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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/12374-0.txt b/12374-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3720e58 --- /dev/null +++ b/12374-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8323 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12374 *** + +THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. + +A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS. + +VOL. I.--MAY, 1858.--NO. VII. + + + +AMERICAN ANTIQUITY. + + +The results of the past ten or fifteen years in historical investigation +are exceedingly mortifying to any one who has been proud to call himself +a student of History. We had thought, perhaps, that we knew something +of the origin of human events and the gradual development from the +past into the world of to-day. We had read Herodotus, and Gibbon, +and Gillies, and done manful duty with Rollin. There were certain +comfortable, definite facts in antiquity. Romulus and Remus were our +friends; the transmission of the alphabet by the Phoenicians was a +resting-spot; the destruction of Babylon and the date of the Flood were +fixed stations in the wilderness. In more modern periods, we had a +refuge in the date of the discovery of America; and if we were forced +back into the wilds and uncertainties of American History, Mr. Prescott +soon restored to us the buried empires, and led us easily back through a +few plain centuries. + +Beyond these dates, indeed, there was a shadowy land, through whose +changing mists could be seen sometimes the grand outlines of abandoned +cities, or the faint forms of temples, or the graceful column or massive +tomb, which marked the distant path of the advancing race: but these +were scarcely more than visions for a moment, before darkness again +covered the view. Our mythology and philosophy of the past were almost +equally misty and vague. History was to us a succession of facts; empire +succeeding empire, and one form of civilization another, with scarcely +more connection than in the scenes of a theatre;--the great isolated +fact of all being the existence of the Jews. All cosmic myths and noble +conceptions of Deity and pure religious beliefs were only offshoots of +Hebrew tradition. + +This, we are pained to say, is all changed now. Our beloved dates, our +easy explanation, and popular narrative are half dissolved under the +touch of modern investigation. Roman History abandons poor Romulus and +Remus; the Flood sinks into a local inundation, and is pushed back +nobody knows how many thousands of years; an Egyptian antiquity arises +of which Herodotus never knew; and Josephus is proved ignorant of his +own subject. Nothing is found separate from the current of the world's +history,--neither Hebrew law and religion, nor Phoenician commerce, +nor Hindoo mythology, nor Grecian art. On the shadowy Past, over the +deserted battle-fields, the burial-mounds, the mausolea, the temples, +the altars, and the habitations of perished nations, new rays of light +are cast. Peoples not heard of before, empires forgotten, conquests not +recorded, arts unknown in their place at this day, and civilizations of +which all has perished but the language, appear again. The world wakes +to find itself much older than it thought. History is hardly the same +study that it once was. Even more than the investigations of hieroglyphs +and bass-reliefs and sculptures, during the past few years, have the +researches in one especial direction changed the face of the ancient +world. + +LANGUAGE is found to be itself the best record of a nation's origin, +development, and relation to other races. Each vocabulary and grammar +of a dead nation is a Nineveh, rich in pictures, inscriptions, and +historical records, uncovering to the patient investigator not merely +the external life and actions of the people, but their deepest internal +life, and their connection with other peoples and times. The little +defaced word, the cast-away root, the antique construction, picked up +by the student among the vestiges of a language, may be a relic fresher +from the past and older than a stone from the Pyramids, or the sculpture +of the Assyrian temple. + +In American history, this work of investigation till recently had not +been thoroughly entered upon. Within the last quarter of a century, +Kingsborough and Gallatin and Prescott and Davis and Squier and +Schoolcraft and Müller have each thrown some light over the mysterious +antiquity of our own continent. But of all, a French Abbé, an +ethnologist and a careful investigator,--M. BRASSEUR DE BOURBOURG,--has, +in a history recently published, done the best service to this cause. It +is entitled "Histoire des Nations Civilisées du Mexique et de l'Amérique +Centrale." (Paris, 1857.) M. de Bourbourg spent many years in Central +America, studying the face of the country and the languages of the +Indian tribes, and investigating the ancient picture-writing and the +remains of the wonderful ruins of that region. Probably no stranger has +ever enjoyed better opportunities of reading the ancient manuscripts and +studying the dialects of the Central American races. With these helps he +has prepared a groundwork for the history of the early civilized peoples +of our American continent,--a history, it should be remembered, ending +where Prescott's begins,--reaching back, possibly, as far as the +earliest invasions of the Huns, and one of whose fixed dates is at the +time of the Antonines. He has ventured to lift, at length, the veil from +our mysterious and confused American antiquity. It is an especial merit +of M. de Bourbourg, in this stage of the investigation, that he has +attempted to do no more. He has collected and collated facts, but +has sought to give us very few theories. The stable philosophical +conclusions he leaves for later research, when time shall have been +afforded for fuller comparison. + +There is an incredible fascination to many minds in these investigations +into the traditions and beliefs of antiquity. We feel in their presence +that they are the oldest things; the most ancient books, or buildings, +or sculptures are modern by their side. They represent the childish +instincts of the human mind,--its _gropings_ after Truth,--its dim +ideals and shadowings forth of what it hopes will be. They are the +earliest answers of man to the great questions, WHENCE and WHITHER? + + * * * * * + +The most ancient people of Central America, according to M. de +Bourbourg,--a people referred to in all the oldest traditions, but of +whom everything except the memory has passed away,--are the Quinames. +Their rule extended over Mexico and Guatemala, and there is reason to +suppose that they attained to a considerable height of civilization. The +only accounts of their origin are the oral traditions repeated to the +Spaniards by the Indians of Yucatan,--traditions relating that the +fathers of this great nation came from the East, and that God had +delivered them from the pursuit of their enemies and had opened to +them a way over the sea. Other traditions reveal to us the Quinames as +delivered up to the most unnatural vices of ancient society. Whether +the Cyclopean ruins scattered over the continent,--vast masses of +stone placed one upon another without cement, which existed before the +splendid cities whose ruins are yet seen in Central America,--whether +these are the work of this race, or of one still older, is entirely +uncertain. + +The most ancient language of Central America, the ground on which all +the succeeding languages have been planted, is the Maya. Even the Indian +languages of to-day are only combinations of their own idioms with this +ancient tongue. Its daughter, the Tzendale, transmits many of the oldest +and most interesting religious beliefs of the Indian tribes. + +All the traditions, whether in the Quiche, the Mexican, or the Tzendale, +unite in one somewhat remarkable belief,--in the reverent mention of an +ancient Deliverer or Benefactor; a personage so enveloped in the halo +of religious sentiment and the mist of remote antiquity, that it is +difficult to distinguish his real form. With the Tzendale his name is +Votan;[A] among the many other names in other languages, Quetzalcohuatl +is the one most distinctive. Sometimes he appears as a wise and +dignified legislator, arrived suddenly among an ignorant people from an +unknown country, to instruct them in agriculture, the arts, and even in +religion. He bears suffering in their behalf, patiently labors for them, +and, when at length he has done his work, departs alone from amid the +weeping crowd to the country of his birth. Sometimes he is the mediator +between Deity and men; then again, a personification of the Divine +wisdom and glory; and still again, the noble features seem to be +transmuted in the confused tradition into the countenance of Divinity. +Whether this mysterious person is only the American embodiment of +the Hope of all Nations, or whether he was truly a wise and noble +legislator, driven by some accident to these shores from a foreign +country, and afterwards glorified by the gratitude of his people, +is uncertain, though our author inclines naturally to the latter +supposition. The expression of the Tzendale tradition, "Votan is +the first man whom God sent to divide and distribute these lands of +America," (Vol. I. p. 42,) indicates that he found the continent +inhabited, and either originated the distribution of property or became +a conqueror of the country. The evidence of tradition would clearly +prove that at the arrival of Votan the great proportion of the +inhabitants, from the Isthmus of Panama to the territories of +California, were in a savage condition. The builders of the Cyclopean +ruins were the only exception. + +[Footnote A: The resemblance of this name to the Teutonic Wuotan or Odin +is certainly striking and will afford a new argument to the enthusiastic +Rafn, and other advocates of a Scandinavian colonization of +America.--Edd.] + +The various traditions agree that this elevated being, the father of +American civilization, inculcated first of all a belief in a Supreme +Creator, Lord of Heaven and Earth. It is a singular fact, that the +ancient Quiche tradition represents the Deity as a Triad, or Trinity, +with the deified heroes arranged in orders below,--a representation not +improbably connected with the Hindoo conception. The belief in a Supreme +Being seems to have been generally diffused among the Central American +and Mexican tribes, even as late as the arrival of the Spaniards. The +Mexicans adored Him under the name of Ipalnemoaloni, or "Him in whom and +by whom we are and live." This "God of all purity," as he is +addressed in a Mexican prayer, was too elevated for vulgar thought or +representation. No altars or temples were erected to him; and it was +only under one of the later kings of the Aztec monarchy that a temple +was built to the "Unknown God."--Vol. I. p. 46. + +The founders of the early American civilization bear various titles: +they are called "The Master of the Mountain," "The Heart of the Lake," +"The Master of the Azure Surface," and the like. Even in the native +traditions, the questions are often asked: "Whence came these men?" +"Under what climate were they born?" One authority answers thus +mysteriously: "They have clearly come from the other shore of the +sea,--from the place which is called 'Camuhifal,'--_The place +where is shadow."_ Why may not this singular expression refer to a +Northern country,--a place where is a long shadow, a winter-night? + +A singular characteristic of the ancient Indian legends is the mingling +of two separate courses of tradition. In their poetic conceptions, and +perhaps under the hands of their priests, the old myths of the Creation +are constantly confused with the accounts of the first periods of their +civilization. + +The following is the most ancient legend of the Creation, from the MSS. +of Chichicastenango, in the Quiche text: "When all that was necessary to +be created in heaven and on earth was finished, the heaven being formed, +its angles measured and lined, its limits fixed, the lines and parallels +put in their place in heaven and on earth, heaven found itself created, +and Heaven it was called by the Creator and Maker, the Father and +Mother of Life and Existence, ... the Mother of Thought and Wisdom, the +excellence of all that is in heaven and on earth, in the lakes or the +sea. It is thus that he called himself, when all was tranquil and calm, +when all was peaceable and silent, when nothing had movement in the void +of the heavens."--Vol. I. p. 48. + +In the narrative of the succeeding work of creation, says M. de +Bourbourg, there is always a double sense. Creation and life are +civilization; the silence and calm of Nature before the existence of +animated beings are the calm and tranquillity of Ocean, over which a +sail is flying towards an unknown shore; and the first aspect of the +shores of America, with its mighty mountains and great rivers, is +confounded with the first appearance of the earth from the chaos of +waters. + +"This is the first word," says the Quiche text. "There were neither men, +nor animals, nor birds, nor fishes, nor wood, nor stones, nor valleys, +nor herbs, nor forests. There was only the heaven. The image of the +earth did not yet show itself. There was only the sea, on all sides +surrounded by the heaven ... Nothing had motion, and not the least sigh +agitated the air ... In the midst of this calm and this tranquillity, +was only the Father and the Maker, in the obscurity of the night; there +were only the Fathers and Generators on the whitening water, and they +were clad in azure raiment... And it is on account of them that heaven +exists, and exists equally the Heart of Heaven, which is the name of +God."--Vol. I. p. 51. [B] + +[Footnote B: Compare the Hindoo conception, translated from one of the +old Vedic legends, in Bunsen's _Philosophy of History_:-- + + "Nor Aught nor Nought existed; yon bright + sky + Was not, nor heaven's broad roof outstretched + above. + What covered all? What sheltered? What + concealed? + Was it the waters' fathomless abyss? + There was not death,--yet was there nought + immortal. + There was no confine betwixt day and night. + The only One breathed breathless by itself;-- + Other than it there nothing since has been. + Darkness there was, and all at first was veiled + In gloom profound,--an ocean without light. + The germ that still lay covered in the husk + Burst forth, one nature, from the fervent + heat."] + +The legend then pictures a council between these "Fathers" and the +Supreme Creator; after which, the word is spoken, and the earth bursts +forth from the darkness, with its great mountains and forests and +animals and birds, as they might to a voyager approaching the shore. An +episode occurs, describing a deluge, but still bearing in it the +traces of the double tradition,--the one referring to some primeval +catastrophe, and the other to a local inundation, which had perhaps +surprised the first legislators in the midst of their efforts. The +Mexican tradition (Codex Chimalpopoca) shows more distinctly the united +action of the Mediator (Quetzalcohuatl) and the Deity:--"From ashes had +God created man and animated him, and they say it is Quetzalcohuatl who +hath perfected him who had been made, and hath _breathed into him, on +the seventh day, the breath of life_." + +Another legend, after describing the creation of men of wood, and women +of _cibak_, (the marrow of the corn-flag,) tells us that "the fathers +and the children, from want of intelligence, did not use the language +which they had received to praise the benefaction of their creation, and +never thought of raising their eyes to praise Hurakan. Then were they +destroyed in an inundation. There descended from heaven a rain of +bitumen and resin... And on account of them, the earth was obscured; and +it rained night and day. And men went and came, out of themselves, as if +struck with madness. They wished to mount upon the roofs, and the houses +fell beneath them; when they took refuge in the caves and the +grottoes, these closed over them. This was their punishment and +destruction."--Vol. I. p. 55. + +In the Mexican tradition, instead of the rain we find a violent eruption +of the volcanoes, and men are changed into fishes, and again into +_chicime_,--which may designate the barbarian tribes that invaded +Central America. + +In still another tradition, the Deity and his associates are more +plainly men of superior intelligence, laboring to civilize savage +races; and finally, when they cannot inspire two essential elements of +civilization,--a taste for labor, and the religious idea,--a sudden +inundation delivers them from the indocile people. Then--so far as the +mysterious language of the legend can be interpreted--they appear to +have withdrawn themselves to a more teachable race. But with these +the difficulty for the new law-givers is that they find nothing +corresponding to the productions of the country from which they had +come. Fruits are in abundance, but there is no grain which requires +culture, and which would give origin to a continued industry. The legend +relates, somewhat naively, the hunger and distress of these elevated +beings, until at length they discover the maize, and other nutritious +fruits and grains in the county of Paxil and Cayala. + +Our author places these latter in the state of Chiapas, and the +countries watered by the Usumasinta. The provinces of Mexico and the +Atlantic border of Central America he supposes to be those where the +first legislators of America landed, and where was the cradle of the +first American civilization. In these regions, the great city attributed +to Votan,--Palenque,--the ruins of whose magnificent temples and palaces +even yet astonish the traveller, was one of the first products of this +civilization. + +With regard to the much-vexed question of the origin of the Indian +races, M. de Bourbourg offers no theory. In his view, the evidence from +language establishes no certain connection between the Indian tribes and +any other race whatever; though, as he justly remarks, the knowledge of +the languages of the Northeast of Asia and of the interior of America is +yet very limited, and more complete investigations must be waited for +before any very satisfactory conclusions can be attained. The similarity +of the Indian languages points without doubt to a common origin, while +their variety and immense number are indications of a high antiquity; +for who can estimate the succession of years necessary to subdivide a +common tongue into so many languages, and to give birth out of a savage +or nomadic life to a civilization like that of the Aztecs? + +In the passage of man from one hemisphere to another he sees no +difficulty; as, without considering Behring's Strait, the voyage, from +Mantchooria, or Japan, following the chain of the Koorile and the +Aleutian Isles, even to the Peninsula of Alaska, would be an enterprise +of no great hazard. + +The traditions of the Indian tribes, as well as their monumental +inscriptions, point to an Eastern origin. From whatever direction the +particular tribe may have emigrated, they always speak of their fathers +as having come from the rising of the sun. The Quiche, as well as the +Chippeway traditions, allude to the voyages of their fathers from the +East, from a cold and icy region, through a cloudy and wintry sea, to +countries as cold and gloomy, from which they again turned towards the +South. + +Without committing himself to a theory, M. de Bourbourg supposes that +one race--the Quiche--has passed through the whole North American +continent, erecting at different stages of its civilization those +gigantic and mysterious pyramids, the _tumuli_ of the Mississippi +Valley,--of whose origin the present Northern Indian tribes have +preserved no trace, and for whose erection no single American tribe +now would have the wealth or the superfluous labor. This race was +continually driven towards the South by more savage tribes, and it at +length reached its favorite seats and the height of its civilization in +Central America. In comparing the similar monuments of Southern Siberia, +and the dates of the immigration to the Aztec plateau, with those of +the first movements of the Huns and the great revolutions in Asia, an +indication is given, worthy of being followed up by the ethnologist, +of the Asiatic origin of the Central American tribes. The traditions, +monuments, customs, mythology, and astronomic systems all point to a +similar source. + +The thorough study of the aboriginal races reveals the fact, that the +whole continent, from the Arctic regions to the Southern Pole, was +divided irregularly between two distinct families;--one nomadic +and savage, the other agricultural and semi-civilized; one with no +institutions or polity or organized religion, the other with regular +forms of government and hierarchical and religious systems. Though +differing so widely, and little associated with each other, they +possessed an analogous physical constitution, analogous customs, idioms, +and grammatical forms, many of which were entirely different from those +of the Old World. + +At the period of the discovery of America, not a single tribe west of +the Rocky Mountains possessed the least agricultural skill. Whether the +superiority of the Central American and Mexican tribes was due to +more favorable circumstances and a more genial climate, or to the +instructions of foreign legislators, as their traditions relate, our +author does not decide. In his view, American agriculture originated in +Central America, and was not one of the sciences brought over by the +tribes who first emigrated from Asia. + +Of the architectural ruins found in Central America M. de Bourbourg +says: "Among the edifices forgotten by Time in the forests of Mexico and +Central America are found architectural characteristics so different +from one another, that it is as impossible to attribute their +construction to one and the same people, as it is to suppose that they +were built at the same epoch.... The ruins that are the most ancient and +that have the most resemblance to one another are those which have been +discovered in the country of the Lacandous, the foundations of the city +of Mayapan, some buildings of Tulha, and the greater part of those +of Palenque; it is probable that they belong to the first period of +American civilization."--Vol. I. p. 85. + +The truly historical records of Central America go back to a period but +little before the Christian era. Beyond that epoch, we behold through +the mists of legends, and in the defaced pictures and sculptures, a +hierarchical despotism sustained by the successors of the mysterious +Votan. The empire of the Votanides is at length ruined by its own vices +and by the attacks of a vigorous race, whose records and language have +come down even to our day,--the only race on the American continent +whose name has been preserved in the memory of the peoples after the +ruin of its power, the only one whose institutions have survived its own +existence,--the Xahoa, or Toltec. + +Of all the American languages, the Nahuatl holds the highest place, for +its richness of expression and its sonorous tone,--adapting itself with +equal flexibility to the most sublime and analytic terms of metaphysics, +and to the uses of ordinary life, so that even at this day the +Englishman and the Spaniard employ its vocabulary for natural objects. + +The traditions of the Nahoas describe their life in the distant Oriental +country from which they came:--"There they multiplied to a considerable +degree, and lived without civilization. They had not then acquired the +habit of separating themselves from the places which had seen them born; +they paid no tributes; and all spoke a single language. They worshipped +neither wood nor stone; they contented themselves with raising their +eyes to heaven and observing the law of the Creator. They waited with +respect for the rising of the sun, saluting with their invocations the +morning star." + +This is their prayer, handed down in Indian tradition,--the oldest piece +extant of American liturgy:--"Hail, Creator and Former! Regard us! +Listen to us! Heart of Heaven! Heart of the Earth! do not leave us! Do +not abandon us, God of Heaven and Earth!... Grant us repose, a glorious +repose, peace and prosperity! the perfection of life and of our being +grant to us, O Hurakan!" + +What country and what sun nourished this worship and gave origin to this +great people is as uncertain as all other facts of the early American +history. They came from the East, the tradition says; they landed, it +seems certain, at Panuco, near the present port of Tampico, from seven +barks or ships. Other traditions represent them as accompanied by sages +with venerable beards and flowing robes. They finally settled somewhere +on the coast between Campeachy and the river Tabasco, and founded the +ancient city of Xicalanco. Their chief, who in the reverent affection of +the nation became afterwards their Deity, was Quetzalcohuatl. The +myths which surround his name reveal to us a wise legislator and noble +benefactor. He is seen instructing them in the arts, in religion, and +finally in agriculture, by introducing the cultivation of maize and +other cereals. + +Whether he had become the object of envy among the people, or whether he +felt that his work was done, it appears, so far as the vague traditions +can be understood, that he at length determined to return to the unknown +country whence he had come. He gathered his brethren around him and thus +addressed them:--"Know," said he, "that the Lord your God commands you +to dwell in these lands which he hath subjected to you this day. For +him, he returns whence he has come. But he goes only to return later; +for he will visit you again, when the time shall have arrived in which +the world shall have come to an end.[C] In the mean while wait, ye +others, in these countries, with the hope of seeing him again!...Thus +farewell, while we depart with our God!" + +[Footnote C: This is the expression of the legend, and certainly points +to the ideas of the Eastern hemisphere. The coincidence with the legends +of Hiawatha and the Finnish Wainamoinen will be remarked.--EDD.] + +We will not follow the interesting narrative of the destruction of +the ancient empire of the Votanides by the Nahoas or Toltecs; nor the +account of the dispersion of these latter over Guatemala, Yucatan, and +even among the mountains of California. This last revolution presents +the first precise date which scholars have yet been able to assign to +early American history; it probably occurred A.D. 174. + +With the account of the invasion of the Aztec plateau by the Chichemees, +a barbarian tribe of the Toltec family, in the middle of the seventh +century, or of the establishment of the Toltec monarchy in Anahuac, we +will not delay our readers, as these events bring us down to the period +of authentic history, on which we have information from other sources. + +"From the moment," says M. de Bourbourg, "in which we see the supremacy +of the cities of Culhuacan and Tollan rise over the cities of the Aztec +plateau dates the true history of this country; but this history is, to +speak the truth, only a grand episode in the annals of this powerful +race [the Toltec]. In the course of a wandering of seven or eight +centuries, it overturns and destroys everything in order to build on the +ruins of ancient kingdoms its own civilization, science, and arts; it +traverses all the provinces of Mexico and Central America, leaving +everywhere traces of its superstitions, its culture, and its laws, +sowing on its passage kingdoms and cities, whose names are forgotten +to-day, but whose mysterious memorials are found again in the monuments +scattered under the forest vegetation of ages and in the different +languages of all the peoples of these countries."--Vol. I. p. 209. + +M. de Bourbourg fitly closes his interesting volumes--from which we have +here given a résumé of only the opening chapters--with a remarkable +prophecy, made in the court of Yucatan by the high-priest of Mani. +According to the tradition, this pontiff, inspired by a supernatural +vision, betook himself to Mayapan and thus addressed the king:--"At the +end of the Third Period, [A.D. 1518-1542,] a nation, white and bearded, +shall come from the side where the sun rises, bearing with it a sign, +[the cross,] which shall make all the Gods to flee and fall. This nation +shall rule all the earth, giving peace to those who shall receive it in +peace and who will abandon vain images to adore an only God, whom these +bearded men adore." (Vol. II. p. 594.) M. de Bourbourg does not vouch +for the pure origin of the tradition, but suggests that the wise men of +the Quiche empire already saw that it contained in itself the elements +of destruction, and had already heard rumors of the wonderful white race +which was soon to sweep away the last vestiges of the Central American +governments. + +[NOTE.--We cannot but think that our correspondent receives the +traditions reported by M. de Bourbourg with too undoubting faith. Some +of them seem to us to bear plain marks of an origin subsequent to the +Spanish Conquest, and we suspect that others have been considerably +modified in passing through the lively fancy of the Abbé. Even +Ixtlilxochitl, who, as a native and of royal race, must have had access +to all sources of information, and who had the advantage of writing more +than three centuries ago, seems to have looked on the native traditions +as extremely untrustworthy. See Prescott's _History of the Conquest of +Mexico_, Vol. I. p. 12, note.--EDD.] + + * * * * * + + +ROGER PIERCE + +The Man With Two Shadows. + + +"There is ever a black spot in our sunshine." Carlyle. + +The sky is gray with unfallen sleet; the wind howls bitterly about the +house; relentless in its desperate speed, it whirls by green crosses +from the fir-boughs in the wood,--dry russet oak-leaves,--tiny cones +from the larch, that were once rose-red with the blood of Spring, but +now rattle on the leafless branches, black and bare as they. No leaf +remains on any bough of the forest, no scarlet streamer of brier flaunts +from the steadfast rocks that underlie all verdure, and now stand out, +bleak and barren, the truths and foundations of life, when its ornate +glories are fled away. The river flows past, a languid stream of lead; +a single crow, screaming for its mate, flaps heavily against the +north-east gale, that enters here also and lifts the carpet in +long waves across the floor, whiffles light eddies of ashes in the +chimney-corner, and vainly presses on door and window, like a houseless +spirit shrieking and pining for a shelter from its bodiless and helpless +unrest in the elements. + +The whole air,--although, within, my fire crackles and leaps with +steady cheer, and the red rose on my window is warm and sanguine with +bloom,--yet this whole air is full of tiny sparks of chill to my +sensitive and morbid nature; it is at once electric and cold, the very +atmosphere of spirits.--What a shadow passed that pane! Roger, was it +you?--The storm bursts, in one fierce rush of sleet and roaring wind; +the little spaniel crouched at my feet whimpers and nestles closer; the +house is silent,--silent as my thoughts,--silent as he is who walked +these rooms once, with a face likest to the sky that darkens them +now, and lonelier, lonelier than I, though at his side forever trod a +companion. + +This valley of the Moosic is narrow and thinly settled. Here and +there the mad river, leaping from some wooded gorge to rest among the +hemlock-covered islands that break its smoother path between the soft +meadows, is crossed by a strong dam; and a white village, with its +church and graveyard, clusters against the hill-side, sweeping upward +from the huge mills that stand along the shore just below the bridge. +Here and there, too, out of sight of mill or village, a quiet farmer's +house, trimly painted, with barns and hay-stacks and wood-piles drawn up +in goodly array, stands in its old orchard, and offers the front of a +fortress against want and misery. Idle aspect! fortress of vain front! +there are intangible foes that no man may conquer! In such a stronghold +was born Roger Pierce, the Man with two Shadows. + +He was the son of good and upright parents. Before he came into their +arms, three tiny shapes had lain there, one after another, for a few +brief weeks, smiled, moaned, and fallen asleep,--to sleep, forever +children, under the daisies and golden-rods. For this reason they cling +to little Roger with passionate apprehension; they fought with the Angel +of Death, and overcame; and, as it ever is to the blind nature of man, +the conquest was greater to them than any gift. + +The boy grew up into childhood as other children grow, a daily miracle +to see. Only for him incessant care watched and waited; unwearied as the +angel that looked from him to the face of God, so to gather ever fresh +strength and guidance for the wayward child, his mother's tender eyes +overlooked him all day, followed his tottering steps from room to room, +kept far away from him all fear and pain, shone upon him in the depths +of night, woke and wept for him always. Never could he know the hardy +self-reliance of those whom life casts upon their own strength and care; +the wisdom and the love that lived for him lived in him, and he grew to +be a boy as the tropic blossom of a hot-house grows, without thought or +toil. + +It was not until his age brought him in contact with others, that there +seemed to be any difference between his nature and the common race +of children. Always, however, some touch of sullenness lurked in his +temperament; and whatever thwarted his will or fancy darkened the light +of his clear eyes, and drew a dull pallor over his blooming cheek, till +his mother used to tell him at such times that he stood between her and +the sunshine. + +But as he grew older, and shared in the sports of his companions, a +strange thing came to pass. Beside the shadow that follows us all in the +light, another, like that, but something deeper, began to go with Roger +Pierce,--not falling with the other, a dial-mark to show the light that +cast it, but capriciously to right or left; on whomever or whatever was +nearest him at the moment, there that Shadow lay; and as time crept on, +the Shadow pertinaciously crept with it, till it was forever hanging +about him, ready to chill with vague terror, or harden as with a frost, +either his fellows or himself. + +One peculiar trait this Shadow had: the more the restless child thought +of his visitant, the deeper it grew,--shrinking in size, but becoming +more intensely dark, till it seemed like part of a heavy thunder-cloud, +only that no lightning ever played across its blank gloom. + +The first time that the Shadow ever stood before him as an actual +presence was when, a mere child, he was busied one day in the warm May +sunshine making a garden by the school-house, in a line with other +little squares, tracked and moulded by childish fingers, and set with +branches of sallow silvered with downy catkins, half-opened dandelions, +twigs of red-flowered maple, mighty reservoirs of water in sunken +clam-shells, and paths adorned with borders of broken china and +glittering bits of glass. Next to Roger's garden-bed was one that +belonged to two little boys who were sworn friends, and one of these was +busy weaving a fence for his garden, of yellow willow-twigs, which the +other cut and sharpened. + +Roger looked on with longing eyes. + +"Will you help me, Jimmy?" said he. + +"I can't," answered the quiet, timid child. + +"No!" shouted Jacob,--the frank, fearless voice bringing a tint of color +into his comrade's cheek. "Jim shan't help you, Roger Pierce! Do you +ever help anybody?" + +Then the Shadow fell beside Roger, as he stood with anger and shame +swelling in his throat; it fell across the blue violets he had taken +from Jacob to dress his own garden, and they drooped and withered; it +crossed the path of shining pebbles that he had forced the younger +children to gather for him, and they grew dull as common stones; it +reached over into Jacob's positive, honest face, and darkened it, and +Jimmy, looking up, with fear in his mild eyes, whispered, softly,--"Come +away! it's going to rain;--don't you see that dark cloud?" + +Roger started, for the Shadow was darkening about himself; and as he +moodily returned home, it seemed to grow deeper and deeper, till his +mother drew his head upon her knee, and by the singing fire told him +tales of her own childhood, and from the loving brightness of her tender +eyes the Shadow slunk away and left the boy to sleep, unhaunted. + +As day by day went by, in patient monotony, Roger became daily more +aware of this ghostly attendant. He was not always alone, for he had +friends who loved him in spite of the Shadow, and grew used to its +appearing;--but he liked to be by himself; for, out of constant +companionship and daily use, this Shadow made for itself a strange +affinity with him, and following his daily rambles over the sharp hills, +tracing to their source the noisy brooks, or setting snares for the +wild creatures whose innocent timid eyes peered at their little enemy +curiously from nook and crevice, he grew to have a moody pleasure in the +knowledge that nothing else disturbed his path or shared his amusements. + +But a time came when he must mix more with the outer world; for he was +sent away from home to school, and there, amid a host of strange faces, +he singled out the only one that had a thought of his past life and +home in it, as his special companion,--the same quiet boy who had +unconsciously feared the Shadow in their earlier school-days. + +So good and gentle was he, that he did not feel the cloud of Roger's +hateful Double as every one else did; and he even won the boy himself to +except him only from a certain suspicion that had lately sprung from, +his own consciousness of his burden,--a suspicion gradually growing into +a belief that all the world had such a Shadow as his own. + +Now this was not a strange result of so painful a reality. Seeing, as +Roger Pierce did, in every action of others toward himself the dark +atmosphere of the Shadow that was peculiarly his own, he watched also +their mutual actions, and, throwing from his own obscurity a shade over +all human deeds, he became possessed of the monomania, a practical +belief that every mortal man, except it might be Jimmy Doane, was +followed and overlooked by this terrible Second Shadow. + +In proportion as the gloom of this black Presence seemed to be lightened +over any one was his esteem for him; but by daily looking so steadily +and with such a will to see only darkness in the hearts of men, he +discovered traces of the Shadow even in Jimmy Doane,--and the darkness +shut down, like night at sea, over all the world then. + +Now Roger was miserable enough, knowing well that he could escape, if +he would; for there had come with his increasing sense of his tyrant, +a knowledge that every time he thought of the Shadow it darkened more +deeply than ever, and that in forgetting it lay his only hope of escape +from its power. But withal there was a morbid pleasure, the reflex +influence of habit and indolence, that mingled curiously with his +longing desire to forget his Double, but rendered it impossible to do +so without a greater effort than he cared to make, or some help from +another hand; and soon that help seemed to come. + +When Roger left his home for school, he left in the quaint oak cradle +a little baby-sister, too young to have a place in his thought as a +definite existence; but after an absence of two years he came back to +find in her a new phase of life, into which the Shadow could not yet +enter. + +The child's name her own childish tongue had softened into "Sunny," a +name that was the natural expression of her sunshiny traits, the clear +gay voice, the tranquil azure eyes, the golden curls, the loving looks, +that made Sunny the darling of the house,--the stray sunbeam that +glanced through the doors, flitted by the heavy wainscots, and danced up +the dusky stairways of that old and solitary dwelling. + +When Roger returned, fresh from the rough companionship of school, Sunny +seemed to him a creature of some better race than his own. The Shadow +vanished, for he forgot it in his new devotion to Sunny. Nothing did he +leave undone to please her wayward fancies. In those hot summer-days, +he carried her to a little brook that rippled across the meadow, and, +sitting with her in his arms on the large smooth stones that divided +those shallow waters, held her carefully while she splashed her tiny +dimpled feet in the cool ripples, or grasped vainly at the blue-winged +dragon-flies sailing past, on languid, airy pinions, just beyond her +reach. Or he gathered heaps of daisies for the child to toss into the +shining stream, and see the pale star-like blossoms float smoothly down +till some eddy caught them in its sparkling whirl, and, drenching the +frail, helpless leaves, cast them on the farther shore and went its +careless way. Or he told her, in the afternoons, under some wide +apple-tree, wonderful stories of giants and naughty boys, till she fell +asleep on the sweet hay, where the curious grasshoppers peered at her +with round horny eyes, and velvet-bodied spiders scurried across her +fair curls with six-legged speed, and the robin eyed her from a bough +above with wistful glances, till Roger must needs carry her tenderly out +of their neighborhood to his mother's gentle care. + +All this guard and guidance Sunny repaid with her only treasure, love. +She left her pet kitten in its gayest antics to sit on Roger's knee; she +went to sleep at night nestled against his arm; every little dainty that +she gathered from garden or field was shared with him; and no pleasure +that did not include Roger could tempt Sunny to be pleased. + +For a while the unconscious charm endured; absorbed in his darling, +Roger forgot the Shadow, or remembered it only at rare intervals; and in +that brief time every one seemed to grow better and lovelier. He did not +see in this the coloring of his own more kindly thoughts. + +But when, at length, the novelty of Sunny's presence wore off, her +claims grew tiresome. In the faith of her child's heart, she came as +frankly to Roger for help or comfort as she had ever done; and he found +his own plans for study or pleasure constantly interrupted by her +requests or caresses, till the Shadow darkened again beside him, and, +looking over his shoulder, fell so close to Sunny, that his old belief +drew its veil across his eyes for a moment, and he started at the sight +of what he dreaded,--a Shadow haunting Sunny. + +Then,--though this first dread passed away,--slowly, but creeping on +with unfailing certainty, the Shadow returned. It fell like a brooding +storm over the fireside of home; he fancied a like shadow following his +mother's steps, darkening his baby-sister's smile; and as if in +revenge for so long an absence, the Shadow forced itself upon him more +strenuously than ever, till poor Roger Pierce was like a bruised and +beaten child,--too sore to have peace or rest, too sensitive to bear any +remedy for his ailment, and too petulant to receive or expect sympathy +from any other and more gentle nature than his own. + +It was long before the Shadow made itself felt by Sunny. She never saw +it as others did. If its chill passed over her warm rosy face, she stole +up softly to her brother, and, with a look of pure childish love, put +her hand in his, and said softly, "Poor Roger!" or, with a keener sense +of the Presence, forbore to touch him, but played off her kitten's +merriest tricks before him, or rolled her tiny hoop with shouts of +laughter across the old house-dog as he slept on the grass, looking +vainly for the smile Roger had always given to her baby plays before. + +So by degrees she went back to her own pleasures, full of tender thought +for every living thing, and a loving consciousness of their wants and +ways. Her lisping voice chattered brook-like to birds and bees; her +lip curled grievously over the broken wing of a painted moth, or the +struggles of a drowning fly; in Nature's company she played as with an +infant ever divine; and no darkness assailed the never-weary child. + +But Roger grew daily closer to his Shadow, and gave himself up to its +dominion, till his mother saw the bondage, and tried, mourning, every +art and device to win him away from the evil spirit, but tried in vain. +So they lived till Sunny was four years old, when suddenly, one bright +day in June, she left the roses in her garden with broken stems, but +ungathered, and, tottering into the house, fell across the threshold, +flushed and sleepy,--as they who lifted her saw at once, in the first +stage of a fever. + +This unexpected blow once more severed Roger from his Shadow. He watched +his little sister with a heart full of anxious regret, yet so fully +wrapt in her wants and danger, that the gloomy Shadow, which looked afar +off at his self-accusations, dared not once intrude. + +At length that day of crisis came, the pause of fever and delirium, +desired, yet dreaded, by every trembling, fearful heart that hung over +the child's pillow. If she slept, the physician said, her fate hung on +the waking; life or death would seal her when sleep resigned its claim. +It was early morning when this sentence was given; in an hour's time the +fever had subsided, the flush passed from Sunny's cheek, and she slept, +watched breathlessly by Roger and his mother. The curtains of the room +were half drawn to give the little creature air, and there rustled +lightly through them a low south wind, bearing the delicate perfume of +blossoms, and the lulling murmur of bees singing at their sweet toil. + +Roger was weary with watching; the chiming sounds of Summer, the low +ticking of the old clock on the stairs, and the utter quiet within, +soothed him to slumber; his head bent forward and rested on the bedside; +he fell asleep, and in his sleep he dreamed. + +Over Sunny's pillow (for in this dream he seemed to himself waking and +watching) he saw a hovering spirit, the incarnate shape of Light, gazing +at the sleeping child with ineffable tenderness; but its keen eyes +caught the aspect of Roger's Shadow; the pure lineaments glowed with +something more divinely awful than anger, and with levelled lance it +assailed that evil Presence and bore it to the ground; but the Shadow +slipped aside from the spear, and cowered into distance; the angelic +face saddened, and, stooping downward, folded Sunny in its arms as if to +bear her away. + +Roger woke with his own vain attempt to grasp and detain the child. The +setting sun streamed in at the window, and his mother stood at his side, +brought by some inarticulate sound from Sunny's lips. + +She sent the boy to call his father, and when they came in together, the +child's wide blue eyes were open, full of supernatural calm; her parched +lips parted with a faint smile; and the loose golden curls pushed off +her forehead, where the blue veins crept, like vivid stains of violet, +under the clear skin. + +"Dear mother!" she said, raising her arms slowly, to be lifted on the +pillow; but the low, hoarse voice had lost its music. + +Then she turned to her father with that strange bright smile, and again +to Roger, uttering faintly,-- + +"Stand away, Roger; Sunny wants the light." + +They drew all the curtain opposite her bed away, and, as she stretched +her hands eagerly toward the window, the last rays of sunshine glowed +on her pale illuminated face, till it was even as an angel's, and Roger +caught a sudden gleam of wings across the air; but a cold pain struck +him as he gazed, for Sunny fell backward on her pillow. She had gone +with the sunshine. + +It seemed now for a time as if the phantasm that haunted Roger Pierce +were banished at last. His moody reserve disappeared; he addressed +himself with quiet, constant effort to console his mother,--to aid his +father,--to fill, so far as he could, the vacant place; and his heart +longed with an incessant thirst for the bright Spirit that hovered in +his dream over Sunny;--he seemed almost to have begun a natural and +healthy life. + +But year after year passed away, and the light of Sunny's influence +faded with her fading memory. Green turf grew over her short grave, and +the long slant shadow of its headstone no longer lay on a foot-worn +track. Roger's pilgrimages to that spot were over; his heart had ceased +to remember. The Shadow had reassumed its power, and reigned. + +Still through its obscurity he kept one gleam of light,--an admiration +undiminished for those who seemed to have no such attendance; but daily +the number of these grew less. + +At length, after the studies of his youth were over, and he had returned +to his old home for life, there came over the settled and brooding +darkness of his soul a warm ray of dawn. In some way, as naturally as +one meets a fresh wind full of vernal odor and life, yet never marks the +moment of its first caress, so naturally, so unmarkedly, he renewed a +childish acquaintance with Violet Channing, a dweller in the same +quiet valley with himself, though for long years the fine threads of +circumstance had parted them. + +Not a stone, and the frail green moss that clings to it, are more +essentially different than were Roger Pierce and Violet Channing. +Without a trace of the Shadow in herself, Violet disbelieved its +existence in others. She had heard a rumor of Roger's phantom, but +thought it some strange delusion, or want of perception, in those who +told her,--being rather softened toward him with pity that he should be +so little understood. + +In the first days of their acquaintance, it seemed as if the light +of the girl's face would have dispelled forever the darkness of her +companion's Shadow, it was so mild and quiet a shining,--not the mere +outer lustre of beauty, but the deep informing expression of that Spirit +which had companioned Sunny heavenward. + +With Violet, soothed by the timid sweetness of her manner, aroused by +her sudden flashes of mirth and vivid enthusiasm, Roger seemed to forget +his hateful companion, or remembered it only to be consoled by her +tender eyes that beamed with pity and affection. + +Month after month this intimacy went on, brightening daily in Roger's +mind the ideal picture of his new friend, but creating in her only +a deeper sympathy and a more devout compassion for his wretched and +oppressed life. But as years instead of months went by, the sole +influence no longer rested with the girl, drawing Roger Pierce upward, +as she longed and strove to do, into her own sunshine. Their mutual +relation had only lightened his darkness in part, while it had drawn +over her the faint twilight of a Shadow like his own. But as the chief +characteristic of this unearthly Thing was that it grew by notice, as +some strange Eastern plants live on air, it throve but slowly near to +Violet Channing, whose thoughts were bent on curing the heart-evil of +Roger Pierce, and were so absorbed in that patient care that they had +little chance to turn upon herself; though, when patience almost failed, +and, weary with fruitless labor and unanswered yearning, her heart sunk, +she was conscious of a vague influence that made the sunbeams fall +coldly, and the songs of Summer mournful. + +Hour after hour she lavished all the treasure she knew, and much that +she knew not consciously, to beguile the darkness from Roger's brow; or +recalled again and again her own deeds and words, to review them with +strict judgment, lest they might have set provocation in his path; till +at length her loving thoughts grew restless and painful, her face paled, +her frame wasted away, and over her deep melancholy eyes the Shadow hung +like a black tempest reflected in some clear lake. + +Roger was not blind to this change; he did not see who had cast the +first veil of darkness over the pure light that had shone so freely for +him; and while he silently regretted what he deemed the desecration of +the spotless image he had loved, nothing whispered that it was his own +Shadow brooding above the true heart that had toiled so faithfully and +long for his enlightening. + +The most painful result of all to Violet was the new coldness of Roger's +manner to her. Shadowed as he was, he did not perceive this change in +himself; but Violet, in the silence of night, or in the solitary hours +she spent in wood and field beside her growing Shadow, felt it with +unmingled pain. Vainly did the Spirit of Light within her counsel her to +persevere, looking only at the end she would achieve; subtler and more +penetrative to her untuned ear were the words of the fiend at her side. + +One day she had brooded long and drearily on the carelessness and +coldness of her dear, her disregardful friend, and in her worn and weary +soul revolved whatever sweetness of the past had now fled, and what +pangs of love repulsed and devotion scorned lay before her in the +miserable future; and as she held her throbbing head upon her hands, +wasted with fiery pulses, it seemed to her as if the Shadow, inclining +to her ear, whispered, almost audibly,-- + +"Think what you have given this man!--your hope and peace; the breath of +your life and the beatings of your heart. All your soul is lavished on +him, and see how he repays you!" + +The weak and disheartened girl shivered; the time was past when she +could have despised the voice of this dread companion, when the Shadow +dared not have spoken thus; and with bitter tears swelling into her eyes +she and the Shadow walked forth together to a haunt on the mountain-side +where she had been used to meet Roger. + +It was a bare rock, just below the summit of a peak crowned with a few +old cedars, from whose laborious growth of dull, dark foliage long +streamers of gray moss waved in the wind. There were scattered crags +about their roots, against whose lichen-covered sides the autumn sun +shone fruitlessly; and from the leafless forests in the deep valley +beneath rose a whispering sound, as if they shuddered, and were stirred +by some foreboding horror. + +Violet made her way to this height as eagerly as her lessened strength +and panting heart allowed; but as she lifted her eyes from the narrow +path she had tracked upward, they rested on the last face she wished to +meet, the gloomy visage of Roger Pierce. The girl hesitated, and would +have drawn back, but Roger bade her come near. + +"There is no need of your going, Violet," said he; and she crouched +quietly on the rock at his feet, silently, but with fixed eyes, +regarding the double nature before her, the Man and his Shadow. + +Still upward from the valley crept that low shiver of dread; the pale +sun shed its listless light on the gray rocks and dusky cedars; the +silent unexpectant earth seemed to have paused; all things were wrapt in +vague awe and dim apprehension; some inexpressible fatality seemed to +oppress life and breath. + +A sudden impulse of escape, desperate in its strength, possessed Violet; +perhaps to name that Thing that clung so closely to Roger might shake +its power,--and with a trembling, vibrating voice she spoke:-- + +"Roger,--you are thinking of the Shadow?" + +He did not move, nor at once speak; no new expression stirred his dark +face; at length he answered, in a voice that seemed to come from some +lips far away, in an unechoing distance:-- + +"The Shadow?--Yes. I see it in all faces. It lies on the valley yonder; +in the air; on every mortal brow and lip it gathers deeper yet. Violet, +you, too, share the Shadow!" + +Slowly, as if his words froze her, Violet rose and turned toward him; +a light shone from her eyes that melted their dark depths into the +radiance of high noon; and she spoke with a thrilled, yet unfaltering +tone:-- + +"Yes, I share it, it is true. I feel and see the gloom; but if the +Shadow haunts me, Roger Pierce, ask your own heart who cast it there! +When we were first friends, I knew nothing of that darkness. I tried +with all purity and compassion to draw you upward into light; and for +reward, you have wrapped your own blackness round me, and hate your own +doing. My work is over,--is in vain! It remains only that I free myself +from this Shadow, and leave you to the mercy of a Power with whom no +such Presence can cope,--in whom no darkness nor shadow may abide." + +She turned to leave him with these words, but cast back a look of such +love and tender pity, that she seemed to Roger the very Spirit that had +borne Sunny away. + +Bewildered and pained to the heart, he groped his way homeward, and +night lapsed into morning, and returned and went again more than once, +ere sleep returned to his eyes. + +Violet kept no vigils; she wept herself asleep as a child against its +mother's bosom, and loving eyes guarded that childlike rest. But Roger's +waking was haunted with remorse and fearful expectation; and as days +crept by, and Memory, like one who fastens the galley-slave to his oar, +still pressed on his thoughts the constant patience, toil, and affection +of Violet Channing, he felt how truly she had spoken of him, and from +his soul abhorred the Shadow of his life. + +Here he vanishes. Whether with successful conflict he fought with the +evil and prevailed, and showed himself a man,--or whether the Thing +renewed its dominion, and he drew to himself another nature, not for the +good power of its pure contact, but for the further increase of that +darkness, and the blinding of another soul, is never yet to be known. + +Of Violet Channing he saw no more; with her his sole earthly redemption +had fled; she went her way, free henceforward from the Shadow, and +guarded in the arms of the shining Spirit. + +The wind yet howls and dashes without; the rain, rushing in gusts on +roof and casement, keeps no time nor tune; the fire is dead in the +ashes; the red rose, in the lessening light, turns gray;--but far away +to the south the cloud begins to scatter; faint amber steals along the +crest of the distant hills; after all evils, hope remains,--even for a +Man with two Shadows. Let us, perhaps his kindred after the spirit, not +despair. + + + + +AMOURS DE VOYAGE. + +[Concluded.] + + + IV. + + Eastward, or Northward, or West? I wander, and ask as I wander, + Weary, yet eager and sure, where shall I come to my love? + Whitherward hasten to seek her? Ye daughters of Italy, tell me, + Graceful and tender and dark, is she consorting with you? + Thou that out-climbest the torrent, that tendest thy goats to the summit, + Call to me, child of the Alp, has she been seen on the heights? + Italy, farewell I bid thee! for, whither she leads me, I follow. + Farewell the vineyard! for I, where I but guess her, must go. + Weariness welcome, and labor, wherever it be, if at last it + Bring me in mountain or plain into the sight of my love. + + + I.--Claude to Eustace,--_from Florence_. + + Gone from Florence; indeed; and that is truly provoking;-- + Gone to Milan, it seems; then I go also to Milan. + Five days now departed; but they can travel but slowly;-- + I quicker far; and I know, as it happens, the house they will go to.-- + Why, what else should I do? Stay here and look at the pictures, + Statues, and churches? Alack, I am sick of the statues and pictures!-- + No, to Bologna, Parma, Piacenza, Lodi, and Milan, + Off go we to-night,--and the Venus go to the Devil! + + + II.--Claude to Eustace,--_from Bellaggio_. + + Gone to Como, they said; and I have posted to Como. + There was a letter left, but the _cameriere_ had lost it. + Could it have been for me? They came, however, to Como, + And from Como went by the boat,--perhaps to the Splügen,-- + Or to the Stelvio, say, and the Tyrol; also it might be + By Porlezza across to Lugano, and so to the Simplon + Possibly, or the St. Gothard, or possibly, too, to Baveno, + Orta, Turin, and elsewhere. Indeed, I am greatly bewildered. + + + III.--Claude to Eustace,--_from Bellaggio_. + + I have been up the Splügen, and on the Stelvio also: + Neither of these can I find they have followed; in no one inn, and + This would be odd, have they written their names. I have been to + Porlezza. + There they have not been seen, and therefore not at Lugano. + What shall I do? Go on through the Tyrol, Switzerland, Deutschland, + Seeking, an inverse Saul, a kingdom, to find only asses? + There is a tide, at least in the _love_ affairs of mortals, + Which, when taken at flood, leads on to the happiest fortune,-- + Leads to the marriage-morn and the orange-flowers and the altar, + And the long lawful line of crowned joys to crowned joys succeeding.-- + Ah, it has ebbed with me! Ye gods, and when it was flowing, + Pitiful fool that I was, to stand fiddle-faddling in that way! + + + IV.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE,--_from Bellaggio._ + + I have returned and found their names in the book at Como. + Certain it is I was right, and yet I am also in error. + Added in feminine hand, I read, _By the boat to Bellaggio._-- + So to Bellaggio again, with the words of her writing, to aid me. + Yet at Bellaggio I find no trace, no sort of remembrance. + So I am here, and wait, and know every hour will remove them. + + + V.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE,--_from Belaggio._ + + I have but one chance left,--and that is, going to Florence. + But it is cruel to turn. The mountains seem to demand me,-- + Peak and valley from far to beckon and motion me onward. + Somewhere amid their folds she passes whom fain I would follow; + Somewhere among those heights she haply calls me to seek her. + Ah, could I hear her call! could I catch the glimpse of her raiment! + Turn, however, I must, though it seem I turn to desert her; + For the sense of the thing is simply to hurry to Florence, + Where the certainty yet may be learnt, I suppose, from the Ropers. + + + VI.--MARY TREVELLYN, _from Lucerne_, TO MISS ROPER, _at Florence_. + + Dear Miss Roper,--By this you are safely away, we are hoping, + Many a league from Rome; ere long we trust we shall see you. + How have you travelled? I wonder;--was Mr. Claude your companion? + As for ourselves, we went from Como straight to Lugano; + So by the Mount St. Gothard;--we meant to go by Porlezza, + Taking the steamer, and stopping, as you had advised, at Bellaggio; + Two or three days or more; but this was suddenly altered, + After we left the hotel, on the very way to the steamer. + So we have seen, I fear, not one of the lakes in perfection. + Well, he is not come; and now, I suppose, he will not come. + What will you think, meantime?--and yet I must really confess it;-- + What will you say? I wrote him a note. We left in a hurry, + Went from Milan to Como three days before we expected. + But I thought, if he came all the way to Milan, he really + Ought not to be disappointed; and so I wrote three lines to + Say I had heard he was coming, desirous of joining our party;-- + If so, then I said, we had started for Como, and meant to + Cross the St. Gothard, and stay, we believed, at Lucerne, for the + summer. + Was it wrong? and why, if it was, has it failed to bring him? + Did he not think it worth while to come to Milan? He knew (you + Told him) the house we should go to. Or may it, perhaps, have + miscarried? + Any way, now, I repent, and am heartily vexed that I wrote it. + There is a home on the shore of the Alpine sea, that upswelling + High up the mountain-sides spreads in the hollow between; + Wilderness, mountain, and snow from the land of the olive conceal it; + Under Pilatus's hill low by its river it lies: + Italy, utter one word, and the olive and vine will allure not,-- + Wilderness, forest, and snow will not the passage impede; + Italy, unto thy cities receding, the clue to recover, + Hither, recovered the clue, shall not the traveller haste? + + + + V. + + There is a city, upbuilt on the quays of the turbulent Arno, + Under Fiesole's heights,--thither are we to return? + There is a city that fringes the curve of the inflowing waters, + Under the perilous hill fringes the beautiful bay,-- + Parthenope do they call thee?--the Siren, Neapolis, seated + Under Vesevus's hill,--thither are we to proceed?-- + Sicily, Greece, will invite, and the Orient;--or are we to turn to + England, which may after all be for its children the best? + + + I.--MARY TREVELLYN, _at Lucerne_, TO MISS ROPER, _at Florence_. + + So you are really free, and living in quiet at Florence; + That is delightful news;--you travelled slowly and safely; + Mr. Claude got you out; took rooms at Florence before you; + Wrote from Milan to say so; had left directly for Milan, + Hoping to find us soon;--_if he could, he would, you are + certain._-- + Dear Miss Roper, your letter has made me exceedingly happy. + You are quite sure, you say, he asked you about our intentions; + You had not heard of Lucerne as yet, but told him of Como.-- + Well, perhaps he will come;--however, I will not expect it. + Though you say you are sure,--if he can, he will, _you are + certain._ + O my dear, many thanks from your ever affectionate Mary. + + + II.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Florence. + + _Action will furnish belief,_--but will that belief be the true + one? + This is the point, you know. However, it doesn't much matter + What one wants, I suppose, is to predetermine the action, + So as to make it entail, not a chance-belief, but the true one. + _Out of the question,_ you say, _if a thing isn't wrong, we + may do it._ + Ah! but this wrong, you see;--but I do not know that it matters. + Eustace, the Ropers are gone, and no one can tell me about them. + + + Pisa. + + Pisa, they say they think; and so I follow to Pisa, + Hither and thither inquiring. I weary of making inquiries; + I am ashamed, I declare, of asking people about it.-- + Who are your friends? You said you had friends who would certainly + know them. + + Florence. + + But it is idle, moping, and thinking, and trying to fix her + Image more and more in, to write the old perfect inscription + Over and over again upon every page of remembrance. + I have settled to stay at Florence to wait for your answer. + Who are your friends? Write quickly and tell me. I wait for your + answer. + + + III.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER, _at Lucca Baths_. + + You are at Lucca Baths, you tell me, to stay for the summer; + Florence was quite too hot; you can't move further at present. + Will you not come, do you think, before the summer is over? + Mr. C. got you out with very considerable trouble; + And he was useful and kind, and seemed so happy to serve you; + Didn't stay with you long, but talked very openly to you; + Made you almost his confessor, without appearing to know it,-- + What about?--and you say you didn't need his confessions. + O my dear Miss Roper, I dare not trust what you tell me! + Will he come, do you think? I am really so sorry for him! + They didn't give him my letter at Milan, I feel pretty certain. + You had told him Bellaggio. We didn't go to Bellaggio; + So he would miss our track, and perhaps never come to Lugano, + Where we were written in full, _To Lucerne, across the St. + Gothard._ + But he could write to you;--you would tell him where you were going. + + + IV.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Let me, then, bear to forget her. I will not cling to her falsely; + Nothing factitious or forced shall impair the old happy relation. + I will let myself go, forget, not try to remember; + I will walk on my way, accept the chances that meet me, + Freely encounter the world, imbibe these alien airs, and + Never ask if new feelings and thoughts are of her or of others. + Is she not changing, herself?--the old image would only delude me. + I will be bold, too, and change,--if it must be. Yet if in all things, + Yet if I do but aspire evermore to the Absolute only, + I shall be doing, I think, somehow, what she will be doing;-- + I shall be thine, O my child, some way, though I know not in what way. + Let me submit to forget her; I must; I already forget her. + + + V.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Utterly vain is, alas, this attempt at the Absolute,--wholly! + I, who believed not in her, because I would fain believe nothing, + Have to believe as I may, with a wilful, unmeaning acceptance. + I, who refused to enfasten the roots of my floating existence + In the rich earth, cling now to the hard, naked rock that is left me.-- + Ah! she was worthy, Eustace,--and that, indeed, is my comfort,-- + Worthy a nobler heart than a fool such as I could have given. + + + VI.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Yes, it relieves me to write, though I do not send; and the chance + that + Takes may destroy my fragments. But as men pray, without asking + Whether One really exist to hear or do anything for them,-- + Simply impelled by the need of the moment to turn to a Being + In a conception of whom there is freedom from all limitation,-- + So in your image I turn to an _ens rationis_ of friendship. + Even to write in your name I know not to whom nor in what wise. + + + VII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + There was a time, methought it was but lately departed, + When, if a thing was denied me, I felt I was bound to attempt it; + Choice alone should take, and choice alone should surrender. + There was a time, indeed, when I had not retired thus early, + Languidly thus, from pursuit of a purpose I once had adopted. + But it is over, all that! I have slunk from the perilous field in + Whose wild struggle of forces the prizes of life are contested. + It is over, all that! I am a coward, and know it. + Courage in me could be only factitious, unnatural, useless. + + + VIII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Rome is fallen, I hear, the gallant Medici taken, + Noble Manara slain, and Garibaldi has lost _il Moro_;-- + Rome is fallen; and fallen, or falling, heroical Venice. + I, meanwhile, for the loss of a single small chit of a girl, sit + Moping and mourning here,--for her, and myself much smaller. + Whither depart the souls of the brave that die in the battle, + Die in the lost, lost fight, for the cause that perishes with them? + Are they upborne from the field on the slumberous pinions of angels + Unto a far-off home, where the weary rest from their labor, + And the deep wounds are healed, and the bitter and burning moisture + Wiped from the generous eyes? or do they linger, unhappy, + Pining, and haunting the grave of their by-gone hope and endeavor? + All declamation, alas! though I talk, I care not for Rome, nor + Italy; feebly and faintly, and but with the lips, can lament the + Wreck of the Lombard youth and the victory of the oppressor. + Whither depart the brave?--God knows; I certainly do not. + + + IX.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER. + + He has not come as yet; and now I must not expect it. + You have written, you say, to friends at Florence, to see him, + If he perhaps should return;--but that is surely unlikely. + Has he not written to you?--he did not know your direction. + Oh, how strange never once to have told him where you were going! + Yet if he only wrote to Florence, that would have reached you. + If what you say he said was true, why has he not done so? + Is he gone back to Rome, do you think, to his Vatican marbles?-- + O my dear Miss Roper, forgive me! do not be angry!-- + You have written to Florence;--your friends would certainly find him. + Might you not write to him?--but yet it is so little likely! + I shall expect nothing more.--Ever yours, your affectionate Mary. + + + X.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + I cannot stay at Florence, not even to wait for a letter. + Galleries only oppress me. Remembrance of hope I had cherished + (Almost more than as hope, when I passed through Florence the first + time) + Lies like a sword in my soul. I am more a coward than ever, + Chicken-hearted, past thought. The _caffes_ and waiters distress + me. + All is unkind, and, alas, I am ready for any one's kindness. + Oh, I knew it of old, and knew it, I thought, to perfection, + If there is any one thing in the world to preclude all kindness, + It is the need of it,--it is this sad self-defeating dependence. + Why is this, Eustace? Myself, were I stronger, I think I could tell + you. + But it is odd when it comes. So plumb I the deeps of depression, + Daily in deeper, and find no support, no will, no purpose. + All my old strengths are gone. And yet I shall have to do something. + Ah, the key of our life, that passes all wards, opens all locks, + Is not _I will_, but _I must_. I must,--I must,--and I do + it. + + + XI--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + At the last moment I have your letter, for which I was waiting. + I have taken my place, and see no good in inquiries. + Do nothing more, good Eustace, I pray you. It only will vex me. + Take no measures. Indeed, should we meet, I could not be certain; + All might be changed, you know. Or perhaps there was nothing to be + changed. + It is a curious history, this; and yet I foresaw it; + I could have told it before. The Fates, it is clear, are against us; + For it is certain enough that I met with the people you mention; + They were at Florence the day I returned there, and spoke to me even; + Staid a week, saw me often; departed, and whither I know not. + Great is Fate, and is best. I believe in Providence, partly. + What is ordained is right, and all that happens is ordered. + Ah, no, that isn't it. But yet I retain my conclusion: + I will go where I am led, and will not dictate to the chances. + Do nothing more, I beg. If you love me, forbear interfering. + + + XII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Shall we come out of it all, some day, as one does from a tunnel? + Will it be all at once, without our doing or asking, + We shall behold clear day, the trees and meadows about us, + And the faces of friends, and the eyes we loved looking at us? + Who knows? Who can say? It will not do to suppose it. + + + XIII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE,--_from Rome_. + + Rome will not suit me, Eustace; the priests and soldiers possess it; + Priests and soldiers;--and, ah! which is worst, the priest or the + soldier? + Politics farewell, however! For what could I do? with inquiring, + Talking, collating the journals, go fever my brain about things o'er + Which I can have no control. No, happen whatever may happen, + Time, I suppose, will subsist; the earth will revolve on its axis; + People will travel; the stranger will wander as now in the city; + Rome will be here, and the Pope the _custode_ of Vatican marbles. + I have no heart, however, for any marble or fresco; + I have essayed it in vain; 'tis vain as yet to essay it: + But I may haply resume some day my studies in this kind. + Not as the Scripture says, is, I think, the fact. Ere our death-day, + Faith, I think, does pass, and Love; but Knowledge abideth. + Let us seek Knowledge;--the rest must come and go as it happens. + Knowledge is hard to seek, and harder yet to adhere to. + Knowledge is painful often; and yet when we know, we are happy. + Seek it, and leave mere Faith and Love to come with the chances. + As for Hope,--to-morrow I hope to be starting for Naples. + Rome will not do, I see; for many very good reasons. + Eastward, then, I suppose, with the coming of winter, to Egypt. + + + XIV.--Mary Trevellyn to Miss Roper. + + You have heard nothing; of course, I know you can have heard nothing. + Ah, well, more than once I have broken my purpose, and sometimes, + Only too often, have looked for the little lake-steamer to bring him. + But it is only fancy,--I do not really expect it. + Oh, and you see I know so exactly how he would take it: + Finding the chances prevail against meeting again, he would banish + Forthwith every thought of the poor little possible hope, which + I myself could not help, perhaps, thinking only too much of; + He would resign himself, and go. I see it exactly. + So I also submit, although in a different manner. + Can you not really come? We go very shortly to England. + + * * * * * + + So go forth to the world, to the good report and the evil! + Go, little book! thy tale, is it not evil and good? + Go, and if strangers revile, pass quietly by without answer. + Go, and if curious friends ask of thy rearing and age, + Say, _I am flitting about many years from brain unto brain of + Feeble and restless youths born to inglorious days_; + _But_, so finish the word, _I was writ in a Roman chamber, + When from Janiculan heights thundered the cannon of France_. + + + + +INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER. + + +The desire, the duty, the necessity of the age in which we live is +education, or that culture which developes, enlarges, and enriches each +individual intelligence, according to the measure of its capacity, by +familiarizing it with the facts and laws of nature and human life. +But, in this rage for information, we too often overlook the mental +constitution of the being we would inform,--detaching the apprehensive +from the active powers, weakening character by overloading memory, and +reaping a harvest of imbeciles after we may have flattered ourselves we +had sown a crop of geniuses. No person can be called educated, until he +has organized his knowledge into faculty, and wields it as a weapon. +We purpose, therefore, to invite the attention of our readers to some +remarks on Intellectual Character, the last and highest result of +intellectual education, and the indispensable condition of intellectual +success. + +It is evident, that, when a young man leaves his school or college to +take his place in the world, it is indispensable that he be something +as well as know something; and it will require but little experience to +demonstrate to him that what he really knows is little more than what +he really is, and that his progress in intellectual manhood is not more +determined by the information he retains, than by that portion which, by +a benign provision of Providence, he is enabled to forget. Youth, to +be sure, is his,--youth, in virtue of which he is free of the +universe,--youth, with its elastic vigor, its far-darting hopes, its +generous impatience of prudent meanness, its grand denial of instituted +falsehood, its beautiful contempt of accredited baseness,--but youth +which must now concentrate its wayward energies, which must discourse +with facts and grapple with men, and through strife and struggle, and +the sad wisdom of experience, must pass from the vague delights of +generous impulses to the assured joy of manly principles. The moment he +comes in contact with the stern and stubborn realities which frown on +his entrance into practical life, he will find that power is the soul of +knowledge, and character the condition of intelligence. He will discover +that intellectual success depends primarily on qualities which are not +strictly intellectual, but personal and constitutional. The test +of success is influence,--that is, the power of shaping events by +informing, guiding, animating, controlling other minds. Whether this +influence be exerted directly in the world of practical affairs, or +indirectly in the world of ideas, its fundamental condition is still +force of individual being, and the amount of influence is the measure +of the degree of force, just as an effect measures a cause. The +characteristic of intellect is insight,--insight into things and their +relations; but then this insight is intense or languid, clear or +confused, comprehensive or narrow, exactly in proportion to the weight +and power of the individual who sees and combines. It is not so much the +intellect that makes the man, as the man the intellect; in every act of +earnest thinking, the reach of the thought depends on the pressure of +the will; and we would therefore emphasize and enforce, as the primitive +requirement of intellectual success, that discipline of the individual +which developes dim tendencies into positive sentiments, sentiments into +ideas, and ideas into abilities,--that discipline by which intellect +is penetrated through and through with the qualities of manhood, and +endowed with arms as well as eyes. This is Intellectual Character. + +Now it should be thundered in the ears of every young man who has +passed through that course of instruction ironically styled education, +"What do you intend to be, and what do you intend to do? Do you purpose +to play at living, or do you purpose to live?--to be a memory, a +word-cistern, a feeble prater on illustrious themes, one of the world's +thousand chatterers, or a will, a power, a man?" No varnish and veneer +of scholarship, no command of the tricks of logic and rhetoric, can ever +make you a positive force in the world. Look around you in the community +of educated men, and see how many, who started on their career with +minds as bright and eager and hearts as hopeful as yours, have been +mysteriously arrested in their growth,--have lost all the kindling +sentiments which glorified their youthful studies, and dwindled into +complacent echoes of surrounding mediocrity,--have begun, indeed, to die +on the very threshold of manhood, and stand in society as tombs rather +than temples of immortal souls. See, too, the wide disconnection between +knowledge and life;--heaps of information piled upon little heads; +everybody speaking,--few who have earned the right to speak; maxims +enough to regenerate a universe,--a woful lack of great hearts, in +which reason, right, and truth, regal and militant, are fortified and +encamped! Now this disposition to skulk the austere requirements of +intellectual growth in an indolent surrender of the mind's power of +self-direction must be overcome at the outset, or, in spite of your +grand generalities, you will be at the mercy of every bullying lie, +and strike your colors to every mean truism, and shape your life +in accordance with every low motive, which the strength of genuine +wickedness or genuine stupidity can bring to bear upon you. There is no +escape from slavery, or the mere pretence of freedom, but in radical +individual power; and all solid intellectual culture is simply the right +development of individuality into its true intellectual form. + +And first, at the risk of being considered metaphysical,--though we fear +no metaphysician would indorse the charge,--let us define what we +mean by individuality; for the word is commonly made to signify some +peculiarity or eccentricity, some unreasonable twist, of mind or +disposition. An individual, then, in the sense in which we use the term, +is a causative spiritual force, whose root and being are in eternity, +but who lives, grows, and builds up his nature in time. All the objects +of sense and thought, all facts and ideas, all things, are external to +his essential personality. But he has bound up in his personal being +sympathies and capacities which ally him with external objects, and +enable him to transmute their inner spirit and substance into his own +personal life. The process of his growth, therefore, is a development +of power from within to assimilate objects from without, the power +increasing with every vital exercise of it. The result of this +assimilation is character. Character is the spiritual body of the +person, and represents the individualization of vital experience, the +conversion of unconscious things into self-conscious men. Sir Thomas +Browne, in quaint reference to the building up of our physical frame +through the food we eat, declares that we have all been on our own +trenchers; and so, on the same principle, our spiritual faculties can be +analyzed into impersonal facts and ideas, whose life and substance we +have converted into personal reason, imagination, and passion. The +fundamental characteristic of man is spiritual hunger; the universe of +thought and matter is spiritual food. He feeds on Nature; he feeds on +ideas; he feeds, through art, science, literature, and history, on +the acts and thoughts of other minds; and could we take the mightiest +intellect that ever awed and controlled the world, and unravel his +powers, and return their constituent particles to the multitudinous +objects whence they were derived, the last probe of our analysis, after +we had stripped him of all his faculties, would touch that unquenchable +fiery atom of personality which had organized round itself such a +colossal body of mind, and which, in its simple naked energy, would +still be capable of rehabilitating itself in the powers and passions of +which it had been shorn. + +It results from this doctrine of the mind's growth, that success in all +the departments of life over which intellect holds dominion depends, not +merely on an outside knowledge of the facts and laws connected with each +department, but on the assimilation of that knowledge into instinctive +intelligence and active power. Take the good farmer, and you will find +that ideas in him are endowed with will, and can work. Take the good +general, and you will find that the principles of his profession are +inwrought into the substance of his nature, and act with the velocity +of instincts. Take the good judge, and in him jurisprudence seems +impersonated, and his opinions are authorities. Take the good merchant, +and you will find that commerce, in its facts and laws, seems in him +embodied, and that his sagacity appears identical with the objects on +which it is exercised. Take the great statesman, take Webster, and note +how, by thoroughly individualizing his comprehensive experience, he +seems to carry a nation in his brain; how, in all that relates to the +matter in hand, he has in him as _faculty_ what is out of him in _fact_; +how between the man and the thing there occurs that subtile freemasonry +of recognition which we call the mind's intuitive glance; and how +conflicting principles and statements, mixed and mingling in fierce +confusion and with deafening war-cries, fall into order and relation, +and move in the direction of one inexorable controlling idea, the +moment they are grasped by an intellect which is in the secret of their +combination:-- + + "Confusion hears his voice, and the wild uproar + stills." + +Mark, too, how, in the productions of his mind, the presence and +pressure of his whole nature, in each intellectual act, keeps his +opinions on the level of his character, and stamps every weighty +paragraph with "Daniel Webster, his mark." The characteristic, of all +his great speeches is, that the statements, arguments, and images have +what we should call a positive being of their own,--stand out as plainly +to the sight as a ledge of rocks or chain of hills,--and, like the works +of Nature herself, need no other justification of their right to exist +than the fact of their existence. We may detest their object, but we +cannot deny their solidity of organization. This power of giving a +substantial body, an undeniable external shape and form, to his thoughts +and perceptions, so that the toiling mind does not so much seem to pass +from one sentence to another, unfolding its leading idea, as to +make each sentence a solid work in a Torres-Vedras line of +fortifications,--this prodigious constructive faculty, wielded with the +strength of a huge Samson-like artificer in the material of mind, and +welding together the substances it might not be able to fuse, puzzled +all opponents who understood it not, and baffled the efforts of all who +understood it well. He rarely took a position on any political question, +which did not draw down upon him a whole battalion of adversaries, with +ingenious array of argument and infinite noise of declamation; but after +the smoke and dust and clamor of the combat were over, the speech loomed +up, perfect and whole, a permanent thing in history or literature, +while the loud thunders of opposition had too often died away into low +mutterings, audible only to the adventurous antiquary who gropes in the +"still air" of stale "Congressional Debates." The rhetoric of sentences +however melodious, of aphorisms however pointed, of abstractions however +true, cannot stand in the storm of affairs against this true rhetoric, +in which thought is consubstantiated with things. + +Now in men of this stamp, who have so organized knowledge into faculty +that they have attained the power of giving Thought the character of +Fact, we notice no distinction between power of intellect and power of +will, but an indissoluble union and fusion of force and insight. Facts +and laws are so blended with their personal being, that we can hardly +decide whether it is thought that wills or will that thinks. Their +actions display the intensest intelligence; their thoughts come from +them clothed in the thews and sinews of energetic volition. Their force, +being proportioned to their intelligence, never issues in that wild and +anarchical impulse, or that tough, obstinate, narrow wilfulness, which +many take to be the characteristic of individualized power. They may, in +fact, exhibit no striking individual traits which stand impertinently +out, and yet from this very cause be all the more potent and influential +individualities. Indeed, in the highest efforts of ecstatic action, +when the person is mightiest, and amazes us by the giant leaps of his +intuition, the mere peculiarities of his personality are unseen and +unfelt. This is the case with Homer, Shakspeare, and Goethe, in +poetry,--with Plato and Bacon, in philosophy,--with Newton, in +science,--with Caesar, in war. Such men doubtless had peculiarities and +caprices, but they were "burnt and purged away" by the fire of their +genius, when its action was intensest. Then their whole natures were +melted down into pure force and insight, and the impression they leave +upon the mind is the impression of marvellous force and weight and reach +of thought. + +If it be objected, that these high examples are fitted to provoke +despair rather than stimulate emulation, the answer is, that they +contain, exemplify, and emphasize the principles, and flash subtile +hints of the processes, of all mental growth and production. How comes +it that these men's thoughts radiate from them as acts, endowed not only +with an illuminating, but a penetrating and animating power? The answer +to this is a statement of the genesis, not merely of genius, but of +every form of intellectual manhood; for such thoughts do not leap, _à +la_ Minerva, full-grown from the head, but are struck off in those +moments when the whole nature of the thinker is alive and aglow with an +inspiration kindled long before in remote recesses of consciousness from +one spark of immortal fire, and unweariedly burning, burning, burning, +until it lit up the whole inert mass of surrounding mind in flame. + +To show, indeed, how little there is of the _extempore_, the hap-hazard, +the hit-or-miss, in the character of creative thought, and how +completely the gladdest inspiration is earned, let us glance at the +psychological history of one of those imperial ideas which measure the +power, test the quality, and convey the life, of the minds that conceive +them. The progress of such an idea is from film to form. It has its +origin in an atmosphere of feeling; for the first vital movement of the +mind is emotional, and is expressed in a dim tendency, a feeble feeling +after the object, or the class of objects, related to the peculiar +constitution and latent affinities of its individual being. This +tendency gradually condenses and deepens into a sentiment, pervading the +man with a love of those objects,--by a sweet compulsion ordering his +energies in their direction,--and by slow degrees investing them, +through a process of imagination, with the attribute of beauty, and, +through a process of reason, investing the purpose with which he pursues +them with the attribute of intelligence. The object dilates as the mind +assimilates and the nature moves, so that every step in this advance +from mere emotion to vivid insight is a building up of the faculties +which each onward movement evokes and exercises,--sentiment, +imagination, reason increasing their power and enlarging their scope +with each impetus that speeds them on to their bright and beckoning +goal. Then, when the individual has reached his full mental stature, and +come in direct contact with the object, then, only then, does he "pluck +out the heart of its mystery" in one of those lightning-like _acts_ of +thought which we call combination, invention, discovery. + +There is no luck, no accident, in all this. Nature does not capriciously +scatter her secrets as golden gifts to lazy pets and luxurious darlings, +but imposes tasks when she presents opportunities, and uplifts him whom +she would inform. The apple that she drops at the feet of Newton is but +a coy invitation to follow her to the stars. + +Now this living process of developing manhood and building up mind, +while the person is on the trail of a definite object of intelligence, +is in continual danger of being devitalized into a formal process of +mere acquisition, which, though it may make great memories of students, +will be sure to leave them little men. Their thoughts will be the +_attachés_, not the offspring, of their minds. They will have a bowing +acquaintance with many truths, without being admitted to the familiarity +of embracing or shaking hands with one. If they have native stamina of +animal constitution, they may become men of passions and opinions, but +they never will become men of sentiments and ideas; they may know the +truth as it is _about_ a thing, and support it with acrid and wrangling +dogmatism, but they never will know the truth as it is in the thing, +and support it with faith and insight. And the moment they come into +collision with a really live man, they will find their souls inwardly +wither, and their boasted acquisitions fall away, before one glance of +his irradiating intelligence and one stroke of his smiting will. If, on +the contrary, they are guided by good or great sentiments, which are the +souls of good or great ideas, these sentiments will be sure to organize +all the capacity there is in them into positive intellectual character; +but let them once divorce love from their occupations in life, and they +will find that labor will degenerate into drudgery, and drudgery will +weaken the power to labor, and weakness, as a last resort, will +intrench itself in pretence and deception. If they are in the learned +professions, they will become tricksters in law, quacks in medicine, +formalists in divinity, though _regular_ practitioners in all; and +clients will be cheated, and patients will be poisoned, and parishioners +will be--we dare not say what!--though all the colleges in the universe +had showered on them their diplomas. "To be weak is miserable": Milton +wrested that secret from the Devil himself!--but what shall we say of +those whose weakness has subsided from misery into complacency, and who +feel all the moral might of their being hourly rust and decay, with the +most amiable indifference and lazy content with dissolution? + +Now this weakness is a mental and moral sickness, pointing the way to +mental and moral death. It has its source in a violation of that law +which makes the health of the mind depend on its activity being directed +to an object. When directed on itself, it becomes fitful and moody; +and moodiness generates morbidness, and morbidness misanthropy, and +misanthropy self-contempt, and self-contempt begins the work of +self-dissolution. Why, every sensible man will despise himself, if he +concentrates his attention on that important personage! The joy and +confidence of activity come from its being fixed and fastened on things +external to itself. "The human heart," says Luther,--and we can apply +the remark as well, to the human mind,--"is like a millstone in a mill; +when you put wheat under it, it turns, and grinds, and bruises the wheat +into flour; if you put no wheat in, it still grinds on, but then it is +itself it grinds, and slowly wears away." Now activity for an object, +which is an activity that constantly increases the power of acting, +and keeps the mind glad, fresh, vigorous, and young, has three deadly +enemies,--intellectual indolence, intellectual conceit, and intellectual +fear. We will say a few words on the operation of this triad of +malignants. + +Montaigne relates, that, while once walking in the fields, he was +accosted by a beggar of Herculean frame, who solicited alms. "Are you +not ashamed to beg?" said the philosopher, with a frown,--"you who are +so palpably able to work?" "Oh, Sir," was the sturdy knave's drawling +rejoinder, "if you only knew how lazy I am!" Herein is the whole +philosophy of idleness; and we are afraid that many a student of good +natural capacity slips and slides from thought into reverie, and from +reverie into apathy, and from apathy into incurable indisposition to +think, with as much sweet unconsciousness of degradation as Montaigne's +mendicant evinced; and at last hides from himself the fact of his +imbecility of action, somewhat as Sir James Herring accounted for the +fact that he could not rise early in the morning: he could, he said, +make up his mind to it, but could not make up his body. + +"He who eats with the Devil," says the proverb, "has need of a long +spoon"; and he who domesticates this pleasant vice of indolence, and +allows it to nestle near his will, has need of a long head. Ordinary +minds may well be watchful of its insidious approaches when great ones +have mourned over its enfeebling effects; and the subtle indolence +that stole over the powers of Mackintosh, and gradually impaired the +productiveness even of Goethe, may well scare intellects of less natural +grasp and imaginations of less instinctive creativeness. Every step, +indeed, of the student's progress calls for energy and effort, and every +step is beset by some soft temptation to abandon the task of developing +power for the delight of following impulse. The appetites, for example, +instead of being bitted, and bridled, and trained into passions, and +sent through the intellect to quicken, sharpen, and intensify its +activity, are allowed to take their way unmolested to their own objects +of sense, and drag the mind down to their own sensual level. Sentiment +decays, the vision fades, faith in principles departs, the moment that +appetite rules. On the closing doors of that "sensual stye," as over the +gate of Dante's hell, be it written: "Let those who enter here leave +hope behind." + +But a more refined operation of this pestilent indolence is its way +of infusing into the mind the delusive belief that it can attain the +objects of activity without its exercise. Under this illusion, men +expect to grow wise, as men who gamble in stocks expect to grow rich, by +chance, and not by work. They invest in mediocrity in the confident hope +that it will go many hundred per cent. above par; and so shocking has +been the inflation of the intellectual currency of late years, that this +speculation of indolence sometimes partially succeeds. But a revulsion +comes,--and then brass has to make a break-neck descent to reach its +proper level below gold. There are others whom indolence deludes by some +trash about "fits" of inspiration, for whose Heaven-sent spasms they are +humbly to wait. There is, it seems, a lucky thought somewhere in the +abyss of possibility, which is somehow, at some time, to step out +of essence into substance, and take up its abode in their capacious +minds,--dutifully kept unoccupied in order that the expected celestial +visitor may not be crowded for room. Chance is to make them king, and +chance to crown them, without their stir! There are others still, who, +while sloth is sapping the primitive energy of their natures, expect to +scale the fortresses of knowledge by leaps and not by ladders, and who +count on success in such perilous gymnastics, not by the discipline of +the athlete, but by the dissipation of the idler. Indolence, indeed, +is never at a loss for a smooth lie or delicious sophism to justify +inaction, and, in our day, has rationalized it into a philosophy of the +mind, and idealized it into a school of poetry, and organized it into a +"hospital of incapables." It promises you the still ecstasy of a divine +repose, while it lures you surely down into the vacant dulness of +inglorious sloth. It provides a primrose path to stagnant pools, to an +Arcadia of thistles, and a Paradise of mud. + +But in a mind of any primitive power, intellectual indolence is sure to +generate intellectual conceit,--a little Jack Horner, that ensconces +itself in lazy heads, and, while it dwarfs every power to the level of +its own littleness, keeps vociferating, "What a great man am I!" It is +the essential vice of this glib imp of the mind, even when it infests +large intellects, that it puts Nature in the possessive case,--labels +all its inventions and discoveries "My truth,"--and moves about the +realms of art, science, and letters in a constant fear of having its +pockets picked. Think of a man's having vouchsafed to him one of those +awful glimpses into the mysteries of creation which should be received +with a shudder of prayerful joy, and taking the gracious boon with +a smirk of all-satisfied conceit! One page in what Shakspeare calls +"Nature's infinite book of secrecy" flies a moment open to his eager +gaze, and he hears the rustling of the myriad leaves as they close and +clasp, only to make his spirit more abject, his vanity more ravenous, +his hatred of rivals more rancorous and mean. That grand unselfish +love of truth, and joy in its discovery, by whomsoever made, which +characterize the true seeker and seer of science and creative art, alone +can keep the mind alive and alert, alone can make the possession of +truth a means of elevating and purifying the man. + +But if this conceit, in powerful natures, tends to belittle character, +and eat into and consume the very faculties whose successful exercise +creates it, its slyly insinuated venom works swifter and deadlier on +youth and inexperience. The ordinary forms of conceit, it is true, +cannot well flourish in any assemblage of young men, whose plain +interest it is to undeceive all self-deception and quell every +insurrection of individual vanity, and who soon understand the art of +burning the nonsense out of an offending brother by caustic ridicule +and slow-roasting sarcasm. But there is danger of mutual deception, +springing from a common belief in a false, but attractive principle of +culture. The mischief of intellectual conceit in our day consists in its +arresting mental growth at the start by stuffing the mind with the husks +of pretentious generalities, which, while they impart no vital power and +convey no real information, give seeming enlargement to thought, and +represent a seeming opulence of knowledge. The deluded student, who +picks up these ideas in masquerade at the rag-fairs and old-clothes' +shops of philosophy, thinks he has the key to all secrets and the +solvent of all problems, when he really has no experimental knowledge of +anything, and dwindles all the more for every juiceless, unnutritious +abstraction he devours. Though famished for the lack of a morsel of the +true mental food of facts and ideas, he still swaggeringly despises all +relative information in his ambition to clutch at absolute truth, and +accordingly goes directly to ultimates by the short cuts of cheap +generalities. Why, to be sure, should he, who can, Napoleon-like, march +straight on to the interior capital, submit, Marlborough-like, to the +drudgery of besieging the frontier fortresses? Why should he, who can +throw a girdle of generalization round the universe in less than forty +minutes, stoop to master details? And this easy and sprightly amplitude +of understanding, which consists not in including, but in excluding all +relative facts and principles, he calls comprehensiveness; the mental +decrepitude it occasions he dignifies with the appellation of repose; +and, on the strength of comprehensiveness and repose, is of course +qualified to take his seat beside Shakspeare, and chat cosily with +Bacon, and wink knowingly at Goethe, and startle Leibnitz with a slap +on the shoulder,--the true Red-Republican sign of liberty in manners, +equality in power, and fraternity in ideas! These men, to be sure, have +a way of saying things which he has not yet caught; but then their +wide-reaching thoughts are his as well as theirs. Imitating the +condescension of some contemporary philosophers of the Infinite, he +graciously accepts Christianity and patronizes the idea of Deity, though +he gives you to understand that he could easily pitch a generalization +outside of both. And thus, mistaking his slab-sidedness for +many-sidedness, and forgetting that there is no insight without force +to back it,--bedizened in conceit and magnificent in littleness,--he is +thrown on society, walking in a vain show of knowledge, and doomed to +be upset and trampled on by the first brawny concrete Fact he stumbles +against. A true method of culture makes drudgery beautiful by presenting +a vision of the object to which it leads;--beware of the conceit that +dispenses with it! How much better it is to delve for a little solid +knowledge, and be sure of that, than to be a proper target for such +a sarcasm as a great statesman once shot at a glib advocate, who was +saying nothing with great fluency and at great length! "Who," he asked, +"is this self-sufficient, all-sufficient, insufficient man?" + +Idleness and Conceit, however, are not more opposed to that +out-springing, reverential activity which makes the person forget +himself in devotion to his objects, than Fear. A bold heart in a sound +head,--that is the condition of energetic thinking, of the thought that +thinks round things and into things and through things; but fear freezes +activity at its inmost fountains. "There is nothing," says Montaigne, +"that I fear so much as fear." Indeed, an educated man, who creeps +along with an apologetic air, cringing to this name and ducking to that +opinion, and hoping that it is not too presumptuous in him to beg the +right to exist,--why, it is a spectacle piteous to gods and hateful to +men! Yet think of the many knots of monitory truisms in which activity +is likely to be caught and entangled at the outset,--knots which a brave +purpose will not waste time to untie, but instantly cuts. First, there +is the nonsense of students killing themselves by over-study,--some few +instances of which, not traceable to over-eating, have shielded the +short-comings of a million idlers. Next, there is the fear that the +intellect may be developed at the expense of the moral nature,--one of +those truths in the abstract which are made to do the office of lies in +the application, and which are calculated not so much to make good men +as _goodies_,--persons rejoicing in an equal mediocrity of morals and +mind, and pertinent examples of the necessity of personal force to +convert moral maxims into moral might. The truth would seem to be, that +half the crimes and sufferings which history records and observation +furnishes are directly traceable to want of thought rather than to bad +intention; and in regard to the other half, which may be referred to +the remorseless selfishness of unsanctified intelligence, has that +selfishness ever had more valuable allies and tools than the mental +torpor that cannot think and the conscientious stupidity that will not? +Moral laws, indeed, are intellectual facts, to be investigated as +well as obeyed; and it is not a blind or blear-eyed conscience, but a +conscience blended with intelligence and consolidated with character, +that can both see and act. + +But curtly dismissing the fallacy, that the moral and spiritual +faculties are likely to find a sound basis in a cowed and craven reason, +we come to a form of fear that practically paralyzes independent thought +more than any other, while it is incompatible with manliness and +self-respect. This fear is compounded of self-distrust and that mode +of vanity which cowers beneath the invective of men whose applause it +neither courts nor values. If you examine critically the two raging +parties of conservatism and radicalism, you will find that a goodly +number of their partisans are men who have not chosen their position, +but have been bullied into it,--men who see clearly enough that both +parties are based on principles almost equally true in themselves, +almost equally false by being detached from their mutual relations. But +then each party keeps its professors of intimidation and stainers of +character, whose business it is to deprive men of the luxury of large +thinking, and to drive all neutrals into their respective ranks. The +missiles hurled from one side are disorganizer, infidel, disunionist, +despiser of law, and other trumpery of that sort; from the other side, +the no less effective ones of murderer, dumb dog, traitor to humanity, +and other trumpery of that sort; and the young and sensitive student +finds it difficult to keep the poise of his nature amid the cross-fire +of this logic of fury and rhetoric of execration, and too often ends in +joining one party from fear, or the other from the fear of being +thought afraid. The probability is, that the least danger to his mental +independence will proceed from any apprehension he may entertain of what +are irreverently styled the "old fogies"; for if Young America goes on +at its present headlong rate, there is little doubt that the old fogy +will have to descend from his eminence of place, become an object of +pathos rather than terror, and be compelled to make the inquiring appeal +to his brisk hunters, so often made to himself in vain, "Am I not a man +and a brother?" But with whatever association, political or moral, the +thinker may connect himself, let him go in,--and not be dragged in or +scared in. He certainly can do no good to himself, his country, or his +race, by being the slave and echo of the heads of a clique. Besides, +as most organizations are constituted on the principles of a sort of +literary socialism, and each member lives and trades on a common capital +of phrases, there is danger that these phrases may decline from signs +into substitutes of thought, and both intellect and character evaporate +in words. Thus, a man may be a Union man and a National man, or an +Anti-Slavery man and a Temperance man and a Woman's-Rights' man, and +still be very little of a man. There is, indeed, no more ludicrous sight +than to see Mediocrity, perched on one of these resounding adjectives, +strut and bluster, and give itself braggadocio airs, and dictate to all +quiet men its maxims of patriotism or morality, and all the while be +but a living illustration through what grandeurs of opinion essential +meanness and poverty of soul will peer and peep and be disclosed. To be +a statesman or reformer requires a courage that dares defy dictation +from any quarter, and a mind which has come in direct contact with the +great inspiring ideas of country and humanity. All the rest is spite, +and spleen; and cant, and conceit, and words. + +It is plain, of course, that every man of large and living thought will +naturally sympathize with those great social movements, informing +and reforming, which are the glory of the age; but it must always be +remembered that the grand and generous sentiments that underlie those +movements demand in their fervid disciple a corresponding grandeur and +generosity of soul. There is no reason why his philanthropy should be +malignant because other men's conservatism may be stupid; and the vulgar +insensibility to the rights of the oppressed, and the vulgar scorn of +the claims of the wretched, which men calling themselves respectable and +educated may oppose to his own warmer feelings and nobler principles, +should be met, not with that invective which may be as vulgar as the +narrowness it denounces, nor always with that indignation which is +righteous as well as wrathful, but with that awful contempt with which +Magnanimity shames meanness, simply by the irony of her lofty example +and the sarcasm of her terrible silence. + +In these remarks, which we trust our readers have at least been kind +enough to consider worthy of an effort of patience, we have attempted to +connect all genuine intellectual success with manliness of character; +have endeavored to show that force of individual being is its primary +condition; that this force is augmented and enriched, or weakened and +impoverished, according as it is or is not directed to appropriate +objects; that indolence, conceit, and fear present continual checks to +this going out of the mind into glad and invigorating communion with +facts and laws; and that as a man is not a mere bundle of faculties, +but a vital person, whose unity pervades, vivifies, and creates all +the varieties of his manifestation, the same vices which enfeeble and +deprave character tend to enfeeble and deprave intellect. But perhaps we +have not sufficiently indicated a diseased state of consciousness, from +which most intellectual men have suffered, many have died, and all +should be warned,--the disease, namely, of mental disgust, the sign and +the result of mental debility. Mental disgust "sicklies o'er" all the +objects of thought, extinguishes faith in exertion, communicates a dull +wretchedness to indolence in the very process by which it makes activity +impossible, and drags into its own slough of despond, and discolors with +its own morbid reveries, the objects which it should ardently seek and +genially assimilate. It sees things neither as they are, nor as they are +glorified and transfigured by hope and health and faith; but, in the +apathy of that idling introspection which betrays a genius for misery, +it pronounces effort to be vanity, and despairingly dismisses knowledge +as delusion. "Despair," says Donne, "is the damp of hell; rejoicing is +the serenity of heaven." + +Now contrast this mental disgust, which proceeds from mental debility, +with the sunny and soul-lifting exhilaration radiated from mental +vigor,--a vigor which comes from the mind's secret consciousness that it +is in contact with moral and spiritual verities, and is partaking of the +rapture of their immortal life. A spirit earnest, hopeful, energetic, +inquisitive, making its mistakes minister to wisdom, and converting the +obstacles it vanquishes into power,--a spirit inspired by a love of the +excellency and beauty of knowledge, which will not let it sleep,--such +a spirit soon learns that the soul of joy is hid in the austere form of +Duty, and that the intellect becomes brighter, keener, clearer, more +buoyant, and more efficient, as it feels the freshening vigor infused +by her monitions and menaces, and the celestial calm imparted by her +soul-satisfying smile. In all the professions and occupations over which +Intellect holds dominion, the student will find that there is no grace +of character without its corresponding grace of mind. He will find that +virtue is an aid to insight; that good and sweet affections will bear a +harvest of pure and high thoughts; that patience will make the intellect +persistent in plans which benevolence will make beneficent in results; +that the austerities of conscience will dictate precision to statements +and exactness to arguments; that the same moral sentiments and moral +power which regulate the conduct of life will illumine the path and +stimulate the purpose of those daring spirits eager to add to the +discoveries of truth and the creations of art. And he will also find +that this purifying interaction of spiritual and mental forces will give +the mind an abiding foundation of joy for its starts of rapture and +flights of ecstasy;--a joy, in whose light and warmth languor and +discontent and depression and despair will be charmed away;--a joy, +which will make the mind large, generous, hopeful, aspiring, in order to +make life beautiful and sweet;--a joy, in the words of an old +divine, "which will put on a more glorious garment above, and be joy +superinvested in glory!" + + + + +LOO LOO. + +A FEW SCENES FROM A TRUE HISTORY. + + +SCENE I. + + +Alfred Noble had grown up to manhood among the rocks and hills of a New +England village. A year spent in Mobile, employed in the duties of a +clerk, had not accustomed him to the dull routine of commercial life. He +longed for the sound of brooks and the fresh air of the hills. It was, +therefore, with great pleasure that he received from his employer a +message to be conveyed to a gentleman who lived in the pleasantest +suburb of the city. It was one of those bright autumnal days when the +earth seems to rejoice consciously in the light that gives her beauty. + +Leaving behind him the business quarter of the town, he passed through +pleasant streets bordered with trees, and almost immediately found +himself amid scenes clothed with all the freshness of the country. +Handsome mansions here and there dotted the landscape, with pretty +little parks, enclosing orange-trees and magnolias, surrounded with +hedges of holly, in whose foliage numerous little foraging birds were +busy in the sunshine. The young man looked at these dwellings with +an exile's longing at his heart. He imagined groups of parents and +children, brothers and sisters, under those sheltering roofs, all +strangers to him, an orphan, alone in the world. The pensiveness of +his mood gradually gave place to more cheerful thoughts. Visions of +prosperous business and a happy home rose before him, as he walked +briskly toward the hills south of the city. The intervals between the +houses increased in length, and he soon found himself in a little forest +of pines. Emerging from this, he came suddenly in sight of an elegant +white villa, with colonnaded portico and spacious verandas. He +approached it by a path through a grove, the termination of which had +grown into the semblance of a Gothic arch, by the interlacing of two +trees, one with glossy evergreen leaves, the other yellow with the tints +of autumn. Vines had clambered to the top, and hung in light festoons +from the branches. The foliage, fluttering in a gentle breeze, caused +successive ripples of sun-flecks, which chased each other over trunks +and boughs, and joined in wayward dance with the shadows on the ground. + +Arrested by this unusual combination of light and shade, color and form, +the young man stood still for a moment to gaze upon it. He was thinking +to himself that nothing could add to the perfection of its beauty, when +suddenly there came dancing under the arch a figure that seemed like the +fairy of those woods, a spirit of the mosses and the vines. She was a +child, apparently five or six years old, with large brown eyes, and a +profusion of dark hair. Her gypsy hat, ornamented with scarlet ribbons +and a garland of red holly-berries, had fallen back on her shoulders, +and her cheeks were flushed with exercise. A pretty little white dog was +with her, leaping up eagerly for a cluster of holly-berries which she +playfully shook above his head. She whirled swiftly round and round the +frisking animal, her long red ribbons flying on the breeze, and then she +paused, all aglow, swaying herself back and forth, like a flower on its +stem. A flock of doves, as if attracted toward her, came swooping down +from the sky, revolving in graceful curves above her head, their white +breasts glistening in the sunshine. The aërial movements of the child +were so full of life and joy, she was so in harmony with the golden day, +the waving vines, and the circling doves, that the whole scene seemed +like an allegro movement in music, and she a charming little melody +floating through it all. + +Alfred stood like one enchanted. He feared to speak or move, lest the +fairy should vanish from mortal presence. So the child and the dog, +equally unconscious of a witness, continued their graceful gambols for +several minutes. An older man might have inwardly moralized on the folly +of the animal, aping humanity in thus earnestly striving after what +would yield no nourishment when obtained. But Alfred was too young and +too happy to moralize. The present moment was all-sufficient for him, +and stood still there in its fulness, unconnected with past or future. +This might have lasted long, had not the child been attracted by the +dove-shadows, and, looking up to watch the flight of the birds, her eyes +encountered the young man. A whole heart full of sunshine was in the +smile with which he greeted her. But, with a startled look, she turned +quickly and ran away; and the dog, still full of frolic, went bounding +by her side. As Alfred tried to pursue them, a bough knocked off his +hat. Without stopping to regain it, he sprang over a holly-hedge, and +came in view of the veranda of a house, just in time to see the fairy +and her dog disappear behind a trellis covered with the evergreen +foliage of the Cherokee rose. Conscious of the impropriety of pursuing +her farther, he paused to take breath. As he passed his hand through his +hair, tossed into masses by running against the wind, he heard a voice +from the veranda exclaim,-- + +"Whither so fast, Loo Loo? Come here, Loo Loo!" + +Glancing upward, he saw a patrician-looking gentleman, in a handsome +morning-gown, of Oriental fashion, and slippers richly embroidered. He +was reclining on a lounge, with wreaths of smoke floating before him; +but seeing the stranger, he rose, and taking the amber-tubed cigar from +his mouth, he said, half laughing,-- + +"You seem to be in hot haste, Sir. Pray, what have you been hunting?" + +Alfred also laughed, as he replied,-- + +"I have been chasing a charming little girl, who would not be caught. +Perhaps she was your daughter, Sir?" + +"She _is_ my daughter," rejoined the gentleman. "A pretty little witch, +is she not? Will you walk in, Sir?" + +Alfred thanked him, and said that he was in search of a Mr. Duncan, +whose residence was in that neighborhood. + +"I am Mr. Duncan," replied the patrician. "Jack, go and fetch the +gentleman's hat, and bring cigars." + +A negro obeyed his orders, and, after smoking awhile on the veranda, the +two gentlemen walked round the grounds. + +Once when they approached the house, they heard the pattering of little +feet, and Mr. Duncan called out, with tones of fondness,-- + +"Come here, Loo Loo! Come, darling, and see the gentleman who has been +running after you!" + +But the shy little fairy ran all the faster, and Alfred saw nothing but +the long red ribbons of her gypsy hat, as they floated behind her on the +wind. + +Declining a polite invitation to dine, he walked back to the city. The +impression on his mind had been so vivid, that, as he walked, there rose +ever before him a vision of that graceful arch with waving vines, the +undulating flight of the silver-breasted doves, and the airy motions of +that beautiful child. How would his interest in the scene have deepened, +could some sibyl have foretold to him how closely the Fates had +interwoven the destinies of himself and that lovely little one! + +When he entered the counting-room, he found his employer in close +conversation with Mr. Grossman, a wealthy cotton-broker. This man was +but little more than thirty years of age, but the predominance of animal +propensities was stamped upon his countenance with more distinctness +than is usual with sensualists of twice his age. The oil of a thousand +hams seemed oozing through his pimpled cheeks; his small gray eyes were +set in his head like the eyes of a pig; his mouth had the expression of +a satyr; and his nose seemed perpetually sniffing the savory prophecy +of food. When the clerk had delivered his message, he slapped him +familiarly on the shoulder, and said,-- + +"So you've been out to Duncan's, have you? Pretty nest there at Pine +Grove, and they say he's got a rare bird in it; but he keeps her so +close, that I could never catch sight of her. Perhaps you got a peep, +eh?" + +"I saw a very beautiful child of Mr. Duncan's," replied Alfred, "but I +did not see his wife." + +"That's very likely," rejoined Grossman; "because he never had any +wife." + +"He said the little girl was his daughter, and I naturally inferred that +he had a wife," replied Alfred. + +"That don't follow of course, my gosling," said the cotton-broker. +"You're green, young man! You're green! I swear, I'd give a good deal +to get sight of Duncan's wench. She must be devilish handsome, or he +wouldn't keep her so close." + +Alfred Noble had always felt an instinctive antipathy to this man, who +was often letting fall some remark that jarred harshly with his romantic +ideas of women,--something that seemed to insult the memories of a +beloved mother and sister gone to the spirit-world. But he had never +liked him less than at this moment; for the sly wink of his eye, and +the expressive leer that accompanied his coarse words, were very +disagreeable things to be associated with that charming vision of the +circling doves and the innocent child. + + +SCENE II. + + +Time passed away, and with it the average share of changing events. +Alfred Noble became junior partner in the counting-house he had entered +as clerk, and not long afterward the elder partner died. Left thus +to rely upon his own energy and enterprise, the young man gradually +extended his business, and seemed in a fair way to realize his favorite +dream of making a fortune and returning to the North to marry. The +subject of Slavery was then seldom discussed. North and South seemed +to have entered into a tacit agreement to ignore the topic completely. +Alfred's experience was like that of most New Englanders in his +situation. He was at first annoyed and pained by many of the +peculiarities of Southern society, and then became gradually accustomed +to them. But his natural sense of justice was very strong; and this, +added to the influence of early education, and strengthened by scenes of +petty despotism which he was frequently compelled to witness, led him +to resolve that he would never hold a slave. The colored people in his +employ considered him their friend, because he was always kind and +generous to them. He supposed that comprised the whole of duty, and +further than that he never reflected upon the subject. + +The pretty little picture at Pine Grove, which had made so lively +an impression on his imagination, faded the more rapidly, because +unconnected with his affections. But a shadowy semblance of it always +flitted through his memory, whenever he saw a beautiful child, or +observed any unusual combination of trees and vines. + +Four years after his interview with Mr. Duncan, business called him to +the interior of the State, and for the sake of healthy exercise he +chose to make the journey on horseback. His route lay mostly through a +monotonous region of sandy plain, covered with pines, here and there +varied by patches of cleared land, in which numerous dead trees were +prostrate, or standing leafless, waiting their time to fall. Most of +the dwellings were log-houses, but now and then the white villa of some +wealthy planter might be seen gleaming through the evergreens. Sometimes +the sandy soil was intersected by veins of swamp, through which muddy +water oozed sluggishly, among bushes and dead logs. In these damp places +flourished dark cypresses and holly-trees, draped with gray Spanish +moss, twisted around the boughs, and hanging from them like gigantic +cobwebs. Now and then, the sombre scene was lighted up with a bit of +brilliant color, when a scarlet grosbeak flitted from branch to branch, +or a red-headed woodpecker hammered at the trunk of some old tree, to +find where the insects had intrenched themselves. But nothing pleased +the eye of the traveller so much as the holly-trees, with their glossy +evergreen foliage, red berries, and tufts of verdant mistletoe. He +had been riding all day, when, late in the afternoon, an uncommonly +beautiful holly appeared to terminate the road at the bend where it +stood. Its boughs were woven in with a cypress on the other side, by +long tangled fringes of Spanish moss. The setting sun shone brightly +aslant the mingled foliage, and lighted up the red berries, which +glimmered through the thin drapery of moss, like the coral ornaments of +a handsome brunette seen through her veil of embroidered lace. It was +unlike the woodland picture he had seen at Pine Grove, but it recalled +it to his memory more freshly than he had seen it for a long time. He +watched the peculiar effects of sunlight, changing as he approached the +tree, and the desire grew strong within him to have the fairy-like child +and the frolicsome dog make their appearance beneath that swinging +canopy of illuminated moss. If his nerves had been in such a state that +forms in the mind could have taken outward shape, he would have realized +the vision so distinctly painted on his imagination. But he was well and +strong; therefore he saw nothing but a blue heron flapping away among +the cypresses, and a flock of turkey-buzzards soaring high above the +trees, with easy and graceful flight. His thoughts, however, continued +busy with the picture that had been so vividly recalled. He recollected +having heard, some time before, of Mr. Duncan's death, and he queried +within himself what had become of that beautiful child. + +Musing thus, he rode under the fantastic festoons he had been admiring, +and saw at his right a long gentle descent, where a small stream of +water glided downward over mossy stones. Trees on either side interlaced +their boughs over it, and formed a vista, cool, dark, and solemn as the +aisle of some old Gothic church. A figure moving upward, by the side of +the little brook, attracted his attention, and he checked his horse +to inquire whether the people at the nearest house would entertain a +stranger for the night. When the figure approached nearer, he saw that +it was a slender, barefooted girl, carrying a pail of water. As she +emerged from the dim aisle of trees, a gleam of the setting sun shone +across her face for an instant, and imparted a luminous glory to her +large brown eyes. Shading them with her hand, she paused timidly before +the stranger, and answered his inquiries. The modulation of her tones +suggested a degree of refinement which he had not expected to meet in +that lonely region. He gazed at her so intently, that her eyes sought +the ground, and their long, dark fringes rested on blushing cheeks. What +was it those eyes recalled? They tantalized and eluded his memory. "My +good girl, tell me what is your name," he said. + +"Louisa," she replied, bashfully, and added, "I will show you the way to +the house." + +"Let me carry the water for you," said the kind-hearted traveller. He +dismounted for the purpose, but she resisted his importunities, saying +that _she_ would be very angry with her. + +"And who is _she_?" he asked. "Is she your mother?" + +"Oh, no, indeed!" was the hasty reply. "I am--I--I live there." + +The disclaimer was sudden and earnest, as if the question struck on a +wounded nerve. Her eyes swam with tears, and the remainder of her answer +was sad and reluctant in its tones. The child was so delicately formed, +so shy and sensitive, so very beautiful, that she fascinated him +strongly. He led his horse into the lane she had entered, and as he +walked by her side he continued to observe her with the most lively +interest. Her motions were listless and languid, but flexile as a +willow. They puzzled him, as her eyes had done; for they seemed to +remind him of something he had seen in a half-forgotten dream. + +They soon came in sight of the house, which was built of logs, but +larger than most houses of that description; and two or three huts in +the rear indicated that the owner possessed slaves. An open porch +in front was shaded by the projecting roof, and there two dingy, +black-nosed dogs were growling and tousling each other. Pigs were +rooting the ground, and among them rolled a black baby, enveloped in a +bundle of dirty rags. The traveller waited while Louisa went into the +house to inquire whether entertainment could be furnished for +himself and his horse. It was some time before the proprietor of the +establishment made his appearance. At last he came slowly sauntering +round the end of the house, his hat tipped on one side, with a rowdyish +air. He was accompanied by a large dog, which rushed in among the pigs, +biting their ears, and making them race about, squealing piteously. Then +he seized hold of the bundle of rags containing the black baby, and +began to drag it over the ground, to the no small astonishment of the +baby, who added his screech to the charivari of the pigs. With loud +shouts of laughter, Mr. Jackson cheered on the rough animal, and was +so much entertained by the scene, that he seemed to have forgotten the +traveller entirely. When at last his eye rested upon him, he merely +exclaimed, "That's a hell of a dog!" and began to call, "_Staboy_!" +again. The negro woman came and snatched up her babe, casting a furtive +glance at her master, as she did so, and making her escape as quickly as +possible. Towzer, being engaged with the pigs at that moment, allowed +her to depart unmolested; and soon came back to his master, wagging his +tail, and looking up, as if expecting praise for his performances. + +The traveller availed himself of this season of quiet to renew his +inquiries. + +"Well," said Mr. Jackson, "I reckon we can accommodate ye. Whar ar ye +from, stranger?" + +Mr. Noble having stated "whar" he was from, was required to tell "whar" +he was going, whether he owned that "bit of horse-flesh," and whether +he wanted to sell him. Having answered all these interrogatories in a +satisfactory manner, he was ushered into the house. + +The interior was rude and slovenly, like the exterior. The doors were +opened by wooden latches with leather strings, and sagged so much on +their wooden hinges, that they were usually left open to avoid the +difficulty of shutting them. Guns and fishing-tackle were on the walls, +and the seats were wooden benches or leather-bottomed chairs. A tall, +lank woman, with red hair, and a severe aspect, was busy mending a +garment. When asked if the traveller could be provided with supper, she +curtly replied that she "reckoned so"; and, without further parlance, or +salute, went out to give orders. Immediately afterward, her shrill voice +was heard calling out, "You gal! put the fixens on the table." + +The "gal," who obeyed the summons, proved to be the sylph-like child +that had guided the traveller to the house. To the expression of +listlessness and desolation which he had previously noticed, there +was now added a look of bewilderment and fear. He thought she might, +perhaps, be a step-daughter of Mrs. Jackson; but how could so coarse a +man as his host be the father of such gentleness and grace? + +While supper was being prepared, Mr. Jackson entered into conversation +with his guest about the usual topics in that region,--the prices +of cotton and "niggers." He frankly laid open his own history and +prospects, stating that he was "fetched up" in Western Tennessee, where +he owned but two "niggers." A rich uncle had died in Alabama, and he had +come in for a portion of his wild land and "niggers"; so he concluded +to move South and take possession. Mr. Noble courteously sustained his +share of the conversation; but his eyes involuntarily followed the +interesting child, as she passed in and out to arrange the supper-table. + +"You seem to fancy Leewizzy," said Mr. Jackson, shaking the ashes from +his pipe. + +"I have never seen a handsomer child," replied Mr. Noble. "Is she your +daughter?" + +"No, Sir; she's my nigger," was the brief response. + +The young girl reëntered the room at that moment, and the statement +seemed so incredible, that the traveller eyed her with scrutinizing +glance, striving in vain to find some trace of colored ancestry. + +"Come here, Leewizzy," said her master. "What d'ye keep yer eyes on the +ground for? You 'a'n't got no occasion to be ashamed o' yer eyes. Hold +up yer head, now, and look the gentleman in the face." + +She tried to obey, but native timidity overcame the habit of submission, +and, after one shy glance at the stranger, her eyelids lowered, and +their long, dark fringes rested on blushing cheeks. + +"I reckon ye don't often see a poottier piece o' flesh," said Mr. +Jackson. + +While he was speaking, his wife had come in from the kitchen, followed +by a black woman with a dish of sweet potatoes and some hot corn-cakes. +She made her presence manifest by giving "Leewizzy" a violent push, with +the exclamation, "What ar ye standing thar for, yer lazy wench? Go and +help Dinah bring in the fixens." Then turning to her husband, she said, +"You'll make a fool o' that ar gal. It's high time she was sold. She's +no account here." + +Mr. Jackson gave a knowing wink at his guest, and remarked, "Women-folks +are ginerally glad enough to have niggers to wait on 'em; but ever sence +that gal come into the house, my old woman's been in a desperate hurry +to have me sell her. But such an article don't lose nothing by waiting +awhile. I've some thoughts of taking a tramp to Texas one o' these +days; and I reckon a prime fancy article, like that ar, would bring a +fust-rate price in New Orleans." + +The subject of his discourse was listening to what he said; and partly +from tremor at the import of his words, and partly from fear that she +should not place the dish of bacon and eggs to please her mistress, she +tipped it in setting it down, so that some of the fat was spilled upon +the table-cloth. Mrs. Jackson seized her and slapped her hard, several +times, on both sides of her head. The frightened child tried to escape, +as soon as she was released from her grasp, but, being ordered to +remain and wait upon table, she stood behind her mistress, carefully +suppressing her sobs, though unable to keep back the tears that trickled +down her cheeks. The traveller was hungry; but this sight was a damper +upon his appetite. He was indignant at seeing such a timid young +creature so roughly handled; but he dared not give utterance to his +emotions, for fear of increasing the persecution to which she was +subjected. Afterward, when his host and hostess were absent from the +room, and Louisa was clearing the table, impelled by a feeling of pity, +which he could not repress, he laid his hand gently upon her head, and +said, "Poor child!" + +It was a simple phrase; but his kindly tones produced a mighty effect on +that suffering little soul. Her pent-up affections rushed forth like +a flood when the gates are opened. She threw herself into his arms, +nestled her head upon his breast, and sobbed out, "Oh, I have nobody to +love me now!" This outburst of feeling was so unexpected, that the +young man felt embarrassed, and knew not what to do. His aversion to +disagreeable scenes amounted to a weakness; and he knew, moreover, that, +if his hostess should become aware of his sympathy, her victim would +fare all the worse for it. Still, it was not in his nature to repel the +affection that yearned toward him with so overwhelming an impulse. He +placed his hand tenderly on her head, and said, in a soothing voice, "Be +quiet now, my little girl. I hear somebody coming; and you know your +mistress expects you to clear the table." + +Mrs. Jackson was in fact approaching, and Louisa hastily resumed her +duties. + +Had Mr. Noble been guilty of some culpable action, he could not have +felt more desirous to escape the observation of his hostess. As soon +as she entered, he took up his hat hastily, and went out to ascertain +whether his horse had been duly cared for. + +He saw Louisa no more that night. But as he lay awake, looking at a star +that peeped in upon him through an opening in the log wall, he thought +of her beautiful eyes, when the sun shone upon them, as she emerged from +the shadows. He wished that his mother and sister were living, that they +might adopt the attractive child. Then he remembered that she was a +slave, reserved for the New Orleans market, and that it was not likely +his good mother could obtain her, if she were alive and willing to +undertake the charge. Sighing, as he had often done, to think how many +painful things there were which he had no power to remedy, he fell +asleep and saw a very small girl dancing with a pail of water, while +a flock of white doves were wheeling round her. The two pictures had +mingled on the floating cloud-canvas of dream-land. + +He had paid for his entertainment before going to bed, and had signified +his intention to resume his journey as soon as light dawned. All was +silent in the house when he went forth; and out of doors nothing +was stirring but a dog that roused himself to bark after him, and +chanticleer perched on a stump to crow. He was, therefore, surprised to +find Louisa at the crib where his horse was feeding. Springing toward +him, she exclaimed,-- + +"Oh, you have come! Do buy me, Sir! I will be _so_ good! I will do +everything you tell me! Oh, I am so unhappy! Do buy me, Sir!" + +He patted her on the head, and looked down compassionately into the +swimming eyes that were fixed so imploringly upon his. + +"Buy you, my poor child?" he replied. "I have no house,--I have nothing +for you to do." + +"My mother showed me how to sew some, and how to do some embroidery," +she said, coaxingly. "I will learn to do it better, and I can earn +enough to buy something to eat. Oh, do buy me, Sir! Do take me with +you!" + +"I cannot do that," he replied; "for I must go another day's journey +before I return to Mobile." + +"Do you live in Mobile?" she exclaimed, eagerly. "My father lived in +Mobile. Once I tried to run away there, but they set the dogs after me. +Oh, do carry me back to Mobile!" + +"What is your name?" said he; "and in what part of the city did you +live?" + +"My name is Louisa Duncan; and my father lived at Pine Grove. It was +such a beautiful place! and I was _so_ happy there! Will you take me +back to Mobile? _Will_ you?" + +Evading the question, he said,-- + +"Your name is Louisa, but your father called you Loo Loo, didn't he?" + +That pet name brought forth a passionate outburst of tears. Her voice +choked, and choked again, as she sobbed out,-- + +"Nobody has ever called me Loo Loo since my father died." + +He soothed her with gentle words, and she, looking up earnestly, as if +stirred by a sudden thought, exclaimed,-- + +"How did you _know_ my father called me Loo Loo?" + +He smiled as he answered, "Then you don't remember a young man who ran +after you one day, when you were playing with a little white dog at Pine +Grove? and how your father called to you, 'Come here, Loo Loo, and see +the gentleman'?" + +"I don't remember it," she replied; "but I remember how my father used +to laugh at me about it, long afterward. He said I was very young to +have gentlemen running after me." + +"I am that gentleman," he said. "When I first looked at you, I thought I +had seen you before; and now I see plainly that you are Loo Loo." + +That name was associated with so many tender memories, that she seemed +to hear her father's voice once more. She nestled close to her new +friend, and repeated, in most persuasive tones, "You _will_ buy me? +Won't you?" + +"And your mother? What has become of her?" he asked. + +"She died of yellow fever, two days before my father. I am all alone. +Nobody cares for me. You _will_ buy me,--won't you?" + +"But tell me how you came here, my poor child," he said. + +She answered, "I don't know. After my father died, a great many folks +came to the house, and they sold everything. They said my father was +uncle to Mr. Jackson, and that I belonged to him. But Mrs. Jackson won't +let me call Mr. Duncan my father. She says, if she ever hears of my +calling him so again, she'll whip me. Do let me be _your_ daughter! You +_will_ buy me,--won't you?" + +Overcome by her entreaties, and by the pleading expression of those +beautiful eyes, he said, "Well, little teaser, I will see whether Mr. +Jackson will sell you to me. If he will, I will send for you before +long." + +"Oh, don't _send_ for me!" she exclaimed, moving her hands up and down +with nervous rapidity. "Come _yourself_, and come _soon_. They'll carry +me to New Orleans, if _you_ don't come for me." + +"Well, well, child, be quiet. If I can buy you, I will come for you +myself. Meanwhile, be a good girl. I won't forget you." + +He stooped down, and sealed the promise with a kiss on her forehead. +As he raised his head, he became aware that Bill, the horse-boy, was +peeping in at the door, with a broad grin upon his black face. He +understood the meaning of that grin, and it seemed like an ugly imp +driving away a troop of fairies. He was about to speak angrily, but +checked himself with the reflection, "They will all think so. Black or +white, they will all think so. But what can I do? I _must_ save this +child from the fate that awaits her." To Bill he merely said that he +wished to see Mr. Jackson on business, and had, therefore, changed his +mind about starting before breakfast. + +The bargain was not soon completed; for Mr. Jackson had formed large +ideas concerning the price "Leewizzy" would bring in the market; and +Bill had told the story of what he witnessed at the crib, with sundry +jocose additions, which elicited peals of laughter from his master. But +the orphan had won the young man's heart by the childlike confidence she +had manifested toward him, and conscience would not allow him to break +the solemn promise he had given her. After a protracted conference, he +agreed to pay eight hundred dollars, and to come for Louisa the next +week. + +The appearance of the sun, after a long, cold storm, never made a +greater change than the announcement of this arrangement produced in the +countenance and manners of that desolate child. The expression of fear +vanished, and listlessness gave place to a springing elasticity of +motion. Mr. Noble could ill afford to spare so large a sum for the +luxury of benevolence, and he was well aware that the office of +protector, which he had taken upon himself, must necessarily prove +expensive. But when he witnessed her radiant happiness, he could not +regret that he had obeyed the generous impulse of his heart. Now, for +the first time, she was completely identified with the vision of that +fairy child who had so captivated his fancy four years before. He never +forgot the tones of her voice, and the expression of her eyes, when she +kissed his hand at parting, and said, "I thank you, Sir, for buying me." + + +SCENE III. + + +In a world like this, it is much easier to plan generous enterprises +than to carry them into effect. After Mr. Noble had purchased the child, +he knew not how to provide a suitable home for her. At first, he placed +her with his colored washerwoman. But if she remained in that situation, +though her bodily wants would be well cared for, she must necessarily +lose much of the refinement infused into her being by that early +environment of elegance, and that atmosphere of love. He did not enter +into any analysis of his motives in wishing her to be so far educated +as to be a pleasant companion for himself. The only question he asked +himself was, How he would like to have his sister treated, if she had +been placed in such unhappy circumstances. He knew very well what +construction would be put upon his proceedings, in a society where +handsome girls of such parentage were marketable; and he had so long +tacitly acquiesced in the customs around him, that he might easily have +viewed her in that light himself, had she not become invested with a +tender and sacred interest from the circumstances in which he had first +seen her, and the innocent, confiding manner in which she had implored +him to supply the place of her father. She was always presented to his +imagination as Mr. Duncan's beloved daughter, never as Mr. Jackson's +slave. He said to himself, "May God bless me according to my dealings +with this orphan! May I never prosper, if I take advantage of her +friendless situation!" + +As for his _protégée_, she was too ignorant of the world to be disturbed +by any such thoughts. "May I call you Papa, as I used to call my +father?" said she. + +For some reason, undefined to himself, the title was unpleasant to him. +It did not seem as if his sixteen years of seniority need place so wide +a distance between them. "No," he replied, "you shall be my sister." And +thenceforth she called him Brother Alfred, and he called her Loo Loo. + +His curiosity was naturally excited to learn all he could of her +history; and it was not long before he ascertained that her mother was a +superbly handsome quadroon, from New Orleans, the daughter of a French +merchant, who had given her many advantages of education, but from +carelessness had left her to follow the condition of her mother, who +was a slave. Mr. Duncan fell in love with her, bought her, and remained +strongly attached to her until the day of her death. It had always +been his intention to manumit her, but, from inveterate habits of +procrastination, he deferred it, till the fatal fever attacked them +both; and so _his_ child also was left to "follow the condition of her +mother." Having neglected to make a will, his property was divided among +the sons of sisters married at a distance from him, and thus the little +daughter, whom he had so fondly cherished, became the property of Mr. +Jackson, who valued her as he would a handsome colt likely to bring +a high price in the market. She was too young to understand all the +degradation to which she would be subjected, but she had once witnessed +an auction of slaves, and the idea of being sold filled her with terror. +She had endured six months of corroding homesickness and constant fear, +when Mr. Noble came to her rescue. + +After a few weeks passed with the colored washerwoman, she was placed +with an elderly French widow, who was glad to eke out her small income +by taking motherly care of her, and giving her instruction in music +and French. The caste to which she belonged on the mother's side was +rigorously excluded from schools, therefore it was not easy to obtain +for her a good education in the English branches. These Alfred took upon +himself; and a large portion of his evenings was devoted to hearing her +lessons in geography, arithmetic, and history. Had any one told him, +a year before, that hours thus spent would have proved otherwise than +tedious, he would not have believed it. But there was a romantic charm +about this secret treasure, thus singularly placed at his disposal; and +the love and gratitude he inspired gradually became a necessity of his +life. Sometimes he felt sad to think that the time must come when she +would cease to be a child, and when the quiet, simple relation now +existing between them must necessarily change. He said to the old French +lady, "By and by, when I can afford it, I will send her to one of the +best schools at the North. There she can become a teacher and take care +of herself." Madame Labassé smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and said, +"_Nous verrons_." She did not believe it. + +The years glided on, and all went prosperously with the young merchant. +Through various conflicts with himself, his honorable resolution +remained unbroken. Loo Loo was still his sister. She had become +completely entwined with his existence. Life would have been very dull +without her affectionate greetings, her pleasant little songs, and the +graceful dances she had learned to perform so well. Sometimes, when he +had passed a peculiarly happy evening in this fashion, Madame Labassé +would look mischievous, and say, "But when do you think you shall send +her to that school?" True, she did not often repeat this experiment; for +whenever she did it, the light went out of his countenance, as if an +extinguisher were placed upon his soul. "I _ought_ to do it," he said +within himself; "but how _can_ I live without her?" The French widow was +the only person aware how romantic and how serious was this long +episode in his life. Some gentlemen, whom he frequently met in business +relations, knew that he had purchased a young slave, whom he had placed +with a French woman to be educated; but had he told them the true state +of the case, they would have smiled incredulously. Occasionally, they +uttered some joke about the fascination which made him so indifferent +to cards and horses; but the reserve with which he received such jests +checked conversation on the subject, and all, except Mr. Grossman, +discontinued such attacks, after one or two experiments. + +As Mr. Noble's wealth increased, the wish grew stronger to place Louisa +in the midst of as much elegance as had surrounded her in childhood. +When the house at Pine Grove was unoccupied, they often went out there, +and it was his delight to see her stand under the Gothic arch of trees, +a beautiful _tableau vivant_, framed in vines. It was a place so full +of heart-memories to her, that she always lingered there as long as +possible, and never left it without a sigh. In one place was a tree her +father had planted, in another a rose or a jessamine her mother had +trained. But dearest of all was a recess among the pine-trees, on the +side of a hill. There was a rustic garden-chair, where her father had +often sat with her upon his knee, reading wonderful story-books, bought +for her on his summer excursions to New York or Boston. In one of her +visits with Alfred, she sat there and read aloud from "Lalla Rookh." +It was a mild winter day. The sunlight came mellowed through the +evergreens, a soft carpet of scarlet foliage was thickly strewn beneath +their feet, and the air was redolent of the balmy breath of pines. Fresh +and happy in the glow of her fifteen summers, how could she otherwise +than enjoy the poem? It was like sparkling wine in a jewelled goblet. +Never before had she read anything aloud in tones so musically +modulated, so full of feeling. And the listener? How worked the wine in +_him?_ A voice within said, "Remember your vow, Alfred! this charming +Loo Loo is your adopted sister"; and he tried to listen to the warning. +She did not notice his tremor, when he rose hastily and said, "The sun +is nearly setting. It is time for my sister to go home." + +"Home?" she repeated, with a sigh. "_This_ is my home. I wish I could +stay here always. I feel as if the spirits of my father and mother were +with us here." Had she sighed for an ivory palace inlaid with gold, he +would have wished to give it to her,--he was so much in love! + +A few months afterward, Pine Grove was offered for sale. He resolved to +purchase it, and give her a pleasant surprise by restoring her to her +old home, on her sixteenth birth-day. Madame Labassé, who greatly +delighted in managing mysteries, zealously aided in the preparations. +When the day arrived, Alfred proposed a long ride with Loo Loo,--in +honor of the anniversary; and during their absence, Madame, accompanied +by two household servants, established herself at Pine Grove. When +Alfred returned from the drive, he proposed to stop and look at the dear +old place, to which his companion joyfully assented. But nothing could +exceed her astonishment at finding Madame Labassé there, ready to +preside at a table spread with fruit and flowers. Her feelings +overpowered her for a moment, when Alfred said, "Dear sister, you said +you wished you could live here always; and this shall henceforth be your +home." + +"You are too good!" she exclaimed, and was about to burst into tears. +But he arrested their course by saying, playfully, "Come, Loo Loo, kiss +my hand, and say, 'Thank you, Sir, for buying me.' Say it just as you +did six years ago, you little witch!" + +Her swimming eyes smiled like sunshine through an April shower, and she +went through the pantomime, which she had often before performed at his +bidding. Madame stepped in with her little jest: "But, Sir, when do you +think you shall send her to that _pension_?" + +"Never mind," he replied, abruptly; "Let us be happy!" And he moved +toward the table to distribute the fruit. + +It was an inspiring spring-day, and ended in the loveliest of +evenings. The air was filled with the sweet breath of jessamines and +orange-blossoms. Madame touched the piano, and, in quick obedience to +the circling sound, Alfred and Loo Loo began to waltz. It was long +before youth and happiness grew weary of the revolving maze. But when at +last she complained of dizziness, he playfully whirled her out upon the +piazza, and placed her on a lounge under the Cherokee rose her mother +had trained, which was now a mass of blossoms. He seated himself in +front of her, and they remained silent for some minutes, watching the +vine-shadows play in the moonlight. As Loo Loo leaned on the balustrade, +the clustering roses hung over her in festoons, and trailed on her white +muslin drapery. Alfred was struck, as he had been many times before, +with the unconscious grace of her attitude. In imagination, he recalled +his first vision of her in early childhood, the singular circumstance +that had united their destinies, and the thousand endearing experiences +which day by day had strengthened the tie. As these thoughts passed +through his mind, he gazed upon her with devouring earnestness. She was +too beautiful, there in the moonlight, crowned with roses! + +"Loo Loo, do you love me?" he exclaimed. + +The vehemence of his tone startled her, as she sat there in a mood still +and dreamy as the landscape. + +She sprang up, and, putting her arm about his neck, answered, "Why, +Alfred, you _know_ your sister loves you." + +"Not as a brother, not as a brother, dear Loo Loo," he said, +impatiently, as he drew her closely to his breast. "Will you be my love? +Will you be my wife?" + +In the simplicity of her inexperience, and the confidence induced by +long habits of familiar reliance upon him, she replied, "I will be +anything you wish." + +No flower was ever more unconscious of a lover's burning kisses than she +was of the struggle in his breast. + +His feelings had been purely compassionate in the beginning of their +intercourse; his intentions had been purely kind afterward; but he had +gone on blindly to the edge of a slippery precipice. Human nature should +avoid such dangerous passes. + +Reviewing that intoxicating evening in a calmer mood, he was +dissatisfied with his conduct. In vain he said to himself that he had +but followed a universal custom; that all his acquaintance would have +laughed in his face, had he told them of the resolution so bravely kept +during six years. The remembrance of his mother's counsels came freshly +to his mind; and the accusing voice of conscience said, "She was a +friendless orphan, whom misfortune ought to have rendered sacred. What +to you is the sanction of custom? Have you not a higher law within your +own breast?" + +He tried to silence the monitor by saying, "When I have made a little +more money, I will return to the North. I will marry Loo Loo on the way +and she shall be acknowledged to the world as my wife, as she now is in +my own soul." + +Meanwhile, the orphan lived in her father's house as her mother had +lived before her. She never aided the voice of Alfred's conscience by +pleading with him to make her his wife; for she was completely satisfied +with her condition, and had undoubting faith that whatever he did was +always the wisest and the best. + +[To be continued.] + + + + +CHARLEY'S DEATH. + + + The wind got up moaning, and blew to a breeze; + I sat with my face closely pressed on the pane; + In a minute or two it began to rain, + And put out the sunset-fire in the trees. + + In the clouds' black faces broke out dismay + That ran of a sudden up half the sky, + And the team, cutting ruts in the grass, went by, + Heavy and dripping with sweet wet hay. + + Clutching the straws out and knitting his brow, + Walked Arthur beside it, unsteady of limb; + I stood up in wonder, for, following him, + Charley was used to be;--where was he now? + + "'Tis like him," I said, "to be working thus late!"-- + I said it, but did not believe it was so; + He could not have staid in the meadow to mow, + With rain coming down at so dismal a rate. + + "He's bringing the cows home."--I choked at that lie: + They were huddled close by in a tumult and fret, + Some pawing the dry dust up out of the wet, + Some looking afield with their heads lifted high. + + O'er the run, o'er the hilltop, and on through the gloom + My vision ran quick as the lightning could dart; + All at once the blood shocked and stood still in my heart;-- + He was coming as never till then he had come! + + Borne 'twixt our four work-hands, I saw through the fall + Of the rain, and the shadows so thick and so dim, + They had taken their coats off and spread them on him, + And that he was lying out straight,--that was all! + + + + +THE CATACOMBS OF ROME. + +[Continued.] + + +Custodit Dominus emnia ossa eorum. +Ps. xxxiii. 20 + + +III. + + +Not quite two miles from the city-gate known as the Porta Pia, there +stands, on the left hand of the Nomentan Way, the ancient, and, until +lately, beautiful, Church of St. Agnes outside the Walls. The chief +entrance to it descends by a flight of wide steps; for its pavement is +below the level of the ground, in order to afford easy access to the +catacombs known as those of St. Agnes, which opened out from it and +stretched away in interlacing passages under the neighboring fields. +It was a quiet, retired place, with the sacredness that invests every +ancient sanctuary, in which the prayers and hymns of many generations +have risen. The city was not near enough to disturb the stillness within +its walls; little vineyards, and plots of market-garden, divided from +each other by hedges of reeds and brambly roses, with wider open fields +in the distance, lay around it; a deserted convent stood at its side; +its precious marble columns were dulled and the gold ground of its +mosaics was dimmed by the dust of centuries; its pavement was deeply +worn; and its whole aspect was that of seclusion and venerable age, +without desertion and without decay. + +The story of St. Agnes is one of those which at the beginning of the +fourth century became popular among the Christians and in the Church of +Rome. The martyrdom, under most cruel tortures and terrors, of a young +girl, who chose to die rather than yield her purity or her faith, +and who died with entire serenity and peace, supported by divine +consolations, caused her memory to be cherished with an affection and +veneration similar to that in which the memory of St. Cecilia was +already held,--and very soon after her death, which is said to have +taken place in the year 304, she was honored as one of the holiest of +the disciples of the Lord. Her story has been a favorite one through all +later ages; poetry and painting have illustrated it; and wherever the +Roman faith has spread, Saint Agnes has been one of the most beloved +saints both of the rich and the poor, of the great and of the humble. + +In her Acts[A] it is related that she was buried by her parents in a +meadow on the Nomentan Way. Here, it is probable, a cemetery had already +for some time existed; and it is most likely that the body of the Saint +was laid in one of the common tombs of the catacombs. The Acts go on +to tell, that her father and mother constantly watched at night by her +grave, and once, while watching, "they saw, in the mid silence of the +night, an army of virgins, clothed in woven garments of gold, passing +by with a great light. And in the midst of them they beheld the most +blessed virgin Agnes, shining in a like dress, and at her right hand a +lamb whiter than snow. At this sight, great amazement took possession of +her parents and of those who were with them. But the blessed Agnes asked +the holy virgins to stay their advance for a moment, when she said to +her parents, 'Behold, weep not for me as for one dead, but rejoice with +me and wish me joy; for with all these I have received a shining seat, +and I am united in heaven to Him whom while on earth I loved with all my +heart.' And with these words she passed on." The report of this vision +was spread among the Christians of Rome. The pleasing story was received +into willing hearts; and the memory of the virgin was so cherished, that +her name was soon given to the cemetery where she had been buried, +and, becoming a favorite resting-place of the dead, its streets were +lengthened by the addition of many graves. + +[Footnote A: This is the name given to the accounts of the saints and +martyrs composed in early times for the use of the Church.] + +Not many years afterwards, Constantia, the daughter of the Emperor +Constantine, suffering from a long and painful disease, for which she +found no relief, heard of the marvellous vision, and was told of +many wonderful cures that had been wrought at the tomb and by the +intercession of the youthful Saint. She determined, although a pagan, +to seek the aid of which such great things were told; and going to the +grave of Agnes at night, she prayed for relief. Falling suddenly into a +sweet sleep, the Saint appeared to her, and promised her that she should +be made well, if she would believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. She awoke, +as the story relates, full of faith, and found herself well. Moved with +gratitude, she besought her father to build a church on the spot in +honor of Saint Agnes, and in compliance with her wish, and in accordance +with his own disposition to erect suitable temples for the services of +his new faith, Constantine built the church, which a few centuries later +was rebuilt in its present form and adorned with the mosaics that still +exist. + +Nearly about the same time a circular building was erected hard by the +church, designed as a mausoleum for Constantia and other members of the +imperial family. The Mausoleum of Hadrian was occupied by the bodies of +heathen emperors and empresses, and filled with heathen associations. +New tombs were needed for the bodies of those who professed to have +revolted from heathenism. The marble pillars of the Mausoleum of +Constantia were taken from more ancient and nobler buildings, its walls +were lined with mosaics, and her body was laid in a splendid sarcophagus +of porphyry. In the thirteenth century, after Constantia had been +received into the liberal community of Roman saints, her mausoleum was +consecrated as a church and dedicated to her honor. A narrow, unworn +path leads to it from the Church of St. Agnes; it has been long left +uncared-for and unfrequented, and, stripped of its movable ornaments, +it is now in a half-ruinous condition. But its decay is more impressive +than the gaudy brightness of more admired and renovated buildings. +The weeds that grow in the crevices of its pavement and hang over the +capitals of its ancient pillars, the green mould on its walls, the +cracks in its mosaics, are better and fuller of suggestion to the +imagination than the shiny surface and the elaborate finish of modern +restorations. Restoration in these days always implies irreverence and +bad taste. But the architecture of this old building and the purpose +for which it was originally designed present a marked example of the +rapidity of the change in the character of the Christians with the +change of their condition at Rome, during the reign of Constantine. The +worldliness that follows close on prosperity undermined the spirit of +faith; the pomp and luxury of the court and the palace were carried into +the forms of worship, into the construction of churches, into the manner +of burial. Social distinctions overcame the brotherhood in Christ. +Riches paved an easy way into the next world, and power set up guards +around it. Imperial remains were not to mingle with common dust, and the +mausoleum of the princess rose above the rock-hewn and narrow grave of +the martyr and saint. + +The present descent into the catacombs that lie near the churches of St. +Agnes and St. Constantia is by an entrance in a neighboring field, made, +after the time of persecution, to accommodate those who might desire +to visit the underground chapels and holy graves. A vast labyrinth of +streets spreads in every direction from it. Many chambers have been cut +in the rock at the side of the passages,--some for family burial-places, +some for chapels, some for places of instruction for those not yet fully +entered into the knowledge of the faith. It is one of the most populous +of the subterranean cemeteries, and one of the most interesting, +from the great variety in its examples of underground architectural +construction, and from the number of the paintings that are found upon +its walls. But its peculiar interest is, that it affords at one point a +marked example of the connection of an _arenarium_, or pit from which +_pozzolana_ was extracted, with the streets of the cemetery itself. At +this point, the bed of compact _tufa_, in which the graves are dug, +degenerates into friable and loosely compacted volcanic sand,--and it +was here, very probably, that the cemetery was begun, at a time when +every precaution had to be used by the Christians to prevent the +discovery of their burial-places. No other of the catacombs gives a +clearer exhibition of the differences in construction resulting from +the different objects of excavation. In the Acts known as those of St. +Valentine it is related, that in the time of Claudius many Christians +were condemned to work in certain sand-pits. Under cover of such +opportunities, occasions might be found in which hidden graves could +be formed in the neighboring harder soil. In digging out the sand, the +object was to take out the greatest quantity consistent with +safety, leaving only such supports as were necessary to hold up the +superincumbent earth. There are few regular paths, but wide spaces with +occasional piers,--the passages being of sufficient width to admit of +the entrance of beasts of burden, and even of carts. The soil crumbles +so easily, that no row of excavations one above another could be made in +it; for the stroke of the pick-axe brings it down in loose masses. The +whole aspect of the sand-pit contrasts strikingly with that of the +catacombs, with their three-feet wide galleries, their perpendicular +walls, and their tier on tier of graves. + +The stratum of pozzolana at the Catacombs of St. Agnes overlies a +portion of the more solid stratum of tufa, and the entrance to the +sand-pit from the cemetery is by steps leading up from the end of a long +gallery. Such an entrance could have been easily concealed; and the tufa +cut out for the graves, after having been reduced to the condition of +pozzolana, might easily at night have been brought up to the floor of +the pit. In many of the Acts of the Martyrs it is said that they were +buried _in Arenario_, "in the sand-pit,"--an expression which, there +seems no good reason for doubting, meant in the catacombs whose entrance +was at the sand-pit, they not having yet received a distinctive name. + +It is difficult to convey to a distant reader even a small share of the +interest with which one sees on the spot evidences of the reality of the +precautions with which, in those early centuries, the Christians of Rome +were forced to guard themselves against a persecution which extended to +their very burial-places,--or even of the interest with which one walks +through the unchanged paths dug out of the rock by this _tenebrosa et +lucifugax natio_. In the midst of the obscurity of history and the fog +of fable, here is the solid earth giving evidence of truth. Here one +sees where, by the light of his dim candle, the solitary digger hollowed +out the grave of one of the near followers of the apostles; and here one +reads in hasty and ill-spelt inscriptions something of the affection and +of the faith of those who buried their dead in the sepulchre dug in the +rock. The Christian Rome underground is a rebuke to the Papal Rome above +it; and, from the worldly pomp, the tedious forms, the trickeries, the +mistakes, the false claims and falser assertions, the empty architecture +that reveals the infidelity of its builders, the gross materialism, and +the crass superstition of the Roman Church, one turns with relief of +heart and eyes to the poverty and bareness of the dark and narrow +catacombs, and to the simple piety of the words found upon their +graves. In them is at once the exhibition and the promise of a purer +Christianity. In them, indeed, one may see only too plainly the +evidences of ignorance, the beginnings of superstitions, the first, +traces of the corruption of the truth, the proofs of false zeal and of +foolish martyrdoms,--but with these are also to be plainly seen the +purity and the spirituality of elevated Christian faith. + +In the service of the Roman Church used at the removal of the bodies of +the holy martyrs from their graves in the catacombs is a prayer in which +are the words,--"Thou hast set the bodies of thy soldiers as guards +around the walls of this thy beloved Jerusalem";--and as one passes from +catacomb to catacomb, it is, indeed, as if he passed from station to +station of the encircling camp of the great army of the martyrs. Leaving +the burial-place of St. Agnes, we continue along the Nomentan Way to the +seventh milestone from Rome. Here the Campagna stretches on either side +in broad, unsheltered sweeps. Now and then a rough wall crosses the +fields, marking the boundaries of one of the great farms into which the +land is divided. On the left stands a low farm-house, with its outlying +buildings, and at a distance on each side the eye falls on low square +brick towers of the Middle Ages, and on the ruinous heaps of more +ancient tombs. The Sabine mountains push their feet far down upon the +plain, covered with a gray-green garment of olive-woods. Few scenes in +the Campagna are more striking, from the mingling of barrenness and +beauty, from the absence of imposing monumental ruins and the presence +of old associations. The turf of the wide fields was cropped in the +winter by the herds driven down at that season from the recesses of the +Neapolitan mountains, and the irregular surface of the soil afforded no +special indications of treasures buried beneath it. But the Campagna is +full of hidden graves and secreted buildings. + +In the Acts of the Martyrdom of St. Alexander, who, according to the +story of the Church, was the sixth successor of St. Peter, and who was +put to death in the persecution of Trajan, in the year 117, it was said +that his body was buried by a Roman lady, Severina, "on her farm, at the +seventh milestone from Rome on the Nomentan Way." These Acts, however, +were regarded as apocryphal, and their statement had drawn but little +attention to the locality. In the spring of 1855, a Roman archaeologist, +Signore Guidi, obtained permission from the Propaganda, by whom the land +was now held, as a legacy from the last of the Stuarts, the Cardinal +York, to make excavations upon it. Beginning at a short distance from +the road, on the right hand, and proceeding carefully, he soon struck +upon a flight of steps formed of pieces of broken marble, which, at +about fifteen feet below the surface of the ground, ended upon a +floor paved with bits of marble, tombstones, and mosaics. As the work +proceeded, it disclosed the walls of an irregular church, that had been +constructed, like that of St. Agnes, partially beneath the soil, for the +purpose of affording an entrance into adjoining catacombs. Remains of +the altar were found, and portions of the open-work marble screen which +had stood before it over the crypt in which the bodies of St. Alexander +and one of his fellow-martyrs had been placed. A part of the inscription +on its border was preserved, and read as follows: ET ALEXANDRO DEDICATUS +VOTUM POSUIT CONSECRANTE URSO EPISCOPO,--"Dedicatus placed this in +fulfilment of a vow to ---- and Alexander, the Bishop Ursus consecrating +it." The Acts supply the missing name of Eventius,--an aged priest, who, +it was said, had conversed with some of the apostles themselves. His +greater age had at that early and simple time given him the place of +honor in the inscription and in men's memory before the youthful, +so-called, Pope Alexander. Probably this little church had been built in +the fourth century, and here a bishop had been appointed to perform the +rites within it. + +It was a strange and touching discovery, that of this long-buried, rude +country-church,--the very existence of which had been forgotten for more +than a thousand years. On the 3d of May, 1855, the day set apart in the +calendar to the honor of the saints to whom it was consecrated, the holy +services were once more performed upon the ancient altar of the roofless +sanctuary. The voices of priest and choir sounded through the long +silent chapels, while the larks sang their hymns of gladness over the +fields above. On the rough floor, inscriptions, upon which, in the +early centuries, the faithful had knelt, were again read by kneeling +worshippers. On one broken slab of marble was the word MARTYR; on +another, the two words, SPARAGINA FIDELIS; on another, POST VARIAS +CURAS, POST LONGE MONITA VITAE. + +The catacombs opening from the church have not been entered to a great +distance, and though more rudely excavated than most of those nearer the +city, as if intended for the burial-places of a poorer population, they +are of peculiar interest because many of their graves remain in their +original state, and here and there, in the mortar that fastens their +tiled fronts, portions of the vessel of glass or pottery that held the +collected blood of the martyr laid within are still undisturbed. No +pictures of any size or beauty adorn the uneven walls, and no chapels +are hollowed out within them. Most of the few inscriptions are scratched +upon the mortar,--_Spiritus tuus in bono quiescat_,--but now and then a bit +of marble, once used for a heathen inscription, bears on its other side some +Christian words. None of the inscriptions within the church which bear +a date are later than the end of the fifth century, and it seems likely +that shortly after this time this church of the Campagna was deserted, +and its roof falling in, it was soon concealed under a mass of rubbish +and of earth, and the grass closed it with its soft and growing +protection. + +During two years, the uncovered church, with its broken pillars, its +cracked altar, its imperfect mosaics, its worn pavement, remained open +to the sky, in the midst of solitude. But how could anything with such +simple and solemn associations long escape desecration at Rome? How +could such an opportunity for _restoration_ be passed over? How could so +sacred and venerable a locality be protected from modern superstition +and ecclesiastical zeal? In the spring of 1837, preparations were being +made for building upon the ground, and a Carthusian convent, it was +said, was to be erected, which would enclose within its lifeless walls +the remains of the ancient church. Once more, then, it is to be shut +out of the sky; and now it is not Nature that asserts her predominance, +protecting while she conceals, and throwing her mantle over the martyrs' +graves to keep them from sacrilege,--but she is driven away by the +builders of the papal court, and all precious old associations are +incongruous with those of modern Roman architecture and Roman conventual +discipline. + +One morning, in the spring of 1855, shortly after the discovery had been +made, the Pope went out to visit the Church of St. Alexander. On his +return, he stopped to rest in the unoccupied convent adjoining the +Church of St. Agnes. Here there was a considerable assemblage of those +who had accompanied him, and others who were admitted at this place to +join his suite. They were in the second story of the building, and the +Pope was in the act of addressing them, when suddenly the old floor, +unable to support the unaccustomed weight, gave way, and most of the +company fell with it to the floor below. The Pope was thrown down, but +did not fall through. The moment was one of great confusion and alarm, +the etiquette of the court was disturbed, but no person was killed and +no one dangerously hurt. In common language and in Roman belief, it was +a miraculous escape. The Pope, attributing his safety to the protection +of the Virgin and of St. Agnes, determined at once that the convent +should be rebuilt and reoccupied, and the church restored. The work +is now complete, and all the ancient charm of time and use, all the +venerable look of age and quiet, have been laboriously destroyed, and +gaudy, inharmonious color, gilding and polish have been substituted in +their place. + +The debased taste and the unfeeling ignorance of restorers have been +employed, as so often in Italy, to spoil and desecrate the memorials +of the past; and the munificence of Pius, _Munificentia Pii IX._, is +placarded on the inner walls. One is too frequently reminded at Rome of +the old and new lamps in the story of Aladdin. + +We turn reluctantly from the Nomentan Way, and passing through Rome, +we go out of the gate which opens on the Appian. About a mile from the +present wall, just where the road divides before coming to the Catacombs +of St. Callixtus, a little, ugly, white church, of the deformed +architecture of the seventeenth century, recalls, by its name of _Domine +quo vadis?_ "O Lord, whither goest thou?" one of the most impressive, +one of the earliest and simplest, of the many legends of the legendary +religious annals of Rome. It relates, that, at the time of the +persecution of Nero, St. Peter, being then in Rome, was persuaded to fly +secretly from the city, in the hope of escaping from the near peril. +Just as he reached this place, trembling, we may well believe, not more +with fear than with doubt, while past scenes rose vividly before him, +and the last words heard from his Master's lips came with a flood of +self-reproach into his heart,--as he hurried silently along, with head +bowed down, in the gray twilight, he became suddenly aware of a presence +before him, and, looking up, beheld the form of that beloved Master whom +he was now a second time denying. He beheld him, moreover, in the act +of bearing his cross. Peter, with his old ardor, did not wait to be +addressed, but said, _Domine, quo vadis?_--"O Lord, whither goest +thou?" The Saviour, looking at him as he had looked but once before, +replied, _Venio Romam iterum crucifigi_,--"I come to Rome to be +crucified a second time"; and thereupon disappeared. Peter turned, +reëntered the gate, and shortly after was crucified for his Lord's sake. +His body, it is said, was laid away in a grave on the Vatican Hill, +where his great church was afterwards built. + +And here we come upon another legend, which takes us out again on the +Appian Way, to the place where now stands the Church of St. Sebastian. +St. Gregory the Great relates in one of his letters, that, not long +after St. Peter and St. Paul had suffered martyrdom, some Christians +came from the East to Rome to find the bodies of these their countrymen, +which they desired to carry back with them to their own land. They so +far succeeded as to gain possession of the bodies, and to carry them as +far as the second milestone on the Appian Way. Here they paused, and +when they attempted to carry the bodies farther, so great a storm of +thunder and lightning arose, that they were terrified, and did not +venture to repeat their attempt. By this time, also, the Romans had +become aware of the carrying off of the sacred bodies, and, coming out +from the city, recovered possession of them. One of the old pictures on +the wall of the portico of the ancient basilica of St. Peter's preserved +a somewhat different version of the legend, representing the Romans as +falling violently upon the Oriental robbers, and compelling them, with +a storm of blows, to yield up the possession of the relics they were +carrying away by stealth. + +But the legend went on further to state, that, on the spot where they +thus had regained the bodies of their saints, the Romans made a deep +hole in the ground, and laid them away within it very secretly. Here for +some time they rested, but at length were restored to their original +tombs, the one on the Ostian Way, the other on the Vatican. But St. +Peter was again to be laid in this secret chamber in the earth on the +Appian Way. In the episcopate of the saint and scoundrel Callixtus, +the Emperor Elagabalus, with characteristic extravagance and caprice, +resolved to make a circus on the Vatican, wide enough for courses of +chariots drawn by four elephants abreast. All the older buildings in the +way were to be destroyed, to gratify this imperial whim; and Callixtus, +fearing lest the Christian cemetery, and especially the tomb of the +prince of the apostles might be discovered and profaned, removed the +body of St. Peter once more to the Appian Way. Here it lay for forty +years, and round it and near it an underground cemetery was gradually +formed; and it was to this burial-place, first of all, that the name +Catacomb,[B] now used to denote all the underground cemeteries, was +applied. + +[Footnote B: A word, the derivation of which is not yet determined. The +first instance of its use is in the letter of Gregory from which we +derive the legend. This letter was written A.D. 594.] + +Though at length St. Peter was restored to the Vatican, from which he +has never since been removed, and where his grave is now hidden by his +church, the place where he had lain so long was still esteemed sacred. +The story of St. Sebastian relates how, after his martyred body had been +thrown into the Cloaca Maxima, that his friends might not have the last +satisfaction of giving it burial, he appeared in a vision to Lucina, a +Roman lady, told her where his body might be found, and bade her lay it +in a grave near that in which the apostles had rested. This was done, +and less than a century afterward a church rose to mark the place of his +burial, and connected with it, Pope Damasus, the first great restorer +and adorner of the catacombs, [A.D. 266-285,] caused the chamber that +was formed below the surface of the ground around the grave of the +apostles to be lined with wide slabs of marble, and to be consecrated as +a subterranean chapel. It is curious enough that this pious work should +have been performed, as is learned from an inscription set up here by +Damasus himself, in fulfilment of a vow, on the extinction among the +Roman clergy of the party of Ursicinus, his rival. This custom of +propitiating the favor of the saints by fair promises was thus early +established. It was soon found out that it was well to have a friend +at court with whom a bargain could be struck. If the adorning of this +chapel was all that Damasus had to pay for the getting rid of his +rival's party, the bargain was an easy one for him. There had been +terrible and bloody fights in the Roman streets between the parties of +the contending aspirants for the papal seat. Ursicinus had been driven +from Rome, but Damasus had had trouble with the priests of his faction. +Some of them had been rescued, as he was hurrying them off to prison, +and had taken refuge with their followers in the Basilica of St. Maria +Maggiore. Damasus, with a mob of charioteers, gladiators, and others of +the scum of Rome, broke into the church, and slew a hundred and sixty +men and women who had been shut up within it. Ursicinus, however, +returned to the city; there were fresh disturbances, and a new massacre, +on this occasion, in the Church of St. Agnes; and years passed before +Damasus was established as undisputed ruler of the Church. + +It was then, in fulfilment of the vow he had made during his troubles, +that _Saint_ Damasus (for he became a saint long since, success being a +great sanctifier) adorned the underground chapel of the apostles. The +entrance to it is through the modern basilica of St. Sebastian. It is +a low, semicircular chamber, with irregular walls, in which a row of +arched graves (_arcosolia_) has been formed, which once were occupied, +probably, by bodies of saints or martyrs. Near the middle of the chapel +is the well, about seven feet square, within which are the two graves, +lined with marble, where the bodies of the apostles are said to have +lain hid. Fragments of painting still remain on the walls of this +pit, and three faint and shadowy figures may be traced, which seem to +represent the Saviour between St. Peter and St. Paul. Over the mouth of +the well stands an ancient altar. However little credence may be given +to the old legends concerning the place, it is impossible not to look +with interest upon it. For fifteen hundred years worshippers have knelt +there as upon ground made holy by the presence of the two apostles. The +memory of their lives and of their teachings has, indeed, consecrated +the place; and though superstition has often turned the light of that +memory into darkness, yet here, too, has faith been strengthened, and +courage become steadfast, and penitence been confirmed into holiness, by +the remembrance of the zeal, the denial of Peter, and the forgiveness of +his Master, by the remembrance of the conversion, the long service, the +exhortations, and the death of Paul. + +The catacombs proper, to which entrance may be had from the Basilica of +St. Sebastian, are of little importance in themselves, and have lost, by +frequent alteration and by the erection of works of masonry for their +support, much that was characteristic of their original construction. +During a long period, while most of the other subterranean cemeteries +were abandoned, this remained open, and was visited by numerous +pilgrims. It led visitors to the church, and the guardians of the church +found it for their interest to keep it in good repair. Thus, though +its value as one of the early burial-places of the Christians was +diminished, another interest attached to it through the character of +some of those visitors who were accustomed to frequent its dark paths. +Saint Bridget found some of that wild mixture of materialism and +mysticism, (a not uncommon mingling,) which passes under the name of +her Revelations, in the solitude of these streets of the dead. Here St. +Philip Neri, the Apostle of Rome, the wise and liberal founder of the +Oratorians, the still beloved saint of the Romans, was accustomed +to spend whole nights in prayer and meditation. Demons, say his +biographers, and evil spirits assailed him on his way, trying to terrify +him and turn him back; but he overcame them all. Year after year he kept +up this practice, and gained strength, in the solitude and darkness, and +in the presence of the dead, to resist fiercer demons than any that had +power to attack him from without. And it is related, that, when St. +Charles Borromeo, his friend, the narrow, but pure-minded reformer of +the Church, came to Rome, from time to time, he, too, used to go at +night to this cemetery, and watch through the long hours in penitence +and prayer. Such associations as these give interest to the cemetery of +St. Sebastian's Church. + +The preëminence which the Appian Way, _regina viarum_, held among the +great streets leading from Rome,--not only as the road to the South and +to the fairest provinces, but also because it was bordered along its +course by the monumental tombs of the greatest Roman families,--was +retained by it, as we have seen, as the street on which lay the chief +Christian cemeteries. The tombs of the Horatii, the Metelli, the +Scipios, were succeeded by the graves of a new, less famous, but not +less noble race of heroes. On the edge of the height that rises just +beyond the Church of St. Sebastian stand the familiar and beautiful +ruins of the tomb of Cecilia Metella. Of her who was buried in this +splendid mausoleum nothing is known but what the three lines of the +inscription still remaining on it tell us,-- + +CAECILIAE Q. CRETICI F. METELLAE CRASSI. + +She was the daughter of Quintus, surnamed the Cretan, and the wife of +Crassus. But her tomb overlooks the ground beneath which, in a narrow +grave, was buried a more glorious Cecilia.[C] The contrast between the +ostentation and the pride of the tombs of the heathen Romans, and the +poor graves, hollowed out in the rock, of the Christians, is full of +impressive suggestions. The very closeness of their neighborhood to each +other brings out with vivid effect the broad gulf of separation that lay +between them in association, in affection, and in hopes. + +[Footnote C: Guéranger, _Histoire de St. Cécile_. p. 45.] + +Coming out from the dark passages of the Catacombs of St. Callixtus, in +the clear twilight of a winter's evening, one sees rising against the +red glow of the sky the broken masses of the ancient tombs. One city of +the dead lies beneath the feet, another stretches before the eyes far +out of sight. The crowded history of Rome is condensed into one mighty +spectacle. The ambitions, the hates, the valor, the passions, the +religions, the life and death of a thousand years are there; and, in +the dimness of the dusky evening, troops of the dead rise before the +imagination and advance in slow procession by opposite ways along the +silent road. + +[To be continued] + + * * * * * + + +THE PURE PEARL OF DIVER'S BAY. + +[Concluded.] + + +V + + +Did she talk of flesh and blood, when she said that she would find +him?--The summer passed away; and when autumn came, it could not be said +that search for the bodies of these fishermen was quite abandoned. But +no fragment of boat, nor body of father or son, ever came, by rumor or +otherwise, to the knowledge of the people of the Bay. + +The voyage was long to Clarice. Marvellous strength and acuteness of +vision come to the eyes of those who watch. Keen grow the ears that +listen. The soldier's wife in the land of Nena Sahib inspires +despairing ranks: "Dinna ye hear the pibroch? Hark! 'The Campbells are +coming!'"--and at length, when the hope she lighted has gone out in +sullen darkness, and they bitterly resent the joy she gave them,--lo, +the bagpipes, banners, regiment! The pibroch sounds, "The Campbells +are coming!" The Highlanders are in sight!--But, oh, the voyage was +long,--and Clarice could see no sail, could hear no oar! + +Clarice ceased to say that she must find the voyagers. She ceased to +talk of them. She lived in these days a life so silent, and, as +it seemed, so remote from other lives, that it quite passed the +understanding of those who witnessed it. Tears seldom fell from her +eyes, complaints never;--but her interest was aroused by no temporal +matter; she seemed, in her thoughts and her desires, as far removed as a +spirit from the influences of the external world. + +This state of being no person who lives by bread alone could have +understood, or endured patiently, in one with whom in the affairs of +daily life he was associated. + +The Revelator was an exile in Patmos. + +Dame Briton was convinced that Clarice was losing her wits. Bondo Emmins +yielded to the force of some inexplicable law, and found her fairer +day by day. To his view, she was like a vision moving through a dream, +rather than like any actual woman; and though the drift of the vision +seemed not towards him, he was more anxious to compel it than to +accomplish any other purpose ever entertained. The actual nearness, +the apparent unattainableness, of that he coveted, excited in him such +desires of conquest and possession as he would seek to appease in +one way alone. To win her would have been to the mind of any other +inhabitant of Diver's Bay a feat as impracticable as the capture of the +noble ghost of Hamlet's father, as he stands exorcized by Mrs. Kemble. + +And yet, while her sorrow made her the pity and the wonder of the +people, it did not keep her sacred from the reach of gossip. Observing +the frequency with which Bondo Emmins visited Old Briton's cabin, it was +profanely said by some that the pale girl would ere long avert her eyes +from the dead and fix them on the living. + +Emmins had frequent opportunities for making manifest his good-will +towards the family of Briton. The old man fell on the ice one day and +broke his thigh, and was constrained to lie in bed for many a day, and +to walk with the help of crutches when he rose again. Then was the +young man's time to serve him like a son. He brought a surgeon from +the Port,--and the inefficiency of the man was not his fault, surely. +Through tedious days and nights Emmins sat by the old man's bedside, +soothing pain, enlivening weariness, endeavoring to banish the gloomy +elements that combined to make the cabin the abode of darkness. He would +have his own way, and no one could prevent him. When Old Briton's money +failed, his supplies did not. Even Clarice was compelled to accept his +service thankfully, and to acknowledge that she knew not how they could +have managed without him in this strait. + +The accident, unfortunate as it might be deemed, nevertheless exercised +a most favorable influence over the poor girl's life. It brought her +soul back to her body, and spoke to her of wants and their supply,--of +debts, of creditors,--of fish, and sea-weed, and the market,--of bread, +and doctor's bills,--of her poor old father, and of her mother. She came +back to earth. Now, henceforth, the support of the household was with +her. Bondo Emmins might serve her father,--she had no desire to prevent +what was so welcome to the wretched old man,--but for herself, her +mother, the house, no favor from him! + +And thus Clarice rose up to rival Bondo in her ready courage. When her +father, at last careful, at last anxious, thoughtful of the future, +began to express his fear, he met the ready assurance of his daughter +that she should be able to provide all they should ever want; let him +not be troubled; when the spring came, she would show him. + +The spring came, and Clarice set to work as never in her industrious +life before. Day after day she gathered sea-weed, dried it, and carried +it to town. She went out with her mother in the fishing-boat, and the +two women were equal in strength and courage to almost any two men of +the Bay. She filled the empty fish-barrels,--and promised to double the +usual number. She dried wagon-loads of finny treasure, and she made good +bargains with the traders. No one was so active, no one bade fair to +turn the summer to such profit as Clarice. She had come back to flesh +and blood.--John came back from Patmos. + +Her face grew brown with tan; it was not lovely as a fair ghost's, any +longer; it was ruddy,--and her limbs grew strong. Bondo Emmins marked +these symptoms, and took courage. People generally said, "She is well +over her grief, and has set her heart on getting rich. There is that +much of her mother in her." Others considered that Emmins was in the +secret, and at the bottom of her serenity and diligence. + +Dame Briton and her spouse were not one whit wiser than their +neighbors. They could not see that any half-work was impossible with +Clarice,--that, if she had resolved, for their sake, to live as people +must, who have bodies to respect and God-originated wants to supply, she +must live by a ceaseless activity. Because she had ascended far beyond +tears, lamentation, helplessness, they thought she had forgotten. + +Yes, they came to this conclusion, though now and then, not often, +generally on some pleasant Sunday, when all her work was done, Clarice +would go down to the Point and take her Sabbath rest there. No danger of +disturbance there!--of all bleak and desert places known to the people +of Diver's Bay, that point was bleakest and most deserted. + +The place was hers, then. In this solitude she could follow her +thoughts, and be led by them down to the ocean, or away to heavenly +depths. It was good for her to go there in quietness,--to rest in +recollection. Strength comes ever to the strong. This pure heart had +nothing to fear of sorrow. Sorrow can only give the best it has to such +as she. Grief may weaken the selfish and the weak; it may make children +of the foolish and drivellers; by grief the inefficient may come to the +fulness of their inefficiency;--but out of the bitter cup the strong +take strength, though it may be with shuddering. + +One Sunday morning Clarice lingered longer about the house than usual, +and Emmins, who had resolved, that, if she went that day to the Point, +he would follow her, found her with her father and mother, talking +merely for their pleasure,--if the languid tones of her voice and the +absent look of her eyes were to be trusted. + +Emmins thought that this moment was favorable to him. He was sure of +Dame Briton and the old man, and he almost believed that he was sure +of Clarice. Finding her now with her father and mother at home on this +bright Sunday morning, one glance at her face surprised him and, almost +before he was aware, he had spoken what he had hitherto so patiently +refrained from speaking. + +But the answer of Clarice still more surprised him. With her eyes gazing +out on the sea, she stood, the image of silence, while Bondo warily +set forth his hopes. Old Briton and the dame looked on and deemed the +symptoms favorable. But Clarice said,-- + +"Heart and hand I gave to him. I am the wife of Luke;--how can I marry +another?" + +Bondo seemed eager to answer that question, for he hastily waved his +hand toward Dame Briton, who began to speak. + +"Luke will never come back," said he, gently expostulating. + +"But I shall go to him," was the quiet reply. + +Then the old people, whose hearts were in the wooing, broke out +together,--and by their voices, if one should argue with them, strife +was not far off. Clarice staid one moment, as if to take in the burden +of each eager voice; then she shook her head:-- + +"I am married already," she said; "I gave him my heart and my hand. You +would not rob Luke Merlyn?" + +When she had so spoken, calmly, firmly, as if it were impossible that +she should be moved or agitated by such speech as this she had heard, +Clarice walked away to the beach, unmoored her father's boat, and rowed +out into the Bay. + +Bondo Emmins stood with the old people and gazed after her. + +"Odd fish!" he muttered. + +"Never mind," said Old Briton, hobbling up and down the sand; "it's the +first time she's been spoke to. She'll come round. I know Clarice." + +"You know Clarice?" broke in Dame Briton. "You don't know her! She isn't +Clarice,--she's somebody else. Who, I don't know." + +"Hush!" said Bondo, who had no desire that the couple should fall into +a quarrel. "I know who she is. Don't plague her. It will all come out +right yet. I'll wait. But don't say anything to her about it. Let me +speak when the time comes.--Where's my pipe, Dame Briton?" + +Emmins spent a good part of the day with the old people, and did not +allow the conversation once to turn upon himself and Clarice. But he +talked of the improvements he should like to make in the old cabin, and +they discussed the market, and entertained each other with recollections +of past times, and with strange stories made up of odd imaginations and +still more uncouth facts. Supernatural influences were dwelt upon, and +many a belief in superstitions belonging to childhood was confessed in +peaceful unconsciousness of the fact that it was Clarice who had turned +all their thoughts to-day from the great prosaic highway where plain +facts have their endless procession. + + +VI. + + +Clarice went out alone in her fishing-boat, as during all the past week +she had purposed to do when this day came, if it should prove favorable. +She wished to approach the Point thus,--and her purpose in so doing was +such as no mortal could have suspected. And yet, as in the fulfilment +of this purpose she went, hastened from her delaying by the address of +Bondo Emmins, it seemed to her as if her secret must be read by the +three upon the beach. + +She wore upon her neck, as she had worn since the days of her betrothal +to Luke, the cord to which the pearl ring was attached. The ring had +never been removed; but now, as Clarice came near to the Point, she +laid the oars aside, and with trembling hands untied the black cord and +disengaged the ring, and drew it on her finger, that trembled like a +leaf. She was doing now what Luke had bidden her do,--and for his +sake. Until now she had always looked upon it as a ring of betrothal; +henceforth it was her wedding-ring,--the evidence of her true marriage +with Luke Merlyn. + +O unseen husband, didst thou see her as anew she gave herself to love, +to constancy, to duty? + +She was floating toward the Point, when she knelt in the fishing-boat +and plunged the hand that wore the ring under the bright cold water. How +bright, how cold it was! It chilled Clarice; she shuddered; was she the +bride of Death? But she did not rise from her knees, neither withdraw +her hand, until her vow, the vow she was there to speak, was spoken. +There she knelt alone in the great universe, with God and Luke Merlyn. + +When at last she stood upon the Point, she had strength to meet her +destiny, and patience to wait while it was being developed. She knew +her marriage covenant was blest, and filial duty was divested of every +thought or notion that could tempt or deceive her. Treading thus +fearlessly among the high places of imagination, no prescience of mortal +trouble could lurk among the mysterious shadows. By her faith in the +eternity of love she was greatly more than conqueror. + +The day passed, and night drew near. It was the purpose of Clarice to +row home with the tide. But a strange thing happened to her ere she set +out to return. As she stood looking out upon the sea, watching the waves +as they rolled and broke upon the beach, a new token came to her from +the deep. + +Almost as she might have waited for Luke, she stood watching the onward +drift; calculating the spot at which the waves would deposit their +burden, she stood there when the plank was borne inland, to save it, if +possible, from being dashed with violence on the rocks. + +To this plank a child was bound,--a little creature that might be three +years old. At the sight of this form, and this helplessness, the heart +of the woman seemed to break into sudden living flame. She carried the +plank down to a level spot with an energy that would have made light of +a burden even ten times as great; she stooped upon the sand; she unbound +the body; and she thought, "The child is dead!" Nevertheless she took +him in her arms; she dried his limbs with her apron; she wiped his face, +and rubbed his hair;--but he gave no sign of life. Then she wrapped him +in her shawl, and laid him in the boat, and rowed home. + +There was no one in the cabin when Clarice went in. When Dame Briton +came home, she found her daughter with a ring upon her finger, bending +over the body of a child that lay upon her bed. + +The dame was quickly brought into service, and there was no reason to +fear that she would desist from her labors until she had received some +evidence of death or life. She and Clarice worked all night over the +body of the child, and towards morning were rewarded by the result. The +boy's eyes opened, and he tried to speak. By noon of that day he was +lying in the arms of Clarice, deathly pallor on his little face; but he +could speak, and his pretty eyes were open. + +All those hours of mutual sympathy and striving, Dame Briton had been +thinking to say, "Clarice, what's the ring for?" But she had not said +it, when, in the afternoon, Bondo Emmins came into the cabin, and saw +Clarice with a beautiful boy in her arms, wrapped in her shawl, while +before the fire some rags of infant garments were drying. + +They talked over the boy's fortune and the night's work, the dame taking +the chief conduct of the story; and Bondo was so much interested, +and praised the child so much, and spoke with so much concern of the +solitary, awful voyage the little one must have made, that, when he +subsequently offered to take the child in his arms, Clarice let him go, +and explained, when the young man began to talk to the boy, that he +could not understand a word, neither could she make out the meaning of +his speech. + +Emmins heard Clarice say that she must go to the Port the next day and +learn what vessel had been lost, and if any passengers were saved; and +by daybreak he set out on that errand. He returned early in the morning +with the news that a merchantman, the "Gabriel," had gone down, and +that cargo and crew were lost. While he was telling this to Clarice he +observed the ring upon her finger, and he coupled the appearing of that +token with the serenity of the girl's face, and hailed his conclusion as +one who hoped everything from change and nothing from constancy. + +Clarice had found the boy in the place where she had looked for Luke +that night when his cap was washed to her feet. Over and over again she +had said this to her father and mother while they busied themselves +about the unconscious child; now she said it again to Bondo Emmins, as +if there were some special significance in the fact, as indeed to her +there was. He was her child, and he should be her care, and she would +call him Gabriel. + +People could understand the burden imposed upon the laborious life of +Clarice by this new, strange care. But they did not see the exceeding +great reward, nor how the love that lingered about a mere memory seemed +blessed to the poor girl with a blessing of divine significance. + +To make the child her own by some special act that should establish her +right became the wish of Clarice. It was not enough for her that she +should toil for him while others slept, that she should stint herself in +order to clothe him in a becoming manner, that she should suffer anxiety +for him in the manifold forms best known to those who have endured it. +She had given herself to Luke, so that she feared no more from any man's +solicitation. She would fain assert her claim to this young life which +Providence had given her. But this desire was suggested by external +influence, as her marriage covenant had been. + +Now and then a missionary came down to Diver's Bay, and preached in the +open air, or, if the weather disappointed him, in the great shed built +for the protection of fish-barrels and for the drying of fish. No +surprising results had ever attended his preaching; the meetings were +never large, though sometimes tolerably well attended; the preacher +was almost a stranger to the people; and the wonder would have been a +notable one, had there been any harvest to speak of in return for the +seed he scattered. The seed was good; but the fowls of the air were free +to carry it away; the thorns might choke it, if they would; it was not +protected from any wind that blew. + +A few Sundays after Gabriel became the charge of Clarice, the missionary +came and preached to the people about Baptism. Though burdened with a +multitude of cares which he had no right to assume, which kept him busy +day and night in efforts lacking only the concentration that would have +made them effective, the man was earnest in his labor and his speech, +and it chanced now and then that a soul was ready for the truth he +brought. + +On this occasion he addressed the parents in their own behalf and +that of their children. The bright day, the magnificent view his eyes +commanded from the place where he stood to address the handful of +people, the truth, with whose importance he was impressed, made him +eloquent. He spoke with power, and Clarice Briton, holding the hand of +little Gabriel, listened as she had never listened before. + +"Death unto sin," this baptism signified, he said. She looked at the +child's bright face; she recalled the experience through which she had +passed, by which she was able to comprehend these words. She had passed +through death; she had risen to life; for Luke was dead, and was alive +again,--therefore she lived also. Tears came into the girl's eyes, +unexpected, abundant, as she listened to the missionary's pleading with +these parents, to give their little ones to their Heavenly Father, and +themselves to lives of holiness. + +He would set the mark of the cross on their foreheads, he said, to show +that they were Christ's servants;--and then he preached of Christ, +seeking to soften the tough souls about him with the story of a divine +childhood; and he verily talked to them as one should do who felt that +in all his speaking their human hearts anticipated him. It was not +within the compass of his voice to reach that savage note which in +brutal ignorance condemns, where loving justice never could condemn. +He had an apprehension of the vital truth that belief in the world's +Saviour was not belief in a name, but the reception of that which Jesus +embodied. He came down to Diver's Bay, expecting to find human nature +there, and the only pity was that he had not time to perform what he +attempted. Let us, however, thank him for his honest endeavor; and be +glad, that, for one, Clarice was there to hear him,--she heard him so +gladly. + +To take a vow for Gabriel, to give him to God, to confirm him in +possession of the name she had bestowed, became the desire of Clarice. +One day when she had some business to transact in the market, she +dressed Gabriel in a new frock she had made for him, and took him with +her to the Port, carrying him in her arms half the way. She did not find +the minister, but she had tested the sincerity of her desire. When he +came down again to the Bay, as he did the next Sunday, she was waiting +to give him the first fruits of his labors there. + +He arrived early in the morning, that he might forestall the fishermen +and their families in whatever arrangements they might be making for the +day. When Clarice first saw him, her heart for a moment failed her,--she +wished he had not come, or that she had gone off to spend the day before +she knew of his coming. But, in the very midst of her regrets, she +caught up Gabriel and walked forth to meet the preacher. + +The missionary recognized Clarice, and he had already heard the story +of the child. He was the first to speak, and a few moments' talk, which +seemed to her endless, though it was about Gabriel, passed before she +could tell him how she had sought him in his own home on account of the +boy, and what her wish was concerning him. + +A naturalist, walking along that beach and discovering some long-sought +specimen, at a moment when he least looked and hoped for it, would have +understood the feeling and the manner of the missionary just then. +Surprise came before gladness, and then followed much investigation, +whereby the minister would persuade himself, even as the naturalist +under similar circumstances would do, of the genuineness of what was +before him;--he must ascertain all the attending circumstances. + +It was a simple story that his questioning drew forth. The missionary +learned something in the interview, as well as Clarice. He learned what +confidence there is in a noble spirit of resignation; that it need not +be the submission of helplessness. He saw anew, what he had learned for +himself under different circumstances, the satisfaction arising from +industry that is based on duty, and involves skill in craft, judgment in +affairs, and that integrity which keeps one to his oath, though it be +not to his profit. He heard the voice of a tender, pitiful, loving +womanhood, strongly manifesting its right to protect helplessness, by +the utterance of its convictions concerning that helplessness. He knew +that to such a woman the Master would have spoken not one word of +reproach, but many of encouragement and sympathy. So he spoke to her +of courage, and shared her hopes, by directing them with a generous +confidence in her. He was the man for his vocation, for in every strait +he looked to his human heart for direction,--and in his heart were not +only sympathy and gentleness, but justice and judgment. + +While he talked to Clarice, the idea which had taken cognizance of +Gabriel alone enlarged,--it involved herself. + +"What doth hinder me to be baptized?" she asked, in the words of Philip. + +"If thou believest, thou mayest." + +Accordingly, at the conclusion of the morning prayer, when the preacher +said, "Those persons to be baptized may now come forward," Clarice +Briton, leading little Gabriel by the hand, rose from her seat and +walked up before the congregation, and stood in the presence of all. + +Not an eye was turned from her during the ceremony. When she lifted +Gabriel, and held him in her arms, and promised the solemn promises for +him as well as for herself, the souls that witnessed it thought that +they had lost Clarice. The tears rolled down Old Briton's cheeks when he +looked upon the girl. What he saw he did not half understand, but there +was an awful solemnity about the transaction, that overpowered him. He +and Dame Briton had come to the meeting because Clarice urged them to do +so;--she had said she was going to make a public promise about Gabriel, +and that was all she told them; for, beside that there was little time +for explanation in the hurry of preparing Gabriel and herself, Clarice's +heart was too deeply stirred to admit of speech. After she had obtained +the promise of her parents, she said no more to them; they did not hear +her speak again until her firm "I will" broke on their ears. + +Dame Briton was not half pleased at what she saw and heard, during this +service. She looked at Bondo Emmins to see what he was thinking,--but +little she learned from his solemn face. When the sign of the cross was +laid on the forehead of Clarice, and on the forehead of Gabriel, a +frown for an instant was seen on his own; but it was succeeded by an +expression of feature such as made the dame look quickly away, for in +that same instant his eyes were upon her. + +Enough of surprise and gaping wonder would Dame Briton have discovered +in other directions, had she sought the evidences; but from Bondo Emmins +she looked down at her "old man," and she saw his tears. Then came +Clarice, and before she knew it she was holding the little Christian +Gabriel in her stern old arms, and kissing away the drops of hallowed +water that flashed upon his eye-lids. + +A sermon followed, the like of which, for poetry or wonder, was never +heard among these people. The preacher seemed to think this an occasion +for all his eloquence; nay, for the sake of justice, I will say, his +heart was full of rejoicing, for now he believed a church was grafted +here, a Branch which the Root would nourish. His words served to deepen +the impression made by the ceremonial. Clarice Briton and little Gabriel +shone in white raiment that day; and, thanks to him, when he went on to +prove the Kingdom of Heaven upon earth one with that mysterious majesty +on high, a single leap took Clarice Briton over the boundaries of faith. + + +VII. + + +But if to others Clarice seemed to have passed the boundary line of +their dominion, to herself the bond of neighborhood was strengthened. +The missionary told her all he had a right to expect of her now, as a +fellow-worker, and pointed out to her the ways in which she might second +his labors at the Bay. It was but a new form of the old work to which +she had been accustomed her life long. Never, except in the dark summer +months when all her life was eclipsed, had Clarice lived unmindful of +the old and sick and helpless, or of the little children. Her kindliness +of heart could surprise no one; her generosity was nothing strange; her +caution, her industry, her courage, her gentleness, were not traits to +which her character had been a stranger hitherto. But now they had +a brighter manifestation. She became more than ever diligent in her +service; the Sunday-school was the result of old sentiments in a new +and intelligent combination; and the neighbors, who had always trusted +Clarice, did not doubt her now. Novelty is always pleasing to simple +souls among whom innovation has not first taken the pains to excite +suspicion of itself. + +For a long time, more than usual uncertainty seemed to attend the +chances of Gabriel's life. In the close watching and constant care +required of Clarice, the child became so dear to her, that doubtless +there was some truth in the word repeated in her hearing with intent to +darken any moment of special tenderness and joy, that this stranger was +dearer to her than her "born relations." + +As much as was possible by gentle firmness and constant oversight, +Clarice kept him from hurtful influences. He was never mixed up in the +quarrels of ungoverned children; he never became the victim of their +rude sport or cruelty. She would preserve him peaceful, gentle, pure; +and in a measure her aim was accomplished. She was the defender, +companion, playmate of the child. She told him pretty tales, the +creations of her fancy, and strove by them to throw a soft illusion +around the rough facts of their daily life. The mystery surrounding him +furnished her not meagrely with material for her imagination; she could +invent nothing that seemed to herself incredible; her fairy tales were +not more wonderful than facts as she beheld them. She taught the boy +songs; she gave him language. The clothes he wore, bought with her own +money, fashioned by her own hands, were such as became the beauty of the +child, and the pure taste and the little purse of Clarice. + +Never had a childhood so radiant in beauty, so wonderful in every +manifestation, developed before the eyes of the folk of Diver's Bay. +He became a wonder to the old and young. His sayings were repeated. +Enchantment seemed added to mystery;--anything might have been believed +of Gabriel. + +Sometimes, when she had dressed him in his Sunday suit, and they were +alone together, Clarice would put upon his finger the pearl ring,--her +marriage ring. But she kept to herself the name of Luke Merlyn till the +time should come when, a child no longer, he should listen to the story; +and she would not make that story grievous for his gentle heart, but +sweet and full of hope. Well she knew how he would listen as none other +could,--how serious his young face would look when the sacred dawn of a +celestial knowledge should begin to break; then a new day would rise on +Gabriel, and nothing should separate them then. + +But, lurking near her joy, and near her perfect satisfaction, even in +the days when some result much toiled for seemed to give assurance that +she was doing well and justly, was the shadow of a doubt. One day the +shadow deepened, and the doubt appeared. Clarice was sitting in the +doorway, busy at some work for Gabriel. The boy was playing with Old +Briton, who could amuse him by the hour, drawing figures in the sand. +Dame Briton was busy performing some household labor, when Bondo Emmins +came rowing in to shore. Gabriel, at the sound of the oars, ran to meet +the fisherman, who had been out all day; the fisherman took the child +in his arms, kissed him, then placed in his hands a toy which he had +brought for him from the Point, and bade him run and show it to Clarice. +Gabriel set out with shouts, and Emmins went back smiling to look after +his boatload. + +"He's a good runner," said Old Briton, watching the child with laughter +in his eyes. Dame Briton, drawn to the door by the unusual noise, looked +out to see the little fellow flying into Clarice's arms, and she said, +softly, "Pretty creature!" while she strode back to her toil. + +Presently, the little flutter of his joy having subsided, Gabriel sat +on the doorstep beside Clarice, his eyes seriously peering into the +undiscoverable mystery of the toy. Then Bondo came up, and the toy was +forgotten, the child darting away again to meet him. Emmins joined the +group with Gabriel in his arms, looking well satisfied. + +"Gabriel is as happy as if this was his home in earnest," said he. He +dropped the words to try the group. + +"His home!" cried Dame Briton, quickly. "Well, ain't it? Where then? I +wonder." + +The sharp tone of her voice told that the dame was not well pleased with +Bondo's remark; for the child had found his way into her heart, and she +would have ruined him by her indulgence, had it not been for Clarice's +constant vigilance. And this was not the least of the difficulties the +girl had to contend with. For Dame Briton, you may be sure, though she +might be compelled to yield to her daughter's better sense, could never +be constrained by her own child to hold her tongue, and the arguments +with which she abandoned many of her foolish purposes were almost +as fatal to Clarice's attempts at good government as the perfect +accomplishment of these purposes would have been. + +Bondo answered her quick interrogatory, and the troubled wonder in the +eyes of Clarice, with a confused, "Of course it is his home; only I was +thinking, that, to be sure, they must have come from some place, and +maybe left friends behind them." + +Now it seemed as if this answer were not given with malicious purpose, +but in proper self-defence; and by the time Clarice looked at him, and +made him thus speak, Bondo perhaps supposed that he had not intended to +trouble the poor soul. But he could not avoid perceiving that a deep +shadow fell upon the face of Clarice; and the conviction of her +displeasure was not removed when she arose and led the child away. But +Clarice was not displeased. She was only troubled sorely. She asked her +surprised self a dreary question: If anywhere on earth the child had +a living parent, or if he had any near of kin to whom his life was +precious, what right to Gabriel had she? Providence had sent him to her, +she had often said, with deep thankfulness; but now she asked, Had he +sent the child that she might restore him not only to life, but to +others, whom, but for her, death had forever robbed of him? + +From the day that the shadow of this thought fell across her way, the +composure and deep content of the life of Clarice were disturbed. Not +merely the presence of Emmins became a trouble and annoyance, but the +praise that her neighbors were prompt to lavish on Gabriel, whenever she +went among them, became grievous to her ears. The shadow which had swept +before her eyes deepened and darkened till it obscured all the future. +She was experiencing all the trouble and difficulty of one who seeks to +evade the weight of a truth which has nevertheless surrounded and will +inevitably capture her. + +Nothing of this escaped the eyes of the young fisherman. Time should +work for him, he said; he had shot an arrow; it had hit the mark; now he +would heal the wound. He might easily have persuaded himself that the +wound was accidental, and so have escaped the conviction of injury +wrought with intention. All would have been immediately well with him +and Clarice, had it not been for Clarice! There are persons, their name +is Legion, who are as wanton in offence as Bondo Emmins,--whose souls +are black with murderous records of hopes they have destroyed; yet they +will condole with the mourners! + +To this doubt as to her duty, this evasion of knowledge concerning it, +this silence in regard to what chiefly occupied her conscience, was +added a new trouble. As Gabriel grew older, a restless, adventurous +spirit began to manifest itself in him. From a distance regarding the +daring feats of other children, his impulse was to follow and imitate +them. At times, in ungovernable outbreaks of merriment, he would escape +from the side of Clarice, with fleet, daring steps which seemed to set +her pleasure at defiance; and when, after his first exploit, which +filled her with astonishment, she prepared to join him in his sport, and +did follow, laughing, a wilfulness, which made her tremble, roused to +resist her, and gave an almost tragic ending to the play. + +One day she missed the lad. Searching for him, she found that he had +gone out in a boat with other children, among whom he sat like a little +king, giving his orders, which the rest were obeying with shouted +repetitions. When Clarice called to him, and begged the children to +return, he followed their example, took off his cap, and waved it at +her, in defiance, with the rest. + +Clarice sat down on the shore in despair. Bitter tears ran down her +cheeks. + +Bondo Emmins passed by, and saw what was going on. "Ho! ho! Clarice +needs some one to help her hold the rein," said he to himself; and going +to the water's edge, he raised his voice, and beckoned the children +ashore. He enforced the gesture by a word,--"Come home!" + +The little rebels did not wait a second summons, but obeyed the strong +voice of the strong man, trembling. They paddled the boat to the shore, +and landed quite crestfallen, ashamed, it seemed. Then Bondo, having bid +the youngsters disperse, with a threat, if he ever saw them engaged in +the like business, walked away, without speaking to Gabriel, or even +looking at him. + + +VIII. + + +Clarice was half annoyed at this interference; it seemed to suppose, she +thought, that she was unequal to the management of her own affairs.--But +_was_ she equal to it? + +After Bondo had walked away, she called to Gabriel, who stood alone when +the other children had deserted him, and knew not what to do. He would +have run away, had he not been afraid of fisherman Emmins. + +"Come here, my son," said Clarice. She did not speak very loud, nor in +the least sternly; but he heard her quite distinctly, and he hesitated. + +"I'm not your son!" he concluded to answer. + +A sword through the heart of Clarice would have killed her, but there +are pains which do not slay that are worse than the pains of death. +Clarice Briton's face was pale with anguish, when she arose and said,-- + +"Gabriel, come here!" + +The child saw something awful in her eyes, and heard in her voice +something that made him tremble. He came, and sat down in the place to +which Clarice pointed. It was a hard moment for her. Other words bitter +as this, which disowned her love and care and defied her authority, the +child could not have spoken. She answered him as if he had not been a +child; and a truth which no words could have made him comprehend seemed +to break upon and overwhelm him, while she spoke. + +"It is true," she said, "you are not my son. I have no right to call you +mine. Listen, Gabriel, while I tell you how it happens that you live +with me, and I take care of you, as if you were my child. I was down at +the Point one day,--that place where we go to watch the birds, you know, +my--Gabriel. While I sat there alone, I saw a plank that was dashed by +the waves up and down, as you see a boat carried when the wind blows +hard and sounds so terrible; but there was nobody to take care of that +plank except God,--and He, oh, He, is always able to take care! When +that plank was washed near to the shore, I stepped out on the rocks and +caught it, and then I saw that a little child was tied fast to it; so I +knew that some one must have thrown him into the water, hoping that he +would be picked up. I do not know what they who threw the little child +into the sea called him; but I, who found him, called him Gabriel, and I +carried him, all dripping with the salt sea-water, to my father's cabin. +I laid him on my bed, and my mother and I never stopped trying to waken +him, till he opened his eyes; for he lay just like one who never meant +to open his eyes or speak again. At last my mother said, 'Clarice, I +feel his heart beat!' and I said in my heart, 'If it please God to spare +his life, I will work for him, and take care of him, and be a mother to +him.' And I thought, 'He will surely love me always, because God has +sent him to me, and I have taken him, and have loved him.' But now he +has left me! He is mine no more! And oh, how I have loved him!" + +Long before this story was ended, tears were running down Gabriel's +face, and he was drawing closer and closer to Clarice. When she ceased +speaking, he hid his face in her lap and cried aloud, according to the +boisterous privilege of childhood. + +"Oh, mother, dear mother, I haven't gone away! I'm here! I do love you! +I am your little boy!" + +"Gabriel! Gabriel! it was terrible! terrible!" burst from Clarice, with +a groan, and a flood of tears. + +"Oh, don't, mother! Call me your boy! Don't say, Gabriel! Don't cry!" + +So he found his way through the door of the heart that stood wide open +for him. Storm and darkness had swept in, if he had not. + +The reconciliation was perfect; but the shadow that had obscured the +future deepened that obscurity after this day's experience. If her right +to the lad needed no vindication, was she capable of the attempted +guidance and care? Could she bear this blessed burden safely to the end? + +Sometimes, for a moment, it may have seemed to Clarice that Bondo Emmins +could alone help her effectually out of her bewilderment and perplexity. +She had not now the missionary with whom to consult, in whose wisdom to +confide; and Bondo had a marvellous influence over the child. + +He was disposed to take advantage of that influence, as he gave +evidence, not long after the exhibition of his control over the +boat-load of delinquents, by asking Clarice if she were never going +to reward his constancy. He seemed at this time desirous of bringing +himself before her as an object of compassion, if nothing better; but +she, having heard him patiently to the end of what he had to urge in his +own behalf and that of her parents, replied in words that were certainly +of the moment's inspiration, and almost beyond her will; for Clarice +had been of late so much troubled, no wonder if she should mistake +expediency for right. + +"I am married already," she said. "You see this ring. Do you not know +what it has meant to me, Bondo, since I first put it on? Death, as you +call it, cannot part Luke Merlyn and me. 'Heart and hand,' he said. +Can I forget it? My hand is free,--but he holds it; and my heart is +his.--But I can serve you better than you ask for, Bondo Emmins. You +learned the name of the vessel that sailed from Havre and was lost. Take +a voyage. Go to France. See if Gabriel has any friends there who have a +right to him, and will serve him better than I can; and if he has such +friends, I myself will take Gabriel to them. Yes, I will do it.--You +will love a sailor's life, Bondo. You were born for that. Diver's Bay +is not the place for you. I have long seen it. The sea will serve you +better than I ever could. Go, and Clarice will thank you. Oh, Bondo, I +beg you!" + +At these words the man so appealed to became scarlet. He seemed +to reflect on what Clarice had said,--seriously to ponder; but his +amazement at her words had almost taken away his power of speech. + +"The Gabriel sailed from Havre," said he, slowly, "If I went out as a +deckhand in the next ship that sails"-- + +"Yes!" + +"To scour the country--I hope I shan't find what I look for; you +couldn't live without him.--Very likely you will think me a fool for my +pains. You will not give me yourself. You would have me take away the +lad from you."--He looked at Clarice as if his words passed his belief. + +"Yes, only do as I say,--for I know it must be the best for us all. +There is nothing else to be done,--no other way to live." + +"France is a pretty big country to hunt over for a man whose name you +don't know," said Emmins, after a little pause. + +"You can find what passengers sailed in the Gabriel," answered Clarice, +eager to remove every difficulty, and ready to contend with any that +could possibly arise. "The vessel was a merchantman. Such vessels don't +take out many passengers.--Besides, you will see the world.--It is for +everybody's sake! Not for mine only,--no, truly,--no, indeed! May-be +if another person around here had found Gabriel, they would never have +thought of trying to find out who he belonged to." + +"I guess so," replied Bondo, with a queer look. "Only now be honest, +Clarice; it's to get rid of me, isn't it? But you needn't take that +trouble. If you had only told me right out about Luke Merlyn"-- + +While Bondo Emmins spoke thus, his face had unconsciously the very +expression one sees on the face of the boy whose foot hovers a moment +above the worm he means to crush. The boy does not expect to see the +worm change to a butterfly just then and there, and mount up before his +very eyes toward the empyrean. Neither did Bondo Emmins anticipate her +quiet-- + +"You knew about it all the while." + +"Not the whole," said he,--"that you were married to Luke, as you say"; +and the fisherman looked hastily around him, as if he had expected to +see the veritable Luke. + +"It isn't to get rid of you, then, Bondo," Clarice explained; "but I +read in the Book you don't think much of, but it's everything to me, _If +ye have not been faithful in that which is another man's, who shall give +you that which is your own?_ So you see, I am a little selfish in it +all; for I want peace of mind, and I never shall have peace till it is +settled about Gabriel; if I must give him up, I can." + +Bondo Emmins looked at Clarice with a strange look, as she spoke these +words,--so faltering in speech, so resolute in soul. + +"And if I'm faithful over another man's," said he, "better the chance of +getting my own, eh? But I wonder what my own is." + +"Everything that you can earn and enjoy honestly," replied Clarice. + +Emmins rose up quickly at these words. He walked off a few paces without +speaking. His face was gloomy and sullen as a sky full of tornadoes when +he turned his back on Clarice,--hardly less so when he again approached +her. + +"I am no fool," said he, as he drew near.--From his tone one could +hardly have guessed that his last impulse was to strike the woman to +whom he spoke.--"I know what you mean. You haven't sent me on a fool's +errand. Good bye. You won't see me again, Clarice--till I come back from +France. Time enough to talk about it then." + +He did not offer to take her hand when he had so spoken, but was off +before Clarice could make any reply. + +Clarice thought that she should see him again; but he went away without +speaking to any other person of his purpose; and when wonder on account +of his absence began to find expression in her father's house, and +elsewhere, it was she who must account for it. People thereat praised +him for his good heart, and made much of his generosity, and wondered if +this voyage were not to be rewarded by the prize for which he had sought +openly so long. Old Briton and his dame inclined to that opinion. + +But in the week following that of his departure there was a great stir +and excitement among the people of the Bay. Little Gabriel was missing. +A search, that began in surprise when Clarice returned home from some +errand, was continued with increasing alarm all day, and night descended +amid the general conviction that the child was drowned. He had been seen +at play on the shore. No one could possibly furnish a more reasonable +explanation. Every one had something to say, of course, and Clarice +listened to all, turning to one speaker after another with increasing +despair. Not one of them could restore the child to life, if he was +dead. + +There was a suspicion in her heart which she shared with none. It +flashed upon her, and there was no rest after, until she had satisfied +herself of its injustice. She went alone by night to town, and made her +way fearlessly down to the harbor to learn if any vessel had sailed +that day, and when the last ship sailed for Havre. The answers to the +inquiries she made convinced her that Bondo Emmins must have sailed for +France the day after his last conversation with her. + +By daylight Clarice was again on the shore of Diver's Bay, there to +renew a search which for weeks was not abandoned. Gabriel had a place in +many a rough man's heart, and the women of the Bay knew well enough that +he was unlike all other children; and though it did not please them well +that Clarice should keep him so much to herself, they still admired +the result of such seclusion, and praised his beauty and wonderful +cleanliness, as though these tokens of her care were really beyond the +common range of things,--attainable, in spite of all she could say, by +no one but Clarice Briton, and for no one but Gabriel. These fishermen +and their wives did not speedily forget the wonderful boy; the boats +never went out but those who rowed them thought about the child; the +gatherers of sea-weed never went to their work but they looked for some +token of him; and for Clarice,--let us say nothing of her just here. +What woman needs to be told how that woman watched and waited and +mourned? + + +IX. + + +Few events ever occurred to disturb the tranquillity of the people of +Diver's Bay. People wore out and dropped away, as the old fishing boats +did,--and new ones took their place. + +Old Briton crumbled and fell to pieces, while he watched for the return +of Bondo Emmins. And Clarice buried her old mother. She was then left +alone in the cabin, with the reminiscences of a hard lot around her. The +worn-out garments, and many rude traces of rough toil, and the toys, few +and simple, which had belonged to Gabriel, constituted her treasures. +What was before her? A life of labor and of watching; and Clarice was +growing older every day. + +Her hair turned gray ere she was old. The hopes that had specially +concerned her had failed her,--all of them. She surveyed her experience, +and said, weighing the result, the more need that she should strive to +avert from others the evils they might bring upon themselves, so that, +when the Lord should smite them, they, too, might be strong. The +missionary had long since left this field of labor and gone to another, +and his place at Diver's Bay was unfilled by a new preacher. The more +need, then, of her. Remembering her lost child, she taught the children +of others. She taught them to read and sew and knit, and, what was more +important, taught them obedience and thankfulness, and endeavored to +inspire in them some reverence and faith. The Church did not fall into +ruin there. + +I wish that I might write here,--it were so easy, if it were but +true!--that Bondo Emmins came back to Diver's Bay in one of those long +years during which she was looking for him, and that he came scourged by +conscience to ask forgiveness of his diabolic vengeance. + +I wish that I might write,--which were far easier, if it were but +fact,--that all the patience and courage of the Pure Heart of Diver's +Bay, all the constancy that sought to bring order and decency and +reverence into the cabins there, met at last with another external +reward than merely beholding, as the children grew up to their duties +and she drew near to death, the results of all her teaching; that those +results were attended by another, also an external reward; that the +youth, who came down like an angel to fill her place when she was gone, +had walked into her house one morning, and surprised her, as the Angel +Gabriel once surprised the world, by his glad tidings. I wish, that, +instead of kneeling down beside her grave in the sand, and vowing there, +"Oh, mother! I, who have found no mother but thee in all the world, am +here, in thy place, to strive as thou didst for the ignorant and +the helpless and unclean," he had thrown his arms around her living +presence, and vowed that vow in spite of Bondo Emmins, and all the world +beside. + +But it seems that the gate is strait, and the path is ever narrow, and +the hill is difficult. And the kinds of victory are various, and the +badges of the conquerors are not all one. And the pure heart can wear +its pearl as purely, and more safely, in the heavens, where the +white array is spotless,--where the desolate heart shall be no more +forsaken,--where the BRIDEGROOM, who stands waiting the Bride, says, +"Come, for all things are now ready!"--where the SON makes glad. Pure +Pearl of Diver's Bay! not for the cheap sake of any mortal romance will +I grieve to write that He has plucked thee from the deep to reckon thee +among His pearls of price. + + * * * * * + + +CAMILLE. + + + I bore my mystic chalice unto Earth + With vintage which no lips of hers might name; + Only, in token of its alien birth, + Love crowned it with his soft, immortal flame, + And, 'mid the world's wide sound, + Sacred reserves and silences breathed round,-- + A spell to keep it pure from low acclaim. + + With joy that dulled me to the touch of scorn, + I served;--not knowing that of all life's deeds + Service was first; nor that high powers are born + In humble uses. Fragrance-folding seeds + Must so through flowers expand, + Then die. God witness that I blessed the Hand + Which laid upon my heart such golden needs! + + And yet I felt, through all the blind, sweet ways + Of life, for some clear shape its dreams to blend,-- + Some thread of holy art, to knit the days + Each unto each, and all to some fair end, + Which, through unmarked removes, + Should draw me upward, even as it behooves + One whose deep spring-tides from His heart descend. + + To swell some vast refrain beyond the sun, + The very weed breathed music from its sod; + And night and day in ceaseless antiphon + Rolled off through windless arches in the broad + Abyss.--Thou saw'st I, too, + Would in my place have blent accord as true, + And justified this great enshrining, God! + + Dreams!--Stain it on the bending amethyst, + That one who came with visions of the Prime + For guide somehow her radiant pathway missed, + And wandered in the darkest gulf of Time. + No deed divine thenceforth + Stood royal in its far-related worth; + No god, in truth, might heal the wounded chime. + + Oh, how? I darkly ask;--and if I dare + Take up a thought from this tumultuous street + To the forgotten Silence soaring there + Above the hiving roofs, its calm depths meet + My glance with no reply. + Might I go back and spell this mystery + In the new stillness at my mother's feet,-- + + I would recall with importunings long + That so sad soul, once pierced as with a knife, + And cry, Forgive! Oh, think Youth's tide was strong, + And the full torrent, shut from brain and life, + Plunged through the heart, until + It rocked to madness, and the o'erstrained will + Grew wild, then weak, in the despairing strife! + + And ever I think, What warning voice should call, + Or show me bane from food, with tedious art, + When love--the perfect instinct, flower of all + Divinest potencies of choice, whose part + Was set 'mid stars and flame + To keep the inner place of God--became + A blind and ravening fever of the heart? + + I laugh with scorn that men should think them praised + In women's love,--chance-flung in weary hours, + By sickly fire to bloated worship raised!-- + O long-lost dream, so sweet of vernal flowers! + Wherein I stood, it seemed, + And gave a gift of queenly mark!--I _dreamed_ + Of Passion's joy aglow in rounded powers. + + I dreamed! The roar, the tramp, the burdened air + Pour round their sharp and subtle mockery. + Here go the eager-footed men; and there + The costly beggars of the world float by;-- + Lilies, that toil nor spin, + How should they know so well the weft of sin, + And hide me from them with such sudden eye? + + But all the roaming crowd begins to make + A whirl of humming shade;--for, since the day + Is done, and there's no lower step to take, + Life drops me here. Some rough, kind hand, I pray, + Thrust the sad wreck aside, + And shut the door on it!--a little pride, + That I may not offend who pass this way. + + And this is all!--Oh, thou wilt yet give heed! + No soul but trusts some late redeeming care,-- + But walks the narrow plank with bitter speed, + And, straining through the sweeping mist of air, + In the great tempest-call, + And greater silence deepening through it all, + Refuses still, refuses to despair! + + Some further end, whence thou refitt'st with aim + Bewildered souls, perhaps?--Some breath in me, + By thee, the purest, found devoid of blame, + Fit for large teaching?--Look!--I cannot see,-- + I can but feel!--Far off, + Life seethes and frets,--and from its shame and scoff + I take my broken crystal up to thee. + + * * * * * + + +THE HUNDRED DAYS. + +PERSONAL REMINISCENCES. + +[Concluded.] + + +The most remarkable event of the "Hundred Days" was the celebrated +"Champ de Mai," where Napoleon met deputies from the Departments, and +distributed eagles to representatives of his forces. He intended it as +an assembly of the French people, which should sanction and legalize his +second accession to the throne, and pledge itself, by solemn adjuration, +to preserve the sovereignty of his family. It was a day of wholesale +swearing, and the deputies uttered any quantity of oaths of eternal +fidelity, which they barely kept three weeks. The distribution of the +eagles was the only real and interesting part of the performance, and +the deep sympathy between both parties was very evident. The Emperor +stood in the open field, on a raised platform, from which a broad flight +of steps descended; and pages of his household were continually running +up and down, communicating with the detachments from various branches of +the army, which passed in front of him, halting for a moment to receive +the eagles and give the oath to defend them. + +I was present during the whole of this latter ceremony. Through the +forbearance of a portion of the Imperial Guard, into whose ranks I +obtruded myself, I had a very favorable position, and felt that in this +part of the day's work there was no sham. + +I would here bear testimony to the character of those veterans known as +the "Old Guard." I frequently came in contact with individuals of them, +and liked so well to talk with them, that I never lost a chance of +making their acquaintance. One, who was partial to me because I was an +American, had served in this country with Rochambeau, had fought under +the eye of Washington, and was at the surrender of Cornwallis. He had +borne his share in the vicissitudes of the Republic, the Consulate, and +the Empire. He was scarred with wounds, and his breast was decorated +with the cross of the Legion of Honor, which he considered an ample +equivalent for all his services. My intercourse with these old soldiers +confirmed what has been said of them, that they were singularly mild +and courteous. There was a gentleness of manner about them that was +remarkable. They had seen too much service to boast of it, and they +left the bragging to younger men. Terrible as they were on the field of +battle, they seemed to have adopted as a rule of conduct, that + + "In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man + As modest stillness and humility." + +On this memorable day, I saw Napoleon more distinctly than at any other +time. I was frequently present when he was reviewing troops, but either +he or they were in motion, and I had to catch a glimpse of him as +opportunities offered. At this time, as he passed through the Champs +Elysées, I stood among my friends, the soldiers, who lined the way, and +who suffered me to remain where a man would not have been tolerated. He +was escorted by the Horse Grenadiers of the Guard. His four brothers +preceded him in one carriage, while he sat alone in a state coach, all +glass and gold, to which pages clung wherever they could find footing. +He was splendidly attired, and wore a Spanish hat with drooping +feathers. As he moved slowly through the crowd, he bowed to the right +and left, not in the hasty, abrupt way which is generally attributed to +him, but in a calm, dignified, though absent manner. His face was one +not to be forgotten. I saw it repeatedly; but whenever I bring it up, it +comes before me, not as it appeared from the window of the Tuileries, or +when riding among his troops, or when standing, with folded arms or his +hands behind him, as they defiled before him; but it rises on my vision +as it looked that morning, under the nodding plumes,--smooth, massive, +and so tranquil, that it seemed impossible a storm of passion could ever +ruffle it. The complexion was clear olive, without a particle of color, +and no trace was on it to indicate what agitated the man within. The +repose of that marble countenance told nothing of the past, nor of +anxiety for the deadly struggle that awaited him. The cheering sounds +around him did not change it; they fell on an ear that heard them not. +His eye glanced on the multitudes; but it saw them not. There was more +machinery than soul in the recognition, as his head instinctively swayed +towards them. The idol of stone was there, joyless and impassive amidst +its worshippers, taking its lifeless part in this last pageant. But the +thinking, active man was elsewhere, and returned only when he found +himself in the presence of delegated France, and in the more congenial +occupation which succeeded. + +Immediately after this event, all the available troops remaining in +Paris were sent toward the Belgian frontier, and in a few days were +followed by the Emperor. Then came an interval of anxious suspense, +which Rumor, with her thousand tongues, occupied to the best of her +ability. I was in the country when news of the first collision arrived, +and a printed sheet was sent to the château where I was visiting, with +an account of the defeat of the Prussians at Ligny and the retreat of +the British at Quatre Bras. Madame Ney was staying in the vicinity; and, +as the Marshal had taken an active part in the engagement, I was sent to +communicate to her the victory. She was ill, and I gave the message to +a lady, her connection, much pleased to be the bearer of such welcome +intelligence. I returned that day to Paris, and found my schoolmates in +the highest exhilaration. Every hour brought confirmation of a decisive +victory. It was thought that the great battle of the campaign had been +fought, and that the French had only to follow up their advantage. +Letters from officers were published, representing that the Allies were +thoroughly routed, and describing the conflict so minutely, that there +could be no doubt of the result. All was now joy and congratulation; and +conjectures were freely made as to the terms to be vouchsafed to the +conquered, and the boundary limits which should be assigned to the +territory of France. + +A day or two after this, we made a customary visit to a swimming-school +on the Seine, and some of us entered into conversation with the +gendarme, or police soldier, placed there to preserve order. He was very +reserved and unwilling to say much; but, at last, when we dwelt on the +recent successes, he shook his head mournfully, and said he feared there +had been some great disaster; adding, "The Emperor is in Paris. I saw +him alight from his carriage this morning, when on duty; he had very few +attendants, and it was whispered that our army had been defeated." That +my companions did not seek relief at the bottom of the river can be +ascribed only to their entire disbelief of the gendarme's story. But, as +they returned home, discussing his words at every step, fears began to +steal over them when they reflected how seriously he talked and how +sorrowful he looked. + +The gendarme spoke the truth. Napoleon was in Paris. His army no longer +existed, and his star had been blotted from the heavens. His plans, +wonderfully conceived, had been indifferently executed; a series of +blunders, beyond his control, interrupted his combinations, and delay in +important movements, added to the necessity of meeting two enemies at +the same moment, destroyed the centralization on which he had depended +for overthrowing both in succession. The orders he sent to his Marshals +were intercepted, and they were left to an uncertainty which prevented +any unity of action. The accusation of treason, sometimes brought +against them, is false and ungenerous; and the insinuations of Napoleon +himself were unworthy of him. They may have erred in judgment, but they +acted as they thought expedient, and they never showed more devotion to +their country and to their chief than on the fatal day of Waterloo. + +I have been twice over that field, and have heard remarks of military +men, which have only convinced me that it is easier to criticize a +battle than to fight one. Had Grouchy, with his thirty thousand men, +joined the Emperor, the British would have been destroyed. But he +stopped at Wavre, to fight, as he supposed, the whole Prussian army, +thinking to do good service by keeping it from the main battle. Blücher +outwitted him, and, leaving ten thousand men to deceive and keep him in +check, hurried on to turn the scale. The fate of both contending hosts +rested on the cloud of dust that arose on the eastern horizon, and the +eyes of Napoleon and Wellington watched its approach, knowing that it +brought victory or defeat. The one was still precipitating his impetuous +columns on the sometimes penetrated, but never broken, squares of +infantry, which seemed rooted to the earth, and which, though torn by +shot and shell, and harassed by incessant charges of cavalry, closed +their thinned ranks with an obstinacy and determination such as he had +never before encountered. The other stood amidst the growing grain, +seeing his army wasting away before those terrible assaults; and when +the officers around him saw inevitable ruin, unless the order for +retreat was given, he tore up the unripened corn, and, grinding it +between his hands, groaned out, in his agony,--"Oh, that Blücher, or +night, would come!" + +The last time I was at Waterloo, many years ago, the guide who +accompanied me told me, that, a short time before, a man, whose +appearance was that of a substantial farmer, and who was followed by +an attendant, called on him for his services. The guide went his usual +round, making his often-repeated remarks and commenting severely +on Grouchy. The stranger examined the ground attentively, and only +occasionally replied, saying, "Grouchy received no orders." At last, the +servant fell back, detaining the guide, and, in a low tone, said to him, +"Speak no more about Marshal Grouchy, for that is he." The man told me, +that, after that, he abstained from saying anything offensive; but that +he watched carefully the soldier's agitation, as the various positions +of the battle became apparent to him. He, doubtless, saw how little +would have turned the current of the fight, and knew that the means of +doing it had been in his own hands. The guide seemed much impressed with +the deep feeling of the Marshal, and said to me, "I will never speak ill +of him again." + +The battle of Waterloo is often mentioned as the sole cause of +Napoleon's downfall; and it is said, that, had he gained that day, he +would have secured his throne. It seems to be forgotten that a complete +victory would have left him with weakened forces, and that he had +already exhausted the resources of France in his preparations for this +one campaign; that the masses of Austria and Russia were advancing +in hot haste, which, with the rallied remains of Prussia, and the +indomitable perseverance and uncompromising hostility of England, +quickened by a reverse of her arms, would have presented an array +against which he could have had no chance of success. The hour of utter +ruin would only have been procrastinated, involving still greater waste +of life, and augmenting the desolation which for so many years had been +the fate of Europe. + +Yes, Napoleon was in Paris,--a general without soldiers, and a sovereign +without subjects. The prestige of his name was gone; and had the Chamber +of Deputies invested him with the Dictatorship, as was suggested, it +would have been "a barren sceptre in his gripe," and the utmost stretch +of power could not have collected materials to meet the impending +invasion. At no period did he show such irresolution as at this time. He +tendered his abdication, and it was accepted. He offered his services as +a soldier, and they were declined. He had ceased, for the moment, to +be anything to France. Yet he lingered for days about the capital, the +inhabitants of which were too intent in gazing at the storm, ready to +burst upon them, to be mindful of his existence. There was, however, +one exception. The _boys_ were still faithful to him, and were more +interested in his position than in that of the enemy at their gates. + +There was a show of resistance. The fragments of the army of Belgium +gathered round Paris; the National Guard, or militia of the city, +was marched out; and the youth of the colleges were furnished with +field-pieces and artillery officers, who drilled them into very +effective cannoneers, and they took naturally to the business, +pronouncing it decidedly better fun than hard study. They were of an age +which is full of animal courage, and their only fear was a peremptory +order from parents or guardians to leave college and return home. Some +of my school-fellows, anticipating such an injunction, joined the camp +outside the city, and saw service enough to talk about for the remainder +of their lives. + +One morning, I was at the Lyceum, where all were prepared for an +immediate order to march, and each one was making his last arrangements. +No person could have supposed that these young men expected to be +engaged, within a few hours, in mortal combat. They were in the highest +spirits, and looked forward to the hoped-for battle as though it were to +be the most amusing thing imaginable. While I was there, a false +report came in that Napoleon had resumed the command of the army. The +excitement instantly rose to fever-heat, and the demonstration told what +hold he still had on these his steadfast friends. From our position the +rear of the army was but a short distance, while the advanced portions +of it were engaged. Versailles had been entered by the Allies, who were +attacked and driven out by the French under Vandamme. The cannonade was +at one time as continuous as the roll of a drum. Prisoners were guarded +through the streets, and wagons, conveying wounded men, were continually +passing. + +Stragglers from the routed army of Waterloo were to be met in all +directions, many of them disabled by their pursuers, or the fatigues of +a harried retreat. Pride was forgotten in extreme misery, and they were +grateful for any attention or assistance. One of them was taken into +our institution as a servant. He had been in the army eighteen years, +fifteen of which he had served as drummer. He had been in some of the +severest battles, had gone through the Russian campaign, and was among +the few of his regiment who survived the carnage of Waterloo. And yet +this man, who had been familiar with death more than half his life, and +who at times talked as though he were a perfect tornado in the field, +was as arrant a poltroon as ever skulked. + +After the Allied Troops entered Paris, and were divided among the +inhabitants, some Prussian cavalry soldiers were quartered on us. +Collisions occasionally took place between them and the scholars; and in +one instance, one of them entered a study-room in an insulting manner, +and in consequence thereof made a progress from the top of the stairs to +the bottom with a celerity that would have done credit to his regiment +in a charge. His comrades armed themselves to avenge the indignity, and +the students, eager for the fray, sallied out to meet them with pistols +and fencing-foils, the latter with buttons snapped off and points +sharpened. There was hopeful promise of a very respectable skirmish; +but it was nipped in the bud by the interposition of our peace-making +instructors, aided by the authority of a Prussian officer. When the +affair was over, some wonder was expressed why our fire-eating military +attendant had not given us his professional services; and, on search +being made, we found him snugly stowed away in a hole under the stairs, +where he had crept on the first announcement of hostilities. He +afterwards confessed to me that he was a coward, and that no one could +imagine what he had suffered in his agonies of fear during his various +campaigns. Yet he came very near being rewarded for extraordinary valor +and coolness. His regiment was advancing on the enemy, and as he was +mechanically beating the monotonous _pas de charge_, not knowing whether +he was on his head or his heels, a shot cut the band by which his drum +was suspended, and as it fell, he caught it, and without stopping, held +it in one hand while he continued to beat the charge with the other. An +officer of rank saw the action, and riding up, said, "Your name, brave +fellow? You shall have the cross of honor for that gallant deed." He +told me he really did not know what he was doing; he was too frightened +to think about anything. But he added, that it was a pity the general +was killed in that very battle, as it robbed him of the promised +decoration. + +I mention this incident as an evidence of what diversified materials an +army is composed, and that the instruments of military despotism are not +necessarily endowed with personal courage, the discipline of the mass +compensating for individual imperfection. It also gives evidence that +luck has much to do in the fortunes of this world, and that many a man +who "bears his blushing honors thick upon him" would as poorly stand a +scrutiny as to the means by which they were acquired, as our friend, the +drummer, had he been enabled to strut about, in piping times of peace, +with a strip of red ribbon at his button-hole. + +While preparations were making for the defence of Paris, and the alarmed +citizens feared, what was at one time threatened, that the defenders +would be driven in, and the streets become a scene of warfare, involving +all conditions in the chances of indiscriminate massacre, the powers +that were saw the futility of resistance, and opening negotiations with +the enemy, closed the war by capitulation. Whatever relief this may have +been to the people generally, it was a sad blow to the martial ardor +of my schoolmates. Their opinion of the transaction was expressed in +language by no means complimentary to their temporary rulers. To lose +such an opportunity for a fight was a height of absurdity for which +treason and cowardice were inadequate terms. Their military visions +melted away, the field-pieces were wheeled off, the army officers bade +them farewell, they were required to deliver up their arms, and they +found themselves back again to their old bondage, reduced to the +inglorious necessity of attending prayers and learning lessons. + +The Hundred Days were over. The Allies once more poured into France, +and in their train came back the poor, despised, antiquated Bourbons, +identifying themselves with the common enemy, and becoming a byword and +a reproach, which were to cling to them until they should be driven into +hopeless banishment. The King reentered Paris, accompanied by foreign +soldiers. I saw him pass the Boulevard, and I then hastened across the +Garden to await his arrival at the Tuileries, standing near the spot +where, three months before, I had seen Napoleon. The tricolor was no +longer there, but the white flag again floated over the place so full of +historical recollections. Louis XVIII soon reached this ancestral abode +of his family, and having mounted, with some difficulty and expenditure +of breath, to the second story, he waddled into the balcony which +overlooked the crowd silently waiting for the expected speech, and, +leaning ponderously on the railing, he kissed his hand, and said, in a +loud voice, "Good day, my children." This was the exordiam, body, and +peroration of his address, and it struck his audience so ludicrously, +that a laugh spread among them, until it became general, and all seemed +in the best possible humor. The King laughed, too, evidently regarding +his reception as highly flattering. The affair turned out well, for the +multitude parted in a merry mood, considering his Majesty rather a jolly +old gentleman, and making sundry comparisons between him and the late +tenant, illustrative of the difference between King Stork and King Log. + +Paris was crowded with foreign soldiers. The streets swarmed with them; +their encampments filled the public gardens; they drilled in the open +squares and on the Boulevards; their sentinels stood everywhere. Their +presence was a perpetual commentary on the vanity of that glory which +is dependent on the sword. They gazed at triumphal monuments erected to +commemorate battles which had subjected their own countries to the iron +rule of conquest. They stood by columns on which the history of their +defeat was cast from their captured cannon, and by arches whose friezes +told a boastful tale of their subjugation. They passed over bridges +whose names reminded them of fields which had witnessed their headlong +rout. They strolled through galleries where the masterpieces of art hung +as memorials that their political existence had been dependent on the +will of a victorious foe. Attempts were made to destroy these trophies +of national degradation; but, in some instances, the skill of the +architect and the fidelity of the builder were an overmatch for the +hasty ire of an incensed soldiery, and withstood the attacks until +admiration for the work brought shame on their efforts to demolish it. + +But for the Parisians there was a calamity in reserve, which sank +deeper into their souls than the fluttering of hostile banners in their +streets, or the clanging tread of an armed enemy on their door-stones. +It was decided that the Gallery of the Louvre should be despoiled, and +that the works of art, which had been collected from all nations, making +that receptacle the marvel of the age, should be restored to their +legitimate owners. A wail went up from the universal heart of France +at this sad judgment. It was felt that this great loss would be +irreparable. Time, the soother of all sorrow, might restore her +worn energies, recruit her wasted population, cover her fields with +abundance, and, turning the activity of an intelligent people into +industrial channels, clothe her with renewed wealth and power. But the +magnificence of that collection, once departed, could never come to +her again; and the lover of beauty, instead of finding under one roof +whatever genius had created for the worship of the ages, would have +to wander over all Europe, seeking in isolated and widely-separated +positions the riches which at the Louvre were strewed before him in +congregated prodigality. But lamentations were in vain. The miracles of +human inspiration were borne to the congenial climes which originated +them, to have, in all after time, the tale of their journeyings an +inseparable appendage to their history, and even their intrinsic merit +to derive additional lustre from the perpetual boast, that they had been +considered worthy a place in the Gallery of Napoleon. + +In the general amnesty which formed an article in the capitulation of +Paris, there was no apprehension that revenge would demand an atonement. +But hardly had the Bourbons recommenced their reign, when, in utter +disregard of the faith of treaties, they sought satisfaction for their +late precipitate flight in assailing those who had been instrumental +in causing it. Many of their intended victims found safety in foreign +lands. Labedoyère, who joined the Emperor with his regiment, was tried +and executed. Lavalette was condemned, but escaped through the heroism +of his wife and the generous devotion of three Englishmen. Ney was +shot in Paris. I would dwell a moment on his fate, not only because +circumstances gave me a peculiar interest in it, but from the fact that +it had more effect in drawing a dividing line between the royal family +and the French people than any event that occurred during their reign. +It was treasured up with a hate that found no fit utterance until the +memorable Three Days of 1830; and when the insurgents stormed the +Tuileries, their cries bore evidence that fifteen years had not +diminished the bitter feeling engendered by that vindictive, +unnecessary, and most impolitic act. + +During the Hundred Days, and shortly before the battle of Waterloo, I +was, one Sunday afternoon, in the Luxembourg Garden, where the fine +weather had brought out many of the inhabitants of that quarter. The +lady I was accompanying remarked, as we walked among the crowd, "There +is Marshal Ney." He had joined the promenaders, and his object seemed to +be, like that of the others, to enjoy an hour of recreation. Probably +the next time he crossed those walks was on the way to the place of his +execution, which was between the Garden and the Boulevard. At the time +of his confinement and trial at the Luxembourg Palace, the gardens were +closed. I usually passed through them twice a week, but was now obliged +to go round them. Early one morning, I stopped at the room of a medical +student, in the vicinity, and, while there, heard a discharge of +musketry. We wondered at it, but could not conjecture its cause; and +although we spoke of the trial of Marshal Ney, we had so little reason +to suppose that his life was in jeopardy, that neither of us imagined +that volley was his death-knell. As I continued on my way, I passed +round the Boulevard, and reaching the spot I have named, I saw a few +men and women, of the lowest class, standing together, while a sentinel +paced to and fro before a wall, which was covered with mortar, and which +formed one side of the place. I turned in to the spot and inquired what +was the matter. A man replied,--"Marshal Ney has been shot here, and his +body has just been removed." I looked at the soldier, but he was gravely +going through his monotonous duty, and I knew that military rule forbade +my addressing him. I looked down; the ground was wet with blood. I +turned to the wall, and seeing it marked by balls, I attempted, with my +knife, to dig out a memorial of that day's sad work, but the soldier +motioned me away. I afterwards revisited the place, but the wall had +been plastered over, and no indications remained where the death-shot +had penetrated. + +The sensation produced by this event was profound and permanent. Many +a heart, inclined towards the Bourbons, was alienated by it forever. +Families which had rejoiced at the Restoration now cursed it in +their bitterness, and from that day dated a hostility which knew no +reconciliation. The army and the youth of France demanded, why a +soldier, whose whole life had been passed in her service, should be +sacrificed to appease a race that was a stranger to the country, and +for which it had no sympathy. A gloom spread like a funeral pall over +society, and even those who had blamed the Marshal for joining the +Emperor were now among his warmest defenders. The print-shops were +thronged with purchasers eager to possess his portrait and to hang it +in their homes, with a reverence like that attaching to the image of a +martyred saint. Had he died at Waterloo, as he led on the Imperial Guard +to their last charge, when five horses were shot under him, and his +uniform, riddled by balls, hung about him in tatters, he would not have +had such an apotheosis as was now given him, with one simultaneous +movement, by all classes of his countrymen. + +The inveterate intention of the reigning family was to obliterate every +mark that bore the impress of Napoleon. Wherever the initial of his name +had been inserted on the public edifices, it was carefully erased; his +statues were broken or removed; prints of him could not be exposed for +sale; and it appeared to be their fixed determination to drive him +from men's memories. But he had left mementos which jealousy could not +conceal nor petty malice destroy. His Code was still the law of the +land; the monuments of his genius were thickly scattered wherever his +dominion had extended; his mighty name was on every tongue; and as time +mellowed the remembrance of him, the good he had done survived and the +evil was forgotten or extenuated. + +Whoever would judge this man should consider the times which produced +him and the fearful authority he wielded. He came to take his place +among the rulers of the earth, while she was rocking with convulsions, +seeking regeneration through the baptism of blood. He came as a +connecting link between anarchy and order, an agent of destiny to act +his part in the great tragedy of revolution, the end of which is not +yet. His mission was to give a lesson to sovereigns and people, +to humble hereditary power, and to prove by his own career the +unsubstantial character of a government which deludes the popular will +that creates it. During his captivity, he understood the true causes of +his overthrow, and talked of them with an intelligence which misfortune +had saddened down into philosophy. He saw that the secret of his +reverses was not to be found in the banded confederacy of kings, but in +the forfeited sympathy of the great masses of men, who felt with him, +and moved with him, and bade him God-speed, until he abandoned the +distinctive principle which advanced him, and relinquished their +affection for royal affiances and the doubtful friendship of monarchs. +His better nature was laid aside, his common sense became merged in +court etiquette, he sacrificed his conscience to his ambition, and the +Man was forgotten in the Emperor. + +It is creditable to the world, that his divorce did more, perhaps, than +anything else to alienate the respect and attachment of mankind; and +many who could find excuses for his gravest public misdeeds can never +forgive this impiety to the household gods. + +I was most forcibly impressed with the relation between him and +Josephine, in a visit I made to Malmaison a short time subsequent to her +death, which occurred soon after his first abdication. It was the place +where they had lived together, before the imperial diadem had seared +his brain; and it was the chosen spot of her retreat, when he, "the +conqueror of kings, sank to the degradation of courting their alliance." +The house was as she left it. Not a thing had been moved, the servants +were still there, and the order and comfort of the establishment were +as though her return were momently expected. The plants she loved were +carefully tended, and her particular favorites were affectionately +pointed out. The old domestic who acted as my guide spoke low, as if +afraid of disturbing her repose, or as if the sanctity of death still +pervaded the apartments. He could not mention her without emotion; and +he told enough of her quiet, unobtrusive life, of her kindness to the +poor, of her gentleness to all about her, to account for the devotion of +her dependants. The evidences of her refined taste were everywhere, +and there were tokens that her love for her husband had survived his +injustice and desertion. After his second marriage, he occasionally +visited her, and she never allowed anything to be disturbed which +reminded her that he had been there. Books were lying open on the table +as he had left them; the chair on which he sat was still where he had +arisen from it; the flower he had plucked withered where he had dropped +it. Every article he had touched was sacred, and remained unprofaned +by other hands. Doubtless, long after he had returned to his brilliant +capital, and all remembrance of her was lost in the glittering court +assembled about the fair-haired daughter of Austria, that lone woman +wandered, in solitary sadness, through the places which had been +hallowed by his presence, and gazed on the senseless objects consecrated +by his passing attention. + +After his last abdication, he retired once more to Malmaison, where he +passed the few days that remained, until he bade a final farewell to the +scenes which he had known at the dawn of his prosperity. No man can tell +his thoughts during those lonely hours. His wife was in the palace of +her ancestors, and his child was to know him no more. He could hear the +din of marching soldiers, and the roar of distant battle, but they were +nothing to him now. His wand was broken, the spell was over, the +spirits that ministered to him had vanished, and the enchanter was left +powerless and alone. But, in the still watches of the night, a familiar +form may have stood beside him, and a well-known voice again whispered +to him in the kindly tones of by-gone years. The crown, the sceptre, the +imperial purple, the long line of kings, for which he had renounced a +woman worth them all, must have faded from his memory in the swarming +recollections of his once happy home. He could not look around him +without seeing in every object an accusing angel; and if a human heart +throbbed in his bosom, retribution came before death. + +Yet call him not up for judgment, without reflecting that his awful +elevation and the gigantic task he had assumed had perverted a heart +naturally kind and affectionate, and left him little leisure to devote +to the virtues which decorate domestic life. The numberless anecdotes +related of him, the charm with which he won to himself all whom he +attempted to conciliate, the warm attachment of those immediately about +him, tend to the belief that there was much of good in him. But his eye +was continually fixed on the star he saw blazing before him, and in his +efforts to follow its guidance, he heeded not the victims he crushed in +his onward progress. He considered men as mere instruments to extend his +dominion, and he used them with wasteful expenditure, to advance his +projects or to secure his conquests. But he was not cruel, nor was he +steeled to human misery. Had he been what he is sometimes represented, +he never could have retained the ascendency over the minds of his +followers, which, regardless of defeat and suffering and death, lived on +when even hope had gone. + +Accusatory words are easily spoken, and there is often a disposition to +condemn, without calculating the compelling motives which govern human +actions, or the height of place which has given to surrounding objects a +coloring and figure not to be measured by the ordinary rules of ethics. +Many a man who cannot bear a little brief authority without abusing it, +who lords it over a few dependants with insolent and arbitrary rule, +whose temper makes everybody uncomfortable within the limited sphere +of his government and whose petty tyranny turns his own home into a +despotic empire, can pronounce a sweeping doom against one who was +clothed with irresponsible power, who seemed elevated above the +accidents of humanity, whose audience-chamber was thronged by princes, +whose words were as the breath of life, and who dealt out kingdoms to +his kindred like the portions of a family inheritance. Let censure, +then, be tempered with charity, nor be lightly bestowed on him who will +continue to fill a space in the annals of the world when the present +shall be merged in that shadowy realm where fact becomes mingled with +fable, and the reality, dimmed by distance, shall be so transfigured by +poetry and romance, that it may even be doubted whether he ever lived. + +Seventeen years after the period which I have attempted to illustrate +by a few incidents, I stood by his grave at St. Helena. I was returning +from a long residence in the East, and, having doubled the stormy Cape +of Good Hope, looked forward with no little interest to a short repose +at the halting-place between India and Europe. But when I saw its blue +mass heaving from the ocean, the usual excitement attendant on the +cry of "Land!" was lost in the absorbing feeling, that there Napoleon +Bonaparte died and was buried. The lonely rock rose in solitary +barrenness, a bleak and mournful monument of some rude caprice of +Nature, which has thrown it out to stand in cheerless desolation amidst +the broad waters of the Atlantic. The day I passed there was devoted to +the place where the captive wore away the weary and troubled years of +his imprisonment, and to the little spot which he himself selected when +anticipating the denial of his last wish,--now fully answered,--"that +his ashes might repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of that +French people whom he had so much loved." + +There was nothing in or about the house to remind one of its late +occupant. It was used as a granary. The apartments were filled with +straw; a machine for threshing or winnowing was in the parlor; and the +room where he died was now converted into a stable, a horse standing +where his bed had been. The position was naked and comfortless, being +on the summit of a hill, perpetually swept by the trade-winds, which +suffered no living thing to stand, except a few straggling, bare, +shadeless trees, which contributed to the disconsolate character of the +landscape. The grave was in a quiet little valley. It was covered by +three plain slabs of stone, closely surrounded by an iron railing; a +low wooden paling extended a small distance around; and the whole was +overhung by three decaying willows. The appearance of the place was +plain and appropriate. Nothing was wanting to its unadorned and +affecting simplicity. Ornament could not have increased its beauty, nor +inscription have added to its solemnity. + +The mighty conqueror slept in the territory of his most inveterate foes; +but the path to his tomb was reverently trodden, and those who had stood +opposed to him in life forgot that there had been enmity between them. +Death had extinguished hostility; and the pilgrims who visited his +resting-place spoke kindly of his memory, and, hoarding some little +token, bore it to their distant homes to be prized by their posterity as +having been gathered at his grave. + +The dome of the Invalides now rises over his remains; his statue again +caps the column that commemorates his exploits; and one of his name, +advanced by the sole magic of his glory, controls, with arbitrary will +and singular ability, the destinies, not of France only, but of Europe. + +The nations which united for his overthrow now humbly bow before the +family they solemnly pledged themselves should never again taste power, +and, with ill-concealed distrust and anxiety, deprecate a resentment +that has not been weakened by years nor forgotten in alliances. + +Not to them alone has Time hastened to bring that retributive justice +which falls alike on empires and individuals. The son of "The Man" +moulders in an Austrian tomb, leaving no trace that he has lived; while +the lineal descendant of the obscure Creole, of the deposed empress, +of the divorced wife, sits on the throne of Clovis and Charlemagne, of +Capet and Bonaparte. Within the brief space of one generation, within +the limit of one man's memory, vengeance has revolved full circle; and +while the sleepless Nemesis points with unresting finger to the barren +rock and the insulted captive, she turns with meaning smile to the +borders of the Seine, where mausoleum and palace stand in significant +proximity,--the one covering the dust of the first empire, the other the +home of the triumphant grandson of Josephine. + + * * * * * + + +EPIGRAM ON J.M. + + + Said Fortune to a common spit, + "Your rust and grease I'll rid ye on, + And make ye in a twinkling fit + For Ireland's Sword of Gideon!" + + In vain! what Nature meant for base + All chance for good refuses; + M. gave one gleam, then turned apace + To dirtiest kitchen uses. + + + + +BEETHOVEN: HIS CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. + +(From Original Sources.) + + +There is upon record a remark of Mozart--probably the greatest musical +genius that ever lived--to this effect: that, if few had equalled him +in his art, few had studied it with such persevering labor and such +unremitting zeal. Every man who has attained high preëminence in +Science, Literature, or Art, would confess the same. At all events, the +greatest musical composers--Bach, Handel, Haydn, Gluck--are proofs that +no degree of genius and natural aptitude for their art is sufficient +without long-continued effort and exhaustive study of the best models of +composition. And this is the moral to be drawn from Beethoven's early +life. + +_"Voila Bonn! C'est une petite perle!"_ said the admiring Frenchwoman, +as the Cologne steamboat rounded the point below the town, and she +caught the first fair view of its bustling landing-places, its old wall, +its quaint gables, and its antique cathedral spires. A pearl among the +smaller German cities it is,--with most irregular streets, always +neat and cleanly, noble historic and literary associations, jovial +student-life, pleasant walks to the neighboring hills, delightful +excursions to the Siebengebirge and Ahrthal,--reposing peacefully upon +the left bank of the "green and rushing Rhine." Six hundred years ago, +the Archbishop-Electors of Cologne, defeated in their long quarrel with +the people of the city of perfumery, established their court at Bonn, +and made it thenceforth the political capital of the Electorate. Having +both the civil and ecclesiastical revenues at their command, the last +Electors were able to sustain courts which vied in splendor with those +of princes of far greater political power and pretensions. They could +say, with the Preacher of old, "We builded us houses; we made us gardens +and orchards, and planted trees in them of all manner of fruits"; for +the huge palace, now the seat of the Frederick-William University, and +Clemensruhe, now the College of Natural History, were erected by them +early in the last century. Like the Preacher, too, "they got them +men-singers and women-singers, and the delights of the sons of men, as +musical instruments, and that of all sorts." Music they cherished with +especial care: it gave splendor to the celebration of high mass in +chapel or cathedral; it afforded an innocent and refined recreation, in +the theatre and concert-room, to the Electors and their guests. + +In the list of singers and musicians in the employ of Clemens Augustus, +as printed in the Electoral Calendar for the years 1759-60, appears the +name, "Ludwig van Beethoven, Bassist." We know little of him, and it is +but a very probable conjecture that he was a native of Maestricht, in +Holland. That he was more than an ordinary singer is proved by the +position he held in the Chapel, and by the applause which he received +for his performances as _primo basso_ in certain of Mosigny's operas. He +was, moreover, a good musician; for he had produced operas of his own +composition, with fair success, and, upon the accession of Maximilian +Frederick to the Electorate in 1761, he was raised to the position of +Kapellmeister. He was already well advanced in life; for the same record +bears the name of his son Johann, a tenor singer. He died in 1773, and +was long afterward described by one who remembered him, as a short, +stout-built man, with exceedingly lively eyes, who used to walk with +great dignity to and from his dwelling in the Bonngasse, clad in the +fashionable red cloak of the time. Thus, too, he was quite magnificently +depicted by the court painter, Radoux, wearing a tasselled cap, +and holding a sheet of music-paper in his hand. His wife--the Frau +Kapellmeisterinn--born Josepha Poll--was not a helpmeet for him, being +addicted to strong drink, and therefore, during her last years, placed +in a convent in Cologne. + +The Bonngasse, which runs Rhineward from the lower extremity of the +Marktplatz, is, as the epithet _gasse_ implies, not one of the principal +streets of Bonn. Nor is it one of great length, notwithstanding the +numbers upon its house-fronts range so high,--for the houses of the town +are numbered in a single series, and not street by street. In 1770, +the centre of the Bonngasse was also a central point for the music and +musicians of Bonn. Kapellmeister Beethoven dwelt in No. 386, and the +next house was the abode of the Ries family. The father was one of the +Elector's chamber musicians; and his son Franz, a youth of fifteen, was +already a member of the orchestra, and by his skill upon the violin gave +promise of his future excellence. Thirty years afterward, _his_ son +became the pupil of _the_ Beethoven in Vienna. + +In No. 515, which is nearly opposite the house of Ries, lived the +Salomons. Two of the sisters were singers in the Court Theatre, and the +brother, Johann Peter, was a distinguished violinist. At a later period +he emigrated to London, gained great applause as a virtuoso, established +the concerts in which Haydn appeared as composer and director, and was +one of the founders of the celebrated London Philharmonic Society. + +It is common in Bonn to build two houses, one behind the other, upon the +same piece of ground, leaving a small court between them,--access to +that in the rear being obtained through the one which fronts upon the +street. This was the case where the Salomons dwelt, and to the rear +house, in November, 1767, Johann van Beethoven brought his newly married +wife, Helena Keverich, of Coblentz, widow of Nicolas Laym, a former +valet of the Elector. + +It is near the close of 1770. Helena has experienced "the pleasing +punishment that women bear," but "remembereth no more the anguish for +joy that a man is born into the world." Her joy is the greater, because +last year, in April, she buried, in less than a week after his birth, +her first-born, Ludwig Maria,--as the name still stands upon the +baptismal records of the parish of St. Remigius, with the names of +Kapellmeister Beethoven, and the next-door neighbor, Frau Loher, as +sponsors. This second-born is a strong, healthy child, and his baptism +is recorded in the same parish-book, Dec. 17, 1770,--the day of, +possibly the day after, his birth,--by the name of Ludwig. The +Kapellmeister is again godfather, but Frau Gertrude Müller, _née_ Baum, +next door on the other side, is the godmother. The Beethovens had +neither kith nor kin in Bonn; the families Ries and Salomon, their +intimate friends, were Israelites; hence the appearance of the +neighbors, Frauen Loher and Müller, at the ceremony of baptism;--a +strong corroborative evidence, that No. 515, Bonngasse, was the actual +birth-place of Beethoven. + +The child grew apace, and in manhood his earliest and proudest +recollections, save of his mother, were of the love and affection +lavished upon him, the only grandchild, by the Kapellmeister. He had +just completed his third year when the old man died, and the bright sun +which had shone upon his infancy, and left an ineffaceable impression +upon the child's memory, was obscured. Johann van Beethoven had +inherited his mother's failing, and its effects were soon visible in the +poverty of the family. He left the Bonngasse for quarters in that +house in the Rheingasse, near the upper steamboat-landing, which now +erroneously bears the inscription, _Ludwig van Beethovens Geburtshaus_. + +His small inheritance was soon squandered; his salary as singer was +small, and at length even the portrait of his father went to the +pawnbroker. In the April succeeding the Kapellmeister's death, the +expenses of Johann's family were increased by the birth of another +son,--Caspar Anton Carl; and to this event Dr. Wegeler attributes the +unrelenting perseverance of the father in keeping little Ludwig from +this time to his daily lessons upon the piano-forte. Both Wegeler and +Burgomaster Windeck of Bonn, sixty years afterward, remembered how, as +boys, visiting a playmate in another house across the small court, they +often "saw little Louis, his labors and sorrows." Cecilia Fischer, too, +a playmate of Beethoven in his early childhood, and living in the same +house in her old age, "still saw the little boy standing upon a low +footstool and practising his father's lessons," in tears. + +What indications, if any, the child had given of remarkable musical +genius, we do not know,--not one of the many anecdotes bearing upon this +point having any trustworthy foundation in fact. Probably the father +discovered in him that which awakened the hope of some time rivalling +the then recent career of Leopold Mozart with little Wolfgang, or at +least saw reason to expect as much success with his son as had rewarded +the efforts of his neighbor Ries with his Franz; at all events, we have +the testimony of Beethoven himself, that "already in his fourth year +music became his principal employment,"--and this it continued to be to +the end. Yet, as he grew older, his education in other respects was not +neglected. He passed through the usual course of boys of his time, not +destined for the universities, in the public schools of the city, even +to the acquiring of some knowledge of Latin. The French language was, as +it still is, a necessity to every person of the Rhine provinces above +the rank of peasant; and Beethoven became able to converse in it with +reasonable fluency, even after years of disuse and almost total loss of +hearing. It has also been stated that he knew enough of English to read +it; but this is more than doubtful. In fact, as a schoolboy, he made the +usual progress,--no more, no less. + +In music it was otherwise. The child Mozart seems alone to have equalled +or surpassed the child Beethoven. Ludwig soon exhausted his father's +musical resources, and became the pupil of Pfeiffer, chorist in the +Electoral Orchestra, a genial and kind-hearted man, and so good a +musician as afterward to be appointed band-master to a Bavarian +regiment. Beethoven always held him in grateful and affectionate +remembrance, and in the days of his prosperity in Vienna sent him +pecuniary aid. His next teacher was Van der Eder, court organist,--a +proof that the boy's progress was very rapid, as this must have been the +highest school that Bonn could offer. With this master he studied the +organ. When Van der Eder retired from office, his successor, Christian +Gottlob Neefe, succeeded him also as instructor of his remarkable pupil. + +Wegeler and Schindler, writing several years after the great composer's +death, state, that, of these three instructors, he considered himself +most indebted to Pfeiffer, declaring that he had profited little or +nothing by his studies with Neefe, of whose severe criticisms upon his +boyish efforts in composition he complained. These statements have +hitherto been unquestioned. Without doubting the veracity of the two +authors, it may well be asked, whether the great master may not have +relied too much upon the impressions received in childhood, and thus +unwittingly have done injustice to Neefe. The appointment of that +musician as organist to the Electoral Court bears date February 15, +1781, when Ludwig had but just completed his tenth year, and the sixth +year of his musical studies. These six years had been divided between +three different instructors,--his father, Pfeiffer, and Van der Eder; +and during the last part of the time, music could have been but the +extra study of a schoolboy. That the two or three years, during which at +the most he was a pupil of Pfeiffer, and that, too, when he was but +six or eight years of age, were of more value to him in his artistic +development than the years from the age of ten onward, during which he +studied with Neefe, certainly seems an absurd idea. That the chorist may +have laid a foundation for his future remarkable execution, and have +fostered and developed his love for music, is very probable; but that +the great Beethoven's marvellous powers in higher spheres of the art +were in any great degree owing to him, we cannot credit. Happily, we +have some data for forming a judgment upon this point, unknown both to +Wegeler and Schindler, when they wrote. + +Neefe was, if not a man of genius, of very respectable talents, +a learned and accomplished organist and composer, as a violinist +respectable, even in a corps which included Reicha, Romberg, Ries. He +had been reared in the severe Saxon school of the Bachs, and before +coming to Bonn had had much experience as music director of an operatic +company. He knew the value of the maxim, _Festina lente_, and was wise +enough to understand, that no lofty and enduring structure can be +reared, unless the foundations are broad and deep,--that sound and +exhaustive study of canon, fugue, and counterpoint is as necessary to +the highest development of musical genius as mathematics, philosophy, +and logic are to that of the scientific and literary man. He at once saw +and appreciated the marvellous powers of Johann van Beethoven's son, and +adopted a plan with him, whose aim was, not to make him a mere youthful +prodigy, but a great musician and composer in manhood. That, with this +end in view, he should have criticized the boy's crude compositions with +some severity was perfectly natural; equally so that the petted and +bepraised boy should have felt these criticisms keenly. But the +severity of the master was no more than a necessary counterpoise to the +injudicious praise of others. That Beethoven, however he may have spoken +of Neefe to Wegeler and Schindler, did at times have a due consciousness +of his obligations to his old master, is proved by a letter which he +wrote to him from Vienna, during the first transports of joy and delight +at finding himself the object of universal wonder and commendation +in the musical circles of the great capital. He thanks Neefe for the +counsels which had guided him in his studies, and adds, "Should I ever +become a great man, it will in part be owing to you." + +The following passage from an account of the virtuosos in the service of +the Elector at Bonn, written in 1782, when Beethoven had been with Neefe +but little more than a year, and which we unhesitatingly, attribute to +the pen of Neefe himself, will give an idea of the course of instruction +adopted by the master, and his hopes and expectations for the future +of his pupil. It is, moreover, interesting, as being the first public +notice of him who for half a century has exercised more pens than any +other artist. The writer closes his list of musicians and singers +thus:-- + +"Louis van Beethoven, son of the above-named tenorist, a boy of eleven +years, and of most promising talents. He plays the piano-forte with +great skill and power, reads exceedingly well at sight, and, to say all +in a word, plays nearly the whole of Sebastian Bach's 'Wohltemperirtes +Klavier,' placed in his hands by Herr Neefe. Whoever is acquainted with +this collection of preludes and fugues in every key (which one can +almost call the _non plus ultra_ of music) knows well what this implies. +Herr Neefe has also, so far as his other duties allowed, given him +some instruction in thorough-bass. At present he is exercising him +in composition, and for his encouragement has caused nine variations +composed by him for the piano-forte upon a march[A] to be engraved at +Mannheim. This young genius certainly deserves such assistance as will +enable him to travel. He will assuredly become a second Wolfgang Amadeus +Mozart, should he continue as he has begun. + +[Footnote A: The variations upon a march by Dressler.] + + "'Wem er geneigt, dem sendet der Vater der + Menschen und Götter + Seinen Adler herab, trägt ihn zu himmlischen + Höh'n und welches + Haupt ihm gefällt um das flicht er mit + liebenden Händen den Lorbeer.' + Schiller." + +In the mere grammar of musical composition the pupil required little of +his master. We have Beethoven's own words to prove this, scrawled at the +end of the thorough-bass exercises, afterward performed, when studying +with Albrechtsberger. "Dear friends," he writes, "I have taken all this +trouble, simply to be able to figure my basses correctly, and some +time, perhaps, to instruct others. As to errors, I hardly needed to +learn this for my own sake. From my childhood I have had so fine a +musical sense, that I wrote correctly without knowing that it _must_ be +so, or _could_ be otherwise." + +Neefe's object, therefore,--as was Haydn's at a subsequent period,--was +to give his pupil that mastery of musical form and of his instrument, +which should enable him at once to perceive the value of a musical idea +and its most appropriate treatment. The result was, that the tones of +his piano-forte became to the youth a language in which his highest, +deepest, subtilest musical ideas were expressed by his fingers as +instantaneously and with as little thought of the mere style and manner +of their expression as are the intellectual ideas of the thoroughly +trained rhetorician in words. + +The good effect of the course pursued by Neefe with his pupil is visible +in the next published production--save a song or two--of the boy;--the + +"Three Sonatas for the Piano-forte, composed and dedicated to the most +Reverend Archbishop and Elector of Cologne, Maximilian Frederick, my +most gracious Lord, by LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN, _Aged eleven years_." + +We cannot resist the temptation to add the comically bombastic +Dedication of these Sonatas to the Elector, which may very possibly have +been written by Neefe, who loved to see himself in print. + +"DEDICATION + +"MOST EXALTED! + +"Already in my fourth year Music began to be the principal employment of +my youth. Thus early acquainted with the Lovely Muse, who tuned my soul +to pure harmonies, she won my love, and, as I oft have felt, gave me +hers in return. I have now completed my eleventh year; and my Muse, in +the hours consecrated to her, oft whispers to me, 'Try for once, and +write down the harmonies in thy soul!'--'Eleven years!' thought I,--'and +how should I carry the dignity of authorship? What would _men_ in the +art say?'--My timidity had nearly conquered. But my Muse willed it:--I +obeyed and wrote. + +"And now dare I, Most Illustrious! venture to lay the first fruits of my +youthful labors at the steps of _Thy_ throne? And dare I hope that Thou +wilt deign to cast upon them the mild, paternal glance of Thy cheering +approbation? Oh, yes! for Science and Art have ever found in Thee a wise +patron and a magnanimous promoter, and germinating talent its prosperity +under Thy kind, paternal care. + +"Filled with this animating trust, I venture to draw near to _Thee_ +with these youthful efforts. Accept them as a pure offering of childish +reverence, and look down graciously, Most Exalted! upon them and their +young author, + +"LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN." + +"These Sonatas," says a most competent critic,[B] "for a boy's work, +are, indeed, remarkable. They are _bonâ fide_ compositions. There is no +vagueness about them.... He has ideas positive and well pronounced, +and he proceeds to develope them in a manner at once spontaneous and +logical.... Verily the boy possessed the vital secret of the Sonata +form; he had seized its organic principle." + +[Footnote B: J.S. Dwight.] + +Ludwig has become an author! His talents are known and appreciated +everywhere in Bonn. He is the pet of the musical circle in which he +moves,--in danger of being spoiled. Yet now, when the character is +forming, and those habits, feelings, tastes are becoming developed and +fixed, which are to go with him through life, he can look to his father +neither for example nor counsel. He idolizes his mother; but she is +oppressed with the cares of a family, suffering through the improvidence +and bad habits of its head, and though she had been otherwise situated, +the widow of Laym, the Elector's valet, could hardly be the proper +person to fit the young artist for future intercourse with the higher +ranks of society. + +In the large, handsome brick house still standing opposite the minster +in Bonn, on the east side of the public square, where now stands the +statue of Beethoven, dwelt the widow and children of Hofrath von +Breuning. Easy in their circumstances, highly educated, of literary +habits, and familiar with polite life, the family was among the first in +the city. The four children were not far from Beethoven's age; Eleonore, +the daughter, and Lenz, the third son, were young enough to become +his pupils. In this family it was Ludwig's good fortune to become a +favorite, and "here," says Wegeler, who afterward married Eleonore, "he +made his first acquaintance with German literature, especially with the +poets, and here first had opportunity to gain the cultivation necessary +for social life." + +He was soon treated by the Von Breunings as a son and brother, passing +not only most of his days, but many of his nights, at their house, and +sometimes spending his vacations with them at their country-seat in +Kerpen,--a small town on the great road from Cologne to Aix la Chapelle. +With them he felt free and unrestrained, and everything tended at the +same time to his happiness and his intellectual development. Nor was +music neglected. The members of the family were all musical, and +Stephen, the eldest son, sometimes played in the Electoral Orchestra. + +No person possessed so strong an influence upon the oft-times stubborn +and wilful boy as the Frau von Breuning. She best knew how to bring him +back to the performance of his duty, when neglectful of his pupils; and +when she, with gentle force, had made him cross the square to the house +of the Austrian ambassador, Count Westfall, to give the promised lesson, +and saw him, after hesitating for a time at the door, suddenly fly +back, unable to overcome his dislike to lesson-giving, she would bear +patiently with him, merely shrugging her shoulders and remarking, +"To-day he has his _raptus_ again!" The poverty at home and his love for +his mother alone enabled him ever to master this aversion. + +To the Breunings, then, we are indebted for that love of Plutarch, +Homer, Shakspeare, Goethe, and whatever gives us noble pictures of that +greatness of character which we term "heroic," that enabled the future +composer to stir up within us all the finest and noblest emotions, +as with the wand of a magician. The boy had an inborn love of the +beautiful, the tender, the majestic, the sublime, in nature, in art, and +in literature,--together with a strong sense of the humorous and even +comic. With the Breunings all these qualities were cultivated and in +the right direction. To them the musical world owes a vast debt of +gratitude. + +Beethoven was no exception to the rule, that only a great man can be a +great artist. True, in his later years his correspondence shows at +times an ignorance of the rules of grammar and orthography; but it also +proves, what may be determined from a thousand other indications, that +he was a deep thinker, and that he had a mind of no small degree of +cultivation, as it certainly was one of great intellectual power. Had he +devoted his life to any other profession than music,--to law, theology, +science, or letters,--he would have attained high eminence, and +enrolled himself among the great. + +But we have anticipated a little, and now turn back to an event which +occurred soon after he had completed his thirteenth year, and which +proved in its consequences of the highest moment to him,--the death +of the Elector, which took place on the 15th of April, 1784. He was +succeeded by Maximilian Francis, Bishop of Münster, Grand Master of +the Teutonic Order, a son of the Emperor Francis and Maria Theresa of +Austria. + +A word upon this family of imperial musicians may, perhaps, be pardoned. +It was Charles VI., the father of Maria Theresa, a composer of canons +and music for the harpsichord, who, upon being complimented by his +Kapellmeister as being well able to officiate as a music-director, dryly +observed, "Upon the whole, however, I like my present position better!" +His daughter sang an air upon the stage of the Court Theatre in her +fifth year; and in 1739, just before her accession to the imperial +dignity, being in Florence, she sang a duet with Senesino--of Handelian +memory--with such grace and splendor of voice, that the tears rolled +down the old man's cheeks. In all her wars and amid all the cares of +state, Maria Theresa never ceased to cherish music. Her children were +put under the best instructors, and made thorough musicians;--Joseph, +whom Mozart so loved, though the victim of his shabby treatment; Maria +Antoinette, the patron of Gluck and the head of his party in Paris; Max +Franz, with whom we now have to do,--and so forth. + +Upon learning the death of Max Frederick, his successor hastened to Bonn +to assume the Archiepiscopal and Electoral dignities, with which he +was formally invested in the spring of 1785. In the train of the new +Elector, who was still in the prime of life, was the Austrian Count +Waldstein, his favorite and constant companion. Waldstein, like his +master, was more than an amateur,--he was a fine practical musician. The +promising pupil of Neefe was soon brought to his notice, and his talents +and attainments excited in him an extraordinary interest. Coming from +Vienna, where Mozart and Haydn were in the full tide of their success, +where Gluck's operas were heard with rapture, and where in the second +rank of musicians and composers were such names as Salieri, Righini, +Anfossi, and Martini, Waldstein could well judge of the promise of the +boy. He foresaw at once his future greatness, and gave him his favor +and protection. He, in some degree, at least, relieved him from the dry +rules of Neefe, and taught him the art of varying a theme _extempore_ +and carrying it out to its highest development. He had patience and +forbearance with the boy's failings and foibles, and, to relieve his +necessities, gave him money, sometimes as gifts of his own, sometimes as +gratifications from the Elector. + +As soon as Maximilian was installed in his new dignity, Waldstein +procured for Ludwig the appointment of assistant court organist;--not +that Neefe needed him, but that he needed the small salary attached to +the place. From this time to the downfall of the Electorate, his name +follows that of Neefe in the annual Court Calendar. + +Wegeler and others have preserved a variety of anecdotes which +illustrate the skill and peculiarities of the young organist at this +period, but we have not space for them;--moreover, our object is rather +to convey some distinct idea of the training which made him what every +lover of music knows he afterward became. + +Maximilian Francis was as affable and generous as he was passionately +fond of music. A newspaper of the day records, that he used to walk +about the streets of Bonn like any other citizen, and early became very +popular with all classes. He often took part in the concerts at the +palace, as upon a certain occasion when "Duke Albert played violin, the +Elector viola, and Countess Belderbusch piano-forte," in a trio. He +enlarged his orchestra, and, through his relations with the courts at +Vienna, Paris, and other capitals, kept it well supplied with all the +new publications of the principal composers of the day,--Mozart, Haydn, +Gluck, Pleyel, and others. + +No better school, therefore, for a young musician could there well have +been than that in which Beethoven was now placed. While Neefe took care +that he continued his study of the great classic models of organ +and piano-forte composition, he was constantly hearing the best +ecclesiastical, orchestral, and chamber music, forming his taste upon +the best models, and acquiring a knowledge of what the greatest masters +had accomplished in their several directions. But as time passed on, he +felt the necessity of a still larger field of observation, and, in the +autumn of 1786, Neefe's wish that his pupil might travel was fulfilled. +He obtained--mainly, it is probable, from the Elector, through the good +offices of Waldstein--the means of making the journey to Vienna, +then the musical capital of the world, to place himself under the +instructions of Mozart, then the master of all living masters. Few +records have fallen under our notice, which throw light upon this visit. +Seyfried, and Holmes, after him, relate the surprise of Mozart at +hearing the boy, now just sixteen years of age, treat an intricate fugue +theme, which he gave him, and his prophecy, that "that young man would +some day make himself heard of in the world!" + +It is said that Beethoven in after life complained of never having heard +his master play. The complaint must have been, that Mozart never played +to him in private; for it is absurd to suppose that he attended none +of the splendid series of concerts which his master gave during that +winter. + +The mysterious brevity of this first visit of Beethoven to Vienna we +find fully explained in a letter, of which we give a more literal than +elegant translation. It is the earliest specimen of the composer's +correspondence which has come under our notice, and was addressed to a +certain Dr. Schade, an advocate of Augsburg, where the young man seems +to have tarried some days upon his journey. + +"Bonn, September 15, 1787. + +"HONORED AND MOST VALUED FRIEND! + +"What you must think of me I can easily conceive; nor can I deny that +you have well-grounded reasons for looking upon me in an unfavorable +light; but I will not ask you to excuse me, until I have made known the +grounds upon which I dare hope my apologies will find acceptance. I must +confess, that, from the moment of leaving Augsburg, my happiness, and +with it my health, began to leave me; the nearer I drew toward my native +city, the more numerous were the letters of my father, which met me, +urging me onward, as the condition of my mother's health was critical. +I hastened forward, therefore, with all possible expedition, for I was +myself much indisposed; but the longing I felt to see my sick mother +once more made all hindrances of little account, and aided me in +overcoming all obstacles. + +"I found her still alive, but in a most pitiable condition. She was in +a consumption, and finally, about seven weeks since, after enduring the +extremes of pain and suffering, died. She was to me such a good and +loving mother,--my best of friends! + +"Oh, who would be so happy as I, could I still speak the sweet name, +'Mother,' and have her hear it! And to whom _can_ I now speak? To the +dumb, but lifelike pictures which my imagination calls up. + +"During the whole time since I reached home, few have been my hours of +enjoyment. All this time I have been afflicted with asthma, and the fear +is forced upon me that it may end in consumption. Moreover, the state +of melancholy in which I now am is almost as great a misfortune as my +sickness itself. + +"Imagine yourself in my position for a moment, and I doubt not that I +shall receive your forgiveness for my long silence. As to the three +Carolins which you had the extraordinary kindness and friendship to lend +me in Augsburg, I must beg your indulgence still for a time. My journey +has cost me a good deal, and I have no compensation--not even the +slightest--to hope in return. Fortune is not propitious to me here in +Bonn. + +"You will forgive me for detaining you so long with my babble; it is all +necessary to my apology. I pray you not to refuse me the continuance of +your valuable friendship, since there is nothing I so much desire as to +make myself in some degree worthy of it. I am, with all respect, your +most obedient servant and friend, + + "L. v. BEETHOVEN, + + "Court Organist to the Elector of Cologne." + +We know also from other sources the extreme poverty in which the +Beethoven family was at this period sunk. In its extremity, at the time +when the mother died, Franz Ries, the violinist, came to its assistance, +and his kindness was not forgotten by Ludwig. When Ferdinand, the son +of this Ries, reached Vienna in the autumn of 1800, and presented his +father's letter, Beethoven said,--"I cannot answer your father yet; but +write and tell him that I have not forgotten the death of my mother. +That will fully satisfy him." + +Young Beethoven, therefore, had little time for illness. His father +barely supported himself, and the sustenance of his two little brothers, +respectively twelve and thirteen years of age, devolved upon him. He +was, however, equal to his situation. He played his organ still,--the +instrument which was then above all others to his taste; he entered +the Orchestra as player upon the viola; received the appointment of +chamber-musician--pianist--to the Elector; and besides all this, +engaged in the detested labor of teaching. It proves no small energy +of character, that the motherless youth of seventeen, "afflicted with +asthma," which he was "fearful might end in consumption," struggling +against a "state of melancholy, almost as great a misfortune as sickness +itself," succeeded in overcoming all, and securing the welfare of +himself, his father, and his brothers. When he left Bonn finally, five +years later, Carl, then eighteen, could support himself by teaching +music, and Johann was apprenticed to the court apothecary; while the +father appears to have had a comfortable subsistence provided for +him,--although no longer an active member of the Electoral Chapel,--for +the few weeks which, as it happened, remained of his life. + +The scattered notices which are preserved of Beethoven, during this +period, are difficult to arrange in a chronological order. We read of a +joke played at the expense of Heller, the principal tenor singer of the +Chapel, in which that singer, who prided himself upon his firmness in +pitch, was completely bewildered by a skilful modulation of the boy +upon the piano-forte, and forced to stop;--of the music to a chivalrous +ballad, performed by the noblemen attached to the court, of which for a +long time Count Waldstein was the reputed author, but which in fact was +the work of his _protégé;_--and there are other anecdotes, probably +familiar to most readers, showing the great skill and science which he +already exhibited in his performance of chamber music in the presence of +the Elector. + +We see him intimate as ever in the Breuning family, mingling familiarly +with the best society of Bonn, which he met at their house,--and even +desperately in love! First it is with Fraülein Jeannette d'Honrath, of +Cologne, a beautiful and lively blonde, of pleasing manners, sweet and +gentle disposition, an ardent lover of music, and an agreeable singer, +who often came to Bonn and spent weeks with the Breunings. She seems to +have played the coquette a little, both with our young artist and his +friend Stephen. It is not difficult to imagine the effect upon the +sensitive and impulsive Ludwig, when the beautiful girl, nodding to him +in token of its application, sang in tender accents the then popular +song,-- + + "Mich heute noch von dir zu trennen, + Und dieses nicht verhindern können, + Ist zu empfindlich für mein Herz." + +She saw fit, however, to marry an Austrian, Carl Greth, a future +commandant at Temeswar, and her youthful lover was left to console +himself by transferring his affections to another beauty, Fraülein W. + +We behold him in the same select circle, cultivating his talent for +improvising upon the piano-forte, by depicting in music the characters +of friends and acquaintances, and generally in such a manner that the +company had no difficulty in guessing the person intended. On one +of these occasions, Franz Ries was persuaded to take his violin and +improvise an accompaniment to his friend's improvisation, which he did +so successfully, that, long afterwards, he more than once ventured to +attempt the same in public, with his son Ferdinand. + +Professor Wurzer, of Marburg, who well knew Beethoven in his youth, +gives us a glimpse of him sitting at the organ. On a pleasant summer +afternoon, when the artist was about twenty years of age, he, with some +companions, strolled out to Godesberg. Here they met Wurzer, who, in the +course of the conversation, mentioned that the church of the convent of +Marienforst--behind the village of Godesberg--had been repaired, and +that a new organ had been procured, or perhaps that the old one had been +put in order and perfected. Beethoven must needs try it. The key was +procured from the prior, and the friends gave him themes to vary and +work out, which he did with such skill and beauty, that at length the +peasants engaged below in cleaning the church, one after another, +dropped their brooms and brushes, forgetting everything else in their +wonder and delight. + +In 1790, an addition was made to the Orchestra, most important in its +influence upon the artistic progress of Beethoven, as he was thus +brought into daily intercourse with two young musicians, already +distinguished virtuosos upon their respective instruments. The Elector +made frequent visits to other cities of his diocese, often taking a part +or the whole of his Chapel with him. Upon his return that summer from +Münster, he brought with him the two virtuosos in question. Andreas +Romberg, the violinist, and now celebrated composer, and his cousin +Bernhard, the greatest violoncellist of his age. With these two +young men Beethoven was often called to the palace for the private +entertainment of Maximilian. Very probably, upon one of these occasions, +was performed that trio not published until since the death of its +composer--"the second movement of which," says Schindler, "may be looked +upon as the embryo of all Beethoven's scherzos," while "the third is, in +idea and form, of the school of Mozart,--a proof how early he made that +master his idol." We know that it was composed at this period, and that +its author considered it his highest attempt then in free composition. + +A few words must be given to the Electoral Orchestra, that school in +which Beethoven laid the foundation of his prodigious knowledge of +instrumental and orchestral effects, as in the chamber-music at the +palace he learned the unrivalled skill which distinguishes his efforts +in that branch of the art. + +The Kapellmeister, in 1792, was Andrea Lucchesi, a native of Motta, in +the Venetian territory, a fertile and accomplished composer in most +styles. The concert-master was Joseph Reicha, a virtuoso upon the +violoncello, a very fine conductor, and no mean composer. The violins +were sixteen in number; among them were Franz Ries, Neefe, +Anton Reicha,--afterward the celebrated director of the Paris +Conservatoire,--and Andreas Romberg; violas four, among them Ludwig +van Beethoven; violoncellists three, among them Bernhard Romberg; +contrabassists also three. There were two oboes, two flutes,--one of +them played by another Anton Reicha,--two clarinets, two horns,--one by +Simrock, a celebrated player, and founder of the music-publishing house +of that name still existing in Bonn,--three bassoons, four trumpets, and +the usual tympani. + +Fourteen of the forty-three musicians were soloists upon their several +instruments; some half a dozen of them were already known as composers. +Four years, at the least, of service in such an orchestra may well be +considered of all schools the best in which Beethoven could have been +placed. Let his works decide. + +Our article shall close with some pictures photographed in the sunshine +which gilded the closing years of Beethoven's Bonn life. They illustrate +the character of the man and of the people with whom he lived and moved. + +In 1791, in that beautiful season of the year in Central Europe, when +the heats of summer are past and the autumn rains not yet set in, the +Elector journeyed to Mergentheim, to hold, in his capacity of Grand +Master, a convocation of the Teutonic Order. The leading singers of +his Chapel, and some twenty members of the Orchestra, under Ries as +director, followed in two large barges. Before, starting upon the +expedition, the company assembled and elected a king. The dignity was +conferred upon Joseph Lux, the bass singer and comic actor, who, in +distributing the offices of his court, appointed Ludwig van Beethoven +and Bernhard Romberg scullions! + +A glorious time and a merry they had of it, following slowly the +windings of the Rhine and the Main, now impelled by the wind, now drawn +by horses, against the swift current, in this loveliest time of the +year. + +In those days, when steamboats were not, such a voyage was slow, and not +seldom in a high degree tedious. With such a company the want of speed +was a consideration of no importance, and the memory of this journey was +in after years among Beethoven's brightest. Those who know the Rhine and +the Main can easily conceive that this should be so. The route embraced +the whole extent of the famous highlands of the former river, from +the Drachenfels and Rolandseek to the heights of the Niederwald above +Rüdesheim, and that lovely section of the latter which divides the hills +of the Odenwald from those of Spessart. The voyagers passed a thousand +points of local and historic interest. The old castles--among them +Stolzenfels and the Brothers--looked down upon them from their rocky +heights, as long afterwards upon the American, Paul Flemming, when he +journeyed, sick at heart, along the Rhine, toward ancient Heidelberg. +Quaint old cities--Andernach, with "the Christ," Coblentz, home of +Beethoven's mother, Boppard, Bacharach, Bingen--welcomed them; Mainz, +the Electoral city, and Frankfurt, seat of the Empire. And still beyond, +on the banks of the Main, Offenbach, Hanau, Aschaffenburg, and so onward +to Wertheim, where they left the Main and ascended the small river +Tauber to their place of destination. + +Among the places at which they landed and made merry upon the journey +was the Niederwald. Here King Lux advanced Beethoven to a more honorable +position in his court, and gave him a diploma, dated from the heights +above Rüdesheim, attesting his appointment to the new dignity. To this +important document was attached, by threads ravelled from a boat-sail, +a huge seal of pitch, pressed into a small box-cover, which gave +the instrument a right imposing look,--like the Golden Bull in the +Römer-Saal at Frankfurt. This diploma from His Comic Majesty Beethoven +carried with him to Vienna, where Wegeler saw it several years afterward +carefully preserved. + +At Aschaffenburg, the summer residence of the Electors of Mainz, Ries, +Simrock, and the two Rombergs took Beethoven with them to call upon the +great pianist, Sterkel. The master received the young men kindly, and +gratified them with a specimen of his powers. His style was in the +highest degree graceful and pleasing,--as Father Ries described it to +Wegeler, "somewhat lady-like." While he played, Beethoven stood by, +listening with the most eager attention, doubtless silently comparing +the effects produced by the player with those belonging to his own +style, which was rather rough and hard, owing to his constant practice +upon the organ. It is said that this was his first opportunity of +hearing any distinguished virtuoso upon the piano-forte,--a mistake, +we think, for he must have heard Mozart in Vienna, as before remarked. +Still, the delicacy of Sterkel's style may well have been a new +revelation to him of the powers of the instrument. Upon leaving the +piano-forte, the master invited his young visitor to take his place. +Beethoven was naturally diffident, and was not to be prevailed with, +until Sterkel intimated a doubt whether he could play his own very +difficult variations upon the air, "Vieni, Amore," which had then just +been published. Thus touched in a tender spot, the young author sat down +and played such as he could remember,--no copy being at hand,--and +then improvised several others, equally, if not more difficult, to the +surprise both of Sterkel and his friends. "What raised our surprise to +real astonishment," said Ries, as he related the story, "was, that the +impromptu variations were in precisely that graceful, pleasing style +which he had just heard for the first time." + +Upon reaching Mergentheim, music, and ever music, became the order of +the day for King Lux and his merry subjects. Most fortunately for the +admirers of Beethoven, we have a minute account of two days (October 11 +and 12) spent there, by a competent and trustworthy musical critic of +that period,--a man not the less welcome to us for possessing something +of the flunkeyism of old Diarist Pepys and Corsica Boswell. We shall +quote somewhat at length from his letter, since it has hitherto come +under the notice of none of the biographers, and yet gives us so lively +a picture of young Beethoven and his friends. + +"On the very first day," writes Junker, "I heard the small band which +plays at dinner, during the stay of the Elector at Mergentheim. The +instruments are two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, and two horns. +These eight performers may well be called masters in their art. One can +rarely hear music of the kind, distinguished by such perfect unity +of effect and such sympathy with each other in the performers, and +especially in which so high a degree of exactness and perfection of +style is reached. This band appeared to me to differ from all others +I have heard in this,--that it plays music of a higher order; on this +occasion, for instance, it gave an arrangement of Mozart's overture to +'Don Juan.'" + +It would be interesting to know what, if any, of the works of Beethoven +for wind-instruments belong to this period of his life. + +"Soon after the dinner-music," continues our writer, "the play began. It +was the opera, 'King Theodor,' music by Paisiello. The part of _Theodor_ +was sung by Herr Nüdler, a powerful singer in tragic scenes, and a good +actor. _Achmet_ was given by Herr Spitzeder,--a good bass singer, but +with too little action, and not always quite true,--in short, too cold. +The inn-keeper was Herr Lux, a very good bass, and the best actor,--a +man created for the comic. The part of _Lizette_ was taken by Demoiselle +Willmann. She sings in excellent taste, has very great power of +expression, and a lively, captivating action. Herr Mändel, in +_Sandrino,_ proved himself also a very fine and pleasing singer. The +orchestra was surpassingly good,--especially in its _piano_ and _forte_, +and its careful _crescendo._ Herr Ries, that remarkable reader of +scores, that great player, directed with his violin. He is a man who may +well be placed beside Cannabich, and by his powerful and certain tones +he gave life and soul to the whole.... + +"The next morning, (October 12,) at ten o'clock, the rehearsal for the +concert began, which was to be given at court at six in the afternoon. +Herr Welsch (oboist) had the politeness to invite me to be present. I +was held at the lodgings of Herr Ries, who received me with a hearty +shake of the hand. Here I was an eye-witness of the gentlemanly bearing +of the members of the Chapel toward each other. One heart, one mind +rules them. 'We know nothing of the cabals and chicanery so common; +among us the most perfect unanimity prevails; we, as members of one +company, cherish for each other a fraternal affection,' said Simrock to +me. + +"Here also I was an eye-witness to the esteem and respect in which this +chapel stands with the Elector. Just as the rehearsal was to begin, Ries +was sent for by the prince, and upon his return brought a bag of gold. +'Gentlemen,' said he, 'this being the Elector's name-day, he sends you a +present of a thousand thalers.' + +"And again I was eye-witness of this orchestra's surpassing excellence. +Herr Winneberger, Kapellmeister at Wallenstein, laid before it a +symphony of his own composition, which was by no means easy of +execution, especially for the wind instruments, which had several solos +_concertante_. It went finely, however, at the first trial, to the great +surprise of the composer. + +"An hour after the dinner-music, the concert began. It was opened with +a symphony of Mozart; then followed a recitative and air, sung by +Simonetti; next a violincello concerto, played by Herr Romberger +(Bernhard Romberg); fourthly, a symphony, by Pleyel; fifthly, an air by +Righini, sung by Simonette; sixthly, a double concerto for violin and +violoncello, played by the two Rombergs; and the closing piece was the +symphony by Winneberger, which had very many brilliant passages. The +opinion already expressed as to the performance of this orchestra was +confirmed. It was not possible to attain a higher degree of exactness. +Such perfection in the _pianos, fortes, rinforzandos_,--such a swelling +and gradual increase of tone, and then such an almost imperceptible +dying away, from the most powerful to the lightest accents,--all this +was formerly to be heard only at Mannheim. It would be difficult to find +another orchestra in which the violins and basses are throughout in such +excellent hands." + +We pass over Junker's enthusiastic description of the two Rombergs, +merely remarking, that every word in his account of them is fully +confirmed by the musical periodical press of Europe during the entire +periods of thirty and fifty years of their respective lives after the +date of the letter before us,--and that their playing was undoubtedly +the standard Beethoven had in view, when afterward writing passages for +bowed instruments, which so often proved stumbling-blocks to orchestras +of no small pretensions. What Junker himself saw of the harmony and +brotherly love which marked the social intercourse of the members of +the Chapel was confirmed to him by the statements of others. He adds, +respecting their personal bearing towards others,--"The demeanor of +these gentlemen is very fine and unexceptionable. They are all people of +great elegance of manner and of blameless lives. Greater discretion of +conduct can nowhere be found. At the concert, the ill-starred performers +were so crowded, so incommoded by the multitude of auditors, so +surrounded and pressed upon, as hardly to have room to move their arms, +and the sweat rolled down their faces in great drops. But they bore all +this calmly and with good-humor; not an ill-natured face was visible +among them. At the court of some little prince, we should have seen, +under the circumstances, folly heaped upon folly. + +"The members of the Chapel, almost without exception, are in their best +years, glowing with health, men of culture and fine personal appearance. +They form truly a fine sight, when one adds the splendid uniform in +which the Elector has clothed them,--red, and richly trimmed with gold." + +And now for the impression which Beethoven, just completing his +twenty-first year, made upon him. + +"I heard also one of the greatest of pianists,--the dear, good +Beethoven, some compositions by whom appeared in the Spires 'Blumenlese' +in 1783, written in his eleventh year. True, he did not perform in +public, probably because the instrument here was not to his mind. It is +one of Spath's make, and at Bonn he plays upon one by Steiner. But, what +was infinitely preferable to me, I heard him extemporize in private; +yes, I was even invited to propose a theme for him to vary. The +greatness of this amiable, light-hearted man, as a virtuoso, may, in my +opinion, be safely estimated from his almost inexhaustible wealth of +ideas, the altogether characteristic style of expression in his playing, +and the great execution which he displays. I know, therefore, no one +thing which he lacks, that conduces to the greatness of an artist. I +have heard Vogler upon the piano-forte,--of his organ-playing I say +nothing, not having heard him upon that instrument,--have often heard +him, heard him by the hour together, and never failed to wonder at his +astonishing execution; but Beethoven, in addition to the execution, has +greater clearness and weight of idea, and more expression,--in short, +he is more for the heart,--equally great, therefore, as an adagio or +allegro player. Even the members of this remarkable orchestra are, +without exception, his admirers, and all ear whenever he plays. Yet +he is exceedingly modest and free from all pretension. He, however, +acknowledged to me, that, upon the journeys which the Elector had +enabled him to make, he had seldom found in the playing of the most +distinguished virtuosos that excellence which he supposed he had a right +to expect. His style of treating his instrument is so different from +that usually adopted, that it impresses one with the idea, that by a +path of his own discovery he has attained that height of excellence +whereon he now stands. + +"Had I acceded to the pressing entreaties of my friend Beethoven, to +which Herr Winneberger added his own, and remained another day in +Mergentheim, I have no doubt he would have played to me hours; and the +day, thus spent in the society of these two great artists, would have +been transformed into a day of the highest bliss." + +Doubtless, Herr Junker, judging from the enthusiasm with which you have +written, it would have been so; and for our sake, as well as your own, +we heartily wish you had remained! + +Again in Bonn,--the young master's last year in his native city,--that +_petite perle_. It was a fortunate circumstance for the development of +a genius so powerful and original, that the place was not one of such +importance as to call thither any composer or pianist of very great +eminence,--such a one as would have ruled the musical sphere in which +he moved, and become an object of imitation to the young student. +Beethoven's instructors and the musical atmosphere in which he lived and +wrought were fully able to ground him firmly in the laws and rules of +the art, without restraining the natural bent of his genius. His taste +for orchestral music, even, was developed in no particular school, +formed upon no single model,--the Electoral band playing, with equal +care and spirit, music from the presses of Vienna, Berlin, Munich, +Mannheim, Paris, London. Mozart, however, was Beethoven's favorite, +and his influence is unmistakably impressed upon many of the early +compositions of his young admirer. + +But the youthful genius was fast becoming so superior to all around him, +that a wider field was necessary for his full development. He needed the +opportunity to measure his powers with those of the men who stood, +by general consent, at the head of the art; he felt the necessity of +instruction by teachers of a different and higher character, if any +could be found. Mozart, it is true, had just passed away, but still +Vienna remained the great metropolis of music; and thither his hopes and +wishes turned. An interview with Haydn added strength to these hopes and +wishes. This was upon Haydn's return, in the spring of 1792, after his +first visit to London, where he had composed for and directed in the +concerts of that Johann Peter Salomon in whose house Beethoven first +saw the light. The veteran composer, on his way home, came to Bonn, and +there accepted an invitation from the Electoral Orchestra to a breakfast +in Godesberg. Here Beethoven was introduced to him, and placed before +him a cantata which he had offered for performance at Mergentheim, +the preceding autumn, but which had proved too difficult for the +wind-instruments in certain passages. Haydn examined it carefully, and +encouraged him to continue in the path of musical composition. Neefe +also hints to us that Haydn was greatly impressed by the skill of the +young man as a piano-forte virtuoso. + +Happily, Beethoven was now, as we have seen, free from the burden of +supporting his young brothers, and needed but the means for his journey. + +"In November of last year," writes Neefe, in 1793, "Ludwig van +Beethoven, second court organist, and indisputably one of the first of +living pianists, left Bonn for Vienna, to perfect himself in composition +under Haydn. Haydn intended to take him with him upon a second journey +to London, but nothing has come of it." + +A few days or weeks, then, before completing his twenty-second year, +Beethoven entered Vienna a second time, to enjoy the example and +instructions of him who was now universally acknowledged the head of +the musical world; to measure his powers upon the piano-forte with the +greatest virtuosos then living; to start upon that career, in which, +by unwearied labor, indomitable perseverance, and never-tiring +effort,--alike under the smiles and the frowns of fortune, in sickness +and in health, and in spite of the saddest calamity which can befall +the true artist, he elevated himself to a position, which, by every +competent judge, is held to be the highest yet attained in perhaps the +grandest department of pure music. + +Beethoven came to Vienna in the full vigor of youth just emerging into +manhood. The clouds which had settled over his childhood had all passed +away. All looked bright, joyous, and hopeful. Though, perhaps, wanting +in some of the graces and refinements of polite life, it is clear, from +his intimacy with the Breuning family, his consequent familiarity with +the best society at Bonn, the unchanging kindness of Count Waldstein, +the explicit testimony of Junker, that he was not, could not have been, +the young savage which some of his blind admirers have represented him. +The bare supposition is an insult to his memory. That his sense of +probity and honor was most acute, that he was far above any, the +slightest, meanness of thought or action, of a noble and magnanimous +order of mind, utterly destitute of any feeling of servility which +rendered it possible for him to cringe to the rich and the great, and +that he ever acted from a deep sense of moral obligation,--all this his +whole subsequent history proves. His merit, both as an artist and a man, +met at once full recognition. + +And here for the present we leave him, moving in Vienna, as in Bonn, +in the higher circles of society, in the full sunshine of prosperity, +enjoying all that his ardent nature could demand of esteem and +admiration in the saloons of the great, in the society of his brother +artists, in the popular estimation. + + * * * * * + + +A WORD TO THE WISE. + + + Love hailed a little maid, + Romping through the meadow: + Heedless in the sun she played, + Scornful of the shadow. + "Come with me," whispered he; + "Listen, sweet, to love and reason." + "By and by," she mocked reply; + "Love's not in season." + + Years went, years came; + Light mixed with shadow. + Love met the maid again, + Dreaming through the meadow. + "Not so coy," urged the boy; + "List in time to love and reason." + "By and by," she mused reply; + "Love's still in season." + + Years went, years came; + Light changed to shadow. + Love saw the maid again, + Waiting in the meadow. + "Pass no more; my dream is o'er; + I can listen now to reason." + "Keep thee coy," mocked the boy; + "Love's out of season." + + + + +HENRY WARD BEECHER.[A] + +[Footnote A: _Life Thoughts, gathered from the Extemporaneous Discourses +of Henry Ward Beecher._ By a Member of his Congregation. Boston: +Phillips, Sampson & Co. 1858. pp. 299.] + + +There are more than thirty thousand preachers in the United States, +whereof twenty-eight thousand are Protestants, the rest Catholics,--one +minister to a thousand men. They make an exceeding great army,--mostly +serious, often self-denying and earnest. Nay, sometimes you find them +men of large talent, perhaps even of genius. No thirty thousand +farmers, mechanics, lawyers, doctors, or traders have so much of that +book-learning which is popularly called "Education." + +No class has such opportunities for influence, such means of power; even +now the press ranks second to the pulpit. Some of the old traditional +respect for the theocratic class continues in service, and waits upon +the ministers. It has come down from Celtic and Teutonic fathers, +hundreds of years behind us, who transferred to a Roman priesthood the +allegiance once paid to the servants of a deity quite different from the +Catholic. The Puritans founded an ecclesiastical oligarchy which is by +no means ended yet; with the most obstinate "liberty of prophesying" +there was mixed a certain respect for such as only wore the prophet's +mantle; nor is it wholly gone. + +What personal means of controlling the public the minister has at his +command! Of their own accord, men "assemble and meet together," and look +up to him. In the country, the town-roads centre at the meeting-house, +which is also the _terminus a quo_, the golden mile-stone, whence +distances are measured off. Once a week, the wheels of business, and +even of pleasure, drop into the old customary ruts, and turn thither. +Sunday morning, all the land is still. Labor puts off his iron apron and +arrays him in clean human clothes,--a symbol of universal humanity, not +merely of special toil. Trade closes the shop; his business-pen, well +wiped, is laid up for to-morrow's use; the account-book is shut,--men +thinking of their trespasses as well as their debts. For six days, aye, +and so many nights, Broadway roars with the great stream which sets this +way and that, as wind and tide press up and down. How noisy is this +great channel of business, wherein Humanity rolls to and fro, now +running into shops, now sucked down into cellars, then dashed high up +the tall, steep banks, to come down again a continuous drip and be lost +in the general flood! What a fringe of foam colors the margin on either +side, and what gay bubbles float therein, with more varied gorgeousness +than the Queen of Sheba dreamed of putting on when she courted the eye +of Hebrew Solomon! Sunday, this noise is still. Broadway is a quiet +stream, looking sober, or even dull; its voice is but a gentle murmur of +many waters calmly flowing where the ecclesiastical gates are open +to let them in. The channel of business has shrunk to a little +church-canal. Even in this great Babel of commerce one day in seven is +given up to the minister. The world may have the other six; this is for +the Church;--for so have Abram and Lot divided the field of Time, that +there be no strife between the rival herdsmen of the Church and the +World. Sunday morning, Time rings the bell. At the familiar sound, by +long habit born in them, and older than memory, men assemble at the +meeting-house, nestle themselves devoutly in their snug pews, and button +themselves in with wonted care. There is the shepherd, and here is the +flock, fenced off into so many little private pens. With dumb, yet +eloquent patience, they look up listless, perhaps longing, for such +fodder as he may pull out from his spiritual mow and shake down before +them. What he gives they gather. + +Other speakers must have some magnetism of personal power or public +reputation to attract men; but the minister can dispense with that; +to him men answer before he calls, and even when they are not sent by +others are drawn by him. Twice a week, nay, three times, if he will, do +they lend him their ears to be filled with his words. No man of science +or letters has such access to men. Besides, he is to speak on the +grandest of all themes,--of Man, of God, of Religion, man's deepest +desires, his loftiest aspirings. Before him the rich and the poor meet +together, conscious of the one God, Master of them all, who is no +respecter of persons. To the minister the children look up, and their +pliant faces are moulded by his plastic hand. The young men and maidens +are there,--such possibility of life and character before them, such +hope is there, such faith in man and God, as comes instinctively to +those who have youth on their side. There are the old: men and women +with white crowns on their heads; faces which warn and scare with the +ice and storm of eighty winters, or guide and charm with the beauty +of four-score summers,--rich in promise once, in harvest now. Very +beautiful is the presence of old men, and of that venerable sisterhood +whose experienced temples are turbaned with the raiment of such as have +come out of much tribulation, and now shine as white stars foretelling +an eternal day. Young men all around, a young man in the pulpit, the old +men's look of experienced life says "Amen" to the best word, and their +countenance is a benediction. + +The minister is not expected to appeal to the selfish motives which +are addressed by the market, the forum, or the bar, but to the eternal +principle of Right. He must not be guided by the statutes of men, +changeable as the clouds, but must fix his eye on the bright particular +star of Justice, the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. To him, +office, money, social rank, and fame are but toys or counters which the +game of life is played withal; while wisdom, integrity, benevolence, +piety are the prizes the game is for. He digs through the dazzling sand, +and bids men build on the rock of ages. + +Surely, no men have such opportunity of speech and power as these thirty +thousand ministers. What have they to show for it all? The hunter, +fisher, woodman, miner, farmer, mechanic, has each his special wealth. +What have this multitude of ministers to show?--how much knowledge +given, what wise guidance, what inspiration of humanity? Let the best +men answer. + +This ministerial army may be separated into three divisions. First, the +Church Militant, the Fighting Church, as the ecclesiastical dictionaries +define it. Reverend men serve devoutly in its ranks. Their work is +negative, oppositional. Under various banners, with diverse, and +discordant war-cries, trumpets braying a certain or uncertain sound, and +weapons of strange pattern, though made of trusty steel, they do battle +against the enemy. What shots from antique pistols, matchlocks, from +crossbows and catapults, are let fly at the foe! Now the champion +attacks "New Views," "Ultraism," "Neology," "Innovation," "Discontent," +"Carnal Reason"; then he lays lance in rest, and rides valiantly +upon "Unitarianism," "Popery," "Infidelity," "Atheism," "Deism," +"Spiritualism"; and though one by one he runs them through, yet he never +quite slays the Evil One;--the severed limbs unite again, and a new +monster takes the old one's place. It is serious men who make up the +Church Militant,--grim, earnest, valiant. If mustered in the ninth +century, there had been no better soldiers nor elder. + +Next is the Church Termagant. They are the Scolds of the Church-hold, +terrible from the beginning hitherto. Their work is denouncing; they +have always a burden against something. _Obsta decisis_ is their +motto,--"Hate all that is agreed upon." When the "contrary-minded" are +called for, the Church Termagant holds up its hand. A turbulent people, +and a troublesome, are these sons of thunder,--a brotherhood of +universal come-outers. Their only concord is disagreement. It is not +often, perhaps, that they have better thoughts than the rest of men, +but a superior aptitude to find fault; their growling proves, "not +that themselves are wise, but others weak." So their pulpit is a +brawling-tub, "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." They have a +deal of thunder, and much lightning, but no light, nor any continuous +warmth, only spasms of heat. _Odi presentem laudare absentem_,--the +Latin tells their story. They come down and trouble every Bethesda in +the world, but heal none of the impotent folk. To them, + + "Of old things, all are over old, + Of new things, none is new enough." + +They have a rage for fault-finding, and betake themselves to the pulpit +as others are sent to Bedlam. Men of all denominations are here, and it +is a deal of mischief they do,--the worst, indirectly, by making a sober +man distrust the religious faculty they appeal to, and set his face +against all mending of anything, no matter how badly it is broken. These +Theudases, boasting themselves to be somebody, and leading men off to +perish in the wilderness, frighten every sober man from all thought of +moving out of his bad neighborhood or seeking to make it better.--But +this is a small portion of the ecclesiastic host. Let us be tolerant to +their noise and bigotry. + +Last of all is the Church Beneficent or Constructant. Their work is +positive,--critical of the old, creative also of the new. They take hold +of the strongest of all human faculties,--the religious,--and use this +great river of God, always full of water, to moisten hill-side and +meadow, to turn lonely saw-mills, and drive the wheels in great +factories, which make a metropolis of manufactures,--to bear alike the +lumberman's logs and the trader's ships to their appointed place; the +stream feeding many a little forget-me-not, as it passes by. Men of +all denominations belong to this Church Catholic; yet all are of one +_persuasion_, the brotherhood of Humanity,--for the one spirit loves +manifoldness of form. They trouble themselves little about Sin, the +universal but invisible enemy whom the Church Termagant attempts to +shell and dislodge; but are very busy in attacking Sins. These ministers +of religion would rout Drunkenness and Want, Ignorance, Idleness, Lust, +Covetousness, Vanity, Hate, and Pride, vices of instinctive passion or +reflective ambition. Yet the work of these men is to build up; they cut +down the forest and scare off the wild beasts only to replace them with +civil crops, cattle, corn, and men. Instead of the howling wilderness, +they would have the village or the city, full of comfort and wealth and +musical with knowledge and with love. How often are they misunderstood! +Some savage hears the ring of the axe, the crash of falling timber, +or the rifle's crack and the drop of wolf or bear, and cries out, "A +destructive and dangerous man; he has no reverence for the ancient +wilderness, but would abolish it and its inhabitants; away with him!" +But look again at this destroyer, and in place of the desert woods, +lurked in by a few wild beasts and wilder men, behold, a whole New +England of civilization has come up! The minister of this Church of the +Good Samaritans delivers the poor that cry, and the fatherless, and him +that hath none to help him; he makes the widow's heart sing for joy, and +the blessing of such as are ready to perish comes on him; he is eyes to +the blind, feet to the lame; the cause of evil which he knows not he +searches out; breaking the jaws of the wicked to pluck one spirit out +of their teeth. In a world of work, he would have no idler in the +market-place; in a world of bread, he would not eat his morsel alone +while the fatherless has nought; nor would he see any perish for want of +clothing. He knows the wise God made man for a good end, and provided +adequate means thereto; so he looks for them where they were placed, +in the world of matter and of men, not outside of either. So while he +entertains every old Truth, he looks out also into the crowd of new +Opinions, hoping to find others of their kin: and the new thought does +not lodge in the street; he opens his doors to the traveller, not +forgetful to entertain strangers,--knowing that some have also thereby +entertained angels unawares. He does not fear the great multitude, nor +does the contempt of a few families make him afraid. + +This Church Constructant has a long apostolical succession of great men, +and many nations are gathered in its fold. And what a variety of beliefs +it has! But while each man on his private account says, CREDO, and +believes as he must and shall, and writes or speaks his opinions in what +speech he likes best,--they all, with one accordant mouth, say likewise, +FACIAMUS, and betake them to the one great work of developing man's +possibility of knowledge and virtue. + +Mr. Beecher belongs to this Church Constructant. He is one of its +eminent members, its most popular and effective preacher. No minister +in the United States is so well known, none so widely beloved. He is +as well known in Ottawa as in Broadway. He has the largest Protestant +congregation in America, and an ungathered parish which no man attempts +to number. He has church members in Maine, Wisconsin, Georgia, Texas, +California, and all the way between. Men look on him as a national +institution, a part of the public property. Not a Sunday in the year but +representative men from every State in the Union fix their eyes on him, +are instructed by his sermons and uplifted by his prayers. He is +the most popular of American lecturers. In the celestial sphere of +theological journals, his papers are the bright particular star in that +constellation called the "Independent": men look up to and bless the +useful light, and learn therefrom the signs of the times. He is one of +the bulwarks of freedom in Kansas,--a detached fort. He was a great +force in the last Presidential campaign, and several stump-speakers +were specially detailed to overtake and offset him. But the one man +surrounded the many. Scarcely is there a Northern minister so bitterly +hated at the South. The slave-traders, the border-ruffians, the +purchased officials know no Higher Law; "nor Hale nor Devil can make +them afraid"; yet they fear the terrible whip of Henry Ward Beecher. + +The time has not come--may it long be far distant!--to analyze his +talents and count up his merits and defects. But there are certain +obvious excellences which account for his success and for the honor paid +him. + +Mr. Beecher has great strength of instinct,--of spontaneous human +feeling. Many men lose this in "getting an education"; they have tanks +of rain-water, barrels of well-water; but on their premises is no +spring, and it never rains there. A mountain-spring supplies Mr. Beecher +with fresh, living water. + +He has great love for Nature, and sees the symbolical value of material +beauty and its effect on man. + +He has great fellow-feeling with the joys and sorrows of men. Hence he +is always on the side of the suffering, and especially of the oppressed; +all his sermons and lectures indicate this. It endears him to millions, +and also draws upon him the hatred and loathing of a few Pharisees, some +of them members of his own sect. + +Listen to this:-- + +"Looked at without educated associations, there is no difference between +a man in bed and a man in a coffin. And yet such is the power of the +heart to redeem the animal life, that there is nothing more exquisitely +refined and pure and beautiful than the chamber of the house. The couch! +From the day that the bride sanctifies it, to the day when the aged +mother is borne from it, it stands clothed with loveliness and dignity. +Cursed be the tongue that dares speak evil of the household bed! By its +side oscillates the cradle. Not far from it is the crib. In this sacred +precinct, the mother's chamber, lies the heart of the family. Here the +child learns its prayer. Hither, night by night, angels troop. It is the +Holy of Holies." + +How well he understands the ministry of grief! + +"A Christian man's life is laid in the loom of time to a pattern which +he does not see, but God does; and his heart is a shuttle. On one side +of the loom is sorrow, and on the other is joy; and the shuttle, struck +alternately by each, flies back and forth, carrying the thread, which +is white or black, as the pattern needs; and in the end, when God shall +lift up the finished garment, and all its changing hues shall glance +out, it will then appear that the deep and dark colors were as needful +to beauty as the bright and high colors." + +He loves children, and the boy still fresh in his manhood. + +"When your own child comes in from the street, and has learned to swear +from the bad boys congregated there, it is a very different thing to +you from what it was when you heard the profanity of those boys as you +passed them. Now it takes hold of you, and makes you feel that you are a +stockholder in the public morality. Children make men better citizens. +Of what use would an engine be to a ship, if it were lying loose in the +hull? It must be fastened to it with bolts and screws, before it can +propel the vessel. Now a childless man is just like a loose engine. A +man must be bolted and screwed to the community before he can begin to +work for its advancement; and there are no such screws and bolts as +children." + +He has a most Christ-like contempt for the hypocrite, whom he scourges +with heavy evangelical whips,--but the tenderest Christian love for +earnest men struggling after nobleness. + +Read this:-- + +"I think the wickedest people on earth are those who use a force of +genius to make themselves selfish in the noblest things, keeping +themselves aloof from the vulgar and the ignorant and the unknown; +rising higher and higher in taste, till they sit, ice upon ice, on the +mountain-top of eternal congelation." + +"Men are afraid of slight outward acts which will injure them in the +eyes of others, while they are heedless of the damnation which throbs in +their souls in hatreds and jealousies and revenges." + +"Many people use their refinements as a spider uses his web, to catch +the weak upon, that they may he mercilessly devoured. Christian men +should use refinement on this principle: the more I have, the more I owe +to those who are less than I." + +He values the substance of man more than his accidents. + +"We say a man is 'made.' What do we mean? That he has got the control of +his lower instincts, so that they are only fuel to his higher feelings, +giving force to his nature? That his affections are like vines, sending +out on all sides blossoms and clustering fruits? That his tastes are so +cultivated, that all beautiful things speak to him, and bring him their +delights? That his understanding is opened, so that he walks through +every hall of knowledge, and gathers its treasures? That his moral +feelings are so developed and quickened, that he holds sweet commerce +with Heaven? Oh, no!--none of these things! He is cold and dead in heart +and mind and soul. Only his passions are alive; but--he is worth five +hundred thousand dollars! + +"And we say a man is 'ruined.' Are his wife and children dead? Oh, no! +Have they had a quarrel, and are they separated from him? Oh, no! Has he +lost his reputation through crime? No. Is his reason gone? Oh, no! it's +as sound as ever. Is he struck through with disease? No. He has lost his +property, and he is ruined. The _man_ ruined? When shall we learn +that 'a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things he +possesseth'"? + +Mr. Beecher's God has the gentle and philanthropic qualities of Jesus +of Nazareth, with omnipotence added. Religious emotion comes out in his +prayers, sermons, and lectures, as the vegetative power of the earth in +the manifold plants and flowers of spring. + +"The sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the wide +world's joy. The lonely pine on the mountain-top waves its sombre +boughs, and cries, 'Thou art my sun!' And the little meadow-violet lifts +its cup of blue, and whispers with its perfumed breath, 'Thou art my +sun!' And the grain in a thousand fields rustles in the wind, and makes +answer, 'Thou art my sun!' + +"So God sits effulgent in heaven, not for a favored few, but for the +universe of life; and there is no creature so poor or low, than he may +not look up with childlike confidence and say, 'My Father! thou art +mine!'" + +"When once the filial feeling is breathed into the heart, the soul +cannot be terrified by augustness, or justice, or any form of Divine +grandeur; for then, to such a one, _all the attributes of God are but so +many arms stretched abroad through the universe, to gather and to press +to his bosom those whom he loves. The greater he is, the gladder are +we_, so that he be our Father still. + +"But, if one consciously turns away from God, or fears him, the nobler +and grander the representation be, the more terrible is his conception +of the Divine Adversary that frowns upon him. The God whom love beholds +rises upon the horizon like mountains which carry summer up their sides +to the very top; but that sternly just God whom sinners fear stands +cold against the sky, like Mont Blanc; and from his icy sides the soul, +quickly sliding, plunges headlong down to unrecalled destruction." + +He has hard words for such as get only the form of religion, or but +little of its substance. + +"There are some Christians whose secular life is an arid, worldly +strife, and whose religion is but a turbid sentimentalism. Their life +runs along that line where the overflow of the Nile meets the desert. +_It is the boundary line between sand and mud_." + +"_That gospel which sanctions ignorance and oppression for three +millions of men_, what fruit or flower has it to shake down for the +healing of the nations? _It is cursed in its own roots, and blasted in +its own boughs_." + +"Many of our churches defy Protestantism. Grand cathedrals are they, +which make us shiver as we enter them. The windows are so constructed +as to exclude the light and inspire a religious awe. The walls are of +stone, which makes us think of our last home. The ceilings are sombre, +and the pews coffin-colored. Then the services are composed to these +circumstances, and hushed music goes trembling along the aisles, and men +move softly, and would on no account put on their hats before they reach +the door; but when they do, they take a long breath, and have such a +sense of relief to be in the free air, and comfort themselves with the +thought that they've been good Christians! + +"Now this idea of worship is narrow and false. The house of God should +be a joyous place for the right use of all our faculties." + +"There ought to be such an atmosphere in every Christian church, that +a man going there and sitting two hours should take the contagion of +heaven, and carry home a fire to kindle the altar whence he came." + +"The call to religion is not a call to be better than your fellows, _but +to be better than yourself_. Religion is relative to the individual." + +"My best presentations of the gospel to you are so incomplete! +Sometimes, when I am alone, I have such sweet and rapturous visions of +the love of God and the truths of his word, that I think, if I could +speak to you then, I should move your hearts. I am like a child, who, +walking forth some sunny summer's morning, sees grass and flower all +shining with drops of dew. 'Oh,' he cries, 'I'll carry these beautiful +things to my mother!' And, eagerly plucking them, the dew drops into his +little palm, and all the charm is gone. There is but grass in his hand, +and no longer pearls." + +"There are many professing Christians who are secretly vexed on account +of the charity they have to bestow and the self-denial they have to use. +If, instead of the smooth prayers which they _do_ pray, they should +speak out the things which they really feel, they would say, when they +go home at night, 'O Lord, I met a poor curmudgeon of yours to-day, a +miserable, unwashed brat, and I gave him sixpence, and I have been sorry +for it ever since'; or, 'O Lord, if I had not signed those articles of +faith, I might have gone to the theatre this evening. Your religion +deprives me of a great deal of enjoyment, but I mean to stick to it. +There's no other way of getting into heaven, I suppose.' + +"The sooner such men are out of the church, the better." + +"The youth-time of churches produces enterprise; their age, indolence; +but even this might be borne, did not _these dead men sit in the door +of their sepulchres, crying out against every living man who refuses to +wear the livery of death_. In India, when the husband dies, they burn +his widow with him. I am almost tempted to think, that, if, with the end +of every pastorate, the church itself were disbanded and destroyed, to +be gathered again by the succeeding teacher, we should thus secure an +immortality of youth." + +"A religious life is not a thing which spends itself. It is like a river +which widens continually, and is never so broad or so deep as at its +mouth, where it rolls into the ocean of eternity." + +"God made the world to relieve an over-full creative thought,--as +musicians sing, as we talk, as artists sketch, when full of suggestions. +What profusion is there in his work! When trees blossom, there is not +a single breastpin, but a whole bosom full of gems; and of leaves they +have so many suits, that they can throw them away to the winds all +summer long. What unnumbered cathedrals has he reared in the forest +shades, vast and grand, full of curious carvings, and haunted evermore +by tremulous music! and in the heavens above, how do stars seem to have +flown out of his hand, faster than sparks out of a mighty forge!" + +"Oh, let the soul alone! Let it go to God as best it may! It is +entangled enough. It is hard enough for it to rise above the +distractions which environ it. Let a man teach the rain how to fall, the +clouds how to shape themselves and move their airy rounds, the seasons +how to cherish and garner the universal abundance; but let him not teach +a soul to pray, on whom the Holy Ghost doth brood!" + +He recognizes the difference between religion and theology. + +"How sad is that field from which battle hath just departed! By as much +as the valley was exquisite in its loveliness, is it now sublimely sad +in its desolation. Such to me is the Bible, when a fighting theologian +has gone through it. + +"How wretched a spectacle is a garden into which the cloven-footed +beasts have entered! That which yesterday was fragrant, and shone all +over with crowded beauty, is to-day rooted, despoiled, trampled, and +utterly devoured, and all over the ground you shall find but the +rejected cuds of flowers and leaves, and forms that have been champed +for their juices and then rejected. Such to me is the Bible, when the +pragmatic prophecy-monger and the swinish utilitarian have toothed its +fruits and craunched its blossoms. + +"O garden of the Lord! whose seeds dropped down from heaven, and to +whom angels bear watering dews night by night! O flowers and plants of +righteousness! O sweet and holy fruits! We walk among you, and gaze with +loving eyes, and rest under your odorous shadows; nor will we, with +sacrilegious hand, tear you, that we may search the secret of your +roots, nor spoil you, that we may know how such wondrous grace and +goodness are evolved within you!" + +"What a pin is, when the diamond has dropped from its setting, is the +Bible, when its emotive truths have been taken away. What a babe's +clothes are, when the babe has slipped out of them into death and the +mother's arms clasp only raiment, would be the Bible, if the Babe of +Bethlehem, and the truths of deep-heartedness that clothed his life, +should slip out of it." + +"There is no food for soul or body which God has not symbolized. He +is light for the eye, sound for the ear, bread for food, wine for +weariness, peace for trouble. Every faculty of the soul, if it would but +open its door, might see Christ standing over against it, and silently +asking by his smile, 'Shall I come in unto thee?' But men open the door +and look down, not up, and thus see him not. So it is that men sigh on, +not knowing what the soul wants, but only that it needs something. Our +yearnings are homesickness for heaven; our sighings are for God; just +as children that cry themselves asleep away from home, and sob in +their slumber, know not that they sob for their parents. The soul's +inarticulate moanings are the affections yearning for the Infinite, but +having no one to tell them what it is that ails them." + +"I feel sensitive about theologies. Theology is good in its place; but +when it puts its hoof upon a living, palpitating, human heart, my heart +cries out against it." + +"There are men marching along in the company of Christians on earth, +who, when they knock at the gate of heaven, will hear God answer, +'I never knew you.'--'But the ministers did, and the church-books +did.'--'That may be. I never did.' + +"It is no matter who knows a man on earth, if God does not know him." + +"The heart-knowledge, through God's teaching, is true wealth, and they +are often poorest who deem themselves most rich. I, in the pulpit, +preach with proud forms to many a humble widow and stricken man who +might well teach me. The student, spectacled and gray with wisdom, and +stuffed with lumbered lore, may be childish and ignorant beside some old +singing saint who brings the wood into his study, and who, with the +lens of his own experience, brings down the orbs of truth, and beholds +through his faith and his humility things of which the white-haired +scholar never dreamed." + +He has eminent integrity, is faithful to his own soul, and to every +delegated trust. No words are needed here as proof. His life is daily +argument. The public will understand this; men whose taste he offends, +and whose theology he shocks, or to whose philosophy he is repugnant, +have confidence in the integrity of the man. He means what he says,--is +solid all through. + +"From the beginning, I educated myself to speak along the line and in +the current of my moral convictions; and though, in later days, it +has carried me through places where there were some batterings and +bruisings, yet I have been supremely grateful that I was led to +adopt this course. I would rather speak the truth to ten men than +blandishments and lying to a million. Try it, ye who think there is +nothing in it! try what it is to speak with God behind you,--to speak so +as to be only the arrow in the bow which the Almighty draws." + +With what affectionate tenderness does this great, faithful soul pour +out his love to his own church! He invites men to the communion-service. + +"Christian brethren, in heaven you are known by the name of Christ. +On earth, for convenience's sake, you are known by the name of +Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Methodists, Congregationalists, and +the like. Let me speak the language of heaven, and call you simply +Christians. Whoever of you has known the name of Christ, and feels +Christ's life beating within him, is invited to remain and sit with us +at the table of the Lord." + +And again, when a hundred were added to his church, he says:-- + +"My friends, my heart is large to-day. I am like a tree upon which rains +have fallen till every leaf is covered with drops of dew; and no wind +goes through the boughs but I hear the pattering of some thought of joy +and gratitude. I love you all more than ever before. You are crystalline +to me; your faces are radiant; and I look through your eyes, as through +windows, into heaven. I behold in each of you an imprisoned angel, that +is yet to burst forth, and to live and shine in the better sphere." + +He has admirable power of making a popular statement of his opinions. He +does not analyze a matter to its last elements, put the ultimate facts +in a row and find out their causes or their law of action, nor aim at +large synthesis of generalization, the highest effort of philosophy, +which groups things into a whole;--it is commonly thought both of these +processes are out of place in meeting-houses and lecture-halls,--that +the people can comprehend neither the one nor the other;--but he gives +a popular view of the thing to be discussed, which can be understood on +the spot without painful reflection. He speaks for the ear which takes +in at once and understands. He never makes attention painful. He +illustrates his subject from daily life; the fields, the streets, stars, +flowers, music, and babies are his favorite emblems. He remembers that +he does not speak to scholars, to minds disciplined by long habits of +thought, but to men with common education, careful and troubled about +many things; and they keep his words and ponder them in their hearts. So +he has the diffuseness of a wide natural field, which properly spreads +out its clover, dandelions, dock, buttercups, grasses, violets, with +here and there a delicate Arethusa that seems to have run under this +sea of common vegetation and come up in a strange place. He has not the +artificial condensation of a garden, where luxuriant Nature assumes the +form of Art. His dramatic power makes his sermon also a life in the +pulpit; his _auditorium_ is also a _theatrum_, for he acts to the eye +what he addresses to the ear, and at once wisdom enters at the two +gates. The extracts show his power of thought and speech as well as of +feeling. Here are specimens of that peculiar humor which appears in all +his works. + +"Sects and Christians that desire to be known by the undue prominence of +some single feature of Christianity are necessarily imperfect just in +proportion to the distinctness of their peculiarities. The power of +Christian truth is in its unity and symmetry, and not in the saliency +or brilliancy of any of its special doctrines. If among painters of +the human face and form there should spring up a sect of the eyes, and +another sect of the nose, a sect of the hand, and a sect of the foot, +and all of them should agree but in the one thing of forgetting that +there was a living spirit behind the features more important than them +all, they would too much resemble the schools and cliques of Christians; +for the spirit of Christ is the great essential truth; doctrines are but +the features of the face, and ordinances but the hands and feet." + +Here are some separate maxims:-- + +"It is not well for a man to pray cream and live skim-milk." + +"The mother's heart is the child's school-room." + +"They are not reformers who simply abhor evil. Such men become in the +end abhorrent themselves." + +"There are many troubles which you can't cure by the Bible and the +Hymn-book, but which you can cure by a good perspiration and a breath of +fresh air." + +"The most dangerous infidelity of the day is the infidelity of rich and +orthodox churches." + +"The fact that a nation is growing is God's own charter of change." + +"There is no class in society who can so ill afford to undermine the +conscience of the community, or to set it loose from its moorings in +the eternal sphere, as merchants who live upon confidence and credit. +Anything which weakens or paralyzes this is taking beams from the +foundations of the merchant's own warehouse." + +"It would almost seem as if there were a certain drollery of art which +leads men who think they are doing one thing to do another and very +different one. Thus, men have set up in their painted church-windows the +symbolisms of virtues and graces, and the images of saints, and even +of Divinity itself. Yet now, what does the window do but mock the +separations and proud isolations of Christian men? For there sit +the audience, each one taking a separate color; and there are blue +Christians and red Christians, there are yellow saints and orange +saints, there are purple Christians and green Christians; but how few +are simple, pure, white Christians, uniting all the cardinal graces, and +proud, not of separate colors, but of the whole manhood of Christ!" + +"Every mind is entered, like every house, through its own door." + +"Doctrine is nothing but the skin of Truth set up and stuffed." + +"Compromise is the word that men use when the Devil gets a victory over +God's cause." + +"A man in the right, with God on his side, is in the majority, though he +be alone; for God is multitudinous above all populations of the earth." + +But this was first said by Frederic Douglas, and better: "_One with God +is a majority._" + +"A lie always needs a truth for a handle to it; else the hand would cut +itself, which sought to drive it home upon another. The worst lies, +therefore, are those whose blade is false, but whose handle is true." + +"It is not conviction of truth which does men good; it is moral +consciousness of truth." + +"A conservative young man has wound up his life before it was unreeled. +We expect old men to be conservative; but when a nation's young men are +so, its funeral-bell is already rung." + +"Night-labor, in time, will destroy the student; for it is marrow from +his own bones with which he fills his lamp." + +A great-hearted, eloquent, fervent, live man, full of religious emotion, +of humanity and love,--no wonder he is dear to the people of America. +Long may he bring instruction to the lecture associations of the North! +Long may he stand in his pulpit at Brooklyn with his heavenly candle, +which goeth not out at all by day, to kindle the devotion and piety of +the thousands who cluster around him, and carry thence light and warmth +to all the borders of the land! + +We should do injustice to our own feelings, did we not, in closing, add +a word of hearty thanks and commendation to the Member of Mr. Beecher's +Congregation to whom we are indebted for a volume that has given us +so much pleasure. The selection covers a wide range of topics, and +testifies at once to the good taste and the culture of the editress. +Many of the finest passages were conceived and uttered in the rapid +inspiration of speaking, and but for her admiring intelligence and care, +the eloquence, wit, and wisdom, which are here preserved to us, would +have faded into air with the last vibration of the preacher's voice. + + + + +MERCEDES. + + + Under a sultry, yellow sky, + On the yellow sand I lie; + The crinkled vapors smite my brain, + I smoulder in a fiery pain. + + Above the crags the condor flies; + He knows where the red gold lies, + He knows where the diamonds shine;-- + If I knew, would she be mine? + + Mercedes in her hammock swings; + In her court a palm-tree flings + Its slender shadow on the ground, + The fountain falls with silver sound. + + Her lips are like this cactus cup; + With my hand I crush it up; + I tear its flaming leaves apart;-- + Would that I could tear her heart! + + Last night a man was at her gate; + In the hedge I lay in wait; + I saw Mercedes meet him there, + By the fire-flies in her hair. + + I waited till the break of day, + Then I rose and stole away; + I drove my dagger through the gate;-- + Now she knows her lover's fate! + + * * * * * + + +THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. + +EVERY MAN HIS OWN BOSWELL. + + +[This particular record is noteworthy principally for containing a paper +by my friend, the Professor, with a poem or two annexed or intercalated. +I would suggest to young persons that they should pass over it for the +present, and read, instead of it, that story about the young man who was +in love with the young lady, and in great trouble for something like +nine pages, but happily married on the tenth page or thereabouts, which, +I take it for granted, will be contained in the periodical where this +is found, unless it differ from all other publications of the kind. +Perhaps, if such young people will lay the number aside, and take it +up ten years, or a little more, from the present time, they may find +something in it for their advantage. They can't possibly understand it +all now.] + +My friend, the Professor, began talking with me one day in a dreary sort +of way. I couldn't get at the difficulty for a good while, but at last +it turned out that somebody had been calling him an old man.--He didn't +mind his students calling him _the_ old man, he said. That was a +technical expression, and he thought that he remembered hearing it +applied to himself when he was about twenty-five. It may be considered +as a familiar and sometimes endearing appellation. An Irish-woman calls +her husband "the old man," and he returns the caressing expression by +speaking of her as "the old woman." But now, said he, just suppose a +case like one of these. A young stranger is overheard talking of you as +a very nice old gentleman. A friendly and genial critic speaks of your +green old age as illustrating the truth of some axiom you had uttered +with reference to that period of life. What _I_ call an old man is a +person with a smooth, shining crown and a fringe of scattered white +hairs, seen in the streets on sunshiny days, stooping as he walks, +bearing a cane, moving cautiously and slowly; telling old stories, +smiling at present follies, living in a narrow world of dry habits; one +that remains waking when others have dropped asleep, and keeps a little +night-lamp-flame of life burning year after year, if the lamp is not +upset, and there is only a careful hand held round it to prevent the +puffs of wind from blowing the flame out. That's what I call an old man. + +Now, said the Professor, you don't mean to tell me that I have got to +that yet? Why, bless you, I am several years short of the time when--[I +knew what was coming, and could hardly keep from laughing; twenty years +ago he used to quote it as one of those absurd speeches men of genius +will make, and now he is going to argue from it]--several years short +of the time when Balzac says that men are--most--you know--dangerous +to--the hearts of--in short, most to be dreaded by duennas that +have charge of susceptible females.--What age is that? said I, +statistically.--Fifty-two years, answered the Professor.--Balzac ought +to know, said I, if it is true that Goethe said of him that each of his +stories must have been dug out of a woman's heart. But fifty-two is a +high figure. + +Stand in the light of the window, Professor, said I.--The Professor took +up the desired position.--You have white hairs, I said.--Had 'em any +time these twenty years, said the Professor.--And the crow's-foot,--_pes +anserinus_, rather.--The Professor smiled, as I wanted him to, and the +folds radiated like the ridges of a half-opened fan, from the outer +corner of the eyes to the temples.--And the calipers, said I.--What +are the _calipers_? he asked, curiously.--Why, the parenthesis, said +I.--_Parenthesis_? said the Professor; what's that?--Why, look in the +glass when you are disposed to laugh, and see if your mouth isn't framed +in a couple of crescent lines,--so, my boy ( ).--It's all nonsense, said +the Professor; just look at my _biceps_;--and he began pulling off his +coat to show me his arm.--Be careful, said I; you can't bear exposure to +the air, at your time of life, as you could once.--I will box with you, +said the Professor, row with you, walk with you, ride with you, swim +with you, or sit at table with you, for fifty dollars a side.--Pluck +survives stamina, I answered. + +The Professor went off a little out of humor. A few weeks afterwards he +came in, looking very good-natured, and brought me a paper, which I +have here, and from which I shall read you some portions, if you don't +object. He had been thinking the matter over, he said,--had read Cicero. +"De Senectute," and made up his mind to meet old age half way. These +were some of his reflections that he had written down; so here you have + + +THE PROFESSOR'S PAPER. + +There is no doubt when old age begins. The human body is a furnace which +keeps in blast three-score years and ten, more or less. It burns about +three hundred pounds of carbon a year, (besides other fuel,) when in +fair working order, according to a great chemist's estimate. When the +fire slackens, life declines; when it goes out, we are dead. + +It has been shown by some noted French experimenters, that the amount of +combustion increases up to about the thirtieth year, remains stationary +to about forty-five, and then diminishes. This last is the point where +old age starts from. The great fact of physical life is the perpetual +commerce with the elements, and the fire is the measure of it. + +About this time of life, if food is plenty where you live,--for that, +you know, regulates matrimony,--you may be expecting to find yourself a +grandfather some fine morning; a kind of domestic felicity that gives +one a cool shiver of delight to think of, as among the not remotely +possible events. + +I don't mind much those slipshod lines Dr. Johnson wrote to Thrale, +telling her about life's declining from _thirty-five_; the furnace is in +full blast for ten years longer, as I have said. The Romans came very +near the mark; their age of enlistment reached from seventeen to +forty-six years. + +What is the use of fighting against the seasons, or the tides, or the +movements of the planetary bodies, or this ebb in the wave of life that +flows through us? We are old fellows from the moment the fire begins to +go out. Let us always behave like gentlemen when we are introduced to +new acquaintance. + +_Incipit Allegoria Senectutis_. + +Old Age, this is Mr. Professor; Mr. Professor, this is Old Age. + +_Old Age_.--Mr. Professor, I hope to see you well. I have known you for +some time, though I think you did not know me. Shall we walk down the +street together? + +_Professor_. (drawing back a little)--We can talk more quietly, +perhaps, in my study. Will you tell me how it is you seem to be +acquainted with everybody you are introduced to, though he evidently +considers you an entire stranger? + +_Old Age_.--I make it a rule never to force myself upon a person's +recognition until I have known him at least _five years_. + +_Professor_.--Do you mean to say that you have known me so long as that? + +_Old Age_.--I do. I left my card on you longer ago than that, but I am +afraid you never read it; yet I see you have it with you. + +_Professor_.--Where? + +_Old Age_.--There, between your eyebrows,--three straight lines running +up and down; all the probate courts know that token,--"Old Age, his +mark." Put your forefinger on the inner end of one eyebrow, and your +middle finger on the inner end of the other eyebrow; now separate the +fingers, and you will smooth out my sign-manual; that's the way you used +to look before I left my card on you. + +_Professor_.--What message do people generally send back when you first +call on them? + +_Old Age.--Not at home_. Then I leave a card and go. Next year I call; +get the same answer; leave another card. So for five or six,--sometimes +ten years or more. At last, if they don't let me in, I break in through +the front door or the windows. + +We talked together in this way some time. Then Old Age said again,-- +Come, let us walk down the street together,--and offered me a cane, an +eyeglass, a tippet, and a pair of over-shoes.--No, much obliged to you, +said I. I don't want those things, and I had a little rather talk with +you here, privately, in my study. So I dressed myself up in a jaunty way +and walked out alone;--got a fall, caught a cold, was laid up with a +lumbago, and had time to think over this whole matter. + +_Explicit Allegoria Senectutis_. + +We have settled when old age begins. Like all Nature's processes, it is +gentle and gradual in its approaches, strewed with illusions, and all +its little griefs soothed by natural sedatives. But the iron hand is +not less irresistible because it wears the velvet glove. The buttonwood +throws off its bark in large flakes, which one may find lying at its +foot, pushed out, and at last pushed off, by that tranquil movement from +beneath, which is too slow to be seen, but too powerful to be arrested. +One finds them always, but one rarely sees them fall. So it is our youth +drops from us,--scales off, sapless and lifeless, and lays bare the +tender and immature fresh growth of old age. Looked at collectively, +the changes of old age appear as a series of personal insults and +indignities, terminating at last in death, which Sir Thomas Browne has +called "the very disgrace and ignominy of our natures." + + My lady's cheek can boast no more + The cranberry white and pink it wore; + And where her shining locks divide, + The parting line is all too wide---- + +No, no,--this will never do. Talk about men, if you will, but spare the +poor women. + +We have a brief description of seven stages of life by a remarkably good +observer. It is very presumptuous to attempt to add to it, yet I have +been struck with the fact that life admits of a natural analysis into no +less than fifteen distinct periods. Taking the five primary divisions, +infancy, childhood, youth, manhood, old age, each of these has its +own three periods of immaturity, complete development, and decline. I +recognize an _old_ baby at once,--with its "pipe and mug," (a stick of +candy and a porringer,)--so does everybody; and an old child shedding +its milk-teeth is only a little prototype of the old man shedding his +permanent ones. Fifty or thereabouts is only the childhood, as it were, +of old age; the graybeard youngster must be weaned from his late suppers +now. So you will see that you have to make fifteen stages at any rate, +and that it would not be hard to make twenty-five; five primary, each +with five secondary divisions. + +The infancy and childhood of commencing old age have the same ingenuous +simplicity and delightful unconsciousness about them that the first +stage of the earlier periods of life shows. The great delusion of +mankind is in supposing that to be individual and exceptional which is +universal and according to law. A person is always startled when he +hears himself seriously called an old man for the first time. + +Nature gets us out of youth into manhood, as sailors are hurried on +board of vessels,--in a state of intoxication. We are hustled into +maturity reeling with our passions and imaginations, and we have drifted +far away from port before we awake out of our illusions. But to carry us +out of maturity into old age, without our knowing where we are going, +she drugs us with strong opiates, and so we stagger along with wide open +eyes that see nothing until snow enough has fallen on our heads to rouse +our comatose brains out of their stupid trances. + +There is one mark of age that strikes me more than any of the physical +ones;--I mean the formation of _Habits_. An old man who shrinks into +himself falls into ways that become as positive and as much beyond the +reach of outside influences as if they were governed by clockwork. The +_animal_ functions, as the physiologists call them, in distinction from +the _organic_, tend, in the process of deterioration to which age +and neglect united gradually lead them, to assume the periodical or +rhythmical type of movement. Every man's _heart_ (this organ belongs, +you know, to the organic system) has a regular mode of action; but I +know a great many men whose _brains_, and all their voluntary existence +flowing from their brains, have a _systole_ and _diastole_ as regular +as that of the heart itself. Habit is the approximation of the animal +system to the organic. It is a confession of failure in the highest +function of being, which involves a perpetual self-determination, in +full view of all existing circumstances. But habit, you see, is an +action in present circumstances from past motives. It is substituting a +_vis a tergo_ for the evolution of living force. + +When a man, instead of burning up three hundred pounds of carbon a +year, has got down to two hundred and fifty, it is plain enough he must +economize force somewhere. Now habit is a labor-saving invention which +enables a man to get along with less fuel,--that is all; for fuel is +force, you know, just as much in the page I am writing for you as in the +locomotive or the legs that carry it to you. Carbon is the same thing, +whether you call it wood, or coal, or bread and cheese. A reverend +gentleman demurred to this statement,--as if, because combustion is +asserted to be the _sine qua non_ of thought, therefore thought is +alleged to be a purely chemical process. Facts of chemistry are one +thing, I told him, and facts of consciousness another. It can be proved +to him, by a very simple analysis of some of his spare elements, +that every Sunday, when he does his duty faithfully, he uses up more +phosphorus out of his brain and nerves than on ordinary days. But then +he had his choice whether to do his duty, or to neglect it, and save his +phosphorus and other combustibles. + +It follows from all this that _the formation of habits_ ought naturally +to be, as it is, the special characteristic of age. As for the muscular +powers, they pass their maximum long before the time when the true +decline of life begins, if we may judge by the experience of the ring. A +man is "stale," I think, in their language, soon after thirty,--often, +no doubt, much earlier, as gentlemen of the pugilistic profession are +exceedingly apt to keep their vital fire burning _with the blower up_. + +----So far without Tully. But in the mean time I have been reading the +treatise, "De Senectute." It is not long, but a leisurely performance. +The old gentleman was sixty-three years of age when he addressed it to +his friend T. Pomponius Atticus, Eq., a person of distinction, some two +or three years older. We read it when we are schoolboys, forget all +about it for thirty years, and then take it up again by a natural +instinct,--provided always that we read Latin as we drink water, without +stopping to taste it, as all of us who ever learned it at school or +college ought to do. + +Cato is the chief speaker in the dialogue. A good deal of it is what +would be called in vulgar phrase "slow." It unpacks and unfolds +incidental illustrations which a modern writer would look at the back +of, and toss each to its pigeonhole. I think ancient classics and +ancient people are alike in the tendency to this kind of expansion. + +An old doctor came to me once (this is literal fact) with some +contrivance or other for people with broken kneepans. As the patient +would be confined for a good while, he might find it dull work to sit +with his hands in his lap. Reading, the ingenious inventor suggested, +would be an agreeable mode of passing the time. He mentioned, in his +written account of his contrivance, various works that might amuse the +weary hour. I remember only three,--Don Quixote, Tom Jones, and _Watts +on the Mind_. + +It is not generally understood that Cicero's essay was delivered as a +lyceum lecture, (_concio popularis_,) at the Temple of Mercury. The +journals (_papyri_) of the day ("Tempora Quotidiana,"--"Tribunus +Quirinalis,"--"Praeco Romanus," and the rest) gave abstracts of it, one +of which I have translated and modernized, as being a substitute for the +analysis I intended to make. + +IV. Kal. Mart.... + +The lecture at the Temple of Mercury, last evening, was well attended +by the _élite_ of our great city. Two hundred thousand sestertia were +thought to have been represented in the house. The doors were besieged +by a mob of shabby fellows, (_illotum vulgus_,) who were at length +quieted after two or three had been somewhat roughly handled (_gladio +jugulati_). The speaker was the well-known Mark Tully, Eq.,--the +subject, Old Age. Mr. T. has a lean and scraggy person, with a very +unpleasant excrescence upon his nasal feature, from which his nickname +of _chick-pea_ (Cicero) is said by some to be derived. As a lecturer is +public property, we may remark, that his outer garment (_toga_) was of +cheap stuff and somewhat worn, and that his general style and appearance +of dress and manner (_habitus, vestitusque_) were somewhat provincial. + +The lecture consisted of an imaginary dialogue between Cato and Laelius. +We found the first portion rather heavy, and retired a few moments for +refreshment (_pocula quoedam vini_).--All want to reach old age, says +Cato, and grumble when they get it; therefore they are donkeys.--The +lecturer will allow us to say that he is the donkey; we know we shall +grumble at old age, but we want to live through youth and manhood, _in +spite_ of the troubles we shall groan over.--There was considerable +prosing as to what old age can do and can't--True, but not new. +Certainly, old folks can't jump,--break the necks of their thigh-bones, +(_femorum cervices_,) if they do, can't crack nuts with their teeth; +can't climb a greased pole (_malum inunctum scandere non possunt_); but +they can tell old stories and give you good advice; if they know what +you have made up your mind to do when you ask them.--All this is well +enough, but won't set the Tiber on fire (_Tiberim accendere nequaquam +potest_). + +There were some clever things enough, (_dicta haud inepta_,) a few of +which are worth reporting.--Old people are accused of being forgetful; +but they never forget where they have put their money.--Nobody is so old +he doesn't think he can live a year.--The lecturer quoted an ancient +maxim,--Grow old early, if you would be old long,--but disputed it.-- +Authority, he thought, was the chief privilege of age.--It is not great +to have money, but fine to govern those that have it.--Old age begins +at _forty-six_ years, according to the common opinion.--It is not every +kind of old age or of wine that grows sour with time.--Some excellent +remarks were made on immortality, but mainly borrowed from and credited +to Plato.--Several pleasing anecdotes were told.--Old Milo, champion of +the heavy weights in his day, looked at his arms and whimpered, "They +are dead." Not so dead as you, you old fool,--says Cato;--you never +were good for anything but for your shoulders and flanks.--Pisistratus +asked Solon what made him dare to be so obstinate. Old age, said Solon. + +The lecture was on the whole acceptable, and a credit to our culture +and civilization.--The reporter goes on to state that there will be no +lecture next week, on account of the expected combat between the bear +and the barbarian. Betting (_sponsio_) two to one (_duo ad unum_) on the +bear. + +----After all, the most encouraging things I find in the treatise, "De +Senectute," are the stories of men who have found new occupations when +growing old, or kept up their common pursuits in the extreme period of +life. Cato learned Greek when he was old, and speaks of wishing to learn +the fiddle, or some such instrument, (_fidibus_,) after the example of +Socrates. Solon learned something new, every day, in his old age, as he +gloried to proclaim. Cyrus pointed out with pride and pleasure the trees +he had planted with his own hand. [I remember a pillar on the Duke of +Northumberland's estate at Alnwick, with an inscription in similar +words, if not the same. That, like other country pleasures, never wears +out. None is too rich, none too poor, none too young, none too old to +enjoy it.] There is a New England story I have heard more to the point, +however, than any of Cicero's. A young farmer was urged to set out some +apple-trees.--No, said he, they are too long growing, and I don't want +to plant for other people. The young farmer's father was spoken to about +it; but he, with better reason, alleged that apple-trees were slow and +life was fleeting. At last some one mentioned it to the old grandfather +of the young farmer. He had nothing else to do,--so he stuck in some +trees. He lived long enough to drink barrels of cider made from the +apples that grew on those trees. + +As for myself, after visiting a friend lately,--[Do remember all the +time that this is the Professor's paper,]--I satisfied myself that I had +better concede the fact that--my contemporaries are not so young as they +have been,--and that,--awkward as it is,--science and history agree in +telling me that I can claim the immunities and must own the humiliations +of the early stage of senility. Ah! but we have all gone down the hill +together. The dandies of my time have split their waistbands and taken +to high-low shoes. The beauties of my recollections--where are they? +They have run the gantlet of the years as well as I. First the years +pelted them with red roses till their cheeks were all on fire. By and by +they began throwing white roses, and that morning flush passed away. At +last one of the years threw a snow-ball, and after that no year let +the poor girls pass without throwing snow-balls. And then came rougher +missiles,--ice and stones; and from time to time an arrow whistled and +down went one of the poor girls. So there are but few left; and we don't +call those few _girls_, but---- + +Ah, me! here am I groaning just as the old Greek sighed _Ai, ai!_ and +the old Roman, _Eheu!_ I have no doubt we should die of shame and grief +at the indignities offered us by age, if it were not that we see so many +others as badly or worse off than ourselves. We always compare ourselves +with our contemporaries. + +[I was interrupted in my reading just here. Before I began at the next +breakfast, I read them these verses;--I hope you will like them, and get +a useful lesson from them.] + + +THE LAST BLOSSOM. + + Though young no more, we still would dream + Of beauty's dear deluding wiles; + The leagues of life to graybeards seem + Shorter than boyhood's lingering miles. + + Who knows a woman's wild caprice? + It played with Goethe's silvered hair, + And many a Holy Father's "niece" + Has softly smoothed the papal chair. + + When sixty bids us sigh in vain + To melt the heart of sweet sixteen, + We think upon those ladies twain + Who loved so well the tough old Dean. + + We see the Patriarch's wintry face, + The maid of Egypt's dusky glow, + And dream that Youth and Age embrace, + As April violets fill with snow. + + Tranced in her Lord's Olympian smile + His lotus-loving Memphian lies,-- + The musky daughter of the Nile + With plaited hair and almond eyes. + + Might we but share one wild caress + Ere life's autumnal blossoms fall, + And Earth's brown, clinging lips impress + The long cold kiss that waits us all! + + My bosom heaves, remembering yet + The morning of that blissful day + When Rose, the flower of spring, I met, + And gave my raptured soul away. + + Flung from her eyes of purest blue, + A lasso, with its leaping chain + Light as a loop of larkspurs, flew + O'er sense and spirit, heart and brain. + + Thou com'st to cheer my waning age, + Sweet vision, waited for so long! + Dove that wouldst seek the poet's cage, + Lured by the magic breath of song! + + She blushes! Ah, reluctant maid, + Love's _drapeau rouge_ the truth has told! + O'er girlhood's yielding barricade + Floats the great Leveller's crimson fold! + + Come to my arms!--love heeds not years; + No frost the bud of passion knows.-- + Ha! what is this my frenzy hears? + A voice behind me uttered,--Rose! + + Sweet was her smile,--but not for me; + Alas, when woman looks _too_ kind, + Just turn your foolish head and see,-- + Some youth is walking close behind! + +As to _giving up_ because the almanac or the Family-Bible says that it +is about time to do it, I have no intention of doing any such thing. I +grant you that I burn less carbon than some years ago. I see people +of my standing really good for nothing, decrepit, effete, _la lèvre +inférieure déjà pendante_, with what little life they have left mainly +concentrated in their epigastrium. But as the disease of old age is +epidemic, endemic, and sporadic, and everybody that lives long enough is +sure to catch it, I am going to say, for the encouragement of such as +need it, how I treat the malady in my own case. + +First. As I feel, that, when I have anything to do, there is less time +for it than when I was younger, I find that I give my attention more +thoroughly, and use my time more economically than ever before; so that +I can learn anything twice as easily as in my earlier days. I am not, +therefore, afraid to attack a new study. I took up a difficult language +a very few years ago with good success, and think of mathematics and +metaphysics by-and-by. + +Secondly. I have opened my eyes to a good many neglected privileges and +pleasures within my reach, and requiring only a little courage to enjoy +them. You may well suppose it pleased me to find that old Cato was +thinking of learning to play the fiddle, when I had deliberately taken +it up in my old age, and satisfied myself that I could get much comfort, +if not much music, out of it. + +Thirdly. I have found that some of those active exercises, which are +commonly thought to belong to young folks only, may be enjoyed at a much +later period. + +A young friend has lately written an admirable article in one of the +journals, entitled, "Saints and their Bodies." Approving of his general +doctrines, and grateful for his records of personal experience, I cannot +refuse to add my own experimental confirmation of his eulogy of one +particular form of active exercise and amusement, namely, _boating_. +For the past nine years, I have rowed about, during a good part of the +summer, on fresh or salt water. My present fleet on the river Charles +consists of three rowboats. 1. A small flat-bottomed skiff of the shape +of a flat-iron, kept mainly to lend to boys. 2. A fancy "dory" for two +pairs of sculls, in which I sometimes go out with my young folks. 3. +My own particular water-sulky, a "skeleton" or "shell" race-boat, +twenty-two feet long, with huge outriggers, which boat I pull with +ten-foot sculls,--alone, of course, as it holds but one, and tips him +out, if he doesn't mind what he is about. In this I glide around the +Back Bay, down the stream, up the Charles to Cambridge and Watertown, up +the Mystic, round the wharves, in the wake of steamboats, which have +a swell after them delightful to rock upon; I linger under the +bridges,--those "caterpillar bridges," as my brother Professor so +happily called them; rub against the black sides of old wood-schooners; +cool down under the overhanging stern of some tall India-man; stretch +across to the Navy-Yard, where the sentinel warns me off from the +Ohio,--just as if I should hurt her by lying in her shadow; then strike +out into the harbor, where the water gets clear and the air smells of +the ocean,--till all at once I remember, that, if a west wind blows up +of a sudden, I shall drift along past the islands, out of sight of the +dear old State-house,--plate, tumbler, knife and fork all waiting at +home, but no chair drawn up at the table,--all the dear people waiting, +waiting, waiting, while the boat is sliding, sliding, sliding into the +great desert, where there is no tree and no fountain. As I don't want +my wreck to be washed up on one of the beaches in company with +devils'-aprons, bladder-weeds, dead horse-shoes, and bleached +crab-shells, I turn about and flap my long, narrow wings for home. When +the tide is running out swiftly, I have a splendid fight to get through +the bridges, but always make it a rule to beat,--though I have been +jammed up into pretty tight places at times, and was caught once between +a vessel swinging round and the pier, until our bones (the boat's, that +is) cracked as if we had been in the jaws of Behemoth. Then back to my +moorings at the foot of the Common, off with the rowing-dress, dash +under the green translucent wave, return to the garb of civilization, +walk through my Garden, take a look at my elms on the Common, and, +reaching my habitat, in consideration of my advanced period of life, +indulge in the Elysian abandonment of a huge recumbent chair. + +When I have established a pair of well-pronounced feathering-calluses on +my thumbs, when I am in training so that I can do my fifteen miles at a +stretch without coming to grief in any way, when I can perform my mile +in eight minutes or a little less, then I feel as if I had old Time's +head in chancery, and could give it to him at my leisure. + +I do not deny the attraction of walking. I have bored this ancient city +through and through in my daily travels, until I know it as an old +inhabitant of a Cheshire knows his cheese. Why, it was I who, in the +course of these rambles, discovered that remarkable avenue called +_Myrtle Street_, stretching in one long line from east of the Reservoir +to a precipitous and rudely paved cliff which looks down on the grim +abode of Science, and beyond it to the far hills; a promenade so +delicious in its repose, so cheerfully varied with glimpses down the +northern slope into busy Cambridge Street with its iron river of the +horse-railroad, and wheeled barges gliding back and forward over it,--so +delightfully closing at its western extremity in sunny courts and +passages where I know peace, and beauty, and virtue, and serene old age +must be perpetual tenants,--so alluring to all who desire to take their +daily stroll, in the words of Dr. Watts,-- + + "Alike unknowing and unknown,"-- + +that nothing but a sense of duty would have prompted me to reveal the +secret of its existence. I concede, therefore, that walking is an +immeasurably fine invention, of which old age ought constantly to avail +itself. + +Saddle-leather is in some respects even preferable to sole-leather. The +principal objection to it is of a financial character. But you may be +sure that Bacon and Sydenham did not recommend it for nothing. One's +_hepar_, or, in vulgar language, liver,--a ponderous organ, weighing +some three or four pounds,--goes up and down like the dasher of a +churn in the midst of the other vital arrangements, at every step of +a trotting horse. The brains also are shaken up like coppers in a +moneybox. Riding is good, for those that are born with a silver-mounted +bridle in their hand, and can ride as much and as often as they like, +without thinking all the time they hear that steady grinding sound as +the horse's jaws triturate with calm lateral movement the bank-bills and +promises to pay upon which it is notorious that the profligate animal in +question feeds day and night. + +Instead, however, of considering these kinds of exercise in this +empirical way, I will devote a brief space to an examination of them in +a more scientific form. + +The pleasure of exercise is due first to a purely physical impression, +and secondly to a sense of power in action. The first source of pleasure +varies of course with our condition and the state of the surrounding +circumstances; the second with the amount and kind of power, and the +extent and kind of action. In all forms of active exercise there are +three powers simultaneously in action,--the will, the muscles, and the +intellect. Each of these predominates in different kinds of exercise. +In walking, the will and muscles are so accustomed to work together +and perform their task with so little expenditure of force, that the +intellect is left comparatively free. The mental pleasure in walking, +as such, is in the sense of power over all our moving machinery. But in +riding, I have the additional pleasure of governing another will, and my +muscles extend to the tips of the animal's ears and to his four hoofs, +instead of stopping at my hands and feet. Now in this extension of +my volition and my physical frame into another animal, my tyrannical +instincts and my desire for heroic strength are at once gratified. When +the horse ceases to have a will of his own and his muscles require no +special attention on your part, then you may live on horseback as Wesley +did, and write sermons or take naps, as you like. But you will observe, +that, in riding on horseback, you always have a feeling, that, after +all, it is not you that do the work, but the animal, and this prevents +the satisfaction from being complete. + +Now let us look at the conditions of rowing. I won't suppose you to be +disgracing yourself in one of those miserable tubs, tugging in which is +to rowing the true boat what riding a cow is to bestriding an Arab. You +know the Esquimaux _kayak_, (if that is the name of it,) don't you? Look +at that model of one over my door. Sharp, rather?--On the contrary, it +is a lubber to the one you and I must have; a Dutch fish-wife to +Psyche, contrasted with what I will tell you about.--Our boat, then, is +something of the shape of a pickerel, as you look down upon his back, +he lying in the sunshine just where the sharp edge of the water cuts in +among the lily-pads. It is a kind of a giant _pod_, as one may say,-- +tight everywhere, except in a little place in the middle, where you sit. +Its length is from seven to ten yards, and as it is only from sixteen to +thirty inches wide in its widest part, you understand why you want those +"outriggers," or projecting iron frames with the rowlocks in which the +oars play. My rowlocks are five feet apart; double or more than double +the greatest width of the boat. + +Here you are, then, afloat with a body a rod and a half long, with arms, +or wings, as you may choose to call them, stretching more than twenty +feet from tip to tip; every volition of yours extending as perfectly +into them as if your spinal cord ran down the centre strip of your boat, +and the nerves of your arms tingled as far as the broad blades of your +oars,--oars of spruce, balanced, leathered, and ringed under your own +special direction. This, in sober earnest, is the nearest approach to +flying that man has ever made or perhaps ever will make. As the hawk +sails without flapping his pinions, so you drift with the tide when you +will, in the most luxurious form of locomotion indulged to an embodied +spirit. But if your blood wants rousing, turn round that stake in the +river, which you see a mile from here; and when you come in in sixteen +minutes, (if you do, for we are old boys, and not champion scullers, you +remember,) then say if you begin to feel a little warmed up or not! You +can row easily and gently all day, and you can row yourself blind and +black in the face in ten minutes, just as you like. It has been long +agreed that there is no way in which a man can accomplish so much labor +with his muscles as in rowing. It is in the boat, then, that man finds +the largest extension of his volitional and muscular existence; and +yet he may tax both of them so slightly, in that most delicious of +exercises, that he shall mentally write his sermon, or his poem, or +recall the remarks he has made in company and put them in form for the +public, as well as in his easy-chair. + +I dare not publicly name the rare joys, the infinite delights, that +intoxicate me on some sweet June morning, when the river and bay are +smooth as a sheet of beryl-green silk, and I run along ripping it up +with my knife-edged shell of a boat, the rent closing after me like +those wounds of angels which Milton tells of, but the seam still shining +for many a long rood behind me. To lie still over the Flats, where the +waters are shallow, and see the crabs crawling and the sculpins gliding +busily and silently beneath the boat,--to rustle in through the long +harsh grass that leads up some tranquil creek,--to take shelter from the +sunbeams under one of the thousand-footed bridges, and look down its +interminable colonnades, crusted with green and oozy growths, studded +with minute barnacles, and belted with rings of dark muscles, while +overhead streams and thunders that other river whose every wave is +a human soul flowing to eternity as the river below flows to the +ocean,--lying there moored unseen, in loneliness so profound that +the columns of Tadmor in the Desert could not seem more remote from +life,--the cool breeze on one's forehead, the stream whispering against +the half-sunken pillars,--why should I tell of these things, that I +should live to see my beloved haunts invaded and the waves blackened +with boats as with a swarm of water-beetles? What a city of idiots +we must be not to have covered this glorious bay with gondolas and +wherries, as we have just learned to cover the ice in winter with +skaters! + +I am satisfied that such a set of black-coated, stiff-jointed, +soft-muscled, paste-complexioned youth as we can boast in our Atlantic +cities never before sprang from loins of Anglo-Saxon lineage. Of the +females that are the mates of these males I do not here speak. I +preached my sermon from the lay-pulpit on this matter a good while +ago. Of course, if you heard it, you know my belief is that the total +climatic influences here are getting up a number of new patterns of +humanity, some of which are not an improvement on the old model. +Clipper-built, sharp in the bows, long in the spars, slender to look at, +and fast to go, the ship, which is the great organ of our national +life of relation, is but a reproduction of the typical form which the +elements impress upon its builder. All this we cannot help; but we can +make the best of these influences, such as they are. We have a few +good boatmen,--no good horsemen that I hear of,--nothing remarkable, I +believe, in cricketing,--and as for any great athletic feat performed +by a gentleman in these latitudes, society would drop a man who should +run round the Common in five minutes. Some of our amateur fencers, +single-stick players, and boxers, we have no reason to be ashamed of. +Boxing is rough play, but not too rough for a hearty young fellow. +Anything is better than this white-blooded degeneration to which we all +tend. + +I dropped into a gentlemen's sparring exhibition only last evening. It +did my heart good to see that there were a few young and youngish youths +left who could take care of their own heads in case of emergency. It is +a fine sight, that of a gentleman resolving himself into the primitive +constituents of his humanity. Here is a delicate young man now, with an +intellectual countenance, a slight figure, a sub-pallid complexion, a +most unassuming deportment, a mild adolescent in fact, that any Hiram or +Jonathan from between the ploughtails would of course expect to handle +with perfect ease. Oh, he is taking off his gold-bowed spectacles! Ah, +he is divesting himself of his cravat! Why, he is stripping off his +coat! Well, here he is, sure enough, in a tight silk shirt, and with two +things that look like batter puddings in the place of his fists. Now see +that other fellow with another pair of batter puddings,--the big one +with the broad shoulders; he will certainly knock the little man's +head off, if he strikes him. Feinting, dodging, stopping, hitting, +countering,--little man's head not off yet. You might as well try to +jump upon your own shadow as to hit the little man's intellectual +features. He needn't have taken off the gold-bowed spectacles at all. +Quick, cautious, shifty, nimble, cool, he catches all the fierce lunges +or gets out of their reach, till his turn comes, and then, whack goes +one of the batter puddings against the big one's ribs, and bang goes the +other into the big one's face, and, staggering, shuffling, slipping, +tripping, collapsing, sprawling, down goes the big one in a +miscellaneous bundle.--If my young friend, whose excellent article I +have referred to, could only introduce the manly art of self-defence +among the clergy, I am satisfied that we should have better sermons and +an infinitely less quarrelsome church-militant. A bout with the gloves +would let off the ill-nature, and cure the indigestion, which, united, +have embroiled their subject in a bitter controversy. We should then +often hear that a point of difference between an infallible and a +heretic, instead of being vehemently discussed in a series of newspaper +articles, had been settled by a friendly contest in several rounds, +at the close of which the parties shook hands and appeared cordially +reconciled. + +But boxing you and I are too old for, I am afraid. I was for a moment +tempted, by the contagion of muscular electricity last evening, to try +the gloves with the Benicia Boy, who looked in as a friend to the noble +art; but remembering that he had twice my weight and half my age, +besides the advantage of his training, I sat still and said nothing. + +There is one other delicate point I wish to speak of with reference +to old age. I refer to the use of dioptric media which correct the +diminished refracting power of the humors of the eye,--in other words, +spectacles. I don't use them. All I ask is a large, fair type, a strong +daylight or gas-light, and one yard of focal distance, and my eyes are +as good as ever. But if _your_ eyes fail, I can tell you something +encouraging. There is now living in New York State an old gentleman who, +perceiving his sight to fail, immediately took to exercising it on the +finest print, and in this way fairly bullied Nature out of her foolish +habit of taking liberties at five-and-forty, or thereabout. And now +this old gentleman performs the most extraordinary feats with his pen, +showing that his eyes must be a pair of microscopes. I should be afraid +to say to you how much he writes in the compass of a half-dime,-- +whether the Psalms or the Gospels, or the Psalms _and_ the Gospels, I +won't be positive. + +But now let me tell you this. If the time comes when you must lay down +the fiddle and the bow, because your fingers are too stiff, and drop the +ten-foot sculls, because your arms are too weak, and, after dallying +awhile with eye-glasses, come at last to the undisguised reality of +spectacles,--if the time comes when that fire of life we spoke of has +burned so low that where its flames reverberated there is only the +sombre stain of regret, and where its coals glowed, only the white ashes +that cover the embers of memory,--don't let your heart grow cold, and +you may carry cheerfulness and love with you into the teens of your +second century, if you can last so long. As our friend, the Poet, once +said, in some of those old-fashioned heroics of his which he keeps for +his private reading,-- + + Call him not old, whose visionary brain + Holds o'er the past its undivided reign. + For him in vain the envious seasons roll + Who bears eternal summer in his soul. + If yet the minstrel's song, the poet's lay, + Spring with her birds, or children with their play, + Or maiden's smile, or heavenly dream of art + Stir the few life-drops creeping round his heart,-- + Turn to the record where his years are told,-- + Count his gray hairs,--they cannot make him old! + +_End of the Professor's paper_. + +[The above essay was not read at one time, but in several instalments, +and accompanied by various comments from different persons at the table. +The company were in the main attentive, with the exception of a little +somnolence on the part of the old gentleman opposite at times, and a +few sly, malicious questions about the "old boys" on the part of that +forward young fellow who has figured occasionally, not always to his +advantage, in these reports. + +On Sunday mornings, in obedience to a feeling I am not ashamed of, +I have always tried to give a more appropriate character to our +conversation. I have never read them my sermon yet, and I don't know +that I shall, as some of them might take my convictions as a personal +indignity to themselves. But having read our company so much of the +Professor's talk about age and other subjects connected with physical +life, I took the next Sunday morning to repeat to them the following +poem of his, which I have had by me some time. He calls it--I suppose, +for his professional friends--THE ANATOMIST'S HYMN; but I shall name +it--] + + +THE LIVING TEMPLE. + + Not in the world of light alone, + Where God has built his blazing throne, + Nor yet alone in earth below, + With belted seas that come and go, + And endless isles of sunlit green, + Is all thy Maker's glory seen: + Look in upon thy wondrous frame,-- + Eternal wisdom still the same! + + The smooth, soft air with pulse-like waves + Flows murmuring through its hidden caves + Whose streams of brightening purple rush + Fired with a new and livelier blush, + While all their burden of decay + The ebbing current steals away, + And red with Nature's flame they start + From the warm fountains of the heart. + + No rest that throbbing slave may ask, + Forever quivering o'er his task, + While far and wide a crimson jet + Leaps forth to fill the woven net + Which in unnumbered crossing tides + The flood of burning life divides, + Then kindling each decaying part + Creeps back to find the throbbing heart. + + But warmed with that unchanging flame + Behold the outward moving frame, + Its living marbles jointed strong + With glistening band and silvery thong, + And linked to reason's guiding reins + By myriad rings in trembling chains, + Each graven with the threaded zone + Which claims it as the master's own. + + See how yon beam of seeming white + Is braided out of seven-hued light, + Yet in those lucid gloves no ray + By any chance shall break astray. + Hark how the rolling surge of sound, + Arches and spirals circling round, + Wakes the hushed spirit through thine ear + With music it is heaven to hear. + + Then mark the cloven sphere that holds + All thoughts in its mysterious folds, + That feels sensation's faintest thrill + And flashes for the sovereign will; + Think on the stormy world that dwells + Locked in its dim and clustering cells! + The lightning gleams of power it sheds + Along its hollow glassy threads! + + O Father! grant thy love divine + To make these mystic temples thine! + When wasting age and wearying strife + Have sapped the leaning walls of life, + When darkness gathers over all, + And the last tottering pillars fall, + Take the poor dust thy mercy warms + And mould it into heavenly forms! + + * * * * * + + +LITERARY NOTICES. + + +_Library of Old Authors.--Works of John Marston_. London: John Russell +Smith. 1856-7. + +Mr. Halliwell, at the close of his Preface to the Works of Marston, +(Vol. I. p. xxii.,) says, "The dramas now collected together are +reprinted absolutely from the early editions, which were placed in the +hands of our printers, who thus had the advantage of following them +without the intervention of a transcriber. They are given as nearly as +possible in their original state, the only modernizations attempted +consisting in the alternations of the letters _i_ and _j_, and _u_ and +_v_, the retention of which" (does Mr. Halliwell mean the letters or the +"alternations"?) "would have answered no useful purpose, while it would +have unnecessarily perplexed the modern reader." + +This not very clear; but as Mr. Halliwell is a member of several learned +foreign societies, and especially of the Royal _Irish_ Academy, perhaps +it would he unfair to demand that he should write clear English. As one +of Mr. Smith's editors, it was to be expected that he should not write +it idiomatically. Some malign constellation (Taurus, perhaps, whose +infaust aspect may be supposed to preside over the makers of bulls and +blunders) seems to have been in conjunction with heavy Saturn when the +Library was projected. At the top of the same page from which we have +made our quotation, Mr. Halliwell speaks of "conveying a favorable +impression _on_ modern readers." It was surely to no such phrase as this +that Ensign Pistol alluded when he said, "_Convey_ the _wise_ it call." + +A literal reprint of an old author may be of value in two ways: the +orthography may in certain cases indicate the ancient pronunciation, or +it may put us on a scent which shall lead us to the burrow of a word +among the roots of language. But in order to this, it surely is not +needful to undertake the reproduction of all the original errors of the +press; and even were it so, the proofs of carelessness in the editorial +department are so glaring, that we are left in doubt, after all, if we +may congratulate ourselves on possessing all these sacred blunders +of the Elizabethan typesetters in their integrity and without any +debasement of modern alloy. If it be gratifying to know that there lived +stupid men before our contemporary Agamemnons in that kind, yet we +demand absolute accuracy in the report of the _phenomena_ in order to +arrive at anything like safe statistics. For instance, we find (Vol. I. +p. 89) "ACTUS SECUNDUS, SCENA PRIMUS," and (Vol. III. p. 174) "_exit +ambo_," and we are interested to know that in a London printing-house, +two centuries and a half ago, there was a philanthropist who wished to +simplify the study of the Latin language by reducing all the nouns to +one gender and all the verbs to one number. Had his emancipated theories +of grammar prevailed, how much easier would that part of boys which +cherubs want have found the school-room benches! How would birchen bark, +as an educational tonic, have fallen in repute! How white would have +been the (now black-and-blue) memories of Dr. Busby and so many other +educational _lictors_, who, with their bundles of rods, heralded not +alone the consuls, but all other Roman antiquities to us! We dare not, +however, indulge in the grateful vision, since there are circumstances +which lead us to infer that Mr. Halliwell himself (member though he be +of so many learned societies) has those vague notions of the speech of +ancient Rome which are apt to prevail in regions which count not the +_betula_ in their _Flora_. On page xv. of his Preface, he makes +Drummond say that Ben Jonson "was dilated" (_delated_,--Gifford gives it +in English, _accused_) "to the king by Sir James Murray,"--Ben, whose +corpulent person stood in so little need of that malicious increment! + +What is Mr. Halliwell's conception of editorial duty? As we read along, +and the once fair complexion of the margin grew more and more pimply +with pencil-marks, like that of a bad proof-sheet, we began to think +that he was acting on the principle of every man his own washerwoman, +--that he was making blunders of set purpose, (as teachers of languages +do in their exercises,) in order that we might correct them for +ourselves, and so fit us in time to be editors also, and members of +various learned societies, even as Mr. Halliwell himself is. We fancied, +that, magnanimously waving aside the laurel with which a grateful +posterity crowned General Wade, he wished us "to see these roads +_before_ they were made," and develope our intellectual muscles in +getting over them. But no; Mr. Halliwell has appended notes to his +edition, and among them are some which correct misprints, and therefore +seem to imply that he considers that service as belonging properly to +the editorial function. We are obliged, then, to give up our theory that +his intention was to make every reader an editor, and to suppose that he +wished rather to show how disgracefully a book might be edited and yet +receive the commendation of professional critics who read with the ends +of their fingers. If this were his intention, Marston himself never +published so biting a satire. + +Let us look at a few of the intricate passages, to help us through +which Mr. Halliwell lends us the light of his editorial lantern. In the +Induction to "What you Will" occurs the striking and unusual phrase, +"Now out up-pont," and Mr. Halliwell favors us with the following note: +"Page 221, line 10. _Up-pont_.--That is, upon't." Again in the same play +we find-- + + "Let twattling fame cheatd others rest, + I um no dish for rumors feast." + +Of course, it should read,-- + + "Let twattling [twaddling] Fame cheate others' rest, + I am no dish for Rumor's feast." + +Mr. Halliwell comes to our assistance thus: "Page 244, line 21, [22 +it should be,] _I um_,--a printer's error for _I am." Dignus vindice +nodus_! Five lines above, we have "whole" for "who'll," and four lines +below, "helmeth" for "whelmeth"; but Mr. Halliwell vouchsafes no note. +In the "Fawn" we read, "Wise _neads_ use few words," and the editor says +in a note, "a misprint for _heads_"! Kind Mr. Halliwell! + +Having given a few examples of our "Editor's" corrections, we proceed to +quote a passage or two which, it is to be presumed, he thought perfectly +clear. + + "A man can skarce put on a tuckt-up cap, + A button'd frizado sute, skarce eate good meate, + _Anchoves, caviare_, but hee's satyred + And term'd phantasticall. By the muddy spawne + Of slymie neughtes, when troth, phantasticknesse-- + That which the naturall sophysters tearme + _Phantusia incomplexa_--is a function + Even of the bright immortal part of man. + It is the common passe, the sacred dore, + Unto the prive chamber of the soule; + That bar'd, nought passeth past the baser court. + Of outward scence by it th' inamorate + Most lively thinkes he sees the absent beauties + Of his lov'd mistres."--Vol. I. p. 241. + +In this case, also, the true readings are clear enough:-- + + "And termed fantastical by the muddy spawn + Of slimy newts"; + +and + + ----"past the baser court + Of outward sense";-- + +but, if anything was to be explained, why are we here deserted by our +_fida compagna_? + +Again, (Vol. II. pp. 55-56,) we read, "This Granuffo is a right wise +good lord, a man of excellent discourse, and never speakes his signes to +me, and men of profound reach instruct aboundantly; hee begges suites +with signes, gives thanks with signes," etc. + +This Granuffo is qualified among the "Interlocutors" as "a silent lord," +and what fun there is in the character (which, it must be confessed, is +rather of a lenten kind) consists in his genius for saying nothing. +It is plain enough that the passage should read, "a man of excellent +discourse, and never speaks; his signs to me and men of profound reach +instruct abundantly," etc. + +In both the passages we have quoted, it is not difficult for the reader +to set the text right. But if not difficult for the reader, it should +certainly not have been so for the editor, who should have done what +Broome was said to have done for Pope in his Homer,--"gone before and +swept the way." An edition of an English author ought to be intelligible +to English readers, and, if the editor do not make it so, he wrongs the +old poet, for two centuries lapt in lead, to whose works he undertakes +to play the gentleman-usher. A play written in our own tongue should not +be as tough to us as Aeschylus to a ten-years' graduate, nor do we wish +to be reduced to the level of a chimpanzee, and forced to gnaw our way +through a thick shell of misprints and mispointings only to find (as is +generally the case with Marston) a rancid kernel of meaning after all. +But even Marston sometimes deviates into poetry, as a man who wrote in +that age could hardly help doing, and one of the few instances of it +is in a speech of _Erichtho_, in the first scene of the fourth act of +"Sophonisba," (Vol. I. p. 197,) which Mr. Halliwell presents to us in +this shape:-- + + ----"hard by the reverent (!) ruines + Of a once glorious temple rear'd to Jove + Whose very rubbish.... + ....yet beares + A deathlesse majesty, though now quite rac'd, [razed,] + Hurl'd down by wrath and lust of impious kings, + So that where holy Flamins [Flamens] wont to sing + Sweet hymnes to Heaven, there the daw and crow, + The ill-voyc'd raven, and still chattering pye, + Send out ungratefull sounds and loathsome filth; + Where statues and Joves acts were vively limbs, + + * * * * * + + Where tombs and beautious urnes of well dead men + Stood in assured rest," etc. + +The verse and a half in Italics are worthy of Chapman; but why did not +Mr. Halliwell, who explains _up-pont_ and _I um_, change "Joves acts +were vively limbs" to "Jove's acts were lively limned," which was +unquestionably what Marston wrote? + +In the "Scourge of Villanie," (Vol. III. p. 252,) there is a passage +which has a modern application in America, though happily archaic in +England, which Mr. Halliwell suffers to stand thus:-- + + "Once Albion lived in such a cruel age + Than man did hold by servile vilenage: + Poore brats were slaves of bondmen that were borne, + And marted, sold: but that rude law is torne + And disannuld, as too too inhumane." + +This should read-- + + "_Man_ man did hold in servile villanage; + Poor brats were slaves (of bondmen that were born)"; + +and we hope that some American poet will one day be able to write in the +past tense similar verses of the barbarity of his forefathers. + +We will give one more scrap of Mr. Halliwell's text:-- + + "Yfaith, why then, caprichious mirth, + Skip, light moriscoes, in our frolick blond, + Flagg'd veines, sweete, plump with fresh-infused joyes!" + +which Marston, doubtless, wrote thus:-- + + "I'faith, why then, capricious Mirth, + Skip light moriscoes in our frolic blood! + Flagged veins, swell plump with fresh-infused joys!" + +We have quoted only a few examples from among the scores that we had +marked, and against such a style of "editing" we invoke the shade of +Marston himself. In the Preface to the Second Edition of the "Fawn," +he says, "Reader, know I have perused this coppy, _to make some +satisfaction for the first faulty impression; yet so urgent hath been my +business that some errors have styll passed, which thy discretion may +amend_." + +Literally, to be sure, Mr. Halliwell has availed himself of the +permission of the poet, in leaving all emendation to the reader; but +certainly he has been false to the spirit of it in his self-assumed +office of editor. The notes to explain _up-pont_ and _I um_ give us a +kind of standard of the highest intelligence which Mr. Halliwell dares +to take for granted in the ordinary reader. Supposing this _nousometer_ +of his to be a centigrade, in what hitherto unconceived depths of cold +obstruction can he find his zero-point of entire idiocy? The expansive +force of average wits cannot be reckoned upon, as we see, to drive them +up as far as the temperate degree of misprints in one syllable, and +those, too, in their native tongue. _A fortiori_, then, Mr. Halliwell is +bound to lend us the aid of his great learning wherever his author has +introduced foreign words and the old printers have made _pie_ of them. +In a single case he has accepted his responsibility as dragoman, and the +amount of his success is not such as to give us any poignant regret that +he has everywhere else left us to our own devices. On p. 119, Vol. II., +_Francischina_, a Dutchwoman, exclaims, "O, mine aderliver love." Here +is Mr. Halliwell's note. "_Aderliver_.--This is the speaker's error for +_alder-liever_, the best beloved by all." Certainly not "the _speaker's_ +error," for Marston was no such fool as intentionally to make a +Dutchwoman blunder in her own language. But is it an error for +_alder-liever?_ No, but for _alderliefster_. Mr. Halliwell might have +found it in many an old Dutch song. For example, No. 96 of Hoffmann von +Fallersleben's "Niederländische Volkslieder" begins thus:-- + + "Mijn hert altijt heeft verlanghen + Naer u, die _alderliefste_ mijn." + +But does the word mean "best beloved by all"? No such thing, of course; +but "best-beloved of all,"--that is, by the speaker. + +In "Antonio and Mellida" (Vol. I. pp. 50-51) occur some Italian verses, +and here we hoped to fare better; for Mr. Halliwell (as we learn from +the title-page of his Dictionary) is a member of the "_Reale Academia +di Firenze_." This is the _Accademia della Crusca_, founded for the +conservation of the Italian language in its purity, and it is rather +a fatal symptom that Mr. Halliwell should indulge in the heresy of +spelling _Accademia_ with only one _c_. But let us see what our Della +Cruscan's notions of conserving are. Here is a specimen:-- + + "Bassiammi, coglier l'aura odorata + Che in sua neggia in quello dolce labra. + Dammi pimpero del tuo gradit' amore." + +It is clear enough that the first and third verses ought to read, + + "Lasciami coglier,--Dammi l'impero," + +though we confess that we could make nothing of _in sua neggia_ till +an Italian friend suggested _ha sua seggia_. But a Della Cruscan +academician might at least have corrected by his dictionary the spelling +of _labra_. + +We think that we have sustained our indictment of Mr. Halliwell's text +with ample proof. The title of the book should have been, "The Works +of John Marston, containing all the Misprints of the Original Copies, +together with a few added for the First Time in this Edition, the whole +carefully let alone by James Orchard Halliwell, F.R.S., F.S.A." It +occurs to us that Mr. Halliwell may be also a Fellow of the Geological +Society, and may have caught from its members the enthusiasm which leads +him to attach so extraordinary a value to every goose-track of the +Elizabethan formation. It is bad enough to be, as Marston was, one of +those middling poets whom neither gods nor men nor columns (Horace had +never seen a newspaper) tolerate; but, really, even they do not deserve +the frightful retribution of being reprinted by a Halliwell. + +We have said that we could not feel even the dubious satisfaction of +knowing that the blunders of the old copies had been faithfully followed +in the reprinting. We see reason for doubting whether Mr. Halliwell ever +read the proof-sheets. In his own notes we have found several mistakes. +For instance, he refers to p. 159 when he means p. 153; he cites "I, +but her _life_," instead of "_lip_"; and he makes Spenser speak of "old +Pithonus." Marston is not an author of enough importance to make it +desirable that we should be put in possession of all the corrupted +readings of his text, were such a thing possible even with the most +minute painstaking, and Mr. Halliwell's edition loses its only claim to +value the moment a doubt is cast upon the accuracy of its inaccuracies. +It is a matter of special import to us (whose means of access to +originals are exceedingly limited) that the English editors of our old +authors should be faithful and trustworthy, and we have singled out Mr. +Halliwell's Marston for particular animadversion only because we think +it on the whole the worst edition we ever saw of any author. + +Having exposed the condition in which our editor has left the text, we +proceed to test his competency in another respect, by examining some of +the emendations and explanations of doubtful passages which he proposes. +These are very few; but had they been even fewer, they had been too +many. + +Among the _dramatis personae_ of the "Fawn," as we said before, occurs +"Granuffo, _a silent lord_." He speaks only once during the play, and +that in the last scene. In Act I., Scene 2, _Gonzago_ says, speaking to +_Granuffo_,-- + + "Now, sure, thou are a man + Of a most learned _scilence_, and one whose words + Have bin most pretious to me." + +This seems quite plain, but Mr. Halliwell annotates +thus:--"_Scilence_.--Query, _science?_ The common reading, _silence_, +may, however, be what is intended." That the spelling should have +troubled Mr. Halliwell is remarkable; for elsewhere we find "god-boy" +for "good-bye," "seace" for "cease," "bodies" for "boddice," "pollice" +for "policy," "pitittying" for "pitying," "scence" for "sense," +"Misenzius" for "Mezentius," "Ferazes" for "Ferrarese,"--and plenty +beside, equally odd. That he should have doubted the meaning is no less +strange; for on page 41 of the same play we read, "My Lord Granuffo, you +may likewise stay, for I know _you'l say nothing_,"--on pp. 55-56, "This +Granuffo is a right wise good lord, _a man of excellent discourse and +never speaks_,"--and on p. 94, we find the following dialogue:-- + +"_Gon._ My Lord Granuffo, this Fawne is an excellent fellow. + +"_Don._ Silence. + +"_Gon._ _I warrant you for my lord here._" + +In the same play (p. 44) are these lines.-- + + "I apt for love? + Let lazy idlenes, fild full of wine + Heated with meates, high fedde with lustfull ease + Goe dote on culler [color]. As for me, why, death a sence, + I court the ladie?" + +This is Mr. Halliwell's note:--"_Death a sence_.--'Earth a sense,' ed. +1633. Mr. Dilke suggests:--'For me, why, earth's as sensible.' The +original is not necessarily corrupt. It may mean,--why, you might as +well think Death was a sense, one of the senses. See a like phrase at +p. 77." What help we should get by thinking Death one of the senses, it +would demand another Oedipus to unriddle. Mr. Halliwell can astonish us +no longer, but we are surprised at Mr. Dilke, the very competent editor +of the "Old English Plays," 1815. From him we might have hoped for +better things. "Death o' sense!" is an exclamation. Throughout these +volumes we find _a_ for _o_',--as, "a clock" for "o'clock," "a the side" +for "o' the side." + +A similar exclamation is to be found in three other places in the same +play, where the sense is obvious. Mr. Halliwell refers to one of them +on p. 77,--"Death a man! is she delivered!" The others are,--"Death a +justice! are we in Normandy?" (p. 98); and "Death a discretion! if I +should prove a foole now," or, as given by Mr. Halliwell, "Death, a +discretion!" Now let us apply Mr. Halliwell's explanation. "Death a +man!" you might as well think Death was a man, that is, one of the +men!--or a discretion, that is, one of the discretions!--or a justice, +that is, one of the quorum! We trust Mr. Halliwell may never have the +editing of Bob Acres's imprecations. "Odd's triggers!" he would say, +"that is, as odd as, or as strange as, triggers." + +Vol. III., p. 77,--"the vote-killing mandrake." Mr. Halliwell's note +is, "_vote-killing_.--'Voice-killing,' ed. 1613. It may well he doubted +whether either be the correct reading." He then gives a familiar +citation from Browne's "Vulgar Errors." "Vote-killing" may be a mere +misprint for "note-killing," but "voice-killing" is certainly the better +reading. Either, however, makes sense. Although Sir Thomas Browne does +not allude to the deadly property of the mandrake's shriek, yet Mr. +Halliwell, who has edited Shakspeare, might have remembered the + + "Would curses kill, _as doth the mandrake's groan_," + (2d Part Henry VI., Act III. Scene 2.) + +and the notes thereon in the _variorum_ edition. In Jacob Grimm's +"Deutsche Mythologie," (Vol. II. p. 1154,) under the word _Alraun_, may +be found a full account of the superstitions concerning the mandrake. +"When it is dug up, it groans and shrieks so dreadfully that the digger +will surely die. One must, therefore, before sunrise on a Friday, having +first stopped one's ears with wax or cotton-wool, take with him an +entirely black dog without a white hair on him, make the sign of the +cross three times over the _alraun_, and dig about it till the root +holds only by thin fibres. Then tie these by a string to the tail of the +dog, show him a piece of bread, and run away as fast as possible. The +dog runs eagerly after the bread, pulls up the root, and falls stricken +dead by its groan of pain." + +These, we believe, are the only instances in which Mr. Halliwell has +ventured to give any opinion upon the text, except as to a palpable +misprint, here and there. Two of these we have already cited. There is +one other,--"p. 46, line 10. _Iuconstant_.--An error for _inconstant_." +Wherever there is a real difficulty, he leaves us in the lurch. For +example, in "What you Will," he prints without comment,-- + + "Ha! he mount Chirall on the wings of + fame!" (Vol. I. p. 239,) + +which should be "mount cheval," as it is given in Mr. Dilke's edition +(Old English Plays, Vol. II. p. 222). We cite this, not as the worst, +but the shortest, example at hand. + +Some of Mr. Halliwell's notes are useful and interesting,--as that +on "keeling the pot," and some others,--but a great part are utterly +useless. He thinks it necessary, for instance, to explain that "_to +speak pure foole_, is in sense equivalent to 'I will speak like a pure +fool,'"--that "belkt up" means "belched up,"--"aprecocks," "apricots." +He has notes also upon "meal-mouthed," "luxuriousnesse," "termagant," +"fico," "estro," "a nest of goblets," which indicate either that the +"general reader" is a less intelligent person in England than in +America, or that Mr. Halliwell's standard of scholarship is very low. +We ourselves, from our limited reading, can supply him with a reference +which will explain the allusion to the "Scotch barnacle" much +better than his citations from Sir John Maundeville and Giraldus +Cambrensis,--namely, note 8, on page 179 of a Treatise on Worms, by Dr. +Ramesey, court physician to Charles II. + +Next month we shall examine Mr. Hazlitt's edition of Webster. + + +_Waverley Novels_. Household Edition. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 16mo. + +This beautiful edition of Scott's Novels will be completed in +forty-eight volumes. Thirty are already published, and the remaining +eighteen will be issued at the rate of two volumes a month. As this +edition, in the union of elegance of mechanical execution with cheapness +of price, is the best which has yet been published in the United States, +and reflects great credit on the taste and enterprise of the publishers, +its merits should be universally known. The paper is white, the type new +and clear, the illustrations excellent, the volumes of convenient size, +the notes placed at the foot of the page, and the text enriched with the +author's latest corrections. It is called the "Household Edition"; +and we certainly think it would be a greater adornment, and should be +considered a more indispensable necessity, than numerous articles of +expensive furniture, which, in too many households, take the place of +such books. + +The success of this edition, which has been as great as that of most new +novels, is but another illustration of the permanence of Scott's hold on +the general imagination, resulting from the instinctive sagacity with +which he perceived and met its wants. The generation of readers for +which he wrote has mostly passed away; new fashions in fiction have +risen, had their day, and disappeared; he has been subjected to much +acute and profound criticism of a disparaging kind; and at present +he has formidable rivals in a number of novelists, both eminent and +popular;--yet his fame has quietly and steadily widened with time, the +"reading public" of our day is as much his public as the reading public +of his own, and there has been no period since he commenced writing when +there were not more persons familiar with his novels than with those of +any other author. Some novelists are more highly estimated by certain +classes of minds, but no other comprehends in his popularity so many +classes, and few bear so well that hardest of tests, re-perusal. Many +novels stimulate us more, and while we are reading them we think they +are superior to Scott's; but we miss, in the general impression they +leave on the mind, that peculiar charm which, in Scott, calls us back, +after a few years, to his pages, to revive the recollection of scenes +and characters which may be fading away from our memories. We doubt, +also, if any other novelist has, in a like degree, the power of +instantaneously withdrawing so wide a variety of readers from the +perplexities and discomforts of actual existence, and making them for +the time denizens of a new world. He has stimulating elements enough, +and he exhibits masterly art in the wise economy with which he uses +them; but he still stimulates only to invigorate; and when he enlivens +jaded minds, it is rather by infusing fresh life than by applying fierce +excitements, and there is consequently no reaction of weariness and +disgust. He appeases, satisfies, and enchants, rather than stings and +inflames. The interest he rouses is not of that absorbing nature which +exhausts from its very intensity, but is of that genial kind which +continuously holds the pleased attention while the story is in progress, +and remains in the mind as a delightful memory after the story is +finished. It may also be said of his characters, that, if some other +novelists have exhibited a finer and firmer power in delineating higher +or rarer types of humanity, Scott is still unapproached in this, that he +has succeeded in domesticating his creations in the general heart and +brain, and thus obtained the endorsement of human nature as evidence of +their genuineness. His characters are the friends and acquaintances of +everybody,--quoted, referred to, gossipped about, discussed, criticized, +as though they were actual beings. He, as an individual, is almost lost +sight of in the imaginary world his genius has peopled; and most of +his readers have a more vivid sense of the reality of Dominie Sampson, +Jennie Deans, or any other of his characterizations, than they have of +himself. And the reason is obvious. They know Dominie Sampson through +Scott; they know Scott only through Lockhart. Still, it is certain that +the nature of Scott, that essential nature which no biography can give, +underlies, animates, disposes, and permeates all the natures he has +delineated. It is this, which, in the last analysis, is found to be the +source of his universal popularity, and which, without analysis, is felt +as a continual charm by all his readers, whether they live in palaces or +cottages. His is a nature which is welcomed everywhere, because it is at +home everywhere. The mere power and variety of his imagination cannot +account for his influence; for the same power and variety might have +been directed by a discontented and misanthropic spirit, or have obeyed +the impulses of selfish and sensual passions, and thus conveyed a bitter +or impure view of human nature and human life. It is, then, the man +in the imagination, the cheerful, healthy, vigorous, sympathetic, +good-natured, and broad-natured Walter Scott himself, who, modestly +hidden, as he seems to be, behind the characters and scenes he +represents, really streams through them the peculiar quality of life +which makes their abiding charm. He has been accepted by humanity, +because he is so heartily humane,--humane, not merely as regards man in +the abstract, but as regards man in the concrete. + +We have spoken of the number of his readers, and of his capacity to +interest all classes of people; but we suppose, that, in our day, when +everybody knows how to read without always knowing what to read, even +Scott has failed to reach a multitude of persons abundantly capable of +receiving pleasure from his writings, but who, in their ignorance of +him, are content to devour such frightful trash in the shape of novels +as they accidentally light upon in a leisure hour. One advantage of such +an edition of his works as that which has occasioned these remarks is, +that it tends to awaken attention anew to his merits, to spread his fame +among the generation of readers now growing up, and to place him in +the public view fairly abreast of unworthy but clamorous claimants for +public regard, as inferior to him in the power to impart pleasure as +they are inferior to him in literary excellence. That portion of the +public who read bad novels cannot be reached by criticism; but if they +could only be reached by Scott, they would quickly discover and resent +the swindle of which they have so long been the victims. + + +_A Dictionary of Medical Science_, etc. By ROBLEY DUNGLISON, M.D., LL.D. +Revised and very greatly enlarged. + +It does not fall within our province to enter into a minute examination +of a professional work like the one before us. As a Medical Dictionary +is a book, however, which every general reader will find convenient at +times, and as we have long employed this particular dictionary with +great satisfaction, we do not hesitate to devote a few sentences to its +notice. + +We remember when it was first published in 1833, meagre, as compared +with its present affluence of information. A few years later a second +edition was honorably noticed in the "British and Foreign Medical +Review." At that time it was only half the size of Hooper's well-known +Medical Dictionary, but by its steady growth in successive editions it +has reached that obesity which is tolerable in books we consult, but +hardly in such as we read. The labor expended in preparing the work +must have been immense, and, unlike most of our stereotyped medical +literature, it has increased by true interstitial growth, instead of +by mere accretion, or of remaining essentially stationary--with the +exception of the title-page. + +We can confidently recommend this work as a most ample and convenient +book of reference upon Anatomy, Physiology, Climate, and other subjects +likely to be occasionally interesting to the general reader, as well as +upon all practical matters connected with the art of healing. + +In the present state of education and intelligence, he must be a dull +person who does not frequently find a question arising on some point +connected with this range of studies. The student will find in this +dictionary an enormous collection of synonymes in various languages, +brief accounts of almost everything medical ever heard of, and full +notices of many of the more important subjects treated,--such as +Climate, Diet, Falsification of Drugs, Feigned Diseases, Muscles, +Poisons, and many others. + +Here and there we notice blemishes, as must be expected in so huge +a collection of knowledge. Thus, _Bronchlemmitis_ is not _Polypus +bronchialis_, but _Croup_.--The accent of _laryngeal_ and _pharyngeal_ +is incorrectly placed on the third syllable. In this wilderness of words +we look in vain for the New York provincialism "Sprue." The work has +a right to some scores, perhaps hundreds, of such errors, without +forfeiting its character. If the Elzevirs could not print the "Corpus +Juris Civilis" without a false heading to a chapter, we may excuse a +dictionary-maker and his printer for an occasional slip. But it is a +most useful book, and scholars will find it immensely convenient. + + +_Scenes of Clerical Life_. By GEORGE ELIOT. Originally published in +"Blackwood's Magazine." New York: Harper & Brothers. 1858. + +Fiction represents the character of the age to which it belongs, not +merely by actual delineations of its times, like those of "Tom Jones" +and "The Newcomer," but also in an indirect, though scarcely less +positive manner, by its exhibition of the influence of the times upon +its own form and general direction, whatever the scene or period it may +have chosen for itself. The story of "Hypatia" is laid in Alexandria +almost two thousand years ago, but the book reflects the crudities of +modern English thought; and even Mr. Thackeray, the greatest +living master of costume, succeeds in making his "Esmond" only a +joint-production of the Addisonian age and our own. Thus the novels of +the last few years exhibit very clearly the spirit that characterizes +the period of regard for men and women as men and women, without +reference to rank, beauty, fortune, or privilege. Novelists recognize +that Nature is a better romance-maker than the fancy, and the public is +learning that men and women are better than heroes and heroines, not +only to live with, but also to read of. Now and then, therefore, we get +a novel, like these "Scenes of Clerical Life," in which the fictitious +element is securely based upon a broad groundwork of actual truth, truth +as well in detail as in general. + +It is not often, however, even yet, that we find a writer wholly +unembarrassed by and in revolt against the old theory of the necessity +of perfection in some one at least of the characters of his story. +"Neither Luther nor John Bunyan," says the author of this book, "would +have satisfied the modern demand for an ideal hero, who believes nothing +but what is true, feels nothing but what is excellent, and does nothing +but what is graceful." + +Sometimes, indeed, a daring romance-writer ventures, during the earlier +chapters of his story, to represent a heroine without beauty and without +wealth, or a hero with some mortal blemish. But after a time his +resolution fails;--each new chapter gives a new charm to the ordinary +face; the eyes grow "liquid" and "lustrous," always having been "large"; +the nose, "naturally delicate," exhibits its "fine-cut lines"; the mouth +acquires an indescribable expression of loveliness; and the reader's +hoped-for Fright is transformed by Folly or Miss Pickering into a +commonplace, tiresome, _novelesque_ Beauty. Even Miss Bronté relented +toward Jane Eyre; and weaker novelists are continually repeating, +but with the omission of the moral, the story of the "Ugly Duck." +Unquestionably, there is the excuse to be made for this great error, +that it betrays the seeking after an Ideal. Dangerous word! The ideal +standard of excellence is, to be sure, fortunately changing, and the +unreal ideal will soon be confined to the second-rate writers for +second-rate readers. But all the great novelists of the two last +generations indulged themselves and their readers in these unrealities. +It is vastly easier to invent a consistent character than to represent +an inconsistent one;--a hero is easier to make (so all historians have +found) than a man. + +Suppose, however, novelists could be placed in a society made up of +their favorite characters,--forced into real, lifelike intercourse with +them;--Richardson, for instance, with his Harriet Byron or Clarissa, +attended by Sir Charles; Miss Burney with Lord Orville and Evelina; +Miss Edgeworth with Caroline Percy, and that marvellous hero, Count +Altenburg; Scott with the automatons that he called Waverley and Flora +McIvor. Suppose they were brought together to share the comforts (cold +comforts they would be) of life, to pass days together, to meet every +morning at breakfast; with what a ludicrous sense of relief, at the +close of this purgatorial period, would not the unhappy novelists +have fled from these deserted heroes and heroines, and the precious +proprieties of their romance, to the very driest and mustiest of human +bores,--gratefully rejoicing that the world was not filled with such +creatures as they themselves had set before it as _ideals_! + +To copy Nature faithfully and heartily is certainly not less needful +when stories are presented in words than when they are told on canvas or +in marble. In the "Scenes from Clerical Life" we have a happy example of +such copying. The three stories embraced under this title are written +vigorously, with a just appreciation of the romance of reality, and with +honest adherence to truth of representation in the sombre as well as the +brighter portions of life. It demands not only a large intellect, but a +large heart, to gain such a candid and inclusive appreciation of life +and character as they display. The greater part of each story reads like +a reminiscence of real life, and the personages introduced show little +sign of being "rubbed down" or "touched up and varnished" for effect. +The narrative is easy and direct, full of humor and pathos; and the +descriptions of simple life in a country village are often charming from +their freshness, vivacity, and sweetness. More than this, these stories +give proof of that wide range of experience which does not so much +depend on an extended or varied acquaintance with the world, as upon an +intelligent and comprehensive sympathy, which makes each new person with +whom one is connected a new illustration of the unsolved problems of +life and a new link in the unending chain of human development. + +The book is one that deserves a more elegant form than that which the +Messrs. Harper have given it in their reprint. + + +_Twin Roses: A Narrative._ By ANNA CORA RITCHIE, Author of +"Autobiography of an Actress," "Mimic Life," etc. Boston: Ticknor & +Fields. 16mo. + +This volume belongs to a series of narratives intended to illustrate +Mrs. Ritchie's experiences of theatrical life, and especially to do +justice to the many admirable people who have adopted the stage as +a profession. Though it has many defects, in respect to plot and +characterization, it seems to us the most charming in style and +beautiful in sentiment of Mrs. Ritchie's works. The two sisters, the +"twin roses," are, we believe, drawn from life; but the author's own +imagination has enveloped them in an atmosphere of romantic sweetness, +and their qualities are fondly exaggerated into something like +unreality. They seem to have been first idolized and then idealized, but +never realized. Still, the most beautiful and tender passages of the +whole book are those in which they are lovingly portrayed. The scenes +in the theatre are generally excellent. The perils, pains, pleasures, +failures, and triumphs of the actor's life are well described. The +defect, which especially mars the latter portion of the volume, is the +absence of any artistic reason for the numerous descriptions of scenery +which are introduced. The tourist and the novelist do not happily +combine. Still, the sentiment of the book is so pure, fresh, and +artless, its moral tone so high, its style so rich and melodious, and +its purpose so charitable and good, that the reader is kept in pleased +attention to the end, and lays it down with regret. + + * * * * * + + +EDITORIAL NOTE. + + +In our review of Parton's Life of Burr, published in the March number, +the following passage occurs, as a quotation from that work:--"Hamilton +probably implanted a dislike for Burr in Washington's breast." + +Upon this the author of the biography has had the effrontery to bring +against us a charge of _forgery_. He affirms that neither the sentence +above quoted nor any resembling it can be found in his book. + +Mr. Parton, speaking of Washington's refusal to nominate Burr to the +French mission, (p. 197,) speaks of the President's dislike for him; +and, endeavoring to account for it, says: "Reflecting upon this +circumstance, the idea will occur to the individual long immersed in the +reading of that period, _that this invincible dislike of Colonel Burr +was perhaps implanted, certainly nourished, in the mind of General +Washington by his useful friend and adherent, Alexander Hamilton."_ + +We do not wonder that Mr. Parton should have been annoyed by so damaging +a criticism of his book, but we can account for his forgetfulness only +by supposing that he has been so long "immersed in the reading of +that period" as to have arrived nearly at the drowning-point of +insensibility. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 7, May, +1858, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12374 *** 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..2a5e5fc --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12374 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12374) diff --git a/old/12374-8.txt b/old/12374-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e7b43ad --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12374-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8747 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 7, May, 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. 7, May, 1858 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: May 18, 2004 [EBook #12374] +[Date last updated: May 28, 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.--MAY, 1858.--NO. VII. + + + +AMERICAN ANTIQUITY. + + +The results of the past ten or fifteen years in historical investigation +are exceedingly mortifying to any one who has been proud to call himself +a student of History. We had thought, perhaps, that we knew something +of the origin of human events and the gradual development from the +past into the world of to-day. We had read Herodotus, and Gibbon, +and Gillies, and done manful duty with Rollin. There were certain +comfortable, definite facts in antiquity. Romulus and Remus were our +friends; the transmission of the alphabet by the Phoenicians was a +resting-spot; the destruction of Babylon and the date of the Flood were +fixed stations in the wilderness. In more modern periods, we had a +refuge in the date of the discovery of America; and if we were forced +back into the wilds and uncertainties of American History, Mr. Prescott +soon restored to us the buried empires, and led us easily back through a +few plain centuries. + +Beyond these dates, indeed, there was a shadowy land, through whose +changing mists could be seen sometimes the grand outlines of abandoned +cities, or the faint forms of temples, or the graceful column or massive +tomb, which marked the distant path of the advancing race: but these +were scarcely more than visions for a moment, before darkness again +covered the view. Our mythology and philosophy of the past were almost +equally misty and vague. History was to us a succession of facts; empire +succeeding empire, and one form of civilization another, with scarcely +more connection than in the scenes of a theatre;--the great isolated +fact of all being the existence of the Jews. All cosmic myths and noble +conceptions of Deity and pure religious beliefs were only offshoots of +Hebrew tradition. + +This, we are pained to say, is all changed now. Our beloved dates, our +easy explanation, and popular narrative are half dissolved under the +touch of modern investigation. Roman History abandons poor Romulus and +Remus; the Flood sinks into a local inundation, and is pushed back +nobody knows how many thousands of years; an Egyptian antiquity arises +of which Herodotus never knew; and Josephus is proved ignorant of his +own subject. Nothing is found separate from the current of the world's +history,--neither Hebrew law and religion, nor Phoenician commerce, +nor Hindoo mythology, nor Grecian art. On the shadowy Past, over the +deserted battle-fields, the burial-mounds, the mausolea, the temples, +the altars, and the habitations of perished nations, new rays of light +are cast. Peoples not heard of before, empires forgotten, conquests not +recorded, arts unknown in their place at this day, and civilizations of +which all has perished but the language, appear again. The world wakes +to find itself much older than it thought. History is hardly the same +study that it once was. Even more than the investigations of hieroglyphs +and bass-reliefs and sculptures, during the past few years, have the +researches in one especial direction changed the face of the ancient +world. + +LANGUAGE is found to be itself the best record of a nation's origin, +development, and relation to other races. Each vocabulary and grammar +of a dead nation is a Nineveh, rich in pictures, inscriptions, and +historical records, uncovering to the patient investigator not merely +the external life and actions of the people, but their deepest internal +life, and their connection with other peoples and times. The little +defaced word, the cast-away root, the antique construction, picked up +by the student among the vestiges of a language, may be a relic fresher +from the past and older than a stone from the Pyramids, or the sculpture +of the Assyrian temple. + +In American history, this work of investigation till recently had not +been thoroughly entered upon. Within the last quarter of a century, +Kingsborough and Gallatin and Prescott and Davis and Squier and +Schoolcraft and Müller have each thrown some light over the mysterious +antiquity of our own continent. But of all, a French Abbé, an +ethnologist and a careful investigator,--M. BRASSEUR DE BOURBOURG,--has, +in a history recently published, done the best service to this cause. It +is entitled "Histoire des Nations Civilisées du Mexique et de l'Amérique +Centrale." (Paris, 1857.) M. de Bourbourg spent many years in Central +America, studying the face of the country and the languages of the +Indian tribes, and investigating the ancient picture-writing and the +remains of the wonderful ruins of that region. Probably no stranger has +ever enjoyed better opportunities of reading the ancient manuscripts and +studying the dialects of the Central American races. With these helps he +has prepared a groundwork for the history of the early civilized peoples +of our American continent,--a history, it should be remembered, ending +where Prescott's begins,--reaching back, possibly, as far as the +earliest invasions of the Huns, and one of whose fixed dates is at the +time of the Antonines. He has ventured to lift, at length, the veil from +our mysterious and confused American antiquity. It is an especial merit +of M. de Bourbourg, in this stage of the investigation, that he has +attempted to do no more. He has collected and collated facts, but +has sought to give us very few theories. The stable philosophical +conclusions he leaves for later research, when time shall have been +afforded for fuller comparison. + +There is an incredible fascination to many minds in these investigations +into the traditions and beliefs of antiquity. We feel in their presence +that they are the oldest things; the most ancient books, or buildings, +or sculptures are modern by their side. They represent the childish +instincts of the human mind,--its _gropings_ after Truth,--its dim +ideals and shadowings forth of what it hopes will be. They are the +earliest answers of man to the great questions, WHENCE and WHITHER? + + * * * * * + +The most ancient people of Central America, according to M. de +Bourbourg,--a people referred to in all the oldest traditions, but of +whom everything except the memory has passed away,--are the Quinames. +Their rule extended over Mexico and Guatemala, and there is reason to +suppose that they attained to a considerable height of civilization. The +only accounts of their origin are the oral traditions repeated to the +Spaniards by the Indians of Yucatan,--traditions relating that the +fathers of this great nation came from the East, and that God had +delivered them from the pursuit of their enemies and had opened to +them a way over the sea. Other traditions reveal to us the Quinames as +delivered up to the most unnatural vices of ancient society. Whether +the Cyclopean ruins scattered over the continent,--vast masses of +stone placed one upon another without cement, which existed before the +splendid cities whose ruins are yet seen in Central America,--whether +these are the work of this race, or of one still older, is entirely +uncertain. + +The most ancient language of Central America, the ground on which all +the succeeding languages have been planted, is the Maya. Even the Indian +languages of to-day are only combinations of their own idioms with this +ancient tongue. Its daughter, the Tzendale, transmits many of the oldest +and most interesting religious beliefs of the Indian tribes. + +All the traditions, whether in the Quiche, the Mexican, or the Tzendale, +unite in one somewhat remarkable belief,--in the reverent mention of an +ancient Deliverer or Benefactor; a personage so enveloped in the halo +of religious sentiment and the mist of remote antiquity, that it is +difficult to distinguish his real form. With the Tzendale his name is +Votan;[A] among the many other names in other languages, Quetzalcohuatl +is the one most distinctive. Sometimes he appears as a wise and +dignified legislator, arrived suddenly among an ignorant people from an +unknown country, to instruct them in agriculture, the arts, and even in +religion. He bears suffering in their behalf, patiently labors for them, +and, when at length he has done his work, departs alone from amid the +weeping crowd to the country of his birth. Sometimes he is the mediator +between Deity and men; then again, a personification of the Divine +wisdom and glory; and still again, the noble features seem to be +transmuted in the confused tradition into the countenance of Divinity. +Whether this mysterious person is only the American embodiment of +the Hope of all Nations, or whether he was truly a wise and noble +legislator, driven by some accident to these shores from a foreign +country, and afterwards glorified by the gratitude of his people, +is uncertain, though our author inclines naturally to the latter +supposition. The expression of the Tzendale tradition, "Votan is +the first man whom God sent to divide and distribute these lands of +America," (Vol. I. p. 42,) indicates that he found the continent +inhabited, and either originated the distribution of property or became +a conqueror of the country. The evidence of tradition would clearly +prove that at the arrival of Votan the great proportion of the +inhabitants, from the Isthmus of Panama to the territories of +California, were in a savage condition. The builders of the Cyclopean +ruins were the only exception. + +[Footnote A: The resemblance of this name to the Teutonic Wuotan or Odin +is certainly striking and will afford a new argument to the enthusiastic +Rafn, and other advocates of a Scandinavian colonization of +America.--Edd.] + +The various traditions agree that this elevated being, the father of +American civilization, inculcated first of all a belief in a Supreme +Creator, Lord of Heaven and Earth. It is a singular fact, that the +ancient Quiche tradition represents the Deity as a Triad, or Trinity, +with the deified heroes arranged in orders below,--a representation not +improbably connected with the Hindoo conception. The belief in a Supreme +Being seems to have been generally diffused among the Central American +and Mexican tribes, even as late as the arrival of the Spaniards. The +Mexicans adored Him under the name of Ipalnemoaloni, or "Him in whom and +by whom we are and live." This "God of all purity," as he is +addressed in a Mexican prayer, was too elevated for vulgar thought or +representation. No altars or temples were erected to him; and it was +only under one of the later kings of the Aztec monarchy that a temple +was built to the "Unknown God."--Vol. I. p. 46. + +The founders of the early American civilization bear various titles: +they are called "The Master of the Mountain," "The Heart of the Lake," +"The Master of the Azure Surface," and the like. Even in the native +traditions, the questions are often asked: "Whence came these men?" +"Under what climate were they born?" One authority answers thus +mysteriously: "They have clearly come from the other shore of the +sea,--from the place which is called 'Camuhifal,'--_The place +where is shadow."_ Why may not this singular expression refer to a +Northern country,--a place where is a long shadow, a winter-night? + +A singular characteristic of the ancient Indian legends is the mingling +of two separate courses of tradition. In their poetic conceptions, and +perhaps under the hands of their priests, the old myths of the Creation +are constantly confused with the accounts of the first periods of their +civilization. + +The following is the most ancient legend of the Creation, from the MSS. +of Chichicastenango, in the Quiche text: "When all that was necessary to +be created in heaven and on earth was finished, the heaven being formed, +its angles measured and lined, its limits fixed, the lines and parallels +put in their place in heaven and on earth, heaven found itself created, +and Heaven it was called by the Creator and Maker, the Father and +Mother of Life and Existence, ... the Mother of Thought and Wisdom, the +excellence of all that is in heaven and on earth, in the lakes or the +sea. It is thus that he called himself, when all was tranquil and calm, +when all was peaceable and silent, when nothing had movement in the void +of the heavens."--Vol. I. p. 48. + +In the narrative of the succeeding work of creation, says M. de +Bourbourg, there is always a double sense. Creation and life are +civilization; the silence and calm of Nature before the existence of +animated beings are the calm and tranquillity of Ocean, over which a +sail is flying towards an unknown shore; and the first aspect of the +shores of America, with its mighty mountains and great rivers, is +confounded with the first appearance of the earth from the chaos of +waters. + +"This is the first word," says the Quiche text. "There were neither men, +nor animals, nor birds, nor fishes, nor wood, nor stones, nor valleys, +nor herbs, nor forests. There was only the heaven. The image of the +earth did not yet show itself. There was only the sea, on all sides +surrounded by the heaven ... Nothing had motion, and not the least sigh +agitated the air ... In the midst of this calm and this tranquillity, +was only the Father and the Maker, in the obscurity of the night; there +were only the Fathers and Generators on the whitening water, and they +were clad in azure raiment... And it is on account of them that heaven +exists, and exists equally the Heart of Heaven, which is the name of +God."--Vol. I. p. 51. [B] + +[Footnote B: Compare the Hindoo conception, translated from one of the +old Vedic legends, in Bunsen's _Philosophy of History_:-- + + "Nor Aught nor Nought existed; yon bright + sky + Was not, nor heaven's broad roof outstretched + above. + What covered all? What sheltered? What + concealed? + Was it the waters' fathomless abyss? + There was not death,--yet was there nought + immortal. + There was no confine betwixt day and night. + The only One breathed breathless by itself;-- + Other than it there nothing since has been. + Darkness there was, and all at first was veiled + In gloom profound,--an ocean without light. + The germ that still lay covered in the husk + Burst forth, one nature, from the fervent + heat."] + +The legend then pictures a council between these "Fathers" and the +Supreme Creator; after which, the word is spoken, and the earth bursts +forth from the darkness, with its great mountains and forests and +animals and birds, as they might to a voyager approaching the shore. An +episode occurs, describing a deluge, but still bearing in it the +traces of the double tradition,--the one referring to some primeval +catastrophe, and the other to a local inundation, which had perhaps +surprised the first legislators in the midst of their efforts. The +Mexican tradition (Codex Chimalpopoca) shows more distinctly the united +action of the Mediator (Quetzalcohuatl) and the Deity:--"From ashes had +God created man and animated him, and they say it is Quetzalcohuatl who +hath perfected him who had been made, and hath _breathed into him, on +the seventh day, the breath of life_." + +Another legend, after describing the creation of men of wood, and women +of _cibak_, (the marrow of the corn-flag,) tells us that "the fathers +and the children, from want of intelligence, did not use the language +which they had received to praise the benefaction of their creation, and +never thought of raising their eyes to praise Hurakan. Then were they +destroyed in an inundation. There descended from heaven a rain of +bitumen and resin... And on account of them, the earth was obscured; and +it rained night and day. And men went and came, out of themselves, as if +struck with madness. They wished to mount upon the roofs, and the houses +fell beneath them; when they took refuge in the caves and the +grottoes, these closed over them. This was their punishment and +destruction."--Vol. I. p. 55. + +In the Mexican tradition, instead of the rain we find a violent eruption +of the volcanoes, and men are changed into fishes, and again into +_chicime_,--which may designate the barbarian tribes that invaded +Central America. + +In still another tradition, the Deity and his associates are more +plainly men of superior intelligence, laboring to civilize savage +races; and finally, when they cannot inspire two essential elements of +civilization,--a taste for labor, and the religious idea,--a sudden +inundation delivers them from the indocile people. Then--so far as the +mysterious language of the legend can be interpreted--they appear to +have withdrawn themselves to a more teachable race. But with these +the difficulty for the new law-givers is that they find nothing +corresponding to the productions of the country from which they had +come. Fruits are in abundance, but there is no grain which requires +culture, and which would give origin to a continued industry. The legend +relates, somewhat naively, the hunger and distress of these elevated +beings, until at length they discover the maize, and other nutritious +fruits and grains in the county of Paxil and Cayala. + +Our author places these latter in the state of Chiapas, and the +countries watered by the Usumasinta. The provinces of Mexico and the +Atlantic border of Central America he supposes to be those where the +first legislators of America landed, and where was the cradle of the +first American civilization. In these regions, the great city attributed +to Votan,--Palenque,--the ruins of whose magnificent temples and palaces +even yet astonish the traveller, was one of the first products of this +civilization. + +With regard to the much-vexed question of the origin of the Indian +races, M. de Bourbourg offers no theory. In his view, the evidence from +language establishes no certain connection between the Indian tribes and +any other race whatever; though, as he justly remarks, the knowledge of +the languages of the Northeast of Asia and of the interior of America is +yet very limited, and more complete investigations must be waited for +before any very satisfactory conclusions can be attained. The similarity +of the Indian languages points without doubt to a common origin, while +their variety and immense number are indications of a high antiquity; +for who can estimate the succession of years necessary to subdivide a +common tongue into so many languages, and to give birth out of a savage +or nomadic life to a civilization like that of the Aztecs? + +In the passage of man from one hemisphere to another he sees no +difficulty; as, without considering Behring's Strait, the voyage, from +Mantchooria, or Japan, following the chain of the Koorile and the +Aleutian Isles, even to the Peninsula of Alaska, would be an enterprise +of no great hazard. + +The traditions of the Indian tribes, as well as their monumental +inscriptions, point to an Eastern origin. From whatever direction the +particular tribe may have emigrated, they always speak of their fathers +as having come from the rising of the sun. The Quiche, as well as the +Chippeway traditions, allude to the voyages of their fathers from the +East, from a cold and icy region, through a cloudy and wintry sea, to +countries as cold and gloomy, from which they again turned towards the +South. + +Without committing himself to a theory, M. de Bourbourg supposes that +one race--the Quiche--has passed through the whole North American +continent, erecting at different stages of its civilization those +gigantic and mysterious pyramids, the _tumuli_ of the Mississippi +Valley,--of whose origin the present Northern Indian tribes have +preserved no trace, and for whose erection no single American tribe +now would have the wealth or the superfluous labor. This race was +continually driven towards the South by more savage tribes, and it at +length reached its favorite seats and the height of its civilization in +Central America. In comparing the similar monuments of Southern Siberia, +and the dates of the immigration to the Aztec plateau, with those of +the first movements of the Huns and the great revolutions in Asia, an +indication is given, worthy of being followed up by the ethnologist, +of the Asiatic origin of the Central American tribes. The traditions, +monuments, customs, mythology, and astronomic systems all point to a +similar source. + +The thorough study of the aboriginal races reveals the fact, that the +whole continent, from the Arctic regions to the Southern Pole, was +divided irregularly between two distinct families;--one nomadic +and savage, the other agricultural and semi-civilized; one with no +institutions or polity or organized religion, the other with regular +forms of government and hierarchical and religious systems. Though +differing so widely, and little associated with each other, they +possessed an analogous physical constitution, analogous customs, idioms, +and grammatical forms, many of which were entirely different from those +of the Old World. + +At the period of the discovery of America, not a single tribe west of +the Rocky Mountains possessed the least agricultural skill. Whether the +superiority of the Central American and Mexican tribes was due to +more favorable circumstances and a more genial climate, or to the +instructions of foreign legislators, as their traditions relate, our +author does not decide. In his view, American agriculture originated in +Central America, and was not one of the sciences brought over by the +tribes who first emigrated from Asia. + +Of the architectural ruins found in Central America M. de Bourbourg +says: "Among the edifices forgotten by Time in the forests of Mexico and +Central America are found architectural characteristics so different +from one another, that it is as impossible to attribute their +construction to one and the same people, as it is to suppose that they +were built at the same epoch.... The ruins that are the most ancient and +that have the most resemblance to one another are those which have been +discovered in the country of the Lacandous, the foundations of the city +of Mayapan, some buildings of Tulha, and the greater part of those +of Palenque; it is probable that they belong to the first period of +American civilization."--Vol. I. p. 85. + +The truly historical records of Central America go back to a period but +little before the Christian era. Beyond that epoch, we behold through +the mists of legends, and in the defaced pictures and sculptures, a +hierarchical despotism sustained by the successors of the mysterious +Votan. The empire of the Votanides is at length ruined by its own vices +and by the attacks of a vigorous race, whose records and language have +come down even to our day,--the only race on the American continent +whose name has been preserved in the memory of the peoples after the +ruin of its power, the only one whose institutions have survived its own +existence,--the Xahoa, or Toltec. + +Of all the American languages, the Nahuatl holds the highest place, for +its richness of expression and its sonorous tone,--adapting itself with +equal flexibility to the most sublime and analytic terms of metaphysics, +and to the uses of ordinary life, so that even at this day the +Englishman and the Spaniard employ its vocabulary for natural objects. + +The traditions of the Nahoas describe their life in the distant Oriental +country from which they came:--"There they multiplied to a considerable +degree, and lived without civilization. They had not then acquired the +habit of separating themselves from the places which had seen them born; +they paid no tributes; and all spoke a single language. They worshipped +neither wood nor stone; they contented themselves with raising their +eyes to heaven and observing the law of the Creator. They waited with +respect for the rising of the sun, saluting with their invocations the +morning star." + +This is their prayer, handed down in Indian tradition,--the oldest piece +extant of American liturgy:--"Hail, Creator and Former! Regard us! +Listen to us! Heart of Heaven! Heart of the Earth! do not leave us! Do +not abandon us, God of Heaven and Earth!... Grant us repose, a glorious +repose, peace and prosperity! the perfection of life and of our being +grant to us, O Hurakan!" + +What country and what sun nourished this worship and gave origin to this +great people is as uncertain as all other facts of the early American +history. They came from the East, the tradition says; they landed, it +seems certain, at Panuco, near the present port of Tampico, from seven +barks or ships. Other traditions represent them as accompanied by sages +with venerable beards and flowing robes. They finally settled somewhere +on the coast between Campeachy and the river Tabasco, and founded the +ancient city of Xicalanco. Their chief, who in the reverent affection of +the nation became afterwards their Deity, was Quetzalcohuatl. The +myths which surround his name reveal to us a wise legislator and noble +benefactor. He is seen instructing them in the arts, in religion, and +finally in agriculture, by introducing the cultivation of maize and +other cereals. + +Whether he had become the object of envy among the people, or whether he +felt that his work was done, it appears, so far as the vague traditions +can be understood, that he at length determined to return to the unknown +country whence he had come. He gathered his brethren around him and thus +addressed them:--"Know," said he, "that the Lord your God commands you +to dwell in these lands which he hath subjected to you this day. For +him, he returns whence he has come. But he goes only to return later; +for he will visit you again, when the time shall have arrived in which +the world shall have come to an end.[C] In the mean while wait, ye +others, in these countries, with the hope of seeing him again!...Thus +farewell, while we depart with our God!" + +[Footnote C: This is the expression of the legend, and certainly points +to the ideas of the Eastern hemisphere. The coincidence with the legends +of Hiawatha and the Finnish Wainamoinen will be remarked.--EDD.] + +We will not follow the interesting narrative of the destruction of +the ancient empire of the Votanides by the Nahoas or Toltecs; nor the +account of the dispersion of these latter over Guatemala, Yucatan, and +even among the mountains of California. This last revolution presents +the first precise date which scholars have yet been able to assign to +early American history; it probably occurred A.D. 174. + +With the account of the invasion of the Aztec plateau by the Chichemees, +a barbarian tribe of the Toltec family, in the middle of the seventh +century, or of the establishment of the Toltec monarchy in Anahuac, we +will not delay our readers, as these events bring us down to the period +of authentic history, on which we have information from other sources. + +"From the moment," says M. de Bourbourg, "in which we see the supremacy +of the cities of Culhuacan and Tollan rise over the cities of the Aztec +plateau dates the true history of this country; but this history is, to +speak the truth, only a grand episode in the annals of this powerful +race [the Toltec]. In the course of a wandering of seven or eight +centuries, it overturns and destroys everything in order to build on the +ruins of ancient kingdoms its own civilization, science, and arts; it +traverses all the provinces of Mexico and Central America, leaving +everywhere traces of its superstitions, its culture, and its laws, +sowing on its passage kingdoms and cities, whose names are forgotten +to-day, but whose mysterious memorials are found again in the monuments +scattered under the forest vegetation of ages and in the different +languages of all the peoples of these countries."--Vol. I. p. 209. + +M. de Bourbourg fitly closes his interesting volumes--from which we have +here given a résumé of only the opening chapters--with a remarkable +prophecy, made in the court of Yucatan by the high-priest of Mani. +According to the tradition, this pontiff, inspired by a supernatural +vision, betook himself to Mayapan and thus addressed the king:--"At the +end of the Third Period, [A.D. 1518-1542,] a nation, white and bearded, +shall come from the side where the sun rises, bearing with it a sign, +[the cross,] which shall make all the Gods to flee and fall. This nation +shall rule all the earth, giving peace to those who shall receive it in +peace and who will abandon vain images to adore an only God, whom these +bearded men adore." (Vol. II. p. 594.) M. de Bourbourg does not vouch +for the pure origin of the tradition, but suggests that the wise men of +the Quiche empire already saw that it contained in itself the elements +of destruction, and had already heard rumors of the wonderful white race +which was soon to sweep away the last vestiges of the Central American +governments. + +[NOTE.--We cannot but think that our correspondent receives the +traditions reported by M. de Bourbourg with too undoubting faith. Some +of them seem to us to bear plain marks of an origin subsequent to the +Spanish Conquest, and we suspect that others have been considerably +modified in passing through the lively fancy of the Abbé. Even +Ixtlilxochitl, who, as a native and of royal race, must have had access +to all sources of information, and who had the advantage of writing more +than three centuries ago, seems to have looked on the native traditions +as extremely untrustworthy. See Prescott's _History of the Conquest of +Mexico_, Vol. I. p. 12, note.--EDD.] + + * * * * * + + +ROGER PIERCE + +The Man With Two Shadows. + + +"There is ever a black spot in our sunshine." Carlyle. + +The sky is gray with unfallen sleet; the wind howls bitterly about the +house; relentless in its desperate speed, it whirls by green crosses +from the fir-boughs in the wood,--dry russet oak-leaves,--tiny cones +from the larch, that were once rose-red with the blood of Spring, but +now rattle on the leafless branches, black and bare as they. No leaf +remains on any bough of the forest, no scarlet streamer of brier flaunts +from the steadfast rocks that underlie all verdure, and now stand out, +bleak and barren, the truths and foundations of life, when its ornate +glories are fled away. The river flows past, a languid stream of lead; +a single crow, screaming for its mate, flaps heavily against the +north-east gale, that enters here also and lifts the carpet in +long waves across the floor, whiffles light eddies of ashes in the +chimney-corner, and vainly presses on door and window, like a houseless +spirit shrieking and pining for a shelter from its bodiless and helpless +unrest in the elements. + +The whole air,--although, within, my fire crackles and leaps with +steady cheer, and the red rose on my window is warm and sanguine with +bloom,--yet this whole air is full of tiny sparks of chill to my +sensitive and morbid nature; it is at once electric and cold, the very +atmosphere of spirits.--What a shadow passed that pane! Roger, was it +you?--The storm bursts, in one fierce rush of sleet and roaring wind; +the little spaniel crouched at my feet whimpers and nestles closer; the +house is silent,--silent as my thoughts,--silent as he is who walked +these rooms once, with a face likest to the sky that darkens them +now, and lonelier, lonelier than I, though at his side forever trod a +companion. + +This valley of the Moosic is narrow and thinly settled. Here and +there the mad river, leaping from some wooded gorge to rest among the +hemlock-covered islands that break its smoother path between the soft +meadows, is crossed by a strong dam; and a white village, with its +church and graveyard, clusters against the hill-side, sweeping upward +from the huge mills that stand along the shore just below the bridge. +Here and there, too, out of sight of mill or village, a quiet farmer's +house, trimly painted, with barns and hay-stacks and wood-piles drawn up +in goodly array, stands in its old orchard, and offers the front of a +fortress against want and misery. Idle aspect! fortress of vain front! +there are intangible foes that no man may conquer! In such a stronghold +was born Roger Pierce, the Man with two Shadows. + +He was the son of good and upright parents. Before he came into their +arms, three tiny shapes had lain there, one after another, for a few +brief weeks, smiled, moaned, and fallen asleep,--to sleep, forever +children, under the daisies and golden-rods. For this reason they cling +to little Roger with passionate apprehension; they fought with the Angel +of Death, and overcame; and, as it ever is to the blind nature of man, +the conquest was greater to them than any gift. + +The boy grew up into childhood as other children grow, a daily miracle +to see. Only for him incessant care watched and waited; unwearied as the +angel that looked from him to the face of God, so to gather ever fresh +strength and guidance for the wayward child, his mother's tender eyes +overlooked him all day, followed his tottering steps from room to room, +kept far away from him all fear and pain, shone upon him in the depths +of night, woke and wept for him always. Never could he know the hardy +self-reliance of those whom life casts upon their own strength and care; +the wisdom and the love that lived for him lived in him, and he grew to +be a boy as the tropic blossom of a hot-house grows, without thought or +toil. + +It was not until his age brought him in contact with others, that there +seemed to be any difference between his nature and the common race +of children. Always, however, some touch of sullenness lurked in his +temperament; and whatever thwarted his will or fancy darkened the light +of his clear eyes, and drew a dull pallor over his blooming cheek, till +his mother used to tell him at such times that he stood between her and +the sunshine. + +But as he grew older, and shared in the sports of his companions, a +strange thing came to pass. Beside the shadow that follows us all in the +light, another, like that, but something deeper, began to go with Roger +Pierce,--not falling with the other, a dial-mark to show the light that +cast it, but capriciously to right or left; on whomever or whatever was +nearest him at the moment, there that Shadow lay; and as time crept on, +the Shadow pertinaciously crept with it, till it was forever hanging +about him, ready to chill with vague terror, or harden as with a frost, +either his fellows or himself. + +One peculiar trait this Shadow had: the more the restless child thought +of his visitant, the deeper it grew,--shrinking in size, but becoming +more intensely dark, till it seemed like part of a heavy thunder-cloud, +only that no lightning ever played across its blank gloom. + +The first time that the Shadow ever stood before him as an actual +presence was when, a mere child, he was busied one day in the warm May +sunshine making a garden by the school-house, in a line with other +little squares, tracked and moulded by childish fingers, and set with +branches of sallow silvered with downy catkins, half-opened dandelions, +twigs of red-flowered maple, mighty reservoirs of water in sunken +clam-shells, and paths adorned with borders of broken china and +glittering bits of glass. Next to Roger's garden-bed was one that +belonged to two little boys who were sworn friends, and one of these was +busy weaving a fence for his garden, of yellow willow-twigs, which the +other cut and sharpened. + +Roger looked on with longing eyes. + +"Will you help me, Jimmy?" said he. + +"I can't," answered the quiet, timid child. + +"No!" shouted Jacob,--the frank, fearless voice bringing a tint of color +into his comrade's cheek. "Jim shan't help you, Roger Pierce! Do you +ever help anybody?" + +Then the Shadow fell beside Roger, as he stood with anger and shame +swelling in his throat; it fell across the blue violets he had taken +from Jacob to dress his own garden, and they drooped and withered; it +crossed the path of shining pebbles that he had forced the younger +children to gather for him, and they grew dull as common stones; it +reached over into Jacob's positive, honest face, and darkened it, and +Jimmy, looking up, with fear in his mild eyes, whispered, softly,--"Come +away! it's going to rain;--don't you see that dark cloud?" + +Roger started, for the Shadow was darkening about himself; and as he +moodily returned home, it seemed to grow deeper and deeper, till his +mother drew his head upon her knee, and by the singing fire told him +tales of her own childhood, and from the loving brightness of her tender +eyes the Shadow slunk away and left the boy to sleep, unhaunted. + +As day by day went by, in patient monotony, Roger became daily more +aware of this ghostly attendant. He was not always alone, for he had +friends who loved him in spite of the Shadow, and grew used to its +appearing;--but he liked to be by himself; for, out of constant +companionship and daily use, this Shadow made for itself a strange +affinity with him, and following his daily rambles over the sharp hills, +tracing to their source the noisy brooks, or setting snares for the +wild creatures whose innocent timid eyes peered at their little enemy +curiously from nook and crevice, he grew to have a moody pleasure in the +knowledge that nothing else disturbed his path or shared his amusements. + +But a time came when he must mix more with the outer world; for he was +sent away from home to school, and there, amid a host of strange faces, +he singled out the only one that had a thought of his past life and +home in it, as his special companion,--the same quiet boy who had +unconsciously feared the Shadow in their earlier school-days. + +So good and gentle was he, that he did not feel the cloud of Roger's +hateful Double as every one else did; and he even won the boy himself to +except him only from a certain suspicion that had lately sprung from, +his own consciousness of his burden,--a suspicion gradually growing into +a belief that all the world had such a Shadow as his own. + +Now this was not a strange result of so painful a reality. Seeing, as +Roger Pierce did, in every action of others toward himself the dark +atmosphere of the Shadow that was peculiarly his own, he watched also +their mutual actions, and, throwing from his own obscurity a shade over +all human deeds, he became possessed of the monomania, a practical +belief that every mortal man, except it might be Jimmy Doane, was +followed and overlooked by this terrible Second Shadow. + +In proportion as the gloom of this black Presence seemed to be lightened +over any one was his esteem for him; but by daily looking so steadily +and with such a will to see only darkness in the hearts of men, he +discovered traces of the Shadow even in Jimmy Doane,--and the darkness +shut down, like night at sea, over all the world then. + +Now Roger was miserable enough, knowing well that he could escape, if +he would; for there had come with his increasing sense of his tyrant, +a knowledge that every time he thought of the Shadow it darkened more +deeply than ever, and that in forgetting it lay his only hope of escape +from its power. But withal there was a morbid pleasure, the reflex +influence of habit and indolence, that mingled curiously with his +longing desire to forget his Double, but rendered it impossible to do +so without a greater effort than he cared to make, or some help from +another hand; and soon that help seemed to come. + +When Roger left his home for school, he left in the quaint oak cradle +a little baby-sister, too young to have a place in his thought as a +definite existence; but after an absence of two years he came back to +find in her a new phase of life, into which the Shadow could not yet +enter. + +The child's name her own childish tongue had softened into "Sunny," a +name that was the natural expression of her sunshiny traits, the clear +gay voice, the tranquil azure eyes, the golden curls, the loving looks, +that made Sunny the darling of the house,--the stray sunbeam that +glanced through the doors, flitted by the heavy wainscots, and danced up +the dusky stairways of that old and solitary dwelling. + +When Roger returned, fresh from the rough companionship of school, Sunny +seemed to him a creature of some better race than his own. The Shadow +vanished, for he forgot it in his new devotion to Sunny. Nothing did he +leave undone to please her wayward fancies. In those hot summer-days, +he carried her to a little brook that rippled across the meadow, and, +sitting with her in his arms on the large smooth stones that divided +those shallow waters, held her carefully while she splashed her tiny +dimpled feet in the cool ripples, or grasped vainly at the blue-winged +dragon-flies sailing past, on languid, airy pinions, just beyond her +reach. Or he gathered heaps of daisies for the child to toss into the +shining stream, and see the pale star-like blossoms float smoothly down +till some eddy caught them in its sparkling whirl, and, drenching the +frail, helpless leaves, cast them on the farther shore and went its +careless way. Or he told her, in the afternoons, under some wide +apple-tree, wonderful stories of giants and naughty boys, till she fell +asleep on the sweet hay, where the curious grasshoppers peered at her +with round horny eyes, and velvet-bodied spiders scurried across her +fair curls with six-legged speed, and the robin eyed her from a bough +above with wistful glances, till Roger must needs carry her tenderly out +of their neighborhood to his mother's gentle care. + +All this guard and guidance Sunny repaid with her only treasure, love. +She left her pet kitten in its gayest antics to sit on Roger's knee; she +went to sleep at night nestled against his arm; every little dainty that +she gathered from garden or field was shared with him; and no pleasure +that did not include Roger could tempt Sunny to be pleased. + +For a while the unconscious charm endured; absorbed in his darling, +Roger forgot the Shadow, or remembered it only at rare intervals; and in +that brief time every one seemed to grow better and lovelier. He did not +see in this the coloring of his own more kindly thoughts. + +But when, at length, the novelty of Sunny's presence wore off, her +claims grew tiresome. In the faith of her child's heart, she came as +frankly to Roger for help or comfort as she had ever done; and he found +his own plans for study or pleasure constantly interrupted by her +requests or caresses, till the Shadow darkened again beside him, and, +looking over his shoulder, fell so close to Sunny, that his old belief +drew its veil across his eyes for a moment, and he started at the sight +of what he dreaded,--a Shadow haunting Sunny. + +Then,--though this first dread passed away,--slowly, but creeping on +with unfailing certainty, the Shadow returned. It fell like a brooding +storm over the fireside of home; he fancied a like shadow following his +mother's steps, darkening his baby-sister's smile; and as if in +revenge for so long an absence, the Shadow forced itself upon him more +strenuously than ever, till poor Roger Pierce was like a bruised and +beaten child,--too sore to have peace or rest, too sensitive to bear any +remedy for his ailment, and too petulant to receive or expect sympathy +from any other and more gentle nature than his own. + +It was long before the Shadow made itself felt by Sunny. She never saw +it as others did. If its chill passed over her warm rosy face, she stole +up softly to her brother, and, with a look of pure childish love, put +her hand in his, and said softly, "Poor Roger!" or, with a keener sense +of the Presence, forbore to touch him, but played off her kitten's +merriest tricks before him, or rolled her tiny hoop with shouts of +laughter across the old house-dog as he slept on the grass, looking +vainly for the smile Roger had always given to her baby plays before. + +So by degrees she went back to her own pleasures, full of tender thought +for every living thing, and a loving consciousness of their wants and +ways. Her lisping voice chattered brook-like to birds and bees; her +lip curled grievously over the broken wing of a painted moth, or the +struggles of a drowning fly; in Nature's company she played as with an +infant ever divine; and no darkness assailed the never-weary child. + +But Roger grew daily closer to his Shadow, and gave himself up to its +dominion, till his mother saw the bondage, and tried, mourning, every +art and device to win him away from the evil spirit, but tried in vain. +So they lived till Sunny was four years old, when suddenly, one bright +day in June, she left the roses in her garden with broken stems, but +ungathered, and, tottering into the house, fell across the threshold, +flushed and sleepy,--as they who lifted her saw at once, in the first +stage of a fever. + +This unexpected blow once more severed Roger from his Shadow. He watched +his little sister with a heart full of anxious regret, yet so fully +wrapt in her wants and danger, that the gloomy Shadow, which looked afar +off at his self-accusations, dared not once intrude. + +At length that day of crisis came, the pause of fever and delirium, +desired, yet dreaded, by every trembling, fearful heart that hung over +the child's pillow. If she slept, the physician said, her fate hung on +the waking; life or death would seal her when sleep resigned its claim. +It was early morning when this sentence was given; in an hour's time the +fever had subsided, the flush passed from Sunny's cheek, and she slept, +watched breathlessly by Roger and his mother. The curtains of the room +were half drawn to give the little creature air, and there rustled +lightly through them a low south wind, bearing the delicate perfume of +blossoms, and the lulling murmur of bees singing at their sweet toil. + +Roger was weary with watching; the chiming sounds of Summer, the low +ticking of the old clock on the stairs, and the utter quiet within, +soothed him to slumber; his head bent forward and rested on the bedside; +he fell asleep, and in his sleep he dreamed. + +Over Sunny's pillow (for in this dream he seemed to himself waking and +watching) he saw a hovering spirit, the incarnate shape of Light, gazing +at the sleeping child with ineffable tenderness; but its keen eyes +caught the aspect of Roger's Shadow; the pure lineaments glowed with +something more divinely awful than anger, and with levelled lance it +assailed that evil Presence and bore it to the ground; but the Shadow +slipped aside from the spear, and cowered into distance; the angelic +face saddened, and, stooping downward, folded Sunny in its arms as if to +bear her away. + +Roger woke with his own vain attempt to grasp and detain the child. The +setting sun streamed in at the window, and his mother stood at his side, +brought by some inarticulate sound from Sunny's lips. + +She sent the boy to call his father, and when they came in together, the +child's wide blue eyes were open, full of supernatural calm; her parched +lips parted with a faint smile; and the loose golden curls pushed off +her forehead, where the blue veins crept, like vivid stains of violet, +under the clear skin. + +"Dear mother!" she said, raising her arms slowly, to be lifted on the +pillow; but the low, hoarse voice had lost its music. + +Then she turned to her father with that strange bright smile, and again +to Roger, uttering faintly,-- + +"Stand away, Roger; Sunny wants the light." + +They drew all the curtain opposite her bed away, and, as she stretched +her hands eagerly toward the window, the last rays of sunshine glowed +on her pale illuminated face, till it was even as an angel's, and Roger +caught a sudden gleam of wings across the air; but a cold pain struck +him as he gazed, for Sunny fell backward on her pillow. She had gone +with the sunshine. + +It seemed now for a time as if the phantasm that haunted Roger Pierce +were banished at last. His moody reserve disappeared; he addressed +himself with quiet, constant effort to console his mother,--to aid his +father,--to fill, so far as he could, the vacant place; and his heart +longed with an incessant thirst for the bright Spirit that hovered in +his dream over Sunny;--he seemed almost to have begun a natural and +healthy life. + +But year after year passed away, and the light of Sunny's influence +faded with her fading memory. Green turf grew over her short grave, and +the long slant shadow of its headstone no longer lay on a foot-worn +track. Roger's pilgrimages to that spot were over; his heart had ceased +to remember. The Shadow had reassumed its power, and reigned. + +Still through its obscurity he kept one gleam of light,--an admiration +undiminished for those who seemed to have no such attendance; but daily +the number of these grew less. + +At length, after the studies of his youth were over, and he had returned +to his old home for life, there came over the settled and brooding +darkness of his soul a warm ray of dawn. In some way, as naturally as +one meets a fresh wind full of vernal odor and life, yet never marks the +moment of its first caress, so naturally, so unmarkedly, he renewed a +childish acquaintance with Violet Channing, a dweller in the same +quiet valley with himself, though for long years the fine threads of +circumstance had parted them. + +Not a stone, and the frail green moss that clings to it, are more +essentially different than were Roger Pierce and Violet Channing. +Without a trace of the Shadow in herself, Violet disbelieved its +existence in others. She had heard a rumor of Roger's phantom, but +thought it some strange delusion, or want of perception, in those who +told her,--being rather softened toward him with pity that he should be +so little understood. + +In the first days of their acquaintance, it seemed as if the light +of the girl's face would have dispelled forever the darkness of her +companion's Shadow, it was so mild and quiet a shining,--not the mere +outer lustre of beauty, but the deep informing expression of that Spirit +which had companioned Sunny heavenward. + +With Violet, soothed by the timid sweetness of her manner, aroused by +her sudden flashes of mirth and vivid enthusiasm, Roger seemed to forget +his hateful companion, or remembered it only to be consoled by her +tender eyes that beamed with pity and affection. + +Month after month this intimacy went on, brightening daily in Roger's +mind the ideal picture of his new friend, but creating in her only +a deeper sympathy and a more devout compassion for his wretched and +oppressed life. But as years instead of months went by, the sole +influence no longer rested with the girl, drawing Roger Pierce upward, +as she longed and strove to do, into her own sunshine. Their mutual +relation had only lightened his darkness in part, while it had drawn +over her the faint twilight of a Shadow like his own. But as the chief +characteristic of this unearthly Thing was that it grew by notice, as +some strange Eastern plants live on air, it throve but slowly near to +Violet Channing, whose thoughts were bent on curing the heart-evil of +Roger Pierce, and were so absorbed in that patient care that they had +little chance to turn upon herself; though, when patience almost failed, +and, weary with fruitless labor and unanswered yearning, her heart sunk, +she was conscious of a vague influence that made the sunbeams fall +coldly, and the songs of Summer mournful. + +Hour after hour she lavished all the treasure she knew, and much that +she knew not consciously, to beguile the darkness from Roger's brow; or +recalled again and again her own deeds and words, to review them with +strict judgment, lest they might have set provocation in his path; till +at length her loving thoughts grew restless and painful, her face paled, +her frame wasted away, and over her deep melancholy eyes the Shadow hung +like a black tempest reflected in some clear lake. + +Roger was not blind to this change; he did not see who had cast the +first veil of darkness over the pure light that had shone so freely for +him; and while he silently regretted what he deemed the desecration of +the spotless image he had loved, nothing whispered that it was his own +Shadow brooding above the true heart that had toiled so faithfully and +long for his enlightening. + +The most painful result of all to Violet was the new coldness of Roger's +manner to her. Shadowed as he was, he did not perceive this change in +himself; but Violet, in the silence of night, or in the solitary hours +she spent in wood and field beside her growing Shadow, felt it with +unmingled pain. Vainly did the Spirit of Light within her counsel her to +persevere, looking only at the end she would achieve; subtler and more +penetrative to her untuned ear were the words of the fiend at her side. + +One day she had brooded long and drearily on the carelessness and +coldness of her dear, her disregardful friend, and in her worn and weary +soul revolved whatever sweetness of the past had now fled, and what +pangs of love repulsed and devotion scorned lay before her in the +miserable future; and as she held her throbbing head upon her hands, +wasted with fiery pulses, it seemed to her as if the Shadow, inclining +to her ear, whispered, almost audibly,-- + +"Think what you have given this man!--your hope and peace; the breath of +your life and the beatings of your heart. All your soul is lavished on +him, and see how he repays you!" + +The weak and disheartened girl shivered; the time was past when she +could have despised the voice of this dread companion, when the Shadow +dared not have spoken thus; and with bitter tears swelling into her eyes +she and the Shadow walked forth together to a haunt on the mountain-side +where she had been used to meet Roger. + +It was a bare rock, just below the summit of a peak crowned with a few +old cedars, from whose laborious growth of dull, dark foliage long +streamers of gray moss waved in the wind. There were scattered crags +about their roots, against whose lichen-covered sides the autumn sun +shone fruitlessly; and from the leafless forests in the deep valley +beneath rose a whispering sound, as if they shuddered, and were stirred +by some foreboding horror. + +Violet made her way to this height as eagerly as her lessened strength +and panting heart allowed; but as she lifted her eyes from the narrow +path she had tracked upward, they rested on the last face she wished to +meet, the gloomy visage of Roger Pierce. The girl hesitated, and would +have drawn back, but Roger bade her come near. + +"There is no need of your going, Violet," said he; and she crouched +quietly on the rock at his feet, silently, but with fixed eyes, +regarding the double nature before her, the Man and his Shadow. + +Still upward from the valley crept that low shiver of dread; the pale +sun shed its listless light on the gray rocks and dusky cedars; the +silent unexpectant earth seemed to have paused; all things were wrapt in +vague awe and dim apprehension; some inexpressible fatality seemed to +oppress life and breath. + +A sudden impulse of escape, desperate in its strength, possessed Violet; +perhaps to name that Thing that clung so closely to Roger might shake +its power,--and with a trembling, vibrating voice she spoke:-- + +"Roger,--you are thinking of the Shadow?" + +He did not move, nor at once speak; no new expression stirred his dark +face; at length he answered, in a voice that seemed to come from some +lips far away, in an unechoing distance:-- + +"The Shadow?--Yes. I see it in all faces. It lies on the valley yonder; +in the air; on every mortal brow and lip it gathers deeper yet. Violet, +you, too, share the Shadow!" + +Slowly, as if his words froze her, Violet rose and turned toward him; +a light shone from her eyes that melted their dark depths into the +radiance of high noon; and she spoke with a thrilled, yet unfaltering +tone:-- + +"Yes, I share it, it is true. I feel and see the gloom; but if the +Shadow haunts me, Roger Pierce, ask your own heart who cast it there! +When we were first friends, I knew nothing of that darkness. I tried +with all purity and compassion to draw you upward into light; and for +reward, you have wrapped your own blackness round me, and hate your own +doing. My work is over,--is in vain! It remains only that I free myself +from this Shadow, and leave you to the mercy of a Power with whom no +such Presence can cope,--in whom no darkness nor shadow may abide." + +She turned to leave him with these words, but cast back a look of such +love and tender pity, that she seemed to Roger the very Spirit that had +borne Sunny away. + +Bewildered and pained to the heart, he groped his way homeward, and +night lapsed into morning, and returned and went again more than once, +ere sleep returned to his eyes. + +Violet kept no vigils; she wept herself asleep as a child against its +mother's bosom, and loving eyes guarded that childlike rest. But Roger's +waking was haunted with remorse and fearful expectation; and as days +crept by, and Memory, like one who fastens the galley-slave to his oar, +still pressed on his thoughts the constant patience, toil, and affection +of Violet Channing, he felt how truly she had spoken of him, and from +his soul abhorred the Shadow of his life. + +Here he vanishes. Whether with successful conflict he fought with the +evil and prevailed, and showed himself a man,--or whether the Thing +renewed its dominion, and he drew to himself another nature, not for the +good power of its pure contact, but for the further increase of that +darkness, and the blinding of another soul, is never yet to be known. + +Of Violet Channing he saw no more; with her his sole earthly redemption +had fled; she went her way, free henceforward from the Shadow, and +guarded in the arms of the shining Spirit. + +The wind yet howls and dashes without; the rain, rushing in gusts on +roof and casement, keeps no time nor tune; the fire is dead in the +ashes; the red rose, in the lessening light, turns gray;--but far away +to the south the cloud begins to scatter; faint amber steals along the +crest of the distant hills; after all evils, hope remains,--even for a +Man with two Shadows. Let us, perhaps his kindred after the spirit, not +despair. + + + + +AMOURS DE VOYAGE. + +[Concluded.] + + + IV. + + Eastward, or Northward, or West? I wander, and ask as I wander, + Weary, yet eager and sure, where shall I come to my love? + Whitherward hasten to seek her? Ye daughters of Italy, tell me, + Graceful and tender and dark, is she consorting with you? + Thou that out-climbest the torrent, that tendest thy goats to the summit, + Call to me, child of the Alp, has she been seen on the heights? + Italy, farewell I bid thee! for, whither she leads me, I follow. + Farewell the vineyard! for I, where I but guess her, must go. + Weariness welcome, and labor, wherever it be, if at last it + Bring me in mountain or plain into the sight of my love. + + + I.--Claude to Eustace,--_from Florence_. + + Gone from Florence; indeed; and that is truly provoking;-- + Gone to Milan, it seems; then I go also to Milan. + Five days now departed; but they can travel but slowly;-- + I quicker far; and I know, as it happens, the house they will go to.-- + Why, what else should I do? Stay here and look at the pictures, + Statues, and churches? Alack, I am sick of the statues and pictures!-- + No, to Bologna, Parma, Piacenza, Lodi, and Milan, + Off go we to-night,--and the Venus go to the Devil! + + + II.--Claude to Eustace,--_from Bellaggio_. + + Gone to Como, they said; and I have posted to Como. + There was a letter left, but the _cameriere_ had lost it. + Could it have been for me? They came, however, to Como, + And from Como went by the boat,--perhaps to the Splügen,-- + Or to the Stelvio, say, and the Tyrol; also it might be + By Porlezza across to Lugano, and so to the Simplon + Possibly, or the St. Gothard, or possibly, too, to Baveno, + Orta, Turin, and elsewhere. Indeed, I am greatly bewildered. + + + III.--Claude to Eustace,--_from Bellaggio_. + + I have been up the Splügen, and on the Stelvio also: + Neither of these can I find they have followed; in no one inn, and + This would be odd, have they written their names. I have been to + Porlezza. + There they have not been seen, and therefore not at Lugano. + What shall I do? Go on through the Tyrol, Switzerland, Deutschland, + Seeking, an inverse Saul, a kingdom, to find only asses? + There is a tide, at least in the _love_ affairs of mortals, + Which, when taken at flood, leads on to the happiest fortune,-- + Leads to the marriage-morn and the orange-flowers and the altar, + And the long lawful line of crowned joys to crowned joys succeeding.-- + Ah, it has ebbed with me! Ye gods, and when it was flowing, + Pitiful fool that I was, to stand fiddle-faddling in that way! + + + IV.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE,--_from Bellaggio._ + + I have returned and found their names in the book at Como. + Certain it is I was right, and yet I am also in error. + Added in feminine hand, I read, _By the boat to Bellaggio._-- + So to Bellaggio again, with the words of her writing, to aid me. + Yet at Bellaggio I find no trace, no sort of remembrance. + So I am here, and wait, and know every hour will remove them. + + + V.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE,--_from Belaggio._ + + I have but one chance left,--and that is, going to Florence. + But it is cruel to turn. The mountains seem to demand me,-- + Peak and valley from far to beckon and motion me onward. + Somewhere amid their folds she passes whom fain I would follow; + Somewhere among those heights she haply calls me to seek her. + Ah, could I hear her call! could I catch the glimpse of her raiment! + Turn, however, I must, though it seem I turn to desert her; + For the sense of the thing is simply to hurry to Florence, + Where the certainty yet may be learnt, I suppose, from the Ropers. + + + VI.--MARY TREVELLYN, _from Lucerne_, TO MISS ROPER, _at Florence_. + + Dear Miss Roper,--By this you are safely away, we are hoping, + Many a league from Rome; ere long we trust we shall see you. + How have you travelled? I wonder;--was Mr. Claude your companion? + As for ourselves, we went from Como straight to Lugano; + So by the Mount St. Gothard;--we meant to go by Porlezza, + Taking the steamer, and stopping, as you had advised, at Bellaggio; + Two or three days or more; but this was suddenly altered, + After we left the hotel, on the very way to the steamer. + So we have seen, I fear, not one of the lakes in perfection. + Well, he is not come; and now, I suppose, he will not come. + What will you think, meantime?--and yet I must really confess it;-- + What will you say? I wrote him a note. We left in a hurry, + Went from Milan to Como three days before we expected. + But I thought, if he came all the way to Milan, he really + Ought not to be disappointed; and so I wrote three lines to + Say I had heard he was coming, desirous of joining our party;-- + If so, then I said, we had started for Como, and meant to + Cross the St. Gothard, and stay, we believed, at Lucerne, for the + summer. + Was it wrong? and why, if it was, has it failed to bring him? + Did he not think it worth while to come to Milan? He knew (you + Told him) the house we should go to. Or may it, perhaps, have + miscarried? + Any way, now, I repent, and am heartily vexed that I wrote it. + There is a home on the shore of the Alpine sea, that upswelling + High up the mountain-sides spreads in the hollow between; + Wilderness, mountain, and snow from the land of the olive conceal it; + Under Pilatus's hill low by its river it lies: + Italy, utter one word, and the olive and vine will allure not,-- + Wilderness, forest, and snow will not the passage impede; + Italy, unto thy cities receding, the clue to recover, + Hither, recovered the clue, shall not the traveller haste? + + + + V. + + There is a city, upbuilt on the quays of the turbulent Arno, + Under Fiesole's heights,--thither are we to return? + There is a city that fringes the curve of the inflowing waters, + Under the perilous hill fringes the beautiful bay,-- + Parthenope do they call thee?--the Siren, Neapolis, seated + Under Vesevus's hill,--thither are we to proceed?-- + Sicily, Greece, will invite, and the Orient;--or are we to turn to + England, which may after all be for its children the best? + + + I.--MARY TREVELLYN, _at Lucerne_, TO MISS ROPER, _at Florence_. + + So you are really free, and living in quiet at Florence; + That is delightful news;--you travelled slowly and safely; + Mr. Claude got you out; took rooms at Florence before you; + Wrote from Milan to say so; had left directly for Milan, + Hoping to find us soon;--_if he could, he would, you are + certain._-- + Dear Miss Roper, your letter has made me exceedingly happy. + You are quite sure, you say, he asked you about our intentions; + You had not heard of Lucerne as yet, but told him of Como.-- + Well, perhaps he will come;--however, I will not expect it. + Though you say you are sure,--if he can, he will, _you are + certain._ + O my dear, many thanks from your ever affectionate Mary. + + + II.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Florence. + + _Action will furnish belief,_--but will that belief be the true + one? + This is the point, you know. However, it doesn't much matter + What one wants, I suppose, is to predetermine the action, + So as to make it entail, not a chance-belief, but the true one. + _Out of the question,_ you say, _if a thing isn't wrong, we + may do it._ + Ah! but this wrong, you see;--but I do not know that it matters. + Eustace, the Ropers are gone, and no one can tell me about them. + + + Pisa. + + Pisa, they say they think; and so I follow to Pisa, + Hither and thither inquiring. I weary of making inquiries; + I am ashamed, I declare, of asking people about it.-- + Who are your friends? You said you had friends who would certainly + know them. + + Florence. + + But it is idle, moping, and thinking, and trying to fix her + Image more and more in, to write the old perfect inscription + Over and over again upon every page of remembrance. + I have settled to stay at Florence to wait for your answer. + Who are your friends? Write quickly and tell me. I wait for your + answer. + + + III.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER, _at Lucca Baths_. + + You are at Lucca Baths, you tell me, to stay for the summer; + Florence was quite too hot; you can't move further at present. + Will you not come, do you think, before the summer is over? + Mr. C. got you out with very considerable trouble; + And he was useful and kind, and seemed so happy to serve you; + Didn't stay with you long, but talked very openly to you; + Made you almost his confessor, without appearing to know it,-- + What about?--and you say you didn't need his confessions. + O my dear Miss Roper, I dare not trust what you tell me! + Will he come, do you think? I am really so sorry for him! + They didn't give him my letter at Milan, I feel pretty certain. + You had told him Bellaggio. We didn't go to Bellaggio; + So he would miss our track, and perhaps never come to Lugano, + Where we were written in full, _To Lucerne, across the St. + Gothard._ + But he could write to you;--you would tell him where you were going. + + + IV.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Let me, then, bear to forget her. I will not cling to her falsely; + Nothing factitious or forced shall impair the old happy relation. + I will let myself go, forget, not try to remember; + I will walk on my way, accept the chances that meet me, + Freely encounter the world, imbibe these alien airs, and + Never ask if new feelings and thoughts are of her or of others. + Is she not changing, herself?--the old image would only delude me. + I will be bold, too, and change,--if it must be. Yet if in all things, + Yet if I do but aspire evermore to the Absolute only, + I shall be doing, I think, somehow, what she will be doing;-- + I shall be thine, O my child, some way, though I know not in what way. + Let me submit to forget her; I must; I already forget her. + + + V.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Utterly vain is, alas, this attempt at the Absolute,--wholly! + I, who believed not in her, because I would fain believe nothing, + Have to believe as I may, with a wilful, unmeaning acceptance. + I, who refused to enfasten the roots of my floating existence + In the rich earth, cling now to the hard, naked rock that is left me.-- + Ah! she was worthy, Eustace,--and that, indeed, is my comfort,-- + Worthy a nobler heart than a fool such as I could have given. + + + VI.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Yes, it relieves me to write, though I do not send; and the chance + that + Takes may destroy my fragments. But as men pray, without asking + Whether One really exist to hear or do anything for them,-- + Simply impelled by the need of the moment to turn to a Being + In a conception of whom there is freedom from all limitation,-- + So in your image I turn to an _ens rationis_ of friendship. + Even to write in your name I know not to whom nor in what wise. + + + VII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + There was a time, methought it was but lately departed, + When, if a thing was denied me, I felt I was bound to attempt it; + Choice alone should take, and choice alone should surrender. + There was a time, indeed, when I had not retired thus early, + Languidly thus, from pursuit of a purpose I once had adopted. + But it is over, all that! I have slunk from the perilous field in + Whose wild struggle of forces the prizes of life are contested. + It is over, all that! I am a coward, and know it. + Courage in me could be only factitious, unnatural, useless. + + + VIII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Rome is fallen, I hear, the gallant Medici taken, + Noble Manara slain, and Garibaldi has lost _il Moro_;-- + Rome is fallen; and fallen, or falling, heroical Venice. + I, meanwhile, for the loss of a single small chit of a girl, sit + Moping and mourning here,--for her, and myself much smaller. + Whither depart the souls of the brave that die in the battle, + Die in the lost, lost fight, for the cause that perishes with them? + Are they upborne from the field on the slumberous pinions of angels + Unto a far-off home, where the weary rest from their labor, + And the deep wounds are healed, and the bitter and burning moisture + Wiped from the generous eyes? or do they linger, unhappy, + Pining, and haunting the grave of their by-gone hope and endeavor? + All declamation, alas! though I talk, I care not for Rome, nor + Italy; feebly and faintly, and but with the lips, can lament the + Wreck of the Lombard youth and the victory of the oppressor. + Whither depart the brave?--God knows; I certainly do not. + + + IX.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER. + + He has not come as yet; and now I must not expect it. + You have written, you say, to friends at Florence, to see him, + If he perhaps should return;--but that is surely unlikely. + Has he not written to you?--he did not know your direction. + Oh, how strange never once to have told him where you were going! + Yet if he only wrote to Florence, that would have reached you. + If what you say he said was true, why has he not done so? + Is he gone back to Rome, do you think, to his Vatican marbles?-- + O my dear Miss Roper, forgive me! do not be angry!-- + You have written to Florence;--your friends would certainly find him. + Might you not write to him?--but yet it is so little likely! + I shall expect nothing more.--Ever yours, your affectionate Mary. + + + X.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + I cannot stay at Florence, not even to wait for a letter. + Galleries only oppress me. Remembrance of hope I had cherished + (Almost more than as hope, when I passed through Florence the first + time) + Lies like a sword in my soul. I am more a coward than ever, + Chicken-hearted, past thought. The _caffes_ and waiters distress + me. + All is unkind, and, alas, I am ready for any one's kindness. + Oh, I knew it of old, and knew it, I thought, to perfection, + If there is any one thing in the world to preclude all kindness, + It is the need of it,--it is this sad self-defeating dependence. + Why is this, Eustace? Myself, were I stronger, I think I could tell + you. + But it is odd when it comes. So plumb I the deeps of depression, + Daily in deeper, and find no support, no will, no purpose. + All my old strengths are gone. And yet I shall have to do something. + Ah, the key of our life, that passes all wards, opens all locks, + Is not _I will_, but _I must_. I must,--I must,--and I do + it. + + + XI--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + At the last moment I have your letter, for which I was waiting. + I have taken my place, and see no good in inquiries. + Do nothing more, good Eustace, I pray you. It only will vex me. + Take no measures. Indeed, should we meet, I could not be certain; + All might be changed, you know. Or perhaps there was nothing to be + changed. + It is a curious history, this; and yet I foresaw it; + I could have told it before. The Fates, it is clear, are against us; + For it is certain enough that I met with the people you mention; + They were at Florence the day I returned there, and spoke to me even; + Staid a week, saw me often; departed, and whither I know not. + Great is Fate, and is best. I believe in Providence, partly. + What is ordained is right, and all that happens is ordered. + Ah, no, that isn't it. But yet I retain my conclusion: + I will go where I am led, and will not dictate to the chances. + Do nothing more, I beg. If you love me, forbear interfering. + + + XII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Shall we come out of it all, some day, as one does from a tunnel? + Will it be all at once, without our doing or asking, + We shall behold clear day, the trees and meadows about us, + And the faces of friends, and the eyes we loved looking at us? + Who knows? Who can say? It will not do to suppose it. + + + XIII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE,--_from Rome_. + + Rome will not suit me, Eustace; the priests and soldiers possess it; + Priests and soldiers;--and, ah! which is worst, the priest or the + soldier? + Politics farewell, however! For what could I do? with inquiring, + Talking, collating the journals, go fever my brain about things o'er + Which I can have no control. No, happen whatever may happen, + Time, I suppose, will subsist; the earth will revolve on its axis; + People will travel; the stranger will wander as now in the city; + Rome will be here, and the Pope the _custode_ of Vatican marbles. + I have no heart, however, for any marble or fresco; + I have essayed it in vain; 'tis vain as yet to essay it: + But I may haply resume some day my studies in this kind. + Not as the Scripture says, is, I think, the fact. Ere our death-day, + Faith, I think, does pass, and Love; but Knowledge abideth. + Let us seek Knowledge;--the rest must come and go as it happens. + Knowledge is hard to seek, and harder yet to adhere to. + Knowledge is painful often; and yet when we know, we are happy. + Seek it, and leave mere Faith and Love to come with the chances. + As for Hope,--to-morrow I hope to be starting for Naples. + Rome will not do, I see; for many very good reasons. + Eastward, then, I suppose, with the coming of winter, to Egypt. + + + XIV.--Mary Trevellyn to Miss Roper. + + You have heard nothing; of course, I know you can have heard nothing. + Ah, well, more than once I have broken my purpose, and sometimes, + Only too often, have looked for the little lake-steamer to bring him. + But it is only fancy,--I do not really expect it. + Oh, and you see I know so exactly how he would take it: + Finding the chances prevail against meeting again, he would banish + Forthwith every thought of the poor little possible hope, which + I myself could not help, perhaps, thinking only too much of; + He would resign himself, and go. I see it exactly. + So I also submit, although in a different manner. + Can you not really come? We go very shortly to England. + + * * * * * + + So go forth to the world, to the good report and the evil! + Go, little book! thy tale, is it not evil and good? + Go, and if strangers revile, pass quietly by without answer. + Go, and if curious friends ask of thy rearing and age, + Say, _I am flitting about many years from brain unto brain of + Feeble and restless youths born to inglorious days_; + _But_, so finish the word, _I was writ in a Roman chamber, + When from Janiculan heights thundered the cannon of France_. + + + + +INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER. + + +The desire, the duty, the necessity of the age in which we live is +education, or that culture which developes, enlarges, and enriches each +individual intelligence, according to the measure of its capacity, by +familiarizing it with the facts and laws of nature and human life. +But, in this rage for information, we too often overlook the mental +constitution of the being we would inform,--detaching the apprehensive +from the active powers, weakening character by overloading memory, and +reaping a harvest of imbeciles after we may have flattered ourselves we +had sown a crop of geniuses. No person can be called educated, until he +has organized his knowledge into faculty, and wields it as a weapon. +We purpose, therefore, to invite the attention of our readers to some +remarks on Intellectual Character, the last and highest result of +intellectual education, and the indispensable condition of intellectual +success. + +It is evident, that, when a young man leaves his school or college to +take his place in the world, it is indispensable that he be something +as well as know something; and it will require but little experience to +demonstrate to him that what he really knows is little more than what +he really is, and that his progress in intellectual manhood is not more +determined by the information he retains, than by that portion which, by +a benign provision of Providence, he is enabled to forget. Youth, to +be sure, is his,--youth, in virtue of which he is free of the +universe,--youth, with its elastic vigor, its far-darting hopes, its +generous impatience of prudent meanness, its grand denial of instituted +falsehood, its beautiful contempt of accredited baseness,--but youth +which must now concentrate its wayward energies, which must discourse +with facts and grapple with men, and through strife and struggle, and +the sad wisdom of experience, must pass from the vague delights of +generous impulses to the assured joy of manly principles. The moment he +comes in contact with the stern and stubborn realities which frown on +his entrance into practical life, he will find that power is the soul of +knowledge, and character the condition of intelligence. He will discover +that intellectual success depends primarily on qualities which are not +strictly intellectual, but personal and constitutional. The test +of success is influence,--that is, the power of shaping events by +informing, guiding, animating, controlling other minds. Whether this +influence be exerted directly in the world of practical affairs, or +indirectly in the world of ideas, its fundamental condition is still +force of individual being, and the amount of influence is the measure +of the degree of force, just as an effect measures a cause. The +characteristic of intellect is insight,--insight into things and their +relations; but then this insight is intense or languid, clear or +confused, comprehensive or narrow, exactly in proportion to the weight +and power of the individual who sees and combines. It is not so much the +intellect that makes the man, as the man the intellect; in every act of +earnest thinking, the reach of the thought depends on the pressure of +the will; and we would therefore emphasize and enforce, as the primitive +requirement of intellectual success, that discipline of the individual +which developes dim tendencies into positive sentiments, sentiments into +ideas, and ideas into abilities,--that discipline by which intellect +is penetrated through and through with the qualities of manhood, and +endowed with arms as well as eyes. This is Intellectual Character. + +Now it should be thundered in the ears of every young man who has +passed through that course of instruction ironically styled education, +"What do you intend to be, and what do you intend to do? Do you purpose +to play at living, or do you purpose to live?--to be a memory, a +word-cistern, a feeble prater on illustrious themes, one of the world's +thousand chatterers, or a will, a power, a man?" No varnish and veneer +of scholarship, no command of the tricks of logic and rhetoric, can ever +make you a positive force in the world. Look around you in the community +of educated men, and see how many, who started on their career with +minds as bright and eager and hearts as hopeful as yours, have been +mysteriously arrested in their growth,--have lost all the kindling +sentiments which glorified their youthful studies, and dwindled into +complacent echoes of surrounding mediocrity,--have begun, indeed, to die +on the very threshold of manhood, and stand in society as tombs rather +than temples of immortal souls. See, too, the wide disconnection between +knowledge and life;--heaps of information piled upon little heads; +everybody speaking,--few who have earned the right to speak; maxims +enough to regenerate a universe,--a woful lack of great hearts, in +which reason, right, and truth, regal and militant, are fortified and +encamped! Now this disposition to skulk the austere requirements of +intellectual growth in an indolent surrender of the mind's power of +self-direction must be overcome at the outset, or, in spite of your +grand generalities, you will be at the mercy of every bullying lie, +and strike your colors to every mean truism, and shape your life +in accordance with every low motive, which the strength of genuine +wickedness or genuine stupidity can bring to bear upon you. There is no +escape from slavery, or the mere pretence of freedom, but in radical +individual power; and all solid intellectual culture is simply the right +development of individuality into its true intellectual form. + +And first, at the risk of being considered metaphysical,--though we fear +no metaphysician would indorse the charge,--let us define what we +mean by individuality; for the word is commonly made to signify some +peculiarity or eccentricity, some unreasonable twist, of mind or +disposition. An individual, then, in the sense in which we use the term, +is a causative spiritual force, whose root and being are in eternity, +but who lives, grows, and builds up his nature in time. All the objects +of sense and thought, all facts and ideas, all things, are external to +his essential personality. But he has bound up in his personal being +sympathies and capacities which ally him with external objects, and +enable him to transmute their inner spirit and substance into his own +personal life. The process of his growth, therefore, is a development +of power from within to assimilate objects from without, the power +increasing with every vital exercise of it. The result of this +assimilation is character. Character is the spiritual body of the +person, and represents the individualization of vital experience, the +conversion of unconscious things into self-conscious men. Sir Thomas +Browne, in quaint reference to the building up of our physical frame +through the food we eat, declares that we have all been on our own +trenchers; and so, on the same principle, our spiritual faculties can be +analyzed into impersonal facts and ideas, whose life and substance we +have converted into personal reason, imagination, and passion. The +fundamental characteristic of man is spiritual hunger; the universe of +thought and matter is spiritual food. He feeds on Nature; he feeds on +ideas; he feeds, through art, science, literature, and history, on +the acts and thoughts of other minds; and could we take the mightiest +intellect that ever awed and controlled the world, and unravel his +powers, and return their constituent particles to the multitudinous +objects whence they were derived, the last probe of our analysis, after +we had stripped him of all his faculties, would touch that unquenchable +fiery atom of personality which had organized round itself such a +colossal body of mind, and which, in its simple naked energy, would +still be capable of rehabilitating itself in the powers and passions of +which it had been shorn. + +It results from this doctrine of the mind's growth, that success in all +the departments of life over which intellect holds dominion depends, not +merely on an outside knowledge of the facts and laws connected with each +department, but on the assimilation of that knowledge into instinctive +intelligence and active power. Take the good farmer, and you will find +that ideas in him are endowed with will, and can work. Take the good +general, and you will find that the principles of his profession are +inwrought into the substance of his nature, and act with the velocity +of instincts. Take the good judge, and in him jurisprudence seems +impersonated, and his opinions are authorities. Take the good merchant, +and you will find that commerce, in its facts and laws, seems in him +embodied, and that his sagacity appears identical with the objects on +which it is exercised. Take the great statesman, take Webster, and note +how, by thoroughly individualizing his comprehensive experience, he +seems to carry a nation in his brain; how, in all that relates to the +matter in hand, he has in him as _faculty_ what is out of him in _fact_; +how between the man and the thing there occurs that subtile freemasonry +of recognition which we call the mind's intuitive glance; and how +conflicting principles and statements, mixed and mingling in fierce +confusion and with deafening war-cries, fall into order and relation, +and move in the direction of one inexorable controlling idea, the +moment they are grasped by an intellect which is in the secret of their +combination:-- + + "Confusion hears his voice, and the wild uproar + stills." + +Mark, too, how, in the productions of his mind, the presence and +pressure of his whole nature, in each intellectual act, keeps his +opinions on the level of his character, and stamps every weighty +paragraph with "Daniel Webster, his mark." The characteristic, of all +his great speeches is, that the statements, arguments, and images have +what we should call a positive being of their own,--stand out as plainly +to the sight as a ledge of rocks or chain of hills,--and, like the works +of Nature herself, need no other justification of their right to exist +than the fact of their existence. We may detest their object, but we +cannot deny their solidity of organization. This power of giving a +substantial body, an undeniable external shape and form, to his thoughts +and perceptions, so that the toiling mind does not so much seem to pass +from one sentence to another, unfolding its leading idea, as to +make each sentence a solid work in a Torres-Vedras line of +fortifications,--this prodigious constructive faculty, wielded with the +strength of a huge Samson-like artificer in the material of mind, and +welding together the substances it might not be able to fuse, puzzled +all opponents who understood it not, and baffled the efforts of all who +understood it well. He rarely took a position on any political question, +which did not draw down upon him a whole battalion of adversaries, with +ingenious array of argument and infinite noise of declamation; but after +the smoke and dust and clamor of the combat were over, the speech loomed +up, perfect and whole, a permanent thing in history or literature, +while the loud thunders of opposition had too often died away into low +mutterings, audible only to the adventurous antiquary who gropes in the +"still air" of stale "Congressional Debates." The rhetoric of sentences +however melodious, of aphorisms however pointed, of abstractions however +true, cannot stand in the storm of affairs against this true rhetoric, +in which thought is consubstantiated with things. + +Now in men of this stamp, who have so organized knowledge into faculty +that they have attained the power of giving Thought the character of +Fact, we notice no distinction between power of intellect and power of +will, but an indissoluble union and fusion of force and insight. Facts +and laws are so blended with their personal being, that we can hardly +decide whether it is thought that wills or will that thinks. Their +actions display the intensest intelligence; their thoughts come from +them clothed in the thews and sinews of energetic volition. Their force, +being proportioned to their intelligence, never issues in that wild and +anarchical impulse, or that tough, obstinate, narrow wilfulness, which +many take to be the characteristic of individualized power. They may, in +fact, exhibit no striking individual traits which stand impertinently +out, and yet from this very cause be all the more potent and influential +individualities. Indeed, in the highest efforts of ecstatic action, +when the person is mightiest, and amazes us by the giant leaps of his +intuition, the mere peculiarities of his personality are unseen and +unfelt. This is the case with Homer, Shakspeare, and Goethe, in +poetry,--with Plato and Bacon, in philosophy,--with Newton, in +science,--with Caesar, in war. Such men doubtless had peculiarities and +caprices, but they were "burnt and purged away" by the fire of their +genius, when its action was intensest. Then their whole natures were +melted down into pure force and insight, and the impression they leave +upon the mind is the impression of marvellous force and weight and reach +of thought. + +If it be objected, that these high examples are fitted to provoke +despair rather than stimulate emulation, the answer is, that they +contain, exemplify, and emphasize the principles, and flash subtile +hints of the processes, of all mental growth and production. How comes +it that these men's thoughts radiate from them as acts, endowed not only +with an illuminating, but a penetrating and animating power? The answer +to this is a statement of the genesis, not merely of genius, but of +every form of intellectual manhood; for such thoughts do not leap, _à +la_ Minerva, full-grown from the head, but are struck off in those +moments when the whole nature of the thinker is alive and aglow with an +inspiration kindled long before in remote recesses of consciousness from +one spark of immortal fire, and unweariedly burning, burning, burning, +until it lit up the whole inert mass of surrounding mind in flame. + +To show, indeed, how little there is of the _extempore_, the hap-hazard, +the hit-or-miss, in the character of creative thought, and how +completely the gladdest inspiration is earned, let us glance at the +psychological history of one of those imperial ideas which measure the +power, test the quality, and convey the life, of the minds that conceive +them. The progress of such an idea is from film to form. It has its +origin in an atmosphere of feeling; for the first vital movement of the +mind is emotional, and is expressed in a dim tendency, a feeble feeling +after the object, or the class of objects, related to the peculiar +constitution and latent affinities of its individual being. This +tendency gradually condenses and deepens into a sentiment, pervading the +man with a love of those objects,--by a sweet compulsion ordering his +energies in their direction,--and by slow degrees investing them, +through a process of imagination, with the attribute of beauty, and, +through a process of reason, investing the purpose with which he pursues +them with the attribute of intelligence. The object dilates as the mind +assimilates and the nature moves, so that every step in this advance +from mere emotion to vivid insight is a building up of the faculties +which each onward movement evokes and exercises,--sentiment, +imagination, reason increasing their power and enlarging their scope +with each impetus that speeds them on to their bright and beckoning +goal. Then, when the individual has reached his full mental stature, and +come in direct contact with the object, then, only then, does he "pluck +out the heart of its mystery" in one of those lightning-like _acts_ of +thought which we call combination, invention, discovery. + +There is no luck, no accident, in all this. Nature does not capriciously +scatter her secrets as golden gifts to lazy pets and luxurious darlings, +but imposes tasks when she presents opportunities, and uplifts him whom +she would inform. The apple that she drops at the feet of Newton is but +a coy invitation to follow her to the stars. + +Now this living process of developing manhood and building up mind, +while the person is on the trail of a definite object of intelligence, +is in continual danger of being devitalized into a formal process of +mere acquisition, which, though it may make great memories of students, +will be sure to leave them little men. Their thoughts will be the +_attachés_, not the offspring, of their minds. They will have a bowing +acquaintance with many truths, without being admitted to the familiarity +of embracing or shaking hands with one. If they have native stamina of +animal constitution, they may become men of passions and opinions, but +they never will become men of sentiments and ideas; they may know the +truth as it is _about_ a thing, and support it with acrid and wrangling +dogmatism, but they never will know the truth as it is in the thing, +and support it with faith and insight. And the moment they come into +collision with a really live man, they will find their souls inwardly +wither, and their boasted acquisitions fall away, before one glance of +his irradiating intelligence and one stroke of his smiting will. If, on +the contrary, they are guided by good or great sentiments, which are the +souls of good or great ideas, these sentiments will be sure to organize +all the capacity there is in them into positive intellectual character; +but let them once divorce love from their occupations in life, and they +will find that labor will degenerate into drudgery, and drudgery will +weaken the power to labor, and weakness, as a last resort, will +intrench itself in pretence and deception. If they are in the learned +professions, they will become tricksters in law, quacks in medicine, +formalists in divinity, though _regular_ practitioners in all; and +clients will be cheated, and patients will be poisoned, and parishioners +will be--we dare not say what!--though all the colleges in the universe +had showered on them their diplomas. "To be weak is miserable": Milton +wrested that secret from the Devil himself!--but what shall we say of +those whose weakness has subsided from misery into complacency, and who +feel all the moral might of their being hourly rust and decay, with the +most amiable indifference and lazy content with dissolution? + +Now this weakness is a mental and moral sickness, pointing the way to +mental and moral death. It has its source in a violation of that law +which makes the health of the mind depend on its activity being directed +to an object. When directed on itself, it becomes fitful and moody; +and moodiness generates morbidness, and morbidness misanthropy, and +misanthropy self-contempt, and self-contempt begins the work of +self-dissolution. Why, every sensible man will despise himself, if he +concentrates his attention on that important personage! The joy and +confidence of activity come from its being fixed and fastened on things +external to itself. "The human heart," says Luther,--and we can apply +the remark as well, to the human mind,--"is like a millstone in a mill; +when you put wheat under it, it turns, and grinds, and bruises the wheat +into flour; if you put no wheat in, it still grinds on, but then it is +itself it grinds, and slowly wears away." Now activity for an object, +which is an activity that constantly increases the power of acting, +and keeps the mind glad, fresh, vigorous, and young, has three deadly +enemies,--intellectual indolence, intellectual conceit, and intellectual +fear. We will say a few words on the operation of this triad of +malignants. + +Montaigne relates, that, while once walking in the fields, he was +accosted by a beggar of Herculean frame, who solicited alms. "Are you +not ashamed to beg?" said the philosopher, with a frown,--"you who are +so palpably able to work?" "Oh, Sir," was the sturdy knave's drawling +rejoinder, "if you only knew how lazy I am!" Herein is the whole +philosophy of idleness; and we are afraid that many a student of good +natural capacity slips and slides from thought into reverie, and from +reverie into apathy, and from apathy into incurable indisposition to +think, with as much sweet unconsciousness of degradation as Montaigne's +mendicant evinced; and at last hides from himself the fact of his +imbecility of action, somewhat as Sir James Herring accounted for the +fact that he could not rise early in the morning: he could, he said, +make up his mind to it, but could not make up his body. + +"He who eats with the Devil," says the proverb, "has need of a long +spoon"; and he who domesticates this pleasant vice of indolence, and +allows it to nestle near his will, has need of a long head. Ordinary +minds may well be watchful of its insidious approaches when great ones +have mourned over its enfeebling effects; and the subtle indolence +that stole over the powers of Mackintosh, and gradually impaired the +productiveness even of Goethe, may well scare intellects of less natural +grasp and imaginations of less instinctive creativeness. Every step, +indeed, of the student's progress calls for energy and effort, and every +step is beset by some soft temptation to abandon the task of developing +power for the delight of following impulse. The appetites, for example, +instead of being bitted, and bridled, and trained into passions, and +sent through the intellect to quicken, sharpen, and intensify its +activity, are allowed to take their way unmolested to their own objects +of sense, and drag the mind down to their own sensual level. Sentiment +decays, the vision fades, faith in principles departs, the moment that +appetite rules. On the closing doors of that "sensual stye," as over the +gate of Dante's hell, be it written: "Let those who enter here leave +hope behind." + +But a more refined operation of this pestilent indolence is its way +of infusing into the mind the delusive belief that it can attain the +objects of activity without its exercise. Under this illusion, men +expect to grow wise, as men who gamble in stocks expect to grow rich, by +chance, and not by work. They invest in mediocrity in the confident hope +that it will go many hundred per cent. above par; and so shocking has +been the inflation of the intellectual currency of late years, that this +speculation of indolence sometimes partially succeeds. But a revulsion +comes,--and then brass has to make a break-neck descent to reach its +proper level below gold. There are others whom indolence deludes by some +trash about "fits" of inspiration, for whose Heaven-sent spasms they are +humbly to wait. There is, it seems, a lucky thought somewhere in the +abyss of possibility, which is somehow, at some time, to step out +of essence into substance, and take up its abode in their capacious +minds,--dutifully kept unoccupied in order that the expected celestial +visitor may not be crowded for room. Chance is to make them king, and +chance to crown them, without their stir! There are others still, who, +while sloth is sapping the primitive energy of their natures, expect to +scale the fortresses of knowledge by leaps and not by ladders, and who +count on success in such perilous gymnastics, not by the discipline of +the athlete, but by the dissipation of the idler. Indolence, indeed, +is never at a loss for a smooth lie or delicious sophism to justify +inaction, and, in our day, has rationalized it into a philosophy of the +mind, and idealized it into a school of poetry, and organized it into a +"hospital of incapables." It promises you the still ecstasy of a divine +repose, while it lures you surely down into the vacant dulness of +inglorious sloth. It provides a primrose path to stagnant pools, to an +Arcadia of thistles, and a Paradise of mud. + +But in a mind of any primitive power, intellectual indolence is sure to +generate intellectual conceit,--a little Jack Horner, that ensconces +itself in lazy heads, and, while it dwarfs every power to the level of +its own littleness, keeps vociferating, "What a great man am I!" It is +the essential vice of this glib imp of the mind, even when it infests +large intellects, that it puts Nature in the possessive case,--labels +all its inventions and discoveries "My truth,"--and moves about the +realms of art, science, and letters in a constant fear of having its +pockets picked. Think of a man's having vouchsafed to him one of those +awful glimpses into the mysteries of creation which should be received +with a shudder of prayerful joy, and taking the gracious boon with +a smirk of all-satisfied conceit! One page in what Shakspeare calls +"Nature's infinite book of secrecy" flies a moment open to his eager +gaze, and he hears the rustling of the myriad leaves as they close and +clasp, only to make his spirit more abject, his vanity more ravenous, +his hatred of rivals more rancorous and mean. That grand unselfish +love of truth, and joy in its discovery, by whomsoever made, which +characterize the true seeker and seer of science and creative art, alone +can keep the mind alive and alert, alone can make the possession of +truth a means of elevating and purifying the man. + +But if this conceit, in powerful natures, tends to belittle character, +and eat into and consume the very faculties whose successful exercise +creates it, its slyly insinuated venom works swifter and deadlier on +youth and inexperience. The ordinary forms of conceit, it is true, +cannot well flourish in any assemblage of young men, whose plain +interest it is to undeceive all self-deception and quell every +insurrection of individual vanity, and who soon understand the art of +burning the nonsense out of an offending brother by caustic ridicule +and slow-roasting sarcasm. But there is danger of mutual deception, +springing from a common belief in a false, but attractive principle of +culture. The mischief of intellectual conceit in our day consists in its +arresting mental growth at the start by stuffing the mind with the husks +of pretentious generalities, which, while they impart no vital power and +convey no real information, give seeming enlargement to thought, and +represent a seeming opulence of knowledge. The deluded student, who +picks up these ideas in masquerade at the rag-fairs and old-clothes' +shops of philosophy, thinks he has the key to all secrets and the +solvent of all problems, when he really has no experimental knowledge of +anything, and dwindles all the more for every juiceless, unnutritious +abstraction he devours. Though famished for the lack of a morsel of the +true mental food of facts and ideas, he still swaggeringly despises all +relative information in his ambition to clutch at absolute truth, and +accordingly goes directly to ultimates by the short cuts of cheap +generalities. Why, to be sure, should he, who can, Napoleon-like, march +straight on to the interior capital, submit, Marlborough-like, to the +drudgery of besieging the frontier fortresses? Why should he, who can +throw a girdle of generalization round the universe in less than forty +minutes, stoop to master details? And this easy and sprightly amplitude +of understanding, which consists not in including, but in excluding all +relative facts and principles, he calls comprehensiveness; the mental +decrepitude it occasions he dignifies with the appellation of repose; +and, on the strength of comprehensiveness and repose, is of course +qualified to take his seat beside Shakspeare, and chat cosily with +Bacon, and wink knowingly at Goethe, and startle Leibnitz with a slap +on the shoulder,--the true Red-Republican sign of liberty in manners, +equality in power, and fraternity in ideas! These men, to be sure, have +a way of saying things which he has not yet caught; but then their +wide-reaching thoughts are his as well as theirs. Imitating the +condescension of some contemporary philosophers of the Infinite, he +graciously accepts Christianity and patronizes the idea of Deity, though +he gives you to understand that he could easily pitch a generalization +outside of both. And thus, mistaking his slab-sidedness for +many-sidedness, and forgetting that there is no insight without force +to back it,--bedizened in conceit and magnificent in littleness,--he is +thrown on society, walking in a vain show of knowledge, and doomed to +be upset and trampled on by the first brawny concrete Fact he stumbles +against. A true method of culture makes drudgery beautiful by presenting +a vision of the object to which it leads;--beware of the conceit that +dispenses with it! How much better it is to delve for a little solid +knowledge, and be sure of that, than to be a proper target for such +a sarcasm as a great statesman once shot at a glib advocate, who was +saying nothing with great fluency and at great length! "Who," he asked, +"is this self-sufficient, all-sufficient, insufficient man?" + +Idleness and Conceit, however, are not more opposed to that +out-springing, reverential activity which makes the person forget +himself in devotion to his objects, than Fear. A bold heart in a sound +head,--that is the condition of energetic thinking, of the thought that +thinks round things and into things and through things; but fear freezes +activity at its inmost fountains. "There is nothing," says Montaigne, +"that I fear so much as fear." Indeed, an educated man, who creeps +along with an apologetic air, cringing to this name and ducking to that +opinion, and hoping that it is not too presumptuous in him to beg the +right to exist,--why, it is a spectacle piteous to gods and hateful to +men! Yet think of the many knots of monitory truisms in which activity +is likely to be caught and entangled at the outset,--knots which a brave +purpose will not waste time to untie, but instantly cuts. First, there +is the nonsense of students killing themselves by over-study,--some few +instances of which, not traceable to over-eating, have shielded the +short-comings of a million idlers. Next, there is the fear that the +intellect may be developed at the expense of the moral nature,--one of +those truths in the abstract which are made to do the office of lies in +the application, and which are calculated not so much to make good men +as _goodies_,--persons rejoicing in an equal mediocrity of morals and +mind, and pertinent examples of the necessity of personal force to +convert moral maxims into moral might. The truth would seem to be, that +half the crimes and sufferings which history records and observation +furnishes are directly traceable to want of thought rather than to bad +intention; and in regard to the other half, which may be referred to +the remorseless selfishness of unsanctified intelligence, has that +selfishness ever had more valuable allies and tools than the mental +torpor that cannot think and the conscientious stupidity that will not? +Moral laws, indeed, are intellectual facts, to be investigated as +well as obeyed; and it is not a blind or blear-eyed conscience, but a +conscience blended with intelligence and consolidated with character, +that can both see and act. + +But curtly dismissing the fallacy, that the moral and spiritual +faculties are likely to find a sound basis in a cowed and craven reason, +we come to a form of fear that practically paralyzes independent thought +more than any other, while it is incompatible with manliness and +self-respect. This fear is compounded of self-distrust and that mode +of vanity which cowers beneath the invective of men whose applause it +neither courts nor values. If you examine critically the two raging +parties of conservatism and radicalism, you will find that a goodly +number of their partisans are men who have not chosen their position, +but have been bullied into it,--men who see clearly enough that both +parties are based on principles almost equally true in themselves, +almost equally false by being detached from their mutual relations. But +then each party keeps its professors of intimidation and stainers of +character, whose business it is to deprive men of the luxury of large +thinking, and to drive all neutrals into their respective ranks. The +missiles hurled from one side are disorganizer, infidel, disunionist, +despiser of law, and other trumpery of that sort; from the other side, +the no less effective ones of murderer, dumb dog, traitor to humanity, +and other trumpery of that sort; and the young and sensitive student +finds it difficult to keep the poise of his nature amid the cross-fire +of this logic of fury and rhetoric of execration, and too often ends in +joining one party from fear, or the other from the fear of being +thought afraid. The probability is, that the least danger to his mental +independence will proceed from any apprehension he may entertain of what +are irreverently styled the "old fogies"; for if Young America goes on +at its present headlong rate, there is little doubt that the old fogy +will have to descend from his eminence of place, become an object of +pathos rather than terror, and be compelled to make the inquiring appeal +to his brisk hunters, so often made to himself in vain, "Am I not a man +and a brother?" But with whatever association, political or moral, the +thinker may connect himself, let him go in,--and not be dragged in or +scared in. He certainly can do no good to himself, his country, or his +race, by being the slave and echo of the heads of a clique. Besides, +as most organizations are constituted on the principles of a sort of +literary socialism, and each member lives and trades on a common capital +of phrases, there is danger that these phrases may decline from signs +into substitutes of thought, and both intellect and character evaporate +in words. Thus, a man may be a Union man and a National man, or an +Anti-Slavery man and a Temperance man and a Woman's-Rights' man, and +still be very little of a man. There is, indeed, no more ludicrous sight +than to see Mediocrity, perched on one of these resounding adjectives, +strut and bluster, and give itself braggadocio airs, and dictate to all +quiet men its maxims of patriotism or morality, and all the while be +but a living illustration through what grandeurs of opinion essential +meanness and poverty of soul will peer and peep and be disclosed. To be +a statesman or reformer requires a courage that dares defy dictation +from any quarter, and a mind which has come in direct contact with the +great inspiring ideas of country and humanity. All the rest is spite, +and spleen; and cant, and conceit, and words. + +It is plain, of course, that every man of large and living thought will +naturally sympathize with those great social movements, informing +and reforming, which are the glory of the age; but it must always be +remembered that the grand and generous sentiments that underlie those +movements demand in their fervid disciple a corresponding grandeur and +generosity of soul. There is no reason why his philanthropy should be +malignant because other men's conservatism may be stupid; and the vulgar +insensibility to the rights of the oppressed, and the vulgar scorn of +the claims of the wretched, which men calling themselves respectable and +educated may oppose to his own warmer feelings and nobler principles, +should be met, not with that invective which may be as vulgar as the +narrowness it denounces, nor always with that indignation which is +righteous as well as wrathful, but with that awful contempt with which +Magnanimity shames meanness, simply by the irony of her lofty example +and the sarcasm of her terrible silence. + +In these remarks, which we trust our readers have at least been kind +enough to consider worthy of an effort of patience, we have attempted to +connect all genuine intellectual success with manliness of character; +have endeavored to show that force of individual being is its primary +condition; that this force is augmented and enriched, or weakened and +impoverished, according as it is or is not directed to appropriate +objects; that indolence, conceit, and fear present continual checks to +this going out of the mind into glad and invigorating communion with +facts and laws; and that as a man is not a mere bundle of faculties, +but a vital person, whose unity pervades, vivifies, and creates all +the varieties of his manifestation, the same vices which enfeeble and +deprave character tend to enfeeble and deprave intellect. But perhaps we +have not sufficiently indicated a diseased state of consciousness, from +which most intellectual men have suffered, many have died, and all +should be warned,--the disease, namely, of mental disgust, the sign and +the result of mental debility. Mental disgust "sicklies o'er" all the +objects of thought, extinguishes faith in exertion, communicates a dull +wretchedness to indolence in the very process by which it makes activity +impossible, and drags into its own slough of despond, and discolors with +its own morbid reveries, the objects which it should ardently seek and +genially assimilate. It sees things neither as they are, nor as they are +glorified and transfigured by hope and health and faith; but, in the +apathy of that idling introspection which betrays a genius for misery, +it pronounces effort to be vanity, and despairingly dismisses knowledge +as delusion. "Despair," says Donne, "is the damp of hell; rejoicing is +the serenity of heaven." + +Now contrast this mental disgust, which proceeds from mental debility, +with the sunny and soul-lifting exhilaration radiated from mental +vigor,--a vigor which comes from the mind's secret consciousness that it +is in contact with moral and spiritual verities, and is partaking of the +rapture of their immortal life. A spirit earnest, hopeful, energetic, +inquisitive, making its mistakes minister to wisdom, and converting the +obstacles it vanquishes into power,--a spirit inspired by a love of the +excellency and beauty of knowledge, which will not let it sleep,--such +a spirit soon learns that the soul of joy is hid in the austere form of +Duty, and that the intellect becomes brighter, keener, clearer, more +buoyant, and more efficient, as it feels the freshening vigor infused +by her monitions and menaces, and the celestial calm imparted by her +soul-satisfying smile. In all the professions and occupations over which +Intellect holds dominion, the student will find that there is no grace +of character without its corresponding grace of mind. He will find that +virtue is an aid to insight; that good and sweet affections will bear a +harvest of pure and high thoughts; that patience will make the intellect +persistent in plans which benevolence will make beneficent in results; +that the austerities of conscience will dictate precision to statements +and exactness to arguments; that the same moral sentiments and moral +power which regulate the conduct of life will illumine the path and +stimulate the purpose of those daring spirits eager to add to the +discoveries of truth and the creations of art. And he will also find +that this purifying interaction of spiritual and mental forces will give +the mind an abiding foundation of joy for its starts of rapture and +flights of ecstasy;--a joy, in whose light and warmth languor and +discontent and depression and despair will be charmed away;--a joy, +which will make the mind large, generous, hopeful, aspiring, in order to +make life beautiful and sweet;--a joy, in the words of an old +divine, "which will put on a more glorious garment above, and be joy +superinvested in glory!" + + + + +LOO LOO. + +A FEW SCENES FROM A TRUE HISTORY. + + +SCENE I. + + +Alfred Noble had grown up to manhood among the rocks and hills of a New +England village. A year spent in Mobile, employed in the duties of a +clerk, had not accustomed him to the dull routine of commercial life. He +longed for the sound of brooks and the fresh air of the hills. It was, +therefore, with great pleasure that he received from his employer a +message to be conveyed to a gentleman who lived in the pleasantest +suburb of the city. It was one of those bright autumnal days when the +earth seems to rejoice consciously in the light that gives her beauty. + +Leaving behind him the business quarter of the town, he passed through +pleasant streets bordered with trees, and almost immediately found +himself amid scenes clothed with all the freshness of the country. +Handsome mansions here and there dotted the landscape, with pretty +little parks, enclosing orange-trees and magnolias, surrounded with +hedges of holly, in whose foliage numerous little foraging birds were +busy in the sunshine. The young man looked at these dwellings with +an exile's longing at his heart. He imagined groups of parents and +children, brothers and sisters, under those sheltering roofs, all +strangers to him, an orphan, alone in the world. The pensiveness of +his mood gradually gave place to more cheerful thoughts. Visions of +prosperous business and a happy home rose before him, as he walked +briskly toward the hills south of the city. The intervals between the +houses increased in length, and he soon found himself in a little forest +of pines. Emerging from this, he came suddenly in sight of an elegant +white villa, with colonnaded portico and spacious verandas. He +approached it by a path through a grove, the termination of which had +grown into the semblance of a Gothic arch, by the interlacing of two +trees, one with glossy evergreen leaves, the other yellow with the tints +of autumn. Vines had clambered to the top, and hung in light festoons +from the branches. The foliage, fluttering in a gentle breeze, caused +successive ripples of sun-flecks, which chased each other over trunks +and boughs, and joined in wayward dance with the shadows on the ground. + +Arrested by this unusual combination of light and shade, color and form, +the young man stood still for a moment to gaze upon it. He was thinking +to himself that nothing could add to the perfection of its beauty, when +suddenly there came dancing under the arch a figure that seemed like the +fairy of those woods, a spirit of the mosses and the vines. She was a +child, apparently five or six years old, with large brown eyes, and a +profusion of dark hair. Her gypsy hat, ornamented with scarlet ribbons +and a garland of red holly-berries, had fallen back on her shoulders, +and her cheeks were flushed with exercise. A pretty little white dog was +with her, leaping up eagerly for a cluster of holly-berries which she +playfully shook above his head. She whirled swiftly round and round the +frisking animal, her long red ribbons flying on the breeze, and then she +paused, all aglow, swaying herself back and forth, like a flower on its +stem. A flock of doves, as if attracted toward her, came swooping down +from the sky, revolving in graceful curves above her head, their white +breasts glistening in the sunshine. The aërial movements of the child +were so full of life and joy, she was so in harmony with the golden day, +the waving vines, and the circling doves, that the whole scene seemed +like an allegro movement in music, and she a charming little melody +floating through it all. + +Alfred stood like one enchanted. He feared to speak or move, lest the +fairy should vanish from mortal presence. So the child and the dog, +equally unconscious of a witness, continued their graceful gambols for +several minutes. An older man might have inwardly moralized on the folly +of the animal, aping humanity in thus earnestly striving after what +would yield no nourishment when obtained. But Alfred was too young and +too happy to moralize. The present moment was all-sufficient for him, +and stood still there in its fulness, unconnected with past or future. +This might have lasted long, had not the child been attracted by the +dove-shadows, and, looking up to watch the flight of the birds, her eyes +encountered the young man. A whole heart full of sunshine was in the +smile with which he greeted her. But, with a startled look, she turned +quickly and ran away; and the dog, still full of frolic, went bounding +by her side. As Alfred tried to pursue them, a bough knocked off his +hat. Without stopping to regain it, he sprang over a holly-hedge, and +came in view of the veranda of a house, just in time to see the fairy +and her dog disappear behind a trellis covered with the evergreen +foliage of the Cherokee rose. Conscious of the impropriety of pursuing +her farther, he paused to take breath. As he passed his hand through his +hair, tossed into masses by running against the wind, he heard a voice +from the veranda exclaim,-- + +"Whither so fast, Loo Loo? Come here, Loo Loo!" + +Glancing upward, he saw a patrician-looking gentleman, in a handsome +morning-gown, of Oriental fashion, and slippers richly embroidered. He +was reclining on a lounge, with wreaths of smoke floating before him; +but seeing the stranger, he rose, and taking the amber-tubed cigar from +his mouth, he said, half laughing,-- + +"You seem to be in hot haste, Sir. Pray, what have you been hunting?" + +Alfred also laughed, as he replied,-- + +"I have been chasing a charming little girl, who would not be caught. +Perhaps she was your daughter, Sir?" + +"She _is_ my daughter," rejoined the gentleman. "A pretty little witch, +is she not? Will you walk in, Sir?" + +Alfred thanked him, and said that he was in search of a Mr. Duncan, +whose residence was in that neighborhood. + +"I am Mr. Duncan," replied the patrician. "Jack, go and fetch the +gentleman's hat, and bring cigars." + +A negro obeyed his orders, and, after smoking awhile on the veranda, the +two gentlemen walked round the grounds. + +Once when they approached the house, they heard the pattering of little +feet, and Mr. Duncan called out, with tones of fondness,-- + +"Come here, Loo Loo! Come, darling, and see the gentleman who has been +running after you!" + +But the shy little fairy ran all the faster, and Alfred saw nothing but +the long red ribbons of her gypsy hat, as they floated behind her on the +wind. + +Declining a polite invitation to dine, he walked back to the city. The +impression on his mind had been so vivid, that, as he walked, there rose +ever before him a vision of that graceful arch with waving vines, the +undulating flight of the silver-breasted doves, and the airy motions of +that beautiful child. How would his interest in the scene have deepened, +could some sibyl have foretold to him how closely the Fates had +interwoven the destinies of himself and that lovely little one! + +When he entered the counting-room, he found his employer in close +conversation with Mr. Grossman, a wealthy cotton-broker. This man was +but little more than thirty years of age, but the predominance of animal +propensities was stamped upon his countenance with more distinctness +than is usual with sensualists of twice his age. The oil of a thousand +hams seemed oozing through his pimpled cheeks; his small gray eyes were +set in his head like the eyes of a pig; his mouth had the expression of +a satyr; and his nose seemed perpetually sniffing the savory prophecy +of food. When the clerk had delivered his message, he slapped him +familiarly on the shoulder, and said,-- + +"So you've been out to Duncan's, have you? Pretty nest there at Pine +Grove, and they say he's got a rare bird in it; but he keeps her so +close, that I could never catch sight of her. Perhaps you got a peep, +eh?" + +"I saw a very beautiful child of Mr. Duncan's," replied Alfred, "but I +did not see his wife." + +"That's very likely," rejoined Grossman; "because he never had any +wife." + +"He said the little girl was his daughter, and I naturally inferred that +he had a wife," replied Alfred. + +"That don't follow of course, my gosling," said the cotton-broker. +"You're green, young man! You're green! I swear, I'd give a good deal +to get sight of Duncan's wench. She must be devilish handsome, or he +wouldn't keep her so close." + +Alfred Noble had always felt an instinctive antipathy to this man, who +was often letting fall some remark that jarred harshly with his romantic +ideas of women,--something that seemed to insult the memories of a +beloved mother and sister gone to the spirit-world. But he had never +liked him less than at this moment; for the sly wink of his eye, and +the expressive leer that accompanied his coarse words, were very +disagreeable things to be associated with that charming vision of the +circling doves and the innocent child. + + +SCENE II. + + +Time passed away, and with it the average share of changing events. +Alfred Noble became junior partner in the counting-house he had entered +as clerk, and not long afterward the elder partner died. Left thus +to rely upon his own energy and enterprise, the young man gradually +extended his business, and seemed in a fair way to realize his favorite +dream of making a fortune and returning to the North to marry. The +subject of Slavery was then seldom discussed. North and South seemed +to have entered into a tacit agreement to ignore the topic completely. +Alfred's experience was like that of most New Englanders in his +situation. He was at first annoyed and pained by many of the +peculiarities of Southern society, and then became gradually accustomed +to them. But his natural sense of justice was very strong; and this, +added to the influence of early education, and strengthened by scenes of +petty despotism which he was frequently compelled to witness, led him +to resolve that he would never hold a slave. The colored people in his +employ considered him their friend, because he was always kind and +generous to them. He supposed that comprised the whole of duty, and +further than that he never reflected upon the subject. + +The pretty little picture at Pine Grove, which had made so lively +an impression on his imagination, faded the more rapidly, because +unconnected with his affections. But a shadowy semblance of it always +flitted through his memory, whenever he saw a beautiful child, or +observed any unusual combination of trees and vines. + +Four years after his interview with Mr. Duncan, business called him to +the interior of the State, and for the sake of healthy exercise he +chose to make the journey on horseback. His route lay mostly through a +monotonous region of sandy plain, covered with pines, here and there +varied by patches of cleared land, in which numerous dead trees were +prostrate, or standing leafless, waiting their time to fall. Most of +the dwellings were log-houses, but now and then the white villa of some +wealthy planter might be seen gleaming through the evergreens. Sometimes +the sandy soil was intersected by veins of swamp, through which muddy +water oozed sluggishly, among bushes and dead logs. In these damp places +flourished dark cypresses and holly-trees, draped with gray Spanish +moss, twisted around the boughs, and hanging from them like gigantic +cobwebs. Now and then, the sombre scene was lighted up with a bit of +brilliant color, when a scarlet grosbeak flitted from branch to branch, +or a red-headed woodpecker hammered at the trunk of some old tree, to +find where the insects had intrenched themselves. But nothing pleased +the eye of the traveller so much as the holly-trees, with their glossy +evergreen foliage, red berries, and tufts of verdant mistletoe. He +had been riding all day, when, late in the afternoon, an uncommonly +beautiful holly appeared to terminate the road at the bend where it +stood. Its boughs were woven in with a cypress on the other side, by +long tangled fringes of Spanish moss. The setting sun shone brightly +aslant the mingled foliage, and lighted up the red berries, which +glimmered through the thin drapery of moss, like the coral ornaments of +a handsome brunette seen through her veil of embroidered lace. It was +unlike the woodland picture he had seen at Pine Grove, but it recalled +it to his memory more freshly than he had seen it for a long time. He +watched the peculiar effects of sunlight, changing as he approached the +tree, and the desire grew strong within him to have the fairy-like child +and the frolicsome dog make their appearance beneath that swinging +canopy of illuminated moss. If his nerves had been in such a state that +forms in the mind could have taken outward shape, he would have realized +the vision so distinctly painted on his imagination. But he was well and +strong; therefore he saw nothing but a blue heron flapping away among +the cypresses, and a flock of turkey-buzzards soaring high above the +trees, with easy and graceful flight. His thoughts, however, continued +busy with the picture that had been so vividly recalled. He recollected +having heard, some time before, of Mr. Duncan's death, and he queried +within himself what had become of that beautiful child. + +Musing thus, he rode under the fantastic festoons he had been admiring, +and saw at his right a long gentle descent, where a small stream of +water glided downward over mossy stones. Trees on either side interlaced +their boughs over it, and formed a vista, cool, dark, and solemn as the +aisle of some old Gothic church. A figure moving upward, by the side of +the little brook, attracted his attention, and he checked his horse +to inquire whether the people at the nearest house would entertain a +stranger for the night. When the figure approached nearer, he saw that +it was a slender, barefooted girl, carrying a pail of water. As she +emerged from the dim aisle of trees, a gleam of the setting sun shone +across her face for an instant, and imparted a luminous glory to her +large brown eyes. Shading them with her hand, she paused timidly before +the stranger, and answered his inquiries. The modulation of her tones +suggested a degree of refinement which he had not expected to meet in +that lonely region. He gazed at her so intently, that her eyes sought +the ground, and their long, dark fringes rested on blushing cheeks. What +was it those eyes recalled? They tantalized and eluded his memory. "My +good girl, tell me what is your name," he said. + +"Louisa," she replied, bashfully, and added, "I will show you the way to +the house." + +"Let me carry the water for you," said the kind-hearted traveller. He +dismounted for the purpose, but she resisted his importunities, saying +that _she_ would be very angry with her. + +"And who is _she_?" he asked. "Is she your mother?" + +"Oh, no, indeed!" was the hasty reply. "I am--I--I live there." + +The disclaimer was sudden and earnest, as if the question struck on a +wounded nerve. Her eyes swam with tears, and the remainder of her answer +was sad and reluctant in its tones. The child was so delicately formed, +so shy and sensitive, so very beautiful, that she fascinated him +strongly. He led his horse into the lane she had entered, and as he +walked by her side he continued to observe her with the most lively +interest. Her motions were listless and languid, but flexile as a +willow. They puzzled him, as her eyes had done; for they seemed to +remind him of something he had seen in a half-forgotten dream. + +They soon came in sight of the house, which was built of logs, but +larger than most houses of that description; and two or three huts in +the rear indicated that the owner possessed slaves. An open porch +in front was shaded by the projecting roof, and there two dingy, +black-nosed dogs were growling and tousling each other. Pigs were +rooting the ground, and among them rolled a black baby, enveloped in a +bundle of dirty rags. The traveller waited while Louisa went into the +house to inquire whether entertainment could be furnished for +himself and his horse. It was some time before the proprietor of the +establishment made his appearance. At last he came slowly sauntering +round the end of the house, his hat tipped on one side, with a rowdyish +air. He was accompanied by a large dog, which rushed in among the pigs, +biting their ears, and making them race about, squealing piteously. Then +he seized hold of the bundle of rags containing the black baby, and +began to drag it over the ground, to the no small astonishment of the +baby, who added his screech to the charivari of the pigs. With loud +shouts of laughter, Mr. Jackson cheered on the rough animal, and was +so much entertained by the scene, that he seemed to have forgotten the +traveller entirely. When at last his eye rested upon him, he merely +exclaimed, "That's a hell of a dog!" and began to call, "_Staboy_!" +again. The negro woman came and snatched up her babe, casting a furtive +glance at her master, as she did so, and making her escape as quickly as +possible. Towzer, being engaged with the pigs at that moment, allowed +her to depart unmolested; and soon came back to his master, wagging his +tail, and looking up, as if expecting praise for his performances. + +The traveller availed himself of this season of quiet to renew his +inquiries. + +"Well," said Mr. Jackson, "I reckon we can accommodate ye. Whar ar ye +from, stranger?" + +Mr. Noble having stated "whar" he was from, was required to tell "whar" +he was going, whether he owned that "bit of horse-flesh," and whether +he wanted to sell him. Having answered all these interrogatories in a +satisfactory manner, he was ushered into the house. + +The interior was rude and slovenly, like the exterior. The doors were +opened by wooden latches with leather strings, and sagged so much on +their wooden hinges, that they were usually left open to avoid the +difficulty of shutting them. Guns and fishing-tackle were on the walls, +and the seats were wooden benches or leather-bottomed chairs. A tall, +lank woman, with red hair, and a severe aspect, was busy mending a +garment. When asked if the traveller could be provided with supper, she +curtly replied that she "reckoned so"; and, without further parlance, or +salute, went out to give orders. Immediately afterward, her shrill voice +was heard calling out, "You gal! put the fixens on the table." + +The "gal," who obeyed the summons, proved to be the sylph-like child +that had guided the traveller to the house. To the expression of +listlessness and desolation which he had previously noticed, there +was now added a look of bewilderment and fear. He thought she might, +perhaps, be a step-daughter of Mrs. Jackson; but how could so coarse a +man as his host be the father of such gentleness and grace? + +While supper was being prepared, Mr. Jackson entered into conversation +with his guest about the usual topics in that region,--the prices +of cotton and "niggers." He frankly laid open his own history and +prospects, stating that he was "fetched up" in Western Tennessee, where +he owned but two "niggers." A rich uncle had died in Alabama, and he had +come in for a portion of his wild land and "niggers"; so he concluded +to move South and take possession. Mr. Noble courteously sustained his +share of the conversation; but his eyes involuntarily followed the +interesting child, as she passed in and out to arrange the supper-table. + +"You seem to fancy Leewizzy," said Mr. Jackson, shaking the ashes from +his pipe. + +"I have never seen a handsomer child," replied Mr. Noble. "Is she your +daughter?" + +"No, Sir; she's my nigger," was the brief response. + +The young girl reëntered the room at that moment, and the statement +seemed so incredible, that the traveller eyed her with scrutinizing +glance, striving in vain to find some trace of colored ancestry. + +"Come here, Leewizzy," said her master. "What d'ye keep yer eyes on the +ground for? You 'a'n't got no occasion to be ashamed o' yer eyes. Hold +up yer head, now, and look the gentleman in the face." + +She tried to obey, but native timidity overcame the habit of submission, +and, after one shy glance at the stranger, her eyelids lowered, and +their long, dark fringes rested on blushing cheeks. + +"I reckon ye don't often see a poottier piece o' flesh," said Mr. +Jackson. + +While he was speaking, his wife had come in from the kitchen, followed +by a black woman with a dish of sweet potatoes and some hot corn-cakes. +She made her presence manifest by giving "Leewizzy" a violent push, with +the exclamation, "What ar ye standing thar for, yer lazy wench? Go and +help Dinah bring in the fixens." Then turning to her husband, she said, +"You'll make a fool o' that ar gal. It's high time she was sold. She's +no account here." + +Mr. Jackson gave a knowing wink at his guest, and remarked, "Women-folks +are ginerally glad enough to have niggers to wait on 'em; but ever sence +that gal come into the house, my old woman's been in a desperate hurry +to have me sell her. But such an article don't lose nothing by waiting +awhile. I've some thoughts of taking a tramp to Texas one o' these +days; and I reckon a prime fancy article, like that ar, would bring a +fust-rate price in New Orleans." + +The subject of his discourse was listening to what he said; and partly +from tremor at the import of his words, and partly from fear that she +should not place the dish of bacon and eggs to please her mistress, she +tipped it in setting it down, so that some of the fat was spilled upon +the table-cloth. Mrs. Jackson seized her and slapped her hard, several +times, on both sides of her head. The frightened child tried to escape, +as soon as she was released from her grasp, but, being ordered to +remain and wait upon table, she stood behind her mistress, carefully +suppressing her sobs, though unable to keep back the tears that trickled +down her cheeks. The traveller was hungry; but this sight was a damper +upon his appetite. He was indignant at seeing such a timid young +creature so roughly handled; but he dared not give utterance to his +emotions, for fear of increasing the persecution to which she was +subjected. Afterward, when his host and hostess were absent from the +room, and Louisa was clearing the table, impelled by a feeling of pity, +which he could not repress, he laid his hand gently upon her head, and +said, "Poor child!" + +It was a simple phrase; but his kindly tones produced a mighty effect on +that suffering little soul. Her pent-up affections rushed forth like +a flood when the gates are opened. She threw herself into his arms, +nestled her head upon his breast, and sobbed out, "Oh, I have nobody to +love me now!" This outburst of feeling was so unexpected, that the +young man felt embarrassed, and knew not what to do. His aversion to +disagreeable scenes amounted to a weakness; and he knew, moreover, that, +if his hostess should become aware of his sympathy, her victim would +fare all the worse for it. Still, it was not in his nature to repel the +affection that yearned toward him with so overwhelming an impulse. He +placed his hand tenderly on her head, and said, in a soothing voice, "Be +quiet now, my little girl. I hear somebody coming; and you know your +mistress expects you to clear the table." + +Mrs. Jackson was in fact approaching, and Louisa hastily resumed her +duties. + +Had Mr. Noble been guilty of some culpable action, he could not have +felt more desirous to escape the observation of his hostess. As soon +as she entered, he took up his hat hastily, and went out to ascertain +whether his horse had been duly cared for. + +He saw Louisa no more that night. But as he lay awake, looking at a star +that peeped in upon him through an opening in the log wall, he thought +of her beautiful eyes, when the sun shone upon them, as she emerged from +the shadows. He wished that his mother and sister were living, that they +might adopt the attractive child. Then he remembered that she was a +slave, reserved for the New Orleans market, and that it was not likely +his good mother could obtain her, if she were alive and willing to +undertake the charge. Sighing, as he had often done, to think how many +painful things there were which he had no power to remedy, he fell +asleep and saw a very small girl dancing with a pail of water, while +a flock of white doves were wheeling round her. The two pictures had +mingled on the floating cloud-canvas of dream-land. + +He had paid for his entertainment before going to bed, and had signified +his intention to resume his journey as soon as light dawned. All was +silent in the house when he went forth; and out of doors nothing +was stirring but a dog that roused himself to bark after him, and +chanticleer perched on a stump to crow. He was, therefore, surprised to +find Louisa at the crib where his horse was feeding. Springing toward +him, she exclaimed,-- + +"Oh, you have come! Do buy me, Sir! I will be _so_ good! I will do +everything you tell me! Oh, I am so unhappy! Do buy me, Sir!" + +He patted her on the head, and looked down compassionately into the +swimming eyes that were fixed so imploringly upon his. + +"Buy you, my poor child?" he replied. "I have no house,--I have nothing +for you to do." + +"My mother showed me how to sew some, and how to do some embroidery," +she said, coaxingly. "I will learn to do it better, and I can earn +enough to buy something to eat. Oh, do buy me, Sir! Do take me with +you!" + +"I cannot do that," he replied; "for I must go another day's journey +before I return to Mobile." + +"Do you live in Mobile?" she exclaimed, eagerly. "My father lived in +Mobile. Once I tried to run away there, but they set the dogs after me. +Oh, do carry me back to Mobile!" + +"What is your name?" said he; "and in what part of the city did you +live?" + +"My name is Louisa Duncan; and my father lived at Pine Grove. It was +such a beautiful place! and I was _so_ happy there! Will you take me +back to Mobile? _Will_ you?" + +Evading the question, he said,-- + +"Your name is Louisa, but your father called you Loo Loo, didn't he?" + +That pet name brought forth a passionate outburst of tears. Her voice +choked, and choked again, as she sobbed out,-- + +"Nobody has ever called me Loo Loo since my father died." + +He soothed her with gentle words, and she, looking up earnestly, as if +stirred by a sudden thought, exclaimed,-- + +"How did you _know_ my father called me Loo Loo?" + +He smiled as he answered, "Then you don't remember a young man who ran +after you one day, when you were playing with a little white dog at Pine +Grove? and how your father called to you, 'Come here, Loo Loo, and see +the gentleman'?" + +"I don't remember it," she replied; "but I remember how my father used +to laugh at me about it, long afterward. He said I was very young to +have gentlemen running after me." + +"I am that gentleman," he said. "When I first looked at you, I thought I +had seen you before; and now I see plainly that you are Loo Loo." + +That name was associated with so many tender memories, that she seemed +to hear her father's voice once more. She nestled close to her new +friend, and repeated, in most persuasive tones, "You _will_ buy me? +Won't you?" + +"And your mother? What has become of her?" he asked. + +"She died of yellow fever, two days before my father. I am all alone. +Nobody cares for me. You _will_ buy me,--won't you?" + +"But tell me how you came here, my poor child," he said. + +She answered, "I don't know. After my father died, a great many folks +came to the house, and they sold everything. They said my father was +uncle to Mr. Jackson, and that I belonged to him. But Mrs. Jackson won't +let me call Mr. Duncan my father. She says, if she ever hears of my +calling him so again, she'll whip me. Do let me be _your_ daughter! You +_will_ buy me,--won't you?" + +Overcome by her entreaties, and by the pleading expression of those +beautiful eyes, he said, "Well, little teaser, I will see whether Mr. +Jackson will sell you to me. If he will, I will send for you before +long." + +"Oh, don't _send_ for me!" she exclaimed, moving her hands up and down +with nervous rapidity. "Come _yourself_, and come _soon_. They'll carry +me to New Orleans, if _you_ don't come for me." + +"Well, well, child, be quiet. If I can buy you, I will come for you +myself. Meanwhile, be a good girl. I won't forget you." + +He stooped down, and sealed the promise with a kiss on her forehead. +As he raised his head, he became aware that Bill, the horse-boy, was +peeping in at the door, with a broad grin upon his black face. He +understood the meaning of that grin, and it seemed like an ugly imp +driving away a troop of fairies. He was about to speak angrily, but +checked himself with the reflection, "They will all think so. Black or +white, they will all think so. But what can I do? I _must_ save this +child from the fate that awaits her." To Bill he merely said that he +wished to see Mr. Jackson on business, and had, therefore, changed his +mind about starting before breakfast. + +The bargain was not soon completed; for Mr. Jackson had formed large +ideas concerning the price "Leewizzy" would bring in the market; and +Bill had told the story of what he witnessed at the crib, with sundry +jocose additions, which elicited peals of laughter from his master. But +the orphan had won the young man's heart by the childlike confidence she +had manifested toward him, and conscience would not allow him to break +the solemn promise he had given her. After a protracted conference, he +agreed to pay eight hundred dollars, and to come for Louisa the next +week. + +The appearance of the sun, after a long, cold storm, never made a +greater change than the announcement of this arrangement produced in the +countenance and manners of that desolate child. The expression of fear +vanished, and listlessness gave place to a springing elasticity of +motion. Mr. Noble could ill afford to spare so large a sum for the +luxury of benevolence, and he was well aware that the office of +protector, which he had taken upon himself, must necessarily prove +expensive. But when he witnessed her radiant happiness, he could not +regret that he had obeyed the generous impulse of his heart. Now, for +the first time, she was completely identified with the vision of that +fairy child who had so captivated his fancy four years before. He never +forgot the tones of her voice, and the expression of her eyes, when she +kissed his hand at parting, and said, "I thank you, Sir, for buying me." + + +SCENE III. + + +In a world like this, it is much easier to plan generous enterprises +than to carry them into effect. After Mr. Noble had purchased the child, +he knew not how to provide a suitable home for her. At first, he placed +her with his colored washerwoman. But if she remained in that situation, +though her bodily wants would be well cared for, she must necessarily +lose much of the refinement infused into her being by that early +environment of elegance, and that atmosphere of love. He did not enter +into any analysis of his motives in wishing her to be so far educated +as to be a pleasant companion for himself. The only question he asked +himself was, How he would like to have his sister treated, if she had +been placed in such unhappy circumstances. He knew very well what +construction would be put upon his proceedings, in a society where +handsome girls of such parentage were marketable; and he had so long +tacitly acquiesced in the customs around him, that he might easily have +viewed her in that light himself, had she not become invested with a +tender and sacred interest from the circumstances in which he had first +seen her, and the innocent, confiding manner in which she had implored +him to supply the place of her father. She was always presented to his +imagination as Mr. Duncan's beloved daughter, never as Mr. Jackson's +slave. He said to himself, "May God bless me according to my dealings +with this orphan! May I never prosper, if I take advantage of her +friendless situation!" + +As for his _protégée_, she was too ignorant of the world to be disturbed +by any such thoughts. "May I call you Papa, as I used to call my +father?" said she. + +For some reason, undefined to himself, the title was unpleasant to him. +It did not seem as if his sixteen years of seniority need place so wide +a distance between them. "No," he replied, "you shall be my sister." And +thenceforth she called him Brother Alfred, and he called her Loo Loo. + +His curiosity was naturally excited to learn all he could of her +history; and it was not long before he ascertained that her mother was a +superbly handsome quadroon, from New Orleans, the daughter of a French +merchant, who had given her many advantages of education, but from +carelessness had left her to follow the condition of her mother, who +was a slave. Mr. Duncan fell in love with her, bought her, and remained +strongly attached to her until the day of her death. It had always +been his intention to manumit her, but, from inveterate habits of +procrastination, he deferred it, till the fatal fever attacked them +both; and so _his_ child also was left to "follow the condition of her +mother." Having neglected to make a will, his property was divided among +the sons of sisters married at a distance from him, and thus the little +daughter, whom he had so fondly cherished, became the property of Mr. +Jackson, who valued her as he would a handsome colt likely to bring +a high price in the market. She was too young to understand all the +degradation to which she would be subjected, but she had once witnessed +an auction of slaves, and the idea of being sold filled her with terror. +She had endured six months of corroding homesickness and constant fear, +when Mr. Noble came to her rescue. + +After a few weeks passed with the colored washerwoman, she was placed +with an elderly French widow, who was glad to eke out her small income +by taking motherly care of her, and giving her instruction in music +and French. The caste to which she belonged on the mother's side was +rigorously excluded from schools, therefore it was not easy to obtain +for her a good education in the English branches. These Alfred took upon +himself; and a large portion of his evenings was devoted to hearing her +lessons in geography, arithmetic, and history. Had any one told him, +a year before, that hours thus spent would have proved otherwise than +tedious, he would not have believed it. But there was a romantic charm +about this secret treasure, thus singularly placed at his disposal; and +the love and gratitude he inspired gradually became a necessity of his +life. Sometimes he felt sad to think that the time must come when she +would cease to be a child, and when the quiet, simple relation now +existing between them must necessarily change. He said to the old French +lady, "By and by, when I can afford it, I will send her to one of the +best schools at the North. There she can become a teacher and take care +of herself." Madame Labassé smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and said, +"_Nous verrons_." She did not believe it. + +The years glided on, and all went prosperously with the young merchant. +Through various conflicts with himself, his honorable resolution +remained unbroken. Loo Loo was still his sister. She had become +completely entwined with his existence. Life would have been very dull +without her affectionate greetings, her pleasant little songs, and the +graceful dances she had learned to perform so well. Sometimes, when he +had passed a peculiarly happy evening in this fashion, Madame Labassé +would look mischievous, and say, "But when do you think you shall send +her to that school?" True, she did not often repeat this experiment; for +whenever she did it, the light went out of his countenance, as if an +extinguisher were placed upon his soul. "I _ought_ to do it," he said +within himself; "but how _can_ I live without her?" The French widow was +the only person aware how romantic and how serious was this long +episode in his life. Some gentlemen, whom he frequently met in business +relations, knew that he had purchased a young slave, whom he had placed +with a French woman to be educated; but had he told them the true state +of the case, they would have smiled incredulously. Occasionally, they +uttered some joke about the fascination which made him so indifferent +to cards and horses; but the reserve with which he received such jests +checked conversation on the subject, and all, except Mr. Grossman, +discontinued such attacks, after one or two experiments. + +As Mr. Noble's wealth increased, the wish grew stronger to place Louisa +in the midst of as much elegance as had surrounded her in childhood. +When the house at Pine Grove was unoccupied, they often went out there, +and it was his delight to see her stand under the Gothic arch of trees, +a beautiful _tableau vivant_, framed in vines. It was a place so full +of heart-memories to her, that she always lingered there as long as +possible, and never left it without a sigh. In one place was a tree her +father had planted, in another a rose or a jessamine her mother had +trained. But dearest of all was a recess among the pine-trees, on the +side of a hill. There was a rustic garden-chair, where her father had +often sat with her upon his knee, reading wonderful story-books, bought +for her on his summer excursions to New York or Boston. In one of her +visits with Alfred, she sat there and read aloud from "Lalla Rookh." +It was a mild winter day. The sunlight came mellowed through the +evergreens, a soft carpet of scarlet foliage was thickly strewn beneath +their feet, and the air was redolent of the balmy breath of pines. Fresh +and happy in the glow of her fifteen summers, how could she otherwise +than enjoy the poem? It was like sparkling wine in a jewelled goblet. +Never before had she read anything aloud in tones so musically +modulated, so full of feeling. And the listener? How worked the wine in +_him?_ A voice within said, "Remember your vow, Alfred! this charming +Loo Loo is your adopted sister"; and he tried to listen to the warning. +She did not notice his tremor, when he rose hastily and said, "The sun +is nearly setting. It is time for my sister to go home." + +"Home?" she repeated, with a sigh. "_This_ is my home. I wish I could +stay here always. I feel as if the spirits of my father and mother were +with us here." Had she sighed for an ivory palace inlaid with gold, he +would have wished to give it to her,--he was so much in love! + +A few months afterward, Pine Grove was offered for sale. He resolved to +purchase it, and give her a pleasant surprise by restoring her to her +old home, on her sixteenth birth-day. Madame Labassé, who greatly +delighted in managing mysteries, zealously aided in the preparations. +When the day arrived, Alfred proposed a long ride with Loo Loo,--in +honor of the anniversary; and during their absence, Madame, accompanied +by two household servants, established herself at Pine Grove. When +Alfred returned from the drive, he proposed to stop and look at the dear +old place, to which his companion joyfully assented. But nothing could +exceed her astonishment at finding Madame Labassé there, ready to +preside at a table spread with fruit and flowers. Her feelings +overpowered her for a moment, when Alfred said, "Dear sister, you said +you wished you could live here always; and this shall henceforth be your +home." + +"You are too good!" she exclaimed, and was about to burst into tears. +But he arrested their course by saying, playfully, "Come, Loo Loo, kiss +my hand, and say, 'Thank you, Sir, for buying me.' Say it just as you +did six years ago, you little witch!" + +Her swimming eyes smiled like sunshine through an April shower, and she +went through the pantomime, which she had often before performed at his +bidding. Madame stepped in with her little jest: "But, Sir, when do you +think you shall send her to that _pension_?" + +"Never mind," he replied, abruptly; "Let us be happy!" And he moved +toward the table to distribute the fruit. + +It was an inspiring spring-day, and ended in the loveliest of +evenings. The air was filled with the sweet breath of jessamines and +orange-blossoms. Madame touched the piano, and, in quick obedience to +the circling sound, Alfred and Loo Loo began to waltz. It was long +before youth and happiness grew weary of the revolving maze. But when at +last she complained of dizziness, he playfully whirled her out upon the +piazza, and placed her on a lounge under the Cherokee rose her mother +had trained, which was now a mass of blossoms. He seated himself in +front of her, and they remained silent for some minutes, watching the +vine-shadows play in the moonlight. As Loo Loo leaned on the balustrade, +the clustering roses hung over her in festoons, and trailed on her white +muslin drapery. Alfred was struck, as he had been many times before, +with the unconscious grace of her attitude. In imagination, he recalled +his first vision of her in early childhood, the singular circumstance +that had united their destinies, and the thousand endearing experiences +which day by day had strengthened the tie. As these thoughts passed +through his mind, he gazed upon her with devouring earnestness. She was +too beautiful, there in the moonlight, crowned with roses! + +"Loo Loo, do you love me?" he exclaimed. + +The vehemence of his tone startled her, as she sat there in a mood still +and dreamy as the landscape. + +She sprang up, and, putting her arm about his neck, answered, "Why, +Alfred, you _know_ your sister loves you." + +"Not as a brother, not as a brother, dear Loo Loo," he said, +impatiently, as he drew her closely to his breast. "Will you be my love? +Will you be my wife?" + +In the simplicity of her inexperience, and the confidence induced by +long habits of familiar reliance upon him, she replied, "I will be +anything you wish." + +No flower was ever more unconscious of a lover's burning kisses than she +was of the struggle in his breast. + +His feelings had been purely compassionate in the beginning of their +intercourse; his intentions had been purely kind afterward; but he had +gone on blindly to the edge of a slippery precipice. Human nature should +avoid such dangerous passes. + +Reviewing that intoxicating evening in a calmer mood, he was +dissatisfied with his conduct. In vain he said to himself that he had +but followed a universal custom; that all his acquaintance would have +laughed in his face, had he told them of the resolution so bravely kept +during six years. The remembrance of his mother's counsels came freshly +to his mind; and the accusing voice of conscience said, "She was a +friendless orphan, whom misfortune ought to have rendered sacred. What +to you is the sanction of custom? Have you not a higher law within your +own breast?" + +He tried to silence the monitor by saying, "When I have made a little +more money, I will return to the North. I will marry Loo Loo on the way +and she shall be acknowledged to the world as my wife, as she now is in +my own soul." + +Meanwhile, the orphan lived in her father's house as her mother had +lived before her. She never aided the voice of Alfred's conscience by +pleading with him to make her his wife; for she was completely satisfied +with her condition, and had undoubting faith that whatever he did was +always the wisest and the best. + +[To be continued.] + + + + +CHARLEY'S DEATH. + + + The wind got up moaning, and blew to a breeze; + I sat with my face closely pressed on the pane; + In a minute or two it began to rain, + And put out the sunset-fire in the trees. + + In the clouds' black faces broke out dismay + That ran of a sudden up half the sky, + And the team, cutting ruts in the grass, went by, + Heavy and dripping with sweet wet hay. + + Clutching the straws out and knitting his brow, + Walked Arthur beside it, unsteady of limb; + I stood up in wonder, for, following him, + Charley was used to be;--where was he now? + + "'Tis like him," I said, "to be working thus late!"-- + I said it, but did not believe it was so; + He could not have staid in the meadow to mow, + With rain coming down at so dismal a rate. + + "He's bringing the cows home."--I choked at that lie: + They were huddled close by in a tumult and fret, + Some pawing the dry dust up out of the wet, + Some looking afield with their heads lifted high. + + O'er the run, o'er the hilltop, and on through the gloom + My vision ran quick as the lightning could dart; + All at once the blood shocked and stood still in my heart;-- + He was coming as never till then he had come! + + Borne 'twixt our four work-hands, I saw through the fall + Of the rain, and the shadows so thick and so dim, + They had taken their coats off and spread them on him, + And that he was lying out straight,--that was all! + + + + +THE CATACOMBS OF ROME. + +[Continued.] + + +Custodit Dominus emnia ossa eorum. +Ps. xxxiii. 20 + + +III. + + +Not quite two miles from the city-gate known as the Porta Pia, there +stands, on the left hand of the Nomentan Way, the ancient, and, until +lately, beautiful, Church of St. Agnes outside the Walls. The chief +entrance to it descends by a flight of wide steps; for its pavement is +below the level of the ground, in order to afford easy access to the +catacombs known as those of St. Agnes, which opened out from it and +stretched away in interlacing passages under the neighboring fields. +It was a quiet, retired place, with the sacredness that invests every +ancient sanctuary, in which the prayers and hymns of many generations +have risen. The city was not near enough to disturb the stillness within +its walls; little vineyards, and plots of market-garden, divided from +each other by hedges of reeds and brambly roses, with wider open fields +in the distance, lay around it; a deserted convent stood at its side; +its precious marble columns were dulled and the gold ground of its +mosaics was dimmed by the dust of centuries; its pavement was deeply +worn; and its whole aspect was that of seclusion and venerable age, +without desertion and without decay. + +The story of St. Agnes is one of those which at the beginning of the +fourth century became popular among the Christians and in the Church of +Rome. The martyrdom, under most cruel tortures and terrors, of a young +girl, who chose to die rather than yield her purity or her faith, +and who died with entire serenity and peace, supported by divine +consolations, caused her memory to be cherished with an affection and +veneration similar to that in which the memory of St. Cecilia was +already held,--and very soon after her death, which is said to have +taken place in the year 304, she was honored as one of the holiest of +the disciples of the Lord. Her story has been a favorite one through all +later ages; poetry and painting have illustrated it; and wherever the +Roman faith has spread, Saint Agnes has been one of the most beloved +saints both of the rich and the poor, of the great and of the humble. + +In her Acts[A] it is related that she was buried by her parents in a +meadow on the Nomentan Way. Here, it is probable, a cemetery had already +for some time existed; and it is most likely that the body of the Saint +was laid in one of the common tombs of the catacombs. The Acts go on +to tell, that her father and mother constantly watched at night by her +grave, and once, while watching, "they saw, in the mid silence of the +night, an army of virgins, clothed in woven garments of gold, passing +by with a great light. And in the midst of them they beheld the most +blessed virgin Agnes, shining in a like dress, and at her right hand a +lamb whiter than snow. At this sight, great amazement took possession of +her parents and of those who were with them. But the blessed Agnes asked +the holy virgins to stay their advance for a moment, when she said to +her parents, 'Behold, weep not for me as for one dead, but rejoice with +me and wish me joy; for with all these I have received a shining seat, +and I am united in heaven to Him whom while on earth I loved with all my +heart.' And with these words she passed on." The report of this vision +was spread among the Christians of Rome. The pleasing story was received +into willing hearts; and the memory of the virgin was so cherished, that +her name was soon given to the cemetery where she had been buried, +and, becoming a favorite resting-place of the dead, its streets were +lengthened by the addition of many graves. + +[Footnote A: This is the name given to the accounts of the saints and +martyrs composed in early times for the use of the Church.] + +Not many years afterwards, Constantia, the daughter of the Emperor +Constantine, suffering from a long and painful disease, for which she +found no relief, heard of the marvellous vision, and was told of +many wonderful cures that had been wrought at the tomb and by the +intercession of the youthful Saint. She determined, although a pagan, +to seek the aid of which such great things were told; and going to the +grave of Agnes at night, she prayed for relief. Falling suddenly into a +sweet sleep, the Saint appeared to her, and promised her that she should +be made well, if she would believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. She awoke, +as the story relates, full of faith, and found herself well. Moved with +gratitude, she besought her father to build a church on the spot in +honor of Saint Agnes, and in compliance with her wish, and in accordance +with his own disposition to erect suitable temples for the services of +his new faith, Constantine built the church, which a few centuries later +was rebuilt in its present form and adorned with the mosaics that still +exist. + +Nearly about the same time a circular building was erected hard by the +church, designed as a mausoleum for Constantia and other members of the +imperial family. The Mausoleum of Hadrian was occupied by the bodies of +heathen emperors and empresses, and filled with heathen associations. +New tombs were needed for the bodies of those who professed to have +revolted from heathenism. The marble pillars of the Mausoleum of +Constantia were taken from more ancient and nobler buildings, its walls +were lined with mosaics, and her body was laid in a splendid sarcophagus +of porphyry. In the thirteenth century, after Constantia had been +received into the liberal community of Roman saints, her mausoleum was +consecrated as a church and dedicated to her honor. A narrow, unworn +path leads to it from the Church of St. Agnes; it has been long left +uncared-for and unfrequented, and, stripped of its movable ornaments, +it is now in a half-ruinous condition. But its decay is more impressive +than the gaudy brightness of more admired and renovated buildings. +The weeds that grow in the crevices of its pavement and hang over the +capitals of its ancient pillars, the green mould on its walls, the +cracks in its mosaics, are better and fuller of suggestion to the +imagination than the shiny surface and the elaborate finish of modern +restorations. Restoration in these days always implies irreverence and +bad taste. But the architecture of this old building and the purpose +for which it was originally designed present a marked example of the +rapidity of the change in the character of the Christians with the +change of their condition at Rome, during the reign of Constantine. The +worldliness that follows close on prosperity undermined the spirit of +faith; the pomp and luxury of the court and the palace were carried into +the forms of worship, into the construction of churches, into the manner +of burial. Social distinctions overcame the brotherhood in Christ. +Riches paved an easy way into the next world, and power set up guards +around it. Imperial remains were not to mingle with common dust, and the +mausoleum of the princess rose above the rock-hewn and narrow grave of +the martyr and saint. + +The present descent into the catacombs that lie near the churches of St. +Agnes and St. Constantia is by an entrance in a neighboring field, made, +after the time of persecution, to accommodate those who might desire +to visit the underground chapels and holy graves. A vast labyrinth of +streets spreads in every direction from it. Many chambers have been cut +in the rock at the side of the passages,--some for family burial-places, +some for chapels, some for places of instruction for those not yet fully +entered into the knowledge of the faith. It is one of the most populous +of the subterranean cemeteries, and one of the most interesting, +from the great variety in its examples of underground architectural +construction, and from the number of the paintings that are found upon +its walls. But its peculiar interest is, that it affords at one point a +marked example of the connection of an _arenarium_, or pit from which +_pozzolana_ was extracted, with the streets of the cemetery itself. At +this point, the bed of compact _tufa_, in which the graves are dug, +degenerates into friable and loosely compacted volcanic sand,--and it +was here, very probably, that the cemetery was begun, at a time when +every precaution had to be used by the Christians to prevent the +discovery of their burial-places. No other of the catacombs gives a +clearer exhibition of the differences in construction resulting from +the different objects of excavation. In the Acts known as those of St. +Valentine it is related, that in the time of Claudius many Christians +were condemned to work in certain sand-pits. Under cover of such +opportunities, occasions might be found in which hidden graves could +be formed in the neighboring harder soil. In digging out the sand, the +object was to take out the greatest quantity consistent with +safety, leaving only such supports as were necessary to hold up the +superincumbent earth. There are few regular paths, but wide spaces with +occasional piers,--the passages being of sufficient width to admit of +the entrance of beasts of burden, and even of carts. The soil crumbles +so easily, that no row of excavations one above another could be made in +it; for the stroke of the pick-axe brings it down in loose masses. The +whole aspect of the sand-pit contrasts strikingly with that of the +catacombs, with their three-feet wide galleries, their perpendicular +walls, and their tier on tier of graves. + +The stratum of pozzolana at the Catacombs of St. Agnes overlies a +portion of the more solid stratum of tufa, and the entrance to the +sand-pit from the cemetery is by steps leading up from the end of a long +gallery. Such an entrance could have been easily concealed; and the tufa +cut out for the graves, after having been reduced to the condition of +pozzolana, might easily at night have been brought up to the floor of +the pit. In many of the Acts of the Martyrs it is said that they were +buried _in Arenario_, "in the sand-pit,"--an expression which, there +seems no good reason for doubting, meant in the catacombs whose entrance +was at the sand-pit, they not having yet received a distinctive name. + +It is difficult to convey to a distant reader even a small share of the +interest with which one sees on the spot evidences of the reality of the +precautions with which, in those early centuries, the Christians of Rome +were forced to guard themselves against a persecution which extended to +their very burial-places,--or even of the interest with which one walks +through the unchanged paths dug out of the rock by this _tenebrosa et +lucifugax natio_. In the midst of the obscurity of history and the fog +of fable, here is the solid earth giving evidence of truth. Here one +sees where, by the light of his dim candle, the solitary digger hollowed +out the grave of one of the near followers of the apostles; and here one +reads in hasty and ill-spelt inscriptions something of the affection and +of the faith of those who buried their dead in the sepulchre dug in the +rock. The Christian Rome underground is a rebuke to the Papal Rome above +it; and, from the worldly pomp, the tedious forms, the trickeries, the +mistakes, the false claims and falser assertions, the empty architecture +that reveals the infidelity of its builders, the gross materialism, and +the crass superstition of the Roman Church, one turns with relief of +heart and eyes to the poverty and bareness of the dark and narrow +catacombs, and to the simple piety of the words found upon their +graves. In them is at once the exhibition and the promise of a purer +Christianity. In them, indeed, one may see only too plainly the +evidences of ignorance, the beginnings of superstitions, the first, +traces of the corruption of the truth, the proofs of false zeal and of +foolish martyrdoms,--but with these are also to be plainly seen the +purity and the spirituality of elevated Christian faith. + +In the service of the Roman Church used at the removal of the bodies of +the holy martyrs from their graves in the catacombs is a prayer in which +are the words,--"Thou hast set the bodies of thy soldiers as guards +around the walls of this thy beloved Jerusalem";--and as one passes from +catacomb to catacomb, it is, indeed, as if he passed from station to +station of the encircling camp of the great army of the martyrs. Leaving +the burial-place of St. Agnes, we continue along the Nomentan Way to the +seventh milestone from Rome. Here the Campagna stretches on either side +in broad, unsheltered sweeps. Now and then a rough wall crosses the +fields, marking the boundaries of one of the great farms into which the +land is divided. On the left stands a low farm-house, with its outlying +buildings, and at a distance on each side the eye falls on low square +brick towers of the Middle Ages, and on the ruinous heaps of more +ancient tombs. The Sabine mountains push their feet far down upon the +plain, covered with a gray-green garment of olive-woods. Few scenes in +the Campagna are more striking, from the mingling of barrenness and +beauty, from the absence of imposing monumental ruins and the presence +of old associations. The turf of the wide fields was cropped in the +winter by the herds driven down at that season from the recesses of the +Neapolitan mountains, and the irregular surface of the soil afforded no +special indications of treasures buried beneath it. But the Campagna is +full of hidden graves and secreted buildings. + +In the Acts of the Martyrdom of St. Alexander, who, according to the +story of the Church, was the sixth successor of St. Peter, and who was +put to death in the persecution of Trajan, in the year 117, it was said +that his body was buried by a Roman lady, Severina, "on her farm, at the +seventh milestone from Rome on the Nomentan Way." These Acts, however, +were regarded as apocryphal, and their statement had drawn but little +attention to the locality. In the spring of 1855, a Roman archaeologist, +Signore Guidi, obtained permission from the Propaganda, by whom the land +was now held, as a legacy from the last of the Stuarts, the Cardinal +York, to make excavations upon it. Beginning at a short distance from +the road, on the right hand, and proceeding carefully, he soon struck +upon a flight of steps formed of pieces of broken marble, which, at +about fifteen feet below the surface of the ground, ended upon a +floor paved with bits of marble, tombstones, and mosaics. As the work +proceeded, it disclosed the walls of an irregular church, that had been +constructed, like that of St. Agnes, partially beneath the soil, for the +purpose of affording an entrance into adjoining catacombs. Remains of +the altar were found, and portions of the open-work marble screen which +had stood before it over the crypt in which the bodies of St. Alexander +and one of his fellow-martyrs had been placed. A part of the inscription +on its border was preserved, and read as follows: ET ALEXANDRO DEDICATUS +VOTUM POSUIT CONSECRANTE URSO EPISCOPO,--"Dedicatus placed this in +fulfilment of a vow to ---- and Alexander, the Bishop Ursus consecrating +it." The Acts supply the missing name of Eventius,--an aged priest, who, +it was said, had conversed with some of the apostles themselves. His +greater age had at that early and simple time given him the place of +honor in the inscription and in men's memory before the youthful, +so-called, Pope Alexander. Probably this little church had been built in +the fourth century, and here a bishop had been appointed to perform the +rites within it. + +It was a strange and touching discovery, that of this long-buried, rude +country-church,--the very existence of which had been forgotten for more +than a thousand years. On the 3d of May, 1855, the day set apart in the +calendar to the honor of the saints to whom it was consecrated, the holy +services were once more performed upon the ancient altar of the roofless +sanctuary. The voices of priest and choir sounded through the long +silent chapels, while the larks sang their hymns of gladness over the +fields above. On the rough floor, inscriptions, upon which, in the +early centuries, the faithful had knelt, were again read by kneeling +worshippers. On one broken slab of marble was the word MARTYR; on +another, the two words, SPARAGINA FIDELIS; on another, POST VARIAS +CURAS, POST LONGE MONITA VITAE. + +The catacombs opening from the church have not been entered to a great +distance, and though more rudely excavated than most of those nearer the +city, as if intended for the burial-places of a poorer population, they +are of peculiar interest because many of their graves remain in their +original state, and here and there, in the mortar that fastens their +tiled fronts, portions of the vessel of glass or pottery that held the +collected blood of the martyr laid within are still undisturbed. No +pictures of any size or beauty adorn the uneven walls, and no chapels +are hollowed out within them. Most of the few inscriptions are scratched +upon the mortar,--_Spiritus tuus in bono quiescat_,--but now and then a bit +of marble, once used for a heathen inscription, bears on its other side some +Christian words. None of the inscriptions within the church which bear +a date are later than the end of the fifth century, and it seems likely +that shortly after this time this church of the Campagna was deserted, +and its roof falling in, it was soon concealed under a mass of rubbish +and of earth, and the grass closed it with its soft and growing +protection. + +During two years, the uncovered church, with its broken pillars, its +cracked altar, its imperfect mosaics, its worn pavement, remained open +to the sky, in the midst of solitude. But how could anything with such +simple and solemn associations long escape desecration at Rome? How +could such an opportunity for _restoration_ be passed over? How could so +sacred and venerable a locality be protected from modern superstition +and ecclesiastical zeal? In the spring of 1837, preparations were being +made for building upon the ground, and a Carthusian convent, it was +said, was to be erected, which would enclose within its lifeless walls +the remains of the ancient church. Once more, then, it is to be shut +out of the sky; and now it is not Nature that asserts her predominance, +protecting while she conceals, and throwing her mantle over the martyrs' +graves to keep them from sacrilege,--but she is driven away by the +builders of the papal court, and all precious old associations are +incongruous with those of modern Roman architecture and Roman conventual +discipline. + +One morning, in the spring of 1855, shortly after the discovery had been +made, the Pope went out to visit the Church of St. Alexander. On his +return, he stopped to rest in the unoccupied convent adjoining the +Church of St. Agnes. Here there was a considerable assemblage of those +who had accompanied him, and others who were admitted at this place to +join his suite. They were in the second story of the building, and the +Pope was in the act of addressing them, when suddenly the old floor, +unable to support the unaccustomed weight, gave way, and most of the +company fell with it to the floor below. The Pope was thrown down, but +did not fall through. The moment was one of great confusion and alarm, +the etiquette of the court was disturbed, but no person was killed and +no one dangerously hurt. In common language and in Roman belief, it was +a miraculous escape. The Pope, attributing his safety to the protection +of the Virgin and of St. Agnes, determined at once that the convent +should be rebuilt and reoccupied, and the church restored. The work +is now complete, and all the ancient charm of time and use, all the +venerable look of age and quiet, have been laboriously destroyed, and +gaudy, inharmonious color, gilding and polish have been substituted in +their place. + +The debased taste and the unfeeling ignorance of restorers have been +employed, as so often in Italy, to spoil and desecrate the memorials +of the past; and the munificence of Pius, _Munificentia Pii IX._, is +placarded on the inner walls. One is too frequently reminded at Rome of +the old and new lamps in the story of Aladdin. + +We turn reluctantly from the Nomentan Way, and passing through Rome, +we go out of the gate which opens on the Appian. About a mile from the +present wall, just where the road divides before coming to the Catacombs +of St. Callixtus, a little, ugly, white church, of the deformed +architecture of the seventeenth century, recalls, by its name of _Domine +quo vadis?_ "O Lord, whither goest thou?" one of the most impressive, +one of the earliest and simplest, of the many legends of the legendary +religious annals of Rome. It relates, that, at the time of the +persecution of Nero, St. Peter, being then in Rome, was persuaded to fly +secretly from the city, in the hope of escaping from the near peril. +Just as he reached this place, trembling, we may well believe, not more +with fear than with doubt, while past scenes rose vividly before him, +and the last words heard from his Master's lips came with a flood of +self-reproach into his heart,--as he hurried silently along, with head +bowed down, in the gray twilight, he became suddenly aware of a presence +before him, and, looking up, beheld the form of that beloved Master whom +he was now a second time denying. He beheld him, moreover, in the act +of bearing his cross. Peter, with his old ardor, did not wait to be +addressed, but said, _Domine, quo vadis?_--"O Lord, whither goest +thou?" The Saviour, looking at him as he had looked but once before, +replied, _Venio Romam iterum crucifigi_,--"I come to Rome to be +crucified a second time"; and thereupon disappeared. Peter turned, +reëntered the gate, and shortly after was crucified for his Lord's sake. +His body, it is said, was laid away in a grave on the Vatican Hill, +where his great church was afterwards built. + +And here we come upon another legend, which takes us out again on the +Appian Way, to the place where now stands the Church of St. Sebastian. +St. Gregory the Great relates in one of his letters, that, not long +after St. Peter and St. Paul had suffered martyrdom, some Christians +came from the East to Rome to find the bodies of these their countrymen, +which they desired to carry back with them to their own land. They so +far succeeded as to gain possession of the bodies, and to carry them as +far as the second milestone on the Appian Way. Here they paused, and +when they attempted to carry the bodies farther, so great a storm of +thunder and lightning arose, that they were terrified, and did not +venture to repeat their attempt. By this time, also, the Romans had +become aware of the carrying off of the sacred bodies, and, coming out +from the city, recovered possession of them. One of the old pictures on +the wall of the portico of the ancient basilica of St. Peter's preserved +a somewhat different version of the legend, representing the Romans as +falling violently upon the Oriental robbers, and compelling them, with +a storm of blows, to yield up the possession of the relics they were +carrying away by stealth. + +But the legend went on further to state, that, on the spot where they +thus had regained the bodies of their saints, the Romans made a deep +hole in the ground, and laid them away within it very secretly. Here for +some time they rested, but at length were restored to their original +tombs, the one on the Ostian Way, the other on the Vatican. But St. +Peter was again to be laid in this secret chamber in the earth on the +Appian Way. In the episcopate of the saint and scoundrel Callixtus, +the Emperor Elagabalus, with characteristic extravagance and caprice, +resolved to make a circus on the Vatican, wide enough for courses of +chariots drawn by four elephants abreast. All the older buildings in the +way were to be destroyed, to gratify this imperial whim; and Callixtus, +fearing lest the Christian cemetery, and especially the tomb of the +prince of the apostles might be discovered and profaned, removed the +body of St. Peter once more to the Appian Way. Here it lay for forty +years, and round it and near it an underground cemetery was gradually +formed; and it was to this burial-place, first of all, that the name +Catacomb,[B] now used to denote all the underground cemeteries, was +applied. + +[Footnote B: A word, the derivation of which is not yet determined. The +first instance of its use is in the letter of Gregory from which we +derive the legend. This letter was written A.D. 594.] + +Though at length St. Peter was restored to the Vatican, from which he +has never since been removed, and where his grave is now hidden by his +church, the place where he had lain so long was still esteemed sacred. +The story of St. Sebastian relates how, after his martyred body had been +thrown into the Cloaca Maxima, that his friends might not have the last +satisfaction of giving it burial, he appeared in a vision to Lucina, a +Roman lady, told her where his body might be found, and bade her lay it +in a grave near that in which the apostles had rested. This was done, +and less than a century afterward a church rose to mark the place of his +burial, and connected with it, Pope Damasus, the first great restorer +and adorner of the catacombs, [A.D. 266-285,] caused the chamber that +was formed below the surface of the ground around the grave of the +apostles to be lined with wide slabs of marble, and to be consecrated as +a subterranean chapel. It is curious enough that this pious work should +have been performed, as is learned from an inscription set up here by +Damasus himself, in fulfilment of a vow, on the extinction among the +Roman clergy of the party of Ursicinus, his rival. This custom of +propitiating the favor of the saints by fair promises was thus early +established. It was soon found out that it was well to have a friend +at court with whom a bargain could be struck. If the adorning of this +chapel was all that Damasus had to pay for the getting rid of his +rival's party, the bargain was an easy one for him. There had been +terrible and bloody fights in the Roman streets between the parties of +the contending aspirants for the papal seat. Ursicinus had been driven +from Rome, but Damasus had had trouble with the priests of his faction. +Some of them had been rescued, as he was hurrying them off to prison, +and had taken refuge with their followers in the Basilica of St. Maria +Maggiore. Damasus, with a mob of charioteers, gladiators, and others of +the scum of Rome, broke into the church, and slew a hundred and sixty +men and women who had been shut up within it. Ursicinus, however, +returned to the city; there were fresh disturbances, and a new massacre, +on this occasion, in the Church of St. Agnes; and years passed before +Damasus was established as undisputed ruler of the Church. + +It was then, in fulfilment of the vow he had made during his troubles, +that _Saint_ Damasus (for he became a saint long since, success being a +great sanctifier) adorned the underground chapel of the apostles. The +entrance to it is through the modern basilica of St. Sebastian. It is +a low, semicircular chamber, with irregular walls, in which a row of +arched graves (_arcosolia_) has been formed, which once were occupied, +probably, by bodies of saints or martyrs. Near the middle of the chapel +is the well, about seven feet square, within which are the two graves, +lined with marble, where the bodies of the apostles are said to have +lain hid. Fragments of painting still remain on the walls of this +pit, and three faint and shadowy figures may be traced, which seem to +represent the Saviour between St. Peter and St. Paul. Over the mouth of +the well stands an ancient altar. However little credence may be given +to the old legends concerning the place, it is impossible not to look +with interest upon it. For fifteen hundred years worshippers have knelt +there as upon ground made holy by the presence of the two apostles. The +memory of their lives and of their teachings has, indeed, consecrated +the place; and though superstition has often turned the light of that +memory into darkness, yet here, too, has faith been strengthened, and +courage become steadfast, and penitence been confirmed into holiness, by +the remembrance of the zeal, the denial of Peter, and the forgiveness of +his Master, by the remembrance of the conversion, the long service, the +exhortations, and the death of Paul. + +The catacombs proper, to which entrance may be had from the Basilica of +St. Sebastian, are of little importance in themselves, and have lost, by +frequent alteration and by the erection of works of masonry for their +support, much that was characteristic of their original construction. +During a long period, while most of the other subterranean cemeteries +were abandoned, this remained open, and was visited by numerous +pilgrims. It led visitors to the church, and the guardians of the church +found it for their interest to keep it in good repair. Thus, though +its value as one of the early burial-places of the Christians was +diminished, another interest attached to it through the character of +some of those visitors who were accustomed to frequent its dark paths. +Saint Bridget found some of that wild mixture of materialism and +mysticism, (a not uncommon mingling,) which passes under the name of +her Revelations, in the solitude of these streets of the dead. Here St. +Philip Neri, the Apostle of Rome, the wise and liberal founder of the +Oratorians, the still beloved saint of the Romans, was accustomed +to spend whole nights in prayer and meditation. Demons, say his +biographers, and evil spirits assailed him on his way, trying to terrify +him and turn him back; but he overcame them all. Year after year he kept +up this practice, and gained strength, in the solitude and darkness, and +in the presence of the dead, to resist fiercer demons than any that had +power to attack him from without. And it is related, that, when St. +Charles Borromeo, his friend, the narrow, but pure-minded reformer of +the Church, came to Rome, from time to time, he, too, used to go at +night to this cemetery, and watch through the long hours in penitence +and prayer. Such associations as these give interest to the cemetery of +St. Sebastian's Church. + +The preëminence which the Appian Way, _regina viarum_, held among the +great streets leading from Rome,--not only as the road to the South and +to the fairest provinces, but also because it was bordered along its +course by the monumental tombs of the greatest Roman families,--was +retained by it, as we have seen, as the street on which lay the chief +Christian cemeteries. The tombs of the Horatii, the Metelli, the +Scipios, were succeeded by the graves of a new, less famous, but not +less noble race of heroes. On the edge of the height that rises just +beyond the Church of St. Sebastian stand the familiar and beautiful +ruins of the tomb of Cecilia Metella. Of her who was buried in this +splendid mausoleum nothing is known but what the three lines of the +inscription still remaining on it tell us,-- + +CAECILIAE Q. CRETICI F. METELLAE CRASSI. + +She was the daughter of Quintus, surnamed the Cretan, and the wife of +Crassus. But her tomb overlooks the ground beneath which, in a narrow +grave, was buried a more glorious Cecilia.[C] The contrast between the +ostentation and the pride of the tombs of the heathen Romans, and the +poor graves, hollowed out in the rock, of the Christians, is full of +impressive suggestions. The very closeness of their neighborhood to each +other brings out with vivid effect the broad gulf of separation that lay +between them in association, in affection, and in hopes. + +[Footnote C: Guéranger, _Histoire de St. Cécile_. p. 45.] + +Coming out from the dark passages of the Catacombs of St. Callixtus, in +the clear twilight of a winter's evening, one sees rising against the +red glow of the sky the broken masses of the ancient tombs. One city of +the dead lies beneath the feet, another stretches before the eyes far +out of sight. The crowded history of Rome is condensed into one mighty +spectacle. The ambitions, the hates, the valor, the passions, the +religions, the life and death of a thousand years are there; and, in +the dimness of the dusky evening, troops of the dead rise before the +imagination and advance in slow procession by opposite ways along the +silent road. + +[To be continued] + + * * * * * + + +THE PURE PEARL OF DIVER'S BAY. + +[Concluded.] + + +V + + +Did she talk of flesh and blood, when she said that she would find +him?--The summer passed away; and when autumn came, it could not be said +that search for the bodies of these fishermen was quite abandoned. But +no fragment of boat, nor body of father or son, ever came, by rumor or +otherwise, to the knowledge of the people of the Bay. + +The voyage was long to Clarice. Marvellous strength and acuteness of +vision come to the eyes of those who watch. Keen grow the ears that +listen. The soldier's wife in the land of Nena Sahib inspires +despairing ranks: "Dinna ye hear the pibroch? Hark! 'The Campbells are +coming!'"--and at length, when the hope she lighted has gone out in +sullen darkness, and they bitterly resent the joy she gave them,--lo, +the bagpipes, banners, regiment! The pibroch sounds, "The Campbells +are coming!" The Highlanders are in sight!--But, oh, the voyage was +long,--and Clarice could see no sail, could hear no oar! + +Clarice ceased to say that she must find the voyagers. She ceased to +talk of them. She lived in these days a life so silent, and, as +it seemed, so remote from other lives, that it quite passed the +understanding of those who witnessed it. Tears seldom fell from her +eyes, complaints never;--but her interest was aroused by no temporal +matter; she seemed, in her thoughts and her desires, as far removed as a +spirit from the influences of the external world. + +This state of being no person who lives by bread alone could have +understood, or endured patiently, in one with whom in the affairs of +daily life he was associated. + +The Revelator was an exile in Patmos. + +Dame Briton was convinced that Clarice was losing her wits. Bondo Emmins +yielded to the force of some inexplicable law, and found her fairer +day by day. To his view, she was like a vision moving through a dream, +rather than like any actual woman; and though the drift of the vision +seemed not towards him, he was more anxious to compel it than to +accomplish any other purpose ever entertained. The actual nearness, +the apparent unattainableness, of that he coveted, excited in him such +desires of conquest and possession as he would seek to appease in +one way alone. To win her would have been to the mind of any other +inhabitant of Diver's Bay a feat as impracticable as the capture of the +noble ghost of Hamlet's father, as he stands exorcized by Mrs. Kemble. + +And yet, while her sorrow made her the pity and the wonder of the +people, it did not keep her sacred from the reach of gossip. Observing +the frequency with which Bondo Emmins visited Old Briton's cabin, it was +profanely said by some that the pale girl would ere long avert her eyes +from the dead and fix them on the living. + +Emmins had frequent opportunities for making manifest his good-will +towards the family of Briton. The old man fell on the ice one day and +broke his thigh, and was constrained to lie in bed for many a day, and +to walk with the help of crutches when he rose again. Then was the +young man's time to serve him like a son. He brought a surgeon from +the Port,--and the inefficiency of the man was not his fault, surely. +Through tedious days and nights Emmins sat by the old man's bedside, +soothing pain, enlivening weariness, endeavoring to banish the gloomy +elements that combined to make the cabin the abode of darkness. He would +have his own way, and no one could prevent him. When Old Briton's money +failed, his supplies did not. Even Clarice was compelled to accept his +service thankfully, and to acknowledge that she knew not how they could +have managed without him in this strait. + +The accident, unfortunate as it might be deemed, nevertheless exercised +a most favorable influence over the poor girl's life. It brought her +soul back to her body, and spoke to her of wants and their supply,--of +debts, of creditors,--of fish, and sea-weed, and the market,--of bread, +and doctor's bills,--of her poor old father, and of her mother. She came +back to earth. Now, henceforth, the support of the household was with +her. Bondo Emmins might serve her father,--she had no desire to prevent +what was so welcome to the wretched old man,--but for herself, her +mother, the house, no favor from him! + +And thus Clarice rose up to rival Bondo in her ready courage. When her +father, at last careful, at last anxious, thoughtful of the future, +began to express his fear, he met the ready assurance of his daughter +that she should be able to provide all they should ever want; let him +not be troubled; when the spring came, she would show him. + +The spring came, and Clarice set to work as never in her industrious +life before. Day after day she gathered sea-weed, dried it, and carried +it to town. She went out with her mother in the fishing-boat, and the +two women were equal in strength and courage to almost any two men of +the Bay. She filled the empty fish-barrels,--and promised to double the +usual number. She dried wagon-loads of finny treasure, and she made good +bargains with the traders. No one was so active, no one bade fair to +turn the summer to such profit as Clarice. She had come back to flesh +and blood.--John came back from Patmos. + +Her face grew brown with tan; it was not lovely as a fair ghost's, any +longer; it was ruddy,--and her limbs grew strong. Bondo Emmins marked +these symptoms, and took courage. People generally said, "She is well +over her grief, and has set her heart on getting rich. There is that +much of her mother in her." Others considered that Emmins was in the +secret, and at the bottom of her serenity and diligence. + +Dame Briton and her spouse were not one whit wiser than their +neighbors. They could not see that any half-work was impossible with +Clarice,--that, if she had resolved, for their sake, to live as people +must, who have bodies to respect and God-originated wants to supply, she +must live by a ceaseless activity. Because she had ascended far beyond +tears, lamentation, helplessness, they thought she had forgotten. + +Yes, they came to this conclusion, though now and then, not often, +generally on some pleasant Sunday, when all her work was done, Clarice +would go down to the Point and take her Sabbath rest there. No danger of +disturbance there!--of all bleak and desert places known to the people +of Diver's Bay, that point was bleakest and most deserted. + +The place was hers, then. In this solitude she could follow her +thoughts, and be led by them down to the ocean, or away to heavenly +depths. It was good for her to go there in quietness,--to rest in +recollection. Strength comes ever to the strong. This pure heart had +nothing to fear of sorrow. Sorrow can only give the best it has to such +as she. Grief may weaken the selfish and the weak; it may make children +of the foolish and drivellers; by grief the inefficient may come to the +fulness of their inefficiency;--but out of the bitter cup the strong +take strength, though it may be with shuddering. + +One Sunday morning Clarice lingered longer about the house than usual, +and Emmins, who had resolved, that, if she went that day to the Point, +he would follow her, found her with her father and mother, talking +merely for their pleasure,--if the languid tones of her voice and the +absent look of her eyes were to be trusted. + +Emmins thought that this moment was favorable to him. He was sure of +Dame Briton and the old man, and he almost believed that he was sure +of Clarice. Finding her now with her father and mother at home on this +bright Sunday morning, one glance at her face surprised him and, almost +before he was aware, he had spoken what he had hitherto so patiently +refrained from speaking. + +But the answer of Clarice still more surprised him. With her eyes gazing +out on the sea, she stood, the image of silence, while Bondo warily +set forth his hopes. Old Briton and the dame looked on and deemed the +symptoms favorable. But Clarice said,-- + +"Heart and hand I gave to him. I am the wife of Luke;--how can I marry +another?" + +Bondo seemed eager to answer that question, for he hastily waved his +hand toward Dame Briton, who began to speak. + +"Luke will never come back," said he, gently expostulating. + +"But I shall go to him," was the quiet reply. + +Then the old people, whose hearts were in the wooing, broke out +together,--and by their voices, if one should argue with them, strife +was not far off. Clarice staid one moment, as if to take in the burden +of each eager voice; then she shook her head:-- + +"I am married already," she said; "I gave him my heart and my hand. You +would not rob Luke Merlyn?" + +When she had so spoken, calmly, firmly, as if it were impossible that +she should be moved or agitated by such speech as this she had heard, +Clarice walked away to the beach, unmoored her father's boat, and rowed +out into the Bay. + +Bondo Emmins stood with the old people and gazed after her. + +"Odd fish!" he muttered. + +"Never mind," said Old Briton, hobbling up and down the sand; "it's the +first time she's been spoke to. She'll come round. I know Clarice." + +"You know Clarice?" broke in Dame Briton. "You don't know her! She isn't +Clarice,--she's somebody else. Who, I don't know." + +"Hush!" said Bondo, who had no desire that the couple should fall into +a quarrel. "I know who she is. Don't plague her. It will all come out +right yet. I'll wait. But don't say anything to her about it. Let me +speak when the time comes.--Where's my pipe, Dame Briton?" + +Emmins spent a good part of the day with the old people, and did not +allow the conversation once to turn upon himself and Clarice. But he +talked of the improvements he should like to make in the old cabin, and +they discussed the market, and entertained each other with recollections +of past times, and with strange stories made up of odd imaginations and +still more uncouth facts. Supernatural influences were dwelt upon, and +many a belief in superstitions belonging to childhood was confessed in +peaceful unconsciousness of the fact that it was Clarice who had turned +all their thoughts to-day from the great prosaic highway where plain +facts have their endless procession. + + +VI. + + +Clarice went out alone in her fishing-boat, as during all the past week +she had purposed to do when this day came, if it should prove favorable. +She wished to approach the Point thus,--and her purpose in so doing was +such as no mortal could have suspected. And yet, as in the fulfilment +of this purpose she went, hastened from her delaying by the address of +Bondo Emmins, it seemed to her as if her secret must be read by the +three upon the beach. + +She wore upon her neck, as she had worn since the days of her betrothal +to Luke, the cord to which the pearl ring was attached. The ring had +never been removed; but now, as Clarice came near to the Point, she +laid the oars aside, and with trembling hands untied the black cord and +disengaged the ring, and drew it on her finger, that trembled like a +leaf. She was doing now what Luke had bidden her do,--and for his +sake. Until now she had always looked upon it as a ring of betrothal; +henceforth it was her wedding-ring,--the evidence of her true marriage +with Luke Merlyn. + +O unseen husband, didst thou see her as anew she gave herself to love, +to constancy, to duty? + +She was floating toward the Point, when she knelt in the fishing-boat +and plunged the hand that wore the ring under the bright cold water. How +bright, how cold it was! It chilled Clarice; she shuddered; was she the +bride of Death? But she did not rise from her knees, neither withdraw +her hand, until her vow, the vow she was there to speak, was spoken. +There she knelt alone in the great universe, with God and Luke Merlyn. + +When at last she stood upon the Point, she had strength to meet her +destiny, and patience to wait while it was being developed. She knew +her marriage covenant was blest, and filial duty was divested of every +thought or notion that could tempt or deceive her. Treading thus +fearlessly among the high places of imagination, no prescience of mortal +trouble could lurk among the mysterious shadows. By her faith in the +eternity of love she was greatly more than conqueror. + +The day passed, and night drew near. It was the purpose of Clarice to +row home with the tide. But a strange thing happened to her ere she set +out to return. As she stood looking out upon the sea, watching the waves +as they rolled and broke upon the beach, a new token came to her from +the deep. + +Almost as she might have waited for Luke, she stood watching the onward +drift; calculating the spot at which the waves would deposit their +burden, she stood there when the plank was borne inland, to save it, if +possible, from being dashed with violence on the rocks. + +To this plank a child was bound,--a little creature that might be three +years old. At the sight of this form, and this helplessness, the heart +of the woman seemed to break into sudden living flame. She carried the +plank down to a level spot with an energy that would have made light of +a burden even ten times as great; she stooped upon the sand; she unbound +the body; and she thought, "The child is dead!" Nevertheless she took +him in her arms; she dried his limbs with her apron; she wiped his face, +and rubbed his hair;--but he gave no sign of life. Then she wrapped him +in her shawl, and laid him in the boat, and rowed home. + +There was no one in the cabin when Clarice went in. When Dame Briton +came home, she found her daughter with a ring upon her finger, bending +over the body of a child that lay upon her bed. + +The dame was quickly brought into service, and there was no reason to +fear that she would desist from her labors until she had received some +evidence of death or life. She and Clarice worked all night over the +body of the child, and towards morning were rewarded by the result. The +boy's eyes opened, and he tried to speak. By noon of that day he was +lying in the arms of Clarice, deathly pallor on his little face; but he +could speak, and his pretty eyes were open. + +All those hours of mutual sympathy and striving, Dame Briton had been +thinking to say, "Clarice, what's the ring for?" But she had not said +it, when, in the afternoon, Bondo Emmins came into the cabin, and saw +Clarice with a beautiful boy in her arms, wrapped in her shawl, while +before the fire some rags of infant garments were drying. + +They talked over the boy's fortune and the night's work, the dame taking +the chief conduct of the story; and Bondo was so much interested, +and praised the child so much, and spoke with so much concern of the +solitary, awful voyage the little one must have made, that, when he +subsequently offered to take the child in his arms, Clarice let him go, +and explained, when the young man began to talk to the boy, that he +could not understand a word, neither could she make out the meaning of +his speech. + +Emmins heard Clarice say that she must go to the Port the next day and +learn what vessel had been lost, and if any passengers were saved; and +by daybreak he set out on that errand. He returned early in the morning +with the news that a merchantman, the "Gabriel," had gone down, and +that cargo and crew were lost. While he was telling this to Clarice he +observed the ring upon her finger, and he coupled the appearing of that +token with the serenity of the girl's face, and hailed his conclusion as +one who hoped everything from change and nothing from constancy. + +Clarice had found the boy in the place where she had looked for Luke +that night when his cap was washed to her feet. Over and over again she +had said this to her father and mother while they busied themselves +about the unconscious child; now she said it again to Bondo Emmins, as +if there were some special significance in the fact, as indeed to her +there was. He was her child, and he should be her care, and she would +call him Gabriel. + +People could understand the burden imposed upon the laborious life of +Clarice by this new, strange care. But they did not see the exceeding +great reward, nor how the love that lingered about a mere memory seemed +blessed to the poor girl with a blessing of divine significance. + +To make the child her own by some special act that should establish her +right became the wish of Clarice. It was not enough for her that she +should toil for him while others slept, that she should stint herself in +order to clothe him in a becoming manner, that she should suffer anxiety +for him in the manifold forms best known to those who have endured it. +She had given herself to Luke, so that she feared no more from any man's +solicitation. She would fain assert her claim to this young life which +Providence had given her. But this desire was suggested by external +influence, as her marriage covenant had been. + +Now and then a missionary came down to Diver's Bay, and preached in the +open air, or, if the weather disappointed him, in the great shed built +for the protection of fish-barrels and for the drying of fish. No +surprising results had ever attended his preaching; the meetings were +never large, though sometimes tolerably well attended; the preacher +was almost a stranger to the people; and the wonder would have been a +notable one, had there been any harvest to speak of in return for the +seed he scattered. The seed was good; but the fowls of the air were free +to carry it away; the thorns might choke it, if they would; it was not +protected from any wind that blew. + +A few Sundays after Gabriel became the charge of Clarice, the missionary +came and preached to the people about Baptism. Though burdened with a +multitude of cares which he had no right to assume, which kept him busy +day and night in efforts lacking only the concentration that would have +made them effective, the man was earnest in his labor and his speech, +and it chanced now and then that a soul was ready for the truth he +brought. + +On this occasion he addressed the parents in their own behalf and +that of their children. The bright day, the magnificent view his eyes +commanded from the place where he stood to address the handful of +people, the truth, with whose importance he was impressed, made him +eloquent. He spoke with power, and Clarice Briton, holding the hand of +little Gabriel, listened as she had never listened before. + +"Death unto sin," this baptism signified, he said. She looked at the +child's bright face; she recalled the experience through which she had +passed, by which she was able to comprehend these words. She had passed +through death; she had risen to life; for Luke was dead, and was alive +again,--therefore she lived also. Tears came into the girl's eyes, +unexpected, abundant, as she listened to the missionary's pleading with +these parents, to give their little ones to their Heavenly Father, and +themselves to lives of holiness. + +He would set the mark of the cross on their foreheads, he said, to show +that they were Christ's servants;--and then he preached of Christ, +seeking to soften the tough souls about him with the story of a divine +childhood; and he verily talked to them as one should do who felt that +in all his speaking their human hearts anticipated him. It was not +within the compass of his voice to reach that savage note which in +brutal ignorance condemns, where loving justice never could condemn. +He had an apprehension of the vital truth that belief in the world's +Saviour was not belief in a name, but the reception of that which Jesus +embodied. He came down to Diver's Bay, expecting to find human nature +there, and the only pity was that he had not time to perform what he +attempted. Let us, however, thank him for his honest endeavor; and be +glad, that, for one, Clarice was there to hear him,--she heard him so +gladly. + +To take a vow for Gabriel, to give him to God, to confirm him in +possession of the name she had bestowed, became the desire of Clarice. +One day when she had some business to transact in the market, she +dressed Gabriel in a new frock she had made for him, and took him with +her to the Port, carrying him in her arms half the way. She did not find +the minister, but she had tested the sincerity of her desire. When he +came down again to the Bay, as he did the next Sunday, she was waiting +to give him the first fruits of his labors there. + +He arrived early in the morning, that he might forestall the fishermen +and their families in whatever arrangements they might be making for the +day. When Clarice first saw him, her heart for a moment failed her,--she +wished he had not come, or that she had gone off to spend the day before +she knew of his coming. But, in the very midst of her regrets, she +caught up Gabriel and walked forth to meet the preacher. + +The missionary recognized Clarice, and he had already heard the story +of the child. He was the first to speak, and a few moments' talk, which +seemed to her endless, though it was about Gabriel, passed before she +could tell him how she had sought him in his own home on account of the +boy, and what her wish was concerning him. + +A naturalist, walking along that beach and discovering some long-sought +specimen, at a moment when he least looked and hoped for it, would have +understood the feeling and the manner of the missionary just then. +Surprise came before gladness, and then followed much investigation, +whereby the minister would persuade himself, even as the naturalist +under similar circumstances would do, of the genuineness of what was +before him;--he must ascertain all the attending circumstances. + +It was a simple story that his questioning drew forth. The missionary +learned something in the interview, as well as Clarice. He learned what +confidence there is in a noble spirit of resignation; that it need not +be the submission of helplessness. He saw anew, what he had learned for +himself under different circumstances, the satisfaction arising from +industry that is based on duty, and involves skill in craft, judgment in +affairs, and that integrity which keeps one to his oath, though it be +not to his profit. He heard the voice of a tender, pitiful, loving +womanhood, strongly manifesting its right to protect helplessness, by +the utterance of its convictions concerning that helplessness. He knew +that to such a woman the Master would have spoken not one word of +reproach, but many of encouragement and sympathy. So he spoke to her +of courage, and shared her hopes, by directing them with a generous +confidence in her. He was the man for his vocation, for in every strait +he looked to his human heart for direction,--and in his heart were not +only sympathy and gentleness, but justice and judgment. + +While he talked to Clarice, the idea which had taken cognizance of +Gabriel alone enlarged,--it involved herself. + +"What doth hinder me to be baptized?" she asked, in the words of Philip. + +"If thou believest, thou mayest." + +Accordingly, at the conclusion of the morning prayer, when the preacher +said, "Those persons to be baptized may now come forward," Clarice +Briton, leading little Gabriel by the hand, rose from her seat and +walked up before the congregation, and stood in the presence of all. + +Not an eye was turned from her during the ceremony. When she lifted +Gabriel, and held him in her arms, and promised the solemn promises for +him as well as for herself, the souls that witnessed it thought that +they had lost Clarice. The tears rolled down Old Briton's cheeks when he +looked upon the girl. What he saw he did not half understand, but there +was an awful solemnity about the transaction, that overpowered him. He +and Dame Briton had come to the meeting because Clarice urged them to do +so;--she had said she was going to make a public promise about Gabriel, +and that was all she told them; for, beside that there was little time +for explanation in the hurry of preparing Gabriel and herself, Clarice's +heart was too deeply stirred to admit of speech. After she had obtained +the promise of her parents, she said no more to them; they did not hear +her speak again until her firm "I will" broke on their ears. + +Dame Briton was not half pleased at what she saw and heard, during this +service. She looked at Bondo Emmins to see what he was thinking,--but +little she learned from his solemn face. When the sign of the cross was +laid on the forehead of Clarice, and on the forehead of Gabriel, a +frown for an instant was seen on his own; but it was succeeded by an +expression of feature such as made the dame look quickly away, for in +that same instant his eyes were upon her. + +Enough of surprise and gaping wonder would Dame Briton have discovered +in other directions, had she sought the evidences; but from Bondo Emmins +she looked down at her "old man," and she saw his tears. Then came +Clarice, and before she knew it she was holding the little Christian +Gabriel in her stern old arms, and kissing away the drops of hallowed +water that flashed upon his eye-lids. + +A sermon followed, the like of which, for poetry or wonder, was never +heard among these people. The preacher seemed to think this an occasion +for all his eloquence; nay, for the sake of justice, I will say, his +heart was full of rejoicing, for now he believed a church was grafted +here, a Branch which the Root would nourish. His words served to deepen +the impression made by the ceremonial. Clarice Briton and little Gabriel +shone in white raiment that day; and, thanks to him, when he went on to +prove the Kingdom of Heaven upon earth one with that mysterious majesty +on high, a single leap took Clarice Briton over the boundaries of faith. + + +VII. + + +But if to others Clarice seemed to have passed the boundary line of +their dominion, to herself the bond of neighborhood was strengthened. +The missionary told her all he had a right to expect of her now, as a +fellow-worker, and pointed out to her the ways in which she might second +his labors at the Bay. It was but a new form of the old work to which +she had been accustomed her life long. Never, except in the dark summer +months when all her life was eclipsed, had Clarice lived unmindful of +the old and sick and helpless, or of the little children. Her kindliness +of heart could surprise no one; her generosity was nothing strange; her +caution, her industry, her courage, her gentleness, were not traits to +which her character had been a stranger hitherto. But now they had +a brighter manifestation. She became more than ever diligent in her +service; the Sunday-school was the result of old sentiments in a new +and intelligent combination; and the neighbors, who had always trusted +Clarice, did not doubt her now. Novelty is always pleasing to simple +souls among whom innovation has not first taken the pains to excite +suspicion of itself. + +For a long time, more than usual uncertainty seemed to attend the +chances of Gabriel's life. In the close watching and constant care +required of Clarice, the child became so dear to her, that doubtless +there was some truth in the word repeated in her hearing with intent to +darken any moment of special tenderness and joy, that this stranger was +dearer to her than her "born relations." + +As much as was possible by gentle firmness and constant oversight, +Clarice kept him from hurtful influences. He was never mixed up in the +quarrels of ungoverned children; he never became the victim of their +rude sport or cruelty. She would preserve him peaceful, gentle, pure; +and in a measure her aim was accomplished. She was the defender, +companion, playmate of the child. She told him pretty tales, the +creations of her fancy, and strove by them to throw a soft illusion +around the rough facts of their daily life. The mystery surrounding him +furnished her not meagrely with material for her imagination; she could +invent nothing that seemed to herself incredible; her fairy tales were +not more wonderful than facts as she beheld them. She taught the boy +songs; she gave him language. The clothes he wore, bought with her own +money, fashioned by her own hands, were such as became the beauty of the +child, and the pure taste and the little purse of Clarice. + +Never had a childhood so radiant in beauty, so wonderful in every +manifestation, developed before the eyes of the folk of Diver's Bay. +He became a wonder to the old and young. His sayings were repeated. +Enchantment seemed added to mystery;--anything might have been believed +of Gabriel. + +Sometimes, when she had dressed him in his Sunday suit, and they were +alone together, Clarice would put upon his finger the pearl ring,--her +marriage ring. But she kept to herself the name of Luke Merlyn till the +time should come when, a child no longer, he should listen to the story; +and she would not make that story grievous for his gentle heart, but +sweet and full of hope. Well she knew how he would listen as none other +could,--how serious his young face would look when the sacred dawn of a +celestial knowledge should begin to break; then a new day would rise on +Gabriel, and nothing should separate them then. + +But, lurking near her joy, and near her perfect satisfaction, even in +the days when some result much toiled for seemed to give assurance that +she was doing well and justly, was the shadow of a doubt. One day the +shadow deepened, and the doubt appeared. Clarice was sitting in the +doorway, busy at some work for Gabriel. The boy was playing with Old +Briton, who could amuse him by the hour, drawing figures in the sand. +Dame Briton was busy performing some household labor, when Bondo Emmins +came rowing in to shore. Gabriel, at the sound of the oars, ran to meet +the fisherman, who had been out all day; the fisherman took the child +in his arms, kissed him, then placed in his hands a toy which he had +brought for him from the Point, and bade him run and show it to Clarice. +Gabriel set out with shouts, and Emmins went back smiling to look after +his boatload. + +"He's a good runner," said Old Briton, watching the child with laughter +in his eyes. Dame Briton, drawn to the door by the unusual noise, looked +out to see the little fellow flying into Clarice's arms, and she said, +softly, "Pretty creature!" while she strode back to her toil. + +Presently, the little flutter of his joy having subsided, Gabriel sat +on the doorstep beside Clarice, his eyes seriously peering into the +undiscoverable mystery of the toy. Then Bondo came up, and the toy was +forgotten, the child darting away again to meet him. Emmins joined the +group with Gabriel in his arms, looking well satisfied. + +"Gabriel is as happy as if this was his home in earnest," said he. He +dropped the words to try the group. + +"His home!" cried Dame Briton, quickly. "Well, ain't it? Where then? I +wonder." + +The sharp tone of her voice told that the dame was not well pleased with +Bondo's remark; for the child had found his way into her heart, and she +would have ruined him by her indulgence, had it not been for Clarice's +constant vigilance. And this was not the least of the difficulties the +girl had to contend with. For Dame Briton, you may be sure, though she +might be compelled to yield to her daughter's better sense, could never +be constrained by her own child to hold her tongue, and the arguments +with which she abandoned many of her foolish purposes were almost +as fatal to Clarice's attempts at good government as the perfect +accomplishment of these purposes would have been. + +Bondo answered her quick interrogatory, and the troubled wonder in the +eyes of Clarice, with a confused, "Of course it is his home; only I was +thinking, that, to be sure, they must have come from some place, and +maybe left friends behind them." + +Now it seemed as if this answer were not given with malicious purpose, +but in proper self-defence; and by the time Clarice looked at him, and +made him thus speak, Bondo perhaps supposed that he had not intended to +trouble the poor soul. But he could not avoid perceiving that a deep +shadow fell upon the face of Clarice; and the conviction of her +displeasure was not removed when she arose and led the child away. But +Clarice was not displeased. She was only troubled sorely. She asked her +surprised self a dreary question: If anywhere on earth the child had +a living parent, or if he had any near of kin to whom his life was +precious, what right to Gabriel had she? Providence had sent him to her, +she had often said, with deep thankfulness; but now she asked, Had he +sent the child that she might restore him not only to life, but to +others, whom, but for her, death had forever robbed of him? + +From the day that the shadow of this thought fell across her way, the +composure and deep content of the life of Clarice were disturbed. Not +merely the presence of Emmins became a trouble and annoyance, but the +praise that her neighbors were prompt to lavish on Gabriel, whenever she +went among them, became grievous to her ears. The shadow which had swept +before her eyes deepened and darkened till it obscured all the future. +She was experiencing all the trouble and difficulty of one who seeks to +evade the weight of a truth which has nevertheless surrounded and will +inevitably capture her. + +Nothing of this escaped the eyes of the young fisherman. Time should +work for him, he said; he had shot an arrow; it had hit the mark; now he +would heal the wound. He might easily have persuaded himself that the +wound was accidental, and so have escaped the conviction of injury +wrought with intention. All would have been immediately well with him +and Clarice, had it not been for Clarice! There are persons, their name +is Legion, who are as wanton in offence as Bondo Emmins,--whose souls +are black with murderous records of hopes they have destroyed; yet they +will condole with the mourners! + +To this doubt as to her duty, this evasion of knowledge concerning it, +this silence in regard to what chiefly occupied her conscience, was +added a new trouble. As Gabriel grew older, a restless, adventurous +spirit began to manifest itself in him. From a distance regarding the +daring feats of other children, his impulse was to follow and imitate +them. At times, in ungovernable outbreaks of merriment, he would escape +from the side of Clarice, with fleet, daring steps which seemed to set +her pleasure at defiance; and when, after his first exploit, which +filled her with astonishment, she prepared to join him in his sport, and +did follow, laughing, a wilfulness, which made her tremble, roused to +resist her, and gave an almost tragic ending to the play. + +One day she missed the lad. Searching for him, she found that he had +gone out in a boat with other children, among whom he sat like a little +king, giving his orders, which the rest were obeying with shouted +repetitions. When Clarice called to him, and begged the children to +return, he followed their example, took off his cap, and waved it at +her, in defiance, with the rest. + +Clarice sat down on the shore in despair. Bitter tears ran down her +cheeks. + +Bondo Emmins passed by, and saw what was going on. "Ho! ho! Clarice +needs some one to help her hold the rein," said he to himself; and going +to the water's edge, he raised his voice, and beckoned the children +ashore. He enforced the gesture by a word,--"Come home!" + +The little rebels did not wait a second summons, but obeyed the strong +voice of the strong man, trembling. They paddled the boat to the shore, +and landed quite crestfallen, ashamed, it seemed. Then Bondo, having bid +the youngsters disperse, with a threat, if he ever saw them engaged in +the like business, walked away, without speaking to Gabriel, or even +looking at him. + + +VIII. + + +Clarice was half annoyed at this interference; it seemed to suppose, she +thought, that she was unequal to the management of her own affairs.--But +_was_ she equal to it? + +After Bondo had walked away, she called to Gabriel, who stood alone when +the other children had deserted him, and knew not what to do. He would +have run away, had he not been afraid of fisherman Emmins. + +"Come here, my son," said Clarice. She did not speak very loud, nor in +the least sternly; but he heard her quite distinctly, and he hesitated. + +"I'm not your son!" he concluded to answer. + +A sword through the heart of Clarice would have killed her, but there +are pains which do not slay that are worse than the pains of death. +Clarice Briton's face was pale with anguish, when she arose and said,-- + +"Gabriel, come here!" + +The child saw something awful in her eyes, and heard in her voice +something that made him tremble. He came, and sat down in the place to +which Clarice pointed. It was a hard moment for her. Other words bitter +as this, which disowned her love and care and defied her authority, the +child could not have spoken. She answered him as if he had not been a +child; and a truth which no words could have made him comprehend seemed +to break upon and overwhelm him, while she spoke. + +"It is true," she said, "you are not my son. I have no right to call you +mine. Listen, Gabriel, while I tell you how it happens that you live +with me, and I take care of you, as if you were my child. I was down at +the Point one day,--that place where we go to watch the birds, you know, +my--Gabriel. While I sat there alone, I saw a plank that was dashed by +the waves up and down, as you see a boat carried when the wind blows +hard and sounds so terrible; but there was nobody to take care of that +plank except God,--and He, oh, He, is always able to take care! When +that plank was washed near to the shore, I stepped out on the rocks and +caught it, and then I saw that a little child was tied fast to it; so I +knew that some one must have thrown him into the water, hoping that he +would be picked up. I do not know what they who threw the little child +into the sea called him; but I, who found him, called him Gabriel, and I +carried him, all dripping with the salt sea-water, to my father's cabin. +I laid him on my bed, and my mother and I never stopped trying to waken +him, till he opened his eyes; for he lay just like one who never meant +to open his eyes or speak again. At last my mother said, 'Clarice, I +feel his heart beat!' and I said in my heart, 'If it please God to spare +his life, I will work for him, and take care of him, and be a mother to +him.' And I thought, 'He will surely love me always, because God has +sent him to me, and I have taken him, and have loved him.' But now he +has left me! He is mine no more! And oh, how I have loved him!" + +Long before this story was ended, tears were running down Gabriel's +face, and he was drawing closer and closer to Clarice. When she ceased +speaking, he hid his face in her lap and cried aloud, according to the +boisterous privilege of childhood. + +"Oh, mother, dear mother, I haven't gone away! I'm here! I do love you! +I am your little boy!" + +"Gabriel! Gabriel! it was terrible! terrible!" burst from Clarice, with +a groan, and a flood of tears. + +"Oh, don't, mother! Call me your boy! Don't say, Gabriel! Don't cry!" + +So he found his way through the door of the heart that stood wide open +for him. Storm and darkness had swept in, if he had not. + +The reconciliation was perfect; but the shadow that had obscured the +future deepened that obscurity after this day's experience. If her right +to the lad needed no vindication, was she capable of the attempted +guidance and care? Could she bear this blessed burden safely to the end? + +Sometimes, for a moment, it may have seemed to Clarice that Bondo Emmins +could alone help her effectually out of her bewilderment and perplexity. +She had not now the missionary with whom to consult, in whose wisdom to +confide; and Bondo had a marvellous influence over the child. + +He was disposed to take advantage of that influence, as he gave +evidence, not long after the exhibition of his control over the +boat-load of delinquents, by asking Clarice if she were never going +to reward his constancy. He seemed at this time desirous of bringing +himself before her as an object of compassion, if nothing better; but +she, having heard him patiently to the end of what he had to urge in his +own behalf and that of her parents, replied in words that were certainly +of the moment's inspiration, and almost beyond her will; for Clarice +had been of late so much troubled, no wonder if she should mistake +expediency for right. + +"I am married already," she said. "You see this ring. Do you not know +what it has meant to me, Bondo, since I first put it on? Death, as you +call it, cannot part Luke Merlyn and me. 'Heart and hand,' he said. +Can I forget it? My hand is free,--but he holds it; and my heart is +his.--But I can serve you better than you ask for, Bondo Emmins. You +learned the name of the vessel that sailed from Havre and was lost. Take +a voyage. Go to France. See if Gabriel has any friends there who have a +right to him, and will serve him better than I can; and if he has such +friends, I myself will take Gabriel to them. Yes, I will do it.--You +will love a sailor's life, Bondo. You were born for that. Diver's Bay +is not the place for you. I have long seen it. The sea will serve you +better than I ever could. Go, and Clarice will thank you. Oh, Bondo, I +beg you!" + +At these words the man so appealed to became scarlet. He seemed +to reflect on what Clarice had said,--seriously to ponder; but his +amazement at her words had almost taken away his power of speech. + +"The Gabriel sailed from Havre," said he, slowly, "If I went out as a +deckhand in the next ship that sails"-- + +"Yes!" + +"To scour the country--I hope I shan't find what I look for; you +couldn't live without him.--Very likely you will think me a fool for my +pains. You will not give me yourself. You would have me take away the +lad from you."--He looked at Clarice as if his words passed his belief. + +"Yes, only do as I say,--for I know it must be the best for us all. +There is nothing else to be done,--no other way to live." + +"France is a pretty big country to hunt over for a man whose name you +don't know," said Emmins, after a little pause. + +"You can find what passengers sailed in the Gabriel," answered Clarice, +eager to remove every difficulty, and ready to contend with any that +could possibly arise. "The vessel was a merchantman. Such vessels don't +take out many passengers.--Besides, you will see the world.--It is for +everybody's sake! Not for mine only,--no, truly,--no, indeed! May-be +if another person around here had found Gabriel, they would never have +thought of trying to find out who he belonged to." + +"I guess so," replied Bondo, with a queer look. "Only now be honest, +Clarice; it's to get rid of me, isn't it? But you needn't take that +trouble. If you had only told me right out about Luke Merlyn"-- + +While Bondo Emmins spoke thus, his face had unconsciously the very +expression one sees on the face of the boy whose foot hovers a moment +above the worm he means to crush. The boy does not expect to see the +worm change to a butterfly just then and there, and mount up before his +very eyes toward the empyrean. Neither did Bondo Emmins anticipate her +quiet-- + +"You knew about it all the while." + +"Not the whole," said he,--"that you were married to Luke, as you say"; +and the fisherman looked hastily around him, as if he had expected to +see the veritable Luke. + +"It isn't to get rid of you, then, Bondo," Clarice explained; "but I +read in the Book you don't think much of, but it's everything to me, _If +ye have not been faithful in that which is another man's, who shall give +you that which is your own?_ So you see, I am a little selfish in it +all; for I want peace of mind, and I never shall have peace till it is +settled about Gabriel; if I must give him up, I can." + +Bondo Emmins looked at Clarice with a strange look, as she spoke these +words,--so faltering in speech, so resolute in soul. + +"And if I'm faithful over another man's," said he, "better the chance of +getting my own, eh? But I wonder what my own is." + +"Everything that you can earn and enjoy honestly," replied Clarice. + +Emmins rose up quickly at these words. He walked off a few paces without +speaking. His face was gloomy and sullen as a sky full of tornadoes when +he turned his back on Clarice,--hardly less so when he again approached +her. + +"I am no fool," said he, as he drew near.--From his tone one could +hardly have guessed that his last impulse was to strike the woman to +whom he spoke.--"I know what you mean. You haven't sent me on a fool's +errand. Good bye. You won't see me again, Clarice--till I come back from +France. Time enough to talk about it then." + +He did not offer to take her hand when he had so spoken, but was off +before Clarice could make any reply. + +Clarice thought that she should see him again; but he went away without +speaking to any other person of his purpose; and when wonder on account +of his absence began to find expression in her father's house, and +elsewhere, it was she who must account for it. People thereat praised +him for his good heart, and made much of his generosity, and wondered if +this voyage were not to be rewarded by the prize for which he had sought +openly so long. Old Briton and his dame inclined to that opinion. + +But in the week following that of his departure there was a great stir +and excitement among the people of the Bay. Little Gabriel was missing. +A search, that began in surprise when Clarice returned home from some +errand, was continued with increasing alarm all day, and night descended +amid the general conviction that the child was drowned. He had been seen +at play on the shore. No one could possibly furnish a more reasonable +explanation. Every one had something to say, of course, and Clarice +listened to all, turning to one speaker after another with increasing +despair. Not one of them could restore the child to life, if he was +dead. + +There was a suspicion in her heart which she shared with none. It +flashed upon her, and there was no rest after, until she had satisfied +herself of its injustice. She went alone by night to town, and made her +way fearlessly down to the harbor to learn if any vessel had sailed +that day, and when the last ship sailed for Havre. The answers to the +inquiries she made convinced her that Bondo Emmins must have sailed for +France the day after his last conversation with her. + +By daylight Clarice was again on the shore of Diver's Bay, there to +renew a search which for weeks was not abandoned. Gabriel had a place in +many a rough man's heart, and the women of the Bay knew well enough that +he was unlike all other children; and though it did not please them well +that Clarice should keep him so much to herself, they still admired +the result of such seclusion, and praised his beauty and wonderful +cleanliness, as though these tokens of her care were really beyond the +common range of things,--attainable, in spite of all she could say, by +no one but Clarice Briton, and for no one but Gabriel. These fishermen +and their wives did not speedily forget the wonderful boy; the boats +never went out but those who rowed them thought about the child; the +gatherers of sea-weed never went to their work but they looked for some +token of him; and for Clarice,--let us say nothing of her just here. +What woman needs to be told how that woman watched and waited and +mourned? + + +IX. + + +Few events ever occurred to disturb the tranquillity of the people of +Diver's Bay. People wore out and dropped away, as the old fishing boats +did,--and new ones took their place. + +Old Briton crumbled and fell to pieces, while he watched for the return +of Bondo Emmins. And Clarice buried her old mother. She was then left +alone in the cabin, with the reminiscences of a hard lot around her. The +worn-out garments, and many rude traces of rough toil, and the toys, few +and simple, which had belonged to Gabriel, constituted her treasures. +What was before her? A life of labor and of watching; and Clarice was +growing older every day. + +Her hair turned gray ere she was old. The hopes that had specially +concerned her had failed her,--all of them. She surveyed her experience, +and said, weighing the result, the more need that she should strive to +avert from others the evils they might bring upon themselves, so that, +when the Lord should smite them, they, too, might be strong. The +missionary had long since left this field of labor and gone to another, +and his place at Diver's Bay was unfilled by a new preacher. The more +need, then, of her. Remembering her lost child, she taught the children +of others. She taught them to read and sew and knit, and, what was more +important, taught them obedience and thankfulness, and endeavored to +inspire in them some reverence and faith. The Church did not fall into +ruin there. + +I wish that I might write here,--it were so easy, if it were but +true!--that Bondo Emmins came back to Diver's Bay in one of those long +years during which she was looking for him, and that he came scourged by +conscience to ask forgiveness of his diabolic vengeance. + +I wish that I might write,--which were far easier, if it were but +fact,--that all the patience and courage of the Pure Heart of Diver's +Bay, all the constancy that sought to bring order and decency and +reverence into the cabins there, met at last with another external +reward than merely beholding, as the children grew up to their duties +and she drew near to death, the results of all her teaching; that those +results were attended by another, also an external reward; that the +youth, who came down like an angel to fill her place when she was gone, +had walked into her house one morning, and surprised her, as the Angel +Gabriel once surprised the world, by his glad tidings. I wish, that, +instead of kneeling down beside her grave in the sand, and vowing there, +"Oh, mother! I, who have found no mother but thee in all the world, am +here, in thy place, to strive as thou didst for the ignorant and +the helpless and unclean," he had thrown his arms around her living +presence, and vowed that vow in spite of Bondo Emmins, and all the world +beside. + +But it seems that the gate is strait, and the path is ever narrow, and +the hill is difficult. And the kinds of victory are various, and the +badges of the conquerors are not all one. And the pure heart can wear +its pearl as purely, and more safely, in the heavens, where the +white array is spotless,--where the desolate heart shall be no more +forsaken,--where the BRIDEGROOM, who stands waiting the Bride, says, +"Come, for all things are now ready!"--where the SON makes glad. Pure +Pearl of Diver's Bay! not for the cheap sake of any mortal romance will +I grieve to write that He has plucked thee from the deep to reckon thee +among His pearls of price. + + * * * * * + + +CAMILLE. + + + I bore my mystic chalice unto Earth + With vintage which no lips of hers might name; + Only, in token of its alien birth, + Love crowned it with his soft, immortal flame, + And, 'mid the world's wide sound, + Sacred reserves and silences breathed round,-- + A spell to keep it pure from low acclaim. + + With joy that dulled me to the touch of scorn, + I served;--not knowing that of all life's deeds + Service was first; nor that high powers are born + In humble uses. Fragrance-folding seeds + Must so through flowers expand, + Then die. God witness that I blessed the Hand + Which laid upon my heart such golden needs! + + And yet I felt, through all the blind, sweet ways + Of life, for some clear shape its dreams to blend,-- + Some thread of holy art, to knit the days + Each unto each, and all to some fair end, + Which, through unmarked removes, + Should draw me upward, even as it behooves + One whose deep spring-tides from His heart descend. + + To swell some vast refrain beyond the sun, + The very weed breathed music from its sod; + And night and day in ceaseless antiphon + Rolled off through windless arches in the broad + Abyss.--Thou saw'st I, too, + Would in my place have blent accord as true, + And justified this great enshrining, God! + + Dreams!--Stain it on the bending amethyst, + That one who came with visions of the Prime + For guide somehow her radiant pathway missed, + And wandered in the darkest gulf of Time. + No deed divine thenceforth + Stood royal in its far-related worth; + No god, in truth, might heal the wounded chime. + + Oh, how? I darkly ask;--and if I dare + Take up a thought from this tumultuous street + To the forgotten Silence soaring there + Above the hiving roofs, its calm depths meet + My glance with no reply. + Might I go back and spell this mystery + In the new stillness at my mother's feet,-- + + I would recall with importunings long + That so sad soul, once pierced as with a knife, + And cry, Forgive! Oh, think Youth's tide was strong, + And the full torrent, shut from brain and life, + Plunged through the heart, until + It rocked to madness, and the o'erstrained will + Grew wild, then weak, in the despairing strife! + + And ever I think, What warning voice should call, + Or show me bane from food, with tedious art, + When love--the perfect instinct, flower of all + Divinest potencies of choice, whose part + Was set 'mid stars and flame + To keep the inner place of God--became + A blind and ravening fever of the heart? + + I laugh with scorn that men should think them praised + In women's love,--chance-flung in weary hours, + By sickly fire to bloated worship raised!-- + O long-lost dream, so sweet of vernal flowers! + Wherein I stood, it seemed, + And gave a gift of queenly mark!--I _dreamed_ + Of Passion's joy aglow in rounded powers. + + I dreamed! The roar, the tramp, the burdened air + Pour round their sharp and subtle mockery. + Here go the eager-footed men; and there + The costly beggars of the world float by;-- + Lilies, that toil nor spin, + How should they know so well the weft of sin, + And hide me from them with such sudden eye? + + But all the roaming crowd begins to make + A whirl of humming shade;--for, since the day + Is done, and there's no lower step to take, + Life drops me here. Some rough, kind hand, I pray, + Thrust the sad wreck aside, + And shut the door on it!--a little pride, + That I may not offend who pass this way. + + And this is all!--Oh, thou wilt yet give heed! + No soul but trusts some late redeeming care,-- + But walks the narrow plank with bitter speed, + And, straining through the sweeping mist of air, + In the great tempest-call, + And greater silence deepening through it all, + Refuses still, refuses to despair! + + Some further end, whence thou refitt'st with aim + Bewildered souls, perhaps?--Some breath in me, + By thee, the purest, found devoid of blame, + Fit for large teaching?--Look!--I cannot see,-- + I can but feel!--Far off, + Life seethes and frets,--and from its shame and scoff + I take my broken crystal up to thee. + + * * * * * + + +THE HUNDRED DAYS. + +PERSONAL REMINISCENCES. + +[Concluded.] + + +The most remarkable event of the "Hundred Days" was the celebrated +"Champ de Mai," where Napoleon met deputies from the Departments, and +distributed eagles to representatives of his forces. He intended it as +an assembly of the French people, which should sanction and legalize his +second accession to the throne, and pledge itself, by solemn adjuration, +to preserve the sovereignty of his family. It was a day of wholesale +swearing, and the deputies uttered any quantity of oaths of eternal +fidelity, which they barely kept three weeks. The distribution of the +eagles was the only real and interesting part of the performance, and +the deep sympathy between both parties was very evident. The Emperor +stood in the open field, on a raised platform, from which a broad flight +of steps descended; and pages of his household were continually running +up and down, communicating with the detachments from various branches of +the army, which passed in front of him, halting for a moment to receive +the eagles and give the oath to defend them. + +I was present during the whole of this latter ceremony. Through the +forbearance of a portion of the Imperial Guard, into whose ranks I +obtruded myself, I had a very favorable position, and felt that in this +part of the day's work there was no sham. + +I would here bear testimony to the character of those veterans known as +the "Old Guard." I frequently came in contact with individuals of them, +and liked so well to talk with them, that I never lost a chance of +making their acquaintance. One, who was partial to me because I was an +American, had served in this country with Rochambeau, had fought under +the eye of Washington, and was at the surrender of Cornwallis. He had +borne his share in the vicissitudes of the Republic, the Consulate, and +the Empire. He was scarred with wounds, and his breast was decorated +with the cross of the Legion of Honor, which he considered an ample +equivalent for all his services. My intercourse with these old soldiers +confirmed what has been said of them, that they were singularly mild +and courteous. There was a gentleness of manner about them that was +remarkable. They had seen too much service to boast of it, and they +left the bragging to younger men. Terrible as they were on the field of +battle, they seemed to have adopted as a rule of conduct, that + + "In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man + As modest stillness and humility." + +On this memorable day, I saw Napoleon more distinctly than at any other +time. I was frequently present when he was reviewing troops, but either +he or they were in motion, and I had to catch a glimpse of him as +opportunities offered. At this time, as he passed through the Champs +Elysées, I stood among my friends, the soldiers, who lined the way, and +who suffered me to remain where a man would not have been tolerated. He +was escorted by the Horse Grenadiers of the Guard. His four brothers +preceded him in one carriage, while he sat alone in a state coach, all +glass and gold, to which pages clung wherever they could find footing. +He was splendidly attired, and wore a Spanish hat with drooping +feathers. As he moved slowly through the crowd, he bowed to the right +and left, not in the hasty, abrupt way which is generally attributed to +him, but in a calm, dignified, though absent manner. His face was one +not to be forgotten. I saw it repeatedly; but whenever I bring it up, it +comes before me, not as it appeared from the window of the Tuileries, or +when riding among his troops, or when standing, with folded arms or his +hands behind him, as they defiled before him; but it rises on my vision +as it looked that morning, under the nodding plumes,--smooth, massive, +and so tranquil, that it seemed impossible a storm of passion could ever +ruffle it. The complexion was clear olive, without a particle of color, +and no trace was on it to indicate what agitated the man within. The +repose of that marble countenance told nothing of the past, nor of +anxiety for the deadly struggle that awaited him. The cheering sounds +around him did not change it; they fell on an ear that heard them not. +His eye glanced on the multitudes; but it saw them not. There was more +machinery than soul in the recognition, as his head instinctively swayed +towards them. The idol of stone was there, joyless and impassive amidst +its worshippers, taking its lifeless part in this last pageant. But the +thinking, active man was elsewhere, and returned only when he found +himself in the presence of delegated France, and in the more congenial +occupation which succeeded. + +Immediately after this event, all the available troops remaining in +Paris were sent toward the Belgian frontier, and in a few days were +followed by the Emperor. Then came an interval of anxious suspense, +which Rumor, with her thousand tongues, occupied to the best of her +ability. I was in the country when news of the first collision arrived, +and a printed sheet was sent to the château where I was visiting, with +an account of the defeat of the Prussians at Ligny and the retreat of +the British at Quatre Bras. Madame Ney was staying in the vicinity; and, +as the Marshal had taken an active part in the engagement, I was sent to +communicate to her the victory. She was ill, and I gave the message to +a lady, her connection, much pleased to be the bearer of such welcome +intelligence. I returned that day to Paris, and found my schoolmates in +the highest exhilaration. Every hour brought confirmation of a decisive +victory. It was thought that the great battle of the campaign had been +fought, and that the French had only to follow up their advantage. +Letters from officers were published, representing that the Allies were +thoroughly routed, and describing the conflict so minutely, that there +could be no doubt of the result. All was now joy and congratulation; and +conjectures were freely made as to the terms to be vouchsafed to the +conquered, and the boundary limits which should be assigned to the +territory of France. + +A day or two after this, we made a customary visit to a swimming-school +on the Seine, and some of us entered into conversation with the +gendarme, or police soldier, placed there to preserve order. He was very +reserved and unwilling to say much; but, at last, when we dwelt on the +recent successes, he shook his head mournfully, and said he feared there +had been some great disaster; adding, "The Emperor is in Paris. I saw +him alight from his carriage this morning, when on duty; he had very few +attendants, and it was whispered that our army had been defeated." That +my companions did not seek relief at the bottom of the river can be +ascribed only to their entire disbelief of the gendarme's story. But, as +they returned home, discussing his words at every step, fears began to +steal over them when they reflected how seriously he talked and how +sorrowful he looked. + +The gendarme spoke the truth. Napoleon was in Paris. His army no longer +existed, and his star had been blotted from the heavens. His plans, +wonderfully conceived, had been indifferently executed; a series of +blunders, beyond his control, interrupted his combinations, and delay in +important movements, added to the necessity of meeting two enemies at +the same moment, destroyed the centralization on which he had depended +for overthrowing both in succession. The orders he sent to his Marshals +were intercepted, and they were left to an uncertainty which prevented +any unity of action. The accusation of treason, sometimes brought +against them, is false and ungenerous; and the insinuations of Napoleon +himself were unworthy of him. They may have erred in judgment, but they +acted as they thought expedient, and they never showed more devotion to +their country and to their chief than on the fatal day of Waterloo. + +I have been twice over that field, and have heard remarks of military +men, which have only convinced me that it is easier to criticize a +battle than to fight one. Had Grouchy, with his thirty thousand men, +joined the Emperor, the British would have been destroyed. But he +stopped at Wavre, to fight, as he supposed, the whole Prussian army, +thinking to do good service by keeping it from the main battle. Blücher +outwitted him, and, leaving ten thousand men to deceive and keep him in +check, hurried on to turn the scale. The fate of both contending hosts +rested on the cloud of dust that arose on the eastern horizon, and the +eyes of Napoleon and Wellington watched its approach, knowing that it +brought victory or defeat. The one was still precipitating his impetuous +columns on the sometimes penetrated, but never broken, squares of +infantry, which seemed rooted to the earth, and which, though torn by +shot and shell, and harassed by incessant charges of cavalry, closed +their thinned ranks with an obstinacy and determination such as he had +never before encountered. The other stood amidst the growing grain, +seeing his army wasting away before those terrible assaults; and when +the officers around him saw inevitable ruin, unless the order for +retreat was given, he tore up the unripened corn, and, grinding it +between his hands, groaned out, in his agony,--"Oh, that Blücher, or +night, would come!" + +The last time I was at Waterloo, many years ago, the guide who +accompanied me told me, that, a short time before, a man, whose +appearance was that of a substantial farmer, and who was followed by +an attendant, called on him for his services. The guide went his usual +round, making his often-repeated remarks and commenting severely +on Grouchy. The stranger examined the ground attentively, and only +occasionally replied, saying, "Grouchy received no orders." At last, the +servant fell back, detaining the guide, and, in a low tone, said to him, +"Speak no more about Marshal Grouchy, for that is he." The man told me, +that, after that, he abstained from saying anything offensive; but that +he watched carefully the soldier's agitation, as the various positions +of the battle became apparent to him. He, doubtless, saw how little +would have turned the current of the fight, and knew that the means of +doing it had been in his own hands. The guide seemed much impressed with +the deep feeling of the Marshal, and said to me, "I will never speak ill +of him again." + +The battle of Waterloo is often mentioned as the sole cause of +Napoleon's downfall; and it is said, that, had he gained that day, he +would have secured his throne. It seems to be forgotten that a complete +victory would have left him with weakened forces, and that he had +already exhausted the resources of France in his preparations for this +one campaign; that the masses of Austria and Russia were advancing +in hot haste, which, with the rallied remains of Prussia, and the +indomitable perseverance and uncompromising hostility of England, +quickened by a reverse of her arms, would have presented an array +against which he could have had no chance of success. The hour of utter +ruin would only have been procrastinated, involving still greater waste +of life, and augmenting the desolation which for so many years had been +the fate of Europe. + +Yes, Napoleon was in Paris,--a general without soldiers, and a sovereign +without subjects. The prestige of his name was gone; and had the Chamber +of Deputies invested him with the Dictatorship, as was suggested, it +would have been "a barren sceptre in his gripe," and the utmost stretch +of power could not have collected materials to meet the impending +invasion. At no period did he show such irresolution as at this time. He +tendered his abdication, and it was accepted. He offered his services as +a soldier, and they were declined. He had ceased, for the moment, to +be anything to France. Yet he lingered for days about the capital, the +inhabitants of which were too intent in gazing at the storm, ready to +burst upon them, to be mindful of his existence. There was, however, +one exception. The _boys_ were still faithful to him, and were more +interested in his position than in that of the enemy at their gates. + +There was a show of resistance. The fragments of the army of Belgium +gathered round Paris; the National Guard, or militia of the city, +was marched out; and the youth of the colleges were furnished with +field-pieces and artillery officers, who drilled them into very +effective cannoneers, and they took naturally to the business, +pronouncing it decidedly better fun than hard study. They were of an age +which is full of animal courage, and their only fear was a peremptory +order from parents or guardians to leave college and return home. Some +of my school-fellows, anticipating such an injunction, joined the camp +outside the city, and saw service enough to talk about for the remainder +of their lives. + +One morning, I was at the Lyceum, where all were prepared for an +immediate order to march, and each one was making his last arrangements. +No person could have supposed that these young men expected to be +engaged, within a few hours, in mortal combat. They were in the highest +spirits, and looked forward to the hoped-for battle as though it were to +be the most amusing thing imaginable. While I was there, a false +report came in that Napoleon had resumed the command of the army. The +excitement instantly rose to fever-heat, and the demonstration told what +hold he still had on these his steadfast friends. From our position the +rear of the army was but a short distance, while the advanced portions +of it were engaged. Versailles had been entered by the Allies, who were +attacked and driven out by the French under Vandamme. The cannonade was +at one time as continuous as the roll of a drum. Prisoners were guarded +through the streets, and wagons, conveying wounded men, were continually +passing. + +Stragglers from the routed army of Waterloo were to be met in all +directions, many of them disabled by their pursuers, or the fatigues of +a harried retreat. Pride was forgotten in extreme misery, and they were +grateful for any attention or assistance. One of them was taken into +our institution as a servant. He had been in the army eighteen years, +fifteen of which he had served as drummer. He had been in some of the +severest battles, had gone through the Russian campaign, and was among +the few of his regiment who survived the carnage of Waterloo. And yet +this man, who had been familiar with death more than half his life, and +who at times talked as though he were a perfect tornado in the field, +was as arrant a poltroon as ever skulked. + +After the Allied Troops entered Paris, and were divided among the +inhabitants, some Prussian cavalry soldiers were quartered on us. +Collisions occasionally took place between them and the scholars; and in +one instance, one of them entered a study-room in an insulting manner, +and in consequence thereof made a progress from the top of the stairs to +the bottom with a celerity that would have done credit to his regiment +in a charge. His comrades armed themselves to avenge the indignity, and +the students, eager for the fray, sallied out to meet them with pistols +and fencing-foils, the latter with buttons snapped off and points +sharpened. There was hopeful promise of a very respectable skirmish; +but it was nipped in the bud by the interposition of our peace-making +instructors, aided by the authority of a Prussian officer. When the +affair was over, some wonder was expressed why our fire-eating military +attendant had not given us his professional services; and, on search +being made, we found him snugly stowed away in a hole under the stairs, +where he had crept on the first announcement of hostilities. He +afterwards confessed to me that he was a coward, and that no one could +imagine what he had suffered in his agonies of fear during his various +campaigns. Yet he came very near being rewarded for extraordinary valor +and coolness. His regiment was advancing on the enemy, and as he was +mechanically beating the monotonous _pas de charge_, not knowing whether +he was on his head or his heels, a shot cut the band by which his drum +was suspended, and as it fell, he caught it, and without stopping, held +it in one hand while he continued to beat the charge with the other. An +officer of rank saw the action, and riding up, said, "Your name, brave +fellow? You shall have the cross of honor for that gallant deed." He +told me he really did not know what he was doing; he was too frightened +to think about anything. But he added, that it was a pity the general +was killed in that very battle, as it robbed him of the promised +decoration. + +I mention this incident as an evidence of what diversified materials an +army is composed, and that the instruments of military despotism are not +necessarily endowed with personal courage, the discipline of the mass +compensating for individual imperfection. It also gives evidence that +luck has much to do in the fortunes of this world, and that many a man +who "bears his blushing honors thick upon him" would as poorly stand a +scrutiny as to the means by which they were acquired, as our friend, the +drummer, had he been enabled to strut about, in piping times of peace, +with a strip of red ribbon at his button-hole. + +While preparations were making for the defence of Paris, and the alarmed +citizens feared, what was at one time threatened, that the defenders +would be driven in, and the streets become a scene of warfare, involving +all conditions in the chances of indiscriminate massacre, the powers +that were saw the futility of resistance, and opening negotiations with +the enemy, closed the war by capitulation. Whatever relief this may have +been to the people generally, it was a sad blow to the martial ardor +of my schoolmates. Their opinion of the transaction was expressed in +language by no means complimentary to their temporary rulers. To lose +such an opportunity for a fight was a height of absurdity for which +treason and cowardice were inadequate terms. Their military visions +melted away, the field-pieces were wheeled off, the army officers bade +them farewell, they were required to deliver up their arms, and they +found themselves back again to their old bondage, reduced to the +inglorious necessity of attending prayers and learning lessons. + +The Hundred Days were over. The Allies once more poured into France, +and in their train came back the poor, despised, antiquated Bourbons, +identifying themselves with the common enemy, and becoming a byword and +a reproach, which were to cling to them until they should be driven into +hopeless banishment. The King reentered Paris, accompanied by foreign +soldiers. I saw him pass the Boulevard, and I then hastened across the +Garden to await his arrival at the Tuileries, standing near the spot +where, three months before, I had seen Napoleon. The tricolor was no +longer there, but the white flag again floated over the place so full of +historical recollections. Louis XVIII soon reached this ancestral abode +of his family, and having mounted, with some difficulty and expenditure +of breath, to the second story, he waddled into the balcony which +overlooked the crowd silently waiting for the expected speech, and, +leaning ponderously on the railing, he kissed his hand, and said, in a +loud voice, "Good day, my children." This was the exordiam, body, and +peroration of his address, and it struck his audience so ludicrously, +that a laugh spread among them, until it became general, and all seemed +in the best possible humor. The King laughed, too, evidently regarding +his reception as highly flattering. The affair turned out well, for the +multitude parted in a merry mood, considering his Majesty rather a jolly +old gentleman, and making sundry comparisons between him and the late +tenant, illustrative of the difference between King Stork and King Log. + +Paris was crowded with foreign soldiers. The streets swarmed with them; +their encampments filled the public gardens; they drilled in the open +squares and on the Boulevards; their sentinels stood everywhere. Their +presence was a perpetual commentary on the vanity of that glory which +is dependent on the sword. They gazed at triumphal monuments erected to +commemorate battles which had subjected their own countries to the iron +rule of conquest. They stood by columns on which the history of their +defeat was cast from their captured cannon, and by arches whose friezes +told a boastful tale of their subjugation. They passed over bridges +whose names reminded them of fields which had witnessed their headlong +rout. They strolled through galleries where the masterpieces of art hung +as memorials that their political existence had been dependent on the +will of a victorious foe. Attempts were made to destroy these trophies +of national degradation; but, in some instances, the skill of the +architect and the fidelity of the builder were an overmatch for the +hasty ire of an incensed soldiery, and withstood the attacks until +admiration for the work brought shame on their efforts to demolish it. + +But for the Parisians there was a calamity in reserve, which sank +deeper into their souls than the fluttering of hostile banners in their +streets, or the clanging tread of an armed enemy on their door-stones. +It was decided that the Gallery of the Louvre should be despoiled, and +that the works of art, which had been collected from all nations, making +that receptacle the marvel of the age, should be restored to their +legitimate owners. A wail went up from the universal heart of France +at this sad judgment. It was felt that this great loss would be +irreparable. Time, the soother of all sorrow, might restore her +worn energies, recruit her wasted population, cover her fields with +abundance, and, turning the activity of an intelligent people into +industrial channels, clothe her with renewed wealth and power. But the +magnificence of that collection, once departed, could never come to +her again; and the lover of beauty, instead of finding under one roof +whatever genius had created for the worship of the ages, would have +to wander over all Europe, seeking in isolated and widely-separated +positions the riches which at the Louvre were strewed before him in +congregated prodigality. But lamentations were in vain. The miracles of +human inspiration were borne to the congenial climes which originated +them, to have, in all after time, the tale of their journeyings an +inseparable appendage to their history, and even their intrinsic merit +to derive additional lustre from the perpetual boast, that they had been +considered worthy a place in the Gallery of Napoleon. + +In the general amnesty which formed an article in the capitulation of +Paris, there was no apprehension that revenge would demand an atonement. +But hardly had the Bourbons recommenced their reign, when, in utter +disregard of the faith of treaties, they sought satisfaction for their +late precipitate flight in assailing those who had been instrumental +in causing it. Many of their intended victims found safety in foreign +lands. Labedoyère, who joined the Emperor with his regiment, was tried +and executed. Lavalette was condemned, but escaped through the heroism +of his wife and the generous devotion of three Englishmen. Ney was +shot in Paris. I would dwell a moment on his fate, not only because +circumstances gave me a peculiar interest in it, but from the fact that +it had more effect in drawing a dividing line between the royal family +and the French people than any event that occurred during their reign. +It was treasured up with a hate that found no fit utterance until the +memorable Three Days of 1830; and when the insurgents stormed the +Tuileries, their cries bore evidence that fifteen years had not +diminished the bitter feeling engendered by that vindictive, +unnecessary, and most impolitic act. + +During the Hundred Days, and shortly before the battle of Waterloo, I +was, one Sunday afternoon, in the Luxembourg Garden, where the fine +weather had brought out many of the inhabitants of that quarter. The +lady I was accompanying remarked, as we walked among the crowd, "There +is Marshal Ney." He had joined the promenaders, and his object seemed to +be, like that of the others, to enjoy an hour of recreation. Probably +the next time he crossed those walks was on the way to the place of his +execution, which was between the Garden and the Boulevard. At the time +of his confinement and trial at the Luxembourg Palace, the gardens were +closed. I usually passed through them twice a week, but was now obliged +to go round them. Early one morning, I stopped at the room of a medical +student, in the vicinity, and, while there, heard a discharge of +musketry. We wondered at it, but could not conjecture its cause; and +although we spoke of the trial of Marshal Ney, we had so little reason +to suppose that his life was in jeopardy, that neither of us imagined +that volley was his death-knell. As I continued on my way, I passed +round the Boulevard, and reaching the spot I have named, I saw a few +men and women, of the lowest class, standing together, while a sentinel +paced to and fro before a wall, which was covered with mortar, and which +formed one side of the place. I turned in to the spot and inquired what +was the matter. A man replied,--"Marshal Ney has been shot here, and his +body has just been removed." I looked at the soldier, but he was gravely +going through his monotonous duty, and I knew that military rule forbade +my addressing him. I looked down; the ground was wet with blood. I +turned to the wall, and seeing it marked by balls, I attempted, with my +knife, to dig out a memorial of that day's sad work, but the soldier +motioned me away. I afterwards revisited the place, but the wall had +been plastered over, and no indications remained where the death-shot +had penetrated. + +The sensation produced by this event was profound and permanent. Many +a heart, inclined towards the Bourbons, was alienated by it forever. +Families which had rejoiced at the Restoration now cursed it in +their bitterness, and from that day dated a hostility which knew no +reconciliation. The army and the youth of France demanded, why a +soldier, whose whole life had been passed in her service, should be +sacrificed to appease a race that was a stranger to the country, and +for which it had no sympathy. A gloom spread like a funeral pall over +society, and even those who had blamed the Marshal for joining the +Emperor were now among his warmest defenders. The print-shops were +thronged with purchasers eager to possess his portrait and to hang it +in their homes, with a reverence like that attaching to the image of a +martyred saint. Had he died at Waterloo, as he led on the Imperial Guard +to their last charge, when five horses were shot under him, and his +uniform, riddled by balls, hung about him in tatters, he would not have +had such an apotheosis as was now given him, with one simultaneous +movement, by all classes of his countrymen. + +The inveterate intention of the reigning family was to obliterate every +mark that bore the impress of Napoleon. Wherever the initial of his name +had been inserted on the public edifices, it was carefully erased; his +statues were broken or removed; prints of him could not be exposed for +sale; and it appeared to be their fixed determination to drive him +from men's memories. But he had left mementos which jealousy could not +conceal nor petty malice destroy. His Code was still the law of the +land; the monuments of his genius were thickly scattered wherever his +dominion had extended; his mighty name was on every tongue; and as time +mellowed the remembrance of him, the good he had done survived and the +evil was forgotten or extenuated. + +Whoever would judge this man should consider the times which produced +him and the fearful authority he wielded. He came to take his place +among the rulers of the earth, while she was rocking with convulsions, +seeking regeneration through the baptism of blood. He came as a +connecting link between anarchy and order, an agent of destiny to act +his part in the great tragedy of revolution, the end of which is not +yet. His mission was to give a lesson to sovereigns and people, +to humble hereditary power, and to prove by his own career the +unsubstantial character of a government which deludes the popular will +that creates it. During his captivity, he understood the true causes of +his overthrow, and talked of them with an intelligence which misfortune +had saddened down into philosophy. He saw that the secret of his +reverses was not to be found in the banded confederacy of kings, but in +the forfeited sympathy of the great masses of men, who felt with him, +and moved with him, and bade him God-speed, until he abandoned the +distinctive principle which advanced him, and relinquished their +affection for royal affiances and the doubtful friendship of monarchs. +His better nature was laid aside, his common sense became merged in +court etiquette, he sacrificed his conscience to his ambition, and the +Man was forgotten in the Emperor. + +It is creditable to the world, that his divorce did more, perhaps, than +anything else to alienate the respect and attachment of mankind; and +many who could find excuses for his gravest public misdeeds can never +forgive this impiety to the household gods. + +I was most forcibly impressed with the relation between him and +Josephine, in a visit I made to Malmaison a short time subsequent to her +death, which occurred soon after his first abdication. It was the place +where they had lived together, before the imperial diadem had seared +his brain; and it was the chosen spot of her retreat, when he, "the +conqueror of kings, sank to the degradation of courting their alliance." +The house was as she left it. Not a thing had been moved, the servants +were still there, and the order and comfort of the establishment were +as though her return were momently expected. The plants she loved were +carefully tended, and her particular favorites were affectionately +pointed out. The old domestic who acted as my guide spoke low, as if +afraid of disturbing her repose, or as if the sanctity of death still +pervaded the apartments. He could not mention her without emotion; and +he told enough of her quiet, unobtrusive life, of her kindness to the +poor, of her gentleness to all about her, to account for the devotion of +her dependants. The evidences of her refined taste were everywhere, +and there were tokens that her love for her husband had survived his +injustice and desertion. After his second marriage, he occasionally +visited her, and she never allowed anything to be disturbed which +reminded her that he had been there. Books were lying open on the table +as he had left them; the chair on which he sat was still where he had +arisen from it; the flower he had plucked withered where he had dropped +it. Every article he had touched was sacred, and remained unprofaned +by other hands. Doubtless, long after he had returned to his brilliant +capital, and all remembrance of her was lost in the glittering court +assembled about the fair-haired daughter of Austria, that lone woman +wandered, in solitary sadness, through the places which had been +hallowed by his presence, and gazed on the senseless objects consecrated +by his passing attention. + +After his last abdication, he retired once more to Malmaison, where he +passed the few days that remained, until he bade a final farewell to the +scenes which he had known at the dawn of his prosperity. No man can tell +his thoughts during those lonely hours. His wife was in the palace of +her ancestors, and his child was to know him no more. He could hear the +din of marching soldiers, and the roar of distant battle, but they were +nothing to him now. His wand was broken, the spell was over, the +spirits that ministered to him had vanished, and the enchanter was left +powerless and alone. But, in the still watches of the night, a familiar +form may have stood beside him, and a well-known voice again whispered +to him in the kindly tones of by-gone years. The crown, the sceptre, the +imperial purple, the long line of kings, for which he had renounced a +woman worth them all, must have faded from his memory in the swarming +recollections of his once happy home. He could not look around him +without seeing in every object an accusing angel; and if a human heart +throbbed in his bosom, retribution came before death. + +Yet call him not up for judgment, without reflecting that his awful +elevation and the gigantic task he had assumed had perverted a heart +naturally kind and affectionate, and left him little leisure to devote +to the virtues which decorate domestic life. The numberless anecdotes +related of him, the charm with which he won to himself all whom he +attempted to conciliate, the warm attachment of those immediately about +him, tend to the belief that there was much of good in him. But his eye +was continually fixed on the star he saw blazing before him, and in his +efforts to follow its guidance, he heeded not the victims he crushed in +his onward progress. He considered men as mere instruments to extend his +dominion, and he used them with wasteful expenditure, to advance his +projects or to secure his conquests. But he was not cruel, nor was he +steeled to human misery. Had he been what he is sometimes represented, +he never could have retained the ascendency over the minds of his +followers, which, regardless of defeat and suffering and death, lived on +when even hope had gone. + +Accusatory words are easily spoken, and there is often a disposition to +condemn, without calculating the compelling motives which govern human +actions, or the height of place which has given to surrounding objects a +coloring and figure not to be measured by the ordinary rules of ethics. +Many a man who cannot bear a little brief authority without abusing it, +who lords it over a few dependants with insolent and arbitrary rule, +whose temper makes everybody uncomfortable within the limited sphere +of his government and whose petty tyranny turns his own home into a +despotic empire, can pronounce a sweeping doom against one who was +clothed with irresponsible power, who seemed elevated above the +accidents of humanity, whose audience-chamber was thronged by princes, +whose words were as the breath of life, and who dealt out kingdoms to +his kindred like the portions of a family inheritance. Let censure, +then, be tempered with charity, nor be lightly bestowed on him who will +continue to fill a space in the annals of the world when the present +shall be merged in that shadowy realm where fact becomes mingled with +fable, and the reality, dimmed by distance, shall be so transfigured by +poetry and romance, that it may even be doubted whether he ever lived. + +Seventeen years after the period which I have attempted to illustrate +by a few incidents, I stood by his grave at St. Helena. I was returning +from a long residence in the East, and, having doubled the stormy Cape +of Good Hope, looked forward with no little interest to a short repose +at the halting-place between India and Europe. But when I saw its blue +mass heaving from the ocean, the usual excitement attendant on the +cry of "Land!" was lost in the absorbing feeling, that there Napoleon +Bonaparte died and was buried. The lonely rock rose in solitary +barrenness, a bleak and mournful monument of some rude caprice of +Nature, which has thrown it out to stand in cheerless desolation amidst +the broad waters of the Atlantic. The day I passed there was devoted to +the place where the captive wore away the weary and troubled years of +his imprisonment, and to the little spot which he himself selected when +anticipating the denial of his last wish,--now fully answered,--"that +his ashes might repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of that +French people whom he had so much loved." + +There was nothing in or about the house to remind one of its late +occupant. It was used as a granary. The apartments were filled with +straw; a machine for threshing or winnowing was in the parlor; and the +room where he died was now converted into a stable, a horse standing +where his bed had been. The position was naked and comfortless, being +on the summit of a hill, perpetually swept by the trade-winds, which +suffered no living thing to stand, except a few straggling, bare, +shadeless trees, which contributed to the disconsolate character of the +landscape. The grave was in a quiet little valley. It was covered by +three plain slabs of stone, closely surrounded by an iron railing; a +low wooden paling extended a small distance around; and the whole was +overhung by three decaying willows. The appearance of the place was +plain and appropriate. Nothing was wanting to its unadorned and +affecting simplicity. Ornament could not have increased its beauty, nor +inscription have added to its solemnity. + +The mighty conqueror slept in the territory of his most inveterate foes; +but the path to his tomb was reverently trodden, and those who had stood +opposed to him in life forgot that there had been enmity between them. +Death had extinguished hostility; and the pilgrims who visited his +resting-place spoke kindly of his memory, and, hoarding some little +token, bore it to their distant homes to be prized by their posterity as +having been gathered at his grave. + +The dome of the Invalides now rises over his remains; his statue again +caps the column that commemorates his exploits; and one of his name, +advanced by the sole magic of his glory, controls, with arbitrary will +and singular ability, the destinies, not of France only, but of Europe. + +The nations which united for his overthrow now humbly bow before the +family they solemnly pledged themselves should never again taste power, +and, with ill-concealed distrust and anxiety, deprecate a resentment +that has not been weakened by years nor forgotten in alliances. + +Not to them alone has Time hastened to bring that retributive justice +which falls alike on empires and individuals. The son of "The Man" +moulders in an Austrian tomb, leaving no trace that he has lived; while +the lineal descendant of the obscure Creole, of the deposed empress, +of the divorced wife, sits on the throne of Clovis and Charlemagne, of +Capet and Bonaparte. Within the brief space of one generation, within +the limit of one man's memory, vengeance has revolved full circle; and +while the sleepless Nemesis points with unresting finger to the barren +rock and the insulted captive, she turns with meaning smile to the +borders of the Seine, where mausoleum and palace stand in significant +proximity,--the one covering the dust of the first empire, the other the +home of the triumphant grandson of Josephine. + + * * * * * + + +EPIGRAM ON J.M. + + + Said Fortune to a common spit, + "Your rust and grease I'll rid ye on, + And make ye in a twinkling fit + For Ireland's Sword of Gideon!" + + In vain! what Nature meant for base + All chance for good refuses; + M. gave one gleam, then turned apace + To dirtiest kitchen uses. + + + + +BEETHOVEN: HIS CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. + +(From Original Sources.) + + +There is upon record a remark of Mozart--probably the greatest musical +genius that ever lived--to this effect: that, if few had equalled him +in his art, few had studied it with such persevering labor and such +unremitting zeal. Every man who has attained high preëminence in +Science, Literature, or Art, would confess the same. At all events, the +greatest musical composers--Bach, Handel, Haydn, Gluck--are proofs that +no degree of genius and natural aptitude for their art is sufficient +without long-continued effort and exhaustive study of the best models of +composition. And this is the moral to be drawn from Beethoven's early +life. + +_"Voila Bonn! C'est une petite perle!"_ said the admiring Frenchwoman, +as the Cologne steamboat rounded the point below the town, and she +caught the first fair view of its bustling landing-places, its old wall, +its quaint gables, and its antique cathedral spires. A pearl among the +smaller German cities it is,--with most irregular streets, always +neat and cleanly, noble historic and literary associations, jovial +student-life, pleasant walks to the neighboring hills, delightful +excursions to the Siebengebirge and Ahrthal,--reposing peacefully upon +the left bank of the "green and rushing Rhine." Six hundred years ago, +the Archbishop-Electors of Cologne, defeated in their long quarrel with +the people of the city of perfumery, established their court at Bonn, +and made it thenceforth the political capital of the Electorate. Having +both the civil and ecclesiastical revenues at their command, the last +Electors were able to sustain courts which vied in splendor with those +of princes of far greater political power and pretensions. They could +say, with the Preacher of old, "We builded us houses; we made us gardens +and orchards, and planted trees in them of all manner of fruits"; for +the huge palace, now the seat of the Frederick-William University, and +Clemensruhe, now the College of Natural History, were erected by them +early in the last century. Like the Preacher, too, "they got them +men-singers and women-singers, and the delights of the sons of men, as +musical instruments, and that of all sorts." Music they cherished with +especial care: it gave splendor to the celebration of high mass in +chapel or cathedral; it afforded an innocent and refined recreation, in +the theatre and concert-room, to the Electors and their guests. + +In the list of singers and musicians in the employ of Clemens Augustus, +as printed in the Electoral Calendar for the years 1759-60, appears the +name, "Ludwig van Beethoven, Bassist." We know little of him, and it is +but a very probable conjecture that he was a native of Maestricht, in +Holland. That he was more than an ordinary singer is proved by the +position he held in the Chapel, and by the applause which he received +for his performances as _primo basso_ in certain of Mosigny's operas. He +was, moreover, a good musician; for he had produced operas of his own +composition, with fair success, and, upon the accession of Maximilian +Frederick to the Electorate in 1761, he was raised to the position of +Kapellmeister. He was already well advanced in life; for the same record +bears the name of his son Johann, a tenor singer. He died in 1773, and +was long afterward described by one who remembered him, as a short, +stout-built man, with exceedingly lively eyes, who used to walk with +great dignity to and from his dwelling in the Bonngasse, clad in the +fashionable red cloak of the time. Thus, too, he was quite magnificently +depicted by the court painter, Radoux, wearing a tasselled cap, +and holding a sheet of music-paper in his hand. His wife--the Frau +Kapellmeisterinn--born Josepha Poll--was not a helpmeet for him, being +addicted to strong drink, and therefore, during her last years, placed +in a convent in Cologne. + +The Bonngasse, which runs Rhineward from the lower extremity of the +Marktplatz, is, as the epithet _gasse_ implies, not one of the principal +streets of Bonn. Nor is it one of great length, notwithstanding the +numbers upon its house-fronts range so high,--for the houses of the town +are numbered in a single series, and not street by street. In 1770, +the centre of the Bonngasse was also a central point for the music and +musicians of Bonn. Kapellmeister Beethoven dwelt in No. 386, and the +next house was the abode of the Ries family. The father was one of the +Elector's chamber musicians; and his son Franz, a youth of fifteen, was +already a member of the orchestra, and by his skill upon the violin gave +promise of his future excellence. Thirty years afterward, _his_ son +became the pupil of _the_ Beethoven in Vienna. + +In No. 515, which is nearly opposite the house of Ries, lived the +Salomons. Two of the sisters were singers in the Court Theatre, and the +brother, Johann Peter, was a distinguished violinist. At a later period +he emigrated to London, gained great applause as a virtuoso, established +the concerts in which Haydn appeared as composer and director, and was +one of the founders of the celebrated London Philharmonic Society. + +It is common in Bonn to build two houses, one behind the other, upon the +same piece of ground, leaving a small court between them,--access to +that in the rear being obtained through the one which fronts upon the +street. This was the case where the Salomons dwelt, and to the rear +house, in November, 1767, Johann van Beethoven brought his newly married +wife, Helena Keverich, of Coblentz, widow of Nicolas Laym, a former +valet of the Elector. + +It is near the close of 1770. Helena has experienced "the pleasing +punishment that women bear," but "remembereth no more the anguish for +joy that a man is born into the world." Her joy is the greater, because +last year, in April, she buried, in less than a week after his birth, +her first-born, Ludwig Maria,--as the name still stands upon the +baptismal records of the parish of St. Remigius, with the names of +Kapellmeister Beethoven, and the next-door neighbor, Frau Loher, as +sponsors. This second-born is a strong, healthy child, and his baptism +is recorded in the same parish-book, Dec. 17, 1770,--the day of, +possibly the day after, his birth,--by the name of Ludwig. The +Kapellmeister is again godfather, but Frau Gertrude Müller, _née_ Baum, +next door on the other side, is the godmother. The Beethovens had +neither kith nor kin in Bonn; the families Ries and Salomon, their +intimate friends, were Israelites; hence the appearance of the +neighbors, Frauen Loher and Müller, at the ceremony of baptism;--a +strong corroborative evidence, that No. 515, Bonngasse, was the actual +birth-place of Beethoven. + +The child grew apace, and in manhood his earliest and proudest +recollections, save of his mother, were of the love and affection +lavished upon him, the only grandchild, by the Kapellmeister. He had +just completed his third year when the old man died, and the bright sun +which had shone upon his infancy, and left an ineffaceable impression +upon the child's memory, was obscured. Johann van Beethoven had +inherited his mother's failing, and its effects were soon visible in the +poverty of the family. He left the Bonngasse for quarters in that +house in the Rheingasse, near the upper steamboat-landing, which now +erroneously bears the inscription, _Ludwig van Beethovens Geburtshaus_. + +His small inheritance was soon squandered; his salary as singer was +small, and at length even the portrait of his father went to the +pawnbroker. In the April succeeding the Kapellmeister's death, the +expenses of Johann's family were increased by the birth of another +son,--Caspar Anton Carl; and to this event Dr. Wegeler attributes the +unrelenting perseverance of the father in keeping little Ludwig from +this time to his daily lessons upon the piano-forte. Both Wegeler and +Burgomaster Windeck of Bonn, sixty years afterward, remembered how, as +boys, visiting a playmate in another house across the small court, they +often "saw little Louis, his labors and sorrows." Cecilia Fischer, too, +a playmate of Beethoven in his early childhood, and living in the same +house in her old age, "still saw the little boy standing upon a low +footstool and practising his father's lessons," in tears. + +What indications, if any, the child had given of remarkable musical +genius, we do not know,--not one of the many anecdotes bearing upon this +point having any trustworthy foundation in fact. Probably the father +discovered in him that which awakened the hope of some time rivalling +the then recent career of Leopold Mozart with little Wolfgang, or at +least saw reason to expect as much success with his son as had rewarded +the efforts of his neighbor Ries with his Franz; at all events, we have +the testimony of Beethoven himself, that "already in his fourth year +music became his principal employment,"--and this it continued to be to +the end. Yet, as he grew older, his education in other respects was not +neglected. He passed through the usual course of boys of his time, not +destined for the universities, in the public schools of the city, even +to the acquiring of some knowledge of Latin. The French language was, as +it still is, a necessity to every person of the Rhine provinces above +the rank of peasant; and Beethoven became able to converse in it with +reasonable fluency, even after years of disuse and almost total loss of +hearing. It has also been stated that he knew enough of English to read +it; but this is more than doubtful. In fact, as a schoolboy, he made the +usual progress,--no more, no less. + +In music it was otherwise. The child Mozart seems alone to have equalled +or surpassed the child Beethoven. Ludwig soon exhausted his father's +musical resources, and became the pupil of Pfeiffer, chorist in the +Electoral Orchestra, a genial and kind-hearted man, and so good a +musician as afterward to be appointed band-master to a Bavarian +regiment. Beethoven always held him in grateful and affectionate +remembrance, and in the days of his prosperity in Vienna sent him +pecuniary aid. His next teacher was Van der Eder, court organist,--a +proof that the boy's progress was very rapid, as this must have been the +highest school that Bonn could offer. With this master he studied the +organ. When Van der Eder retired from office, his successor, Christian +Gottlob Neefe, succeeded him also as instructor of his remarkable pupil. + +Wegeler and Schindler, writing several years after the great composer's +death, state, that, of these three instructors, he considered himself +most indebted to Pfeiffer, declaring that he had profited little or +nothing by his studies with Neefe, of whose severe criticisms upon his +boyish efforts in composition he complained. These statements have +hitherto been unquestioned. Without doubting the veracity of the two +authors, it may well be asked, whether the great master may not have +relied too much upon the impressions received in childhood, and thus +unwittingly have done injustice to Neefe. The appointment of that +musician as organist to the Electoral Court bears date February 15, +1781, when Ludwig had but just completed his tenth year, and the sixth +year of his musical studies. These six years had been divided between +three different instructors,--his father, Pfeiffer, and Van der Eder; +and during the last part of the time, music could have been but the +extra study of a schoolboy. That the two or three years, during which at +the most he was a pupil of Pfeiffer, and that, too, when he was but +six or eight years of age, were of more value to him in his artistic +development than the years from the age of ten onward, during which he +studied with Neefe, certainly seems an absurd idea. That the chorist may +have laid a foundation for his future remarkable execution, and have +fostered and developed his love for music, is very probable; but that +the great Beethoven's marvellous powers in higher spheres of the art +were in any great degree owing to him, we cannot credit. Happily, we +have some data for forming a judgment upon this point, unknown both to +Wegeler and Schindler, when they wrote. + +Neefe was, if not a man of genius, of very respectable talents, +a learned and accomplished organist and composer, as a violinist +respectable, even in a corps which included Reicha, Romberg, Ries. He +had been reared in the severe Saxon school of the Bachs, and before +coming to Bonn had had much experience as music director of an operatic +company. He knew the value of the maxim, _Festina lente_, and was wise +enough to understand, that no lofty and enduring structure can be +reared, unless the foundations are broad and deep,--that sound and +exhaustive study of canon, fugue, and counterpoint is as necessary to +the highest development of musical genius as mathematics, philosophy, +and logic are to that of the scientific and literary man. He at once saw +and appreciated the marvellous powers of Johann van Beethoven's son, and +adopted a plan with him, whose aim was, not to make him a mere youthful +prodigy, but a great musician and composer in manhood. That, with this +end in view, he should have criticized the boy's crude compositions with +some severity was perfectly natural; equally so that the petted and +bepraised boy should have felt these criticisms keenly. But the +severity of the master was no more than a necessary counterpoise to the +injudicious praise of others. That Beethoven, however he may have spoken +of Neefe to Wegeler and Schindler, did at times have a due consciousness +of his obligations to his old master, is proved by a letter which he +wrote to him from Vienna, during the first transports of joy and delight +at finding himself the object of universal wonder and commendation +in the musical circles of the great capital. He thanks Neefe for the +counsels which had guided him in his studies, and adds, "Should I ever +become a great man, it will in part be owing to you." + +The following passage from an account of the virtuosos in the service of +the Elector at Bonn, written in 1782, when Beethoven had been with Neefe +but little more than a year, and which we unhesitatingly, attribute to +the pen of Neefe himself, will give an idea of the course of instruction +adopted by the master, and his hopes and expectations for the future +of his pupil. It is, moreover, interesting, as being the first public +notice of him who for half a century has exercised more pens than any +other artist. The writer closes his list of musicians and singers +thus:-- + +"Louis van Beethoven, son of the above-named tenorist, a boy of eleven +years, and of most promising talents. He plays the piano-forte with +great skill and power, reads exceedingly well at sight, and, to say all +in a word, plays nearly the whole of Sebastian Bach's 'Wohltemperirtes +Klavier,' placed in his hands by Herr Neefe. Whoever is acquainted with +this collection of preludes and fugues in every key (which one can +almost call the _non plus ultra_ of music) knows well what this implies. +Herr Neefe has also, so far as his other duties allowed, given him +some instruction in thorough-bass. At present he is exercising him +in composition, and for his encouragement has caused nine variations +composed by him for the piano-forte upon a march[A] to be engraved at +Mannheim. This young genius certainly deserves such assistance as will +enable him to travel. He will assuredly become a second Wolfgang Amadeus +Mozart, should he continue as he has begun. + +[Footnote A: The variations upon a march by Dressler.] + + "'Wem er geneigt, dem sendet der Vater der + Menschen und Götter + Seinen Adler herab, trägt ihn zu himmlischen + Höh'n und welches + Haupt ihm gefällt um das flicht er mit + liebenden Händen den Lorbeer.' + Schiller." + +In the mere grammar of musical composition the pupil required little of +his master. We have Beethoven's own words to prove this, scrawled at the +end of the thorough-bass exercises, afterward performed, when studying +with Albrechtsberger. "Dear friends," he writes, "I have taken all this +trouble, simply to be able to figure my basses correctly, and some +time, perhaps, to instruct others. As to errors, I hardly needed to +learn this for my own sake. From my childhood I have had so fine a +musical sense, that I wrote correctly without knowing that it _must_ be +so, or _could_ be otherwise." + +Neefe's object, therefore,--as was Haydn's at a subsequent period,--was +to give his pupil that mastery of musical form and of his instrument, +which should enable him at once to perceive the value of a musical idea +and its most appropriate treatment. The result was, that the tones of +his piano-forte became to the youth a language in which his highest, +deepest, subtilest musical ideas were expressed by his fingers as +instantaneously and with as little thought of the mere style and manner +of their expression as are the intellectual ideas of the thoroughly +trained rhetorician in words. + +The good effect of the course pursued by Neefe with his pupil is visible +in the next published production--save a song or two--of the boy;--the + +"Three Sonatas for the Piano-forte, composed and dedicated to the most +Reverend Archbishop and Elector of Cologne, Maximilian Frederick, my +most gracious Lord, by LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN, _Aged eleven years_." + +We cannot resist the temptation to add the comically bombastic +Dedication of these Sonatas to the Elector, which may very possibly have +been written by Neefe, who loved to see himself in print. + +"DEDICATION + +"MOST EXALTED! + +"Already in my fourth year Music began to be the principal employment of +my youth. Thus early acquainted with the Lovely Muse, who tuned my soul +to pure harmonies, she won my love, and, as I oft have felt, gave me +hers in return. I have now completed my eleventh year; and my Muse, in +the hours consecrated to her, oft whispers to me, 'Try for once, and +write down the harmonies in thy soul!'--'Eleven years!' thought I,--'and +how should I carry the dignity of authorship? What would _men_ in the +art say?'--My timidity had nearly conquered. But my Muse willed it:--I +obeyed and wrote. + +"And now dare I, Most Illustrious! venture to lay the first fruits of my +youthful labors at the steps of _Thy_ throne? And dare I hope that Thou +wilt deign to cast upon them the mild, paternal glance of Thy cheering +approbation? Oh, yes! for Science and Art have ever found in Thee a wise +patron and a magnanimous promoter, and germinating talent its prosperity +under Thy kind, paternal care. + +"Filled with this animating trust, I venture to draw near to _Thee_ +with these youthful efforts. Accept them as a pure offering of childish +reverence, and look down graciously, Most Exalted! upon them and their +young author, + +"LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN." + +"These Sonatas," says a most competent critic,[B] "for a boy's work, +are, indeed, remarkable. They are _bonâ fide_ compositions. There is no +vagueness about them.... He has ideas positive and well pronounced, +and he proceeds to develope them in a manner at once spontaneous and +logical.... Verily the boy possessed the vital secret of the Sonata +form; he had seized its organic principle." + +[Footnote B: J.S. Dwight.] + +Ludwig has become an author! His talents are known and appreciated +everywhere in Bonn. He is the pet of the musical circle in which he +moves,--in danger of being spoiled. Yet now, when the character is +forming, and those habits, feelings, tastes are becoming developed and +fixed, which are to go with him through life, he can look to his father +neither for example nor counsel. He idolizes his mother; but she is +oppressed with the cares of a family, suffering through the improvidence +and bad habits of its head, and though she had been otherwise situated, +the widow of Laym, the Elector's valet, could hardly be the proper +person to fit the young artist for future intercourse with the higher +ranks of society. + +In the large, handsome brick house still standing opposite the minster +in Bonn, on the east side of the public square, where now stands the +statue of Beethoven, dwelt the widow and children of Hofrath von +Breuning. Easy in their circumstances, highly educated, of literary +habits, and familiar with polite life, the family was among the first in +the city. The four children were not far from Beethoven's age; Eleonore, +the daughter, and Lenz, the third son, were young enough to become +his pupils. In this family it was Ludwig's good fortune to become a +favorite, and "here," says Wegeler, who afterward married Eleonore, "he +made his first acquaintance with German literature, especially with the +poets, and here first had opportunity to gain the cultivation necessary +for social life." + +He was soon treated by the Von Breunings as a son and brother, passing +not only most of his days, but many of his nights, at their house, and +sometimes spending his vacations with them at their country-seat in +Kerpen,--a small town on the great road from Cologne to Aix la Chapelle. +With them he felt free and unrestrained, and everything tended at the +same time to his happiness and his intellectual development. Nor was +music neglected. The members of the family were all musical, and +Stephen, the eldest son, sometimes played in the Electoral Orchestra. + +No person possessed so strong an influence upon the oft-times stubborn +and wilful boy as the Frau von Breuning. She best knew how to bring him +back to the performance of his duty, when neglectful of his pupils; and +when she, with gentle force, had made him cross the square to the house +of the Austrian ambassador, Count Westfall, to give the promised lesson, +and saw him, after hesitating for a time at the door, suddenly fly +back, unable to overcome his dislike to lesson-giving, she would bear +patiently with him, merely shrugging her shoulders and remarking, +"To-day he has his _raptus_ again!" The poverty at home and his love for +his mother alone enabled him ever to master this aversion. + +To the Breunings, then, we are indebted for that love of Plutarch, +Homer, Shakspeare, Goethe, and whatever gives us noble pictures of that +greatness of character which we term "heroic," that enabled the future +composer to stir up within us all the finest and noblest emotions, +as with the wand of a magician. The boy had an inborn love of the +beautiful, the tender, the majestic, the sublime, in nature, in art, and +in literature,--together with a strong sense of the humorous and even +comic. With the Breunings all these qualities were cultivated and in +the right direction. To them the musical world owes a vast debt of +gratitude. + +Beethoven was no exception to the rule, that only a great man can be a +great artist. True, in his later years his correspondence shows at +times an ignorance of the rules of grammar and orthography; but it also +proves, what may be determined from a thousand other indications, that +he was a deep thinker, and that he had a mind of no small degree of +cultivation, as it certainly was one of great intellectual power. Had he +devoted his life to any other profession than music,--to law, theology, +science, or letters,--he would have attained high eminence, and +enrolled himself among the great. + +But we have anticipated a little, and now turn back to an event which +occurred soon after he had completed his thirteenth year, and which +proved in its consequences of the highest moment to him,--the death +of the Elector, which took place on the 15th of April, 1784. He was +succeeded by Maximilian Francis, Bishop of Münster, Grand Master of +the Teutonic Order, a son of the Emperor Francis and Maria Theresa of +Austria. + +A word upon this family of imperial musicians may, perhaps, be pardoned. +It was Charles VI., the father of Maria Theresa, a composer of canons +and music for the harpsichord, who, upon being complimented by his +Kapellmeister as being well able to officiate as a music-director, dryly +observed, "Upon the whole, however, I like my present position better!" +His daughter sang an air upon the stage of the Court Theatre in her +fifth year; and in 1739, just before her accession to the imperial +dignity, being in Florence, she sang a duet with Senesino--of Handelian +memory--with such grace and splendor of voice, that the tears rolled +down the old man's cheeks. In all her wars and amid all the cares of +state, Maria Theresa never ceased to cherish music. Her children were +put under the best instructors, and made thorough musicians;--Joseph, +whom Mozart so loved, though the victim of his shabby treatment; Maria +Antoinette, the patron of Gluck and the head of his party in Paris; Max +Franz, with whom we now have to do,--and so forth. + +Upon learning the death of Max Frederick, his successor hastened to Bonn +to assume the Archiepiscopal and Electoral dignities, with which he +was formally invested in the spring of 1785. In the train of the new +Elector, who was still in the prime of life, was the Austrian Count +Waldstein, his favorite and constant companion. Waldstein, like his +master, was more than an amateur,--he was a fine practical musician. The +promising pupil of Neefe was soon brought to his notice, and his talents +and attainments excited in him an extraordinary interest. Coming from +Vienna, where Mozart and Haydn were in the full tide of their success, +where Gluck's operas were heard with rapture, and where in the second +rank of musicians and composers were such names as Salieri, Righini, +Anfossi, and Martini, Waldstein could well judge of the promise of the +boy. He foresaw at once his future greatness, and gave him his favor +and protection. He, in some degree, at least, relieved him from the dry +rules of Neefe, and taught him the art of varying a theme _extempore_ +and carrying it out to its highest development. He had patience and +forbearance with the boy's failings and foibles, and, to relieve his +necessities, gave him money, sometimes as gifts of his own, sometimes as +gratifications from the Elector. + +As soon as Maximilian was installed in his new dignity, Waldstein +procured for Ludwig the appointment of assistant court organist;--not +that Neefe needed him, but that he needed the small salary attached to +the place. From this time to the downfall of the Electorate, his name +follows that of Neefe in the annual Court Calendar. + +Wegeler and others have preserved a variety of anecdotes which +illustrate the skill and peculiarities of the young organist at this +period, but we have not space for them;--moreover, our object is rather +to convey some distinct idea of the training which made him what every +lover of music knows he afterward became. + +Maximilian Francis was as affable and generous as he was passionately +fond of music. A newspaper of the day records, that he used to walk +about the streets of Bonn like any other citizen, and early became very +popular with all classes. He often took part in the concerts at the +palace, as upon a certain occasion when "Duke Albert played violin, the +Elector viola, and Countess Belderbusch piano-forte," in a trio. He +enlarged his orchestra, and, through his relations with the courts at +Vienna, Paris, and other capitals, kept it well supplied with all the +new publications of the principal composers of the day,--Mozart, Haydn, +Gluck, Pleyel, and others. + +No better school, therefore, for a young musician could there well have +been than that in which Beethoven was now placed. While Neefe took care +that he continued his study of the great classic models of organ +and piano-forte composition, he was constantly hearing the best +ecclesiastical, orchestral, and chamber music, forming his taste upon +the best models, and acquiring a knowledge of what the greatest masters +had accomplished in their several directions. But as time passed on, he +felt the necessity of a still larger field of observation, and, in the +autumn of 1786, Neefe's wish that his pupil might travel was fulfilled. +He obtained--mainly, it is probable, from the Elector, through the good +offices of Waldstein--the means of making the journey to Vienna, +then the musical capital of the world, to place himself under the +instructions of Mozart, then the master of all living masters. Few +records have fallen under our notice, which throw light upon this visit. +Seyfried, and Holmes, after him, relate the surprise of Mozart at +hearing the boy, now just sixteen years of age, treat an intricate fugue +theme, which he gave him, and his prophecy, that "that young man would +some day make himself heard of in the world!" + +It is said that Beethoven in after life complained of never having heard +his master play. The complaint must have been, that Mozart never played +to him in private; for it is absurd to suppose that he attended none +of the splendid series of concerts which his master gave during that +winter. + +The mysterious brevity of this first visit of Beethoven to Vienna we +find fully explained in a letter, of which we give a more literal than +elegant translation. It is the earliest specimen of the composer's +correspondence which has come under our notice, and was addressed to a +certain Dr. Schade, an advocate of Augsburg, where the young man seems +to have tarried some days upon his journey. + +"Bonn, September 15, 1787. + +"HONORED AND MOST VALUED FRIEND! + +"What you must think of me I can easily conceive; nor can I deny that +you have well-grounded reasons for looking upon me in an unfavorable +light; but I will not ask you to excuse me, until I have made known the +grounds upon which I dare hope my apologies will find acceptance. I must +confess, that, from the moment of leaving Augsburg, my happiness, and +with it my health, began to leave me; the nearer I drew toward my native +city, the more numerous were the letters of my father, which met me, +urging me onward, as the condition of my mother's health was critical. +I hastened forward, therefore, with all possible expedition, for I was +myself much indisposed; but the longing I felt to see my sick mother +once more made all hindrances of little account, and aided me in +overcoming all obstacles. + +"I found her still alive, but in a most pitiable condition. She was in +a consumption, and finally, about seven weeks since, after enduring the +extremes of pain and suffering, died. She was to me such a good and +loving mother,--my best of friends! + +"Oh, who would be so happy as I, could I still speak the sweet name, +'Mother,' and have her hear it! And to whom _can_ I now speak? To the +dumb, but lifelike pictures which my imagination calls up. + +"During the whole time since I reached home, few have been my hours of +enjoyment. All this time I have been afflicted with asthma, and the fear +is forced upon me that it may end in consumption. Moreover, the state +of melancholy in which I now am is almost as great a misfortune as my +sickness itself. + +"Imagine yourself in my position for a moment, and I doubt not that I +shall receive your forgiveness for my long silence. As to the three +Carolins which you had the extraordinary kindness and friendship to lend +me in Augsburg, I must beg your indulgence still for a time. My journey +has cost me a good deal, and I have no compensation--not even the +slightest--to hope in return. Fortune is not propitious to me here in +Bonn. + +"You will forgive me for detaining you so long with my babble; it is all +necessary to my apology. I pray you not to refuse me the continuance of +your valuable friendship, since there is nothing I so much desire as to +make myself in some degree worthy of it. I am, with all respect, your +most obedient servant and friend, + + "L. v. BEETHOVEN, + + "Court Organist to the Elector of Cologne." + +We know also from other sources the extreme poverty in which the +Beethoven family was at this period sunk. In its extremity, at the time +when the mother died, Franz Ries, the violinist, came to its assistance, +and his kindness was not forgotten by Ludwig. When Ferdinand, the son +of this Ries, reached Vienna in the autumn of 1800, and presented his +father's letter, Beethoven said,--"I cannot answer your father yet; but +write and tell him that I have not forgotten the death of my mother. +That will fully satisfy him." + +Young Beethoven, therefore, had little time for illness. His father +barely supported himself, and the sustenance of his two little brothers, +respectively twelve and thirteen years of age, devolved upon him. He +was, however, equal to his situation. He played his organ still,--the +instrument which was then above all others to his taste; he entered +the Orchestra as player upon the viola; received the appointment of +chamber-musician--pianist--to the Elector; and besides all this, +engaged in the detested labor of teaching. It proves no small energy +of character, that the motherless youth of seventeen, "afflicted with +asthma," which he was "fearful might end in consumption," struggling +against a "state of melancholy, almost as great a misfortune as sickness +itself," succeeded in overcoming all, and securing the welfare of +himself, his father, and his brothers. When he left Bonn finally, five +years later, Carl, then eighteen, could support himself by teaching +music, and Johann was apprenticed to the court apothecary; while the +father appears to have had a comfortable subsistence provided for +him,--although no longer an active member of the Electoral Chapel,--for +the few weeks which, as it happened, remained of his life. + +The scattered notices which are preserved of Beethoven, during this +period, are difficult to arrange in a chronological order. We read of a +joke played at the expense of Heller, the principal tenor singer of the +Chapel, in which that singer, who prided himself upon his firmness in +pitch, was completely bewildered by a skilful modulation of the boy +upon the piano-forte, and forced to stop;--of the music to a chivalrous +ballad, performed by the noblemen attached to the court, of which for a +long time Count Waldstein was the reputed author, but which in fact was +the work of his _protégé;_--and there are other anecdotes, probably +familiar to most readers, showing the great skill and science which he +already exhibited in his performance of chamber music in the presence of +the Elector. + +We see him intimate as ever in the Breuning family, mingling familiarly +with the best society of Bonn, which he met at their house,--and even +desperately in love! First it is with Fraülein Jeannette d'Honrath, of +Cologne, a beautiful and lively blonde, of pleasing manners, sweet and +gentle disposition, an ardent lover of music, and an agreeable singer, +who often came to Bonn and spent weeks with the Breunings. She seems to +have played the coquette a little, both with our young artist and his +friend Stephen. It is not difficult to imagine the effect upon the +sensitive and impulsive Ludwig, when the beautiful girl, nodding to him +in token of its application, sang in tender accents the then popular +song,-- + + "Mich heute noch von dir zu trennen, + Und dieses nicht verhindern können, + Ist zu empfindlich für mein Herz." + +She saw fit, however, to marry an Austrian, Carl Greth, a future +commandant at Temeswar, and her youthful lover was left to console +himself by transferring his affections to another beauty, Fraülein W. + +We behold him in the same select circle, cultivating his talent for +improvising upon the piano-forte, by depicting in music the characters +of friends and acquaintances, and generally in such a manner that the +company had no difficulty in guessing the person intended. On one +of these occasions, Franz Ries was persuaded to take his violin and +improvise an accompaniment to his friend's improvisation, which he did +so successfully, that, long afterwards, he more than once ventured to +attempt the same in public, with his son Ferdinand. + +Professor Wurzer, of Marburg, who well knew Beethoven in his youth, +gives us a glimpse of him sitting at the organ. On a pleasant summer +afternoon, when the artist was about twenty years of age, he, with some +companions, strolled out to Godesberg. Here they met Wurzer, who, in the +course of the conversation, mentioned that the church of the convent of +Marienforst--behind the village of Godesberg--had been repaired, and +that a new organ had been procured, or perhaps that the old one had been +put in order and perfected. Beethoven must needs try it. The key was +procured from the prior, and the friends gave him themes to vary and +work out, which he did with such skill and beauty, that at length the +peasants engaged below in cleaning the church, one after another, +dropped their brooms and brushes, forgetting everything else in their +wonder and delight. + +In 1790, an addition was made to the Orchestra, most important in its +influence upon the artistic progress of Beethoven, as he was thus +brought into daily intercourse with two young musicians, already +distinguished virtuosos upon their respective instruments. The Elector +made frequent visits to other cities of his diocese, often taking a part +or the whole of his Chapel with him. Upon his return that summer from +Münster, he brought with him the two virtuosos in question. Andreas +Romberg, the violinist, and now celebrated composer, and his cousin +Bernhard, the greatest violoncellist of his age. With these two +young men Beethoven was often called to the palace for the private +entertainment of Maximilian. Very probably, upon one of these occasions, +was performed that trio not published until since the death of its +composer--"the second movement of which," says Schindler, "may be looked +upon as the embryo of all Beethoven's scherzos," while "the third is, in +idea and form, of the school of Mozart,--a proof how early he made that +master his idol." We know that it was composed at this period, and that +its author considered it his highest attempt then in free composition. + +A few words must be given to the Electoral Orchestra, that school in +which Beethoven laid the foundation of his prodigious knowledge of +instrumental and orchestral effects, as in the chamber-music at the +palace he learned the unrivalled skill which distinguishes his efforts +in that branch of the art. + +The Kapellmeister, in 1792, was Andrea Lucchesi, a native of Motta, in +the Venetian territory, a fertile and accomplished composer in most +styles. The concert-master was Joseph Reicha, a virtuoso upon the +violoncello, a very fine conductor, and no mean composer. The violins +were sixteen in number; among them were Franz Ries, Neefe, +Anton Reicha,--afterward the celebrated director of the Paris +Conservatoire,--and Andreas Romberg; violas four, among them Ludwig +van Beethoven; violoncellists three, among them Bernhard Romberg; +contrabassists also three. There were two oboes, two flutes,--one of +them played by another Anton Reicha,--two clarinets, two horns,--one by +Simrock, a celebrated player, and founder of the music-publishing house +of that name still existing in Bonn,--three bassoons, four trumpets, and +the usual tympani. + +Fourteen of the forty-three musicians were soloists upon their several +instruments; some half a dozen of them were already known as composers. +Four years, at the least, of service in such an orchestra may well be +considered of all schools the best in which Beethoven could have been +placed. Let his works decide. + +Our article shall close with some pictures photographed in the sunshine +which gilded the closing years of Beethoven's Bonn life. They illustrate +the character of the man and of the people with whom he lived and moved. + +In 1791, in that beautiful season of the year in Central Europe, when +the heats of summer are past and the autumn rains not yet set in, the +Elector journeyed to Mergentheim, to hold, in his capacity of Grand +Master, a convocation of the Teutonic Order. The leading singers of +his Chapel, and some twenty members of the Orchestra, under Ries as +director, followed in two large barges. Before, starting upon the +expedition, the company assembled and elected a king. The dignity was +conferred upon Joseph Lux, the bass singer and comic actor, who, in +distributing the offices of his court, appointed Ludwig van Beethoven +and Bernhard Romberg scullions! + +A glorious time and a merry they had of it, following slowly the +windings of the Rhine and the Main, now impelled by the wind, now drawn +by horses, against the swift current, in this loveliest time of the +year. + +In those days, when steamboats were not, such a voyage was slow, and not +seldom in a high degree tedious. With such a company the want of speed +was a consideration of no importance, and the memory of this journey was +in after years among Beethoven's brightest. Those who know the Rhine and +the Main can easily conceive that this should be so. The route embraced +the whole extent of the famous highlands of the former river, from +the Drachenfels and Rolandseek to the heights of the Niederwald above +Rüdesheim, and that lovely section of the latter which divides the hills +of the Odenwald from those of Spessart. The voyagers passed a thousand +points of local and historic interest. The old castles--among them +Stolzenfels and the Brothers--looked down upon them from their rocky +heights, as long afterwards upon the American, Paul Flemming, when he +journeyed, sick at heart, along the Rhine, toward ancient Heidelberg. +Quaint old cities--Andernach, with "the Christ," Coblentz, home of +Beethoven's mother, Boppard, Bacharach, Bingen--welcomed them; Mainz, +the Electoral city, and Frankfurt, seat of the Empire. And still beyond, +on the banks of the Main, Offenbach, Hanau, Aschaffenburg, and so onward +to Wertheim, where they left the Main and ascended the small river +Tauber to their place of destination. + +Among the places at which they landed and made merry upon the journey +was the Niederwald. Here King Lux advanced Beethoven to a more honorable +position in his court, and gave him a diploma, dated from the heights +above Rüdesheim, attesting his appointment to the new dignity. To this +important document was attached, by threads ravelled from a boat-sail, +a huge seal of pitch, pressed into a small box-cover, which gave +the instrument a right imposing look,--like the Golden Bull in the +Römer-Saal at Frankfurt. This diploma from His Comic Majesty Beethoven +carried with him to Vienna, where Wegeler saw it several years afterward +carefully preserved. + +At Aschaffenburg, the summer residence of the Electors of Mainz, Ries, +Simrock, and the two Rombergs took Beethoven with them to call upon the +great pianist, Sterkel. The master received the young men kindly, and +gratified them with a specimen of his powers. His style was in the +highest degree graceful and pleasing,--as Father Ries described it to +Wegeler, "somewhat lady-like." While he played, Beethoven stood by, +listening with the most eager attention, doubtless silently comparing +the effects produced by the player with those belonging to his own +style, which was rather rough and hard, owing to his constant practice +upon the organ. It is said that this was his first opportunity of +hearing any distinguished virtuoso upon the piano-forte,--a mistake, +we think, for he must have heard Mozart in Vienna, as before remarked. +Still, the delicacy of Sterkel's style may well have been a new +revelation to him of the powers of the instrument. Upon leaving the +piano-forte, the master invited his young visitor to take his place. +Beethoven was naturally diffident, and was not to be prevailed with, +until Sterkel intimated a doubt whether he could play his own very +difficult variations upon the air, "Vieni, Amore," which had then just +been published. Thus touched in a tender spot, the young author sat down +and played such as he could remember,--no copy being at hand,--and +then improvised several others, equally, if not more difficult, to the +surprise both of Sterkel and his friends. "What raised our surprise to +real astonishment," said Ries, as he related the story, "was, that the +impromptu variations were in precisely that graceful, pleasing style +which he had just heard for the first time." + +Upon reaching Mergentheim, music, and ever music, became the order of +the day for King Lux and his merry subjects. Most fortunately for the +admirers of Beethoven, we have a minute account of two days (October 11 +and 12) spent there, by a competent and trustworthy musical critic of +that period,--a man not the less welcome to us for possessing something +of the flunkeyism of old Diarist Pepys and Corsica Boswell. We shall +quote somewhat at length from his letter, since it has hitherto come +under the notice of none of the biographers, and yet gives us so lively +a picture of young Beethoven and his friends. + +"On the very first day," writes Junker, "I heard the small band which +plays at dinner, during the stay of the Elector at Mergentheim. The +instruments are two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, and two horns. +These eight performers may well be called masters in their art. One can +rarely hear music of the kind, distinguished by such perfect unity +of effect and such sympathy with each other in the performers, and +especially in which so high a degree of exactness and perfection of +style is reached. This band appeared to me to differ from all others +I have heard in this,--that it plays music of a higher order; on this +occasion, for instance, it gave an arrangement of Mozart's overture to +'Don Juan.'" + +It would be interesting to know what, if any, of the works of Beethoven +for wind-instruments belong to this period of his life. + +"Soon after the dinner-music," continues our writer, "the play began. It +was the opera, 'King Theodor,' music by Paisiello. The part of _Theodor_ +was sung by Herr Nüdler, a powerful singer in tragic scenes, and a good +actor. _Achmet_ was given by Herr Spitzeder,--a good bass singer, but +with too little action, and not always quite true,--in short, too cold. +The inn-keeper was Herr Lux, a very good bass, and the best actor,--a +man created for the comic. The part of _Lizette_ was taken by Demoiselle +Willmann. She sings in excellent taste, has very great power of +expression, and a lively, captivating action. Herr Mändel, in +_Sandrino,_ proved himself also a very fine and pleasing singer. The +orchestra was surpassingly good,--especially in its _piano_ and _forte_, +and its careful _crescendo._ Herr Ries, that remarkable reader of +scores, that great player, directed with his violin. He is a man who may +well be placed beside Cannabich, and by his powerful and certain tones +he gave life and soul to the whole.... + +"The next morning, (October 12,) at ten o'clock, the rehearsal for the +concert began, which was to be given at court at six in the afternoon. +Herr Welsch (oboist) had the politeness to invite me to be present. I +was held at the lodgings of Herr Ries, who received me with a hearty +shake of the hand. Here I was an eye-witness of the gentlemanly bearing +of the members of the Chapel toward each other. One heart, one mind +rules them. 'We know nothing of the cabals and chicanery so common; +among us the most perfect unanimity prevails; we, as members of one +company, cherish for each other a fraternal affection,' said Simrock to +me. + +"Here also I was an eye-witness to the esteem and respect in which this +chapel stands with the Elector. Just as the rehearsal was to begin, Ries +was sent for by the prince, and upon his return brought a bag of gold. +'Gentlemen,' said he, 'this being the Elector's name-day, he sends you a +present of a thousand thalers.' + +"And again I was eye-witness of this orchestra's surpassing excellence. +Herr Winneberger, Kapellmeister at Wallenstein, laid before it a +symphony of his own composition, which was by no means easy of +execution, especially for the wind instruments, which had several solos +_concertante_. It went finely, however, at the first trial, to the great +surprise of the composer. + +"An hour after the dinner-music, the concert began. It was opened with +a symphony of Mozart; then followed a recitative and air, sung by +Simonetti; next a violincello concerto, played by Herr Romberger +(Bernhard Romberg); fourthly, a symphony, by Pleyel; fifthly, an air by +Righini, sung by Simonette; sixthly, a double concerto for violin and +violoncello, played by the two Rombergs; and the closing piece was the +symphony by Winneberger, which had very many brilliant passages. The +opinion already expressed as to the performance of this orchestra was +confirmed. It was not possible to attain a higher degree of exactness. +Such perfection in the _pianos, fortes, rinforzandos_,--such a swelling +and gradual increase of tone, and then such an almost imperceptible +dying away, from the most powerful to the lightest accents,--all this +was formerly to be heard only at Mannheim. It would be difficult to find +another orchestra in which the violins and basses are throughout in such +excellent hands." + +We pass over Junker's enthusiastic description of the two Rombergs, +merely remarking, that every word in his account of them is fully +confirmed by the musical periodical press of Europe during the entire +periods of thirty and fifty years of their respective lives after the +date of the letter before us,--and that their playing was undoubtedly +the standard Beethoven had in view, when afterward writing passages for +bowed instruments, which so often proved stumbling-blocks to orchestras +of no small pretensions. What Junker himself saw of the harmony and +brotherly love which marked the social intercourse of the members of +the Chapel was confirmed to him by the statements of others. He adds, +respecting their personal bearing towards others,--"The demeanor of +these gentlemen is very fine and unexceptionable. They are all people of +great elegance of manner and of blameless lives. Greater discretion of +conduct can nowhere be found. At the concert, the ill-starred performers +were so crowded, so incommoded by the multitude of auditors, so +surrounded and pressed upon, as hardly to have room to move their arms, +and the sweat rolled down their faces in great drops. But they bore all +this calmly and with good-humor; not an ill-natured face was visible +among them. At the court of some little prince, we should have seen, +under the circumstances, folly heaped upon folly. + +"The members of the Chapel, almost without exception, are in their best +years, glowing with health, men of culture and fine personal appearance. +They form truly a fine sight, when one adds the splendid uniform in +which the Elector has clothed them,--red, and richly trimmed with gold." + +And now for the impression which Beethoven, just completing his +twenty-first year, made upon him. + +"I heard also one of the greatest of pianists,--the dear, good +Beethoven, some compositions by whom appeared in the Spires 'Blumenlese' +in 1783, written in his eleventh year. True, he did not perform in +public, probably because the instrument here was not to his mind. It is +one of Spath's make, and at Bonn he plays upon one by Steiner. But, what +was infinitely preferable to me, I heard him extemporize in private; +yes, I was even invited to propose a theme for him to vary. The +greatness of this amiable, light-hearted man, as a virtuoso, may, in my +opinion, be safely estimated from his almost inexhaustible wealth of +ideas, the altogether characteristic style of expression in his playing, +and the great execution which he displays. I know, therefore, no one +thing which he lacks, that conduces to the greatness of an artist. I +have heard Vogler upon the piano-forte,--of his organ-playing I say +nothing, not having heard him upon that instrument,--have often heard +him, heard him by the hour together, and never failed to wonder at his +astonishing execution; but Beethoven, in addition to the execution, has +greater clearness and weight of idea, and more expression,--in short, +he is more for the heart,--equally great, therefore, as an adagio or +allegro player. Even the members of this remarkable orchestra are, +without exception, his admirers, and all ear whenever he plays. Yet +he is exceedingly modest and free from all pretension. He, however, +acknowledged to me, that, upon the journeys which the Elector had +enabled him to make, he had seldom found in the playing of the most +distinguished virtuosos that excellence which he supposed he had a right +to expect. His style of treating his instrument is so different from +that usually adopted, that it impresses one with the idea, that by a +path of his own discovery he has attained that height of excellence +whereon he now stands. + +"Had I acceded to the pressing entreaties of my friend Beethoven, to +which Herr Winneberger added his own, and remained another day in +Mergentheim, I have no doubt he would have played to me hours; and the +day, thus spent in the society of these two great artists, would have +been transformed into a day of the highest bliss." + +Doubtless, Herr Junker, judging from the enthusiasm with which you have +written, it would have been so; and for our sake, as well as your own, +we heartily wish you had remained! + +Again in Bonn,--the young master's last year in his native city,--that +_petite perle_. It was a fortunate circumstance for the development of +a genius so powerful and original, that the place was not one of such +importance as to call thither any composer or pianist of very great +eminence,--such a one as would have ruled the musical sphere in which +he moved, and become an object of imitation to the young student. +Beethoven's instructors and the musical atmosphere in which he lived and +wrought were fully able to ground him firmly in the laws and rules of +the art, without restraining the natural bent of his genius. His taste +for orchestral music, even, was developed in no particular school, +formed upon no single model,--the Electoral band playing, with equal +care and spirit, music from the presses of Vienna, Berlin, Munich, +Mannheim, Paris, London. Mozart, however, was Beethoven's favorite, +and his influence is unmistakably impressed upon many of the early +compositions of his young admirer. + +But the youthful genius was fast becoming so superior to all around him, +that a wider field was necessary for his full development. He needed the +opportunity to measure his powers with those of the men who stood, +by general consent, at the head of the art; he felt the necessity of +instruction by teachers of a different and higher character, if any +could be found. Mozart, it is true, had just passed away, but still +Vienna remained the great metropolis of music; and thither his hopes and +wishes turned. An interview with Haydn added strength to these hopes and +wishes. This was upon Haydn's return, in the spring of 1792, after his +first visit to London, where he had composed for and directed in the +concerts of that Johann Peter Salomon in whose house Beethoven first +saw the light. The veteran composer, on his way home, came to Bonn, and +there accepted an invitation from the Electoral Orchestra to a breakfast +in Godesberg. Here Beethoven was introduced to him, and placed before +him a cantata which he had offered for performance at Mergentheim, +the preceding autumn, but which had proved too difficult for the +wind-instruments in certain passages. Haydn examined it carefully, and +encouraged him to continue in the path of musical composition. Neefe +also hints to us that Haydn was greatly impressed by the skill of the +young man as a piano-forte virtuoso. + +Happily, Beethoven was now, as we have seen, free from the burden of +supporting his young brothers, and needed but the means for his journey. + +"In November of last year," writes Neefe, in 1793, "Ludwig van +Beethoven, second court organist, and indisputably one of the first of +living pianists, left Bonn for Vienna, to perfect himself in composition +under Haydn. Haydn intended to take him with him upon a second journey +to London, but nothing has come of it." + +A few days or weeks, then, before completing his twenty-second year, +Beethoven entered Vienna a second time, to enjoy the example and +instructions of him who was now universally acknowledged the head of +the musical world; to measure his powers upon the piano-forte with the +greatest virtuosos then living; to start upon that career, in which, +by unwearied labor, indomitable perseverance, and never-tiring +effort,--alike under the smiles and the frowns of fortune, in sickness +and in health, and in spite of the saddest calamity which can befall +the true artist, he elevated himself to a position, which, by every +competent judge, is held to be the highest yet attained in perhaps the +grandest department of pure music. + +Beethoven came to Vienna in the full vigor of youth just emerging into +manhood. The clouds which had settled over his childhood had all passed +away. All looked bright, joyous, and hopeful. Though, perhaps, wanting +in some of the graces and refinements of polite life, it is clear, from +his intimacy with the Breuning family, his consequent familiarity with +the best society at Bonn, the unchanging kindness of Count Waldstein, +the explicit testimony of Junker, that he was not, could not have been, +the young savage which some of his blind admirers have represented him. +The bare supposition is an insult to his memory. That his sense of +probity and honor was most acute, that he was far above any, the +slightest, meanness of thought or action, of a noble and magnanimous +order of mind, utterly destitute of any feeling of servility which +rendered it possible for him to cringe to the rich and the great, and +that he ever acted from a deep sense of moral obligation,--all this his +whole subsequent history proves. His merit, both as an artist and a man, +met at once full recognition. + +And here for the present we leave him, moving in Vienna, as in Bonn, +in the higher circles of society, in the full sunshine of prosperity, +enjoying all that his ardent nature could demand of esteem and +admiration in the saloons of the great, in the society of his brother +artists, in the popular estimation. + + * * * * * + + +A WORD TO THE WISE. + + + Love hailed a little maid, + Romping through the meadow: + Heedless in the sun she played, + Scornful of the shadow. + "Come with me," whispered he; + "Listen, sweet, to love and reason." + "By and by," she mocked reply; + "Love's not in season." + + Years went, years came; + Light mixed with shadow. + Love met the maid again, + Dreaming through the meadow. + "Not so coy," urged the boy; + "List in time to love and reason." + "By and by," she mused reply; + "Love's still in season." + + Years went, years came; + Light changed to shadow. + Love saw the maid again, + Waiting in the meadow. + "Pass no more; my dream is o'er; + I can listen now to reason." + "Keep thee coy," mocked the boy; + "Love's out of season." + + + + +HENRY WARD BEECHER.[A] + +[Footnote A: _Life Thoughts, gathered from the Extemporaneous Discourses +of Henry Ward Beecher._ By a Member of his Congregation. Boston: +Phillips, Sampson & Co. 1858. pp. 299.] + + +There are more than thirty thousand preachers in the United States, +whereof twenty-eight thousand are Protestants, the rest Catholics,--one +minister to a thousand men. They make an exceeding great army,--mostly +serious, often self-denying and earnest. Nay, sometimes you find them +men of large talent, perhaps even of genius. No thirty thousand +farmers, mechanics, lawyers, doctors, or traders have so much of that +book-learning which is popularly called "Education." + +No class has such opportunities for influence, such means of power; even +now the press ranks second to the pulpit. Some of the old traditional +respect for the theocratic class continues in service, and waits upon +the ministers. It has come down from Celtic and Teutonic fathers, +hundreds of years behind us, who transferred to a Roman priesthood the +allegiance once paid to the servants of a deity quite different from the +Catholic. The Puritans founded an ecclesiastical oligarchy which is by +no means ended yet; with the most obstinate "liberty of prophesying" +there was mixed a certain respect for such as only wore the prophet's +mantle; nor is it wholly gone. + +What personal means of controlling the public the minister has at his +command! Of their own accord, men "assemble and meet together," and look +up to him. In the country, the town-roads centre at the meeting-house, +which is also the _terminus a quo_, the golden mile-stone, whence +distances are measured off. Once a week, the wheels of business, and +even of pleasure, drop into the old customary ruts, and turn thither. +Sunday morning, all the land is still. Labor puts off his iron apron and +arrays him in clean human clothes,--a symbol of universal humanity, not +merely of special toil. Trade closes the shop; his business-pen, well +wiped, is laid up for to-morrow's use; the account-book is shut,--men +thinking of their trespasses as well as their debts. For six days, aye, +and so many nights, Broadway roars with the great stream which sets this +way and that, as wind and tide press up and down. How noisy is this +great channel of business, wherein Humanity rolls to and fro, now +running into shops, now sucked down into cellars, then dashed high up +the tall, steep banks, to come down again a continuous drip and be lost +in the general flood! What a fringe of foam colors the margin on either +side, and what gay bubbles float therein, with more varied gorgeousness +than the Queen of Sheba dreamed of putting on when she courted the eye +of Hebrew Solomon! Sunday, this noise is still. Broadway is a quiet +stream, looking sober, or even dull; its voice is but a gentle murmur of +many waters calmly flowing where the ecclesiastical gates are open +to let them in. The channel of business has shrunk to a little +church-canal. Even in this great Babel of commerce one day in seven is +given up to the minister. The world may have the other six; this is for +the Church;--for so have Abram and Lot divided the field of Time, that +there be no strife between the rival herdsmen of the Church and the +World. Sunday morning, Time rings the bell. At the familiar sound, by +long habit born in them, and older than memory, men assemble at the +meeting-house, nestle themselves devoutly in their snug pews, and button +themselves in with wonted care. There is the shepherd, and here is the +flock, fenced off into so many little private pens. With dumb, yet +eloquent patience, they look up listless, perhaps longing, for such +fodder as he may pull out from his spiritual mow and shake down before +them. What he gives they gather. + +Other speakers must have some magnetism of personal power or public +reputation to attract men; but the minister can dispense with that; +to him men answer before he calls, and even when they are not sent by +others are drawn by him. Twice a week, nay, three times, if he will, do +they lend him their ears to be filled with his words. No man of science +or letters has such access to men. Besides, he is to speak on the +grandest of all themes,--of Man, of God, of Religion, man's deepest +desires, his loftiest aspirings. Before him the rich and the poor meet +together, conscious of the one God, Master of them all, who is no +respecter of persons. To the minister the children look up, and their +pliant faces are moulded by his plastic hand. The young men and maidens +are there,--such possibility of life and character before them, such +hope is there, such faith in man and God, as comes instinctively to +those who have youth on their side. There are the old: men and women +with white crowns on their heads; faces which warn and scare with the +ice and storm of eighty winters, or guide and charm with the beauty +of four-score summers,--rich in promise once, in harvest now. Very +beautiful is the presence of old men, and of that venerable sisterhood +whose experienced temples are turbaned with the raiment of such as have +come out of much tribulation, and now shine as white stars foretelling +an eternal day. Young men all around, a young man in the pulpit, the old +men's look of experienced life says "Amen" to the best word, and their +countenance is a benediction. + +The minister is not expected to appeal to the selfish motives which +are addressed by the market, the forum, or the bar, but to the eternal +principle of Right. He must not be guided by the statutes of men, +changeable as the clouds, but must fix his eye on the bright particular +star of Justice, the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. To him, +office, money, social rank, and fame are but toys or counters which the +game of life is played withal; while wisdom, integrity, benevolence, +piety are the prizes the game is for. He digs through the dazzling sand, +and bids men build on the rock of ages. + +Surely, no men have such opportunity of speech and power as these thirty +thousand ministers. What have they to show for it all? The hunter, +fisher, woodman, miner, farmer, mechanic, has each his special wealth. +What have this multitude of ministers to show?--how much knowledge +given, what wise guidance, what inspiration of humanity? Let the best +men answer. + +This ministerial army may be separated into three divisions. First, the +Church Militant, the Fighting Church, as the ecclesiastical dictionaries +define it. Reverend men serve devoutly in its ranks. Their work is +negative, oppositional. Under various banners, with diverse, and +discordant war-cries, trumpets braying a certain or uncertain sound, and +weapons of strange pattern, though made of trusty steel, they do battle +against the enemy. What shots from antique pistols, matchlocks, from +crossbows and catapults, are let fly at the foe! Now the champion +attacks "New Views," "Ultraism," "Neology," "Innovation," "Discontent," +"Carnal Reason"; then he lays lance in rest, and rides valiantly +upon "Unitarianism," "Popery," "Infidelity," "Atheism," "Deism," +"Spiritualism"; and though one by one he runs them through, yet he never +quite slays the Evil One;--the severed limbs unite again, and a new +monster takes the old one's place. It is serious men who make up the +Church Militant,--grim, earnest, valiant. If mustered in the ninth +century, there had been no better soldiers nor elder. + +Next is the Church Termagant. They are the Scolds of the Church-hold, +terrible from the beginning hitherto. Their work is denouncing; they +have always a burden against something. _Obsta decisis_ is their +motto,--"Hate all that is agreed upon." When the "contrary-minded" are +called for, the Church Termagant holds up its hand. A turbulent people, +and a troublesome, are these sons of thunder,--a brotherhood of +universal come-outers. Their only concord is disagreement. It is not +often, perhaps, that they have better thoughts than the rest of men, +but a superior aptitude to find fault; their growling proves, "not +that themselves are wise, but others weak." So their pulpit is a +brawling-tub, "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." They have a +deal of thunder, and much lightning, but no light, nor any continuous +warmth, only spasms of heat. _Odi presentem laudare absentem_,--the +Latin tells their story. They come down and trouble every Bethesda in +the world, but heal none of the impotent folk. To them, + + "Of old things, all are over old, + Of new things, none is new enough." + +They have a rage for fault-finding, and betake themselves to the pulpit +as others are sent to Bedlam. Men of all denominations are here, and it +is a deal of mischief they do,--the worst, indirectly, by making a sober +man distrust the religious faculty they appeal to, and set his face +against all mending of anything, no matter how badly it is broken. These +Theudases, boasting themselves to be somebody, and leading men off to +perish in the wilderness, frighten every sober man from all thought of +moving out of his bad neighborhood or seeking to make it better.--But +this is a small portion of the ecclesiastic host. Let us be tolerant to +their noise and bigotry. + +Last of all is the Church Beneficent or Constructant. Their work is +positive,--critical of the old, creative also of the new. They take hold +of the strongest of all human faculties,--the religious,--and use this +great river of God, always full of water, to moisten hill-side and +meadow, to turn lonely saw-mills, and drive the wheels in great +factories, which make a metropolis of manufactures,--to bear alike the +lumberman's logs and the trader's ships to their appointed place; the +stream feeding many a little forget-me-not, as it passes by. Men of +all denominations belong to this Church Catholic; yet all are of one +_persuasion_, the brotherhood of Humanity,--for the one spirit loves +manifoldness of form. They trouble themselves little about Sin, the +universal but invisible enemy whom the Church Termagant attempts to +shell and dislodge; but are very busy in attacking Sins. These ministers +of religion would rout Drunkenness and Want, Ignorance, Idleness, Lust, +Covetousness, Vanity, Hate, and Pride, vices of instinctive passion or +reflective ambition. Yet the work of these men is to build up; they cut +down the forest and scare off the wild beasts only to replace them with +civil crops, cattle, corn, and men. Instead of the howling wilderness, +they would have the village or the city, full of comfort and wealth and +musical with knowledge and with love. How often are they misunderstood! +Some savage hears the ring of the axe, the crash of falling timber, +or the rifle's crack and the drop of wolf or bear, and cries out, "A +destructive and dangerous man; he has no reverence for the ancient +wilderness, but would abolish it and its inhabitants; away with him!" +But look again at this destroyer, and in place of the desert woods, +lurked in by a few wild beasts and wilder men, behold, a whole New +England of civilization has come up! The minister of this Church of the +Good Samaritans delivers the poor that cry, and the fatherless, and him +that hath none to help him; he makes the widow's heart sing for joy, and +the blessing of such as are ready to perish comes on him; he is eyes to +the blind, feet to the lame; the cause of evil which he knows not he +searches out; breaking the jaws of the wicked to pluck one spirit out +of their teeth. In a world of work, he would have no idler in the +market-place; in a world of bread, he would not eat his morsel alone +while the fatherless has nought; nor would he see any perish for want of +clothing. He knows the wise God made man for a good end, and provided +adequate means thereto; so he looks for them where they were placed, +in the world of matter and of men, not outside of either. So while he +entertains every old Truth, he looks out also into the crowd of new +Opinions, hoping to find others of their kin: and the new thought does +not lodge in the street; he opens his doors to the traveller, not +forgetful to entertain strangers,--knowing that some have also thereby +entertained angels unawares. He does not fear the great multitude, nor +does the contempt of a few families make him afraid. + +This Church Constructant has a long apostolical succession of great men, +and many nations are gathered in its fold. And what a variety of beliefs +it has! But while each man on his private account says, CREDO, and +believes as he must and shall, and writes or speaks his opinions in what +speech he likes best,--they all, with one accordant mouth, say likewise, +FACIAMUS, and betake them to the one great work of developing man's +possibility of knowledge and virtue. + +Mr. Beecher belongs to this Church Constructant. He is one of its +eminent members, its most popular and effective preacher. No minister +in the United States is so well known, none so widely beloved. He is +as well known in Ottawa as in Broadway. He has the largest Protestant +congregation in America, and an ungathered parish which no man attempts +to number. He has church members in Maine, Wisconsin, Georgia, Texas, +California, and all the way between. Men look on him as a national +institution, a part of the public property. Not a Sunday in the year but +representative men from every State in the Union fix their eyes on him, +are instructed by his sermons and uplifted by his prayers. He is +the most popular of American lecturers. In the celestial sphere of +theological journals, his papers are the bright particular star in that +constellation called the "Independent": men look up to and bless the +useful light, and learn therefrom the signs of the times. He is one of +the bulwarks of freedom in Kansas,--a detached fort. He was a great +force in the last Presidential campaign, and several stump-speakers +were specially detailed to overtake and offset him. But the one man +surrounded the many. Scarcely is there a Northern minister so bitterly +hated at the South. The slave-traders, the border-ruffians, the +purchased officials know no Higher Law; "nor Hale nor Devil can make +them afraid"; yet they fear the terrible whip of Henry Ward Beecher. + +The time has not come--may it long be far distant!--to analyze his +talents and count up his merits and defects. But there are certain +obvious excellences which account for his success and for the honor paid +him. + +Mr. Beecher has great strength of instinct,--of spontaneous human +feeling. Many men lose this in "getting an education"; they have tanks +of rain-water, barrels of well-water; but on their premises is no +spring, and it never rains there. A mountain-spring supplies Mr. Beecher +with fresh, living water. + +He has great love for Nature, and sees the symbolical value of material +beauty and its effect on man. + +He has great fellow-feeling with the joys and sorrows of men. Hence he +is always on the side of the suffering, and especially of the oppressed; +all his sermons and lectures indicate this. It endears him to millions, +and also draws upon him the hatred and loathing of a few Pharisees, some +of them members of his own sect. + +Listen to this:-- + +"Looked at without educated associations, there is no difference between +a man in bed and a man in a coffin. And yet such is the power of the +heart to redeem the animal life, that there is nothing more exquisitely +refined and pure and beautiful than the chamber of the house. The couch! +From the day that the bride sanctifies it, to the day when the aged +mother is borne from it, it stands clothed with loveliness and dignity. +Cursed be the tongue that dares speak evil of the household bed! By its +side oscillates the cradle. Not far from it is the crib. In this sacred +precinct, the mother's chamber, lies the heart of the family. Here the +child learns its prayer. Hither, night by night, angels troop. It is the +Holy of Holies." + +How well he understands the ministry of grief! + +"A Christian man's life is laid in the loom of time to a pattern which +he does not see, but God does; and his heart is a shuttle. On one side +of the loom is sorrow, and on the other is joy; and the shuttle, struck +alternately by each, flies back and forth, carrying the thread, which +is white or black, as the pattern needs; and in the end, when God shall +lift up the finished garment, and all its changing hues shall glance +out, it will then appear that the deep and dark colors were as needful +to beauty as the bright and high colors." + +He loves children, and the boy still fresh in his manhood. + +"When your own child comes in from the street, and has learned to swear +from the bad boys congregated there, it is a very different thing to +you from what it was when you heard the profanity of those boys as you +passed them. Now it takes hold of you, and makes you feel that you are a +stockholder in the public morality. Children make men better citizens. +Of what use would an engine be to a ship, if it were lying loose in the +hull? It must be fastened to it with bolts and screws, before it can +propel the vessel. Now a childless man is just like a loose engine. A +man must be bolted and screwed to the community before he can begin to +work for its advancement; and there are no such screws and bolts as +children." + +He has a most Christ-like contempt for the hypocrite, whom he scourges +with heavy evangelical whips,--but the tenderest Christian love for +earnest men struggling after nobleness. + +Read this:-- + +"I think the wickedest people on earth are those who use a force of +genius to make themselves selfish in the noblest things, keeping +themselves aloof from the vulgar and the ignorant and the unknown; +rising higher and higher in taste, till they sit, ice upon ice, on the +mountain-top of eternal congelation." + +"Men are afraid of slight outward acts which will injure them in the +eyes of others, while they are heedless of the damnation which throbs in +their souls in hatreds and jealousies and revenges." + +"Many people use their refinements as a spider uses his web, to catch +the weak upon, that they may he mercilessly devoured. Christian men +should use refinement on this principle: the more I have, the more I owe +to those who are less than I." + +He values the substance of man more than his accidents. + +"We say a man is 'made.' What do we mean? That he has got the control of +his lower instincts, so that they are only fuel to his higher feelings, +giving force to his nature? That his affections are like vines, sending +out on all sides blossoms and clustering fruits? That his tastes are so +cultivated, that all beautiful things speak to him, and bring him their +delights? That his understanding is opened, so that he walks through +every hall of knowledge, and gathers its treasures? That his moral +feelings are so developed and quickened, that he holds sweet commerce +with Heaven? Oh, no!--none of these things! He is cold and dead in heart +and mind and soul. Only his passions are alive; but--he is worth five +hundred thousand dollars! + +"And we say a man is 'ruined.' Are his wife and children dead? Oh, no! +Have they had a quarrel, and are they separated from him? Oh, no! Has he +lost his reputation through crime? No. Is his reason gone? Oh, no! it's +as sound as ever. Is he struck through with disease? No. He has lost his +property, and he is ruined. The _man_ ruined? When shall we learn +that 'a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things he +possesseth'"? + +Mr. Beecher's God has the gentle and philanthropic qualities of Jesus +of Nazareth, with omnipotence added. Religious emotion comes out in his +prayers, sermons, and lectures, as the vegetative power of the earth in +the manifold plants and flowers of spring. + +"The sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the wide +world's joy. The lonely pine on the mountain-top waves its sombre +boughs, and cries, 'Thou art my sun!' And the little meadow-violet lifts +its cup of blue, and whispers with its perfumed breath, 'Thou art my +sun!' And the grain in a thousand fields rustles in the wind, and makes +answer, 'Thou art my sun!' + +"So God sits effulgent in heaven, not for a favored few, but for the +universe of life; and there is no creature so poor or low, than he may +not look up with childlike confidence and say, 'My Father! thou art +mine!'" + +"When once the filial feeling is breathed into the heart, the soul +cannot be terrified by augustness, or justice, or any form of Divine +grandeur; for then, to such a one, _all the attributes of God are but so +many arms stretched abroad through the universe, to gather and to press +to his bosom those whom he loves. The greater he is, the gladder are +we_, so that he be our Father still. + +"But, if one consciously turns away from God, or fears him, the nobler +and grander the representation be, the more terrible is his conception +of the Divine Adversary that frowns upon him. The God whom love beholds +rises upon the horizon like mountains which carry summer up their sides +to the very top; but that sternly just God whom sinners fear stands +cold against the sky, like Mont Blanc; and from his icy sides the soul, +quickly sliding, plunges headlong down to unrecalled destruction." + +He has hard words for such as get only the form of religion, or but +little of its substance. + +"There are some Christians whose secular life is an arid, worldly +strife, and whose religion is but a turbid sentimentalism. Their life +runs along that line where the overflow of the Nile meets the desert. +_It is the boundary line between sand and mud_." + +"_That gospel which sanctions ignorance and oppression for three +millions of men_, what fruit or flower has it to shake down for the +healing of the nations? _It is cursed in its own roots, and blasted in +its own boughs_." + +"Many of our churches defy Protestantism. Grand cathedrals are they, +which make us shiver as we enter them. The windows are so constructed +as to exclude the light and inspire a religious awe. The walls are of +stone, which makes us think of our last home. The ceilings are sombre, +and the pews coffin-colored. Then the services are composed to these +circumstances, and hushed music goes trembling along the aisles, and men +move softly, and would on no account put on their hats before they reach +the door; but when they do, they take a long breath, and have such a +sense of relief to be in the free air, and comfort themselves with the +thought that they've been good Christians! + +"Now this idea of worship is narrow and false. The house of God should +be a joyous place for the right use of all our faculties." + +"There ought to be such an atmosphere in every Christian church, that +a man going there and sitting two hours should take the contagion of +heaven, and carry home a fire to kindle the altar whence he came." + +"The call to religion is not a call to be better than your fellows, _but +to be better than yourself_. Religion is relative to the individual." + +"My best presentations of the gospel to you are so incomplete! +Sometimes, when I am alone, I have such sweet and rapturous visions of +the love of God and the truths of his word, that I think, if I could +speak to you then, I should move your hearts. I am like a child, who, +walking forth some sunny summer's morning, sees grass and flower all +shining with drops of dew. 'Oh,' he cries, 'I'll carry these beautiful +things to my mother!' And, eagerly plucking them, the dew drops into his +little palm, and all the charm is gone. There is but grass in his hand, +and no longer pearls." + +"There are many professing Christians who are secretly vexed on account +of the charity they have to bestow and the self-denial they have to use. +If, instead of the smooth prayers which they _do_ pray, they should +speak out the things which they really feel, they would say, when they +go home at night, 'O Lord, I met a poor curmudgeon of yours to-day, a +miserable, unwashed brat, and I gave him sixpence, and I have been sorry +for it ever since'; or, 'O Lord, if I had not signed those articles of +faith, I might have gone to the theatre this evening. Your religion +deprives me of a great deal of enjoyment, but I mean to stick to it. +There's no other way of getting into heaven, I suppose.' + +"The sooner such men are out of the church, the better." + +"The youth-time of churches produces enterprise; their age, indolence; +but even this might be borne, did not _these dead men sit in the door +of their sepulchres, crying out against every living man who refuses to +wear the livery of death_. In India, when the husband dies, they burn +his widow with him. I am almost tempted to think, that, if, with the end +of every pastorate, the church itself were disbanded and destroyed, to +be gathered again by the succeeding teacher, we should thus secure an +immortality of youth." + +"A religious life is not a thing which spends itself. It is like a river +which widens continually, and is never so broad or so deep as at its +mouth, where it rolls into the ocean of eternity." + +"God made the world to relieve an over-full creative thought,--as +musicians sing, as we talk, as artists sketch, when full of suggestions. +What profusion is there in his work! When trees blossom, there is not +a single breastpin, but a whole bosom full of gems; and of leaves they +have so many suits, that they can throw them away to the winds all +summer long. What unnumbered cathedrals has he reared in the forest +shades, vast and grand, full of curious carvings, and haunted evermore +by tremulous music! and in the heavens above, how do stars seem to have +flown out of his hand, faster than sparks out of a mighty forge!" + +"Oh, let the soul alone! Let it go to God as best it may! It is +entangled enough. It is hard enough for it to rise above the +distractions which environ it. Let a man teach the rain how to fall, the +clouds how to shape themselves and move their airy rounds, the seasons +how to cherish and garner the universal abundance; but let him not teach +a soul to pray, on whom the Holy Ghost doth brood!" + +He recognizes the difference between religion and theology. + +"How sad is that field from which battle hath just departed! By as much +as the valley was exquisite in its loveliness, is it now sublimely sad +in its desolation. Such to me is the Bible, when a fighting theologian +has gone through it. + +"How wretched a spectacle is a garden into which the cloven-footed +beasts have entered! That which yesterday was fragrant, and shone all +over with crowded beauty, is to-day rooted, despoiled, trampled, and +utterly devoured, and all over the ground you shall find but the +rejected cuds of flowers and leaves, and forms that have been champed +for their juices and then rejected. Such to me is the Bible, when the +pragmatic prophecy-monger and the swinish utilitarian have toothed its +fruits and craunched its blossoms. + +"O garden of the Lord! whose seeds dropped down from heaven, and to +whom angels bear watering dews night by night! O flowers and plants of +righteousness! O sweet and holy fruits! We walk among you, and gaze with +loving eyes, and rest under your odorous shadows; nor will we, with +sacrilegious hand, tear you, that we may search the secret of your +roots, nor spoil you, that we may know how such wondrous grace and +goodness are evolved within you!" + +"What a pin is, when the diamond has dropped from its setting, is the +Bible, when its emotive truths have been taken away. What a babe's +clothes are, when the babe has slipped out of them into death and the +mother's arms clasp only raiment, would be the Bible, if the Babe of +Bethlehem, and the truths of deep-heartedness that clothed his life, +should slip out of it." + +"There is no food for soul or body which God has not symbolized. He +is light for the eye, sound for the ear, bread for food, wine for +weariness, peace for trouble. Every faculty of the soul, if it would but +open its door, might see Christ standing over against it, and silently +asking by his smile, 'Shall I come in unto thee?' But men open the door +and look down, not up, and thus see him not. So it is that men sigh on, +not knowing what the soul wants, but only that it needs something. Our +yearnings are homesickness for heaven; our sighings are for God; just +as children that cry themselves asleep away from home, and sob in +their slumber, know not that they sob for their parents. The soul's +inarticulate moanings are the affections yearning for the Infinite, but +having no one to tell them what it is that ails them." + +"I feel sensitive about theologies. Theology is good in its place; but +when it puts its hoof upon a living, palpitating, human heart, my heart +cries out against it." + +"There are men marching along in the company of Christians on earth, +who, when they knock at the gate of heaven, will hear God answer, +'I never knew you.'--'But the ministers did, and the church-books +did.'--'That may be. I never did.' + +"It is no matter who knows a man on earth, if God does not know him." + +"The heart-knowledge, through God's teaching, is true wealth, and they +are often poorest who deem themselves most rich. I, in the pulpit, +preach with proud forms to many a humble widow and stricken man who +might well teach me. The student, spectacled and gray with wisdom, and +stuffed with lumbered lore, may be childish and ignorant beside some old +singing saint who brings the wood into his study, and who, with the +lens of his own experience, brings down the orbs of truth, and beholds +through his faith and his humility things of which the white-haired +scholar never dreamed." + +He has eminent integrity, is faithful to his own soul, and to every +delegated trust. No words are needed here as proof. His life is daily +argument. The public will understand this; men whose taste he offends, +and whose theology he shocks, or to whose philosophy he is repugnant, +have confidence in the integrity of the man. He means what he says,--is +solid all through. + +"From the beginning, I educated myself to speak along the line and in +the current of my moral convictions; and though, in later days, it +has carried me through places where there were some batterings and +bruisings, yet I have been supremely grateful that I was led to +adopt this course. I would rather speak the truth to ten men than +blandishments and lying to a million. Try it, ye who think there is +nothing in it! try what it is to speak with God behind you,--to speak so +as to be only the arrow in the bow which the Almighty draws." + +With what affectionate tenderness does this great, faithful soul pour +out his love to his own church! He invites men to the communion-service. + +"Christian brethren, in heaven you are known by the name of Christ. +On earth, for convenience's sake, you are known by the name of +Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Methodists, Congregationalists, and +the like. Let me speak the language of heaven, and call you simply +Christians. Whoever of you has known the name of Christ, and feels +Christ's life beating within him, is invited to remain and sit with us +at the table of the Lord." + +And again, when a hundred were added to his church, he says:-- + +"My friends, my heart is large to-day. I am like a tree upon which rains +have fallen till every leaf is covered with drops of dew; and no wind +goes through the boughs but I hear the pattering of some thought of joy +and gratitude. I love you all more than ever before. You are crystalline +to me; your faces are radiant; and I look through your eyes, as through +windows, into heaven. I behold in each of you an imprisoned angel, that +is yet to burst forth, and to live and shine in the better sphere." + +He has admirable power of making a popular statement of his opinions. He +does not analyze a matter to its last elements, put the ultimate facts +in a row and find out their causes or their law of action, nor aim at +large synthesis of generalization, the highest effort of philosophy, +which groups things into a whole;--it is commonly thought both of these +processes are out of place in meeting-houses and lecture-halls,--that +the people can comprehend neither the one nor the other;--but he gives +a popular view of the thing to be discussed, which can be understood on +the spot without painful reflection. He speaks for the ear which takes +in at once and understands. He never makes attention painful. He +illustrates his subject from daily life; the fields, the streets, stars, +flowers, music, and babies are his favorite emblems. He remembers that +he does not speak to scholars, to minds disciplined by long habits of +thought, but to men with common education, careful and troubled about +many things; and they keep his words and ponder them in their hearts. So +he has the diffuseness of a wide natural field, which properly spreads +out its clover, dandelions, dock, buttercups, grasses, violets, with +here and there a delicate Arethusa that seems to have run under this +sea of common vegetation and come up in a strange place. He has not the +artificial condensation of a garden, where luxuriant Nature assumes the +form of Art. His dramatic power makes his sermon also a life in the +pulpit; his _auditorium_ is also a _theatrum_, for he acts to the eye +what he addresses to the ear, and at once wisdom enters at the two +gates. The extracts show his power of thought and speech as well as of +feeling. Here are specimens of that peculiar humor which appears in all +his works. + +"Sects and Christians that desire to be known by the undue prominence of +some single feature of Christianity are necessarily imperfect just in +proportion to the distinctness of their peculiarities. The power of +Christian truth is in its unity and symmetry, and not in the saliency +or brilliancy of any of its special doctrines. If among painters of +the human face and form there should spring up a sect of the eyes, and +another sect of the nose, a sect of the hand, and a sect of the foot, +and all of them should agree but in the one thing of forgetting that +there was a living spirit behind the features more important than them +all, they would too much resemble the schools and cliques of Christians; +for the spirit of Christ is the great essential truth; doctrines are but +the features of the face, and ordinances but the hands and feet." + +Here are some separate maxims:-- + +"It is not well for a man to pray cream and live skim-milk." + +"The mother's heart is the child's school-room." + +"They are not reformers who simply abhor evil. Such men become in the +end abhorrent themselves." + +"There are many troubles which you can't cure by the Bible and the +Hymn-book, but which you can cure by a good perspiration and a breath of +fresh air." + +"The most dangerous infidelity of the day is the infidelity of rich and +orthodox churches." + +"The fact that a nation is growing is God's own charter of change." + +"There is no class in society who can so ill afford to undermine the +conscience of the community, or to set it loose from its moorings in +the eternal sphere, as merchants who live upon confidence and credit. +Anything which weakens or paralyzes this is taking beams from the +foundations of the merchant's own warehouse." + +"It would almost seem as if there were a certain drollery of art which +leads men who think they are doing one thing to do another and very +different one. Thus, men have set up in their painted church-windows the +symbolisms of virtues and graces, and the images of saints, and even +of Divinity itself. Yet now, what does the window do but mock the +separations and proud isolations of Christian men? For there sit +the audience, each one taking a separate color; and there are blue +Christians and red Christians, there are yellow saints and orange +saints, there are purple Christians and green Christians; but how few +are simple, pure, white Christians, uniting all the cardinal graces, and +proud, not of separate colors, but of the whole manhood of Christ!" + +"Every mind is entered, like every house, through its own door." + +"Doctrine is nothing but the skin of Truth set up and stuffed." + +"Compromise is the word that men use when the Devil gets a victory over +God's cause." + +"A man in the right, with God on his side, is in the majority, though he +be alone; for God is multitudinous above all populations of the earth." + +But this was first said by Frederic Douglas, and better: "_One with God +is a majority._" + +"A lie always needs a truth for a handle to it; else the hand would cut +itself, which sought to drive it home upon another. The worst lies, +therefore, are those whose blade is false, but whose handle is true." + +"It is not conviction of truth which does men good; it is moral +consciousness of truth." + +"A conservative young man has wound up his life before it was unreeled. +We expect old men to be conservative; but when a nation's young men are +so, its funeral-bell is already rung." + +"Night-labor, in time, will destroy the student; for it is marrow from +his own bones with which he fills his lamp." + +A great-hearted, eloquent, fervent, live man, full of religious emotion, +of humanity and love,--no wonder he is dear to the people of America. +Long may he bring instruction to the lecture associations of the North! +Long may he stand in his pulpit at Brooklyn with his heavenly candle, +which goeth not out at all by day, to kindle the devotion and piety of +the thousands who cluster around him, and carry thence light and warmth +to all the borders of the land! + +We should do injustice to our own feelings, did we not, in closing, add +a word of hearty thanks and commendation to the Member of Mr. Beecher's +Congregation to whom we are indebted for a volume that has given us +so much pleasure. The selection covers a wide range of topics, and +testifies at once to the good taste and the culture of the editress. +Many of the finest passages were conceived and uttered in the rapid +inspiration of speaking, and but for her admiring intelligence and care, +the eloquence, wit, and wisdom, which are here preserved to us, would +have faded into air with the last vibration of the preacher's voice. + + + + +MERCEDES. + + + Under a sultry, yellow sky, + On the yellow sand I lie; + The crinkled vapors smite my brain, + I smoulder in a fiery pain. + + Above the crags the condor flies; + He knows where the red gold lies, + He knows where the diamonds shine;-- + If I knew, would she be mine? + + Mercedes in her hammock swings; + In her court a palm-tree flings + Its slender shadow on the ground, + The fountain falls with silver sound. + + Her lips are like this cactus cup; + With my hand I crush it up; + I tear its flaming leaves apart;-- + Would that I could tear her heart! + + Last night a man was at her gate; + In the hedge I lay in wait; + I saw Mercedes meet him there, + By the fire-flies in her hair. + + I waited till the break of day, + Then I rose and stole away; + I drove my dagger through the gate;-- + Now she knows her lover's fate! + + * * * * * + + +THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. + +EVERY MAN HIS OWN BOSWELL. + + +[This particular record is noteworthy principally for containing a paper +by my friend, the Professor, with a poem or two annexed or intercalated. +I would suggest to young persons that they should pass over it for the +present, and read, instead of it, that story about the young man who was +in love with the young lady, and in great trouble for something like +nine pages, but happily married on the tenth page or thereabouts, which, +I take it for granted, will be contained in the periodical where this +is found, unless it differ from all other publications of the kind. +Perhaps, if such young people will lay the number aside, and take it +up ten years, or a little more, from the present time, they may find +something in it for their advantage. They can't possibly understand it +all now.] + +My friend, the Professor, began talking with me one day in a dreary sort +of way. I couldn't get at the difficulty for a good while, but at last +it turned out that somebody had been calling him an old man.--He didn't +mind his students calling him _the_ old man, he said. That was a +technical expression, and he thought that he remembered hearing it +applied to himself when he was about twenty-five. It may be considered +as a familiar and sometimes endearing appellation. An Irish-woman calls +her husband "the old man," and he returns the caressing expression by +speaking of her as "the old woman." But now, said he, just suppose a +case like one of these. A young stranger is overheard talking of you as +a very nice old gentleman. A friendly and genial critic speaks of your +green old age as illustrating the truth of some axiom you had uttered +with reference to that period of life. What _I_ call an old man is a +person with a smooth, shining crown and a fringe of scattered white +hairs, seen in the streets on sunshiny days, stooping as he walks, +bearing a cane, moving cautiously and slowly; telling old stories, +smiling at present follies, living in a narrow world of dry habits; one +that remains waking when others have dropped asleep, and keeps a little +night-lamp-flame of life burning year after year, if the lamp is not +upset, and there is only a careful hand held round it to prevent the +puffs of wind from blowing the flame out. That's what I call an old man. + +Now, said the Professor, you don't mean to tell me that I have got to +that yet? Why, bless you, I am several years short of the time when--[I +knew what was coming, and could hardly keep from laughing; twenty years +ago he used to quote it as one of those absurd speeches men of genius +will make, and now he is going to argue from it]--several years short +of the time when Balzac says that men are--most--you know--dangerous +to--the hearts of--in short, most to be dreaded by duennas that +have charge of susceptible females.--What age is that? said I, +statistically.--Fifty-two years, answered the Professor.--Balzac ought +to know, said I, if it is true that Goethe said of him that each of his +stories must have been dug out of a woman's heart. But fifty-two is a +high figure. + +Stand in the light of the window, Professor, said I.--The Professor took +up the desired position.--You have white hairs, I said.--Had 'em any +time these twenty years, said the Professor.--And the crow's-foot,--_pes +anserinus_, rather.--The Professor smiled, as I wanted him to, and the +folds radiated like the ridges of a half-opened fan, from the outer +corner of the eyes to the temples.--And the calipers, said I.--What +are the _calipers_? he asked, curiously.--Why, the parenthesis, said +I.--_Parenthesis_? said the Professor; what's that?--Why, look in the +glass when you are disposed to laugh, and see if your mouth isn't framed +in a couple of crescent lines,--so, my boy ( ).--It's all nonsense, said +the Professor; just look at my _biceps_;--and he began pulling off his +coat to show me his arm.--Be careful, said I; you can't bear exposure to +the air, at your time of life, as you could once.--I will box with you, +said the Professor, row with you, walk with you, ride with you, swim +with you, or sit at table with you, for fifty dollars a side.--Pluck +survives stamina, I answered. + +The Professor went off a little out of humor. A few weeks afterwards he +came in, looking very good-natured, and brought me a paper, which I +have here, and from which I shall read you some portions, if you don't +object. He had been thinking the matter over, he said,--had read Cicero. +"De Senectute," and made up his mind to meet old age half way. These +were some of his reflections that he had written down; so here you have + + +THE PROFESSOR'S PAPER. + +There is no doubt when old age begins. The human body is a furnace which +keeps in blast three-score years and ten, more or less. It burns about +three hundred pounds of carbon a year, (besides other fuel,) when in +fair working order, according to a great chemist's estimate. When the +fire slackens, life declines; when it goes out, we are dead. + +It has been shown by some noted French experimenters, that the amount of +combustion increases up to about the thirtieth year, remains stationary +to about forty-five, and then diminishes. This last is the point where +old age starts from. The great fact of physical life is the perpetual +commerce with the elements, and the fire is the measure of it. + +About this time of life, if food is plenty where you live,--for that, +you know, regulates matrimony,--you may be expecting to find yourself a +grandfather some fine morning; a kind of domestic felicity that gives +one a cool shiver of delight to think of, as among the not remotely +possible events. + +I don't mind much those slipshod lines Dr. Johnson wrote to Thrale, +telling her about life's declining from _thirty-five_; the furnace is in +full blast for ten years longer, as I have said. The Romans came very +near the mark; their age of enlistment reached from seventeen to +forty-six years. + +What is the use of fighting against the seasons, or the tides, or the +movements of the planetary bodies, or this ebb in the wave of life that +flows through us? We are old fellows from the moment the fire begins to +go out. Let us always behave like gentlemen when we are introduced to +new acquaintance. + +_Incipit Allegoria Senectutis_. + +Old Age, this is Mr. Professor; Mr. Professor, this is Old Age. + +_Old Age_.--Mr. Professor, I hope to see you well. I have known you for +some time, though I think you did not know me. Shall we walk down the +street together? + +_Professor_. (drawing back a little)--We can talk more quietly, +perhaps, in my study. Will you tell me how it is you seem to be +acquainted with everybody you are introduced to, though he evidently +considers you an entire stranger? + +_Old Age_.--I make it a rule never to force myself upon a person's +recognition until I have known him at least _five years_. + +_Professor_.--Do you mean to say that you have known me so long as that? + +_Old Age_.--I do. I left my card on you longer ago than that, but I am +afraid you never read it; yet I see you have it with you. + +_Professor_.--Where? + +_Old Age_.--There, between your eyebrows,--three straight lines running +up and down; all the probate courts know that token,--"Old Age, his +mark." Put your forefinger on the inner end of one eyebrow, and your +middle finger on the inner end of the other eyebrow; now separate the +fingers, and you will smooth out my sign-manual; that's the way you used +to look before I left my card on you. + +_Professor_.--What message do people generally send back when you first +call on them? + +_Old Age.--Not at home_. Then I leave a card and go. Next year I call; +get the same answer; leave another card. So for five or six,--sometimes +ten years or more. At last, if they don't let me in, I break in through +the front door or the windows. + +We talked together in this way some time. Then Old Age said again,-- +Come, let us walk down the street together,--and offered me a cane, an +eyeglass, a tippet, and a pair of over-shoes.--No, much obliged to you, +said I. I don't want those things, and I had a little rather talk with +you here, privately, in my study. So I dressed myself up in a jaunty way +and walked out alone;--got a fall, caught a cold, was laid up with a +lumbago, and had time to think over this whole matter. + +_Explicit Allegoria Senectutis_. + +We have settled when old age begins. Like all Nature's processes, it is +gentle and gradual in its approaches, strewed with illusions, and all +its little griefs soothed by natural sedatives. But the iron hand is +not less irresistible because it wears the velvet glove. The buttonwood +throws off its bark in large flakes, which one may find lying at its +foot, pushed out, and at last pushed off, by that tranquil movement from +beneath, which is too slow to be seen, but too powerful to be arrested. +One finds them always, but one rarely sees them fall. So it is our youth +drops from us,--scales off, sapless and lifeless, and lays bare the +tender and immature fresh growth of old age. Looked at collectively, +the changes of old age appear as a series of personal insults and +indignities, terminating at last in death, which Sir Thomas Browne has +called "the very disgrace and ignominy of our natures." + + My lady's cheek can boast no more + The cranberry white and pink it wore; + And where her shining locks divide, + The parting line is all too wide---- + +No, no,--this will never do. Talk about men, if you will, but spare the +poor women. + +We have a brief description of seven stages of life by a remarkably good +observer. It is very presumptuous to attempt to add to it, yet I have +been struck with the fact that life admits of a natural analysis into no +less than fifteen distinct periods. Taking the five primary divisions, +infancy, childhood, youth, manhood, old age, each of these has its +own three periods of immaturity, complete development, and decline. I +recognize an _old_ baby at once,--with its "pipe and mug," (a stick of +candy and a porringer,)--so does everybody; and an old child shedding +its milk-teeth is only a little prototype of the old man shedding his +permanent ones. Fifty or thereabouts is only the childhood, as it were, +of old age; the graybeard youngster must be weaned from his late suppers +now. So you will see that you have to make fifteen stages at any rate, +and that it would not be hard to make twenty-five; five primary, each +with five secondary divisions. + +The infancy and childhood of commencing old age have the same ingenuous +simplicity and delightful unconsciousness about them that the first +stage of the earlier periods of life shows. The great delusion of +mankind is in supposing that to be individual and exceptional which is +universal and according to law. A person is always startled when he +hears himself seriously called an old man for the first time. + +Nature gets us out of youth into manhood, as sailors are hurried on +board of vessels,--in a state of intoxication. We are hustled into +maturity reeling with our passions and imaginations, and we have drifted +far away from port before we awake out of our illusions. But to carry us +out of maturity into old age, without our knowing where we are going, +she drugs us with strong opiates, and so we stagger along with wide open +eyes that see nothing until snow enough has fallen on our heads to rouse +our comatose brains out of their stupid trances. + +There is one mark of age that strikes me more than any of the physical +ones;--I mean the formation of _Habits_. An old man who shrinks into +himself falls into ways that become as positive and as much beyond the +reach of outside influences as if they were governed by clockwork. The +_animal_ functions, as the physiologists call them, in distinction from +the _organic_, tend, in the process of deterioration to which age +and neglect united gradually lead them, to assume the periodical or +rhythmical type of movement. Every man's _heart_ (this organ belongs, +you know, to the organic system) has a regular mode of action; but I +know a great many men whose _brains_, and all their voluntary existence +flowing from their brains, have a _systole_ and _diastole_ as regular +as that of the heart itself. Habit is the approximation of the animal +system to the organic. It is a confession of failure in the highest +function of being, which involves a perpetual self-determination, in +full view of all existing circumstances. But habit, you see, is an +action in present circumstances from past motives. It is substituting a +_vis a tergo_ for the evolution of living force. + +When a man, instead of burning up three hundred pounds of carbon a +year, has got down to two hundred and fifty, it is plain enough he must +economize force somewhere. Now habit is a labor-saving invention which +enables a man to get along with less fuel,--that is all; for fuel is +force, you know, just as much in the page I am writing for you as in the +locomotive or the legs that carry it to you. Carbon is the same thing, +whether you call it wood, or coal, or bread and cheese. A reverend +gentleman demurred to this statement,--as if, because combustion is +asserted to be the _sine qua non_ of thought, therefore thought is +alleged to be a purely chemical process. Facts of chemistry are one +thing, I told him, and facts of consciousness another. It can be proved +to him, by a very simple analysis of some of his spare elements, +that every Sunday, when he does his duty faithfully, he uses up more +phosphorus out of his brain and nerves than on ordinary days. But then +he had his choice whether to do his duty, or to neglect it, and save his +phosphorus and other combustibles. + +It follows from all this that _the formation of habits_ ought naturally +to be, as it is, the special characteristic of age. As for the muscular +powers, they pass their maximum long before the time when the true +decline of life begins, if we may judge by the experience of the ring. A +man is "stale," I think, in their language, soon after thirty,--often, +no doubt, much earlier, as gentlemen of the pugilistic profession are +exceedingly apt to keep their vital fire burning _with the blower up_. + +----So far without Tully. But in the mean time I have been reading the +treatise, "De Senectute." It is not long, but a leisurely performance. +The old gentleman was sixty-three years of age when he addressed it to +his friend T. Pomponius Atticus, Eq., a person of distinction, some two +or three years older. We read it when we are schoolboys, forget all +about it for thirty years, and then take it up again by a natural +instinct,--provided always that we read Latin as we drink water, without +stopping to taste it, as all of us who ever learned it at school or +college ought to do. + +Cato is the chief speaker in the dialogue. A good deal of it is what +would be called in vulgar phrase "slow." It unpacks and unfolds +incidental illustrations which a modern writer would look at the back +of, and toss each to its pigeonhole. I think ancient classics and +ancient people are alike in the tendency to this kind of expansion. + +An old doctor came to me once (this is literal fact) with some +contrivance or other for people with broken kneepans. As the patient +would be confined for a good while, he might find it dull work to sit +with his hands in his lap. Reading, the ingenious inventor suggested, +would be an agreeable mode of passing the time. He mentioned, in his +written account of his contrivance, various works that might amuse the +weary hour. I remember only three,--Don Quixote, Tom Jones, and _Watts +on the Mind_. + +It is not generally understood that Cicero's essay was delivered as a +lyceum lecture, (_concio popularis_,) at the Temple of Mercury. The +journals (_papyri_) of the day ("Tempora Quotidiana,"--"Tribunus +Quirinalis,"--"Praeco Romanus," and the rest) gave abstracts of it, one +of which I have translated and modernized, as being a substitute for the +analysis I intended to make. + +IV. Kal. Mart.... + +The lecture at the Temple of Mercury, last evening, was well attended +by the _élite_ of our great city. Two hundred thousand sestertia were +thought to have been represented in the house. The doors were besieged +by a mob of shabby fellows, (_illotum vulgus_,) who were at length +quieted after two or three had been somewhat roughly handled (_gladio +jugulati_). The speaker was the well-known Mark Tully, Eq.,--the +subject, Old Age. Mr. T. has a lean and scraggy person, with a very +unpleasant excrescence upon his nasal feature, from which his nickname +of _chick-pea_ (Cicero) is said by some to be derived. As a lecturer is +public property, we may remark, that his outer garment (_toga_) was of +cheap stuff and somewhat worn, and that his general style and appearance +of dress and manner (_habitus, vestitusque_) were somewhat provincial. + +The lecture consisted of an imaginary dialogue between Cato and Laelius. +We found the first portion rather heavy, and retired a few moments for +refreshment (_pocula quoedam vini_).--All want to reach old age, says +Cato, and grumble when they get it; therefore they are donkeys.--The +lecturer will allow us to say that he is the donkey; we know we shall +grumble at old age, but we want to live through youth and manhood, _in +spite_ of the troubles we shall groan over.--There was considerable +prosing as to what old age can do and can't--True, but not new. +Certainly, old folks can't jump,--break the necks of their thigh-bones, +(_femorum cervices_,) if they do, can't crack nuts with their teeth; +can't climb a greased pole (_malum inunctum scandere non possunt_); but +they can tell old stories and give you good advice; if they know what +you have made up your mind to do when you ask them.--All this is well +enough, but won't set the Tiber on fire (_Tiberim accendere nequaquam +potest_). + +There were some clever things enough, (_dicta haud inepta_,) a few of +which are worth reporting.--Old people are accused of being forgetful; +but they never forget where they have put their money.--Nobody is so old +he doesn't think he can live a year.--The lecturer quoted an ancient +maxim,--Grow old early, if you would be old long,--but disputed it.-- +Authority, he thought, was the chief privilege of age.--It is not great +to have money, but fine to govern those that have it.--Old age begins +at _forty-six_ years, according to the common opinion.--It is not every +kind of old age or of wine that grows sour with time.--Some excellent +remarks were made on immortality, but mainly borrowed from and credited +to Plato.--Several pleasing anecdotes were told.--Old Milo, champion of +the heavy weights in his day, looked at his arms and whimpered, "They +are dead." Not so dead as you, you old fool,--says Cato;--you never +were good for anything but for your shoulders and flanks.--Pisistratus +asked Solon what made him dare to be so obstinate. Old age, said Solon. + +The lecture was on the whole acceptable, and a credit to our culture +and civilization.--The reporter goes on to state that there will be no +lecture next week, on account of the expected combat between the bear +and the barbarian. Betting (_sponsio_) two to one (_duo ad unum_) on the +bear. + +----After all, the most encouraging things I find in the treatise, "De +Senectute," are the stories of men who have found new occupations when +growing old, or kept up their common pursuits in the extreme period of +life. Cato learned Greek when he was old, and speaks of wishing to learn +the fiddle, or some such instrument, (_fidibus_,) after the example of +Socrates. Solon learned something new, every day, in his old age, as he +gloried to proclaim. Cyrus pointed out with pride and pleasure the trees +he had planted with his own hand. [I remember a pillar on the Duke of +Northumberland's estate at Alnwick, with an inscription in similar +words, if not the same. That, like other country pleasures, never wears +out. None is too rich, none too poor, none too young, none too old to +enjoy it.] There is a New England story I have heard more to the point, +however, than any of Cicero's. A young farmer was urged to set out some +apple-trees.--No, said he, they are too long growing, and I don't want +to plant for other people. The young farmer's father was spoken to about +it; but he, with better reason, alleged that apple-trees were slow and +life was fleeting. At last some one mentioned it to the old grandfather +of the young farmer. He had nothing else to do,--so he stuck in some +trees. He lived long enough to drink barrels of cider made from the +apples that grew on those trees. + +As for myself, after visiting a friend lately,--[Do remember all the +time that this is the Professor's paper,]--I satisfied myself that I had +better concede the fact that--my contemporaries are not so young as they +have been,--and that,--awkward as it is,--science and history agree in +telling me that I can claim the immunities and must own the humiliations +of the early stage of senility. Ah! but we have all gone down the hill +together. The dandies of my time have split their waistbands and taken +to high-low shoes. The beauties of my recollections--where are they? +They have run the gantlet of the years as well as I. First the years +pelted them with red roses till their cheeks were all on fire. By and by +they began throwing white roses, and that morning flush passed away. At +last one of the years threw a snow-ball, and after that no year let +the poor girls pass without throwing snow-balls. And then came rougher +missiles,--ice and stones; and from time to time an arrow whistled and +down went one of the poor girls. So there are but few left; and we don't +call those few _girls_, but---- + +Ah, me! here am I groaning just as the old Greek sighed _Ai, ai!_ and +the old Roman, _Eheu!_ I have no doubt we should die of shame and grief +at the indignities offered us by age, if it were not that we see so many +others as badly or worse off than ourselves. We always compare ourselves +with our contemporaries. + +[I was interrupted in my reading just here. Before I began at the next +breakfast, I read them these verses;--I hope you will like them, and get +a useful lesson from them.] + + +THE LAST BLOSSOM. + + Though young no more, we still would dream + Of beauty's dear deluding wiles; + The leagues of life to graybeards seem + Shorter than boyhood's lingering miles. + + Who knows a woman's wild caprice? + It played with Goethe's silvered hair, + And many a Holy Father's "niece" + Has softly smoothed the papal chair. + + When sixty bids us sigh in vain + To melt the heart of sweet sixteen, + We think upon those ladies twain + Who loved so well the tough old Dean. + + We see the Patriarch's wintry face, + The maid of Egypt's dusky glow, + And dream that Youth and Age embrace, + As April violets fill with snow. + + Tranced in her Lord's Olympian smile + His lotus-loving Memphian lies,-- + The musky daughter of the Nile + With plaited hair and almond eyes. + + Might we but share one wild caress + Ere life's autumnal blossoms fall, + And Earth's brown, clinging lips impress + The long cold kiss that waits us all! + + My bosom heaves, remembering yet + The morning of that blissful day + When Rose, the flower of spring, I met, + And gave my raptured soul away. + + Flung from her eyes of purest blue, + A lasso, with its leaping chain + Light as a loop of larkspurs, flew + O'er sense and spirit, heart and brain. + + Thou com'st to cheer my waning age, + Sweet vision, waited for so long! + Dove that wouldst seek the poet's cage, + Lured by the magic breath of song! + + She blushes! Ah, reluctant maid, + Love's _drapeau rouge_ the truth has told! + O'er girlhood's yielding barricade + Floats the great Leveller's crimson fold! + + Come to my arms!--love heeds not years; + No frost the bud of passion knows.-- + Ha! what is this my frenzy hears? + A voice behind me uttered,--Rose! + + Sweet was her smile,--but not for me; + Alas, when woman looks _too_ kind, + Just turn your foolish head and see,-- + Some youth is walking close behind! + +As to _giving up_ because the almanac or the Family-Bible says that it +is about time to do it, I have no intention of doing any such thing. I +grant you that I burn less carbon than some years ago. I see people +of my standing really good for nothing, decrepit, effete, _la lèvre +inférieure déjà pendante_, with what little life they have left mainly +concentrated in their epigastrium. But as the disease of old age is +epidemic, endemic, and sporadic, and everybody that lives long enough is +sure to catch it, I am going to say, for the encouragement of such as +need it, how I treat the malady in my own case. + +First. As I feel, that, when I have anything to do, there is less time +for it than when I was younger, I find that I give my attention more +thoroughly, and use my time more economically than ever before; so that +I can learn anything twice as easily as in my earlier days. I am not, +therefore, afraid to attack a new study. I took up a difficult language +a very few years ago with good success, and think of mathematics and +metaphysics by-and-by. + +Secondly. I have opened my eyes to a good many neglected privileges and +pleasures within my reach, and requiring only a little courage to enjoy +them. You may well suppose it pleased me to find that old Cato was +thinking of learning to play the fiddle, when I had deliberately taken +it up in my old age, and satisfied myself that I could get much comfort, +if not much music, out of it. + +Thirdly. I have found that some of those active exercises, which are +commonly thought to belong to young folks only, may be enjoyed at a much +later period. + +A young friend has lately written an admirable article in one of the +journals, entitled, "Saints and their Bodies." Approving of his general +doctrines, and grateful for his records of personal experience, I cannot +refuse to add my own experimental confirmation of his eulogy of one +particular form of active exercise and amusement, namely, _boating_. +For the past nine years, I have rowed about, during a good part of the +summer, on fresh or salt water. My present fleet on the river Charles +consists of three rowboats. 1. A small flat-bottomed skiff of the shape +of a flat-iron, kept mainly to lend to boys. 2. A fancy "dory" for two +pairs of sculls, in which I sometimes go out with my young folks. 3. +My own particular water-sulky, a "skeleton" or "shell" race-boat, +twenty-two feet long, with huge outriggers, which boat I pull with +ten-foot sculls,--alone, of course, as it holds but one, and tips him +out, if he doesn't mind what he is about. In this I glide around the +Back Bay, down the stream, up the Charles to Cambridge and Watertown, up +the Mystic, round the wharves, in the wake of steamboats, which have +a swell after them delightful to rock upon; I linger under the +bridges,--those "caterpillar bridges," as my brother Professor so +happily called them; rub against the black sides of old wood-schooners; +cool down under the overhanging stern of some tall India-man; stretch +across to the Navy-Yard, where the sentinel warns me off from the +Ohio,--just as if I should hurt her by lying in her shadow; then strike +out into the harbor, where the water gets clear and the air smells of +the ocean,--till all at once I remember, that, if a west wind blows up +of a sudden, I shall drift along past the islands, out of sight of the +dear old State-house,--plate, tumbler, knife and fork all waiting at +home, but no chair drawn up at the table,--all the dear people waiting, +waiting, waiting, while the boat is sliding, sliding, sliding into the +great desert, where there is no tree and no fountain. As I don't want +my wreck to be washed up on one of the beaches in company with +devils'-aprons, bladder-weeds, dead horse-shoes, and bleached +crab-shells, I turn about and flap my long, narrow wings for home. When +the tide is running out swiftly, I have a splendid fight to get through +the bridges, but always make it a rule to beat,--though I have been +jammed up into pretty tight places at times, and was caught once between +a vessel swinging round and the pier, until our bones (the boat's, that +is) cracked as if we had been in the jaws of Behemoth. Then back to my +moorings at the foot of the Common, off with the rowing-dress, dash +under the green translucent wave, return to the garb of civilization, +walk through my Garden, take a look at my elms on the Common, and, +reaching my habitat, in consideration of my advanced period of life, +indulge in the Elysian abandonment of a huge recumbent chair. + +When I have established a pair of well-pronounced feathering-calluses on +my thumbs, when I am in training so that I can do my fifteen miles at a +stretch without coming to grief in any way, when I can perform my mile +in eight minutes or a little less, then I feel as if I had old Time's +head in chancery, and could give it to him at my leisure. + +I do not deny the attraction of walking. I have bored this ancient city +through and through in my daily travels, until I know it as an old +inhabitant of a Cheshire knows his cheese. Why, it was I who, in the +course of these rambles, discovered that remarkable avenue called +_Myrtle Street_, stretching in one long line from east of the Reservoir +to a precipitous and rudely paved cliff which looks down on the grim +abode of Science, and beyond it to the far hills; a promenade so +delicious in its repose, so cheerfully varied with glimpses down the +northern slope into busy Cambridge Street with its iron river of the +horse-railroad, and wheeled barges gliding back and forward over it,--so +delightfully closing at its western extremity in sunny courts and +passages where I know peace, and beauty, and virtue, and serene old age +must be perpetual tenants,--so alluring to all who desire to take their +daily stroll, in the words of Dr. Watts,-- + + "Alike unknowing and unknown,"-- + +that nothing but a sense of duty would have prompted me to reveal the +secret of its existence. I concede, therefore, that walking is an +immeasurably fine invention, of which old age ought constantly to avail +itself. + +Saddle-leather is in some respects even preferable to sole-leather. The +principal objection to it is of a financial character. But you may be +sure that Bacon and Sydenham did not recommend it for nothing. One's +_hepar_, or, in vulgar language, liver,--a ponderous organ, weighing +some three or four pounds,--goes up and down like the dasher of a +churn in the midst of the other vital arrangements, at every step of +a trotting horse. The brains also are shaken up like coppers in a +moneybox. Riding is good, for those that are born with a silver-mounted +bridle in their hand, and can ride as much and as often as they like, +without thinking all the time they hear that steady grinding sound as +the horse's jaws triturate with calm lateral movement the bank-bills and +promises to pay upon which it is notorious that the profligate animal in +question feeds day and night. + +Instead, however, of considering these kinds of exercise in this +empirical way, I will devote a brief space to an examination of them in +a more scientific form. + +The pleasure of exercise is due first to a purely physical impression, +and secondly to a sense of power in action. The first source of pleasure +varies of course with our condition and the state of the surrounding +circumstances; the second with the amount and kind of power, and the +extent and kind of action. In all forms of active exercise there are +three powers simultaneously in action,--the will, the muscles, and the +intellect. Each of these predominates in different kinds of exercise. +In walking, the will and muscles are so accustomed to work together +and perform their task with so little expenditure of force, that the +intellect is left comparatively free. The mental pleasure in walking, +as such, is in the sense of power over all our moving machinery. But in +riding, I have the additional pleasure of governing another will, and my +muscles extend to the tips of the animal's ears and to his four hoofs, +instead of stopping at my hands and feet. Now in this extension of +my volition and my physical frame into another animal, my tyrannical +instincts and my desire for heroic strength are at once gratified. When +the horse ceases to have a will of his own and his muscles require no +special attention on your part, then you may live on horseback as Wesley +did, and write sermons or take naps, as you like. But you will observe, +that, in riding on horseback, you always have a feeling, that, after +all, it is not you that do the work, but the animal, and this prevents +the satisfaction from being complete. + +Now let us look at the conditions of rowing. I won't suppose you to be +disgracing yourself in one of those miserable tubs, tugging in which is +to rowing the true boat what riding a cow is to bestriding an Arab. You +know the Esquimaux _kayak_, (if that is the name of it,) don't you? Look +at that model of one over my door. Sharp, rather?--On the contrary, it +is a lubber to the one you and I must have; a Dutch fish-wife to +Psyche, contrasted with what I will tell you about.--Our boat, then, is +something of the shape of a pickerel, as you look down upon his back, +he lying in the sunshine just where the sharp edge of the water cuts in +among the lily-pads. It is a kind of a giant _pod_, as one may say,-- +tight everywhere, except in a little place in the middle, where you sit. +Its length is from seven to ten yards, and as it is only from sixteen to +thirty inches wide in its widest part, you understand why you want those +"outriggers," or projecting iron frames with the rowlocks in which the +oars play. My rowlocks are five feet apart; double or more than double +the greatest width of the boat. + +Here you are, then, afloat with a body a rod and a half long, with arms, +or wings, as you may choose to call them, stretching more than twenty +feet from tip to tip; every volition of yours extending as perfectly +into them as if your spinal cord ran down the centre strip of your boat, +and the nerves of your arms tingled as far as the broad blades of your +oars,--oars of spruce, balanced, leathered, and ringed under your own +special direction. This, in sober earnest, is the nearest approach to +flying that man has ever made or perhaps ever will make. As the hawk +sails without flapping his pinions, so you drift with the tide when you +will, in the most luxurious form of locomotion indulged to an embodied +spirit. But if your blood wants rousing, turn round that stake in the +river, which you see a mile from here; and when you come in in sixteen +minutes, (if you do, for we are old boys, and not champion scullers, you +remember,) then say if you begin to feel a little warmed up or not! You +can row easily and gently all day, and you can row yourself blind and +black in the face in ten minutes, just as you like. It has been long +agreed that there is no way in which a man can accomplish so much labor +with his muscles as in rowing. It is in the boat, then, that man finds +the largest extension of his volitional and muscular existence; and +yet he may tax both of them so slightly, in that most delicious of +exercises, that he shall mentally write his sermon, or his poem, or +recall the remarks he has made in company and put them in form for the +public, as well as in his easy-chair. + +I dare not publicly name the rare joys, the infinite delights, that +intoxicate me on some sweet June morning, when the river and bay are +smooth as a sheet of beryl-green silk, and I run along ripping it up +with my knife-edged shell of a boat, the rent closing after me like +those wounds of angels which Milton tells of, but the seam still shining +for many a long rood behind me. To lie still over the Flats, where the +waters are shallow, and see the crabs crawling and the sculpins gliding +busily and silently beneath the boat,--to rustle in through the long +harsh grass that leads up some tranquil creek,--to take shelter from the +sunbeams under one of the thousand-footed bridges, and look down its +interminable colonnades, crusted with green and oozy growths, studded +with minute barnacles, and belted with rings of dark muscles, while +overhead streams and thunders that other river whose every wave is +a human soul flowing to eternity as the river below flows to the +ocean,--lying there moored unseen, in loneliness so profound that +the columns of Tadmor in the Desert could not seem more remote from +life,--the cool breeze on one's forehead, the stream whispering against +the half-sunken pillars,--why should I tell of these things, that I +should live to see my beloved haunts invaded and the waves blackened +with boats as with a swarm of water-beetles? What a city of idiots +we must be not to have covered this glorious bay with gondolas and +wherries, as we have just learned to cover the ice in winter with +skaters! + +I am satisfied that such a set of black-coated, stiff-jointed, +soft-muscled, paste-complexioned youth as we can boast in our Atlantic +cities never before sprang from loins of Anglo-Saxon lineage. Of the +females that are the mates of these males I do not here speak. I +preached my sermon from the lay-pulpit on this matter a good while +ago. Of course, if you heard it, you know my belief is that the total +climatic influences here are getting up a number of new patterns of +humanity, some of which are not an improvement on the old model. +Clipper-built, sharp in the bows, long in the spars, slender to look at, +and fast to go, the ship, which is the great organ of our national +life of relation, is but a reproduction of the typical form which the +elements impress upon its builder. All this we cannot help; but we can +make the best of these influences, such as they are. We have a few +good boatmen,--no good horsemen that I hear of,--nothing remarkable, I +believe, in cricketing,--and as for any great athletic feat performed +by a gentleman in these latitudes, society would drop a man who should +run round the Common in five minutes. Some of our amateur fencers, +single-stick players, and boxers, we have no reason to be ashamed of. +Boxing is rough play, but not too rough for a hearty young fellow. +Anything is better than this white-blooded degeneration to which we all +tend. + +I dropped into a gentlemen's sparring exhibition only last evening. It +did my heart good to see that there were a few young and youngish youths +left who could take care of their own heads in case of emergency. It is +a fine sight, that of a gentleman resolving himself into the primitive +constituents of his humanity. Here is a delicate young man now, with an +intellectual countenance, a slight figure, a sub-pallid complexion, a +most unassuming deportment, a mild adolescent in fact, that any Hiram or +Jonathan from between the ploughtails would of course expect to handle +with perfect ease. Oh, he is taking off his gold-bowed spectacles! Ah, +he is divesting himself of his cravat! Why, he is stripping off his +coat! Well, here he is, sure enough, in a tight silk shirt, and with two +things that look like batter puddings in the place of his fists. Now see +that other fellow with another pair of batter puddings,--the big one +with the broad shoulders; he will certainly knock the little man's +head off, if he strikes him. Feinting, dodging, stopping, hitting, +countering,--little man's head not off yet. You might as well try to +jump upon your own shadow as to hit the little man's intellectual +features. He needn't have taken off the gold-bowed spectacles at all. +Quick, cautious, shifty, nimble, cool, he catches all the fierce lunges +or gets out of their reach, till his turn comes, and then, whack goes +one of the batter puddings against the big one's ribs, and bang goes the +other into the big one's face, and, staggering, shuffling, slipping, +tripping, collapsing, sprawling, down goes the big one in a +miscellaneous bundle.--If my young friend, whose excellent article I +have referred to, could only introduce the manly art of self-defence +among the clergy, I am satisfied that we should have better sermons and +an infinitely less quarrelsome church-militant. A bout with the gloves +would let off the ill-nature, and cure the indigestion, which, united, +have embroiled their subject in a bitter controversy. We should then +often hear that a point of difference between an infallible and a +heretic, instead of being vehemently discussed in a series of newspaper +articles, had been settled by a friendly contest in several rounds, +at the close of which the parties shook hands and appeared cordially +reconciled. + +But boxing you and I are too old for, I am afraid. I was for a moment +tempted, by the contagion of muscular electricity last evening, to try +the gloves with the Benicia Boy, who looked in as a friend to the noble +art; but remembering that he had twice my weight and half my age, +besides the advantage of his training, I sat still and said nothing. + +There is one other delicate point I wish to speak of with reference +to old age. I refer to the use of dioptric media which correct the +diminished refracting power of the humors of the eye,--in other words, +spectacles. I don't use them. All I ask is a large, fair type, a strong +daylight or gas-light, and one yard of focal distance, and my eyes are +as good as ever. But if _your_ eyes fail, I can tell you something +encouraging. There is now living in New York State an old gentleman who, +perceiving his sight to fail, immediately took to exercising it on the +finest print, and in this way fairly bullied Nature out of her foolish +habit of taking liberties at five-and-forty, or thereabout. And now +this old gentleman performs the most extraordinary feats with his pen, +showing that his eyes must be a pair of microscopes. I should be afraid +to say to you how much he writes in the compass of a half-dime,-- +whether the Psalms or the Gospels, or the Psalms _and_ the Gospels, I +won't be positive. + +But now let me tell you this. If the time comes when you must lay down +the fiddle and the bow, because your fingers are too stiff, and drop the +ten-foot sculls, because your arms are too weak, and, after dallying +awhile with eye-glasses, come at last to the undisguised reality of +spectacles,--if the time comes when that fire of life we spoke of has +burned so low that where its flames reverberated there is only the +sombre stain of regret, and where its coals glowed, only the white ashes +that cover the embers of memory,--don't let your heart grow cold, and +you may carry cheerfulness and love with you into the teens of your +second century, if you can last so long. As our friend, the Poet, once +said, in some of those old-fashioned heroics of his which he keeps for +his private reading,-- + + Call him not old, whose visionary brain + Holds o'er the past its undivided reign. + For him in vain the envious seasons roll + Who bears eternal summer in his soul. + If yet the minstrel's song, the poet's lay, + Spring with her birds, or children with their play, + Or maiden's smile, or heavenly dream of art + Stir the few life-drops creeping round his heart,-- + Turn to the record where his years are told,-- + Count his gray hairs,--they cannot make him old! + +_End of the Professor's paper_. + +[The above essay was not read at one time, but in several instalments, +and accompanied by various comments from different persons at the table. +The company were in the main attentive, with the exception of a little +somnolence on the part of the old gentleman opposite at times, and a +few sly, malicious questions about the "old boys" on the part of that +forward young fellow who has figured occasionally, not always to his +advantage, in these reports. + +On Sunday mornings, in obedience to a feeling I am not ashamed of, +I have always tried to give a more appropriate character to our +conversation. I have never read them my sermon yet, and I don't know +that I shall, as some of them might take my convictions as a personal +indignity to themselves. But having read our company so much of the +Professor's talk about age and other subjects connected with physical +life, I took the next Sunday morning to repeat to them the following +poem of his, which I have had by me some time. He calls it--I suppose, +for his professional friends--THE ANATOMIST'S HYMN; but I shall name +it--] + + +THE LIVING TEMPLE. + + Not in the world of light alone, + Where God has built his blazing throne, + Nor yet alone in earth below, + With belted seas that come and go, + And endless isles of sunlit green, + Is all thy Maker's glory seen: + Look in upon thy wondrous frame,-- + Eternal wisdom still the same! + + The smooth, soft air with pulse-like waves + Flows murmuring through its hidden caves + Whose streams of brightening purple rush + Fired with a new and livelier blush, + While all their burden of decay + The ebbing current steals away, + And red with Nature's flame they start + From the warm fountains of the heart. + + No rest that throbbing slave may ask, + Forever quivering o'er his task, + While far and wide a crimson jet + Leaps forth to fill the woven net + Which in unnumbered crossing tides + The flood of burning life divides, + Then kindling each decaying part + Creeps back to find the throbbing heart. + + But warmed with that unchanging flame + Behold the outward moving frame, + Its living marbles jointed strong + With glistening band and silvery thong, + And linked to reason's guiding reins + By myriad rings in trembling chains, + Each graven with the threaded zone + Which claims it as the master's own. + + See how yon beam of seeming white + Is braided out of seven-hued light, + Yet in those lucid gloves no ray + By any chance shall break astray. + Hark how the rolling surge of sound, + Arches and spirals circling round, + Wakes the hushed spirit through thine ear + With music it is heaven to hear. + + Then mark the cloven sphere that holds + All thoughts in its mysterious folds, + That feels sensation's faintest thrill + And flashes for the sovereign will; + Think on the stormy world that dwells + Locked in its dim and clustering cells! + The lightning gleams of power it sheds + Along its hollow glassy threads! + + O Father! grant thy love divine + To make these mystic temples thine! + When wasting age and wearying strife + Have sapped the leaning walls of life, + When darkness gathers over all, + And the last tottering pillars fall, + Take the poor dust thy mercy warms + And mould it into heavenly forms! + + * * * * * + + +LITERARY NOTICES. + + +_Library of Old Authors.--Works of John Marston_. London: John Russell +Smith. 1856-7. + +Mr. Halliwell, at the close of his Preface to the Works of Marston, +(Vol. I. p. xxii.,) says, "The dramas now collected together are +reprinted absolutely from the early editions, which were placed in the +hands of our printers, who thus had the advantage of following them +without the intervention of a transcriber. They are given as nearly as +possible in their original state, the only modernizations attempted +consisting in the alternations of the letters _i_ and _j_, and _u_ and +_v_, the retention of which" (does Mr. Halliwell mean the letters or the +"alternations"?) "would have answered no useful purpose, while it would +have unnecessarily perplexed the modern reader." + +This not very clear; but as Mr. Halliwell is a member of several learned +foreign societies, and especially of the Royal _Irish_ Academy, perhaps +it would he unfair to demand that he should write clear English. As one +of Mr. Smith's editors, it was to be expected that he should not write +it idiomatically. Some malign constellation (Taurus, perhaps, whose +infaust aspect may be supposed to preside over the makers of bulls and +blunders) seems to have been in conjunction with heavy Saturn when the +Library was projected. At the top of the same page from which we have +made our quotation, Mr. Halliwell speaks of "conveying a favorable +impression _on_ modern readers." It was surely to no such phrase as this +that Ensign Pistol alluded when he said, "_Convey_ the _wise_ it call." + +A literal reprint of an old author may be of value in two ways: the +orthography may in certain cases indicate the ancient pronunciation, or +it may put us on a scent which shall lead us to the burrow of a word +among the roots of language. But in order to this, it surely is not +needful to undertake the reproduction of all the original errors of the +press; and even were it so, the proofs of carelessness in the editorial +department are so glaring, that we are left in doubt, after all, if we +may congratulate ourselves on possessing all these sacred blunders +of the Elizabethan typesetters in their integrity and without any +debasement of modern alloy. If it be gratifying to know that there lived +stupid men before our contemporary Agamemnons in that kind, yet we +demand absolute accuracy in the report of the _phenomena_ in order to +arrive at anything like safe statistics. For instance, we find (Vol. I. +p. 89) "ACTUS SECUNDUS, SCENA PRIMUS," and (Vol. III. p. 174) "_exit +ambo_," and we are interested to know that in a London printing-house, +two centuries and a half ago, there was a philanthropist who wished to +simplify the study of the Latin language by reducing all the nouns to +one gender and all the verbs to one number. Had his emancipated theories +of grammar prevailed, how much easier would that part of boys which +cherubs want have found the school-room benches! How would birchen bark, +as an educational tonic, have fallen in repute! How white would have +been the (now black-and-blue) memories of Dr. Busby and so many other +educational _lictors_, who, with their bundles of rods, heralded not +alone the consuls, but all other Roman antiquities to us! We dare not, +however, indulge in the grateful vision, since there are circumstances +which lead us to infer that Mr. Halliwell himself (member though he be +of so many learned societies) has those vague notions of the speech of +ancient Rome which are apt to prevail in regions which count not the +_betula_ in their _Flora_. On page xv. of his Preface, he makes +Drummond say that Ben Jonson "was dilated" (_delated_,--Gifford gives it +in English, _accused_) "to the king by Sir James Murray,"--Ben, whose +corpulent person stood in so little need of that malicious increment! + +What is Mr. Halliwell's conception of editorial duty? As we read along, +and the once fair complexion of the margin grew more and more pimply +with pencil-marks, like that of a bad proof-sheet, we began to think +that he was acting on the principle of every man his own washerwoman, +--that he was making blunders of set purpose, (as teachers of languages +do in their exercises,) in order that we might correct them for +ourselves, and so fit us in time to be editors also, and members of +various learned societies, even as Mr. Halliwell himself is. We fancied, +that, magnanimously waving aside the laurel with which a grateful +posterity crowned General Wade, he wished us "to see these roads +_before_ they were made," and develope our intellectual muscles in +getting over them. But no; Mr. Halliwell has appended notes to his +edition, and among them are some which correct misprints, and therefore +seem to imply that he considers that service as belonging properly to +the editorial function. We are obliged, then, to give up our theory that +his intention was to make every reader an editor, and to suppose that he +wished rather to show how disgracefully a book might be edited and yet +receive the commendation of professional critics who read with the ends +of their fingers. If this were his intention, Marston himself never +published so biting a satire. + +Let us look at a few of the intricate passages, to help us through +which Mr. Halliwell lends us the light of his editorial lantern. In the +Induction to "What you Will" occurs the striking and unusual phrase, +"Now out up-pont," and Mr. Halliwell favors us with the following note: +"Page 221, line 10. _Up-pont_.--That is, upon't." Again in the same play +we find-- + + "Let twattling fame cheatd others rest, + I um no dish for rumors feast." + +Of course, it should read,-- + + "Let twattling [twaddling] Fame cheate others' rest, + I am no dish for Rumor's feast." + +Mr. Halliwell comes to our assistance thus: "Page 244, line 21, [22 +it should be,] _I um_,--a printer's error for _I am." Dignus vindice +nodus_! Five lines above, we have "whole" for "who'll," and four lines +below, "helmeth" for "whelmeth"; but Mr. Halliwell vouchsafes no note. +In the "Fawn" we read, "Wise _neads_ use few words," and the editor says +in a note, "a misprint for _heads_"! Kind Mr. Halliwell! + +Having given a few examples of our "Editor's" corrections, we proceed to +quote a passage or two which, it is to be presumed, he thought perfectly +clear. + + "A man can skarce put on a tuckt-up cap, + A button'd frizado sute, skarce eate good meate, + _Anchoves, caviare_, but hee's satyred + And term'd phantasticall. By the muddy spawne + Of slymie neughtes, when troth, phantasticknesse-- + That which the naturall sophysters tearme + _Phantusia incomplexa_--is a function + Even of the bright immortal part of man. + It is the common passe, the sacred dore, + Unto the prive chamber of the soule; + That bar'd, nought passeth past the baser court. + Of outward scence by it th' inamorate + Most lively thinkes he sees the absent beauties + Of his lov'd mistres."--Vol. I. p. 241. + +In this case, also, the true readings are clear enough:-- + + "And termed fantastical by the muddy spawn + Of slimy newts"; + +and + + ----"past the baser court + Of outward sense";-- + +but, if anything was to be explained, why are we here deserted by our +_fida compagna_? + +Again, (Vol. II. pp. 55-56,) we read, "This Granuffo is a right wise +good lord, a man of excellent discourse, and never speakes his signes to +me, and men of profound reach instruct aboundantly; hee begges suites +with signes, gives thanks with signes," etc. + +This Granuffo is qualified among the "Interlocutors" as "a silent lord," +and what fun there is in the character (which, it must be confessed, is +rather of a lenten kind) consists in his genius for saying nothing. +It is plain enough that the passage should read, "a man of excellent +discourse, and never speaks; his signs to me and men of profound reach +instruct abundantly," etc. + +In both the passages we have quoted, it is not difficult for the reader +to set the text right. But if not difficult for the reader, it should +certainly not have been so for the editor, who should have done what +Broome was said to have done for Pope in his Homer,--"gone before and +swept the way." An edition of an English author ought to be intelligible +to English readers, and, if the editor do not make it so, he wrongs the +old poet, for two centuries lapt in lead, to whose works he undertakes +to play the gentleman-usher. A play written in our own tongue should not +be as tough to us as Aeschylus to a ten-years' graduate, nor do we wish +to be reduced to the level of a chimpanzee, and forced to gnaw our way +through a thick shell of misprints and mispointings only to find (as is +generally the case with Marston) a rancid kernel of meaning after all. +But even Marston sometimes deviates into poetry, as a man who wrote in +that age could hardly help doing, and one of the few instances of it +is in a speech of _Erichtho_, in the first scene of the fourth act of +"Sophonisba," (Vol. I. p. 197,) which Mr. Halliwell presents to us in +this shape:-- + + ----"hard by the reverent (!) ruines + Of a once glorious temple rear'd to Jove + Whose very rubbish.... + ....yet beares + A deathlesse majesty, though now quite rac'd, [razed,] + Hurl'd down by wrath and lust of impious kings, + So that where holy Flamins [Flamens] wont to sing + Sweet hymnes to Heaven, there the daw and crow, + The ill-voyc'd raven, and still chattering pye, + Send out ungratefull sounds and loathsome filth; + Where statues and Joves acts were vively limbs, + + * * * * * + + Where tombs and beautious urnes of well dead men + Stood in assured rest," etc. + +The verse and a half in Italics are worthy of Chapman; but why did not +Mr. Halliwell, who explains _up-pont_ and _I um_, change "Joves acts +were vively limbs" to "Jove's acts were lively limned," which was +unquestionably what Marston wrote? + +In the "Scourge of Villanie," (Vol. III. p. 252,) there is a passage +which has a modern application in America, though happily archaic in +England, which Mr. Halliwell suffers to stand thus:-- + + "Once Albion lived in such a cruel age + Than man did hold by servile vilenage: + Poore brats were slaves of bondmen that were borne, + And marted, sold: but that rude law is torne + And disannuld, as too too inhumane." + +This should read-- + + "_Man_ man did hold in servile villanage; + Poor brats were slaves (of bondmen that were born)"; + +and we hope that some American poet will one day be able to write in the +past tense similar verses of the barbarity of his forefathers. + +We will give one more scrap of Mr. Halliwell's text:-- + + "Yfaith, why then, caprichious mirth, + Skip, light moriscoes, in our frolick blond, + Flagg'd veines, sweete, plump with fresh-infused joyes!" + +which Marston, doubtless, wrote thus:-- + + "I'faith, why then, capricious Mirth, + Skip light moriscoes in our frolic blood! + Flagged veins, swell plump with fresh-infused joys!" + +We have quoted only a few examples from among the scores that we had +marked, and against such a style of "editing" we invoke the shade of +Marston himself. In the Preface to the Second Edition of the "Fawn," +he says, "Reader, know I have perused this coppy, _to make some +satisfaction for the first faulty impression; yet so urgent hath been my +business that some errors have styll passed, which thy discretion may +amend_." + +Literally, to be sure, Mr. Halliwell has availed himself of the +permission of the poet, in leaving all emendation to the reader; but +certainly he has been false to the spirit of it in his self-assumed +office of editor. The notes to explain _up-pont_ and _I um_ give us a +kind of standard of the highest intelligence which Mr. Halliwell dares +to take for granted in the ordinary reader. Supposing this _nousometer_ +of his to be a centigrade, in what hitherto unconceived depths of cold +obstruction can he find his zero-point of entire idiocy? The expansive +force of average wits cannot be reckoned upon, as we see, to drive them +up as far as the temperate degree of misprints in one syllable, and +those, too, in their native tongue. _A fortiori_, then, Mr. Halliwell is +bound to lend us the aid of his great learning wherever his author has +introduced foreign words and the old printers have made _pie_ of them. +In a single case he has accepted his responsibility as dragoman, and the +amount of his success is not such as to give us any poignant regret that +he has everywhere else left us to our own devices. On p. 119, Vol. II., +_Francischina_, a Dutchwoman, exclaims, "O, mine aderliver love." Here +is Mr. Halliwell's note. "_Aderliver_.--This is the speaker's error for +_alder-liever_, the best beloved by all." Certainly not "the _speaker's_ +error," for Marston was no such fool as intentionally to make a +Dutchwoman blunder in her own language. But is it an error for +_alder-liever?_ No, but for _alderliefster_. Mr. Halliwell might have +found it in many an old Dutch song. For example, No. 96 of Hoffmann von +Fallersleben's "Niederländische Volkslieder" begins thus:-- + + "Mijn hert altijt heeft verlanghen + Naer u, die _alderliefste_ mijn." + +But does the word mean "best beloved by all"? No such thing, of course; +but "best-beloved of all,"--that is, by the speaker. + +In "Antonio and Mellida" (Vol. I. pp. 50-51) occur some Italian verses, +and here we hoped to fare better; for Mr. Halliwell (as we learn from +the title-page of his Dictionary) is a member of the "_Reale Academia +di Firenze_." This is the _Accademia della Crusca_, founded for the +conservation of the Italian language in its purity, and it is rather +a fatal symptom that Mr. Halliwell should indulge in the heresy of +spelling _Accademia_ with only one _c_. But let us see what our Della +Cruscan's notions of conserving are. Here is a specimen:-- + + "Bassiammi, coglier l'aura odorata + Che in sua neggia in quello dolce labra. + Dammi pimpero del tuo gradit' amore." + +It is clear enough that the first and third verses ought to read, + + "Lasciami coglier,--Dammi l'impero," + +though we confess that we could make nothing of _in sua neggia_ till +an Italian friend suggested _ha sua seggia_. But a Della Cruscan +academician might at least have corrected by his dictionary the spelling +of _labra_. + +We think that we have sustained our indictment of Mr. Halliwell's text +with ample proof. The title of the book should have been, "The Works +of John Marston, containing all the Misprints of the Original Copies, +together with a few added for the First Time in this Edition, the whole +carefully let alone by James Orchard Halliwell, F.R.S., F.S.A." It +occurs to us that Mr. Halliwell may be also a Fellow of the Geological +Society, and may have caught from its members the enthusiasm which leads +him to attach so extraordinary a value to every goose-track of the +Elizabethan formation. It is bad enough to be, as Marston was, one of +those middling poets whom neither gods nor men nor columns (Horace had +never seen a newspaper) tolerate; but, really, even they do not deserve +the frightful retribution of being reprinted by a Halliwell. + +We have said that we could not feel even the dubious satisfaction of +knowing that the blunders of the old copies had been faithfully followed +in the reprinting. We see reason for doubting whether Mr. Halliwell ever +read the proof-sheets. In his own notes we have found several mistakes. +For instance, he refers to p. 159 when he means p. 153; he cites "I, +but her _life_," instead of "_lip_"; and he makes Spenser speak of "old +Pithonus." Marston is not an author of enough importance to make it +desirable that we should be put in possession of all the corrupted +readings of his text, were such a thing possible even with the most +minute painstaking, and Mr. Halliwell's edition loses its only claim to +value the moment a doubt is cast upon the accuracy of its inaccuracies. +It is a matter of special import to us (whose means of access to +originals are exceedingly limited) that the English editors of our old +authors should be faithful and trustworthy, and we have singled out Mr. +Halliwell's Marston for particular animadversion only because we think +it on the whole the worst edition we ever saw of any author. + +Having exposed the condition in which our editor has left the text, we +proceed to test his competency in another respect, by examining some of +the emendations and explanations of doubtful passages which he proposes. +These are very few; but had they been even fewer, they had been too +many. + +Among the _dramatis personae_ of the "Fawn," as we said before, occurs +"Granuffo, _a silent lord_." He speaks only once during the play, and +that in the last scene. In Act I., Scene 2, _Gonzago_ says, speaking to +_Granuffo_,-- + + "Now, sure, thou are a man + Of a most learned _scilence_, and one whose words + Have bin most pretious to me." + +This seems quite plain, but Mr. Halliwell annotates +thus:--"_Scilence_.--Query, _science?_ The common reading, _silence_, +may, however, be what is intended." That the spelling should have +troubled Mr. Halliwell is remarkable; for elsewhere we find "god-boy" +for "good-bye," "seace" for "cease," "bodies" for "boddice," "pollice" +for "policy," "pitittying" for "pitying," "scence" for "sense," +"Misenzius" for "Mezentius," "Ferazes" for "Ferrarese,"--and plenty +beside, equally odd. That he should have doubted the meaning is no less +strange; for on page 41 of the same play we read, "My Lord Granuffo, you +may likewise stay, for I know _you'l say nothing_,"--on pp. 55-56, "This +Granuffo is a right wise good lord, _a man of excellent discourse and +never speaks_,"--and on p. 94, we find the following dialogue:-- + +"_Gon._ My Lord Granuffo, this Fawne is an excellent fellow. + +"_Don._ Silence. + +"_Gon._ _I warrant you for my lord here._" + +In the same play (p. 44) are these lines.-- + + "I apt for love? + Let lazy idlenes, fild full of wine + Heated with meates, high fedde with lustfull ease + Goe dote on culler [color]. As for me, why, death a sence, + I court the ladie?" + +This is Mr. Halliwell's note:--"_Death a sence_.--'Earth a sense,' ed. +1633. Mr. Dilke suggests:--'For me, why, earth's as sensible.' The +original is not necessarily corrupt. It may mean,--why, you might as +well think Death was a sense, one of the senses. See a like phrase at +p. 77." What help we should get by thinking Death one of the senses, it +would demand another Oedipus to unriddle. Mr. Halliwell can astonish us +no longer, but we are surprised at Mr. Dilke, the very competent editor +of the "Old English Plays," 1815. From him we might have hoped for +better things. "Death o' sense!" is an exclamation. Throughout these +volumes we find _a_ for _o_',--as, "a clock" for "o'clock," "a the side" +for "o' the side." + +A similar exclamation is to be found in three other places in the same +play, where the sense is obvious. Mr. Halliwell refers to one of them +on p. 77,--"Death a man! is she delivered!" The others are,--"Death a +justice! are we in Normandy?" (p. 98); and "Death a discretion! if I +should prove a foole now," or, as given by Mr. Halliwell, "Death, a +discretion!" Now let us apply Mr. Halliwell's explanation. "Death a +man!" you might as well think Death was a man, that is, one of the +men!--or a discretion, that is, one of the discretions!--or a justice, +that is, one of the quorum! We trust Mr. Halliwell may never have the +editing of Bob Acres's imprecations. "Odd's triggers!" he would say, +"that is, as odd as, or as strange as, triggers." + +Vol. III., p. 77,--"the vote-killing mandrake." Mr. Halliwell's note +is, "_vote-killing_.--'Voice-killing,' ed. 1613. It may well he doubted +whether either be the correct reading." He then gives a familiar +citation from Browne's "Vulgar Errors." "Vote-killing" may be a mere +misprint for "note-killing," but "voice-killing" is certainly the better +reading. Either, however, makes sense. Although Sir Thomas Browne does +not allude to the deadly property of the mandrake's shriek, yet Mr. +Halliwell, who has edited Shakspeare, might have remembered the + + "Would curses kill, _as doth the mandrake's groan_," + (2d Part Henry VI., Act III. Scene 2.) + +and the notes thereon in the _variorum_ edition. In Jacob Grimm's +"Deutsche Mythologie," (Vol. II. p. 1154,) under the word _Alraun_, may +be found a full account of the superstitions concerning the mandrake. +"When it is dug up, it groans and shrieks so dreadfully that the digger +will surely die. One must, therefore, before sunrise on a Friday, having +first stopped one's ears with wax or cotton-wool, take with him an +entirely black dog without a white hair on him, make the sign of the +cross three times over the _alraun_, and dig about it till the root +holds only by thin fibres. Then tie these by a string to the tail of the +dog, show him a piece of bread, and run away as fast as possible. The +dog runs eagerly after the bread, pulls up the root, and falls stricken +dead by its groan of pain." + +These, we believe, are the only instances in which Mr. Halliwell has +ventured to give any opinion upon the text, except as to a palpable +misprint, here and there. Two of these we have already cited. There is +one other,--"p. 46, line 10. _Iuconstant_.--An error for _inconstant_." +Wherever there is a real difficulty, he leaves us in the lurch. For +example, in "What you Will," he prints without comment,-- + + "Ha! he mount Chirall on the wings of + fame!" (Vol. I. p. 239,) + +which should be "mount cheval," as it is given in Mr. Dilke's edition +(Old English Plays, Vol. II. p. 222). We cite this, not as the worst, +but the shortest, example at hand. + +Some of Mr. Halliwell's notes are useful and interesting,--as that +on "keeling the pot," and some others,--but a great part are utterly +useless. He thinks it necessary, for instance, to explain that "_to +speak pure foole_, is in sense equivalent to 'I will speak like a pure +fool,'"--that "belkt up" means "belched up,"--"aprecocks," "apricots." +He has notes also upon "meal-mouthed," "luxuriousnesse," "termagant," +"fico," "estro," "a nest of goblets," which indicate either that the +"general reader" is a less intelligent person in England than in +America, or that Mr. Halliwell's standard of scholarship is very low. +We ourselves, from our limited reading, can supply him with a reference +which will explain the allusion to the "Scotch barnacle" much +better than his citations from Sir John Maundeville and Giraldus +Cambrensis,--namely, note 8, on page 179 of a Treatise on Worms, by Dr. +Ramesey, court physician to Charles II. + +Next month we shall examine Mr. Hazlitt's edition of Webster. + + +_Waverley Novels_. Household Edition. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 16mo. + +This beautiful edition of Scott's Novels will be completed in +forty-eight volumes. Thirty are already published, and the remaining +eighteen will be issued at the rate of two volumes a month. As this +edition, in the union of elegance of mechanical execution with cheapness +of price, is the best which has yet been published in the United States, +and reflects great credit on the taste and enterprise of the publishers, +its merits should be universally known. The paper is white, the type new +and clear, the illustrations excellent, the volumes of convenient size, +the notes placed at the foot of the page, and the text enriched with the +author's latest corrections. It is called the "Household Edition"; +and we certainly think it would be a greater adornment, and should be +considered a more indispensable necessity, than numerous articles of +expensive furniture, which, in too many households, take the place of +such books. + +The success of this edition, which has been as great as that of most new +novels, is but another illustration of the permanence of Scott's hold on +the general imagination, resulting from the instinctive sagacity with +which he perceived and met its wants. The generation of readers for +which he wrote has mostly passed away; new fashions in fiction have +risen, had their day, and disappeared; he has been subjected to much +acute and profound criticism of a disparaging kind; and at present +he has formidable rivals in a number of novelists, both eminent and +popular;--yet his fame has quietly and steadily widened with time, the +"reading public" of our day is as much his public as the reading public +of his own, and there has been no period since he commenced writing when +there were not more persons familiar with his novels than with those of +any other author. Some novelists are more highly estimated by certain +classes of minds, but no other comprehends in his popularity so many +classes, and few bear so well that hardest of tests, re-perusal. Many +novels stimulate us more, and while we are reading them we think they +are superior to Scott's; but we miss, in the general impression they +leave on the mind, that peculiar charm which, in Scott, calls us back, +after a few years, to his pages, to revive the recollection of scenes +and characters which may be fading away from our memories. We doubt, +also, if any other novelist has, in a like degree, the power of +instantaneously withdrawing so wide a variety of readers from the +perplexities and discomforts of actual existence, and making them for +the time denizens of a new world. He has stimulating elements enough, +and he exhibits masterly art in the wise economy with which he uses +them; but he still stimulates only to invigorate; and when he enlivens +jaded minds, it is rather by infusing fresh life than by applying fierce +excitements, and there is consequently no reaction of weariness and +disgust. He appeases, satisfies, and enchants, rather than stings and +inflames. The interest he rouses is not of that absorbing nature which +exhausts from its very intensity, but is of that genial kind which +continuously holds the pleased attention while the story is in progress, +and remains in the mind as a delightful memory after the story is +finished. It may also be said of his characters, that, if some other +novelists have exhibited a finer and firmer power in delineating higher +or rarer types of humanity, Scott is still unapproached in this, that he +has succeeded in domesticating his creations in the general heart and +brain, and thus obtained the endorsement of human nature as evidence of +their genuineness. His characters are the friends and acquaintances of +everybody,--quoted, referred to, gossipped about, discussed, criticized, +as though they were actual beings. He, as an individual, is almost lost +sight of in the imaginary world his genius has peopled; and most of +his readers have a more vivid sense of the reality of Dominie Sampson, +Jennie Deans, or any other of his characterizations, than they have of +himself. And the reason is obvious. They know Dominie Sampson through +Scott; they know Scott only through Lockhart. Still, it is certain that +the nature of Scott, that essential nature which no biography can give, +underlies, animates, disposes, and permeates all the natures he has +delineated. It is this, which, in the last analysis, is found to be the +source of his universal popularity, and which, without analysis, is felt +as a continual charm by all his readers, whether they live in palaces or +cottages. His is a nature which is welcomed everywhere, because it is at +home everywhere. The mere power and variety of his imagination cannot +account for his influence; for the same power and variety might have +been directed by a discontented and misanthropic spirit, or have obeyed +the impulses of selfish and sensual passions, and thus conveyed a bitter +or impure view of human nature and human life. It is, then, the man +in the imagination, the cheerful, healthy, vigorous, sympathetic, +good-natured, and broad-natured Walter Scott himself, who, modestly +hidden, as he seems to be, behind the characters and scenes he +represents, really streams through them the peculiar quality of life +which makes their abiding charm. He has been accepted by humanity, +because he is so heartily humane,--humane, not merely as regards man in +the abstract, but as regards man in the concrete. + +We have spoken of the number of his readers, and of his capacity to +interest all classes of people; but we suppose, that, in our day, when +everybody knows how to read without always knowing what to read, even +Scott has failed to reach a multitude of persons abundantly capable of +receiving pleasure from his writings, but who, in their ignorance of +him, are content to devour such frightful trash in the shape of novels +as they accidentally light upon in a leisure hour. One advantage of such +an edition of his works as that which has occasioned these remarks is, +that it tends to awaken attention anew to his merits, to spread his fame +among the generation of readers now growing up, and to place him in +the public view fairly abreast of unworthy but clamorous claimants for +public regard, as inferior to him in the power to impart pleasure as +they are inferior to him in literary excellence. That portion of the +public who read bad novels cannot be reached by criticism; but if they +could only be reached by Scott, they would quickly discover and resent +the swindle of which they have so long been the victims. + + +_A Dictionary of Medical Science_, etc. By ROBLEY DUNGLISON, M.D., LL.D. +Revised and very greatly enlarged. + +It does not fall within our province to enter into a minute examination +of a professional work like the one before us. As a Medical Dictionary +is a book, however, which every general reader will find convenient at +times, and as we have long employed this particular dictionary with +great satisfaction, we do not hesitate to devote a few sentences to its +notice. + +We remember when it was first published in 1833, meagre, as compared +with its present affluence of information. A few years later a second +edition was honorably noticed in the "British and Foreign Medical +Review." At that time it was only half the size of Hooper's well-known +Medical Dictionary, but by its steady growth in successive editions it +has reached that obesity which is tolerable in books we consult, but +hardly in such as we read. The labor expended in preparing the work +must have been immense, and, unlike most of our stereotyped medical +literature, it has increased by true interstitial growth, instead of +by mere accretion, or of remaining essentially stationary--with the +exception of the title-page. + +We can confidently recommend this work as a most ample and convenient +book of reference upon Anatomy, Physiology, Climate, and other subjects +likely to be occasionally interesting to the general reader, as well as +upon all practical matters connected with the art of healing. + +In the present state of education and intelligence, he must be a dull +person who does not frequently find a question arising on some point +connected with this range of studies. The student will find in this +dictionary an enormous collection of synonymes in various languages, +brief accounts of almost everything medical ever heard of, and full +notices of many of the more important subjects treated,--such as +Climate, Diet, Falsification of Drugs, Feigned Diseases, Muscles, +Poisons, and many others. + +Here and there we notice blemishes, as must be expected in so huge +a collection of knowledge. Thus, _Bronchlemmitis_ is not _Polypus +bronchialis_, but _Croup_.--The accent of _laryngeal_ and _pharyngeal_ +is incorrectly placed on the third syllable. In this wilderness of words +we look in vain for the New York provincialism "Sprue." The work has +a right to some scores, perhaps hundreds, of such errors, without +forfeiting its character. If the Elzevirs could not print the "Corpus +Juris Civilis" without a false heading to a chapter, we may excuse a +dictionary-maker and his printer for an occasional slip. But it is a +most useful book, and scholars will find it immensely convenient. + + +_Scenes of Clerical Life_. By GEORGE ELIOT. Originally published in +"Blackwood's Magazine." New York: Harper & Brothers. 1858. + +Fiction represents the character of the age to which it belongs, not +merely by actual delineations of its times, like those of "Tom Jones" +and "The Newcomer," but also in an indirect, though scarcely less +positive manner, by its exhibition of the influence of the times upon +its own form and general direction, whatever the scene or period it may +have chosen for itself. The story of "Hypatia" is laid in Alexandria +almost two thousand years ago, but the book reflects the crudities of +modern English thought; and even Mr. Thackeray, the greatest +living master of costume, succeeds in making his "Esmond" only a +joint-production of the Addisonian age and our own. Thus the novels of +the last few years exhibit very clearly the spirit that characterizes +the period of regard for men and women as men and women, without +reference to rank, beauty, fortune, or privilege. Novelists recognize +that Nature is a better romance-maker than the fancy, and the public is +learning that men and women are better than heroes and heroines, not +only to live with, but also to read of. Now and then, therefore, we get +a novel, like these "Scenes of Clerical Life," in which the fictitious +element is securely based upon a broad groundwork of actual truth, truth +as well in detail as in general. + +It is not often, however, even yet, that we find a writer wholly +unembarrassed by and in revolt against the old theory of the necessity +of perfection in some one at least of the characters of his story. +"Neither Luther nor John Bunyan," says the author of this book, "would +have satisfied the modern demand for an ideal hero, who believes nothing +but what is true, feels nothing but what is excellent, and does nothing +but what is graceful." + +Sometimes, indeed, a daring romance-writer ventures, during the earlier +chapters of his story, to represent a heroine without beauty and without +wealth, or a hero with some mortal blemish. But after a time his +resolution fails;--each new chapter gives a new charm to the ordinary +face; the eyes grow "liquid" and "lustrous," always having been "large"; +the nose, "naturally delicate," exhibits its "fine-cut lines"; the mouth +acquires an indescribable expression of loveliness; and the reader's +hoped-for Fright is transformed by Folly or Miss Pickering into a +commonplace, tiresome, _novelesque_ Beauty. Even Miss Bronté relented +toward Jane Eyre; and weaker novelists are continually repeating, +but with the omission of the moral, the story of the "Ugly Duck." +Unquestionably, there is the excuse to be made for this great error, +that it betrays the seeking after an Ideal. Dangerous word! The ideal +standard of excellence is, to be sure, fortunately changing, and the +unreal ideal will soon be confined to the second-rate writers for +second-rate readers. But all the great novelists of the two last +generations indulged themselves and their readers in these unrealities. +It is vastly easier to invent a consistent character than to represent +an inconsistent one;--a hero is easier to make (so all historians have +found) than a man. + +Suppose, however, novelists could be placed in a society made up of +their favorite characters,--forced into real, lifelike intercourse with +them;--Richardson, for instance, with his Harriet Byron or Clarissa, +attended by Sir Charles; Miss Burney with Lord Orville and Evelina; +Miss Edgeworth with Caroline Percy, and that marvellous hero, Count +Altenburg; Scott with the automatons that he called Waverley and Flora +McIvor. Suppose they were brought together to share the comforts (cold +comforts they would be) of life, to pass days together, to meet every +morning at breakfast; with what a ludicrous sense of relief, at the +close of this purgatorial period, would not the unhappy novelists +have fled from these deserted heroes and heroines, and the precious +proprieties of their romance, to the very driest and mustiest of human +bores,--gratefully rejoicing that the world was not filled with such +creatures as they themselves had set before it as _ideals_! + +To copy Nature faithfully and heartily is certainly not less needful +when stories are presented in words than when they are told on canvas or +in marble. In the "Scenes from Clerical Life" we have a happy example of +such copying. The three stories embraced under this title are written +vigorously, with a just appreciation of the romance of reality, and with +honest adherence to truth of representation in the sombre as well as the +brighter portions of life. It demands not only a large intellect, but a +large heart, to gain such a candid and inclusive appreciation of life +and character as they display. The greater part of each story reads like +a reminiscence of real life, and the personages introduced show little +sign of being "rubbed down" or "touched up and varnished" for effect. +The narrative is easy and direct, full of humor and pathos; and the +descriptions of simple life in a country village are often charming from +their freshness, vivacity, and sweetness. More than this, these stories +give proof of that wide range of experience which does not so much +depend on an extended or varied acquaintance with the world, as upon an +intelligent and comprehensive sympathy, which makes each new person with +whom one is connected a new illustration of the unsolved problems of +life and a new link in the unending chain of human development. + +The book is one that deserves a more elegant form than that which the +Messrs. Harper have given it in their reprint. + + +_Twin Roses: A Narrative._ By ANNA CORA RITCHIE, Author of +"Autobiography of an Actress," "Mimic Life," etc. Boston: Ticknor & +Fields. 16mo. + +This volume belongs to a series of narratives intended to illustrate +Mrs. Ritchie's experiences of theatrical life, and especially to do +justice to the many admirable people who have adopted the stage as +a profession. Though it has many defects, in respect to plot and +characterization, it seems to us the most charming in style and +beautiful in sentiment of Mrs. Ritchie's works. The two sisters, the +"twin roses," are, we believe, drawn from life; but the author's own +imagination has enveloped them in an atmosphere of romantic sweetness, +and their qualities are fondly exaggerated into something like +unreality. They seem to have been first idolized and then idealized, but +never realized. Still, the most beautiful and tender passages of the +whole book are those in which they are lovingly portrayed. The scenes +in the theatre are generally excellent. The perils, pains, pleasures, +failures, and triumphs of the actor's life are well described. The +defect, which especially mars the latter portion of the volume, is the +absence of any artistic reason for the numerous descriptions of scenery +which are introduced. The tourist and the novelist do not happily +combine. Still, the sentiment of the book is so pure, fresh, and +artless, its moral tone so high, its style so rich and melodious, and +its purpose so charitable and good, that the reader is kept in pleased +attention to the end, and lays it down with regret. + + * * * * * + + +EDITORIAL NOTE. + + +In our review of Parton's Life of Burr, published in the March number, +the following passage occurs, as a quotation from that work:--"Hamilton +probably implanted a dislike for Burr in Washington's breast." + +Upon this the author of the biography has had the effrontery to bring +against us a charge of _forgery_. He affirms that neither the sentence +above quoted nor any resembling it can be found in his book. + +Mr. Parton, speaking of Washington's refusal to nominate Burr to the +French mission, (p. 197,) speaks of the President's dislike for him; +and, endeavoring to account for it, says: "Reflecting upon this +circumstance, the idea will occur to the individual long immersed in the +reading of that period, _that this invincible dislike of Colonel Burr +was perhaps implanted, certainly nourished, in the mind of General +Washington by his useful friend and adherent, Alexander Hamilton."_ + +We do not wonder that Mr. Parton should have been annoyed by so damaging +a criticism of his book, but we can account for his forgetfulness only +by supposing that he has been so long "immersed in the reading of +that period" as to have arrived nearly at the drowning-point of +insensibility. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 7, May, +1858, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY *** + +***** This file should be named 12374-8.txt or 12374-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/3/7/12374/ + +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/12374-8.zip b/old/12374-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0625bb0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12374-8.zip diff --git a/old/12374.txt b/old/12374.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..998449c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12374.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8747 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 7, May, 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. 7, May, 1858 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: May 18, 2004 [EBook #12374] +[Date last updated: May 28, 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.--MAY, 1858.--NO. VII. + + + +AMERICAN ANTIQUITY. + + +The results of the past ten or fifteen years in historical investigation +are exceedingly mortifying to any one who has been proud to call himself +a student of History. We had thought, perhaps, that we knew something +of the origin of human events and the gradual development from the +past into the world of to-day. We had read Herodotus, and Gibbon, +and Gillies, and done manful duty with Rollin. There were certain +comfortable, definite facts in antiquity. Romulus and Remus were our +friends; the transmission of the alphabet by the Phoenicians was a +resting-spot; the destruction of Babylon and the date of the Flood were +fixed stations in the wilderness. In more modern periods, we had a +refuge in the date of the discovery of America; and if we were forced +back into the wilds and uncertainties of American History, Mr. Prescott +soon restored to us the buried empires, and led us easily back through a +few plain centuries. + +Beyond these dates, indeed, there was a shadowy land, through whose +changing mists could be seen sometimes the grand outlines of abandoned +cities, or the faint forms of temples, or the graceful column or massive +tomb, which marked the distant path of the advancing race: but these +were scarcely more than visions for a moment, before darkness again +covered the view. Our mythology and philosophy of the past were almost +equally misty and vague. History was to us a succession of facts; empire +succeeding empire, and one form of civilization another, with scarcely +more connection than in the scenes of a theatre;--the great isolated +fact of all being the existence of the Jews. All cosmic myths and noble +conceptions of Deity and pure religious beliefs were only offshoots of +Hebrew tradition. + +This, we are pained to say, is all changed now. Our beloved dates, our +easy explanation, and popular narrative are half dissolved under the +touch of modern investigation. Roman History abandons poor Romulus and +Remus; the Flood sinks into a local inundation, and is pushed back +nobody knows how many thousands of years; an Egyptian antiquity arises +of which Herodotus never knew; and Josephus is proved ignorant of his +own subject. Nothing is found separate from the current of the world's +history,--neither Hebrew law and religion, nor Phoenician commerce, +nor Hindoo mythology, nor Grecian art. On the shadowy Past, over the +deserted battle-fields, the burial-mounds, the mausolea, the temples, +the altars, and the habitations of perished nations, new rays of light +are cast. Peoples not heard of before, empires forgotten, conquests not +recorded, arts unknown in their place at this day, and civilizations of +which all has perished but the language, appear again. The world wakes +to find itself much older than it thought. History is hardly the same +study that it once was. Even more than the investigations of hieroglyphs +and bass-reliefs and sculptures, during the past few years, have the +researches in one especial direction changed the face of the ancient +world. + +LANGUAGE is found to be itself the best record of a nation's origin, +development, and relation to other races. Each vocabulary and grammar +of a dead nation is a Nineveh, rich in pictures, inscriptions, and +historical records, uncovering to the patient investigator not merely +the external life and actions of the people, but their deepest internal +life, and their connection with other peoples and times. The little +defaced word, the cast-away root, the antique construction, picked up +by the student among the vestiges of a language, may be a relic fresher +from the past and older than a stone from the Pyramids, or the sculpture +of the Assyrian temple. + +In American history, this work of investigation till recently had not +been thoroughly entered upon. Within the last quarter of a century, +Kingsborough and Gallatin and Prescott and Davis and Squier and +Schoolcraft and Mueller have each thrown some light over the mysterious +antiquity of our own continent. But of all, a French Abbe, an +ethnologist and a careful investigator,--M. BRASSEUR DE BOURBOURG,--has, +in a history recently published, done the best service to this cause. It +is entitled "Histoire des Nations Civilisees du Mexique et de l'Amerique +Centrale." (Paris, 1857.) M. de Bourbourg spent many years in Central +America, studying the face of the country and the languages of the +Indian tribes, and investigating the ancient picture-writing and the +remains of the wonderful ruins of that region. Probably no stranger has +ever enjoyed better opportunities of reading the ancient manuscripts and +studying the dialects of the Central American races. With these helps he +has prepared a groundwork for the history of the early civilized peoples +of our American continent,--a history, it should be remembered, ending +where Prescott's begins,--reaching back, possibly, as far as the +earliest invasions of the Huns, and one of whose fixed dates is at the +time of the Antonines. He has ventured to lift, at length, the veil from +our mysterious and confused American antiquity. It is an especial merit +of M. de Bourbourg, in this stage of the investigation, that he has +attempted to do no more. He has collected and collated facts, but +has sought to give us very few theories. The stable philosophical +conclusions he leaves for later research, when time shall have been +afforded for fuller comparison. + +There is an incredible fascination to many minds in these investigations +into the traditions and beliefs of antiquity. We feel in their presence +that they are the oldest things; the most ancient books, or buildings, +or sculptures are modern by their side. They represent the childish +instincts of the human mind,--its _gropings_ after Truth,--its dim +ideals and shadowings forth of what it hopes will be. They are the +earliest answers of man to the great questions, WHENCE and WHITHER? + + * * * * * + +The most ancient people of Central America, according to M. de +Bourbourg,--a people referred to in all the oldest traditions, but of +whom everything except the memory has passed away,--are the Quinames. +Their rule extended over Mexico and Guatemala, and there is reason to +suppose that they attained to a considerable height of civilization. The +only accounts of their origin are the oral traditions repeated to the +Spaniards by the Indians of Yucatan,--traditions relating that the +fathers of this great nation came from the East, and that God had +delivered them from the pursuit of their enemies and had opened to +them a way over the sea. Other traditions reveal to us the Quinames as +delivered up to the most unnatural vices of ancient society. Whether +the Cyclopean ruins scattered over the continent,--vast masses of +stone placed one upon another without cement, which existed before the +splendid cities whose ruins are yet seen in Central America,--whether +these are the work of this race, or of one still older, is entirely +uncertain. + +The most ancient language of Central America, the ground on which all +the succeeding languages have been planted, is the Maya. Even the Indian +languages of to-day are only combinations of their own idioms with this +ancient tongue. Its daughter, the Tzendale, transmits many of the oldest +and most interesting religious beliefs of the Indian tribes. + +All the traditions, whether in the Quiche, the Mexican, or the Tzendale, +unite in one somewhat remarkable belief,--in the reverent mention of an +ancient Deliverer or Benefactor; a personage so enveloped in the halo +of religious sentiment and the mist of remote antiquity, that it is +difficult to distinguish his real form. With the Tzendale his name is +Votan;[A] among the many other names in other languages, Quetzalcohuatl +is the one most distinctive. Sometimes he appears as a wise and +dignified legislator, arrived suddenly among an ignorant people from an +unknown country, to instruct them in agriculture, the arts, and even in +religion. He bears suffering in their behalf, patiently labors for them, +and, when at length he has done his work, departs alone from amid the +weeping crowd to the country of his birth. Sometimes he is the mediator +between Deity and men; then again, a personification of the Divine +wisdom and glory; and still again, the noble features seem to be +transmuted in the confused tradition into the countenance of Divinity. +Whether this mysterious person is only the American embodiment of +the Hope of all Nations, or whether he was truly a wise and noble +legislator, driven by some accident to these shores from a foreign +country, and afterwards glorified by the gratitude of his people, +is uncertain, though our author inclines naturally to the latter +supposition. The expression of the Tzendale tradition, "Votan is +the first man whom God sent to divide and distribute these lands of +America," (Vol. I. p. 42,) indicates that he found the continent +inhabited, and either originated the distribution of property or became +a conqueror of the country. The evidence of tradition would clearly +prove that at the arrival of Votan the great proportion of the +inhabitants, from the Isthmus of Panama to the territories of +California, were in a savage condition. The builders of the Cyclopean +ruins were the only exception. + +[Footnote A: The resemblance of this name to the Teutonic Wuotan or Odin +is certainly striking and will afford a new argument to the enthusiastic +Rafn, and other advocates of a Scandinavian colonization of +America.--Edd.] + +The various traditions agree that this elevated being, the father of +American civilization, inculcated first of all a belief in a Supreme +Creator, Lord of Heaven and Earth. It is a singular fact, that the +ancient Quiche tradition represents the Deity as a Triad, or Trinity, +with the deified heroes arranged in orders below,--a representation not +improbably connected with the Hindoo conception. The belief in a Supreme +Being seems to have been generally diffused among the Central American +and Mexican tribes, even as late as the arrival of the Spaniards. The +Mexicans adored Him under the name of Ipalnemoaloni, or "Him in whom and +by whom we are and live." This "God of all purity," as he is +addressed in a Mexican prayer, was too elevated for vulgar thought or +representation. No altars or temples were erected to him; and it was +only under one of the later kings of the Aztec monarchy that a temple +was built to the "Unknown God."--Vol. I. p. 46. + +The founders of the early American civilization bear various titles: +they are called "The Master of the Mountain," "The Heart of the Lake," +"The Master of the Azure Surface," and the like. Even in the native +traditions, the questions are often asked: "Whence came these men?" +"Under what climate were they born?" One authority answers thus +mysteriously: "They have clearly come from the other shore of the +sea,--from the place which is called 'Camuhifal,'--_The place +where is shadow."_ Why may not this singular expression refer to a +Northern country,--a place where is a long shadow, a winter-night? + +A singular characteristic of the ancient Indian legends is the mingling +of two separate courses of tradition. In their poetic conceptions, and +perhaps under the hands of their priests, the old myths of the Creation +are constantly confused with the accounts of the first periods of their +civilization. + +The following is the most ancient legend of the Creation, from the MSS. +of Chichicastenango, in the Quiche text: "When all that was necessary to +be created in heaven and on earth was finished, the heaven being formed, +its angles measured and lined, its limits fixed, the lines and parallels +put in their place in heaven and on earth, heaven found itself created, +and Heaven it was called by the Creator and Maker, the Father and +Mother of Life and Existence, ... the Mother of Thought and Wisdom, the +excellence of all that is in heaven and on earth, in the lakes or the +sea. It is thus that he called himself, when all was tranquil and calm, +when all was peaceable and silent, when nothing had movement in the void +of the heavens."--Vol. I. p. 48. + +In the narrative of the succeeding work of creation, says M. de +Bourbourg, there is always a double sense. Creation and life are +civilization; the silence and calm of Nature before the existence of +animated beings are the calm and tranquillity of Ocean, over which a +sail is flying towards an unknown shore; and the first aspect of the +shores of America, with its mighty mountains and great rivers, is +confounded with the first appearance of the earth from the chaos of +waters. + +"This is the first word," says the Quiche text. "There were neither men, +nor animals, nor birds, nor fishes, nor wood, nor stones, nor valleys, +nor herbs, nor forests. There was only the heaven. The image of the +earth did not yet show itself. There was only the sea, on all sides +surrounded by the heaven ... Nothing had motion, and not the least sigh +agitated the air ... In the midst of this calm and this tranquillity, +was only the Father and the Maker, in the obscurity of the night; there +were only the Fathers and Generators on the whitening water, and they +were clad in azure raiment... And it is on account of them that heaven +exists, and exists equally the Heart of Heaven, which is the name of +God."--Vol. I. p. 51. [B] + +[Footnote B: Compare the Hindoo conception, translated from one of the +old Vedic legends, in Bunsen's _Philosophy of History_:-- + + "Nor Aught nor Nought existed; yon bright + sky + Was not, nor heaven's broad roof outstretched + above. + What covered all? What sheltered? What + concealed? + Was it the waters' fathomless abyss? + There was not death,--yet was there nought + immortal. + There was no confine betwixt day and night. + The only One breathed breathless by itself;-- + Other than it there nothing since has been. + Darkness there was, and all at first was veiled + In gloom profound,--an ocean without light. + The germ that still lay covered in the husk + Burst forth, one nature, from the fervent + heat."] + +The legend then pictures a council between these "Fathers" and the +Supreme Creator; after which, the word is spoken, and the earth bursts +forth from the darkness, with its great mountains and forests and +animals and birds, as they might to a voyager approaching the shore. An +episode occurs, describing a deluge, but still bearing in it the +traces of the double tradition,--the one referring to some primeval +catastrophe, and the other to a local inundation, which had perhaps +surprised the first legislators in the midst of their efforts. The +Mexican tradition (Codex Chimalpopoca) shows more distinctly the united +action of the Mediator (Quetzalcohuatl) and the Deity:--"From ashes had +God created man and animated him, and they say it is Quetzalcohuatl who +hath perfected him who had been made, and hath _breathed into him, on +the seventh day, the breath of life_." + +Another legend, after describing the creation of men of wood, and women +of _cibak_, (the marrow of the corn-flag,) tells us that "the fathers +and the children, from want of intelligence, did not use the language +which they had received to praise the benefaction of their creation, and +never thought of raising their eyes to praise Hurakan. Then were they +destroyed in an inundation. There descended from heaven a rain of +bitumen and resin... And on account of them, the earth was obscured; and +it rained night and day. And men went and came, out of themselves, as if +struck with madness. They wished to mount upon the roofs, and the houses +fell beneath them; when they took refuge in the caves and the +grottoes, these closed over them. This was their punishment and +destruction."--Vol. I. p. 55. + +In the Mexican tradition, instead of the rain we find a violent eruption +of the volcanoes, and men are changed into fishes, and again into +_chicime_,--which may designate the barbarian tribes that invaded +Central America. + +In still another tradition, the Deity and his associates are more +plainly men of superior intelligence, laboring to civilize savage +races; and finally, when they cannot inspire two essential elements of +civilization,--a taste for labor, and the religious idea,--a sudden +inundation delivers them from the indocile people. Then--so far as the +mysterious language of the legend can be interpreted--they appear to +have withdrawn themselves to a more teachable race. But with these +the difficulty for the new law-givers is that they find nothing +corresponding to the productions of the country from which they had +come. Fruits are in abundance, but there is no grain which requires +culture, and which would give origin to a continued industry. The legend +relates, somewhat naively, the hunger and distress of these elevated +beings, until at length they discover the maize, and other nutritious +fruits and grains in the county of Paxil and Cayala. + +Our author places these latter in the state of Chiapas, and the +countries watered by the Usumasinta. The provinces of Mexico and the +Atlantic border of Central America he supposes to be those where the +first legislators of America landed, and where was the cradle of the +first American civilization. In these regions, the great city attributed +to Votan,--Palenque,--the ruins of whose magnificent temples and palaces +even yet astonish the traveller, was one of the first products of this +civilization. + +With regard to the much-vexed question of the origin of the Indian +races, M. de Bourbourg offers no theory. In his view, the evidence from +language establishes no certain connection between the Indian tribes and +any other race whatever; though, as he justly remarks, the knowledge of +the languages of the Northeast of Asia and of the interior of America is +yet very limited, and more complete investigations must be waited for +before any very satisfactory conclusions can be attained. The similarity +of the Indian languages points without doubt to a common origin, while +their variety and immense number are indications of a high antiquity; +for who can estimate the succession of years necessary to subdivide a +common tongue into so many languages, and to give birth out of a savage +or nomadic life to a civilization like that of the Aztecs? + +In the passage of man from one hemisphere to another he sees no +difficulty; as, without considering Behring's Strait, the voyage, from +Mantchooria, or Japan, following the chain of the Koorile and the +Aleutian Isles, even to the Peninsula of Alaska, would be an enterprise +of no great hazard. + +The traditions of the Indian tribes, as well as their monumental +inscriptions, point to an Eastern origin. From whatever direction the +particular tribe may have emigrated, they always speak of their fathers +as having come from the rising of the sun. The Quiche, as well as the +Chippeway traditions, allude to the voyages of their fathers from the +East, from a cold and icy region, through a cloudy and wintry sea, to +countries as cold and gloomy, from which they again turned towards the +South. + +Without committing himself to a theory, M. de Bourbourg supposes that +one race--the Quiche--has passed through the whole North American +continent, erecting at different stages of its civilization those +gigantic and mysterious pyramids, the _tumuli_ of the Mississippi +Valley,--of whose origin the present Northern Indian tribes have +preserved no trace, and for whose erection no single American tribe +now would have the wealth or the superfluous labor. This race was +continually driven towards the South by more savage tribes, and it at +length reached its favorite seats and the height of its civilization in +Central America. In comparing the similar monuments of Southern Siberia, +and the dates of the immigration to the Aztec plateau, with those of +the first movements of the Huns and the great revolutions in Asia, an +indication is given, worthy of being followed up by the ethnologist, +of the Asiatic origin of the Central American tribes. The traditions, +monuments, customs, mythology, and astronomic systems all point to a +similar source. + +The thorough study of the aboriginal races reveals the fact, that the +whole continent, from the Arctic regions to the Southern Pole, was +divided irregularly between two distinct families;--one nomadic +and savage, the other agricultural and semi-civilized; one with no +institutions or polity or organized religion, the other with regular +forms of government and hierarchical and religious systems. Though +differing so widely, and little associated with each other, they +possessed an analogous physical constitution, analogous customs, idioms, +and grammatical forms, many of which were entirely different from those +of the Old World. + +At the period of the discovery of America, not a single tribe west of +the Rocky Mountains possessed the least agricultural skill. Whether the +superiority of the Central American and Mexican tribes was due to +more favorable circumstances and a more genial climate, or to the +instructions of foreign legislators, as their traditions relate, our +author does not decide. In his view, American agriculture originated in +Central America, and was not one of the sciences brought over by the +tribes who first emigrated from Asia. + +Of the architectural ruins found in Central America M. de Bourbourg +says: "Among the edifices forgotten by Time in the forests of Mexico and +Central America are found architectural characteristics so different +from one another, that it is as impossible to attribute their +construction to one and the same people, as it is to suppose that they +were built at the same epoch.... The ruins that are the most ancient and +that have the most resemblance to one another are those which have been +discovered in the country of the Lacandous, the foundations of the city +of Mayapan, some buildings of Tulha, and the greater part of those +of Palenque; it is probable that they belong to the first period of +American civilization."--Vol. I. p. 85. + +The truly historical records of Central America go back to a period but +little before the Christian era. Beyond that epoch, we behold through +the mists of legends, and in the defaced pictures and sculptures, a +hierarchical despotism sustained by the successors of the mysterious +Votan. The empire of the Votanides is at length ruined by its own vices +and by the attacks of a vigorous race, whose records and language have +come down even to our day,--the only race on the American continent +whose name has been preserved in the memory of the peoples after the +ruin of its power, the only one whose institutions have survived its own +existence,--the Xahoa, or Toltec. + +Of all the American languages, the Nahuatl holds the highest place, for +its richness of expression and its sonorous tone,--adapting itself with +equal flexibility to the most sublime and analytic terms of metaphysics, +and to the uses of ordinary life, so that even at this day the +Englishman and the Spaniard employ its vocabulary for natural objects. + +The traditions of the Nahoas describe their life in the distant Oriental +country from which they came:--"There they multiplied to a considerable +degree, and lived without civilization. They had not then acquired the +habit of separating themselves from the places which had seen them born; +they paid no tributes; and all spoke a single language. They worshipped +neither wood nor stone; they contented themselves with raising their +eyes to heaven and observing the law of the Creator. They waited with +respect for the rising of the sun, saluting with their invocations the +morning star." + +This is their prayer, handed down in Indian tradition,--the oldest piece +extant of American liturgy:--"Hail, Creator and Former! Regard us! +Listen to us! Heart of Heaven! Heart of the Earth! do not leave us! Do +not abandon us, God of Heaven and Earth!... Grant us repose, a glorious +repose, peace and prosperity! the perfection of life and of our being +grant to us, O Hurakan!" + +What country and what sun nourished this worship and gave origin to this +great people is as uncertain as all other facts of the early American +history. They came from the East, the tradition says; they landed, it +seems certain, at Panuco, near the present port of Tampico, from seven +barks or ships. Other traditions represent them as accompanied by sages +with venerable beards and flowing robes. They finally settled somewhere +on the coast between Campeachy and the river Tabasco, and founded the +ancient city of Xicalanco. Their chief, who in the reverent affection of +the nation became afterwards their Deity, was Quetzalcohuatl. The +myths which surround his name reveal to us a wise legislator and noble +benefactor. He is seen instructing them in the arts, in religion, and +finally in agriculture, by introducing the cultivation of maize and +other cereals. + +Whether he had become the object of envy among the people, or whether he +felt that his work was done, it appears, so far as the vague traditions +can be understood, that he at length determined to return to the unknown +country whence he had come. He gathered his brethren around him and thus +addressed them:--"Know," said he, "that the Lord your God commands you +to dwell in these lands which he hath subjected to you this day. For +him, he returns whence he has come. But he goes only to return later; +for he will visit you again, when the time shall have arrived in which +the world shall have come to an end.[C] In the mean while wait, ye +others, in these countries, with the hope of seeing him again!...Thus +farewell, while we depart with our God!" + +[Footnote C: This is the expression of the legend, and certainly points +to the ideas of the Eastern hemisphere. The coincidence with the legends +of Hiawatha and the Finnish Wainamoinen will be remarked.--EDD.] + +We will not follow the interesting narrative of the destruction of +the ancient empire of the Votanides by the Nahoas or Toltecs; nor the +account of the dispersion of these latter over Guatemala, Yucatan, and +even among the mountains of California. This last revolution presents +the first precise date which scholars have yet been able to assign to +early American history; it probably occurred A.D. 174. + +With the account of the invasion of the Aztec plateau by the Chichemees, +a barbarian tribe of the Toltec family, in the middle of the seventh +century, or of the establishment of the Toltec monarchy in Anahuac, we +will not delay our readers, as these events bring us down to the period +of authentic history, on which we have information from other sources. + +"From the moment," says M. de Bourbourg, "in which we see the supremacy +of the cities of Culhuacan and Tollan rise over the cities of the Aztec +plateau dates the true history of this country; but this history is, to +speak the truth, only a grand episode in the annals of this powerful +race [the Toltec]. In the course of a wandering of seven or eight +centuries, it overturns and destroys everything in order to build on the +ruins of ancient kingdoms its own civilization, science, and arts; it +traverses all the provinces of Mexico and Central America, leaving +everywhere traces of its superstitions, its culture, and its laws, +sowing on its passage kingdoms and cities, whose names are forgotten +to-day, but whose mysterious memorials are found again in the monuments +scattered under the forest vegetation of ages and in the different +languages of all the peoples of these countries."--Vol. I. p. 209. + +M. de Bourbourg fitly closes his interesting volumes--from which we have +here given a resume of only the opening chapters--with a remarkable +prophecy, made in the court of Yucatan by the high-priest of Mani. +According to the tradition, this pontiff, inspired by a supernatural +vision, betook himself to Mayapan and thus addressed the king:--"At the +end of the Third Period, [A.D. 1518-1542,] a nation, white and bearded, +shall come from the side where the sun rises, bearing with it a sign, +[the cross,] which shall make all the Gods to flee and fall. This nation +shall rule all the earth, giving peace to those who shall receive it in +peace and who will abandon vain images to adore an only God, whom these +bearded men adore." (Vol. II. p. 594.) M. de Bourbourg does not vouch +for the pure origin of the tradition, but suggests that the wise men of +the Quiche empire already saw that it contained in itself the elements +of destruction, and had already heard rumors of the wonderful white race +which was soon to sweep away the last vestiges of the Central American +governments. + +[NOTE.--We cannot but think that our correspondent receives the +traditions reported by M. de Bourbourg with too undoubting faith. Some +of them seem to us to bear plain marks of an origin subsequent to the +Spanish Conquest, and we suspect that others have been considerably +modified in passing through the lively fancy of the Abbe. Even +Ixtlilxochitl, who, as a native and of royal race, must have had access +to all sources of information, and who had the advantage of writing more +than three centuries ago, seems to have looked on the native traditions +as extremely untrustworthy. See Prescott's _History of the Conquest of +Mexico_, Vol. I. p. 12, note.--EDD.] + + * * * * * + + +ROGER PIERCE + +The Man With Two Shadows. + + +"There is ever a black spot in our sunshine." Carlyle. + +The sky is gray with unfallen sleet; the wind howls bitterly about the +house; relentless in its desperate speed, it whirls by green crosses +from the fir-boughs in the wood,--dry russet oak-leaves,--tiny cones +from the larch, that were once rose-red with the blood of Spring, but +now rattle on the leafless branches, black and bare as they. No leaf +remains on any bough of the forest, no scarlet streamer of brier flaunts +from the steadfast rocks that underlie all verdure, and now stand out, +bleak and barren, the truths and foundations of life, when its ornate +glories are fled away. The river flows past, a languid stream of lead; +a single crow, screaming for its mate, flaps heavily against the +north-east gale, that enters here also and lifts the carpet in +long waves across the floor, whiffles light eddies of ashes in the +chimney-corner, and vainly presses on door and window, like a houseless +spirit shrieking and pining for a shelter from its bodiless and helpless +unrest in the elements. + +The whole air,--although, within, my fire crackles and leaps with +steady cheer, and the red rose on my window is warm and sanguine with +bloom,--yet this whole air is full of tiny sparks of chill to my +sensitive and morbid nature; it is at once electric and cold, the very +atmosphere of spirits.--What a shadow passed that pane! Roger, was it +you?--The storm bursts, in one fierce rush of sleet and roaring wind; +the little spaniel crouched at my feet whimpers and nestles closer; the +house is silent,--silent as my thoughts,--silent as he is who walked +these rooms once, with a face likest to the sky that darkens them +now, and lonelier, lonelier than I, though at his side forever trod a +companion. + +This valley of the Moosic is narrow and thinly settled. Here and +there the mad river, leaping from some wooded gorge to rest among the +hemlock-covered islands that break its smoother path between the soft +meadows, is crossed by a strong dam; and a white village, with its +church and graveyard, clusters against the hill-side, sweeping upward +from the huge mills that stand along the shore just below the bridge. +Here and there, too, out of sight of mill or village, a quiet farmer's +house, trimly painted, with barns and hay-stacks and wood-piles drawn up +in goodly array, stands in its old orchard, and offers the front of a +fortress against want and misery. Idle aspect! fortress of vain front! +there are intangible foes that no man may conquer! In such a stronghold +was born Roger Pierce, the Man with two Shadows. + +He was the son of good and upright parents. Before he came into their +arms, three tiny shapes had lain there, one after another, for a few +brief weeks, smiled, moaned, and fallen asleep,--to sleep, forever +children, under the daisies and golden-rods. For this reason they cling +to little Roger with passionate apprehension; they fought with the Angel +of Death, and overcame; and, as it ever is to the blind nature of man, +the conquest was greater to them than any gift. + +The boy grew up into childhood as other children grow, a daily miracle +to see. Only for him incessant care watched and waited; unwearied as the +angel that looked from him to the face of God, so to gather ever fresh +strength and guidance for the wayward child, his mother's tender eyes +overlooked him all day, followed his tottering steps from room to room, +kept far away from him all fear and pain, shone upon him in the depths +of night, woke and wept for him always. Never could he know the hardy +self-reliance of those whom life casts upon their own strength and care; +the wisdom and the love that lived for him lived in him, and he grew to +be a boy as the tropic blossom of a hot-house grows, without thought or +toil. + +It was not until his age brought him in contact with others, that there +seemed to be any difference between his nature and the common race +of children. Always, however, some touch of sullenness lurked in his +temperament; and whatever thwarted his will or fancy darkened the light +of his clear eyes, and drew a dull pallor over his blooming cheek, till +his mother used to tell him at such times that he stood between her and +the sunshine. + +But as he grew older, and shared in the sports of his companions, a +strange thing came to pass. Beside the shadow that follows us all in the +light, another, like that, but something deeper, began to go with Roger +Pierce,--not falling with the other, a dial-mark to show the light that +cast it, but capriciously to right or left; on whomever or whatever was +nearest him at the moment, there that Shadow lay; and as time crept on, +the Shadow pertinaciously crept with it, till it was forever hanging +about him, ready to chill with vague terror, or harden as with a frost, +either his fellows or himself. + +One peculiar trait this Shadow had: the more the restless child thought +of his visitant, the deeper it grew,--shrinking in size, but becoming +more intensely dark, till it seemed like part of a heavy thunder-cloud, +only that no lightning ever played across its blank gloom. + +The first time that the Shadow ever stood before him as an actual +presence was when, a mere child, he was busied one day in the warm May +sunshine making a garden by the school-house, in a line with other +little squares, tracked and moulded by childish fingers, and set with +branches of sallow silvered with downy catkins, half-opened dandelions, +twigs of red-flowered maple, mighty reservoirs of water in sunken +clam-shells, and paths adorned with borders of broken china and +glittering bits of glass. Next to Roger's garden-bed was one that +belonged to two little boys who were sworn friends, and one of these was +busy weaving a fence for his garden, of yellow willow-twigs, which the +other cut and sharpened. + +Roger looked on with longing eyes. + +"Will you help me, Jimmy?" said he. + +"I can't," answered the quiet, timid child. + +"No!" shouted Jacob,--the frank, fearless voice bringing a tint of color +into his comrade's cheek. "Jim shan't help you, Roger Pierce! Do you +ever help anybody?" + +Then the Shadow fell beside Roger, as he stood with anger and shame +swelling in his throat; it fell across the blue violets he had taken +from Jacob to dress his own garden, and they drooped and withered; it +crossed the path of shining pebbles that he had forced the younger +children to gather for him, and they grew dull as common stones; it +reached over into Jacob's positive, honest face, and darkened it, and +Jimmy, looking up, with fear in his mild eyes, whispered, softly,--"Come +away! it's going to rain;--don't you see that dark cloud?" + +Roger started, for the Shadow was darkening about himself; and as he +moodily returned home, it seemed to grow deeper and deeper, till his +mother drew his head upon her knee, and by the singing fire told him +tales of her own childhood, and from the loving brightness of her tender +eyes the Shadow slunk away and left the boy to sleep, unhaunted. + +As day by day went by, in patient monotony, Roger became daily more +aware of this ghostly attendant. He was not always alone, for he had +friends who loved him in spite of the Shadow, and grew used to its +appearing;--but he liked to be by himself; for, out of constant +companionship and daily use, this Shadow made for itself a strange +affinity with him, and following his daily rambles over the sharp hills, +tracing to their source the noisy brooks, or setting snares for the +wild creatures whose innocent timid eyes peered at their little enemy +curiously from nook and crevice, he grew to have a moody pleasure in the +knowledge that nothing else disturbed his path or shared his amusements. + +But a time came when he must mix more with the outer world; for he was +sent away from home to school, and there, amid a host of strange faces, +he singled out the only one that had a thought of his past life and +home in it, as his special companion,--the same quiet boy who had +unconsciously feared the Shadow in their earlier school-days. + +So good and gentle was he, that he did not feel the cloud of Roger's +hateful Double as every one else did; and he even won the boy himself to +except him only from a certain suspicion that had lately sprung from, +his own consciousness of his burden,--a suspicion gradually growing into +a belief that all the world had such a Shadow as his own. + +Now this was not a strange result of so painful a reality. Seeing, as +Roger Pierce did, in every action of others toward himself the dark +atmosphere of the Shadow that was peculiarly his own, he watched also +their mutual actions, and, throwing from his own obscurity a shade over +all human deeds, he became possessed of the monomania, a practical +belief that every mortal man, except it might be Jimmy Doane, was +followed and overlooked by this terrible Second Shadow. + +In proportion as the gloom of this black Presence seemed to be lightened +over any one was his esteem for him; but by daily looking so steadily +and with such a will to see only darkness in the hearts of men, he +discovered traces of the Shadow even in Jimmy Doane,--and the darkness +shut down, like night at sea, over all the world then. + +Now Roger was miserable enough, knowing well that he could escape, if +he would; for there had come with his increasing sense of his tyrant, +a knowledge that every time he thought of the Shadow it darkened more +deeply than ever, and that in forgetting it lay his only hope of escape +from its power. But withal there was a morbid pleasure, the reflex +influence of habit and indolence, that mingled curiously with his +longing desire to forget his Double, but rendered it impossible to do +so without a greater effort than he cared to make, or some help from +another hand; and soon that help seemed to come. + +When Roger left his home for school, he left in the quaint oak cradle +a little baby-sister, too young to have a place in his thought as a +definite existence; but after an absence of two years he came back to +find in her a new phase of life, into which the Shadow could not yet +enter. + +The child's name her own childish tongue had softened into "Sunny," a +name that was the natural expression of her sunshiny traits, the clear +gay voice, the tranquil azure eyes, the golden curls, the loving looks, +that made Sunny the darling of the house,--the stray sunbeam that +glanced through the doors, flitted by the heavy wainscots, and danced up +the dusky stairways of that old and solitary dwelling. + +When Roger returned, fresh from the rough companionship of school, Sunny +seemed to him a creature of some better race than his own. The Shadow +vanished, for he forgot it in his new devotion to Sunny. Nothing did he +leave undone to please her wayward fancies. In those hot summer-days, +he carried her to a little brook that rippled across the meadow, and, +sitting with her in his arms on the large smooth stones that divided +those shallow waters, held her carefully while she splashed her tiny +dimpled feet in the cool ripples, or grasped vainly at the blue-winged +dragon-flies sailing past, on languid, airy pinions, just beyond her +reach. Or he gathered heaps of daisies for the child to toss into the +shining stream, and see the pale star-like blossoms float smoothly down +till some eddy caught them in its sparkling whirl, and, drenching the +frail, helpless leaves, cast them on the farther shore and went its +careless way. Or he told her, in the afternoons, under some wide +apple-tree, wonderful stories of giants and naughty boys, till she fell +asleep on the sweet hay, where the curious grasshoppers peered at her +with round horny eyes, and velvet-bodied spiders scurried across her +fair curls with six-legged speed, and the robin eyed her from a bough +above with wistful glances, till Roger must needs carry her tenderly out +of their neighborhood to his mother's gentle care. + +All this guard and guidance Sunny repaid with her only treasure, love. +She left her pet kitten in its gayest antics to sit on Roger's knee; she +went to sleep at night nestled against his arm; every little dainty that +she gathered from garden or field was shared with him; and no pleasure +that did not include Roger could tempt Sunny to be pleased. + +For a while the unconscious charm endured; absorbed in his darling, +Roger forgot the Shadow, or remembered it only at rare intervals; and in +that brief time every one seemed to grow better and lovelier. He did not +see in this the coloring of his own more kindly thoughts. + +But when, at length, the novelty of Sunny's presence wore off, her +claims grew tiresome. In the faith of her child's heart, she came as +frankly to Roger for help or comfort as she had ever done; and he found +his own plans for study or pleasure constantly interrupted by her +requests or caresses, till the Shadow darkened again beside him, and, +looking over his shoulder, fell so close to Sunny, that his old belief +drew its veil across his eyes for a moment, and he started at the sight +of what he dreaded,--a Shadow haunting Sunny. + +Then,--though this first dread passed away,--slowly, but creeping on +with unfailing certainty, the Shadow returned. It fell like a brooding +storm over the fireside of home; he fancied a like shadow following his +mother's steps, darkening his baby-sister's smile; and as if in +revenge for so long an absence, the Shadow forced itself upon him more +strenuously than ever, till poor Roger Pierce was like a bruised and +beaten child,--too sore to have peace or rest, too sensitive to bear any +remedy for his ailment, and too petulant to receive or expect sympathy +from any other and more gentle nature than his own. + +It was long before the Shadow made itself felt by Sunny. She never saw +it as others did. If its chill passed over her warm rosy face, she stole +up softly to her brother, and, with a look of pure childish love, put +her hand in his, and said softly, "Poor Roger!" or, with a keener sense +of the Presence, forbore to touch him, but played off her kitten's +merriest tricks before him, or rolled her tiny hoop with shouts of +laughter across the old house-dog as he slept on the grass, looking +vainly for the smile Roger had always given to her baby plays before. + +So by degrees she went back to her own pleasures, full of tender thought +for every living thing, and a loving consciousness of their wants and +ways. Her lisping voice chattered brook-like to birds and bees; her +lip curled grievously over the broken wing of a painted moth, or the +struggles of a drowning fly; in Nature's company she played as with an +infant ever divine; and no darkness assailed the never-weary child. + +But Roger grew daily closer to his Shadow, and gave himself up to its +dominion, till his mother saw the bondage, and tried, mourning, every +art and device to win him away from the evil spirit, but tried in vain. +So they lived till Sunny was four years old, when suddenly, one bright +day in June, she left the roses in her garden with broken stems, but +ungathered, and, tottering into the house, fell across the threshold, +flushed and sleepy,--as they who lifted her saw at once, in the first +stage of a fever. + +This unexpected blow once more severed Roger from his Shadow. He watched +his little sister with a heart full of anxious regret, yet so fully +wrapt in her wants and danger, that the gloomy Shadow, which looked afar +off at his self-accusations, dared not once intrude. + +At length that day of crisis came, the pause of fever and delirium, +desired, yet dreaded, by every trembling, fearful heart that hung over +the child's pillow. If she slept, the physician said, her fate hung on +the waking; life or death would seal her when sleep resigned its claim. +It was early morning when this sentence was given; in an hour's time the +fever had subsided, the flush passed from Sunny's cheek, and she slept, +watched breathlessly by Roger and his mother. The curtains of the room +were half drawn to give the little creature air, and there rustled +lightly through them a low south wind, bearing the delicate perfume of +blossoms, and the lulling murmur of bees singing at their sweet toil. + +Roger was weary with watching; the chiming sounds of Summer, the low +ticking of the old clock on the stairs, and the utter quiet within, +soothed him to slumber; his head bent forward and rested on the bedside; +he fell asleep, and in his sleep he dreamed. + +Over Sunny's pillow (for in this dream he seemed to himself waking and +watching) he saw a hovering spirit, the incarnate shape of Light, gazing +at the sleeping child with ineffable tenderness; but its keen eyes +caught the aspect of Roger's Shadow; the pure lineaments glowed with +something more divinely awful than anger, and with levelled lance it +assailed that evil Presence and bore it to the ground; but the Shadow +slipped aside from the spear, and cowered into distance; the angelic +face saddened, and, stooping downward, folded Sunny in its arms as if to +bear her away. + +Roger woke with his own vain attempt to grasp and detain the child. The +setting sun streamed in at the window, and his mother stood at his side, +brought by some inarticulate sound from Sunny's lips. + +She sent the boy to call his father, and when they came in together, the +child's wide blue eyes were open, full of supernatural calm; her parched +lips parted with a faint smile; and the loose golden curls pushed off +her forehead, where the blue veins crept, like vivid stains of violet, +under the clear skin. + +"Dear mother!" she said, raising her arms slowly, to be lifted on the +pillow; but the low, hoarse voice had lost its music. + +Then she turned to her father with that strange bright smile, and again +to Roger, uttering faintly,-- + +"Stand away, Roger; Sunny wants the light." + +They drew all the curtain opposite her bed away, and, as she stretched +her hands eagerly toward the window, the last rays of sunshine glowed +on her pale illuminated face, till it was even as an angel's, and Roger +caught a sudden gleam of wings across the air; but a cold pain struck +him as he gazed, for Sunny fell backward on her pillow. She had gone +with the sunshine. + +It seemed now for a time as if the phantasm that haunted Roger Pierce +were banished at last. His moody reserve disappeared; he addressed +himself with quiet, constant effort to console his mother,--to aid his +father,--to fill, so far as he could, the vacant place; and his heart +longed with an incessant thirst for the bright Spirit that hovered in +his dream over Sunny;--he seemed almost to have begun a natural and +healthy life. + +But year after year passed away, and the light of Sunny's influence +faded with her fading memory. Green turf grew over her short grave, and +the long slant shadow of its headstone no longer lay on a foot-worn +track. Roger's pilgrimages to that spot were over; his heart had ceased +to remember. The Shadow had reassumed its power, and reigned. + +Still through its obscurity he kept one gleam of light,--an admiration +undiminished for those who seemed to have no such attendance; but daily +the number of these grew less. + +At length, after the studies of his youth were over, and he had returned +to his old home for life, there came over the settled and brooding +darkness of his soul a warm ray of dawn. In some way, as naturally as +one meets a fresh wind full of vernal odor and life, yet never marks the +moment of its first caress, so naturally, so unmarkedly, he renewed a +childish acquaintance with Violet Channing, a dweller in the same +quiet valley with himself, though for long years the fine threads of +circumstance had parted them. + +Not a stone, and the frail green moss that clings to it, are more +essentially different than were Roger Pierce and Violet Channing. +Without a trace of the Shadow in herself, Violet disbelieved its +existence in others. She had heard a rumor of Roger's phantom, but +thought it some strange delusion, or want of perception, in those who +told her,--being rather softened toward him with pity that he should be +so little understood. + +In the first days of their acquaintance, it seemed as if the light +of the girl's face would have dispelled forever the darkness of her +companion's Shadow, it was so mild and quiet a shining,--not the mere +outer lustre of beauty, but the deep informing expression of that Spirit +which had companioned Sunny heavenward. + +With Violet, soothed by the timid sweetness of her manner, aroused by +her sudden flashes of mirth and vivid enthusiasm, Roger seemed to forget +his hateful companion, or remembered it only to be consoled by her +tender eyes that beamed with pity and affection. + +Month after month this intimacy went on, brightening daily in Roger's +mind the ideal picture of his new friend, but creating in her only +a deeper sympathy and a more devout compassion for his wretched and +oppressed life. But as years instead of months went by, the sole +influence no longer rested with the girl, drawing Roger Pierce upward, +as she longed and strove to do, into her own sunshine. Their mutual +relation had only lightened his darkness in part, while it had drawn +over her the faint twilight of a Shadow like his own. But as the chief +characteristic of this unearthly Thing was that it grew by notice, as +some strange Eastern plants live on air, it throve but slowly near to +Violet Channing, whose thoughts were bent on curing the heart-evil of +Roger Pierce, and were so absorbed in that patient care that they had +little chance to turn upon herself; though, when patience almost failed, +and, weary with fruitless labor and unanswered yearning, her heart sunk, +she was conscious of a vague influence that made the sunbeams fall +coldly, and the songs of Summer mournful. + +Hour after hour she lavished all the treasure she knew, and much that +she knew not consciously, to beguile the darkness from Roger's brow; or +recalled again and again her own deeds and words, to review them with +strict judgment, lest they might have set provocation in his path; till +at length her loving thoughts grew restless and painful, her face paled, +her frame wasted away, and over her deep melancholy eyes the Shadow hung +like a black tempest reflected in some clear lake. + +Roger was not blind to this change; he did not see who had cast the +first veil of darkness over the pure light that had shone so freely for +him; and while he silently regretted what he deemed the desecration of +the spotless image he had loved, nothing whispered that it was his own +Shadow brooding above the true heart that had toiled so faithfully and +long for his enlightening. + +The most painful result of all to Violet was the new coldness of Roger's +manner to her. Shadowed as he was, he did not perceive this change in +himself; but Violet, in the silence of night, or in the solitary hours +she spent in wood and field beside her growing Shadow, felt it with +unmingled pain. Vainly did the Spirit of Light within her counsel her to +persevere, looking only at the end she would achieve; subtler and more +penetrative to her untuned ear were the words of the fiend at her side. + +One day she had brooded long and drearily on the carelessness and +coldness of her dear, her disregardful friend, and in her worn and weary +soul revolved whatever sweetness of the past had now fled, and what +pangs of love repulsed and devotion scorned lay before her in the +miserable future; and as she held her throbbing head upon her hands, +wasted with fiery pulses, it seemed to her as if the Shadow, inclining +to her ear, whispered, almost audibly,-- + +"Think what you have given this man!--your hope and peace; the breath of +your life and the beatings of your heart. All your soul is lavished on +him, and see how he repays you!" + +The weak and disheartened girl shivered; the time was past when she +could have despised the voice of this dread companion, when the Shadow +dared not have spoken thus; and with bitter tears swelling into her eyes +she and the Shadow walked forth together to a haunt on the mountain-side +where she had been used to meet Roger. + +It was a bare rock, just below the summit of a peak crowned with a few +old cedars, from whose laborious growth of dull, dark foliage long +streamers of gray moss waved in the wind. There were scattered crags +about their roots, against whose lichen-covered sides the autumn sun +shone fruitlessly; and from the leafless forests in the deep valley +beneath rose a whispering sound, as if they shuddered, and were stirred +by some foreboding horror. + +Violet made her way to this height as eagerly as her lessened strength +and panting heart allowed; but as she lifted her eyes from the narrow +path she had tracked upward, they rested on the last face she wished to +meet, the gloomy visage of Roger Pierce. The girl hesitated, and would +have drawn back, but Roger bade her come near. + +"There is no need of your going, Violet," said he; and she crouched +quietly on the rock at his feet, silently, but with fixed eyes, +regarding the double nature before her, the Man and his Shadow. + +Still upward from the valley crept that low shiver of dread; the pale +sun shed its listless light on the gray rocks and dusky cedars; the +silent unexpectant earth seemed to have paused; all things were wrapt in +vague awe and dim apprehension; some inexpressible fatality seemed to +oppress life and breath. + +A sudden impulse of escape, desperate in its strength, possessed Violet; +perhaps to name that Thing that clung so closely to Roger might shake +its power,--and with a trembling, vibrating voice she spoke:-- + +"Roger,--you are thinking of the Shadow?" + +He did not move, nor at once speak; no new expression stirred his dark +face; at length he answered, in a voice that seemed to come from some +lips far away, in an unechoing distance:-- + +"The Shadow?--Yes. I see it in all faces. It lies on the valley yonder; +in the air; on every mortal brow and lip it gathers deeper yet. Violet, +you, too, share the Shadow!" + +Slowly, as if his words froze her, Violet rose and turned toward him; +a light shone from her eyes that melted their dark depths into the +radiance of high noon; and she spoke with a thrilled, yet unfaltering +tone:-- + +"Yes, I share it, it is true. I feel and see the gloom; but if the +Shadow haunts me, Roger Pierce, ask your own heart who cast it there! +When we were first friends, I knew nothing of that darkness. I tried +with all purity and compassion to draw you upward into light; and for +reward, you have wrapped your own blackness round me, and hate your own +doing. My work is over,--is in vain! It remains only that I free myself +from this Shadow, and leave you to the mercy of a Power with whom no +such Presence can cope,--in whom no darkness nor shadow may abide." + +She turned to leave him with these words, but cast back a look of such +love and tender pity, that she seemed to Roger the very Spirit that had +borne Sunny away. + +Bewildered and pained to the heart, he groped his way homeward, and +night lapsed into morning, and returned and went again more than once, +ere sleep returned to his eyes. + +Violet kept no vigils; she wept herself asleep as a child against its +mother's bosom, and loving eyes guarded that childlike rest. But Roger's +waking was haunted with remorse and fearful expectation; and as days +crept by, and Memory, like one who fastens the galley-slave to his oar, +still pressed on his thoughts the constant patience, toil, and affection +of Violet Channing, he felt how truly she had spoken of him, and from +his soul abhorred the Shadow of his life. + +Here he vanishes. Whether with successful conflict he fought with the +evil and prevailed, and showed himself a man,--or whether the Thing +renewed its dominion, and he drew to himself another nature, not for the +good power of its pure contact, but for the further increase of that +darkness, and the blinding of another soul, is never yet to be known. + +Of Violet Channing he saw no more; with her his sole earthly redemption +had fled; she went her way, free henceforward from the Shadow, and +guarded in the arms of the shining Spirit. + +The wind yet howls and dashes without; the rain, rushing in gusts on +roof and casement, keeps no time nor tune; the fire is dead in the +ashes; the red rose, in the lessening light, turns gray;--but far away +to the south the cloud begins to scatter; faint amber steals along the +crest of the distant hills; after all evils, hope remains,--even for a +Man with two Shadows. Let us, perhaps his kindred after the spirit, not +despair. + + + + +AMOURS DE VOYAGE. + +[Concluded.] + + + IV. + + Eastward, or Northward, or West? I wander, and ask as I wander, + Weary, yet eager and sure, where shall I come to my love? + Whitherward hasten to seek her? Ye daughters of Italy, tell me, + Graceful and tender and dark, is she consorting with you? + Thou that out-climbest the torrent, that tendest thy goats to the summit, + Call to me, child of the Alp, has she been seen on the heights? + Italy, farewell I bid thee! for, whither she leads me, I follow. + Farewell the vineyard! for I, where I but guess her, must go. + Weariness welcome, and labor, wherever it be, if at last it + Bring me in mountain or plain into the sight of my love. + + + I.--Claude to Eustace,--_from Florence_. + + Gone from Florence; indeed; and that is truly provoking;-- + Gone to Milan, it seems; then I go also to Milan. + Five days now departed; but they can travel but slowly;-- + I quicker far; and I know, as it happens, the house they will go to.-- + Why, what else should I do? Stay here and look at the pictures, + Statues, and churches? Alack, I am sick of the statues and pictures!-- + No, to Bologna, Parma, Piacenza, Lodi, and Milan, + Off go we to-night,--and the Venus go to the Devil! + + + II.--Claude to Eustace,--_from Bellaggio_. + + Gone to Como, they said; and I have posted to Como. + There was a letter left, but the _cameriere_ had lost it. + Could it have been for me? They came, however, to Como, + And from Como went by the boat,--perhaps to the Spluegen,-- + Or to the Stelvio, say, and the Tyrol; also it might be + By Porlezza across to Lugano, and so to the Simplon + Possibly, or the St. Gothard, or possibly, too, to Baveno, + Orta, Turin, and elsewhere. Indeed, I am greatly bewildered. + + + III.--Claude to Eustace,--_from Bellaggio_. + + I have been up the Spluegen, and on the Stelvio also: + Neither of these can I find they have followed; in no one inn, and + This would be odd, have they written their names. I have been to + Porlezza. + There they have not been seen, and therefore not at Lugano. + What shall I do? Go on through the Tyrol, Switzerland, Deutschland, + Seeking, an inverse Saul, a kingdom, to find only asses? + There is a tide, at least in the _love_ affairs of mortals, + Which, when taken at flood, leads on to the happiest fortune,-- + Leads to the marriage-morn and the orange-flowers and the altar, + And the long lawful line of crowned joys to crowned joys succeeding.-- + Ah, it has ebbed with me! Ye gods, and when it was flowing, + Pitiful fool that I was, to stand fiddle-faddling in that way! + + + IV.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE,--_from Bellaggio._ + + I have returned and found their names in the book at Como. + Certain it is I was right, and yet I am also in error. + Added in feminine hand, I read, _By the boat to Bellaggio._-- + So to Bellaggio again, with the words of her writing, to aid me. + Yet at Bellaggio I find no trace, no sort of remembrance. + So I am here, and wait, and know every hour will remove them. + + + V.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE,--_from Belaggio._ + + I have but one chance left,--and that is, going to Florence. + But it is cruel to turn. The mountains seem to demand me,-- + Peak and valley from far to beckon and motion me onward. + Somewhere amid their folds she passes whom fain I would follow; + Somewhere among those heights she haply calls me to seek her. + Ah, could I hear her call! could I catch the glimpse of her raiment! + Turn, however, I must, though it seem I turn to desert her; + For the sense of the thing is simply to hurry to Florence, + Where the certainty yet may be learnt, I suppose, from the Ropers. + + + VI.--MARY TREVELLYN, _from Lucerne_, TO MISS ROPER, _at Florence_. + + Dear Miss Roper,--By this you are safely away, we are hoping, + Many a league from Rome; ere long we trust we shall see you. + How have you travelled? I wonder;--was Mr. Claude your companion? + As for ourselves, we went from Como straight to Lugano; + So by the Mount St. Gothard;--we meant to go by Porlezza, + Taking the steamer, and stopping, as you had advised, at Bellaggio; + Two or three days or more; but this was suddenly altered, + After we left the hotel, on the very way to the steamer. + So we have seen, I fear, not one of the lakes in perfection. + Well, he is not come; and now, I suppose, he will not come. + What will you think, meantime?--and yet I must really confess it;-- + What will you say? I wrote him a note. We left in a hurry, + Went from Milan to Como three days before we expected. + But I thought, if he came all the way to Milan, he really + Ought not to be disappointed; and so I wrote three lines to + Say I had heard he was coming, desirous of joining our party;-- + If so, then I said, we had started for Como, and meant to + Cross the St. Gothard, and stay, we believed, at Lucerne, for the + summer. + Was it wrong? and why, if it was, has it failed to bring him? + Did he not think it worth while to come to Milan? He knew (you + Told him) the house we should go to. Or may it, perhaps, have + miscarried? + Any way, now, I repent, and am heartily vexed that I wrote it. + There is a home on the shore of the Alpine sea, that upswelling + High up the mountain-sides spreads in the hollow between; + Wilderness, mountain, and snow from the land of the olive conceal it; + Under Pilatus's hill low by its river it lies: + Italy, utter one word, and the olive and vine will allure not,-- + Wilderness, forest, and snow will not the passage impede; + Italy, unto thy cities receding, the clue to recover, + Hither, recovered the clue, shall not the traveller haste? + + + + V. + + There is a city, upbuilt on the quays of the turbulent Arno, + Under Fiesole's heights,--thither are we to return? + There is a city that fringes the curve of the inflowing waters, + Under the perilous hill fringes the beautiful bay,-- + Parthenope do they call thee?--the Siren, Neapolis, seated + Under Vesevus's hill,--thither are we to proceed?-- + Sicily, Greece, will invite, and the Orient;--or are we to turn to + England, which may after all be for its children the best? + + + I.--MARY TREVELLYN, _at Lucerne_, TO MISS ROPER, _at Florence_. + + So you are really free, and living in quiet at Florence; + That is delightful news;--you travelled slowly and safely; + Mr. Claude got you out; took rooms at Florence before you; + Wrote from Milan to say so; had left directly for Milan, + Hoping to find us soon;--_if he could, he would, you are + certain._-- + Dear Miss Roper, your letter has made me exceedingly happy. + You are quite sure, you say, he asked you about our intentions; + You had not heard of Lucerne as yet, but told him of Como.-- + Well, perhaps he will come;--however, I will not expect it. + Though you say you are sure,--if he can, he will, _you are + certain._ + O my dear, many thanks from your ever affectionate Mary. + + + II.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Florence. + + _Action will furnish belief,_--but will that belief be the true + one? + This is the point, you know. However, it doesn't much matter + What one wants, I suppose, is to predetermine the action, + So as to make it entail, not a chance-belief, but the true one. + _Out of the question,_ you say, _if a thing isn't wrong, we + may do it._ + Ah! but this wrong, you see;--but I do not know that it matters. + Eustace, the Ropers are gone, and no one can tell me about them. + + + Pisa. + + Pisa, they say they think; and so I follow to Pisa, + Hither and thither inquiring. I weary of making inquiries; + I am ashamed, I declare, of asking people about it.-- + Who are your friends? You said you had friends who would certainly + know them. + + Florence. + + But it is idle, moping, and thinking, and trying to fix her + Image more and more in, to write the old perfect inscription + Over and over again upon every page of remembrance. + I have settled to stay at Florence to wait for your answer. + Who are your friends? Write quickly and tell me. I wait for your + answer. + + + III.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER, _at Lucca Baths_. + + You are at Lucca Baths, you tell me, to stay for the summer; + Florence was quite too hot; you can't move further at present. + Will you not come, do you think, before the summer is over? + Mr. C. got you out with very considerable trouble; + And he was useful and kind, and seemed so happy to serve you; + Didn't stay with you long, but talked very openly to you; + Made you almost his confessor, without appearing to know it,-- + What about?--and you say you didn't need his confessions. + O my dear Miss Roper, I dare not trust what you tell me! + Will he come, do you think? I am really so sorry for him! + They didn't give him my letter at Milan, I feel pretty certain. + You had told him Bellaggio. We didn't go to Bellaggio; + So he would miss our track, and perhaps never come to Lugano, + Where we were written in full, _To Lucerne, across the St. + Gothard._ + But he could write to you;--you would tell him where you were going. + + + IV.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Let me, then, bear to forget her. I will not cling to her falsely; + Nothing factitious or forced shall impair the old happy relation. + I will let myself go, forget, not try to remember; + I will walk on my way, accept the chances that meet me, + Freely encounter the world, imbibe these alien airs, and + Never ask if new feelings and thoughts are of her or of others. + Is she not changing, herself?--the old image would only delude me. + I will be bold, too, and change,--if it must be. Yet if in all things, + Yet if I do but aspire evermore to the Absolute only, + I shall be doing, I think, somehow, what she will be doing;-- + I shall be thine, O my child, some way, though I know not in what way. + Let me submit to forget her; I must; I already forget her. + + + V.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Utterly vain is, alas, this attempt at the Absolute,--wholly! + I, who believed not in her, because I would fain believe nothing, + Have to believe as I may, with a wilful, unmeaning acceptance. + I, who refused to enfasten the roots of my floating existence + In the rich earth, cling now to the hard, naked rock that is left me.-- + Ah! she was worthy, Eustace,--and that, indeed, is my comfort,-- + Worthy a nobler heart than a fool such as I could have given. + + + VI.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Yes, it relieves me to write, though I do not send; and the chance + that + Takes may destroy my fragments. But as men pray, without asking + Whether One really exist to hear or do anything for them,-- + Simply impelled by the need of the moment to turn to a Being + In a conception of whom there is freedom from all limitation,-- + So in your image I turn to an _ens rationis_ of friendship. + Even to write in your name I know not to whom nor in what wise. + + + VII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + There was a time, methought it was but lately departed, + When, if a thing was denied me, I felt I was bound to attempt it; + Choice alone should take, and choice alone should surrender. + There was a time, indeed, when I had not retired thus early, + Languidly thus, from pursuit of a purpose I once had adopted. + But it is over, all that! I have slunk from the perilous field in + Whose wild struggle of forces the prizes of life are contested. + It is over, all that! I am a coward, and know it. + Courage in me could be only factitious, unnatural, useless. + + + VIII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Rome is fallen, I hear, the gallant Medici taken, + Noble Manara slain, and Garibaldi has lost _il Moro_;-- + Rome is fallen; and fallen, or falling, heroical Venice. + I, meanwhile, for the loss of a single small chit of a girl, sit + Moping and mourning here,--for her, and myself much smaller. + Whither depart the souls of the brave that die in the battle, + Die in the lost, lost fight, for the cause that perishes with them? + Are they upborne from the field on the slumberous pinions of angels + Unto a far-off home, where the weary rest from their labor, + And the deep wounds are healed, and the bitter and burning moisture + Wiped from the generous eyes? or do they linger, unhappy, + Pining, and haunting the grave of their by-gone hope and endeavor? + All declamation, alas! though I talk, I care not for Rome, nor + Italy; feebly and faintly, and but with the lips, can lament the + Wreck of the Lombard youth and the victory of the oppressor. + Whither depart the brave?--God knows; I certainly do not. + + + IX.--MARY TREVELLYN TO MISS ROPER. + + He has not come as yet; and now I must not expect it. + You have written, you say, to friends at Florence, to see him, + If he perhaps should return;--but that is surely unlikely. + Has he not written to you?--he did not know your direction. + Oh, how strange never once to have told him where you were going! + Yet if he only wrote to Florence, that would have reached you. + If what you say he said was true, why has he not done so? + Is he gone back to Rome, do you think, to his Vatican marbles?-- + O my dear Miss Roper, forgive me! do not be angry!-- + You have written to Florence;--your friends would certainly find him. + Might you not write to him?--but yet it is so little likely! + I shall expect nothing more.--Ever yours, your affectionate Mary. + + + X.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + I cannot stay at Florence, not even to wait for a letter. + Galleries only oppress me. Remembrance of hope I had cherished + (Almost more than as hope, when I passed through Florence the first + time) + Lies like a sword in my soul. I am more a coward than ever, + Chicken-hearted, past thought. The _caffes_ and waiters distress + me. + All is unkind, and, alas, I am ready for any one's kindness. + Oh, I knew it of old, and knew it, I thought, to perfection, + If there is any one thing in the world to preclude all kindness, + It is the need of it,--it is this sad self-defeating dependence. + Why is this, Eustace? Myself, were I stronger, I think I could tell + you. + But it is odd when it comes. So plumb I the deeps of depression, + Daily in deeper, and find no support, no will, no purpose. + All my old strengths are gone. And yet I shall have to do something. + Ah, the key of our life, that passes all wards, opens all locks, + Is not _I will_, but _I must_. I must,--I must,--and I do + it. + + + XI--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + At the last moment I have your letter, for which I was waiting. + I have taken my place, and see no good in inquiries. + Do nothing more, good Eustace, I pray you. It only will vex me. + Take no measures. Indeed, should we meet, I could not be certain; + All might be changed, you know. Or perhaps there was nothing to be + changed. + It is a curious history, this; and yet I foresaw it; + I could have told it before. The Fates, it is clear, are against us; + For it is certain enough that I met with the people you mention; + They were at Florence the day I returned there, and spoke to me even; + Staid a week, saw me often; departed, and whither I know not. + Great is Fate, and is best. I believe in Providence, partly. + What is ordained is right, and all that happens is ordered. + Ah, no, that isn't it. But yet I retain my conclusion: + I will go where I am led, and will not dictate to the chances. + Do nothing more, I beg. If you love me, forbear interfering. + + + XII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE. + + Shall we come out of it all, some day, as one does from a tunnel? + Will it be all at once, without our doing or asking, + We shall behold clear day, the trees and meadows about us, + And the faces of friends, and the eyes we loved looking at us? + Who knows? Who can say? It will not do to suppose it. + + + XIII.--CLAUDE TO EUSTACE,--_from Rome_. + + Rome will not suit me, Eustace; the priests and soldiers possess it; + Priests and soldiers;--and, ah! which is worst, the priest or the + soldier? + Politics farewell, however! For what could I do? with inquiring, + Talking, collating the journals, go fever my brain about things o'er + Which I can have no control. No, happen whatever may happen, + Time, I suppose, will subsist; the earth will revolve on its axis; + People will travel; the stranger will wander as now in the city; + Rome will be here, and the Pope the _custode_ of Vatican marbles. + I have no heart, however, for any marble or fresco; + I have essayed it in vain; 'tis vain as yet to essay it: + But I may haply resume some day my studies in this kind. + Not as the Scripture says, is, I think, the fact. Ere our death-day, + Faith, I think, does pass, and Love; but Knowledge abideth. + Let us seek Knowledge;--the rest must come and go as it happens. + Knowledge is hard to seek, and harder yet to adhere to. + Knowledge is painful often; and yet when we know, we are happy. + Seek it, and leave mere Faith and Love to come with the chances. + As for Hope,--to-morrow I hope to be starting for Naples. + Rome will not do, I see; for many very good reasons. + Eastward, then, I suppose, with the coming of winter, to Egypt. + + + XIV.--Mary Trevellyn to Miss Roper. + + You have heard nothing; of course, I know you can have heard nothing. + Ah, well, more than once I have broken my purpose, and sometimes, + Only too often, have looked for the little lake-steamer to bring him. + But it is only fancy,--I do not really expect it. + Oh, and you see I know so exactly how he would take it: + Finding the chances prevail against meeting again, he would banish + Forthwith every thought of the poor little possible hope, which + I myself could not help, perhaps, thinking only too much of; + He would resign himself, and go. I see it exactly. + So I also submit, although in a different manner. + Can you not really come? We go very shortly to England. + + * * * * * + + So go forth to the world, to the good report and the evil! + Go, little book! thy tale, is it not evil and good? + Go, and if strangers revile, pass quietly by without answer. + Go, and if curious friends ask of thy rearing and age, + Say, _I am flitting about many years from brain unto brain of + Feeble and restless youths born to inglorious days_; + _But_, so finish the word, _I was writ in a Roman chamber, + When from Janiculan heights thundered the cannon of France_. + + + + +INTELLECTUAL CHARACTER. + + +The desire, the duty, the necessity of the age in which we live is +education, or that culture which developes, enlarges, and enriches each +individual intelligence, according to the measure of its capacity, by +familiarizing it with the facts and laws of nature and human life. +But, in this rage for information, we too often overlook the mental +constitution of the being we would inform,--detaching the apprehensive +from the active powers, weakening character by overloading memory, and +reaping a harvest of imbeciles after we may have flattered ourselves we +had sown a crop of geniuses. No person can be called educated, until he +has organized his knowledge into faculty, and wields it as a weapon. +We purpose, therefore, to invite the attention of our readers to some +remarks on Intellectual Character, the last and highest result of +intellectual education, and the indispensable condition of intellectual +success. + +It is evident, that, when a young man leaves his school or college to +take his place in the world, it is indispensable that he be something +as well as know something; and it will require but little experience to +demonstrate to him that what he really knows is little more than what +he really is, and that his progress in intellectual manhood is not more +determined by the information he retains, than by that portion which, by +a benign provision of Providence, he is enabled to forget. Youth, to +be sure, is his,--youth, in virtue of which he is free of the +universe,--youth, with its elastic vigor, its far-darting hopes, its +generous impatience of prudent meanness, its grand denial of instituted +falsehood, its beautiful contempt of accredited baseness,--but youth +which must now concentrate its wayward energies, which must discourse +with facts and grapple with men, and through strife and struggle, and +the sad wisdom of experience, must pass from the vague delights of +generous impulses to the assured joy of manly principles. The moment he +comes in contact with the stern and stubborn realities which frown on +his entrance into practical life, he will find that power is the soul of +knowledge, and character the condition of intelligence. He will discover +that intellectual success depends primarily on qualities which are not +strictly intellectual, but personal and constitutional. The test +of success is influence,--that is, the power of shaping events by +informing, guiding, animating, controlling other minds. Whether this +influence be exerted directly in the world of practical affairs, or +indirectly in the world of ideas, its fundamental condition is still +force of individual being, and the amount of influence is the measure +of the degree of force, just as an effect measures a cause. The +characteristic of intellect is insight,--insight into things and their +relations; but then this insight is intense or languid, clear or +confused, comprehensive or narrow, exactly in proportion to the weight +and power of the individual who sees and combines. It is not so much the +intellect that makes the man, as the man the intellect; in every act of +earnest thinking, the reach of the thought depends on the pressure of +the will; and we would therefore emphasize and enforce, as the primitive +requirement of intellectual success, that discipline of the individual +which developes dim tendencies into positive sentiments, sentiments into +ideas, and ideas into abilities,--that discipline by which intellect +is penetrated through and through with the qualities of manhood, and +endowed with arms as well as eyes. This is Intellectual Character. + +Now it should be thundered in the ears of every young man who has +passed through that course of instruction ironically styled education, +"What do you intend to be, and what do you intend to do? Do you purpose +to play at living, or do you purpose to live?--to be a memory, a +word-cistern, a feeble prater on illustrious themes, one of the world's +thousand chatterers, or a will, a power, a man?" No varnish and veneer +of scholarship, no command of the tricks of logic and rhetoric, can ever +make you a positive force in the world. Look around you in the community +of educated men, and see how many, who started on their career with +minds as bright and eager and hearts as hopeful as yours, have been +mysteriously arrested in their growth,--have lost all the kindling +sentiments which glorified their youthful studies, and dwindled into +complacent echoes of surrounding mediocrity,--have begun, indeed, to die +on the very threshold of manhood, and stand in society as tombs rather +than temples of immortal souls. See, too, the wide disconnection between +knowledge and life;--heaps of information piled upon little heads; +everybody speaking,--few who have earned the right to speak; maxims +enough to regenerate a universe,--a woful lack of great hearts, in +which reason, right, and truth, regal and militant, are fortified and +encamped! Now this disposition to skulk the austere requirements of +intellectual growth in an indolent surrender of the mind's power of +self-direction must be overcome at the outset, or, in spite of your +grand generalities, you will be at the mercy of every bullying lie, +and strike your colors to every mean truism, and shape your life +in accordance with every low motive, which the strength of genuine +wickedness or genuine stupidity can bring to bear upon you. There is no +escape from slavery, or the mere pretence of freedom, but in radical +individual power; and all solid intellectual culture is simply the right +development of individuality into its true intellectual form. + +And first, at the risk of being considered metaphysical,--though we fear +no metaphysician would indorse the charge,--let us define what we +mean by individuality; for the word is commonly made to signify some +peculiarity or eccentricity, some unreasonable twist, of mind or +disposition. An individual, then, in the sense in which we use the term, +is a causative spiritual force, whose root and being are in eternity, +but who lives, grows, and builds up his nature in time. All the objects +of sense and thought, all facts and ideas, all things, are external to +his essential personality. But he has bound up in his personal being +sympathies and capacities which ally him with external objects, and +enable him to transmute their inner spirit and substance into his own +personal life. The process of his growth, therefore, is a development +of power from within to assimilate objects from without, the power +increasing with every vital exercise of it. The result of this +assimilation is character. Character is the spiritual body of the +person, and represents the individualization of vital experience, the +conversion of unconscious things into self-conscious men. Sir Thomas +Browne, in quaint reference to the building up of our physical frame +through the food we eat, declares that we have all been on our own +trenchers; and so, on the same principle, our spiritual faculties can be +analyzed into impersonal facts and ideas, whose life and substance we +have converted into personal reason, imagination, and passion. The +fundamental characteristic of man is spiritual hunger; the universe of +thought and matter is spiritual food. He feeds on Nature; he feeds on +ideas; he feeds, through art, science, literature, and history, on +the acts and thoughts of other minds; and could we take the mightiest +intellect that ever awed and controlled the world, and unravel his +powers, and return their constituent particles to the multitudinous +objects whence they were derived, the last probe of our analysis, after +we had stripped him of all his faculties, would touch that unquenchable +fiery atom of personality which had organized round itself such a +colossal body of mind, and which, in its simple naked energy, would +still be capable of rehabilitating itself in the powers and passions of +which it had been shorn. + +It results from this doctrine of the mind's growth, that success in all +the departments of life over which intellect holds dominion depends, not +merely on an outside knowledge of the facts and laws connected with each +department, but on the assimilation of that knowledge into instinctive +intelligence and active power. Take the good farmer, and you will find +that ideas in him are endowed with will, and can work. Take the good +general, and you will find that the principles of his profession are +inwrought into the substance of his nature, and act with the velocity +of instincts. Take the good judge, and in him jurisprudence seems +impersonated, and his opinions are authorities. Take the good merchant, +and you will find that commerce, in its facts and laws, seems in him +embodied, and that his sagacity appears identical with the objects on +which it is exercised. Take the great statesman, take Webster, and note +how, by thoroughly individualizing his comprehensive experience, he +seems to carry a nation in his brain; how, in all that relates to the +matter in hand, he has in him as _faculty_ what is out of him in _fact_; +how between the man and the thing there occurs that subtile freemasonry +of recognition which we call the mind's intuitive glance; and how +conflicting principles and statements, mixed and mingling in fierce +confusion and with deafening war-cries, fall into order and relation, +and move in the direction of one inexorable controlling idea, the +moment they are grasped by an intellect which is in the secret of their +combination:-- + + "Confusion hears his voice, and the wild uproar + stills." + +Mark, too, how, in the productions of his mind, the presence and +pressure of his whole nature, in each intellectual act, keeps his +opinions on the level of his character, and stamps every weighty +paragraph with "Daniel Webster, his mark." The characteristic, of all +his great speeches is, that the statements, arguments, and images have +what we should call a positive being of their own,--stand out as plainly +to the sight as a ledge of rocks or chain of hills,--and, like the works +of Nature herself, need no other justification of their right to exist +than the fact of their existence. We may detest their object, but we +cannot deny their solidity of organization. This power of giving a +substantial body, an undeniable external shape and form, to his thoughts +and perceptions, so that the toiling mind does not so much seem to pass +from one sentence to another, unfolding its leading idea, as to +make each sentence a solid work in a Torres-Vedras line of +fortifications,--this prodigious constructive faculty, wielded with the +strength of a huge Samson-like artificer in the material of mind, and +welding together the substances it might not be able to fuse, puzzled +all opponents who understood it not, and baffled the efforts of all who +understood it well. He rarely took a position on any political question, +which did not draw down upon him a whole battalion of adversaries, with +ingenious array of argument and infinite noise of declamation; but after +the smoke and dust and clamor of the combat were over, the speech loomed +up, perfect and whole, a permanent thing in history or literature, +while the loud thunders of opposition had too often died away into low +mutterings, audible only to the adventurous antiquary who gropes in the +"still air" of stale "Congressional Debates." The rhetoric of sentences +however melodious, of aphorisms however pointed, of abstractions however +true, cannot stand in the storm of affairs against this true rhetoric, +in which thought is consubstantiated with things. + +Now in men of this stamp, who have so organized knowledge into faculty +that they have attained the power of giving Thought the character of +Fact, we notice no distinction between power of intellect and power of +will, but an indissoluble union and fusion of force and insight. Facts +and laws are so blended with their personal being, that we can hardly +decide whether it is thought that wills or will that thinks. Their +actions display the intensest intelligence; their thoughts come from +them clothed in the thews and sinews of energetic volition. Their force, +being proportioned to their intelligence, never issues in that wild and +anarchical impulse, or that tough, obstinate, narrow wilfulness, which +many take to be the characteristic of individualized power. They may, in +fact, exhibit no striking individual traits which stand impertinently +out, and yet from this very cause be all the more potent and influential +individualities. Indeed, in the highest efforts of ecstatic action, +when the person is mightiest, and amazes us by the giant leaps of his +intuition, the mere peculiarities of his personality are unseen and +unfelt. This is the case with Homer, Shakspeare, and Goethe, in +poetry,--with Plato and Bacon, in philosophy,--with Newton, in +science,--with Caesar, in war. Such men doubtless had peculiarities and +caprices, but they were "burnt and purged away" by the fire of their +genius, when its action was intensest. Then their whole natures were +melted down into pure force and insight, and the impression they leave +upon the mind is the impression of marvellous force and weight and reach +of thought. + +If it be objected, that these high examples are fitted to provoke +despair rather than stimulate emulation, the answer is, that they +contain, exemplify, and emphasize the principles, and flash subtile +hints of the processes, of all mental growth and production. How comes +it that these men's thoughts radiate from them as acts, endowed not only +with an illuminating, but a penetrating and animating power? The answer +to this is a statement of the genesis, not merely of genius, but of +every form of intellectual manhood; for such thoughts do not leap, _a +la_ Minerva, full-grown from the head, but are struck off in those +moments when the whole nature of the thinker is alive and aglow with an +inspiration kindled long before in remote recesses of consciousness from +one spark of immortal fire, and unweariedly burning, burning, burning, +until it lit up the whole inert mass of surrounding mind in flame. + +To show, indeed, how little there is of the _extempore_, the hap-hazard, +the hit-or-miss, in the character of creative thought, and how +completely the gladdest inspiration is earned, let us glance at the +psychological history of one of those imperial ideas which measure the +power, test the quality, and convey the life, of the minds that conceive +them. The progress of such an idea is from film to form. It has its +origin in an atmosphere of feeling; for the first vital movement of the +mind is emotional, and is expressed in a dim tendency, a feeble feeling +after the object, or the class of objects, related to the peculiar +constitution and latent affinities of its individual being. This +tendency gradually condenses and deepens into a sentiment, pervading the +man with a love of those objects,--by a sweet compulsion ordering his +energies in their direction,--and by slow degrees investing them, +through a process of imagination, with the attribute of beauty, and, +through a process of reason, investing the purpose with which he pursues +them with the attribute of intelligence. The object dilates as the mind +assimilates and the nature moves, so that every step in this advance +from mere emotion to vivid insight is a building up of the faculties +which each onward movement evokes and exercises,--sentiment, +imagination, reason increasing their power and enlarging their scope +with each impetus that speeds them on to their bright and beckoning +goal. Then, when the individual has reached his full mental stature, and +come in direct contact with the object, then, only then, does he "pluck +out the heart of its mystery" in one of those lightning-like _acts_ of +thought which we call combination, invention, discovery. + +There is no luck, no accident, in all this. Nature does not capriciously +scatter her secrets as golden gifts to lazy pets and luxurious darlings, +but imposes tasks when she presents opportunities, and uplifts him whom +she would inform. The apple that she drops at the feet of Newton is but +a coy invitation to follow her to the stars. + +Now this living process of developing manhood and building up mind, +while the person is on the trail of a definite object of intelligence, +is in continual danger of being devitalized into a formal process of +mere acquisition, which, though it may make great memories of students, +will be sure to leave them little men. Their thoughts will be the +_attaches_, not the offspring, of their minds. They will have a bowing +acquaintance with many truths, without being admitted to the familiarity +of embracing or shaking hands with one. If they have native stamina of +animal constitution, they may become men of passions and opinions, but +they never will become men of sentiments and ideas; they may know the +truth as it is _about_ a thing, and support it with acrid and wrangling +dogmatism, but they never will know the truth as it is in the thing, +and support it with faith and insight. And the moment they come into +collision with a really live man, they will find their souls inwardly +wither, and their boasted acquisitions fall away, before one glance of +his irradiating intelligence and one stroke of his smiting will. If, on +the contrary, they are guided by good or great sentiments, which are the +souls of good or great ideas, these sentiments will be sure to organize +all the capacity there is in them into positive intellectual character; +but let them once divorce love from their occupations in life, and they +will find that labor will degenerate into drudgery, and drudgery will +weaken the power to labor, and weakness, as a last resort, will +intrench itself in pretence and deception. If they are in the learned +professions, they will become tricksters in law, quacks in medicine, +formalists in divinity, though _regular_ practitioners in all; and +clients will be cheated, and patients will be poisoned, and parishioners +will be--we dare not say what!--though all the colleges in the universe +had showered on them their diplomas. "To be weak is miserable": Milton +wrested that secret from the Devil himself!--but what shall we say of +those whose weakness has subsided from misery into complacency, and who +feel all the moral might of their being hourly rust and decay, with the +most amiable indifference and lazy content with dissolution? + +Now this weakness is a mental and moral sickness, pointing the way to +mental and moral death. It has its source in a violation of that law +which makes the health of the mind depend on its activity being directed +to an object. When directed on itself, it becomes fitful and moody; +and moodiness generates morbidness, and morbidness misanthropy, and +misanthropy self-contempt, and self-contempt begins the work of +self-dissolution. Why, every sensible man will despise himself, if he +concentrates his attention on that important personage! The joy and +confidence of activity come from its being fixed and fastened on things +external to itself. "The human heart," says Luther,--and we can apply +the remark as well, to the human mind,--"is like a millstone in a mill; +when you put wheat under it, it turns, and grinds, and bruises the wheat +into flour; if you put no wheat in, it still grinds on, but then it is +itself it grinds, and slowly wears away." Now activity for an object, +which is an activity that constantly increases the power of acting, +and keeps the mind glad, fresh, vigorous, and young, has three deadly +enemies,--intellectual indolence, intellectual conceit, and intellectual +fear. We will say a few words on the operation of this triad of +malignants. + +Montaigne relates, that, while once walking in the fields, he was +accosted by a beggar of Herculean frame, who solicited alms. "Are you +not ashamed to beg?" said the philosopher, with a frown,--"you who are +so palpably able to work?" "Oh, Sir," was the sturdy knave's drawling +rejoinder, "if you only knew how lazy I am!" Herein is the whole +philosophy of idleness; and we are afraid that many a student of good +natural capacity slips and slides from thought into reverie, and from +reverie into apathy, and from apathy into incurable indisposition to +think, with as much sweet unconsciousness of degradation as Montaigne's +mendicant evinced; and at last hides from himself the fact of his +imbecility of action, somewhat as Sir James Herring accounted for the +fact that he could not rise early in the morning: he could, he said, +make up his mind to it, but could not make up his body. + +"He who eats with the Devil," says the proverb, "has need of a long +spoon"; and he who domesticates this pleasant vice of indolence, and +allows it to nestle near his will, has need of a long head. Ordinary +minds may well be watchful of its insidious approaches when great ones +have mourned over its enfeebling effects; and the subtle indolence +that stole over the powers of Mackintosh, and gradually impaired the +productiveness even of Goethe, may well scare intellects of less natural +grasp and imaginations of less instinctive creativeness. Every step, +indeed, of the student's progress calls for energy and effort, and every +step is beset by some soft temptation to abandon the task of developing +power for the delight of following impulse. The appetites, for example, +instead of being bitted, and bridled, and trained into passions, and +sent through the intellect to quicken, sharpen, and intensify its +activity, are allowed to take their way unmolested to their own objects +of sense, and drag the mind down to their own sensual level. Sentiment +decays, the vision fades, faith in principles departs, the moment that +appetite rules. On the closing doors of that "sensual stye," as over the +gate of Dante's hell, be it written: "Let those who enter here leave +hope behind." + +But a more refined operation of this pestilent indolence is its way +of infusing into the mind the delusive belief that it can attain the +objects of activity without its exercise. Under this illusion, men +expect to grow wise, as men who gamble in stocks expect to grow rich, by +chance, and not by work. They invest in mediocrity in the confident hope +that it will go many hundred per cent. above par; and so shocking has +been the inflation of the intellectual currency of late years, that this +speculation of indolence sometimes partially succeeds. But a revulsion +comes,--and then brass has to make a break-neck descent to reach its +proper level below gold. There are others whom indolence deludes by some +trash about "fits" of inspiration, for whose Heaven-sent spasms they are +humbly to wait. There is, it seems, a lucky thought somewhere in the +abyss of possibility, which is somehow, at some time, to step out +of essence into substance, and take up its abode in their capacious +minds,--dutifully kept unoccupied in order that the expected celestial +visitor may not be crowded for room. Chance is to make them king, and +chance to crown them, without their stir! There are others still, who, +while sloth is sapping the primitive energy of their natures, expect to +scale the fortresses of knowledge by leaps and not by ladders, and who +count on success in such perilous gymnastics, not by the discipline of +the athlete, but by the dissipation of the idler. Indolence, indeed, +is never at a loss for a smooth lie or delicious sophism to justify +inaction, and, in our day, has rationalized it into a philosophy of the +mind, and idealized it into a school of poetry, and organized it into a +"hospital of incapables." It promises you the still ecstasy of a divine +repose, while it lures you surely down into the vacant dulness of +inglorious sloth. It provides a primrose path to stagnant pools, to an +Arcadia of thistles, and a Paradise of mud. + +But in a mind of any primitive power, intellectual indolence is sure to +generate intellectual conceit,--a little Jack Horner, that ensconces +itself in lazy heads, and, while it dwarfs every power to the level of +its own littleness, keeps vociferating, "What a great man am I!" It is +the essential vice of this glib imp of the mind, even when it infests +large intellects, that it puts Nature in the possessive case,--labels +all its inventions and discoveries "My truth,"--and moves about the +realms of art, science, and letters in a constant fear of having its +pockets picked. Think of a man's having vouchsafed to him one of those +awful glimpses into the mysteries of creation which should be received +with a shudder of prayerful joy, and taking the gracious boon with +a smirk of all-satisfied conceit! One page in what Shakspeare calls +"Nature's infinite book of secrecy" flies a moment open to his eager +gaze, and he hears the rustling of the myriad leaves as they close and +clasp, only to make his spirit more abject, his vanity more ravenous, +his hatred of rivals more rancorous and mean. That grand unselfish +love of truth, and joy in its discovery, by whomsoever made, which +characterize the true seeker and seer of science and creative art, alone +can keep the mind alive and alert, alone can make the possession of +truth a means of elevating and purifying the man. + +But if this conceit, in powerful natures, tends to belittle character, +and eat into and consume the very faculties whose successful exercise +creates it, its slyly insinuated venom works swifter and deadlier on +youth and inexperience. The ordinary forms of conceit, it is true, +cannot well flourish in any assemblage of young men, whose plain +interest it is to undeceive all self-deception and quell every +insurrection of individual vanity, and who soon understand the art of +burning the nonsense out of an offending brother by caustic ridicule +and slow-roasting sarcasm. But there is danger of mutual deception, +springing from a common belief in a false, but attractive principle of +culture. The mischief of intellectual conceit in our day consists in its +arresting mental growth at the start by stuffing the mind with the husks +of pretentious generalities, which, while they impart no vital power and +convey no real information, give seeming enlargement to thought, and +represent a seeming opulence of knowledge. The deluded student, who +picks up these ideas in masquerade at the rag-fairs and old-clothes' +shops of philosophy, thinks he has the key to all secrets and the +solvent of all problems, when he really has no experimental knowledge of +anything, and dwindles all the more for every juiceless, unnutritious +abstraction he devours. Though famished for the lack of a morsel of the +true mental food of facts and ideas, he still swaggeringly despises all +relative information in his ambition to clutch at absolute truth, and +accordingly goes directly to ultimates by the short cuts of cheap +generalities. Why, to be sure, should he, who can, Napoleon-like, march +straight on to the interior capital, submit, Marlborough-like, to the +drudgery of besieging the frontier fortresses? Why should he, who can +throw a girdle of generalization round the universe in less than forty +minutes, stoop to master details? And this easy and sprightly amplitude +of understanding, which consists not in including, but in excluding all +relative facts and principles, he calls comprehensiveness; the mental +decrepitude it occasions he dignifies with the appellation of repose; +and, on the strength of comprehensiveness and repose, is of course +qualified to take his seat beside Shakspeare, and chat cosily with +Bacon, and wink knowingly at Goethe, and startle Leibnitz with a slap +on the shoulder,--the true Red-Republican sign of liberty in manners, +equality in power, and fraternity in ideas! These men, to be sure, have +a way of saying things which he has not yet caught; but then their +wide-reaching thoughts are his as well as theirs. Imitating the +condescension of some contemporary philosophers of the Infinite, he +graciously accepts Christianity and patronizes the idea of Deity, though +he gives you to understand that he could easily pitch a generalization +outside of both. And thus, mistaking his slab-sidedness for +many-sidedness, and forgetting that there is no insight without force +to back it,--bedizened in conceit and magnificent in littleness,--he is +thrown on society, walking in a vain show of knowledge, and doomed to +be upset and trampled on by the first brawny concrete Fact he stumbles +against. A true method of culture makes drudgery beautiful by presenting +a vision of the object to which it leads;--beware of the conceit that +dispenses with it! How much better it is to delve for a little solid +knowledge, and be sure of that, than to be a proper target for such +a sarcasm as a great statesman once shot at a glib advocate, who was +saying nothing with great fluency and at great length! "Who," he asked, +"is this self-sufficient, all-sufficient, insufficient man?" + +Idleness and Conceit, however, are not more opposed to that +out-springing, reverential activity which makes the person forget +himself in devotion to his objects, than Fear. A bold heart in a sound +head,--that is the condition of energetic thinking, of the thought that +thinks round things and into things and through things; but fear freezes +activity at its inmost fountains. "There is nothing," says Montaigne, +"that I fear so much as fear." Indeed, an educated man, who creeps +along with an apologetic air, cringing to this name and ducking to that +opinion, and hoping that it is not too presumptuous in him to beg the +right to exist,--why, it is a spectacle piteous to gods and hateful to +men! Yet think of the many knots of monitory truisms in which activity +is likely to be caught and entangled at the outset,--knots which a brave +purpose will not waste time to untie, but instantly cuts. First, there +is the nonsense of students killing themselves by over-study,--some few +instances of which, not traceable to over-eating, have shielded the +short-comings of a million idlers. Next, there is the fear that the +intellect may be developed at the expense of the moral nature,--one of +those truths in the abstract which are made to do the office of lies in +the application, and which are calculated not so much to make good men +as _goodies_,--persons rejoicing in an equal mediocrity of morals and +mind, and pertinent examples of the necessity of personal force to +convert moral maxims into moral might. The truth would seem to be, that +half the crimes and sufferings which history records and observation +furnishes are directly traceable to want of thought rather than to bad +intention; and in regard to the other half, which may be referred to +the remorseless selfishness of unsanctified intelligence, has that +selfishness ever had more valuable allies and tools than the mental +torpor that cannot think and the conscientious stupidity that will not? +Moral laws, indeed, are intellectual facts, to be investigated as +well as obeyed; and it is not a blind or blear-eyed conscience, but a +conscience blended with intelligence and consolidated with character, +that can both see and act. + +But curtly dismissing the fallacy, that the moral and spiritual +faculties are likely to find a sound basis in a cowed and craven reason, +we come to a form of fear that practically paralyzes independent thought +more than any other, while it is incompatible with manliness and +self-respect. This fear is compounded of self-distrust and that mode +of vanity which cowers beneath the invective of men whose applause it +neither courts nor values. If you examine critically the two raging +parties of conservatism and radicalism, you will find that a goodly +number of their partisans are men who have not chosen their position, +but have been bullied into it,--men who see clearly enough that both +parties are based on principles almost equally true in themselves, +almost equally false by being detached from their mutual relations. But +then each party keeps its professors of intimidation and stainers of +character, whose business it is to deprive men of the luxury of large +thinking, and to drive all neutrals into their respective ranks. The +missiles hurled from one side are disorganizer, infidel, disunionist, +despiser of law, and other trumpery of that sort; from the other side, +the no less effective ones of murderer, dumb dog, traitor to humanity, +and other trumpery of that sort; and the young and sensitive student +finds it difficult to keep the poise of his nature amid the cross-fire +of this logic of fury and rhetoric of execration, and too often ends in +joining one party from fear, or the other from the fear of being +thought afraid. The probability is, that the least danger to his mental +independence will proceed from any apprehension he may entertain of what +are irreverently styled the "old fogies"; for if Young America goes on +at its present headlong rate, there is little doubt that the old fogy +will have to descend from his eminence of place, become an object of +pathos rather than terror, and be compelled to make the inquiring appeal +to his brisk hunters, so often made to himself in vain, "Am I not a man +and a brother?" But with whatever association, political or moral, the +thinker may connect himself, let him go in,--and not be dragged in or +scared in. He certainly can do no good to himself, his country, or his +race, by being the slave and echo of the heads of a clique. Besides, +as most organizations are constituted on the principles of a sort of +literary socialism, and each member lives and trades on a common capital +of phrases, there is danger that these phrases may decline from signs +into substitutes of thought, and both intellect and character evaporate +in words. Thus, a man may be a Union man and a National man, or an +Anti-Slavery man and a Temperance man and a Woman's-Rights' man, and +still be very little of a man. There is, indeed, no more ludicrous sight +than to see Mediocrity, perched on one of these resounding adjectives, +strut and bluster, and give itself braggadocio airs, and dictate to all +quiet men its maxims of patriotism or morality, and all the while be +but a living illustration through what grandeurs of opinion essential +meanness and poverty of soul will peer and peep and be disclosed. To be +a statesman or reformer requires a courage that dares defy dictation +from any quarter, and a mind which has come in direct contact with the +great inspiring ideas of country and humanity. All the rest is spite, +and spleen; and cant, and conceit, and words. + +It is plain, of course, that every man of large and living thought will +naturally sympathize with those great social movements, informing +and reforming, which are the glory of the age; but it must always be +remembered that the grand and generous sentiments that underlie those +movements demand in their fervid disciple a corresponding grandeur and +generosity of soul. There is no reason why his philanthropy should be +malignant because other men's conservatism may be stupid; and the vulgar +insensibility to the rights of the oppressed, and the vulgar scorn of +the claims of the wretched, which men calling themselves respectable and +educated may oppose to his own warmer feelings and nobler principles, +should be met, not with that invective which may be as vulgar as the +narrowness it denounces, nor always with that indignation which is +righteous as well as wrathful, but with that awful contempt with which +Magnanimity shames meanness, simply by the irony of her lofty example +and the sarcasm of her terrible silence. + +In these remarks, which we trust our readers have at least been kind +enough to consider worthy of an effort of patience, we have attempted to +connect all genuine intellectual success with manliness of character; +have endeavored to show that force of individual being is its primary +condition; that this force is augmented and enriched, or weakened and +impoverished, according as it is or is not directed to appropriate +objects; that indolence, conceit, and fear present continual checks to +this going out of the mind into glad and invigorating communion with +facts and laws; and that as a man is not a mere bundle of faculties, +but a vital person, whose unity pervades, vivifies, and creates all +the varieties of his manifestation, the same vices which enfeeble and +deprave character tend to enfeeble and deprave intellect. But perhaps we +have not sufficiently indicated a diseased state of consciousness, from +which most intellectual men have suffered, many have died, and all +should be warned,--the disease, namely, of mental disgust, the sign and +the result of mental debility. Mental disgust "sicklies o'er" all the +objects of thought, extinguishes faith in exertion, communicates a dull +wretchedness to indolence in the very process by which it makes activity +impossible, and drags into its own slough of despond, and discolors with +its own morbid reveries, the objects which it should ardently seek and +genially assimilate. It sees things neither as they are, nor as they are +glorified and transfigured by hope and health and faith; but, in the +apathy of that idling introspection which betrays a genius for misery, +it pronounces effort to be vanity, and despairingly dismisses knowledge +as delusion. "Despair," says Donne, "is the damp of hell; rejoicing is +the serenity of heaven." + +Now contrast this mental disgust, which proceeds from mental debility, +with the sunny and soul-lifting exhilaration radiated from mental +vigor,--a vigor which comes from the mind's secret consciousness that it +is in contact with moral and spiritual verities, and is partaking of the +rapture of their immortal life. A spirit earnest, hopeful, energetic, +inquisitive, making its mistakes minister to wisdom, and converting the +obstacles it vanquishes into power,--a spirit inspired by a love of the +excellency and beauty of knowledge, which will not let it sleep,--such +a spirit soon learns that the soul of joy is hid in the austere form of +Duty, and that the intellect becomes brighter, keener, clearer, more +buoyant, and more efficient, as it feels the freshening vigor infused +by her monitions and menaces, and the celestial calm imparted by her +soul-satisfying smile. In all the professions and occupations over which +Intellect holds dominion, the student will find that there is no grace +of character without its corresponding grace of mind. He will find that +virtue is an aid to insight; that good and sweet affections will bear a +harvest of pure and high thoughts; that patience will make the intellect +persistent in plans which benevolence will make beneficent in results; +that the austerities of conscience will dictate precision to statements +and exactness to arguments; that the same moral sentiments and moral +power which regulate the conduct of life will illumine the path and +stimulate the purpose of those daring spirits eager to add to the +discoveries of truth and the creations of art. And he will also find +that this purifying interaction of spiritual and mental forces will give +the mind an abiding foundation of joy for its starts of rapture and +flights of ecstasy;--a joy, in whose light and warmth languor and +discontent and depression and despair will be charmed away;--a joy, +which will make the mind large, generous, hopeful, aspiring, in order to +make life beautiful and sweet;--a joy, in the words of an old +divine, "which will put on a more glorious garment above, and be joy +superinvested in glory!" + + + + +LOO LOO. + +A FEW SCENES FROM A TRUE HISTORY. + + +SCENE I. + + +Alfred Noble had grown up to manhood among the rocks and hills of a New +England village. A year spent in Mobile, employed in the duties of a +clerk, had not accustomed him to the dull routine of commercial life. He +longed for the sound of brooks and the fresh air of the hills. It was, +therefore, with great pleasure that he received from his employer a +message to be conveyed to a gentleman who lived in the pleasantest +suburb of the city. It was one of those bright autumnal days when the +earth seems to rejoice consciously in the light that gives her beauty. + +Leaving behind him the business quarter of the town, he passed through +pleasant streets bordered with trees, and almost immediately found +himself amid scenes clothed with all the freshness of the country. +Handsome mansions here and there dotted the landscape, with pretty +little parks, enclosing orange-trees and magnolias, surrounded with +hedges of holly, in whose foliage numerous little foraging birds were +busy in the sunshine. The young man looked at these dwellings with +an exile's longing at his heart. He imagined groups of parents and +children, brothers and sisters, under those sheltering roofs, all +strangers to him, an orphan, alone in the world. The pensiveness of +his mood gradually gave place to more cheerful thoughts. Visions of +prosperous business and a happy home rose before him, as he walked +briskly toward the hills south of the city. The intervals between the +houses increased in length, and he soon found himself in a little forest +of pines. Emerging from this, he came suddenly in sight of an elegant +white villa, with colonnaded portico and spacious verandas. He +approached it by a path through a grove, the termination of which had +grown into the semblance of a Gothic arch, by the interlacing of two +trees, one with glossy evergreen leaves, the other yellow with the tints +of autumn. Vines had clambered to the top, and hung in light festoons +from the branches. The foliage, fluttering in a gentle breeze, caused +successive ripples of sun-flecks, which chased each other over trunks +and boughs, and joined in wayward dance with the shadows on the ground. + +Arrested by this unusual combination of light and shade, color and form, +the young man stood still for a moment to gaze upon it. He was thinking +to himself that nothing could add to the perfection of its beauty, when +suddenly there came dancing under the arch a figure that seemed like the +fairy of those woods, a spirit of the mosses and the vines. She was a +child, apparently five or six years old, with large brown eyes, and a +profusion of dark hair. Her gypsy hat, ornamented with scarlet ribbons +and a garland of red holly-berries, had fallen back on her shoulders, +and her cheeks were flushed with exercise. A pretty little white dog was +with her, leaping up eagerly for a cluster of holly-berries which she +playfully shook above his head. She whirled swiftly round and round the +frisking animal, her long red ribbons flying on the breeze, and then she +paused, all aglow, swaying herself back and forth, like a flower on its +stem. A flock of doves, as if attracted toward her, came swooping down +from the sky, revolving in graceful curves above her head, their white +breasts glistening in the sunshine. The aerial movements of the child +were so full of life and joy, she was so in harmony with the golden day, +the waving vines, and the circling doves, that the whole scene seemed +like an allegro movement in music, and she a charming little melody +floating through it all. + +Alfred stood like one enchanted. He feared to speak or move, lest the +fairy should vanish from mortal presence. So the child and the dog, +equally unconscious of a witness, continued their graceful gambols for +several minutes. An older man might have inwardly moralized on the folly +of the animal, aping humanity in thus earnestly striving after what +would yield no nourishment when obtained. But Alfred was too young and +too happy to moralize. The present moment was all-sufficient for him, +and stood still there in its fulness, unconnected with past or future. +This might have lasted long, had not the child been attracted by the +dove-shadows, and, looking up to watch the flight of the birds, her eyes +encountered the young man. A whole heart full of sunshine was in the +smile with which he greeted her. But, with a startled look, she turned +quickly and ran away; and the dog, still full of frolic, went bounding +by her side. As Alfred tried to pursue them, a bough knocked off his +hat. Without stopping to regain it, he sprang over a holly-hedge, and +came in view of the veranda of a house, just in time to see the fairy +and her dog disappear behind a trellis covered with the evergreen +foliage of the Cherokee rose. Conscious of the impropriety of pursuing +her farther, he paused to take breath. As he passed his hand through his +hair, tossed into masses by running against the wind, he heard a voice +from the veranda exclaim,-- + +"Whither so fast, Loo Loo? Come here, Loo Loo!" + +Glancing upward, he saw a patrician-looking gentleman, in a handsome +morning-gown, of Oriental fashion, and slippers richly embroidered. He +was reclining on a lounge, with wreaths of smoke floating before him; +but seeing the stranger, he rose, and taking the amber-tubed cigar from +his mouth, he said, half laughing,-- + +"You seem to be in hot haste, Sir. Pray, what have you been hunting?" + +Alfred also laughed, as he replied,-- + +"I have been chasing a charming little girl, who would not be caught. +Perhaps she was your daughter, Sir?" + +"She _is_ my daughter," rejoined the gentleman. "A pretty little witch, +is she not? Will you walk in, Sir?" + +Alfred thanked him, and said that he was in search of a Mr. Duncan, +whose residence was in that neighborhood. + +"I am Mr. Duncan," replied the patrician. "Jack, go and fetch the +gentleman's hat, and bring cigars." + +A negro obeyed his orders, and, after smoking awhile on the veranda, the +two gentlemen walked round the grounds. + +Once when they approached the house, they heard the pattering of little +feet, and Mr. Duncan called out, with tones of fondness,-- + +"Come here, Loo Loo! Come, darling, and see the gentleman who has been +running after you!" + +But the shy little fairy ran all the faster, and Alfred saw nothing but +the long red ribbons of her gypsy hat, as they floated behind her on the +wind. + +Declining a polite invitation to dine, he walked back to the city. The +impression on his mind had been so vivid, that, as he walked, there rose +ever before him a vision of that graceful arch with waving vines, the +undulating flight of the silver-breasted doves, and the airy motions of +that beautiful child. How would his interest in the scene have deepened, +could some sibyl have foretold to him how closely the Fates had +interwoven the destinies of himself and that lovely little one! + +When he entered the counting-room, he found his employer in close +conversation with Mr. Grossman, a wealthy cotton-broker. This man was +but little more than thirty years of age, but the predominance of animal +propensities was stamped upon his countenance with more distinctness +than is usual with sensualists of twice his age. The oil of a thousand +hams seemed oozing through his pimpled cheeks; his small gray eyes were +set in his head like the eyes of a pig; his mouth had the expression of +a satyr; and his nose seemed perpetually sniffing the savory prophecy +of food. When the clerk had delivered his message, he slapped him +familiarly on the shoulder, and said,-- + +"So you've been out to Duncan's, have you? Pretty nest there at Pine +Grove, and they say he's got a rare bird in it; but he keeps her so +close, that I could never catch sight of her. Perhaps you got a peep, +eh?" + +"I saw a very beautiful child of Mr. Duncan's," replied Alfred, "but I +did not see his wife." + +"That's very likely," rejoined Grossman; "because he never had any +wife." + +"He said the little girl was his daughter, and I naturally inferred that +he had a wife," replied Alfred. + +"That don't follow of course, my gosling," said the cotton-broker. +"You're green, young man! You're green! I swear, I'd give a good deal +to get sight of Duncan's wench. She must be devilish handsome, or he +wouldn't keep her so close." + +Alfred Noble had always felt an instinctive antipathy to this man, who +was often letting fall some remark that jarred harshly with his romantic +ideas of women,--something that seemed to insult the memories of a +beloved mother and sister gone to the spirit-world. But he had never +liked him less than at this moment; for the sly wink of his eye, and +the expressive leer that accompanied his coarse words, were very +disagreeable things to be associated with that charming vision of the +circling doves and the innocent child. + + +SCENE II. + + +Time passed away, and with it the average share of changing events. +Alfred Noble became junior partner in the counting-house he had entered +as clerk, and not long afterward the elder partner died. Left thus +to rely upon his own energy and enterprise, the young man gradually +extended his business, and seemed in a fair way to realize his favorite +dream of making a fortune and returning to the North to marry. The +subject of Slavery was then seldom discussed. North and South seemed +to have entered into a tacit agreement to ignore the topic completely. +Alfred's experience was like that of most New Englanders in his +situation. He was at first annoyed and pained by many of the +peculiarities of Southern society, and then became gradually accustomed +to them. But his natural sense of justice was very strong; and this, +added to the influence of early education, and strengthened by scenes of +petty despotism which he was frequently compelled to witness, led him +to resolve that he would never hold a slave. The colored people in his +employ considered him their friend, because he was always kind and +generous to them. He supposed that comprised the whole of duty, and +further than that he never reflected upon the subject. + +The pretty little picture at Pine Grove, which had made so lively +an impression on his imagination, faded the more rapidly, because +unconnected with his affections. But a shadowy semblance of it always +flitted through his memory, whenever he saw a beautiful child, or +observed any unusual combination of trees and vines. + +Four years after his interview with Mr. Duncan, business called him to +the interior of the State, and for the sake of healthy exercise he +chose to make the journey on horseback. His route lay mostly through a +monotonous region of sandy plain, covered with pines, here and there +varied by patches of cleared land, in which numerous dead trees were +prostrate, or standing leafless, waiting their time to fall. Most of +the dwellings were log-houses, but now and then the white villa of some +wealthy planter might be seen gleaming through the evergreens. Sometimes +the sandy soil was intersected by veins of swamp, through which muddy +water oozed sluggishly, among bushes and dead logs. In these damp places +flourished dark cypresses and holly-trees, draped with gray Spanish +moss, twisted around the boughs, and hanging from them like gigantic +cobwebs. Now and then, the sombre scene was lighted up with a bit of +brilliant color, when a scarlet grosbeak flitted from branch to branch, +or a red-headed woodpecker hammered at the trunk of some old tree, to +find where the insects had intrenched themselves. But nothing pleased +the eye of the traveller so much as the holly-trees, with their glossy +evergreen foliage, red berries, and tufts of verdant mistletoe. He +had been riding all day, when, late in the afternoon, an uncommonly +beautiful holly appeared to terminate the road at the bend where it +stood. Its boughs were woven in with a cypress on the other side, by +long tangled fringes of Spanish moss. The setting sun shone brightly +aslant the mingled foliage, and lighted up the red berries, which +glimmered through the thin drapery of moss, like the coral ornaments of +a handsome brunette seen through her veil of embroidered lace. It was +unlike the woodland picture he had seen at Pine Grove, but it recalled +it to his memory more freshly than he had seen it for a long time. He +watched the peculiar effects of sunlight, changing as he approached the +tree, and the desire grew strong within him to have the fairy-like child +and the frolicsome dog make their appearance beneath that swinging +canopy of illuminated moss. If his nerves had been in such a state that +forms in the mind could have taken outward shape, he would have realized +the vision so distinctly painted on his imagination. But he was well and +strong; therefore he saw nothing but a blue heron flapping away among +the cypresses, and a flock of turkey-buzzards soaring high above the +trees, with easy and graceful flight. His thoughts, however, continued +busy with the picture that had been so vividly recalled. He recollected +having heard, some time before, of Mr. Duncan's death, and he queried +within himself what had become of that beautiful child. + +Musing thus, he rode under the fantastic festoons he had been admiring, +and saw at his right a long gentle descent, where a small stream of +water glided downward over mossy stones. Trees on either side interlaced +their boughs over it, and formed a vista, cool, dark, and solemn as the +aisle of some old Gothic church. A figure moving upward, by the side of +the little brook, attracted his attention, and he checked his horse +to inquire whether the people at the nearest house would entertain a +stranger for the night. When the figure approached nearer, he saw that +it was a slender, barefooted girl, carrying a pail of water. As she +emerged from the dim aisle of trees, a gleam of the setting sun shone +across her face for an instant, and imparted a luminous glory to her +large brown eyes. Shading them with her hand, she paused timidly before +the stranger, and answered his inquiries. The modulation of her tones +suggested a degree of refinement which he had not expected to meet in +that lonely region. He gazed at her so intently, that her eyes sought +the ground, and their long, dark fringes rested on blushing cheeks. What +was it those eyes recalled? They tantalized and eluded his memory. "My +good girl, tell me what is your name," he said. + +"Louisa," she replied, bashfully, and added, "I will show you the way to +the house." + +"Let me carry the water for you," said the kind-hearted traveller. He +dismounted for the purpose, but she resisted his importunities, saying +that _she_ would be very angry with her. + +"And who is _she_?" he asked. "Is she your mother?" + +"Oh, no, indeed!" was the hasty reply. "I am--I--I live there." + +The disclaimer was sudden and earnest, as if the question struck on a +wounded nerve. Her eyes swam with tears, and the remainder of her answer +was sad and reluctant in its tones. The child was so delicately formed, +so shy and sensitive, so very beautiful, that she fascinated him +strongly. He led his horse into the lane she had entered, and as he +walked by her side he continued to observe her with the most lively +interest. Her motions were listless and languid, but flexile as a +willow. They puzzled him, as her eyes had done; for they seemed to +remind him of something he had seen in a half-forgotten dream. + +They soon came in sight of the house, which was built of logs, but +larger than most houses of that description; and two or three huts in +the rear indicated that the owner possessed slaves. An open porch +in front was shaded by the projecting roof, and there two dingy, +black-nosed dogs were growling and tousling each other. Pigs were +rooting the ground, and among them rolled a black baby, enveloped in a +bundle of dirty rags. The traveller waited while Louisa went into the +house to inquire whether entertainment could be furnished for +himself and his horse. It was some time before the proprietor of the +establishment made his appearance. At last he came slowly sauntering +round the end of the house, his hat tipped on one side, with a rowdyish +air. He was accompanied by a large dog, which rushed in among the pigs, +biting their ears, and making them race about, squealing piteously. Then +he seized hold of the bundle of rags containing the black baby, and +began to drag it over the ground, to the no small astonishment of the +baby, who added his screech to the charivari of the pigs. With loud +shouts of laughter, Mr. Jackson cheered on the rough animal, and was +so much entertained by the scene, that he seemed to have forgotten the +traveller entirely. When at last his eye rested upon him, he merely +exclaimed, "That's a hell of a dog!" and began to call, "_Staboy_!" +again. The negro woman came and snatched up her babe, casting a furtive +glance at her master, as she did so, and making her escape as quickly as +possible. Towzer, being engaged with the pigs at that moment, allowed +her to depart unmolested; and soon came back to his master, wagging his +tail, and looking up, as if expecting praise for his performances. + +The traveller availed himself of this season of quiet to renew his +inquiries. + +"Well," said Mr. Jackson, "I reckon we can accommodate ye. Whar ar ye +from, stranger?" + +Mr. Noble having stated "whar" he was from, was required to tell "whar" +he was going, whether he owned that "bit of horse-flesh," and whether +he wanted to sell him. Having answered all these interrogatories in a +satisfactory manner, he was ushered into the house. + +The interior was rude and slovenly, like the exterior. The doors were +opened by wooden latches with leather strings, and sagged so much on +their wooden hinges, that they were usually left open to avoid the +difficulty of shutting them. Guns and fishing-tackle were on the walls, +and the seats were wooden benches or leather-bottomed chairs. A tall, +lank woman, with red hair, and a severe aspect, was busy mending a +garment. When asked if the traveller could be provided with supper, she +curtly replied that she "reckoned so"; and, without further parlance, or +salute, went out to give orders. Immediately afterward, her shrill voice +was heard calling out, "You gal! put the fixens on the table." + +The "gal," who obeyed the summons, proved to be the sylph-like child +that had guided the traveller to the house. To the expression of +listlessness and desolation which he had previously noticed, there +was now added a look of bewilderment and fear. He thought she might, +perhaps, be a step-daughter of Mrs. Jackson; but how could so coarse a +man as his host be the father of such gentleness and grace? + +While supper was being prepared, Mr. Jackson entered into conversation +with his guest about the usual topics in that region,--the prices +of cotton and "niggers." He frankly laid open his own history and +prospects, stating that he was "fetched up" in Western Tennessee, where +he owned but two "niggers." A rich uncle had died in Alabama, and he had +come in for a portion of his wild land and "niggers"; so he concluded +to move South and take possession. Mr. Noble courteously sustained his +share of the conversation; but his eyes involuntarily followed the +interesting child, as she passed in and out to arrange the supper-table. + +"You seem to fancy Leewizzy," said Mr. Jackson, shaking the ashes from +his pipe. + +"I have never seen a handsomer child," replied Mr. Noble. "Is she your +daughter?" + +"No, Sir; she's my nigger," was the brief response. + +The young girl reentered the room at that moment, and the statement +seemed so incredible, that the traveller eyed her with scrutinizing +glance, striving in vain to find some trace of colored ancestry. + +"Come here, Leewizzy," said her master. "What d'ye keep yer eyes on the +ground for? You 'a'n't got no occasion to be ashamed o' yer eyes. Hold +up yer head, now, and look the gentleman in the face." + +She tried to obey, but native timidity overcame the habit of submission, +and, after one shy glance at the stranger, her eyelids lowered, and +their long, dark fringes rested on blushing cheeks. + +"I reckon ye don't often see a poottier piece o' flesh," said Mr. +Jackson. + +While he was speaking, his wife had come in from the kitchen, followed +by a black woman with a dish of sweet potatoes and some hot corn-cakes. +She made her presence manifest by giving "Leewizzy" a violent push, with +the exclamation, "What ar ye standing thar for, yer lazy wench? Go and +help Dinah bring in the fixens." Then turning to her husband, she said, +"You'll make a fool o' that ar gal. It's high time she was sold. She's +no account here." + +Mr. Jackson gave a knowing wink at his guest, and remarked, "Women-folks +are ginerally glad enough to have niggers to wait on 'em; but ever sence +that gal come into the house, my old woman's been in a desperate hurry +to have me sell her. But such an article don't lose nothing by waiting +awhile. I've some thoughts of taking a tramp to Texas one o' these +days; and I reckon a prime fancy article, like that ar, would bring a +fust-rate price in New Orleans." + +The subject of his discourse was listening to what he said; and partly +from tremor at the import of his words, and partly from fear that she +should not place the dish of bacon and eggs to please her mistress, she +tipped it in setting it down, so that some of the fat was spilled upon +the table-cloth. Mrs. Jackson seized her and slapped her hard, several +times, on both sides of her head. The frightened child tried to escape, +as soon as she was released from her grasp, but, being ordered to +remain and wait upon table, she stood behind her mistress, carefully +suppressing her sobs, though unable to keep back the tears that trickled +down her cheeks. The traveller was hungry; but this sight was a damper +upon his appetite. He was indignant at seeing such a timid young +creature so roughly handled; but he dared not give utterance to his +emotions, for fear of increasing the persecution to which she was +subjected. Afterward, when his host and hostess were absent from the +room, and Louisa was clearing the table, impelled by a feeling of pity, +which he could not repress, he laid his hand gently upon her head, and +said, "Poor child!" + +It was a simple phrase; but his kindly tones produced a mighty effect on +that suffering little soul. Her pent-up affections rushed forth like +a flood when the gates are opened. She threw herself into his arms, +nestled her head upon his breast, and sobbed out, "Oh, I have nobody to +love me now!" This outburst of feeling was so unexpected, that the +young man felt embarrassed, and knew not what to do. His aversion to +disagreeable scenes amounted to a weakness; and he knew, moreover, that, +if his hostess should become aware of his sympathy, her victim would +fare all the worse for it. Still, it was not in his nature to repel the +affection that yearned toward him with so overwhelming an impulse. He +placed his hand tenderly on her head, and said, in a soothing voice, "Be +quiet now, my little girl. I hear somebody coming; and you know your +mistress expects you to clear the table." + +Mrs. Jackson was in fact approaching, and Louisa hastily resumed her +duties. + +Had Mr. Noble been guilty of some culpable action, he could not have +felt more desirous to escape the observation of his hostess. As soon +as she entered, he took up his hat hastily, and went out to ascertain +whether his horse had been duly cared for. + +He saw Louisa no more that night. But as he lay awake, looking at a star +that peeped in upon him through an opening in the log wall, he thought +of her beautiful eyes, when the sun shone upon them, as she emerged from +the shadows. He wished that his mother and sister were living, that they +might adopt the attractive child. Then he remembered that she was a +slave, reserved for the New Orleans market, and that it was not likely +his good mother could obtain her, if she were alive and willing to +undertake the charge. Sighing, as he had often done, to think how many +painful things there were which he had no power to remedy, he fell +asleep and saw a very small girl dancing with a pail of water, while +a flock of white doves were wheeling round her. The two pictures had +mingled on the floating cloud-canvas of dream-land. + +He had paid for his entertainment before going to bed, and had signified +his intention to resume his journey as soon as light dawned. All was +silent in the house when he went forth; and out of doors nothing +was stirring but a dog that roused himself to bark after him, and +chanticleer perched on a stump to crow. He was, therefore, surprised to +find Louisa at the crib where his horse was feeding. Springing toward +him, she exclaimed,-- + +"Oh, you have come! Do buy me, Sir! I will be _so_ good! I will do +everything you tell me! Oh, I am so unhappy! Do buy me, Sir!" + +He patted her on the head, and looked down compassionately into the +swimming eyes that were fixed so imploringly upon his. + +"Buy you, my poor child?" he replied. "I have no house,--I have nothing +for you to do." + +"My mother showed me how to sew some, and how to do some embroidery," +she said, coaxingly. "I will learn to do it better, and I can earn +enough to buy something to eat. Oh, do buy me, Sir! Do take me with +you!" + +"I cannot do that," he replied; "for I must go another day's journey +before I return to Mobile." + +"Do you live in Mobile?" she exclaimed, eagerly. "My father lived in +Mobile. Once I tried to run away there, but they set the dogs after me. +Oh, do carry me back to Mobile!" + +"What is your name?" said he; "and in what part of the city did you +live?" + +"My name is Louisa Duncan; and my father lived at Pine Grove. It was +such a beautiful place! and I was _so_ happy there! Will you take me +back to Mobile? _Will_ you?" + +Evading the question, he said,-- + +"Your name is Louisa, but your father called you Loo Loo, didn't he?" + +That pet name brought forth a passionate outburst of tears. Her voice +choked, and choked again, as she sobbed out,-- + +"Nobody has ever called me Loo Loo since my father died." + +He soothed her with gentle words, and she, looking up earnestly, as if +stirred by a sudden thought, exclaimed,-- + +"How did you _know_ my father called me Loo Loo?" + +He smiled as he answered, "Then you don't remember a young man who ran +after you one day, when you were playing with a little white dog at Pine +Grove? and how your father called to you, 'Come here, Loo Loo, and see +the gentleman'?" + +"I don't remember it," she replied; "but I remember how my father used +to laugh at me about it, long afterward. He said I was very young to +have gentlemen running after me." + +"I am that gentleman," he said. "When I first looked at you, I thought I +had seen you before; and now I see plainly that you are Loo Loo." + +That name was associated with so many tender memories, that she seemed +to hear her father's voice once more. She nestled close to her new +friend, and repeated, in most persuasive tones, "You _will_ buy me? +Won't you?" + +"And your mother? What has become of her?" he asked. + +"She died of yellow fever, two days before my father. I am all alone. +Nobody cares for me. You _will_ buy me,--won't you?" + +"But tell me how you came here, my poor child," he said. + +She answered, "I don't know. After my father died, a great many folks +came to the house, and they sold everything. They said my father was +uncle to Mr. Jackson, and that I belonged to him. But Mrs. Jackson won't +let me call Mr. Duncan my father. She says, if she ever hears of my +calling him so again, she'll whip me. Do let me be _your_ daughter! You +_will_ buy me,--won't you?" + +Overcome by her entreaties, and by the pleading expression of those +beautiful eyes, he said, "Well, little teaser, I will see whether Mr. +Jackson will sell you to me. If he will, I will send for you before +long." + +"Oh, don't _send_ for me!" she exclaimed, moving her hands up and down +with nervous rapidity. "Come _yourself_, and come _soon_. They'll carry +me to New Orleans, if _you_ don't come for me." + +"Well, well, child, be quiet. If I can buy you, I will come for you +myself. Meanwhile, be a good girl. I won't forget you." + +He stooped down, and sealed the promise with a kiss on her forehead. +As he raised his head, he became aware that Bill, the horse-boy, was +peeping in at the door, with a broad grin upon his black face. He +understood the meaning of that grin, and it seemed like an ugly imp +driving away a troop of fairies. He was about to speak angrily, but +checked himself with the reflection, "They will all think so. Black or +white, they will all think so. But what can I do? I _must_ save this +child from the fate that awaits her." To Bill he merely said that he +wished to see Mr. Jackson on business, and had, therefore, changed his +mind about starting before breakfast. + +The bargain was not soon completed; for Mr. Jackson had formed large +ideas concerning the price "Leewizzy" would bring in the market; and +Bill had told the story of what he witnessed at the crib, with sundry +jocose additions, which elicited peals of laughter from his master. But +the orphan had won the young man's heart by the childlike confidence she +had manifested toward him, and conscience would not allow him to break +the solemn promise he had given her. After a protracted conference, he +agreed to pay eight hundred dollars, and to come for Louisa the next +week. + +The appearance of the sun, after a long, cold storm, never made a +greater change than the announcement of this arrangement produced in the +countenance and manners of that desolate child. The expression of fear +vanished, and listlessness gave place to a springing elasticity of +motion. Mr. Noble could ill afford to spare so large a sum for the +luxury of benevolence, and he was well aware that the office of +protector, which he had taken upon himself, must necessarily prove +expensive. But when he witnessed her radiant happiness, he could not +regret that he had obeyed the generous impulse of his heart. Now, for +the first time, she was completely identified with the vision of that +fairy child who had so captivated his fancy four years before. He never +forgot the tones of her voice, and the expression of her eyes, when she +kissed his hand at parting, and said, "I thank you, Sir, for buying me." + + +SCENE III. + + +In a world like this, it is much easier to plan generous enterprises +than to carry them into effect. After Mr. Noble had purchased the child, +he knew not how to provide a suitable home for her. At first, he placed +her with his colored washerwoman. But if she remained in that situation, +though her bodily wants would be well cared for, she must necessarily +lose much of the refinement infused into her being by that early +environment of elegance, and that atmosphere of love. He did not enter +into any analysis of his motives in wishing her to be so far educated +as to be a pleasant companion for himself. The only question he asked +himself was, How he would like to have his sister treated, if she had +been placed in such unhappy circumstances. He knew very well what +construction would be put upon his proceedings, in a society where +handsome girls of such parentage were marketable; and he had so long +tacitly acquiesced in the customs around him, that he might easily have +viewed her in that light himself, had she not become invested with a +tender and sacred interest from the circumstances in which he had first +seen her, and the innocent, confiding manner in which she had implored +him to supply the place of her father. She was always presented to his +imagination as Mr. Duncan's beloved daughter, never as Mr. Jackson's +slave. He said to himself, "May God bless me according to my dealings +with this orphan! May I never prosper, if I take advantage of her +friendless situation!" + +As for his _protegee_, she was too ignorant of the world to be disturbed +by any such thoughts. "May I call you Papa, as I used to call my +father?" said she. + +For some reason, undefined to himself, the title was unpleasant to him. +It did not seem as if his sixteen years of seniority need place so wide +a distance between them. "No," he replied, "you shall be my sister." And +thenceforth she called him Brother Alfred, and he called her Loo Loo. + +His curiosity was naturally excited to learn all he could of her +history; and it was not long before he ascertained that her mother was a +superbly handsome quadroon, from New Orleans, the daughter of a French +merchant, who had given her many advantages of education, but from +carelessness had left her to follow the condition of her mother, who +was a slave. Mr. Duncan fell in love with her, bought her, and remained +strongly attached to her until the day of her death. It had always +been his intention to manumit her, but, from inveterate habits of +procrastination, he deferred it, till the fatal fever attacked them +both; and so _his_ child also was left to "follow the condition of her +mother." Having neglected to make a will, his property was divided among +the sons of sisters married at a distance from him, and thus the little +daughter, whom he had so fondly cherished, became the property of Mr. +Jackson, who valued her as he would a handsome colt likely to bring +a high price in the market. She was too young to understand all the +degradation to which she would be subjected, but she had once witnessed +an auction of slaves, and the idea of being sold filled her with terror. +She had endured six months of corroding homesickness and constant fear, +when Mr. Noble came to her rescue. + +After a few weeks passed with the colored washerwoman, she was placed +with an elderly French widow, who was glad to eke out her small income +by taking motherly care of her, and giving her instruction in music +and French. The caste to which she belonged on the mother's side was +rigorously excluded from schools, therefore it was not easy to obtain +for her a good education in the English branches. These Alfred took upon +himself; and a large portion of his evenings was devoted to hearing her +lessons in geography, arithmetic, and history. Had any one told him, +a year before, that hours thus spent would have proved otherwise than +tedious, he would not have believed it. But there was a romantic charm +about this secret treasure, thus singularly placed at his disposal; and +the love and gratitude he inspired gradually became a necessity of his +life. Sometimes he felt sad to think that the time must come when she +would cease to be a child, and when the quiet, simple relation now +existing between them must necessarily change. He said to the old French +lady, "By and by, when I can afford it, I will send her to one of the +best schools at the North. There she can become a teacher and take care +of herself." Madame Labasse smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and said, +"_Nous verrons_." She did not believe it. + +The years glided on, and all went prosperously with the young merchant. +Through various conflicts with himself, his honorable resolution +remained unbroken. Loo Loo was still his sister. She had become +completely entwined with his existence. Life would have been very dull +without her affectionate greetings, her pleasant little songs, and the +graceful dances she had learned to perform so well. Sometimes, when he +had passed a peculiarly happy evening in this fashion, Madame Labasse +would look mischievous, and say, "But when do you think you shall send +her to that school?" True, she did not often repeat this experiment; for +whenever she did it, the light went out of his countenance, as if an +extinguisher were placed upon his soul. "I _ought_ to do it," he said +within himself; "but how _can_ I live without her?" The French widow was +the only person aware how romantic and how serious was this long +episode in his life. Some gentlemen, whom he frequently met in business +relations, knew that he had purchased a young slave, whom he had placed +with a French woman to be educated; but had he told them the true state +of the case, they would have smiled incredulously. Occasionally, they +uttered some joke about the fascination which made him so indifferent +to cards and horses; but the reserve with which he received such jests +checked conversation on the subject, and all, except Mr. Grossman, +discontinued such attacks, after one or two experiments. + +As Mr. Noble's wealth increased, the wish grew stronger to place Louisa +in the midst of as much elegance as had surrounded her in childhood. +When the house at Pine Grove was unoccupied, they often went out there, +and it was his delight to see her stand under the Gothic arch of trees, +a beautiful _tableau vivant_, framed in vines. It was a place so full +of heart-memories to her, that she always lingered there as long as +possible, and never left it without a sigh. In one place was a tree her +father had planted, in another a rose or a jessamine her mother had +trained. But dearest of all was a recess among the pine-trees, on the +side of a hill. There was a rustic garden-chair, where her father had +often sat with her upon his knee, reading wonderful story-books, bought +for her on his summer excursions to New York or Boston. In one of her +visits with Alfred, she sat there and read aloud from "Lalla Rookh." +It was a mild winter day. The sunlight came mellowed through the +evergreens, a soft carpet of scarlet foliage was thickly strewn beneath +their feet, and the air was redolent of the balmy breath of pines. Fresh +and happy in the glow of her fifteen summers, how could she otherwise +than enjoy the poem? It was like sparkling wine in a jewelled goblet. +Never before had she read anything aloud in tones so musically +modulated, so full of feeling. And the listener? How worked the wine in +_him?_ A voice within said, "Remember your vow, Alfred! this charming +Loo Loo is your adopted sister"; and he tried to listen to the warning. +She did not notice his tremor, when he rose hastily and said, "The sun +is nearly setting. It is time for my sister to go home." + +"Home?" she repeated, with a sigh. "_This_ is my home. I wish I could +stay here always. I feel as if the spirits of my father and mother were +with us here." Had she sighed for an ivory palace inlaid with gold, he +would have wished to give it to her,--he was so much in love! + +A few months afterward, Pine Grove was offered for sale. He resolved to +purchase it, and give her a pleasant surprise by restoring her to her +old home, on her sixteenth birth-day. Madame Labasse, who greatly +delighted in managing mysteries, zealously aided in the preparations. +When the day arrived, Alfred proposed a long ride with Loo Loo,--in +honor of the anniversary; and during their absence, Madame, accompanied +by two household servants, established herself at Pine Grove. When +Alfred returned from the drive, he proposed to stop and look at the dear +old place, to which his companion joyfully assented. But nothing could +exceed her astonishment at finding Madame Labasse there, ready to +preside at a table spread with fruit and flowers. Her feelings +overpowered her for a moment, when Alfred said, "Dear sister, you said +you wished you could live here always; and this shall henceforth be your +home." + +"You are too good!" she exclaimed, and was about to burst into tears. +But he arrested their course by saying, playfully, "Come, Loo Loo, kiss +my hand, and say, 'Thank you, Sir, for buying me.' Say it just as you +did six years ago, you little witch!" + +Her swimming eyes smiled like sunshine through an April shower, and she +went through the pantomime, which she had often before performed at his +bidding. Madame stepped in with her little jest: "But, Sir, when do you +think you shall send her to that _pension_?" + +"Never mind," he replied, abruptly; "Let us be happy!" And he moved +toward the table to distribute the fruit. + +It was an inspiring spring-day, and ended in the loveliest of +evenings. The air was filled with the sweet breath of jessamines and +orange-blossoms. Madame touched the piano, and, in quick obedience to +the circling sound, Alfred and Loo Loo began to waltz. It was long +before youth and happiness grew weary of the revolving maze. But when at +last she complained of dizziness, he playfully whirled her out upon the +piazza, and placed her on a lounge under the Cherokee rose her mother +had trained, which was now a mass of blossoms. He seated himself in +front of her, and they remained silent for some minutes, watching the +vine-shadows play in the moonlight. As Loo Loo leaned on the balustrade, +the clustering roses hung over her in festoons, and trailed on her white +muslin drapery. Alfred was struck, as he had been many times before, +with the unconscious grace of her attitude. In imagination, he recalled +his first vision of her in early childhood, the singular circumstance +that had united their destinies, and the thousand endearing experiences +which day by day had strengthened the tie. As these thoughts passed +through his mind, he gazed upon her with devouring earnestness. She was +too beautiful, there in the moonlight, crowned with roses! + +"Loo Loo, do you love me?" he exclaimed. + +The vehemence of his tone startled her, as she sat there in a mood still +and dreamy as the landscape. + +She sprang up, and, putting her arm about his neck, answered, "Why, +Alfred, you _know_ your sister loves you." + +"Not as a brother, not as a brother, dear Loo Loo," he said, +impatiently, as he drew her closely to his breast. "Will you be my love? +Will you be my wife?" + +In the simplicity of her inexperience, and the confidence induced by +long habits of familiar reliance upon him, she replied, "I will be +anything you wish." + +No flower was ever more unconscious of a lover's burning kisses than she +was of the struggle in his breast. + +His feelings had been purely compassionate in the beginning of their +intercourse; his intentions had been purely kind afterward; but he had +gone on blindly to the edge of a slippery precipice. Human nature should +avoid such dangerous passes. + +Reviewing that intoxicating evening in a calmer mood, he was +dissatisfied with his conduct. In vain he said to himself that he had +but followed a universal custom; that all his acquaintance would have +laughed in his face, had he told them of the resolution so bravely kept +during six years. The remembrance of his mother's counsels came freshly +to his mind; and the accusing voice of conscience said, "She was a +friendless orphan, whom misfortune ought to have rendered sacred. What +to you is the sanction of custom? Have you not a higher law within your +own breast?" + +He tried to silence the monitor by saying, "When I have made a little +more money, I will return to the North. I will marry Loo Loo on the way +and she shall be acknowledged to the world as my wife, as she now is in +my own soul." + +Meanwhile, the orphan lived in her father's house as her mother had +lived before her. She never aided the voice of Alfred's conscience by +pleading with him to make her his wife; for she was completely satisfied +with her condition, and had undoubting faith that whatever he did was +always the wisest and the best. + +[To be continued.] + + + + +CHARLEY'S DEATH. + + + The wind got up moaning, and blew to a breeze; + I sat with my face closely pressed on the pane; + In a minute or two it began to rain, + And put out the sunset-fire in the trees. + + In the clouds' black faces broke out dismay + That ran of a sudden up half the sky, + And the team, cutting ruts in the grass, went by, + Heavy and dripping with sweet wet hay. + + Clutching the straws out and knitting his brow, + Walked Arthur beside it, unsteady of limb; + I stood up in wonder, for, following him, + Charley was used to be;--where was he now? + + "'Tis like him," I said, "to be working thus late!"-- + I said it, but did not believe it was so; + He could not have staid in the meadow to mow, + With rain coming down at so dismal a rate. + + "He's bringing the cows home."--I choked at that lie: + They were huddled close by in a tumult and fret, + Some pawing the dry dust up out of the wet, + Some looking afield with their heads lifted high. + + O'er the run, o'er the hilltop, and on through the gloom + My vision ran quick as the lightning could dart; + All at once the blood shocked and stood still in my heart;-- + He was coming as never till then he had come! + + Borne 'twixt our four work-hands, I saw through the fall + Of the rain, and the shadows so thick and so dim, + They had taken their coats off and spread them on him, + And that he was lying out straight,--that was all! + + + + +THE CATACOMBS OF ROME. + +[Continued.] + + +Custodit Dominus emnia ossa eorum. +Ps. xxxiii. 20 + + +III. + + +Not quite two miles from the city-gate known as the Porta Pia, there +stands, on the left hand of the Nomentan Way, the ancient, and, until +lately, beautiful, Church of St. Agnes outside the Walls. The chief +entrance to it descends by a flight of wide steps; for its pavement is +below the level of the ground, in order to afford easy access to the +catacombs known as those of St. Agnes, which opened out from it and +stretched away in interlacing passages under the neighboring fields. +It was a quiet, retired place, with the sacredness that invests every +ancient sanctuary, in which the prayers and hymns of many generations +have risen. The city was not near enough to disturb the stillness within +its walls; little vineyards, and plots of market-garden, divided from +each other by hedges of reeds and brambly roses, with wider open fields +in the distance, lay around it; a deserted convent stood at its side; +its precious marble columns were dulled and the gold ground of its +mosaics was dimmed by the dust of centuries; its pavement was deeply +worn; and its whole aspect was that of seclusion and venerable age, +without desertion and without decay. + +The story of St. Agnes is one of those which at the beginning of the +fourth century became popular among the Christians and in the Church of +Rome. The martyrdom, under most cruel tortures and terrors, of a young +girl, who chose to die rather than yield her purity or her faith, +and who died with entire serenity and peace, supported by divine +consolations, caused her memory to be cherished with an affection and +veneration similar to that in which the memory of St. Cecilia was +already held,--and very soon after her death, which is said to have +taken place in the year 304, she was honored as one of the holiest of +the disciples of the Lord. Her story has been a favorite one through all +later ages; poetry and painting have illustrated it; and wherever the +Roman faith has spread, Saint Agnes has been one of the most beloved +saints both of the rich and the poor, of the great and of the humble. + +In her Acts[A] it is related that she was buried by her parents in a +meadow on the Nomentan Way. Here, it is probable, a cemetery had already +for some time existed; and it is most likely that the body of the Saint +was laid in one of the common tombs of the catacombs. The Acts go on +to tell, that her father and mother constantly watched at night by her +grave, and once, while watching, "they saw, in the mid silence of the +night, an army of virgins, clothed in woven garments of gold, passing +by with a great light. And in the midst of them they beheld the most +blessed virgin Agnes, shining in a like dress, and at her right hand a +lamb whiter than snow. At this sight, great amazement took possession of +her parents and of those who were with them. But the blessed Agnes asked +the holy virgins to stay their advance for a moment, when she said to +her parents, 'Behold, weep not for me as for one dead, but rejoice with +me and wish me joy; for with all these I have received a shining seat, +and I am united in heaven to Him whom while on earth I loved with all my +heart.' And with these words she passed on." The report of this vision +was spread among the Christians of Rome. The pleasing story was received +into willing hearts; and the memory of the virgin was so cherished, that +her name was soon given to the cemetery where she had been buried, +and, becoming a favorite resting-place of the dead, its streets were +lengthened by the addition of many graves. + +[Footnote A: This is the name given to the accounts of the saints and +martyrs composed in early times for the use of the Church.] + +Not many years afterwards, Constantia, the daughter of the Emperor +Constantine, suffering from a long and painful disease, for which she +found no relief, heard of the marvellous vision, and was told of +many wonderful cures that had been wrought at the tomb and by the +intercession of the youthful Saint. She determined, although a pagan, +to seek the aid of which such great things were told; and going to the +grave of Agnes at night, she prayed for relief. Falling suddenly into a +sweet sleep, the Saint appeared to her, and promised her that she should +be made well, if she would believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. She awoke, +as the story relates, full of faith, and found herself well. Moved with +gratitude, she besought her father to build a church on the spot in +honor of Saint Agnes, and in compliance with her wish, and in accordance +with his own disposition to erect suitable temples for the services of +his new faith, Constantine built the church, which a few centuries later +was rebuilt in its present form and adorned with the mosaics that still +exist. + +Nearly about the same time a circular building was erected hard by the +church, designed as a mausoleum for Constantia and other members of the +imperial family. The Mausoleum of Hadrian was occupied by the bodies of +heathen emperors and empresses, and filled with heathen associations. +New tombs were needed for the bodies of those who professed to have +revolted from heathenism. The marble pillars of the Mausoleum of +Constantia were taken from more ancient and nobler buildings, its walls +were lined with mosaics, and her body was laid in a splendid sarcophagus +of porphyry. In the thirteenth century, after Constantia had been +received into the liberal community of Roman saints, her mausoleum was +consecrated as a church and dedicated to her honor. A narrow, unworn +path leads to it from the Church of St. Agnes; it has been long left +uncared-for and unfrequented, and, stripped of its movable ornaments, +it is now in a half-ruinous condition. But its decay is more impressive +than the gaudy brightness of more admired and renovated buildings. +The weeds that grow in the crevices of its pavement and hang over the +capitals of its ancient pillars, the green mould on its walls, the +cracks in its mosaics, are better and fuller of suggestion to the +imagination than the shiny surface and the elaborate finish of modern +restorations. Restoration in these days always implies irreverence and +bad taste. But the architecture of this old building and the purpose +for which it was originally designed present a marked example of the +rapidity of the change in the character of the Christians with the +change of their condition at Rome, during the reign of Constantine. The +worldliness that follows close on prosperity undermined the spirit of +faith; the pomp and luxury of the court and the palace were carried into +the forms of worship, into the construction of churches, into the manner +of burial. Social distinctions overcame the brotherhood in Christ. +Riches paved an easy way into the next world, and power set up guards +around it. Imperial remains were not to mingle with common dust, and the +mausoleum of the princess rose above the rock-hewn and narrow grave of +the martyr and saint. + +The present descent into the catacombs that lie near the churches of St. +Agnes and St. Constantia is by an entrance in a neighboring field, made, +after the time of persecution, to accommodate those who might desire +to visit the underground chapels and holy graves. A vast labyrinth of +streets spreads in every direction from it. Many chambers have been cut +in the rock at the side of the passages,--some for family burial-places, +some for chapels, some for places of instruction for those not yet fully +entered into the knowledge of the faith. It is one of the most populous +of the subterranean cemeteries, and one of the most interesting, +from the great variety in its examples of underground architectural +construction, and from the number of the paintings that are found upon +its walls. But its peculiar interest is, that it affords at one point a +marked example of the connection of an _arenarium_, or pit from which +_pozzolana_ was extracted, with the streets of the cemetery itself. At +this point, the bed of compact _tufa_, in which the graves are dug, +degenerates into friable and loosely compacted volcanic sand,--and it +was here, very probably, that the cemetery was begun, at a time when +every precaution had to be used by the Christians to prevent the +discovery of their burial-places. No other of the catacombs gives a +clearer exhibition of the differences in construction resulting from +the different objects of excavation. In the Acts known as those of St. +Valentine it is related, that in the time of Claudius many Christians +were condemned to work in certain sand-pits. Under cover of such +opportunities, occasions might be found in which hidden graves could +be formed in the neighboring harder soil. In digging out the sand, the +object was to take out the greatest quantity consistent with +safety, leaving only such supports as were necessary to hold up the +superincumbent earth. There are few regular paths, but wide spaces with +occasional piers,--the passages being of sufficient width to admit of +the entrance of beasts of burden, and even of carts. The soil crumbles +so easily, that no row of excavations one above another could be made in +it; for the stroke of the pick-axe brings it down in loose masses. The +whole aspect of the sand-pit contrasts strikingly with that of the +catacombs, with their three-feet wide galleries, their perpendicular +walls, and their tier on tier of graves. + +The stratum of pozzolana at the Catacombs of St. Agnes overlies a +portion of the more solid stratum of tufa, and the entrance to the +sand-pit from the cemetery is by steps leading up from the end of a long +gallery. Such an entrance could have been easily concealed; and the tufa +cut out for the graves, after having been reduced to the condition of +pozzolana, might easily at night have been brought up to the floor of +the pit. In many of the Acts of the Martyrs it is said that they were +buried _in Arenario_, "in the sand-pit,"--an expression which, there +seems no good reason for doubting, meant in the catacombs whose entrance +was at the sand-pit, they not having yet received a distinctive name. + +It is difficult to convey to a distant reader even a small share of the +interest with which one sees on the spot evidences of the reality of the +precautions with which, in those early centuries, the Christians of Rome +were forced to guard themselves against a persecution which extended to +their very burial-places,--or even of the interest with which one walks +through the unchanged paths dug out of the rock by this _tenebrosa et +lucifugax natio_. In the midst of the obscurity of history and the fog +of fable, here is the solid earth giving evidence of truth. Here one +sees where, by the light of his dim candle, the solitary digger hollowed +out the grave of one of the near followers of the apostles; and here one +reads in hasty and ill-spelt inscriptions something of the affection and +of the faith of those who buried their dead in the sepulchre dug in the +rock. The Christian Rome underground is a rebuke to the Papal Rome above +it; and, from the worldly pomp, the tedious forms, the trickeries, the +mistakes, the false claims and falser assertions, the empty architecture +that reveals the infidelity of its builders, the gross materialism, and +the crass superstition of the Roman Church, one turns with relief of +heart and eyes to the poverty and bareness of the dark and narrow +catacombs, and to the simple piety of the words found upon their +graves. In them is at once the exhibition and the promise of a purer +Christianity. In them, indeed, one may see only too plainly the +evidences of ignorance, the beginnings of superstitions, the first, +traces of the corruption of the truth, the proofs of false zeal and of +foolish martyrdoms,--but with these are also to be plainly seen the +purity and the spirituality of elevated Christian faith. + +In the service of the Roman Church used at the removal of the bodies of +the holy martyrs from their graves in the catacombs is a prayer in which +are the words,--"Thou hast set the bodies of thy soldiers as guards +around the walls of this thy beloved Jerusalem";--and as one passes from +catacomb to catacomb, it is, indeed, as if he passed from station to +station of the encircling camp of the great army of the martyrs. Leaving +the burial-place of St. Agnes, we continue along the Nomentan Way to the +seventh milestone from Rome. Here the Campagna stretches on either side +in broad, unsheltered sweeps. Now and then a rough wall crosses the +fields, marking the boundaries of one of the great farms into which the +land is divided. On the left stands a low farm-house, with its outlying +buildings, and at a distance on each side the eye falls on low square +brick towers of the Middle Ages, and on the ruinous heaps of more +ancient tombs. The Sabine mountains push their feet far down upon the +plain, covered with a gray-green garment of olive-woods. Few scenes in +the Campagna are more striking, from the mingling of barrenness and +beauty, from the absence of imposing monumental ruins and the presence +of old associations. The turf of the wide fields was cropped in the +winter by the herds driven down at that season from the recesses of the +Neapolitan mountains, and the irregular surface of the soil afforded no +special indications of treasures buried beneath it. But the Campagna is +full of hidden graves and secreted buildings. + +In the Acts of the Martyrdom of St. Alexander, who, according to the +story of the Church, was the sixth successor of St. Peter, and who was +put to death in the persecution of Trajan, in the year 117, it was said +that his body was buried by a Roman lady, Severina, "on her farm, at the +seventh milestone from Rome on the Nomentan Way." These Acts, however, +were regarded as apocryphal, and their statement had drawn but little +attention to the locality. In the spring of 1855, a Roman archaeologist, +Signore Guidi, obtained permission from the Propaganda, by whom the land +was now held, as a legacy from the last of the Stuarts, the Cardinal +York, to make excavations upon it. Beginning at a short distance from +the road, on the right hand, and proceeding carefully, he soon struck +upon a flight of steps formed of pieces of broken marble, which, at +about fifteen feet below the surface of the ground, ended upon a +floor paved with bits of marble, tombstones, and mosaics. As the work +proceeded, it disclosed the walls of an irregular church, that had been +constructed, like that of St. Agnes, partially beneath the soil, for the +purpose of affording an entrance into adjoining catacombs. Remains of +the altar were found, and portions of the open-work marble screen which +had stood before it over the crypt in which the bodies of St. Alexander +and one of his fellow-martyrs had been placed. A part of the inscription +on its border was preserved, and read as follows: ET ALEXANDRO DEDICATUS +VOTUM POSUIT CONSECRANTE URSO EPISCOPO,--"Dedicatus placed this in +fulfilment of a vow to ---- and Alexander, the Bishop Ursus consecrating +it." The Acts supply the missing name of Eventius,--an aged priest, who, +it was said, had conversed with some of the apostles themselves. His +greater age had at that early and simple time given him the place of +honor in the inscription and in men's memory before the youthful, +so-called, Pope Alexander. Probably this little church had been built in +the fourth century, and here a bishop had been appointed to perform the +rites within it. + +It was a strange and touching discovery, that of this long-buried, rude +country-church,--the very existence of which had been forgotten for more +than a thousand years. On the 3d of May, 1855, the day set apart in the +calendar to the honor of the saints to whom it was consecrated, the holy +services were once more performed upon the ancient altar of the roofless +sanctuary. The voices of priest and choir sounded through the long +silent chapels, while the larks sang their hymns of gladness over the +fields above. On the rough floor, inscriptions, upon which, in the +early centuries, the faithful had knelt, were again read by kneeling +worshippers. On one broken slab of marble was the word MARTYR; on +another, the two words, SPARAGINA FIDELIS; on another, POST VARIAS +CURAS, POST LONGE MONITA VITAE. + +The catacombs opening from the church have not been entered to a great +distance, and though more rudely excavated than most of those nearer the +city, as if intended for the burial-places of a poorer population, they +are of peculiar interest because many of their graves remain in their +original state, and here and there, in the mortar that fastens their +tiled fronts, portions of the vessel of glass or pottery that held the +collected blood of the martyr laid within are still undisturbed. No +pictures of any size or beauty adorn the uneven walls, and no chapels +are hollowed out within them. Most of the few inscriptions are scratched +upon the mortar,--_Spiritus tuus in bono quiescat_,--but now and then a bit +of marble, once used for a heathen inscription, bears on its other side some +Christian words. None of the inscriptions within the church which bear +a date are later than the end of the fifth century, and it seems likely +that shortly after this time this church of the Campagna was deserted, +and its roof falling in, it was soon concealed under a mass of rubbish +and of earth, and the grass closed it with its soft and growing +protection. + +During two years, the uncovered church, with its broken pillars, its +cracked altar, its imperfect mosaics, its worn pavement, remained open +to the sky, in the midst of solitude. But how could anything with such +simple and solemn associations long escape desecration at Rome? How +could such an opportunity for _restoration_ be passed over? How could so +sacred and venerable a locality be protected from modern superstition +and ecclesiastical zeal? In the spring of 1837, preparations were being +made for building upon the ground, and a Carthusian convent, it was +said, was to be erected, which would enclose within its lifeless walls +the remains of the ancient church. Once more, then, it is to be shut +out of the sky; and now it is not Nature that asserts her predominance, +protecting while she conceals, and throwing her mantle over the martyrs' +graves to keep them from sacrilege,--but she is driven away by the +builders of the papal court, and all precious old associations are +incongruous with those of modern Roman architecture and Roman conventual +discipline. + +One morning, in the spring of 1855, shortly after the discovery had been +made, the Pope went out to visit the Church of St. Alexander. On his +return, he stopped to rest in the unoccupied convent adjoining the +Church of St. Agnes. Here there was a considerable assemblage of those +who had accompanied him, and others who were admitted at this place to +join his suite. They were in the second story of the building, and the +Pope was in the act of addressing them, when suddenly the old floor, +unable to support the unaccustomed weight, gave way, and most of the +company fell with it to the floor below. The Pope was thrown down, but +did not fall through. The moment was one of great confusion and alarm, +the etiquette of the court was disturbed, but no person was killed and +no one dangerously hurt. In common language and in Roman belief, it was +a miraculous escape. The Pope, attributing his safety to the protection +of the Virgin and of St. Agnes, determined at once that the convent +should be rebuilt and reoccupied, and the church restored. The work +is now complete, and all the ancient charm of time and use, all the +venerable look of age and quiet, have been laboriously destroyed, and +gaudy, inharmonious color, gilding and polish have been substituted in +their place. + +The debased taste and the unfeeling ignorance of restorers have been +employed, as so often in Italy, to spoil and desecrate the memorials +of the past; and the munificence of Pius, _Munificentia Pii IX._, is +placarded on the inner walls. One is too frequently reminded at Rome of +the old and new lamps in the story of Aladdin. + +We turn reluctantly from the Nomentan Way, and passing through Rome, +we go out of the gate which opens on the Appian. About a mile from the +present wall, just where the road divides before coming to the Catacombs +of St. Callixtus, a little, ugly, white church, of the deformed +architecture of the seventeenth century, recalls, by its name of _Domine +quo vadis?_ "O Lord, whither goest thou?" one of the most impressive, +one of the earliest and simplest, of the many legends of the legendary +religious annals of Rome. It relates, that, at the time of the +persecution of Nero, St. Peter, being then in Rome, was persuaded to fly +secretly from the city, in the hope of escaping from the near peril. +Just as he reached this place, trembling, we may well believe, not more +with fear than with doubt, while past scenes rose vividly before him, +and the last words heard from his Master's lips came with a flood of +self-reproach into his heart,--as he hurried silently along, with head +bowed down, in the gray twilight, he became suddenly aware of a presence +before him, and, looking up, beheld the form of that beloved Master whom +he was now a second time denying. He beheld him, moreover, in the act +of bearing his cross. Peter, with his old ardor, did not wait to be +addressed, but said, _Domine, quo vadis?_--"O Lord, whither goest +thou?" The Saviour, looking at him as he had looked but once before, +replied, _Venio Romam iterum crucifigi_,--"I come to Rome to be +crucified a second time"; and thereupon disappeared. Peter turned, +reentered the gate, and shortly after was crucified for his Lord's sake. +His body, it is said, was laid away in a grave on the Vatican Hill, +where his great church was afterwards built. + +And here we come upon another legend, which takes us out again on the +Appian Way, to the place where now stands the Church of St. Sebastian. +St. Gregory the Great relates in one of his letters, that, not long +after St. Peter and St. Paul had suffered martyrdom, some Christians +came from the East to Rome to find the bodies of these their countrymen, +which they desired to carry back with them to their own land. They so +far succeeded as to gain possession of the bodies, and to carry them as +far as the second milestone on the Appian Way. Here they paused, and +when they attempted to carry the bodies farther, so great a storm of +thunder and lightning arose, that they were terrified, and did not +venture to repeat their attempt. By this time, also, the Romans had +become aware of the carrying off of the sacred bodies, and, coming out +from the city, recovered possession of them. One of the old pictures on +the wall of the portico of the ancient basilica of St. Peter's preserved +a somewhat different version of the legend, representing the Romans as +falling violently upon the Oriental robbers, and compelling them, with +a storm of blows, to yield up the possession of the relics they were +carrying away by stealth. + +But the legend went on further to state, that, on the spot where they +thus had regained the bodies of their saints, the Romans made a deep +hole in the ground, and laid them away within it very secretly. Here for +some time they rested, but at length were restored to their original +tombs, the one on the Ostian Way, the other on the Vatican. But St. +Peter was again to be laid in this secret chamber in the earth on the +Appian Way. In the episcopate of the saint and scoundrel Callixtus, +the Emperor Elagabalus, with characteristic extravagance and caprice, +resolved to make a circus on the Vatican, wide enough for courses of +chariots drawn by four elephants abreast. All the older buildings in the +way were to be destroyed, to gratify this imperial whim; and Callixtus, +fearing lest the Christian cemetery, and especially the tomb of the +prince of the apostles might be discovered and profaned, removed the +body of St. Peter once more to the Appian Way. Here it lay for forty +years, and round it and near it an underground cemetery was gradually +formed; and it was to this burial-place, first of all, that the name +Catacomb,[B] now used to denote all the underground cemeteries, was +applied. + +[Footnote B: A word, the derivation of which is not yet determined. The +first instance of its use is in the letter of Gregory from which we +derive the legend. This letter was written A.D. 594.] + +Though at length St. Peter was restored to the Vatican, from which he +has never since been removed, and where his grave is now hidden by his +church, the place where he had lain so long was still esteemed sacred. +The story of St. Sebastian relates how, after his martyred body had been +thrown into the Cloaca Maxima, that his friends might not have the last +satisfaction of giving it burial, he appeared in a vision to Lucina, a +Roman lady, told her where his body might be found, and bade her lay it +in a grave near that in which the apostles had rested. This was done, +and less than a century afterward a church rose to mark the place of his +burial, and connected with it, Pope Damasus, the first great restorer +and adorner of the catacombs, [A.D. 266-285,] caused the chamber that +was formed below the surface of the ground around the grave of the +apostles to be lined with wide slabs of marble, and to be consecrated as +a subterranean chapel. It is curious enough that this pious work should +have been performed, as is learned from an inscription set up here by +Damasus himself, in fulfilment of a vow, on the extinction among the +Roman clergy of the party of Ursicinus, his rival. This custom of +propitiating the favor of the saints by fair promises was thus early +established. It was soon found out that it was well to have a friend +at court with whom a bargain could be struck. If the adorning of this +chapel was all that Damasus had to pay for the getting rid of his +rival's party, the bargain was an easy one for him. There had been +terrible and bloody fights in the Roman streets between the parties of +the contending aspirants for the papal seat. Ursicinus had been driven +from Rome, but Damasus had had trouble with the priests of his faction. +Some of them had been rescued, as he was hurrying them off to prison, +and had taken refuge with their followers in the Basilica of St. Maria +Maggiore. Damasus, with a mob of charioteers, gladiators, and others of +the scum of Rome, broke into the church, and slew a hundred and sixty +men and women who had been shut up within it. Ursicinus, however, +returned to the city; there were fresh disturbances, and a new massacre, +on this occasion, in the Church of St. Agnes; and years passed before +Damasus was established as undisputed ruler of the Church. + +It was then, in fulfilment of the vow he had made during his troubles, +that _Saint_ Damasus (for he became a saint long since, success being a +great sanctifier) adorned the underground chapel of the apostles. The +entrance to it is through the modern basilica of St. Sebastian. It is +a low, semicircular chamber, with irregular walls, in which a row of +arched graves (_arcosolia_) has been formed, which once were occupied, +probably, by bodies of saints or martyrs. Near the middle of the chapel +is the well, about seven feet square, within which are the two graves, +lined with marble, where the bodies of the apostles are said to have +lain hid. Fragments of painting still remain on the walls of this +pit, and three faint and shadowy figures may be traced, which seem to +represent the Saviour between St. Peter and St. Paul. Over the mouth of +the well stands an ancient altar. However little credence may be given +to the old legends concerning the place, it is impossible not to look +with interest upon it. For fifteen hundred years worshippers have knelt +there as upon ground made holy by the presence of the two apostles. The +memory of their lives and of their teachings has, indeed, consecrated +the place; and though superstition has often turned the light of that +memory into darkness, yet here, too, has faith been strengthened, and +courage become steadfast, and penitence been confirmed into holiness, by +the remembrance of the zeal, the denial of Peter, and the forgiveness of +his Master, by the remembrance of the conversion, the long service, the +exhortations, and the death of Paul. + +The catacombs proper, to which entrance may be had from the Basilica of +St. Sebastian, are of little importance in themselves, and have lost, by +frequent alteration and by the erection of works of masonry for their +support, much that was characteristic of their original construction. +During a long period, while most of the other subterranean cemeteries +were abandoned, this remained open, and was visited by numerous +pilgrims. It led visitors to the church, and the guardians of the church +found it for their interest to keep it in good repair. Thus, though +its value as one of the early burial-places of the Christians was +diminished, another interest attached to it through the character of +some of those visitors who were accustomed to frequent its dark paths. +Saint Bridget found some of that wild mixture of materialism and +mysticism, (a not uncommon mingling,) which passes under the name of +her Revelations, in the solitude of these streets of the dead. Here St. +Philip Neri, the Apostle of Rome, the wise and liberal founder of the +Oratorians, the still beloved saint of the Romans, was accustomed +to spend whole nights in prayer and meditation. Demons, say his +biographers, and evil spirits assailed him on his way, trying to terrify +him and turn him back; but he overcame them all. Year after year he kept +up this practice, and gained strength, in the solitude and darkness, and +in the presence of the dead, to resist fiercer demons than any that had +power to attack him from without. And it is related, that, when St. +Charles Borromeo, his friend, the narrow, but pure-minded reformer of +the Church, came to Rome, from time to time, he, too, used to go at +night to this cemetery, and watch through the long hours in penitence +and prayer. Such associations as these give interest to the cemetery of +St. Sebastian's Church. + +The preeminence which the Appian Way, _regina viarum_, held among the +great streets leading from Rome,--not only as the road to the South and +to the fairest provinces, but also because it was bordered along its +course by the monumental tombs of the greatest Roman families,--was +retained by it, as we have seen, as the street on which lay the chief +Christian cemeteries. The tombs of the Horatii, the Metelli, the +Scipios, were succeeded by the graves of a new, less famous, but not +less noble race of heroes. On the edge of the height that rises just +beyond the Church of St. Sebastian stand the familiar and beautiful +ruins of the tomb of Cecilia Metella. Of her who was buried in this +splendid mausoleum nothing is known but what the three lines of the +inscription still remaining on it tell us,-- + +CAECILIAE Q. CRETICI F. METELLAE CRASSI. + +She was the daughter of Quintus, surnamed the Cretan, and the wife of +Crassus. But her tomb overlooks the ground beneath which, in a narrow +grave, was buried a more glorious Cecilia.[C] The contrast between the +ostentation and the pride of the tombs of the heathen Romans, and the +poor graves, hollowed out in the rock, of the Christians, is full of +impressive suggestions. The very closeness of their neighborhood to each +other brings out with vivid effect the broad gulf of separation that lay +between them in association, in affection, and in hopes. + +[Footnote C: Gueranger, _Histoire de St. Cecile_. p. 45.] + +Coming out from the dark passages of the Catacombs of St. Callixtus, in +the clear twilight of a winter's evening, one sees rising against the +red glow of the sky the broken masses of the ancient tombs. One city of +the dead lies beneath the feet, another stretches before the eyes far +out of sight. The crowded history of Rome is condensed into one mighty +spectacle. The ambitions, the hates, the valor, the passions, the +religions, the life and death of a thousand years are there; and, in +the dimness of the dusky evening, troops of the dead rise before the +imagination and advance in slow procession by opposite ways along the +silent road. + +[To be continued] + + * * * * * + + +THE PURE PEARL OF DIVER'S BAY. + +[Concluded.] + + +V + + +Did she talk of flesh and blood, when she said that she would find +him?--The summer passed away; and when autumn came, it could not be said +that search for the bodies of these fishermen was quite abandoned. But +no fragment of boat, nor body of father or son, ever came, by rumor or +otherwise, to the knowledge of the people of the Bay. + +The voyage was long to Clarice. Marvellous strength and acuteness of +vision come to the eyes of those who watch. Keen grow the ears that +listen. The soldier's wife in the land of Nena Sahib inspires +despairing ranks: "Dinna ye hear the pibroch? Hark! 'The Campbells are +coming!'"--and at length, when the hope she lighted has gone out in +sullen darkness, and they bitterly resent the joy she gave them,--lo, +the bagpipes, banners, regiment! The pibroch sounds, "The Campbells +are coming!" The Highlanders are in sight!--But, oh, the voyage was +long,--and Clarice could see no sail, could hear no oar! + +Clarice ceased to say that she must find the voyagers. She ceased to +talk of them. She lived in these days a life so silent, and, as +it seemed, so remote from other lives, that it quite passed the +understanding of those who witnessed it. Tears seldom fell from her +eyes, complaints never;--but her interest was aroused by no temporal +matter; she seemed, in her thoughts and her desires, as far removed as a +spirit from the influences of the external world. + +This state of being no person who lives by bread alone could have +understood, or endured patiently, in one with whom in the affairs of +daily life he was associated. + +The Revelator was an exile in Patmos. + +Dame Briton was convinced that Clarice was losing her wits. Bondo Emmins +yielded to the force of some inexplicable law, and found her fairer +day by day. To his view, she was like a vision moving through a dream, +rather than like any actual woman; and though the drift of the vision +seemed not towards him, he was more anxious to compel it than to +accomplish any other purpose ever entertained. The actual nearness, +the apparent unattainableness, of that he coveted, excited in him such +desires of conquest and possession as he would seek to appease in +one way alone. To win her would have been to the mind of any other +inhabitant of Diver's Bay a feat as impracticable as the capture of the +noble ghost of Hamlet's father, as he stands exorcized by Mrs. Kemble. + +And yet, while her sorrow made her the pity and the wonder of the +people, it did not keep her sacred from the reach of gossip. Observing +the frequency with which Bondo Emmins visited Old Briton's cabin, it was +profanely said by some that the pale girl would ere long avert her eyes +from the dead and fix them on the living. + +Emmins had frequent opportunities for making manifest his good-will +towards the family of Briton. The old man fell on the ice one day and +broke his thigh, and was constrained to lie in bed for many a day, and +to walk with the help of crutches when he rose again. Then was the +young man's time to serve him like a son. He brought a surgeon from +the Port,--and the inefficiency of the man was not his fault, surely. +Through tedious days and nights Emmins sat by the old man's bedside, +soothing pain, enlivening weariness, endeavoring to banish the gloomy +elements that combined to make the cabin the abode of darkness. He would +have his own way, and no one could prevent him. When Old Briton's money +failed, his supplies did not. Even Clarice was compelled to accept his +service thankfully, and to acknowledge that she knew not how they could +have managed without him in this strait. + +The accident, unfortunate as it might be deemed, nevertheless exercised +a most favorable influence over the poor girl's life. It brought her +soul back to her body, and spoke to her of wants and their supply,--of +debts, of creditors,--of fish, and sea-weed, and the market,--of bread, +and doctor's bills,--of her poor old father, and of her mother. She came +back to earth. Now, henceforth, the support of the household was with +her. Bondo Emmins might serve her father,--she had no desire to prevent +what was so welcome to the wretched old man,--but for herself, her +mother, the house, no favor from him! + +And thus Clarice rose up to rival Bondo in her ready courage. When her +father, at last careful, at last anxious, thoughtful of the future, +began to express his fear, he met the ready assurance of his daughter +that she should be able to provide all they should ever want; let him +not be troubled; when the spring came, she would show him. + +The spring came, and Clarice set to work as never in her industrious +life before. Day after day she gathered sea-weed, dried it, and carried +it to town. She went out with her mother in the fishing-boat, and the +two women were equal in strength and courage to almost any two men of +the Bay. She filled the empty fish-barrels,--and promised to double the +usual number. She dried wagon-loads of finny treasure, and she made good +bargains with the traders. No one was so active, no one bade fair to +turn the summer to such profit as Clarice. She had come back to flesh +and blood.--John came back from Patmos. + +Her face grew brown with tan; it was not lovely as a fair ghost's, any +longer; it was ruddy,--and her limbs grew strong. Bondo Emmins marked +these symptoms, and took courage. People generally said, "She is well +over her grief, and has set her heart on getting rich. There is that +much of her mother in her." Others considered that Emmins was in the +secret, and at the bottom of her serenity and diligence. + +Dame Briton and her spouse were not one whit wiser than their +neighbors. They could not see that any half-work was impossible with +Clarice,--that, if she had resolved, for their sake, to live as people +must, who have bodies to respect and God-originated wants to supply, she +must live by a ceaseless activity. Because she had ascended far beyond +tears, lamentation, helplessness, they thought she had forgotten. + +Yes, they came to this conclusion, though now and then, not often, +generally on some pleasant Sunday, when all her work was done, Clarice +would go down to the Point and take her Sabbath rest there. No danger of +disturbance there!--of all bleak and desert places known to the people +of Diver's Bay, that point was bleakest and most deserted. + +The place was hers, then. In this solitude she could follow her +thoughts, and be led by them down to the ocean, or away to heavenly +depths. It was good for her to go there in quietness,--to rest in +recollection. Strength comes ever to the strong. This pure heart had +nothing to fear of sorrow. Sorrow can only give the best it has to such +as she. Grief may weaken the selfish and the weak; it may make children +of the foolish and drivellers; by grief the inefficient may come to the +fulness of their inefficiency;--but out of the bitter cup the strong +take strength, though it may be with shuddering. + +One Sunday morning Clarice lingered longer about the house than usual, +and Emmins, who had resolved, that, if she went that day to the Point, +he would follow her, found her with her father and mother, talking +merely for their pleasure,--if the languid tones of her voice and the +absent look of her eyes were to be trusted. + +Emmins thought that this moment was favorable to him. He was sure of +Dame Briton and the old man, and he almost believed that he was sure +of Clarice. Finding her now with her father and mother at home on this +bright Sunday morning, one glance at her face surprised him and, almost +before he was aware, he had spoken what he had hitherto so patiently +refrained from speaking. + +But the answer of Clarice still more surprised him. With her eyes gazing +out on the sea, she stood, the image of silence, while Bondo warily +set forth his hopes. Old Briton and the dame looked on and deemed the +symptoms favorable. But Clarice said,-- + +"Heart and hand I gave to him. I am the wife of Luke;--how can I marry +another?" + +Bondo seemed eager to answer that question, for he hastily waved his +hand toward Dame Briton, who began to speak. + +"Luke will never come back," said he, gently expostulating. + +"But I shall go to him," was the quiet reply. + +Then the old people, whose hearts were in the wooing, broke out +together,--and by their voices, if one should argue with them, strife +was not far off. Clarice staid one moment, as if to take in the burden +of each eager voice; then she shook her head:-- + +"I am married already," she said; "I gave him my heart and my hand. You +would not rob Luke Merlyn?" + +When she had so spoken, calmly, firmly, as if it were impossible that +she should be moved or agitated by such speech as this she had heard, +Clarice walked away to the beach, unmoored her father's boat, and rowed +out into the Bay. + +Bondo Emmins stood with the old people and gazed after her. + +"Odd fish!" he muttered. + +"Never mind," said Old Briton, hobbling up and down the sand; "it's the +first time she's been spoke to. She'll come round. I know Clarice." + +"You know Clarice?" broke in Dame Briton. "You don't know her! She isn't +Clarice,--she's somebody else. Who, I don't know." + +"Hush!" said Bondo, who had no desire that the couple should fall into +a quarrel. "I know who she is. Don't plague her. It will all come out +right yet. I'll wait. But don't say anything to her about it. Let me +speak when the time comes.--Where's my pipe, Dame Briton?" + +Emmins spent a good part of the day with the old people, and did not +allow the conversation once to turn upon himself and Clarice. But he +talked of the improvements he should like to make in the old cabin, and +they discussed the market, and entertained each other with recollections +of past times, and with strange stories made up of odd imaginations and +still more uncouth facts. Supernatural influences were dwelt upon, and +many a belief in superstitions belonging to childhood was confessed in +peaceful unconsciousness of the fact that it was Clarice who had turned +all their thoughts to-day from the great prosaic highway where plain +facts have their endless procession. + + +VI. + + +Clarice went out alone in her fishing-boat, as during all the past week +she had purposed to do when this day came, if it should prove favorable. +She wished to approach the Point thus,--and her purpose in so doing was +such as no mortal could have suspected. And yet, as in the fulfilment +of this purpose she went, hastened from her delaying by the address of +Bondo Emmins, it seemed to her as if her secret must be read by the +three upon the beach. + +She wore upon her neck, as she had worn since the days of her betrothal +to Luke, the cord to which the pearl ring was attached. The ring had +never been removed; but now, as Clarice came near to the Point, she +laid the oars aside, and with trembling hands untied the black cord and +disengaged the ring, and drew it on her finger, that trembled like a +leaf. She was doing now what Luke had bidden her do,--and for his +sake. Until now she had always looked upon it as a ring of betrothal; +henceforth it was her wedding-ring,--the evidence of her true marriage +with Luke Merlyn. + +O unseen husband, didst thou see her as anew she gave herself to love, +to constancy, to duty? + +She was floating toward the Point, when she knelt in the fishing-boat +and plunged the hand that wore the ring under the bright cold water. How +bright, how cold it was! It chilled Clarice; she shuddered; was she the +bride of Death? But she did not rise from her knees, neither withdraw +her hand, until her vow, the vow she was there to speak, was spoken. +There she knelt alone in the great universe, with God and Luke Merlyn. + +When at last she stood upon the Point, she had strength to meet her +destiny, and patience to wait while it was being developed. She knew +her marriage covenant was blest, and filial duty was divested of every +thought or notion that could tempt or deceive her. Treading thus +fearlessly among the high places of imagination, no prescience of mortal +trouble could lurk among the mysterious shadows. By her faith in the +eternity of love she was greatly more than conqueror. + +The day passed, and night drew near. It was the purpose of Clarice to +row home with the tide. But a strange thing happened to her ere she set +out to return. As she stood looking out upon the sea, watching the waves +as they rolled and broke upon the beach, a new token came to her from +the deep. + +Almost as she might have waited for Luke, she stood watching the onward +drift; calculating the spot at which the waves would deposit their +burden, she stood there when the plank was borne inland, to save it, if +possible, from being dashed with violence on the rocks. + +To this plank a child was bound,--a little creature that might be three +years old. At the sight of this form, and this helplessness, the heart +of the woman seemed to break into sudden living flame. She carried the +plank down to a level spot with an energy that would have made light of +a burden even ten times as great; she stooped upon the sand; she unbound +the body; and she thought, "The child is dead!" Nevertheless she took +him in her arms; she dried his limbs with her apron; she wiped his face, +and rubbed his hair;--but he gave no sign of life. Then she wrapped him +in her shawl, and laid him in the boat, and rowed home. + +There was no one in the cabin when Clarice went in. When Dame Briton +came home, she found her daughter with a ring upon her finger, bending +over the body of a child that lay upon her bed. + +The dame was quickly brought into service, and there was no reason to +fear that she would desist from her labors until she had received some +evidence of death or life. She and Clarice worked all night over the +body of the child, and towards morning were rewarded by the result. The +boy's eyes opened, and he tried to speak. By noon of that day he was +lying in the arms of Clarice, deathly pallor on his little face; but he +could speak, and his pretty eyes were open. + +All those hours of mutual sympathy and striving, Dame Briton had been +thinking to say, "Clarice, what's the ring for?" But she had not said +it, when, in the afternoon, Bondo Emmins came into the cabin, and saw +Clarice with a beautiful boy in her arms, wrapped in her shawl, while +before the fire some rags of infant garments were drying. + +They talked over the boy's fortune and the night's work, the dame taking +the chief conduct of the story; and Bondo was so much interested, +and praised the child so much, and spoke with so much concern of the +solitary, awful voyage the little one must have made, that, when he +subsequently offered to take the child in his arms, Clarice let him go, +and explained, when the young man began to talk to the boy, that he +could not understand a word, neither could she make out the meaning of +his speech. + +Emmins heard Clarice say that she must go to the Port the next day and +learn what vessel had been lost, and if any passengers were saved; and +by daybreak he set out on that errand. He returned early in the morning +with the news that a merchantman, the "Gabriel," had gone down, and +that cargo and crew were lost. While he was telling this to Clarice he +observed the ring upon her finger, and he coupled the appearing of that +token with the serenity of the girl's face, and hailed his conclusion as +one who hoped everything from change and nothing from constancy. + +Clarice had found the boy in the place where she had looked for Luke +that night when his cap was washed to her feet. Over and over again she +had said this to her father and mother while they busied themselves +about the unconscious child; now she said it again to Bondo Emmins, as +if there were some special significance in the fact, as indeed to her +there was. He was her child, and he should be her care, and she would +call him Gabriel. + +People could understand the burden imposed upon the laborious life of +Clarice by this new, strange care. But they did not see the exceeding +great reward, nor how the love that lingered about a mere memory seemed +blessed to the poor girl with a blessing of divine significance. + +To make the child her own by some special act that should establish her +right became the wish of Clarice. It was not enough for her that she +should toil for him while others slept, that she should stint herself in +order to clothe him in a becoming manner, that she should suffer anxiety +for him in the manifold forms best known to those who have endured it. +She had given herself to Luke, so that she feared no more from any man's +solicitation. She would fain assert her claim to this young life which +Providence had given her. But this desire was suggested by external +influence, as her marriage covenant had been. + +Now and then a missionary came down to Diver's Bay, and preached in the +open air, or, if the weather disappointed him, in the great shed built +for the protection of fish-barrels and for the drying of fish. No +surprising results had ever attended his preaching; the meetings were +never large, though sometimes tolerably well attended; the preacher +was almost a stranger to the people; and the wonder would have been a +notable one, had there been any harvest to speak of in return for the +seed he scattered. The seed was good; but the fowls of the air were free +to carry it away; the thorns might choke it, if they would; it was not +protected from any wind that blew. + +A few Sundays after Gabriel became the charge of Clarice, the missionary +came and preached to the people about Baptism. Though burdened with a +multitude of cares which he had no right to assume, which kept him busy +day and night in efforts lacking only the concentration that would have +made them effective, the man was earnest in his labor and his speech, +and it chanced now and then that a soul was ready for the truth he +brought. + +On this occasion he addressed the parents in their own behalf and +that of their children. The bright day, the magnificent view his eyes +commanded from the place where he stood to address the handful of +people, the truth, with whose importance he was impressed, made him +eloquent. He spoke with power, and Clarice Briton, holding the hand of +little Gabriel, listened as she had never listened before. + +"Death unto sin," this baptism signified, he said. She looked at the +child's bright face; she recalled the experience through which she had +passed, by which she was able to comprehend these words. She had passed +through death; she had risen to life; for Luke was dead, and was alive +again,--therefore she lived also. Tears came into the girl's eyes, +unexpected, abundant, as she listened to the missionary's pleading with +these parents, to give their little ones to their Heavenly Father, and +themselves to lives of holiness. + +He would set the mark of the cross on their foreheads, he said, to show +that they were Christ's servants;--and then he preached of Christ, +seeking to soften the tough souls about him with the story of a divine +childhood; and he verily talked to them as one should do who felt that +in all his speaking their human hearts anticipated him. It was not +within the compass of his voice to reach that savage note which in +brutal ignorance condemns, where loving justice never could condemn. +He had an apprehension of the vital truth that belief in the world's +Saviour was not belief in a name, but the reception of that which Jesus +embodied. He came down to Diver's Bay, expecting to find human nature +there, and the only pity was that he had not time to perform what he +attempted. Let us, however, thank him for his honest endeavor; and be +glad, that, for one, Clarice was there to hear him,--she heard him so +gladly. + +To take a vow for Gabriel, to give him to God, to confirm him in +possession of the name she had bestowed, became the desire of Clarice. +One day when she had some business to transact in the market, she +dressed Gabriel in a new frock she had made for him, and took him with +her to the Port, carrying him in her arms half the way. She did not find +the minister, but she had tested the sincerity of her desire. When he +came down again to the Bay, as he did the next Sunday, she was waiting +to give him the first fruits of his labors there. + +He arrived early in the morning, that he might forestall the fishermen +and their families in whatever arrangements they might be making for the +day. When Clarice first saw him, her heart for a moment failed her,--she +wished he had not come, or that she had gone off to spend the day before +she knew of his coming. But, in the very midst of her regrets, she +caught up Gabriel and walked forth to meet the preacher. + +The missionary recognized Clarice, and he had already heard the story +of the child. He was the first to speak, and a few moments' talk, which +seemed to her endless, though it was about Gabriel, passed before she +could tell him how she had sought him in his own home on account of the +boy, and what her wish was concerning him. + +A naturalist, walking along that beach and discovering some long-sought +specimen, at a moment when he least looked and hoped for it, would have +understood the feeling and the manner of the missionary just then. +Surprise came before gladness, and then followed much investigation, +whereby the minister would persuade himself, even as the naturalist +under similar circumstances would do, of the genuineness of what was +before him;--he must ascertain all the attending circumstances. + +It was a simple story that his questioning drew forth. The missionary +learned something in the interview, as well as Clarice. He learned what +confidence there is in a noble spirit of resignation; that it need not +be the submission of helplessness. He saw anew, what he had learned for +himself under different circumstances, the satisfaction arising from +industry that is based on duty, and involves skill in craft, judgment in +affairs, and that integrity which keeps one to his oath, though it be +not to his profit. He heard the voice of a tender, pitiful, loving +womanhood, strongly manifesting its right to protect helplessness, by +the utterance of its convictions concerning that helplessness. He knew +that to such a woman the Master would have spoken not one word of +reproach, but many of encouragement and sympathy. So he spoke to her +of courage, and shared her hopes, by directing them with a generous +confidence in her. He was the man for his vocation, for in every strait +he looked to his human heart for direction,--and in his heart were not +only sympathy and gentleness, but justice and judgment. + +While he talked to Clarice, the idea which had taken cognizance of +Gabriel alone enlarged,--it involved herself. + +"What doth hinder me to be baptized?" she asked, in the words of Philip. + +"If thou believest, thou mayest." + +Accordingly, at the conclusion of the morning prayer, when the preacher +said, "Those persons to be baptized may now come forward," Clarice +Briton, leading little Gabriel by the hand, rose from her seat and +walked up before the congregation, and stood in the presence of all. + +Not an eye was turned from her during the ceremony. When she lifted +Gabriel, and held him in her arms, and promised the solemn promises for +him as well as for herself, the souls that witnessed it thought that +they had lost Clarice. The tears rolled down Old Briton's cheeks when he +looked upon the girl. What he saw he did not half understand, but there +was an awful solemnity about the transaction, that overpowered him. He +and Dame Briton had come to the meeting because Clarice urged them to do +so;--she had said she was going to make a public promise about Gabriel, +and that was all she told them; for, beside that there was little time +for explanation in the hurry of preparing Gabriel and herself, Clarice's +heart was too deeply stirred to admit of speech. After she had obtained +the promise of her parents, she said no more to them; they did not hear +her speak again until her firm "I will" broke on their ears. + +Dame Briton was not half pleased at what she saw and heard, during this +service. She looked at Bondo Emmins to see what he was thinking,--but +little she learned from his solemn face. When the sign of the cross was +laid on the forehead of Clarice, and on the forehead of Gabriel, a +frown for an instant was seen on his own; but it was succeeded by an +expression of feature such as made the dame look quickly away, for in +that same instant his eyes were upon her. + +Enough of surprise and gaping wonder would Dame Briton have discovered +in other directions, had she sought the evidences; but from Bondo Emmins +she looked down at her "old man," and she saw his tears. Then came +Clarice, and before she knew it she was holding the little Christian +Gabriel in her stern old arms, and kissing away the drops of hallowed +water that flashed upon his eye-lids. + +A sermon followed, the like of which, for poetry or wonder, was never +heard among these people. The preacher seemed to think this an occasion +for all his eloquence; nay, for the sake of justice, I will say, his +heart was full of rejoicing, for now he believed a church was grafted +here, a Branch which the Root would nourish. His words served to deepen +the impression made by the ceremonial. Clarice Briton and little Gabriel +shone in white raiment that day; and, thanks to him, when he went on to +prove the Kingdom of Heaven upon earth one with that mysterious majesty +on high, a single leap took Clarice Briton over the boundaries of faith. + + +VII. + + +But if to others Clarice seemed to have passed the boundary line of +their dominion, to herself the bond of neighborhood was strengthened. +The missionary told her all he had a right to expect of her now, as a +fellow-worker, and pointed out to her the ways in which she might second +his labors at the Bay. It was but a new form of the old work to which +she had been accustomed her life long. Never, except in the dark summer +months when all her life was eclipsed, had Clarice lived unmindful of +the old and sick and helpless, or of the little children. Her kindliness +of heart could surprise no one; her generosity was nothing strange; her +caution, her industry, her courage, her gentleness, were not traits to +which her character had been a stranger hitherto. But now they had +a brighter manifestation. She became more than ever diligent in her +service; the Sunday-school was the result of old sentiments in a new +and intelligent combination; and the neighbors, who had always trusted +Clarice, did not doubt her now. Novelty is always pleasing to simple +souls among whom innovation has not first taken the pains to excite +suspicion of itself. + +For a long time, more than usual uncertainty seemed to attend the +chances of Gabriel's life. In the close watching and constant care +required of Clarice, the child became so dear to her, that doubtless +there was some truth in the word repeated in her hearing with intent to +darken any moment of special tenderness and joy, that this stranger was +dearer to her than her "born relations." + +As much as was possible by gentle firmness and constant oversight, +Clarice kept him from hurtful influences. He was never mixed up in the +quarrels of ungoverned children; he never became the victim of their +rude sport or cruelty. She would preserve him peaceful, gentle, pure; +and in a measure her aim was accomplished. She was the defender, +companion, playmate of the child. She told him pretty tales, the +creations of her fancy, and strove by them to throw a soft illusion +around the rough facts of their daily life. The mystery surrounding him +furnished her not meagrely with material for her imagination; she could +invent nothing that seemed to herself incredible; her fairy tales were +not more wonderful than facts as she beheld them. She taught the boy +songs; she gave him language. The clothes he wore, bought with her own +money, fashioned by her own hands, were such as became the beauty of the +child, and the pure taste and the little purse of Clarice. + +Never had a childhood so radiant in beauty, so wonderful in every +manifestation, developed before the eyes of the folk of Diver's Bay. +He became a wonder to the old and young. His sayings were repeated. +Enchantment seemed added to mystery;--anything might have been believed +of Gabriel. + +Sometimes, when she had dressed him in his Sunday suit, and they were +alone together, Clarice would put upon his finger the pearl ring,--her +marriage ring. But she kept to herself the name of Luke Merlyn till the +time should come when, a child no longer, he should listen to the story; +and she would not make that story grievous for his gentle heart, but +sweet and full of hope. Well she knew how he would listen as none other +could,--how serious his young face would look when the sacred dawn of a +celestial knowledge should begin to break; then a new day would rise on +Gabriel, and nothing should separate them then. + +But, lurking near her joy, and near her perfect satisfaction, even in +the days when some result much toiled for seemed to give assurance that +she was doing well and justly, was the shadow of a doubt. One day the +shadow deepened, and the doubt appeared. Clarice was sitting in the +doorway, busy at some work for Gabriel. The boy was playing with Old +Briton, who could amuse him by the hour, drawing figures in the sand. +Dame Briton was busy performing some household labor, when Bondo Emmins +came rowing in to shore. Gabriel, at the sound of the oars, ran to meet +the fisherman, who had been out all day; the fisherman took the child +in his arms, kissed him, then placed in his hands a toy which he had +brought for him from the Point, and bade him run and show it to Clarice. +Gabriel set out with shouts, and Emmins went back smiling to look after +his boatload. + +"He's a good runner," said Old Briton, watching the child with laughter +in his eyes. Dame Briton, drawn to the door by the unusual noise, looked +out to see the little fellow flying into Clarice's arms, and she said, +softly, "Pretty creature!" while she strode back to her toil. + +Presently, the little flutter of his joy having subsided, Gabriel sat +on the doorstep beside Clarice, his eyes seriously peering into the +undiscoverable mystery of the toy. Then Bondo came up, and the toy was +forgotten, the child darting away again to meet him. Emmins joined the +group with Gabriel in his arms, looking well satisfied. + +"Gabriel is as happy as if this was his home in earnest," said he. He +dropped the words to try the group. + +"His home!" cried Dame Briton, quickly. "Well, ain't it? Where then? I +wonder." + +The sharp tone of her voice told that the dame was not well pleased with +Bondo's remark; for the child had found his way into her heart, and she +would have ruined him by her indulgence, had it not been for Clarice's +constant vigilance. And this was not the least of the difficulties the +girl had to contend with. For Dame Briton, you may be sure, though she +might be compelled to yield to her daughter's better sense, could never +be constrained by her own child to hold her tongue, and the arguments +with which she abandoned many of her foolish purposes were almost +as fatal to Clarice's attempts at good government as the perfect +accomplishment of these purposes would have been. + +Bondo answered her quick interrogatory, and the troubled wonder in the +eyes of Clarice, with a confused, "Of course it is his home; only I was +thinking, that, to be sure, they must have come from some place, and +maybe left friends behind them." + +Now it seemed as if this answer were not given with malicious purpose, +but in proper self-defence; and by the time Clarice looked at him, and +made him thus speak, Bondo perhaps supposed that he had not intended to +trouble the poor soul. But he could not avoid perceiving that a deep +shadow fell upon the face of Clarice; and the conviction of her +displeasure was not removed when she arose and led the child away. But +Clarice was not displeased. She was only troubled sorely. She asked her +surprised self a dreary question: If anywhere on earth the child had +a living parent, or if he had any near of kin to whom his life was +precious, what right to Gabriel had she? Providence had sent him to her, +she had often said, with deep thankfulness; but now she asked, Had he +sent the child that she might restore him not only to life, but to +others, whom, but for her, death had forever robbed of him? + +From the day that the shadow of this thought fell across her way, the +composure and deep content of the life of Clarice were disturbed. Not +merely the presence of Emmins became a trouble and annoyance, but the +praise that her neighbors were prompt to lavish on Gabriel, whenever she +went among them, became grievous to her ears. The shadow which had swept +before her eyes deepened and darkened till it obscured all the future. +She was experiencing all the trouble and difficulty of one who seeks to +evade the weight of a truth which has nevertheless surrounded and will +inevitably capture her. + +Nothing of this escaped the eyes of the young fisherman. Time should +work for him, he said; he had shot an arrow; it had hit the mark; now he +would heal the wound. He might easily have persuaded himself that the +wound was accidental, and so have escaped the conviction of injury +wrought with intention. All would have been immediately well with him +and Clarice, had it not been for Clarice! There are persons, their name +is Legion, who are as wanton in offence as Bondo Emmins,--whose souls +are black with murderous records of hopes they have destroyed; yet they +will condole with the mourners! + +To this doubt as to her duty, this evasion of knowledge concerning it, +this silence in regard to what chiefly occupied her conscience, was +added a new trouble. As Gabriel grew older, a restless, adventurous +spirit began to manifest itself in him. From a distance regarding the +daring feats of other children, his impulse was to follow and imitate +them. At times, in ungovernable outbreaks of merriment, he would escape +from the side of Clarice, with fleet, daring steps which seemed to set +her pleasure at defiance; and when, after his first exploit, which +filled her with astonishment, she prepared to join him in his sport, and +did follow, laughing, a wilfulness, which made her tremble, roused to +resist her, and gave an almost tragic ending to the play. + +One day she missed the lad. Searching for him, she found that he had +gone out in a boat with other children, among whom he sat like a little +king, giving his orders, which the rest were obeying with shouted +repetitions. When Clarice called to him, and begged the children to +return, he followed their example, took off his cap, and waved it at +her, in defiance, with the rest. + +Clarice sat down on the shore in despair. Bitter tears ran down her +cheeks. + +Bondo Emmins passed by, and saw what was going on. "Ho! ho! Clarice +needs some one to help her hold the rein," said he to himself; and going +to the water's edge, he raised his voice, and beckoned the children +ashore. He enforced the gesture by a word,--"Come home!" + +The little rebels did not wait a second summons, but obeyed the strong +voice of the strong man, trembling. They paddled the boat to the shore, +and landed quite crestfallen, ashamed, it seemed. Then Bondo, having bid +the youngsters disperse, with a threat, if he ever saw them engaged in +the like business, walked away, without speaking to Gabriel, or even +looking at him. + + +VIII. + + +Clarice was half annoyed at this interference; it seemed to suppose, she +thought, that she was unequal to the management of her own affairs.--But +_was_ she equal to it? + +After Bondo had walked away, she called to Gabriel, who stood alone when +the other children had deserted him, and knew not what to do. He would +have run away, had he not been afraid of fisherman Emmins. + +"Come here, my son," said Clarice. She did not speak very loud, nor in +the least sternly; but he heard her quite distinctly, and he hesitated. + +"I'm not your son!" he concluded to answer. + +A sword through the heart of Clarice would have killed her, but there +are pains which do not slay that are worse than the pains of death. +Clarice Briton's face was pale with anguish, when she arose and said,-- + +"Gabriel, come here!" + +The child saw something awful in her eyes, and heard in her voice +something that made him tremble. He came, and sat down in the place to +which Clarice pointed. It was a hard moment for her. Other words bitter +as this, which disowned her love and care and defied her authority, the +child could not have spoken. She answered him as if he had not been a +child; and a truth which no words could have made him comprehend seemed +to break upon and overwhelm him, while she spoke. + +"It is true," she said, "you are not my son. I have no right to call you +mine. Listen, Gabriel, while I tell you how it happens that you live +with me, and I take care of you, as if you were my child. I was down at +the Point one day,--that place where we go to watch the birds, you know, +my--Gabriel. While I sat there alone, I saw a plank that was dashed by +the waves up and down, as you see a boat carried when the wind blows +hard and sounds so terrible; but there was nobody to take care of that +plank except God,--and He, oh, He, is always able to take care! When +that plank was washed near to the shore, I stepped out on the rocks and +caught it, and then I saw that a little child was tied fast to it; so I +knew that some one must have thrown him into the water, hoping that he +would be picked up. I do not know what they who threw the little child +into the sea called him; but I, who found him, called him Gabriel, and I +carried him, all dripping with the salt sea-water, to my father's cabin. +I laid him on my bed, and my mother and I never stopped trying to waken +him, till he opened his eyes; for he lay just like one who never meant +to open his eyes or speak again. At last my mother said, 'Clarice, I +feel his heart beat!' and I said in my heart, 'If it please God to spare +his life, I will work for him, and take care of him, and be a mother to +him.' And I thought, 'He will surely love me always, because God has +sent him to me, and I have taken him, and have loved him.' But now he +has left me! He is mine no more! And oh, how I have loved him!" + +Long before this story was ended, tears were running down Gabriel's +face, and he was drawing closer and closer to Clarice. When she ceased +speaking, he hid his face in her lap and cried aloud, according to the +boisterous privilege of childhood. + +"Oh, mother, dear mother, I haven't gone away! I'm here! I do love you! +I am your little boy!" + +"Gabriel! Gabriel! it was terrible! terrible!" burst from Clarice, with +a groan, and a flood of tears. + +"Oh, don't, mother! Call me your boy! Don't say, Gabriel! Don't cry!" + +So he found his way through the door of the heart that stood wide open +for him. Storm and darkness had swept in, if he had not. + +The reconciliation was perfect; but the shadow that had obscured the +future deepened that obscurity after this day's experience. If her right +to the lad needed no vindication, was she capable of the attempted +guidance and care? Could she bear this blessed burden safely to the end? + +Sometimes, for a moment, it may have seemed to Clarice that Bondo Emmins +could alone help her effectually out of her bewilderment and perplexity. +She had not now the missionary with whom to consult, in whose wisdom to +confide; and Bondo had a marvellous influence over the child. + +He was disposed to take advantage of that influence, as he gave +evidence, not long after the exhibition of his control over the +boat-load of delinquents, by asking Clarice if she were never going +to reward his constancy. He seemed at this time desirous of bringing +himself before her as an object of compassion, if nothing better; but +she, having heard him patiently to the end of what he had to urge in his +own behalf and that of her parents, replied in words that were certainly +of the moment's inspiration, and almost beyond her will; for Clarice +had been of late so much troubled, no wonder if she should mistake +expediency for right. + +"I am married already," she said. "You see this ring. Do you not know +what it has meant to me, Bondo, since I first put it on? Death, as you +call it, cannot part Luke Merlyn and me. 'Heart and hand,' he said. +Can I forget it? My hand is free,--but he holds it; and my heart is +his.--But I can serve you better than you ask for, Bondo Emmins. You +learned the name of the vessel that sailed from Havre and was lost. Take +a voyage. Go to France. See if Gabriel has any friends there who have a +right to him, and will serve him better than I can; and if he has such +friends, I myself will take Gabriel to them. Yes, I will do it.--You +will love a sailor's life, Bondo. You were born for that. Diver's Bay +is not the place for you. I have long seen it. The sea will serve you +better than I ever could. Go, and Clarice will thank you. Oh, Bondo, I +beg you!" + +At these words the man so appealed to became scarlet. He seemed +to reflect on what Clarice had said,--seriously to ponder; but his +amazement at her words had almost taken away his power of speech. + +"The Gabriel sailed from Havre," said he, slowly, "If I went out as a +deckhand in the next ship that sails"-- + +"Yes!" + +"To scour the country--I hope I shan't find what I look for; you +couldn't live without him.--Very likely you will think me a fool for my +pains. You will not give me yourself. You would have me take away the +lad from you."--He looked at Clarice as if his words passed his belief. + +"Yes, only do as I say,--for I know it must be the best for us all. +There is nothing else to be done,--no other way to live." + +"France is a pretty big country to hunt over for a man whose name you +don't know," said Emmins, after a little pause. + +"You can find what passengers sailed in the Gabriel," answered Clarice, +eager to remove every difficulty, and ready to contend with any that +could possibly arise. "The vessel was a merchantman. Such vessels don't +take out many passengers.--Besides, you will see the world.--It is for +everybody's sake! Not for mine only,--no, truly,--no, indeed! May-be +if another person around here had found Gabriel, they would never have +thought of trying to find out who he belonged to." + +"I guess so," replied Bondo, with a queer look. "Only now be honest, +Clarice; it's to get rid of me, isn't it? But you needn't take that +trouble. If you had only told me right out about Luke Merlyn"-- + +While Bondo Emmins spoke thus, his face had unconsciously the very +expression one sees on the face of the boy whose foot hovers a moment +above the worm he means to crush. The boy does not expect to see the +worm change to a butterfly just then and there, and mount up before his +very eyes toward the empyrean. Neither did Bondo Emmins anticipate her +quiet-- + +"You knew about it all the while." + +"Not the whole," said he,--"that you were married to Luke, as you say"; +and the fisherman looked hastily around him, as if he had expected to +see the veritable Luke. + +"It isn't to get rid of you, then, Bondo," Clarice explained; "but I +read in the Book you don't think much of, but it's everything to me, _If +ye have not been faithful in that which is another man's, who shall give +you that which is your own?_ So you see, I am a little selfish in it +all; for I want peace of mind, and I never shall have peace till it is +settled about Gabriel; if I must give him up, I can." + +Bondo Emmins looked at Clarice with a strange look, as she spoke these +words,--so faltering in speech, so resolute in soul. + +"And if I'm faithful over another man's," said he, "better the chance of +getting my own, eh? But I wonder what my own is." + +"Everything that you can earn and enjoy honestly," replied Clarice. + +Emmins rose up quickly at these words. He walked off a few paces without +speaking. His face was gloomy and sullen as a sky full of tornadoes when +he turned his back on Clarice,--hardly less so when he again approached +her. + +"I am no fool," said he, as he drew near.--From his tone one could +hardly have guessed that his last impulse was to strike the woman to +whom he spoke.--"I know what you mean. You haven't sent me on a fool's +errand. Good bye. You won't see me again, Clarice--till I come back from +France. Time enough to talk about it then." + +He did not offer to take her hand when he had so spoken, but was off +before Clarice could make any reply. + +Clarice thought that she should see him again; but he went away without +speaking to any other person of his purpose; and when wonder on account +of his absence began to find expression in her father's house, and +elsewhere, it was she who must account for it. People thereat praised +him for his good heart, and made much of his generosity, and wondered if +this voyage were not to be rewarded by the prize for which he had sought +openly so long. Old Briton and his dame inclined to that opinion. + +But in the week following that of his departure there was a great stir +and excitement among the people of the Bay. Little Gabriel was missing. +A search, that began in surprise when Clarice returned home from some +errand, was continued with increasing alarm all day, and night descended +amid the general conviction that the child was drowned. He had been seen +at play on the shore. No one could possibly furnish a more reasonable +explanation. Every one had something to say, of course, and Clarice +listened to all, turning to one speaker after another with increasing +despair. Not one of them could restore the child to life, if he was +dead. + +There was a suspicion in her heart which she shared with none. It +flashed upon her, and there was no rest after, until she had satisfied +herself of its injustice. She went alone by night to town, and made her +way fearlessly down to the harbor to learn if any vessel had sailed +that day, and when the last ship sailed for Havre. The answers to the +inquiries she made convinced her that Bondo Emmins must have sailed for +France the day after his last conversation with her. + +By daylight Clarice was again on the shore of Diver's Bay, there to +renew a search which for weeks was not abandoned. Gabriel had a place in +many a rough man's heart, and the women of the Bay knew well enough that +he was unlike all other children; and though it did not please them well +that Clarice should keep him so much to herself, they still admired +the result of such seclusion, and praised his beauty and wonderful +cleanliness, as though these tokens of her care were really beyond the +common range of things,--attainable, in spite of all she could say, by +no one but Clarice Briton, and for no one but Gabriel. These fishermen +and their wives did not speedily forget the wonderful boy; the boats +never went out but those who rowed them thought about the child; the +gatherers of sea-weed never went to their work but they looked for some +token of him; and for Clarice,--let us say nothing of her just here. +What woman needs to be told how that woman watched and waited and +mourned? + + +IX. + + +Few events ever occurred to disturb the tranquillity of the people of +Diver's Bay. People wore out and dropped away, as the old fishing boats +did,--and new ones took their place. + +Old Briton crumbled and fell to pieces, while he watched for the return +of Bondo Emmins. And Clarice buried her old mother. She was then left +alone in the cabin, with the reminiscences of a hard lot around her. The +worn-out garments, and many rude traces of rough toil, and the toys, few +and simple, which had belonged to Gabriel, constituted her treasures. +What was before her? A life of labor and of watching; and Clarice was +growing older every day. + +Her hair turned gray ere she was old. The hopes that had specially +concerned her had failed her,--all of them. She surveyed her experience, +and said, weighing the result, the more need that she should strive to +avert from others the evils they might bring upon themselves, so that, +when the Lord should smite them, they, too, might be strong. The +missionary had long since left this field of labor and gone to another, +and his place at Diver's Bay was unfilled by a new preacher. The more +need, then, of her. Remembering her lost child, she taught the children +of others. She taught them to read and sew and knit, and, what was more +important, taught them obedience and thankfulness, and endeavored to +inspire in them some reverence and faith. The Church did not fall into +ruin there. + +I wish that I might write here,--it were so easy, if it were but +true!--that Bondo Emmins came back to Diver's Bay in one of those long +years during which she was looking for him, and that he came scourged by +conscience to ask forgiveness of his diabolic vengeance. + +I wish that I might write,--which were far easier, if it were but +fact,--that all the patience and courage of the Pure Heart of Diver's +Bay, all the constancy that sought to bring order and decency and +reverence into the cabins there, met at last with another external +reward than merely beholding, as the children grew up to their duties +and she drew near to death, the results of all her teaching; that those +results were attended by another, also an external reward; that the +youth, who came down like an angel to fill her place when she was gone, +had walked into her house one morning, and surprised her, as the Angel +Gabriel once surprised the world, by his glad tidings. I wish, that, +instead of kneeling down beside her grave in the sand, and vowing there, +"Oh, mother! I, who have found no mother but thee in all the world, am +here, in thy place, to strive as thou didst for the ignorant and +the helpless and unclean," he had thrown his arms around her living +presence, and vowed that vow in spite of Bondo Emmins, and all the world +beside. + +But it seems that the gate is strait, and the path is ever narrow, and +the hill is difficult. And the kinds of victory are various, and the +badges of the conquerors are not all one. And the pure heart can wear +its pearl as purely, and more safely, in the heavens, where the +white array is spotless,--where the desolate heart shall be no more +forsaken,--where the BRIDEGROOM, who stands waiting the Bride, says, +"Come, for all things are now ready!"--where the SON makes glad. Pure +Pearl of Diver's Bay! not for the cheap sake of any mortal romance will +I grieve to write that He has plucked thee from the deep to reckon thee +among His pearls of price. + + * * * * * + + +CAMILLE. + + + I bore my mystic chalice unto Earth + With vintage which no lips of hers might name; + Only, in token of its alien birth, + Love crowned it with his soft, immortal flame, + And, 'mid the world's wide sound, + Sacred reserves and silences breathed round,-- + A spell to keep it pure from low acclaim. + + With joy that dulled me to the touch of scorn, + I served;--not knowing that of all life's deeds + Service was first; nor that high powers are born + In humble uses. Fragrance-folding seeds + Must so through flowers expand, + Then die. God witness that I blessed the Hand + Which laid upon my heart such golden needs! + + And yet I felt, through all the blind, sweet ways + Of life, for some clear shape its dreams to blend,-- + Some thread of holy art, to knit the days + Each unto each, and all to some fair end, + Which, through unmarked removes, + Should draw me upward, even as it behooves + One whose deep spring-tides from His heart descend. + + To swell some vast refrain beyond the sun, + The very weed breathed music from its sod; + And night and day in ceaseless antiphon + Rolled off through windless arches in the broad + Abyss.--Thou saw'st I, too, + Would in my place have blent accord as true, + And justified this great enshrining, God! + + Dreams!--Stain it on the bending amethyst, + That one who came with visions of the Prime + For guide somehow her radiant pathway missed, + And wandered in the darkest gulf of Time. + No deed divine thenceforth + Stood royal in its far-related worth; + No god, in truth, might heal the wounded chime. + + Oh, how? I darkly ask;--and if I dare + Take up a thought from this tumultuous street + To the forgotten Silence soaring there + Above the hiving roofs, its calm depths meet + My glance with no reply. + Might I go back and spell this mystery + In the new stillness at my mother's feet,-- + + I would recall with importunings long + That so sad soul, once pierced as with a knife, + And cry, Forgive! Oh, think Youth's tide was strong, + And the full torrent, shut from brain and life, + Plunged through the heart, until + It rocked to madness, and the o'erstrained will + Grew wild, then weak, in the despairing strife! + + And ever I think, What warning voice should call, + Or show me bane from food, with tedious art, + When love--the perfect instinct, flower of all + Divinest potencies of choice, whose part + Was set 'mid stars and flame + To keep the inner place of God--became + A blind and ravening fever of the heart? + + I laugh with scorn that men should think them praised + In women's love,--chance-flung in weary hours, + By sickly fire to bloated worship raised!-- + O long-lost dream, so sweet of vernal flowers! + Wherein I stood, it seemed, + And gave a gift of queenly mark!--I _dreamed_ + Of Passion's joy aglow in rounded powers. + + I dreamed! The roar, the tramp, the burdened air + Pour round their sharp and subtle mockery. + Here go the eager-footed men; and there + The costly beggars of the world float by;-- + Lilies, that toil nor spin, + How should they know so well the weft of sin, + And hide me from them with such sudden eye? + + But all the roaming crowd begins to make + A whirl of humming shade;--for, since the day + Is done, and there's no lower step to take, + Life drops me here. Some rough, kind hand, I pray, + Thrust the sad wreck aside, + And shut the door on it!--a little pride, + That I may not offend who pass this way. + + And this is all!--Oh, thou wilt yet give heed! + No soul but trusts some late redeeming care,-- + But walks the narrow plank with bitter speed, + And, straining through the sweeping mist of air, + In the great tempest-call, + And greater silence deepening through it all, + Refuses still, refuses to despair! + + Some further end, whence thou refitt'st with aim + Bewildered souls, perhaps?--Some breath in me, + By thee, the purest, found devoid of blame, + Fit for large teaching?--Look!--I cannot see,-- + I can but feel!--Far off, + Life seethes and frets,--and from its shame and scoff + I take my broken crystal up to thee. + + * * * * * + + +THE HUNDRED DAYS. + +PERSONAL REMINISCENCES. + +[Concluded.] + + +The most remarkable event of the "Hundred Days" was the celebrated +"Champ de Mai," where Napoleon met deputies from the Departments, and +distributed eagles to representatives of his forces. He intended it as +an assembly of the French people, which should sanction and legalize his +second accession to the throne, and pledge itself, by solemn adjuration, +to preserve the sovereignty of his family. It was a day of wholesale +swearing, and the deputies uttered any quantity of oaths of eternal +fidelity, which they barely kept three weeks. The distribution of the +eagles was the only real and interesting part of the performance, and +the deep sympathy between both parties was very evident. The Emperor +stood in the open field, on a raised platform, from which a broad flight +of steps descended; and pages of his household were continually running +up and down, communicating with the detachments from various branches of +the army, which passed in front of him, halting for a moment to receive +the eagles and give the oath to defend them. + +I was present during the whole of this latter ceremony. Through the +forbearance of a portion of the Imperial Guard, into whose ranks I +obtruded myself, I had a very favorable position, and felt that in this +part of the day's work there was no sham. + +I would here bear testimony to the character of those veterans known as +the "Old Guard." I frequently came in contact with individuals of them, +and liked so well to talk with them, that I never lost a chance of +making their acquaintance. One, who was partial to me because I was an +American, had served in this country with Rochambeau, had fought under +the eye of Washington, and was at the surrender of Cornwallis. He had +borne his share in the vicissitudes of the Republic, the Consulate, and +the Empire. He was scarred with wounds, and his breast was decorated +with the cross of the Legion of Honor, which he considered an ample +equivalent for all his services. My intercourse with these old soldiers +confirmed what has been said of them, that they were singularly mild +and courteous. There was a gentleness of manner about them that was +remarkable. They had seen too much service to boast of it, and they +left the bragging to younger men. Terrible as they were on the field of +battle, they seemed to have adopted as a rule of conduct, that + + "In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man + As modest stillness and humility." + +On this memorable day, I saw Napoleon more distinctly than at any other +time. I was frequently present when he was reviewing troops, but either +he or they were in motion, and I had to catch a glimpse of him as +opportunities offered. At this time, as he passed through the Champs +Elysees, I stood among my friends, the soldiers, who lined the way, and +who suffered me to remain where a man would not have been tolerated. He +was escorted by the Horse Grenadiers of the Guard. His four brothers +preceded him in one carriage, while he sat alone in a state coach, all +glass and gold, to which pages clung wherever they could find footing. +He was splendidly attired, and wore a Spanish hat with drooping +feathers. As he moved slowly through the crowd, he bowed to the right +and left, not in the hasty, abrupt way which is generally attributed to +him, but in a calm, dignified, though absent manner. His face was one +not to be forgotten. I saw it repeatedly; but whenever I bring it up, it +comes before me, not as it appeared from the window of the Tuileries, or +when riding among his troops, or when standing, with folded arms or his +hands behind him, as they defiled before him; but it rises on my vision +as it looked that morning, under the nodding plumes,--smooth, massive, +and so tranquil, that it seemed impossible a storm of passion could ever +ruffle it. The complexion was clear olive, without a particle of color, +and no trace was on it to indicate what agitated the man within. The +repose of that marble countenance told nothing of the past, nor of +anxiety for the deadly struggle that awaited him. The cheering sounds +around him did not change it; they fell on an ear that heard them not. +His eye glanced on the multitudes; but it saw them not. There was more +machinery than soul in the recognition, as his head instinctively swayed +towards them. The idol of stone was there, joyless and impassive amidst +its worshippers, taking its lifeless part in this last pageant. But the +thinking, active man was elsewhere, and returned only when he found +himself in the presence of delegated France, and in the more congenial +occupation which succeeded. + +Immediately after this event, all the available troops remaining in +Paris were sent toward the Belgian frontier, and in a few days were +followed by the Emperor. Then came an interval of anxious suspense, +which Rumor, with her thousand tongues, occupied to the best of her +ability. I was in the country when news of the first collision arrived, +and a printed sheet was sent to the chateau where I was visiting, with +an account of the defeat of the Prussians at Ligny and the retreat of +the British at Quatre Bras. Madame Ney was staying in the vicinity; and, +as the Marshal had taken an active part in the engagement, I was sent to +communicate to her the victory. She was ill, and I gave the message to +a lady, her connection, much pleased to be the bearer of such welcome +intelligence. I returned that day to Paris, and found my schoolmates in +the highest exhilaration. Every hour brought confirmation of a decisive +victory. It was thought that the great battle of the campaign had been +fought, and that the French had only to follow up their advantage. +Letters from officers were published, representing that the Allies were +thoroughly routed, and describing the conflict so minutely, that there +could be no doubt of the result. All was now joy and congratulation; and +conjectures were freely made as to the terms to be vouchsafed to the +conquered, and the boundary limits which should be assigned to the +territory of France. + +A day or two after this, we made a customary visit to a swimming-school +on the Seine, and some of us entered into conversation with the +gendarme, or police soldier, placed there to preserve order. He was very +reserved and unwilling to say much; but, at last, when we dwelt on the +recent successes, he shook his head mournfully, and said he feared there +had been some great disaster; adding, "The Emperor is in Paris. I saw +him alight from his carriage this morning, when on duty; he had very few +attendants, and it was whispered that our army had been defeated." That +my companions did not seek relief at the bottom of the river can be +ascribed only to their entire disbelief of the gendarme's story. But, as +they returned home, discussing his words at every step, fears began to +steal over them when they reflected how seriously he talked and how +sorrowful he looked. + +The gendarme spoke the truth. Napoleon was in Paris. His army no longer +existed, and his star had been blotted from the heavens. His plans, +wonderfully conceived, had been indifferently executed; a series of +blunders, beyond his control, interrupted his combinations, and delay in +important movements, added to the necessity of meeting two enemies at +the same moment, destroyed the centralization on which he had depended +for overthrowing both in succession. The orders he sent to his Marshals +were intercepted, and they were left to an uncertainty which prevented +any unity of action. The accusation of treason, sometimes brought +against them, is false and ungenerous; and the insinuations of Napoleon +himself were unworthy of him. They may have erred in judgment, but they +acted as they thought expedient, and they never showed more devotion to +their country and to their chief than on the fatal day of Waterloo. + +I have been twice over that field, and have heard remarks of military +men, which have only convinced me that it is easier to criticize a +battle than to fight one. Had Grouchy, with his thirty thousand men, +joined the Emperor, the British would have been destroyed. But he +stopped at Wavre, to fight, as he supposed, the whole Prussian army, +thinking to do good service by keeping it from the main battle. Bluecher +outwitted him, and, leaving ten thousand men to deceive and keep him in +check, hurried on to turn the scale. The fate of both contending hosts +rested on the cloud of dust that arose on the eastern horizon, and the +eyes of Napoleon and Wellington watched its approach, knowing that it +brought victory or defeat. The one was still precipitating his impetuous +columns on the sometimes penetrated, but never broken, squares of +infantry, which seemed rooted to the earth, and which, though torn by +shot and shell, and harassed by incessant charges of cavalry, closed +their thinned ranks with an obstinacy and determination such as he had +never before encountered. The other stood amidst the growing grain, +seeing his army wasting away before those terrible assaults; and when +the officers around him saw inevitable ruin, unless the order for +retreat was given, he tore up the unripened corn, and, grinding it +between his hands, groaned out, in his agony,--"Oh, that Bluecher, or +night, would come!" + +The last time I was at Waterloo, many years ago, the guide who +accompanied me told me, that, a short time before, a man, whose +appearance was that of a substantial farmer, and who was followed by +an attendant, called on him for his services. The guide went his usual +round, making his often-repeated remarks and commenting severely +on Grouchy. The stranger examined the ground attentively, and only +occasionally replied, saying, "Grouchy received no orders." At last, the +servant fell back, detaining the guide, and, in a low tone, said to him, +"Speak no more about Marshal Grouchy, for that is he." The man told me, +that, after that, he abstained from saying anything offensive; but that +he watched carefully the soldier's agitation, as the various positions +of the battle became apparent to him. He, doubtless, saw how little +would have turned the current of the fight, and knew that the means of +doing it had been in his own hands. The guide seemed much impressed with +the deep feeling of the Marshal, and said to me, "I will never speak ill +of him again." + +The battle of Waterloo is often mentioned as the sole cause of +Napoleon's downfall; and it is said, that, had he gained that day, he +would have secured his throne. It seems to be forgotten that a complete +victory would have left him with weakened forces, and that he had +already exhausted the resources of France in his preparations for this +one campaign; that the masses of Austria and Russia were advancing +in hot haste, which, with the rallied remains of Prussia, and the +indomitable perseverance and uncompromising hostility of England, +quickened by a reverse of her arms, would have presented an array +against which he could have had no chance of success. The hour of utter +ruin would only have been procrastinated, involving still greater waste +of life, and augmenting the desolation which for so many years had been +the fate of Europe. + +Yes, Napoleon was in Paris,--a general without soldiers, and a sovereign +without subjects. The prestige of his name was gone; and had the Chamber +of Deputies invested him with the Dictatorship, as was suggested, it +would have been "a barren sceptre in his gripe," and the utmost stretch +of power could not have collected materials to meet the impending +invasion. At no period did he show such irresolution as at this time. He +tendered his abdication, and it was accepted. He offered his services as +a soldier, and they were declined. He had ceased, for the moment, to +be anything to France. Yet he lingered for days about the capital, the +inhabitants of which were too intent in gazing at the storm, ready to +burst upon them, to be mindful of his existence. There was, however, +one exception. The _boys_ were still faithful to him, and were more +interested in his position than in that of the enemy at their gates. + +There was a show of resistance. The fragments of the army of Belgium +gathered round Paris; the National Guard, or militia of the city, +was marched out; and the youth of the colleges were furnished with +field-pieces and artillery officers, who drilled them into very +effective cannoneers, and they took naturally to the business, +pronouncing it decidedly better fun than hard study. They were of an age +which is full of animal courage, and their only fear was a peremptory +order from parents or guardians to leave college and return home. Some +of my school-fellows, anticipating such an injunction, joined the camp +outside the city, and saw service enough to talk about for the remainder +of their lives. + +One morning, I was at the Lyceum, where all were prepared for an +immediate order to march, and each one was making his last arrangements. +No person could have supposed that these young men expected to be +engaged, within a few hours, in mortal combat. They were in the highest +spirits, and looked forward to the hoped-for battle as though it were to +be the most amusing thing imaginable. While I was there, a false +report came in that Napoleon had resumed the command of the army. The +excitement instantly rose to fever-heat, and the demonstration told what +hold he still had on these his steadfast friends. From our position the +rear of the army was but a short distance, while the advanced portions +of it were engaged. Versailles had been entered by the Allies, who were +attacked and driven out by the French under Vandamme. The cannonade was +at one time as continuous as the roll of a drum. Prisoners were guarded +through the streets, and wagons, conveying wounded men, were continually +passing. + +Stragglers from the routed army of Waterloo were to be met in all +directions, many of them disabled by their pursuers, or the fatigues of +a harried retreat. Pride was forgotten in extreme misery, and they were +grateful for any attention or assistance. One of them was taken into +our institution as a servant. He had been in the army eighteen years, +fifteen of which he had served as drummer. He had been in some of the +severest battles, had gone through the Russian campaign, and was among +the few of his regiment who survived the carnage of Waterloo. And yet +this man, who had been familiar with death more than half his life, and +who at times talked as though he were a perfect tornado in the field, +was as arrant a poltroon as ever skulked. + +After the Allied Troops entered Paris, and were divided among the +inhabitants, some Prussian cavalry soldiers were quartered on us. +Collisions occasionally took place between them and the scholars; and in +one instance, one of them entered a study-room in an insulting manner, +and in consequence thereof made a progress from the top of the stairs to +the bottom with a celerity that would have done credit to his regiment +in a charge. His comrades armed themselves to avenge the indignity, and +the students, eager for the fray, sallied out to meet them with pistols +and fencing-foils, the latter with buttons snapped off and points +sharpened. There was hopeful promise of a very respectable skirmish; +but it was nipped in the bud by the interposition of our peace-making +instructors, aided by the authority of a Prussian officer. When the +affair was over, some wonder was expressed why our fire-eating military +attendant had not given us his professional services; and, on search +being made, we found him snugly stowed away in a hole under the stairs, +where he had crept on the first announcement of hostilities. He +afterwards confessed to me that he was a coward, and that no one could +imagine what he had suffered in his agonies of fear during his various +campaigns. Yet he came very near being rewarded for extraordinary valor +and coolness. His regiment was advancing on the enemy, and as he was +mechanically beating the monotonous _pas de charge_, not knowing whether +he was on his head or his heels, a shot cut the band by which his drum +was suspended, and as it fell, he caught it, and without stopping, held +it in one hand while he continued to beat the charge with the other. An +officer of rank saw the action, and riding up, said, "Your name, brave +fellow? You shall have the cross of honor for that gallant deed." He +told me he really did not know what he was doing; he was too frightened +to think about anything. But he added, that it was a pity the general +was killed in that very battle, as it robbed him of the promised +decoration. + +I mention this incident as an evidence of what diversified materials an +army is composed, and that the instruments of military despotism are not +necessarily endowed with personal courage, the discipline of the mass +compensating for individual imperfection. It also gives evidence that +luck has much to do in the fortunes of this world, and that many a man +who "bears his blushing honors thick upon him" would as poorly stand a +scrutiny as to the means by which they were acquired, as our friend, the +drummer, had he been enabled to strut about, in piping times of peace, +with a strip of red ribbon at his button-hole. + +While preparations were making for the defence of Paris, and the alarmed +citizens feared, what was at one time threatened, that the defenders +would be driven in, and the streets become a scene of warfare, involving +all conditions in the chances of indiscriminate massacre, the powers +that were saw the futility of resistance, and opening negotiations with +the enemy, closed the war by capitulation. Whatever relief this may have +been to the people generally, it was a sad blow to the martial ardor +of my schoolmates. Their opinion of the transaction was expressed in +language by no means complimentary to their temporary rulers. To lose +such an opportunity for a fight was a height of absurdity for which +treason and cowardice were inadequate terms. Their military visions +melted away, the field-pieces were wheeled off, the army officers bade +them farewell, they were required to deliver up their arms, and they +found themselves back again to their old bondage, reduced to the +inglorious necessity of attending prayers and learning lessons. + +The Hundred Days were over. The Allies once more poured into France, +and in their train came back the poor, despised, antiquated Bourbons, +identifying themselves with the common enemy, and becoming a byword and +a reproach, which were to cling to them until they should be driven into +hopeless banishment. The King reentered Paris, accompanied by foreign +soldiers. I saw him pass the Boulevard, and I then hastened across the +Garden to await his arrival at the Tuileries, standing near the spot +where, three months before, I had seen Napoleon. The tricolor was no +longer there, but the white flag again floated over the place so full of +historical recollections. Louis XVIII soon reached this ancestral abode +of his family, and having mounted, with some difficulty and expenditure +of breath, to the second story, he waddled into the balcony which +overlooked the crowd silently waiting for the expected speech, and, +leaning ponderously on the railing, he kissed his hand, and said, in a +loud voice, "Good day, my children." This was the exordiam, body, and +peroration of his address, and it struck his audience so ludicrously, +that a laugh spread among them, until it became general, and all seemed +in the best possible humor. The King laughed, too, evidently regarding +his reception as highly flattering. The affair turned out well, for the +multitude parted in a merry mood, considering his Majesty rather a jolly +old gentleman, and making sundry comparisons between him and the late +tenant, illustrative of the difference between King Stork and King Log. + +Paris was crowded with foreign soldiers. The streets swarmed with them; +their encampments filled the public gardens; they drilled in the open +squares and on the Boulevards; their sentinels stood everywhere. Their +presence was a perpetual commentary on the vanity of that glory which +is dependent on the sword. They gazed at triumphal monuments erected to +commemorate battles which had subjected their own countries to the iron +rule of conquest. They stood by columns on which the history of their +defeat was cast from their captured cannon, and by arches whose friezes +told a boastful tale of their subjugation. They passed over bridges +whose names reminded them of fields which had witnessed their headlong +rout. They strolled through galleries where the masterpieces of art hung +as memorials that their political existence had been dependent on the +will of a victorious foe. Attempts were made to destroy these trophies +of national degradation; but, in some instances, the skill of the +architect and the fidelity of the builder were an overmatch for the +hasty ire of an incensed soldiery, and withstood the attacks until +admiration for the work brought shame on their efforts to demolish it. + +But for the Parisians there was a calamity in reserve, which sank +deeper into their souls than the fluttering of hostile banners in their +streets, or the clanging tread of an armed enemy on their door-stones. +It was decided that the Gallery of the Louvre should be despoiled, and +that the works of art, which had been collected from all nations, making +that receptacle the marvel of the age, should be restored to their +legitimate owners. A wail went up from the universal heart of France +at this sad judgment. It was felt that this great loss would be +irreparable. Time, the soother of all sorrow, might restore her +worn energies, recruit her wasted population, cover her fields with +abundance, and, turning the activity of an intelligent people into +industrial channels, clothe her with renewed wealth and power. But the +magnificence of that collection, once departed, could never come to +her again; and the lover of beauty, instead of finding under one roof +whatever genius had created for the worship of the ages, would have +to wander over all Europe, seeking in isolated and widely-separated +positions the riches which at the Louvre were strewed before him in +congregated prodigality. But lamentations were in vain. The miracles of +human inspiration were borne to the congenial climes which originated +them, to have, in all after time, the tale of their journeyings an +inseparable appendage to their history, and even their intrinsic merit +to derive additional lustre from the perpetual boast, that they had been +considered worthy a place in the Gallery of Napoleon. + +In the general amnesty which formed an article in the capitulation of +Paris, there was no apprehension that revenge would demand an atonement. +But hardly had the Bourbons recommenced their reign, when, in utter +disregard of the faith of treaties, they sought satisfaction for their +late precipitate flight in assailing those who had been instrumental +in causing it. Many of their intended victims found safety in foreign +lands. Labedoyere, who joined the Emperor with his regiment, was tried +and executed. Lavalette was condemned, but escaped through the heroism +of his wife and the generous devotion of three Englishmen. Ney was +shot in Paris. I would dwell a moment on his fate, not only because +circumstances gave me a peculiar interest in it, but from the fact that +it had more effect in drawing a dividing line between the royal family +and the French people than any event that occurred during their reign. +It was treasured up with a hate that found no fit utterance until the +memorable Three Days of 1830; and when the insurgents stormed the +Tuileries, their cries bore evidence that fifteen years had not +diminished the bitter feeling engendered by that vindictive, +unnecessary, and most impolitic act. + +During the Hundred Days, and shortly before the battle of Waterloo, I +was, one Sunday afternoon, in the Luxembourg Garden, where the fine +weather had brought out many of the inhabitants of that quarter. The +lady I was accompanying remarked, as we walked among the crowd, "There +is Marshal Ney." He had joined the promenaders, and his object seemed to +be, like that of the others, to enjoy an hour of recreation. Probably +the next time he crossed those walks was on the way to the place of his +execution, which was between the Garden and the Boulevard. At the time +of his confinement and trial at the Luxembourg Palace, the gardens were +closed. I usually passed through them twice a week, but was now obliged +to go round them. Early one morning, I stopped at the room of a medical +student, in the vicinity, and, while there, heard a discharge of +musketry. We wondered at it, but could not conjecture its cause; and +although we spoke of the trial of Marshal Ney, we had so little reason +to suppose that his life was in jeopardy, that neither of us imagined +that volley was his death-knell. As I continued on my way, I passed +round the Boulevard, and reaching the spot I have named, I saw a few +men and women, of the lowest class, standing together, while a sentinel +paced to and fro before a wall, which was covered with mortar, and which +formed one side of the place. I turned in to the spot and inquired what +was the matter. A man replied,--"Marshal Ney has been shot here, and his +body has just been removed." I looked at the soldier, but he was gravely +going through his monotonous duty, and I knew that military rule forbade +my addressing him. I looked down; the ground was wet with blood. I +turned to the wall, and seeing it marked by balls, I attempted, with my +knife, to dig out a memorial of that day's sad work, but the soldier +motioned me away. I afterwards revisited the place, but the wall had +been plastered over, and no indications remained where the death-shot +had penetrated. + +The sensation produced by this event was profound and permanent. Many +a heart, inclined towards the Bourbons, was alienated by it forever. +Families which had rejoiced at the Restoration now cursed it in +their bitterness, and from that day dated a hostility which knew no +reconciliation. The army and the youth of France demanded, why a +soldier, whose whole life had been passed in her service, should be +sacrificed to appease a race that was a stranger to the country, and +for which it had no sympathy. A gloom spread like a funeral pall over +society, and even those who had blamed the Marshal for joining the +Emperor were now among his warmest defenders. The print-shops were +thronged with purchasers eager to possess his portrait and to hang it +in their homes, with a reverence like that attaching to the image of a +martyred saint. Had he died at Waterloo, as he led on the Imperial Guard +to their last charge, when five horses were shot under him, and his +uniform, riddled by balls, hung about him in tatters, he would not have +had such an apotheosis as was now given him, with one simultaneous +movement, by all classes of his countrymen. + +The inveterate intention of the reigning family was to obliterate every +mark that bore the impress of Napoleon. Wherever the initial of his name +had been inserted on the public edifices, it was carefully erased; his +statues were broken or removed; prints of him could not be exposed for +sale; and it appeared to be their fixed determination to drive him +from men's memories. But he had left mementos which jealousy could not +conceal nor petty malice destroy. His Code was still the law of the +land; the monuments of his genius were thickly scattered wherever his +dominion had extended; his mighty name was on every tongue; and as time +mellowed the remembrance of him, the good he had done survived and the +evil was forgotten or extenuated. + +Whoever would judge this man should consider the times which produced +him and the fearful authority he wielded. He came to take his place +among the rulers of the earth, while she was rocking with convulsions, +seeking regeneration through the baptism of blood. He came as a +connecting link between anarchy and order, an agent of destiny to act +his part in the great tragedy of revolution, the end of which is not +yet. His mission was to give a lesson to sovereigns and people, +to humble hereditary power, and to prove by his own career the +unsubstantial character of a government which deludes the popular will +that creates it. During his captivity, he understood the true causes of +his overthrow, and talked of them with an intelligence which misfortune +had saddened down into philosophy. He saw that the secret of his +reverses was not to be found in the banded confederacy of kings, but in +the forfeited sympathy of the great masses of men, who felt with him, +and moved with him, and bade him God-speed, until he abandoned the +distinctive principle which advanced him, and relinquished their +affection for royal affiances and the doubtful friendship of monarchs. +His better nature was laid aside, his common sense became merged in +court etiquette, he sacrificed his conscience to his ambition, and the +Man was forgotten in the Emperor. + +It is creditable to the world, that his divorce did more, perhaps, than +anything else to alienate the respect and attachment of mankind; and +many who could find excuses for his gravest public misdeeds can never +forgive this impiety to the household gods. + +I was most forcibly impressed with the relation between him and +Josephine, in a visit I made to Malmaison a short time subsequent to her +death, which occurred soon after his first abdication. It was the place +where they had lived together, before the imperial diadem had seared +his brain; and it was the chosen spot of her retreat, when he, "the +conqueror of kings, sank to the degradation of courting their alliance." +The house was as she left it. Not a thing had been moved, the servants +were still there, and the order and comfort of the establishment were +as though her return were momently expected. The plants she loved were +carefully tended, and her particular favorites were affectionately +pointed out. The old domestic who acted as my guide spoke low, as if +afraid of disturbing her repose, or as if the sanctity of death still +pervaded the apartments. He could not mention her without emotion; and +he told enough of her quiet, unobtrusive life, of her kindness to the +poor, of her gentleness to all about her, to account for the devotion of +her dependants. The evidences of her refined taste were everywhere, +and there were tokens that her love for her husband had survived his +injustice and desertion. After his second marriage, he occasionally +visited her, and she never allowed anything to be disturbed which +reminded her that he had been there. Books were lying open on the table +as he had left them; the chair on which he sat was still where he had +arisen from it; the flower he had plucked withered where he had dropped +it. Every article he had touched was sacred, and remained unprofaned +by other hands. Doubtless, long after he had returned to his brilliant +capital, and all remembrance of her was lost in the glittering court +assembled about the fair-haired daughter of Austria, that lone woman +wandered, in solitary sadness, through the places which had been +hallowed by his presence, and gazed on the senseless objects consecrated +by his passing attention. + +After his last abdication, he retired once more to Malmaison, where he +passed the few days that remained, until he bade a final farewell to the +scenes which he had known at the dawn of his prosperity. No man can tell +his thoughts during those lonely hours. His wife was in the palace of +her ancestors, and his child was to know him no more. He could hear the +din of marching soldiers, and the roar of distant battle, but they were +nothing to him now. His wand was broken, the spell was over, the +spirits that ministered to him had vanished, and the enchanter was left +powerless and alone. But, in the still watches of the night, a familiar +form may have stood beside him, and a well-known voice again whispered +to him in the kindly tones of by-gone years. The crown, the sceptre, the +imperial purple, the long line of kings, for which he had renounced a +woman worth them all, must have faded from his memory in the swarming +recollections of his once happy home. He could not look around him +without seeing in every object an accusing angel; and if a human heart +throbbed in his bosom, retribution came before death. + +Yet call him not up for judgment, without reflecting that his awful +elevation and the gigantic task he had assumed had perverted a heart +naturally kind and affectionate, and left him little leisure to devote +to the virtues which decorate domestic life. The numberless anecdotes +related of him, the charm with which he won to himself all whom he +attempted to conciliate, the warm attachment of those immediately about +him, tend to the belief that there was much of good in him. But his eye +was continually fixed on the star he saw blazing before him, and in his +efforts to follow its guidance, he heeded not the victims he crushed in +his onward progress. He considered men as mere instruments to extend his +dominion, and he used them with wasteful expenditure, to advance his +projects or to secure his conquests. But he was not cruel, nor was he +steeled to human misery. Had he been what he is sometimes represented, +he never could have retained the ascendency over the minds of his +followers, which, regardless of defeat and suffering and death, lived on +when even hope had gone. + +Accusatory words are easily spoken, and there is often a disposition to +condemn, without calculating the compelling motives which govern human +actions, or the height of place which has given to surrounding objects a +coloring and figure not to be measured by the ordinary rules of ethics. +Many a man who cannot bear a little brief authority without abusing it, +who lords it over a few dependants with insolent and arbitrary rule, +whose temper makes everybody uncomfortable within the limited sphere +of his government and whose petty tyranny turns his own home into a +despotic empire, can pronounce a sweeping doom against one who was +clothed with irresponsible power, who seemed elevated above the +accidents of humanity, whose audience-chamber was thronged by princes, +whose words were as the breath of life, and who dealt out kingdoms to +his kindred like the portions of a family inheritance. Let censure, +then, be tempered with charity, nor be lightly bestowed on him who will +continue to fill a space in the annals of the world when the present +shall be merged in that shadowy realm where fact becomes mingled with +fable, and the reality, dimmed by distance, shall be so transfigured by +poetry and romance, that it may even be doubted whether he ever lived. + +Seventeen years after the period which I have attempted to illustrate +by a few incidents, I stood by his grave at St. Helena. I was returning +from a long residence in the East, and, having doubled the stormy Cape +of Good Hope, looked forward with no little interest to a short repose +at the halting-place between India and Europe. But when I saw its blue +mass heaving from the ocean, the usual excitement attendant on the +cry of "Land!" was lost in the absorbing feeling, that there Napoleon +Bonaparte died and was buried. The lonely rock rose in solitary +barrenness, a bleak and mournful monument of some rude caprice of +Nature, which has thrown it out to stand in cheerless desolation amidst +the broad waters of the Atlantic. The day I passed there was devoted to +the place where the captive wore away the weary and troubled years of +his imprisonment, and to the little spot which he himself selected when +anticipating the denial of his last wish,--now fully answered,--"that +his ashes might repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of that +French people whom he had so much loved." + +There was nothing in or about the house to remind one of its late +occupant. It was used as a granary. The apartments were filled with +straw; a machine for threshing or winnowing was in the parlor; and the +room where he died was now converted into a stable, a horse standing +where his bed had been. The position was naked and comfortless, being +on the summit of a hill, perpetually swept by the trade-winds, which +suffered no living thing to stand, except a few straggling, bare, +shadeless trees, which contributed to the disconsolate character of the +landscape. The grave was in a quiet little valley. It was covered by +three plain slabs of stone, closely surrounded by an iron railing; a +low wooden paling extended a small distance around; and the whole was +overhung by three decaying willows. The appearance of the place was +plain and appropriate. Nothing was wanting to its unadorned and +affecting simplicity. Ornament could not have increased its beauty, nor +inscription have added to its solemnity. + +The mighty conqueror slept in the territory of his most inveterate foes; +but the path to his tomb was reverently trodden, and those who had stood +opposed to him in life forgot that there had been enmity between them. +Death had extinguished hostility; and the pilgrims who visited his +resting-place spoke kindly of his memory, and, hoarding some little +token, bore it to their distant homes to be prized by their posterity as +having been gathered at his grave. + +The dome of the Invalides now rises over his remains; his statue again +caps the column that commemorates his exploits; and one of his name, +advanced by the sole magic of his glory, controls, with arbitrary will +and singular ability, the destinies, not of France only, but of Europe. + +The nations which united for his overthrow now humbly bow before the +family they solemnly pledged themselves should never again taste power, +and, with ill-concealed distrust and anxiety, deprecate a resentment +that has not been weakened by years nor forgotten in alliances. + +Not to them alone has Time hastened to bring that retributive justice +which falls alike on empires and individuals. The son of "The Man" +moulders in an Austrian tomb, leaving no trace that he has lived; while +the lineal descendant of the obscure Creole, of the deposed empress, +of the divorced wife, sits on the throne of Clovis and Charlemagne, of +Capet and Bonaparte. Within the brief space of one generation, within +the limit of one man's memory, vengeance has revolved full circle; and +while the sleepless Nemesis points with unresting finger to the barren +rock and the insulted captive, she turns with meaning smile to the +borders of the Seine, where mausoleum and palace stand in significant +proximity,--the one covering the dust of the first empire, the other the +home of the triumphant grandson of Josephine. + + * * * * * + + +EPIGRAM ON J.M. + + + Said Fortune to a common spit, + "Your rust and grease I'll rid ye on, + And make ye in a twinkling fit + For Ireland's Sword of Gideon!" + + In vain! what Nature meant for base + All chance for good refuses; + M. gave one gleam, then turned apace + To dirtiest kitchen uses. + + + + +BEETHOVEN: HIS CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH. + +(From Original Sources.) + + +There is upon record a remark of Mozart--probably the greatest musical +genius that ever lived--to this effect: that, if few had equalled him +in his art, few had studied it with such persevering labor and such +unremitting zeal. Every man who has attained high preeminence in +Science, Literature, or Art, would confess the same. At all events, the +greatest musical composers--Bach, Handel, Haydn, Gluck--are proofs that +no degree of genius and natural aptitude for their art is sufficient +without long-continued effort and exhaustive study of the best models of +composition. And this is the moral to be drawn from Beethoven's early +life. + +_"Voila Bonn! C'est une petite perle!"_ said the admiring Frenchwoman, +as the Cologne steamboat rounded the point below the town, and she +caught the first fair view of its bustling landing-places, its old wall, +its quaint gables, and its antique cathedral spires. A pearl among the +smaller German cities it is,--with most irregular streets, always +neat and cleanly, noble historic and literary associations, jovial +student-life, pleasant walks to the neighboring hills, delightful +excursions to the Siebengebirge and Ahrthal,--reposing peacefully upon +the left bank of the "green and rushing Rhine." Six hundred years ago, +the Archbishop-Electors of Cologne, defeated in their long quarrel with +the people of the city of perfumery, established their court at Bonn, +and made it thenceforth the political capital of the Electorate. Having +both the civil and ecclesiastical revenues at their command, the last +Electors were able to sustain courts which vied in splendor with those +of princes of far greater political power and pretensions. They could +say, with the Preacher of old, "We builded us houses; we made us gardens +and orchards, and planted trees in them of all manner of fruits"; for +the huge palace, now the seat of the Frederick-William University, and +Clemensruhe, now the College of Natural History, were erected by them +early in the last century. Like the Preacher, too, "they got them +men-singers and women-singers, and the delights of the sons of men, as +musical instruments, and that of all sorts." Music they cherished with +especial care: it gave splendor to the celebration of high mass in +chapel or cathedral; it afforded an innocent and refined recreation, in +the theatre and concert-room, to the Electors and their guests. + +In the list of singers and musicians in the employ of Clemens Augustus, +as printed in the Electoral Calendar for the years 1759-60, appears the +name, "Ludwig van Beethoven, Bassist." We know little of him, and it is +but a very probable conjecture that he was a native of Maestricht, in +Holland. That he was more than an ordinary singer is proved by the +position he held in the Chapel, and by the applause which he received +for his performances as _primo basso_ in certain of Mosigny's operas. He +was, moreover, a good musician; for he had produced operas of his own +composition, with fair success, and, upon the accession of Maximilian +Frederick to the Electorate in 1761, he was raised to the position of +Kapellmeister. He was already well advanced in life; for the same record +bears the name of his son Johann, a tenor singer. He died in 1773, and +was long afterward described by one who remembered him, as a short, +stout-built man, with exceedingly lively eyes, who used to walk with +great dignity to and from his dwelling in the Bonngasse, clad in the +fashionable red cloak of the time. Thus, too, he was quite magnificently +depicted by the court painter, Radoux, wearing a tasselled cap, +and holding a sheet of music-paper in his hand. His wife--the Frau +Kapellmeisterinn--born Josepha Poll--was not a helpmeet for him, being +addicted to strong drink, and therefore, during her last years, placed +in a convent in Cologne. + +The Bonngasse, which runs Rhineward from the lower extremity of the +Marktplatz, is, as the epithet _gasse_ implies, not one of the principal +streets of Bonn. Nor is it one of great length, notwithstanding the +numbers upon its house-fronts range so high,--for the houses of the town +are numbered in a single series, and not street by street. In 1770, +the centre of the Bonngasse was also a central point for the music and +musicians of Bonn. Kapellmeister Beethoven dwelt in No. 386, and the +next house was the abode of the Ries family. The father was one of the +Elector's chamber musicians; and his son Franz, a youth of fifteen, was +already a member of the orchestra, and by his skill upon the violin gave +promise of his future excellence. Thirty years afterward, _his_ son +became the pupil of _the_ Beethoven in Vienna. + +In No. 515, which is nearly opposite the house of Ries, lived the +Salomons. Two of the sisters were singers in the Court Theatre, and the +brother, Johann Peter, was a distinguished violinist. At a later period +he emigrated to London, gained great applause as a virtuoso, established +the concerts in which Haydn appeared as composer and director, and was +one of the founders of the celebrated London Philharmonic Society. + +It is common in Bonn to build two houses, one behind the other, upon the +same piece of ground, leaving a small court between them,--access to +that in the rear being obtained through the one which fronts upon the +street. This was the case where the Salomons dwelt, and to the rear +house, in November, 1767, Johann van Beethoven brought his newly married +wife, Helena Keverich, of Coblentz, widow of Nicolas Laym, a former +valet of the Elector. + +It is near the close of 1770. Helena has experienced "the pleasing +punishment that women bear," but "remembereth no more the anguish for +joy that a man is born into the world." Her joy is the greater, because +last year, in April, she buried, in less than a week after his birth, +her first-born, Ludwig Maria,--as the name still stands upon the +baptismal records of the parish of St. Remigius, with the names of +Kapellmeister Beethoven, and the next-door neighbor, Frau Loher, as +sponsors. This second-born is a strong, healthy child, and his baptism +is recorded in the same parish-book, Dec. 17, 1770,--the day of, +possibly the day after, his birth,--by the name of Ludwig. The +Kapellmeister is again godfather, but Frau Gertrude Mueller, _nee_ Baum, +next door on the other side, is the godmother. The Beethovens had +neither kith nor kin in Bonn; the families Ries and Salomon, their +intimate friends, were Israelites; hence the appearance of the +neighbors, Frauen Loher and Mueller, at the ceremony of baptism;--a +strong corroborative evidence, that No. 515, Bonngasse, was the actual +birth-place of Beethoven. + +The child grew apace, and in manhood his earliest and proudest +recollections, save of his mother, were of the love and affection +lavished upon him, the only grandchild, by the Kapellmeister. He had +just completed his third year when the old man died, and the bright sun +which had shone upon his infancy, and left an ineffaceable impression +upon the child's memory, was obscured. Johann van Beethoven had +inherited his mother's failing, and its effects were soon visible in the +poverty of the family. He left the Bonngasse for quarters in that +house in the Rheingasse, near the upper steamboat-landing, which now +erroneously bears the inscription, _Ludwig van Beethovens Geburtshaus_. + +His small inheritance was soon squandered; his salary as singer was +small, and at length even the portrait of his father went to the +pawnbroker. In the April succeeding the Kapellmeister's death, the +expenses of Johann's family were increased by the birth of another +son,--Caspar Anton Carl; and to this event Dr. Wegeler attributes the +unrelenting perseverance of the father in keeping little Ludwig from +this time to his daily lessons upon the piano-forte. Both Wegeler and +Burgomaster Windeck of Bonn, sixty years afterward, remembered how, as +boys, visiting a playmate in another house across the small court, they +often "saw little Louis, his labors and sorrows." Cecilia Fischer, too, +a playmate of Beethoven in his early childhood, and living in the same +house in her old age, "still saw the little boy standing upon a low +footstool and practising his father's lessons," in tears. + +What indications, if any, the child had given of remarkable musical +genius, we do not know,--not one of the many anecdotes bearing upon this +point having any trustworthy foundation in fact. Probably the father +discovered in him that which awakened the hope of some time rivalling +the then recent career of Leopold Mozart with little Wolfgang, or at +least saw reason to expect as much success with his son as had rewarded +the efforts of his neighbor Ries with his Franz; at all events, we have +the testimony of Beethoven himself, that "already in his fourth year +music became his principal employment,"--and this it continued to be to +the end. Yet, as he grew older, his education in other respects was not +neglected. He passed through the usual course of boys of his time, not +destined for the universities, in the public schools of the city, even +to the acquiring of some knowledge of Latin. The French language was, as +it still is, a necessity to every person of the Rhine provinces above +the rank of peasant; and Beethoven became able to converse in it with +reasonable fluency, even after years of disuse and almost total loss of +hearing. It has also been stated that he knew enough of English to read +it; but this is more than doubtful. In fact, as a schoolboy, he made the +usual progress,--no more, no less. + +In music it was otherwise. The child Mozart seems alone to have equalled +or surpassed the child Beethoven. Ludwig soon exhausted his father's +musical resources, and became the pupil of Pfeiffer, chorist in the +Electoral Orchestra, a genial and kind-hearted man, and so good a +musician as afterward to be appointed band-master to a Bavarian +regiment. Beethoven always held him in grateful and affectionate +remembrance, and in the days of his prosperity in Vienna sent him +pecuniary aid. His next teacher was Van der Eder, court organist,--a +proof that the boy's progress was very rapid, as this must have been the +highest school that Bonn could offer. With this master he studied the +organ. When Van der Eder retired from office, his successor, Christian +Gottlob Neefe, succeeded him also as instructor of his remarkable pupil. + +Wegeler and Schindler, writing several years after the great composer's +death, state, that, of these three instructors, he considered himself +most indebted to Pfeiffer, declaring that he had profited little or +nothing by his studies with Neefe, of whose severe criticisms upon his +boyish efforts in composition he complained. These statements have +hitherto been unquestioned. Without doubting the veracity of the two +authors, it may well be asked, whether the great master may not have +relied too much upon the impressions received in childhood, and thus +unwittingly have done injustice to Neefe. The appointment of that +musician as organist to the Electoral Court bears date February 15, +1781, when Ludwig had but just completed his tenth year, and the sixth +year of his musical studies. These six years had been divided between +three different instructors,--his father, Pfeiffer, and Van der Eder; +and during the last part of the time, music could have been but the +extra study of a schoolboy. That the two or three years, during which at +the most he was a pupil of Pfeiffer, and that, too, when he was but +six or eight years of age, were of more value to him in his artistic +development than the years from the age of ten onward, during which he +studied with Neefe, certainly seems an absurd idea. That the chorist may +have laid a foundation for his future remarkable execution, and have +fostered and developed his love for music, is very probable; but that +the great Beethoven's marvellous powers in higher spheres of the art +were in any great degree owing to him, we cannot credit. Happily, we +have some data for forming a judgment upon this point, unknown both to +Wegeler and Schindler, when they wrote. + +Neefe was, if not a man of genius, of very respectable talents, +a learned and accomplished organist and composer, as a violinist +respectable, even in a corps which included Reicha, Romberg, Ries. He +had been reared in the severe Saxon school of the Bachs, and before +coming to Bonn had had much experience as music director of an operatic +company. He knew the value of the maxim, _Festina lente_, and was wise +enough to understand, that no lofty and enduring structure can be +reared, unless the foundations are broad and deep,--that sound and +exhaustive study of canon, fugue, and counterpoint is as necessary to +the highest development of musical genius as mathematics, philosophy, +and logic are to that of the scientific and literary man. He at once saw +and appreciated the marvellous powers of Johann van Beethoven's son, and +adopted a plan with him, whose aim was, not to make him a mere youthful +prodigy, but a great musician and composer in manhood. That, with this +end in view, he should have criticized the boy's crude compositions with +some severity was perfectly natural; equally so that the petted and +bepraised boy should have felt these criticisms keenly. But the +severity of the master was no more than a necessary counterpoise to the +injudicious praise of others. That Beethoven, however he may have spoken +of Neefe to Wegeler and Schindler, did at times have a due consciousness +of his obligations to his old master, is proved by a letter which he +wrote to him from Vienna, during the first transports of joy and delight +at finding himself the object of universal wonder and commendation +in the musical circles of the great capital. He thanks Neefe for the +counsels which had guided him in his studies, and adds, "Should I ever +become a great man, it will in part be owing to you." + +The following passage from an account of the virtuosos in the service of +the Elector at Bonn, written in 1782, when Beethoven had been with Neefe +but little more than a year, and which we unhesitatingly, attribute to +the pen of Neefe himself, will give an idea of the course of instruction +adopted by the master, and his hopes and expectations for the future +of his pupil. It is, moreover, interesting, as being the first public +notice of him who for half a century has exercised more pens than any +other artist. The writer closes his list of musicians and singers +thus:-- + +"Louis van Beethoven, son of the above-named tenorist, a boy of eleven +years, and of most promising talents. He plays the piano-forte with +great skill and power, reads exceedingly well at sight, and, to say all +in a word, plays nearly the whole of Sebastian Bach's 'Wohltemperirtes +Klavier,' placed in his hands by Herr Neefe. Whoever is acquainted with +this collection of preludes and fugues in every key (which one can +almost call the _non plus ultra_ of music) knows well what this implies. +Herr Neefe has also, so far as his other duties allowed, given him +some instruction in thorough-bass. At present he is exercising him +in composition, and for his encouragement has caused nine variations +composed by him for the piano-forte upon a march[A] to be engraved at +Mannheim. This young genius certainly deserves such assistance as will +enable him to travel. He will assuredly become a second Wolfgang Amadeus +Mozart, should he continue as he has begun. + +[Footnote A: The variations upon a march by Dressler.] + + "'Wem er geneigt, dem sendet der Vater der + Menschen und Goetter + Seinen Adler herab, traegt ihn zu himmlischen + Hoeh'n und welches + Haupt ihm gefaellt um das flicht er mit + liebenden Haenden den Lorbeer.' + Schiller." + +In the mere grammar of musical composition the pupil required little of +his master. We have Beethoven's own words to prove this, scrawled at the +end of the thorough-bass exercises, afterward performed, when studying +with Albrechtsberger. "Dear friends," he writes, "I have taken all this +trouble, simply to be able to figure my basses correctly, and some +time, perhaps, to instruct others. As to errors, I hardly needed to +learn this for my own sake. From my childhood I have had so fine a +musical sense, that I wrote correctly without knowing that it _must_ be +so, or _could_ be otherwise." + +Neefe's object, therefore,--as was Haydn's at a subsequent period,--was +to give his pupil that mastery of musical form and of his instrument, +which should enable him at once to perceive the value of a musical idea +and its most appropriate treatment. The result was, that the tones of +his piano-forte became to the youth a language in which his highest, +deepest, subtilest musical ideas were expressed by his fingers as +instantaneously and with as little thought of the mere style and manner +of their expression as are the intellectual ideas of the thoroughly +trained rhetorician in words. + +The good effect of the course pursued by Neefe with his pupil is visible +in the next published production--save a song or two--of the boy;--the + +"Three Sonatas for the Piano-forte, composed and dedicated to the most +Reverend Archbishop and Elector of Cologne, Maximilian Frederick, my +most gracious Lord, by LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN, _Aged eleven years_." + +We cannot resist the temptation to add the comically bombastic +Dedication of these Sonatas to the Elector, which may very possibly have +been written by Neefe, who loved to see himself in print. + +"DEDICATION + +"MOST EXALTED! + +"Already in my fourth year Music began to be the principal employment of +my youth. Thus early acquainted with the Lovely Muse, who tuned my soul +to pure harmonies, she won my love, and, as I oft have felt, gave me +hers in return. I have now completed my eleventh year; and my Muse, in +the hours consecrated to her, oft whispers to me, 'Try for once, and +write down the harmonies in thy soul!'--'Eleven years!' thought I,--'and +how should I carry the dignity of authorship? What would _men_ in the +art say?'--My timidity had nearly conquered. But my Muse willed it:--I +obeyed and wrote. + +"And now dare I, Most Illustrious! venture to lay the first fruits of my +youthful labors at the steps of _Thy_ throne? And dare I hope that Thou +wilt deign to cast upon them the mild, paternal glance of Thy cheering +approbation? Oh, yes! for Science and Art have ever found in Thee a wise +patron and a magnanimous promoter, and germinating talent its prosperity +under Thy kind, paternal care. + +"Filled with this animating trust, I venture to draw near to _Thee_ +with these youthful efforts. Accept them as a pure offering of childish +reverence, and look down graciously, Most Exalted! upon them and their +young author, + +"LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN." + +"These Sonatas," says a most competent critic,[B] "for a boy's work, +are, indeed, remarkable. They are _bona fide_ compositions. There is no +vagueness about them.... He has ideas positive and well pronounced, +and he proceeds to develope them in a manner at once spontaneous and +logical.... Verily the boy possessed the vital secret of the Sonata +form; he had seized its organic principle." + +[Footnote B: J.S. Dwight.] + +Ludwig has become an author! His talents are known and appreciated +everywhere in Bonn. He is the pet of the musical circle in which he +moves,--in danger of being spoiled. Yet now, when the character is +forming, and those habits, feelings, tastes are becoming developed and +fixed, which are to go with him through life, he can look to his father +neither for example nor counsel. He idolizes his mother; but she is +oppressed with the cares of a family, suffering through the improvidence +and bad habits of its head, and though she had been otherwise situated, +the widow of Laym, the Elector's valet, could hardly be the proper +person to fit the young artist for future intercourse with the higher +ranks of society. + +In the large, handsome brick house still standing opposite the minster +in Bonn, on the east side of the public square, where now stands the +statue of Beethoven, dwelt the widow and children of Hofrath von +Breuning. Easy in their circumstances, highly educated, of literary +habits, and familiar with polite life, the family was among the first in +the city. The four children were not far from Beethoven's age; Eleonore, +the daughter, and Lenz, the third son, were young enough to become +his pupils. In this family it was Ludwig's good fortune to become a +favorite, and "here," says Wegeler, who afterward married Eleonore, "he +made his first acquaintance with German literature, especially with the +poets, and here first had opportunity to gain the cultivation necessary +for social life." + +He was soon treated by the Von Breunings as a son and brother, passing +not only most of his days, but many of his nights, at their house, and +sometimes spending his vacations with them at their country-seat in +Kerpen,--a small town on the great road from Cologne to Aix la Chapelle. +With them he felt free and unrestrained, and everything tended at the +same time to his happiness and his intellectual development. Nor was +music neglected. The members of the family were all musical, and +Stephen, the eldest son, sometimes played in the Electoral Orchestra. + +No person possessed so strong an influence upon the oft-times stubborn +and wilful boy as the Frau von Breuning. She best knew how to bring him +back to the performance of his duty, when neglectful of his pupils; and +when she, with gentle force, had made him cross the square to the house +of the Austrian ambassador, Count Westfall, to give the promised lesson, +and saw him, after hesitating for a time at the door, suddenly fly +back, unable to overcome his dislike to lesson-giving, she would bear +patiently with him, merely shrugging her shoulders and remarking, +"To-day he has his _raptus_ again!" The poverty at home and his love for +his mother alone enabled him ever to master this aversion. + +To the Breunings, then, we are indebted for that love of Plutarch, +Homer, Shakspeare, Goethe, and whatever gives us noble pictures of that +greatness of character which we term "heroic," that enabled the future +composer to stir up within us all the finest and noblest emotions, +as with the wand of a magician. The boy had an inborn love of the +beautiful, the tender, the majestic, the sublime, in nature, in art, and +in literature,--together with a strong sense of the humorous and even +comic. With the Breunings all these qualities were cultivated and in +the right direction. To them the musical world owes a vast debt of +gratitude. + +Beethoven was no exception to the rule, that only a great man can be a +great artist. True, in his later years his correspondence shows at +times an ignorance of the rules of grammar and orthography; but it also +proves, what may be determined from a thousand other indications, that +he was a deep thinker, and that he had a mind of no small degree of +cultivation, as it certainly was one of great intellectual power. Had he +devoted his life to any other profession than music,--to law, theology, +science, or letters,--he would have attained high eminence, and +enrolled himself among the great. + +But we have anticipated a little, and now turn back to an event which +occurred soon after he had completed his thirteenth year, and which +proved in its consequences of the highest moment to him,--the death +of the Elector, which took place on the 15th of April, 1784. He was +succeeded by Maximilian Francis, Bishop of Muenster, Grand Master of +the Teutonic Order, a son of the Emperor Francis and Maria Theresa of +Austria. + +A word upon this family of imperial musicians may, perhaps, be pardoned. +It was Charles VI., the father of Maria Theresa, a composer of canons +and music for the harpsichord, who, upon being complimented by his +Kapellmeister as being well able to officiate as a music-director, dryly +observed, "Upon the whole, however, I like my present position better!" +His daughter sang an air upon the stage of the Court Theatre in her +fifth year; and in 1739, just before her accession to the imperial +dignity, being in Florence, she sang a duet with Senesino--of Handelian +memory--with such grace and splendor of voice, that the tears rolled +down the old man's cheeks. In all her wars and amid all the cares of +state, Maria Theresa never ceased to cherish music. Her children were +put under the best instructors, and made thorough musicians;--Joseph, +whom Mozart so loved, though the victim of his shabby treatment; Maria +Antoinette, the patron of Gluck and the head of his party in Paris; Max +Franz, with whom we now have to do,--and so forth. + +Upon learning the death of Max Frederick, his successor hastened to Bonn +to assume the Archiepiscopal and Electoral dignities, with which he +was formally invested in the spring of 1785. In the train of the new +Elector, who was still in the prime of life, was the Austrian Count +Waldstein, his favorite and constant companion. Waldstein, like his +master, was more than an amateur,--he was a fine practical musician. The +promising pupil of Neefe was soon brought to his notice, and his talents +and attainments excited in him an extraordinary interest. Coming from +Vienna, where Mozart and Haydn were in the full tide of their success, +where Gluck's operas were heard with rapture, and where in the second +rank of musicians and composers were such names as Salieri, Righini, +Anfossi, and Martini, Waldstein could well judge of the promise of the +boy. He foresaw at once his future greatness, and gave him his favor +and protection. He, in some degree, at least, relieved him from the dry +rules of Neefe, and taught him the art of varying a theme _extempore_ +and carrying it out to its highest development. He had patience and +forbearance with the boy's failings and foibles, and, to relieve his +necessities, gave him money, sometimes as gifts of his own, sometimes as +gratifications from the Elector. + +As soon as Maximilian was installed in his new dignity, Waldstein +procured for Ludwig the appointment of assistant court organist;--not +that Neefe needed him, but that he needed the small salary attached to +the place. From this time to the downfall of the Electorate, his name +follows that of Neefe in the annual Court Calendar. + +Wegeler and others have preserved a variety of anecdotes which +illustrate the skill and peculiarities of the young organist at this +period, but we have not space for them;--moreover, our object is rather +to convey some distinct idea of the training which made him what every +lover of music knows he afterward became. + +Maximilian Francis was as affable and generous as he was passionately +fond of music. A newspaper of the day records, that he used to walk +about the streets of Bonn like any other citizen, and early became very +popular with all classes. He often took part in the concerts at the +palace, as upon a certain occasion when "Duke Albert played violin, the +Elector viola, and Countess Belderbusch piano-forte," in a trio. He +enlarged his orchestra, and, through his relations with the courts at +Vienna, Paris, and other capitals, kept it well supplied with all the +new publications of the principal composers of the day,--Mozart, Haydn, +Gluck, Pleyel, and others. + +No better school, therefore, for a young musician could there well have +been than that in which Beethoven was now placed. While Neefe took care +that he continued his study of the great classic models of organ +and piano-forte composition, he was constantly hearing the best +ecclesiastical, orchestral, and chamber music, forming his taste upon +the best models, and acquiring a knowledge of what the greatest masters +had accomplished in their several directions. But as time passed on, he +felt the necessity of a still larger field of observation, and, in the +autumn of 1786, Neefe's wish that his pupil might travel was fulfilled. +He obtained--mainly, it is probable, from the Elector, through the good +offices of Waldstein--the means of making the journey to Vienna, +then the musical capital of the world, to place himself under the +instructions of Mozart, then the master of all living masters. Few +records have fallen under our notice, which throw light upon this visit. +Seyfried, and Holmes, after him, relate the surprise of Mozart at +hearing the boy, now just sixteen years of age, treat an intricate fugue +theme, which he gave him, and his prophecy, that "that young man would +some day make himself heard of in the world!" + +It is said that Beethoven in after life complained of never having heard +his master play. The complaint must have been, that Mozart never played +to him in private; for it is absurd to suppose that he attended none +of the splendid series of concerts which his master gave during that +winter. + +The mysterious brevity of this first visit of Beethoven to Vienna we +find fully explained in a letter, of which we give a more literal than +elegant translation. It is the earliest specimen of the composer's +correspondence which has come under our notice, and was addressed to a +certain Dr. Schade, an advocate of Augsburg, where the young man seems +to have tarried some days upon his journey. + +"Bonn, September 15, 1787. + +"HONORED AND MOST VALUED FRIEND! + +"What you must think of me I can easily conceive; nor can I deny that +you have well-grounded reasons for looking upon me in an unfavorable +light; but I will not ask you to excuse me, until I have made known the +grounds upon which I dare hope my apologies will find acceptance. I must +confess, that, from the moment of leaving Augsburg, my happiness, and +with it my health, began to leave me; the nearer I drew toward my native +city, the more numerous were the letters of my father, which met me, +urging me onward, as the condition of my mother's health was critical. +I hastened forward, therefore, with all possible expedition, for I was +myself much indisposed; but the longing I felt to see my sick mother +once more made all hindrances of little account, and aided me in +overcoming all obstacles. + +"I found her still alive, but in a most pitiable condition. She was in +a consumption, and finally, about seven weeks since, after enduring the +extremes of pain and suffering, died. She was to me such a good and +loving mother,--my best of friends! + +"Oh, who would be so happy as I, could I still speak the sweet name, +'Mother,' and have her hear it! And to whom _can_ I now speak? To the +dumb, but lifelike pictures which my imagination calls up. + +"During the whole time since I reached home, few have been my hours of +enjoyment. All this time I have been afflicted with asthma, and the fear +is forced upon me that it may end in consumption. Moreover, the state +of melancholy in which I now am is almost as great a misfortune as my +sickness itself. + +"Imagine yourself in my position for a moment, and I doubt not that I +shall receive your forgiveness for my long silence. As to the three +Carolins which you had the extraordinary kindness and friendship to lend +me in Augsburg, I must beg your indulgence still for a time. My journey +has cost me a good deal, and I have no compensation--not even the +slightest--to hope in return. Fortune is not propitious to me here in +Bonn. + +"You will forgive me for detaining you so long with my babble; it is all +necessary to my apology. I pray you not to refuse me the continuance of +your valuable friendship, since there is nothing I so much desire as to +make myself in some degree worthy of it. I am, with all respect, your +most obedient servant and friend, + + "L. v. BEETHOVEN, + + "Court Organist to the Elector of Cologne." + +We know also from other sources the extreme poverty in which the +Beethoven family was at this period sunk. In its extremity, at the time +when the mother died, Franz Ries, the violinist, came to its assistance, +and his kindness was not forgotten by Ludwig. When Ferdinand, the son +of this Ries, reached Vienna in the autumn of 1800, and presented his +father's letter, Beethoven said,--"I cannot answer your father yet; but +write and tell him that I have not forgotten the death of my mother. +That will fully satisfy him." + +Young Beethoven, therefore, had little time for illness. His father +barely supported himself, and the sustenance of his two little brothers, +respectively twelve and thirteen years of age, devolved upon him. He +was, however, equal to his situation. He played his organ still,--the +instrument which was then above all others to his taste; he entered +the Orchestra as player upon the viola; received the appointment of +chamber-musician--pianist--to the Elector; and besides all this, +engaged in the detested labor of teaching. It proves no small energy +of character, that the motherless youth of seventeen, "afflicted with +asthma," which he was "fearful might end in consumption," struggling +against a "state of melancholy, almost as great a misfortune as sickness +itself," succeeded in overcoming all, and securing the welfare of +himself, his father, and his brothers. When he left Bonn finally, five +years later, Carl, then eighteen, could support himself by teaching +music, and Johann was apprenticed to the court apothecary; while the +father appears to have had a comfortable subsistence provided for +him,--although no longer an active member of the Electoral Chapel,--for +the few weeks which, as it happened, remained of his life. + +The scattered notices which are preserved of Beethoven, during this +period, are difficult to arrange in a chronological order. We read of a +joke played at the expense of Heller, the principal tenor singer of the +Chapel, in which that singer, who prided himself upon his firmness in +pitch, was completely bewildered by a skilful modulation of the boy +upon the piano-forte, and forced to stop;--of the music to a chivalrous +ballad, performed by the noblemen attached to the court, of which for a +long time Count Waldstein was the reputed author, but which in fact was +the work of his _protege;_--and there are other anecdotes, probably +familiar to most readers, showing the great skill and science which he +already exhibited in his performance of chamber music in the presence of +the Elector. + +We see him intimate as ever in the Breuning family, mingling familiarly +with the best society of Bonn, which he met at their house,--and even +desperately in love! First it is with Frauelein Jeannette d'Honrath, of +Cologne, a beautiful and lively blonde, of pleasing manners, sweet and +gentle disposition, an ardent lover of music, and an agreeable singer, +who often came to Bonn and spent weeks with the Breunings. She seems to +have played the coquette a little, both with our young artist and his +friend Stephen. It is not difficult to imagine the effect upon the +sensitive and impulsive Ludwig, when the beautiful girl, nodding to him +in token of its application, sang in tender accents the then popular +song,-- + + "Mich heute noch von dir zu trennen, + Und dieses nicht verhindern koennen, + Ist zu empfindlich fuer mein Herz." + +She saw fit, however, to marry an Austrian, Carl Greth, a future +commandant at Temeswar, and her youthful lover was left to console +himself by transferring his affections to another beauty, Frauelein W. + +We behold him in the same select circle, cultivating his talent for +improvising upon the piano-forte, by depicting in music the characters +of friends and acquaintances, and generally in such a manner that the +company had no difficulty in guessing the person intended. On one +of these occasions, Franz Ries was persuaded to take his violin and +improvise an accompaniment to his friend's improvisation, which he did +so successfully, that, long afterwards, he more than once ventured to +attempt the same in public, with his son Ferdinand. + +Professor Wurzer, of Marburg, who well knew Beethoven in his youth, +gives us a glimpse of him sitting at the organ. On a pleasant summer +afternoon, when the artist was about twenty years of age, he, with some +companions, strolled out to Godesberg. Here they met Wurzer, who, in the +course of the conversation, mentioned that the church of the convent of +Marienforst--behind the village of Godesberg--had been repaired, and +that a new organ had been procured, or perhaps that the old one had been +put in order and perfected. Beethoven must needs try it. The key was +procured from the prior, and the friends gave him themes to vary and +work out, which he did with such skill and beauty, that at length the +peasants engaged below in cleaning the church, one after another, +dropped their brooms and brushes, forgetting everything else in their +wonder and delight. + +In 1790, an addition was made to the Orchestra, most important in its +influence upon the artistic progress of Beethoven, as he was thus +brought into daily intercourse with two young musicians, already +distinguished virtuosos upon their respective instruments. The Elector +made frequent visits to other cities of his diocese, often taking a part +or the whole of his Chapel with him. Upon his return that summer from +Muenster, he brought with him the two virtuosos in question. Andreas +Romberg, the violinist, and now celebrated composer, and his cousin +Bernhard, the greatest violoncellist of his age. With these two +young men Beethoven was often called to the palace for the private +entertainment of Maximilian. Very probably, upon one of these occasions, +was performed that trio not published until since the death of its +composer--"the second movement of which," says Schindler, "may be looked +upon as the embryo of all Beethoven's scherzos," while "the third is, in +idea and form, of the school of Mozart,--a proof how early he made that +master his idol." We know that it was composed at this period, and that +its author considered it his highest attempt then in free composition. + +A few words must be given to the Electoral Orchestra, that school in +which Beethoven laid the foundation of his prodigious knowledge of +instrumental and orchestral effects, as in the chamber-music at the +palace he learned the unrivalled skill which distinguishes his efforts +in that branch of the art. + +The Kapellmeister, in 1792, was Andrea Lucchesi, a native of Motta, in +the Venetian territory, a fertile and accomplished composer in most +styles. The concert-master was Joseph Reicha, a virtuoso upon the +violoncello, a very fine conductor, and no mean composer. The violins +were sixteen in number; among them were Franz Ries, Neefe, +Anton Reicha,--afterward the celebrated director of the Paris +Conservatoire,--and Andreas Romberg; violas four, among them Ludwig +van Beethoven; violoncellists three, among them Bernhard Romberg; +contrabassists also three. There were two oboes, two flutes,--one of +them played by another Anton Reicha,--two clarinets, two horns,--one by +Simrock, a celebrated player, and founder of the music-publishing house +of that name still existing in Bonn,--three bassoons, four trumpets, and +the usual tympani. + +Fourteen of the forty-three musicians were soloists upon their several +instruments; some half a dozen of them were already known as composers. +Four years, at the least, of service in such an orchestra may well be +considered of all schools the best in which Beethoven could have been +placed. Let his works decide. + +Our article shall close with some pictures photographed in the sunshine +which gilded the closing years of Beethoven's Bonn life. They illustrate +the character of the man and of the people with whom he lived and moved. + +In 1791, in that beautiful season of the year in Central Europe, when +the heats of summer are past and the autumn rains not yet set in, the +Elector journeyed to Mergentheim, to hold, in his capacity of Grand +Master, a convocation of the Teutonic Order. The leading singers of +his Chapel, and some twenty members of the Orchestra, under Ries as +director, followed in two large barges. Before, starting upon the +expedition, the company assembled and elected a king. The dignity was +conferred upon Joseph Lux, the bass singer and comic actor, who, in +distributing the offices of his court, appointed Ludwig van Beethoven +and Bernhard Romberg scullions! + +A glorious time and a merry they had of it, following slowly the +windings of the Rhine and the Main, now impelled by the wind, now drawn +by horses, against the swift current, in this loveliest time of the +year. + +In those days, when steamboats were not, such a voyage was slow, and not +seldom in a high degree tedious. With such a company the want of speed +was a consideration of no importance, and the memory of this journey was +in after years among Beethoven's brightest. Those who know the Rhine and +the Main can easily conceive that this should be so. The route embraced +the whole extent of the famous highlands of the former river, from +the Drachenfels and Rolandseek to the heights of the Niederwald above +Ruedesheim, and that lovely section of the latter which divides the hills +of the Odenwald from those of Spessart. The voyagers passed a thousand +points of local and historic interest. The old castles--among them +Stolzenfels and the Brothers--looked down upon them from their rocky +heights, as long afterwards upon the American, Paul Flemming, when he +journeyed, sick at heart, along the Rhine, toward ancient Heidelberg. +Quaint old cities--Andernach, with "the Christ," Coblentz, home of +Beethoven's mother, Boppard, Bacharach, Bingen--welcomed them; Mainz, +the Electoral city, and Frankfurt, seat of the Empire. And still beyond, +on the banks of the Main, Offenbach, Hanau, Aschaffenburg, and so onward +to Wertheim, where they left the Main and ascended the small river +Tauber to their place of destination. + +Among the places at which they landed and made merry upon the journey +was the Niederwald. Here King Lux advanced Beethoven to a more honorable +position in his court, and gave him a diploma, dated from the heights +above Ruedesheim, attesting his appointment to the new dignity. To this +important document was attached, by threads ravelled from a boat-sail, +a huge seal of pitch, pressed into a small box-cover, which gave +the instrument a right imposing look,--like the Golden Bull in the +Roemer-Saal at Frankfurt. This diploma from His Comic Majesty Beethoven +carried with him to Vienna, where Wegeler saw it several years afterward +carefully preserved. + +At Aschaffenburg, the summer residence of the Electors of Mainz, Ries, +Simrock, and the two Rombergs took Beethoven with them to call upon the +great pianist, Sterkel. The master received the young men kindly, and +gratified them with a specimen of his powers. His style was in the +highest degree graceful and pleasing,--as Father Ries described it to +Wegeler, "somewhat lady-like." While he played, Beethoven stood by, +listening with the most eager attention, doubtless silently comparing +the effects produced by the player with those belonging to his own +style, which was rather rough and hard, owing to his constant practice +upon the organ. It is said that this was his first opportunity of +hearing any distinguished virtuoso upon the piano-forte,--a mistake, +we think, for he must have heard Mozart in Vienna, as before remarked. +Still, the delicacy of Sterkel's style may well have been a new +revelation to him of the powers of the instrument. Upon leaving the +piano-forte, the master invited his young visitor to take his place. +Beethoven was naturally diffident, and was not to be prevailed with, +until Sterkel intimated a doubt whether he could play his own very +difficult variations upon the air, "Vieni, Amore," which had then just +been published. Thus touched in a tender spot, the young author sat down +and played such as he could remember,--no copy being at hand,--and +then improvised several others, equally, if not more difficult, to the +surprise both of Sterkel and his friends. "What raised our surprise to +real astonishment," said Ries, as he related the story, "was, that the +impromptu variations were in precisely that graceful, pleasing style +which he had just heard for the first time." + +Upon reaching Mergentheim, music, and ever music, became the order of +the day for King Lux and his merry subjects. Most fortunately for the +admirers of Beethoven, we have a minute account of two days (October 11 +and 12) spent there, by a competent and trustworthy musical critic of +that period,--a man not the less welcome to us for possessing something +of the flunkeyism of old Diarist Pepys and Corsica Boswell. We shall +quote somewhat at length from his letter, since it has hitherto come +under the notice of none of the biographers, and yet gives us so lively +a picture of young Beethoven and his friends. + +"On the very first day," writes Junker, "I heard the small band which +plays at dinner, during the stay of the Elector at Mergentheim. The +instruments are two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, and two horns. +These eight performers may well be called masters in their art. One can +rarely hear music of the kind, distinguished by such perfect unity +of effect and such sympathy with each other in the performers, and +especially in which so high a degree of exactness and perfection of +style is reached. This band appeared to me to differ from all others +I have heard in this,--that it plays music of a higher order; on this +occasion, for instance, it gave an arrangement of Mozart's overture to +'Don Juan.'" + +It would be interesting to know what, if any, of the works of Beethoven +for wind-instruments belong to this period of his life. + +"Soon after the dinner-music," continues our writer, "the play began. It +was the opera, 'King Theodor,' music by Paisiello. The part of _Theodor_ +was sung by Herr Nuedler, a powerful singer in tragic scenes, and a good +actor. _Achmet_ was given by Herr Spitzeder,--a good bass singer, but +with too little action, and not always quite true,--in short, too cold. +The inn-keeper was Herr Lux, a very good bass, and the best actor,--a +man created for the comic. The part of _Lizette_ was taken by Demoiselle +Willmann. She sings in excellent taste, has very great power of +expression, and a lively, captivating action. Herr Maendel, in +_Sandrino,_ proved himself also a very fine and pleasing singer. The +orchestra was surpassingly good,--especially in its _piano_ and _forte_, +and its careful _crescendo._ Herr Ries, that remarkable reader of +scores, that great player, directed with his violin. He is a man who may +well be placed beside Cannabich, and by his powerful and certain tones +he gave life and soul to the whole.... + +"The next morning, (October 12,) at ten o'clock, the rehearsal for the +concert began, which was to be given at court at six in the afternoon. +Herr Welsch (oboist) had the politeness to invite me to be present. I +was held at the lodgings of Herr Ries, who received me with a hearty +shake of the hand. Here I was an eye-witness of the gentlemanly bearing +of the members of the Chapel toward each other. One heart, one mind +rules them. 'We know nothing of the cabals and chicanery so common; +among us the most perfect unanimity prevails; we, as members of one +company, cherish for each other a fraternal affection,' said Simrock to +me. + +"Here also I was an eye-witness to the esteem and respect in which this +chapel stands with the Elector. Just as the rehearsal was to begin, Ries +was sent for by the prince, and upon his return brought a bag of gold. +'Gentlemen,' said he, 'this being the Elector's name-day, he sends you a +present of a thousand thalers.' + +"And again I was eye-witness of this orchestra's surpassing excellence. +Herr Winneberger, Kapellmeister at Wallenstein, laid before it a +symphony of his own composition, which was by no means easy of +execution, especially for the wind instruments, which had several solos +_concertante_. It went finely, however, at the first trial, to the great +surprise of the composer. + +"An hour after the dinner-music, the concert began. It was opened with +a symphony of Mozart; then followed a recitative and air, sung by +Simonetti; next a violincello concerto, played by Herr Romberger +(Bernhard Romberg); fourthly, a symphony, by Pleyel; fifthly, an air by +Righini, sung by Simonette; sixthly, a double concerto for violin and +violoncello, played by the two Rombergs; and the closing piece was the +symphony by Winneberger, which had very many brilliant passages. The +opinion already expressed as to the performance of this orchestra was +confirmed. It was not possible to attain a higher degree of exactness. +Such perfection in the _pianos, fortes, rinforzandos_,--such a swelling +and gradual increase of tone, and then such an almost imperceptible +dying away, from the most powerful to the lightest accents,--all this +was formerly to be heard only at Mannheim. It would be difficult to find +another orchestra in which the violins and basses are throughout in such +excellent hands." + +We pass over Junker's enthusiastic description of the two Rombergs, +merely remarking, that every word in his account of them is fully +confirmed by the musical periodical press of Europe during the entire +periods of thirty and fifty years of their respective lives after the +date of the letter before us,--and that their playing was undoubtedly +the standard Beethoven had in view, when afterward writing passages for +bowed instruments, which so often proved stumbling-blocks to orchestras +of no small pretensions. What Junker himself saw of the harmony and +brotherly love which marked the social intercourse of the members of +the Chapel was confirmed to him by the statements of others. He adds, +respecting their personal bearing towards others,--"The demeanor of +these gentlemen is very fine and unexceptionable. They are all people of +great elegance of manner and of blameless lives. Greater discretion of +conduct can nowhere be found. At the concert, the ill-starred performers +were so crowded, so incommoded by the multitude of auditors, so +surrounded and pressed upon, as hardly to have room to move their arms, +and the sweat rolled down their faces in great drops. But they bore all +this calmly and with good-humor; not an ill-natured face was visible +among them. At the court of some little prince, we should have seen, +under the circumstances, folly heaped upon folly. + +"The members of the Chapel, almost without exception, are in their best +years, glowing with health, men of culture and fine personal appearance. +They form truly a fine sight, when one adds the splendid uniform in +which the Elector has clothed them,--red, and richly trimmed with gold." + +And now for the impression which Beethoven, just completing his +twenty-first year, made upon him. + +"I heard also one of the greatest of pianists,--the dear, good +Beethoven, some compositions by whom appeared in the Spires 'Blumenlese' +in 1783, written in his eleventh year. True, he did not perform in +public, probably because the instrument here was not to his mind. It is +one of Spath's make, and at Bonn he plays upon one by Steiner. But, what +was infinitely preferable to me, I heard him extemporize in private; +yes, I was even invited to propose a theme for him to vary. The +greatness of this amiable, light-hearted man, as a virtuoso, may, in my +opinion, be safely estimated from his almost inexhaustible wealth of +ideas, the altogether characteristic style of expression in his playing, +and the great execution which he displays. I know, therefore, no one +thing which he lacks, that conduces to the greatness of an artist. I +have heard Vogler upon the piano-forte,--of his organ-playing I say +nothing, not having heard him upon that instrument,--have often heard +him, heard him by the hour together, and never failed to wonder at his +astonishing execution; but Beethoven, in addition to the execution, has +greater clearness and weight of idea, and more expression,--in short, +he is more for the heart,--equally great, therefore, as an adagio or +allegro player. Even the members of this remarkable orchestra are, +without exception, his admirers, and all ear whenever he plays. Yet +he is exceedingly modest and free from all pretension. He, however, +acknowledged to me, that, upon the journeys which the Elector had +enabled him to make, he had seldom found in the playing of the most +distinguished virtuosos that excellence which he supposed he had a right +to expect. His style of treating his instrument is so different from +that usually adopted, that it impresses one with the idea, that by a +path of his own discovery he has attained that height of excellence +whereon he now stands. + +"Had I acceded to the pressing entreaties of my friend Beethoven, to +which Herr Winneberger added his own, and remained another day in +Mergentheim, I have no doubt he would have played to me hours; and the +day, thus spent in the society of these two great artists, would have +been transformed into a day of the highest bliss." + +Doubtless, Herr Junker, judging from the enthusiasm with which you have +written, it would have been so; and for our sake, as well as your own, +we heartily wish you had remained! + +Again in Bonn,--the young master's last year in his native city,--that +_petite perle_. It was a fortunate circumstance for the development of +a genius so powerful and original, that the place was not one of such +importance as to call thither any composer or pianist of very great +eminence,--such a one as would have ruled the musical sphere in which +he moved, and become an object of imitation to the young student. +Beethoven's instructors and the musical atmosphere in which he lived and +wrought were fully able to ground him firmly in the laws and rules of +the art, without restraining the natural bent of his genius. His taste +for orchestral music, even, was developed in no particular school, +formed upon no single model,--the Electoral band playing, with equal +care and spirit, music from the presses of Vienna, Berlin, Munich, +Mannheim, Paris, London. Mozart, however, was Beethoven's favorite, +and his influence is unmistakably impressed upon many of the early +compositions of his young admirer. + +But the youthful genius was fast becoming so superior to all around him, +that a wider field was necessary for his full development. He needed the +opportunity to measure his powers with those of the men who stood, +by general consent, at the head of the art; he felt the necessity of +instruction by teachers of a different and higher character, if any +could be found. Mozart, it is true, had just passed away, but still +Vienna remained the great metropolis of music; and thither his hopes and +wishes turned. An interview with Haydn added strength to these hopes and +wishes. This was upon Haydn's return, in the spring of 1792, after his +first visit to London, where he had composed for and directed in the +concerts of that Johann Peter Salomon in whose house Beethoven first +saw the light. The veteran composer, on his way home, came to Bonn, and +there accepted an invitation from the Electoral Orchestra to a breakfast +in Godesberg. Here Beethoven was introduced to him, and placed before +him a cantata which he had offered for performance at Mergentheim, +the preceding autumn, but which had proved too difficult for the +wind-instruments in certain passages. Haydn examined it carefully, and +encouraged him to continue in the path of musical composition. Neefe +also hints to us that Haydn was greatly impressed by the skill of the +young man as a piano-forte virtuoso. + +Happily, Beethoven was now, as we have seen, free from the burden of +supporting his young brothers, and needed but the means for his journey. + +"In November of last year," writes Neefe, in 1793, "Ludwig van +Beethoven, second court organist, and indisputably one of the first of +living pianists, left Bonn for Vienna, to perfect himself in composition +under Haydn. Haydn intended to take him with him upon a second journey +to London, but nothing has come of it." + +A few days or weeks, then, before completing his twenty-second year, +Beethoven entered Vienna a second time, to enjoy the example and +instructions of him who was now universally acknowledged the head of +the musical world; to measure his powers upon the piano-forte with the +greatest virtuosos then living; to start upon that career, in which, +by unwearied labor, indomitable perseverance, and never-tiring +effort,--alike under the smiles and the frowns of fortune, in sickness +and in health, and in spite of the saddest calamity which can befall +the true artist, he elevated himself to a position, which, by every +competent judge, is held to be the highest yet attained in perhaps the +grandest department of pure music. + +Beethoven came to Vienna in the full vigor of youth just emerging into +manhood. The clouds which had settled over his childhood had all passed +away. All looked bright, joyous, and hopeful. Though, perhaps, wanting +in some of the graces and refinements of polite life, it is clear, from +his intimacy with the Breuning family, his consequent familiarity with +the best society at Bonn, the unchanging kindness of Count Waldstein, +the explicit testimony of Junker, that he was not, could not have been, +the young savage which some of his blind admirers have represented him. +The bare supposition is an insult to his memory. That his sense of +probity and honor was most acute, that he was far above any, the +slightest, meanness of thought or action, of a noble and magnanimous +order of mind, utterly destitute of any feeling of servility which +rendered it possible for him to cringe to the rich and the great, and +that he ever acted from a deep sense of moral obligation,--all this his +whole subsequent history proves. His merit, both as an artist and a man, +met at once full recognition. + +And here for the present we leave him, moving in Vienna, as in Bonn, +in the higher circles of society, in the full sunshine of prosperity, +enjoying all that his ardent nature could demand of esteem and +admiration in the saloons of the great, in the society of his brother +artists, in the popular estimation. + + * * * * * + + +A WORD TO THE WISE. + + + Love hailed a little maid, + Romping through the meadow: + Heedless in the sun she played, + Scornful of the shadow. + "Come with me," whispered he; + "Listen, sweet, to love and reason." + "By and by," she mocked reply; + "Love's not in season." + + Years went, years came; + Light mixed with shadow. + Love met the maid again, + Dreaming through the meadow. + "Not so coy," urged the boy; + "List in time to love and reason." + "By and by," she mused reply; + "Love's still in season." + + Years went, years came; + Light changed to shadow. + Love saw the maid again, + Waiting in the meadow. + "Pass no more; my dream is o'er; + I can listen now to reason." + "Keep thee coy," mocked the boy; + "Love's out of season." + + + + +HENRY WARD BEECHER.[A] + +[Footnote A: _Life Thoughts, gathered from the Extemporaneous Discourses +of Henry Ward Beecher._ By a Member of his Congregation. Boston: +Phillips, Sampson & Co. 1858. pp. 299.] + + +There are more than thirty thousand preachers in the United States, +whereof twenty-eight thousand are Protestants, the rest Catholics,--one +minister to a thousand men. They make an exceeding great army,--mostly +serious, often self-denying and earnest. Nay, sometimes you find them +men of large talent, perhaps even of genius. No thirty thousand +farmers, mechanics, lawyers, doctors, or traders have so much of that +book-learning which is popularly called "Education." + +No class has such opportunities for influence, such means of power; even +now the press ranks second to the pulpit. Some of the old traditional +respect for the theocratic class continues in service, and waits upon +the ministers. It has come down from Celtic and Teutonic fathers, +hundreds of years behind us, who transferred to a Roman priesthood the +allegiance once paid to the servants of a deity quite different from the +Catholic. The Puritans founded an ecclesiastical oligarchy which is by +no means ended yet; with the most obstinate "liberty of prophesying" +there was mixed a certain respect for such as only wore the prophet's +mantle; nor is it wholly gone. + +What personal means of controlling the public the minister has at his +command! Of their own accord, men "assemble and meet together," and look +up to him. In the country, the town-roads centre at the meeting-house, +which is also the _terminus a quo_, the golden mile-stone, whence +distances are measured off. Once a week, the wheels of business, and +even of pleasure, drop into the old customary ruts, and turn thither. +Sunday morning, all the land is still. Labor puts off his iron apron and +arrays him in clean human clothes,--a symbol of universal humanity, not +merely of special toil. Trade closes the shop; his business-pen, well +wiped, is laid up for to-morrow's use; the account-book is shut,--men +thinking of their trespasses as well as their debts. For six days, aye, +and so many nights, Broadway roars with the great stream which sets this +way and that, as wind and tide press up and down. How noisy is this +great channel of business, wherein Humanity rolls to and fro, now +running into shops, now sucked down into cellars, then dashed high up +the tall, steep banks, to come down again a continuous drip and be lost +in the general flood! What a fringe of foam colors the margin on either +side, and what gay bubbles float therein, with more varied gorgeousness +than the Queen of Sheba dreamed of putting on when she courted the eye +of Hebrew Solomon! Sunday, this noise is still. Broadway is a quiet +stream, looking sober, or even dull; its voice is but a gentle murmur of +many waters calmly flowing where the ecclesiastical gates are open +to let them in. The channel of business has shrunk to a little +church-canal. Even in this great Babel of commerce one day in seven is +given up to the minister. The world may have the other six; this is for +the Church;--for so have Abram and Lot divided the field of Time, that +there be no strife between the rival herdsmen of the Church and the +World. Sunday morning, Time rings the bell. At the familiar sound, by +long habit born in them, and older than memory, men assemble at the +meeting-house, nestle themselves devoutly in their snug pews, and button +themselves in with wonted care. There is the shepherd, and here is the +flock, fenced off into so many little private pens. With dumb, yet +eloquent patience, they look up listless, perhaps longing, for such +fodder as he may pull out from his spiritual mow and shake down before +them. What he gives they gather. + +Other speakers must have some magnetism of personal power or public +reputation to attract men; but the minister can dispense with that; +to him men answer before he calls, and even when they are not sent by +others are drawn by him. Twice a week, nay, three times, if he will, do +they lend him their ears to be filled with his words. No man of science +or letters has such access to men. Besides, he is to speak on the +grandest of all themes,--of Man, of God, of Religion, man's deepest +desires, his loftiest aspirings. Before him the rich and the poor meet +together, conscious of the one God, Master of them all, who is no +respecter of persons. To the minister the children look up, and their +pliant faces are moulded by his plastic hand. The young men and maidens +are there,--such possibility of life and character before them, such +hope is there, such faith in man and God, as comes instinctively to +those who have youth on their side. There are the old: men and women +with white crowns on their heads; faces which warn and scare with the +ice and storm of eighty winters, or guide and charm with the beauty +of four-score summers,--rich in promise once, in harvest now. Very +beautiful is the presence of old men, and of that venerable sisterhood +whose experienced temples are turbaned with the raiment of such as have +come out of much tribulation, and now shine as white stars foretelling +an eternal day. Young men all around, a young man in the pulpit, the old +men's look of experienced life says "Amen" to the best word, and their +countenance is a benediction. + +The minister is not expected to appeal to the selfish motives which +are addressed by the market, the forum, or the bar, but to the eternal +principle of Right. He must not be guided by the statutes of men, +changeable as the clouds, but must fix his eye on the bright particular +star of Justice, the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. To him, +office, money, social rank, and fame are but toys or counters which the +game of life is played withal; while wisdom, integrity, benevolence, +piety are the prizes the game is for. He digs through the dazzling sand, +and bids men build on the rock of ages. + +Surely, no men have such opportunity of speech and power as these thirty +thousand ministers. What have they to show for it all? The hunter, +fisher, woodman, miner, farmer, mechanic, has each his special wealth. +What have this multitude of ministers to show?--how much knowledge +given, what wise guidance, what inspiration of humanity? Let the best +men answer. + +This ministerial army may be separated into three divisions. First, the +Church Militant, the Fighting Church, as the ecclesiastical dictionaries +define it. Reverend men serve devoutly in its ranks. Their work is +negative, oppositional. Under various banners, with diverse, and +discordant war-cries, trumpets braying a certain or uncertain sound, and +weapons of strange pattern, though made of trusty steel, they do battle +against the enemy. What shots from antique pistols, matchlocks, from +crossbows and catapults, are let fly at the foe! Now the champion +attacks "New Views," "Ultraism," "Neology," "Innovation," "Discontent," +"Carnal Reason"; then he lays lance in rest, and rides valiantly +upon "Unitarianism," "Popery," "Infidelity," "Atheism," "Deism," +"Spiritualism"; and though one by one he runs them through, yet he never +quite slays the Evil One;--the severed limbs unite again, and a new +monster takes the old one's place. It is serious men who make up the +Church Militant,--grim, earnest, valiant. If mustered in the ninth +century, there had been no better soldiers nor elder. + +Next is the Church Termagant. They are the Scolds of the Church-hold, +terrible from the beginning hitherto. Their work is denouncing; they +have always a burden against something. _Obsta decisis_ is their +motto,--"Hate all that is agreed upon." When the "contrary-minded" are +called for, the Church Termagant holds up its hand. A turbulent people, +and a troublesome, are these sons of thunder,--a brotherhood of +universal come-outers. Their only concord is disagreement. It is not +often, perhaps, that they have better thoughts than the rest of men, +but a superior aptitude to find fault; their growling proves, "not +that themselves are wise, but others weak." So their pulpit is a +brawling-tub, "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." They have a +deal of thunder, and much lightning, but no light, nor any continuous +warmth, only spasms of heat. _Odi presentem laudare absentem_,--the +Latin tells their story. They come down and trouble every Bethesda in +the world, but heal none of the impotent folk. To them, + + "Of old things, all are over old, + Of new things, none is new enough." + +They have a rage for fault-finding, and betake themselves to the pulpit +as others are sent to Bedlam. Men of all denominations are here, and it +is a deal of mischief they do,--the worst, indirectly, by making a sober +man distrust the religious faculty they appeal to, and set his face +against all mending of anything, no matter how badly it is broken. These +Theudases, boasting themselves to be somebody, and leading men off to +perish in the wilderness, frighten every sober man from all thought of +moving out of his bad neighborhood or seeking to make it better.--But +this is a small portion of the ecclesiastic host. Let us be tolerant to +their noise and bigotry. + +Last of all is the Church Beneficent or Constructant. Their work is +positive,--critical of the old, creative also of the new. They take hold +of the strongest of all human faculties,--the religious,--and use this +great river of God, always full of water, to moisten hill-side and +meadow, to turn lonely saw-mills, and drive the wheels in great +factories, which make a metropolis of manufactures,--to bear alike the +lumberman's logs and the trader's ships to their appointed place; the +stream feeding many a little forget-me-not, as it passes by. Men of +all denominations belong to this Church Catholic; yet all are of one +_persuasion_, the brotherhood of Humanity,--for the one spirit loves +manifoldness of form. They trouble themselves little about Sin, the +universal but invisible enemy whom the Church Termagant attempts to +shell and dislodge; but are very busy in attacking Sins. These ministers +of religion would rout Drunkenness and Want, Ignorance, Idleness, Lust, +Covetousness, Vanity, Hate, and Pride, vices of instinctive passion or +reflective ambition. Yet the work of these men is to build up; they cut +down the forest and scare off the wild beasts only to replace them with +civil crops, cattle, corn, and men. Instead of the howling wilderness, +they would have the village or the city, full of comfort and wealth and +musical with knowledge and with love. How often are they misunderstood! +Some savage hears the ring of the axe, the crash of falling timber, +or the rifle's crack and the drop of wolf or bear, and cries out, "A +destructive and dangerous man; he has no reverence for the ancient +wilderness, but would abolish it and its inhabitants; away with him!" +But look again at this destroyer, and in place of the desert woods, +lurked in by a few wild beasts and wilder men, behold, a whole New +England of civilization has come up! The minister of this Church of the +Good Samaritans delivers the poor that cry, and the fatherless, and him +that hath none to help him; he makes the widow's heart sing for joy, and +the blessing of such as are ready to perish comes on him; he is eyes to +the blind, feet to the lame; the cause of evil which he knows not he +searches out; breaking the jaws of the wicked to pluck one spirit out +of their teeth. In a world of work, he would have no idler in the +market-place; in a world of bread, he would not eat his morsel alone +while the fatherless has nought; nor would he see any perish for want of +clothing. He knows the wise God made man for a good end, and provided +adequate means thereto; so he looks for them where they were placed, +in the world of matter and of men, not outside of either. So while he +entertains every old Truth, he looks out also into the crowd of new +Opinions, hoping to find others of their kin: and the new thought does +not lodge in the street; he opens his doors to the traveller, not +forgetful to entertain strangers,--knowing that some have also thereby +entertained angels unawares. He does not fear the great multitude, nor +does the contempt of a few families make him afraid. + +This Church Constructant has a long apostolical succession of great men, +and many nations are gathered in its fold. And what a variety of beliefs +it has! But while each man on his private account says, CREDO, and +believes as he must and shall, and writes or speaks his opinions in what +speech he likes best,--they all, with one accordant mouth, say likewise, +FACIAMUS, and betake them to the one great work of developing man's +possibility of knowledge and virtue. + +Mr. Beecher belongs to this Church Constructant. He is one of its +eminent members, its most popular and effective preacher. No minister +in the United States is so well known, none so widely beloved. He is +as well known in Ottawa as in Broadway. He has the largest Protestant +congregation in America, and an ungathered parish which no man attempts +to number. He has church members in Maine, Wisconsin, Georgia, Texas, +California, and all the way between. Men look on him as a national +institution, a part of the public property. Not a Sunday in the year but +representative men from every State in the Union fix their eyes on him, +are instructed by his sermons and uplifted by his prayers. He is +the most popular of American lecturers. In the celestial sphere of +theological journals, his papers are the bright particular star in that +constellation called the "Independent": men look up to and bless the +useful light, and learn therefrom the signs of the times. He is one of +the bulwarks of freedom in Kansas,--a detached fort. He was a great +force in the last Presidential campaign, and several stump-speakers +were specially detailed to overtake and offset him. But the one man +surrounded the many. Scarcely is there a Northern minister so bitterly +hated at the South. The slave-traders, the border-ruffians, the +purchased officials know no Higher Law; "nor Hale nor Devil can make +them afraid"; yet they fear the terrible whip of Henry Ward Beecher. + +The time has not come--may it long be far distant!--to analyze his +talents and count up his merits and defects. But there are certain +obvious excellences which account for his success and for the honor paid +him. + +Mr. Beecher has great strength of instinct,--of spontaneous human +feeling. Many men lose this in "getting an education"; they have tanks +of rain-water, barrels of well-water; but on their premises is no +spring, and it never rains there. A mountain-spring supplies Mr. Beecher +with fresh, living water. + +He has great love for Nature, and sees the symbolical value of material +beauty and its effect on man. + +He has great fellow-feeling with the joys and sorrows of men. Hence he +is always on the side of the suffering, and especially of the oppressed; +all his sermons and lectures indicate this. It endears him to millions, +and also draws upon him the hatred and loathing of a few Pharisees, some +of them members of his own sect. + +Listen to this:-- + +"Looked at without educated associations, there is no difference between +a man in bed and a man in a coffin. And yet such is the power of the +heart to redeem the animal life, that there is nothing more exquisitely +refined and pure and beautiful than the chamber of the house. The couch! +From the day that the bride sanctifies it, to the day when the aged +mother is borne from it, it stands clothed with loveliness and dignity. +Cursed be the tongue that dares speak evil of the household bed! By its +side oscillates the cradle. Not far from it is the crib. In this sacred +precinct, the mother's chamber, lies the heart of the family. Here the +child learns its prayer. Hither, night by night, angels troop. It is the +Holy of Holies." + +How well he understands the ministry of grief! + +"A Christian man's life is laid in the loom of time to a pattern which +he does not see, but God does; and his heart is a shuttle. On one side +of the loom is sorrow, and on the other is joy; and the shuttle, struck +alternately by each, flies back and forth, carrying the thread, which +is white or black, as the pattern needs; and in the end, when God shall +lift up the finished garment, and all its changing hues shall glance +out, it will then appear that the deep and dark colors were as needful +to beauty as the bright and high colors." + +He loves children, and the boy still fresh in his manhood. + +"When your own child comes in from the street, and has learned to swear +from the bad boys congregated there, it is a very different thing to +you from what it was when you heard the profanity of those boys as you +passed them. Now it takes hold of you, and makes you feel that you are a +stockholder in the public morality. Children make men better citizens. +Of what use would an engine be to a ship, if it were lying loose in the +hull? It must be fastened to it with bolts and screws, before it can +propel the vessel. Now a childless man is just like a loose engine. A +man must be bolted and screwed to the community before he can begin to +work for its advancement; and there are no such screws and bolts as +children." + +He has a most Christ-like contempt for the hypocrite, whom he scourges +with heavy evangelical whips,--but the tenderest Christian love for +earnest men struggling after nobleness. + +Read this:-- + +"I think the wickedest people on earth are those who use a force of +genius to make themselves selfish in the noblest things, keeping +themselves aloof from the vulgar and the ignorant and the unknown; +rising higher and higher in taste, till they sit, ice upon ice, on the +mountain-top of eternal congelation." + +"Men are afraid of slight outward acts which will injure them in the +eyes of others, while they are heedless of the damnation which throbs in +their souls in hatreds and jealousies and revenges." + +"Many people use their refinements as a spider uses his web, to catch +the weak upon, that they may he mercilessly devoured. Christian men +should use refinement on this principle: the more I have, the more I owe +to those who are less than I." + +He values the substance of man more than his accidents. + +"We say a man is 'made.' What do we mean? That he has got the control of +his lower instincts, so that they are only fuel to his higher feelings, +giving force to his nature? That his affections are like vines, sending +out on all sides blossoms and clustering fruits? That his tastes are so +cultivated, that all beautiful things speak to him, and bring him their +delights? That his understanding is opened, so that he walks through +every hall of knowledge, and gathers its treasures? That his moral +feelings are so developed and quickened, that he holds sweet commerce +with Heaven? Oh, no!--none of these things! He is cold and dead in heart +and mind and soul. Only his passions are alive; but--he is worth five +hundred thousand dollars! + +"And we say a man is 'ruined.' Are his wife and children dead? Oh, no! +Have they had a quarrel, and are they separated from him? Oh, no! Has he +lost his reputation through crime? No. Is his reason gone? Oh, no! it's +as sound as ever. Is he struck through with disease? No. He has lost his +property, and he is ruined. The _man_ ruined? When shall we learn +that 'a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things he +possesseth'"? + +Mr. Beecher's God has the gentle and philanthropic qualities of Jesus +of Nazareth, with omnipotence added. Religious emotion comes out in his +prayers, sermons, and lectures, as the vegetative power of the earth in +the manifold plants and flowers of spring. + +"The sun does not shine for a few trees and flowers, but for the wide +world's joy. The lonely pine on the mountain-top waves its sombre +boughs, and cries, 'Thou art my sun!' And the little meadow-violet lifts +its cup of blue, and whispers with its perfumed breath, 'Thou art my +sun!' And the grain in a thousand fields rustles in the wind, and makes +answer, 'Thou art my sun!' + +"So God sits effulgent in heaven, not for a favored few, but for the +universe of life; and there is no creature so poor or low, than he may +not look up with childlike confidence and say, 'My Father! thou art +mine!'" + +"When once the filial feeling is breathed into the heart, the soul +cannot be terrified by augustness, or justice, or any form of Divine +grandeur; for then, to such a one, _all the attributes of God are but so +many arms stretched abroad through the universe, to gather and to press +to his bosom those whom he loves. The greater he is, the gladder are +we_, so that he be our Father still. + +"But, if one consciously turns away from God, or fears him, the nobler +and grander the representation be, the more terrible is his conception +of the Divine Adversary that frowns upon him. The God whom love beholds +rises upon the horizon like mountains which carry summer up their sides +to the very top; but that sternly just God whom sinners fear stands +cold against the sky, like Mont Blanc; and from his icy sides the soul, +quickly sliding, plunges headlong down to unrecalled destruction." + +He has hard words for such as get only the form of religion, or but +little of its substance. + +"There are some Christians whose secular life is an arid, worldly +strife, and whose religion is but a turbid sentimentalism. Their life +runs along that line where the overflow of the Nile meets the desert. +_It is the boundary line between sand and mud_." + +"_That gospel which sanctions ignorance and oppression for three +millions of men_, what fruit or flower has it to shake down for the +healing of the nations? _It is cursed in its own roots, and blasted in +its own boughs_." + +"Many of our churches defy Protestantism. Grand cathedrals are they, +which make us shiver as we enter them. The windows are so constructed +as to exclude the light and inspire a religious awe. The walls are of +stone, which makes us think of our last home. The ceilings are sombre, +and the pews coffin-colored. Then the services are composed to these +circumstances, and hushed music goes trembling along the aisles, and men +move softly, and would on no account put on their hats before they reach +the door; but when they do, they take a long breath, and have such a +sense of relief to be in the free air, and comfort themselves with the +thought that they've been good Christians! + +"Now this idea of worship is narrow and false. The house of God should +be a joyous place for the right use of all our faculties." + +"There ought to be such an atmosphere in every Christian church, that +a man going there and sitting two hours should take the contagion of +heaven, and carry home a fire to kindle the altar whence he came." + +"The call to religion is not a call to be better than your fellows, _but +to be better than yourself_. Religion is relative to the individual." + +"My best presentations of the gospel to you are so incomplete! +Sometimes, when I am alone, I have such sweet and rapturous visions of +the love of God and the truths of his word, that I think, if I could +speak to you then, I should move your hearts. I am like a child, who, +walking forth some sunny summer's morning, sees grass and flower all +shining with drops of dew. 'Oh,' he cries, 'I'll carry these beautiful +things to my mother!' And, eagerly plucking them, the dew drops into his +little palm, and all the charm is gone. There is but grass in his hand, +and no longer pearls." + +"There are many professing Christians who are secretly vexed on account +of the charity they have to bestow and the self-denial they have to use. +If, instead of the smooth prayers which they _do_ pray, they should +speak out the things which they really feel, they would say, when they +go home at night, 'O Lord, I met a poor curmudgeon of yours to-day, a +miserable, unwashed brat, and I gave him sixpence, and I have been sorry +for it ever since'; or, 'O Lord, if I had not signed those articles of +faith, I might have gone to the theatre this evening. Your religion +deprives me of a great deal of enjoyment, but I mean to stick to it. +There's no other way of getting into heaven, I suppose.' + +"The sooner such men are out of the church, the better." + +"The youth-time of churches produces enterprise; their age, indolence; +but even this might be borne, did not _these dead men sit in the door +of their sepulchres, crying out against every living man who refuses to +wear the livery of death_. In India, when the husband dies, they burn +his widow with him. I am almost tempted to think, that, if, with the end +of every pastorate, the church itself were disbanded and destroyed, to +be gathered again by the succeeding teacher, we should thus secure an +immortality of youth." + +"A religious life is not a thing which spends itself. It is like a river +which widens continually, and is never so broad or so deep as at its +mouth, where it rolls into the ocean of eternity." + +"God made the world to relieve an over-full creative thought,--as +musicians sing, as we talk, as artists sketch, when full of suggestions. +What profusion is there in his work! When trees blossom, there is not +a single breastpin, but a whole bosom full of gems; and of leaves they +have so many suits, that they can throw them away to the winds all +summer long. What unnumbered cathedrals has he reared in the forest +shades, vast and grand, full of curious carvings, and haunted evermore +by tremulous music! and in the heavens above, how do stars seem to have +flown out of his hand, faster than sparks out of a mighty forge!" + +"Oh, let the soul alone! Let it go to God as best it may! It is +entangled enough. It is hard enough for it to rise above the +distractions which environ it. Let a man teach the rain how to fall, the +clouds how to shape themselves and move their airy rounds, the seasons +how to cherish and garner the universal abundance; but let him not teach +a soul to pray, on whom the Holy Ghost doth brood!" + +He recognizes the difference between religion and theology. + +"How sad is that field from which battle hath just departed! By as much +as the valley was exquisite in its loveliness, is it now sublimely sad +in its desolation. Such to me is the Bible, when a fighting theologian +has gone through it. + +"How wretched a spectacle is a garden into which the cloven-footed +beasts have entered! That which yesterday was fragrant, and shone all +over with crowded beauty, is to-day rooted, despoiled, trampled, and +utterly devoured, and all over the ground you shall find but the +rejected cuds of flowers and leaves, and forms that have been champed +for their juices and then rejected. Such to me is the Bible, when the +pragmatic prophecy-monger and the swinish utilitarian have toothed its +fruits and craunched its blossoms. + +"O garden of the Lord! whose seeds dropped down from heaven, and to +whom angels bear watering dews night by night! O flowers and plants of +righteousness! O sweet and holy fruits! We walk among you, and gaze with +loving eyes, and rest under your odorous shadows; nor will we, with +sacrilegious hand, tear you, that we may search the secret of your +roots, nor spoil you, that we may know how such wondrous grace and +goodness are evolved within you!" + +"What a pin is, when the diamond has dropped from its setting, is the +Bible, when its emotive truths have been taken away. What a babe's +clothes are, when the babe has slipped out of them into death and the +mother's arms clasp only raiment, would be the Bible, if the Babe of +Bethlehem, and the truths of deep-heartedness that clothed his life, +should slip out of it." + +"There is no food for soul or body which God has not symbolized. He +is light for the eye, sound for the ear, bread for food, wine for +weariness, peace for trouble. Every faculty of the soul, if it would but +open its door, might see Christ standing over against it, and silently +asking by his smile, 'Shall I come in unto thee?' But men open the door +and look down, not up, and thus see him not. So it is that men sigh on, +not knowing what the soul wants, but only that it needs something. Our +yearnings are homesickness for heaven; our sighings are for God; just +as children that cry themselves asleep away from home, and sob in +their slumber, know not that they sob for their parents. The soul's +inarticulate moanings are the affections yearning for the Infinite, but +having no one to tell them what it is that ails them." + +"I feel sensitive about theologies. Theology is good in its place; but +when it puts its hoof upon a living, palpitating, human heart, my heart +cries out against it." + +"There are men marching along in the company of Christians on earth, +who, when they knock at the gate of heaven, will hear God answer, +'I never knew you.'--'But the ministers did, and the church-books +did.'--'That may be. I never did.' + +"It is no matter who knows a man on earth, if God does not know him." + +"The heart-knowledge, through God's teaching, is true wealth, and they +are often poorest who deem themselves most rich. I, in the pulpit, +preach with proud forms to many a humble widow and stricken man who +might well teach me. The student, spectacled and gray with wisdom, and +stuffed with lumbered lore, may be childish and ignorant beside some old +singing saint who brings the wood into his study, and who, with the +lens of his own experience, brings down the orbs of truth, and beholds +through his faith and his humility things of which the white-haired +scholar never dreamed." + +He has eminent integrity, is faithful to his own soul, and to every +delegated trust. No words are needed here as proof. His life is daily +argument. The public will understand this; men whose taste he offends, +and whose theology he shocks, or to whose philosophy he is repugnant, +have confidence in the integrity of the man. He means what he says,--is +solid all through. + +"From the beginning, I educated myself to speak along the line and in +the current of my moral convictions; and though, in later days, it +has carried me through places where there were some batterings and +bruisings, yet I have been supremely grateful that I was led to +adopt this course. I would rather speak the truth to ten men than +blandishments and lying to a million. Try it, ye who think there is +nothing in it! try what it is to speak with God behind you,--to speak so +as to be only the arrow in the bow which the Almighty draws." + +With what affectionate tenderness does this great, faithful soul pour +out his love to his own church! He invites men to the communion-service. + +"Christian brethren, in heaven you are known by the name of Christ. +On earth, for convenience's sake, you are known by the name of +Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Methodists, Congregationalists, and +the like. Let me speak the language of heaven, and call you simply +Christians. Whoever of you has known the name of Christ, and feels +Christ's life beating within him, is invited to remain and sit with us +at the table of the Lord." + +And again, when a hundred were added to his church, he says:-- + +"My friends, my heart is large to-day. I am like a tree upon which rains +have fallen till every leaf is covered with drops of dew; and no wind +goes through the boughs but I hear the pattering of some thought of joy +and gratitude. I love you all more than ever before. You are crystalline +to me; your faces are radiant; and I look through your eyes, as through +windows, into heaven. I behold in each of you an imprisoned angel, that +is yet to burst forth, and to live and shine in the better sphere." + +He has admirable power of making a popular statement of his opinions. He +does not analyze a matter to its last elements, put the ultimate facts +in a row and find out their causes or their law of action, nor aim at +large synthesis of generalization, the highest effort of philosophy, +which groups things into a whole;--it is commonly thought both of these +processes are out of place in meeting-houses and lecture-halls,--that +the people can comprehend neither the one nor the other;--but he gives +a popular view of the thing to be discussed, which can be understood on +the spot without painful reflection. He speaks for the ear which takes +in at once and understands. He never makes attention painful. He +illustrates his subject from daily life; the fields, the streets, stars, +flowers, music, and babies are his favorite emblems. He remembers that +he does not speak to scholars, to minds disciplined by long habits of +thought, but to men with common education, careful and troubled about +many things; and they keep his words and ponder them in their hearts. So +he has the diffuseness of a wide natural field, which properly spreads +out its clover, dandelions, dock, buttercups, grasses, violets, with +here and there a delicate Arethusa that seems to have run under this +sea of common vegetation and come up in a strange place. He has not the +artificial condensation of a garden, where luxuriant Nature assumes the +form of Art. His dramatic power makes his sermon also a life in the +pulpit; his _auditorium_ is also a _theatrum_, for he acts to the eye +what he addresses to the ear, and at once wisdom enters at the two +gates. The extracts show his power of thought and speech as well as of +feeling. Here are specimens of that peculiar humor which appears in all +his works. + +"Sects and Christians that desire to be known by the undue prominence of +some single feature of Christianity are necessarily imperfect just in +proportion to the distinctness of their peculiarities. The power of +Christian truth is in its unity and symmetry, and not in the saliency +or brilliancy of any of its special doctrines. If among painters of +the human face and form there should spring up a sect of the eyes, and +another sect of the nose, a sect of the hand, and a sect of the foot, +and all of them should agree but in the one thing of forgetting that +there was a living spirit behind the features more important than them +all, they would too much resemble the schools and cliques of Christians; +for the spirit of Christ is the great essential truth; doctrines are but +the features of the face, and ordinances but the hands and feet." + +Here are some separate maxims:-- + +"It is not well for a man to pray cream and live skim-milk." + +"The mother's heart is the child's school-room." + +"They are not reformers who simply abhor evil. Such men become in the +end abhorrent themselves." + +"There are many troubles which you can't cure by the Bible and the +Hymn-book, but which you can cure by a good perspiration and a breath of +fresh air." + +"The most dangerous infidelity of the day is the infidelity of rich and +orthodox churches." + +"The fact that a nation is growing is God's own charter of change." + +"There is no class in society who can so ill afford to undermine the +conscience of the community, or to set it loose from its moorings in +the eternal sphere, as merchants who live upon confidence and credit. +Anything which weakens or paralyzes this is taking beams from the +foundations of the merchant's own warehouse." + +"It would almost seem as if there were a certain drollery of art which +leads men who think they are doing one thing to do another and very +different one. Thus, men have set up in their painted church-windows the +symbolisms of virtues and graces, and the images of saints, and even +of Divinity itself. Yet now, what does the window do but mock the +separations and proud isolations of Christian men? For there sit +the audience, each one taking a separate color; and there are blue +Christians and red Christians, there are yellow saints and orange +saints, there are purple Christians and green Christians; but how few +are simple, pure, white Christians, uniting all the cardinal graces, and +proud, not of separate colors, but of the whole manhood of Christ!" + +"Every mind is entered, like every house, through its own door." + +"Doctrine is nothing but the skin of Truth set up and stuffed." + +"Compromise is the word that men use when the Devil gets a victory over +God's cause." + +"A man in the right, with God on his side, is in the majority, though he +be alone; for God is multitudinous above all populations of the earth." + +But this was first said by Frederic Douglas, and better: "_One with God +is a majority._" + +"A lie always needs a truth for a handle to it; else the hand would cut +itself, which sought to drive it home upon another. The worst lies, +therefore, are those whose blade is false, but whose handle is true." + +"It is not conviction of truth which does men good; it is moral +consciousness of truth." + +"A conservative young man has wound up his life before it was unreeled. +We expect old men to be conservative; but when a nation's young men are +so, its funeral-bell is already rung." + +"Night-labor, in time, will destroy the student; for it is marrow from +his own bones with which he fills his lamp." + +A great-hearted, eloquent, fervent, live man, full of religious emotion, +of humanity and love,--no wonder he is dear to the people of America. +Long may he bring instruction to the lecture associations of the North! +Long may he stand in his pulpit at Brooklyn with his heavenly candle, +which goeth not out at all by day, to kindle the devotion and piety of +the thousands who cluster around him, and carry thence light and warmth +to all the borders of the land! + +We should do injustice to our own feelings, did we not, in closing, add +a word of hearty thanks and commendation to the Member of Mr. Beecher's +Congregation to whom we are indebted for a volume that has given us +so much pleasure. The selection covers a wide range of topics, and +testifies at once to the good taste and the culture of the editress. +Many of the finest passages were conceived and uttered in the rapid +inspiration of speaking, and but for her admiring intelligence and care, +the eloquence, wit, and wisdom, which are here preserved to us, would +have faded into air with the last vibration of the preacher's voice. + + + + +MERCEDES. + + + Under a sultry, yellow sky, + On the yellow sand I lie; + The crinkled vapors smite my brain, + I smoulder in a fiery pain. + + Above the crags the condor flies; + He knows where the red gold lies, + He knows where the diamonds shine;-- + If I knew, would she be mine? + + Mercedes in her hammock swings; + In her court a palm-tree flings + Its slender shadow on the ground, + The fountain falls with silver sound. + + Her lips are like this cactus cup; + With my hand I crush it up; + I tear its flaming leaves apart;-- + Would that I could tear her heart! + + Last night a man was at her gate; + In the hedge I lay in wait; + I saw Mercedes meet him there, + By the fire-flies in her hair. + + I waited till the break of day, + Then I rose and stole away; + I drove my dagger through the gate;-- + Now she knows her lover's fate! + + * * * * * + + +THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. + +EVERY MAN HIS OWN BOSWELL. + + +[This particular record is noteworthy principally for containing a paper +by my friend, the Professor, with a poem or two annexed or intercalated. +I would suggest to young persons that they should pass over it for the +present, and read, instead of it, that story about the young man who was +in love with the young lady, and in great trouble for something like +nine pages, but happily married on the tenth page or thereabouts, which, +I take it for granted, will be contained in the periodical where this +is found, unless it differ from all other publications of the kind. +Perhaps, if such young people will lay the number aside, and take it +up ten years, or a little more, from the present time, they may find +something in it for their advantage. They can't possibly understand it +all now.] + +My friend, the Professor, began talking with me one day in a dreary sort +of way. I couldn't get at the difficulty for a good while, but at last +it turned out that somebody had been calling him an old man.--He didn't +mind his students calling him _the_ old man, he said. That was a +technical expression, and he thought that he remembered hearing it +applied to himself when he was about twenty-five. It may be considered +as a familiar and sometimes endearing appellation. An Irish-woman calls +her husband "the old man," and he returns the caressing expression by +speaking of her as "the old woman." But now, said he, just suppose a +case like one of these. A young stranger is overheard talking of you as +a very nice old gentleman. A friendly and genial critic speaks of your +green old age as illustrating the truth of some axiom you had uttered +with reference to that period of life. What _I_ call an old man is a +person with a smooth, shining crown and a fringe of scattered white +hairs, seen in the streets on sunshiny days, stooping as he walks, +bearing a cane, moving cautiously and slowly; telling old stories, +smiling at present follies, living in a narrow world of dry habits; one +that remains waking when others have dropped asleep, and keeps a little +night-lamp-flame of life burning year after year, if the lamp is not +upset, and there is only a careful hand held round it to prevent the +puffs of wind from blowing the flame out. That's what I call an old man. + +Now, said the Professor, you don't mean to tell me that I have got to +that yet? Why, bless you, I am several years short of the time when--[I +knew what was coming, and could hardly keep from laughing; twenty years +ago he used to quote it as one of those absurd speeches men of genius +will make, and now he is going to argue from it]--several years short +of the time when Balzac says that men are--most--you know--dangerous +to--the hearts of--in short, most to be dreaded by duennas that +have charge of susceptible females.--What age is that? said I, +statistically.--Fifty-two years, answered the Professor.--Balzac ought +to know, said I, if it is true that Goethe said of him that each of his +stories must have been dug out of a woman's heart. But fifty-two is a +high figure. + +Stand in the light of the window, Professor, said I.--The Professor took +up the desired position.--You have white hairs, I said.--Had 'em any +time these twenty years, said the Professor.--And the crow's-foot,--_pes +anserinus_, rather.--The Professor smiled, as I wanted him to, and the +folds radiated like the ridges of a half-opened fan, from the outer +corner of the eyes to the temples.--And the calipers, said I.--What +are the _calipers_? he asked, curiously.--Why, the parenthesis, said +I.--_Parenthesis_? said the Professor; what's that?--Why, look in the +glass when you are disposed to laugh, and see if your mouth isn't framed +in a couple of crescent lines,--so, my boy ( ).--It's all nonsense, said +the Professor; just look at my _biceps_;--and he began pulling off his +coat to show me his arm.--Be careful, said I; you can't bear exposure to +the air, at your time of life, as you could once.--I will box with you, +said the Professor, row with you, walk with you, ride with you, swim +with you, or sit at table with you, for fifty dollars a side.--Pluck +survives stamina, I answered. + +The Professor went off a little out of humor. A few weeks afterwards he +came in, looking very good-natured, and brought me a paper, which I +have here, and from which I shall read you some portions, if you don't +object. He had been thinking the matter over, he said,--had read Cicero. +"De Senectute," and made up his mind to meet old age half way. These +were some of his reflections that he had written down; so here you have + + +THE PROFESSOR'S PAPER. + +There is no doubt when old age begins. The human body is a furnace which +keeps in blast three-score years and ten, more or less. It burns about +three hundred pounds of carbon a year, (besides other fuel,) when in +fair working order, according to a great chemist's estimate. When the +fire slackens, life declines; when it goes out, we are dead. + +It has been shown by some noted French experimenters, that the amount of +combustion increases up to about the thirtieth year, remains stationary +to about forty-five, and then diminishes. This last is the point where +old age starts from. The great fact of physical life is the perpetual +commerce with the elements, and the fire is the measure of it. + +About this time of life, if food is plenty where you live,--for that, +you know, regulates matrimony,--you may be expecting to find yourself a +grandfather some fine morning; a kind of domestic felicity that gives +one a cool shiver of delight to think of, as among the not remotely +possible events. + +I don't mind much those slipshod lines Dr. Johnson wrote to Thrale, +telling her about life's declining from _thirty-five_; the furnace is in +full blast for ten years longer, as I have said. The Romans came very +near the mark; their age of enlistment reached from seventeen to +forty-six years. + +What is the use of fighting against the seasons, or the tides, or the +movements of the planetary bodies, or this ebb in the wave of life that +flows through us? We are old fellows from the moment the fire begins to +go out. Let us always behave like gentlemen when we are introduced to +new acquaintance. + +_Incipit Allegoria Senectutis_. + +Old Age, this is Mr. Professor; Mr. Professor, this is Old Age. + +_Old Age_.--Mr. Professor, I hope to see you well. I have known you for +some time, though I think you did not know me. Shall we walk down the +street together? + +_Professor_. (drawing back a little)--We can talk more quietly, +perhaps, in my study. Will you tell me how it is you seem to be +acquainted with everybody you are introduced to, though he evidently +considers you an entire stranger? + +_Old Age_.--I make it a rule never to force myself upon a person's +recognition until I have known him at least _five years_. + +_Professor_.--Do you mean to say that you have known me so long as that? + +_Old Age_.--I do. I left my card on you longer ago than that, but I am +afraid you never read it; yet I see you have it with you. + +_Professor_.--Where? + +_Old Age_.--There, between your eyebrows,--three straight lines running +up and down; all the probate courts know that token,--"Old Age, his +mark." Put your forefinger on the inner end of one eyebrow, and your +middle finger on the inner end of the other eyebrow; now separate the +fingers, and you will smooth out my sign-manual; that's the way you used +to look before I left my card on you. + +_Professor_.--What message do people generally send back when you first +call on them? + +_Old Age.--Not at home_. Then I leave a card and go. Next year I call; +get the same answer; leave another card. So for five or six,--sometimes +ten years or more. At last, if they don't let me in, I break in through +the front door or the windows. + +We talked together in this way some time. Then Old Age said again,-- +Come, let us walk down the street together,--and offered me a cane, an +eyeglass, a tippet, and a pair of over-shoes.--No, much obliged to you, +said I. I don't want those things, and I had a little rather talk with +you here, privately, in my study. So I dressed myself up in a jaunty way +and walked out alone;--got a fall, caught a cold, was laid up with a +lumbago, and had time to think over this whole matter. + +_Explicit Allegoria Senectutis_. + +We have settled when old age begins. Like all Nature's processes, it is +gentle and gradual in its approaches, strewed with illusions, and all +its little griefs soothed by natural sedatives. But the iron hand is +not less irresistible because it wears the velvet glove. The buttonwood +throws off its bark in large flakes, which one may find lying at its +foot, pushed out, and at last pushed off, by that tranquil movement from +beneath, which is too slow to be seen, but too powerful to be arrested. +One finds them always, but one rarely sees them fall. So it is our youth +drops from us,--scales off, sapless and lifeless, and lays bare the +tender and immature fresh growth of old age. Looked at collectively, +the changes of old age appear as a series of personal insults and +indignities, terminating at last in death, which Sir Thomas Browne has +called "the very disgrace and ignominy of our natures." + + My lady's cheek can boast no more + The cranberry white and pink it wore; + And where her shining locks divide, + The parting line is all too wide---- + +No, no,--this will never do. Talk about men, if you will, but spare the +poor women. + +We have a brief description of seven stages of life by a remarkably good +observer. It is very presumptuous to attempt to add to it, yet I have +been struck with the fact that life admits of a natural analysis into no +less than fifteen distinct periods. Taking the five primary divisions, +infancy, childhood, youth, manhood, old age, each of these has its +own three periods of immaturity, complete development, and decline. I +recognize an _old_ baby at once,--with its "pipe and mug," (a stick of +candy and a porringer,)--so does everybody; and an old child shedding +its milk-teeth is only a little prototype of the old man shedding his +permanent ones. Fifty or thereabouts is only the childhood, as it were, +of old age; the graybeard youngster must be weaned from his late suppers +now. So you will see that you have to make fifteen stages at any rate, +and that it would not be hard to make twenty-five; five primary, each +with five secondary divisions. + +The infancy and childhood of commencing old age have the same ingenuous +simplicity and delightful unconsciousness about them that the first +stage of the earlier periods of life shows. The great delusion of +mankind is in supposing that to be individual and exceptional which is +universal and according to law. A person is always startled when he +hears himself seriously called an old man for the first time. + +Nature gets us out of youth into manhood, as sailors are hurried on +board of vessels,--in a state of intoxication. We are hustled into +maturity reeling with our passions and imaginations, and we have drifted +far away from port before we awake out of our illusions. But to carry us +out of maturity into old age, without our knowing where we are going, +she drugs us with strong opiates, and so we stagger along with wide open +eyes that see nothing until snow enough has fallen on our heads to rouse +our comatose brains out of their stupid trances. + +There is one mark of age that strikes me more than any of the physical +ones;--I mean the formation of _Habits_. An old man who shrinks into +himself falls into ways that become as positive and as much beyond the +reach of outside influences as if they were governed by clockwork. The +_animal_ functions, as the physiologists call them, in distinction from +the _organic_, tend, in the process of deterioration to which age +and neglect united gradually lead them, to assume the periodical or +rhythmical type of movement. Every man's _heart_ (this organ belongs, +you know, to the organic system) has a regular mode of action; but I +know a great many men whose _brains_, and all their voluntary existence +flowing from their brains, have a _systole_ and _diastole_ as regular +as that of the heart itself. Habit is the approximation of the animal +system to the organic. It is a confession of failure in the highest +function of being, which involves a perpetual self-determination, in +full view of all existing circumstances. But habit, you see, is an +action in present circumstances from past motives. It is substituting a +_vis a tergo_ for the evolution of living force. + +When a man, instead of burning up three hundred pounds of carbon a +year, has got down to two hundred and fifty, it is plain enough he must +economize force somewhere. Now habit is a labor-saving invention which +enables a man to get along with less fuel,--that is all; for fuel is +force, you know, just as much in the page I am writing for you as in the +locomotive or the legs that carry it to you. Carbon is the same thing, +whether you call it wood, or coal, or bread and cheese. A reverend +gentleman demurred to this statement,--as if, because combustion is +asserted to be the _sine qua non_ of thought, therefore thought is +alleged to be a purely chemical process. Facts of chemistry are one +thing, I told him, and facts of consciousness another. It can be proved +to him, by a very simple analysis of some of his spare elements, +that every Sunday, when he does his duty faithfully, he uses up more +phosphorus out of his brain and nerves than on ordinary days. But then +he had his choice whether to do his duty, or to neglect it, and save his +phosphorus and other combustibles. + +It follows from all this that _the formation of habits_ ought naturally +to be, as it is, the special characteristic of age. As for the muscular +powers, they pass their maximum long before the time when the true +decline of life begins, if we may judge by the experience of the ring. A +man is "stale," I think, in their language, soon after thirty,--often, +no doubt, much earlier, as gentlemen of the pugilistic profession are +exceedingly apt to keep their vital fire burning _with the blower up_. + +----So far without Tully. But in the mean time I have been reading the +treatise, "De Senectute." It is not long, but a leisurely performance. +The old gentleman was sixty-three years of age when he addressed it to +his friend T. Pomponius Atticus, Eq., a person of distinction, some two +or three years older. We read it when we are schoolboys, forget all +about it for thirty years, and then take it up again by a natural +instinct,--provided always that we read Latin as we drink water, without +stopping to taste it, as all of us who ever learned it at school or +college ought to do. + +Cato is the chief speaker in the dialogue. A good deal of it is what +would be called in vulgar phrase "slow." It unpacks and unfolds +incidental illustrations which a modern writer would look at the back +of, and toss each to its pigeonhole. I think ancient classics and +ancient people are alike in the tendency to this kind of expansion. + +An old doctor came to me once (this is literal fact) with some +contrivance or other for people with broken kneepans. As the patient +would be confined for a good while, he might find it dull work to sit +with his hands in his lap. Reading, the ingenious inventor suggested, +would be an agreeable mode of passing the time. He mentioned, in his +written account of his contrivance, various works that might amuse the +weary hour. I remember only three,--Don Quixote, Tom Jones, and _Watts +on the Mind_. + +It is not generally understood that Cicero's essay was delivered as a +lyceum lecture, (_concio popularis_,) at the Temple of Mercury. The +journals (_papyri_) of the day ("Tempora Quotidiana,"--"Tribunus +Quirinalis,"--"Praeco Romanus," and the rest) gave abstracts of it, one +of which I have translated and modernized, as being a substitute for the +analysis I intended to make. + +IV. Kal. Mart.... + +The lecture at the Temple of Mercury, last evening, was well attended +by the _elite_ of our great city. Two hundred thousand sestertia were +thought to have been represented in the house. The doors were besieged +by a mob of shabby fellows, (_illotum vulgus_,) who were at length +quieted after two or three had been somewhat roughly handled (_gladio +jugulati_). The speaker was the well-known Mark Tully, Eq.,--the +subject, Old Age. Mr. T. has a lean and scraggy person, with a very +unpleasant excrescence upon his nasal feature, from which his nickname +of _chick-pea_ (Cicero) is said by some to be derived. As a lecturer is +public property, we may remark, that his outer garment (_toga_) was of +cheap stuff and somewhat worn, and that his general style and appearance +of dress and manner (_habitus, vestitusque_) were somewhat provincial. + +The lecture consisted of an imaginary dialogue between Cato and Laelius. +We found the first portion rather heavy, and retired a few moments for +refreshment (_pocula quoedam vini_).--All want to reach old age, says +Cato, and grumble when they get it; therefore they are donkeys.--The +lecturer will allow us to say that he is the donkey; we know we shall +grumble at old age, but we want to live through youth and manhood, _in +spite_ of the troubles we shall groan over.--There was considerable +prosing as to what old age can do and can't--True, but not new. +Certainly, old folks can't jump,--break the necks of their thigh-bones, +(_femorum cervices_,) if they do, can't crack nuts with their teeth; +can't climb a greased pole (_malum inunctum scandere non possunt_); but +they can tell old stories and give you good advice; if they know what +you have made up your mind to do when you ask them.--All this is well +enough, but won't set the Tiber on fire (_Tiberim accendere nequaquam +potest_). + +There were some clever things enough, (_dicta haud inepta_,) a few of +which are worth reporting.--Old people are accused of being forgetful; +but they never forget where they have put their money.--Nobody is so old +he doesn't think he can live a year.--The lecturer quoted an ancient +maxim,--Grow old early, if you would be old long,--but disputed it.-- +Authority, he thought, was the chief privilege of age.--It is not great +to have money, but fine to govern those that have it.--Old age begins +at _forty-six_ years, according to the common opinion.--It is not every +kind of old age or of wine that grows sour with time.--Some excellent +remarks were made on immortality, but mainly borrowed from and credited +to Plato.--Several pleasing anecdotes were told.--Old Milo, champion of +the heavy weights in his day, looked at his arms and whimpered, "They +are dead." Not so dead as you, you old fool,--says Cato;--you never +were good for anything but for your shoulders and flanks.--Pisistratus +asked Solon what made him dare to be so obstinate. Old age, said Solon. + +The lecture was on the whole acceptable, and a credit to our culture +and civilization.--The reporter goes on to state that there will be no +lecture next week, on account of the expected combat between the bear +and the barbarian. Betting (_sponsio_) two to one (_duo ad unum_) on the +bear. + +----After all, the most encouraging things I find in the treatise, "De +Senectute," are the stories of men who have found new occupations when +growing old, or kept up their common pursuits in the extreme period of +life. Cato learned Greek when he was old, and speaks of wishing to learn +the fiddle, or some such instrument, (_fidibus_,) after the example of +Socrates. Solon learned something new, every day, in his old age, as he +gloried to proclaim. Cyrus pointed out with pride and pleasure the trees +he had planted with his own hand. [I remember a pillar on the Duke of +Northumberland's estate at Alnwick, with an inscription in similar +words, if not the same. That, like other country pleasures, never wears +out. None is too rich, none too poor, none too young, none too old to +enjoy it.] There is a New England story I have heard more to the point, +however, than any of Cicero's. A young farmer was urged to set out some +apple-trees.--No, said he, they are too long growing, and I don't want +to plant for other people. The young farmer's father was spoken to about +it; but he, with better reason, alleged that apple-trees were slow and +life was fleeting. At last some one mentioned it to the old grandfather +of the young farmer. He had nothing else to do,--so he stuck in some +trees. He lived long enough to drink barrels of cider made from the +apples that grew on those trees. + +As for myself, after visiting a friend lately,--[Do remember all the +time that this is the Professor's paper,]--I satisfied myself that I had +better concede the fact that--my contemporaries are not so young as they +have been,--and that,--awkward as it is,--science and history agree in +telling me that I can claim the immunities and must own the humiliations +of the early stage of senility. Ah! but we have all gone down the hill +together. The dandies of my time have split their waistbands and taken +to high-low shoes. The beauties of my recollections--where are they? +They have run the gantlet of the years as well as I. First the years +pelted them with red roses till their cheeks were all on fire. By and by +they began throwing white roses, and that morning flush passed away. At +last one of the years threw a snow-ball, and after that no year let +the poor girls pass without throwing snow-balls. And then came rougher +missiles,--ice and stones; and from time to time an arrow whistled and +down went one of the poor girls. So there are but few left; and we don't +call those few _girls_, but---- + +Ah, me! here am I groaning just as the old Greek sighed _Ai, ai!_ and +the old Roman, _Eheu!_ I have no doubt we should die of shame and grief +at the indignities offered us by age, if it were not that we see so many +others as badly or worse off than ourselves. We always compare ourselves +with our contemporaries. + +[I was interrupted in my reading just here. Before I began at the next +breakfast, I read them these verses;--I hope you will like them, and get +a useful lesson from them.] + + +THE LAST BLOSSOM. + + Though young no more, we still would dream + Of beauty's dear deluding wiles; + The leagues of life to graybeards seem + Shorter than boyhood's lingering miles. + + Who knows a woman's wild caprice? + It played with Goethe's silvered hair, + And many a Holy Father's "niece" + Has softly smoothed the papal chair. + + When sixty bids us sigh in vain + To melt the heart of sweet sixteen, + We think upon those ladies twain + Who loved so well the tough old Dean. + + We see the Patriarch's wintry face, + The maid of Egypt's dusky glow, + And dream that Youth and Age embrace, + As April violets fill with snow. + + Tranced in her Lord's Olympian smile + His lotus-loving Memphian lies,-- + The musky daughter of the Nile + With plaited hair and almond eyes. + + Might we but share one wild caress + Ere life's autumnal blossoms fall, + And Earth's brown, clinging lips impress + The long cold kiss that waits us all! + + My bosom heaves, remembering yet + The morning of that blissful day + When Rose, the flower of spring, I met, + And gave my raptured soul away. + + Flung from her eyes of purest blue, + A lasso, with its leaping chain + Light as a loop of larkspurs, flew + O'er sense and spirit, heart and brain. + + Thou com'st to cheer my waning age, + Sweet vision, waited for so long! + Dove that wouldst seek the poet's cage, + Lured by the magic breath of song! + + She blushes! Ah, reluctant maid, + Love's _drapeau rouge_ the truth has told! + O'er girlhood's yielding barricade + Floats the great Leveller's crimson fold! + + Come to my arms!--love heeds not years; + No frost the bud of passion knows.-- + Ha! what is this my frenzy hears? + A voice behind me uttered,--Rose! + + Sweet was her smile,--but not for me; + Alas, when woman looks _too_ kind, + Just turn your foolish head and see,-- + Some youth is walking close behind! + +As to _giving up_ because the almanac or the Family-Bible says that it +is about time to do it, I have no intention of doing any such thing. I +grant you that I burn less carbon than some years ago. I see people +of my standing really good for nothing, decrepit, effete, _la levre +inferieure deja pendante_, with what little life they have left mainly +concentrated in their epigastrium. But as the disease of old age is +epidemic, endemic, and sporadic, and everybody that lives long enough is +sure to catch it, I am going to say, for the encouragement of such as +need it, how I treat the malady in my own case. + +First. As I feel, that, when I have anything to do, there is less time +for it than when I was younger, I find that I give my attention more +thoroughly, and use my time more economically than ever before; so that +I can learn anything twice as easily as in my earlier days. I am not, +therefore, afraid to attack a new study. I took up a difficult language +a very few years ago with good success, and think of mathematics and +metaphysics by-and-by. + +Secondly. I have opened my eyes to a good many neglected privileges and +pleasures within my reach, and requiring only a little courage to enjoy +them. You may well suppose it pleased me to find that old Cato was +thinking of learning to play the fiddle, when I had deliberately taken +it up in my old age, and satisfied myself that I could get much comfort, +if not much music, out of it. + +Thirdly. I have found that some of those active exercises, which are +commonly thought to belong to young folks only, may be enjoyed at a much +later period. + +A young friend has lately written an admirable article in one of the +journals, entitled, "Saints and their Bodies." Approving of his general +doctrines, and grateful for his records of personal experience, I cannot +refuse to add my own experimental confirmation of his eulogy of one +particular form of active exercise and amusement, namely, _boating_. +For the past nine years, I have rowed about, during a good part of the +summer, on fresh or salt water. My present fleet on the river Charles +consists of three rowboats. 1. A small flat-bottomed skiff of the shape +of a flat-iron, kept mainly to lend to boys. 2. A fancy "dory" for two +pairs of sculls, in which I sometimes go out with my young folks. 3. +My own particular water-sulky, a "skeleton" or "shell" race-boat, +twenty-two feet long, with huge outriggers, which boat I pull with +ten-foot sculls,--alone, of course, as it holds but one, and tips him +out, if he doesn't mind what he is about. In this I glide around the +Back Bay, down the stream, up the Charles to Cambridge and Watertown, up +the Mystic, round the wharves, in the wake of steamboats, which have +a swell after them delightful to rock upon; I linger under the +bridges,--those "caterpillar bridges," as my brother Professor so +happily called them; rub against the black sides of old wood-schooners; +cool down under the overhanging stern of some tall India-man; stretch +across to the Navy-Yard, where the sentinel warns me off from the +Ohio,--just as if I should hurt her by lying in her shadow; then strike +out into the harbor, where the water gets clear and the air smells of +the ocean,--till all at once I remember, that, if a west wind blows up +of a sudden, I shall drift along past the islands, out of sight of the +dear old State-house,--plate, tumbler, knife and fork all waiting at +home, but no chair drawn up at the table,--all the dear people waiting, +waiting, waiting, while the boat is sliding, sliding, sliding into the +great desert, where there is no tree and no fountain. As I don't want +my wreck to be washed up on one of the beaches in company with +devils'-aprons, bladder-weeds, dead horse-shoes, and bleached +crab-shells, I turn about and flap my long, narrow wings for home. When +the tide is running out swiftly, I have a splendid fight to get through +the bridges, but always make it a rule to beat,--though I have been +jammed up into pretty tight places at times, and was caught once between +a vessel swinging round and the pier, until our bones (the boat's, that +is) cracked as if we had been in the jaws of Behemoth. Then back to my +moorings at the foot of the Common, off with the rowing-dress, dash +under the green translucent wave, return to the garb of civilization, +walk through my Garden, take a look at my elms on the Common, and, +reaching my habitat, in consideration of my advanced period of life, +indulge in the Elysian abandonment of a huge recumbent chair. + +When I have established a pair of well-pronounced feathering-calluses on +my thumbs, when I am in training so that I can do my fifteen miles at a +stretch without coming to grief in any way, when I can perform my mile +in eight minutes or a little less, then I feel as if I had old Time's +head in chancery, and could give it to him at my leisure. + +I do not deny the attraction of walking. I have bored this ancient city +through and through in my daily travels, until I know it as an old +inhabitant of a Cheshire knows his cheese. Why, it was I who, in the +course of these rambles, discovered that remarkable avenue called +_Myrtle Street_, stretching in one long line from east of the Reservoir +to a precipitous and rudely paved cliff which looks down on the grim +abode of Science, and beyond it to the far hills; a promenade so +delicious in its repose, so cheerfully varied with glimpses down the +northern slope into busy Cambridge Street with its iron river of the +horse-railroad, and wheeled barges gliding back and forward over it,--so +delightfully closing at its western extremity in sunny courts and +passages where I know peace, and beauty, and virtue, and serene old age +must be perpetual tenants,--so alluring to all who desire to take their +daily stroll, in the words of Dr. Watts,-- + + "Alike unknowing and unknown,"-- + +that nothing but a sense of duty would have prompted me to reveal the +secret of its existence. I concede, therefore, that walking is an +immeasurably fine invention, of which old age ought constantly to avail +itself. + +Saddle-leather is in some respects even preferable to sole-leather. The +principal objection to it is of a financial character. But you may be +sure that Bacon and Sydenham did not recommend it for nothing. One's +_hepar_, or, in vulgar language, liver,--a ponderous organ, weighing +some three or four pounds,--goes up and down like the dasher of a +churn in the midst of the other vital arrangements, at every step of +a trotting horse. The brains also are shaken up like coppers in a +moneybox. Riding is good, for those that are born with a silver-mounted +bridle in their hand, and can ride as much and as often as they like, +without thinking all the time they hear that steady grinding sound as +the horse's jaws triturate with calm lateral movement the bank-bills and +promises to pay upon which it is notorious that the profligate animal in +question feeds day and night. + +Instead, however, of considering these kinds of exercise in this +empirical way, I will devote a brief space to an examination of them in +a more scientific form. + +The pleasure of exercise is due first to a purely physical impression, +and secondly to a sense of power in action. The first source of pleasure +varies of course with our condition and the state of the surrounding +circumstances; the second with the amount and kind of power, and the +extent and kind of action. In all forms of active exercise there are +three powers simultaneously in action,--the will, the muscles, and the +intellect. Each of these predominates in different kinds of exercise. +In walking, the will and muscles are so accustomed to work together +and perform their task with so little expenditure of force, that the +intellect is left comparatively free. The mental pleasure in walking, +as such, is in the sense of power over all our moving machinery. But in +riding, I have the additional pleasure of governing another will, and my +muscles extend to the tips of the animal's ears and to his four hoofs, +instead of stopping at my hands and feet. Now in this extension of +my volition and my physical frame into another animal, my tyrannical +instincts and my desire for heroic strength are at once gratified. When +the horse ceases to have a will of his own and his muscles require no +special attention on your part, then you may live on horseback as Wesley +did, and write sermons or take naps, as you like. But you will observe, +that, in riding on horseback, you always have a feeling, that, after +all, it is not you that do the work, but the animal, and this prevents +the satisfaction from being complete. + +Now let us look at the conditions of rowing. I won't suppose you to be +disgracing yourself in one of those miserable tubs, tugging in which is +to rowing the true boat what riding a cow is to bestriding an Arab. You +know the Esquimaux _kayak_, (if that is the name of it,) don't you? Look +at that model of one over my door. Sharp, rather?--On the contrary, it +is a lubber to the one you and I must have; a Dutch fish-wife to +Psyche, contrasted with what I will tell you about.--Our boat, then, is +something of the shape of a pickerel, as you look down upon his back, +he lying in the sunshine just where the sharp edge of the water cuts in +among the lily-pads. It is a kind of a giant _pod_, as one may say,-- +tight everywhere, except in a little place in the middle, where you sit. +Its length is from seven to ten yards, and as it is only from sixteen to +thirty inches wide in its widest part, you understand why you want those +"outriggers," or projecting iron frames with the rowlocks in which the +oars play. My rowlocks are five feet apart; double or more than double +the greatest width of the boat. + +Here you are, then, afloat with a body a rod and a half long, with arms, +or wings, as you may choose to call them, stretching more than twenty +feet from tip to tip; every volition of yours extending as perfectly +into them as if your spinal cord ran down the centre strip of your boat, +and the nerves of your arms tingled as far as the broad blades of your +oars,--oars of spruce, balanced, leathered, and ringed under your own +special direction. This, in sober earnest, is the nearest approach to +flying that man has ever made or perhaps ever will make. As the hawk +sails without flapping his pinions, so you drift with the tide when you +will, in the most luxurious form of locomotion indulged to an embodied +spirit. But if your blood wants rousing, turn round that stake in the +river, which you see a mile from here; and when you come in in sixteen +minutes, (if you do, for we are old boys, and not champion scullers, you +remember,) then say if you begin to feel a little warmed up or not! You +can row easily and gently all day, and you can row yourself blind and +black in the face in ten minutes, just as you like. It has been long +agreed that there is no way in which a man can accomplish so much labor +with his muscles as in rowing. It is in the boat, then, that man finds +the largest extension of his volitional and muscular existence; and +yet he may tax both of them so slightly, in that most delicious of +exercises, that he shall mentally write his sermon, or his poem, or +recall the remarks he has made in company and put them in form for the +public, as well as in his easy-chair. + +I dare not publicly name the rare joys, the infinite delights, that +intoxicate me on some sweet June morning, when the river and bay are +smooth as a sheet of beryl-green silk, and I run along ripping it up +with my knife-edged shell of a boat, the rent closing after me like +those wounds of angels which Milton tells of, but the seam still shining +for many a long rood behind me. To lie still over the Flats, where the +waters are shallow, and see the crabs crawling and the sculpins gliding +busily and silently beneath the boat,--to rustle in through the long +harsh grass that leads up some tranquil creek,--to take shelter from the +sunbeams under one of the thousand-footed bridges, and look down its +interminable colonnades, crusted with green and oozy growths, studded +with minute barnacles, and belted with rings of dark muscles, while +overhead streams and thunders that other river whose every wave is +a human soul flowing to eternity as the river below flows to the +ocean,--lying there moored unseen, in loneliness so profound that +the columns of Tadmor in the Desert could not seem more remote from +life,--the cool breeze on one's forehead, the stream whispering against +the half-sunken pillars,--why should I tell of these things, that I +should live to see my beloved haunts invaded and the waves blackened +with boats as with a swarm of water-beetles? What a city of idiots +we must be not to have covered this glorious bay with gondolas and +wherries, as we have just learned to cover the ice in winter with +skaters! + +I am satisfied that such a set of black-coated, stiff-jointed, +soft-muscled, paste-complexioned youth as we can boast in our Atlantic +cities never before sprang from loins of Anglo-Saxon lineage. Of the +females that are the mates of these males I do not here speak. I +preached my sermon from the lay-pulpit on this matter a good while +ago. Of course, if you heard it, you know my belief is that the total +climatic influences here are getting up a number of new patterns of +humanity, some of which are not an improvement on the old model. +Clipper-built, sharp in the bows, long in the spars, slender to look at, +and fast to go, the ship, which is the great organ of our national +life of relation, is but a reproduction of the typical form which the +elements impress upon its builder. All this we cannot help; but we can +make the best of these influences, such as they are. We have a few +good boatmen,--no good horsemen that I hear of,--nothing remarkable, I +believe, in cricketing,--and as for any great athletic feat performed +by a gentleman in these latitudes, society would drop a man who should +run round the Common in five minutes. Some of our amateur fencers, +single-stick players, and boxers, we have no reason to be ashamed of. +Boxing is rough play, but not too rough for a hearty young fellow. +Anything is better than this white-blooded degeneration to which we all +tend. + +I dropped into a gentlemen's sparring exhibition only last evening. It +did my heart good to see that there were a few young and youngish youths +left who could take care of their own heads in case of emergency. It is +a fine sight, that of a gentleman resolving himself into the primitive +constituents of his humanity. Here is a delicate young man now, with an +intellectual countenance, a slight figure, a sub-pallid complexion, a +most unassuming deportment, a mild adolescent in fact, that any Hiram or +Jonathan from between the ploughtails would of course expect to handle +with perfect ease. Oh, he is taking off his gold-bowed spectacles! Ah, +he is divesting himself of his cravat! Why, he is stripping off his +coat! Well, here he is, sure enough, in a tight silk shirt, and with two +things that look like batter puddings in the place of his fists. Now see +that other fellow with another pair of batter puddings,--the big one +with the broad shoulders; he will certainly knock the little man's +head off, if he strikes him. Feinting, dodging, stopping, hitting, +countering,--little man's head not off yet. You might as well try to +jump upon your own shadow as to hit the little man's intellectual +features. He needn't have taken off the gold-bowed spectacles at all. +Quick, cautious, shifty, nimble, cool, he catches all the fierce lunges +or gets out of their reach, till his turn comes, and then, whack goes +one of the batter puddings against the big one's ribs, and bang goes the +other into the big one's face, and, staggering, shuffling, slipping, +tripping, collapsing, sprawling, down goes the big one in a +miscellaneous bundle.--If my young friend, whose excellent article I +have referred to, could only introduce the manly art of self-defence +among the clergy, I am satisfied that we should have better sermons and +an infinitely less quarrelsome church-militant. A bout with the gloves +would let off the ill-nature, and cure the indigestion, which, united, +have embroiled their subject in a bitter controversy. We should then +often hear that a point of difference between an infallible and a +heretic, instead of being vehemently discussed in a series of newspaper +articles, had been settled by a friendly contest in several rounds, +at the close of which the parties shook hands and appeared cordially +reconciled. + +But boxing you and I are too old for, I am afraid. I was for a moment +tempted, by the contagion of muscular electricity last evening, to try +the gloves with the Benicia Boy, who looked in as a friend to the noble +art; but remembering that he had twice my weight and half my age, +besides the advantage of his training, I sat still and said nothing. + +There is one other delicate point I wish to speak of with reference +to old age. I refer to the use of dioptric media which correct the +diminished refracting power of the humors of the eye,--in other words, +spectacles. I don't use them. All I ask is a large, fair type, a strong +daylight or gas-light, and one yard of focal distance, and my eyes are +as good as ever. But if _your_ eyes fail, I can tell you something +encouraging. There is now living in New York State an old gentleman who, +perceiving his sight to fail, immediately took to exercising it on the +finest print, and in this way fairly bullied Nature out of her foolish +habit of taking liberties at five-and-forty, or thereabout. And now +this old gentleman performs the most extraordinary feats with his pen, +showing that his eyes must be a pair of microscopes. I should be afraid +to say to you how much he writes in the compass of a half-dime,-- +whether the Psalms or the Gospels, or the Psalms _and_ the Gospels, I +won't be positive. + +But now let me tell you this. If the time comes when you must lay down +the fiddle and the bow, because your fingers are too stiff, and drop the +ten-foot sculls, because your arms are too weak, and, after dallying +awhile with eye-glasses, come at last to the undisguised reality of +spectacles,--if the time comes when that fire of life we spoke of has +burned so low that where its flames reverberated there is only the +sombre stain of regret, and where its coals glowed, only the white ashes +that cover the embers of memory,--don't let your heart grow cold, and +you may carry cheerfulness and love with you into the teens of your +second century, if you can last so long. As our friend, the Poet, once +said, in some of those old-fashioned heroics of his which he keeps for +his private reading,-- + + Call him not old, whose visionary brain + Holds o'er the past its undivided reign. + For him in vain the envious seasons roll + Who bears eternal summer in his soul. + If yet the minstrel's song, the poet's lay, + Spring with her birds, or children with their play, + Or maiden's smile, or heavenly dream of art + Stir the few life-drops creeping round his heart,-- + Turn to the record where his years are told,-- + Count his gray hairs,--they cannot make him old! + +_End of the Professor's paper_. + +[The above essay was not read at one time, but in several instalments, +and accompanied by various comments from different persons at the table. +The company were in the main attentive, with the exception of a little +somnolence on the part of the old gentleman opposite at times, and a +few sly, malicious questions about the "old boys" on the part of that +forward young fellow who has figured occasionally, not always to his +advantage, in these reports. + +On Sunday mornings, in obedience to a feeling I am not ashamed of, +I have always tried to give a more appropriate character to our +conversation. I have never read them my sermon yet, and I don't know +that I shall, as some of them might take my convictions as a personal +indignity to themselves. But having read our company so much of the +Professor's talk about age and other subjects connected with physical +life, I took the next Sunday morning to repeat to them the following +poem of his, which I have had by me some time. He calls it--I suppose, +for his professional friends--THE ANATOMIST'S HYMN; but I shall name +it--] + + +THE LIVING TEMPLE. + + Not in the world of light alone, + Where God has built his blazing throne, + Nor yet alone in earth below, + With belted seas that come and go, + And endless isles of sunlit green, + Is all thy Maker's glory seen: + Look in upon thy wondrous frame,-- + Eternal wisdom still the same! + + The smooth, soft air with pulse-like waves + Flows murmuring through its hidden caves + Whose streams of brightening purple rush + Fired with a new and livelier blush, + While all their burden of decay + The ebbing current steals away, + And red with Nature's flame they start + From the warm fountains of the heart. + + No rest that throbbing slave may ask, + Forever quivering o'er his task, + While far and wide a crimson jet + Leaps forth to fill the woven net + Which in unnumbered crossing tides + The flood of burning life divides, + Then kindling each decaying part + Creeps back to find the throbbing heart. + + But warmed with that unchanging flame + Behold the outward moving frame, + Its living marbles jointed strong + With glistening band and silvery thong, + And linked to reason's guiding reins + By myriad rings in trembling chains, + Each graven with the threaded zone + Which claims it as the master's own. + + See how yon beam of seeming white + Is braided out of seven-hued light, + Yet in those lucid gloves no ray + By any chance shall break astray. + Hark how the rolling surge of sound, + Arches and spirals circling round, + Wakes the hushed spirit through thine ear + With music it is heaven to hear. + + Then mark the cloven sphere that holds + All thoughts in its mysterious folds, + That feels sensation's faintest thrill + And flashes for the sovereign will; + Think on the stormy world that dwells + Locked in its dim and clustering cells! + The lightning gleams of power it sheds + Along its hollow glassy threads! + + O Father! grant thy love divine + To make these mystic temples thine! + When wasting age and wearying strife + Have sapped the leaning walls of life, + When darkness gathers over all, + And the last tottering pillars fall, + Take the poor dust thy mercy warms + And mould it into heavenly forms! + + * * * * * + + +LITERARY NOTICES. + + +_Library of Old Authors.--Works of John Marston_. London: John Russell +Smith. 1856-7. + +Mr. Halliwell, at the close of his Preface to the Works of Marston, +(Vol. I. p. xxii.,) says, "The dramas now collected together are +reprinted absolutely from the early editions, which were placed in the +hands of our printers, who thus had the advantage of following them +without the intervention of a transcriber. They are given as nearly as +possible in their original state, the only modernizations attempted +consisting in the alternations of the letters _i_ and _j_, and _u_ and +_v_, the retention of which" (does Mr. Halliwell mean the letters or the +"alternations"?) "would have answered no useful purpose, while it would +have unnecessarily perplexed the modern reader." + +This not very clear; but as Mr. Halliwell is a member of several learned +foreign societies, and especially of the Royal _Irish_ Academy, perhaps +it would he unfair to demand that he should write clear English. As one +of Mr. Smith's editors, it was to be expected that he should not write +it idiomatically. Some malign constellation (Taurus, perhaps, whose +infaust aspect may be supposed to preside over the makers of bulls and +blunders) seems to have been in conjunction with heavy Saturn when the +Library was projected. At the top of the same page from which we have +made our quotation, Mr. Halliwell speaks of "conveying a favorable +impression _on_ modern readers." It was surely to no such phrase as this +that Ensign Pistol alluded when he said, "_Convey_ the _wise_ it call." + +A literal reprint of an old author may be of value in two ways: the +orthography may in certain cases indicate the ancient pronunciation, or +it may put us on a scent which shall lead us to the burrow of a word +among the roots of language. But in order to this, it surely is not +needful to undertake the reproduction of all the original errors of the +press; and even were it so, the proofs of carelessness in the editorial +department are so glaring, that we are left in doubt, after all, if we +may congratulate ourselves on possessing all these sacred blunders +of the Elizabethan typesetters in their integrity and without any +debasement of modern alloy. If it be gratifying to know that there lived +stupid men before our contemporary Agamemnons in that kind, yet we +demand absolute accuracy in the report of the _phenomena_ in order to +arrive at anything like safe statistics. For instance, we find (Vol. I. +p. 89) "ACTUS SECUNDUS, SCENA PRIMUS," and (Vol. III. p. 174) "_exit +ambo_," and we are interested to know that in a London printing-house, +two centuries and a half ago, there was a philanthropist who wished to +simplify the study of the Latin language by reducing all the nouns to +one gender and all the verbs to one number. Had his emancipated theories +of grammar prevailed, how much easier would that part of boys which +cherubs want have found the school-room benches! How would birchen bark, +as an educational tonic, have fallen in repute! How white would have +been the (now black-and-blue) memories of Dr. Busby and so many other +educational _lictors_, who, with their bundles of rods, heralded not +alone the consuls, but all other Roman antiquities to us! We dare not, +however, indulge in the grateful vision, since there are circumstances +which lead us to infer that Mr. Halliwell himself (member though he be +of so many learned societies) has those vague notions of the speech of +ancient Rome which are apt to prevail in regions which count not the +_betula_ in their _Flora_. On page xv. of his Preface, he makes +Drummond say that Ben Jonson "was dilated" (_delated_,--Gifford gives it +in English, _accused_) "to the king by Sir James Murray,"--Ben, whose +corpulent person stood in so little need of that malicious increment! + +What is Mr. Halliwell's conception of editorial duty? As we read along, +and the once fair complexion of the margin grew more and more pimply +with pencil-marks, like that of a bad proof-sheet, we began to think +that he was acting on the principle of every man his own washerwoman, +--that he was making blunders of set purpose, (as teachers of languages +do in their exercises,) in order that we might correct them for +ourselves, and so fit us in time to be editors also, and members of +various learned societies, even as Mr. Halliwell himself is. We fancied, +that, magnanimously waving aside the laurel with which a grateful +posterity crowned General Wade, he wished us "to see these roads +_before_ they were made," and develope our intellectual muscles in +getting over them. But no; Mr. Halliwell has appended notes to his +edition, and among them are some which correct misprints, and therefore +seem to imply that he considers that service as belonging properly to +the editorial function. We are obliged, then, to give up our theory that +his intention was to make every reader an editor, and to suppose that he +wished rather to show how disgracefully a book might be edited and yet +receive the commendation of professional critics who read with the ends +of their fingers. If this were his intention, Marston himself never +published so biting a satire. + +Let us look at a few of the intricate passages, to help us through +which Mr. Halliwell lends us the light of his editorial lantern. In the +Induction to "What you Will" occurs the striking and unusual phrase, +"Now out up-pont," and Mr. Halliwell favors us with the following note: +"Page 221, line 10. _Up-pont_.--That is, upon't." Again in the same play +we find-- + + "Let twattling fame cheatd others rest, + I um no dish for rumors feast." + +Of course, it should read,-- + + "Let twattling [twaddling] Fame cheate others' rest, + I am no dish for Rumor's feast." + +Mr. Halliwell comes to our assistance thus: "Page 244, line 21, [22 +it should be,] _I um_,--a printer's error for _I am." Dignus vindice +nodus_! Five lines above, we have "whole" for "who'll," and four lines +below, "helmeth" for "whelmeth"; but Mr. Halliwell vouchsafes no note. +In the "Fawn" we read, "Wise _neads_ use few words," and the editor says +in a note, "a misprint for _heads_"! Kind Mr. Halliwell! + +Having given a few examples of our "Editor's" corrections, we proceed to +quote a passage or two which, it is to be presumed, he thought perfectly +clear. + + "A man can skarce put on a tuckt-up cap, + A button'd frizado sute, skarce eate good meate, + _Anchoves, caviare_, but hee's satyred + And term'd phantasticall. By the muddy spawne + Of slymie neughtes, when troth, phantasticknesse-- + That which the naturall sophysters tearme + _Phantusia incomplexa_--is a function + Even of the bright immortal part of man. + It is the common passe, the sacred dore, + Unto the prive chamber of the soule; + That bar'd, nought passeth past the baser court. + Of outward scence by it th' inamorate + Most lively thinkes he sees the absent beauties + Of his lov'd mistres."--Vol. I. p. 241. + +In this case, also, the true readings are clear enough:-- + + "And termed fantastical by the muddy spawn + Of slimy newts"; + +and + + ----"past the baser court + Of outward sense";-- + +but, if anything was to be explained, why are we here deserted by our +_fida compagna_? + +Again, (Vol. II. pp. 55-56,) we read, "This Granuffo is a right wise +good lord, a man of excellent discourse, and never speakes his signes to +me, and men of profound reach instruct aboundantly; hee begges suites +with signes, gives thanks with signes," etc. + +This Granuffo is qualified among the "Interlocutors" as "a silent lord," +and what fun there is in the character (which, it must be confessed, is +rather of a lenten kind) consists in his genius for saying nothing. +It is plain enough that the passage should read, "a man of excellent +discourse, and never speaks; his signs to me and men of profound reach +instruct abundantly," etc. + +In both the passages we have quoted, it is not difficult for the reader +to set the text right. But if not difficult for the reader, it should +certainly not have been so for the editor, who should have done what +Broome was said to have done for Pope in his Homer,--"gone before and +swept the way." An edition of an English author ought to be intelligible +to English readers, and, if the editor do not make it so, he wrongs the +old poet, for two centuries lapt in lead, to whose works he undertakes +to play the gentleman-usher. A play written in our own tongue should not +be as tough to us as Aeschylus to a ten-years' graduate, nor do we wish +to be reduced to the level of a chimpanzee, and forced to gnaw our way +through a thick shell of misprints and mispointings only to find (as is +generally the case with Marston) a rancid kernel of meaning after all. +But even Marston sometimes deviates into poetry, as a man who wrote in +that age could hardly help doing, and one of the few instances of it +is in a speech of _Erichtho_, in the first scene of the fourth act of +"Sophonisba," (Vol. I. p. 197,) which Mr. Halliwell presents to us in +this shape:-- + + ----"hard by the reverent (!) ruines + Of a once glorious temple rear'd to Jove + Whose very rubbish.... + ....yet beares + A deathlesse majesty, though now quite rac'd, [razed,] + Hurl'd down by wrath and lust of impious kings, + So that where holy Flamins [Flamens] wont to sing + Sweet hymnes to Heaven, there the daw and crow, + The ill-voyc'd raven, and still chattering pye, + Send out ungratefull sounds and loathsome filth; + Where statues and Joves acts were vively limbs, + + * * * * * + + Where tombs and beautious urnes of well dead men + Stood in assured rest," etc. + +The verse and a half in Italics are worthy of Chapman; but why did not +Mr. Halliwell, who explains _up-pont_ and _I um_, change "Joves acts +were vively limbs" to "Jove's acts were lively limned," which was +unquestionably what Marston wrote? + +In the "Scourge of Villanie," (Vol. III. p. 252,) there is a passage +which has a modern application in America, though happily archaic in +England, which Mr. Halliwell suffers to stand thus:-- + + "Once Albion lived in such a cruel age + Than man did hold by servile vilenage: + Poore brats were slaves of bondmen that were borne, + And marted, sold: but that rude law is torne + And disannuld, as too too inhumane." + +This should read-- + + "_Man_ man did hold in servile villanage; + Poor brats were slaves (of bondmen that were born)"; + +and we hope that some American poet will one day be able to write in the +past tense similar verses of the barbarity of his forefathers. + +We will give one more scrap of Mr. Halliwell's text:-- + + "Yfaith, why then, caprichious mirth, + Skip, light moriscoes, in our frolick blond, + Flagg'd veines, sweete, plump with fresh-infused joyes!" + +which Marston, doubtless, wrote thus:-- + + "I'faith, why then, capricious Mirth, + Skip light moriscoes in our frolic blood! + Flagged veins, swell plump with fresh-infused joys!" + +We have quoted only a few examples from among the scores that we had +marked, and against such a style of "editing" we invoke the shade of +Marston himself. In the Preface to the Second Edition of the "Fawn," +he says, "Reader, know I have perused this coppy, _to make some +satisfaction for the first faulty impression; yet so urgent hath been my +business that some errors have styll passed, which thy discretion may +amend_." + +Literally, to be sure, Mr. Halliwell has availed himself of the +permission of the poet, in leaving all emendation to the reader; but +certainly he has been false to the spirit of it in his self-assumed +office of editor. The notes to explain _up-pont_ and _I um_ give us a +kind of standard of the highest intelligence which Mr. Halliwell dares +to take for granted in the ordinary reader. Supposing this _nousometer_ +of his to be a centigrade, in what hitherto unconceived depths of cold +obstruction can he find his zero-point of entire idiocy? The expansive +force of average wits cannot be reckoned upon, as we see, to drive them +up as far as the temperate degree of misprints in one syllable, and +those, too, in their native tongue. _A fortiori_, then, Mr. Halliwell is +bound to lend us the aid of his great learning wherever his author has +introduced foreign words and the old printers have made _pie_ of them. +In a single case he has accepted his responsibility as dragoman, and the +amount of his success is not such as to give us any poignant regret that +he has everywhere else left us to our own devices. On p. 119, Vol. II., +_Francischina_, a Dutchwoman, exclaims, "O, mine aderliver love." Here +is Mr. Halliwell's note. "_Aderliver_.--This is the speaker's error for +_alder-liever_, the best beloved by all." Certainly not "the _speaker's_ +error," for Marston was no such fool as intentionally to make a +Dutchwoman blunder in her own language. But is it an error for +_alder-liever?_ No, but for _alderliefster_. Mr. Halliwell might have +found it in many an old Dutch song. For example, No. 96 of Hoffmann von +Fallersleben's "Niederlaendische Volkslieder" begins thus:-- + + "Mijn hert altijt heeft verlanghen + Naer u, die _alderliefste_ mijn." + +But does the word mean "best beloved by all"? No such thing, of course; +but "best-beloved of all,"--that is, by the speaker. + +In "Antonio and Mellida" (Vol. I. pp. 50-51) occur some Italian verses, +and here we hoped to fare better; for Mr. Halliwell (as we learn from +the title-page of his Dictionary) is a member of the "_Reale Academia +di Firenze_." This is the _Accademia della Crusca_, founded for the +conservation of the Italian language in its purity, and it is rather +a fatal symptom that Mr. Halliwell should indulge in the heresy of +spelling _Accademia_ with only one _c_. But let us see what our Della +Cruscan's notions of conserving are. Here is a specimen:-- + + "Bassiammi, coglier l'aura odorata + Che in sua neggia in quello dolce labra. + Dammi pimpero del tuo gradit' amore." + +It is clear enough that the first and third verses ought to read, + + "Lasciami coglier,--Dammi l'impero," + +though we confess that we could make nothing of _in sua neggia_ till +an Italian friend suggested _ha sua seggia_. But a Della Cruscan +academician might at least have corrected by his dictionary the spelling +of _labra_. + +We think that we have sustained our indictment of Mr. Halliwell's text +with ample proof. The title of the book should have been, "The Works +of John Marston, containing all the Misprints of the Original Copies, +together with a few added for the First Time in this Edition, the whole +carefully let alone by James Orchard Halliwell, F.R.S., F.S.A." It +occurs to us that Mr. Halliwell may be also a Fellow of the Geological +Society, and may have caught from its members the enthusiasm which leads +him to attach so extraordinary a value to every goose-track of the +Elizabethan formation. It is bad enough to be, as Marston was, one of +those middling poets whom neither gods nor men nor columns (Horace had +never seen a newspaper) tolerate; but, really, even they do not deserve +the frightful retribution of being reprinted by a Halliwell. + +We have said that we could not feel even the dubious satisfaction of +knowing that the blunders of the old copies had been faithfully followed +in the reprinting. We see reason for doubting whether Mr. Halliwell ever +read the proof-sheets. In his own notes we have found several mistakes. +For instance, he refers to p. 159 when he means p. 153; he cites "I, +but her _life_," instead of "_lip_"; and he makes Spenser speak of "old +Pithonus." Marston is not an author of enough importance to make it +desirable that we should be put in possession of all the corrupted +readings of his text, were such a thing possible even with the most +minute painstaking, and Mr. Halliwell's edition loses its only claim to +value the moment a doubt is cast upon the accuracy of its inaccuracies. +It is a matter of special import to us (whose means of access to +originals are exceedingly limited) that the English editors of our old +authors should be faithful and trustworthy, and we have singled out Mr. +Halliwell's Marston for particular animadversion only because we think +it on the whole the worst edition we ever saw of any author. + +Having exposed the condition in which our editor has left the text, we +proceed to test his competency in another respect, by examining some of +the emendations and explanations of doubtful passages which he proposes. +These are very few; but had they been even fewer, they had been too +many. + +Among the _dramatis personae_ of the "Fawn," as we said before, occurs +"Granuffo, _a silent lord_." He speaks only once during the play, and +that in the last scene. In Act I., Scene 2, _Gonzago_ says, speaking to +_Granuffo_,-- + + "Now, sure, thou are a man + Of a most learned _scilence_, and one whose words + Have bin most pretious to me." + +This seems quite plain, but Mr. Halliwell annotates +thus:--"_Scilence_.--Query, _science?_ The common reading, _silence_, +may, however, be what is intended." That the spelling should have +troubled Mr. Halliwell is remarkable; for elsewhere we find "god-boy" +for "good-bye," "seace" for "cease," "bodies" for "boddice," "pollice" +for "policy," "pitittying" for "pitying," "scence" for "sense," +"Misenzius" for "Mezentius," "Ferazes" for "Ferrarese,"--and plenty +beside, equally odd. That he should have doubted the meaning is no less +strange; for on page 41 of the same play we read, "My Lord Granuffo, you +may likewise stay, for I know _you'l say nothing_,"--on pp. 55-56, "This +Granuffo is a right wise good lord, _a man of excellent discourse and +never speaks_,"--and on p. 94, we find the following dialogue:-- + +"_Gon._ My Lord Granuffo, this Fawne is an excellent fellow. + +"_Don._ Silence. + +"_Gon._ _I warrant you for my lord here._" + +In the same play (p. 44) are these lines.-- + + "I apt for love? + Let lazy idlenes, fild full of wine + Heated with meates, high fedde with lustfull ease + Goe dote on culler [color]. As for me, why, death a sence, + I court the ladie?" + +This is Mr. Halliwell's note:--"_Death a sence_.--'Earth a sense,' ed. +1633. Mr. Dilke suggests:--'For me, why, earth's as sensible.' The +original is not necessarily corrupt. It may mean,--why, you might as +well think Death was a sense, one of the senses. See a like phrase at +p. 77." What help we should get by thinking Death one of the senses, it +would demand another Oedipus to unriddle. Mr. Halliwell can astonish us +no longer, but we are surprised at Mr. Dilke, the very competent editor +of the "Old English Plays," 1815. From him we might have hoped for +better things. "Death o' sense!" is an exclamation. Throughout these +volumes we find _a_ for _o_',--as, "a clock" for "o'clock," "a the side" +for "o' the side." + +A similar exclamation is to be found in three other places in the same +play, where the sense is obvious. Mr. Halliwell refers to one of them +on p. 77,--"Death a man! is she delivered!" The others are,--"Death a +justice! are we in Normandy?" (p. 98); and "Death a discretion! if I +should prove a foole now," or, as given by Mr. Halliwell, "Death, a +discretion!" Now let us apply Mr. Halliwell's explanation. "Death a +man!" you might as well think Death was a man, that is, one of the +men!--or a discretion, that is, one of the discretions!--or a justice, +that is, one of the quorum! We trust Mr. Halliwell may never have the +editing of Bob Acres's imprecations. "Odd's triggers!" he would say, +"that is, as odd as, or as strange as, triggers." + +Vol. III., p. 77,--"the vote-killing mandrake." Mr. Halliwell's note +is, "_vote-killing_.--'Voice-killing,' ed. 1613. It may well he doubted +whether either be the correct reading." He then gives a familiar +citation from Browne's "Vulgar Errors." "Vote-killing" may be a mere +misprint for "note-killing," but "voice-killing" is certainly the better +reading. Either, however, makes sense. Although Sir Thomas Browne does +not allude to the deadly property of the mandrake's shriek, yet Mr. +Halliwell, who has edited Shakspeare, might have remembered the + + "Would curses kill, _as doth the mandrake's groan_," + (2d Part Henry VI., Act III. Scene 2.) + +and the notes thereon in the _variorum_ edition. In Jacob Grimm's +"Deutsche Mythologie," (Vol. II. p. 1154,) under the word _Alraun_, may +be found a full account of the superstitions concerning the mandrake. +"When it is dug up, it groans and shrieks so dreadfully that the digger +will surely die. One must, therefore, before sunrise on a Friday, having +first stopped one's ears with wax or cotton-wool, take with him an +entirely black dog without a white hair on him, make the sign of the +cross three times over the _alraun_, and dig about it till the root +holds only by thin fibres. Then tie these by a string to the tail of the +dog, show him a piece of bread, and run away as fast as possible. The +dog runs eagerly after the bread, pulls up the root, and falls stricken +dead by its groan of pain." + +These, we believe, are the only instances in which Mr. Halliwell has +ventured to give any opinion upon the text, except as to a palpable +misprint, here and there. Two of these we have already cited. There is +one other,--"p. 46, line 10. _Iuconstant_.--An error for _inconstant_." +Wherever there is a real difficulty, he leaves us in the lurch. For +example, in "What you Will," he prints without comment,-- + + "Ha! he mount Chirall on the wings of + fame!" (Vol. I. p. 239,) + +which should be "mount cheval," as it is given in Mr. Dilke's edition +(Old English Plays, Vol. II. p. 222). We cite this, not as the worst, +but the shortest, example at hand. + +Some of Mr. Halliwell's notes are useful and interesting,--as that +on "keeling the pot," and some others,--but a great part are utterly +useless. He thinks it necessary, for instance, to explain that "_to +speak pure foole_, is in sense equivalent to 'I will speak like a pure +fool,'"--that "belkt up" means "belched up,"--"aprecocks," "apricots." +He has notes also upon "meal-mouthed," "luxuriousnesse," "termagant," +"fico," "estro," "a nest of goblets," which indicate either that the +"general reader" is a less intelligent person in England than in +America, or that Mr. Halliwell's standard of scholarship is very low. +We ourselves, from our limited reading, can supply him with a reference +which will explain the allusion to the "Scotch barnacle" much +better than his citations from Sir John Maundeville and Giraldus +Cambrensis,--namely, note 8, on page 179 of a Treatise on Worms, by Dr. +Ramesey, court physician to Charles II. + +Next month we shall examine Mr. Hazlitt's edition of Webster. + + +_Waverley Novels_. Household Edition. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. 16mo. + +This beautiful edition of Scott's Novels will be completed in +forty-eight volumes. Thirty are already published, and the remaining +eighteen will be issued at the rate of two volumes a month. As this +edition, in the union of elegance of mechanical execution with cheapness +of price, is the best which has yet been published in the United States, +and reflects great credit on the taste and enterprise of the publishers, +its merits should be universally known. The paper is white, the type new +and clear, the illustrations excellent, the volumes of convenient size, +the notes placed at the foot of the page, and the text enriched with the +author's latest corrections. It is called the "Household Edition"; +and we certainly think it would be a greater adornment, and should be +considered a more indispensable necessity, than numerous articles of +expensive furniture, which, in too many households, take the place of +such books. + +The success of this edition, which has been as great as that of most new +novels, is but another illustration of the permanence of Scott's hold on +the general imagination, resulting from the instinctive sagacity with +which he perceived and met its wants. The generation of readers for +which he wrote has mostly passed away; new fashions in fiction have +risen, had their day, and disappeared; he has been subjected to much +acute and profound criticism of a disparaging kind; and at present +he has formidable rivals in a number of novelists, both eminent and +popular;--yet his fame has quietly and steadily widened with time, the +"reading public" of our day is as much his public as the reading public +of his own, and there has been no period since he commenced writing when +there were not more persons familiar with his novels than with those of +any other author. Some novelists are more highly estimated by certain +classes of minds, but no other comprehends in his popularity so many +classes, and few bear so well that hardest of tests, re-perusal. Many +novels stimulate us more, and while we are reading them we think they +are superior to Scott's; but we miss, in the general impression they +leave on the mind, that peculiar charm which, in Scott, calls us back, +after a few years, to his pages, to revive the recollection of scenes +and characters which may be fading away from our memories. We doubt, +also, if any other novelist has, in a like degree, the power of +instantaneously withdrawing so wide a variety of readers from the +perplexities and discomforts of actual existence, and making them for +the time denizens of a new world. He has stimulating elements enough, +and he exhibits masterly art in the wise economy with which he uses +them; but he still stimulates only to invigorate; and when he enlivens +jaded minds, it is rather by infusing fresh life than by applying fierce +excitements, and there is consequently no reaction of weariness and +disgust. He appeases, satisfies, and enchants, rather than stings and +inflames. The interest he rouses is not of that absorbing nature which +exhausts from its very intensity, but is of that genial kind which +continuously holds the pleased attention while the story is in progress, +and remains in the mind as a delightful memory after the story is +finished. It may also be said of his characters, that, if some other +novelists have exhibited a finer and firmer power in delineating higher +or rarer types of humanity, Scott is still unapproached in this, that he +has succeeded in domesticating his creations in the general heart and +brain, and thus obtained the endorsement of human nature as evidence of +their genuineness. His characters are the friends and acquaintances of +everybody,--quoted, referred to, gossipped about, discussed, criticized, +as though they were actual beings. He, as an individual, is almost lost +sight of in the imaginary world his genius has peopled; and most of +his readers have a more vivid sense of the reality of Dominie Sampson, +Jennie Deans, or any other of his characterizations, than they have of +himself. And the reason is obvious. They know Dominie Sampson through +Scott; they know Scott only through Lockhart. Still, it is certain that +the nature of Scott, that essential nature which no biography can give, +underlies, animates, disposes, and permeates all the natures he has +delineated. It is this, which, in the last analysis, is found to be the +source of his universal popularity, and which, without analysis, is felt +as a continual charm by all his readers, whether they live in palaces or +cottages. His is a nature which is welcomed everywhere, because it is at +home everywhere. The mere power and variety of his imagination cannot +account for his influence; for the same power and variety might have +been directed by a discontented and misanthropic spirit, or have obeyed +the impulses of selfish and sensual passions, and thus conveyed a bitter +or impure view of human nature and human life. It is, then, the man +in the imagination, the cheerful, healthy, vigorous, sympathetic, +good-natured, and broad-natured Walter Scott himself, who, modestly +hidden, as he seems to be, behind the characters and scenes he +represents, really streams through them the peculiar quality of life +which makes their abiding charm. He has been accepted by humanity, +because he is so heartily humane,--humane, not merely as regards man in +the abstract, but as regards man in the concrete. + +We have spoken of the number of his readers, and of his capacity to +interest all classes of people; but we suppose, that, in our day, when +everybody knows how to read without always knowing what to read, even +Scott has failed to reach a multitude of persons abundantly capable of +receiving pleasure from his writings, but who, in their ignorance of +him, are content to devour such frightful trash in the shape of novels +as they accidentally light upon in a leisure hour. One advantage of such +an edition of his works as that which has occasioned these remarks is, +that it tends to awaken attention anew to his merits, to spread his fame +among the generation of readers now growing up, and to place him in +the public view fairly abreast of unworthy but clamorous claimants for +public regard, as inferior to him in the power to impart pleasure as +they are inferior to him in literary excellence. That portion of the +public who read bad novels cannot be reached by criticism; but if they +could only be reached by Scott, they would quickly discover and resent +the swindle of which they have so long been the victims. + + +_A Dictionary of Medical Science_, etc. By ROBLEY DUNGLISON, M.D., LL.D. +Revised and very greatly enlarged. + +It does not fall within our province to enter into a minute examination +of a professional work like the one before us. As a Medical Dictionary +is a book, however, which every general reader will find convenient at +times, and as we have long employed this particular dictionary with +great satisfaction, we do not hesitate to devote a few sentences to its +notice. + +We remember when it was first published in 1833, meagre, as compared +with its present affluence of information. A few years later a second +edition was honorably noticed in the "British and Foreign Medical +Review." At that time it was only half the size of Hooper's well-known +Medical Dictionary, but by its steady growth in successive editions it +has reached that obesity which is tolerable in books we consult, but +hardly in such as we read. The labor expended in preparing the work +must have been immense, and, unlike most of our stereotyped medical +literature, it has increased by true interstitial growth, instead of +by mere accretion, or of remaining essentially stationary--with the +exception of the title-page. + +We can confidently recommend this work as a most ample and convenient +book of reference upon Anatomy, Physiology, Climate, and other subjects +likely to be occasionally interesting to the general reader, as well as +upon all practical matters connected with the art of healing. + +In the present state of education and intelligence, he must be a dull +person who does not frequently find a question arising on some point +connected with this range of studies. The student will find in this +dictionary an enormous collection of synonymes in various languages, +brief accounts of almost everything medical ever heard of, and full +notices of many of the more important subjects treated,--such as +Climate, Diet, Falsification of Drugs, Feigned Diseases, Muscles, +Poisons, and many others. + +Here and there we notice blemishes, as must be expected in so huge +a collection of knowledge. Thus, _Bronchlemmitis_ is not _Polypus +bronchialis_, but _Croup_.--The accent of _laryngeal_ and _pharyngeal_ +is incorrectly placed on the third syllable. In this wilderness of words +we look in vain for the New York provincialism "Sprue." The work has +a right to some scores, perhaps hundreds, of such errors, without +forfeiting its character. If the Elzevirs could not print the "Corpus +Juris Civilis" without a false heading to a chapter, we may excuse a +dictionary-maker and his printer for an occasional slip. But it is a +most useful book, and scholars will find it immensely convenient. + + +_Scenes of Clerical Life_. By GEORGE ELIOT. Originally published in +"Blackwood's Magazine." New York: Harper & Brothers. 1858. + +Fiction represents the character of the age to which it belongs, not +merely by actual delineations of its times, like those of "Tom Jones" +and "The Newcomer," but also in an indirect, though scarcely less +positive manner, by its exhibition of the influence of the times upon +its own form and general direction, whatever the scene or period it may +have chosen for itself. The story of "Hypatia" is laid in Alexandria +almost two thousand years ago, but the book reflects the crudities of +modern English thought; and even Mr. Thackeray, the greatest +living master of costume, succeeds in making his "Esmond" only a +joint-production of the Addisonian age and our own. Thus the novels of +the last few years exhibit very clearly the spirit that characterizes +the period of regard for men and women as men and women, without +reference to rank, beauty, fortune, or privilege. Novelists recognize +that Nature is a better romance-maker than the fancy, and the public is +learning that men and women are better than heroes and heroines, not +only to live with, but also to read of. Now and then, therefore, we get +a novel, like these "Scenes of Clerical Life," in which the fictitious +element is securely based upon a broad groundwork of actual truth, truth +as well in detail as in general. + +It is not often, however, even yet, that we find a writer wholly +unembarrassed by and in revolt against the old theory of the necessity +of perfection in some one at least of the characters of his story. +"Neither Luther nor John Bunyan," says the author of this book, "would +have satisfied the modern demand for an ideal hero, who believes nothing +but what is true, feels nothing but what is excellent, and does nothing +but what is graceful." + +Sometimes, indeed, a daring romance-writer ventures, during the earlier +chapters of his story, to represent a heroine without beauty and without +wealth, or a hero with some mortal blemish. But after a time his +resolution fails;--each new chapter gives a new charm to the ordinary +face; the eyes grow "liquid" and "lustrous," always having been "large"; +the nose, "naturally delicate," exhibits its "fine-cut lines"; the mouth +acquires an indescribable expression of loveliness; and the reader's +hoped-for Fright is transformed by Folly or Miss Pickering into a +commonplace, tiresome, _novelesque_ Beauty. Even Miss Bronte relented +toward Jane Eyre; and weaker novelists are continually repeating, +but with the omission of the moral, the story of the "Ugly Duck." +Unquestionably, there is the excuse to be made for this great error, +that it betrays the seeking after an Ideal. Dangerous word! The ideal +standard of excellence is, to be sure, fortunately changing, and the +unreal ideal will soon be confined to the second-rate writers for +second-rate readers. But all the great novelists of the two last +generations indulged themselves and their readers in these unrealities. +It is vastly easier to invent a consistent character than to represent +an inconsistent one;--a hero is easier to make (so all historians have +found) than a man. + +Suppose, however, novelists could be placed in a society made up of +their favorite characters,--forced into real, lifelike intercourse with +them;--Richardson, for instance, with his Harriet Byron or Clarissa, +attended by Sir Charles; Miss Burney with Lord Orville and Evelina; +Miss Edgeworth with Caroline Percy, and that marvellous hero, Count +Altenburg; Scott with the automatons that he called Waverley and Flora +McIvor. Suppose they were brought together to share the comforts (cold +comforts they would be) of life, to pass days together, to meet every +morning at breakfast; with what a ludicrous sense of relief, at the +close of this purgatorial period, would not the unhappy novelists +have fled from these deserted heroes and heroines, and the precious +proprieties of their romance, to the very driest and mustiest of human +bores,--gratefully rejoicing that the world was not filled with such +creatures as they themselves had set before it as _ideals_! + +To copy Nature faithfully and heartily is certainly not less needful +when stories are presented in words than when they are told on canvas or +in marble. In the "Scenes from Clerical Life" we have a happy example of +such copying. The three stories embraced under this title are written +vigorously, with a just appreciation of the romance of reality, and with +honest adherence to truth of representation in the sombre as well as the +brighter portions of life. It demands not only a large intellect, but a +large heart, to gain such a candid and inclusive appreciation of life +and character as they display. The greater part of each story reads like +a reminiscence of real life, and the personages introduced show little +sign of being "rubbed down" or "touched up and varnished" for effect. +The narrative is easy and direct, full of humor and pathos; and the +descriptions of simple life in a country village are often charming from +their freshness, vivacity, and sweetness. More than this, these stories +give proof of that wide range of experience which does not so much +depend on an extended or varied acquaintance with the world, as upon an +intelligent and comprehensive sympathy, which makes each new person with +whom one is connected a new illustration of the unsolved problems of +life and a new link in the unending chain of human development. + +The book is one that deserves a more elegant form than that which the +Messrs. Harper have given it in their reprint. + + +_Twin Roses: A Narrative._ By ANNA CORA RITCHIE, Author of +"Autobiography of an Actress," "Mimic Life," etc. Boston: Ticknor & +Fields. 16mo. + +This volume belongs to a series of narratives intended to illustrate +Mrs. Ritchie's experiences of theatrical life, and especially to do +justice to the many admirable people who have adopted the stage as +a profession. Though it has many defects, in respect to plot and +characterization, it seems to us the most charming in style and +beautiful in sentiment of Mrs. Ritchie's works. The two sisters, the +"twin roses," are, we believe, drawn from life; but the author's own +imagination has enveloped them in an atmosphere of romantic sweetness, +and their qualities are fondly exaggerated into something like +unreality. They seem to have been first idolized and then idealized, but +never realized. Still, the most beautiful and tender passages of the +whole book are those in which they are lovingly portrayed. The scenes +in the theatre are generally excellent. The perils, pains, pleasures, +failures, and triumphs of the actor's life are well described. The +defect, which especially mars the latter portion of the volume, is the +absence of any artistic reason for the numerous descriptions of scenery +which are introduced. The tourist and the novelist do not happily +combine. Still, the sentiment of the book is so pure, fresh, and +artless, its moral tone so high, its style so rich and melodious, and +its purpose so charitable and good, that the reader is kept in pleased +attention to the end, and lays it down with regret. + + * * * * * + + +EDITORIAL NOTE. + + +In our review of Parton's Life of Burr, published in the March number, +the following passage occurs, as a quotation from that work:--"Hamilton +probably implanted a dislike for Burr in Washington's breast." + +Upon this the author of the biography has had the effrontery to bring +against us a charge of _forgery_. He affirms that neither the sentence +above quoted nor any resembling it can be found in his book. + +Mr. Parton, speaking of Washington's refusal to nominate Burr to the +French mission, (p. 197,) speaks of the President's dislike for him; +and, endeavoring to account for it, says: "Reflecting upon this +circumstance, the idea will occur to the individual long immersed in the +reading of that period, _that this invincible dislike of Colonel Burr +was perhaps implanted, certainly nourished, in the mind of General +Washington by his useful friend and adherent, Alexander Hamilton."_ + +We do not wonder that Mr. Parton should have been annoyed by so damaging +a criticism of his book, but we can account for his forgetfulness only +by supposing that he has been so long "immersed in the reading of +that period" as to have arrived nearly at the drowning-point of +insensibility. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 7, May, +1858, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ATLANTIC MONTHLY *** + +***** This file should be named 12374.txt or 12374.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/3/7/12374/ + +Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed +Proofreaders. 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