to utter on the Fourth of July or the Seventeenth of +June,--bells that may next call out the citizen-soldiery to aid in the +rendition of a slave,--cannon whose brazen lips may next rebuke the +freedom whose praises they but yesterday so emptily thundered. + +When we look back upon the providential series of events which prepared +this continent for the experiment of Democracy,--when we think of those +forefathers for whom our mother England shed down from her august +breasts the nutriment of ordered liberty, not unmixed with her best +blood in the day of her trial,--when we remember the first two acts of +our drama, that cost one king his head and his son a throne, and that +third which cost another the fairest appanage of his crown and gave a +new Hero to mankind,--we cannot believe it possible that this great +scene, stretching from ocean to ocean, was prepared by the Almighty +only for such men as Mr. Buchanan and his peers to show their feats of +juggling on, even though the thimble-rig be on so colossal a scale that +the stake is a territory larger than Britain. We cannot believe that +this unhistoried continent,--this virgin leaf in the great diary of +man's conquest over the planet, on which our fathers wrote two words of +epic grandeur,--Plymouth and Bunker Hill,--is to bear for its colophon +the record of men who inherited greatness and left it pusillanimity,--a +republic, and made it anarchy,--freedom, and were content as serfs,--of +men who, born to the noblest estate of grand ideas and fair expectancies +the world had ever seen, bequeathed the sordid price of them in gold. +The change is sad 'twixt Now and Then: the Great Republic is without +influence in the councils of the world; to be an American, in Europe, is +to be the accomplice of filibusters and slave-traders; instead of men +and thought, as was hoped of us, we send to the Old World cotton, corn, +and tobacco, and are but as one of her outlying farms. Are we basely +content with our pecuniary good-fortune? Do we look on the tall column +of figures on the credit side of our national ledger as a sufficing +monument of our glory as a people? Are we of the North better off as +provinces of the Slave-holding States than as colonies of Great Britain? +Are we content with our share in the administration of national affairs, +because we are to have the ministry to Austria, and because the +newspapers promise that James Gordon Bennett shall be sent out of the +country to fill it? + +We of the Free States are confessedly without our fair share of +influence in the administration of national affairs. Its foreign and +domestic policy are both directed by principles often hostile to our +interests, sometimes abhorrent to our sense of right and honor. Under +loud professions of Democracy, the powers of the central government and +of the Executive have increased till they have scarcely a match among +the despotisms of Europe, and more than justify the prophetic fears of +practical statesmen like Samuel Adams and foresighted politicians like +Jefferson. Unquestionably superior in numbers, and claiming an equal +preeminence in wealth, intelligence, and civilization, we have steadily +lost in political power and in the consideration which springs from it. +Is the preponderance of the South due to any natural superiority of an +Aristocracy over a Democracy? to any mental inferiority, to lack of +courage, of political ability, of continuity of purpose, on our own +part? We should be slow to find the cause in reasons like these; but we +_do_ find it in that moral disintegration, the necessary result of that +falsehood to our own sense of right forced upon us by the slave-system, +and which, beginning with our public men, has gradually spread to the +Press, the Pulpit, nay, worse than all, the Home, till it is hard to +find a private conscience that is not tainted with the contagious mange. + +For what have we not seen within the last few years? We have seen the +nomination to office made dependent, not on the candidate's being large +enough to fill, but small enough to take it. Holding the purity of +elections as a first article of our creed, we have seen one-third of +the population of a Territory control the other two-thirds by false or +illegal votes; hereditary foes of a standing army, we have seen four +thousand troops stationed in Kansas to make forged ballots good by real +bullets; lovers of fair play, we have seen a cowardly rabble from the +Slave States protected by Federal bayonets while they committed robbery, +arson, and Sepoy atrocities against women, and the Democratic party +forced to swallow this nauseous mixture of force, fraud, and Executive +usurpation, under the name of Popular Sovereignty. We have seen Freedom +pronounced sectional and Slavery national by the highest tribunal of the +republic. We have seen the legislatures of Southern States passing acts +for the renewal and encouragement of the slave-trade. We have seen the +attempted assassination of a senator in his seat justified and applauded +by public meetings and the resolutions of State Assemblies. We have +seen a pirate, for the hanging of whom the conscious Earth would have +produced a tree, had none before existed, threaten the successor of +Washington with the exposure of his complicity, if he did not publicly +violate the faith he had publicly pledged.--But enough, and more than +enough. + +It lies in the hands of the people of the Free States to rescue +themselves and the country by peaceable reform, ere it be too late, and +there be no remedy left but that dangerous one of revolution, toward +which Mr. Buchanan and his advisers seem bent on driving them. But the +reform must be wide and deep, and its political objects must be attained +by household means. Our sense of private honor and integrity must be +quickened; our consciousness of responsibility to God and man for the +success of this experiment in practical Democracy, in order to which the +destiny of a hemisphere has been entrusted to us, must be roused and +exalted; we must learn to feel that the safety of universal suffrage +lies in the sensitiveness of the individual voter to every abuse of +delegated authority, every treachery to representative duty, as a +stain upon his own personal integrity; we must become convinced that +a government without conscience is the necessary result of a people +careless of their duties, and therefore unworthy of their rights. +Prosperity has deadened and bewildered us. It is time we remembered +that History does not concern herself about material wealth,--that the +life-blood of a nation is not that yellow tide which fluctuates in +the arteries of Trade,--that its true revenues are religion, justice, +sobriety, magnanimity, and the fair amenities of Art,--that it is only +by the soul that any people has achieved greatness and made lasting +conquests over the future. We believe there is virtue enough left in the +North and West to infuse health into our body politic; we believe that +America will reassume that moral influence among the nations which +she has allowed to fall into abeyance; and that our eagle, whose +morning-flight the world watched with hope and expectation, shall no +longer troop with unclean buzzards, but rouse himself and seek his eyrie +to brood new eaglets that in time shall share with him the lordship of +these Western heavens, and shall learn of him to shake the thunder from +their invincible wings. + + * * * * * + + +LITERARY NOTICES. + + +_Library of Old Authors_. London: John Russell Smith, 1856-7. + +Many of our older readers can remember the anticipation with which they +looked for each successive volume of the late Dr. Young's excellent +series of old English prose-writers, and the delight with which they +carried it home, fresh from the press and the bindery in its appropriate +livery of evergreen. To most of us it was our first introduction to the +highest society of letters, and we still feel grateful to the departed +scholar who gave us to share the conversation of such men as Latimer, +More, Sidney, Taylor, Browne, Fuller, and Walton. What a sense of +security in an old book which Time has criticized for us! What a +precious feeling of seclusion in having a double wall of centuries +between us and the heats and clamors of contemporary literature! How +limpid seems the thought, how pure the old wine of scholarship that +has been settling for so many generations in those silent crypts and +Falernian _amphorae_ of the Past! No other writers speak to us with the +authority of those whose ordinary speech was that of our translation +of the Scriptures; to no modern is that frank unconsciousness possible +which was natural to a period when yet reviews were not; and no later +style breathes that country charm characteristic of days ere the +metropolis drew all literary activity to itself, and the trampling feet +of the multitude had banished the lark and the daisy from the fresh +privacies of language. Truly, as compared with the present, these +old voices seem to come from the morning fields and not the paved +thoroughfares of thought. + +Even the "Retrospective Review" continues to be good reading, in virtue +of the antique aroma (for wine only acquires its _bouquet_ by age) which +pervades its pages. Its sixteen volumes are so many tickets of admission +to the vast and devious vaults of the sixteenth and seventeenth +centuries, through which we wander, tasting a thimbleful of rich Canary, +honeyed Cyprus, or subacidulous Hock, from what dusty butt or keg our +fancy chooses. The years during which this Review was published were +altogether the most fruitful in genuine appreciation of old English +literature. Books were prized for their imaginative, and not their +antiquarian value, by young writers who sat at the feet of Lamb and +Coleridge. Rarities of style, of thought, of fancy were sought, rather +than the barren scarcities of typography. But another race of men seems +to have sprung up, in whom the futile enthusiasm of the collector +predominates, who substitute archaeologic perversity for aesthetic +scholarship, and the worthless profusion of the curiosity-shop for +the sifted exclusiveness of the cabinet of Art. They forget, in their +fanaticism for antiquity, that the dust of never so many centuries is +impotent to transform a curiosity into a gem, that only good books +absorb tone-mellowness from age, and that a baptismal register which +proves a patriarchal longevity (if existence be life) cannot make +mediocrity anything but a bore, or garrulous commonplace entertaining. +There are volumes which have the old age of Plato, rich with gathering +experience, meditation, and wisdom, which seem to have sucked color and +ripeness from the genial autumns of all the select intelligences that +have steeped them in the sunshine of their love and appreciation;--these +quaint freaks of russet tell of Montaigne; these stripes of crimson +fire, of Shakespeare; this sober gold, of Sir Thomas Browne; this +purpling bloom, of Lamb;--in such fruits we taste the legendary gardens +of Alcinoues and the orchards of Atlas; and there are volumes again which +can claim only the inglorious senility of Old Parr or older Jenkins, +which have outlived their half dozen of kings to be the prize of showmen +and treasuries of the born-to-be-forgotten trifles of a hundred years +ago. + +We confess a bibliothecarian avarice that gives all books a value in our +eyes; there is for us a recondite wisdom in the phrase, "A book is a +book"; from the time when we made the first catalogue of our library, in +which "Bible, large, 1 vol.," and "Bible, small, 1 vol.," asserted their +alphabetic individuality and were the sole _B_s in our little hive, we +have had a weakness even for those checker-board volumes that only fill +up; we cannot breathe the thin air of that Pepysian self-denial, that +Himalayan selectness, which, content with one book-case, would have no +tomes in it but _porphyrogeniti_, books of the bluest blood, making room +for choicer newcomers by a continuous ostracism to the garret of present +incumbents. There is to us a sacredness in a volume, however dull; we +live over again the author's lonely labors and tremulous hopes; we see +him, on his first appearance after parturition, "as well as could be +expected," a nervous sympathy yet surviving between the late-severed +umbilical cord and the wondrous offspring, doubtfully entering the +Mermaid, or the Devil Tavern, or the Coffee-house of Will or Button, +blushing under the eye of Ben or Dryden or Addison, as if they must +needs know him for the author of the "Modest Enquiry into the Present +State of Dramatique Poetry," or of the "Unities briefly considered by +Philomusus," of which they have never heard and never will hear so much +as the names; we see the country-gentlemen (sole cause of its surviving +to our day) who buy it as a book no gentleman's library can be complete +without; we see the spend-thrift heir, whose horses and hounds and +Pharaonic troops of friends, drowned in a Red Sea of claret, bring it to +the hammer, the tall octavo in tree-calf following the ancestral oaks +of the park. Such a volume is sacred to us. But it must be the original +foundling of the book-stall, the engraved blazon of some extinct +baronetcy within its cover, its leaves enshrining memorial flowers of +some passion which the church-yard smothered while the Stuarts were yet +unkinged, suggestive of the trail of laced ruffles, burnt here and there +with ashes from the pipe of some dozing poet, its binding worn and +weather-stained, that has felt the inquisitive finger, perhaps, of +Malone, or thrilled to the touch of Lamb, doubtful between desire and +the odd sixpence. When it comes to a question of reprinting, we are more +choice. The new duodecimo is bald and bare, indeed, compared with its +battered prototype that could draw us with a single hair of association. + +It is not easy to divine the rule which has governed Mr. Smith in making +the selections for his series. A choice of old authors should be a +_florilegium_, and not a botanist's _hortus siccus_, to which grasses +are as important as the single shy blossom of a summer. The old-maidenly +genius of antiquarianism seems to have presided over the editing of +the "Library." We should be inclined to surmise that the works to be +reprinted had been commonly suggested by gentlemen with whom they were +especial favorites, or who were ambitious that their own names should +be signalized on the title-pages with the suffix of EDITOR. The volumes +already published are: Increase Mather's "Remarkable Providences"; the +poems of Drummond of Hawthornden; the "Visions" of Piers Ploughman; the +works in prose and verse of Sir Thomas Overbury; the "Hymns and Songs" +and the "Hallelujah" of George Wither; the poems of Southwell; Selden's +"Table-talk"; the "Enchiridion" of Quarles; the dramatic works of +Marston and Webster; and Chapman's translation of Homer. The volume of +Mather is curious and entertaining, and fit to stand on the same +shelf with the "Magnalia" of his book-suffocated son. Cunningham's +comparatively recent edition, we should think, might satisfy for a long +time to come the demand for Drummond, whose chief value to posterity is +as the Boswell of Ben Jonson. Sir Thomas Overbury's "Characters" are +interesting illustrations of contemporary manners, and a mine of +footnotes to the works of better men,--but, with the exception of "The +Fair and Happy Milkmaid," they are dull enough to have pleased James the +First; his "Wife" is a _cento_ of far-fetched conceits,--here a tomtit, +and there a hen mistaken for a pheasant, like the contents of a +cockney's game-bag; and his chief interest for us lies in his having +been mixed up with an inexplicable tragedy and poisoned in the Tower, +not without suspicion of royal complicity. The "Piers Ploughman" is +a reprint, with very little improvement that we can discover, of +Mr. Wright's former edition. It would have been very well to have +republished the "Fair Virtue," and "Shepherd's Hunting" of George +Wither, which contain all the true poetry he ever wrote; but we can +imagine nothing more dreary than the seven hundred pages of his "Hymns +and Songs," whose only use, that we can conceive of, would be as penal +reading for incorrigible poetasters. If a steady course of these did not +bring them out of their nonsenses, nothing short of hanging would. Take +this as a sample, hit on by opening at random:-- + + "Rottenness my bones possest; + Trembling fear possessed me; + I that troublous day might rest: + For, when his approaches be + Onward to the people made, + His strong troops will them invade." + +Southwell is, if possible, worse. He paraphrases David and puts into his +mouth such punning conceits as "Fears are my feres," and in his "Saint +Peter's Complaint" makes that rashest and shortest-spoken of the +Apostles drawl through thirty pages of maudlin repentance, in which the +distinctions between the north and northeast sides of a sentimentality +are worthy of Duns Scotus. It does not follow, that, because a man is +hanged for his faith, he is able to write good verses. We would almost +match the fortitude that quails not at the good Jesuit's poems with his +own which carried him serenely to the fatal tree. The stuff of which +poets are made, whether finer or not, is of a very different fibre from +that which is used in the tough fabric of martyrs. It is time that +an earnest protest should be uttered against the wrong done to the +religious sentiment by the greater part of what is called religious +poetry, and which is commonly a painful something misnamed by the noun +and misqualified by the adjective. To dilute David, and make doggerel of +that majestic prose of the Prophets which has the glow and wide-orbited +metre of constellations, may be a useful occupation to keep +country-gentlemen out of litigation or retired clergymen from polemics; +but to regard these metrical mechanics as sacred because nobody wishes +to touch them, as meritorious because no one can be merry in their +company,--to rank them in the same class with those ancient songs of the +Church, sweet with the breath of saints, sparkling with the tears of +forgiven penitents, and warm with the fervor of martyrs,--nay, to set +them up beside such poems as those of Herbert, composed in the upper +chambers of the soul that open toward the sun's rising, is to confound +piety with dulness, and the manna of heaven with its sickening namesake +from the apothecary's drawer. The "Enchiridion" of Quarles is +hardly worthy of the author of the "Emblems," and is by no means an +unattainable book in other editions,--nor a matter of heartbreak, if it +were so. Of the dramatic works of Marston it is enough to say that they +are truly _works_ to the reader, but in no sense dramatic, nor worth the +paper they blot. He seems to have been deemed worthy of republication +because he was the contemporary of true poets; and if all the Tuppers +of the nineteenth century will buy his plays on the same principle, the +sale will be a remunerative one. The Homer of Chapman is so precious +a gift, that we are ready to forgive all Mr. Smith's shortcomings in +consideration of it. It is a vast _placer_, full of nuggets for the +philologist and the lover of poetry. + +Having now run cursorily through the series of Mr. Smith's reprints, we +come to the closer question of _How are they edited?_ Whatever the merit +of the original works, the editors, whether self-elected or chosen by +the publisher, should be accurate and scholarly. The editing of the +Homer we can heartily commend; and Dr. Rimbault, who carried the works +of Overbury through the press, has done his work well; but the +other volumes of the Library are very creditable neither to English +scholarship nor to English typography. The Introductions to some of +them are enough to make us think that we are fallen to the necessity +of reprinting our old authors because the art of writing correct and +graceful English has been lost. William B. Turnbull, Esq., of Lincoln's +Inn, Barrister at Law, says, for instance, in his Introduction to +Southwell: "There was resident at Uxendon, near Harrow on the Hill, +in Middlesex, a Catholic family of the name of Bellamy whom [which] +Southwell was in the habit of visiting and providing with religious +instruction when he exchanged his ordinary [ordinarily] close +confinement for a purer atmosphere." (pp. xxii.-xxiii.) Again, (p. +xxii.,) "He had, in this manner, for six years, pursued, with very great +success, the objects of his mission, when these were abruptly terminated +by his foul betrayal into the hands of his enemies in 1592." We should +like to have Mr. Turnbull explain how the _objects_ of a mission could +be terminated by a betrayal, however it might be with the mission +itself. From the many similar flowers in the Introduction to Mather's +"Providences," by Mr. George Offor, (in whom, we fear, we recognize +a countryman,) we select the following: "It was at this period when, +[that,] oppressed by the ruthless hand of persecution, our pilgrim +fathers, threatened with torture and death, succumbed not to man, but +trusting on [in] an almighty arm, braved the dangers of an almost +unknown ocean, and threw themselves into the arms of men called savages, +who proved more beneficent than national Christians." To whom or what +our pilgrim fathers _did_ succumb, and what "national Christians" are, +we leave, with the song of the Sirens, to conjecture. Speaking of the +"Providences," Mr. Offor says, that "they faithfully delineate the state +of public opinion two hundred years ago, the most striking feature being +an implicit faith in the power of the [in-]visible world to hold visible +intercourse with man:--not the angels to bless poor erring mortals, but +of demons imparting power to witches and warlocks to injure, terrify and +destroy,"--a sentence which we defy any witch or warlock, though he +were Michael Scott himself, to parse with the astutest demonic aid. +On another page, he says of Dr. Mather, that "he was one of the first +divines who discovered that very many strange events, which were +considered preternatural, had occurred in the course of nature or by +deceitful juggling; that the Devil could not speak English, nor prevail +with Protestants; the smell of herbs alarms the Devil; that medicine +drives out Satan!" We do not wonder that Mr. Offor put a mark of +exclamation at the end of this surprising sentence, but we do confess +our astonishment that the vermilion pencil of the proof-reader suffered +it to pass unchallenged. Leaving its bad English out of the question, +we find, on referring to Mather's text, that he was never guilty of the +absurdity of believing that Satan was less eloquent in English than +in any other language; that it was the British (Welsh) tongue which a +certain demon whose education had been neglected (not _the_ Devil) could +not speak; that Mather is not fool enough to say that the Fiend cannot +prevail with Protestants, nor that the smell of herbs alarms him, nor +that medicine drives him out. + +Mr. Offor is superbly Protestant and iconoclastic,--not sparing, as we +have seen, even Priscian's head among the rest; but, _en revanche_, Mr. +Turnbull is ultramontane beyond the editors of the _Civilta Cattolica_. +He allows himself to say, that, "after Southwell's death, one of his +sisters, a Catholic in heart, but timidly and blameably simulating +heresy, wrought, with some relics of the martyr, several cures on +persons afflicted with desperate and deadly diseases, which had baffled +the skill of all physicians." Mr. Turnbull is, we suspect, a recent +convert, or it would occur to him that doctors are still secure of a +lucrative practice in countries full of the relics of greater saints +than even Southwell. That father was hanged (according to Protestants) +for treason, and the relic which put the whole pharmacopoeia to shame +was, if we mistake not, his neckerchief. But whatever the merits of the +Jesuit himself, and however it may gratify Mr. Turnbull's catechumenical +enthusiasm to exalt the curative properties of this integument of his, +even at the expense of Jesuits' bark, we cannot but think that he has +shown a credulity that unfits him for writing a fair narrative of his +hero's life, or making a tolerably just estimate of his verses. It is +possible, however, that these last seem prosaic as a neck-tie only to +heretical readers. + +Anything more helplessly inadequate than Mr. Offor's preliminary +dissertation on Witchcraft we never read; but we could hardly expect +much from an editor whose citations from the book he is editing show +that he had either not read or not understood it. + +We have singled out the Introductions of Messrs. Turnbull and Offor for +special animadversion because they are on the whole the worst, both of +them being offensively sectarian, while that of Mr. Offor in particular +gives us almost no information whatever. Some of the others are not +without grave faults, chief among which is a vague declamation, +especially out of place in critical essays, where it serves only to +weary the reader and awaken his distrust. In his Introduction to +Wither's "Hallelujah," for instance, Mr. Farr informs us that "nearly +all the best poets of the latter half of the sixteenth century--for that +was the period when the Reformation was fully established--and the whole +of the seventeenth century were sacred poets," and that "even Shakspeare +and the contemporary dramatists of his age sometimes attuned their +well-strung harps to the songs of Zion." Comment on statements like +these would be as useless as the assertions themselves are absurd. + +We have quoted these examples only to justify us in saying, that Mr. +Smith must select his editors with more care, if he wishes that his +"Library of Old Authors" should deserve the confidence and thereby gain +the good word of intelligent readers,--without which such a series can +neither win nor keep the patronage of the public. It is impossible that +men who cannot construct an English sentence correctly, and who do not +know the value of clearness in writing, should be able to disentangle +the knots which slovenly printers have tied in the thread of an old +author's meaning; and it is more than doubtful whether they who assert +carelessly, cite inaccurately, and write loosely are not by nature +disqualified for doing thoroughly what they undertake to do. If it were +unreasonable to demand of every one who assumes to edit one of our early +poets the critical acumen, the genial sense, the illimitable reading, +the philological scholarship, which in combination would alone make +the ideal editor, it is not presumptuous to expect some one of these +qualifications singly, and we have the right to insist upon patience and +accuracy, which are within the reach of every one, and without which all +the others are wellnigh vain. Now to this virtue of accuracy Mr. Offor +specifically lays claim in one of his remarkable sentences: "We are +bound to admire," he says, "the accuracy and beauty of this specimen of +typography. Following in the path of my late friend William Pickering, +our publisher rivals the Aldine and Elzevir presses, which have been so +universally admired." We should think that it was the product of those +presses which had been admired, and that Mr. Smith presents a still +worthier object of admiration when he contrives to follow a path and +rival a press at the same time. But let that pass;--it is the claim to +accuracy which we dispute; and we deliberately affirm, that, as far as +we are able to judge by the volumes we have examined, no claim more +unfounded was ever set up. In some cases, as we shall show presently, +the blunders of the original work have been followed with painful +accuracy in the reprint; but many others have been added by the +carelessness of Mr. Smith's printers or editors. In the thirteen +pages of Mr. Offor's own Introduction we have found as many as seven +typographical errors,--unless some of them are to be excused on the +ground that Mr. Offor's studies have not yet led him into those arcana +where we are taught such recondite mysteries of language as that verbs +agree with their nominatives. In Mr. Farr's Introduction to the "Hymns +and Songs" nine short extracts from other poems of Wither are quoted, +and in these we have found no less than seven misprints or false +readings which materially affect the sense. Textual inaccuracy is a +grave fault in the new edition of an old poet; and Mr. Farr is not +only liable to this charge, but also to that of making blundering +misstatements which are calculated to mislead the careless or uncritical +reader. Infected by the absurd cant which has been prevalent for the +last dozen years among literary sciolists, he says,--"The language used +by Wither in all his various works--whether secular or sacred--is pure +Saxon." Taken literally, this assertion is manifestly ridiculous, and, +allowing it every possible limitation, it is not only untrue of Wither, +but of every English poet, from Chaucer down. The translators of our +Bible made use of the German version, and a poet versifying the English +Scriptures would therefore be likely to use more words of Teutonic +origin than in his original compositions. But no English poet can write +English poetry except in English,--that is, in that compound of Teutonic +and Romanic which derives its heartiness and strength from the one and +its canorous elegance from the other. The Saxon language does not sing, +and, though its tough mortar serve to hold together the less compact +Latin words, porous with vowels, it is to the Latin that our verse owes +majesty, harmony, variety, and the capacity for rhyme. A quotation of +six lines from Wither ends at the top of the very page on which Mr. Parr +lays down his extraordinary _dictum_, and we will let this answer him, +Italicizing the words of Romanic derivation:-- + + "Her true _beauty_ leaves behind + _Apprehensions_ in the mind, + Of more sweetness than all _art_ + Or _inventions_ can _impart_; + Thoughts too deep to be _expressed_, + And too strong to be _suppressed_." + +But space fails us, and we shall take up the editions of Marston and +Webster in a future article. + + +_Galleries and Cabinets of Art in Great Britain_, etc. By DR. WAAGEN. +Forming a Supplemental Volume to the "Treasures of Art in Great +Britain." 8vo. London. 1857. + +The Manchester Exhibition, although containing a vast number of works +of Art, displayed but a small portion of the treasures of painting and +sculpture scattered through Great Britain, in the city and country +houses of the upper classes. Every year is adding greatly to the number +and value of both private and public galleries in England. It is but +three years since Dr. Waagen published his three ponderous volumes on +the "Treasures of Art in Great Britain," and he has already found new +material for a fourth, not less cumbrous than its predecessors. The +larger part of this last volume is, indeed, composed of descriptions of +galleries existing at the time of the publication of his first work, but +the most interesting portion of it relates to the acquisitions that have +been made within the last three years. + +A better taste, and a truer appreciation of the relative merits of works +of Art, prevails in England now than at any previous time, and the +recent acquisitions are distinguished not more by their number than by +their intrinsic value. The National Gallery has at last begun to make +its purchases upon a systematic plan, and is endeavoring to form such a +collection as shall exhibit the historic progress of the various schools +of painting. The late additions to it have been of peculiar interest in +this view; including some very admirable pictures by masters whose works +are rare and of real importance. Among them are very noble works of +some of the chief earlier Florentine, Umbrian, and Venetian masters; +especially a beautiful picture by Benozzo Gozzoli, (the Virgin enthroned +with the infant Saviour in her arms and surrounded by Saints,)--a +thoroughly characteristic specimen of Giovanni Bellini, (also a Virgin +holding the Child,) in which the deep, fervent, and tender spirit, the +manly feeling, and the unsurpassed purity of color of this great master +are well shown,--and one of the finest existing pictures of Perugino, +the three lower and principal compartments of an altarpiece painted for +the Certosa at Pavia. We know, indeed, no work by the master of Raphael +to be set above this. Two of the best pictures of Paul Veronese have +also just been added to the National Gallery. + +Still more important are the recent private purchases. The Duke of +Northumberland procured in Rome, in 1850, the whole of Camuccini's +famous collection. It contained seventy-four pictures, and many of +them of great value. Among them was a small, but precious picture +by Giotto,--a beautiful little Raphael,--three undoubted works of +Titian,--and, most precious of all, a picture, formerly in the Ludovisi +collection, painted jointly by Giovanni Bellini and Titian. It is the +Descent of the Gods to taste the Fruits of the Earth, half-comic in +conception, but remarkable for the grace of some of its figures; the +landscape is by Titian, and Dr. Waagen says, justly, that "it is, +without comparison, the finest that up to that period had ever been +painted,"--and we would add, few finer have been painted since. + +Meanwhile Sir Charles Eastlake has obtained a picture by Mantegna, and +another by Bellini, both of which rank very high among the works of +these masters, and both in excellent condition. And Mr. Alexander +Barker, whose collection is becoming one of the best selected and most +interesting in England, has purchased several pictures of great value, +especially one by Verocchio, the master of Leonardo da Vinci, which Dr. +Waagen speaks of as "the most important picture I know by this rare +master." Mr. Barker has also made an addition to his collection so +recent as not to be described even in this last volume of the "Art +Treasures," but which is of unsurpassed interest. He has purchased from +the Manfrini Gallery at Venice, a gallery which has long been famous as +containing some of the best works of the Venetian school, eighteen of +its best pictures, and was lately in treaty for a still larger number. +He has already secured Titian's portrait of Ariosto, Giorgione's +portrait of a woman with a guitar, and other works by these masters, by +Palma Vecchio, Giovanni Bellini, and other chief Venetian painters. We +trust that he may bring to England (if it must leave Venice) Bellini's +St. Jerome, a picture of the most precious character. + +This catalogue, long as it already is, by no means completes the list of +the last three years' gains of pictures for England. Such a record shows +how compact with treasures the little island is becoming. And meanwhile, +what is America doing in this way? The overestimate of the importance +and value of Mr. Belmont's collection in New York shows how far the +American public yet is from knowing its own ignorance and poverty in +respect to Art. + +No praise can be given to the execution of Dr. Waagen's book. His +descriptions of pictures are rarely characteristic; his tone and +standard of judgment are worthless; his style of writing is poor; his +inaccuracies frequent; and his flunkeyism intolerable. It would be an +excellent undertaking for a competent person, using Dr. Waagen's book +as a basis, to compress the account of the principal private galleries, +those which really contain pictures of value, into one small and +portable volume,--to serve as a handbook for travellers in England, as +well as for a guide to the present place of pictures interesting in the +history of artists and of Art. Such a volume, if well done, would be of +vastly more value than these heavy four. The usual delightful liberality +of English collectors in opening their galleries to the public on +certain days would make such a volume something more than a mere +tantalizing exposition of treasures that could not be seen, and would +render it, to all lovers of Art, an indispensable companion in England. +We may add that this liberality might be imitated with advantage by the +directors of some collections in which the public have a greater claim. +We tried once in vain to get sight of the portraits of Alleyn and +Burbage at Bulwich College, and were prevented from seeing the Hogarths +in the Sloane Museum by the length of time required for the preliminary +ceremonies. + + +_The New American Cyclopaedia._ A Popular Dictionary of General +Knowledge. Edited by GEORGE RIPLEY and CHAS. A. DANA. Vol. I. +A--ARAGUAY. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 8vo. + +The design of this work is to furnish the American public with a +Cyclopaedia which shall be readable as well as valuable,--possessing +all the advantages of a dictionary of knowledge for the purposes of +reference, and all the interest which results from a scholarly treatment +of the subjects. Judging from the first volume, it will occupy a middle +ground between the great Encyclopaedias and the numerous special +Dictionaries of Art and Science; and if its plan be carried out with the +vigor and skill which mark its commencement, it will, when completed, be +the best and most condensed Cyclopaedia for popular use in any language. +The guaranty for its successful completion is to be found in the +character and abilities of the editors, and the resources at their +command. Mr. Ripley is an accomplished man of letters, familiar with the +whole field of literature and philosophy, gifted with a mental aptitude +equally for facts and ideas, a fanatic for no particular branch of +knowledge, but with a genial appreciation of each, and endowed with a +largeness and catholicity of mind which eminently fit him to mould the +multitudinous materials of a work like the present into the form of a +prescribed plan. Mr. Dana is well known as one of the chief editors +of the most influential journal in the country, as combining vigorous +intellect with indefatigable industry, and as capable, both in the +domain of facts and in the domain of principles, of "toiling terribly." +The resources of the editors are, literally, almost too numerous +to mention. They include the different Encyclopaedias and popular +Conversations-Lexicons in various languages,--recent biographies, +histories, books of travel, and scientific treatises,--the opportunities +of research afforded by the best private and public libraries,--and a +body of contributors, scattered over different portions of the United +States and Europe, of whom nearly a hundred have written for the present +volume, and, in some cases, have contributed the results of personal +observation, research, and discovery. These contributors are selected +with a view to their proficiency and celebrity in their several +departments. The scientific articles are written by scientific men; +those on technology and machinery, by practical machinists and +engineers; those on military and naval affairs, by officers of the army +and navy; and those which relate to the history and doctrines of the +various Christian churches and denominations, by men who have both the +knowledge of their subjects which comes from study and the knowledge +which comes from sympathy. + +The plan of the editors implies a perfect neutrality in regard to all +controverted points in politics, science, philosophy, and religion; +and though they cannot avoid controversy as a fact in the history of +opinion, it is their purpose to have the Cyclopaedia give an impartial +statement of various opinions without an intrusion of their own or those +of their contributors. In considering how far, in the first volume, they +have succeeded in their general design, it must be remembered that a +Cyclopaedia which shall be satisfactory to all readers alike is an ideal +which the human imagination may contemplate, but which seems to be +beyond the reach of human wit practically to attain. Besides, each +reader is apt to have a pet interest in certain persons, events, topics, +beliefs, which stand in his own mind for universal knowledge, and he is +naturally vexed to find how their importance dwindles when they appear +in relation to the whole of nature and human life. In respect to +Biography, especially in a Cyclopaedia which admits lives of the living +as well as the dead, and to whose biographical department a great +variety of authors contribute, there is an inherent difficulty of +preserving the proper gradation of reputations. Doubtless, many an +American gentleman will find that this Cyclopaedia gives him an +importance, in comparison with the rest of the world, which time will +not sanction; and doubtless, some of the dead _A_s, if rapped into +utterance by the modern process of spiritual communication, would +complain of the curt statement which coffined their souls in a space +more limited than that now occupied by their bodies. The biographies, +however, of John Adams, John Quincy Adams, Addison, Aeschylus, Mark +Anthony, Alfieri, Akenside, Allston, Agassiz, and a number of others, +are evidently by "eminent hands," and, as compared with the rest, are +treated with more fulness and richness of detail, with an easier and +more genial mastery of the subjects, and with less fear of being +redundant in good things. Still, most of the biographies serve the +primary purpose of the work as a book of reference, and contain as large +an amount of information as could well be crammed into so limited a +space. + +Such a variety of minds have been engaged on the present volume, that +among its twenty-five hundred articles will be found every kind of +style, from austere scientific statement, to brilliant wit and fancy. +Two subjects, never before included in a Cyclopaedia in the English +language, namely, Aesthetics and Absolute, are ably, though far too +briefly treated. Entertainment is not overlooked in the plan of the +editors, and there are some articles, like those on Almacks, Actors, and +Adventures, which contain information at once curious and amusing. +The article "Americanism" might have been made much more valuable and +pleasing, had the subject been treated at greater length, with more +insight into the reasons which led to the establishment of an American +verbal mint, and with a more complete list of the felicities of its +coinage. The articles which refer to bodily health, such as those on +Appetite, Age, Aliment, Total Abstinence, contain important facts and +admirable suggestions in condensed statements. Agriculture, Agricultural +Schools, and Agricultural Chemistry are evidently the work of writers +who appreciate the practical wants of the farmer, as well as understand +the aids which science can furnish him. Two divisions of the globe, +Africa and America, come within the scope of the present volume, and, +though the special reader will notice in the articles devoted to them +some omissions, and some statements which may require modification, they +bear the general marks of industry, vigilance, and research. The paper +on Anaesthetics is evidently by a writer who meant to be impartial, but +still injustice is done to the claims of Dr. Jackson, and we trust that +in the next edition some of the statements will be corrected, even if +the whole question of the discovery is not more thoroughly argued. It +seems curious that a discovery which destroys pain should be a constant +cause of pain to every person in any way connected with it. It may not +be within the province of a Cyclopaedia to undertake the decision of a +question still so vehemently controverted; but we think it might be so +stated as to include all the facts, harmonize portions at least of +the conflicting evidence, and put some people "out of pain." We must +attribute it to a careless reading of the proof-sheets that the editors +have allowed the concluding paragraph in the article "Adams" to intrude +village gossip into a work which should be an example to American +scholarship, and not a receptacle of newspaper scandal. + +In conclusion, we think that the impression which an examination of the +present volume, considered as a whole, leaves on the mind is, that the +editors have generally succeeded in making it both comprehensive and +compact,--comprehensive without being superficial, and compact without +being dry and dull. As a book for the desultory reader, it will be found +full of interest and attractiveness, while it is abundantly capable of +bearing severer tests than any to which the desultory reader will be +likely to subject it. Minor faults can easily be detected, but we think +its great merits are much more obvious than its little defects. The +probability is, that, when completed, it will be found to contain +articles by almost every person of literary and scientific note in the +United States; for the wide and friendly relations which the editors +hold with American authors and _savans_, of all sects, parties, and +sections, will enable them to obtain valuable contributions, even if +the general interest in the success of an American Cyclopaedia were not +sufficient of itself to draw the intellect of the country to its pages. +As a work which promises to be so honorable to the literature of the +country, we trust that it will meet with a public patronage commensurate +with its deserts. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 6, +April, 1858, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY *** + +***** This file should be named 12372.txt or 12372.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/3/7/12372/ + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed +Proofreaders. 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