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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 51,
+January, 1862, 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: The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 51, January, 1862
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: November 2, 2004 [EBook #13924]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Barbara Tozier and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders. Produced from Page Scans Provided by Cornell University.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
+
+A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VOLUME IX.
+
+M DCCC LXII.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    [Transcriber's note: Converted page numbers to issue numbers.]
+
+
+CONTENTS.                                         ISSUE.
+
+A.C., The Experiences of the,                     52.
+Agnes of Sorrento,                                51, 52, 53, 54.
+American Civilization,                            54.
+Author of "Charles Auchester," The,               56.
+Autobiographical Sketches of a Strength-Seeker,   51.
+
+Childhood, Concerning the Sorrows of,             53.
+Clough, Arthur Hugh,                              54.
+Cooper, James Fenimore,                           52.
+
+Ease in Work,                                     52.
+
+Forester, The,                                    54.
+Fremont's Hundred Days in Missouri,               51, 52, 53.
+Fruits of Free Labor in the Smaller Islands
+  of the British West Indies,                     53.
+
+German Burns, The,                                54.
+
+Health of Our Girls, The,                         56.
+Hindrance,                                        55.
+Horrors of San Domingo, The,                      56.
+
+Individuality,                                    54.
+
+Jefferson and Slavery,                            51.
+John Lamar,                                       54.
+
+Letter to a Young Contributor,                    54.
+Light Literature,                                 51.
+Love and Skates,                                  51, 52.
+
+Man under Sealed Orders,                          55.
+Methods of Study in Natural History,              51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56.
+My Garden,                                        55.
+
+Old Age,                                          51.
+Our Artists in Italy,                             52.
+
+Père Antoine's Date-Palm,                         56.
+Pilgrimage to Old Boston,                         51.
+
+Raft that no Man made, A,                         53.
+Richelieu, The Statesmanship of,                  55.
+Rifle, The Use of the,                            53.
+
+Saltpetre as a Source of Power,                   55.
+Sam Adams Regiments in the Town of Boston, The,   56.
+Slavery, in its Principles, Development,
+  and Expedients,                                 55.
+Snow,                                             52.
+"Solid Operations in Virginia",                   56.
+South Breaker, The,                               55, 56.
+Spain, The Rehabilitation of,                     53.
+Spirits,                                          55.
+Story of To-Day, A,                               51, 52, 53.
+
+Taxation,                                         53.
+Then and Now in the Old Dominion,                 54.
+
+Walking,                                          56.
+War and Literature,                               56.
+Weather in War,                                   55.
+What shall We do with Them?,                      54.
+
+
+POETRY.
+
+Astraea at the Capitol,                           56.
+At Port Royal, 1861,                              52.
+
+Battle-Hymn of the Republic,                      52.
+Birdofredum Sawin, Esq., to Mr. Hosea Biglow,     51, 53.
+
+Compensation,                                     54.
+
+Exodus,                                           54.
+
+Lines written under a Portrait of Theodore
+  Winthrop,                                       55.
+Lyrics of the Street,                             55.
+
+Mason and Slidell: A Yankee Idyl,                 52.
+Message of Jeff Davis in Secret Session, A,       54.
+Midwinter,                                        52.
+Mountain Pictures,                                53, 54.
+
+Order for a Picture, An,                          56.
+Out of the Body to God,                           56.
+
+Per Tenebras, Lumina,                             51.
+
+Sonnet,                                           56.
+Southern Cross, The,                              53.
+Speech of Hon'ble Preserved Doe in Secret
+  Caucus,                                         55.
+Strasburg Clock, The,                             54.
+Sunthin' in the Pastoral Line,                    56.
+
+Titmouse, The,                                    55.
+True Heroine, The,                                51.
+
+Under the Snow,                                   55.
+
+Volunteer, The,                                   55.
+Voyage of the Good Ship Union,                    53.
+
+
+REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+Arnold's Lectures on translating Homer,           51.
+
+Book about Doctors, A,                            54.
+Botta's Discourse on the Life, Character,
+  and Policy of Count Cavour,                     55.
+
+Cloister and the Hearth, The,                     52.
+
+De Vere, Aubrey, Poems by,                        54.
+Dickens's Works, Household Edition,               55.
+
+Harris's Insects Injurious to Vegetation,         55.
+
+John Brent,                                       54.
+
+Leigh Hunt, Correspondence of,                    55.
+Lessons in Life,                                  51.
+
+Müller's Lectures on the Science of Language,     51.
+
+Newman's Homeric Translation in Theory and
+  in Practice,                                    51.
+
+Pauli's Pictures of Old England,                  55.
+
+Record of an Obscure Man,                         55.
+
+Tragedy of Errors,                                55.
+
+Willmott's English Sacred Poetry,                 52.
+
+
+FOREIGN LITERATURE,                               54, 55.
+
+
+OBITUARY,                                         51.
+
+
+RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS,                     52, 53, 54, 55.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
+
+A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VOL. IX.--JANUARY, 1862.--NO. LI.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+METHODS OF STUDY IN NATURAL HISTORY.
+
+
+I.
+
+It is my intention, in this series of papers, to give the history of the
+progress in Natural History from the beginning,--to show how men first
+approached Nature,--how the facts of Natural History have been
+accumulated, and how those facts have been converted into science. In so
+doing, I shall present the methods employed in Natural History on a wider
+scale and with broader generalizations than if I limited myself to the
+study as it exists to-day. The history of humanity, in its efforts to
+understand the Creation, resembles the development of any individual mind
+engaged in the same direction. It has its infancy, with the first
+recognition of surrounding objects; and, indeed, the early observers seem
+to us like children in their first attempts to understand the world in
+which they live. But these efforts, that appear childish to us now, were
+the first steps in that field of knowledge which is so extensive that all
+our progress seems only to show us how much is left to do.
+
+Aristotle is the representative of the learning of antiquity in Natural
+Science. The great mind of Greece in his day, and a leader in all the
+intellectual culture of his time, he was especially a naturalist, and his
+work on Natural History is a record not only of his own investigations,
+but of all preceding study in this department. It is evident that even
+then much had been done, and, in allusion to certain peculiarities of the
+human frame, which he does not describe in full, he refers his readers to
+familiar works, saying, that illustrations in point may be found in
+anatomical text-books.[1]
+
+    [1] See Aristotle's _Zoölogy_, Book I., Chapter xiv.
+
+Strange that in Aristotle's day, two thousand years ago, such books should
+have been in general use, and that in our time we are still in want of
+elementary text-books of Natural History, having special reference to the
+animals of our own country, and adapted to the use of schools. One fact in
+Aristotle's "History of Animals" is very striking, and makes it difficult
+for us to understand much of its contents. It never occurs to him that a
+time may come when the Greek language--the language of all culture and
+science in his time--would not be the language of all cultivated men. He
+took, therefore, little pains to characterize the animals he alludes to,
+otherwise than by their current names; and of his descriptions of their
+habits and peculiarities, much is lost upon us from their local character
+and expression. There is also a total absence of systematic form, of any
+classification or framework to express the divisions of the animal kingdom
+into larger or lesser groups. His only divisions are genera and species:
+classes, orders, and families, as we understand them now, are quite
+foreign to the Greek conception of the animal kingdom. Fishes and birds,
+for instance, they considered as genera, and their different
+representatives as species. They grouped together quadrupeds also in
+contradistinction to animals with legs and wings, and they distinguished
+those that bring forth living young from those that lay eggs. But though a
+system of Nature was not familiar even to their great philosopher, and
+Aristotle had not arrived at the idea of a classification on general
+principles, he yet stimulated a search into the closer affinities among
+animals by the differences he pointed out. He divided the animal kingdom
+into two groups, which he called _Enaima_ and _Anaima_, or animals with
+blood and animals without blood. We must remember, however, that by the
+word _blood_ he designated only the red fluid circulating in the higher
+animals; whereas a fluid akin to blood exists in all animals, variously
+colored in some, but colorless in a large number of others.
+
+After Aristotle, a long period elapsed without any addition to the
+information he left us. Rome and the Middle Ages gave us nothing, and even
+Pliny added hardly a fact to those that Aristotle recorded. And though the
+great naturalists of the sixteenth century gave a new impulse to this
+study, their investigations were chiefly directed towards a minute
+acquaintance with the animals they had an opportunity of observing,
+mingled with commentaries upon the ancients. Systematic Zoölogy was but
+little advanced by their efforts.
+
+We must come down to the last century, to Linnæus, before we find the
+history taken up where Aristotle had left it, and some of his suggestions
+carried out with new vigor and vitality. Aristotle had distinguished only
+between genera and species; Linnæus took hold of this idea, and gave
+special names to other groups, of different weight and value. Besides
+species and genera, he gives us orders and classes,--considering classes
+the most comprehensive, then orders, then genera, then species. He did
+not, however, represent these groups as distinguished by their nature, but
+only by their range; they were still to him, as genera and species had
+been to Aristotle, only larger or smaller groups, not founded upon and
+limited by different categories of structure. He divided the animal
+kingdom into six classes, which I give here, as we shall have occasion to
+compare them with other classifications:--_Mammalia_, _Birds_, _Reptiles_,
+_Fishes_, _Insects_, _Worms_.
+
+That this classification should have expressed all that was known in the
+last century of the most general relations among animals only shows how
+difficult it is to generalize on such a subject; nor should we expect to
+find it an easy task, when we remember the vast number of species (about a
+quarter of a million) already noticed by naturalists. Linnæus succeeded,
+however, in finding a common character on which to unite most of his
+classes; but the Mammalia, that group to which we ourselves belong,
+remained very imperfect. Indeed, in the earlier editions of his
+classification, he does not apply the name of Mammalia to this class, but
+calls the higher animals _Quadrupedia_, characterizing them as the animals
+with four legs and covered with fur or hair, that bring forth living young
+and nurse them with milk. In thus admitting external features as class
+characters, he excluded many animals which by their mode of reproduction,
+as well as by their respiration and circulation, belong to this class as
+much as the Quadrupeds,--as, for instance, all the Cetaceans, (Whales,
+Porpoises, and the like,) which, though they have not legs, nor are their
+bodies covered with hair or fur, yet bring forth living young, nurse them
+with milk, are warm-blooded and air-breathing. As more was learned of
+these animals, there arose serious discussion and criticism among
+contemporary naturalists respecting the classification of Linnæus, all of
+which led to a clearer insight into the true relations among animals.
+Linnæus himself, in his last edition of the "Systema Naturæ," shows us
+what important progress he had made since he first announced his views;
+for he there substitutes for the name of _Quadrupedia_ that of _Mammalia_,
+including among them the Whales, which he characterizes as air-breathing,
+warm-blooded, and bringing forth living young which they nurse with milk.
+Thus the very deficiencies of his classification stimulated naturalists to
+new criticism and investigation into the true limits of classes, and led
+to the recognition of one most important principle,--that such groups are
+founded, not on external appearance, but on internal structure, and that
+internal structure, therefore, is the thing to be studied. The group of
+Quadrupeds was not the only defective one in this classification of
+Linnæus; his class of Worms, also, was most heterogeneous, for he included
+among them Shell-Fishes, Slugs, Star-Fishes, Sea-Urchins, and other
+animals that bear no relation whatever to the class of Worms.
+
+But whatever its defects, the classification of Linnæus was the first
+attempt at grouping animals together according to certain common
+structural characters. His followers and pupils engaged at once in a
+scrutiny of the differences and similarities among animals, which soon led
+to a great increase in the number of classes: instead of six, there were
+presently nine, twelve, and more. But till Cuvier's time there was no
+great principle of classification. Facts were accumulated and more or less
+systematized, but they were not yet arranged according to law; the
+principle was still wanting by which to generalize them and give meaning
+and vitality to the whole. It was Cuvier who found the key. He himself
+tells us how he first began, in his investigations upon the internal
+organization of animals, to use his dissections with reference to finding
+the true relations between animals, and how, ever after, his knowledge of
+anatomy assisted him in his classifications, and his classifications threw
+new light again on his anatomical investigations,--each science thus
+helping to fertilize the other. He was not one of those superficial
+observers who are in haste to announce every new fact that they chance to
+find, and his first paper[2] specially devoted to classification gave to
+the world the ripe fruit of years of study. This was followed by his great
+work, "Le Règne Animal." He said that animals were united in their most
+comprehensive groups, not on special characters, but on different _plans
+of structure_,--moulds, he called them, in which all animals had been
+cast. He tells us this in such admirable language that I must, to do
+justice to his thought, give it in his own words:--
+
+    "Si l'on considère le règne animal d'après les principes que nous
+    venons de poser en se débarrassant des préjugés établis sur les
+    divisions anciennement admises, en n'ayant égard qu'à
+    l'organisation et à la nature des animaux, et non pas à leur
+    grandeur, à leur utilité, au plus ou moins de connaissance que
+    nous en avons, ni à toutes les autres circonstances accessoires,
+    on trouvera qu'il existe quatre formes principales, quatre plans
+    généraux, si l'on peut s'exprimer ainsi, d'après lesquels tous les
+    animaux semblent avoir été modelés, et dont les divisions
+    ultérieures, de quelque titre que les naturalistes les aient
+    décorées, ne sont que des modifications assez légères, fondées sur
+    le développement ou l'addition de quelques parties, qui ne
+    changent rien à l'essence du plan."
+
+    [2] Sur un nouveau rapprochement à établir entre les Classes qui
+        composent le Règne Animal.  _Ann. Mus._, Vol. XIX.
+
+The value of this principle was soon tested by its application to facts
+already known, and it was found that animals whose affinities had been
+questionable before were now at once referred to their true relations with
+other animals by ascertaining whether they were built on one or another of
+these plans. Of such plans or structural conceptions Cuvier found in the
+whole animal kingdom only four, which he called _Vertebrates_, _Mollusks_,
+_Articulates_, and _Radiates_.
+
+With this new principle as the basis of investigation, it was no longer
+enough for the naturalist to know a certain amount of features
+characteristic of a certain number of animals,--he must penetrate deep
+enough into their organization to find the secret of their internal
+structure. Till he can do this, he is like the traveller in a strange
+city, who looks on the exterior of edifices entirely new to him, but knows
+nothing of the plan of their internal architecture. To be able to read in
+the finished structure the plan on which the whole is built is now
+essential to every naturalist.
+
+There have been many criticisms on this division of Cuvier's, and many
+attempts to change it; but though some improvements have been made in the
+details of his classification, all departures from its great fundamental
+principle are errors, and do but lead us away from the recognition of the
+true affinities among animals.
+
+Each of these plans may be stated in the most general terms. In the
+_Vertebrates_ there is a vertebral column terminating in a prominent head;
+this column has an arch above and an arch below, forming a double internal
+cavity. The parts are symmetrically arranged on either side of the
+longitudinal axis of the body. In the _Mollusks_, also, the parts are
+arranged according to a bilateral symmetry on either side of the body, but
+the body has but one cavity, and is a soft, concentrated mass, without a
+distinct individualization of parts. In the _Articulates_ there is but one
+cavity, and the parts are here again arranged on either side of the
+longitudinal axis, but in these animals the whole body is divided from end
+to end into transverse rings or joints movable upon each other. In the
+_Radiates_ we lose sight of the bilateral symmetry so prevalent in the
+other three, except as a very subordinate element of structure; the plan
+of this lowest type is an organic sphere, in which all parts bear definite
+relations to a vertical axis.
+
+It is not upon any special features, then, that these largest divisions of
+the animal kingdom are based, but simply upon the general structural idea.
+Striking as this statement was, it was coldly received at first by
+contemporary naturalists: they could hardly grasp Cuvier's wide
+generalizations, and perhaps there was also some jealousy of the grandeur
+of his views. Whatever the cause, his principle of classification was not
+fully appreciated; but it opened a new road for study, and gave us the
+keynote to the natural affinities among animals. Lamarck, his
+contemporary, not recognizing the truth of this principle, distributed the
+animal kingdom into two great divisions, which he calls _Vertebrates_ and
+_Invertebrates_. Ehrenberg also, at a later period, announced another
+division under two heads,--those with a continuous solid nervous centre,
+and those with merely scattered nervous swellings.[3]
+
+    [3] For more details upon the different systems of Zoölogy, see
+        Agassiz's Essay on Classification in his _Contributions to the
+        Natural History of the United States_, Vol. I.
+
+But there was no real progress in either of these latter classifications,
+so far as the primary divisions are concerned; for they correspond to the
+old division of Aristotle, under the head of animals with or without
+blood, the _Enaima_ and _Anaima_. This coincidence between systems based
+on different foundations may teach us that every structural combination
+includes certain inherent necessities which will bring animals together on
+whatever set of features we try to classify them; so that the division of
+Aristotle, founded on the circulating fluids, or that of Lamarck, on the
+absence or presence of a backbone, or that of Ehrenberg, on the
+differences of the nervous system, cover the same ground. Lamarck
+attempted also to use the faculties of animals as a groundwork for
+division among them. But our knowledge of the psychology of animals is
+still too imperfect to justify any such use of it. His divisions into
+Apathetic, Sensitive, and Intelligent animals are entirely theoretical. He
+places, for instance, Fishes and Reptiles among the Intelligent animals,
+as distinguished from Crustacea and Insects, which he refers to the second
+division. But one would be puzzled to say how the former manifest more
+intelligence than the latter, or why the latter should be placed among the
+Sensitive animals. Again, some of the animals that he calls Apathetic have
+been proved by later investigators to show an affection and care for their
+young, seemingly quite inconsistent with the epithet he has applied to
+them. In fact, we know so little of the faculties of animals that any
+classification based upon our present information about them must be very
+imperfect.
+
+Many modifications of Cuvier's great divisions have been attempted. Some
+naturalists, for instance, have divided off a part of the Radiates and
+Articulates, insisting upon some special features of structure, and
+mistaking these for the more important and general characteristics of
+their respective plans. All subsequent investigations of such would-be
+improvements show them to be retrograde movements, only proving more
+clearly that Cuvier detected in his four plans all the great structural
+ideas on which the vast variety of animals is founded. This result is of
+greater importance than may at first appear. Upon it depends the question,
+whether all such classifications represent merely individual impressions
+and opinions of men, or whether there is really something in Nature that
+presses upon us certain divisions among animals, certain affinities,
+certain limitations, founded upon essential principles of organization.
+Are our systems the inventions of naturalists, or only their reading of
+the Book of Nature? and can that book have more than one reading? If these
+classifications are not mere inventions, if they are not an attempt to
+classify for our own convenience the objects we study, then they are
+thoughts which, whether we detect them or not, are expressed in
+Nature,--then Nature is the work of thought, the production of
+intelligence carried out according to plan, therefore premeditated,--and
+in our study of natural objects we are approaching the thoughts of the
+Creator, reading His conceptions, interpreting a system that is His and
+not ours.
+
+All the divergence from the simplicity and grandeur of this division of
+the animal kingdom arises from an inability to distinguish between a plan
+and the execution, of a plan. We allow the details to shut out the plan
+itself, which exists quite independent of special forms. I hope we shall
+find a meaning in all these plans that will prove them to be the parts of
+one great conception and the work of one Mind.
+
+
+II.
+
+Proceeding upon the view that there is a close analogy between the way in
+which every individual student penetrates into Nature and the progress of
+science as a whole in the history of humanity, I continue my sketch of the
+successive steps that have led to our present state of knowledge. I began
+with Aristotle, and showed that this great philosopher, though he prepared
+a digest of all the knowledge belonging to his time, yet did not feel the
+necessity of any system or of any scientific language differing from the
+common mode of expression of his day. He presents his information as a man
+with his eyes open narrates in a familiar style what he sees. As
+civilization spread and science had its representatives in other countries
+besides Greece, it became indispensable to have a common scientific
+language, a technical nomenclature, combining many objects under common
+names, and enabling every naturalist to express the results of his
+observations readily and simply in a manner intelligible to all other
+students of Natural History.
+
+Linnæus devised such a system, and to him we owe a most simple and
+comprehensive scientific mode of designating animals and plants. It may at
+first seem no advantage to give up the common names of the vernacular and
+adopt the unfamiliar ones, but a word of explanation will make the object
+clear. Perceiving, for instance, the close relations between certain
+members of the larger groups, Linnæus gave to them names that should be
+common to all, and which are called generic names,--as we speak of Ducks,
+when we would designate in one word the Mallard, the Widgeon, the
+Canvas-Back, etc.; but to these generic names he added qualifying
+epithets, called specific names, to indicate the different kinds in each
+group. For example, the Lion, the Tiger, the Panther, the Domestic Cat
+constitute such a natural group, which Linnæus called _Felis_, Cat,
+indicating the whole genus; but the species he designates as _Felis
+catus_, the Domestic Cat,--_Felis leo_, the Lion,--_Felis tigris_, the
+Tiger,--_Felis panthera_, the Panther. So he called all the Dogs _Canis_;
+but for the different kinds we have _Canis familiaris_, the Domestic
+Dog,--_Canis lupus_, the Wolf,--_Canis vulpes_, the Fox, etc.
+
+In some families of the vegetable kingdom we can appreciate better the
+application of this nomenclature, because we have something corresponding
+to it in the vernacular. We have, for instance, one name for all the Oaks,
+but we call the different kinds Swamp Oak, Red Oak, White Oak, Chestnut
+Oak, etc. So Linnæus, in his botanical nomenclature, called all the Oaks
+by the generic name _Quercus_, (characterizing them by their fruit, the
+acorn, common to all,) and qualified them as _Quercus bicolor_, _Quercus
+rubra_, _Quercus alba_, _Quercus castanea_, etc., etc. His nomenclature,
+being so easy of application, became at once exceedingly popular and made
+him the great scientific legislator of his century. He insisted on Latin
+names, because, if every naturalist should use his own language, it must
+lead to great confusion, and this Latin nomenclature of double
+significance was adopted by all. Another advantage of this binominal Latin
+nomenclature consists in preventing the confusion frequently arising from
+the use of the same name to designate different animals in different parts
+of the world,--as, for instance, the name of Robin, used in America to
+designate a bird of the Thrush family, entirely different from the Robin
+of the Old World,--or of different names for the same animal, as Perch or
+Chogset or Burgall for our Cunner. Nothing is more to be deprecated than
+an over-appreciation of technicalities, valuing the name more highly than
+the thing; but some knowledge of this nomenclature is necessary to every
+student of Nature.
+
+The improvements in science thus far were chiefly verbal. Cuvier now came
+forward and added a principle. He showed that all animals are built upon a
+certain number of definite plans. This momentous step, the significance of
+which is not yet appreciated to its full extent; for, had its importance
+been understood, the efforts of naturalists would have been directed
+toward a further illustration of the distinctive characteristics of all
+the plans,--instead of which, the division of the animal kingdom into
+larger and smaller groups chiefly attracted their attention, and has been
+carried too far by some of them. Linnæus began with six classes, Cuvier
+brought them up to nineteen, and at last the animal kingdom was subdivided
+by subsequent investigators into twenty-eight classes. This multiplication
+of divisions, however, soon suggested an important question: How far are
+these divisions natural or inherent in the objects themselves, and not
+dependent on individual views?
+
+While Linnæus pointed out classes, orders, genera, and species, other
+naturalists had detected other divisions among animals, called families.
+Lamarck, who had been a distinguished botanist before he began his study
+of the animal kingdom, brought to his zoölogical researches his previous
+methods of investigation. Families in the vegetable kingdom had long been
+distinguished by French botanists; and one cannot examine the groups they
+call by this name, without perceiving, that, though they bring them
+together and describe them according to other characters, they have been
+unconsciously led to unite them from the general similarity of their port
+and bearing. Take, for instance, the families of Pines, Oaks, Beeches,
+Maples, etc., and you feel at once, that, besides the common characters
+given in the technical descriptions of these trees, there is also a
+general resemblance among them that would naturally lead us to associate
+them together, even if we knew nothing of the other features of their
+structure. By an instinctive recognition of this family likeness between
+plants, botanists have been led to seek for structural characters on which
+to unite them, and the groups so founded generally correspond with the
+combinations suggested by their appearance.
+
+By a like process Lamarck combined animals into families. His method was
+adopted by French naturalists generally, and found favor especially with
+Cuvier, who was particularly successful in limiting families among
+animals, and in naming them happily, generally selecting names expressive
+of the features on which the groups were founded, or borrowing them from
+familiar animals. Much, indeed, depends upon the pleasant sound and the
+significance of a name; for an idea reaches the mind more easily when well
+expressed, and Cuvier's names were both simple and significant. His
+descriptions are also remarkable for their graphic precision,--giving all
+that is essential, omitting all that is merely accessory. He has given us
+the key-note to his progress in his own expressive language:--
+
+    "Je dus donc, et cette obligation me prit un temps considérable,
+    je dus faire marcher de front l'anatomie et la zoologie, les
+    dissections et le classement; chercher dans mes premières
+    remarques sur l'organisation des distributions meilleures; m'en
+    servir pour arriver à des remarques nouvelles; employer encore ces
+    remarques à perfectionner les distributions; faire sortir enfin de
+    cette fécondation mutuelle des deux sciences, l'une par l'autre,
+    un système zoologique propre à servir d'introducteur et de guide
+    dans le champ de l'anatomie, et un corps de doctrine anatomique
+    propre à servir de développement et d'explication au système
+    zoologique."
+
+It is deeply to be lamented that so many naturalists have entirely
+overlooked this significant advice of Cuvier's, to combine zoölogical and
+anatomical studies in order to arrive at a clearer perception of the true
+affinities among animals. To sum it up in one word, he tells us that the
+secret of his method is "comparison,"--ever comparing and comparing
+throughout the enormous range of his knowledge of the organization of
+animals, and founding upon the differences as well as the similarities
+those broad generalizations under which he has included all animal
+structures. And this method, so prolific in his hands, has also a lesson
+for us all. In this country there is a growing interest in the study of
+Nature; but while there exist hundreds of elementary works illustrating
+the native animals of Europe, there are few such books here to satisfy the
+demand for information respecting the animals of our land and water. We
+are thus forced to turn more and more to our own investigations and less
+to authority; and the true method of obtaining independent knowledge is
+this very method of Cuvier's,--comparison.
+
+Let us make the most common application of it to natural objects. Suppose
+we see together a Dog, a Cat, a Bear, a Horse, a Cow, and a Deer. The
+first feature that strikes us as common to any two of them is the horn in
+the Cow and Deer. But how shall we associate either of the others with
+these? We examine the teeth, and find those of the Dog, the Cat, and the
+Bear sharp and cutting, while those of the Cow, the Deer, and the Horse
+have flat surfaces, adapted to grinding and chewing, rather than cutting
+and tearing. We compare these features of their structure with the habits
+of these animals, and find that the first are carnivorous, that they seize
+and tear their prey, while the others are herbivorous or grazing animals,
+living only on vegetable substances, which they chew and grind. We compare
+farther the Horse and Cow, and find that the Horse has front teeth both in
+the upper and lower jaw, while the Cow has them only in the lower; and
+going still farther and comparing the internal with the external features,
+we find this arrangement of the teeth in direct relation to the different
+structure of the stomach in the two animals,--the Cow having a stomach
+with four pouches, adapted to a mode of digestion by which the food is
+prepared for the second mastication, while the Horse has a simple stomach.
+Comparing the Cow and the Deer, we find that the digestive apparatus is
+the same in both; but though they both have horns, in the Cow the horn is
+hollow, and remains through life firmly attached to the bone, while in the
+Deer it is solid and is shed every year. With these facts before us, we
+cannot hesitate to place the Dog, the Cat, and the Bear in one division,
+as carnivorous animals, and the other three in another division as
+herbivorous animals,--and looking a little farther, we perceive, that, in
+common with the Cow and the Deer, the Goat and the Sheep have cloven feet,
+and that they are all ruminants, while the Horse has a single hoof, does
+not ruminate, and must therefore be separated from them, even though, like
+them, he is herbivorous.
+
+This is but the simplest illustration, taken from the most familiar
+objects, of this comparative method; but the same process is equally
+applicable to the most intricate problems in animal structures, and will
+give us the clue to all true affinities between animals. The education of
+a naturalist, now, consists chiefly in learning how to compare. If he have
+any power of generalization, when he has collected his facts, this habit
+of mental comparison will lead him up to principles, to the great laws of
+combination. It must not discourage us, that the process is a slow and
+laborious one, and the results of one lifetime after all very small. It
+might seem invidious, were I to show here how small is the sum total of
+the work accomplished even by the great exceptional men, whose names are
+known throughout the civilized world. But I may at least be permitted to
+speak of my own efforts, and to sum up in the fewest words the result of
+my life's work. I have devoted my whole life to the study of Nature, and
+yet a single sentence may express all that I have done. I have shown that
+there is a correspondence between the succession of Fishes in geological
+times and the different stages of their growth in the egg,--this is all.
+It chanced to be a result that was found to apply to other groups and has
+led to other conclusions of a like nature. But, such as it is, it has been
+reached by this system of comparison, which, though I speak of it now in
+its application to the study of Natural History, is equally important in
+every other branch of knowledge. By the same process the most mature
+results of scientific research in Philology, in Ethnology, and in Physical
+Science are reached. And let me say that the community should foster the
+purely intellectual efforts of scientific men as carefully as they do
+their elementary schools and their practical institutions, generally
+considered so much more useful and important to the public. For from what
+other source shall we derive the higher results that are gradually woven
+into the practical resources of our life, except from the researches of
+those very men who study science not for its uses, but for its truth? It
+is this that gives it its noblest interest: it must be for truth's sake,
+and not even for the sake of its usefulness to humanity, that the
+scientific man studies Nature. The application of science to the useful
+arts requires other abilities, other qualities, other tools than his; and
+therefore I say that the man of science who follows his studies into their
+practical application is false to his calling. The practical man stands
+ever ready to take up the work where the scientific man leaves it, and to
+adapt it to the material wants and uses of daily life.
+
+The publication of Cuvier's proposition, that the animal kingdom is built
+on four plans, created an extraordinary excitement throughout the
+scientific world. All naturalists proceeded to test it, and many soon
+recognized in it a great scientific truth,--while others, who thought more
+of making themselves prominent than of advancing science, proposed poor
+amendments, that were sure to be rejected on farther investigation. There
+were, however, some of these criticisms and additions that were truly
+improvements, and touched upon points overlooked by Cuvier. Blainville,
+especially, took up the element of form among animals,--whether divided on
+two sides, whether radiated, whether irregular, etc. He, however, made the
+mistake of giving very elaborate names to animals already known under
+simpler ones. Why, for instance, call all animals with parts radiating in
+every direction _Actinomorpha_ or _Actinozoaria_, when they had received
+the significant name of _Radiates_? It seemed, to be a new system, when in
+fact it was only a new name. Ehrenberg, likewise, made an important
+distinction, when he united the animals according to the difference in
+their nervous systems; but he also incumbered the nomenclature
+unnecessarily, when he added to the names _Anaima_ and _Enaima_ of
+Aristotle those of _Myeloneura_ and _Ganglioneura_.
+
+But it is not my object to give all the classifications of different
+authors here, and I will therefore pass over many noted ones, as those of
+Burmeister, Milne, Edwards, Siebold and Stannius, Owen, Leuckart, Vogt,
+Van Beneden, and others, and proceed to give some account of one
+investigator who did as much for the progress of Zoölogy as Cuvier, though
+he is comparatively little known among us. Karl Ernst von Baer proposed a
+classification based, like Cuvier's, upon plan; but he recognized what
+Cuvier failed to perceive,--namely, the importance of distinguishing
+between type (by which he means exactly what Cuvier means by plan) and
+complication of structure,--in other words, between plan and the execution
+of the plan. He recognized four types, which correspond exactly to
+Cuvier's four plans, though he calls them by different names. Let us
+compare them.
+
+    _Cuvier_.           _Baer_.
+    Radiates,           Peripheric,
+    Mollusks,           Massive,
+    Articulates,        Longitudinal,
+    Vertebrates.        Doubly Symmetrical.
+
+Though perhaps less felicitous, the names of Baer express the same ideas
+as those of Cuvier. By the _Peripheric_ he signified those in which all
+the parts converge from the periphery or circumference of the animal to
+its centre. Cuvier only reverses this definition in his name of
+_Radiates_, signifying the animals in which all parts radiate from the
+centre to the circumference. By _Massive_, Baer indicated those animals in
+which the structure is soft and concentrated, without a very distinct
+individualization of parts,--exactly the animals included by Cuvier under
+his name of _Mollusks_, or soft-bodied animals. In his selection of the
+epithet _Longitudinal_, Baer was less fortunate; for all animals have a
+longitudinal diameter, and this word was not, therefore, sufficiently
+special. Yet his _Longitudinal_ type answers exactly to Cuvier's
+_Articulates_,--animals in which all parts are arranged in a succession of
+articulated joints along a longitudinal axis. Cuvier has expressed this
+jointed structure in the name _Articulates_; whereas Baer, in his name of
+_Longitudinal_, referred only to the arrangement of joints in longitudinal
+succession, in a continuous string, as it were, one after another. For the
+_Doubly Symmetrical_ type his name is the better of the two; for Cuvier's
+name of _Vertebrates_ alludes only to the backbone,--while Baer, who is an
+embryologist, signifies in his their mode of growth also. He knew what
+Cuvier did not know, that in its first formation the germ of the
+Vertebrate divides in two folds: one turning up above the backbone, to
+inclose all the sensitive Organs,--the spinal marrow, the organs of sense,
+all those organs by which life is expressed; the other turning down below
+the backbone, and inclosing all those organs by which life is
+maintained,--the organs of digestion, of respiration, of circulation, of
+reproduction, etc. So there is in this type not only an equal division of
+parts on either side, but also a division above and below, making thus a
+double symmetry in the plan, expressed by Baer in the name he gave it.
+Baer was perfectly original in his conception of these four types, for his
+paper was published in the very same year with that of Cuvier. But even in
+Germany, his native land, his ideas were not fully appreciated: strange
+that it should be so,--for, had his countrymen recognized his genius, they
+might have claimed him as the compeer of the great French naturalist.
+
+Baer also founded the science of Embryology, under the guidance of his
+teacher, Dollinger. His researches in this direction showed him that
+animals were not only built on four plans, but that they grew according to
+four modes of development. The Vertebrate arises from the egg differently
+from the Articulate,--the Articulate differently from the Mollusk,--the
+Mollusk differently from the Radiate. Cuvier only showed us the four plans
+as they exist in the adult; Baer went a step farther, and showed us the
+four plans in the process of formation. But his greatest scientific
+achievement is perhaps the discovery that all animals originate in eggs,
+and that all these eggs are at first identical in substance and structure.
+The wonderful and untiring research condensed into this simple statement,
+that all animals arise from eggs and that all those eggs are identical in
+the beginning, may well excite our admiration. This egg consists of an
+outer envelope, the vitelline membrane, containing a fluid more or less
+dense, the yolk; within this is a second envelope, the so-called
+germinative vesicle, containing a somewhat different and more transparent
+fluid, and in the fluid of this second envelope float one or more
+so-called germinative specks. At this stage of their growth all eggs are
+microsopically small, yet each one has such tenacity of its individual
+principle of life that no egg was ever known to swerve from the pattern of
+the parent animal that gave it birth.
+
+
+III.
+
+From the time that Linnæus showed us the necessity of a scientific system
+as a framework for the arrangement of scientific facts in Natural History,
+the number of divisions adopted by zoölogists and botanists increased
+steadily. Not only were families, orders, and classes added to genera and
+species, but these were further multiplied by subdivisions of the
+different groups. But as the number of divisions increased, they lost in
+precise meaning, and it became more and more doubtful how far they were
+true to Nature. Moreover, these divisions were not taken in the same sense
+by all naturalists: what were called families by some were called orders
+by others, while the orders of some were the classes of others, till it
+began to be doubted whether these scientific systems had any foundation in
+Nature, or signified anything more than that it had pleased Linnæus, for
+instance, to call certain groups of animals by one name, while Cuvier had
+chosen to call them by another.
+
+These divisions are, first, the most comprehensive groups, the primary
+divisions, called branches by some, types by others, and divided by some
+naturalists into so-called sub-types, meaning only a more limited
+circumscription of the same kind of group; next we have classes, and these
+also have been divided into sub-classes, then orders and sub-orders,
+families, sub-families, and tribes; then genera, species, and varieties.
+With reference to the question, whether these groups really exist in
+Nature or are merely the expression of individual theories and opinions,
+it is worth while to study the works of the early naturalists, in order to
+trace the natural process by which scientific classification has been
+reached; for in this, as in other departments of learning, practice has
+always preceded theory. We do the thing before we understand why we do it:
+speech precedes grammar, reason precedes logic; and so a division of
+animals into groups, upon an instinctive perception of their differences,
+has preceded all our scientific creeds and doctrines. Let us, therefore,
+proceed to examine the meaning of these names as adopted by naturalists.
+
+When Cuvier proposed his four primary divisions of the animal kingdom, he
+added his argument for their adoption,--_because_, he said, they are
+constructed on four different plans. All the progress in our science since
+his time confirms this result; and I shall attempt to show that there are
+really four, and only four, such structural ideas at the foundation of the
+animal kingdom, and that all animals are included under one or another of
+them. But it does not follow, that, because we have arrived at a sound
+principle, we are therefore unerring in our practice. From ignorance we
+may misplace animals, and include them under the wrong division. This is a
+mistake, however, which a better insight into their organization
+rectifies; and experience constantly proves, that, whenever the structure
+of an animal is perfectly understood, there is no hesitation as to the
+head under which it belongs. We may consequently test the merits of these
+four primary groups on the evidence furnished by investigation. It has
+already been seen that these plans may be presented in the most abstract
+manner without any reference to special animals. _Radiation_ expresses in
+one word the idea on which the lowest of these types is based. In
+_Radiates_ we have no prominent bilateral symmetry, as in all other
+animals, but an all-sided symmetry, in which there is no right and left,
+no anterior and posterior extremity, no above and below. They are
+spheroidal bodies; yet, though many of them remind us of a sphere, they
+are by no means to be compared to a mathematical sphere, but rather to an
+organic sphere, so loaded with life, as it were, as to produce an infinite
+variety of radiate symmetry. The whole organization is arranged around a
+centre toward which all the parts converge, or, in a reverse sense, from
+which all the parts radiate. In _Mollusks_ there is a longitudinal axis
+and a bilateral symmetry; but the longitudinal axis in these soft
+concentrated bodies is not very prominent; and though the two ends of this
+axis are distinct from each other, the difference is not so marked that we
+can say at once, for all of them, which is the anterior and which the
+posterior extremity. In this type, right and left have the preponderance
+over the other diameters of the body. The sides are the prominent
+parts,--they are charged with the important organs, loaded with those
+peculiarities of the structure that give it character. The Oyster is a
+good instance of this, with its double valve, so swollen on one side, so
+flat on the other. There is an unconscious recognition of this in the
+arrangement of all collections of Mollusks; for, though the collectors do
+not put up their specimens with any intention of illustrating this
+peculiarity, they instinctively give them the position best calculated to
+display their distinctive characteristics, and to accomplish this they
+necessarily place them in such a manner as to show the sides. In
+_Articulates_ there is also a longitudinal axis of the body and a
+bilateral symmetry in the arrangement of parts; the head and tail are
+marked, and the right and left sides are distinct. But the prominent
+tendency in this type is the development of the dorsal and ventral region;
+here above and below prevail over right and left. It is the back and the
+lower side that have the preponderance over any other part of the
+structure in Articulates. The body is divided from end to end by a
+succession of transverse constrictions, forming movable rings; but the
+character of the animal, its striking features, are always above or below,
+and especially developed on the back. Any collection of Insects or
+Crustacea is an evidence of this; being always instinctively arranged in
+such a manner as to show the predominant features, they uniformly exhibit
+the back of the animal. The profile view of an Articulate has no
+significance; whereas in a Mollusk, on the contrary, the profile view is
+the most illustrative of the structural character. In the highest
+division, the _Vertebrates_, so characteristically called by Baer the
+_Doubly Symmetrical_ type, a solid column runs through the body with an
+arch above and an arch below, thus forming a double internal cavity. In
+this type, the head is the prominent feature; it is, as it were, the
+loaded end of the longitudinal axis, so charged with vitality as to form
+an intelligent brain, and rising in man to such predominance as to command
+and control the whole organism. The structure is arranged above and below
+this axis, the upper cavity containing all the sensitive organs, and the
+lower cavity containing all those by which life is maintained.
+
+While Cuvier and his followers traced these four distinct plans, as shown
+in the adult animal, Baer opened to us a new field of investigation in the
+embryology of the four types, showing that for each there was a special
+mode of growth in the egg. Looking at them from this point of view, we
+shall see that these four types, with their four modes of growth, seem to
+fill out completely the plan or outline of the animal kingdom, and leave
+no reason to expect any further development or any other plan of animal
+life within these limits. The eggs of all animals are spheres, such as I
+have described them; but in the Radiate the whole periphery is transformed
+into the germ, so that it becomes, by the liquefying of the yolk, a hollow
+sphere. In the Mollusks, the germ lies above the yolk, absorbing its whole
+substance through the under side, thus forming a massive close body
+instead of a hollow one. In the Articulate, the germ is turned in a
+position exactly opposite to that of the Mollusk, and absorbs the yolk
+upon the back. In the Vertebrate, the germ divides in two folds, one
+turning upward, the other turning downward, above and below the central
+backbone. These four modes of development seem to exhaust the
+possibilities of the primitive sphere, which is the foundation of all
+animal life, and therefore I believe that Cuvier and Baer were right in
+saying that the whole animal kingdom is included under these four
+structural ideas.
+
+Leuckart proposed to subdivide the Radiates into two groups: the
+Coelenterata, including Polyps and Acalephs or Jelly-Fishes,--and
+Echinoderms, including Star-Fishes, Sea-Urchins, and Holothurians. His
+reason for this distinction is the fact that in the latter the organs are
+inclosed within walls of their own, distinct from the body-wall; whereas
+in the former the organs are formed by internal folds of the outer wall of
+the body, as in the Polyps, or are hollowed out of the substance of the
+body, as in Jelly-Fishes. This implies no difference in the plan, but
+merely a difference in the execution of the plan. Both are equally radiate
+in their structure; and when Leuckart separated them as distinct primary
+types, he mistook a difference in the material expression of the plan for
+a difference in the plan itself. So some naturalists have distinguished
+Worms from the other Articulates as a separate division. But the
+structural plan of this type is a body divided by transverse constrictions
+or joints; and whether those joints are uniformly arranged from one end of
+the body to the other, as in the Worms, or whether the front joints are
+soldered together so as to form two regions of the body, as in Crustacea,
+or divided so as to form three regions of the body, as in winged Insects,
+does not in the least affect the typical character of the structure, which
+remains the same in all. Branches or types, then, are natural groups of
+the animal kingdom, founded on plans of structure or structural ideas.
+
+What now are classes? Are they lesser divisions, differing only in extent,
+or are they founded on special characters? I believe the latter view to be
+the true one, and that class characters have a significance quite
+different from that of their mere range or extent. These divisions are
+founded on certain categories of structure; and were there but one animal
+of a class in the world, if it had those characters on which a class is
+founded, it would be as distinct from all other animals as if its kind
+were counted by thousands. Baer approached the idea of the classes when he
+discriminated between plan of structure or type and the degree of
+perfection in the structure. But while he understands the distinction
+between a plan and its execution, his ideas respecting the different
+features of structure are not quite so precise. He does not, for instance,
+distinguish between the complication of a given structure and the mode of
+execution of a plan, both of which are combined in what he calls degrees
+of perfection. And yet, without this distinction, the difference between
+classes and orders cannot be understood; for classes and orders rest upon
+a just appreciation of these two categories, which are quite distinct from
+each other, and have by no means the same significance. Again, quite
+distinct from both of these is the character of form, not to be confounded
+either with complication of structure, on which orders are based, or with
+the execution of the plan, on which classes rest. An example will show
+that form is no guide for the determination of classes or orders. Take,
+for instance, a Beche-de-Mer, a member of the highest class of Radiates,
+and compare it with a Worm. They are both long cylindrical bodies; but one
+has parallel divisions along the length of the body, the other has the
+body divided by transverse rings. Though in external form they resemble
+each other, the one is a worm-like Radiate, the other is a worm-like
+Articulate, each having the structure of its own type; so that they do not
+even belong to the same great division of the animal kingdom, much less to
+the same class. We have a similar instance in the Whales and Fishes,--the
+Whales having been for a long time considered as Fishes, on account of
+their form, while their structural complication shows them to be a low
+order of the class of Mammalia, to which we ourselves belong, that class
+being founded upon a particular mode of execution of the plan
+characteristic of the Vertebrates, while the order to which the Whales
+belong depends upon their complication of structure, as compared with
+other members of the same class. We may therefore say that neither form
+nor complication of structure distinguishes classes, but simply the mode
+of execution of a plan. In Vertebrates, for instance, how do we
+distinguish the class of Mammalia from the other classes of the type? By
+the peculiar development of the brain, by their breathing through lungs,
+by their double circulation, by their bringing forth living young and
+nursing them with milk. In this class the beasts of prey form a distinct
+order, superior to the Whales or the herbivorous animals, on account of
+the higher complication of their structure; and for the same reason we
+place the Monkeys above them all. But among the beasts of prey we
+distinguish the Bears, as a family, from the family of Dogs, Wolves, and
+Cats, on account of their different form, which does not imply a
+difference either in the complication of their structure or in the mode of
+execution of their plan.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+AGNES OF SORRENTO.
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE PENANCE.
+
+
+The course of our story requires us to return to the Capuchin convent, and
+to the struggles and trials of its Superior; for in his hands is the
+irresistible authority which must direct the future life of Agnes.
+
+From no guilty compliances, no heedless running into temptation, had he
+come to love her. The temptation had met him in the direct path of duty;
+the poison had been breathed in with the perfume of sweetest and most
+life-giving flowers: nor could he shun that temptation, nor cease to
+inhale that fatal sweetness, without confessing himself vanquished in a
+point where, in his view, to yield was to be lost. The subtle and
+deceitful visit of Father Johannes to his cell had the effect of
+thoroughly rousing him to a complete sense of his position, and making him
+feel the immediate, absolute necessity of bringing all the energy of his
+will, all the resources of his nature to bear on its present difficulties.
+For he felt, by a fine intuition, that already he was watched and
+suspected;--any faltering step now, any wavering, any change in his mode
+of treating his female penitents, would be maliciously noted. The military
+education of his early days had still left in his mind a strong residuum
+of personal courage and honor, which made him regard it as dastardly to
+flee when he ought to conquer, and therefore he set his face as a flint
+for victory.
+
+But reviewing his interior world, and taking a survey of the work before
+him, he felt that sense of a divided personality which often becomes so
+vivid in the history of individuals of strong will and passion. It seemed
+to him that there were two men within him: the one turbulent, passionate,
+demented; the other vainly endeavoring by authority, reason, and
+conscience to bring the rebel to subjection. The discipline of conventual
+life, the extraordinary austerities to which he had condemned himself, the
+monotonous solitude of his existence, all tended to exalt the vivacity of
+the nervous system, which, in the Italian constitution, is at all times
+disproportionately developed; and when those weird harp-strings of the
+nerves are once thoroughly unstrung, the fury and tempest of the discord
+sometimes utterly bewilders the most practised self-government.
+
+But he felt that _something_ must be done with himself, and done
+immediately; for in a few days he must again meet Agnes at the
+confessional. He must meet her, not with weak tremblings and passionate
+fears, but calm as Fate, inexorable as the Judgment-Day. He must hear her
+confession, not as man, but as God; he must pronounce his judgments with a
+divine dispassionateness. He must dive into the recesses of her secret
+heart, and, following with subtile analysis all the fine courses of those
+fibres which were feeling their blind way towards an earthly love, must
+tear them remorselessly away. Well could he warn her of the insidiousness
+of earthly affections; better than any one else he could show her how a
+name that was blended with her prayers and borne before the sacred shrine
+in her most retired and solemn hours might at last come to fill all her
+heart with a presence too dangerously dear. He must direct her gaze up
+those mystical heights where an unearthly marriage awaited her, its sealed
+and spiritual bride; he must hurry her footsteps onward to the irrevocable
+issue.
+
+All this was before him. But ere it could be done, he must subdue
+himself,--he must become calm and pulseless, in deadly resolve; and what
+prayer, what penance might avail for this? If all that he had already
+tried had so miserably failed, what hope? He resolved to quit for a season
+all human society, and enter upon one of those desolate periods of retreat
+from earthly converse well known in the annals of saintship as most
+prolific in spiritual victories.
+
+Accordingly, on the day after the conversation with Father Johannes, he
+startled the monks by announcing to them that he was going to leave them
+for several days.
+
+"My brothers," he said, "the weight of a fearful penance is laid upon me,
+which I must work out alone.  I leave you today, and charge you not to
+seek to follow my footsteps; but, as you hope to escape hell, watch and
+wrestle for me and yourselves during the time I am gone. Before many days
+I hope to return to you with renewed spiritual strength."
+
+That evening, while Agnes and her uncle were sitting together in their
+orange-garden, mingling their parting prayers and hymns, scenes of a very
+different description surrounded the Father Francesco.
+
+One who looks on the flowery fields and blue seas of this enchanting
+region thinks that the Isles of the Blest could scarcely find on earth a
+more fitting image; nor can he realize, till experience proves it to him,
+that he is in the immediate vicinity of a weird and dreary region which
+might represent no less the goblin horrors of the damned.
+
+Around the foot of Vesuvius lie fair villages and villas garlanded with
+roses and flushing with grapes whose juice gains warmth from the breathing
+of its subterraneous fires, while just above them rises a region more
+awful than can be created by the action of any common causes of sterility.
+ There, immense tracts sloping gradually upward show a desolation so
+peculiar, so utterly unlike every common solitude of Nature, that one
+enters upon it with the shudder we give at that which is wholly unnatural.
+On all sides are gigantic serpent convolutions of black lava, their
+immense folds rolled into every conceivable contortion, as if, in their
+fiery agonies, they had struggled and wreathed and knotted together, and
+then grown cold and black with the imperishable signs of those terrific
+convulsions upon them.  Not a blade of grass, not a flower, not even the
+hardiest lichen, springs up to relieve the utter deathliness of the scene.
+ The eye wanders from one black, shapeless mass to another, and there is
+ever the same suggestion of hideous monster life,--of goblin convulsions
+and strange fiend-like agonies in some age gone by. One's very footsteps
+have an unnatural, metallic clink, and one's garments brushing over the
+rough surface are torn and fretted by its sharp, remorseless touch,--as if
+its very nature were so pitiless and acrid that the slightest contact
+revealed it.
+
+The sun was just setting over the beautiful Bay of Naples,--with its
+enchanted islands, its jewelled city, its flowery villages, all bedecked
+and bedropped with strange shiftings and flushes of prismatic light and
+shade, as if they belonged to some fairy-land of perpetual festivity and
+singing,--when Father Francesco stopped in his toilsome ascent up the
+mountain, and, seating himself on ropy ridges of black lava, looked down
+on the peaceful landscape.
+
+Above his head, behind him, rose the black cone of the mountain, over
+whose top the lazy clouds of thin white smoke were floating, tinged with
+the evening light; around him the desolate convulsed waste,--so arid, so
+supernaturally dreary; and below, like a soft enchanted dream, the
+beautiful bay, the gleaming white villas and towers, the picturesque
+islands, the gliding sails, flecked and streaked and dyed with the violet
+and pink and purple of the evening sky. The thin new moon and one
+glittering star trembled through the rosy air.
+
+The monk wiped from his brow the sweat that had been caused by the toil of
+his hurried journey, and listened to the bells of the Ave Maria pealing
+from the different churches of Naples, filling the atmosphere with a soft
+tremble of solemn dropping sound, as if spirits in the air took up and
+repeated over and over the angelic salutation which a thousand earthly
+lips were just then uttering. Mechanically he joined in the invocation
+which at that moment united the hearts of all Christians, and as the words
+passed his lips, he thought, with a sad, desolate longing, of the hour of
+death of which they spake.
+
+"It must come at last," he said. "Life is but a moment. Why am I so
+cowardly? why so unwilling to suffer and to struggle? Am I a warrior of
+the Lord, and do I shrink from the toils of the camp, and long for the
+ease of the court before I have earned it? Why do we clamor for happiness?
+Why should we sinners be happy? And yet, O God, why is the world made so
+lovely as it lies there, why so rejoicing, and so girt with splendor and
+beauty, if we are never to enjoy it? If penance and toil were all we were
+sent here for, why not make a world grim and desolate as this around
+me?--then there would be nothing to seduce us. But our path is a constant
+fight; Nature is made only to be resisted; we must walk the sharp blade of
+the sword over the fiery chasm to Paradise. Come, then!--no
+shrinking!--let me turn my back on everything dear and beautiful, as now
+on this landscape!"
+
+He rose and commenced the perpendicular ascent of the cone, stumbling and
+climbing over the huge sliding blocks of broken lava, which grated and
+crunched beneath his feet with a harsh metallic ring. Sometimes a broken
+fragment or two would go tinkling down the rough path behind him, and
+sometimes it seemed as if the whole loose black mass from above were about
+to slide, like an avalanche, down upon his head;--he almost hoped it
+would. Sometimes he would stop, overcome by the toil of the ascent, and
+seat himself for a moment on a black fragment, and then his eye would
+wander over the wide and peaceful panorama below. He seemed to himself
+like a fly perched upon some little roughness of a perpendicular wall, and
+felt a strange airy sense of pleasure in being thus between earth and
+heaven. A sense of relief, of beauty, and peacefulness would steal over
+him, as if he were indeed something disfranchised and disembodied, a part
+of the harmonious and beautiful world that lay stretched out beneath him;
+in a moment more he would waken himself with a start, and resume his
+toilsome journey with a sullen and dogged perseverance.
+
+At last he gained the top of the mountain,--that weird, strange region
+where the loose, hot soil, crumbling beneath his feet, was no honest
+foodful mother earth, but an acrid mass of ashes and corrosive minerals.
+Arsenic, sulphur, and many a sharp and bitter salt were in all he touched,
+every rift in the ground hissed with stifling steam, while rolling clouds
+of dun sullen smoke, and a deep hollow booming, like the roar of an
+immense furnace, told his nearness to the great crater. He penetrated the
+sombre tabernacle, and stood on the very brink of a huge basin, formed by
+a wall of rocks around a sunken plain, the midst of which rose the black
+cone of the subterraneous furnace, which crackled and roared and from time
+to time spit up burning stones and cinders or oozed out slow ropy streams
+of liquid fire.
+
+The sulphurous cliffs were dyed in many a brilliant shade of brown and
+orange by the admixture of various ores, but their brightness seemed
+strange and unnatural, and the dizzying whirls of vapor, now enveloping
+the whole scene in gloom, now lifting in this spot and now in that, seemed
+to magnify the dismal pit to an indefinite size. Now and then there would
+come up from the very entrails of the mountain a sort of convulsed sob of
+hollow sound, and the earth would quiver beneath his feet, and fragments
+from the surrounding rocks would scale off and fall with crashing
+reverberations into the depth beneath; at such moments it would seem as if
+the very mountain were about to crush in and bear him down in its ruins.
+
+Father Francesco, though blinded by the smoke and choked by the vapor,
+could not be content without descending into the abyss and exploring the
+very _penetralia_ of its mysteries. Steadying his way by means of a cord
+which he fastened to a firm projecting rock, he began slowly and painfully
+clambering downward. The wind was sweeping across the chasm from behind,
+bearing the noxious vapors away from him, or he must inevitably have been
+stifled. It took him some little time, however, to effect his descent; but
+at length he found himself fairly landed on the dark floor of the gloomy
+inclosure.
+
+The ropy, pitch-black undulations of lava yawned here and there in red-hot
+cracks and seams, making it appear to be only a crust over some fathomless
+depth of molten fire, whose moanings and boilings could be heard below.
+These dark congealed billows creaked and bent as the monk stepped upon
+them, and burned his feet through his coarse sandals; yet he stumbled on.
+Now and then his foot would crush in, where the lava had hardened in a
+thinner crust, and he would draw it suddenly back from the lurid red-hot
+metal beneath. The staff on which he rested was constantly kindling into a
+light blaze as it slipped into some heated hollow, and he was fain to beat
+out the fire upon the cooler surface. Still he went on half-stifled by the
+hot and pungent vapor, but drawn by that painful, unnatural curiosity
+which possesses one in a nightmare dream. The great cone in the centre was
+the point to which he wished to attain,--the nearest point which man can
+gain to this eternal mystery of fire. It was trembling with a perpetual
+vibration, a hollow, pulsating undertone of sound like the surging of the
+sea before a storm, and the lava that boiled over its sides rolled slowly
+down with a strange creaking; it seemed the condensed, intensified essence
+and expression of eternal fire, rising and still rising from some
+inexhaustible fountain of burning.
+
+Father Francesco drew as near as he could for the stifling heat and vapor,
+and, resting on his staff, stood gazing intently. The lurid light of the
+fire fell with an unearthly glare on his pale, sunken features, his wild,
+haggard eyes, and his torn and disarranged garments. In the awful solitude
+and silence of the night he felt his heart stand still, as if indeed he
+had touched with his very hand the gates of eternal woe, and felt its
+fiery breath upon his cheek. He half-imagined that the seams and clefts
+which glowed in lurid lines between the dark billows would gape yet wider
+and show the blasting secrets of some world of fiery despair below. He
+fancied that he heard behind and around the mocking laugh of fiends, and
+that confused clamor of mingled shrieks and lamentations which Dante
+describes as filling the dusky approaches to that forlorn realm where hope
+never enters.
+
+"Ah, God," he exclaimed, "for this vain life of man! They eat, they drink,
+they dance, they sing, they marry and are given in marriage, they have
+castles and gardens and villas, and the very beauty of Paradise seems over
+it all,--and yet how close by burns and roars the eternal fire! Fools that
+we are, to clamor for indulgence and happiness in this life, when the
+question is, to escape everlasting burnings! If I tremble at this outer
+court of God's wrath and justice, what must be the fires of hell? These
+are but earthly fires; they can but burn the body: those are made to burn
+the soul; they are undying as the soul is. What would it be to be dragged
+down, down, down, into an abyss of soul-fire hotter than this for ages on
+ages? This might bring merciful death in time: that will have no end."
+
+The monk fell on his knees and breathed out piercing supplications. Every
+nerve and fibre within him seemed tense with his agony of prayer. It was
+not the outcry for purity and peace, not a tender longing for forgiveness,
+not a filial remorse for sin, but the nervous anguish of him who shrieks
+in the immediate apprehension of an unendurable torture. It was the cry of
+a man upon the rack, the despairing scream of him who feels himself
+sinking in a burning dwelling. Such anguish has found an utterance in
+Stradella's celebrated "Pietà, Signore," which still tells to our ears, in
+its wild moans and piteous shrieks, the religious conceptions of his day;
+for there is no phase of the Italian mind that has not found expression in
+its music.
+
+When the oppression of the heat and sulphurous vapor became too dreadful
+to be borne, the monk retraced his way and climbed with difficulty up the
+steep sides of the crater, till he gained the summit above, where a
+comparatively free air revived him. All night he wandered up and down in
+that dreary vicinity, now listening to the mournful roar and crackle of
+the fire, and now raising his voice in penitential psalms or the notes of
+that terrific "Dies Iræ" which sums up all the intense fear and horror
+with which the religion of the Middle Ages clothed the idea of the final
+catastrophe of humanity. Sometimes prostrating himself with his face
+towards the stifling soil, he prayed with agonized intensity till Nature
+would sink in a temporary collapse, and sleep, in spite of himself, would
+steal over him.
+
+So waned the gloomy hours of the night away, till the morning broke in the
+east, turning all the blue wavering floor of the sea to crimson
+brightness, and bringing up, with the rising breeze, the barking of dogs,
+the lowing of kine, the songs of laborers and boatmen, all fresh and
+breezy from the repose of the past night.
+
+Father Francesco heard the sound of approaching footsteps climbing the
+lava path, and started with a nervous trepidation. Soon he recognized a
+poor peasant of the vicinity, whose child he had tended during a dangerous
+illness. He bore with him a little basket of eggs, with a melon and a
+fresh green salad.
+
+"Good morning, holy father," he said, bowing humbly. "I saw you coming
+this way last night, and I could hardly sleep for thinking of you; and my
+good woman, Teresina, would have it that I should come out to look after
+you. I have taken the liberty to bring a little offering;--it was the best
+we had."
+
+"Thank you, my son," said the monk, looking wistfully at the fresh, honest
+face of the peasant. "You have taken too much trouble for such a sinner. I
+must not allow myself such indulgences."
+
+"But your Reverence must live. Look you," said the peasant, "at least your
+Reverence will take an egg. See here, how handily I can cook one," he
+added, striking his stick into a little cavity of a rock, from which, as
+from an escape-valve, hissed a jet of hot steam,--"see here, I nestle the
+egg in this little cleft, and it will be done in a twinkling. Our good God
+gives us our fire for nothing here."
+
+There was something wholesomely kindly and cheerful in the action and
+expression of the man, which broke upon the overstrained and disturbed
+musings of the monk like daylight on a ghastly dream. The honest, loving
+heart sees love in everything; even the fire is its fatherly helper, and
+not its avenging enemy.
+
+Father Francesco took the egg, when it was done, with a silent gesture of
+thanks.
+
+"If I might make bold to say," said the peasant, encouraged, "your
+Reverence should have some care for yourself. If a man will not feed
+himself, the good God will not feed him; and we poor people have too few
+friends already to let such as you die. Your hands are trembling, and you
+look worn out. Surely you should take something more, for the very love of
+the poor."
+
+"My son, I am bound to do a heavy penance, and to work out a great
+conflict. I thank you for your undeserved kindness. Leave me now to
+myself, and come no more to disturb my prayers. Go, and God bless you!"
+
+"Well," said the peasant, putting down the basket and melon, "I shall
+leave these things here, any way, and I beg your Reverence to have a care
+of yourself. Teresina fretted all night for fear something might come to
+you. The bambino that you cured is grown a stout little fellow, and eats
+enough for two,--and it is all of you; so she cannot forget it. She is a
+busy little woman, is Teresina; and when she gets a thought in her head,
+it buzzes, buzzes, like a fly in a bottle, and she will have it your
+Reverence is killing yourself by inches, and says she, 'What will all the
+poor do when he is gone?' So your Reverence must pardon us. We mean it all
+for the best."
+
+So saying, the man turned and began sliding and slipping down the steep
+ashy sides of the mountain cone with a dexterity which carried him to the
+bottom in a few moments; and on he went, sending back after him a cheerful
+little air, the refrain of which is still to be heard in our days in that
+neighborhood. A word or two of the gay song fluttered back on the ear of
+the monk,--
+
+  "Tutta gieja, tutta festa."
+
+So gay and airy it was in its ringing cadence that it seemed a musical
+laugh springing from sunny skies, and came fluttering into the dismal
+smoke and gloom of the mountain-top like a very butterfly of sound. It
+struck on the sad, leaden ear of the monk much as we might fancy the carol
+of a robin over a grave might seem, could the cold sleeper below wake one
+moment to its perception. If it woke one regretful sigh and drew one
+wandering look downward to the elysian paradise that lay smiling at the
+foot of the mountain, he instantly suppressed the feeling, and set his
+face in its old deathly stillness.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+CLOUDS DEEPENING.
+
+
+After the departure of her uncle to Florence, the life of Agnes was
+troubled and harassed from a variety of causes.
+
+First, her grandmother was sulky and moody, and though saying nothing
+directly on the topic nearest her heart, yet intimating by every look and
+action that she considered Agnes as a most ungrateful and contumacious
+child. Then there was a constant internal perplexity,--a constant wearying
+course of self-interrogation and self-distrust, the pain of a sensitive
+spirit which doubts at every moment whether it may not be falling into
+sin. The absence of her kind uncle at this time took from her the
+strongest support on which she had leaned in her perplexities. Cheerful,
+airy, and elastic in his temperament, always full of fresh-springing and
+beautiful thoughts, as an Italian dell is of flowers, the charming old man
+seemed, while he stayed with Agnes, to be the door of a new and fairer
+world, where she could walk in air and sunshine, and find utterance for a
+thousand thoughts and feelings which at all other times lay in cold
+repression in her heart. His counsels were always so wholesome, his
+sympathies so quick, his devotion so fervent and cheerful, that while with
+him Agnes felt the burden of her life insensibly lifted and carried for
+her as by some angel guide.
+
+Now they had all come back upon her, heavier a thousand-fold than ever
+they had been before. Never did she so much need counsel and
+guidance,--never had she so much within herself to be solved and made
+plain to her own comprehension; yet she thought with a strange shiver of
+her next visit to her confessor. That austere man, so chilling, so awful,
+so far above all conception of human weaknesses, how should she dare to
+lay before him all the secrets of her breast, especially when she must
+confess to having disobeyed his most stringent commands? She had had
+another interview with this forbidden son of perdition, but how it was she
+knew not. How could such things have happened? Instead of shutting her
+eyes and turning her head and saying prayers, she had listened to a
+passionate declaration of love, and his last word had called her his wife.
+Her heart thrilled every time she thought of it; and somehow she could not
+feel sure that it was exactly a thrill of penitence. It was all like a
+strange dream to her; and sometimes she looked at her little brown hands
+and wondered if he really had kissed them,--he, the splendid strange
+vision of a man, the prince from fairyland! Agnes had never read romances,
+it is true, but she had been brought up on the legends of the saints, and
+there never was a marvel possible to human conception that had not been
+told there. Princes had come from China and Barbary and Abyssinia and
+every other strange out-of-the-way place, to kneel at the feet of fair,
+obdurate saints who would not even turn the head to look at them; but she
+had acted, she was conscious, after a much more mortal fashion, and so
+made herself work for confession and penance. Yet certainly she had not
+meant to do so; the interview came on her so suddenly, so unexpectedly;
+and somehow he _would_ speak, and he would not go when she asked him to;
+and she remembered how he looked when he stood right before her in the
+doorway and told her she _should_ hear him,--how the color flushed up in
+his cheeks, what a fire there was in his great dark eyes; he looked as if
+he were going to do something desperate then; it made her hold her breath
+even now to think of it.
+
+"These princes and nobles," she thought, "are so used to command, it is no
+wonder they make us feel as if they must have their will. I have heard
+grandmother call them wolves and vultures, that are ready to tear us poor
+folk to pieces; but I am sure he seems gentle. I'm sure it isn't wicked or
+cruel for him to want to make me his wife; and he couldn't know, of
+course, why it wasn't right he should; and it really is beautiful of him
+to love me so. Oh, if I were only a princess, and he loved me that way,
+how glad I should be to give up everything and go to him alone! And then
+we would pray together; and I really think that would be much better than
+praying all alone. He said men had so much more to tempt them. Ah, that is
+true! How can little moles that grub in the ground know of the dangers of
+eagles that fly to the very sun? Holy Mother, look mercifully upon him and
+save his soul!"
+
+Such were the thoughts of Agnes the day when she was preparing for her
+confession; and all the way to church she found them floating and
+dissolving and reappearing in new forms in her mind, like the silvery
+smoke-clouds which were constantly veering and sailing over Vesuvius.
+
+Only one thing was firm and never changing, and that was the purpose to
+reveal everything to her spiritual director. When she kneeled at the
+confessional with closed eyes, and began her whispered acknowledgments,
+she tried to feel as if she were speaking in the ear of God alone,--that
+God whose spirit she was taught to believe, for the time being, was
+present in His minister before whom her inmost heart was to be unveiled.
+
+He who sat within had just returned from his lonely retreat with his mind
+and nerves in a state of unnatural tension,--a sort of ecstatic clearness
+and calmness, which he mistook for victory and peace. During those lonely
+days when he had wandered afar from human converse, and was surrounded
+only by objects of desolation and gloom, he had passed through as many
+phases of strange, unnatural experience as there were flitting
+smoke-wreaths eddying about him.
+
+There are depths in man's nature and his possibilities which no plummet
+has ever sounded,--the wild, lonely joys of fanatical excitement, the
+perfectly ravenous appetite for self-torture, which seems able, in time,
+to reverse the whole human system, and make a heaven of hell. How else can
+we understand the facts related both in Hindoo and in Christian story, of
+those men and women who have found such strange raptures in slow tortures,
+prolonged from year to year, till pain became a habit of body and mind? It
+is said, that, after the tortures of the rack, the reaction of the
+overstrained nerves produces a sense of the most exquisite relief and
+repose; and so when mind and body are harrowed, harassed to the very outer
+verge of endurance, come wild throbbings and transports, and strange
+celestial clairvoyance, which the mystic hails as the descent of the New
+Jerusalem into his soul.
+
+It had seemed to Father Francesco, when he came down from the mountain,
+that he had left his body behind him,--that he had left earth and earthly
+things; his very feet touching the ground seemed to tread not on rough,
+resisting soil, but upon elastic cloud. He saw a strange excess of beauty
+in every flower, in every leaf, in the wavering blue of the sea, in the
+red grottoed rocks that overhung the shore, with their purple, green,
+orange, and yellow hangings of flower-and-leaf-tapestry. The songs of the
+fishermen on the beach, the peasant-girls cutting flowery fodder for the
+cattle, all seemed to him to have an unnatural charm. As one looking
+through a prism sees a fine bordering of rainbow on every object, so he
+beheld a glorified world. His former self seemed to him something forever
+past and gone. He looked at himself as at another person, who had sinned
+and suffered, and was now resting in beatified repose; and he fondly
+thought all this was firm reality, and believed that he was now proof
+against all earthly impressions, able to hear and to judge with the
+dispassionate calmness of a disembodied spirit. He did not know that this
+high-strung calmness, this fine clearness, were only the most intense form
+of nervous sensibility, and as vividly susceptible to every mortal
+impression as is the vitalized chemical plate to the least action of the
+sun's rays.
+
+When Agnes began her confession, her voice seemed to him to pass through
+every nerve; it seemed as if he could feel her presence thrilling through
+the very wood of the confessional. He was astonished and dismayed at his
+own emotion. But when she began to speak of the interview with the
+cavalier, he trembled from head to foot with uncontrollable passion.
+Nature long repressed came back in a tempestuous reaction. He crossed
+himself again and again, he tried to pray, and blessed those protecting
+shadows which concealed his emotion from the unconscious one by his side.
+But he set his teeth in deadly resolve, and his voice, as he questioned
+her, came forth cutting and cold as ice crystals.
+
+"Why did you listen to a word?"
+
+"My father, it was so sudden. He wakened me from sleep. I answered him
+before I thought."
+
+"You should not have been sleeping. It was a sinful indolence."
+
+"Yes, my father."
+
+"See now to what it led. The enemy of your soul, ever watching, seized
+this moment to tempt you."
+
+"Yes, my father."
+
+"Examine your soul well," said Father Francesco, in a tone of austere
+severity that made Agnes tremble. "Did you not find a secret pleasure in
+his words?"
+
+"My father, I fear I did," said she, with a trembling voice.
+
+"I knew it! I knew it!" the priest muttered to himself, while the great
+drops started on his forehead, in the intensity of the conflict he
+repressed. Agnes thought the solemn pause that followed was caused by the
+horror that had been inspired by her own sinfulness.
+
+"You did not, then, heartily and truly wish him to go from you?" pursued
+the cold, severe voice.
+
+"Yes, my father, I did. I wished him to go with all my soul."
+
+"Yet you say you found pleasure in his being near you," said Father
+Francesco, conscious how every string of his own being, even in this awful
+hour, was vibrating with a sort of desperate, miserable joy in being once
+more near to her.
+
+"Ah," sighed Agnes, "that is true, my father,--woe is me! Please tell me
+how I could have helped it. I was pleased before I knew it."
+
+"And you have been thinking of what he said to you with pleasure since?"
+pursued the confessor, with an intense severity of manner, deepening as he
+spoke.
+
+"I _have_ thought of it," faltered Agnes.
+
+"Beware how you trifle with the holy sacrament! Answer frankly. You have
+thought of it with _pleasure_. Confess it."
+
+"I do not understand myself exactly," said Agnes. "I have thought of it
+partly with pleasure and partly with pain."
+
+"Would you like to go with him and be his wife, as he said?"
+
+"If it were right, father,--not otherwise."
+
+"Oh, foolish child! oh, blinded soul! to think of right in connection with
+an infidel and heretic! Do you not see that all this is an artifice of
+Satan? He can transform himself into an angel of light. Do you suppose
+this heretic would be brought back to the Church by a foolish girl? Do you
+suppose it is your prayers he wants? Why does, he not seek the prayers of
+the Church,--of holy men who have power with God? He would bait his hook
+with this pretence that he may catch your soul. Do you believe me?"
+
+"I am bound to believe you, my father."
+
+"But you do not. Your heart is going after this wicked man."
+
+"Oh, my father, I do not wish it should. I never wish or expect to see him
+more. I only pray for him that his soul may not be lost."
+
+"He has gone, then?"
+
+"Yes, my father. And he went with my uncle, a most holy monk, who has
+undertaken the work of his salvation. He listens to my uncle, who has
+hopes of restoring him to the Church."
+
+"That is well. And now, my daughter, listen to me. You must root out of
+your thought every trace and remembrance of these words of sinful earthly
+love which he hath spoken. Such love would burn your soul to all eternity
+with fire that never could be quenched. If you can tear away all roots and
+traces of this from your heart, if by fasting and prayer and penance you
+can become worthy to be a bride of your divine Lord, then your prayers
+will gain power, and you may prevail to secure his eternal salvation. But
+listen to me, daughter,--listen and tremble! If ever you should yield to
+his love and turn back from this heavenly marriage to follow him, you will
+accomplish his damnation and your own; to all eternity he will curse you,
+while the fire rages and consumes him,--he will curse the hour that he
+first saw you."
+
+These words were spoken with an intense vehemence which seemed almost
+supernatural. Agnes shivered and trembled; a vague feeling of guilt
+overwhelmed and disheartened her; she seemed to herself the most lost and
+abandoned of human beings.
+
+"My father, I shall think no penance too severe that may restore my soul
+from this sin. I have already made a vow to the blessed Mother that I will
+walk on foot to the Holy City, praying in every shrine and holy place; and
+I humbly ask your approval."
+
+This announcement brought to the mind of the monk a sense of relief and
+deliverance. He felt already, in the terrible storm of agitation which
+this confession had aroused within him, that nature was not dead, and that
+he was infinitely farther from the victory of passionless calm than he had
+supposed. He was still a man,--torn with human passions, with a love which
+he must never express, and a jealousy which burned and writhed at every
+word which he had wrung from its unconscious object. Conscience had begun
+to whisper in his ear that there would be no safety to him in continuing
+this spiritual dictatorship to one whose every word unmanned him,--that it
+was laying himself open to a ceaseless temptation, which in some blinded,
+dreary hour of evil might hurry him into acts of horrible sacrilege; and
+he was once more feeling that wild, stormy revolt of his inner nature that
+so distressed him before he left the convent.
+
+This proposition of Agnes' struck him as a compromise. It would take her
+from him only for a season, she would go under his care and direction, and
+he would gradually recover his calmness and self-possession in her
+absence. Her pilgrimage to the holy places would be a most proper and fit
+preparation for the solemn marriage-rite which should forever sunder her
+from all human ties and make her inaccessible to all solicitations of
+human love. Therefore, after an interval of silence, he answered,--
+
+"Daughter, your plan is approved. Such pilgrimages have ever been held
+meritorious works in the Church, and there is a special blessing upon
+them."
+
+"My father," said Agnes, "it has always been in my heart from my childhood
+to be the bride of the Lord; but my grandmother, who brought me up, and to
+whom I owe the obedience of a daughter, utterly forbids me: she will not
+hear a word of it. No longer ago than last Monday she told me I might as
+well put a knife into her heart as speak of this."
+
+"And you, daughter, do you put the feelings of any earthly friend before
+the love of your Lord and Creator who laid down His life for you? Hear
+what He saith:--'He that loveth father or mother more than me is not
+worthy of me.'"
+
+"But my poor old grandmother has no one but me in the world, and she has
+never slept a night without me; she is getting old, and she has worked for
+me all her good days;--it would be very hard for her to lose me."
+
+"Ah, false, deceitful heart! Has, then, thy Lord not labored for thee? Has
+He not borne thee through all the years of thy life? And wilt thou put the
+love of any mortal before His?"
+
+"Yes," replied Agnes, with a sort of hardy sweetness,--"but my Lord does
+not need me as grandmother does; He is in glory, and will never be old or
+feeble; I cannot work for Him and tend Him as I shall her. I cannot see my
+way clear at present; but when she is gone, or if the saints move her to
+consent, I shall then belong to God alone."
+
+"Daughter, there is some truth in your words; and if your Lord accepts
+you, He will dispose her heart. Will she go with you on this pilgrimage?"
+
+"I have prayed that she might, father,--that her soul may be quickened;
+for I fear me, dear old grandmamma has found her love for me a snare,--she
+has thought too much of my interests and too little of her own soul, poor
+grandmamma!"
+
+"Well, child, I shall enjoin this pilgrimage on her as a penance."
+
+"I have grievously offended her lately," said Agnes, "in rejecting an
+offer of marriage with a man on whom she had set her heart, and therefore
+she does not listen to me as she is wont to do."
+
+"You have done right in refusing, my daughter. I will speak to her of
+this, and show her how great is the sin of opposing a holy vocation in a
+soul whom the Lord calls to Himself, and enjoin her to make reparation by
+uniting with you in this holy work."
+
+Agnes departed from the confessional without even looking upon the face of
+her director, who sat within listening to the rustle of her dress as she
+rose,--listening to the soft fall of her departing footsteps, and praying
+that grace might be given him not to look after her: and he did not,
+though he felt as if his life were going with her.
+
+Agnes tripped round the aisle to a little side-chapel where a light was
+always kept burning by her before a picture of Saint Agnes, and, kneeling
+there, waited till her grandmother should be through with her confession.
+
+"Ah, sweet Saint Agnes," she said, "pity me! I am a poor ignorant young
+girl, and have been led into grievous sin; but I did not mean to do
+wrong,--I have been trying to do right; pray for me, that I may overcome
+as you did. Pray our dear Lord to send you with us on this pilgrimage, and
+save us from all wicked and brutal men who would do us harm. As the Lord
+delivered you in sorest straits, keeping soul and body pure as a lily, ah,
+pray Him to keep me! I love you dearly,--watch over me and guide me."
+
+In those days of the Church, such addresses to the glorified saints had
+become common among all Christians. They were not regarded as worship, any
+more than a similar outpouring of confidence to a beloved and revered
+friend yet in the body. Among the hymns of Savonarola is one addressed to
+Saint Mary Magdalen, whom he regarded with an especial veneration. The
+great truth, that God is not the God of the dead, but of the living, that
+_all_ live to Him, was in those ages with the truly religious a part of
+spiritual consciousness. The saints of the Church Triumphant, having
+become one with Christ as he is one with the Father, were regarded as
+invested with a portion of his divinity, and as the ministering agency
+through which his mediatorial government on earth was conducted; and it
+was thought to be in the power of the sympathetic heart to attract them by
+the outflow of its affections, so that their presence often overshadowed
+the walks of daily life with a cloud of healing and protecting sweetness.
+
+If the enthusiasm of devotion in regard to these invisible friends became
+extravagant and took the language due to God alone, it was no more than
+the fervid Italian nature was always doing with regard to visible objects
+of affection. Love with an Italian always tends to become worship, and
+some of the language of the poets addressed to earthly loves rises into
+intensities of expression due only to the One, Sovereign, Eternal Beauty.
+One sees even in the writings of Cicero that this passionate adoring kind
+of love is not confined to modern times. When he loses the daughter in
+whom his heart is garnered up, he finds no comfort except in building a
+temple to her memory,--a blind outreaching towards the saint-worship of
+modern times.
+
+Agnes rose from her devotions, and went with downcast eyes, her lips still
+repeating prayers, to the font of holy water, which was in a dim shadowy
+corner, where a painted window cast a gold and violet twilight. Suddenly
+there was a rustle of garments in the dimness, and a jewelled hand essayed
+to pass holy water to her on the tip of its finger. This mark of Christian
+fraternity, common in those times, Agnes almost mechanically accepted,
+touching her slender finger to the one extended, and making the sign of
+the cross, while she raised her eyes to see who stood there. Gradually the
+haze cleared from her mind, and she awoke to the consciousness that it was
+the cavalier! He moved to come towards her, with a bright smile on his
+face; but suddenly she became pale as one who has seen a spectre, and,
+pushing from her with both hands, she said faintly, "Go, go!" and turned
+and sped up the aisle silently as a sunbeam, joining her grandmother, who
+was coming from the confessional with a gloomy and sullen brow.
+
+Old Elsie had been enjoined to unite with her grandchild in this scheme of
+a pilgrimage, and received the direction with as much internal contumacy
+as would a thriving church-member of Wall Street a proposition to attend a
+protracted meeting in the height of the business season. Not but that
+pilgrimages were holy and gracious works,--she was too good a Christian
+not to admit that,--but why must holy and gracious works be thrust on her
+in particular? There were saints enough who liked such things; and people
+_could_ get to heaven without,--if not with a very abundant entrance,
+still in a modest way,--and Elsie's ambition for position and treasure in
+the spiritual world was of a very moderate cast.
+
+"Well, now, I hope you are satisfied," she said to Agnes, as she pulled
+her along with no very gentle hand; "you've got me sent off on a
+pilgrimage,--and my old bones must be rattling up and down all the hills
+between here and Rome,--and who's to see to the oranges?--they'll all be
+stolen, every one."
+
+"Grandmother," began Agnes in a pleading voice--
+
+"Oh, you hush up! I know what you're going to say: 'The good Lord will
+take care of them.' I wish He may! He has His hands full, with all the
+people that go cawing and psalm-singing like so many crows, and leave all
+their affairs to Him!"
+
+Agnes walked along disconsolate, with her eyes full of tears, which
+coursed one another down her pale cheeks.
+
+"There's Antonio," pursued Elsie, "would perhaps look after things a
+little. He is a good fellow, and only yesterday was asking if he couldn't
+do something for us. It's you he does it for,--but little you care who
+loves you, or what they do for you!"
+
+At this moment they met old Jocunda, whom we have before introduced to the
+reader as portress of the Convent. She had on her arm a large square
+basket, which she was storing for its practical uses.
+
+"Well, well, Saint Agnes be praised, I have found you at last," she said.
+"I was wanting to speak about some of your blood-oranges for conserving.
+An order has come down from our dear gracious lady, the Queen, to prepare
+a lot for her own blessed eating, and you may be sure I would get none of
+anybody but you.--But what's this, my little heart, my little
+lamb?--crying?--tears in those sweet eyes? What's the matter now?"
+
+"Matter enough for me!" said Elsie. "It's a weary world we live in. A body
+can't turn any way and not meet with trouble. If a body brings up a girl
+one way, why, every fellow is after her, and one has no peace; and if a
+body brings her up another way, she gets her head in the clouds, and
+there's no good of her in this world. Now look at that girl,--doesn't
+everybody say it's time she were married?--but no marrying for her!
+Nothing will do but we must off to Rome on a pilgrimage,--and what's the
+good of that, I want to know? If it's praying that's to be done, the dear
+saints know she's at it from morning till night,--and lately she's up and
+down three or four times a night with some prayer or other."
+
+"Well, well," said Jocunda, "who started this idea?"
+
+"Oh, Father Francesco and she got it up between them,--and nothing will do
+but I must go, too."
+
+"Well, now, after all, my dear," said Jocunda, "do you know, I made a
+pilgrimage once, and it isn't so bad. One gets a good deal by it, first
+and last. Everybody drops something into your hand as you go, and one gets
+treated as if one were somebody a little above the common; and then in
+Rome one has a princess or a duchess or some noble lady who washes one's
+feet, and gives one a good supper, and perhaps a new suit of clothes, and
+all that,--and ten to one there comes a pretty little sum of money to
+boot, if one plays one's cards well. A pilgrimage isn't bad, after
+all;--one sees a world of fine things, and something new every day."
+
+"But who is to look after our garden and dress our trees?"
+
+"Ah, now, there's Antonio, and old Meta his mother," said Jocunda, with a
+knowing wink at Agnes. "I fancy there are friends there that would lend a
+hand to keep things together against the little one comes borne. If one is
+going to be married, a pilgrimage brings good luck in the family. All the
+saints take it kindly that one comes so far to see them, and are more
+ready to do a good turn for one when one needs it. The blessed saints are
+like other folks,--they like to be treated with proper attention."
+
+This view of pilgrimages from the material stand-point had more effect on
+the mind of Elsie than the most elaborate appeals of Father Francesco. She
+began to acquiesce, though with a reluctant air.
+
+Jocunda, seeing her words had made some impression, pursued her advantage
+on the spiritual ground.
+
+"To be sure," she added, "I don't know how it is with you; but I know that
+_I_ have, one way and another, rolled up quite an account of sins in my
+life. When I was tramping up and down with my old man through the
+country,--now in this castle and then in that camp, and now and then in at
+the sacking of a city or village, or something of the kind,--the saints
+forgive us!--it does seem as if one got into things that were not of the
+best sort, in such times. It's true, it's been wiped out over and over by
+the priest; but then a pilgrimage is a good thing to make all sure, in
+case one's good works should fall short of one's sins at last. I can tell
+you, a pilgrimage is a good round weight to throw into the scale; and when
+it comes to heaven and hell, you know, my dear, why, one cannot be too
+careful."
+
+"Well, that may be true enough," said Elsie,--"though, as to my sins, I
+have tried to keep them regularly squared up and balanced as I went along.
+I have always been regular at confession, and never failed a jot or tittle
+in what the holy father told me. But there may be something in what you
+say; one can't be too sure; and so I'll e'en school my old bones into
+taking this tramp."
+
+That evening, as Agnes was sitting in the garden at sunset, her
+grandmother bustling in and out, talking, groaning, and, hurrying in her
+preparations for the anticipated undertaking, suddenly there was a
+rustling in the branches overhead, and a bouquet of rose-buds fell at her
+feet. Agnes picked it up, and saw a scrip of paper coiled among the
+flowers. In a moment remembering the apparition of the cavalier in the
+church in the morning, she doubted not from whom it came. So dreadful had
+been the effect of the scene at the confessional, that the thought of the
+near presence of her lover brought only terror. She turned pale; her hands
+shook. She shut her eyes, and prayed that she might not be left to read
+the paper; and then, summoning all her resolution, she threw the bouquet
+with force over the wall. It dropped down, down, down the gloomy, shadowy
+abyss, and was lost in the damp caverns below.
+
+The cavalier stood without the wall, waiting for some responsive signal in
+reply to his missive. It had never occurred to him that Agnes would not
+even read it, and he stood confounded when he saw it thrown back with such
+apparent rudeness. He remembered her pale, terrified look on seeing him in
+the morning. It was not indifference or dislike, but mortal fear, that had
+been shown in that pale face.
+
+"These wretches are practising on her," he said, in wrath,--"filling her
+head with frightful images, and torturing her sensitive conscience till
+she sees sin in the most natural and innocent feelings."
+
+He had learned from Father Antonio the intention of Agnes to go on a
+pilgrimage, and he longed to see and talk with her, that he might offer
+her his protection against dangers which he understood far better than
+she. It had never even occurred to him that the door for all possible
+communication would be thus suddenly barred in his face.
+
+"Very well," he said to himself, with a darkening brow,--"let them have it
+their own way here. She must pass through my dominions before she can
+reach Rome, and I will find a place where I _can_ be heard, without priest
+or grandmother to let or hinder. She is mine, and I will care for her."
+
+But poor Agnes had the woman's share of the misery to bear, in the fear
+and self-reproach and distress which every movement of this kind cost her.
+The involuntary thrill at seeing her lover, at hearing from him, the
+conscious struggle which it cost her to throw back his gift, were all
+noted by her accusing conscience as so many sins. The next day she sought
+again her confessor, and began an entrance on those darker and more chilly
+paths of penance, by which, according to the opinion of her times, the
+peculiarly elect of the Lord were supposed to be best trained. Hitherto
+her religion had been the cheerful and natural expression of her tender
+and devout nature according to the more beautiful and engaging devotional
+forms of her Church. During the year when her confessor had been,
+unconsciously to himself, led by her instead of leading, her spiritual
+food had been its beautiful old hymns and prayers, which she found no
+weariness in often repeating. But now an unnatural conflict was begun in
+her mind, directed by a spiritual guide in whom every natural and normal
+movement of the soul had given way before a succession of morbid and
+unhealthful experiences. From that day Agnes wore upon her heart one of
+those sharp instruments of torture which in those times were supposed to
+be a means of inward grace,--a cross with seven steel points for the seven
+sorrows of Mary. She fasted with a severity which alarmed her grandmother,
+who in her inmost heart cursed the day that ever she had placed her in the
+way of saintship.
+
+"All this will just end in spoiling her beauty,--making her as thin as a
+shadow,"--said Elsie; "and she was good enough before."
+
+But it did not spoil her beauty,-it only changed its character. The
+roundness and bloom melted away,--but there came in their stead that
+solemn, transparent clearness of countenance, that spiritual light and
+radiance, which the old Florentine painters gave to their Madonnas.
+
+It is singular how all religious exercises and appliances take the
+character of the nature that uses them. The pain and penance, which so
+many in her day bore as a cowardly expedient for averting divine wrath,
+seemed, as she viewed them, a humble way of becoming associated in the
+sufferings of her Redeemer. "_Jesu dulcis memoria_," was the thought that
+carried a redeeming sweetness with every pain. Could she thus, by
+suffering with her Lord, gain power like Him to save,--a power which
+should save that soul so dear and so endangered! "Ah," she thought, "I
+would give my life-blood, drop by drop, if only it might avail for his
+salvation!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+THE TRUE HEROINE.
+
+  What was she like? I cannot tell.
+  I only know God loved her well.
+  Two noble sons her gray hairs blest,--
+  And he, their sire, was now at rest.
+
+  And why her children loved her so,
+  And called her blessed, all shall know:
+  She never had a selfish thought,
+  Nor valued what her hand had wrought.
+
+  She could be just in spite of love;
+  And cherished hates she dwelt above;
+  In sick-rooms they that had her care
+  Said she was wondrous gentle there.
+
+  It was a fearful trust, she knew,
+  To guide her young immortals through;
+  But Love and Truth explained the way,
+  And Piety made perfect day.
+
+  She taught them to be pure and true,
+  And brave, and strong, and courteous, too;
+  She made them reverence silver hairs,
+  And feel the poor man's biting cares.
+
+  She won them ever to her side;
+  _Home_ was their treasure and their pride:
+  Its food, drink, shelter pleased them best,
+  And there they found the sweetest rest.
+
+  And often, as the shadows fell,
+  And twilight had attuned them well,
+  She sang of many a noble deed,
+  And marked with joy their eager heed.
+
+  And most she marked their kindling eyes
+  When telling of the victories
+  That made the Stars and Stripes a name,
+  Their country rich in honest fame.
+
+  It was a noble land, she said,--
+  Its poorest children lacked not bread;
+  It was so broad, so rich, so free,
+  They sang its praise beyond the sea;
+
+  And thousands sought its kindly shore,
+  And none were poor and friendless more;
+  All blessed the name of Washington,
+  And loved the Union, every one.
+
+  She made them feel that they were part
+  Of a great nation's living heart.--
+  So they grew up, true patriot boys,
+  And knew not all their mother's joys.
+
+  Sad was the hour when murmurs loud
+  From a great black advancing cloud
+  Made millions feel the coming breath
+  Of maddened whirlwinds, full of death!
+
+  She prayed the skies might soon be bright,
+  And made her sons prepare for fight
+  Brave youths!--their zeal proved clearly then
+  In such an hour youths can be men!
+
+  By day she went from door to door,--
+  Men caught her soul, unfelt before;
+  By night she prayed, and planned, and dreamed,
+  Till morn's red light war's lightning seemed.
+
+  The cry went forth; forth stepped her sons
+  In martial blaze of gleaming guns:
+  Still striding on to perils dire,
+  They turned to catch her glance of fire.
+
+  No fears, no fond regrets she knew,
+  But proudly watched them fade from view:
+  "Lord, keep them so!" she said, and turned
+  To where her lonely hearth-fire burned.
+
+         *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+JEFFERSON AND SLAVERY.
+
+
+Any one who feels deeply the truths in which our great men of old founded
+this Democracy, and who sees clearly the great lines of political
+architecture by which alone it shall stand firm or rise high, finds in the
+direct plan and work the agency mainly of six men.
+
+These may be set in three groups.
+
+_First_, three men, who, through a series of earnest thoughts, taking
+shape sometimes in apt words, sometimes in bold acts, did most to _found_
+the Republic: and these three are Washington, Adams, and Jefferson.
+
+_Secondly_, two men, who, as statesmen, by a healthful division between
+the two great natural policies, and, as politicians, by a healthful
+antagonism between the two great natural parties, did most to _build_ the
+Republic: and these two are Jefferson and Hamilton.
+
+_Thirdly_, three men, who, having a clear theory in their heads, and a
+deep conviction in their hearts, working on the nation by sermons,
+epistles, programmes, hints, quips, innuendoes, by every form of winged
+word, have done most to get this people into simple trains of humanitarian
+thought, and have therefore done most to _brace_ the Republic: and these
+three men are Franklin, Jefferson, and Channing.
+
+So, rising above the dust raised in our old quarrels, and taking a broad
+view over this Democracy, we see Jefferson firmly placed in each of these
+groups.
+
+If we search in Jefferson's writings and in the contemporary records to
+ascertain what that power was which won him these positions, we find that
+it was no personal skill in cajoling friends or scaring enemies. No
+sound-hearted man ever rose from talk with him with a tithe of the
+veneration felt by those who sat at the feet of Washington or Hamilton or
+Channing. Neither was his position due to oratory: he could deal neither
+in sweet words nor in lofty words. Yet, in spite of these wants, he
+wrought on the nation with immense power.
+
+The real secret of this power was, first of all, that Jefferson saw
+infinitely deeper into the principles of the rising Democracy, and
+infinitely farther into its future working, than any other man of his
+time. Those who earnestly read him will often halt astounded at proofs of
+a foresight in him almost miraculous. Even in masses of what men have
+called his puerility there are often germs of immense worth,--taking
+years, perhaps, to show life, but sure to be alive at last.
+
+Take, as the latest examples of this, three germ-truths which have
+recently come to full life, after having been trodden under foot for fifty
+years.
+
+Early in our national life Jefferson declared against the usurpations of
+the national judiciary. Straightway his supporters were divided, mainly
+between those who sorrowed and those who stood silent; while his opponents
+were divided only between those who laughed and those who cursed. But who
+laughs now? Jefferson foresaw but too well. The usurpations of the
+national judiciary have come in shapes most hideous,--in the _obiter
+dicta_ of the Dred Scott decision, and in the use of quibbles to entangle
+our defenders and set loose our traitors.
+
+Take an example of another kind. In his early career Jefferson gave forth
+a scheme of harbor-defence by gun-boats and floating batteries. This was
+partially carried out, and only partially; so it failed. On these
+gun-boats and batteries his enemies never tired of trying their wit, and
+certainly seemed to make a brilliant point against his foresight and
+economy. But, in these latter years, many Americans besides ourself,
+visiting Cronstadt during the blockade by the Allied fleet, saw not only
+how the Allies failed of a conquest, the first summer, for want of
+gun-boats, but how the Russians protected themselves greatly, during the
+second summer, by means of them. We were shown, too, that not only could
+good work be done by those driven by steam, but that the greater number
+driven by oarsmen were of much service, not only in vexing the enemy, but
+in protecting the whole exposed coast. Here was Jefferson's scheme to the
+letter. Here was a despised thought of the past become a proud fact of the
+present. Here had the Autocrat reared a monument to our great
+Democrat,--gaining praise for Jefferson long after his enemies and their
+factious laughter had died out forever.
+
+But take what the main body of cultured Americans have thought Jefferson's
+chronic whimsey,--his belief that the heart of England must be ever set
+against all our liberty and prosperity. As we now breast the terrific
+storm which English reasonings and taunts had encouraged us to brave, and
+hear, swelling above the faint English God-speed, misstatements, gibes,
+reproofs, malignant prophecies, who of us shall say that the English
+character and policy of 1861 were not better foreknown by Jefferson in
+1820 than by ourselves In 1860?
+
+So much for Jefferson's insight and foresight. But there was yet a greater
+quality which gave him a place in each of these three great groups,--his
+faith in Democracy.
+
+At a time when the French Revolution had scared even Burke, and when the
+British Constitution was thought by many to have seduced even Washington,
+Jefferson held fast to his great faith in the rights and capacities of the
+people. The only effect on him of the shocks and failures of that period
+was to make his anxiety sometimes morbid, and his action sometimes
+spasmodic. Hence much that to many men has seemed unjust suspicion of
+Adams, and persecution of Hamilton, and disrespect for Washington. Yet all
+this was but the jarring of that strong mind in the struggle and crash of
+his times,--mere spasms of bigotry which prove the vigor of his faith in
+Democracy.
+
+Jefferson, then, known of all men not fettered by provincial traditions as
+invested with this foresight and this faith, is become to a vast party an
+idol, and from his writings issue oracles. But the priests at his shrines,
+having waxed fat in honors, have at last so befogged his sentiments and
+wrested his arguments, that thousands of true men regard him sorrowfully
+as the promoter of that Slavery-Despotism which to-day blooms in treason.
+It is worth our while, therefore, to seek to know whether Jefferson the
+god of the Oligarchs is Jefferson the Democrat. Let us, by the simplest
+and fairest process possible, try to come at his real opinions on
+Slavery,--just as they grew when he did so much to found the
+Republic,--just as they flourished when he did so much to build the
+Republic,--just as they were re-wrought and polished when he did so much
+to brace the Republic.
+
+The whole culture of Jefferson's youth was, of all things in the world,
+least likely to make him support slavery or apologize for it. The man who
+did most to work into his mind ideas of moral and political science was
+Dr. William Small, a liberal Scotchman; the man who did most to direct his
+studies in law, and his grappling with social problems, was George Wythe.
+To both of these Jefferson confessed the deepest debt for their efforts to
+strengthen his mind and make his footing firm. Now, of all men in this
+country at that time, these two were least likely to support pro-slavery
+theories or tolerate pro-slavery cant. For while to Small's soundness
+there is abundance of general testimony, there is to Wythe's soundness
+testimony the most pointed. We have but to take the first volume of
+Jefferson's Works, published by order of Congress, and we find Jefferson's
+anti-slavery letter to Dr. Price, written in 1785, urging the Doctor to
+work against pro-slavery ideas in the young men, and to exhort the young
+men of Virginia to the "redress of the enormity." Incidentally he speaks
+of Mr. Wythe as already doing great good in this direction among these
+same young men, and declares him "one of the most virtuous of characters,
+and whose sentiments on the subject of slavery are unequivocal."
+
+So much for the _direct_ influences on Jefferson's early culture.
+
+Studying, next, the _indirect_ influences on his early culture, we see
+that the reform literature of that time was coming almost entirely from
+France. Active, earnest men everywhere were grasping the theories and
+phrases of Voltaire and Rousseau and Montesquieu, to wield them against
+every tyranny. Terrible weapons these,--often searing and scarring
+frightfully those who brandished them,--yet there was not one chance in a
+thousand that any man who had once made any considerable number of these
+ideas his own could ever support slavery. Whoever, at that time, studied
+the "Contrat Social," or the defence of Jean Calas, whatever other sins he
+might commit, was no more likely to advocate systematic oppression than
+are they who now read with reverence Dr. Arnold and Charles Kingsley; and
+whoever, at that time, read earnestly "The Spirit of the Laws" was as sure
+to fight slavery as any man who to-day reveres Channing or Theodore
+Parker. Those French thinkers threw such heat and light into Jefferson's
+young mind, that every filthy weed of tyrannic quibble or pro-slavery
+paradox must have been shrivelled.
+
+And the young statesman grew under this influence as we should expect. In
+his twenty-seventh year he sat in the Virginia House of Burgesses, and his
+first effort in legislation was, in his own words, "an effort for the
+permission of the emancipation of slaves, which was rejected, and, indeed,
+during the regal government nothing liberal could expect success." His
+whole career in those years, whether as public man or private man, shows
+that his hatred of slavery was bitter. But there was such a press of other
+work during this founding period, that this hatred took shape not so much
+in a steady siege as in a series of pitched battles. The work to be done
+was immense, and Jefferson bore the bulk of it. He took upon himself
+one-third of the revising and codifying of the Virginia laws, and did even
+more than this. He undertook, in his own words, "a distinct series of
+labors which formed _a system by which every fibre would be eradicated of
+ancient or future aristocracy_." He effected the repeal of the laws of
+entail, and this prevented an aristocratic absorption of the soil; he
+effected the abolition of primogeniture, and this destroyed all chance of
+rebuilding feudal families; he effected a restoration of the rights of
+conscience, and this overthrew all hope of an Established Church; he
+forced on the bill for general education,--for thus, he said, would the
+people be "qualified to understand their rights, to maintain them, and to
+exercise with intelligence their parts in self-government." In all this
+work his keen common sense always cut his way through questions at which
+other men stopped or stumbled. Thus, in the discussion on primogeniture,
+when Isaac Pendleton proposed, as a compromise, that they should adopt the
+Hebrew principle and give a double portion to the eldest son, Jefferson
+cut at once into the heart of the question. As he himself relates,--"I
+observed, that, if the eldest son could eat twice as much, or do double
+work, it might be a natural evidence of his right to a double portion; but
+being on a par in his powers and wants with his brothers and sisters, he
+should be on a par also in the partition of the patrimony. And such was
+the decision of the other members."
+
+But such fierceness against the bulwarks of aristocracy, and such keenness
+in cutting through its heavy arguments, carried him farther. Logic forced
+him to pass from the attack on aristocracy to the attack on slavery, just
+as logic forces the Confederate oligarchs of to-day to pass from the
+defence of slavery to the defence of aristocracy. He was sure to fight
+this vilest of tyrannies, and he gave quick thrusts and heavy blows. In
+1778 he brought in a bill to prevent the further importation of slaves
+into Virginia. "This," he says, "passed without opposition, and stopped
+the increase of the evil by importation, leaving to future efforts its
+final eradication." Years afterward he wrote as follows:--"I have
+sometimes asked myself whether my country is better for my having lived at
+all: I do not know that it is. I have been the instrument of doing the
+following things." Of these things there were just ten. Just ten great
+worthy deeds in a life like Jefferson's!--and one of these he declares
+"the act prohibiting the importation of slaves."
+
+Close upon this followed a fiercer grapple,--his third great legislative
+attack on slavery. In his revision of the Virginia laws he reported "a
+bill to emancipate all slaves born after the passing of the act." Attached
+to this was a plan for the instruction of the young negroes thus set free.
+
+To follow Jefferson and understand him, we must bear in mind that the
+Virginia which educated him was not behind a dozen smaller States in
+fertility, enterprise, and republican feeling. Its best men were haters of
+slavery. The efforts of its leaders were directed to other things than
+plans for taxing oysters or filching the gains of free negroes. Forth from
+the Virginia of that time were hurled against negro slavery the thrilling
+invectives of Patrick Henry, the startling prophecies of Madison, and the
+declaration of Washington, "For the abolition of slavery by law my vote
+shall not be wanting."
+
+For a mirror of that Virginia statesmanship, in its dealings with human
+rights, take the "Dissertation on Slavery with a Proposal for the Gradual
+Abolition of it in the State of Virginia, written by St. George Tucker,
+Professor of Law in the University of William and Mary, and one of the
+Judges of the General Court in Virginia," published in 1791. It proves,
+that, between the passage of the act of 1782 allowing manumission and the
+year 1791, more than ten thousand slaves had been set free. One is tempted
+to believe that the new Massachusetts school caught its fire from this old
+Virginia school; for this friend of Jefferson speaks of "the inconsistency
+of invoking God for liberty in our Revolution and imposing on our
+fellow-men who differ from us in complexion a slavery ten thousand times
+more cruel than the grievances and oppressions of which we complained."
+Such was the utterance of the Virginia school of statesmanship in which
+Jefferson was trained.
+
+And his views progressed, as we should expect. On the occasion of a call
+for instructions to the first Virginia delegates to Congress respecting an
+address to the King, Jefferson drew up a paper, which, though greatly
+admired, was thought too bold. In one passage he goes beyond his masters,
+and says,--"For the most trifling reasons, and sometimes for no
+conceivable reasons at all, his Majesty has rejected laws of the most
+salutary tendency. _The abolition of domestic slavery is the great object
+of desire in these Colonies, where it was unhappily introduced in their
+infant state._ But, previous to the enfranchisement of the slaves we have,
+it is necessary to exclude all further importations from Africa. Yet our
+repeated efforts to effect this, by prohibiting and by imposing duties
+which might amount to prohibition, have been hitherto defeated by his
+Majesty's negative,--thus preferring the advantages of a few British
+corsairs to the lasting interests of the American States, and to the
+rights of human nature, deeply wounded by this infamous practice."
+
+These words are hot and bright, but they are mere sparkles compared to the
+full-flaming orb of freedom which our statesman gave afterward. For, take
+the Declaration of Independence, as it issued from Carpenter's Hall, after
+slavery-loving planters of the South and money-loving ship-owners of the
+North had, as they thought, made it neutral, and we all, North and South,
+recognize in it the boldest anti-slavery document extant. Why else do
+Northern demagogues ridicule it, and Southern demagogues revile it? Yet
+Jefferson made it far stronger and sharper against negro slavery than it
+is now. Look closely at the well-known fac-simile:--
+
+    [Transcriber's note: in this quotation, _text_ is underlined;
+    #text# is struck through]
+
+  he has waged cruel war against human nature itself, violating it's most sac-
+  -red rights of life & liberty in the persons of a distant people who never of-
+  fended him, captivating & carrying them into slavery in another hemis-
+  -sphere, or to incur miserable death in their transportation thither, this
+  piratical warfare, the opprobrium of _infidel_ powers, is the warfare of the
+  _Christian_ king of Great Britain determined to keep open a market
+                                  #and#
+  where MEN should be bought & sold he has prostituted his negative
+  for suppressing every legislative attempt to prohibit or to restrain this
+    #determining to keep open a market where MEN should be bought & sold:#
+  execrable commerce: and that this assemblage of horrors might want no fact
+  of distinguished die, he is now exciting those very people to rise in arms
+  among us, and to purchase that liberty of which _he_ has deprived them,
+  by murdering the people upon whom _he_ also obtruded them: thus paying
+  off former crimes committed against the _liberties_ of one people, with crimes
+  which he urges them to commit against the _lives_ of another.]
+
+There stands to this day that precious original,--hot first-thoughts and
+cold second-thoughts, all in Jefferson's own hand. Look for a moment at
+the rich current of internal evidence running through that rough draught,
+and through all its erasures, changes, and emphatic markings,--evidence of
+the deepest hatred not only of all tyranny, but of all slavery. Thus,
+after he had written the passage, "determined to keep open a market where
+MEN should be bought & sold," the idea continues hot in his mind; for,
+after smouldering a few moments, it flames forth again, is written again
+in the same phrasing, with the same show of emphasis, before he bethinks
+himself to erase it. Then, too, the words Christian and MEN are the only
+words emphasized by careful pen-printing in large letters;--and this
+labored movement of his pen marks the injury which he deemed the greater;
+for the largest letters and deepest emphasis are reserved for MEN.
+Evidently, that word points out the wrong which, as Jefferson thought, "a
+candid world" would forever regard as the supreme wrong.
+
+We have now noted Jefferson's battle against slavery in the founding of
+the Republic: let us go on to his work in the building of the Republic.
+
+In 1782 he gave forth the "Notes on Virginia." His opposition to slavery
+is as fierce here as of old, but it takes various phases,--sometimes
+sweeping against the hated system with a torrent of facts,--sometimes
+battering it with a hard, cold logic,--sometimes piercing it with deadly
+queries and suggestions,--and sometimes, with his blazing hate of all
+oppression, biting and burning through every pro-slavery theory.
+
+But in taking up the "Notes," we must understand the relation of
+Jefferson's way of thinking to his way of working. In his thinking, the
+slave system was evidently a violation of the whole body of good
+principles, for he calls it an "_evil_";--a violation of morality, for he
+calls it an "_enormity_";--a violation of justice, for he calls it a
+"_wrong_";--a violation of republican pretensions, for he calls it a
+"_hideous blot_";--a violation of the healthy action of our institutions,
+for he calls it a "_disease_";--a violation of our whole public happiness,
+for he calls it a "_curse_." But his way of working was more calm and
+cool,--often displeasing those whose plans of action are formed far from
+any direct entanglement in the slave system.
+
+This union of fervent thought and cool action has, of course, brought upon
+Jefferson the invectives of two great classes. One class have looked
+merely at his thinking, and have distrusted him as a dreamer. To these he
+is a dealer in oracles, at second-hand, from Voltaire and Diderot. The
+other class have studied his plans of practical philanthropy, with all his
+shrewd researches and homely discussions in agriculture, finance,
+mechanics, and architecture, and have ridiculed him as a tinker. To such
+Jefferson seems a grandmotherly sort of person,--riding about in a gig
+arranged to register the length of his rides,--walking about in boots
+arranged to register the length of his walks,--weatherwise, and profound
+in dealing with smoky chimneys and sheep-breeding.
+
+But whether men have cavilled at him for a dreamer or laughed at him for a
+tinker, they have been mainly foolish, for they have cavilled and laughed
+at the very combination which made him powerful. In no other American have
+been so happily blended highest skill in theory and highest strength in
+practice.
+
+The remarks, in the "Notes on Virginia," on the colored race are clear and
+fair. He studied carefully and stated fully all that could be learned in
+his time. On the whole, his examination greatly encourages those who hope
+good things for that race. But one distinction must be made. As to those
+profound views of the character and destiny of the race which come only by
+observation of a long historic development, in a wide range of climate, in
+great variety of social position, Jefferson could, as he confesses, know
+almost nothing,--for the same reason that the keenest observer of William
+the Conqueror's Norman robbers and Saxon swineherds would have failed to
+foretell the great dominant race which has come from them by free growth
+and good culture. But, on the other hand, of all that comes by observation
+of the daily life of the black race, as it then was, he knew almost
+everything.
+
+He declares that the black race is inferior to the white in mind, but not
+in heart. The poems of black Phillis Wheatley seem to him to prove not
+much; but the letters of black Ignatius Sancho he praises for depth of
+feeling, happy turn of thought, and ease of style, though he finds no
+depth of reasoning. He does not praise the mental capacity of the race,
+but, at last, as if conscious, that, if developed under a free system, it
+might be far better, he quotes the Homeric lines,--
+
+  "Jove fixed it certain that whatever day
+  Makes man a slave takes half his worth away."
+
+And shortly after, he declares it "a _suspicion_ only that the blacks are
+inferior in the endowments of body or mind,"--that "in memory they are
+equal to the whites,"--that "in music they are more generally gifted than
+the whites with accurate ears for time and tune."
+
+But there is one statement which we especially commend to those in search
+of an effective military policy in the present crisis. Jefferson declares
+of the negroes, that they are "at least as brave as the whites, and more
+adventuresome." May not this truth account for the fact that one of the
+most daring deeds in the present war was done by a black man?
+
+Still later, Jefferson says,--"Whether further observation will or will
+not verify the conjecture that Nature has been less bountiful to them in
+the endowments of the head, I believe that in those of the heart she will
+be found to have done them justice. That disposition to theft with which
+they have been branded must be ascribed to their situation, and not to any
+depravity of the moral sense. The man in whose favor no laws of property
+exist probably feels himself less bound to respect those made in favor of
+others. When arguing for ourselves, we lay it down as fundamental, that
+laws, to be just, must give reciprocation of right,--that, without this,
+they are mere arbitrary rules of conduct, founded in force, and not in
+conscience; and it is a problem which I give to the master to solve,
+whether the religious precepts against the violation of property were not
+framed for him as well as his slave,--and whether the slave may not as
+justifiably take a little from one who has taken all from him as he may
+slay one who would slay him. That a change in the relations in which a man
+is placed should change his ideas of moral right and wrong is neither new,
+nor peculiar to the color of the blacks."
+
+Here Jefferson puts forth that very idea for which Gerrit Smith, a few
+years ago, was threatened with the penalties of treason.
+
+But to quote further from the same source:--
+
+    "Notwithstanding these considerations, which must weaken their
+    respect for the laws of property, we find among them numerous
+    instances of the most rigid integrity, and as many as among their
+    instructed masters, of benevolence, gratitude, and unshaken
+    fidelity. The opinion that they are inferior in the faculties of
+    reason and imagination must be hazarded with great diffidence."
+
+The old hot thought blazes forth again in the chapter on "Particular
+Manners and Customs." Can men speak against the proclamations of Abolition
+Conventions after such fiery words from Jefferson?
+
+    "The whole commerce between master and slave is a perpetual
+    exercise of the most boisterous passions, the most unremitting
+    despotism, on the one part, and degrading submission on the other.
+    Our children see this, and learn to imitate it; for man is an
+    imitative animal. If a parent could find no motive either in his
+    philanthropy or his self-love for restraining the intemperance of
+    passion toward his slave, it should always be a sufficient one
+    that his child is present. But generally it is not sufficient. The
+    parent storms, the child looks on, catches the lineaments of
+    wrath, puts on the same airs in the circle of smaller slaves,
+    gives a loose rein to the worst of passions, and thus nursed,
+    educated, and daily exercised in tyranny, cannot but be stamped by
+    its odious peculiarities. The man must be a prodigy who can retain
+    his manners and morals undepraved by such circumstances." (Here
+    fire begins to flicker up around the words.) "And with what
+    execration should a statesman be loaded, who, permitting one half
+    the _citizens_" (note the word) "to trample on the _rights_" (note
+    the word) "of the other, transforms those into despots and these
+    into enemies, destroys the morals of the one and the _amor
+    patriae_ of the other! And can the liberties of a nation be
+    thought secure, when we have removed their only firm basis,--a
+    conviction in the minds of the people that their liberties are the
+    gifts of God, that they are not to be violated but with His
+    wrath?" (Now bursts forth prophecy. The whole page flames in a
+    moment.) "Indeed, I tremble for my country when I reflect that God
+    is just; that His justice cannot sleep forever; that, considering
+    numbers, nature, and natural means only, a revolution of the wheel
+    of Fortune, an exchange of situation, is among possible events;
+    that it may become probable by supernatural interference! The
+    Almighty has no attribute which can take side with us in such a
+    contest."
+
+Well may Jefferson say, immediately after this, that "it is impossible to
+be temperate and to pursue this subject through the various considerations
+of policy, of morals, of history natural and civil." For no Abolitionist
+ever branded the slave-system with words more fiery.
+
+In 1784 Jefferson drew up the ordinance for the government of the Western
+Territory. One famous clause runs thus:--
+
+    "After the year 1800 of the Christian era there shall be neither
+    slavery nor involuntary servitude in any of the said States,
+    otherwise than in punishment of crimes whereof the party shall
+    have been convicted to be personally guilty."
+
+In Randall's "Life of Jefferson," a work in many respects admirable, this
+clause is glossed with the declaration that Jefferson intended merely to
+prevent an immense new importation of slaves from Africa to fill the
+Territory; but Mr. Randall would have shown far greater insight, had he
+added to this half-truth, that the idea of legally grasping and strangling
+this curse flows from the ideas of the "Notes" as hot metal flows from
+fiery furnace,--that the Ordinance of 1784 was but a minting of that true
+metal drawn from those old glowing thoughts and words.
+
+But Jefferson's hatred of slavery is not less fierce in his letters.
+
+Dr. Price writes a pamphlet in England against slavery, and straightway
+Jefferson seizes his pen to urge him to write more, and more clearly for
+America, and more directly at American young men, saying, in
+encouragement,--"Northward of the Chesapeake you may find, here and there,
+an opponent to your doctrine, as you may find, here and there, a
+murderer." He speaks hopefully of the disposition in Virginia to "redress
+this enormity,"--calls the fight against slavery "the interesting
+spectacle of justice in conflict with avarice and oppression,"--speaks of
+the side hostile to slavery as "the sacred side." The date is 1785.
+
+This welcome to Dr. Price's onslaught will serve as antidote to Mr.
+Randall's poisonous declaration, that Jefferson was opposed to
+interference with slave institutions by those living outside of Slave
+States.
+
+In 1786 Jefferson wrote to correct M. de Meusnier's statement of the
+efforts already made for emancipation; and, referring to the holding of
+slaves by a people who had clamored loudly and fought bravely for freedom,
+he says,--
+
+    "What a stupendous, what an incomprehensible machine is man,--who
+    can endure toil, famine, stripes, imprisonment, and death itself,
+    in vindication of his own liberty, and, in the next moment, be
+    deaf to all those motives whose power supported him through his
+    trial, and inflict on his fellow-men _a bondage one hour of which
+    is fraught with more misery than ages of that which he rose in
+    rebellion to oppose_!"
+
+Here, in Jefferson himself, then, is the source of that venom with which
+earnest men, throughout the land, are stinging to death the organization
+which stole his name to destroy his ideas.
+
+In 1788, Jefferson, being Minister at Paris, receives a note from M. de
+Warville tendering him membership in the Society for the Abolition of the
+Slave-Trade. Jefferson is forced by his peculiar position to decline, but
+he takes pains to say,--"You know that nobody wishes more ardently to see
+an abolition not only of the trade, but of the _condition_ of slavery."
+
+Here is no non-committalism, no wistful casting about for loop-holes, no
+sly putting out of hooks to catch backers, not the feeblest germ of
+quibble or lie. The man answers more than he is asked. Is there not, in
+the present dearth, something refreshing in this old candor?
+
+But some have thought Jefferson's later expressions against slavery
+wanting in heartiness. Let us examine.
+
+The whole world knows, that, when a wrong stings a man, making him fierce
+and loud, his _direct_ expressions have often small value; but that his
+_parenthetical_ expressions often have great value. This is one of the
+simplest principles in homely every-day criticism, serving truth-seekers,
+wherever wordy war rages, whether among statesmen or hackmen.
+
+Now, in Jefferson's letter to Dr. Gordon,--written in 1788,--he is greatly
+stirred by his own recital of the shameful ravages on his property by the
+British army. Just at the moment when his indignation was at the hottest,
+there shot out of his heart, and off his pen, one of these side-thoughts,
+one of these fragments of the man's ground-idea, which, at such moments,
+truth-seekers always watch for. Jefferson says of Cornwallis,--
+
+    "He destroyed all my growing crops of corn and tobacco; he burned
+    all my barns containing the same articles of the last year, having
+    first taken what corn he wanted; he used, as was to be expected,
+    all my stock of cattle, sheep, and hogs, for the sustenance of his
+    army, and carried off all the horses capable of service,--of those
+    too young for service he cut the throats; and he burned all the
+    fences in the plantation, so as to make it an absolute waste. _He
+    carried off also about thirty slaves. Had this been to give them
+    their freedom, he would have done right_."
+
+But we turn to a seeming discrepancy between these thousand earnest
+declarations of Jefferson the private citizen, and the cold, formal tone
+of Jefferson the Secretary of State. In this high office he reclaims
+slaves from the Spanish power in Florida, and demands compensation for
+slaves carried off by the British at the evacuation of New York. For a
+moment that transition from personal warmth to diplomatic coolness is as
+the Russian plunge from steam-bath to snow-heap.
+
+Yet, if truth-seekers do not stop to moan, they may easily find a complete
+explanation. As private citizen, in a State, dealing with his home
+Government, Jefferson had the right to move heaven and earth against
+slavery, and bravely he did it; but, as public servant of the nation,
+dealing with foreign Governments, his rights and duties were different,
+and his tone must be different. As a private person, writing for man as
+man, Jefferson forgot readily enough all differences of nation. He wrote
+as readily and fully of the hideousness of slavery to Meusnier and
+Warville in France, or to Price and Priestley in England, as to any of his
+neighbors; but, as public servant of the nation, writing to Hammond or
+Viar, representatives of foreign powers, he made no apology for our
+miseries. England might be ready enough to act the part of Dives, but
+Jefferson was not the statesman to put America in the attitude of
+Lazarus,--begging, and showing sores.
+
+But we have to note yet another change in Jefferson's modes of work and
+warfare.
+
+As he wrought and fought in this second period, which, for easy reference,
+we call the building period, he was forced into new methods. In the former
+period we saw him thinking and speaking and working against every effort
+to found pro-slavery theories or practices. Eagerness was then the best
+quality for work, and quickness the best quality for fight. But now the
+case was different. An institution which Jefferson hated had, in spite of
+his struggles, been firmly founded. The land was full of the towers of the
+slave aristocracy. He saw that his mode of warfare must be changed. His
+old way did well in the earlier days, for tower-builders may be driven
+from their work by a sweeping charge or sudden volley; but towers, when
+built, must be treated with steady battering and skilful mining.
+
+In 1797, Jefferson, writing to St. George Tucker, speaks of the only
+possible emancipation as "a compromise between the passions, prejudices,
+and real difficulties, which will each have their weight in the
+operation." Afterwards, in his letters to Monroe and Rufus King, he
+advocates a scheme of colonization to some point not too distant. But let
+no man, on this account, claim Jefferson as a supporter of the do-nothing
+school of Northern demagogues, or of the mad school of Southern fanatics
+who proclaim this ulcerous mass a beauty, and who howl at all who refuse
+its infection. For, note, in that same letter to St. George Tucker, the
+fervor of the Jeffersonian theory: bitter as Tucker's pamphlet against
+slavery was, he says,--"You know my subscription to its doctrines." Note
+also the vigor of the Jeffersonian practice: speaking of emancipation, he
+says,--"The sooner we put some plan under way, the greater hope there is
+that it may be permitted to proceed peaceably to its ultimate effect." And
+now bursts forth prophecy again. "_But if something is not done, and soon
+done, we shall be the murderers of our own children_." "If we had begun
+sooner, we might probably have been allowed a lengthier operation to clear
+ourselves; but every day's delay lessens the time we may take for
+emancipation."
+
+Here is no trace of the theory inflicting a present certain evil on a
+great white population in order to do a future doubtful good to a smaller
+black population. And this has been nowhere better understood than among
+the slave oligarchs of his own time. Note one marked example.
+
+In 1801, Jefferson was elected to the Presidency on the thirty-sixth
+ballot. Thirty-five times Delaware, Maryland, and South Carolina voted
+against him. The following year Mr. Rutledge of South Carolina, feeling an
+itching to specify to Congress his interests in Buncombe and his relations
+to the universe, palavered in the usual style, but let out one truth, for
+which, as truth-searchers, we thank him. He said,--
+
+    "Permit me to state, that, beside the objections common to my
+    friend from Delaware and myself, there was a strong one which I
+    felt with peculiar force. It resulted from a firm belief that the
+    gentleman in question [Jefferson] _held opinions respecting a
+    certain description of property in my State which, should they
+    obtain generally, would endanger it_."[4]
+
+    [4] Benton's _Abridgment_, Vol. II. p. 636.
+
+We come now to Jefferson's Presidency. In this there was no great chance
+to deal an effective blow at slavery; but some have grown bitter over a
+story that he favored the schemes to break the slavery-limitation in Ohio.
+Such writers have not stopped to consider that it is more probable that a
+few Southern members, eager to drum in recruits, falsely claimed the favor
+of the President, than that Jefferson broke the slavery-limitation which
+he himself planned. Then, too, came the petitions of the abolition
+societies against slavery in Louisiana; and Hildreth blames Jefferson for
+his slowness to assist; but ought we not here to take some account of the
+difficulties of the situation? Ought not some weight to be given to
+Jefferson's declaration to Kerchival, that in his administration his
+"efforts in relation to peace, slavery, and religious freedom were all in
+accordance with Quakerism"?
+
+We pass now to the third great period, in which, as thinker and writer, he
+did so much to brace the Republic.
+
+First of all, in this period we see him revising the translation and
+arranging the publication of De Tracy's "Commentaire sur l'Esprit des
+Lois." He takes endless pains to make its hold firm on America; engages
+his old companion in abolitionism, St. George Tucker, to circulate it;
+makes it a text-book in the University of Virginia; tells his friend
+Cabell to read it, for it is "the best book on government in the world."
+Now this "best book on government" is killing to every form of tyranny or
+slavery; its arguments pierce all their fallacies and crush all their
+sophistries. That famous plea which makes Alison love Austria and Palmer
+love Louisiana--the plea that a people can be best educated for freedom
+and religion by dwarfing their minds and tying their hands--is, in this
+book, shivered by argument and burnt by invective.
+
+As we approach the last years of Jefferson's life we find several letters
+of his on slavery. Some have thought them mere heaps of ashes,--poor
+remains of the flaming thoughts and words of earlier years. This mistake
+is great. Touch the seeming heap of ashes, and those thoughts and words
+dart forth, fiery as of old.
+
+In 1814, Edward Coles attacks slavery vigorously, and calls on the great
+Democrat to destroy it. Jefferson's approving reply is the complete
+summary of his matured views on slavery. Take a few declarations as
+specimens.[5]
+
+    [5] Randall, Vol. III., Appendix.
+
+    "The sentiments breathed through the whole do honor both to the
+    head and heart of the writer. Mine, on the subject of the slavery
+    of negroes, have long since been in possession of the public, and
+    time has only served to give them stronger proof. The love of
+    justice and the love of country plead equally the cause of these
+    people, and it is a mortal reproach to us that they should have
+    pleaded so long in vain."
+
+    "The hour of emancipation is advancing in the march of time. It
+    will come; and whether brought on by the generous energy of our
+    own minds or by the bloody process of St. Domingo ... is a leaf of
+    our history not yet turned over."
+
+    "As to the method by which this difficult work is to be effected,
+    if permitted to be done by ourselves, I have seen no proposition
+    so expedient, on the whole, as that of emancipation of those born
+    after a given day."
+
+    "This enterprise is for the young,--for those who can follow it up
+    and bear it through to its consummation. It shall have all my
+    prayers."
+
+No wonder that this letter of Jefferson to Coles seems to have been
+carefully suppressed by Southern editors of the Jeffersonian writings.
+
+Take also the letters to Mr. Barrows and to Dr. Humphreys of 1815-17.
+Disappointment is expressed at the want of a more general anti-slavery
+feeling among the young men; hope is expressed that "time will soften down
+the master and educate the slave"; faith is expressed that slavery will
+yield, "because we are not in a world ungoverned by the laws and power of
+a Supreme Agent."
+
+Entering now the stormy period of the Missouri Debate, we have one
+declaration from Jefferson which, at first, surprises and pains us,--the
+opinion given in a letter to Lafayette, that spreading slavery will
+"dilute the evil everywhere, and facilitate the means of getting rid of
+it." The mistake is gross indeed. To all of us, with the political
+knowledge forced upon us by events since Jefferson's death, it seems
+atrocious. But unpardonable as such a theory is _now_, was it so _then_?
+
+Jefferson had not before him the experience of these last forty years of
+weakness and poverty and barbarism in our new Slave States,--and of that
+tenacity of life which slavery shares with so many other noxious growths.
+Hastily, then, he broached this opinion. Let it stand; and let the remark
+on "geographical lines," and the two or three severe criticisms of
+Northern men, wrested from him in the excitement of the Missouri struggle,
+be tied to it and given to the Oligarchs. These expressions were drawn
+from him in his old age,--in his vexation at unfair attacks,--in his
+depression at the approach of poverty,--in his suffering under the
+encroachments of disease. Any one of those bold declarations in the vigor
+of his manhood will forever efface all memory of them.
+
+The opinion expressed by Jefferson, at the same period, that "the General
+Government cannot interfere with slavery in the States," all our parties
+now accept--as a _peace_ policy; but if we are forced into an opposite
+_war_ policy, let our generals remember Jefferson's declaration as to the
+taking of his slaves by Cornwallis: "_Had this been to give them their
+freedom, he would have done right_."
+
+But there is one letter which all Northern statesmen should ponder. It
+warns them solemnly, for it was written a very short time before
+Jefferson's death;--it warns them sharply, for it struck one whom the
+North has especially honored. This son of the North had made a well-known
+unfortunate speech in Congress, and had sent it to Jefferson. In his
+answer the old statesman declares,--
+
+    "On the question of the lawfulness of slavery, that is, _of the
+    right of one man to appropriate to himself the faculties of
+    another without his consent, I certainly retain my early
+    opinions_. On that, however, of third persons to interfere between
+    the parties, and the effect of Constitutional modifications of
+    that pretension, we are probably nearer together."
+
+There was a blow well dealt,--though at one now greatly honored. We may
+refuse the subordinate idea in the letter, but we will glory in that main
+confession of political faith, in the last year of Jefferson's life; and
+we will not forget that the last of his letters on slavery chastised the
+worst sin of Northern statesmanship.
+
+Jefferson, then, in dealing with slavery, was a real political seer and
+giver of oracles,--always sure to say _something_; whereas the "leading
+men" who in these latter days have usurped his name are neither political
+seers nor givers of oracles, but mere political fakirs,--striving, their
+lives long, to enter political blessedness by solemnly doing and seeing
+and saying--_nothing_.
+
+Jefferson was a true political warrior, and his battle for human rights
+compares with the Oligarchist battle against them as the warfare of Cortés
+compares with Aztec warfare. He is the man full of strong thought backed
+by civilization: they, the men trying to keep up their faith in idols,
+trying to scare with war-paint, trying to startle with war-whoop, trying
+to vex with showers of poor Aztec arrows.
+
+Jefferson was an orator,--not in that he fed petty assemblages with
+narcotic words to stupefy conscience, or corrosive words to kill
+conscience, but in that he gave to the world those decisive, true words
+which shall yet pierce all tyranny and slavery.
+
+Jefferson was the founder of a democratic system, strong and full-orbed:
+"leading men" have fastened his name to an aristocratic system with
+mobocratic cries.
+
+This great tree of Liberty which we are all trying to plant will, of
+course, not grow as _we_ will, but as God and Nature will. Some branches
+will be exuberant through too great wealth of sunshine,--others gnarled
+and awry through too great fury of storms. We need find no fault with any
+growth, but we may admire some branches and prize some fruits more than
+others. Some grafts set by noblest hands have often blossomed in bad
+temper and borne fruit bitter and sour. Some fruitage has been of that
+poor Dead-Sea sort,--splendid in coating, but inwardly ashes,--wretched
+"protective" schemes and the like. The world may yet see that the limbs of
+toughest fibre and fruit of richest flavor have come from grafts set by
+just such strong men in theory and in practice as Thomas Jefferson.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+A STORY OF TO-DAY.
+
+
+PART IV.
+
+An hour after, the evening came on sultry, the air murky, opaque, with
+yellow trails of color dragging in the west: a sullen stillness in the
+woods and farms; only, in fact, that dark, inexplicable hush that precedes
+a storm. But Lois, coming down the hill-road, singing to herself, and
+keeping time with her whip-end on the wooden measure, stopped when she
+grew conscious of it. It seemed to her blurred fancy more than a deadening
+sky: a something solemn and unknown, hinting of evil to come. The
+dwarf-pines on the road-side scowled weakly at her through the gray; the
+very silver minnows in the pools she passed flashed frightened away, and
+darkened into the muddy niches. There was a vague dread in the sudden
+silence. She called to the old donkey, and went faster down the hill, as
+if escaping from some overhanging peril, unseen. She saw Margaret coming
+up the road. There was a phaëton behind her, and some horsemen: she jolted
+the cart off into the stones to let them pass, seeing Mr. Holmes's face in
+the carriage as she did so. He did not look at her; had his head turned
+towards the gray distance. Lois's vivid eye caught the full meaning of the
+woman beside him. The face hurt her: not fair, as Polston called it: vapid
+and cruel. She was dressed in yellow: the color seemed jeering and mocking
+to the girl's sensitive instinct, keenly alive to every trifle. She did
+not know that it is the color of shams, and that women like this are the
+most deadly of shams. As the phaëton went slowly down, Margaret came
+nearer, meeting it on the road-side, the dust from the wheels stifling the
+air. Lois saw her look up, and then suddenly stand still, holding to the
+fence, as they met her. Holmes's cold, wandering eye turned on the little
+dusty figure standing there, poor and despised. Polston called his eyes
+hungry: it was a savage hunger that sprang into them now; a gray shadow
+creeping over his set face, as he looked at her, in that flashing moment.
+The phaëton was gone in an instant, leaving her alone in the muddy road.
+One of the men looked back, and then whispered something to the lady with
+a laugh. She turned to Holmes, when he had finished, fixing her light,
+confusing eyes on his face, and softening her voice.
+
+"Fred swears that woman we passed was your first love. Were you, then, so
+chivalric? Was it to have been a second romaunt of 'King Cophetua and the
+Beggar Maid'?"
+
+He met her look, and saw the fierce demand through the softness and
+persiflage. He gave it no answer, but, turning to her, kindled into the
+man whom she was so proud to show as her capture,--a man far off from
+Stephen Holmes. Brilliant she called him,--frank, winning, generous. She
+thought she knew him well; held him a slave to her fluttering hand. Being
+proud of her slave, she let the hand flutter down now somehow with some
+flowers it held until it touched his hard fingers, her cheek flushing into
+rose. The nerveless, spongy hand,--what a death-grip it had on his life!
+He did not look back once at the motionless, dusty figure on the road.
+What was that Polston had said about starving to death for a kind word?
+_Love?_ He was sick of the sickly talk,--crushed it out of his heart with
+a savage scorn. He remembered his father, the night he died, had said in
+his weak ravings that God was love. Was He? No wonder, then, He was the
+God of women, and children, and unsuccessful men. For him, he was done
+with it. He was here with stronger purpose than to yield to weaknesses of
+the flesh. He had made his choice,--a straight, hard path upwards; he was
+deaf now and forever to any word of kindness or pity. As for this woman
+beside him, he would be just to her, in justice to himself: she never
+should know the loathing in his heart: just to her as to all living
+creatures. Some little, mean doubt kept up a sullen whisper of bought and
+sold,--sold,--but he laughed it down. He sat there with his head steadily
+turned towards her: a kingly face, she called it, and she was right,--it
+was a kingly face: with the same shallow, fixed smile on his mouth,--no
+weary cry went up to God that day so terrible in its pathos, I think: with
+the same dull consciousness that this was the trial night of his
+life,--that with the homely figure on the road-side he had turned his back
+on love and kindly happiness and warmth, on all that was weak and useless
+in the world. He had made his choice; he would abide by it,--he would
+abide by it. He said that over and over again, dulling down the
+death-gnawing of his outraged heart.
+
+Miss Herne was quite contented, sitting by him, with herself, and the
+admiring world. She had no notion of trial nights in life. Not many
+temptations pierced through her callous, flabby temperament to sting her
+to defeat or triumph. There was for her no under-current of conflict, in
+these people whom she passed, between self and the unseen power that
+Holmes sneered at, whose name was love; they were nothing but movables,
+pleasant or ugly to look at, well- or ill-dressed. There were no dark iron
+bars across her life for her soul to clutch and shake madly,--nothing "in
+the world amiss, to be unriddled by-and-by." Little Margaret, sitting by
+the muddy road, digging her fingers dully into the clover-roots, while she
+looked at the spot where the wheels had passed, looked at life
+differently, it may be;--or old Joe Yare by the furnace-fire, his black
+face and gray hair bent over a torn old spelling-book Lois had given him.
+The night perhaps was going to be more to them than so many rainy hours
+for sleeping,--the time to be looked back on through coming lives as the
+hour when good and ill came to them, and they made their choice, and, as
+Holmes said, did abide by it.
+
+It grew cool and darker. Holmes left the phaëton before they entered town,
+and turned back. He was going to see this Margaret Howth, tell her what he
+was going to do. Because he was going to leave a clean record. No one
+should accuse him of want of honor. This girl alone of all living beings
+had a right to see him as he stood, justified to himself. Why she had this
+right, I do not think he answered to himself. Besides, he must see her, if
+only on business. She must keep her place at the mill: he would not begin
+his new life by an act of injustice, taking the bread out of Margaret's
+mouth. _Little Margaret!_ He stopped suddenly, looking down into a deep
+pool of water by the road-side. What madness of weariness crossed his
+brain just then I do not know. He shook it off. Was he mad? Life was worth
+more to him than to other men, he thought; and perhaps he was right. He
+went slowly through the cool dusk, looking across the fields, up at the
+pale, frightened face of the moon hooded in clouds: he did not dare to
+look, with all his iron nerve, at the dark figure beyond him on the road.
+She was sitting there just where he had left her: be knew she would be.
+When he came closer, she got up, not looking towards him; but he saw her
+clasp her hands behind her, the fingers plucking weakly at each other. It
+was an old, childish fashion of hers, when she was frightened or hurt. It
+would only need a word, and he could be quiet and firm,--she was such a
+child compared to him: he always had thought of her so. He went on up to
+her slowly, and stopped; when she looked at him, he untied the linen
+bonnet that hid her face, and threw it back. How thin and tired the little
+face had grown! Poor child! He put his strong arm kindly about her, and
+stooped to kiss her hand, but she drew it away. God! what did she do that
+for? Did not she know that he could put his head beneath her foot then, he
+was so mad with pity for the woman he had wronged? Not love, he thought,
+controlling himself,--it was only justice to be kind to her.
+
+"You have been ill, Margaret, these two years, while I was gone?"
+
+He could not hear her answer; only saw that she looked up with a white,
+pitiful smile. Only a word it needed, he thought,--very kind and firm: and
+he must be quick,--he could not bear this long. But he held the little
+worn fingers, stroking them with an unutterable tenderness.
+
+"You must let these fingers work for me, Margaret," he said, at last,
+"when I am master in the mill."
+
+"It is true, then, Stephen?"
+
+"It is true,--yes."
+
+She lifted her hand to her head, uncertainly: he held it tightly, and then
+let it go. What right had he to touch the dust upon her shoes,--he, bought
+and sold? She did not speak for a time; when she did, it was a weak and
+sick voice.
+
+"I am glad. I saw her, you know. She is very beautiful."
+
+The fingers were plucking at each other again; and a strange, vacant smile
+on her face, trying to look glad.
+
+"You love her, Stephen?"
+
+He was quiet and firm enough now.
+
+"I do not. Her money will help me to become what I ought to be. She does
+not care for love. You want me to succeed, Margaret? No one ever
+understood me as you did, child though you were."
+
+Her whole face glowed.
+
+"I know! I know! I did understand you!"
+
+She said, lower, after a little while,--
+
+"I knew you did not love her."
+
+"There is no such thing as love in real life," he said, in his steeled
+voice. "You will know that, when you grow older. I used to believe in it
+once, myself."
+
+She did not speak, only watched the slow motion of his lips, not looking
+into his eyes,--as she used to do in the old time. Whatever secret account
+lay between the souls of this man and woman came out now, and stood bare
+on their faces.
+
+"I used to think that I, too, loved," he went on, in his low, hard tone.
+"But it kept me back, Margaret, and"--
+
+He was silent.
+
+"I know, Stephen. It kept you back"--
+
+"And I put it away. I put it away to-night, forever."
+
+She did not speak; stood quite quiet, her head bent on her breast. His
+conscience was quite clear now. But he almost wished he had not said it,
+she was such a weak, sickly thing. She sat down at last, burying her face
+in her hands, with a shivering sob. He dared not trust himself to speak
+again.
+
+"I am not proud,--as a woman ought to be," she said, wearily, when he
+wiped her clammy forehead.
+
+"You loved me, then?" he whispered.
+
+Her face flashed at the unmanly triumph; her puny frame started up, away
+from him.
+
+"I did love you, Stephen. I love you now,--as you might be, not as you
+are,--not with those cold, inhuman eyes. I do understand you,--I do. I
+know you for a better man than you know yourself this night."
+
+She turned to go. He put his hand on her arm; something we have never seen
+on his face struggled up,--the better soul that she knew.
+
+"Come back," he said, hoarsely; "don't leave me with myself. Come back,
+Margaret."
+
+She did not come; stood leaning, her sudden strength gone, against the
+broken wall. There was a heavy silence. The night throbbed slow about
+them. Some late bird rose from the sedges of the pool, and with a
+frightened cry flapped its tired wings, and drifted into the dark. His
+eyes, through the gathering shadow, devoured the weak, trembling body, met
+the soul that looked at him, strong as his own. Was it because it knew and
+trusted him that all that was pure and strongest in his crushed nature
+struggled madly to be free? He thrust it down; the self-learned lesson of
+years was not to be conquered in a moment.
+
+"There have been times," he said, in a smothered, restless voice, "when I
+thought you belonged to me. Not here, but before this life. My soul and
+body thirst and hunger for you, then, Margaret."
+
+She did not answer; her hands worked feebly together.
+
+He came nearer, and held up his arras to where she stood,--the heavy,
+masterful face pale and wet.
+
+"I need you, Margaret. I shall be nothing without you, now. Come,
+Margaret, little Margaret!"
+
+She came to him, and put her hands in his.
+
+"No, Stephen," she said.
+
+If there were any pain in her tone, she kept it down, for his sake.
+
+"Never, I could never help you,--as you are. It might have been, once.
+Good-bye, Stephen."
+
+Her childish way put him in mind of the old days when this girl was dearer
+to him than his own soul. She was so yet. He held her, looking down into
+her eyes. She moved uneasily; she dared not trust her resolution.
+
+"You will come?" he said. "It might have been,--it shall be again."
+
+"It may be," she said, humbly. "God is good. And I believe in you,
+Stephen. I will be yours some time: we cannot help it, if we would: but
+not as you are."
+
+"You do not love me?" he said, flinging off her hand.
+
+She said nothing, gathered her damp shawl around her, and turned to go.
+Just a moment they stood, looking at each other. If the dark square figure
+standing there had been an iron fate trampling her young life down into
+hopeless wretchedness, she forgot it now. Women like Margaret are apt to
+forget. His eye never abated in its fierce question.
+
+"I will wait for you yonder, if I die first," she whispered.
+
+He came closer, waiting for an answer.
+
+"And--I love you, Stephen."
+
+He gathered her in his arms, and put his cold lips to hers, without a
+word; then turned and left her slowly.
+
+She made no sign, shed no tear, as she stood watching him go. It was all
+over: she had willed it, herself, and yet--he could not go! God would not
+suffer it! Oh, he could not leave her,--he could not!--He went down the
+hill, slowly. If it were a trial of life and death for her, did he know or
+care?--He did not look back. What if he did not? his heart was true; he
+suffered in going; even now he walked wearily. God forgive her, if she had
+wronged him!--What did it matter, if he were hard in this life, and it
+hurt her a little? It would come right,--beyond, some time. But life was
+long.--She would not sit down, sick as she was: he might turn, and it
+would vex him to see her suffer.--He walked slowly; once he stopped to
+pick up something. She saw the deep-cut face and half-shut eyes. How often
+those eyes had looked into her soul, and it had answered! They never would
+look so any more.--There was a tree by the place where the road turned
+into town. If he came back, he would be sure to turn there.--How tired he
+walked, and slow!--If he was sick, that beautiful woman could be near
+him,--help him.--She never would touch his hand again,--never again,
+never,--unless he came back now.--He was near the tree: she closed her
+eyes, turning away. When she looked again, only the bare road lay there,
+yellow and wet. It was over, now.
+
+How long she sat there she did not know. She tried once or twice to go to
+the house, but the lights seemed so far off that she gave it up and sat
+quiet, unconscious except of the damp stones her head leaned on and the
+stretch of muddy road. Some time, she knew not when, there was a heavy
+step beside her, and a rough hand shook hers where she stooped feebly
+tracing out the lines of mortar between the stones. It was Knowles. She
+looked up, bewildered.
+
+"Hunting catarrhs, eh?" he growled, eying her keenly. "Got your father on
+the Bourbons, so took the chance to come and find you. He'll not miss _me_
+for an hour. That man has a natural hankering after treason against the
+people. Lord, Margaret! what a stiff old head he'd have carried to the
+guillotine! How he'd have looked at the _canaille_!"
+
+He helped her up gently enough.
+
+"Your bonnet's like a wet rag,"--with a furtive glance at the worn-out
+face. A hungry face always, with her life unfed by its stingy few crumbs
+of good; but to-night it was vacant with utter loss.
+
+She got up, trying to laugh cheerfully, and went beside him down the road.
+
+"You saw that painted Jezebel to-night, and"--stopping abruptly.
+
+She had not heard him, and he followed her doggedly, with an occasional
+snort or grunt or other inarticulate damn at the obstinate mud. She
+stopped at last, with a quick gasp. Looking at her, he chafed her limp
+hands,--his huge, uncouth face growing pale. When she was better, he said,
+gravely,--
+
+"I want you, Margaret. Not at home, child. I want to show you something."
+
+He turned with her suddenly off the main road into a by-path, helping her
+along, watching her stealthily, but going on with his disjointed, bearish
+growls. If it stung her from her pain, vexing her, he did not care.
+
+"I want to show you a bit of hell: outskirt. You're in a fit state: it'll
+do you good. I'm minister there. The clergy can't attend to it just now:
+they're too busy measuring God's truth by the States'-Rights doctrine or
+the Chicago Platform. Consequence, religion yields to majorities. Are you
+able? It's only a step."
+
+She went on indifferently. The night was breathless and dark. Black, wet
+gusts dragged now and then through the skyless fog, striking her face with
+a chill. The Doctor quit talking, hurrying her, watching her anxiously.
+They came at last to the railway-track, with long trains of empty
+freight-cars.
+
+"We are nearly there," he whispered. "It's time you knew your work, and
+forgot your weakness. The curse of pampered generations. 'High Norman
+blood,'--pah!"
+
+There was a broken gap in the fence. He led her through it into a muddy
+yard. Inside was one of those taverns you will find in the suburbs of
+large cities, haunts of the lowest vice. This one was a smoky frame
+standing on piles over an open space where hogs were rooting. Half a dozen
+drunken Irishmen were playing poker with a pack of greasy cards in an
+out-house. He led her up the rickety ladder to the one room, where a
+flaring tallow-dip threw a saffron glare into the darkness. A putrid odor
+met them at the door. She drew back, trembling.
+
+"Come here!" he said, fiercely, clutching her hand. "Women as fair and
+pure as you have come into dens like this,--and never gone away. Does it
+make your delicate breath faint? And you a follower of the meek and lowly
+Jesus! Look here! and here!"
+
+The room was swarming with human life. Women, idle trampers,
+whiskey-bloated, filthy, lay half-asleep or smoking on the floor, and set
+up a chorus of whining begging when they entered. Half-naked children
+crawled about in rags. On the damp, mildewed walls there was hung a
+picture of the Benicia Boy, and close by Pio Nono, crook in hand, with the
+usual inscription, "Feed my sheep." The Doctor looked at it.
+
+"'_Tu es Petrus, et super hanc_'--Good God! what is truth?" he muttered,
+bitterly.
+
+He dragged her closer to the women, through the darkness and foul smell.
+
+"Look in their faces," he whispered. "There is not one of them that is not
+a living lie. Can they help it? Think of the centuries of serfdom and
+superstition through which their blood has crawled. Come closer,--here."
+
+In the corner slept a heap of half-clothed blacks. Going on the
+underground railroad to Canada. Stolid, sensual wretches, with here and
+there a broad, melancholy brow and desperate jaws. One little pickaninny
+rubbed its sleepy eyes and laughed at them.
+
+"So much flesh and blood out of the market, unweighed!"
+
+Margaret took up the child, kissing its brown face. Knowles looked at her.
+
+"Would you touch her? I forgot you were born down South. Put it down, and
+come on."
+
+They went out of the door. Margaret stopped, looking back.
+
+"Did I call it a bit of hell? It's only a glimpse of the under-life of
+America,--God help us!--where all men are born free and equal."
+
+The air in the passage grew fouler. She leaned back faint and shuddering.
+He did not heed her. The passion of the man, the terrible pity for these
+people, came out of his soul now, whitening his face and dulling his eyes.
+
+"And you," he said, savagely, "you sit by the road-side, with help in your
+hands, and Christ in your heart, and call your life lost, quarrel with
+your God, because that mass of selfishness has left you,--because you are
+balked in your puny hope! Look at these women. What is their loss, do you
+think? Go back, will you, and drone out your life whimpering over your
+lost dream, and go to Shakspeare for tragedy when you want it? Tragedy!
+Come here,--let me hear what you call this."
+
+He led her through the passage, up a narrow flight of stairs. An old woman
+in a flaring cap sat at the top, nodding,--wakening now and then, to rock
+herself to and fro, and give the shrill Irish keen.
+
+"You know that stoker who was killed in the mill a month ago? Of course
+not,--what are such people to you? There was a girl who loved him,-you
+know what that is? She's dead now, here. She drank herself to death,--a
+most unpicturesque suicide. I want you to look at her. You need not blush
+for her life of shame, now; she's dead.--Is Hetty here?"
+
+The woman got up.
+
+"She is, Zur. She is, Mem. She's lookin' foine in her Sunday suit. Shrouds
+is gone out, Mem, they say."
+
+She went tipping over the floor to something white that lay on a board, a
+candle at the head, and drew off the sheet. A girl of fifteen, almost a
+child, lay underneath, dead,--her lithe, delicate figure decked out in a
+barred plaid skirt, and stained, faded velvet bodice,--her neck and arms
+bare. The small face was purely cut, haggard, patient in its sleep,--the
+soft, fair hair gathered off the tired forehead. Margaret leaned over her
+shuddering, pinning her handkerchief about the child's dead neck.
+
+"How young she is!" muttered Knowles. "Merciful God, how young she
+is!--What is that you say?" sharply, seeing Margaret's lips move.
+
+"'He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.'"
+
+"Ah, child, that is old-time philosophy. Put your hand here, on her dead
+face. Is your loss like hers?" he said lower, looking into the dull pain
+in her eyes. Selfish pain he called it.
+
+"Let me go," she said. "I am tired."
+
+He took her out into the cool, open road, leading her tenderly
+enough,--for the girl suffered, he saw.
+
+"What will you do?" he asked her then. "It is not too late,--will you help
+me save these people?"
+
+She wrung her hands helplessly.
+
+"What do you want with me?" she cried, weakly. "I have enough to bear."
+
+The burly black figure before her seemed to tower and strengthen; the
+man's face in the wan light showed a terrible life-purpose coming out
+bare.
+
+"I want you to do your work. It is hard; it will wear out your strength
+and brain and heart. Give yourself to these people. God calls you to it.
+There is none to help them. Give up love, and the petty hopes of women.
+Help me. God calls you to the work."
+
+She went on blindly: he followed her. For years he had set apart this girl
+to help him in his scheme: he would not be balked now. He had great hopes
+from his plan: he meant to give all he had: it was the noblest of aims. He
+thought some day it would work like leaven through the festering mass
+under the country he loved so well, and raise it to a new life. If it
+failed,--if it failed, and saved one life, his work was not lost. But it
+could not fail.
+
+"Home!" he said, stopping her as she reached the stile,--"oh, Margaret,
+what is home? There is a cry going up night and day from homes like that
+den yonder, for help,--and no man listens."
+
+She was weak; her brain faltered.
+
+"Does God call me to this work? Does He call me?" she moaned.
+
+He watched her eagerly.
+
+"He calls you. He waits for your answer. Swear to me that you will help
+His people. Give up father and mother and love, and go down as Christ did.
+Help me to give liberty and truth and Jesus' love to these wretches on the
+brink of hell. Live with them, raise them with you."
+
+She looked up, white; she was a weak, weak woman, sick for her natural
+food of love.
+
+"Is it my work?"
+
+"It is your work. Listen to me, Margaret," softly. "Who cares for you? You
+stand alone to-night. There is not a single human heart that calls you
+nearest and best. Shiver, if you will,--it is true. The man you wasted
+your soul on left you in the night and cold to go to his bride,--is
+sitting by her now, holding her hand in his."
+
+He waited a moment, looking down at her, until she should understand.
+
+"Do you think you deserved this of God? I know that yonder on the muddy
+road you looked up to Him, and knew it was not just; that you had done
+right, and this was your reward. I know that for these two years you have
+trusted in the Christ you worship to make it right, to give you your
+heart's desire. Did He do it? Did He hear your prayer? Does He care for
+your weak love, when the nations of the earth are going down? What is your
+poor hope to Him, when the very land you live in is a wine-press that will
+be trodden some day by the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God? O
+Christ!--if there be a Christ,--help me to save it!"
+
+He looked up,--his face white with pain. After a time he said to her,--
+
+"Help me, Margaret! Your prayer was selfish; it was not heard. Give up
+your idle hope that Christ will aid you. Swear to me, this night when you
+have lost all, to give yourself to this work."
+
+The storm had been dark and windy: it cleared now slowly, the warm summer
+rain falling softly, the fresh blue stealing broadly from behind the gray.
+It seemed to Margaret like a blessing; for her brain rose up stronger,
+more healthful.
+
+"I will not swear," she said, weakly. "I think He heard my prayer. I think
+He will answer it. He was a man, and loved as we do. My love is not
+selfish; it is the best gift God has given me."
+
+Knowles went slowly with her to the house. He was not baffled. He knew
+that the struggle was yet to come; that, when she was alone, her faith in
+the far-off Christ would falter; that she would grasp at this work, to
+fill her empty hands and starved heart, if for no other reason,--to stifle
+by a sense of duty her unutterable feeling of loss. He was keenly read in
+woman's heart, this Knowles. He left her silently, and she passed through
+the dark passage to her own room.
+
+Putting her damp shawl off, she sat down on the floor, leaning her head on
+a low chair,--one her father had given her for a Christmas gift when she
+was little. How fond Holmes and her father used to be of each other! Every
+Christmas he spent with them. She remembered them all now. "He was sitting
+by her now, holding her hand in his." She said that over to herself,
+though it was not hard to understand.
+
+After a long time, her mother came with a candle to the door.
+
+"Good-night, Margaret. Why, your hair is wet, child!"
+
+For Margaret, kissing her good-night, had laid her head down a minute on
+her breast. She stroked the hair a moment, and then turned away.
+
+"Mother, could you stay with me to-night?"
+
+"Why, no, Maggie,--your father wants me to read to him."
+
+"Oh, I know. Did he miss me to-night,--father?"
+
+"Not much; we were talking old times over,--in Virginia, you know."
+
+"I know; good-night."
+
+She went back to the chair. Tige was there,--for he used to spend half of
+his time on the farm. She put her arm about his head. God knows how lonely
+the poor child was when she drew the dog so warmly to her heart: not for
+his master's sake alone; but it was all she had. He grew tired at last,
+and whined, trying to get out.
+
+"Will you go, Tige?" she said, and opened the window.
+
+He jumped out, and she watched him going towards town. Such a little
+thing, it was! But not even a dog "called her nearest and best."
+
+Let us be silent; the story of the night is not for us to read. Do you
+think that He, who in the far, dim Life holds the worlds in His hand, knew
+or cared how alone the child was? What if she wrung her thin hands, grew
+sick with the slow, mad, solitary tears?--was not the world to save, as
+Knowles said?
+
+He, too, had been alone; He had come unto His own, and His own received
+him not: so, while the struggling world rested, unconscious, in infinite
+calm of right, He came close to her with human eyes that had loved, and
+not been loved, and had suffered with that pain. And, trusting Him, she
+only said, "Show me my work! Thou that takest away the pain of the world,
+have mercy upon me!"
+
+For that night, at least, Holmes swept his soul clean of doubt and
+indecision; one of his natures was conquered,--finally, he thought.
+Polston, if he had seen his face as he paced the street slowly home to the
+mill, would have remembered his mother's the day she died. How the stern
+old woman met death half-way! why should she fear? she was as strong as
+he. Wherein had she failed of duty? her hands were clean: she was going to
+meet her just reward.
+
+It was different with Holmes, of course, with his self-existent soul. It
+was life he accepted to-night, he thought,--a life of growth, labor,
+achievement,--eternal.
+
+"_Ohne Hast, aber ohne Rast_,"--favorite words with him. He liked to study
+the nature of the man who spoke them; because, I think, it was like his
+own,--a Titan strength of endurance, an infinite capability of love and
+hate and suffering, and over all (the peculiar identity of the man) a
+cold, speculative eye of reason, that looked down into the passion and
+depths of his growing self, and calmly noted them, a lesson for all time.
+
+"_Ohne Hast_." Going slowly through the night, he strengthened himself by
+marking how all things in Nature accomplish a perfected life through slow,
+narrow fixedness of purpose,--each life complete in itself: why not his
+own, then? The windless gray, the stars, the stone under his feet, stood
+alone in the universe, each working out its own soul into deed. If there
+were any all-embracing harmony, one soul through all, he did not see it.
+Knowles--that old skeptic--believed in it, and called it Love. Even Goethe
+himself, what was it he said? "_Der Allumfasser, der Allerhalter, fasst
+und erhält er nicht dich, mich, sich selbst_?"
+
+There was a curious power in the words, as he lingered over them, like
+half-comprehended music,--as simple and tender as if they had come from
+the depths of a woman's heart: it touched him deeper than his power of
+control. Pah! it was a dream of Faust's; he, too, had his Margaret; he
+fell, through that love.
+
+He went on slowly to the mill. If the name or the words woke a subtile
+remorse or longing, he buried them under restful composure. Whether they
+should ever rise like angry ghosts of what might have been, to taunt the
+man, only the future could tell.
+
+Going through the gas-lit streets, Holmes met some cordial greeting at
+every turn. What a just, clever fellow he was! people said: one of those
+men improved by success: just to the defrauding of himself: saw the true
+worth of everybody, the very lowest: hadn't one spark of self-esteem:
+despised all humbug and show, one could see, though he never said it: when
+he was a boy, he was moody, with passionate likes and dislikes; but
+success had improved him, vastly. So Holmes was popular, though the
+beggars shunned him, and the lazy Italian organ-grinders never held their
+tambourines up to him.
+
+The mill street was dark; the building threw its great shadow over the
+square. It was empty, he supposed; only one hand generally remained to
+keep in the furnace-fires. Going through one of the lower passages, he
+heard voices, and turned aside to examine. The management was not strict,
+and in case of a fire the mill was not insured: like Knowles's
+carelessness.
+
+It was Lois and her father,--Joe Yare being feeder that night. They were
+in one of the great furnace-rooms in the cellar,--a very comfortable place
+that stormy night. Two or three doors of the wide brick ovens were open,
+and the fire threw a ruddy glow over the stone floor, and shimmered into
+the dark recesses of the shadows, very home-like after the rain and mud
+without. Lois seemed to think so, at any rate, for she had made a table of
+a store-box, put a white cloth on it, and was busy getting up a regular
+supper for her father,--down on her knees before the red coals, turning
+something on an iron plate, while some slices of ham sent up a cloud of
+juicy, hungry smell.
+
+The old stoker had just finished slaking the out-fires, and was putting
+some blue plates on the table, gravely straightening them. He had grown
+old, as Polston said,--Holmes saw, stooped much, with a low, hacking
+cough; his coarse clothes were curiously clean: that was to please Lois,
+of course. She put the ham on the table, and some bubbling coffee, and
+then, from a hickory board in front of the fire, took off, with a jerk,
+brown, flaky slices of Virginia johnny-cake.
+
+"Ther' yoh are, father, hot 'n' hot," with her face on
+fire,--"ther'--yoh--are,--coaxin' to be eatin'.--Why, Mr. Holmes! Father!
+Now, ef yoh jes' hedn't hed yer supper?"
+
+She came up, coaxingly. What brooding brown eyes the poor cripple had! Not
+many years ago he would have sat down with the two poor souls and made a
+hearty meal of it: he had no heart for such follies now.
+
+Old Yare stood in the background, his hat in his hand, stooping in his
+submissive negro fashion, with a frightened watch on Holmes.
+
+"Do you stay here, Lois?" he asked, kindly, turning his back on the old
+man.
+
+"On'y to bring his supper. I couldn't bide all night 'n th' mill,"--the
+old shadow coming on her face,--"I couldn't, yoh know. _He_ doesn't mind
+it."
+
+She glanced quickly from one to the other in the silence, seeing the fear
+on her father's face.
+
+"Yoh know father, Mr. Holmes? He's back now. This is him."
+
+The old man came forward, humbly.
+
+"It's me, Master Stephen."
+
+The sullen, stealthy face disgusted Holmes. He nodded, shortly.
+
+"Yoh've been kind to my little girl while I was gone," he said, catching
+his breath. "I thank yoh, master."
+
+"You need not. It was for Lois."
+
+"'Twas fur her I comed back hyur. 'Twas a resk,"--with a dumb look of
+entreaty at Holmes,--"but fur her I thort I'd try it. I know 'twas a
+resk; but I thort them as cared fur Lo wud be merciful. She's a good girl,
+Lo. She's all I hev."
+
+Lois brought a box over, lugging it heavily.
+
+"We hevn't chairs; but yoh'll sit down, Mr. Holmes?" laughing as she
+covered it with a cloth. "It's a warrm place, here. Father studies 'n his
+watch, 'n' I'm teacher,"--showing the torn old spelling-book.
+
+The old man came eagerly forward, seeing the smile flicker on Holmes's
+face.
+
+"It's slow work, master,--slow. But Lo's a good teacher, 'n' I'm
+tryin',--I'm tryin' hard."
+
+"It's not slow, Sir, seein' father hedn't 'dvantages, like me. He was a"--
+
+She stopped, lowering her voice, a hot flush of shame on her face.
+
+"I know."
+
+"Ben't that 'n 'xcuse, master, seein' I knowed noght at the beginnin'?
+Thenk o' that, master. I'm tryin' to be a different man. Fur Lo. I _am_
+tryin'."
+
+Holmes did not notice him.
+
+"Good-night, Lois," he said, kindly, as she lighted his lamp.
+
+He put some money on the table.
+
+"You must take it," as she looked uneasy. "For Tiger's board, say. I never
+see him now. A bright new frock, remember."
+
+She thanked him, her eyes brightening, looking at her father's patched
+coat.
+
+The old man followed Holmes out.
+
+"Master Holmes"--
+
+"Have done with this," said Holmes, sternly. "Whoever breaks law abides by
+it. It is no affair of mine."
+
+The old man clutched his hands together fiercely, struggling to be quiet.
+
+"Ther's none knows it but yoh," he said, in a smothered voice. "Fur God's
+sake be merciful! It'll kill my girl,--it'll kill her. Gev me a chance,
+master."
+
+"You trouble me. I must do what is just."
+
+"It's not just," he said, savagely. "What good'll it do me to go back
+ther'? I was goin' down, down, an' bringin' th' others with me. What
+good'll it do you or the rest to hev me ther'? To make me afraid? It's
+poor learnin' frum fear. Who taught me what was right? Who cared? No man
+cared fur my soul, till I thieved 'n' robbed; 'n' then judge 'n' jury 'n'
+jailers was glad to pounce on me. Will yoh gev me a chance? will yoh?"
+
+It was a desperate face before him; but Holmes never knew fear.
+
+"Stand aside," he said, quietly. "To-morrow I will see you. You need not
+try to escape."
+
+He passed him, and went slowly up through the vacant mill to his chamber.
+
+The man sat down on the lower step a few moments, quite quiet, crushing
+his hat up in a slow, steady way, looking up at the mouldy cobwebs on the
+wall. He got up at last, and went in to Lois. Had she heard? The old
+scarred face of the girl looked years older, he thought,--but it might be
+fancy. She did not say anything for a while, moving slowly, with a new
+gentleness, about him; her very voice was changed, older. He tried to be
+cheerful, eating his supper: she need not know until to-morrow. He would
+get out of the town to-night, or--There were different ways to escape.
+When he had done, he told her to go; but she would not.
+
+"Let me stay th' night," she said. "I ben't afraid o' th' mill."
+
+"Why, Lo," he said, laughing, "yoh used to say yer death was hid here,
+somewheres."
+
+"I know. But ther's worse nor death. But it'll come right," she said,
+persistently, muttering to herself, as she leaned her face on her knees,
+watching,--"it'll come right."
+
+The glimmering shadows changed and faded for an hour. The man sat quiet.
+There was not much in the years gone to soften his thought, as it grew
+desperate and cruel: there was oppression and vice heaped on him, and
+flung back out of his bitter heart. Nor much in the future: a blank
+stretch of punishment to the end. He was an old man: was it easy to bear?
+What if he were black? what if he were born a thief? what if all the
+sullen revenge of his nature had made him an outcast from the poorest
+poor? Was there no latent good in this soul for which Christ died, that a
+kind hand might not have brought to life? None? Something, I think,
+struggled up in the touch of his hand, catching the skirt of his child's
+dress, when it came near him, with the timid tenderness of a mother
+touching her dead baby's hair,--as something holy, far off, yet very near:
+something in his old crime-marked face,--a look like this dog's, putting
+his head on my knee,--a dumb, unhelpful love in his eyes, and the slow
+memory of a wrong done to his soul in a day long past. A wrong to both,
+you say, perhaps; but if so, irreparable, and never to be recompensed.
+Never?
+
+"Yoh must go, my little girl," he said at last.
+
+Whatever he did must be done quickly. She came up, combing the thin gray
+hairs through her fingers.
+
+"Father, I dunnot understan' what it is, rightly. But stay with me,--stay,
+father!"
+
+"Yoh've a many frien's, Lo," he said, with a keen flash of jealousy.
+"Ther's none like yoh,--none."
+
+She put her misshapen head and scarred face down on his hand, where he
+could see them. If it had ever hurt her to be as she was, if she had ever
+compared herself bitterly with fair, beloved women, she was glad now and
+thankful for every fault and deformity that brought her nearer to him, and
+made her dearer.
+
+"They're kind, but ther's not many loves me with true love, like yoh.
+Stay, father! Bear it out, whatever it be. Th' good time'll come, father."
+
+He kissed her, saying nothing, and went with her down the street. When he
+left her, she waited, and, creeping back, hid near the mill. God knows
+what vague dread was in her brain; but she came back to watch and help.
+
+Old Yare wandered through the great loom-rooms of the mill with but one
+fact clear in his cloudy, faltering perception,--that above him the man
+lay quietly sleeping who would bring worse than death on him to-morrow. Up
+and down, aimlessly, with his stoker's torch in his hand, going over the
+years gone and the years to come, with the dead hatred through all of the
+pitiless man above him,--with now and then, perhaps, a pleasanter thought
+of things that had been warm and cheerful in his life,--of the
+corn-huskings long ago, when he was a boy, down in "th' Alabam',"--of the
+scow his young master gave him once, the first thing he really owned: he
+was almost as proud of it as he was of Lois when she was born. Most of all
+remembering the good times in his life, he went back to Lois. It was all
+good, there, to go back to. What a little chub she used to be!
+Remembering, with bitter remorse, how all his life he had meant to try and
+do better, on her account, but had kept putting off and putting off until
+now. And now--Did nothing lie before him but to go back and rot yonder?
+Was that the end, because he never had learned better, and was a "dam'
+nigger"?
+
+"I'll _not_ leave my girl!" he muttered, going up and down,--"I'll _not_
+leave my girl!"
+
+If Holmes did sleep above him, the trial of the day, of which we have seen
+nothing, came back sharper in sleep. While the strong self in the man lay
+torpid, whatever holier power was in him came out, undaunted by defeat,
+and unwearied, and took the form of dreams, those slighted messengers of
+God, to soothe and charm and win him out into fuller, kindlier life. Let
+us hope that they did so win him; let us hope that even in that unreal
+world the better nature of the man triumphed at last, and claimed its
+reward before the terrible reality broke upon him.
+
+Lois, over in the damp, fresh-smelling lumber-yard, sat coiled up in one
+of the creviced houses made by the jutting boards. She remembered how she
+used to play in them, before she went into the mill. The mill,--even now,
+with the vague dread of some uncertain evil to come, the mill absorbed all
+fear in its old hated shadow. Whatever danger was coming to them lay in
+it, came from it, she knew, in her confused, blurred way of thinking. It
+loomed up now, with the square patch of ashen sky above, black, heavy with
+years of remembered agony and loss. In Lois's hopeful, warm life this was
+the one uncomprehended monster. Her crushed brain, her unwakened powers,
+resented their wrong dimly to the mass of iron and work and impure smells,
+unconscious of any remorseless power that wielded it. It was a monster,
+she thought, through the sleepy, dreading night,--a monster that kept her
+wakeful with a dull, mysterious terror.
+
+When the night grew sultry and deepest, she started from her half-doze to
+see her father come stealthily out and go down the street. She must have
+slept, she thought, rubbing her eyes, and watching him out of sight,--and
+then, creeping out, turned to glance at the mill. She cried out, shrill
+with horror. It was a live monster now,--in one swift instant, alive with
+fire,--quick, greedy fire, leaping like serpents' tongues out of its
+hundred jaws, hungry sheets of flame maddening and writhing towards her,
+and under all a dull and hollow roar that shook the night. Did it call her
+to her death? She turned to fly, and then--He was alone, dying! He had
+been so kind to her! She wrung her hands, standing there a moment. It was
+a brave hope that was in her heart, and a prayer on her lips never left
+unanswered, as she hobbled, in her lame, slow way, up to the open black
+door, and, with one backward look, went in.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.
+
+
+The publication, now brought to a close, of a new edition of the novels of
+Cooper[6] gives us a fair occasion for discharging a duty which Maga has
+too long neglected, and saying something upon the genius of this great
+writer, and, incidentally, upon the character of a man who would have been
+a noticeable, not to say remarkable person, had he never written a line.
+These novels stand before us in thirty-two goodly duodecimo volumes, well
+printed, gracefully illustrated, and, in all external aspects, worthy of
+generous commendation. With strong propriety, the publishers dedicate this
+edition of the "first American novelist" to "the American People." No one
+of our great writers is more thoroughly American than Cooper; no one has
+caught and reproduced more broadly and accurately the spirit of our
+institutions, the character of our people, and even the aspects of Nature
+in this our Western world. He was a patriot to the very core of his heart;
+he loved his country with a fervid, but not an undiscerning love: it was
+an intelligent, vigilant, discriminating affection that bound his heart to
+his native land; and thus, while no man defended his country more
+vigorously when it was in the right, no one reproved its faults more
+courageously, or gave warning and advice more unreservedly, where he felt
+that they were needed.
+
+    [6] We refer to the new edition of the novels of Cooper by Messrs.
+        W.A. Townsend & Co., with illustrations by Darley.
+
+This may be one reason why Cooper has more admirers, or at least fewer
+disparagers, abroad than at home. On the Continent of Europe his novels
+are everywhere read, with an eager, unquestioning delight. His popularity
+is at least equal to that of Scott; and we think a considerable amount of
+testimony could be collected to prove that it is even greater. But the
+fact we have above stated is not the only explanation of this. He was the
+first writer who made foreign nations acquainted with the characters and
+incidents of American frontier and woodland life; and his delineations of
+Indian manners and traits were greatly superior in freshness and power, if
+not in truth, to any which had preceded them. His novels opened a new and
+unwrought vein of interest, and were a revelation of humanity under
+aspects and influences hitherto unobserved by the ripe civilization of
+Europe. The taste which had become cloyed with endless imitations of the
+feudal and mediaeval pictures of Scott turned with fresh delight to such
+original figures--so full of sylvan power and wildwood grace--as Natty
+Bumppo and Uncas. European readers, too, received these sketches with an
+unqualified, because an ignorant admiration. We, who had better knowledge,
+were more critical, and could see that the drawing was sometimes faulty,
+and the colors more brilliant than those of life.
+
+The acute observer can detect a parallel between the relation of Cooper to
+America and that of Scott to Scotland. Scott was as hearty a Scotchman as
+Cooper an American: but Scott was a Tory in politics and an Episcopalian
+in religion; and the majority of Scotchmen are Whigs in politics and
+Presbyterians in religion. In Scott, as in Cooper, the elements of passion
+and sympathy were so strong that he could not be neutral or silent on the
+great questions of his time and place. Thus, while the Scotch are proud of
+Scott, as they well may be,--while he has among his own people most
+intense and enthusiastic admirers,--the proportion of those who yield to
+his genius a cold and reluctant homage is probably greater in Scotland
+than in any other country in Christendom. "The rest of mankind recognize
+the essential truth of his delineations, and his loyalty to all the primal
+instincts and sympathies of humanity"; but the Scotch cannot forget that
+he opposed the Reform Bill, painted the Covenanters with an Episcopalian
+pencil, and made a graceful and heroic image of the detested Claverhouse.
+
+The novels of Cooper, in the dates of their publication, cover a period of
+thirty years: beginning with "Precaution," in 1820, and ending with "The
+Ways of the Hour," in 1850. The production of thirty-two volumes in thirty
+years is honorable to his creative energy, as well as to the systematic
+industry of his habits. But even these do not constitute the whole of his
+literary labors during these twenty-nine years. We must add five volumes
+of naval history and biography, ten volumes of travels and sketches in
+Europe, and a large amount of occasional and controversial writings, most
+of which is now hidden away in that huge wallet wherein Time puts his alms
+for Oblivion. His literary productions other than his novels would alone
+be enough to save him from the reproach of idleness. In estimating a
+writer's claims to honor and remembrance, the quantity as well as the
+quality of his work should surely be taken into account; and in summing up
+the case of our great novelist to the jury of posterity, this point should
+be strongly put.
+
+Cooper's first novel, "Precaution," was published when he was in his
+thirty-first year. It owed its existence to an accident, and was but an
+ordinary production, as inferior to the best of his subsequent works as
+Byron's "Hours of Idleness" to "Childe Harold." It was a languid and
+colorless copy of exotic forms: a mere scale picked from the surface of
+the writer's mind, with neither beauty nor vital warmth to commend it. We
+speak from the vague impressions which many long years have been busy in
+effacing; and we confess that it would require the combined forces of a
+long voyage and a scanty library to constrain us to the task of reading it
+anew.
+
+And yet, such as it was, it made a certain impression at the time of its
+appearance. The standard by which it was tried was very unlike that which
+would now be applied to it: there was all the difference between the two
+that there is between strawberries in December and strawberries in June.
+American literature was then just beginning to "glint forth" like Burns's
+mountain daisy, and rear its tender form above the parent earth. The time
+had, indeed, gone by--which a friend of ours, not yet venerable, affirms
+he can well remember--when school-boys and collegians, zealous for the
+honor of indigenous literature, were obliged to cite, by way of
+illustration, such works as Morse's Geography and Hannah Adams's "History
+of the Jews"; but it was only a faint, crepuscular light, that streaked
+the east, and gave promise of the coming day. Irving had just completed
+his "Sketch-Book," which was basking in the full sunshine of unqualified
+popularity. Dana, in the thoughtful and meditative beauty of "The Idle
+Man," was addressing a more limited public. Percival had just before
+published a small volume of poems; Halleck's "Fanny" had recently
+appeared; and so had a small duodecimo volume by Bryant, containing "The
+Ages," and half a dozen smaller poems. Miss Sedgwick's "New England Tale"
+was published about the same time. But a large proportion of those who are
+now regarded as our ablest writers were as yet unknown, or just beginning
+to give sign of what they were. Dr. Channing was already distinguished as
+an eloquent and powerful preacher, but the general public had not yet
+recognized in him that remarkable combination of loftiness of thought with
+magic charm of style, which was soon to be revealed in his essays on
+Milton and Napoleon Bonaparte. Ticknor and Everett were professors in
+Harvard College, giving a new impulse to the minds of the students by
+their admirable lectures; and the latter was also conducting the "North
+American Review." Neither had as yet attained to anything more than a
+local reputation. Prescott, a gay and light-hearted young man,--gay and
+light-hearted, in spite of partial blindness,--the darling of society and
+the idol of his home, was silently and resolutely preparing himself for
+his chosen function by a wide and thorough course of patient study.
+Bancroft was in Germany, and working like a German. Emerson was a Junior
+in College. Hawthorne, Longfellow, Holmes, Whittier, and Poe were
+school-boys; Mrs. Stowe was a school-girl; Whipple and Lowell were in the
+nursery, and Motley and the younger Dana had not long been out of it.
+
+"Precaution," though an indifferent novel, was yet a novel; of the
+orthodox length, with plot, characters, and incidents; and here and there
+a touch of genuine power, as in the forty-first chapter, where the scene
+is on board a man-of-war bringing her prizes into port. It found many
+readers, and excited a good deal of curiosity as to who the author might
+be.
+
+"Precaution" was published on the 25th of August, 1820, and "The Spy" on
+the 17th of September, 1821. The second novel was a great improvement upon
+the first, and fairly took the public by storm. We are old enough to
+remember its first appearance; the eager curiosity and keen discussion
+which it awakened; the criticism which it called forth; and, above all,
+the animated delight with which it was received by all who were young or
+not critical. Distinctly, too, can we recall the breathless rapture with
+which we hung over its pages, in those happy days when the mind's appetite
+for books was as ravenous as the body's for bread-and-butter, and a novel,
+with plenty of fighting in it, was all we asked at a writer's hands. In
+order to qualify ourselves for the task which we have undertaken in this
+article, we have read "The Spy" a second time; and melancholy indeed was
+the contrast between the recollections of the boy and the impressions of
+the man. It was the difference between the theatre by gas-light and the
+theatre by day-light: the gold was pinchbeck, the gems were glass, the
+flowers were cambric and colored paper, the goblets were gilded
+pasteboard. Painfully did the ideal light fade away, and the
+well-remembered scene stand revealed in disenchanting day. With
+incredulous surprise, with a constant struggle between past images and
+present revelations, were we forced to acknowledge the improbability of
+the story, the clumsiness of the style, the awkwardness of the dialogue,
+the want of Nature in many of the characters, the absurdity of many of the
+incidents, and the painfulness of some of the scenes. But with all this, a
+candid, though critical judgment could not but admit that these grave
+defects were attended by striking merits, which pleaded in mitigation of
+literary sentence. It was stamped with a truth, earnestness, and vital
+power, of which its predecessor gave no promise. Though the story was
+improbable, it seized upon the attention with a powerful grasp from the
+very start, and the hold was not relaxed till the end. Whatever criticism
+it might challenge, no one could call it dull: the only offence in a book
+which neither gods nor men nor counters can pardon. If the narrative
+flowed languidly at times, there were moments in which the incidents
+flashed along with such vivid rapidity that the susceptible reader held
+his breath over the page. The character of Washington was an elaborate
+failure, and the author, in his later years, regretted that he had
+introduced this august form into a work of fiction; but Harvey Birch was
+an original sketch, happily conceived, and, in the main, well sustained.
+His mysterious figure was recognized as a new accession to the repertory
+of the novelist, and not a mere modification of a preëxisting type. And,
+above all, "The Spy" had the charm of reality; it tasted of the soil; it
+was the first successful attempt to throw an imaginative light over
+American history, and to do for our country what the author of "Waverley"
+had done for Scotland. Many of the officers and soldiers of the
+Revolutionary War were still living, receiving the reward of their early
+perils and privations in the grateful reverence which was paid to them by
+the contemporaries of their children and grandchildren. Innumerable
+traditionary anecdotes of those dark days of suffering and struggle,
+unrecorded in print, yet lingered in the memories of the people, and were
+told in the nights of winter around the farm-house fire; and of no part of
+the country was this more true than of the region in which the scene of
+the novel is laid. The enthusiasm with which it was there read was the
+best tribute to the substantial fidelity of its delineations. All over the
+country, it enlisted in its behalf the powerful sentiment of patriotism;
+and whatever the critics might say, the author had the satisfaction of
+feeling that the heart of the people was with him.
+
+Abroad, "The Spy" was received with equal favor. It was soon translated
+into most of the languages of Europe; and even the "gorgeous East" opened
+for it its rarely moving portals. In 1847, a Persian version was published
+in Ispahan; and by this time it may have crossed the Chinese wall, and be
+delighting the pig-tailed critics and narrow-eyed beauties of Pekin.
+
+The success of "The Spy" unquestionably determined Cooper's vocation, and
+made him a man of letters. But he had not yet found where his true
+strength lay. His training and education had not been such as would seem
+to be a good preparation for a literary career. His reading had been
+desultory, and not extensive; and the habit of composition had not been
+formed in early life. Indeed, in mere style, in the handling of the tools
+of his craft, Cooper never attained a master's ease and power. In his
+first two novels the want of technical skill and literary accomplishment
+was obvious; and the scenery, subjects, and characters of these novels did
+not furnish him with the opportunity of turning to account the peculiar
+advantages which had come to him from the events of his childhood and
+youth. In his infancy he was taken to Cooperstown, a spot which his father
+had just begun to reclaim from the dominion of the wilderness. Here his
+first impressions of the external world, as well as of life and manners,
+were received. At the age of sixteen he became a midshipman in the United
+States navy, and remained in the service for six years. A father who, in
+training up his son for the profession of letters, should send him into
+the wilderness in his infancy and to sea at sixteen, would seem to be
+shooting very wide of the mark; but in this, as in so many things, there
+is a divinity that shapes our rough-hewn ends. Had Cooper enjoyed the best
+scholastic advantages which the schools and colleges of Europe could have
+furnished, they could not have fitted him for the work he was destined to
+do so well as the apparently untoward elements we have above adverted to;
+for Natty Bumppo was the fruit of his woodland experience, and Long Tom
+Coffin of his sea-faring life.
+
+"The Pioneers" and "The Pilot" were both published in 1823; "Lionel
+Lincoln" in 1825; and "The Last of the Mohicans" in 1826. We may put
+"Lionel Lincoln" aside, as one of his least successful productions; but
+the three others were never surpassed, and rarely equalled, by any of his
+numerous subsequent works. All the powerful, and nearly all the
+attractive, qualities of his genius were displayed in these three novels,
+in their highest degree and most ample measure. Had he never written any
+more,--though we should have missed many interesting narratives, admirable
+pictures, and vigorously drawn characters,--we are not sure that his fame
+would not have been as great as it is now. From these, and "The Spy," full
+materials may be drawn for forming a correct estimate of his merits and
+his defects. In these, his strength and weakness, his gifts and
+deficiencies, are amply shown. Here, then, we may pause, and, without
+pursuing his literary biography any farther, proceed to set down our
+estimate of his claims as a writer. Any critic who dips his pen in ink and
+not in gall would rather praise than blame; therefore we will dispose of
+the least gracious part of our task first, and begin with his blemishes
+and defects.
+
+A skilful construction of the story is a merit which the public taste no
+longer demands, and it is consequently fast becoming one of the lost arts.
+The practice of publishing novels in successive numbers, so that one
+portion is printed before another is written, is undoubtedly one cause of
+this. But English and American readers have not been accustomed to this
+excellence in the works of their best writers of fiction; and therefore
+they are not sensitive to the want of it. This is certainly not one of
+Scott's strong points. Fielding's "Tom Jones" is, in this respect,
+superior to any of the "Waverley Novels," and without an equal, so far as
+we know, in English literature. But, in sitting in judgment upon a writer
+of novels, we cannot waive an inquiry into his merits on this point. Are
+his stories, simply as stories, well told? Are his plots symmetrically
+constructed and harmoniously evolved? Are his incidents probable? and do
+they all help on the catastrophe? Does he reject all episodical matter
+which would clog the current of the narrative? Do his novels have unity of
+action? or are they merely a series of sketches, strung together without
+any relation of cause and effect? Cooper, tried by these rules, can
+certainly command no praise. His plots are not carefully or skilfully
+constructed. His incidents are not probable in themselves, nor do they
+succeed each other in a natural and dependent progression. His characters
+get into scrapes from which the reasonable exercise of common faculties
+should have saved them; and they are rescued by incredible means and
+impossible instruments. The needed man appears as unaccountably and
+mysteriously as if he had dropped from the clouds, or emerged from the
+sea, or crept up through a fissure in the earth. The winding up of his
+stories is often effected by devices nearly as improbable as a violation
+of the laws of Nature. His personages act without adequate motives; they
+rush into needless dangers; they trust their fate, with unsuspecting
+simplicity, to treacherous hands.
+
+In works of fiction the skill of the writer is most conspicuously shown
+when the progress of the story is secured by natural and probable
+occurrences. Many events take place in history and in common life which
+good taste rejects as inadmissible in a work of imagination. Sudden death
+by disease or casualty is no very uncommon occurrence in real life; but it
+cannot be used in a novel to clear up a tangled web of circumstance,
+without betraying something of a poverty of invention in the writer. He is
+the best artist who makes least use of incidents which lie out of the
+beaten path of observation and experience. In constructive skill Cooper's
+rank is not high; for all his novels are more or less open to the
+criticism that too frequent use is made in them of events very unlikely to
+have happened. He leads his characters into such formidable perils that
+the chances are a million to one against their being rescued. Such a run
+is made upon our credulity that the fund is soon exhausted, and the bank
+stops payment.
+
+For illustration of the above strictures we will refer to a single novel,
+"The Last of the Mohicans," which everybody will admit to be one of the
+most interesting of his works,--full of rapid movement, brilliant
+descriptions, hair-breadth escapes, thrilling adventures,--which young
+persons probably read with more rapt attention than any other of his
+narratives. In the opening chapter we find at Fort Edward, on the
+head-waters of the Hudson, the two daughters of Colonel Munro, the
+commander of Fort William Henry, on the shores of Lake George; though why
+they were at the former post, under the protection of a stranger, and not
+with their father, does not appear. Information is brought of the approach
+of Montcalm, with a hostile army of Indians and Frenchmen, from the North;
+and the young ladies are straightway hurried off to the more advanced, and
+consequently more dangerous post, when prudence and affection would have
+dictated just the opposite course. Nor is this all. General Webb, the
+commander of Fort Edward, at the urgent request of Colonel Munro, sends
+him a reinforcement of fifteen hundred men, who march off through the
+woods, by the military road, with drums beating and colors flying; and
+yet, strange to say, the young ladies do not accompany the troops, but set
+off, on the very same day, by a by-path, attended by no other escort than
+Major Heyward, and guided by an Indian whose fidelity is supposed to be
+assured by his having been flogged for drunkenness by the orders of
+Colonel Munro. The reason assigned for conduct so absurd that in real life
+it would have gone far to prove the parties having a hand in it not to be
+possessed of that sound and disposing mind and memory which the law
+requires as a condition precedent to making a will is, that hostile
+Indians, in search of chance scalps, would be hovering about the column of
+troops, and so leave the by-path unmolested. But the servants of the party
+follow the route of the column: a measure, we are told, dictated by the
+sagacity of the Indian guide, in order to diminish the marks of their
+trail, if, haply, the Canadian savages should be prowling about so far in
+advance of their army! Certainly, all the sagacity of the fort would seem
+to have been concentrated in the person of the Indian. How much of this
+improbability might have been avoided, if the action had been reversed,
+and the young ladies, in view of the gathering cloud of war, had been sent
+from the more exposed and less strongly guarded point of Fort William
+Henry to the safe fortress of Fort Edward! Then the smallness of the
+escort and the risks of the journey would have been explained and excused
+by the necessity of the case; and the subsequent events of the novel might
+have been easily accommodated to the change we have indicated.
+
+One of the best of Cooper's novels--as a work of art perhaps the very
+best--is "The Bravo." But the character of Jacopo Frontoni is a sort of
+moral impossibility, and the clearing up of the mystery which hangs over
+his life and conduct, which is skilfully reserved to the last moment, is
+consequently unsatisfactory. He is represented as a young man of the
+finest qualities and powers, who, in the hope of rescuing a father who had
+been falsely imprisoned by the Senate, consents to assume the character,
+and bear the odium, of a public bravo, or assassin, though entirely
+innocent. This false position gives rise to many most effective scenes and
+incidents, and the character is in many respects admirably drawn. But when
+the end comes, we lay down the book and say,--"This could never have been:
+a virtuous and noble young man could not for years have been believed to
+be the most hateful of mankind; the laws of Nature and the laws of the
+human mind forbid it: so vast a web of falsehood could not have been woven
+without a flaw: we can credit much of the organized and pitiless despotism
+of Venice, but could it work miracles?"
+
+Further illustrations of this same defect might easily be cited, if the
+task were not ungracious. Neither books, nor pictures, nor men and women
+should be judged by their defects. It is enough to say that Cooper never
+wrote a novel in regard to which the reader must not lay aside his
+critical judgment upon the structure of the story and the interdependence
+of the incidents, and let himself be borne along by the rapid flow of the
+narrative, without questioning too curiously as to the nature of the means
+and instruments employed to give movement to the stream.
+
+In the delineation of character, Cooper may claim great, but not
+unqualified praise. This is a vague statement; and to draw a sharper line
+of discrimination, we should say that he is generally successful--sometimes
+admirably so--in drawing personages in whom strong primitive traits have
+not been effaced by the attritions of artificial life, and generally
+unsuccessful when he deals with those in whom the original characteristics
+are less marked, or who have been smoothed by education and polished by
+society. It is but putting this criticism in another form to say that his
+best characters are persons of humble social position. He wields his brush
+with a vigorous hand, but the brush itself has not a fine point. Of all
+the children of his brain, Natty Bumppo is the most universal
+favorite,--and herein the popular judgment is assuredly right. He is an
+original conception,--and not more happily conceived than skilfully
+executed. It was a hazardous undertaking to present the character
+backwards, and let us see the closing scenes of his life first,--like a
+Hebrew Bible, of which the beginning is at the end; but the author's
+genius has triumphed over the perils of the task, and given us a
+delineation as consistent and symmetrical as it is striking and vigorous.
+Ignorant of books, simple, and credulous, guileless himself, and
+suspecting no evil in others, with moderate intellectual powers, he
+commands our admiration and respect by his courage, his love of Nature,
+his skill in woodland lore, his unerring moral sense, his strong
+affections, and the veins of poetry that run through his rugged nature
+like seams of gold in quartz. Long Tom Coffin may be described as
+Leatherstocking suffered a sea-change,--with a harpoon instead of a rifle,
+and a pea-jacket instead of a hunting-shirt. In both the same primitive
+elements may be discerned: the same limited intellectual range combined
+with professional or technical skill; the same generous affections and
+unerring moral instincts; the same religious feeling, taking the form at
+times of fatalism or superstition. Long Tom's love of the sea is like
+Leatherstocking's love of the woods; the former's dislike of the land is
+like the latter's dislike of the clearings. Cooper himself, as we are told
+by his daughter, was less satisfied, in his last years, with Long Tom
+Coffin than most of his readers,--and, of the two characters, considered
+that of Boltrope the better piece of workmanship. We cannot assent to this
+comparative estimate; but we admit that Boltrope has not had full justice
+done to him in popular judgment. It is but a slight sketch, but it is
+extremely well done. His death is a bit of manly and genuine pathos; and
+in his conversations with the chaplain there is here and there a touch of
+true humor, which we value the more because humor was certainly not one of
+the author's best gifts.
+
+Antonio, the old fisherman, in "The Bravo," is another very well drawn
+character, in which we can trace something of a family likeness to the
+hunter and sailor above mentioned. The scene in which he is shrived by the
+Carmelite monk, in his boat, under the midnight moon, upon the Lagoons, is
+one of the finest we know of in the whole range of the literature of
+fiction, leaving upon the mind a lasting impression of solemn and pathetic
+beauty. In "The Chainbearer," the Yankee squatter, Thousandacres, is a
+repulsive figure, but drawn with a powerful pencil. The energy of
+character, or rather of action, which is the result of a passionate love
+of money, is true to human nature. The closing scenes of his rough and
+lawless life, in which his latent affection for his faithful wife throws a
+sunset gleam over his hard and selfish nature, and prevents it from being
+altogether hateful, are impressively told, and are touched with genuine
+tragic power.
+
+On the other hand, Cooper generally fails when he undertakes to draw a
+character which requires for its successful execution a nice observation
+and a delicate hand. His heroes and heroines are apt to abuse the
+privilege which such personages have enjoyed, time out of mind, of being
+insipid. Nor can he catch and reproduce the easy grace and unconscious
+dignity of high-bred men and women. His gentlemen, whether young or old,
+are apt to be stiff, priggish, and commonplace; and his ladies, especially
+his young ladies, are as deficient in individuality as the figures and
+faces of a fashion-print. Their personal and mental charms are set forth
+with all the minuteness of a passport; but, after all, we cannot but think
+that these fine creatures, with hair, brow, eyes, and lips of the most
+orthodox and approved pattern, would do very little towards helping one
+through a rainy day in a country-house. Judge Temple, in "The Pioneers,"
+and Colonel Howard, in "The Pilot," are highly estimable and respectable
+gentlemen, but, in looking round for the materials of a pleasant
+dinner-party, we do not think they would stand very high on the list. They
+are fair specimens of their class,--the educated gentleman in declining
+life,--many of whom are found in the subsequent novels. They are wanting
+in those natural traits of individuality by which, in real life, one human
+being is distinguished from another. They are obnoxious to this one
+general criticism, that the author is constantly reminding us of the
+qualities of mind and character on which he rests their claims to favor,
+without causing them to appear naturally and unconsciously in the course
+of the narrative. The defect we are adverting to may be illustrated by
+comparing such personages of this class as Cooper has delineated with
+Colonel Talbot, in "Waverley," Colonel Mannering and Counsellor Pleydell,
+in "Guy Mannering," Monkbarns, in "The Antiquary," and old Osbaldistone,
+in "Rob Roy." These are all old men: they are all men of education, and in
+the social position of gentlemen; but each has certain characteristics
+which the others have not: each has the distinctive individual
+flavor-perceptible, but indescribable, like the savor of a fruit--which is
+wanting in Cooper's well-dressed and well-behaved lay-figures.
+
+In the delineation of female loveliness and excellence Cooper is generally
+supposed to have failed,--at least, comparatively so. But in this respect
+full justice has hardly been done him; and this may be explained by the
+fact that it was from the heroines of his earlier novels that this
+unfavorable judgment was drawn. Certainly, such sticks of barley-candy as
+Frances Wharton, Cecilia Howard, and Alice Munro justify the common
+impression. But it would be as unfair to judge of what he can do in this
+department by his acknowledged failures as it would be to form an estimate
+of the genius of Michel Angelo from the easel-picture of the Virgin and
+Child in the Tribune at Florence. No man ever had a juster appreciation
+of, and higher reverence for, the worth of woman than Cooper. Towards
+women his manners were always marked by chivalrous deference, blended as
+to those of his own household with the most affectionate tenderness. His
+own nature was robust, self-reliant, and essentially masculine: such men
+always honor women, but they understand them better as they grow older.
+There is so much foundation for the saying, that men are apt to love their
+first wives best, but to treat their second wives best. Thus the reader
+who takes up his works in chronological order will perceive that the
+heroines of his later novels have more spirit and character, are drawn
+with a more discriminating touch, take stronger hold upon the interest,
+than those of his earlier. Ursula Malbone is a finer girl than Cecilia
+Howard, or even Elizabeth Temple. So when he has occasion to delineate a
+woman who, from her position in life, or the peculiar circumstances into
+which she is thrown, is moved by deeper springs of feeling, is obliged to
+put forth sterner energies, than are known to females reared in the
+sheltered air of prosperity and civilization,--when he paints the heart of
+woman roused by great perils, overborne by heavy sorrows, wasted by strong
+passions,--we recognize the same master-hand which has given us such
+powerful pictures of character in the other sex. In other words, Cooper is
+not happy in representing those shadowy and delicate graces which belong
+exclusively to woman, and distinguish her from man; but he is generally
+successful in sketching in woman those qualities which are found in both
+sexes. In "The Bravo," Donna Violetta, the heroine, a rich and high-born
+young lady, is not remarkable one way or the other; but Gelsomina, the
+jailer's daughter, born in an inferior position, reared in a sterner
+school of discipline and struggle, is a beautiful and consistent creation,
+constantly showing masculine energy and endurance, yet losing nothing of
+womanly charm. Ruth, in "The Wept of the Wish-ton-Wish," Hetty Hutter, the
+weak-minded and sound-hearted girl, in "The Deerslayer," Mabel Dunham, and
+the young Indian woman, "Dew of June," in "The Pathfinder," are further
+cases in point. No one can read the books in which these women are
+represented and say that Cooper was wanting in the power of delineating
+the finest and highest attributes of womanhood,
+
+Cooper cannot be congratulated upon his success in the few attempts he has
+made to represent historical personages. Washington, as shown to us in
+"The Spy," is a formal piece of mechanism, as destitute of vital character
+as Maelzel's automaton trumpeter. This, we admit, was a very difficult
+subject, alike from the peculiar traits of Washington, and from the
+reverence in which his name and memory are held by his countrymen. But the
+sketch, in "The Pilot," of Paul Jones, a very different person, and a much
+easier subject, is hardly better. In both cases, the failure arises from
+the fact that the author is constantly endeavoring to produce the
+legitimate effect of mental and moral qualities by a careful enumeration
+of external attributes. Harper, under which name Washington is introduced,
+appears in only two or three scenes; but, during these, we hear so much of
+the solemnity and impressiveness of his manner, the gravity of his brow,
+the steadiness of his gaze, that we get the notion of a rather oppressive
+personage, and sympathize with the satisfaction of the Whartons, when he
+retires to his own room, and relieves them of his tremendous presence. Mr.
+Gray, who stands for Paul Jones, is more carefully elaborated, but the
+result is far from satisfactory. We are so constantly told of his calmness
+and abstraction, of his sudden starts and bursts of feeling, of his low
+voice, of his fits of musing, that the aggregate impression is that of
+affectation and self-consciousness, rather than of a simple, passionate,
+and heroic nature. Mr. Gray does not seem to us at all like the rash,
+fiery, and dare-devil Scotchman of history. His conduct and conversation,
+as recounted in the fifth chapter of the novel, are unnatural and
+improbable; and we cannot wonder that the first lieutenant did not know
+what to make of so melodramatic and sententious a gentleman, in the guise
+of a pilot.
+
+Cooper, as we need hardly say, has drawn copiously upon Indian life and
+character for the materials of his novels; and among foreign nations much
+of his reputation is due to this fact. Civilized men and women always take
+pleasure in reading about the manners and habits of savage life; and those
+in whom the shows of things are submitted to the desires of the mind
+delight to invest them with those ideal qualities which they do not find,
+or think they do not, in the artificial society around them. Cooper had
+enjoyed no peculiar opportunities of studying by personal observation the
+characteristics of the Indian race, but he had undoubtedly read everything
+he could get hold of in illustration of the subject. No one can question
+the vividness and animation of his sketches, or their brilliant tone of
+color. He paints with a pencil dipped in the glow of our sunset skies and
+the crimson of our autumn maples. Whenever he brings Indians upon the
+stage, we may be sure that scenes of thrilling interest are before us:
+that rifles are to crack, tomahawks to gleam, and arrows to dart like
+sunbeams through the air; that a net of peril is to be drawn around his
+hero or heroine, from the meshes of which he or she is to be extricated by
+some unexpected combination of fortunate circumstances. We expect a
+succession of startling incidents, and a rapid course of narrative without
+pauses or languid intervals. We do not object to his idealizing his
+Indians: this is the privilege of the novelist, time out of mind. He may
+make them swift of foot, graceful in movement, and give them a form like
+the Apollo's; he may put as much expression as he pleases into their black
+eyes; he may tessellate their speech as freely as he will with poetical
+and figurative expressions, drawn from the aspects of the external world:
+for all this there is authority, and chapter and verse may be cited in
+support of it. But we have a right to ask that he shall not transcend the
+bounds of reason and possibility, and represent his red men as moved by
+motives and guided by sentiments which are wholly inconsistent with the
+inexorable facts of the case. We confess to being a little more than
+skeptical as to the Indian of poetry and romance: like the German's camel,
+he is evolved from the depth of the writer's own consciousness. The poet
+takes the most delicate sentiments and the finest emotions of civilization
+and cultivation, and grafts them upon the best qualities of savage life;
+which is as if a painter should represent an oak-tree bearing roses. The
+life of the North-American Indian, like that of all men who stand upon the
+base-line of civilization, is a constant struggle, and often a losing
+struggle, for mere subsistence. The sting of animal wants is his chief
+motive of action, and the full gratification of animal wants his highest
+ideal of happiness. The "noble savage," as sketched by poets, weary of the
+hollowness, the insincerity, and the meanness of artificial life, is
+really a very ignoble creature, when seen in the "open daylight" of truth.
+He is selfish, sensual, cruel, indolent, and impassive. The highest graces
+of character, the sweetest emotions, the finest sensibilities,--which make
+up the novelist's stock in trade,--are not and cannot be the growth of a
+so-called state of Nature, which is an essentially unnatural state. We no
+more believe that Logan ever made the speech reported by Jefferson, in so
+many words, than we believe that Chatham ever made the speech in reply to
+Walpole which begins with, "The atrocious crime of being a young man";
+though we have no doubt that the reporters in both cases had something
+fine and good to start from. We accept with acquiescence, nay, with
+admiration, such characters as Magua, Chingachgook, Susquesus, Tamenund,
+and Canonchet; but when we come to Uncas, in "The Last of the Mohicans,"
+we pause and shake our heads with incredulous doubt. That a young Indian
+chief should fall in love with a handsome quadroon like Cora Munro--for
+she was neither more nor less than that--is natural enough; but that he
+should manifest his passion with such delicacy and refinement is
+impossible. We include under one and the same name all the affinities and
+attractions of sex, but the appetite of the savage differs from the love
+of the educated and civilized man as much as charcoal differs from the
+diamond. The sentiment of love, as distinguished from the passion, is one
+of the last and best results of Christianity and civilization: in no one
+thing does savage life differ from civilized more than in the relations
+between man and woman, and in the affections that unite them. Uncas is a
+graceful and beautiful image; but he is no Indian.
+
+We turn now to a more gracious part of our task, and proceed to say
+something of the many striking excellences which distinguish Cooper's
+writings, and have given him such wide popularity. Popularity is but one
+test of merit, and not the highest,--gauging popularity by the number of
+readers, at any one time, irrespective of their taste and judgment. In
+this sense, "The Scottish Chiefs" and "Thaddeus of Warsaw" were once as
+popular as any of the Waverley Novels. But Cooper's novels have enduring
+merit, and will surely keep their place in the literature of the language.
+The manners, habits, and costumes of England have greatly changed during
+the last hundred years; but Richardson and Fielding are still read. We
+must expect corresponding changes in this country during the next century;
+but we may confidently predict that in the year 1962 young and impressible
+hearts will be saddened at the fate of Uncas and Cora, and exult when
+Captain Munson's frigate escapes from the shoals.
+
+A few pages back we spoke of Cooper's want of skill in the structure of
+his plots, and his too frequent recurrence to improbable incidents to help
+on the course of his stories. But most readers care little about this
+defect, provided the writer betrays no poverty of invention, and succeeds
+in making his narratives interesting. Herein Cooper never lays himself
+open to that instinctive and unconscious criticism, which is the only kind
+an author need dread, because from it there is no appeal. It is bad to
+have a play hissed down, but it is worse to have it yawned down. But over
+Cooper's pages his readers never yawn. They never break down in the middle
+of one of his stories. The fortunes of his characters are followed with
+breathless and accumulating interest to the end. In vain does the
+dinner-bell sound, or the clock strike the hour of bed-time: the book
+cannot be laid down till we know whether Elizabeth Temple is to get out of
+the woods without being burned alive, or solve the mystery that hangs over
+the life of Jacopo Frontoni. He has in ample measure that paramount and
+essential merit in a novelist of fertility of invention. The resources of
+his genius, alike in the devising of incidents and the creation of
+character, are inexhaustible. His scenes are laid on the sea and in the
+forest,--in Italy, Germany, Switzerland, and Spain,--amid the refinements
+and graces of civilization and the rudeness and hardships of frontier and
+pioneer life; but everywhere he moves with an easy and familiar tread, and
+everywhere, though there may be the motive and the cue for minute
+criticism, we recognize the substantial truth of his pictures. In all his
+novels the action is rapid and the movement animated: his incidents may
+not be probable, but they crowd upon each other so thickly that we have
+not time to raise the question: before one impression has become familiar,
+the scene changes, and new objects enchain the attention. All rapid motion
+is exhilarating alike to mind and body; and in reading Cooper's novels we
+feel a pleasure analogous to that which stirs the blood when we drive a
+fast horse or sail with a ten-knot breeze. This fruitfulness in the
+invention of incidents is nearly as important an element in the
+composition of a novelist as a good voice in that of a singer. A powerful
+work of fiction may be produced by a writer who has not this gift; but
+such works address a comparatively limited public. To the common mind no
+faculty in the novelist is so fascinating as this. "Caleb Williams" is a
+story of remarkable power; but "Ivanhoe" has a thousand readers to its
+one.
+
+In estimating novelists by the number and variety of characters with which
+they have enriched the repertory of fiction, Cooper's place, if not the
+highest, is very high. The fruitfulness of his genius in this regard is
+kindred to its fertility in the invention of incidents. We can pardon in a
+portrait-gallery of such extent here and there an ill-drawn figure or a
+face wanting in expression. With the exception of Scott, and perhaps of
+Dickens, what writer of prose fiction has created a greater number of
+characters such as stamp themselves upon the memory so that an allusion to
+them is well understood in cultivated society? Fielding has drawn country
+squires, and Smollett has drawn sailors; but neither has intruded upon the
+domain of the other, nor could he have made the attempt without failure.
+Some of our living novelists have a limited list of characters; they have
+half a dozen types which we recognize as inevitably as we do the face and
+voice of an actor in the king, the lover, the priest, or the bandit: but
+Cooper is not a mere mannerist, perpetually copying from himself. His
+range is very wide: it includes white men, red men, and black
+men,--sailors, hunters, and soldiers,--lawyers, doctors, and
+clergymen,--past generations and present,--Europeans and
+Americans,--civilized and savage life. All his delineations are not
+successful; some are even unsuccessful: but the aberrations of his genius
+must be viewed in connection with the extent of the orbit through which it
+moves. The courage which led him to expose himself to so many risks of
+failure is itself a proof of conscious power.
+
+Cooper's style has not the ease, grace, and various power of Scott's,--or
+the racy, idiomatic character of Thackeray's,--or the exquisite purity and
+transparency of Hawthorne's: but it is a manly, energetic style, in which
+we are sure to find good words, if not the best. It has certain wants, but
+it has no marked defects; if it does not always command admiration, it
+never offends. It has not the highest finish; it sometimes betrays
+carelessness: but it is the natural garb in which a vigorous mind clothes
+its conceptions. It is the style of a man who writes from a full mind,
+without thinking of what he is going to say; and this is in itself a
+certain kind of merit. His descriptive powers are of a high order. His
+love of Nature was strong; and, as is generally the case with intellectual
+men, it rather increased than diminished as he grew older. It was not the
+meditative and self-conscious love of a sensitive spirit, that seeks in
+communion with the outward world a relief from the burdens and struggles
+of humanity, but the hearty enjoyment of a thoroughly healthy nature, the
+schoolboy's sense of a holiday dwelling in a manly breast. His finest
+passages are those in which he presents the energies and capacities of
+humanity in combination with striking or beautiful scenes in Nature. His
+genius, which sometimes moves with "compulsion and laborious flight" when
+dealing with artificial life and the manners and speech of cultivated men,
+and women, here recovers all its powers, and sweeps and soars with
+victorious and irresistible wing. The breeze from the sea, the fresh air
+and wide horizon of the prairies, the noonday darkness of the forest are
+sure to animate his drooping energies, and breathe into his mind the
+inspiration of a fresh life. Here he is at home, and in his congenial
+element: he is the swan on the lake, the eagle in the air, the deer in the
+woods. The escape of the frigate, in the fifth chapter of "The Pilot," is
+a well-known passage of this kind; and nothing can be finer. The technical
+skill, the poetical feeling, the rapidity of the narrative, the
+distinctness of the details, the vividness of the coloring, the life,
+power, and animation which breathe and burn in every line, make up a
+combination of the highest order of literary merit. It is as good a
+sea-piece as the best of Turner's; and we cannot give it higher praise. We
+hear the whistling of the wind through the rigging, and the roar of the
+pitiless sea, bellowing for its prey; we see the white caps of the waves
+flashing with spectral light through the darkness, and the gallant ship
+whirled along like a bubble by the irresistible current; we hold our
+breath as we read of the expedients and manoeuvres which most of us but
+half understand, and heave a long sigh of relief when the danger is past,
+and the ship reaches the open sea. A similar passage, though of more quiet
+and gentler beauty, is the description of the deer-chase on the lake, in
+the twenty-seventh chapter of "The Pioneers." Indeed, this whole novel is
+full of the finest expressions of the author's genius. Into none of his
+works has he put more of the warmth of personal feeling and the glow of
+early recollection. His own heart beats through every line. The fresh
+breezes of the morning of life play round its pages, and its unexhaled dew
+hangs upon them. It is colored throughout with the rich hues of
+sympathetic emotion. All that is attractive in pioneer life is reproduced
+with substantial truth; but the pictures are touched with those finer
+lights which time pours over the memories of childhood. With what spirit
+and power all the characteristic incidents and scenes of a new settlement
+are described,--pigeon-shooting, bass-fishing, deer-hunting, the making of
+maple-sugar, the turkey-shooting at Christmas, the sleighing-parties in
+winter! How distinctly his landscapes are painted,--the deep, impenetrable
+forest, the gleaming lake, the crude aspect and absurd architecture of the
+new-born village! How full of poetry in the ore is the conversation of
+Leatherstocking! The incongruities and peculiarities of social life which
+are the result of a sudden rush of population into the wilderness are also
+well sketched; though with a pencil less free and vivid than that with
+which he paints the aspects of Nature and the movements of natural man. As
+respects the structure of the story, and the probability of the incidents,
+the novel is open to criticism; but such is the fascination that hangs
+over it, that it is impossible to criticize. To do this would be as
+ungracious as to correct the language and pronunciation of an old friend
+who revives by his conversation the fading memories of school-boy and
+college life.
+
+Cooper would have been a better writer, if he had had more of the quality
+of humor, and a keener sense of the ridiculous; for these would have saved
+him from his too frequent practice of introducing both into his narrative
+and his conversations, but more often into the latter, scraps of
+commonplace morality, and bits of sentiment so long worn as to have lost
+all their gloss. In general, his genius does not appear to advantage in
+dialogue. His characters have not always a due regard to the brevity of
+human life. They make long speeches, preach dull sermons, and ventilate
+very self-evident propositions with great solemnity of utterance. Their
+discourse wants not only compression, but seasoning. They are sometimes
+made to talk in such a way that the force of caricature can hardly go
+farther. For instance, in "The Pioneers," Judge Temple, coming into a room
+in his house, and seeing a fire of maple-logs, exclaims to Richard Jones,
+his kinsman and factotum,--"How often have I forbidden the use of the
+sugar-maple in my dwelling! The sight of that sap, as it _exudes_ with the
+heat, is painful to me, Richard." And in another place, he is made to say
+to his daughter,--"Remember the heats of July, my daughter; nor venture
+farther than thou canst _retrace before the meridian_." We may be sure
+that no man of woman born, in finding fault about the burning of
+maple-logs, ever talked of the sap's "exuding"; or, when giving a daughter
+a caution against walking too far, ever translated getting home before
+noon into "retracing before the meridian." This is almost as bad as Sir
+Piercie Shafton's calling the cows "the milky mothers of the herds."
+
+So, too, a lively perception of the ludicrous would have saved Cooper from
+certain peculiarities of phrase and awkwardnesses of expression,
+frequently occurring in his novels, such as might easily slip from the pen
+in the rapidity of composition, but which we wonder should have been
+overlooked in the proof-sheet. A few instances will illustrate our
+meaning. In the elaborate description of the personal charms of Cecilia
+Howard, in the tenth chapter of "The Pilot," we are told of "a small hand
+which _seemed to blush at its own naked beauties_." In "The Pioneers,"
+speaking of the head and brow of Oliver Edwards, he says,--"The very air
+and manner with which _the member haughtily maintained itself_ over the
+coarse and even wild attire," etc. In "The Bravo," we read,--"As the
+stranger passed, his _glittering organs rolled over_ the persons of the
+gondolier and his companion," etc.; and again, in the same novel,--"The
+packet was received calmly, though _the organ_ which glanced at its seal,"
+etc. In "The Last of the Mohicans," the complexion of Cora appears
+"charged with the color of the rich blood that _seemed ready to burst its
+bounds_." These are but trivial faults; and if they had not been so easily
+corrected, it would have been hypercriticism to notice them.
+
+Every author in the department of imaginative literature, whether of prose
+or verse, puts more or less of his personal traits of mind and character
+into his writings. This is very true of Cooper; and much of the worth and
+popularity of his novels is to be ascribed to the unconscious expressions
+and revelations they give of the estimable and attractive qualities of the
+man. Bryant, in his admirably written and discriminating biographical
+sketch, originally pronounced as a eulogy, and now prefixed to
+"Precaution" in Townsend's edition, relates that a distinguished man of
+letters, between whom and Cooper an unhappy coolness had for some time
+existed, after reading "The Pathfinder," remarked,--"They may say what
+they will of Cooper, the man who wrote this book is not only a great man,
+but a good man." This is a just tribute; and the impression thus made by a
+single work is confirmed by all. Cooper's moral nature was thoroughly
+sound, and all his moral instincts were right. His writings show in how
+high regard he held the two great guardian virtues of courage in man and
+purity in woman. In all his novels we do not recall a single expression of
+doubtful morality. He never undertakes to enlist our sympathies on the
+wrong side. If his good characters are not always engaging, he never does
+violence to virtue by presenting attractive qualities in combination with
+vices which in real life harden the heart and coarsen the taste. We do not
+find in his pages those moral monsters in which the finest sensibilities,
+the richest gifts, the noblest sentiments are linked to heartless
+profligacy, or not less heartless misanthropy. He never palters with
+right; he enters into no truce with wrong; he admits of no compromise on
+such points. How admirable in its moral aspect is the character of
+Leatherstocking! he is ignorant, and of very moderate intellectual range
+or grasp; but what dignity, nay, even grandeur, is thrown around him from
+his noble moral qualities,--his undeviating rectitude, his
+disinterestedness, his heroism, his warm affections! No writer could have
+delineated such a character so well who had not an instinctive and
+unconscious sympathy with his intellectual offspring. Praise of the same
+kind belongs to Long Tom Coffin, and Antonio, the old fisherman. The
+elements of character--truth, courage, and affection--are the same in all.
+Harvey Birch and Jacopo Frontoni are kindred conceptions: both are in a
+false relation to those around them; both assume a voluntary load of
+obloquy; both live and move in an atmosphere of suspicion and distrust;
+but in both the end sanctifies and exalts the means; the element of
+deception in both only adds to the admiration finally awakened. The
+carrying out of conceptions like these--the delineation of a character
+that perpetually weaves a web of untruth, and yet through all maintains
+our respect, and at last secures our reverence--was no easy task; but
+Cooper's success is perfect.
+
+Cooper was fortunate in having been born with a vigorous constitution, and
+in having kept through life the blessing of robust health. He never
+suffered from remorse of the stomach or protest of the brain; and his
+writings are those of a man who always digested his dinner and never had a
+headache. His novels, like those of Scott, are full of the breeze and
+sunshine of health. They breathe of manly tastes, active habits, sound
+sleep, a relish for simple pleasures, temperate enjoyments, and the
+retention in manhood of the fresh susceptibilities of youth. His genius is
+thoroughly masculine. He is deficient in acute perception, in delicate
+discrimination, in fine analysis, in the skill to seize and arrest
+exceptional peculiarities; but he has in large measure the power to
+present the broad characteristics of universal humanity. It is to this
+power that he owes his wide popularity. At this moment, in every public
+and circulating library in England or America, the novels of Cooper will
+be found to be in constant demand. He wrote for the many, and not for the
+few; he hit the common mind between wind and water; a delicate and
+fastidious literary appetite may not be attracted to his productions, but
+the healthy taste of the natural man finds therein food alike convenient
+and savory.
+
+In a manly, courageous, somewhat impulsive nature like Cooper's we should
+expect to find prejudices; and he was a man of strong prejudices. Among
+others, was an antipathy to the people of New England. His characters,
+male and female, are frequently Yankees, but they are almost invariably
+caricatures; that is, they have all the unamiable characteristics and
+unattractive traits which are bestowed upon the people of New England by
+their ill-wishers. Had he ever lived among them, with his quick powers of
+observation and essentially kindly judgment of men and life, he could not
+have failed to correct his misapprehensions, and to perceive that he had
+taken the reverse side of the tapestry for the face.
+
+Cooper, with a very keen sense of injustice, conscious of inexhaustible
+power, full of vehement impulses, and not largely endowed with that safe
+quality called prudence, was a man likely to get involved in
+controversies. It was his destiny, and he never could have avoided it, to
+be in opposition to the dominant public sentiment around him. Had he been
+born in Russia, he could hardly have escaped a visit to Siberia; had he
+been born in Austria, he would have wasted some of his best years in
+Spielberg. Under a despotic government he would have been a vehement
+Republican; in a Catholic country he would have been the most
+uncompromising of Protestants. He had full faith in the institutions of
+his own country; and his large heart, hopeful temperament, and robust soul
+made him a Democrat; but his democracy had not the least tinge of
+radicalism. He believed that man had a right to govern himself, and that
+he was capable of self-government; but government, the subordination of
+impulse to law, he insisted upon as rigorously as the veriest monarchist
+or aristocrat in Christendom. He would have no authority that was not
+legitimate; but he would tolerate no resistance to legitimate authority.
+All his sentiments, impulses, and instincts were those of a gentleman; and
+vulgar manners, coarse habits, and want of respect for the rights of
+others were highly offensive to him. When in Europe, he resolutely, and at
+no little expense of time and trouble, defended America from unjust
+imputations and ignorant criticism; and when at home, with equal courage
+and equal energy, he breasted the current of public Opinion where he
+deemed it to be wrong, and resisted those most formidable invasions of
+right, wherein the many combine to oppress the one. His long controversy
+with the press was too important an episode in his life to be passed over
+by us without mention; though our limits will not permit us to make
+anything more than a passing allusion to it. The opinion which will be
+formed upon Cooper's course in this matter will depend, in a considerable
+degree, upon the temperament of the critic. Timid men, cautious men, men
+who love their ease, will call him Quixotic, rash, imprudent, to engage in
+a controversy in which he had much to lose and little to gain; but the
+reply to such suggestions is, that, if men always took counsel of
+indolence, timidity, and selfishness, no good would ever be accomplished,
+and no abuses ever be reformed. Cooper may not have been judicious in
+everything he said and did; but that he was right in the main, both in
+motive and conduct, we firmly believe. He acted from a high sense of duty;
+there was no alloy of vindictiveness or love of money in the impulses
+which moved him. Criticism the most severe and unsparing he accepted as
+perfectly allowable, so long as it kept within the limits of literary
+judgment; but any attack upon his personal character, especially any
+imputation or insinuation involving a moral stain, he would not submit to.
+He appealed to the laws of the land to vindicate his reputation and punish
+his assailants. Long and gallant was the warfare he maintained,--a
+friendless, solitary warfare,--and all the hydra-heads of the press
+hissing and ejaculating their venom upon him,--with none to stand by his
+side and wish him God-speed. But he persevered, and, what is more, he
+succeeded: that, is to say, he secured all the substantial fruits of
+success. He vindicated the principle for which he contended: he compelled
+the newspapers to keep within the pale of literary criticism; he confirmed
+the saying of President Jackson, that "desperate courage makes one a
+majority."
+
+Two of his novels, "Homeward Bound" and "Home as Found," bear a strong
+infusion of the feelings which led to his contest with the press. After
+the publication of these, he became much interested in the well-known
+Anti-Rent agitation by which the State of New York was so long shaken; and
+three of his novels, "Satanstoe," "The Chainbearer," and "The Redskins,"
+forming one continuous narrative, were written with reference to this
+subject. Many professed novel-readers are, we suspect, repelled from these
+books, partly because of this continuity of the story, and partly because
+they contain a moral; but we assure them, that, if on these grounds they
+pass them by, they lose both pleasure and profit. They are written with
+all the vigor and spirit of his prime; they have many powerful scenes and
+admirably drawn characters; the pictures of colonial life and manners in
+"Satanstoe" are animated and delightful; and in all the legal and ethical
+points for which the author contends he is perfectly right. In his Preface
+to "The Chainbearer" he says,--"In our view, New York is at this moment a
+disgraced State; and her disgrace arises from the fact that her laws are
+trampled under foot, without any efforts--at all commensurate with the
+object--being made to enforce them." That any commonwealth is a disgraced
+State against which such charges can with truth be made no one will deny;
+and any one who is familiar with the history of that wretched business
+will agree, that, at the time it was made, the charge was not too strong.
+Who can fail to admire the courage of the man who ventured to write and
+print such a judgment as the above against a State of which he was a
+native, a citizen, and a resident, and in which the public sentiment was
+fiercely the other way? Here, too, Cooper's motives were entirely
+unselfish: he had almost no pecuniary interest in the question of
+Anti-Rentism; he wrote all in honor, unalloyed by thrift. His very last
+novel, "The Ways of the Hour," is a vigorous exposition of the defects of
+the trial by jury in cases where a vehement public sentiment has already
+tried the question, and condemned the prisoner. The story is improbable,
+and the leading character is an impossible being; but the interest is kept
+up to the end,--it has many most impressive scenes,--it abounds with
+shrewd and sound observations upon life, manners, and politics,--and all
+the legal portion is stamped with an acuteness and fidelity to truth which
+no professional reader can note without admiration.
+
+Cooper's character as a man is the more admirable to us because it was
+marked by strong points which are not common in our country, and which the
+institutions of our country do not foster. He had the courage to defy the
+majority: he had the courage to confront the press: and not from the sting
+of ill-success, not from mortified vanity, not from wounded self-love, but
+from an heroic sense of duty. How easy a life might he have purchased by
+the cheap virtues of silence, submission, and acquiescence! Booksellers
+would have enriched him; society would have caressed him; political
+distinction would have crowned him: he had only to watch the course of
+public sentiment, and so dispose himself that he should seem to lead where
+he only followed, and all comfortable things would have been poured into
+his lap. But he preferred to breast the stream, to speak ungrateful
+truths. He set a wholesome example in this respect; none the less valuable
+because so few have had the manliness and self-reliance to imitate him.
+More than twenty years ago De Tocqueville said,--"I know of no country in
+which there is so little true independence of mind and freedom of
+discussion as in America": words which we fear are not less true to-day
+than when they were written. Cooper's dauntless courage would have been
+less admirable, had he been hard, cold, stern, and impassive: but he was
+none of these. He was full of warm affections, cordial, sympathetic, and
+genial; he had a woman's tenderness of heart; he was the most faithful of
+friends; and in his own home no man was ever more gentle, gracious, and
+sweet. The blows he received fell upon a heart that felt them keenly; but
+he bared his breast none the less resolutely to the contest because it was
+not protected by an armor of insensibility.
+
+But we must bring this long paper to a close. We cannot give to it the
+interest which comes from personal recollections. We saw Cooper once, and
+but once. This was the very year before he died, in his own home, and amid
+the scenes which his genius has made immortal. It was a bright midsummer's
+day, and we walked together about the village, and around the shores of
+the lake over which the canoe of Indian John had glided. His own aspect
+was as sunny as that of the smiling heavens above us; age had not touched
+him with its paralyzing finger: his vigorous frame, elastic step, and
+animated glance gave promise of twenty years more of energetic life. His
+sturdy figure, healthy face, and a slight bluffness of manner reminded one
+more of his original profession than of the life and manners of a man of
+letters. He looked like a man who had lived much in the open air,--upon
+whom the rain had fallen, and against whom the wind had blown. His
+conversation was hearty, spontaneous, and delightful from its frankness
+and fulness, but it was not pointed or brilliant; you remembered the
+healthy ring of the words, but not the words themselves. We recollect,
+that, as we were standing together on the shores of the lake,--shores
+which are somewhat tame, and a lake which can claim no higher epithet than
+that of pretty,--he said: "I suppose it would be patriotic to say that
+this is finer than Como, but we know that it is not." We found a chord of
+sympathy in our common impressions of the beauty of Sorrento, about which,
+and his residence there, he spoke with contagious animation. Who could
+have thought that that rich and abundant life was so near its close?
+Nothing could be more thoroughly satisfying than the impression he left in
+this brief and solitary interview. His air and movement revealed the same
+manly, brave, true-hearted, warm-hearted man that is imaged in his books.
+Grateful are we for the privilege of having seen, spoken with, and taken
+by the hand the author of "The Pathfinder" and "The Pilot": "it is a
+pleasure to have seen a great man." Distinctly through the gathering mists
+of years do his face and form rise up before the mind's eye: an image of
+manly self-reliance, of frank courage, of generous impulse; a frank
+friend, an open enemy; a man whom many misunderstood, but whom no one
+could understand without honoring and loving.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+PER TENEBRAS, LUMINA.
+
+  I know how, through the golden hours
+    When summer sunlight floods the deep,
+  The fairest stars of all the heaven
+    Climb up, unseen, the effulgent steep.
+
+  Orion girds him with a flame;
+    And, king-like, from the eastward seas,
+  Comes Aldebaran, with his train
+    Of Hyades and Pleiades.
+
+  In far meridian pride, the Twins
+    Build, side by side, their luminous thrones;
+  And Sirius and Procyon pour
+    A splendor that the day disowns.
+
+  And stately Leo, undismayed,
+    With fiery footstep tracks the Sun,
+  To plunge adown the western blaze,
+    Sublimely lost in glories won.
+
+  I know, if I were called to keep
+    Pale morning watch with Grief and Pain,
+  Mine eyes should see their gathering might
+    Rise grandly through the gloom again.
+
+  And when the Winter Solstice holds
+    In his diminished path the Sun,--
+  When hope, and growth, and joy are o'er,
+    And all our harvesting is done,--
+
+  When, stricken, like our mortal Life,
+    Darkened and chill, the Year lays down
+  The summer beauty that she wore,
+    Her summer stars of Harp and Crown,--
+
+  Thick trooping with their golden tread
+    They come, as nightfall fills the sky,
+  Those strong and solemn sentinels,
+    To hold their mightier watch on high.
+
+  Ah, who shall shrink from dark and cold,
+    Or fear the sad and shortening days,
+  Since God doth only so unfold
+    The wider glory to his gaze?
+
+  Since loyal Truth, and holy Trust,
+    And kingly Strength defying Pain,
+  Stern Courage, and sure Brotherhood
+    Are born from out the depths again?
+
+  Dear Country of our love and pride!
+    So is thy stormy winter given!
+  So, through the terrors that betide,
+    Look up, and hail thy kindling heaven!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LOVE AND SKATES.
+
+IN TWO PARTS.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A KNOT AND A MAN TO CUT IT.
+
+
+Consternation! Consternation in the back office of Benjamin Brummage,
+Esq., banker in Wall Street.
+
+Yesterday down came Mr. Superintendent Whiffler, from Dunderbunk, up the
+North River, to say, that, "unless something be done, _at once_, the
+Dunderbunk Foundry and Iron-Works must wind up." President Brummage
+forthwith convoked his Directors. And here they sat around the green
+table, forlorn as the guests at a Barmecide feast.
+
+Well they might be forlorn! It was the rosy summer solstice, the longest
+and fairest day of all the year. But rose-color and sunshine had fled from
+Wall Street. Noisy Crisis towing black Panic, as a puffing steam-tug drags
+a three-decker cocked and primed for destruction, had suddenly sailed in
+upon Credit.
+
+As all the green inch-worms vanish on the tenth of every June, so on the
+tenth of that June all the money in America had buried itself and was as
+if it were not. Everybody and everything was ready to fail. If the
+hindmost brick went, down would go the whole file.
+
+There were ten Directors of the Dunderbunk Foundry.
+
+Now, not seldom, of a Board of ten Directors, five are wise and five are
+foolish: five wise, who bag all the Company's funds in salaries and
+commissions for indorsing its paper; five foolish, who get no salaries, no
+commissions, no dividends,--nothing, indeed, but abuse from the
+stockholders, and the reputation of thieves. That is to say, five of the
+ten are pick-pockets; the other five, pockets to be picked.
+
+It happened that the Dunderbunk Directors were all honest and foolish but
+one. He, John Churm, honest and wise, was off at the West, with his
+Herculean shoulders at the wheels of a dead-locked railroad. These honest
+fellows did not wish Dunderbunk to fail for several reasons. First, it was
+not pleasant to lose their investment. Second, one important failure might
+betray Credit to Crisis with Panic at its heels, whereupon every
+investment would be in danger. Third, what would become of their
+Directorial reputations? From President Brummage down, each of these
+gentlemen was one of the pockets to be picked in a great many companies.
+Each was of the first Wall-Street fashion, invited to lend his name and
+take stock in every new enterprise. Any one of them might have walked down
+town in a long patchwork toga made of the newspaper advertisements of
+boards in which his name proudly figured. If Dunderbunk failed, the toga
+was torn, and might presently go to rags beyond repair. The first rent
+would inaugurate universal rupture. How to avoid this disaster?--that was
+the question.
+
+"State the case, Mr. Superintendent Whiffler," said President Brummage, in
+his pompous manner, with its pomp a little collapsed, _pro tempore_.
+
+Inefficient Whiffler whimpered out his story.
+
+The confessions of an impotent executive are sorry stuff to read.
+Whiffler's long, dismal complaint shall not be repeated. He had taken a
+prosperous concern, had carried on things in his own way, and now failure
+was inevitable. He had bought raw material lavishly, and worked it badly
+into half-ripe material, which nobody wanted to buy. He was in arrears to
+his hands. He had tried to bully them, when they asked for their money.
+They had insulted him, and threatened to knock off work, unless they were
+paid at once. "A set of horrid ruffians," Whiffler said,--"and his life
+wouldn't be safe many days among them."
+
+"Withdraw, if you please, Mr. Superintendent," President Brummage
+requested. "The Board will discuss measures of relief."
+
+The more they discussed, the more consternation. Nobody said anything to
+the purpose, except Mr. Sam Gwelp, his late father's lubberly son and
+successor.
+
+"Blast!" said he; "we shall have to let it slide!"
+
+Into this assembly of imbeciles unexpectedly entered Mr. John Churm. He
+had set his Western railroad trains rolling, and was just returned to
+town. Now he was ready to put those Herculean shoulders at any other
+bemired and rickety no-go-cart.
+
+Mr. Churm was not accustomed to be a Director in feeble companies. He came
+into Dunderbunk recently as executor of his friend Damer, a year ago bored
+to death by a silly wife.
+
+Churm's bristly aspect and incisive manner made him a sharp contrast to
+Brummage. The latter personage was flabby in flesh, and the oppressively
+civil counter-jumper style of his youth had grown naturally into a
+deportment of most imposing pomposity.
+
+The Tenth Director listened to the President's recitative of their
+difficulties, chorused by the Board.
+
+"Gentlemen," said Director Churm, "you want two things. The first is
+Money!"
+
+He pronounced this cabalistic word with such magic power that all the air
+seemed instantly filled with a cheerful flight of gold American eagles,
+each carrying a double eagle on its back and a silver dollar in its claws;
+and all the soil of America seemed to sprout with coin, as after a shower
+a meadow sprouts with the yellow buds of the dandelion.
+
+"Money! yes, Money!" murmured the Directors.
+
+It seemed a word of good omen, now.
+
+"The second thing," resumed the newcomer, "is a Man!"
+
+The Directors looked at each other and did not see such a being.
+
+"The actual Superintendent of Dunderbunk is a dunderhead," said Churm.
+
+"Pun!" cried Sam Gwelp, waking up from a snooze.
+
+Several of the Directors, thus instructed, started a complimentary laugh.
+
+"Order, gentlemen! Orrderr!" said the President, severely, rapping with a
+paper-cutter.
+
+"We must have a Man, not a Whiffler!" Churm continued. "And I have one in
+my eye."
+
+Everybody examined his eye.
+
+"Would you be so good as to name him?" said Old Brummage, timidly.
+
+He wanted to see a Man, but feared the strange creature might be
+dangerous.
+
+"Richard Wade," says Churm. They did not know him. The name sounded
+forcible.
+
+"He has been in California," the nominator said.
+
+A shudder ran around the green table. They seemed to see a frowzy
+desperado, shaggy as a bison, in a red shirt and jackboots, hung about the
+waist with an assortment of six-shooters and bowie-knives, and standing
+against a background of mustangs, monte-banks, and lynch-law.
+
+"We must get Wade," Churm says, with authority. "He knows Iron by heart.
+He can handle Men. I will back him with my blank check, to any amount, to
+his order."
+
+Here a murmur of applause, swelling to a cheer, burst from the Directors.
+
+Everybody knew that the Geological Bank deemed Churm's deposits the
+fundamental stratum of its wealth. They lay there in the vaults, like
+underlying granite. When hot times came, they boiled up in a mountain to
+buttress the world.
+
+Churm's blank check seemed to wave in the air like an oriflamme of
+victory. Its payee might come from Botany Bay; he might wear his beard to
+his knees, and his belt stuck full of howitzers and boomerangs; he might
+have been repeatedly hung by Vigilance Committees, and as often cut down
+and revived by galvanism; but brandishing that check, good for anything
+less than a million, every Director in Wall Street was his slave, his
+friend, and his brother.
+
+"Let us vote Mr. Wade in by acclamation," cried the Directors.
+
+"But, gentlemen," Churm interposed, "if I give him my blank check, he must
+have _carte blanche_, and no one to interfere in his management."
+
+Every Director, from President Brummage down, drew a long face at this
+condition.
+
+It was one of their great privileges to potter in the Dunderbunk affairs
+and propose ludicrous impossibilities.
+
+"Just as you please," Churm continued. "I name a competent man, a
+gentleman and fine fellow. I back him with all the cash he wants. But he
+must have his own way. Now take him, or leave him!"
+
+Such despotic talk had never been heard before in that Directors' Room.
+They relucted a moment. But they thought of their togas of advertisements
+in danger. The blank check shook its blandishments before their eyes.
+
+"We take him," they said, and Richard Wade was the new Superintendent
+unanimously.
+
+"He shall be at Dunderbunk to take hold to-morrow morning," said Churm,
+and went off to notify him.
+
+Upon this, Consternation sailed out of the hearts of Brummage and
+associates.
+
+They lunched with good appetites over the green table, and the President
+confidently remarked,--
+
+"I don't believe there is going much of a crisis, after all."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+BARRACKS FOR THE HERO.
+
+
+Wade packed his kit, and took the Hudson-River train for Dunderbunk the
+same afternoon.
+
+He swallowed his dust, he gasped for his fresh air, he wept over his
+cinders, he refused his "lozengers," he was admired by all the pretty
+girls and detested by all the puny men in the train, and in good time got
+down at his station.
+
+He stopped on the platform to survey the land--and water-privileges of his
+new abode.
+
+"The June sunshine is unequalled," he soliloquized, "the river is
+splendid, the hills are pretty, and the Highlands, north, respectable; but
+the village has gone to seed. Place and people look lazy, vicious, and
+ashamed. I suppose those chimneys are my Foundry. The smoke rises as if
+the furnaces were ill-fed and weak in the lungs. Nothing, I can see, looks
+alive, except that queer little steamboat coming in,--the 'I.
+Ambuster,'--jolly name for a boat!"
+
+Wade left his traps at the station, and walked through the village. All
+the gilding of a golden sunset of June could not make it anything but
+commonplace. It would be forlorn on a gray day, and utterly dismal in a
+storm.
+
+"I must look up a civilized house to lodge in," thought the stranger. "I
+cannot possibly camp at the tavern. Its offence is rum, and smells to
+heaven."
+
+Presently our explorer found a neat, white, two-story, home-like abode on
+the upper street, overlooking the river.
+
+"This promises," he thought. "Here are roses on the porch, a piano, or at
+least a melodeon, by the parlor-window, and they are insured in the
+Mutual, as the Mutual's plate announces. Now, if that nice-looking person
+in black I see setting a table in the back-room is a widow, I will camp
+here."
+
+Perry Purtett was the name on the door, and opposite the sign of an
+_omnium-gatherum_ country-store hinted that Perry was deceased. The hint
+was a broad one. Wade read, "Ringdove, Successor to late P. Purtett."
+
+"It's worth a try to get in here out of the pagan barbarism around. I'll
+propose--as a lodger--to the widow."
+
+So said Wade, and rang the bell under the roses. A pretty, slim, delicate,
+fair-haired maiden answered.
+
+"This explains the roses and the melodeon," thought Wade, and asked, "Can
+I see your mother?"
+
+Mamma came. "Mild, timid, accustomed to depend on the late Perry, and
+wants a friend," Wade analyzed, while he bowed. He proposed himself as a
+lodger.
+
+"I didn't know it was talked of generally," replied the widow,
+plaintively; "but I have said that we felt lonesome, Mr. Purtett bein'
+gone, and if the new minister"--
+
+Here she paused. The cut of Wade's jib was unclerical. He did not stoop,
+like a new minister. He was not pallid, meagre, and clad in unwholesome
+black, like the same. His bronzed face was frank and bold and unfamiliar
+with speculations on Original Sin or Total Depravity.
+
+"I am not the new minister," said Wade, smiling slightly over his
+moustache; "but a new Superintendent for the Foundry."
+
+"Mr. Whiffler is goin'?" exclaimed Mrs. Purtett.
+
+She looked at her daughter, who gave a little sob and ran out of the room.
+
+"What makes my daughter Belle feel bad," says the widow, "is, that she had
+a friend,--well, it isn't too much to say that they was as good as
+engaged,--and he was foreman of the Foundry finishin'-shop. But somehow
+Whiffler spoilt him, just as he spoils everything he touches; and last
+winter, when Belle was away, William Tarbox--that's his name, and his head
+is runnin' over with inventions--took to spreein' and liquor, and got
+ashamed of himself, and let down from a foreman to a hand, and is all the
+while lettin' down lower."
+
+The widow's heart thus opened, Wade walked in as consoler. This also
+opened the lodgings to him. He was presently installed in the large and
+small front-rooms up-stairs, unpacking his traps, and making himself
+permanently at home.
+
+Superintendent Whiffler came over, by-and-by, to see his successor. He did
+not like his looks. The new man should have looked mean or weak or
+rascally, to suit the outgoer.
+
+"How long do you expect to stay?" asks Whiffler, with a half-sneer,
+watching Wade hanging a map and a print _vis-à-vis_.
+
+"Until the men and I, or the Company and I, cannot pull together."
+
+"I'll give you a week to quarrel with both, and another to see the whole
+concern go to everlasting smash. And now, if you're ready, I'll go over
+the accounts with you and prove it."
+
+Whiffler himself, insolent, cowardly, and a humbug, if not a swindler, was
+enough, Wade thought, to account for any failure. But he did not mention
+this conviction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+HOW TO BEHEAD A HYDRA!
+
+
+At ten next morning, Whiffler handed over the safe-key to Wade, and
+departed to ruin some other property, if he could get one to ruin. Wade
+walked with him to the gate.
+
+"I'm glad to be out of a sinking ship," said the ex-boss. "The Works will
+go down, sure as shooting. And I think myself well out of the clutches of
+these men. They're a bullying, swearing, drinking set of infernal
+ruffians. Foremen are just as bad as hands. I never felt safe of my life
+with 'em."
+
+"A bad lot, are they?" mused Wade, as he returned to the office. "I must
+give them a little sharp talk by way of Inaugural."
+
+He had the bell tapped and the men called together in the main building.
+
+Much work was still going on in an inefficient, unsystematic way.
+
+While hot fires were roaring in the great furnaces, smoke rose from the
+dusty beds where Titanic castings were cooling. Great cranes, manacled
+with heavy chains, stood over the furnace-doors, ready to lift steaming
+jorums of melted metal, and pour out, hot and hot, for the moulds to
+swallow.
+
+Raw material in big heaps lay about, waiting for the fire to ripen it.
+Here was a stack of long, rough, rusty pigs, clumsy as the shillelabs of
+the Anakim. There was a pile of short, thick masses, lying
+higgledy-piggledy, stuff from the neighboring mines, which needed to be
+crossed with foreign stock before it could be of much use in civilization.
+
+Here, too, was raw material organized: a fly-wheel, large enough to keep
+the knobbiest of asteroids revolving without a wabble; a cross-head,
+cross-tail, and piston-rod, to help a great sea-going steamer breast the
+waves; a light walking-beam, to whirl the paddles of a fast boat on the
+river; and other members of machines, only asking to be put together and
+vivified by steam and they would go at their work with a will.
+
+From the black rafters overhead hung the heavy folds of a dim atmosphere,
+half dust, half smoke. A dozen sunbeams, forcing their way through the
+grimy panes of the grimy upper windows, found this compound quite palpable
+and solid, and they moulded out of it a series of golden bars set side by
+side aloft, like the pipes of an organ out of its perpendicular.
+
+Wade grew indignant, as he looked about him and saw so much good stuff and
+good force wasting for want of a little will and skill to train the force
+and manage the stuff. He abhorred bankruptcy and chaos.
+
+"All they want here is a head," he thought.
+
+He shook his own. The brain within was well developed with healthy
+exercise. It filled its case, and did not rattle like a withered kernel,
+or sound soft like a rotten one. It was a vigorous, muscular brain. The
+owner felt that he could trust it for an effort, as he could his lungs for
+a shout, his legs for a leap, or his fist for a knock-down argument.
+
+At the tap of the bell, the "bad lot" of men came together. They numbered
+more than two hundred, though the Foundry was working short. They had been
+notified that "that gonoph of a Whiffler was kicked out, and a new feller
+was in, who looked cranky enough, and wanted to see 'em and tell 'em
+whether he was a damn' fool or not."
+
+So all hands collected from the different parts of the Foundry to see the
+head.
+
+They came up with easy and somewhat swaggering bearing,--a good many
+roughs, with here and there a ruffian. Several, as they approached, swung
+and tossed, for mere overplus of strength, the sledges with which they had
+been tapping at the bald shiny pates of their anvils. Several wielded
+their long pokers like lances.
+
+Grimy chaps, all with their faces streaked, like Blackfeet in their
+warpaint. Their hairy chests showed, where some men parade elaborate
+shirt-bosoms. Some had their sleeves pushed up to the elbow to exhibit
+their compact flexors and extensors. Some had rolled their flannel up to
+the shoulder, above the bulging muscles of the upper arm. They wore aprons
+tied about the neck, like the bibs of our childhood,--or about the waist,
+like the coquettish articles which young housewives affect. But there was
+no coquetry in these great flaps of leather or canvas, and they were
+besmeared and rust-stained quite beyond any bib that ever suffered under
+bread-and-molasses or mud-pie treatment.
+
+They lounged and swaggered up, and stood at ease, not without rough grace,
+in a sinuous line, coiled and knotted like a snake.
+
+Ten feet back stood the new Hercules who was to take down that Hydra's two
+hundred crests of insubordination.
+
+They inspected him, and he them as coolly. He read and ticketed each man,
+as he came up,--good, bad, or on the fence,--and marked each so that he
+would know him among a myriad.
+
+The Hands faced the Head. It was a question whether the two hundred or the
+one would be master in Dunderbunk.
+
+Which was boss? An old question.
+
+It has to be settled whenever a new man claims power, and there is always
+a struggle until it is fought out by main force of brain or muscle.
+
+Wade had made up his mind on this subject. He waited a moment until the
+men were still. He was a Saxon six-footer of thirty. He stood easily on
+his pins, as if he had eyed men and facts before. His mouth looked firm,
+his brow freighted, his nose clipper,--that the hands could see. But
+clipper noses are not always backed by a stout hull. Seemingly freighted
+brows sometimes carry nothing but ballast and dunnage. The firmness may be
+all in the moustache, while the mouth hides beneath, a mere silly slit.
+All which the hands knew.
+
+Wade began, short and sharp as a trip-hammer, when it has a bar to shape.
+
+"I'm the new Superintendent. Richard Wade is my name. I rang the bell
+because I wanted to see you and have you see me. You know as well as I do
+that these Works are in a bad way. They can't stay so. They must come up
+and pay you regular wages and the Company profits. Every man of you has
+got to be here on the spot when the bell strikes, and up to the mark in
+his work. You haven't been,--and you know it. You've turned out rotten
+iron,--stuff that any honest shop would be ashamed of. Now there's to be a
+new leaf turned over here. You're to be paid on the nail; but you've got
+to earn your money. I won't have any idlers or shirkers or rebels about
+me. I shall work hard myself, and every man of you will, or he leaves the
+shop. Now, if anybody has a complaint to make, I'll hear him before you
+all."
+
+The men were evidently impressed with Wade's Inaugural. It meant
+something. But they were not to be put down so easily, after long misrule.
+There began to be a whisper,--
+
+"B'il in, Bill Tarbox! and talk up to him!"
+
+Presently Bill shouldered forward and faced the new ruler.
+
+Since Bill took to drink and degradation, he had been the butt-end of riot
+and revolt at the Foundry. He had had his own way with Whiffler. He did
+not like to abdicate and give in to this new chap without testing him.
+
+In a better mood, Bill would have liked Wade's looks and words; but today
+he had a sore head, a sour face, and a bitter heart from last night's
+spree. And then he had heard--it was as well known already in Dunderbunk
+as if the town-crier had cried it--that Wade was lodging at Mrs.
+Purtett's, where poor Bill was excluded. So Bill stepped forward as
+spokesman of the ruffianly element, and the immoral force gathered behind
+and backed him heavily.
+
+Tarbox, too, was a Saxon six-footer of thirty. But he had sagged one inch
+for want of self-respect. He had spoilt his color and dyed his moustache.
+He wore foxy-black pantaloons tucked into red-topped boots, with the name
+of the maker on a gilt shield. His red flannel shirt was open at the neck
+and caught with a black handkerchief. His damaged tile was in permanent
+crape for the late lamented Poole.
+
+"We allow," says Bill, in a tone halfway between Lablache's _De profundis_
+and a burglar's bull-dog's snarl, "that we've did our work as good as need
+to be did. We 'xpect we know our rights. We ha'n't ben treated fair, and
+I'm damned if we're go'n' to stan' it."
+
+"Stop!" says Wade. "No swearing in this shop!"
+
+"Who the Devil is go'n' to stop it?" growled Tarbox.
+
+"I am. Do you step back now, and let some one come out who can talk like a
+gentleman!"
+
+"I'm damned if I stir till I've had my say out," says Bill, shaking
+himself up and looking dangerous.
+
+"Go back!"
+
+Wade moved close to him, also looking dangerous.
+
+"Don't tech me!" Bill threatened, squaring off.
+
+He was not quick enough. Wade knocked him down flat on a heap of
+moulding-sand. The hat in mourning for Poole found its place in a puddle.
+
+Bill did not like the new Emperor's method of compelling _kotou_. Round
+One of the mill had not given him enough.
+
+He jumped up from his soft bed and made a vicious rush at Wade. But he was
+damaged by evil courses. He was fighting against law and order, on the
+side of wrong and bad manners.
+
+The same fist met him again, and heavier.
+
+Up went his heels! Down went his head! It struck the ragged edge of a
+fresh casting, and there he lay stunned and bleeding on his hard black
+pillow.
+
+"Ring the bell to go to work!" said Wade, in a tone that made the ringer
+jump. "Now, men, take hold and do your duty and everything will go
+smooth!"
+
+The bell clanged in. The line looked at its prostrate champion, then at
+the new boss standing there, cool and brave, and not afraid of a regiment
+of sledge-hammers.
+
+They wanted an Executive. They wanted to be well governed, as all men do.
+They wanted disorder out and order in. The new man looked like a man,
+talked fair, hit hard. Why not all hands give in with a good grace and go
+to work like honest fellows?
+
+The line broke up. The hands went off to their duty. And there was never
+any more insubordination at Dunderbunk.
+
+This was June.
+
+Skates in the next chapter.
+
+Love in good time afterward shall glide upon the scene.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+A CHRISTMAS GIFT.
+
+
+The pioneer sunbeam of next Christmas morning rattled over the Dunderbunk
+hills, flashed into Richard Wade's eyes, waked him, and was off,
+ricochetting across the black ice of the river.
+
+Wade jumped up, electrified and jubilant. He had gone to bed, feeling
+quite too despondent for so healthy a fellow. Christmas Eve, the time of
+family-meetings, reminded him how lonely he was. He had not a relative in
+the world, except two little nieces,--one as tall as his knee, the other
+almost up to his waist; and them he had safely bestowed in a nook of New
+England, to gain wit and virtues as they gained inches.
+
+"I have had a stern and lonely life," thought Wade, as he blew out his
+candle last night, "and what has it profited me?"
+
+Perhaps the pioneer sunbeam answered this question with a truism, not
+always as applicable as in this case,--"A brave, able, self-respecting
+manhood is fair profit for any man's first thirty years of life."
+
+But, answered or not, the question troubled Wade no more. He shot out of
+bed in tip-top spirits; shouted "Merry Christmas!" at the rising disk of
+the sun; looked over the black ice; thrilled with the thought of a long
+holiday for skating; and proceeded to dress in a knowing suit of rough
+clothes, singing, "_Ah, non giunge_!" as he slid into them.
+
+Presently, glancing from his south window, he observed several matinal
+smokes rising from the chimneys of a country-house a mile away, on a slope
+fronting the river.
+
+"Peter Skerrett must be back from Europe at last," he thought. "I hope he
+is as fine a fellow as he was ten years ago. I hope marriage has not made
+him a muff, and wealth a weakling."
+
+Wade went down to breakfast with an heroic appetite. His "Merry Christmas"
+to Mrs. Purtett was followed up by a ravished kiss and the gift of a
+silver butter-knife. The good widow did not know which to be most charmed
+with. The butter-knife was genuine, shining, solid silver, with her
+initials, M.B.P., Martha Bilsby Purtett, given in luxuriant flourishes;
+but then the kiss had such a fine twang, such an exhilarating titillation!
+The late Perry's kisses, from first to last, had wanted point. They were,
+as the Spanish proverb would put it, unsavory as unsalted eggs, for want
+of a moustache. The widow now perceived, with mild regret, how much she
+had missed when she married "a man all shaven and shorn." Her cheek, still
+fair, though forty, flushed with novel delight, and she appreciated her
+lodger more than ever.
+
+Wade's salutation to Belle Purtett was more distant. There must be a
+little friendly reserve between a handsome young man and a pretty young
+woman several grades lower in the social scale, living in the same house.
+They were on the most cordial terms, however; and her gift--of course
+embroidered slippers--and his to her--of course "The Illustrated Poets,"
+in Turkey morocco--were exchanged with tender good-will on both sides.
+
+"We shall meet on the ice, Miss Belle," said Wade. "It is a day of a
+thousand for skating."
+
+"Mr. Ringdove says you are a famous skater," Belle rejoined. "He saw you
+on the river yesterday evening."
+
+"Yes; Tarbox and I were practising to exhibit to-day; but I could not do
+much with my dull old skates."
+
+Wade breakfasted deliberately, as a holiday morning allowed, and then
+walked down to the Foundry. There would be no work done to-day, except by
+a small gang keeping up the fires. The Superintendent wished only to give
+his First Semi-Annual Report an hour's polishing, before he joined all
+Dunderbunk on the ice.
+
+It was a halcyon day, worthy of its motto, "Peace on earth, good-will to
+men." The air was electric, the sun overflowing with jolly shine, the
+river smooth and sheeny from the hither bank to the snowy mountains
+opposite.
+
+"I wish I were Rembrandt, to paint this grand shadowy interior," thought
+Wade, as he entered the silent, deserted Foundry. "With the gleam of the
+snow in my eyes, it looks deliciously warm and _chiaroscuro_. When the men
+are here and '_fervet opus_,'--the pot boils,--I cannot stop to see the
+picturesque."
+
+He opened his office, took his Report and began to complete it with ,s,
+;s, and .s in the right places.
+
+All at once the bell of the Works rang out loud and clear. Presently the
+Superintendent became aware of a tramp and a bustle in the building.
+By-and-by came a tap at the office-door.
+
+"Come in," said Wade, and, enter young Perry Purtett.
+
+Perry was a boy of fifteen, with hair the color of fresh sawdust, white
+eyebrows, and an uncommonly wide-awake look. Ringdove, his father's
+successor, could never teach Perry the smirk, the grace, and the
+seductiveness of the counter, so the boy had found his place in the
+finishing-shop of the Foundry.
+
+"Some of the hands would like to see you for half a jiff, Mr. Wade," said
+he. "Will you come along, if you please?"
+
+There was a good deal of easy swagger about Perry, as there is always in
+boys and men whose business is to watch the lunging of steam-engines. Wade
+followed him. Perry led the way with a jaunty air that said,--
+
+"Room here! Out of the way, you lubberly bits of cast-iron! Be careful,
+now, you big derricks, or I'll walk right over you! Room now for Me and My
+suite!"
+
+This pompous usher conducted the Superintendent to the very spot in the
+main room of the Works where, six months before, the Inaugural had been
+pronounced and the first Veto spoken and enacted.
+
+And there, as six months before, stood the Hands awaiting their Head. But
+the aprons, the red shirts, and the grime of working-days were off, and
+the whole were in holiday rig,--as black and smooth and shiny from top to
+toe as the members of a Congress of Undertakers.
+
+Wade, following in the wake of Perry, took his stand facing the rank, and
+waited to see what he was summoned for. He had not long to wait.
+
+To the front stepped Mr. William Tarbox, foreman of the finishing-shop, no
+longer a boy, but an erect, fine-looking fellow, with no nitrate in his
+moustache, and his hat permanently out of mourning for the late Mr. Poole.
+
+"Gentlemen," said Bill, "I move that this meeting organize by appointing
+Mr. Smith Wheelwright Chairman. As many as are in favor of this motion,
+please to say 'Aye.'"
+
+"Aye!" said the crowd, very loud and big. And then every man looked at his
+neighbor, a little abashed, as if he himself had made all the noise.
+
+"This is a free country," continues Bill. "Every woter has a right to a
+fair shake. Contrary minds, 'No.'"
+
+No contrary minds. The crowd uttered a great silence. Every man looked at
+his neighbor, surprised to find how well they agreed.
+
+"Unanimous!" Tarbox pronounced. "No fractious minorities _here_, to block
+the wheels of legislation!"
+
+The crowd burst into a roar at this significant remark, and, again
+abashed, dropped portcullis on its laughter, cutting off the flanks and
+tail of the sound.
+
+"Mr. Purtett, will you please conduct the Chairman to the Chair," says
+Bill, very stately.
+
+"Make way here!" cried Perry, with the manner of a man seven feet high.
+"Step out now, Mr. Chairman!"
+
+He took a big, grizzled, docile-looking fellow patronizingly by the arm,
+led him forward, and chaired him on a large cylinder-head, in the rough,
+just hatched out of its mould.
+
+"Bang away with that, and sing out, 'Silence!'" says the knowing boy,
+handing Wheelwright an iron bolt, and taking his place beside him, as
+prompter.
+
+The docile Chairman obeyed. At his breaking silence by hooting "Silence!"
+the audience had another mighty bob-tailed laugh.
+
+"Say, 'Will some honorable member state the object of this meeting?'"
+whispered the prompter.
+
+"Will some honorable mumbler state the subject of this 'ere meetin'?" says
+Chair, a little bashful and confused.
+
+Bill Tarbox advanced, and, with a formal bow, began,--
+
+"Mr. Chairman"--
+
+"Say, 'Mr. Tarbox has the floor,'" piped Perry.
+
+"Mr. Tarbox has the floor," diapasoned the Chair.
+
+"Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen"--Bill began, and stopped.
+
+"Say, 'Proceed, Sir!'" suggested Perry, which the senior did, magnifying
+the boy's whisper a dozen times.
+
+Again Bill began and stopped.
+
+"Boys," said he, dropping grandiloquence, "when I accepted the office of
+Orator of the Day at our primary, and promised to bring forward our
+Resolutions in honor of Mr. Wade with my best speech, I didn't think I was
+going to have such a head of steam on that the walves would get stuck and
+the piston jammed and I couldn't say a word.
+
+"But," he continued, warming up, "when I think of the Indian powwow we had
+in this very spot six months ago,--and what a mean bloat I was, going to
+the stub-tail dogs with my hat over my eyes,--and what a hard lot we were
+all round, livin' on nothing but argee whiskey, and rampin' off on
+benders, instead of makin' good iron,--and how the Works was flat
+broke,--and how Dunderbunk was full of women crying over their husbands
+and mothers ashamed of their sons,--boys, when I think how things was, and
+see how they are, and look at Mr. Wade standing there like a"--
+
+Bill hesitated for a comparison.
+
+"Like a thousand of brick," Perry Purtett suggested, _sotto voce_.
+
+The Chairman took this as a hint to himself.
+
+"Like a thousand of brick," he said, with the voice of a Stentor.
+
+Here the audience roared and cheered, and the Orator got a fresh start.
+
+"When you came, Mr. Wade," he resumed, "we was about sick of putty-heads
+and sneaks that didn't know enough or didn't dare to make us stand round
+and bone in. You walked in, b'ilin' over with grit. You took hold as if
+you belonged here. You made things jump like a two-headed tarrier. All we
+wanted was a live man, to say, 'Here, boys, all together now! You've got
+your stint, and I've got mine. I'm boss in this shop,--but I can't do the
+first thing, unless every man pulls his pound. Now, then, my hand is on
+the throttle, grease the wheels, oil the walves, poke the fires, hook on,
+and let's yank her through with a will!'"
+
+At this figure the meeting showed a tendency to cheer. "Silence!" Perry
+sternly suggested. "Silence!" repeated the Chair.
+
+"Then," continued the Orator, "you wasn't one of the uneasy kind, always
+fussin' and cussin' round. You wasn't always spyin' to see we didn't take
+home a cross-tail or a hundred-weight of cast-iron in our pants' pockets,
+or go to swiggin' hot metal out of the ladles on the sly."
+
+Here an enormous laugh requited Bill's joke. Perry prompted, the Chair
+banged with his bolt and cried, "Order!"
+
+"Well, now, boys," Tarbox went on, "what has come of having one of the
+right sort to be boss? Why, this. The Works go ahead, stiddy as the North
+River. We work full time and full-handed. We turn out stuff that no shop
+needs to be ashamed of. Wages is on the nail. We have a good time
+generally. How is that, boys,--Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen?"
+
+"That's so!" from everybody.
+
+"And there's something better yet," Bill resumed. "Dunderbunk used to be
+full of crying women. They've stopped crying now."
+
+Here the whole assemblage, Chairman and all, burst into an irrepressible
+cheer.
+
+"But I'm making my speech as long as a lightning-rod," said the speaker.
+"I'll put on the brakes, short. I guess Mr. Wade understands pretty well,
+now, how we feel; and if he don't, here it all is in shape, in this
+document, with 'Whereas' at the top and 'Resolved' entered along down in
+five places. Mr. Purtett, will you hand the Resolutions to the
+Superintendent?"
+
+Perry advanced and did his office loftily, much to the amusement of Wade
+and the workmen.
+
+"Now," Bill resumed, "we wanted, besides, to make you a little gift, Mr.
+Wade, to remember the day by. So we got up a subscription, and every man
+put in his dime. Here's the present,--hand 'em over, Perry!
+
+"There, Sir, is THE BEST PAIR OF SKATES to be had in York City, made for
+work, and no nonsense about 'em. We Dunderbunk boys give 'em to you, one
+for all, and hope you'll like 'em and beat the world skating, as you do in
+all the things we've knowed you try.
+
+"Now, boys," Bill perorated, "before I retire to the shades of private
+life, I motion we give Three Cheers--regular Toplifters--for Richard
+Wade!"
+
+"Hurrah! Wade and Good Government!" "Hurrah! Wade and Prosperity!"
+"Hurrah! Wade and the Women's Tears Dry!"
+
+Cheers like the shout of Achilles! Wielding sledges is good for the
+bellows, it appears. Toplifters! Why, the smoky black rafters overhead had
+to tug hard to hold the roof on. Hurrah! From every corner of the vast
+building came back rattling echoes. The Works, the machinery, the
+furnaces, the stuff, all had their voice to add to the verdict.
+
+Magnificent music! and our Anglo-Saxon is the only race in the world
+civilized enough to join in singing it. We are the only hurrahing
+people,--the only brood hatched in a "Hurrah's nest."
+
+Silence restored, the Chairman, prompted by Perry, said, "Gentlemen, Mr.
+Wade has the floor for a few remarks."
+
+Of course Wade had to speak, and did. He would not have been an American
+in America else. But his heart was too full to say more than a few hearty
+and earnest words of good feeling.
+
+"Now, men," he closed, "I want to get away on the river and see if my
+skates will go as they look; so I'll end by proposing three cheers for
+Smith Wheelwright, our Chairman, three for our Orator, Tarbox, three for
+Old Dunderbunk,--Works, Men, Women, and Children; and one big cheer for
+Old Father Iron, as rousing a cheer as ever was roared."
+
+So they gave their three times three with enormous enthusiasm. The roof
+shook, the furnaces rattled, Perry Purtett banged with the Chairman's
+hammer, the great echoes thundered through the Foundry.
+
+And when they ended with one gigantic cheer for IRON, tough and true, the
+weapon, the tool, and the engine of all civilization,--it seemed as if the
+uproar would never cease until Father Iron himself heard the call in his
+smithy away under the magnetic pole, and came clanking up, to return
+thanks in person.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+SKATING AS A FINE ART.
+
+
+Of all the plays that are played by this playful world on its play-days,
+there is no play like Skating.
+
+To prepare a board for the moves of this game of games, a panel for the
+drawings of this Fine Art, a stage for the _entrechats_ and _pirouettes_
+of its graceful adepts, Zero, magical artificer, had been, for the last
+two nights, sliding at full speed up and down the North River.
+
+We have heard of Midas, whose touch made gold, and of the virgin under
+whose feet sprang roses; but Zero's heels and toes were armed with more
+precious influences. They left a diamond way, where they slid,--a hundred
+and fifty miles of diamond, half a mile wide and six inches thick.
+
+Diamond can only reflect sunlight; ice can contain it. Zero's product,
+finer even than diamond, was filled--at the rate of a million to the
+square foot--with bubbles immeasurably little, and yet every one big
+enough to comprise the entire sun in small, but without alteration or
+abridgment. When the sun rose, each of these wonderful cells was ready to
+catch the tip of a sunbeam and house it in a shining abode.
+
+Besides this, Zero had inlaid its work, all along shore, with exquisite
+marquetry of leaves, brown and evergreen, of sprays and twigs, reeds and
+grasses. No parquet in any palace from Fontainebleau to St. Petersburg
+could show such delicate patterns, or could gleam so brightly, though
+polished with all the wax in Christendom.
+
+On this fine pavement, all the way from Cohoes to Spuyten Duyvil, Jubilee
+was sliding without friction, the Christmas morning of these adventures.
+
+Navigation was closed. Navigators had leisure. The sloops and schooners
+were frozen in along shore, the tugs and barges were laid up in basins,
+the floating palaces were down at New York, deodorizing their bar-rooms,
+regilding their bridal chambers, and enlarging their spittoon
+accommodations alow and aloft, for next summer. All the population was out
+on the ice, skating, sliding, sledding, slipping, tumbling, to its heart's
+content.
+
+One person out of every Dunderbunk family was of course at home, roasting
+Christmas turkey. The rest were already at high jinks on Zero's Christmas
+present, when Wade and the men came down, from the meeting.
+
+Wade buckled on his new skates in a jiffy. He stamped to settle himself,
+and then flung off half a dozen circles on the right leg, half a dozen
+with the left, and the same with either leg backwards.
+
+The ice, traced with these white peripheries, showed like a blackboard
+where a school has been chalking diagrams of Euclid, to point at with the
+"slow unyielding finger" of demonstration.
+
+"Hurrah!" cries Wade, halting in front of the men, who, some on the
+Foundry wharf, some on the deck of our first acquaintance at Dunderbunk,
+the tug "L Ambuster," were putting on their skates or watching him,
+"Hurrah! the skates are perfection! Are you ready, Bill?"
+
+"Yes," says Tarbox, whizzing off rings, as exact as Giotto's autograph.
+
+"Now, then," Wade said, "we'll give Dunderbunk a laugh, as we practised
+last night."
+
+They got under full headway, Wade backwards, Bill forwards, holding hands.
+When they were near enough to the merry throng out in the stream, both
+dropped into a sitting posture, with the left knee bent, and each with his
+right leg stretched out parallel to the ice and fitting compactly by the
+other man's leg. In this queer figure they rushed through the laughing
+crowd.
+
+Then all Dunderbunk formed a ring, agog for a grand show of
+
+SKATING AS A FINE ART.
+
+The world loves to see Great Artists, and expects them to do their duty.
+
+It is hard to treat of this Fine Art by the Art of Fine Writing. Its
+eloquent motions must be seen.
+
+To skate Fine Art, you must have a Body and a Soul, each of the First
+Order; otherwise you will never get out of coarse art and skating in one
+syllable. So much for yourself, the motive power. And your
+machinery,--your smooth-bottomed rockers, the same shape stem and
+stern,--this must be as perfect as the man it moves, and who moves it.
+
+Now suppose you wish to skate so that the critics will say, "See! this
+athlete docs his work as Church paints, as Darley draws, as Palmer
+chisels, as Wittier strikes the lyre, and Longfellow the dulcimer; he is
+as terse as Emerson, as clever as Holmes, as graceful as Curtis; he is as
+calm as Seward, as keen as Phillips, as stalwart as Beecher; be is
+Garibaldi, he is Kit Carson, he is Blondin; he is as complete as the
+steamboat Metropolis, as Steers's yacht, as Singer's sewing-machine, as
+Colt's revolver, as the steam-plough, as Civilization." You wish to be so
+ranked among the people and things that lead the age;--consider the
+qualities you must have, and while you consider, keep your eye on Richard
+Wade, for he has them all in perfection.
+
+First,--of your physical qualities. You must have lungs, not bellows; and
+an active heart, not an assortment of sluggish auricles and ventricles.
+You must have legs, not shanks. Their shape is unimportant, except that
+they must not interfere at the knee. You must have muscles, not
+flabbiness; sinews like wire; nerves like sunbeams; and a thin layer of
+flesh to cushion the gable-ends, where you will strike, if you
+tumble,--which, once for all be it said, you must never do. You must be
+all _momentum_, and no _inertia_. You must be one part grace, one force,
+one agility, and the rest caoutchouc, Manila hemp, and watch-spring. Your
+machine, your body, must be thoroughly obedient. It must go just so far
+and no farther. You have got to be as unerring as a planet holding its
+own, emphatically, between forces centripetal and centrifugal. Your
+_aplomb_ must be as absolute as the pounce of a falcon.
+
+So much for a few of the physical qualities necessary to be a Great Artist
+in Skating. See Wade, how be shows them!
+
+Now for the moral and intellectual. Pluck is the first;--it always is the
+first quality. Then enthusiasm. Then patience. Then pertinacity. Then a
+fine aesthetic faculty,--in short, good taste. Then an orderly and
+submissive mind, that can consent to act in accordance with the laws of
+Art. Circumstances, too, must have been reasonably favorable. That
+well-known skeptic, the King of tropical Bantam, could not skate, because
+he had never seen ice and doubted even the existence of solid water.
+Widdrington, after the Battle of Chevy Chace, could not have skated,
+because he had no legs,--poor fellow!
+
+But granted the ice and the legs, then if you begin in the elastic days of
+youth, when cold does not sting, tumbles do not bruise, and duckings do
+not wet; if you have pluck and ardor enough to try everything; if you work
+slowly ahead and stick to it; if you have good taste and a lively
+invention; if you are a man, and not a lubber;--then, in fine, you may
+become a Great Skater, just as with equal power and equal pains you may
+put your grip on any kind of Greatness.
+
+The technology of skating is imperfect. Few of the great feats, the Big
+Things, have admitted names. If I attempted to catalogue Wade's
+achievements, this chapter might become an unintelligible rhapsody. A
+sheet of paper and a pen-point cannot supply the place of a sheet of ice
+and a skate-edge. Geometry must have its diagrams, Anatomy its _corpus_ to
+carve. Skating also refuses to be spiritualized into a Science; it remains
+an Art, and cannot be expressed in a formula.
+
+Skating has its Little Go, its Great Go, its Baccalaureate, its M.A., its
+F.S.D., (Doctor of Frantic Skipping,) its A.G.D., (Doctor of Airy
+Gliding,) its N.T.D., (Doctor of No Tumbles,) and finally its highest
+degree, U.P. (Unapproachable Podographer).
+
+Wade was U.P.
+
+There were a hundred of Dunderbunkers who had passed their Little Go and
+could skate forward and backward easily. A half-hundred, perhaps, were
+through the Great Go; these could do outer edge freely. A dozen had taken
+the Baccalaureate, and were proudly repeating the pirouettes and
+spread-eagles of that degree. A few could cross their feet, on the edge,
+forward and backward, and shift edge on the same foot, and so were
+_Magistri Artis_.
+
+Wade, U.P., added to these an indefinite list of combinations and fresh
+contrivances. He spun spirals slow, and spirals neck or nothing. He
+pivoted on one toe, with the other foot cutting rings, inner and outer
+edge, forward and back, He skated on one foot better than the M.A.s could
+on both. He ran on his toes; he slid on his heels; he cut up shines like a
+sunbeam on a bender; he swung, light as if he could fly, if he pleased,
+like a wing-footed Mercury; he glided as if will, not muscle, moved him;
+he tore about in frenzies; his pivotal leg stood firm, his balance leg
+flapped like a graceful pinion; he turned somersets; he jumped, whirling
+backward as he went, over a platoon of boys laid flat on the ice;--the
+last boy winced, and thought he was amputated; but Wade flew over, and the
+boy still holds together as well as most boys. Besides this, he could
+write his name, with a flourish at the end, like the _rubrica_ of a
+Spanish _hidalgo_. He could podograph any letter, and multitudes of
+ingenious curlicues which might pass for the alphabets of the unknown
+tongues. He could _not_ tumble.
+
+It was Fine Art.
+
+Bill Tarbox sometimes pressed the champion hard. But Bill stopped just
+short of Fine Art, in High Artisanship.
+
+How Dunderbunk cheered this wondrous display! How delighted the whole
+population was to believe they possessed the best skater on the North
+River! How they struggled to imitate! How they tumbled, some on their
+backs, some on their faces, some with dignity like the dying Caesar, some
+rebelliously like a cat thrown out of a garret, some limp as an ancient
+acrobate! How they laughed at themselves and at each other!
+
+"It's all in the new skates," says Wade, apologizing for his
+unapproachable power and finish.
+
+"It's suthin' in the man," says Smith Wheelwright.
+
+"Now chase me, everybody," said Wade.
+
+And, for a quarter of an hour, he dodged the merry crowd, until at last,
+breathless, he let himself be touched by pretty Belle Purtett, rosiest of
+all the Dunderbunk bevy of rosy maidens on the ice.
+
+"He rayther beats Bosting," says Captain Isaac Ambuster to Smith
+Wheelwright. "It's so cold there that they can skate all the year round;
+but he beats them, all the same."
+
+The Captain was sitting in a queer little bowl of a skiff on the deck of
+his tug, and rocking it like a cradle, as he talked.
+
+"Bosting's always hard to beat in anything," rejoined the ex-Chairman.
+"But if Bosting is to be beat, here's the man to do it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now, perhaps, gentle reader, you think I have said enough in behalf of
+a limited fraternity, the Skaters.
+
+The next chapter, then, shall take up the cause of the Lovers, a more
+numerous body, and we will see whether True Love, which never makes
+"smooth running," can help its progress by a skate-blade.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+"GO NOT, HAPPY DAY, TILL THE MAIDEN YIELDS."
+
+
+Christmas noon at Dunderbunk. Every skater was in galloping glee,--as the
+electric air, and the sparkling sun, and the glinting ice had a right to
+expect that they all should be.
+
+Belle Purtett, skating simply and well, had never looked so pretty and
+graceful. So thought Bill Tarbox.
+
+He had not spoken to her, nor she to him, for more than six months. The
+poor fellow was ashamed of himself and penitent for his past bad courses.
+And so, though he longed to have his old flame recognize him again, and
+though he was bitterly jealous and miserably afraid he should lose her, he
+had kept away and consumed his heart like a true despairing lover.
+
+But to-day Bill was a lion, only second to Wade, the unapproachable
+lion-in-chief. Bill was reinstated in public esteem, and had won back his
+standing in the Foundry. He had to-day made a speech which Perry Purtett
+gave everybody to understand "none of Senator Bill Seward's could hold the
+tallow to." Getting up the meeting and presenting Wade with the skates was
+Bill's own scheme, and it had turned out an eminent success. Everything
+began to look bright to him. His past life drifted out of his mind like
+the rowdy tales he used to read in the Sunday newspapers.
+
+He had watched Belle Purtett all the morning, and saw that she
+distinguished nobody with her smiles, not even that _coq du village_,
+Ringdove. He also observed that she was furtively watching him.
+
+By-and-by she sailed out of the crowd, and went off a little way to
+practise.
+
+"Now," said he to himself, "sail in, Bill Tarbox!"
+
+Belle heard the sharp strokes of a powerful skater coming after her. Her
+heart divined who this might be. She sped away like the swift Camilla, and
+her modest drapery showed just enough and "_ne quid nimis_" of her ankles.
+
+Bill admired the grace and the ankles immensely. But his hopes sank a
+little at the flight,--for he thought she perceived his chase and meant to
+drop him. Bill had not bad a classical education, and knew nothing of
+Galatea in the Eclogue,--how she did not hide, until she saw her swain was
+looking fondly after.
+
+"She wants to get away," he thought "But she sha'n't,--no, not if I have
+to follow her to Albany."
+
+He struck out mightily. Presently the swift Camilla let herself be
+overtaken.
+
+"Good morning, Miss Purtett." (Dogged air.)
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Tarbox." (Taken-by-surprise air.)
+
+"I've been admiring your skating," says Bill, trying to be cool.
+
+"Have you?" rejoins Belle, very cool and distant.
+
+"Have you been long on the ice?" he inquired, hypocritically.
+
+"I came on two hours ago with Mr. Ringdove and the girls," returned she,
+with a twinkle which said, "Take that, Sir, for pretending you did not see
+me."
+
+"You've seen Mr. Wade skate, then," Bill said, ignoring Ringdove.
+
+"Yes; isn't it splendid?" Belle replied, kindling.
+
+"Tip-top!"
+
+"But then he does everything better than anybody."
+
+"So he does!" Bill said,--true to his friend, and yet beginning to be
+jealous of this enthusiasm. It was not the first time he had been jealous
+of Wade; but he had quelled his fears, like a good fellow.
+
+Belle perceived Bill's jealousy, and could have cried for joy. She had
+known as little of her once lover's heart as he of hers. She only knew
+that he stopped coming to see her when he fell, and had not renewed his
+visits now that he was risen again. If she had not been charmingly ruddy
+with the brisk air and exercise, she would have betrayed her pleasure at
+Bill's jealousy with a fine blush.
+
+The sense of recovered power made her wish to use it again. She must tease
+him a little. So she continued, as they skated on in good rhythm,--
+
+"Mother and I wouldn't know what to do without Mr. Wade. We like him _so_
+much,"--said ardently.
+
+What Bill feared was true, then, he thought. Wade, noble fellow, worthy to
+win any woman's heart, had fascinated his landlady's daughter.
+
+"I don't wonder you like him," said he. "He deserves it."
+
+Belle was touched by her old lover's forlorn tone.
+
+"He does indeed," she said. "He has helped and taught us all so much. He
+has taken such good care of Perry. And then"--here she gave her companion
+a little look and a little smile--"he speaks so kindly of you, Mr.
+Tarbox."
+
+Smile, look, and words electrified Bill. He gave such a spring on his
+skates that he shot far ahead of the lady. He brought himself back with a
+sharp turn.
+
+"He has done kinder than he can speak," says Bill. "He has made a man of
+me again, Miss Belle."
+
+"I know it. It makes me very happy to hear you able to say so of
+yourself." She spoke gravely.
+
+"Very happy"--about anything that concerned him? Bill had to work off his
+overjoy at this by an exuberant flourish. He whisked about Belle,--outer
+edge backward. She stopped to admire. He finished by describing on the
+virgin ice, before her, the letters B.P., in his neatest style of
+podography,--easy letters to make, luckily.
+
+"Beautiful!" exclaimed Belle. "What are those letters? Oh! B.P.! What do
+they stand for?"
+
+"Guess!"
+
+"I'm so dull," said she, looking bright as a diamond. "Let me think! B.P.?
+British Poets, perhaps."
+
+"Try nearer home!"
+
+"What are you likely to be thinking of that begins with B.P.?--Oh, I know!
+Boiler Plates!"
+
+She looked at him,--innocent as a lamb. Bill looked at her, delighted with
+her little coquetry. A woman without coquetry is insipid as a rose without
+scent, as Champagne without bubbles, or as corned beef without mustard.
+
+"It's something I'm thinking of most of the time," says he; "but I hope
+it's softer than Boiler Plates. B.P. stands for Miss Isabella Purtett."
+
+"Oh!" says Belle, and she skated on in silence.
+
+"You came down with Alonzo Ringdove?" Bill asked, suddenly, aware of
+another pang after a moment of peace.
+
+"He came with me and his sisters," she replied.
+
+Yes; poor Ringdove had dressed himself in his shiniest black, put on his
+brightest patent-leather boots, with his new swan-necked skates newly
+strapped over them, and wore his new dove-colored overcoat with the long
+skirts, on purpose to be lovely in the eyes of Belle on this occasion.
+Alas, in vain!
+
+"Mr. Ringdove is a great friend of yours, isn't he?"
+
+"If you ever came to see me now, you would know who my friends are, Mr.
+Tarbox."
+
+"Would you be my friend again, if I came, Miss Belle?"
+
+"Again? I have always been so,--always, Bill."
+
+"Well, then, something more than my friend,--now that I am trying to be
+worthy of more, Belle?"
+
+"What more can I be?" she said, softly.
+
+"My wife."
+
+She curved to the right. He followed. To the left. He was not to be shaken
+off.
+
+"Will you promise me not to say _walves_ instead of _valves_, Bill?" she
+said, looking pretty and saucy as could be. "I know, to say W for V is
+fashionable in the iron business; but I don't like it."
+
+"What a thing a woman is to dodge!" says Bill. "Suppose I told you that
+men brought up inside of boilers, hammering on the inside against twenty
+hammering like Wulcans on the outside, get their ears so dumfounded that
+they can't tell whether they are saying _valves_ or _walves_, _wice_ or
+_virtue_,--suppose I told you that,--what would you say, Belle?"
+
+"Perhaps I'd say that you pronounce _virtue_ so well, and act it so
+sincerely, that I can't make any objection to your other words. If you'd
+asked me to be your _vife_, Bill, I might have said I didn't understand;
+but _wife_ I do understand, and I say"--
+
+She nodded, and tried to skate off. Bill stuck close to her side.
+
+"Is this true, Belle?" he said, almost doubtfully.
+
+"True as truth!"
+
+She put out her hand. He took it, and they skated on together,--hearts
+beating to the rhythm of their movements. The uproar and merriment of the
+village came only faintly to them. It seemed as if all Nature was hushed
+to listen to their plighted troth, their words of love renewed, more
+earnest for long suppression. The beautiful ice spread before them, like
+their life to come, a pathway untouched by any sorrowful or weary
+footstep. The blue sky was cloudless. The keen air stirred the pulses like
+the vapor of frozen wine. The benignant mountains westward kindly surveyed
+the happy pair, and the sun seemed created to warm and cheer them.
+
+"And you forgive me, Belle?" said the lover. "I feel as if I had only gone
+bad to make me know how much better going right is."
+
+"I always knew you would find it out. I never stopped hoping and praying
+for it."
+
+"That must have been what brought Mr. Wade here."
+
+"Oh, I did hate him so, Bill, when I heard of something that happened
+between you and him! I thought him a brute and a tyrant. I never could get
+over it, until he told mother that you were the best machinist he ever
+knew, and would some time grow to be a great inventor."
+
+"I'm glad you hated him. I suffered rattlesnakes and collapsed flues for
+fear you'd go and love him."
+
+"My affections were engaged," she said, with simple seriousness.
+
+"Oh, if I'd only thought so long ago! How lovely you are!" exclaims Bill,
+in an ecstasy. "And how refined! And how good! God bless you!"
+
+He made up such a wishful mouth,--so wishful for one of the pleasurable
+duties of mouths, that Belle blushed, laughed, and looked down, and as she
+did so saw that one of her straps was trailing.
+
+"Please fix it, Bill," she said, stopping and kneeling.
+
+Bill also knelt, and his wishful mouth immediately took its chance.
+
+A manly smack and sweet little feminine chirp sounded as their lips met.
+
+Boom! twanging gay as the first tap of a marriage-bell, a loud crack in
+the ice rang musically for leagues up and down the river. "Bravo!" it
+seemed to say. "Well done, Bill Tarbox! Try again!" Which the happy fellow
+did, and the happy maiden permitted.
+
+"Now," said Bill, "let us go and hug Mr. Wade!"
+
+"What! Both of us?" Belle protested. "Mr. Tarbox, I am ashamed of you!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIGHT LITERATURE.
+
+
+Though the smallest boulder is heavy, and even the merest pebble has a
+perceptible weight, yet the entire planet, toward which both gravitate,
+floats more lightly than any feather. In literature somewhat analogous may
+be observed. Here also are found the insignificant lightness of the pebble
+and the mighty lightness of the planet; while between them range the
+weighty masses, superior to the petty ponderability of the one, and
+unequal to the firmamental float of the other. Accordingly, setting out
+from the mote-and-pebble extreme, you find, that, up to a certain point,
+increasing values of thought are commonly indicated by increasing gravity,
+by more and more of state-paper weightiness; but beyond this the rule is
+reversed, and lightness becomes the sign and measure of excellence. Bishop
+Butler and Richard Hooker--especially the latter, the first book of whose
+"Ecclesiastical Polity" is a truly noble piece of writing--stand, perhaps,
+at the head of the weighty class of writers in our language; but going
+beyond these to the "Areopagitica" of Milton, or even to the powerful
+prose of Raleigh, you pass the boundary-line, and are touched with the
+buoyant influences of the Muse. Shakspeare and Plato are lighter than
+levity; they are lifting forces, and weigh _less_ than nothing. The
+novelette of the season, or any finest and flimsiest gossamer that is
+fabricated in our literary looms, compares with "Lear," with "Prometheus
+Bound," with any supreme work, only as cobwebs and thistle-down, that are
+easily borne by the breeze, may compare with sparrows and thrushes, that
+can fly and withal sing.
+
+There is a call for "light reading," and I for one applaud the demand. A
+lightening influence is the best that books or men can bestow upon us.
+Information is good, but invigoration is a thousand times better. Cheer,
+cheer and vigor for the world's heart! It is because man's hope is so low,
+and his imaginations so poor, that he is earthly and evil. Wings for these
+unfledged hearts! Transformation for these grubs! Give us animation,
+inspiration, joy, faith! Give us enlivening, lightsome airs, to which our
+souls shall, on a sudden, begin to dance, keeping step with the angels!
+What else is worth having? Each one of these sordid sons of men--is he not
+a new-born Apollo, who waits only for the ambrosia from Olympus, to spring
+forth in divineness of beauty and strength?
+
+Nevertheless, I know not of any reading so hopelessly heavy as large
+portions of that which claims the name of light. Light writing it may be;
+but, considered as reading, one would be unjust to charge upon it any lack
+of avoirdupois. It is like the bran of wheat, which, though of little
+weight in the barrel, is heavy enough in the stomach,--Dr. Sylvester
+Graham to the contrary notwithstanding. It is related of an Italian
+culprit, that, being required, in punishment of his crime, to make choice
+between lying in prison for a term of years and reading the history of
+Guicciardini, he chose the latter, but, after a brief trial, petitioned
+for leave to reverse his election. I never attempted Guicciardini; but I
+_did_ once attempt Pope's "Dunciad." And was it really the doom of a
+generation of readers to find delight in this book? One must suppose so.
+There are those in our day whose hard fate it is to read and to like
+James's and Bulwer's novels. But greatly mistaken is the scholar who, for
+relief from severe studies, goes to an empty or insincere book. It is like
+saying money, after large and worthy expenditures, by purchasing at a low
+price that which is worth nothing,--buying "gold" watches at a
+mock-auction room.
+
+Indeed, no book, however witty, lively, saltatory, can have the volant
+effects we covet, if it want substance and seriousness. Substance,
+however, is to be widely distinguished from ponderability. Oxygen is not
+so ponderous as lead or granite, but it is far more substantial than
+either, and, as every one knows, infinitely more serviceable to life. The
+distinction is equally valid when applied to books and to men. The "airy
+nothings" of imagination prove to be the most enduring somethings of the
+world's literature; and the last lightness of heart may go with the purest
+truth of soul and the most precious virtue of intelligence. All
+expressions carry the perpetual savors of their origin; and as brooks that
+dance and frolic with the sunbeams and murmur to the birds, light-hearted
+forever, will yet bear sands of gold, if they flow from auriferous hills,
+so any bubble and purl of laughter, proceeding from a wise and wealthy
+soul, will bear a noble significance. In point of fact, some of the
+merriest books in the world are among the most richly freighted. And as
+airy and mirthful books may be substantial and serious, so it is an effect
+very similar to that of noble and significant mirth that is produced upon
+us by the grandest pieces of serious writing. Thus, he who rightly reads
+the "Phaedon" or "Phaedrus" of Plato smiles through all the depths of his
+brain, though no pronounced smile show on his face; and he who rightly
+reads the book of Cervantes, though the laughters plunge, as it were, in
+cascades from his lips, is earnest at heart, and full of sound and tender
+meditations.
+
+If now, setting aside all books, whether pretending to gayety or gravity,
+that are simply empty and ineffectual, we inquire for the prime
+distinction between books light in a worthy and unworthy sense, it will
+appear to be the distinction between inspiration and alcohol,--between
+effects divinely real and effects illusory and momentary. The drunkard
+dreams of flying, and fancies the stars themselves left below him, while
+he is really lying in the gutter. There are those, and numbers of those,
+who in reading seek no more than to be cheated in a similar way. Indeed,
+to acknowledge a disagreeable fact, there is a very great deal of reading
+in our day that is simply a substitute for the potations and "heavy-handed
+revel" of our Saxon ancestors. In both cases it is a spurious exaltation
+of feeling that is sought; in both cases those who for a moment seem to
+themselves larks ascending to meet the sun are but worms eating earth.
+
+This celestial lightness, which constitutes the last praise and causes the
+purest benefit of books, comes not of any manner of writing; no mere
+vivacity, though that of a French writer of memoirs, though that of Arsène
+Houssaye himself, can compass it; by no knack or talents is it to be
+attained. Perfect style has, indeed, many allurements, and is of exceeding
+price; but it is no chariot of Elijah, nevertheless. Was ever style more
+delightful, of its kind, than Dryden's? Was ever style more heavy and
+monotonous than that of Swedenborg in his theological works? But I have
+read Dryden, not indeed without pleasure in his masterly exquisite ease
+and sureness of statement and his occasional touches of admirable good
+sense, yet with no slightest liberation of spirit, with no degree, greater
+or less, of that magical and marvellous evocation, of inward resource,
+whose blessed surprise now and then in life makes for us angelic moments,
+and feelingly persuades us that our earth also is a star and in the sky.
+On the other hand, I once read Swedenborg's "Angelic Wisdom concerning the
+Divine Love and the Divine Wisdom" with such enticement, such afflatus,
+such quickening and heightening of soul, as I cannot describe without
+seeming excessive. Until half through the book, I turned every page with
+the feeling that before another page I might see the chasm between the
+real and phenomenal worlds fairly bridged over. Of course, it disappointed
+me in the end; but what of that? To have kindled and for a time sustained
+the expectation which should render possible such disappointment was a
+benefit that a whole Bodleian Library might fail to confer. These benefits
+come to us not from the writer as such, but from the man behind the
+writer. He who dwells aloft amid the deathless orient imaginations of the
+human race, easily inhabiting their atmosphere as his native
+element,--about him, and him only, are the halos and dawns of immortal
+youth; and his speech, though with many babyish or barbarous fancies, many
+melancholies and vices of the blood compounded, carries nevertheless some
+refrain of divine hilarity, that beguiles men of their sordidness, their
+sullenness, and low cares, they know not how nor why.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+PILGRIMAGE TO OLD BOSTON.
+
+
+We set out at a little past eleven, and made our first stage to
+Manchester. We were by this time sufficiently Anglicized to reckon the
+morning a bright and sunny one; although the May sunshine was mingled with
+water, as it were, and distempered with a very bitter east-wind.
+
+Lancashire is a dreary county, (all, at least, except its hilly portions,)
+and I have never passed through it without wishing myself anywhere but in
+that particular spot where I then happened to be. A few places along our
+route were historically interesting; as, for example, Bolton, which was
+the scene of many remarkable events in the Parliamentary War, and in the
+market-square of which one of the Earls of Derby was beheaded. We saw,
+along the way-side, the never-failing green fields, hedges, and other
+monotonous features of an ordinary English landscape. There were little
+factory villages, too, or larger towns, with their tall chimneys, and
+their pennons of black smoke, their uglinesses of brick-work, and their
+heaps of refuse matter from the furnace, which seems to be the only kind
+of stuff which Nature cannot take back to herself and resolve into the
+elements, when man has thrown it aside. These hillocks of waste and effete
+mineral always disfigure the neighborhood of ironmongering towns, and,
+even after a considerable antiquity, are hardly made decent with a little
+grass.
+
+At a quarter to two we left Manchester by the Sheffield and Lincoln
+Railway. The scenery grew rather better than that through which we had
+hitherto passed, though still by no means very striking; for (except in
+the show-districts, such as the Lake country, or Derbyshire) English
+scenery is not particularly well worth looking at, considered as a
+spectacle or a picture. It has a real, homely charm of its own, no doubt;
+and the rich verdure, and the thorough finish added by human, art, are
+perhaps as attractive to an American eye as any stronger feature could be.
+Our journey, however, between Manchester and Sheffield was not through a
+rich tract of country, but along a valley walled in by bleak, ridgy hills
+extending straight as a rampart, and across black moorlands with here and
+there a plantation of trees. Sometimes there were long and gradual
+ascents, bleak, windy, and desolate, conveying the very impression which
+the reader gets from many passages of Miss Bronté's novels, and still more
+from those of her two sisters. Old stone or brick farm-houses, and, once
+in a while, an old church-tower, were visible: but these are almost too
+common objects to be noticed in an English landscape.
+
+On a railway, I suspect, what little we do see of the country is seen
+quite amiss, because it was never intended to be looked at from any point
+of view in that straight line; so that it is like looking at the wrong
+side of a piece of tapestry. The old highways and footpaths were as
+natural as brooks and rivulets, and adapted themselves by an inevitable
+impulse to the physiognomy of the country; and, furthermore, every object
+within view of them had some subtile reference to their curves and
+undulations: but the line of a railway is perfectly artificial, and puts
+all precedent things at sixes-and-sevens. At any rate, be the cause what
+it may, there is seldom anything worth seeing--within the scope of a
+railway traveller's eye; and if there were, it requires an alert marksman
+to take a flying shot at the picturesque.
+
+At one of the stations, (it was near a village of ancient aspect, nestling
+round a church, on a wide Yorkshire moor,) I saw a tall old lady in black,
+who seemed to have just alighted from the train. She caught my attention
+by a singular movement of the head, not once only, but continually
+repeated, and at regular intervals, as if she were making a stern and
+solemn protest against some action that developed itself before her eyes,
+and were foreboding terrible disaster, if it should be persisted in. Of
+course, it was nothing more than a paralytic or nervous affection; yet one
+might fancy that it had its origin in some unspeakable wrong, perpetrated
+half a lifetime ago in this old gentlewoman's presence, either against
+herself or somebody whom she loved still better. Her features had a
+wonderful sternness, which, I presume, was caused by her habitual effort
+to compose and keep them quiet, and thereby counteract the tendency to
+paralytic movement. The slow, regular, and inexorable character of the
+motion,--her look of force and self-control, which had the appearance of
+rendering it voluntary, while yet it was so fateful,--have stamped this
+poor lady's face and gesture into my memory; so that, some dark day or
+other, I am afraid she will reproduce herself in a dismal romance.
+
+The train stopped a minute or two, to allow the tickets to be taken, just
+before entering the Sheffield station, and thence I had a glimpse of the
+famous town of razors and penknives, enveloped in a cloud of its own
+diffusing. My impressions of it are extremely vague and misty,--or,
+rather, smoky: for Sheffield seems to me smokier than Manchester,
+Liverpool, or Birmingham,--smokier than all England besides, unless
+Newcastle be the exception. It might have been Pluto's own metropolis,
+shrouded in sulphurous vapor; and, indeed, our approach to it had been by
+the Valley of the Shadow of Death, through a tunnel three miles in length,
+quite traversing the breadth and depth of a mountainous hill.
+
+After passing Sheffield, the scenery became softer, gentler, yet more
+picturesque. At one point we saw what I believe to be the utmost northern
+verge of Sherwood Forest,--not consisting, however, of thousand-year oaks,
+extant from Robin Hood's days, but of young and thriving plantations,
+which will require a century or two of slow English growth to give them
+much breadth of shade. Earl Fitzwilliam's property lies in this
+neighborhood, and probably his castle was hidden among some soft depth of
+foliage not far off. Farther onward the country grew quite level around
+us, whereby I judged that we must now be in Lincolnshire; and shortly
+after six o'clock we caught the first glimpse of the Cathedral towers,
+though they loomed scarcely huge enough for our preconceived idea of them.
+But, as we drew nearer, the great edifice began to assert itself, making
+us acknowledge it to be larger than our receptivity could take in.
+
+At the railway-station we found no cab, (it being an unknown vehicle in
+Lincoln,) but only an omnibus belonging to the Saracen's Head, which the
+driver recommended as the best hotel in the city, and took us thither
+accordingly. It received us hospitably, and looked comfortable enough;
+though, like the hotels of most old English towns, it had a musty
+fragrance of antiquity, such as I have smelt in a seldom-opened London
+church where the broad-aisle is paved with tombstones. The house was of an
+ancient fashion, the entrance into its interior court-yard being through
+an arch, in the side of which is the door of the hotel. There are long
+corridors, an intricate arrangement of passages, and an up-and-down
+meandering of staircases, amid which it would be no marvel to encounter
+some forgotten guest who had gone astray a hundred years ago, and was
+still seeking for his bed-room while the rest of his generation were in
+their graves. There is no exaggerating the confusion of mind that seizes
+upon a stranger in the bewildering geography of a great old-fashioned
+English inn.
+
+This hotel stands in the principal street of Lincoln, and within a very
+short distance of one of the ancient city-gates, which is arched across
+the public way, with a smaller arch for foot-passengers on either side;
+the whole, a gray, time-gnawn, ponderous, shadowy structure, through the
+dark vista of which you look into the Middle Ages. The street is narrow,
+and retains many antique peculiarities; though, unquestionably, English
+domestic architecture has lost its most impressive features, in the course
+of the last century. In this respect, there are finer old towns than
+Lincoln: Chester, for instance, and Shrewsbury,--which last is unusually
+rich in those quaint and stately edifices where the gentry of the shire
+used to make their winter-abodes, in a provincial metropolis. Almost
+everywhere, nowadays, there is a monotony of modern brick or stuccoed
+fronts, hiding houses that are older than ever, but obliterating the
+picturesque antiquity of the street.
+
+Between seven and eight o'clock (it being still broad daylight in these
+long English days) we set out to pay a preliminary visit to the exterior
+of the Cathedral. Passing through the Stone Bow, as the city-gate close by
+is called, we ascended a street which grew steeper and narrower as we
+advanced, till at last it got to be the steepest street I ever
+climbed,--so steep that any carriage, if left to itself, would rattle
+downward much faster than it could possibly be drawn up. Being almost the
+only hill in Lincolnshire, the inhabitants seem disposed to make the most
+of it. The houses on each side had no very remarkable aspect, except one
+with a stone portal and carved ornaments, which is now a dwelling-place
+for poverty-stricken people, but may have been an aristocratic abode in
+the days of the Norman kings, to whom its style of architecture dates
+back. This is called the Jewess's House, having been inhabited by a woman
+of that faith who was hanged six hundred years ago.
+
+And still the street grew steeper and steeper. Certainly, the Bishop and
+clergy of Lincoln ought not to be fat men, but of very spiritual,
+saint-like, almost angelic habit, if it be a frequent part of their
+ecclesiastical duty to climb this hill; for it is a real penance, and was
+probably performed as such, and groaned over accordingly, in monkish
+times. Formerly, on the day of his installation, the Bishop used to ascend
+the hill barefoot, and was doubtless cheered and invigorated by looking
+upward to the grandeur that was to console him for the humility of his
+approach. We, likewise, were beckoned onward by glimpses of the Cathedral
+towers, and, finally, attaining an open square on the summit, we saw an
+old Gothic gateway to the left hand, and another to the right. The latter
+had apparently been a part of the exterior defences of the Cathedral, at a
+time when the edifice was fortified. The west front rose behind. We passed
+through one of the side-arches of the Gothic portal, and found ourselves
+in the Cathedral Close, a wide, level space, where the great old Minster
+has fair room to sit, looking down on the ancient structures that surround
+it, all of which, in former days, were the habitations of its dignitaries
+and officers. Some of them are still occupied as such, though others are
+in too neglected and dilapidated a state to seem worthy of so splendid an
+establishment. Unless it be Salisbury Close, however, (which is
+incomparably rich as regards the old residences that belong to it,) I
+remember no more comfortably picturesque precincts round any other
+cathedral. But, in, truth, almost every cathedral close, in turn, has
+seemed to me the loveliest, coziest, safest, least wind-shaken, most
+decorous, and most enjoyable shelter that ever the thrift and selfishness
+of mortal man contrived for himself. How delightful, to combine all this
+with the service of the temple!
+
+Lincoln Cathedral is built of a yellowish brown-stone, which appears
+either to have been largely restored, or else does not assume the hoary,
+crumbly surface that gives such a venerable aspect to most of the ancient
+churches and castles in England. In many parts, the recent restorations
+are quite evident; but other, and much the larger portions, can scarcely
+have been touched for centuries: for there are still the gargoyles,
+perfect, or with broken noses, as the case may be, but showing that
+variety and fertility of grotesque extravagance which no modern imitation
+can effect. There are innumerable niches, too, up the whole height of the
+towers, above and around the entrance, and all over the walls: most of
+them empty, but a few containing the lamentable remnants of headless
+saints and angels. It is singular what a native animosity lives in the
+human heart against carved images, insomuch that, whether they represent
+Christian saint or Pagan deity, all unsophisticated men seize the first
+safe opportunity to knock off their heads! In spite of all dilapidations,
+however, the effect of the west front of the Cathedral is still
+exceedingly rich, being covered from massive base to airy summit with the
+minutest details of sculpture and carving: at least, it was so once; and
+even now the spiritual impression of its beauty remains so strong, that we
+have to look twice to see that much of it has been obliterated. I have
+seen a cherry-stone carved all over by a monk, so minutely that it must
+have cost him half a lifetime of labor; and this cathedral front seems to
+have been elaborated in a monkish spirit, like that cherry-stone. Not that
+the result is in the least petty, but miraculously grand, and all the more
+so for the faithful beauty of the smallest details.
+
+An elderly man, seeing us looking up at the west front, came to the door
+of an adjacent house, and called to inquire if we wished to go into the
+Cathedral; but as there would have been a dusky twilight beneath its roof,
+like the antiquity that has sheltered itself within, we declined for the
+present. So we merely walked round the exterior, and thought it more
+beautiful than that of York; though, on recollection, I hardly deem it so
+majestic and mighty as that. It is vain to attempt a description, or seek
+even to record the feeling which the edifice inspires. It does not impress
+the beholder as an inanimate object, but as something that has a vast,
+quiet, long-enduring life of its own,--a creation which man did not build,
+though in some way or other it is connected with him, and kindred to human
+nature. In short, I fall straightway to talking nonsense, when I try to
+express my inner sense of this and other cathedrals.
+
+While we stood in the close, at the eastern end of the Minster, the clock
+chimed the quarters; and then Great Tom, who hangs in the Rood Tower, told
+us it was eight o'clock, in far the sweetest and mightiest accents that I
+ever heard from any bell,--slow, and solemn, and allowing the profound
+reverberations of each stroke to die away before the next one fell. It was
+still broad daylight in that upper region of the town, and would be so for
+some time longer; but the evening atmosphere was getting sharp and cool.
+We therefore descended the steep street,--our younger companion running
+before us, and gathering such headway that I fully expected him to break
+his head against some projecting wall.
+
+In the morning we took a fly, (an English term for an exceedingly sluggish
+vehicle,) and drove up to the Minster by a road rather less steep and
+abrupt than the one we had previously climbed. We alighted before the west
+front, and sent our charioteer in quest of the verger; but, as he was not
+immediately to be found, a young girl let us into the nave. We found it
+very grand, it is needless to say, but not so grand, methought, as the
+vast nave of York Cathedral, especially beneath the great central tower of
+the latter. Unless a writer intends a professedly architectural
+description, there is but one set of phrases in which to talk of all the
+cathedrals in England, and elsewhere. They are alike in their great
+features: an acre or two of stone flags for a pavement; rows of vast
+columns supporting a vaulted roof at a dusky height; great windows,
+sometimes richly bedimmed with ancient or modern stained glass; an
+elaborately carved screen between the nave and chancel, breaking the vista
+that might else be of such glorious length, and which is further choked up
+by a massive organ,--in spite of which obstructions, you catch the broad,
+variegated glimmer of the painted east window, where a hundred saints wear
+their robes of transfiguration. Within the screen are the carved oaken
+stalls of the Chapter and Prebendaries, the Bishop's throne, the pulpit,
+the altar, and whatever else may furnish out the Holy of Holies. Nor must
+we forget the range of chapels, (once dedicated to Catholic saints, but
+which have now lost their individual consecration,) nor the old monuments
+of kings, warriors, and prelates, in the side-aisles of the chancel. In
+close contiguity to the main body of the Cathedral is the Chapter-House,
+which, here at Lincoln, as at Salisbury, is supported by one central
+pillar rising from the floor, and putting forth branches like a tree, to
+hold up the roof. Adjacent to the Chapter-House are the cloisters,
+extending round a quadrangle, and paved with lettered tombstones, the more
+antique of which have had their inscriptions half obliterated by the feet
+of monks taking their noontide exercise in these sheltered walks, five
+hundred years ago. Some of these old burial-stones, although with ancient
+crosses engraved upon them, have been made to serve as memorials to dead
+people of very recent date.
+
+In the chancel, among the tombs of forgotten bishops and knights, we saw
+an immense slab of stone purporting to be the monument of Catherine
+Swineferd, wife of John of Gaunt; also, here was the shrine of the little
+Saint Hugh, that Christian child who was fabled to have been crucified by
+the Jews of Lincoln. The Cathedral is not particularly rich in monuments;
+for it suffered grievous outrage and dilapidation, both at the Reformation
+and in Cromwell's time. This latter iconoclast is in especially bad odor
+with the sextons and vergers of most of the old churches which I have
+visited. His soldiers stabled their steeds in the nave of Lincoln
+Cathedral, and hacked and hewed the monkish sculptures, and the ancestral
+memorials of great families, quite at their wicked and plebeian pleasure.
+Nevertheless, there are some most exquisite and marvellous specimens of
+flowers, foliage, and grape-vines, and miracles of stone-work twined about
+arches, as if the material had been as soft as wax in the cunning
+sculptor's hands,--the leaves being represented with all their veins, so
+that you would almost think it petrified Nature, for which he sought to
+steal the praise of Art. Here, too, were those grotesque faces which
+always grin at you from the projections of monkish architecture, as if the
+builders had gone mad with their own deep solemnity, or dreaded such a
+catastrophe, unless permitted to throw in something ineffably absurd.
+
+Originally, it is supposed, all the pillars of this great edifice, and all
+these magic sculptures, were polished to the utmost degree of lustre; nor
+is it unreasonable to think that the artists would have taken these
+further pains, when they had already bestowed so much labor in working out
+their conceptions to the extremest point. But, at present, the whole
+interior of the Cathedral is smeared over with a yellowish wash, the very
+meanest hue imaginable, and for which somebody's soul has a bitter
+reckoning to undergo.
+
+In the centre of the grassy quadrangle about which the cloisters
+perambulate is a small, mean, brick building, with a locked door. Our
+guide,--I forgot to say that we had been captured by a verger, in black,
+and with a white tie, but of a lusty and jolly aspect,--our guide unlocked
+this door, and disclosed a flight of steps. At the bottom appeared what I
+should have taken to be a large square of dim, worn, and faded
+oil-carpeting, which might originally have been painted of a rather gaudy
+pattern. This was a Roman tessellated pavement, made of small colored
+bricks, or pieces of burnt clay. It was accidentally discovered here, and
+has not been meddled with, further than by removing the superincumbent
+earth and rubbish.
+
+Nothing else occurs to me, just now, to be recorded about the interior of
+the Cathedral, except that we saw a place where the stone pavement had
+been worn away by the feet of ancient pilgrims scraping upon it, as they
+knelt down before a shrine of the Virgin.
+
+Leaving the Minster, we now went along a street of more venerable
+appearance than we had heretofore seen, bordered with houses, the high,
+peaked roofs of which were covered with red earthen tiles. It led us to a
+Roman arch, which was once the gateway of a fortification, and has been
+striding across the English street ever since the latter was a faint
+village-path, and for centuries before. The arch is about four hundred
+yards from the Cathedral; and it is to be noticed that there are Roman
+remains in all this neighborhood, some above ground, and doubtless
+innumerable more beneath it; for, as in ancient Rome itself, an inundation
+of accumulated soil seems to have swept over what was the surface of that
+earlier day. The gateway which I am speaking about is probably buried to a
+third of its height, and perhaps has as perfect a Roman pavement (if
+sought for at the original depth) as that which runs beneath the Arch of
+Titus. It is a rude and massive structure, and seems as stalwart now as it
+could have been two thousand years ago; and though Time has gnawed it
+externally, he has made what amends he could by crowning its rough and
+broken summit with grass and weeds, and planting tufts of yellow flowers
+on the projections up and down the sides.
+
+There are the ruins of a Norman castle, built by the Conqueror, in pretty
+close proximity to the Cathedral; but the old gateway is obstructed by a
+modern door of wood, and we were denied admittance because some part of
+the precincts are used as a prison. We now rambled about on the broad back
+of the hill, which, besides the Minster and ruined castle, is the site of
+some stately and queer old houses, and of many mean little hovels. I
+suspect that all or most of the life of the present day has subsided into
+the lower town, and that only priests, poor people, and prisoners dwell in
+these upper regions. In the wide, dry moat at the base of the castle-wall
+are clustered whole colonies of small houses, some of brick, but the
+larger portion built of old stones which once made part of the Norman
+keep, or of Roman structures that existed before the Conqueror's castle
+was ever dreamed about. They are like toadstools that spring up from the
+mould of a decaying tree. Ugly as they are, they add wonderfully to the
+picturesqueness of the scene, being quite as valuable, in that respect, as
+the great, broad, ponderous ruin of the castle-keep, which rose high above
+our heads, heaving its huge gray mass out of a bank of green foliage and
+ornamental shrubbery, such as lilacs and other flowering-plants, in which
+its foundations were completely hidden.
+
+After walking quite round the castle, I made an excursion through the
+Roman gateway, along a pleasant and level road bordered with dwellings of
+various character. One or two were houses of gentility, with delightful
+and shadowy lawns before them; many had those high, red-tiled roofs,
+ascending into acutely pointed gables, which seem to belong to the same
+epoch as some of the edifices in our own earlier towns; and there were
+pleasant-looking cottages, very sylvan and rural, with hedges so dense and
+high, fencing them in, as almost to hide them up to the eaves of their
+thatched roofs. In front of one of these I saw various images, crosses,
+and relics of antiquity, among which were fragments of old Catholic
+tombstones, disposed by way of ornament.
+
+We now went home to the Saracen's Head; and as the weather was very
+unpropitious, and it sprinkled a little now and then, I would gladly have
+felt myself released from further thraldom to the Cathedral. But it had
+taken possession of me, and would not let me be at rest; so at length I
+found myself compelled to climb the hill again, between daylight and dusk.
+A mist was now hovering about the upper height of the great central tower,
+so as to dim and half obliterate its battlements and pinnacles, even while
+I stood in the close beneath it. It was the most impressive view that I
+had had. The whole lower part of the structure was seen with perfect
+distinctness; but at the very summit the mist was so dense as to form an
+actual cloud, as well denned as ever I saw resting on a mountain-top.
+Really and literally, here was a "cloud-capt tower."
+
+The entire Cathedral, too, transfigured itself into a richer beauty and
+more imposing majesty than ever. The longer I looked, the better I loved
+it. Its exterior is certainly far more beautiful than that of York
+Minster; and its finer effect is due, I think, to the many peaks in which
+the structure ascends, and to the pinnacles which, as it were, repeat and
+re-echo them into the sky. York Cathedral is comparatively square and
+angular in its general effect; but here there is a continual mystery of
+variety, so that at every glance you are aware of a change, and a
+disclosure of something new, yet working an harmonious development of what
+you have heretofore seen. The west front is unspeakably grand, and may be
+read over and over again forever, and still show undetected meanings, like
+a great, broad page of marvellous writing in black-letter,--so many
+sculptured ornaments there are, blossoming out before your eyes, and gray
+statues that have grown there since you looked last, and empty niches, and
+a hundred airy canopies beneath which carved images used to be, and where
+they will show themselves again, if you gaze long enough.--But I will not
+say another word about the Cathedral.
+
+We spent the rest of the day within the sombre precincts of the Saracen's
+Head, reading yesterday's "Times," "The Guide-Book of Lincoln," and "The
+Directory of the Eastern Counties." Dismal as the weather was, the street
+beneath our window was enlivened with a great bustle and turmoil of people
+all the evening, because it was Saturday night, and they had accomplished
+their week's toil, received their wages, and were making their small
+purchases against Sunday, and enjoying themselves as well as they knew
+how. A band of music passed to and fro several times, with the rain-drops
+falling into the mouth of the brazen trumpet and pattering on the
+bass-drum; a spirit-shop, opposite the hotel, had a vast run of custom;
+and a coffee-dealer, in the open air, found occasional vent for his
+commodity, in spite of the cold water that dripped into the cups. The
+whole breadth of the street, between the Stone Bow and the bridge across
+the Witham, was thronged to overflowing, and humming with human life.
+
+Observing in the Guide-Book that a steamer runs on the River Witham
+between Lincoln and Boston, I inquired of the waiter, and learned that she
+was to start on Monday, at ten o'clock. Thinking it might be an
+interesting trip, and a pleasant variation of our customary mode of
+travel, we determined to make the voyage. The Witham flows through
+Lincoln, crossing the main street under an arched bridge of Gothic
+construction, a little below the Saracen's Head. It has more the
+appearance of a canal than of a river, in its passage through the
+town,--being bordered with hewn stone mason-work on each side, and
+provided with one or two locks. The steamer proved to be small, dirty, and
+altogether inconvenient. The early morning had been bright; but the sky
+now lowered upon us with a sulky English temper, and we had not long put
+off before we felt an ugly wind from the German Ocean blowing right in our
+teeth. There were a number of passengers on board, country-people, such as
+travel by third-class on the railway; for, I suppose, nobody but ourselves
+ever dreamt of voyaging, by the steamer for the sake of what he might
+happen upon in the way of river-scenery.
+
+We bothered a good while about getting through a preliminary lock; nor,
+when fairly under way, did we ever accomplish, I think, six miles an hour.
+Constant delays were caused, moreover, by stopping to take up passengers
+and freight,--not at regular landing-places, but anywhere along the green
+banks. The scenery was identical with that of the railway, because the
+latter runs along by the river-side through the whole distance, or nowhere
+departs from it except to make a short cut across some sinuosity; so that
+our only advantage lay in the drawling, snail-like slothfulness of our
+progress, which allowed us time enough and to spare for the objects along
+the shore. Unfortunately, there was nothing, or next to nothing, to be
+seen,--the country being one unvaried level over the whole thirty miles of
+our voyage,--not a hill in sight, either near or far, except that solitary
+one on the summit of which we had left Lincoln Cathedral. And the
+Cathedral was our landmark for four hours or more, and at last rather
+faded out than was hidden by any intervening object.
+
+It would have been a pleasantly lazy day enough, if the rough and bitter
+wind had not blown directly in our faces, and chilled us through, in spite
+of the sunshine that soon succeeded a sprinkle or two of rain. These
+English east-winds, which prevail from February till June, are greater
+nuisances than the east-wind of our own Atlantic coast, although they do
+not bring mist and storm, as with us, but some of the sunniest weather
+that England sees. Under their influence, the sky smiles and is villanous.
+
+The landscape was tame to the last degree, but had an English character
+that was abundantly worth our looking at. A green luxuriance of early
+grass; old, high-roofed farm-houses, surrounded by their stone barns and
+ricks of bay and grain; ancient villages, with the square, gray tower of a
+church seen afar over the level country, amid the cluster of red roofs;
+here and there a shadowy grove of venerable trees, surrounding what was
+perhaps an Elizabethan ball, though it looked more like the abode of some
+rich yeoman. Once, too, we saw the tower of a mediaeval castle, that of
+Tattershall, built by a Cromwell, but whether of the Protector's family I
+cannot tell. But the gentry do not appear to have settled multitudinously
+in this tract of country; nor is it to be wondered at, since a lover of
+the picturesque would as soon think of settling in Holland. The river
+retains its canal-like aspect all along; and only in the latter part of
+its course does it become more than wide enough for the little steamer to
+turn itself round,--at broadest, not more than twice that width.
+
+The only memorable incident of our voyage happened when a mother-duck was
+leading her little fleet of five ducklings across the river, just as our
+steamer went swaggering by, stirring the quiet stream into great waves
+that lashed the banks on either side. I saw the imminence of the
+catastrophe, and hurried to the stern of the boat to witness, since I
+could not possibly avert it. The poor ducklings had uttered their
+baby-quacks, and striven with all their tiny might to escape: four of
+them, I believe, were washed aside and thrown off unhurt from the
+steamer's prow; but the fifth must have gone under the whole length of the
+keel, and never could have come up alive.
+
+At last, in, mid-afternoon, we beheld the tall tower of Saint Botolph's
+Church (three hundred feet high, the same elevation as the tallest tower
+of Lincoln Cathedral) looming in the distance. At about half-past four we
+reached Boston, (which name has been shortened, in the course of ages, by
+the quick and slovenly English pronunciation, from Botolph's town,) and
+were taken by a cab to the Peacock, in the market-place. It was the best
+hotel in town, though a poor one enough; and we were shown into a small,
+stilled parlor, dingy, musty, and scented with stale
+tobacco-smoke,--tobacco-smoke two days old, for the waiter assured us that
+the room had not more recently been fumigated. An exceedingly grim waiter
+he was, apparently a genuine descendant of the old Puritans of this
+English Boston, and quite as sour as those who peopled the daughter-city
+in New England. Our parlor had the one recommendation of looking into the
+market-place, and affording a sidelong glimpse of the tail spire and noble
+old church.
+
+In my first ramble about the town, chance led me to the river-side, at
+that quarter where the port is situated. Here were long buildings of an
+old-fashioned aspect, seemingly warehouses, with windows in the high,
+steep roofs. The Custom-House found ample accommodation within an ordinary
+dwelling-house. Two or three large schooners were moored along the river's
+brink, which had here a stone margin; another large and handsome schooner
+was evidently just finished, rigged and equipped for her first voyage; the
+rudiments of another were on the stocks, in a ship-yard bordering on the
+river. Still another, while I was looking on, came up the stream, and
+lowered her main-sail, from a foreign voyage. An old man on the bank
+hailed her and inquired about her cargo; but the Lincolnshire people have
+such a queer way of talking English that I could not understand the reply.
+Farther down the river, I saw a brig, approaching rapidly under sail. The
+whole scene made an odd impression of bustle, and sluggishness, and decay,
+and a remnant of wholesome life; and I could not but contrast it with the
+mighty and populous activity of our own Boston, which was once the feeble
+infant of this old English town;--the latter, perhaps, almost stationary
+ever since that day, as if the birth of such an offspring had taken away
+its own principle of growth. I thought of Long Wharf, and Faneuil Hall,
+and Washington Street, and the Great Elm, and the State-House, and exulted
+lustily,--but yet began to feel at home in this good old town, for its
+very name's sake, as I never had before felt, in England.
+
+The next morning we came out in the early sunshine, (the sun must have
+been shining nearly four hours, however, for it was after eight o'clock,)
+and strolled about the streets, like people who had a right to be there.
+The market-place of Boston is an irregular square, into one end of which
+the chancel of the church slightly projects. The gates of the church-yard
+were open and free to all passengers, and the common footway of the
+towns-people seems to lie to and fro across it. It is paved, according to
+English custom, with flat tombstones; and there are also raised, or
+altar-tombs, some of which have armorial bearings on them. One clergyman
+has caused himself and his wife to be buried right in the middle of the
+stone-bordered path that traverses the church-yard; so that not an
+individual of the thousands who pass along this public way can help
+trampling over him or her. The scene, nevertheless, was very cheerful in
+the morning sun: people going about their business in the day's primal
+freshness, which was just as fresh here as in younger villages; children,
+with milk-pails, loitering over the burial-stones; school-boys playing
+leap-frog with the altar-tombs; the simple old town preparing itself for
+the day, which would be like myriads of other days that had passed over
+it, but yet would be worth living through. And down on the church-yard,
+where were buried many generations whom it remembered in their time,
+looked the stately tower of Saint Botolph; and it was good to see and
+think of such an age-long giant, intermarrying the present epoch with a
+distant past, and getting quite imbued with human nature by being so
+immemorially connected with men's familiar knowledge and homely interests.
+It is a noble tower; and the jackdaws evidently have pleasant homes in
+their hereditary nests among its topmost windows, and live delightful
+lives, flitting and cawing about its pinnacles and flying-buttresses. I
+should almost like to be a jackdaw myself, for the sake of living up
+there.
+
+In front of the church, not more than twenty yards off, and with a low
+brick wall between, flows the River Witham. On the hither bank a fisherman
+was washing his boat; and another skiff, with her sail lazily
+half-twisted, lay on the opposite strand. The stream, at this point, is
+about of such width, that, if the tall tower were to tumble over flat on
+its face, its top-stone might perhaps reach to the middle of the channel.
+On the farther shore there is a line of antique-looking houses, with roofs
+of red tile, and windows opening out of them,--some of these dwellings
+being so ancient, that the Reverend Mr. Cotton, subsequently our first
+Boston minister, must have seen them with his own bodily eyes, when he
+used to issue from the front-portal after service. Indeed, there must be
+very many houses here, and even some streets, that bear much the aspect
+that they did when the Puritan divine paced solemnly among them.
+
+In our rambles about town, we went into a bookseller's shop to inquire if
+he had any description of Boston for sale. He offered me (or, rather,
+produced for inspection, not supposing that I would buy it) a quarto
+history of the town, published by subscription, nearly forty years ago.
+The bookseller showed himself a well-informed and affable man, and a local
+antiquary, to whom a party of inquisitive strangers were a godsend. He had
+met with several Americans, who, at various times, had come on pilgrimages
+to this place, and had been in correspondence with others. Happening to
+have heard the name of one member of our party, he showed us great
+courtesy and kindness, and invited us into his inner domicile, where, as
+he modestly intimated, he kept a few articles which it might interest us
+to see. So we went with him through the shop, up-stairs, into the private
+part of his establishment; and, really, it was one of the rarest
+adventures I ever met with, to stumble upon this treasure of a man, with
+his treasury of antiquities and curiosities, veiled behind the
+unostentatious front of a bookseller's shop, in a very moderate line of
+village-business. The two up-stair rooms into which he introduced us were
+so crowded with inestimable articles, that we were almost afraid to stir,
+for fear of breaking some fragile thing that had been accumulating value
+for unknown centuries.
+
+The apartment was hung round with pictures and old engravings, many of
+which were extremely rare. Premising that he was going to show us
+something very curious, Mr. Porter went into the next room and returned
+with a counterpane of fine linen, elaborately embroidered with silk, which
+so profusely covered the linen that the general effect was as if the main
+texture were silken. It was stained, and seemed very old, and had an
+ancient fragrance. It was wrought all over with birds and flowers in a
+most delicate style of needle-work, and among other devices, more than
+once repeated, was the cipher, M.S.,--being the initials of one of the
+most unhappy names that ever a woman bore. This quilt was embroidered by
+the hands of Mary-Queen of Scots, during her imprisonment at Fotheringay
+Castle; and having evidently been a work of years, she had doubtless shed
+many tears over it, and wrought many doleful thoughts and abortive schemes
+into its texture, along with the birds and flowers. As a counterpart to
+this most precious relic, our friend produced some of the handiwork of a
+former Queen of Otaheite, presented by her to Captain Cook: it was a bag,
+cunningly made of some delicate vegetable stuff, and ornamented with
+feathers. Next, he brought out a green silk waistcoat of very antique
+fashion, trimmed about the edges and pocket-holes with a rich and delicate
+embroidery of gold and silver. This (as the possessor of the treasure
+proved, by tracing its pedigree till it came into his hands) was once the
+vestment of Queen Elizabeth's Lord Burleigh: but that great statesman must
+have been a person of very moderate girth in the chest and waist; for the
+garment was hardly more than a comfortable fit for a boy of eleven, the
+smallest American of our party, who tried on the gorgeous waistcoat. Then,
+Mr. Porter produced some curiously engraved drinking-glasses, with a view
+of Saint Botolph's steeple on one of them, and other Boston edifices,
+public or domestic, on the remaining two, very admirably done. These
+crystal goblets had been a present, long ago, to an old master of the Free
+School from his pupils; and it is very rarely, I imagine, that a retired
+schoolmaster can exhibit such trophies of gratitude and affection, won
+from the victims of his birch rod.
+
+Our kind friend kept bringing out one unexpected and wholly unexpectable
+thing after another, as if he were a magician, and had only to fling a
+private signal into the air, and some attendant imp would hand forth any
+strange relic we might choose to ask for. He was especially rich in
+drawings by the Old Masters, producing two or three, of exquisite
+delicacy, by Raphael, one by Salvator, a head by Rembrandt, and others, in
+chalk or pen-and-ink, by Giordano, Benvenuto Cellini, and hands almost as
+famous; and besides what were shown us, there seemed to be an endless
+supply of these art-treasures in reserve. On the wall hung a
+crayon-portrait of Sterne, never engraved, representing him as a rather
+young man, blooming, and not uncomely: it was the worldly face of a man
+fond of pleasure, but without that ugly, keen, sarcastic, odd expression
+that we see in his only engraved portrait. The picture is an original, and
+must needs be very valuable; and we wish it might be prefixed to some new
+and worthier biography of a writer whose character the world has always
+treated with singular harshness, considering how much it owes him. There
+was likewise a crayon-portrait of Sterne's wife, looking so haughty and
+unamiable, that the wonder is, how he ever contrived to live a week with
+such an awful woman.
+
+After looking at these, and a great many more things than I can remember,
+above stairs, we went down to a parlor, where this wonderful bookseller
+opened an old cabinet, containing numberless drawers, and looking just fit
+to be the repository of such knick-knacks as were stored up in it. He
+appeared to possess more treasures than he himself knew of, or knew where
+to find; but, rummaging here and there, he brought forth things new and
+old: rose-nobles, Victoria crowns, gold angels, double-sovereigns of
+George IV., two-guinea pieces of George II.; a marriage-medal of the first
+Napoleon, only forty-five of which were ever struck off, and of which even
+the British Museum does not contain a specimen like this, in gold; a brass
+medal, three or four inches in diameter, of a Roman Emperor; together with
+buckles, bracelets, amulets, and I know not what besides. There was a
+green silk tassel from the fringe of Queen Mary's bed at Holyrood Palace.
+There were illuminated missals, antique Latin Bibles, and (what may seem
+of especial interest to the historian) a Secret-Book of Queen Elizabeth,
+written, for aught I know, by her own hand. On examination, however, it
+proved to contain, not secrets of State, but recipes for dishes, drinks,
+medicines, washes, and all such matters of housewifery, the toilet, and
+domestic quackery, among which we were horrified by the title of one of
+the nostrums, "How to kill a Fellow quickly"! We never doubted that bloody
+Queen Bess might often have had occasion for such a recipe, but wondered
+at her frankness, and at her attending to these anomalous necessities in
+such a methodical way. The truth is, we had read amiss, and the Queen had
+spelt amiss: the word was "Fellon,"--a sort of whitlow,--not "Fellow."
+
+Our hospitable friend now made us drink a glass of wine, as old and
+genuine as the curiosities of his cabinet; and while sipping it, we
+ungratefully tried to excite his envy, by telling of various things,
+interesting to an antiquary and virtuoso, which we had seen in the course
+of our travels about England. We spoke, for instance, of a missal bound in
+solid gold and set round with jewels, but of such intrinsic value as no
+setting could enhance, for it was exquisitely illuminated, throughout, by
+the hand of Raphael himself. We mentioned a little silver case which once
+contained a portion of the heart of Louis XIV, nicely done up in spices,
+but, to the owner's horror and astonishment, Dean Buckland popped the
+kingly morsel into his mouth, and swallowed it. We told about the
+black-letter prayer-book of King Charles the Martyr, used by him upon the
+scaffold, taking which into our hands, it opened of itself at the
+Communion Service; and there, on the left-hand page, appeared a spot about
+as large as a sixpence, of a yellowish or brownish hue: a drop of the
+King's blood had fallen there.
+
+Mr. Porter now accompanied us to the church, but first leading us to a
+vacant spot of ground where old John Cotton's vicarage had stood till a
+very short time since. According to our friend's description, it was a
+humble habitation, of the cottage order, built of brick, with a thatched
+roof. The site is now rudely fenced in, and cultivated as a vegetable
+garden. In the right-hand aisle of the church there is an ancient chapel,
+which, at the time of our visit, was in process of restoration, and was to
+be dedicated to Cotton, whom these English people consider as the founder
+of our American Boston. It would contain a painted memorial-window, in
+honor of the old Puritan minister. A festival in commemoration of the
+event was to take place in the ensuing July, to which I had myself
+received an invitation, but I knew too well the pains and penalties
+incurred by an invited guest at public festivals in England to accept it.
+It ought to be recorded, (and it seems to have made a very kindly
+impression on our kinsfolk here,) that five hundred pounds had been
+contributed by persons in the United States, principally in Boston,
+towards the cost of the memorial-window, and the repair and restoration of
+the chapel.
+
+After we emerged from the chapel, Mr. Porter approached us with the vicar,
+to whom he kindly introduced us, and then took his leave. May a stranger's
+benediction rest upon him! He is a most pleasant man; rather, I imagine, a
+virtuoso than an antiquary; for he seemed to value the Queen of Otaheite's
+bag as highly as Queen Mary's embroidered quilt, and to have an omnivorous
+appetite for everything strange and rare. Would that we could fill up his
+shelves and drawers (if there are any vacant spaces left) with the
+choicest trifles that have dropped out of Time's carpet-bag, or give him
+the carpet-bag itself, to take out what he will!
+
+The vicar looked about thirty years old, a gentleman, evidently assured of
+his position, (as clergymen of the Established Church invariably are,)
+comfortable and well-to-do, a scholar and a Christian, and fit to be a
+bishop, knowing how to make the most of life without prejudice to the life
+to come. I was glad to see such a model English priest so suitably
+accommodated with an old English church. He kindly and courteously did the
+honors, showing us quite round the interior, giving us all the information
+that we required, and then leaving us to the quiet enjoyment of what we
+came to see.
+
+The interior of Saint Botolph's is very fine and satisfactory, as stately,
+almost, as a cathedral, and has been repaired--so far as repairs were
+necessary--in a chaste and noble style. The great eastern window is of
+modern painted glass, but is the richest, mellowest, and tenderest modern
+window that I have ever seen: the art of painting these glowing
+transparencies in pristine perfection being one that the world has lost.
+The vast, clear space, of the interior church delighted me. There was no
+screen,--nothing between the vestibule and the altar to break the long
+vista; even the organ stood aside,--though it by-and-by made us aware of
+its presence by a melodious roar. Around the walls there were old engraved
+brasses, and a stone coffin, and an alabaster knight of Saint John, and an
+alabaster lady, each recumbent at full length, as large as life, and in
+perfect preservation, except for a slight modern touch at the tips of
+their noses. In the chancel we saw a great deal of oaken work, quaintly
+and admirably carved, especially about the seats formerly appropriated to
+the monks, which were so contrived as to tumble down with a tremendous
+crash, if the occupant happened to fall asleep.
+
+We now essayed to climb into the upper regions. Up we went, winding and
+still winding round the circular stairs, till we came to the gallery
+beneath the stone roof of the tower, whence we could look down and see the
+raised Fort, and my Talma lying on one of the steps, and looking about as
+big as a pocket-handkerchief. Then up again, up, up, up, through a yet
+smaller staircase, till we emerged into another stone gallery, above the
+jackdaws, and far above the roof beneath which we had before made a halt.
+Then up another flight, which led us into a pinnacle of the temple, but
+not the highest; so, retracing our steps, we took the right turret this
+time, and emerged into the loftiest lantern, where we saw level
+Lincolnshire, far and near, though with a haze on the distant horizon.
+There were dusty roads, a river, and canals, converging towards Boston,
+which--a congregation of red-tiled roofs--lay beneath our feet, with pigmy
+people creeping about its narrow streets. We were three hundred feet
+aloft, and the pinnacle on which we stood is a landmark forty miles at
+sea.
+
+Content, and weary of our elevation, we descended the corkscrew stairs and
+left the church; the last object that we noticed in the interior being a
+bird, which appeared to be at home there, and responded with its cheerful
+notes to the swell of the organ. Pausing on the church-steps, we observed
+that there were formerly two statues, one on each side of the door-way;
+the canopies still remaining, and the pedestals being about a yard from
+the ground. Some of Mr. Cotton's Puritan parishioners are probably
+responsible for the disappearance of these stone saints. This door-way at
+the base of the tower is now much dilapidated, but must once have been
+very rich and of a peculiar fashion. It opens its arch through a great
+square tablet of stone, reared against the front of the tower. On most of
+the projections, whether on the tower or about the body of the church,
+there are gargoyles of genuine Gothic grotesqueness,--fiends, beasts,
+angels, and combinations of all three; and where portions of the edifice
+are restored, the modern sculptors have tried to imitate these wild
+fantasies, but with very poor success. Extravagance and absurdity have
+still their law, and should pay as rigid obedience to it as the primmest
+things on earth.
+
+In our further rambles about Boston, we crossed the river by a bridge, and
+observed that the larger part of the town seems to lie on that side of its
+navigable stream. The crooked streets and narrow lanes reminded me much of
+Hanover Street, Ann Street, and other portions of the North End of our
+American Boston, as I remember that picturesque region in my boyish days.
+It is not unreasonable to suppose that the local habits and recollections
+of the first settlers may have had some influence on the physical
+character of the streets and houses in the New-England metropolis; at any
+rate, here is a similar intricacy of bewildering lanes, and numbers of old
+peaked and projecting-storied dwellings, such as I used to see there. It
+is singular what a home-feeling and sense of kindred I derived from this
+hereditary connection and fancied physiognomical resemblance between the
+old town and its well-grown daughter, and how reluctant I was, after chill
+years of banishment, to leave this hospitable place, on that account.
+Moreover, it recalled some of the features of another American town, my
+own dear native place, when I saw the seafaring people leaning against
+posts, and sitting on planks, under the lee of warehouses,--or lolling on
+long-boats, drawn up high and dry, as sailors and old wharf-rats are
+accustomed to do, in seaports of little business. In other respects, the
+English town is more village-like than either of the American ones. The
+women and budding girls chat together at their doors, and exchange merry
+greetings with young men; children chase one another in the summer
+twilight; school-boys sail little boats on the river, or play at marbles
+across the flat tombstones in the churchyard; and ancient men, in breeches
+and long waistcoats, wander slowly about the streets, with a certain
+familiarity of deportment, as if each one were everybody's grandfather. I
+have frequently observed, in old English towns, that Old Age comes forth
+more cheerfully, and genially into the sunshine than among ourselves,
+where the rush, stir, bustle, and irreverent energy of youth are so
+preponderant, that the poor, forlorn grandsires begin to doubt whether
+they have a right to breathe in such a world any longer, and so hide their
+silvery heads in solitude. Speaking of old men, I am reminded of the
+scholars of the Boston Charity-School, who walk about in antique,
+long-skirted blue coats, and knee-breeches, and with bands at their
+necks,--perfect and grotesque pictures of the costume of three centuries
+ago.
+
+On the morning of our departure, I looked from the parlor-window of the
+Peacock into the market-place, and beheld its irregular square already
+well-covered with booths, and more in process of being put up, by
+stretching tattered sail-cloth on poles. It was market-day. The dealers
+were arranging their commodities, consisting chiefly of vegetables, the
+great bulk of which seemed to be cabbages. Later in the forenoon there was
+a much greater variety of merchandise: basket-work, both for fancy and
+use; twig-brooms, beehives, oranges, rustic attire; all sorts of things,
+in short, that are commonly sold at a rural fair. I heard the lowing of
+cattle, too, and the bleating of sheep, and found that there was a market
+for cows, oxen, and pigs, in another part of the town. A crowd of
+towns-people and Lincolnshire yeomen elbowed one another in the square;
+Mr. Punch was squeaking in one corner, and a vagabond juggler tried to
+find space for his exhibition in another: so that my final glimpse of
+Boston was calculated to leave a livelier impression than my former ones.
+Meanwhile the tower of Saint Botolph's looked benignantly down; and I
+fancied that it was bidding me farewell, as it did Mr. Cotton, two or
+three hundred years ago, and telling me to describe its venerable height,
+and the town beneath it, to the people of the American city, who are
+partly akin, if not to the living inhabitants of Old Boston, yet to some
+of the dust that lies in its churchyard.
+
+One thing more. They have a Bunker Hill in the vicinity of their town; and
+(what could hardly be expected of an English community) seem proud to
+think that their neighborhood has given name to our first and most widely
+celebrated and best-remembered battle-field.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF A STRENGTH-SEEKER.
+
+
+"There goes the smallest fellow in our class."
+
+I was crossing one of the paths that intersect the college green of old
+Harvard when this remark fell upon my ears. Looking up, I saw two stalwart
+Freshmen on their way to recitation, one of whom had called the other's
+attention to my humble self by this observation, reminding me of a
+distinction which I did not covet.
+
+It was not quite true. There was one, and only one, member of the class of
+'54 who was as small as I. Some consolation, though not much, in that! But
+the air of amused compassion with which the lusty Down-Easter, who had
+made me feel what the _digito monstrari_ was, now looked down on me,
+raised a feeling of resentment and self-depreciation which left me in no
+mood to make a brilliant show of scholarship in construing my "Isocrates"
+that morning.
+
+"True, I am small, nay, diminutive," I soliloquized, as I wended my way
+homeward under the classic umbrage of venerable elms. "But surely this is
+no fault of mine.--Hold there! Are you quite sure it's no fault of yours?
+Are we not responsible to a much greater extent than we imagine for our
+physical condition? After making all abatement for insurmountable
+hereditary influences upon organization,--after granting to that
+remorseless law of genealogical transmission its proper weight,--after
+admitting the seemingly capricious facts of what the modern French
+physiologists call _atavism_, under which we are made drunkards or
+consumptives, lunatics or wise men, short or tall, because of certain
+dominant traits in some remote ancestor,--after conceding all this, does
+not Nature leave it largely in our own power to counteract both physical
+and moral tendencies, and to mould the body as well as the mind, if we
+will only put forth in action the requisite energy of will?"
+
+This disposition to cavil at received axioms has beset me through life. No
+sooner does a truth present itself than I want to see it on its other
+side. If I hear the Devil spoken ill of, I puzzle myself to find what can
+be said in his favor. The man who thus halts between conflicting opinions,
+solicitous to give both their due, and to see the truth, pure and simple
+and entire, may miss laying hold of great convictions till it is too late
+for him to act on them; but what he accepts he generally holds.
+
+My meditations on the subject of my inferior stature led me to a
+determination to try what gymnastic practice could do to remedy the
+defect. For some thirty years, gymnastics, first introduced into this
+country, I believe, at the Round-Hill School at Northampton, then under
+the charge of Messrs. Cogswell and Bancroft, had languished and revived
+fitfully at Cambridge. It was during one of the languishing periods that I
+began my practice. For some five or six weeks I kept it up with
+enthusiasm. Then I began to grow less methodical and regular in my habits
+of exercise; and then to find excuses for my delinquencies.
+
+After all, what matter, if, like Paul's, my "bodily presence is weak"?
+Were not Alexander the Great and Napoleon small men? Were not Pope, and
+Dr. Watts, and Moore, and Campbell, and a long list of authors, artists,
+and philosophers, considerably under medium height? Were not Garrick and
+Kean and the elder Booth all under five feet four or five? Is there not a
+volume somewhere in our college library, written by a learned Frenchman,
+devoted exclusively to the biography of men who have been great in mind,
+though diminutive in stature? Is not Lord John Russell as small almost as
+I? Have I many inches to grow before I shall be as tall as Dr. Holmes?
+
+These consolatory considerations softened my chagrin at the contemplation
+of my height. "Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big
+assemblance of a man? Give me the spirit, Master Shallow,--the spirit!"
+
+And so my gymnastic ardor, after a brief blaze, flickered, fell, was
+ashes. But it was destined to be soon revived by an incident, trifling in
+itself, though of a character to assume exaggerated proportions in the
+mind of a sensitive boy. A youth, who had considerably the advantage of me
+both in inches and in years, and whose overflow of animal spirits required
+some object to vent itself upon, selected me as the victim of his
+ebullient vivacity. He began by tossing my book down stairs. This seemed
+to me rather rough play, especially from one with whom I was not, at the
+time, on terms of intimacy; but, making allowance for the hilarity of
+classmates just let loose from recitation, I picked up, without a thought
+of resentment, the abused volume, and took no further notice of the
+matter. I subsequently found that it was merely the commencement of a
+series of similar annoyances. This lively classmate would even play tricks
+on me at the dinner table.
+
+What was to be done? I mentioned the grievance to a friend, and he
+remonstrated with my lively classmate, threatening him with my serious
+displeasure. "Pooh! how can he help himself?" was the reply which came
+duly to my ears.
+
+Sure enough! How could I help myself? The aggressor was my superior in
+weight and size. It was a plain case that I should get badly and
+ridiculously whipped, if I attempted to cope with him in any pugilistic
+encounter. But how would it do to demand of him the satisfaction of a
+gentleman? True, I knew nothing of pistol-shooting, and had never handled
+a small-sword. No matter for that!
+
+But another consideration speedily drove this scheme of vengeance _à
+l'outrance_ out of my head. Not many years before, a peppery little
+Freshman had been insulted, as he thought, by a Sophomore. The Soph, I
+believe, had knocked the young one's hat over his eyes, as they were
+kicking foot-ball in the Delta. Freshman sent a challenge, the effect of
+which was to excite inextinguishable laughter among the Sophs convened
+over their cigars in the aggressor's room. Amid roars, one of the
+conspirators penned an acceptance, fixing as the weapon, hair
+triggers,--time, five o'clock in the morning,--place, the Delta,--second,
+the bearer, Mr. M----, the writer of this reply.
+
+It was a cruel business. A sham second was imposed on poor little Fresh.
+Brave as Julius Caesar, he sat up all night writing letters and preparing
+his will. Prompt to the moment, he was on the chosen ground. An unusually
+large delegation for such a delicate affair seemed to be present. One
+rascal who wore enormous green goggles was pointed out to the innocent as
+Dr. Von Guldenstubbe, a celebrated German surgeon, just from Leipsic.
+Little Fresh shook hands with him gravely, amid the smothered laughter of
+the conspirators. The distance was to be five paces; for it was whispered
+so as to reach the ear of Fresh, that Soph was thirsting for his heart's
+blood. They take their places,--the signal is given,--they fire,--and with
+a hideous groan and a wild pirouette, the Soph falls to the ground.
+
+The Freshman is led up near enough to see the fellow's face covered with
+blood, and to hear his cries to his friends to put him out of his misery.
+Intensely agitated, poor little Fresh is hurried by pretended friends into
+a carriage, and driven off; and it is not till a week afterwards that he
+learns he has been the victim of a hoax.
+
+No! it would never answer for me to run the risk of being _sold_ in any
+such way as this. I must select a surer and more practical vengeance. I
+thought the matter over intently, and finally resolved that I would put
+myself on a physical equality with my persecutor, and then meet him in a
+fair fight with such weapons as Nature had given us both. I accordingly
+said to the friend and classmate who had played the part of intercessor,
+"Wait two years, and I promise you I will either make my tormentor
+apologize or give him such a thrashing as he will remember for the rest of
+his life."
+
+Thus was my resolve renewed to accomplish myself as a gymnast, and, above
+all, to develop my physical strength. My previous attempts in the
+gymnasium had been spasmodic and irregular. Having now a definite object
+in view, I set about my work in earnest, and went through a daily
+systematic practice of a little more than an hour's duration.
+
+The gymnasium was kept by a Mr. Law, and, though ordinary in its
+accommodations, had a good arrangement of apparatus, of which I faithfully
+availed myself. The spring-board, horse, vaulting-apparatus, parallel
+bars, suspended rings, horizontal and inclined ladders, pulley-weights,
+pegs, climbing-rope, trapezoid, etc., were all put in frequent
+requisition. My time for exercise was generally in the evening, when I
+would find myself almost alone,--while the clicking of balls from the
+billiard-rooms and bowling-alleys down-stairs announced that a busy
+crowd--if amusement may be called a business--were there assembled.
+
+Naturally indolent, it was not without a severe struggle that I overcame a
+besetting propensity to confine myself to sedentary pursuits. The desire
+of retaliation soon became extinct. My pledge to my friend and
+sympathizer, that in two years I would cry _quittance_ to my foe, would
+occasionally act as a spur in the side of my intent; but my two best aids
+in supplying me with the motive power to keep up my gymnastic practice
+were _habit_ and _progress_. What will not habit make easy to us, whether
+it be for good or for evil? And what an incentive we have to renewed
+effort in finding that we are making actual progress,--that we can do with
+comparative facility to-day what we could do only with difficulty
+yesterday!
+
+Two years, while we are yet on the sunny side of twenty, are no trifle;
+but for two years I persistently and methodically went through the
+exercises of the gymnasium. At the end of that time I had quite lost sight
+of my original object in cultivating my athletic powers; for all
+annoyances towards me had long since been dropped by my old enemy. But
+punctually on the day of expiration, the friend who had listened to my
+pledge came to me and claimed its fulfilment. From some evidences which he
+had recently had of my strength he felt a soothing assurance that I should
+have no difficulty in making good my promise.
+
+I accordingly called on the lively young gentleman who two years before
+had indulged in those little frolics at my expense. With diplomatic
+ceremony and circumlocution I introduced the object of my visit, and wound
+up with an _ultimatum_ to this effect: There must either be a frank
+apology for past indignities, or he must accompany me, each with a friend,
+to some suitable spot, and there decide which was "the better man."
+
+If he had been called on to expiate an offence committed before he was
+breeched, the young gentleman could not have been more astounded. Two
+years had made some change in our relative positions. I was now about his
+equal in size, and felt a comfortable sense of my superiority, so far as
+strength was concerned. My shoulders had broadened, and my muscles been
+developed, so as to present to the critical and interested observer a
+somewhat threatening appearance. Mr. ---- (who, by the way, was a good
+fellow in the main) protested that he had never intended to give me any
+offence,--that he, in fact, did not remember the circumstances to which I
+referred,--and finished by peremptorily declining my proposal. When I
+reflected on the disparity between us in strength, which my two years'
+practice had established, I felt that it would be cowardly for me to urge
+the matter further, especially as it was so long a time since he had given
+me cause of complaint. I have only to add, that we parted without a
+collision, and that, in my heart, I could not help thanking him for the
+service he had rendered in inciting me to the regimen which had resulted
+so beneficially to my health.
+
+The impetus given to my gymnastic education by the little incident I have
+just related was continued without abatement through my whole college
+life. Gradually I acquired the reputation of being the strongest man in my
+class. I discovered that with every day's development of my strength there
+was an increase of my ability to resist and overcome all fleshly ailments,
+pains, and infirmities,--a discovery which subsequent experience has so
+amply confirmed, that, if I were called on to condense the proposition
+which sums it up into a formula, it would be in these words: _Strength is
+Health_.
+
+Until I had renovated my bodily system by a faithful gymnastic training, I
+had been subject to nervousness, headache, indigestion, rush of blood to
+the head, and a weak circulation. It was torture to me to have to listen
+to the grating of a slate-pencil, the filing of a saw, or the scratching
+of glass. As I grew in strength, my nerves ceased to be impressible to
+such annoyances. Another good effect was to take away all appetite for any
+stimulating food or drink. Although I had never applied "rebellious
+liquors" to my blood, I had been in the habit of taking a bowl of strong
+coffee morning and night. Now a craving for milk took the place of this
+want, and my coffee was gradually diminished to less than a fourth of what
+had been a customary indulgence.
+
+At last arrived the eagerly looked-for day of release from collegiate
+restrictions and labors. I graduated, and the question, so momentous in
+the history of all adolescents, "What shall I be?" addressed itself
+seriously to my mind. My father was desirous that I should choose medicine
+for a profession, and become the fourth physician, in lineal sequence, of
+my family on the paternal side.
+
+Medicine. I cavilled at it awhile, that I might bring out to view its
+grimmest and most discouraging aspect The cares, trials, humiliations of a
+young physician, his months and years of uncompensated drudgery, passed in
+awful review before me. I thought of his toils among the poor and lowly,
+the vicious and depraved,--of his broken sleep,--the interruptions of his
+social ease,--and then of the many scenes so repugnant to delicate nerves
+which he has to pass through,--scenes of pain and insanity, of maimed and
+severed limbs, and all the eccentricities and fearful forms of disease.
+These considerations pressed with such weight on my mind that for a time
+my ancestral craft was in danger of being ignominiously rejected by me.
+Indeed, I began to think seriously of adopting a very different vocation.
+And here I will make a confession, if the gentle reader will take it
+confidentially.
+
+It is a familiar fact, that every college-boy has to pass through an
+attack of the rhyming frenzy as regularly as the child has to submit to
+measles and the whooping-cough. A less frequent, but not less trying
+complaint, is that which manifests itself in a passion for the stage and
+in an espousal of the delusion that one was born for a great actor. At any
+rate, this last was the type which my juvenile _malaise-du-coeur_ finally
+assumed.
+
+I have heard of a young gentleman who, whenever he was hard up for money,
+went to his nearest relatives and threatened them with the publication of
+a volume of his original poems. This threat never failed to open the
+paternal purse. I do not know what effect the intimation of my histrionic
+aspirations would have had; but one fine day I found myself on my way to
+Rochester, in the State of New York.
+
+My _rôle_ of dramatic characters was a very modest one for a beginner. It
+embraced only Richelieu, Bertram, Brutus, Lear, Richard, Shylock, Sir
+Giles Overreach, Hamlet, Othello, and Macbeth. My principal literary
+recreation for several years had been in studying these parts; and as I
+knew them by heart, I did not doubt that a few rehearsals would put me in
+possession of the requisite stage-business. And yet my familiarity with
+the theatre was very limited. I had never been behind the scenes. Once,
+with a classmate, I had penetrated in the daytime to the stage of the old
+Federal-Street Theatre, and looked with awe on the boards formerly trodden
+by the elder Kean; but a growl from that august functionary, the prompter,
+sent us back in quick retreat, and I had never ventured again into those
+sacred precincts.
+
+Arrived at Rochester,--which place I had selected for my _début_ because
+of its remoteness from home,--I looked in, the evening of my arrival, to
+see the performances at the theatre. It was a hall of humble dimensions,
+seating an audience of five or six hundred. The piece was a travesty of
+"Hamlet," neither edifying nor amusing. A little of the _couleur-de-rose_
+which had flushed my prospect faded that night; but the few friends at
+home to whom I had confided my plans had so pertinaciously assured me that
+I--the most diffident man in the world--could never appear before an
+audience without letting them see I was shaky in the knees, that I
+resolved to do what I could to show my depreciators they were false
+prophets.
+
+And so I called on the manager,--with a beating heart, as you may suppose.
+He was a small, quiet, gentlemanly person, whom I regret I cannot,
+consistently with historical truth, show up as a Crummles. But not even
+Dickens could have found any salient trait for ridicule in the man.
+Frankly and kindly he went into the statistics of the theatrical business,
+and showed me, that, unless I was rich, and could afford to play for my
+own amusement, the stage held out few inducements; it was barren of
+promise to a young man anxious to make himself independent of the world.
+
+I did not reply, "Perish the lucre!" but said that I would be content, in
+the early part of my career, to labor for reputation. He soon satisfied me
+that he could not give up his stage to an experimentalist, and I did not
+urge my suit; but bade Mr. S. good morning, and, a day or two afterwards,
+started for Niagara. Here, wet by the mist and listening to the roar of
+the great cataract, I speedily forgot my chagrin, and took a not
+unfriendly leave of the illusions which had lured me on to try my fortune
+on the stage. Even now they return occasionally with all their
+fascination.
+
+While at Rochester, as I was passing through the principal street, I met a
+crowd assembled about a lifting-machine. On making trial of it, I found I
+could lift four hundred and twenty pounds. I had then been for four years
+a gymnast, and I supposed my practice would have qualified me to make the
+crowd stare at my achievement. But the result was far from triumphant. I
+found what many other gymnasts will find, that _main strength_, by which I
+mean the strength of the truckman and the porter, cannot be acquired in
+the ordinary exercises of the gymnasium.
+
+Returning home, I began the study of anatomy and physiology, and in the
+autumn of 1854 entered the Harvard Medical School. The question of the
+extent to which human strength can be developed had long been invested
+with a scientific interest to my mind. One of the greatest lifting feats
+on authentic record is that of Thomas Topham, an Englishman, who in Bath
+Street, Cold Bath Fields, London, on the 28th of May, 1741, lifted three
+hogsheads of water, said to weigh, with the connections, _eighteen hundred
+and thirty-six pounds_. In the performance of this feat, Topham stood on a
+raised platform, his hands grasping a fixture on either side, and a broad
+strap over his shoulders communicating with the weight. An immense
+concourse of persons was assembled on the occasion,--the performance
+having been announced as "in honor of Admiral Vernon," or rather, "in
+commemoration of his taking Porto Bello with six ships only." Being a
+descendant myself from the Vernon family of Haddon Hall, Derbyshire,
+England, I have reserved it for future genealogical inquiry to learn
+whether the Admiral was connected with that branch of the Vernons. If so,
+a somewhat remarkable coincidence is involved.
+
+I now informed my father that I intended to go through a series of
+experiments in lifting. He was afraid I should injure myself, and
+expressly forbade any such practice on his premises. To gratify him, I
+gave up testing the question for a whole year.
+
+But the desire re-awoke, and I had frequent arguments with my father in
+the endeavor to overcome his objections.
+
+"Look at that man," he said to me one day,--pointing to a large, stout
+individual in front of us,--"you might practise lifting all your life, and
+never be able to lift as much as that big fellow."
+
+"Let me construct a lifting-apparatus in the back-yard, and I will soon
+prove to you that you are mistaken," I replied.
+
+Finding that I was bent on the experiment, he at length gave a reluctant
+consent.
+
+It was now the August of 1855, and I was in my twenty-second year. My
+first lifting-apparatus was constructed in the following manner. I first
+sank into the ground a hogshead, and into the hogshead a flour-barrel.
+Then I lowered to the bottom of the barrel a rope having at the end a
+round stick transversely balanced, about four inches in diameter and
+fifteen inches long. A quantity of gravel, nearly sufficient to bury the
+stick, was then thrown into the barrel; some oblong stones were placed
+across the stick and across and between one another, and the interstices
+filled with smaller stones and gravel. When I had by this method about
+two-thirds filled the barrel, taking care to keep the axis of the rope in
+correspondence with the long axis of the barrel, I judged I had a
+sufficient weight for a first trial. I now formed a loop in the end of the
+rope over the top of the barrel, and put through it a piece of a
+hoe-handle, about two feet long; and standing astride of the hogshead, and
+holding the handle with one hand before me and the other
+behind,--straightening my body, previously a little flexed,--with mouth
+closed, head up, chest out, and shoulders down,--I succeeded in lifting
+the barrel, containing a weight of between four and five hundred pounds,
+some five or six inches from the bottom of the hogshead.
+
+It was no great feat, after all, considering that I had been for five
+years a gymnast. I found that I was inharmoniously developed in many
+points of my frame,--was perilously weak in the sides, between the
+shoulders, and at the back of the head. However, the day after this trial,
+I succeeded in lifting the same weight with somewhat less difficulty. This
+induced me to add on a few pounds; and in three or four weeks I could lift
+between six and seven hundred. I now had the satisfaction of seeing the
+stout gentleman, whom a few months before my father had pointed out as
+possessed of a strength I could never attain to, introduced to an
+inspection of my apparatus. Through the blinds of a back-parlor window I
+watched his movements, as, encouraged by _pater-familias_, he drew off his
+coat, moistened his hands, and undertook to "snake up" the big weight. An
+ignominious failure to start the barrel was the result. The stout
+gentleman tugged till he was so red in the face that apoplexy seemed
+imminent, and then he dejectedly gave it up. The reputation he had long
+enjoyed of being one of the "strongest men about" must henceforth be a
+thing of the past till it fades into a myth.
+
+In the December of 1855 I was admitted to the arcana of the
+dissecting-room, and forthwith commenced some experiments with  the view
+of testing the sustaining power of human bones. Some one had told me,
+that, in lifting a heavy weight, there was danger of fracturing the neck
+of the thigh-bone; but my experiments satisfied me, that, if properly
+positioned, it would safely bear a strain of two or three thousand pounds.
+And so I concluded that I might securely continue my practice of lifting
+till I reached the last-named limit.
+
+In order to get all possible hints from the inspiration and experience of
+the past, I studied some of the ancient statues. The specimens of Grecian
+statuary at the Boston Athenæum were objects of my frequent
+contemplation,--especially the Farnesian Hercules. From this I derived a
+proper conception of the bodily outline compatible with the exercise of
+the greatest amount of strength. I was particularly struck by the absence
+of all exaggeration in the muscular developments as represented. I saw by
+this statue that a Hercules must be free from superfluous flesh, neatly
+made, and finely organized,--that form and quality were of more account
+than quantity in his formation. Some years earlier I might have been more
+attracted by the Apollo Belvedere; but it was a Hercules I dreamed of
+becoming, and the Apollo was but the incipient and potential Hercules. Two
+other statues that shared my admiration and study were the Quoit-Thrower
+and the Dying Gladiator. From the careful inspection of all these relics
+of ancient Art I obtained some valuable hints as to my own physical
+deficiencies. I learned that the upper region of my chest needed
+developing, and that in other points I had not yet reached the artist's
+ideal of a strong man.
+
+Good casts of these and other masterpieces in statuary may be had at a
+trifling cost. Why are they not generally introduced into the gymnasia
+attached to our colleges and schools? The habitual contemplation of such
+works could not fail to have a good effect upon the physical bearing and
+development of the young. We are the creatures of imitation. I remember,
+at the school I attended in my seventh year, the strongest boy among my
+mates was quite round-shouldered. Fancying that he derived his strength
+from his stoop, I began to imitate him; and it was not till I learned that
+he was strong in spite of his round shoulders, and not because of them,
+that I gave up aping his peculiarity.
+
+On the 29th of January, 1856, I lifted seven hundred pounds in Bailey's
+Gymnasium, Franklin Street, Boston. The exhibition created great surprise
+among the lookers-on; and at that time it was, perhaps, an extraordinary
+feat; but since the extension and growth of the lifting mania, it would
+not be regarded by the knowing ones as anything to marvel at. The fourth
+of April following, my lifting capacity had reached eight hundred and
+forty pounds.
+
+On Fast-Day of that year, two Irishmen knocked at my door and asked to see
+the strong man. I presented myself, and they told me there was great
+curiosity among the "ould counthrymen" in the vicinity to ascertain if one
+Pat Farren, the strongest Irishman in Roxbury, could lift my weight.
+"Would it be convanient for me to let him thry?" "Certainly,--and I think
+he'll lift it," I modestly added.
+
+Soon afterwards a delegation of Irishmen, rather startling from its
+numbers, entered the yard. Among them was Mr. Farren. They surrounded my
+lifting-apparatus, while I, unseen, surveyed them from a back window. I
+saw Mr. Farren take the handle, straddle the hogshead, throw himself into
+a lifting posture, and, straining every muscle to its utmost tension, give
+a tremendous pull. But the weight made no sign; and his friends, thinking
+he was merely feeling it, said, "Wait a bit,--Pat'll have it up the next
+pull." Mr. Farren rested a moment,--then threw off his coat, rubbed his
+hands, and, seizing the handle a second time, tugged away at it till his
+muscles swelled and his frame quivered. But he failed in starting the
+barrel, and a burst of laughter from his friends and backers announced his
+defeat.
+
+It is now but justice to Mr. Farren to say that it could hardly be
+expected of him to lift such a weight at either the first trial or the
+second. A want of confidence, or the maladjustment of the rope, might have
+interfered with the full exercise of his strength. I need not say that his
+discomfiture was witnessed by me from my hiding-place with the liveliest
+satisfaction; for I had begun to pride myself on being able to outlift any
+man in the country.
+
+In May, 1856, I received the appointment of medical assistant to Dr.
+Walker, at the Lunatic Hospital, South Boston, and gave up for a couple of
+months my practice of lifting. The consequence was a rapid diminution of
+strength, which suggested to me a return to the lifting exercise. Near the
+hospital was a large unoccupied building, formerly the House of Industry.
+In the cellar of this building I put a barrel, and loaded it with rocks
+and gravel as I had done in Roxbury. Immediately overhead, on the first
+floor, I cut a hole, about six inches square, and passed up a rope
+attached to the barrel. This rope I looped at the end, for the reception
+of a handle. On the floor I nailed two cleats between three and four feet
+apart, as guards to keep my feet from slipping. Beginning with about six
+hundred pounds, I added a few pounds daily, till I was able, in November,
+1856, to lift with my hands alone nine hundred pounds.
+
+Returning home the ensuing winter, I attended a second course of medical
+lectures, and, in the routine of labors incident to a medical student's
+life, omitted to develop further my powers as a lifter. In the summer of
+1857 I became a practitioner of medicine. In the autumn of that year, a
+gentleman, who had been looking at my lifting-apparatus, remarked to me,
+"If you are as strong as they tell me, what is to prevent your seizing
+hold of me, (I weigh only a hundred and eighty pounds) holding me at
+arm's-length over your head, and pitching me over that fence?" To this I
+replied, that, if he would give me six weeks for practice, I would satisfy
+him the thing could be done. He agreed to be on hand at the end of the
+time named.
+
+In order to be sure of the muscles that would be brought into play by the
+feat, I procured an oblong box with a handle on either side running the
+whole length. Into the box I threw a number of brick-bats,--then raised
+the box at arm's-length above my head, and threw it over my vaulting-pole,
+which was at an elevation of six and a half feet from the ground.
+Subsequently I added more brick-bats, till gradually their weight amounted
+to precisely one hundred and eighty pounds. Having practised till I could
+easily handle and throw the box thus charged, I informed my challenger
+that I was ready for him. He came, when, seizing him by the middle, I
+lifted him struggling above my head, and threw him over the fence before
+he was hardly aware of my intent. As he was somewhat corpulent and puffy,
+and the act involved an abdominal pressure which was by no means
+agreeable, he expressed himself perfectly satisfied with the experiment,
+but objected very decidedly to its repetition.
+
+In June, 1858, I commenced practising with two fifty-pound dumb-bells, and
+subsequently added one of a hundred pounds, which I was prompted to get
+from hearing that one of that weight was used by Mr. James Montgomery, at
+that time a celebrated gymnast of New York City, and afterwards a
+successful teacher at the Albany Gymnasium. Not having given much
+attention to the development of the extensor muscles of the arms for
+several months previous, it was a number of weeks before I could put this
+dumb-bell up at arm's-length above my head with one hand. As soon as I
+succeeded in doing this with comparative ease, I procured another
+hundred-pound dumb-bell, and in a few months succeeded in exercising with
+both of the instruments at the same time, raising each alternately above
+my head. I then commenced practice with a dumb-bell weighing one hundred
+and forty-one pounds. It consisted of two shells connected by a handle,
+which, being removable, allowed me to introduce shot, from time to time,
+into the cavities of the shells. After a few months of practice, I could,
+with a jerk, raise the instrument from my shoulder to arm's-length above
+my head. My first public exhibition of this feat took place in
+Philadelphia, in April, 1860.
+
+The spring of 1859 was now drawing nigh, and I began to think of giving a
+public lecture on Physical Culture, illustrating it with some exhibitions
+of the strength to which I had attained. My father approved the venture,
+but, bethinking himself of my extreme diffidence, significantly asked,
+_when_ I would be ready to permit a public announcement of my intention.
+"Oh, in a few days," I replied, as if it were as small a matter for me to
+lecture in public as to lift a thousand pounds in a gymnasium. Weeks flew
+by, and still to the galling inquiry, "_When?_" I could only answer,
+"Soon, but not just yet." February and March had come and gone, and still
+I was not ready. Finally, to the oft-renewed interrogatory, I made this
+reply: "As soon as I can shoulder a barrel of flour, a feat which I am
+determined to accomplish before an audience, you may announce my lecture."
+
+I had then been practising some two months with a loaded barrel, so
+contrived that it should weigh a little more each succeeding day; and it
+had now reached a hundred and ninety pounds. About this time it occurred
+to me, that, among my many experiments, I had never fairly tried that of a
+vegetable diet. I read anew the works of Graham and Alcott; and conceiving
+that my strength had reached a stagnation-point, I gave up meat, and
+restricted my animal diet to milk.
+
+A barrel of flour weighs on an average two hundred and sixteen pounds. I
+therefore could not succeed in shouldering one until twenty-six pounds had
+been added to my loaded barrel. Day after day I shouldered my one hundred
+and ninety pounds, but could not get an ounce beyond that limit. My grand
+theory of the possible development of a man's strength began to look
+somewhat insecure.
+
+  "So fares the system-building sage,
+  Who, plodding on from youth to age,
+  Has proved all other reasoners fools,
+  And bound all Nature by his rules,--
+  So fares he in that dreadful hour
+  When injured Truth exerts her power
+  Some new phenomenon to raise,
+  Which, bursting on his frighted gaze,
+  From its proud summit to the ground,
+  Proves the whole edifice unsound."
+                    JAMES BEATTIE
+
+The shouldering of a barrel of flour is a feat, by the way, which many an
+old inhabitant will tell you that he, or some friend of his, could
+accomplish in his eighteenth year. Why it should always be among the _res
+gestæ temporis acti_ cannot be readily explained. It is a common belief
+that any stout truckman can do the thing; but I have been assured by one
+of the leading truckmen of Boston, that there are not, probably, three
+individuals in the city who are equal to the accomplishment.
+
+The mode of life that I had hitherto found essential to the keeping up of
+my strength was quite simple, and rather negative than positive. From
+tobacco and all ardent spirits, including wine, I had to abstain as a
+matter of course. Beer and all fermented liquors had also been ruled out.
+Impure air must be avoided like poison. Summer and winter I slept with my
+windows open. Badly ventilated apartments were scrupulously shunned. Cold
+bathing of the entire person was rarely practised oftener than once a week
+in cold weather or twice a week in warm weather. A more frequent ablution
+seemed to over-stimulate the excretory functions of the skin, so that
+excessive bathing defeated its very object. The "tranquil mind" must be
+preserved with little or no interruption. Great physical strength cannot
+coexist with an unhappy, discontented temper. You must be habitually
+cheerful, if you would be strong. With regard to diet,--that was the very
+experiment I was trying,--the experiment, namely, of going without solid
+animal food. With me it did not succeed. So far from gaining in strength,
+hardly did I hold my own. Suddenly I resolved to give up my vegetable
+diet, and return to beef-steaks, mutton-chops, and loins of veal. A daily
+appreciable increase of strength was soon the consequence. Within ten days
+I succeeded in shouldering the loaded barrel weighing two hundred and
+sixteen pounds; and a day or two after I shouldered, in the presence of
+our grocer himself, a barrel of flour.
+
+I had now no further excuse for deferring my promised lecture. The month
+of May had arrived. My father delicately broached the subject of the
+announcement. Being a little fractious, perhaps from some ebb in my
+strength, I hastily replied,--
+
+"Announce it for the 30th of May."
+
+"What hall shall I engage?"
+
+"Any hall in Boston. Why not the Music Hall?" I added, affecting a valor I
+was far from feeling; but, like Macbeth, I now realized that "returning
+were as tedious as go o'er."
+
+Mercantile Hall, in Summer Street, was engaged for me,--it being central,
+modest in point of size, commodious, and favorably known. At this time I
+was in excellent health and weighed one hundred and forty-three pounds.
+But from the moment of the public announcement of my lecture, my appetite
+for food, for meat particularly, began to fail me. "How peevish and
+irritable he is growing!" I heard one member of the family remark to
+another. Soon the grocer's scales indicated that my weight was
+diminishing. It fell to one hundred and forty-one,--then to one hundred
+and forty,--then to one hundred and thirty-eight,--and finally, when the
+30th of May arrived, I found I weighed only one hundred and thirty-four
+pounds!
+
+The crisis was now at hand. Do not laugh at me, ye self-assured ones, with
+your comfortable sense of your own powers,--ye who care as little for an
+audience as for a field of cabbages,--do not jeer at one who has felt the
+pangs of shyness and quailed under the imaginary terrors of a first public
+appearance. For you it may be a small matter to face an audience,--that
+nearest approximation to the many-headed monster which we can palpably
+encounter; but for one whose diffidence had become the standard of that
+quality to his acquaintances the venture was perilous and desperate, as
+the sequel showed.
+
+Never had time rolled by with such fearful velocity as on that eventful
+day. Breakfast was hardly over before preparations were being made for
+dinner. Small appetite had I for either. Before I had finished pacing the
+parlor there was a summons to tea. It was like the summons to the
+criminal: "Rise up, Master Barnardine, and be hanged." With a most shallow
+affectation of _nonchalance_ I sat down at the table. A child might have
+detected my agitation; and yet, with horrible insincerity, I alluded to
+the news of the day, and asked the family why they were all so silent.
+They saw from my look that they might as well have joked with a man on his
+way to execution.
+
+Having dressed and adorned myself for the sacrifice, I returned to the
+parlor, when the rumbling of coach-wheels, the sudden letting down of
+steps, and then a frightfully discordant ring of the doorbell, sent the
+blood from my cheeks and made my heart palpitate like a trip-hammer. "Is
+th-th-that the off-officer,--I mean the coachman?" I stammered. Yes, there
+was no doubt about it.
+
+Straightening my person, I affected a dignified calmness, and assured my
+dear, anxious mother that I was not in the least nervous,--oh, not in the
+least!
+
+It was a gloomy night, and the streets wore a dismal aspect. The hall was
+distant about three miles; but in some mysterious manner, or by some route
+which I have never been able to discover, the coachman seemed to abridge
+the distance to less than half a mile. We are in Summer Street,--before
+the door. Some juvenile amateurs, attracted by stories of the strong man,
+surround the carriage to get a sight of him.
+
+"Ha! what are these? Sure, hangmen, That come to bind my hands, and then
+to drag me Before the judgment-seat: now they are new shapes, And do
+appear like Furies!"
+
+The words of Sir Giles Overreach, one of the parts I had studied during my
+histrionic _accès_, were not at all inappropriate to the state of mind in
+which, with knee-joints slipping from under me, I now made my way
+up-stairs. Having reached the upper entry, I paused, and glanced at the
+audience through the windows, before entering the little retiring-room
+behind the stage. With an inward groan at my presumption, I passed on. To
+think, that, but for my own madness, I might have been at that moment
+comfortably at home, reading the evening paper! Nay, were it not better to
+be tossing on stormy seas, driving on a lee-shore, toiling as a slave
+under a tropic sun, than here, with a gaping audience waiting to devour me
+with their eyes and ears?
+
+The first thing I did, on reaching the retiring-room, was to give way to a
+fearful fascination and take another peep at the audience from behind a
+curtain at the side-entrance. I then looked at my watch. Twenty minutes to
+eight! People were pouring in, notwithstanding the inclement weather. The
+hall was nearly crowded already. One familiar face after another was
+recognized. Surely everybody I know is present.
+
+Another look at my watch. Quarter to eight! Suddenly the frantic thought
+occurred to me, What if I have lost my manuscript? Where did I put it?
+'Tis in none of my pockets! Good gracious! Has any one seen my manuscript?
+Come, Jerome, no fooling at a time like this! Where have you hidden it?
+What! You know nothing about it? _Hunt_ for it, then! Wouldn't it be a
+charming scrape, if I couldn't find my lecture? Isn't this it, in the
+drawer? Oh, yes! I must have put it there unconsciously.
+
+Being in a high state of perspiration, and wiping my forehead incessantly,
+I disarrange my hair. Where's that brush? No one can tell. Agony! Where's
+the brush? Here on the floor. Oh, yes! There! What a blaze my cheeks are
+in! The audience will think they are flushed with Bourbon. No matter. That
+manuscript has disappeared again. Confusion! Where is it? Here in your
+overcoat-pocket. All right.
+
+Five minutes to eight. Grasping the scroll, I rush to the side-entrance.
+The audience begin to manifest their impatience by applause. Suddenly I
+hear the bell of the Old South Church strike eight. The last vibration
+passes like an ice-bolt through my heart. Wrought up to desperation, I
+thrust aside the curtain. This gives a portion of the audience a sight of
+me, and I hear some one exclaim, "There he is!" Horrible exposure! I dodge
+back out of view, as if to escape the discharge of a battery. A round of
+impatient applause rouses me. I count three, and precipitate myself
+forward to the centre of the stage.
+
+The hall is filled,--all the seats and most of the standing-places
+occupied. But I can no longer recognize any one. Friend and foe are
+confounded in an undistinguishable mass; or, rather, they are but parts
+and members of one hideous monster, moving itself by one volition, winking
+its thousand eyes all at once, and ready to swallow me with a single
+deglutition. However, the plunge is made. The worst is over. I rallied
+from the shock, and in a clear, but unnecessarily loud and ponderous
+voice, pitched many degrees too high, I commenced my lecture.
+
+For some ten minutes, if I may believe the tender reports in the
+newspapers the next day, I got on very respectably. I had won the
+attention of the audience. But, at an unlucky moment, a fresh arrival of
+persons at the door made the monster turn his thousand eyes in that
+direction. I mistook it for an indication that he was getting weary of my
+talk. My attention was distracted. Then came a suspension of all thought,
+an appalling paralysis of memory. Having learnt the first part of my
+discourse by heart, I had been reciting it without turning over the leaves
+of the manuscript; and now I was unable to recollect at what point I had
+left off, or whether I had given five pages or ten.
+
+Frightful dilemma! Stupefied with horror, I gazed intently on the page
+before me till the lines became all blurred, and a blue mist wavered
+before my eyes. Then came a pause of intensest silence. The monster lying
+in wait for me evidently began to anticipate that his victim's time was
+come, and so, like a crafty monster, he remained still and patient. Who
+could endure a nightmare like this? I felt myself reeling to and fro. Then
+a pleasant thrill, like that, perhaps, which drowning men feel, ran
+through my frame. All became dark,--and the strong man dropped, like a
+felled ox, senseless on the stage.
+
+When consciousness returned I was lying flat on my back, and several
+persons were bending over me.
+
+"Keep down,--don't rise," some one said.
+
+"What has happened?" I asked.
+
+"Nothing,--only you were a little faint."
+
+"Faint? A man who can lift a thousand pounds faint--at the sight of an
+audience? Absurd! Let me rise."
+
+And in spite of all opposition I rose, grasped my manuscript, walked to
+the front of the stage, and resumed my lecture. Alas!
+
+  "Reaching above our nature does no good;
+  We must sink back into our own flesh and blood."
+
+I had not proceeded far before I felt symptoms of a repetition of the
+calamity; and lest I should be overtaken before I could retreat, I
+stammered a few words of apology, and withdrew ingloriously from public
+view. Fresh air and a draught of water, which some obliging friend had
+dashed with _eau-de-vie_, soon restored me. But I took the advice of
+friends and did not make a third attempt that evening.
+
+The audience, had it been wholly composed of brothers and sisters, could
+not have been more indulgent and considerate. One skeptical gentleman was
+heard to say,--
+
+"I don't believe he can lift nine hundred pounds."
+
+And another added,--
+
+"Nor I,--any more than that he can shoulder a barrel of flour."
+
+"Or raise his body by the little finger of one hand," said another.
+
+Whereupon a venerable citizen, a gentleman long known and respected as the
+very soul of honor, truthfulness, and uprightness, came forward on the
+stage before the audience, and with emphatic earnestness, and in a loud,
+intrepid tone of voice, exclaimed,--
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen,--The heat of the room was too much for the
+lecturer; but he can easily do all the feats announced in the bills. _I've
+seen him do them twenty times_."
+
+The dear, but infatuated old gentleman! He had never seen me do anything
+of the kind. He hardly knew me by sight. He thought only of coming to the
+rescue of an unfortunate lecturer, prostrated on the very threshold of his
+career; and a friendly hallucination made him for the moment really
+believe what he said. His unpremeditated assertion must have been set down
+by the recording angel on the same page with Uncle Toby's oath, and then
+obliterated in the same manner.
+
+Ten days after the above-mentioned catastrophe, having engaged the largest
+hall in Boston, (the Music Hall,) I delivered my lecture--in the words of
+the newspapers--"with _éclat_." The illustrations of strength which I
+exhibited on the occasion, though far inferior to subsequent efforts, were
+looked on as most extraordinary. The weight I lifted before the audience,
+with my hands alone, was nine hundred and twenty-nine pounds. This was
+testified to by the City Sealer of Weights and Measures, Mr. Moulton. My
+success induced me to repeat my lecture in other places. Invitations and
+liberal offers poured in upon me from all directions; and during the
+ensuing seasons, I lectured in Baltimore, Philadelphia, Cincinnati,
+Albany, and many of the principal cities throughout the Northern States
+and the Canadas.
+
+To return to my lifting experiments. I had promised my father to "stop at
+a thousand pounds." In the autumn of 1859 I had reached ten hundred and
+thirty-two pounds. An incident now occurred that induced me to reconsider
+my promise and get absolution from it. One day, while engaged in lifting,
+I had a visit from two powerful-looking men who asked permission to try my
+weight. One of them was five feet ten inches in height, and a hundred and
+ninety-two pounds in weight. The other was fully six feet in his
+stockings, and two hundred and twelve pounds in weight,--a fearful
+superiority in the eyes of a man, under five feet seven and weighing less
+than a hundred and fifty pounds. The smaller of these men failed to lift
+eight of my iron disks, which, with the connections, amounted to eight
+hundred and twenty-seven pounds. The larger individual fairly lifted them
+at the second or third trial, but declined to attempt an increase. They
+left me, and I soon, afterward heard that they were practising with a view
+of "outlifting Dr. Windship."
+
+My father had incautiously remarked to me, "Those huge fellows, with a
+little practice, can lift your weight and you on top of it. You can't
+expect to compete with giants." This decided me to test the question
+whether five feet seven must necessarily yield to mere bulk in the
+attainment of the maximum of human strength. I had the start of my
+competitors by some two hundred pounds, and I determined to preserve that
+distance between us. In the autumn of that year I advanced to lifting with
+the hands eleven hundred and thirty-three pounds, and in the spring of
+1860 to twelve hundred and eight. I have had no evidence that my
+competitors ever got beyond a thousand pounds; though I doubt not, if they
+had had my leisure for practice, they might have surpassed me.
+
+In July, 1860, I commenced lifting by means of a padded rope over my
+shoulders,--my body, during the act of lifting, being steadied and partly
+supported by my hands grasping a stout frame at each side. After a few
+unsuccessful preliminary trials, I quickly advanced to fourteen hundred
+pounds. The stretching of the rope now proved so great an annoyance, that
+I substituted for it a stout leather band of double thickness, about two
+inches and a half wide, and which had been subjected to a process which
+was calculated to render it proof against stretching more than half an
+inch under any weight it was capable of sustaining. But on trial, I found,
+almost to my despair, that it was of a far more yielding nature than the
+rope, and consequently the rope was again brought into requisition. A few
+weeks of unsatisfactory practice followed, when it occurred to me that an
+iron chain, inasmuch as it could not stretch, might be advantageously
+used, provided it could be so padded as not to chafe my shoulders. After
+many experiments I succeeded in this substitution; but the chain had yet
+one objection in common with the rope and the strap, arising from the
+difficulty of getting it properly adjusted. I contented myself with its
+use, however, until the spring of 1861, when I hit upon a contrivance
+which has proved a complete success. It consists of a wooden yoke fitting
+across my shoulders, and having two chains connected with it in such a
+manner as to enable me to lift on every occasion to the most advantage.
+With this contrivance my lifting-power has advanced with mathematical
+certainty, slowly, but surely, to _two thousand and seven pounds_, up to
+this twenty-third day of November, 1861.
+
+In my public experiments in lifting, when I have not used the iron weights
+cast for the purpose, I have, as a convenient substitute, used kegs of
+nails. It recently occurred to me, that, if, instead of these kegs, I
+could employ a number of men selected from the audience, the spectacle
+would he still more satisfactory to the skeptical. Accordingly I contrived
+an apparatus by means of which I have been able to present this convincing
+proof of the actual weight lifted. I introduced it after my lecture at the
+Town-Hall in Brighton, Massachusetts, on the 9th of October, 1861; and the
+following account of the result appeared in one of the city papers:--
+
+"Standing upon a staging at an elevation of about eight or ten feet from
+the floor, the Doctor lifted and sustained, for a considerable time and
+without apparent difficulty, a platform suspended beneath him on which
+stood twelve gentlemen, all heavier individually than the Doctor himself,
+and weighing, inclusive of the entire apparatus lifted with them, _nearly
+nineteen hundred pounds avoirdupois_. In the performance of this
+tremendous feat, Dr. W. employed neither straps, bands, nor
+girdle,--nothing in short but a stout oaken stick fitting across his
+shoulders, and having attached to it a couple of rather formidable-looking
+chains. At his request, a committee, appointed by the audience, and
+furnished with one of Fairbanks's scales, superintended all the
+experiments."
+
+The exact weight lifted on this occasion was eighteen hundred and
+thirty-six pounds. A few evenings after, I lifted, in the same way, in
+Lynn, eighteen hundred and sixty; in Brookline, eighteen hundred and
+ninety; in Medford, nineteen hundred and thirty-four; in Maiden, nineteen
+hundred and two; and in Charlestown, nineteen hundred and forty.
+
+As my strength is still increasing in an undiminished ratio, I am fairly
+beginning to wonder where the limit will be; and the old adage of the
+camel's back and the last feather occasionally suggests itself. I have
+fixed three thousand pounds as my _ne plus ultra_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+FREMONT'S HUNDRED DAYS IN MISSOURI.
+
+
+I.
+
+The narrative we propose to give of events in Missouri is not intended to
+be a defence of General Fremont, nor in any respect an answer to the
+charges which have been made against him. Our purpose is the more humble
+one of presenting a hasty sketch of the expedition to Springfield,
+confining ourselves almost entirely to the incidents which came under the
+observation of an officer of the General's staff.
+
+General Fremont was in command of the Western Department precisely One
+Hundred Days. He assumed the command at the time when the army with which
+Lyon had captured Camp Jackson and won the Battle of Booneville was on the
+point of dissolution. The enemy, knowing that the term for which our
+soldiers had been enlisted was near its close, began offensive movements
+along their whole line. Cairo, Bird's Point, Ironton, and Springfield were
+simultaneously threatened. Jeff Thompson wrote to his friends in St.
+Louis, promising to be in that city in a month. The sad, but glorious day
+upon Wilson's Creek defeated the Rebel designs, and compelled McCulloch,
+Pillow, Hardee, and Thompson to retire.
+
+Relieved from immediate danger, General Fremont found an opportunity to
+organize the expedition down the Mississippi. Won by the magic of his name
+and the ceaseless energy of his action, the hardy youth of the Northwest,
+flocked into St. Louis, eager to share his labors and his glory. There was
+little time for organization and discipline. They were armed with such
+weapons as could be procured against the competition of the General
+Government, and at once forwarded to the exposed points. History can
+furnish few parallels to the hasty levy and organization of the Army of
+the West. When suddenly required to defend Washington, the Government was
+able to summon the equipped and disciplined militia of the East, and could
+call upon the inexhaustible resources of a wealthy and skilful people. But
+in the West there was neither a disciplined militia nor trained mechanics.
+Men, indeed, brave, earnest, patriotic men, were plenty,--men who
+appreciated the magnitude and importance of the task before them, and who
+were confident of their ability to accomplish it. But to introduce order
+into their tumultuous ranks, to place arms in their eager hands, to clothe
+and feed them, to provide them with transportation and equipage for the
+march, and inspire them with confidence for the siege and the
+battle,--this labor the General, almost unaided, was called upon to
+perform. Like all the rest of our generals, he was without experience in
+military affairs of such magnitude and urgency, and he was compelled to
+rely chiefly upon the assistance of men entirely without military training
+and knowledge. The general staff and the division and brigade staffs were,
+from the necessity of the case, made up mainly of civilians. A small
+number of foreign officers brought to his aid their learning and
+experience, and a still smaller number of West-Point officers gave him
+their invaluable assistance. In spite of all difficulties the work
+proceeded. In six weeks the strategic positions were placed in a state of
+defence, and an army of sixty thousand men, with a greater than common
+proportion of cavalry and artillery, stood ready to clear Missouri of the
+invader and to open the valley of the Mississippi. At this time the sudden
+appearance of Price in the West, and the fall of Lexington, compelled the
+General to take the field.
+
+We will now confine ourselves to the narrative of the incidents of the
+march to Springfield, as it is given in the journal which has been placed
+in our hands.
+
+
+FROM ST. LOUIS TO WARSAW.
+
+_St. Louis, September 27th, 1861._ For four days the head-quarters have
+been ready to take the field at an hour's notice. The baggage has been
+packed, the wagons loaded, horses have stood saddled all through the day,
+and the officers have been sitting at their desks, booted and spurred,
+awaiting the order for their departure. It is not unlikely that the
+suspense in which they are held and the constant condition of readiness
+which is required of them are a sort of preliminary discipline to which
+the General is subjecting them. Yesterday the body-guard left by the
+river, and the staff-horses went upon the same steamer, so that we cannot
+be detained much longer.
+
+_Jefferson City, September 28th._ Yesterday, at eleven o'clock, we were
+informed that the General would leave for Jefferson City at noon; and that
+those members of the staff who were not ready would be left behind, and
+their places filled in the field. At the appointed hour we were all
+gathered at the depot. The General drove down entirely unattended. Most of
+the train was occupied by a battalion of sharp-shooters, but in the rear
+car the General and his staff found seats. The day was cloudy and damp;
+there was no one to say farewell; and as the train passed through the cold
+hills, a feeling of gloom seemed to pervade the company. Nature was in
+harmony with the clouded fortunes of our General, and the laboring
+locomotive dragged us at a snail's pace, as if it were unwilling to assist
+us in our adventure.
+
+Those who were strangers in the West looked out eagerly for the Missouri,
+hoping to find the valley of the river rich in scenery which would relieve
+the tedium of the journey. But when we came out upon the river-bank and
+looked at the dull shores, and the sandy bed, which the scant stream does
+not cover, but through which it creeps, treacherous and slimy, in half a
+dozen channels, there was no pleasure to the eye, no relief for the
+spirit. Late in the afternoon we approached a little village, and were
+greeted with music and hearty cheers,--the first sign of hospitality the
+day had furnished. It was the German settlement of Hermann, famous for
+good cheer and good wines. The Home-Guard was drawn up at the station,
+files of soldiers kept the passage clear to the dining-room, and through
+an avenue of muskets, and amidst the shouts of an enthusiastic little
+crowd, the General passed into a room decorated with flowers, through the
+centre of which was stretched a table groaning under the weight of
+delicious fruits and smoking viands. With little ceremony the hungry
+company seated themselves, and vigorously assailed the tempting array,
+quite unconscious of the curious glances of a motley assemblage of men,
+women, and children who assisted at the entertainment. The day had been
+dark, the journey dull, and the people we had seen silent and sullen; but
+here was a welcome, the hearty, generous welcome of sympathizing friends,
+who saw in their guests the defenders of their homes. They were Germans,
+and our language came broken from their lips. But they are Germans who
+fill the ranks of our regiments. Look where you will, and the sturdy
+Teuton meets your eye. If Missouri shall be preserved for the Union and
+civilization, it will be by the valor of men who learned their lessons of
+American liberty and glory upon the banks of the Rhine and the Elbe. We
+think of this at Hermann, and we pledge our German hosts and our German
+fellow-soldiers in strong draughts of delicious Catawba,--not such Catawba
+as is sent forth from the slovenly manufactories of Cincinnati, for the
+careful vintners of Hermann select the choice grapes, and in the quiet
+cellars of Hermann the Catawba has time to grow old and to ripen.
+
+We at length extricate ourselves from the maze of corn-cakes and pancakes,
+waffles and muffins and pies without number, with which our kind friends
+of Hermann tempt and tantalize our satiated palates, and once more set
+forth after the wheezing, reluctant locomotive, over the rough road,
+through the dreary hills, along the bank of the treacherous river.
+
+At ten o'clock, in ten weary hours, we have accomplished one hundred and
+twenty miles, and have reached Jefferson City. The train backs and starts
+ahead, halts and backs and jerks, and finally, with a long sigh of relief,
+the locomotive stops, and a gentleman in citizen's dress enters the car,
+carrying a lantern in his hand. It was Brigadier-General Price, commanding
+at Jefferson City. He took possession of the General, and, with us closely
+following, left the car. But leaving the train was a somewhat more
+difficult matter. We went along-side the train, over the train, under the
+train, but still those cars seemed to surround us like a corral. We at
+length outflanked the train, but still failed to extricate ourselves from
+the labyrinth. Informed, or rather deluded, by the "lantern dimly
+burning," we floundered into ditches and scrambled out of them, we waded
+mud-puddles and stumbled over boulders, until finally the ever-present
+train disappeared in the darkness, we rushed up a steep hill, heard the
+welcome sound as our feet touched a brick walk, and, after turning two or
+three corners, found ourselves in the narrow hall of the "principal
+hotel." We were tired and disgusted, and no one stood upon the order of
+his going, but went at once to sleep upon whatever floor, table, or bed
+offered itself.
+
+This morning we are pleased to hear that the General has resolved to go
+into camp. Of course the best houses in the place are at our disposal, but
+it is wisely thought that our soldier-life will not begin until we are
+fairly under canvas.
+
+All day we have had an exhibition of a Missouri crowd. The sidewalk has
+been fringed with curious gazers waiting to catch a glimpse of the
+General. Foote, the comedian, said, that, until he landed on the quays at
+Dublin, he never knew what the London beggars did with their old clothes.
+One should go to Missouri to see what the New-York beggars do with their
+old clothes. But it is not the dress alone. Such vacant, listless faces,
+with laziness written in every line, and ignorance seated upon every
+feature! Is it for these that the descendants of New England and the
+thrifty Germans are going forth to battle? If Missouri depended upon the
+Missourians, there would be little chance for her safety, and, indeed, not
+very much to save.
+
+_October 4th._ We have been in camp since Sunday, the 29th of September.
+Our tents are pitched upon abroad shelf half-way down a considerable hill.
+Behind us the hill rises a hundred feet or more, shutting us in from the
+south; in front, to the north, the hill inclines to a ravine which
+separates us from other less lofty hills. Our camp is upon open ground,
+but there is a fine forest to the east and west.
+
+In a few days we have all become very learned in camp-life. We have found
+out what we want and what we do not want. Fortunately, St. Louis is near
+at hand, and we send there to provide for our necessities, and also to get
+rid of our superfluities. The troops have been gathering all the week.
+There are several regiments in front of us, and batteries of artillery
+behind us. Go where you will, spread out upon the plain or shining amidst
+the trees you will see the encampments. Head-quarters are busy providing
+for the transportation and the maintenance of this great force; and as
+rapidly as the railway can carry them, regiment after regiment is sent
+west. There is plenty of work for the staff-officers; and yet our life is
+not without its pleasures. The horses and their riders need training. This
+getting used to the saddle is no light matter for the civilian spoiled by
+years of ease and comfort. But the General gives all his officers plenty
+of horseback discipline. Then there is the broadsword exercise to fill up
+the idle time. Evening is the festive hour in camp; though I judge, from
+what I have seen and heard, that our camp has little of the gayety which
+is commonly associated with the soldier's life. We are too busy for
+merrymaking, but in the evening there are pleasant little circles around
+the fires or in the snug tents. There are old campaigners among us, men
+who have served in Mexico and Utah, and others whose lives have been
+passed upon the Plains; they tell us campaign stories, and teach the green
+hands the slang and the airs of the camp. But the unfailing amusement is
+the band. This is the special pride of the General, and soon after
+nightfall the musicians appear upon the little _plaza_ around which the
+tents are grouped. At the first note the audience gather. The guardsmen
+come up from their camp on the edge of the ravine, the negro-quarter is
+deserted, the wagoners flock in from the surrounding forest, the officers
+stroll out of their tents,--a picturesque crowd stands around the huge
+camp-fire. The programme is simple and not often varied. It uniformly
+opens with "The Star-Spangled Banner," and closes with "Home, Sweet Home."
+By way of a grand _finale_, a procession is organized every night, led by
+some score of negro torch-bearers, which makes the circuit of the camp,--a
+performance which never fails to produce something of a stampede among the
+animals.
+
+Last night we had an alarm. About eleven o'clock, when the camp was fairly
+asleep, some one tried to pass a picket half a mile west of us. The guard
+fired at the intruder, and in an instant the regimental drums sounded the
+long roll. We started from our beds, with frantic haste buckled on swords,
+spurs, and pistols, hurried servants after the horses, and hastened to
+report for duty to the General. The officer who was first to appear found
+him standing in front of his tent, himself the first man in camp who was
+ready for service. Presently a messenger came with information as to the
+cause of the alarm, and we were dismissed.
+
+At two o'clock in the morning there was another alarm. Again the
+body-guard bugles sounded and the drums rolled. Again soldiers sprang to
+their arms, and officers rushed to report to the General,--the first man
+finding him, as before, leaning upon his sword in front of his tent. But,
+alas for the reputation of our mess, not one of its number appeared. In
+complete unconsciousness of danger or duty, we slept on. Colonel S. said
+he heard "the music, but thought it was a continuation of the evening's
+serenade," and went to sleep again. It was not long before we discovered
+that the General knew that four members of his staff did not report to him
+when the long roll was sounded.
+
+There are several encampments on the hill-sides north of us which are in
+full view from our quarters, and it is not the least of our amusements to
+watch the regiments going through the afternoon drill. In the soft light
+of these golden days we see the long blue lines, silver-tipped, wheel and
+turn, scatter and form, upon the brown hill-sides. Now the slopes are
+dotted with skirmishers, and puffs of gray smoke rise over the kneeling
+figures; again a solid wall of bayonets gleams along the crest of the
+hill, and peals of musketry echo through the woods in the ravines.
+
+Colonel Myscall Johnson, a Methodist exhorter and formidable Rebel
+marauder, is said to be forty miles south of us with a small force, and
+some of the Union farmers came into camp to-day asking for protection.
+Zagonyi, the commander of the body-guard, is anxious to descend upon
+Johnson and scatter his thieving crew; but it is not probable he will
+obtain permission. The Union men of Missouri are quite willing to have you
+fight for them, but their patriotism does not go farther than this. These
+people represent that three-fourths of the inhabitants of Miller County
+are loyal. The General probably thinks, if this be true, they ought to be
+able to take care of Johnson's men. But a suggestion that they should
+defend their own homes and families astonishes our Missouri friends.
+General Lyon established Home-Guards throughout the State, and armed them
+with several thousand Springfield muskets taken from the arsenal at St.
+Louis. Most of these muskets are now in Price's army, and are the most
+formidable weapons he has. In some instances the Rebels enlisted in the
+Home-Guards and thus controlled the organization, carrying whole companies
+into Price's ranks. In other cases bands of Rebels scoured the country,
+went to the house of every Home-Guard, and took away his musket. In the
+German settlements alone the Guards still preserve their organization and
+their arms.
+
+A few days ago it fell to the lot of our mess to entertain a Rebel officer
+who had come in with a flag of truce. Strange to say, he was a New-Yorker,
+and had a younger brother in one of the Indiana regiments. He was a
+pleasant and courteous gentleman, albeit his faded dress, with its
+red-flannel trimmings, did not indicate great prosperity in the enemy's
+camp. We gave him the best meal we could command. I apologized because it
+was no better. He replied,--"Make no apology, Sir. It is the best dinner I
+have eaten these three months. I have campaigned it a good deal this
+summer upon three ears of roast corn a day." He added,--"I never have
+received a cent of pay. None of us have. We never expect to receive any."
+This captain has already seen considerable service. He was at Booneville,
+Carthage, Wilson's Creek, and Lexington. His descriptions of these
+engagements were animated and interesting, his point of view presenting
+matters in a novel light. He spoke particularly of a gunner stationed at
+the first piece in Totten's battery, saying that his energy and coolness
+made him one of the most conspicuous figures of the day. "Our
+sharp-shooters did their best, but they failed to bring him down. There he
+was all day long, doing his duty as if on parade." He also told us there
+was no hard fighting at Lexington. "We knew," said he, "the place was
+short of water, and so we spared our men, and waited for time to do the
+work."
+
+_Camp Lovejoy, October 7th._ For the last two days the troops have been
+leaving Jefferson City, and the densely peopled hills are bare. This
+morning, at seven o'clock, we began to break camp. There was no little
+trouble and confusion in lowering the tents and packing the wagons. It
+took us a long time to-day, but we shall soon get accustomed to it, and
+become able to move more quickly. At noon we left Jefferson City, going
+due west.
+
+Out little column consists of three companies of the body-guard, numbering
+about two hundred and fifty men, a battalion of sharp-shooters (infantry)
+under Major Holman, one hundred and eighty strong, and the staff. The
+march is in the following order. The first company of the guard act as
+advance-guard; then comes the General, followed by his staff, riding by
+twos, according to rank; the other two companies of the guard come next.
+The sharp-shooters accompany and protect the train. Our route lay through
+a broken and heavily wooded region. The roads were very bad, but the day
+was bright, and the march was a succession of beautiful pictures, of which
+the long and brilliant line of horsemen winding through the forest was the
+chief ornament.
+
+We reached camp at three o'clock. It is a lovely spot, upon a hill-side,
+with a clear, swift-running brook washing the foot of the hill. Presently
+the horses are tied along the fences, riders are lounging under the trees,
+the kitchen-fires are lighted, guardsmen are scattered along the banks of
+the stream bathing, the wagons roll heavily over the prairie and are drawn
+up along the edge of the wood, tents are raised, tent-furniture is hastily
+arranged, and the camp looks as if it had been there a month. Before dark
+a regiment of infantry and two batteries of artillery come up. The men
+sleep in the open air without tents, and innumerable fires cover the
+hill-sides.
+
+We are upon land which is owned by an influential and wealthy citizen, who
+is an open Secessionist in opinion, though he has had the prudence not to
+take up arms. By way of a slight punishment, the General has annoyed the
+old man by naming his farm "Camp Owen Lovejoy," a name which the Union
+neighbors will not fail to make perpetual.
+
+_California, October 8th._ This morning we broke camp at six o'clock and
+marched at eight. The road was bad, for which the beauty of the scenery
+did not entirely compensate. To-day's experience has taught us how
+completely an army is tied to the wheels of the wagons. Tell a general how
+fast the train can travel and he will know how long the journey will be.
+We passed our wagons in a terrible plight: some upset, some with balky
+mules, some stuck in the mud, and some broken down. The loud-swearing
+drivers, and the stubborn, patient, hard-pulling mules did not fail to
+vary and enliven the scene.
+
+A journey of eighteen miles brought us to this place, where we are
+encamped upon the county fair-ground. California is a mean, thriftless
+village; there are no trees shading the cottages, no shrubbery in the
+yards. The place is only two or three years old, but already wears a
+slovenly air of decay.
+
+I set out with Colonel L. upon a foraging expedition. We passed a small
+house, in front of which a fat little negro-girl was drawing a bucket of
+water from the well, the girl puffing and the windlass creaking.
+
+"Will Massa have a drink of water?"
+
+It was the first token of hospitality since Hermann. We stopped and drank
+from the bucket, but had not been there a minute before the mistress ran
+out, with suspicion in her face, to protect her property. A single
+question sufficed to show the politics of that house.
+
+"Where is your husband?"
+
+"He went off a little while ago."
+
+This was the Missouri way of informing us that he was in the Rebel army.
+
+A little farther on we came to what was evidently the chief house of the
+place. A bevy of maidens stood at the gate, supported by a pleasant
+matron, fair and fat.
+
+"Can you sell us some bread?" was our rather practical inquiry.
+
+"We have none baked, but will bake you some by sundown," was the answer,
+given in a hearty, generous voice.
+
+The bargain was soon made. Our portly dame proved to be a Virginian, who
+still cherished a true Virginian love for the Union.
+
+_Tipton, October 9th._ The General was in the saddle very early, and left
+camp before the staff was ready. I was fortunate enough to be on hand, and
+indulged in some excusable banter when the tardy members of our company
+rode up after we were a mile or two on the way. We have marched twelve
+miles to-day through a lovely country. We have left the hills and stony
+roads behind us, and now we pass over beautiful little prairies, bordered
+by forests blazing with the crimson and gold of autumn. The day's ride has
+been delightful, the atmosphere soft and warm, the sky cloudless, and the
+prairie firm and hard under our horses' feet. We passed several regiments
+on the road, who received the General with unbounded enthusiasm; and when
+we entered Tipton, we found the country covered with tents, and alive with
+men and horses. Amidst the cheers of the troops, we passed through the
+camps, and settled down upon a fine prairie-farm a mile to the southwest
+of Tipton. The divisions of Asboth and Hunter are here, not less than
+twelve thousand men, and from this point our course is to be southward.
+
+_Camp Asboth, near Tipton, October 11th._ For the last twenty-four hours
+it has rained violently, and the prairie upon which we are encamped is a
+sea of black mud. But the tents are tight, and inside we contrive to keep
+comparatively warm.
+
+The camp is filled with speculations as to our future course. Shall we
+follow Price, who is crossing the Osage now, or are we to garrison the
+important positions upon this line and return to St. Louis and prepare for
+the expedition down the river? The General is silent, his reserve is never
+broken, and no one knows what his plans are, except those whose business
+it is to know. I will here record the plan of the campaign.
+
+Our campaign has been in some measure decided by the movements of the
+Rebels. The sudden appearance of Price in the West, gathering to his
+standard many thousands of the disaffected, has made it necessary for the
+General to check his bold and successful progress. Carthage, Wilson's
+Creek, and Lexington have given to Price a prestige which it is essential
+to destroy. The gun-boats cannot be finished for two months or more, and
+we cannot go down the Mississippi until the flotilla is ready; and from
+the character of the country upon each side of the river it will be
+difficult to operate there with a large body of men. In Southwestern
+Missouri we are sure of fine weather till the last of November, the
+prairies are high and dry, and there are no natural obstacles except such
+as it will excite the enthusiasm of the troops to overcome. Therefore the
+General has determined to pursue Price until he catches him. He can march
+faster than we can now, but we shall soon be able to move faster than it
+is possible for him to do. The Rebels have no base of operations from
+which to draw supplies; they depend entirely upon foraging; and for this
+reason Price has to make long halts wherever he finds mills, and grind the
+flour. He is so deficient in equipage, also, that it will be impossible
+for him to carry his troops over great distances. But we can safely
+calculate that Price and Rains will not leave the State; their followers
+are enlisted for six months, and are already becoming discontented at
+their continued retreat, and will not go with them beyond the borders.
+This is the uniform testimony of deserters and scouts. Price disposed of,
+either by a defeat or by the dispersal of his army, we are to proceed to
+Bird's Point, or into Arkansas, according to circumstances. A blow at
+Little Rock seems now the wisest, as it is the boldest plan. We can reach
+that place by the middle of November; and if we obtain possession of it,
+the position of the enemy upon the Mississippi will be completely turned.
+The communications of Pillow, Hardee, and Thompson, who draw their
+supplies through Arkansas, will be cut off, they will be compelled to
+retreat, and our flotilla and the reinforcements can descend the river to
+assist in the operations against Memphis and the attack upon New Orleans.
+
+This campaign may be difficult, the army will have to encounter hardships
+and perils, but, unless defeated in the field, the enterprise will be
+successful. No hardships or perils can daunt the spirit of the General, or
+arrest the march of the enthusiastic army his genius has created.
+
+Our column is composed of five divisions, under Generals Hunter, Pope,
+Sigel, McKinstry, and Asboth, and numbers about thirty thousand men,
+including over five thousand cavalry and eighty-six pieces of artillery, a
+large proportion of which are rifled. The infantry is generally well,
+though not uniformly armed. But the cavalry is very badly armed. Colonel
+Carr's regiment has no sabres, except for the commissioned and
+non-commissioned officers. The men carry Hall's carbines and revolvers.
+Major Waring's fine corps, the Fremont Hussars, is also deficient in
+sabres, and some of the companies are provided with lances,--formidable
+weapons in skilful bands, but only an embarrassment to our raw troops.
+
+Lane and Sturgis are to come from Kansas and join us on the Osage, and
+Wyman is to bring his command from Rolla and meet us south of that river.
+
+Paducah, Cairo, Bird's Point, Cape Girardeau, and Ironton are well
+protected against attack, and the commanders at those posts are ordered to
+engage the enemy as soon as we catch Price; and if the Rebels retreat,
+they are to pursue them. Thus our expedition is part of a combined and
+extended movement, and, instead of having no purpose except the defeat of
+Price, we are on the road to New Orleans.
+
+Next Monday we are to start. Asboth will go from here, Hunter by way of
+Versailles, McKinstry from Syracuse, Pope from his present position in the
+direction of Booneville, and Sigel from Sedalia. We are to cross the Osage
+at Warsaw; and as Sigel has the shortest distance to march, he is expected
+to reach that town first.
+
+Precious time has already been lost because of a lack of transportation
+and supplies. Foraging parties have been scouring the country, and large
+numbers of wagons, horses, and mules have been brought in. This property
+is all appraised, and when taken from Union men it is paid for. In
+doubtful cases a certificate is given to the owner, which recites that he
+is to be paid in case he shall continue to be loyal to the Government. We
+thus obtain a hold upon these people which an oath of allegiance every day
+would not give us.
+
+_Camp Asboth, October 13th._ Mr. Cameron, Senator Chandler of Michigan,
+and Adjutant-General Thomas arrived at an early hour this morning; and at
+eight o'clock, the General, attended by his staff and body-guard, repaired
+to the Secretary's quarters. After a short stay there, the whole party,
+except General Thomas, set out for Syracuse to review the division of
+General McKinstry. The day was fine, and we proceeded at a hand gallop
+until we reached a prairie some three or four miles wide. Here the
+Secretary set spurs to his horse, and we tore across the plain as fast as
+our animals could be driven. Passing from the open plain into a forest,
+the whole cortege dashed over a very rough road with but little slackening
+of our pace; nor did we draw rein until we reached Syracuse. A few moments
+were passed in the interchange of the usual civilities, and we then went a
+mile farther on, to a large prairie upon which the division was drawn up.
+McKinstry has the flower of the army. He has in his ranks some regular
+infantry, cavalry, and artillery, and among his subordinate officers are
+Totten, Steele, Kelton, and Stanley, all distinguished in the regular
+service. There was no time for the observance of the usual forms of a
+review. The Secretary passed in front and behind the lines, made a short
+address, and left immediately by rail for St. Louis, stopping at Tipton to
+review Asboth's division. The staff and guard rode slowly back to camp,
+both men and animals having had quite enough of the day's work. It is
+said, that Adjutant-General Thomas has expressed the opinion that we shall
+not be able to move from here, because we have no transportation. As we
+are ordered to march to-morrow, the prediction will soon be tested.
+
+_Camp Zagonyi, October 14th._ We were in the saddle this morning at nine
+o'clock, A short march of eleven miles, in a south-westerly direction, and
+through a prairie country, brought us to our camp. As we came upon the
+summit of a hill which lies to the west of our present position, our
+attention was directed to a group standing in front of a house about a
+mile distant. We had hardly caught sight of them when half a dozen men and
+three women mounted their horses and started at full speed towards the
+northeast, each man leading a horse. The General ordered some of the
+body-guard to pursue and try to stop the fugitives. We eagerly watched the
+chase. A narrow valley separated us from the elevation upon which the
+farm-house stood, and a small stream with low banks ran through the bottom
+of the valley. The pursuit was active, the guardsmen ran their horses down
+the slope, leaped the pool, and rushed up the opposite hill; but the
+runaways were on fresh horses, and had no rough ground to pass, and so
+they escaped. One of them lost the horse he was leading, and it was caught
+by a guardsman. This was the first exhibition we have seen of a desire on
+the part of the inhabitants to avoid us.
+
+The General established head-quarters along-side the house where we first
+discovered the Rebel party. Our position is the most beautiful one we have
+yet found. To the west stretches an undulating prairie, separated from us
+by a valley, into which our camping-ground subsides with a mild declivity;
+to the north is a range of low hills, their round sides unbroken by shrub
+or tree; while to the south stretches an extensive tract of low land,
+densely covered with timber, and resplendent with the colors of autumn.
+
+Before dark the whole of Asboth's division came up and encamped on the
+slopes to the west and north: not less than seven thousand men are here.
+This evening the scene is beautiful. I sit in the door of my lodge, and as
+far as the eye can reach the prairie is dotted with tents, the dark forms
+of men and horses, the huge white-topped wagons,--and a thousand fires
+gleam through the faint moonlight. Our band is playing near the General's
+quarters, its strains are echoed by a score of regimental bands, and their
+music is mingled with the numberless noises of camp, the hum of voices,
+the laughter from the groups around the fires, the clatter of hoofs as
+some rider hurries to the General, the distant challenges of the sentries,
+the neighing of horses, the hoarse bellowing of the mules, and the
+clinking of the cavalry anvils. This, at last, is the romance of war. How
+soon will our ears be saluted by sterner music?
+
+_Camp Hudson, October 15th._ We moved at seven o'clock this morning. For
+the first four miles the road ran through woods intersected by small
+streams. The ground was as rough as it could well be, and the teams which
+had started before us were struggling through the mire and over the rocks.
+We dashed past them at a fast trot, and in half an hour came upon a high
+prairie. The prairies of Southern Missouri are not large and flat, like
+the monotonous levels of Central Illinois, but they are rolling, usually
+small, and broken by frequent narrow belts of timber. In the woods there
+are hills, rocky soil, and always one, often two streams, clear and rapid
+as a mountain-brook in New England.
+
+The scenery to-day was particularly attractive, a constant succession of
+prairies surrounded by wooded hills. As we go south, the color of the
+forest becomes richer, and the atmosphere more mellow and hazy.
+
+During the first two hours we passed several regiments of foot. The men
+were nearly all Germans, and I scanned the ranks carefully, longing to see
+an American countenance. I found none, but caught sight of one
+arch-devil-may-care Irish face. I doubt whether there is a company in the
+army without an Irishman in it, though the proportion of Irishmen in our
+ranks is not so great as at the East.
+
+Early in the afternoon we rode up to a farm-house, at the gate of which a
+middle-aged woman was standing, crying bitterly. The General stopped, and
+the woman at once assailed him vehemently. She told him the soldiers had
+that day taken her husband and his team away with them. She said that
+there was no one left to take care of her old blind mother,--at which
+allusion, the blind mother tottered down the walk and took a position in
+the rear of the attacking party,--that they had two orphan girls, the
+children of a deceased sister, and the orphans had lost their second
+father. The assailants were here reinforced by the two orphan girls. She
+protested that her husband was loyal,--"Truly, Sir, he was a Union man and
+voted for the Union, and always told his neighbors Disunion would do
+nothing except bring trouble upon innocent people, as indeed it has," said
+she, with a fresh flood of tears. The General was moved by her distress,
+and ordered Colonel E. to have the man, whose name is Rutherford, sent
+back at once.
+
+A few rods farther on we came to another house, in front of which was
+another weeping woman afflicted in the same way. Several little
+flaxen-haired children surrounded her, and a white-bearded man, trembling
+with age, stood behind, leaning upon a staff. Her earnestness far
+surpassed that of Mrs. Rutherford. She wrung her hands, and could hardly
+speak for her tears. She seized the General's hand and entreated him to
+return her husband, with an expression of distress which the hardest heart
+could not resist. The General comforted the poor woman with a few kind
+words, and promised to grant what she asked.
+
+It is very difficult to refuse such requests, and yet, in point of fact,
+no great hardship or sacrifice is required of these men. They profess to
+be Union men, but they are not in arms for the Union, and a Federal
+general now asks of them that they shall help the army for a day with
+their teams. To those who come here from all parts of the nation to defend
+these homes this does not appear to be a harsh demand.
+
+We arrived at camp about five o'clock. Our day's march was twenty-two
+miles, and the wagons were far behind. A neighboring farm-house afforded
+the General and a few of his officers a dinner, but it was late in the
+evening before the tents were pitched.
+
+_Warsaw, October 17th._ Yesterday we made our longest march, making
+twenty-five miles, and encamped three miles north of this place.
+
+It is a problem, why riding in a column should be so much more wearisome
+than riding alone, but so it undeniably is. Men who would think little of
+a sixty-mile ride were quite broken down by to-day's march.
+
+As soon as we reached camp, the General asked for volunteers from the
+staff to ride over to Warsaw: of course the whole staff volunteered. On
+the way we met General Sigel. This very able and enterprising officer is a
+pleasant, scholarly-looking gentleman, his studious air being increased by
+the spectacles he always wears. His figure is light, active, and graceful,
+and he is an excellent horseman. The country has few better heads than
+his. Always on the alert, he is full of resources, and no difficulties
+daunt him. Planter, Pope, and McKinstry are behind, waiting for tea and
+coffee, beans and flour, and army-wagons. Sigel gathered the ox-team and
+the farmers' wagons and brought his division forward with no food for his
+men but fresh beef. His advance-guard is already across the Osage, and in
+a day or two his whole division will be over.
+
+Guided by General Sigel, we rode down to the ford across the Osage. The
+river here is broad and rapid, and its banks are immense bare cliffs
+rising one hundred feet perpendicularly from the water's edge. The ford is
+crooked, uncertain, and never practicable except for horsemen. The ferry
+is an old flat-boat drawn across by a rope, and the ascent up the farther
+bank is steep and rocky. It will not answer to leave in our rear this
+river, liable to be changed by a night's rain into a fierce torrent, with
+no other means of crossing it than the rickety ferry. A bridge must at
+once be built, strong and firm, a safe road for the army in case of
+disaster. So decides the General. And as we look upon the swift-running
+river and its rocky shores, cold and gloomy in the twilight, every one
+agrees that the General is right. His decision has since been strongly
+supported, for to-day two soldiers of the Fremont Hussars were drowned in
+trying to cross the ford, and the water is now rising rapidly.
+
+This morning we moved into Warsaw, and for the first time the staff is
+billeted in the Secession houses of the town; but the General clings to
+his tent. Our mess is quartered in the house of the county judge, who says
+his sympathies are with the South. But the poor man is so frightened, that
+we pity and protect him.
+
+Bridge-building is now the sole purpose of the army. There is no saw-mill
+here, nor any lumber. The forest must be cut down and fashioned into a
+bridge, as well as the tools and the skill at command will permit. Details
+are already told off from the sharp-shooters, the cadets, and even the
+body-guard, and the banks of the river now resound with the quick blows of
+their axes.
+
+_Warsaw, October 21st._ Four days we have been waiting for the building of
+the bridge. By night and by day the work goes on, and now the long black
+shape is striding slowly across the stream. In a few hours it will have
+gained the opposite bank, and then, Ho, for Springfield!
+
+Our scouts have come in frequently the last few days. They tell us Price
+is at Stockton, and is pushing rapidly on towards the southwest. He has
+been grinding corn near Stockton, and has now food enough for another
+journey. His army numbers twenty thousand men, of whom five thousand have
+no arms. The rest carry everything, from double-barrelled shot-guns to the
+Springfield muskets taken from the Home-Guards. They load their shot-guns
+with a Minié-ball and two buck-shot, and those who have had experience say
+that at one hundred yards they are very effective weapons. There is little
+discipline in the Rebel army, and the only organization is by companies.
+The men are badly clothed, and without shoes, and often without food. The
+deserters say that those who remain are waiting only to get the new
+clothes which McCulloch is expected to bring from the South.
+
+McCulloch, the redoubtable Ben, does not seem to be held in high esteem by
+the Rebel soldiers. They say he lacks judgment and self-command. But all
+speak well of Price. No one can doubt that he is a man of unusual energy
+and ability. McCulloch will increase Price's force to about thirty-five
+thousand, which number we must expect to meet.
+
+Hunter and McKinstry have not yet appeared, but Pope reported himself last
+night, and some of his men came in to-day.
+
+_Camp White, October 22d._ The bridge is built, and the army is now
+crossing the Osage. In five days a firm road has been thrown across the
+river, over which our troops may pass in a day. The General and staff
+crossed by the ferry, and are now encamped two miles south of the
+Pomme-de-Terre.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+BIRDOFREDUM SAWIN, ESQ., TO MR. HOSEA BIGLOW.
+
+
+    _Letter from the REVEREND HOMER WILBUR, A.M., inclosing the
+    Epistle aforesaid._
+
+
+Jaalam, 15th Nov., 1861.
+
+It is not from any idle wish to obtrude my humble person with undue
+prominence upon the publick view that I resume my pen upon the present
+occasion. _Juniores ad labores._ But having been a main instrument in
+rescuing the talent of my young parishioner from being buried in the
+ground, by giving it such warrant with the world as would be derived from
+a name already widely known by several printed discourses, (all of which I
+maybe permitted without immodesty to state have been deemed worthy of
+preservation in the Library of Harvard College by my esteemed friend Mr.
+Sibley,) it seemed becoming that I should not only testify to the
+genuineness of the following production, but call attention to it, the
+more as Mr. Biglow had so long been silent as to be in danger of absolute
+oblivion. I insinuate no claim to any share in the authourship (_vix ea
+nostra voco_) of the works already published by Mr. Biglow, but merely
+take to myself the credit of having fulfilled toward them the office of
+taster, (_experto crede_,) who, having first tried, could afterward bear
+witness,--an office always arduous, and sometimes even dangerous, as in
+the ease of those devoted persons who venture their lives in the
+deglutition of patent medicines (_dolus latet in generalibus_, there is
+deceit in the most of them) and thereafter are wonderfully preserved long
+enough to append their signatures to testimonials in the diurnal and
+hebdomadal prints. I say not this as covertly glancing at the authours of
+certain manuscripts which have been submitted to my literary judgment,
+(though an epick in twenty-four books on the "Taking of Jericho" might,
+save for the prudent forethought of Mrs. Wilbur in secreting the same just
+as I had arrived beneath the walls and was beginning a catalogue of the
+various horns and their blowers, too ambitiously emulous in longanimity of
+Homer's list of ships, might, I say, have rendered frustrate any hope I
+could entertain _vacare Musis_ for the small remainder of my days,) but
+only further to secure myself against any imputation of unseemly
+forthputting. I will barely subjoin, in this connection, that, whereas Job
+was left to desire, in the soreness of his heart, that his adversary had
+written a book, as perchance misanthropically wishing to indite a review
+thereof, yet was not Satan allowed so far to tempt him as to send Bildad,
+Eliphaz, and Zophar each with an unprinted work in his wallet to be
+submitted to his censure. But of this enough. Were I in need of other
+excuse, I might add that I write by the express desire of Mr. Biglow
+himself, whose entire winter leisure is occupied, as he assures me, in
+answering demands for autographs, a labour exacting enough in itself, and
+egregiously so to him, who, being no ready penman, cannot sign so much as
+his name without strange contortions of the face (his nose, even, being
+essential to complete success) and painfully suppressed Saint-Vitus-dance
+of every muscle in his body. This, with his having been put in the
+Commission of the Peace by our excellent Governour (_O, si sic omnes!_)
+immediately on his accession to office, keeps him continually employed.
+_Haud inexpertus loquor,_ having for many years written myself J.P., and
+being not seldom applied to for specimens of my chirography, a request to
+which I have sometimes too weakly assented, believing as I do that nothing
+written of set purpose can properly be called an autograph, but only those
+unpremeditated sallies and lively runnings which betray the fireside Man
+instead of the hunted Notoriety doubling on his pursuers. But it is time
+that I should bethink me of Saint Austin's prayer, _Libera me a meipso,_
+if I would arrive at the matter in hand.
+
+Moreover, I had yet another reason for taking up the pen myself. I am
+informed that the "Atlantic Monthly" is mainly indebted for its success to
+the contributions and editorial supervision of Dr. Holmes, whose excellent
+"Annals of America" occupy an honoured place upon my shelves. The journal
+itself I have never seen; but if this be so, it should seem that the
+recommendation of a brother-clergyman (though _par magis quam similis_)
+would carry a greater weight. I suppose that you have a department for
+historical lucubrations, and should be glad, if deemed desirable, to
+forward for publication my "Collections for the Antiquities of Jaalam" and
+my (now happily complete) pedigree of the Wilbur family from _fons et
+origo_, the Wild-Boar of Ardennes. Withdrawn from the active duties of my
+profession by the settlement of a colleague-pastor, the Reverend Jeduthun
+Hitchcock, formerly of Brutus Four-Corners, I might find time for further
+contributions to general literature on similar topicks. I have made large
+advances toward a completer genealogy of Mrs. Wilbur's family, the
+Pilcoxes, not, if I know myself, from any idle vanity, but with the sole
+desire of rendering myself useful in my day and generation. _Nulla dies
+sine lineâ._ I inclose a meteorological register, a list of the births,
+deaths, and marriages, and a few _memorabilia_, of longevity in Jaalam
+East Parish for the last half-century. Though spared to the unusual period
+of more than eighty years, I find no diminution of my faculties or
+abatement of my natural vigour, except a scarcely sensible decay of memory
+and a necessity of recurring to younger eyesight for the finer print in
+Cruden. It would gratify me to make some further provision for declining
+years from the emoluments of my literary labours. I had intended to effect
+an insurance on my life, but was deterred therefrom by a circular from one
+of the offices, in which the sudden deaths of so large a proportion of the
+insured was set forth as an inducement, that it seemed to me little less
+than a tempting of Providence. _Neque in summâ inopiâ levis esse senectus
+potest, ne sapienti quidem._
+
+Thus far concerning Mr. Biglow; and so much seemed needful (_brevis esse
+laboro_) by way of preliminary, after a silence of fourteen years. He
+greatly fears lest he may in this essay have fallen below himself, well
+knowing, that, if exercise be dangerous on a full stomach, no less so is
+writing on a full reputation. Beset as he has been on all sides, he could
+not refrain, and would only imprecate patience till he shall again have
+"got the hang" (as he calls it) of an accomplishment long disused. The
+letter of Mr. Sawin was received some time in last June, and others have
+followed which will in due season be submitted to the publick. How largely
+his statements are to be depended on, I more than merely dubitate. He was
+always distinguished for a tendency to exaggeration,--it might almost be
+qualified by a stronger term. _Fortiter mentire, aliquid hæret_, seemed to
+be his favourite rule of rhetorick. That he is actually where he says he
+is the post-mark would seem to confirm; that he was received with the
+publick demonstrations he describes would appear consonant with what we
+know of the habits of those regions; but further than this I venture not
+to decide. I have sometimes suspected a vein of humour in him which leads
+him to speak by contraries; but since, in the unrestrained intercourse of
+private life, I have never observed in him any striking powers of
+invention, I am the more willing to put a certain qualified faith in the
+incidents and the details of life and manners which give to his narratives
+some of the interest and entertainment which characterize a Century
+Sermon.
+
+It may be expected of me that I should say something to justify myself
+with the world for a seeming inconsistency with my well-known principles
+in allowing my youngest son to raise a company for the war, a fact known
+to all through the medium of the publick prints. I did reason with the
+young man, but _expellas naturam furcâ, tamenusque recurrit_. Having
+myself been a chaplain in 1812, I could the less wonder that a man of war
+had sprung from my loins. It was, indeed, grievous to send my Benjamin,
+the child of my old age; but after the discomfiture of Manassas, I with my
+own hands did buckle on his armour, trusting in the great Comforter for
+strength according to my need. For truly the memory of a brave son dead in
+his shroud were a greater staff of my declining years than a coward,
+though his days might be long in the land and he should get much goods. It
+is not till our earthen vessels are broken that we find and truly possess
+the treasure that was laid up in them. _Migravi in animam meam_, I have
+sought refuge in my own soul; nor would I be shamed by the heathen
+comedian with his _Nequam illud verbum, bene vult, nisi bene facit_.
+During our dark days, I read constantly in the inspired book of Job, which
+I believe to contain more food to maintain the fibre of the soul for right
+living and high thinking than all pagan literature together, though I
+would by no means vilipend the study of the classicks. There I read that
+Job said in his despair, even as the fool saith in his heart there is no
+God,--"The tabernacles of robbers prosper, and they that provoke God are
+secure." _Job_ xii. 6. But I sought farther till I found this Scripture
+also, which I would have those perpend who have striven to turn our Israel
+aside to the worship of strange gods:--"If I did despise the cause of my
+man-servant or of my maid-servant when they contended with me, what then
+shall I do when God riseth up? and when he visiteth, what shall I answer
+him?" _Job_ xxxi. 13-14. On this text I preached a discourse on the last
+day of Fasting and Humiliation with general acceptance, though there were
+not wanting one or two Laodiceans who said that I should have waited till
+the President announced his policy. But let us hope and pray, remembering
+this of Saint Gregory, _Vult Deus rogari, vult cogi, vult quâdam
+importunitate vinci_.
+
+We had our first fall of snow on Friday last. Frosts have been unusually
+backward this fall. A singular circumstance occurred in this town on the
+20th October, in the family of Deacon Pelatiah Tinkham. On the previous
+evening, a few moments before family-prayers,
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[The editors of the "Atlantic" find it necessary here to cut short the
+letter of their valued correspondent, which seemed calculated rather on
+the rates of longevity in Jaalam than for less favored localities. They
+have every encouragement to hope that he will write again.]
+
+                    With esteem and respect,
+
+                              Your obedient servant,
+
+                                        HOMER WILBUR, A.M.
+
+
+  It's some consid'ble of a spell sence I hain't writ no letters,
+  An' ther' 's gret changes hez took place in all polit'cle metters:
+  Some canderdates air dead an' gone, an' some hez ben defeated,
+  Which 'mounts to pooty much the same; fer it's ben proved repeated
+  A betch o' bread thet hain't riz once ain't goin' to rise agin,
+  An' it's jest money throwed away to put the emptins in:
+  But thet's wut folks wun't never larn; they dunno how to go,
+  Arter you want their room, no more 'n a bullet-headed beau;
+  Ther' 's ollers chaps a-hangin' roun' thet can't see pea-time's past,
+  Mis'ble as roosters in a rain, heads down an' tails half-mast:
+  It ain't disgraceful bein' beat, when a holl nation doos it,
+  But Chance is like an amberill,--it don't take twice to lose it.
+
+  I spose you're kin' o' cur'ous, now, to know why I hain't writ.
+  Wal, I've ben where a litt'ry taste don't somehow seem to git
+  Th' encouragement a feller'd think, thet's used to public schools,
+  An' where sech things ez paper 'n' ink air clean agin the rules:
+  A kind o' vicyvarsy house, built dreffle strong an' stout,
+  So 's 't honest people can't git in, ner t' other sort git out,
+  An' with the winders so contrived, you'd prob'ly like the view
+  Better a-lookin' in than out, though it seems sing'lar, tu;
+  But then the landlord sets by ye, can't bear ye out o' sight,
+  And locks ye up ez reg'lar ez an outside door at night.
+
+  This world is awfle contrary: the rope may stretch your neck
+  Thet mebby kep' another chap frum washin' off a wreck;
+  An' you will see the taters grow in one poor feller's patch,
+  So small no self-respectin' hen thet vallied time 'ould scratch,
+  So small the rot can't find 'em out, an' then agin, nex' door,
+  Ez big ez wut hogs dream on when they're 'most too fat to snore.
+  But groutin' ain't no kin' o' use; an' ef the fust throw fails,
+  Why, up an' try agin, thet's all,--the coppers ain't all tails;
+  Though I _hev_ seen 'em when I thought they hed n't no more head
+  Than'd sarve a nussin' Brigadier thet gits some ink to shed.
+
+  When I writ last, I'd ben turned loose by thet blamed nigger, Pomp,
+  Ferlorner than a musquash, ef you'd took an' dreened his swamp:
+  But I ain't o' the meechin' kind, thet sets an' thinks fer weeks
+  The bottom's out o' th' univarse coz their own gillpot leaks.
+  I hed to cross bayous an' criks, (wal, it did beat all natur',)
+  Upon a kin' o' corderoy, fust log, then alligator:
+  Luck'ly the critters warn't sharp-sot; I guess't wuz overruled
+  They'd done their mornin's marketin' an' gut their hunger cooled;
+  Fer missionaries to the Creeks an' runaway's air viewed
+  By them an' folks ez sent express to be their reg'lar food:
+  Wutever 't wuz, they laid an' snoozed ez peacefully ez sinners,
+  Meek ez disgestin' deacons be at ordination dinners;
+  Ef any on 'em turned an' snapped, I let 'em kin' o' taste
+  My live-oak leg, an' so, ye see, ther' warn't no gret o' waste,
+  Fer they found out in quicker time than ef they'd ben to college
+  'T warn't heartier food than though 't wuz made out o' the tree o'
+          knowledge.
+
+  But _I_ tell _you_ my other leg hed larned wut pizon-nettle meant,
+  An' var'ous other usefle things, afore I reached a settlement,
+  An' all o' me thet wuz n't sore an' sendin' prickles thru me
+  Wuz jest the leg I parted with in lickin' Montezumy:
+  A usefle limb it 's ben to me, an' more of a support
+  Than wut the other hez ben,--coz I dror my pension for 't.
+
+  Wal, I gut in at last where folks wuz civerlized an' white,
+  Ez I diskivered to my cost afore 't wuz hardly night;
+  Fer 'z I wuz settin' in the bar a-takin' sunthin' hot,
+  An' feelin' like a man agin, all over in one spot,
+  A feller thet sot opposite, arter a squint at me,
+  Lep up an' drawed his peacemaker, an', "Dash it, Sir," suz he,
+  "I'm doubledashed if you ain't him thet stole my yaller chettle,
+  (You're all the stranger thet's around,) so now you've gut to settle;
+  It ain't no use to argerfy ner try to cut up frisky,
+  I know ye ez I know the smell o' ole chain-lightnin' whiskey;
+  We're lor-abidin' folks down here, we'll fix ye so 's 't a bar
+  Wouldn' tech ye with a ten-foot pole; (Jedge, you jest warm the tar;)
+  You'll think you'd better ha' gut among a tribe o' Mongrel Tartars,
+  'Fore we've done showin' how we raise our Southun prize tar-martyrs;
+  A moultin' fallen cherubim, ef he should see ye, 'd snicker,
+  Thinkin' he hedn't nary chance. Come, genlemun, le' 's liquor;
+  An', Gin'ral, when you 've mixed the drinks an' chalked 'em up, tote
+          roun'
+  An' see ef ther' 's a feather-bed (thet's borryable) in town.
+  We'll try ye fair, Ole Grafted-Leg, an' ef the tar wun't stick,
+  Th' ain't not a juror here but wut'll 'quit ye double-quick."
+  To cut it short, I wun't say sweet, they gi' me a good dip,
+  (They ain't _perfessin'_ Bahptists here,) then give the bed a rip,--
+  The jury 'd sot, an' quicker 'n a flash they hetched me out, a livin'
+  Extemp'ry mammoth turkey-chick fer a Feejee Thanksgivin'.
+
+  Thet I felt some stuck up is wut it's nat'ral to suppose,
+  When poppylar enthusiasm hed furnished me sech clo'es;
+  (Ner 't ain't without edvantiges, this kin' o' suit, ye see,
+  It's water-proof, an' water's wut I like kep' out o' me;)
+  But nut content with thet, they took a kerridge from the fence
+  An' rid me roun' to see the place, entirely free 'f expense,
+  With forty-'leven new kines o' sarse without no charge acquainted me,
+  Gi' me three cheers, an' vowed thet I wuz all their fahncy painted me;
+  They treated me to all their eggs; (they keep 'em, I should think,
+  Fer sech ovations, pooty long, for they wuz mos' distinc';)
+  They starred me thick 'z the Milky-Way with indiscrim'nit cherity,
+  For wut we call reception eggs air sunthin' of a rerity;
+  Green ones is plentifle anough, skurce wuth a nigger's getherin',
+  But your dead-ripe ones ranges high fer treatin' Nothun bretherin:
+  A spotteder, ringstreakeder child the' warn't in Uncle Sam's
+  Holl farm,--a cross of stripèd pig an' one o' Jacob's lambs;
+  'T wuz Dannil in the lions' den, new an' enlarged edition,
+  An' everythin' fust-rate o' 'ts kind, the' warn't no impersition.
+  People's impulsiver down here than wut our folks to home be,
+  An' kin' o' go it 'ith a resh in raisin' Hail Columby:
+  Thet's _so_: an' they swarmed out like bees, for your real Southun
+          men's
+  Time isn't o' much more account than an ole settin' hen's;
+  (They jest work semioccashnally, or else don't work at all,
+  An' so their time an' 'tention both air et saci'ty's call.)
+  Talk about hospitality! wut Nothun town d' ye know
+  Would take a totle stranger up an' treat him gratis so?
+  You'd better b'lieve ther' 's nothin' like this spendin' days an'
+          nights
+  Along 'ith a dependent race fer civerlizin' whites.
+
+  But this wuz all prelim'nary; it's so Gran' Jurors here
+  Fin' a true bill, a hendier way than ourn, an' nut so dear;
+  So arter this they sentenced me, to make all tight 'n' snug,
+  Afore a reg'lar court o' law, to ten years in the Jug.
+  I didn' make no gret defence: you don't feel much like speakin',
+  When, ef you let your clamshells gape, a quart o' tar will leak in:
+  I _hev_ hearn tell o' wingèd words, but pint o' fact it tethers
+  The spoutin' gift to hev your words tu thick sot on with feathers,
+  An' Choate ner Webster wouldn't ha' made an A 1 kin' o' speech,
+  Astride a Southun chestnut horse sharper 'n a baby's screech.
+
+  Two year ago they ketched the thief, 'n' seein' I wuz innercent,
+  They jest oncorked an' le' me run, an' in my stid the sinner sent
+  To see how _he_ liked pork 'n' pone flavored with wa'nut saplin',
+  An' nary social priv'ledge but a one-hoss, starn-wheel chaplin.
+  When I come out, the folks behaved mos' gen'manly an' harnsome;
+  They 'lowed it wouldn't be more 'n right, ef I should cuss 'n' darn
+          some:
+  The Cunnle he apolergized; suz he, "I'll du wut 's right,
+  I'll give ye settisfection now by shootin' ye at sight,
+  An' give the nigger, (when he's caught,) to pay him fer his trickin'
+  In gittin' the wrong man took up, a most H fired lickin',--
+  It's jest the way with all on 'em, the inconsistent critters,
+  They're 'most enough to make a man blaspheme his mornin' bitters;
+  I'll be your frien' thru thick an' thin an' in all kines o' weathers,
+  An' all you'll hev to pay fer 's jest the waste o' tar an' feathers:
+  A lady owned the bed, ye see, a widder, tu, Miss Shennon;
+  It wuz her mite; we would ha' took another, ef ther 'd ben one:
+  We don't make _no_ charge for the ride an' all the other fixins.
+  Le' 's liquor; Gin'ral, you can chalk our friend for all the mixins."
+  A meetin' then wuz called, where they "RESOLVED, Thet we respec'
+  B.S. Esquire for quallerties o' heart an' intellec'
+  Peculiar to Columby's sile, an' not to no one else's,
+  Thet makes Európean tyrans scringe in all their gilded pel'ces,
+  An' doos gret honor to our race an' Southun institootions":
+  (I give ye jest the substance o' the leadin' resolootions:)
+  "RESOLVED, Thet we revere in him a soger 'thout a flor,
+  A martyr to the princerples o' libbaty an' lor:
+  RESOLVED, Thet other nations all, ef sot 'longside o' us,
+  For vartoo, larnin', chivverlry, ain't noways wuth a cuss."
+  They gut up a subscription, tu, but no gret come o' _that_;
+  I 'xpect in cairin' of it roun' they took a leaky hat;
+  Though Southun genelmun ain't slow at puttin' down their name,
+  (When they can write,) fer in the eend it comes to jest the same,
+  Because, ye see, 't 's the fashion here to sign an' not to think
+  A critter'd be so sordid ez to ax 'em for the chink:
+  I didn't call but jest on one, an' _he_ drawed toothpick on me,
+  An' reckoned he warn't goin' to stan' no sech dog-gauned econ'my;
+  So nothin' more wuz realized, 'ceptin' the good-will shown,
+  Than ef 't had ben from fust to last a reg'lar Cotton Loan.
+  It's a good way, though, come to think, coz ye enjy the sense
+  O' lendin' lib'rally to the Lord, an' nary red o' 'xpense:
+  Sence then I've gut my name up for a gin'rous-hearted man
+  By jes' subscribin' right an' left on this high-minded plan;
+  I've gin away my thousans so to every Southun sort
+  O' missions, colleges, an' sech, ner ain't no poorer for 't.
+
+  I warn't so bad off, arter all; I needn't hardly mention
+  That Guv'ment owed me quite a pile for my arrears o' pension,--
+  I mean the poor, weak thing we _hed_: we run a new one now,
+  Thet strings a feller with a claim up tu the nighest bough,
+  An' _prectises_ the rights o' man, purtects down-trodden debtors,
+  Ner wun't hev creditors about a-scrougin' o' their betters:
+  Jeff's gut the last idees ther' is, poscrip', fourteenth edition,
+  He knows it takes some enterprise to run an oppersition;
+  Ourn's the fust thru-by-daylight train, with all ou'doors for deepot,
+  Yourn goes so slow you'd think 't wuz drawed by a last cent'ry
+          teapot;--
+  Wal, I gut all on 't paid in gold afore our State seceded,
+  An' done wal, for Confed'rit bonds warn't jest the cheese I needed:
+  Nut but wut they're ez _good_ ez gold, but then it's hard a-breakin'
+          on 'em,
+  An' ignorant folks is ollers sot an' wun't git used to takin' on 'em;
+  They're wuth ez much ez wut they wuz afore ole Mem'nger signed 'em,
+  An' go off middlin' wal for drinks, when ther' 's a knife behind 'em:
+  We _du_ miss silver, jest fer thet an' ridin' in a bus,
+  Now we've shook off the despots thet wuz suckin' at our pus;
+  An' it's _because_ the South's so rich; 't wuz nat'ral to expec'
+  Supplies o' change wuz jest the things we shouldn't recollec';
+  We'd ough' to ha' thought aforehan', though, o' thet good rule o'
+          Crockett's,
+  For 't 's tiresome cairin' cotton-bales an' niggers in your pockets,
+  Ner 't ain't quite hendy to pass off one o' your six-foot Guineas
+  An' git your halves an' quarters back in gals an' pickaninnies:
+  Wal, 't ain't quite all a feller 'd ax, but then ther' 's this to say,
+  It's on'y jest among ourselves thet we expec' to pay;
+  Our system would ha' caird us thru in any Bible cent'ry,
+  'Fore this onscripted plan come up o' books by double entry;
+  We go the patriarkle here out o' all sight an' hearin',
+  For Jacob warn't a circumstance to Jeff at financierin';
+  _He_ never 'd thought o' borryin' from Esau like all nater
+  An' then cornfiscatin' all debts to sech a small pertater;
+  There's p'litickle econ'my, now, combined 'ith morril beauty
+  Thet saycrifices privit eends (your in'my's, tu) to dooty!
+  Wy, Jeff'd ha' gin him five an' won his eye-teeth 'fore he knowed it,
+  An', slid o' wastin' pottage, he'd ha' eat it up an' owed it.
+
+  But I wuz goin' on to say how I come here to dwall;--
+  'Nough said, thet, arter lookin' roun', I liked the place so wal,
+  Where niggers doos a double good, with us atop to stiddy 'em,
+  By bein' proofs o' prophecy an' cirkleatin' medium,
+  Where a man's sunthin' coz he's white, an' whiskey's cheap ez fleas,
+  An' the financial pollercy jest sooted my idees,
+  Thet I friz down right where I wuz, merried the Widder Shennon,
+  (Her thirds wuz part in cotton-land, part in the curse o' Canaan,)
+  An' here I be ez lively ez a chipmunk on a wall,
+  With nothin' to feel riled about much later 'n Eddam's fall.
+
+  Ez fur ez human foresight goes, we made an even trade:
+  She gut an overseer, an' I a fem'ly ready-made,
+  (The youngest on 'em's 'most growed up,) rugged an' spry ez weazles,
+  So's 't ther' 's no resk o' doctors' bills fer hoopin'-cough an'
+          measles.
+  Our farm's at Turkey-Buzzard Roost, Little Big Boosy River,
+  Wal located in all respex,--fer 't ain't the chills 'n' fever
+  Thet makes my writin' seem to squirm; a Southuner'd allow I'd
+  Some call to shake, for I've jest hed to meller a new cowhide.
+
+  Miss S. is all 'f a lady; th' ain't no better on Big Boosy,
+  Ner one with more accomplishmunts 'twixt here an' Tuscaloosy;
+  She's an F.F., the tallest kind, an' prouder 'n the Gran' Turk,
+  An' never hed a relative thet done a stroke o' work;
+  Hern ain't a scrimpin' fem'ly sech ez _you_ git up Down East,
+  Th' ain't a growed member on 't but owes his thousuns et the least:
+  She _is_ some old; but then agin ther' 's drawbacks in my sheer;
+  Wut's left o' me ain't more 'n enough to make a Brigadier:
+  The wust is, she hez tantrums; she is like Seth Moody's gun
+  (Him thet wuz nicknamed frum his limp Ole Dot an' Kerry One);
+  He'd left her loaded up a spell, an' hed to git her clear,
+  So he onhitched,--Jeerusalem! the middle o' last year
+  Wuz right nex' door compared to where she kicked the critter tu
+  (Though _jest_ where he brought up wuz wut no human never knew);
+  His brother Asaph picked her up an' tied her to a tree,
+  An' then she kicked an hour 'n' a half afore she'd let it be:
+  Wal, Miss S. _doos_ hev cuttins-up an' pourins-out o' vials,
+  But then she hez her widder's thirds, an' all on us hez trials.
+  My objec', though, in writin' now warn't to allude to sech,
+  But to another suckemstance more dellykit to tech,--
+  I want thet you should grad'lly break my merriage to Jerushy,
+  An' ther' 's a heap of argymunts thet's emple to indooce ye:
+  Fust place, State's Prison,--wal, it's true it warn't fer crime, o'
+          course,
+  But then it's jest the same fer her in gittin' a disvorce;
+  Nex' place, my State's secedin' out hez leg'lly lef' me free
+  To merry any one I please, pervidin' it's a she;
+  Fin'lly, I never wun't come back, she needn't hev no fear on 't,
+  But then it 's wal to fix things right fer fear Miss S. should hear
+          on 't;
+  Lastly, I've gut religion South, an' Rushy she's a pagan
+  Thet sets by th' graven imiges o' the gret Nothun Dagon;
+  (Now I hain't seen one in six munts, for, sence our Treasury Loan,
+  Though yaller boys is thick anough, eagles hez kind o' flown;)
+  An' ef J. wants a stronger pint than them thet I hev stated,
+  Wy, she's an aliun in'my now, an' I've ben cornfiscated,--
+  For sence we've entered on th' estate o' the late nayshnul eagle,
+  She hain't no kin' o' right but jest wut I allow ez legle:
+  Wut _doos_ Secedin' mean, ef't ain't thet nat'rul rights hez riz, 'n'
+  Thet wut is mine's my own, but wut's another man's ain't his'n?
+
+  Bersides, I couldn't do no else; Miss S. suz she to me,
+  "You've sheered my bed," [Thet's when I paid my interdiction fee
+  To Southun rites,] "an' kep' your sheer," [Wal, I allow it sticked
+  So's 't I wuz most six weeks in jail afore I gut me picked,]
+  "Ner never paid no demmiges; but thet wun't do no harm,
+  Pervidin' thet you'll ondertake to oversee the farm;
+  (My eldes' boy is so took up, wut with the Ringtail Rangers
+  An' settin' in the Jestice-Court for welcomin' o' strangers";)
+  [He sot on _me_;] "an' so, ef you'll jest ondertake the care
+  Upon a mod'rit sellery, we'll up an' call it square;
+  But ef you _can't_ conclude," suz she, an' give a kin' o' grin,
+  "Wy, the Gran' Jury, I expect, 'll hev to set agin."
+  Thet's the way metters stood at fust; now wut wuz I to du,
+  But jest to make the best on't an' off coat an' buckle tu?
+  Ther' ain't a livin' man thet finds an income necessarier
+  Than me,--bimeby I'll tell ye how I fin'lly come to merry her.
+
+  She hed another motive, tu: I mention of it here
+  T' encourage lads thet's growin' up to study 'n' persevere,
+  An' show 'em how much better 't pays to mind their winter-schoolin'
+  Than to go off on benders 'n' sech, an' waste their time in foolin';
+  Ef 't warn't for studyin', evening, I never 'd ha' ben here
+  An orn'ment o' saciety, in my approprut spear:
+  She wanted somebody, ye see, o' taste an' cultivation,
+  To talk along o' preachers when they stopt to the plantation;
+  For folks in Dixie th't read an' write, onless it is by jarks,
+  Is skurce ez wut they wuz among th' oridgenal patriarchs;
+  To fit a feller f' wut they call the soshle higherarchy,
+  All thet you've gut to know is jest beyund an evrage darky;
+  Schoolin' 's wut they can't seem to stan', they're tu consarned
+          high-pressure,
+  An' knowin' t' much might spile a boy for bein' a Secesher.
+  We hain't no settled preachin' here, ner ministeril taxes;
+  The min'ster's only settlement 's the carpet-bag he packs his
+  Razor an' soap-brush intu, with his hymbook an' his Bible,--
+  But they _du_ preach, I swan to man, it's puf'kly indescrib'le!
+  They go it like an Ericsson's ten-hoss-power coleric ingine,
+  An' make Ole Split-Foot winch an' squirm, for all he's used to
+          singein';
+  Hawkins's whetstone ain't a pinch o' primin' to the innards
+  To hearin' on 'em put free grace t' a lot o' tough old sin-hards!
+
+  But I must eend this letter now: 'fore long I'll send a fresh un;
+  I've lots o' things to write about, perticklerly Seceshun:
+  I'm called off now to mission-work, to let a leetle law in
+  To Cynthy's hide: an' so, till death,
+
+                                        Yourn,
+
+                                              BIRDOFREDUM SAWIN.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+OLD AGE.
+
+
+On the last anniversary of the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Cambridge, the
+venerable President Quincy, senior member of the Society, as well as
+senior alumnus of the University, was received at the dinner with peculiar
+demonstrations of respect. He replied to these compliments in a speech,
+and, gracefully claiming the privileges of a literary society, entered at
+some length into an Apology for Old Age, and, aiding himself by notes in
+his hand, made a sort of running commentary on Cicero's chapter "De
+Senectute." The character of the speaker, the transparent good faith of
+his praise and blame, and the _naïveté_ of his eager preference of
+Cicero's opinions to King David's, gave unusual interest to the College
+festival. It was a discourse full of dignity, honoring him who spoke and
+those who heard.
+
+The speech led me to look over at home--an easy task--Cicero's famous
+essay, charming by its uniform rhetorical merit; heroic with Stoical
+precepts; with a Roman eye to the claims of the State; happiest, perhaps,
+in his praise of life on the farm; and rising, at the conclusion, to a
+lofty strain. But he does not exhaust the subject; rather invites the
+attempt to add traits to the picture from our broader modern life.
+
+Cicero makes no reference to the illusions which cling to the element of
+time, and in which Nature delights. Wellington, in speaking of military
+men, said,--"What masks are these uniforms to hide cowards! When our
+journal is published, many statues must come down." I have often detected
+the like deception in the cloth shoe, wadded pelisse, wig and spectacles,
+and padded chair of Age. Nature lends herself to these illusions, and adds
+dim sight, deafness, cracked voice, snowy hair, short memory, and sleep.
+These also are masks, and all is not Age that wears them. Whilst we yet
+call ourselves young, and all our mates are yet youths and boyish, one
+good fellow in the set prematurely sports a gray or a bald head, which
+does not impose on us who know how innocent of sanctity or of Platonism he
+is, but does not less deceive his juniors and the public, who presently
+distinguish him with a most amusing respect: and this lets us into the
+secret, that the venerable forms that so awed our childhood were just such
+impostors. Nature is full of freaks, and now puts an old head on young
+shoulders, and then a young heart beating under fourscore winters.
+
+For if the essence of age is not present, these signs, whether of Art or
+Nature, are counterfeit and ridiculous: and the essence of age is
+intellect. Wherever that appears, we call it old. If we look into the eyes
+of the youngest person, we sometimes discover that here is one who knows
+already what you would go about with much pains to teach him; there is
+that in him which is the ancestor of all around him: which fact the Indian
+Vedas express, when they say, "He that can discriminate is the father of
+his father." And in our old British legends of Arthur and the Round-Table,
+his friend and counsellor, Merlin the Wise, is a babe found exposed in a
+basket by the river-side, and, though an infant of only a few days, he
+speaks to those who discover him, tells his name and history, and
+presently foretells the fate of the by-standers. Wherever there is power,
+there is age. Don't be deceived by dimples and curls. I tell you that babe
+is a thousand years old.
+
+Time is, indeed, the theatre and seat of illusion. Nothing is so ductile
+and elastic. The mind stretches an hour to a century, and dwarfs an age to
+an hour. Saadi found in a mosque at Damascus an old Persian of a hundred
+and fifty years who was dying, and was saying to himself, "I said, coming
+into the world by birth, 'I will enjoy myself for a few moments.' Alas! at
+the variegated table of life I partook of a few mouthfuls, and the Fates
+said, '_Enough!_'" That which does not decay is so central and controlling
+in us, that, as long as one is alone by himself, he is not sensible of the
+inroads of time, which always begin at the surface-edges. If, on a winter
+day, you should stand within a bell-glass, the face and color of the
+afternoon clouds would not indicate whether it were June or January; and
+if we did not find the reflection of ourselves in the eyes of the young
+people, we could not know that the century-clock had struck seventy
+instead of twenty. How many men habitually believe that each chance
+passenger with whom they converse is of their own age, and presently find
+it was his father, and not his brother, whom they knew!
+
+But, not to press too hard on these deceits and illusions of Nature, which
+are inseparable from our condition, and looking at age under an aspect
+more conformed to the common sense, if the question be the felicity of
+age, I fear the first popular judgments will be unfavorable. From the
+point of sensuous experience, seen from the streets and markets and the
+haunts of pleasure and gain, the estimate of age is low, melancholy, and
+skeptical. Frankly face the facts, and see the result. Tobacco, coffee,
+alcohol, hashish, prussic acid, strychnine, are weak dilutions: the surest
+poison is time. This cup, which Nature puts to our lips, has a wonderful
+virtue, surpassing that of any other draught. It opens the senses, adds
+power, fills us with exalted dreams, which we call hope, love, ambition,
+science: especially, it creates a craving for larger draughts of itself.
+But they who take the larger draughts are drunk with it, lose their
+stature, strength, beauty, and senses, and end in folly and delirium. We
+postpone our literary work until we have more ripeness and skill to write,
+and we one day discover that our literary talent was a youthful
+effervescence which we have now lost. We had a judge in Massachusetts who
+at sixty proposed to resign, alleging that he perceived a certain decay in
+his faculties: he was dissuaded by his friends, on account of the public
+convenience at that time. At seventy it was hinted to him that it was time
+to retire; but he now replied, that he thought his judgment as robust, and
+all his faculties as good as ever they were. But besides the
+self-deception, the strong and hasty laborers of the street do not work
+well with the chronic valetudinarian. Youth is everywhere in place. Age,
+like woman, requires fit surroundings. Age is comely in coaches, in
+churches, in chairs of state and ceremony, in council-chambers, in courts
+of justice, and historical societies. Age is becoming in the country. But
+in the rush and uproar of Broadway, if you look into the faces of the
+passengers, there is dejection or indignation in the seniors, a certain
+concealed sense of injury, and the lip made up with a heroic determination
+not to mind it. Few envy the consideration enjoyed by the oldest
+inhabitant. We do not count a man's years, until he has nothing else to
+count. The vast inconvenience of animal immortality was told in the fable
+of Tithonus. In short, the creed of the street is, Old Age is not
+disgraceful, but immensely disadvantageous. Life is well enough, but we
+shall all be glad to get out of it, and they will all be glad to have us.
+
+This is odious on the face of it. Universal convictions are not to be
+shaken by the whimseys of overfed butchers and firemen, or by the
+sentimental fears of girls who would keep the infantile bloom on their
+cheeks. We know the value of experience. Life and art are cumulative; and
+he who has accomplished something in any department alone deserves to be
+heard on that subject. A man of great employments and excellent
+performance used to assure me that he did not think a man worth anything
+until he was sixty; although this smacks a little of the resolution of a
+certain "Young Men's Republican Club," that all men should be held
+eligible who were under seventy. But in all governments, the councils of
+power were held by the old; and patricians or _patres_, senate or _senes_,
+_seigneurs_ or seniors, _gerousia_, the senate of Sparta, the presbytery
+of the Church, and the like, all signify simply old men.
+
+This cynical lampoon is refuted by the universal prayer for long life,
+which is the verdict of Nature, and justified by all history. We have, it
+is true, examples of an accelerated pace, by which young men achieved
+grand works; as in the Macedonian Alexander, in Raffaelle, Shakspeare,
+Pascal, Burns, and Byron; but these are rare exceptions. Nature, in the
+main, vindicates her law. Skill to do comes of doing; knowledge comes by
+eyes always open, and working hands; and there is no knowledge that is not
+power. And if the life be true and noble, we have quite another sort of
+seniors than the frowzy, timorous, peevish dotards who are falsely
+old,--namely, the men who fear no city, but by whom cities stand; who
+appearing in any street, the people empty their houses to gaze at and obey
+them: as at "My Cid, with the fleecy beard," in Toledo; or Bruce, as
+Barbour reports him; as blind old Dandolo, elected Doge at eighty-four
+years, storming Constantinople at ninety-four, and after the revolt again
+victorious, and elected at the age of ninety-six to the throne of the
+Eastern Empire, which he declined, and died Doge at ninety-seven. We still
+feel the force of Socrates, "whom well-advised the oracle pronounced
+wisest of men"; of Archimedes, holding Syracuse against the Romans by his
+wit, and himself better than all their nation; of Michel Angelo, wearing
+the four crowns of architecture, sculpture, painting, and poetry; of
+Galileo, of whose blindness Castelli said, "The noblest eye is darkened
+that Nature ever made,--an eye that hath seen more than all that went
+before him, and hath opened the eyes of all that shall come after him"; of
+Newton, who made an important discovery for every one of his eighty-five
+years; of Bacon, who "took all knowledge to be his province"; of
+Fontenelle, "that precious porcelain vase laid up in the centre of France
+to be guarded with the utmost care for a hundred years"; of Franklin,
+Jefferson, and Adams, the wise and heroic statesmen; of Washington, the
+perfect citizen; of Wellington, the perfect soldier; of Goethe, the
+all-knowing poet; of Humboldt, the encyclopædia of science.
+
+Under the general assertion of the well-being of age, we can easily count
+particular benefits of that condition. It has weathered the perilous capes
+and shoals in the sea whereon we sail, and the chief evil of life is taken
+away in removing the grounds of fear. The insurance of a ship expires as
+she enters the harbor at home. It were strange, if a man should turn his
+sixtieth year without a feeling of immense relief from the number of
+dangers he has escaped. When the old wife says, "Take care of that tumor
+in your shoulder, perhaps it is cancerous,"--he replies, "What if it is?"
+The humorous thief who drank a pot of beer at the gallows blew off the
+froth because he had heard it was unhealthy; but it will not add a pang to
+the prisoner marched out to be shot, to assure him that the pain in his
+knee threatens mortification. When the pleuro-pneumonia of the cows raged,
+the butchers said, that, though the acute degree was novel, there never
+was a time when this disease did not occur among cattle. All men carry
+seeds of all distempers through life latent, and we die without developing
+them: such is the affirmative force of the constitution. But if you are
+enfeebled by any cause, the disease becomes strong. At every stage we lose
+a foe. At fifty years, 't is said, afflicted citizens lose their
+sick-headaches. I hope this _hegira_ is not as movable a feast as that one
+I annually look for, when the horticulturists assure me that the rose-bugs
+in our gardens disappear on the tenth of July: they stay a fortnight later
+in mine. But be it as it may with the sick-headache,--'t is certain that
+graver headaches and heart-aches are lulled, once for all, as we come up
+with certain goals of time. The passions have answered their purpose: that
+slight, but dread overweight, with which, in each instance, Nature secures
+the execution of her aim, drops off. To keep man in the planet, she
+impresses the terror of death. To perfect the commisariat, she implants in
+each a little rapacity to get the supply, and a little over-supply, of his
+wants. To insure the existence of the race, she reinforces the sexual
+instinct, at the risk of disorder, grief, and pain. To secure strength,
+she plants cruel hunger and thirst, which so easily overdo their office,
+and invite disease. But these temporary stays and shifts for the
+protection of the young animal are shed as fast as they can be replaced by
+nobler resources. We live in youth amidst this rabble of passions, quite
+too tender, quite too hungry and irritable. Later, the interiors of mind
+and heart open, and supply grander motives. We learn the fatal
+compensations that wait on every act. Then,--one mischief at a time,--this
+riotous time-destroying crew disappear.
+
+I count it another capital advantage of age, this, that a success more or
+less signifies nothing. Little by little, it has amassed such a fund of
+merit, that it can very well afford to go on its credit when it will. When
+I chanced to meet the poet Wordsworth, then sixty-three years old, he told
+me, "that he had just had a fall and lost a tooth, and, when his
+companions were much concerned for the mischance, he had replied, that he
+was glad it had not happened forty years before." Well, Nature takes care
+that we shall not lose our organs forty years too soon. A lawyer argued a
+cause yesterday in the Supreme Court, and I was struck with a certain air
+of levity and defiance which vastly became him. Thirty years ago it was a
+serious concern to him whether his pleading was good and effective. Now it
+is of importance to his client, but of none to himself. It is long already
+fixed what he can do and cannot do, and his reputation does not gain or
+suffer from one or a dozen new performances. If he should, on a new
+occasion, rise quite beyond his mark, and do somewhat extraordinary and
+great, that, of course, would instantly tell; but he may go below his mark
+with impunity, and people will say, "Oh, he had headache," or, "He lost
+his sleep for two nights." What a lust of appearance, what a load of
+anxieties that once degraded him, he is thus rid of! Every one is sensible
+of this cumulative advantage in living. All the good days behind him are
+sponsors, who speak for him when he is silent, pay for him when he has no
+money, introduce him where he has no letters, and work for him when he
+sleeps.
+
+A third felicity of age is, that it has found expression. Youth suffers
+not only from ungratified desires, but from powers untried, and from a
+picture in his mind of a career which has, as yet, no outward reality. He
+is tormented with the want of correspondence between things and thoughts.
+Michel Angelo's head is full of masculine and gigantic figures as gods
+walking, which make him savage until his furious chisel can render them
+into marble; and of architectural dreams, until a hundred stone-masons can
+lay them in courses of travertine. There is the like tempest in every good
+head in which some great benefit for the world is planted. The throes
+continue until the child is born. Every faculty new to each man thus goads
+him and drives him out into doleful deserts, until it finds proper vent.
+All the functions of human duty irritate and lash him forward, bemoaning
+and chiding, until they are performed. He wants friends, employment,
+knowledge, power, house and land, wife and children, honor and fame; he
+has religious wants, aesthetic wants, domestic, civil, humane wants. One
+by one, day after day, he learns to coin his wishes into facts. He has his
+calling, homestead, social connection, and personal power, and thus, at
+the end of fifty years, his soul is appeased by seeing some sort of
+correspondence between his wish and his possession. This makes the value
+of age, the satisfaction it slowly offers to every craving. He is serene
+who does not feel himself pinched and wronged, but whose condition, in
+particular and in general, allows the utterance of his mind. In old
+persons, when thus fully expressed, we often observe a fair, plump,
+perennial, waxen complexion, which indicates that all the ferment of
+earlier days has subsided into serenity of thought and behavior.
+
+For a fourth benefit, age sets its house in order, and finishes its works,
+which to every artist is a supreme pleasure. Youth has an excess of
+sensibility, to which every object glitters and attracts. We leave one
+pursuit for another, and the young man's year is a heap of beginnings. At
+the end of a twelvemonth, he has nothing to show for it, not one completed
+work. But the time is not lost. Our instincts drove us to hive innumerable
+experiences, that are yet of no visible value, and which we may keep for
+twice seven years before they shall be wanted. The best things are of
+secular growth. The instinct of classifying marks the wise and healthy
+mind. Linnæus projects his system, and lays out his twenty-four classes of
+plants, before yet he has found in Nature a single plant to justify
+certain of his classes. His seventh class has not one. In process of time,
+he finds with delight the little white _Trientalis_, the only plant with
+seven petals and sometimes seven stamens, which constitutes a seventh
+class in conformity with his system. The conchologist builds his cabinet
+whilst as yet he has few shells. He labels shelves for classes, cells for
+species: all but a few are empty. But every year fills some blanks, and
+with accelerating speed as he becomes knowing and known. An old scholar
+finds keen delight in verifying all the impressive anecdotes and citations
+he has met with in miscellaneous reading and hearing, in all the years of
+youth. We carry in memory important anecdotes, and have lost all clue to
+the author from whom we had them. We have a heroic speech from Rome or
+Greece, but cannot fix it on the man who said it. We have an admirable
+line worthy of Horace, ever and anon resounding in our mind's ear, but
+have searched all probable and improbable books for it in vain. We consult
+the reading men: but, strangely enough, they who know everything know not
+this. But especially we have a certain insulated thought, which haunts us,
+but remains insulated and barren. Well, there is nothing for all this but
+patience and time. Time, yes, that is the finder, the unweariable
+explorer, not subject to casualties, omniscient at last. The day comes
+when the hidden author of our story is found; when the brave speech
+returns straight to the hero who said it; when the admirable verse finds
+the poet to whom it belongs; and best of all, when the lonely thought,
+which seemed so wise, yet half-wise, half-thought, because it cast no
+light abroad, is suddenly matched in our mind by its twin, by its
+sequence, or next related analogy, which gives it instantly radiating
+power, and justifies the superstitious instinct with which we had hoarded
+it. We remember our old Greek Professor at Cambridge, an ancient bachelor,
+amid his folios, possessed by this hope of completing a task, with nothing
+to break his leisure after the three hours of his daily classes, yet ever
+restlessly stroking his leg, and assuring himself "he should retire from
+the University and read the authors." In Goethe's Romance, Makaria, the
+central figure for wisdom and influence, pleases herself with withdrawing
+into solitude to astronomy and epistolary correspondence. Goethe himself
+carried this completion of studies to the highest point. Many of his works
+hung on the easel from youth to age, and received a stroke in every month
+or year of his life. A literary astrologer, he never applied himself to
+any task but at the happy moment when all the stars consented. Bentley
+thought himself likely to live till fourscore,--long enough to read
+everything that was worth reading,--"_Et tunc magna mei sub terris ibit
+imago_." Much wider is spread the pleasure which old men take in
+completing their secular affairs, the inventor his inventions, the
+agriculturist his experiments, and all old men in finishing their houses,
+rounding their estates, clearing their titles, reducing tangled interests
+to order, reconciling enmities, and leaving all in the best posture for
+the future. It must be believed that there is a proportion between the
+designs of a man and the length of his life: there is a calendar of his
+years, so of his performances.
+
+America is the country of young men, and too full of work hitherto for
+leisure and tranquillity; yet we have had robust centenarians, and
+examples of dignity and wisdom. I have lately found in an old note-book a
+record of a visit to Ex-President John Adams, in 1825, soon after the
+election of his _son_ to the Presidency. It is but a sketch, and nothing
+important passed in the conversation; but it reports a moment in the life
+of a heroic person, who, in extreme old age, appeared still erect, and
+worthy of his fame.
+
+    ----, _Feb._, 1825. To-day, at Quincy, with my brother, by
+    invitation of Mr. Adams's family. The old President sat in a large
+    stuffed arm-chair, dressed in a blue coat, black small-clothes,
+    white stockings, and a cotton cap covered his bald head. We made
+    our compliment, told him he must let us join our congratulations
+    to those of the nation on the happiness of his house. He thanked
+    us, and said, "I am rejoiced, because the nation is happy. The
+    time of gratulation and congratulations is nearly over with me: I
+    am astonished that I have lived to see and know of this event. I
+    have lived now nearly a century: [he was ninety in the following
+    October:] a long, harassed, and distracted life."--I said, "The
+    world thinks a good deal of joy has been mixed with it."--"The
+    world does not know," he replied, "how much toil, anxiety, and
+    sorrow I have suffered."--I asked if Mr. Adams's letter of
+    acceptance had been read to him.--"Yes," he said, and added, "My
+    son has more political prudence than any man that I know who has
+    existed in my time; he never was put off his guard: and I hope he
+    will continue such; but what effect age may work in diminishing
+    the power of his mind, I do not know; it has been very much on the
+    stretch, ever since he was born. He has always been laborious,
+    child and man, from infancy."--When Mr. J.Q. Adams's age was
+    mentioned, he said, "He is now fifty-eight, or will be in July";
+    and remarked that "all the Presidents were of the same age:
+    General Washington was about fifty-eight, and I was about
+    fifty-eight, and Mr. Jefferson, and Mr. Madison, and Mr.
+    Monroe."--We inquired, when he expected to see Mr. Adams.--He
+    said, "Never: Mr. Adams will not come to Quincy, but to my
+    funeral. It would be a great satisfaction to me to see him, but I
+    don't wish him to come on my account."--He spoke of Mr. Lechmere,
+    whom "he well remembered to have seen come down daily, at a great
+    age, to walk in the old town-house,"--adding, "And I wish I could
+    walk as well as he did. He was Collector of the Customs for many
+    years, under the Royal Government"--E. said, "I suppose, Sir, you
+    would not have taken his place, even to walk as well as
+    he."--"No," he replied, "that was not what I wanted."--He talked
+    of Whitefield, and "remembered, when he was a Freshman in college,
+    to have come in to the _Old South_, [I think,] to hear him, but
+    could not get into the house;--I, however, saw him," he said,
+    "through a window, and distinctly heard all. He had a voice such
+    as I never heard before or since. He cast it out so that you might
+    hear it at the meeting-house, [pointing towards the Quincy
+    meeting-house,] and he had the grace of a dancing-master, of an
+    actor of plays. His voice and manner helped him more than his
+    sermons. I went with Jonathan Sewall."--"And you were pleased with
+    him, Sir?"--"Pleased! I was delighted beyond measure."--We asked,
+    if at Whitefield's return the same popularity continued.--"Not the
+    same fury," he said, "not the same wild enthusiasm as before, but
+    a greater esteem, as he became more known. He did not terrify, but
+    was admired."
+
+We spent about an hour in his room. He speaks very distinctly for so old a
+man, enters bravely into long sentences, which are interrupted by want of
+breath, but carries them invariably to a conclusion, without ever
+correcting a word.
+
+He spoke of the new novels of Cooper, and "Peep at the Pilgrims," and
+"Saratoga," with praise, and named with accuracy the characters in them.
+He likes to have a person always reading to him, or company talking in his
+room, and is better the next day after having visitors in his chamber from
+morning to night.
+
+He received a premature report of his son's election, on Sunday afternoon,
+without any excitement, and told the reporter he had been hoaxed, for it
+was not yet time for any news to arrive. The informer, something damped in
+his heart, insisted on repairing to the meeting-house, and proclaimed it
+aloud to the congregation, who were so overjoyed that they rose in their
+seats and cheered thrice. The Reverend Mr. Whitney dismissed them
+immediately.
+
+When life has been well spent, age is a loss of what it can well
+spare,--muscular strength, organic instincts, gross bulk, and works that
+belong to these. But the central wisdom, which was old in infancy, is
+young in fourscore years, and, dropping off obstructions, leaves in happy
+subjects the mind purified and wise. I have heard that whoever loves is in
+no condition old. I have heard, that, whenever the name of man is spoken,
+the doctrine of immortality is announced; it cleaves to his constitution.
+The mode of it baffles our wit, and no whisper comes to us from the other
+side. But the inference from the working of intellect, hiving knowledge,
+hiving skill,--at the end of life just ready to be born,--affirms the
+inspirations of affection and of the moral sentiment.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+
+    _Lectures on the Science of Languages_, delivered at the Royal
+    Institution of Great Britain in April, May, and June, 1861. By MAX
+    MÜLLER, M.A., Fellow of All-Souls College, Oxford; Corresponding
+    Member of the Imperial Institute of France. London: Longman,
+    Green, Longman, & Roberts. 1861. 8vo. pp. xii., 399.
+
+The name of Mr. Max Müller is familiar to American students as that of a
+man who, learned in the high German fashion, has the pleasant faculty,
+unhappily too rare among Germans, of communicating his erudition in a way
+not only comprehensible, but agreeable to the laity. The Teutonic
+_Gelehrte_, gallantly devoting a half-century to his pipe and his locative
+case, fencing the result of his labors with a bristling hedge of
+abbreviations, cross-references, and untranslated citations that take
+panglottism for granted as an ordinary incident of human culture, too
+hastily assumes a tenacity of life on the part of his reader as great as
+his own. All but those with whom the study of language is a specialty pass
+him by as Dante does Nimrod, gladly concluding
+
+  "Che così è a lui ciascun linguaggio,
+  Come il suo ad altrui, che a nullo è noto."
+
+The brothers Grimm are known to what is called the reading public chiefly
+as contributors to the literature of the nursery; and as for Bopp, Pott,
+Zeuss, Lassen, Diefenbach, and the rest, men who look upon the curse of
+Babel as the luckiest event in human annals, their names and works are
+terrors to the uninitiated. They are the giants of these latter days, of
+whom all we know is that they now and then snatch up some unhappy friend
+of ours and imprison him in their terrible castle of Nongtongpaw, whence,
+if he ever escape, he comes back to us emaciated, unintelligible, and with
+a passion for roots that would make him an ornament of society among the
+Digger Indians.
+
+Yet though in metaphor giants of learning, their office seems practically
+rather that of the dwarfs, as gatherers and guardians of treasure useless
+to themselves, but with which some luck's-child may enrich himself and his
+neighbors. Other analogies between them and the dwarfs, such as their
+accomplishing superhuman things and being prematurely subject to the
+dryness of old ago, ("_Der Zwerg ist schon im siebenten Jahr ein Greis_,"
+says Grimm,) will at once suggest themselves.
+
+Mr. Müller is one of the agreeable luck's-children who lay these swarthy
+miners under contribution for us, understand their mystic sign-language,
+and save us the trouble of climbing the mountain and scratching through
+the thickets for ourselves. Happy the man who can make knowledge
+entertaining! Thrice happy his readers! The author of these Lectures is
+already well known as not only, perhaps, the best living scholar of
+Sanscrit literature, (and by scholar we mean one who regards study as a
+means, not an end, and who is capable of drawing original conclusions,)
+but a _savant_ who can teach without tiring, and can administer learning
+as if it were something else than medicine. Whoever reads this volume will
+regret that Mr. Müller's eminent qualifications for the Boden
+Professorship at Oxford should have failed to turn the scale against the
+assumed superior orthodoxy of his competitor. Was it in Sanscrit that he
+was heterodox? or in Hindoo mythology?
+
+The Lectures are nine in number. The titles of them will show the range
+and nature of Mr. Müller's dissertations. They are, (1.) On the science of
+language as one of the physical sciences; (2.) On the growth of language
+in contradistinction to the history of language; (3.) On the empirical
+stage in the science of language; (4.) On the classificatory stage in the
+same; (5.) On the genealogical classification of languages; (6.) On
+comparative grammar; (7.) On the constituent elements of language; (8.) On
+the morphological classification of languages; (9.) On the theoretical
+stage in the science of languages and the origin of language. An Appendix
+contains a genealogical table of languages; and an ample Index (why have
+authors forgotten, what was once so well known, that an index is all that
+saves the contents of a book from being mere birds in the bush?) makes the
+volume as useful on the shelf as it is interesting and instructive in the
+hand. Of the catholic spirit in which Mr. Müller treats his various topics
+of discussion and illustration, his own theory of the true method of
+investigation is the best proof.
+
+    "There are two ways," he says, in discussing the origin of
+    language, "of judging of former philosophers. One is, to put aside
+    their opinions as simply erroneous, where they differ from our
+    own. This is the least satisfactory way of studying ancient
+    philosophy. Another way is, to try to enter into the opinions of
+    those from whom we differ, to make them, our a time at least, our
+    own, till at least we discover the point of view from which each
+    philosopher looked at the facts before him and catch the light in
+    which he regarded them. We shall then find that there is much less
+    of downright error in the history of philosophy than is commonly
+    supposed; nay, _we shall find nothing so conducive to a right
+    appreciation of truth as a right appreciation of the error by
+    which it is surrounded_." (p. 360. The Italics are ours.)
+
+A mere philologist might complain that the book contained nothing new. And
+this is in the main true, though by no means altogether so, especially as
+regards the nomenclature of classification, and the illustration of
+special points by pertinent examples. In this last respect Mr. Müller is
+particularly happy, as, for instance, in what he says of "Yes 'r and Yes
+'m." (pp. 210 ff.) And as regards originality in the treatment of a purely
+scientific subject, a good deal depends on the meaning we attach to the
+term. If we understand by it striking conclusions drawn from theoretic
+premises, (as in Knox's "Races of Man,") clever generalizations from
+fortuitous analogies and coincidences insufficiently weighed, (as in
+Pococke's "India in Greece,") or, to take a philologic example,
+speculations suggestive of thought, it may be, but too insecurely based on
+positive data, (as in Rapp's "Physiologie der Sprache,") we shall vainly
+seek for such originality in Mr. Müller's Lectures. But if we take it to
+mean, as we certainly prefer to do, safety of conclusion founded on
+thorough knowledge and comparison, clear statement guarded on all sides by
+long intimacy with the subject, and theory the result of legitimate
+deduction and judicial weighing of evidence, we shall find enough in the
+book to content us. Mr. Müller does not now enter the lists for the first
+time to win his spurs as an original writer. The plan of the work before
+us necessarily excluded any great display of recondite learning or of
+profound speculation. Delivered at first as popularly scientific lectures,
+and now published for the general reader, it seems to us admirably
+conceived and executed. Easily comprehensible, and yet always pointing out
+the sources of fuller investigation, it is ample both to satisfy the
+desire of those who wish to get the latest results of philology and to
+stimulate the curiosity of whoever wishes to go farther and deeper. It is
+by far the best and clearest summing-up of the present condition of the
+Science of Language that we have ever seen, while the liveliness of the
+style and the variety and freshness of illustration make it exceedingly
+entertaining.
+
+We hope that a book of such slight assumption and such solid merit, a
+model of clear arrangement and popular treatment, may be widely read in
+this country, where the ignorance, carelessness, or dishonest good-nature
+even of journals professedly literary is apt to turn over the unlearned
+reader to such blind guides as Swinton's "Rambles among Words," compounds
+of plagiarism and pretension. Philology as a science is but just beginning
+to assert its claims in America, though we may already point with
+satisfaction to several distinguished workers in the field. The names of
+Professor Sophocles, at Cambridge, and Professor Whitney, at New Haven,
+rank with those of European scholars; and we have already borne the
+warmest testimony in these pages to the value of Mr. Marsh's contributions
+to the study of English, a judgment which we are glad to see confirmed by
+the weighty authority of Mr, Müller.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    1. _On Translating Homer_. Three Lectures given at Oxford by
+    MATTHEW ARNOLD, M.A., Professor of Poetry in the University of
+    Oxford, and formerly Fellow of Oriel College. London: Longmans.
+    1861. pp. 104.
+
+    2. _Homeric Translation in Theory and Practice_. A Reply to
+    Matthew Arnold, Esq., Professor of Poetry at Oxford. By FRANCIS W.
+    NEWMAN, a Translator of the Iliad. London: Williams & Norgate.
+    1801. pp. 104.
+
+MR. F.W. NEWMAN, Professor of Latin in the University of London, probably
+without much hope of satisfying himself, and certain to dissatisfy every
+one who could read, or pretend to read, the original, did nevertheless
+complete and publish a translation of the "Iliad." And now, unmindful of
+Bentley's _dictum_, that no man was ever written down but by himself, he
+has published an answer to Mr. Arnold's criticism of his work. Thackeray
+has said that it is of no use pretending not to care if your book is cut
+up by the "Times"; and it is not surprising that Mr. Newman should be
+uneasy at being first held up as an awful example to the youth of Oxford
+in academical lectures, and then to the public of England in a printed
+monograph, by a man of so much reputation for scholarship and taste as the
+present incumbent of Thomas Warton's chair.
+
+Mr. Arnold's little book is, we need scarcely say, full of delicate
+criticism and suggestion. He treats his subject with great cleverness, and
+on many points carries the reader along with him. Especially good is all
+that he says about the "grand style," so far as his general propositions
+are concerned. But when he comes to apply his criticisms, he instinctively
+feels the want of an absolute standard of judgment in aesthetic matters,
+and accordingly appeals to the verdict of "scholars,"--a somewhat vague
+term, to be sure, but by which he evidently understands men not merely of
+learning, but of taste. Of course, his reasoning is all _a posteriori_,
+and from the narrowest premises,--namely, from an unpleasant effect on his
+own nerves, to an efficient cause in the badness of Mr. Newman's
+translation.
+
+No quarrels, perhaps, are so bitter as those about matters of taste:
+hardly even is the _odium theologicum_, so profound as the _odium
+æstheticum_. A man, perhaps, will more easily forgive another for
+disbelieving his own total depravity than for believing that Guido is a
+great painter or Tupper an inspiring poet. The present dispute, therefore,
+tenderly personal as it is on the part of one of the pleaders, is
+especially interesting as showing a very decided and gratifying advance in
+the civilization of literary men to-day as compared with that of a century
+or indeed half a century ago. If we go back still farther, matters were
+still worse, and we find Luther and even Milton raking the kennel for dirt
+dirty enough to fling at an antagonist. But even within the memory of man,
+the style of the "Dunciad" was hardly obsolete in "Blackwood" and the
+"Quarterly." It is very pleasant, in the present case, to see both attack
+and defence conducted with so gentlemanlike a reserve,--and the latter,
+which is even more surprising, with an approach to amenity.
+
+In Mr. Newman the Professor of Poetry finds an able and wary antagonist,
+and one who, in point of learning, carries heavier metal than himself. The
+dispute turns partly on the character of Homer's poetry, partly on the
+true method of translation, (especially Homeric translation,) and partly
+on the particular merits of Mr. Newman's attempt as compared with those of
+others. Of course, many side-topics are incidentally touched upon, among
+others, the English hexameter, Mr. Newman's objections to which are
+particularly worthy of attention.
+
+Mr. Newman instantly sees and strikes at the weak point of his adversary's
+argument. "You appeal to scholars," he says in substance; "you admit that
+I am one; now you _don't_ like my choice of words or metre; I _do_; who,
+then, shall decide? Why, the public, of course, which is the court of last
+appeal in such cases." It appears to us, that, on most of the points at
+issue, the truth lies somewhere between the two disputants. We do not
+think that Mr. Newman has made out his case that Homer was antiquated,
+quaint, and even grotesque to the Greeks themselves because his cast of
+thought and his language were archaic, or strange to them because he wrote
+in a dialect almost as different from Attic as Scotch from English. The
+Bible is as far from us in language and in the Orientalism of its thought
+and expression as Homer was from them; yet we are so familiar with it that
+it produces on us no impression of being antiquated or quaint, seldom of
+being grotesque, and what is still more to the purpose, produces that
+impression as little on illiterate persons to whom many of the words are
+incomprehensible. So, too, it seems to us, no part of Burns is alien to a
+man whose mother-tongue is English, in the same sense that some parts of
+Béranger are; because Burns, though a North Briton, was still a Briton, as
+Homer, though an Ionian, was still a Greek. We think he does prove that
+neither Mr. Arnold nor any other scholar can form any adequate conception
+of the impression which the poems of Homer produced either on the ear or
+the mind of a Greek; but in doing this he proves too much for his own
+case, where it turns upon the class of words proper to be used in
+translating him. Mr. Newman says he sometimes used low words; and since
+his theory of the duty of a translator is, that he should reproduce the
+moral effect of his author,--be noble where he is noble, barbarous, if he
+be barbarous, and quaint, if quaint,--so he should render low words by
+words as low. But here his own dilemma meets him: how does he know that
+Homer's words _did_ seem low to a Greek? We agree with him in refusing to
+be conventional; so would Mr. Arnold; only one would call conventional
+what the other would call elegant, the question again resolving itself
+into one of personal taste. We agree with him also in his preference for
+words that have it certain strangeness and antique dignity about them, but
+think he should stop short of anything that needs a glossary. He might
+learn from Chapman's version, however, that it is not the widest choice of
+archaic words, but intensity of conception and phrase, that gives a poem
+life, and keeps it living, in spite of grave defects. Where Chapman, in a
+famous passage, ("Odyssey," v. 612,) tells us, that, when Ulysses crawled
+ashore after his shipwreck, "_the sea had soaked his heart through_," it
+is not the mere simplicity of the language, but the vivid conception which
+went before and compelled the simplicity, that is impressive. We believe
+Mr. Newman is right in refusing to sacrifice a good word because it may be
+pronounced mean by individual caprice, wrong in attempting the fatal
+impossibility of rescuing a word which to all minds alike conveys a low or
+ludicrous meaning, as, for example, _pate_, and _dopper_, for which he
+does battle doughtily. Mr. Newman is guilty of a fallacy when he brings up
+_brick, sell_, and _cut_ as instances in support of his position, for in
+these cases Mr. Arnold would only object to his use of them in their
+_slang_ sense. He himself would hardly venture to say that Hector was a
+_brick_, that Achilles _cut_ Agamemnon, or that Ulysses _sold_ Polyphemus.
+It is precisely because Hobbes used language in this way that his
+translation of Homer is so ludicrous. Wordsworth broke down in his theory,
+that the language of poetry should be the every-day speech of men and
+women, though he nearly succeeded in finally extirpating "poetic diction."
+We think the proper antithesis is not between prosaic and poetic words,
+nor between the speech of actual life and a conventionalized diction, but
+between the language of _real_ life (which is something different from the
+actual, or matter-of-fact) and that of _artificial_ life, or
+society,--that is, between phrases fit to express the highest passion,
+feeling, aspiration, and those adapted to the intercourse of polite life,
+whence all violent emotion, or, at least, the expression of it, is
+excluded. This latter highly artificial and polished dialect is
+accordingly as suitable to the Mock-Heroic (like "The Rape of the Lock")
+as it is inefficient and even distasteful when employed for the higher and
+more serious purposes of poetry. It was most fortunate for English poetry
+that our translation of the Bible and Shakspeare arrested our language,
+and, as it were, crystallized it, precisely at its freshest and most
+vigorous period, giving us an inexhaustible mine of words familiar to the
+heart and mind, yet unvulgarized to the ear by trivial associations.
+
+The whole question of Homeric translation in its entire range, between
+Chapman on the one hand and Pope and Cowper on the other, is opened afresh
+by this controversy. The difficulty of the undertaking, and still more of
+dogmatizing on the proper mode of executing it, is manifest from the fact
+that Mr. Newman is quite as successful in turning some specimens of Mr.
+Arnold's into ridicule as the latter had been with his. Meanwhile we
+commend the two little books to our readers as containing an able and
+entertaining discussion on a question of general and permanent interest,
+and as showing that the "Quarrels of Authors" may be conducted in a
+dignified and scholarly way.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+OBITUARY.
+
+
+The last English steamer brings us the sad news of the death of Arthur
+Hugh Clough. Mr. Clough had so many personal friends, as well as warm
+admirers, in America, that his death will be felt by numbers of our
+readers both as a private grief and a public loss. The earth will not soon
+close over a man of more lovely character or more true and delicate
+genius. This is not the place or the occasion to do justice to the many
+eminent qualities of his heart and mind, and we only allude to his death
+at all because in him the "Atlantic" has lost one of its most valued
+contributors.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No.
+51, January, 1862, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
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+<head>
+<meta name="generator" content=
+"HTML Tidy for Mac OS X (vers 1st August 2004), see www.w3.org" />
+<meta http-equiv="content-type" content=
+"text/html; charset=us-ascii" />
+<title>The Atlantic Monthly, No. 51.</title>
+
+<style type="text/css">
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+
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+
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+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 51,
+January, 1862, 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: The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 51, January, 1862
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: November 2, 2004 [EBook #13924]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Barbara Tozier and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders. Produced from Page Scans Provided by Cornell University.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<h1>THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.</h1>
+<h2>A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS.</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>VOLUME IX.</h2>
+<h3>M DCCC LXII.</h3>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<!-- [Transcriber's note: Converted page numbers to issue numbers.] -->
+<p class="cen" style="font-size:80%;"><em><span style=
+"text-decoration:underline;">Underlined</span> titles are in this
+issue</em></p>
+<table summary="contents">
+<tr>
+<td class="toctitle">CONTENTS.</td>
+<td class="toctitle">ISSUE.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">A.C., The Experiences of the,</td>
+<td class="newlet">52.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="text-decoration:underline;">Agnes of Sorrento,</td>
+<td><a href="#agnes">51</a>, 52, 53, 54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>American Civilization,</td>
+<td>54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Author of &ldquo;Charles Auchester,&rdquo; The,</td>
+<td>56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="text-decoration:underline;">Autobiographical Sketches of
+a Strength-Seeker,</td>
+<td><a href="#strength">51</a>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Childhood, Concerning the Sorrows of,</td>
+<td class="newlet">53.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Clough, Arthur Hugh,</td>
+<td>54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="text-decoration:underline;">Cooper, James Fenimore,</td>
+<td><a href="#cooper">51</a>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Ease in Work,</td>
+<td class="newlet">52.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Forester, The,</td>
+<td class="newlet">54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="text-decoration:underline;">Fremont&rsquo;s Hundred Days
+in Missouri,</td>
+<td><a href="#fremont">51</a>, 52, 53.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Fruits of Free Labor in the Smaller Islands of the British West
+Indies,</td>
+<td>53.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">German Burns, The,</td>
+<td class="newlet">54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Health of Our Girls, The,</td>
+<td class="newlet">56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Hindrance,</td>
+<td>55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Horrors of San Domingo, The,</td>
+<td>56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Individuality,</td>
+<td class="newlet">54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet" style="text-decoration:underline;">Jefferson and
+Slavery,</td>
+<td class="newlet"><a href="#jefferson">51</a>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>John Lamar,</td>
+<td>54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Letter to a Young Contributor,</td>
+<td class="newlet">54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="text-decoration:underline;">Light Literature,</td>
+<td><a href="#light">51</a>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="text-decoration:underline;">Love and Skates,</td>
+<td><a href="#skates">51</a>, 52.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Man under Sealed Orders,</td>
+<td class="newlet">55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="text-decoration:underline;">Methods of Study in Natural
+History,</td>
+<td><a href="#naturalhistory">51</a>, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>My Garden,</td>
+<td>55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet" style="text-decoration:underline;">Old Age,</td>
+<td class="newlet"><a href="#oldage">51</a>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Our Artists in Italy,</td>
+<td>52.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">P&egrave;re Antoine&rsquo;s Date-Palm,</td>
+<td class="newlet">56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="text-decoration:underline;">Pilgrimage to Old
+Boston,</td>
+<td><a href="#boston">51</a>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Raft that no Man made, A,</td>
+<td class="newlet">53.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Richelieu, The Statesmanship of,</td>
+<td>55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Rifle, The Use of the,</td>
+<td>53.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Saltpetre as a Source of Power,</td>
+<td class="newlet">55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Sam Adams Regiments in the Town of Boston, The,</td>
+<td>56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Slavery, in its Principles, Development, and Expedients,</td>
+<td>55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Snow,</td>
+<td>52.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>&ldquo;Solid Operations in Virginia&rdquo;,</td>
+<td>56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>South Breaker, The,</td>
+<td>55, 56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Spain, The Rehabilitation of,</td>
+<td>53.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Spirits,</td>
+<td>55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="text-decoration:underline;">Story of To-Day, A,</td>
+<td><a href="#today">51</a>, 52, 53.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Taxation,</td>
+<td class="newlet">53.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Then and Now in the Old Dominion,</td>
+<td>54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Walking,</td>
+<td class="newlet">56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>War and Literature,</td>
+<td>56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Weather in War,</td>
+<td>55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>What shall We do with Them?,</td>
+<td>54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="toctitle">POETRY.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Astraea at the Capitol,</td>
+<td class="newlet">56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>At Port Royal, 1861,</td>
+<td>52.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Battle-Hymn of the Republic,</td>
+<td class="newlet">52.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="text-decoration:underline;">Birdofredum Sawin, Esq., to
+Mr. Hosea Biglow,</td>
+<td><a href="#birdofredum">51</a>, 53.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Compensation,</td>
+<td class="newlet">54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Exodus,</td>
+<td class="newlet">54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Lines written under a Portrait of Theodore
+Winthrop,</td>
+<td class="newlet">55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Lyrics of the Street,</td>
+<td>55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Mason and Slidell: A Yankee Idyl,</td>
+<td class="newlet">52.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Message of Jeff Davis in Secret Session, A,</td>
+<td>54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Midwinter,</td>
+<td>52.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Mountain Pictures,</td>
+<td>53, 54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Order for a Picture, An,</td>
+<td class="newlet">56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Out of the Body to God,</td>
+<td>56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet" style="text-decoration:underline;">Per Tenebras,
+Lumina,</td>
+<td class="newlet"><a href="#tenebras">51</a>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Sonnet,</td>
+<td class="newlet">56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Southern Cross, The,</td>
+<td>53.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Speech of Hon&rsquo;ble Preserved Doe in Secret Caucus,</td>
+<td>55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Strasburg Clock, The,</td>
+<td>54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Sunthin&rsquo; in the Pastoral Line,</td>
+<td>56.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Titmouse, The,</td>
+<td class="newlet">55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td style="text-decoration:underline;">True Heroine, The,</td>
+<td><a href="#heroine">51</a>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Under the Snow,</td>
+<td class="newlet">55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Volunteer, The,</td>
+<td class="newlet">55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Voyage of the Good Ship Union,</td>
+<td>53.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="toctitle">REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet" style="text-decoration:underline;">
+Arnold&rsquo;s Lectures on translating Homer,</td>
+<td class="newlet"><a href="#arnold">51</a>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Book about Doctors, A,</td>
+<td class="newlet">54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Botta&rsquo;s Discourse on the Life, Character, and Policy of
+Count Cavour,</td>
+<td>55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Cloister and the Hearth, The,</td>
+<td class="newlet">52.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">De Vere, Aubrey, Poems by,</td>
+<td class="newlet">54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Dickens&rsquo;s Works, Household Edition,</td>
+<td>55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Harris&rsquo;s Insects Injurious to
+Vegetation,</td>
+<td class="newlet">55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">John Brent,</td>
+<td class="newlet">54.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Leigh Hunt, Correspondence of,</td>
+<td class="newlet">55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Lessons in Life,</td>
+<td>52.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet" style="text-decoration:underline;">
+M&uuml;ller&rsquo;s Lectures on the Science of Language,</td>
+<td class="newlet"><a href="#mueller">51</a>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet" style="text-decoration:underline;">
+Newman&rsquo;s Homeric Translation in Theory and in Practice,</td>
+<td class="newlet"><a href="#newman">51</a>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Pauli&rsquo;s Pictures of Old England,</td>
+<td class="newlet">55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Record of an Obscure Man,</td>
+<td class="newlet">55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Tragedy of Errors,</td>
+<td class="newlet">55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="newlet">Willmott&rsquo;s English Sacred Poetry,</td>
+<td class="newlet">52.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="toctitle">FOREIGN LITERATURE,</td>
+<td style="padding-top:2em;">54, 55.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="toctitle" style="text-decoration:underline;">
+OBITUARY,</td>
+<td style="padding-top:2em;"><a href="#obit">51</a>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td class="toctitle">RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS,</td>
+<td style="padding-top:2em;">52, 53, 54, 55.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h1>THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.</h1>
+<h2>A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS.</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h3>VOL. IX.&mdash;JANUARY, 1862.&mdash;NO. LI.</h3>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="naturalhistory" name="naturalhistory">METHODS OF STUDY
+IN NATURAL HISTORY.</a></h2>
+<h3>I.</h3>
+<p>It is my intention, in this series of papers, to give the
+history of the progress in Natural History from the
+beginning,&mdash;to show how men first approached Nature,&mdash;how
+the facts of Natural History have been accumulated, and how those
+facts have been converted into science. In so doing, I shall
+present the methods employed in Natural History on a wider scale
+and with broader generalizations than if I limited myself to the
+study as it exists to-day. The history of humanity, in its efforts
+to understand the Creation, resembles the development of any
+individual mind engaged in the same direction. It has its infancy,
+with the first recognition of surrounding objects; and, indeed, the
+early observers seem to us like children in their first attempts to
+understand the world in which they live. But these efforts, that
+appear childish to us now, were the first steps in that field of
+knowledge which is so extensive that all our progress seems only to
+show us how much is left to do.</p>
+<p>Aristotle is the representative of the learning of antiquity in
+Natural Science. The great mind of Greece in his day, and a leader
+in all the intellectual culture of his time, he was especially a
+naturalist, and his work on Natural History is a record not only of
+his own investigations, but of all preceding study in this
+department. It is evident that even then much had been done, and,
+in allusion to certain peculiarities of the human frame, which he
+does not describe in full, he refers his readers to familiar works,
+saying, that illustrations in point may be found in anatomical
+text-books.<sup>1</sup><span class="sidenote">1. See Aristotle's
+<em>Zo&ouml;logy</em>, Book I., Chapter xiv.</span></p>
+<p>Strange that in Aristotle&rsquo;s day, two thousand years ago,
+such books should have been in general use, and that in our time we
+are still in want of elementary text-books of Natural History,
+having special reference to the animals of our own country, and
+adapted to the use of schools. One fact in Aristotle&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;History of Animals&rdquo; is very striking, and makes it
+difficult for us to understand much of its contents. It never
+occurs to him that a time may come when the Greek
+language&mdash;the language of all culture and science in his
+time&mdash;would not be the language of all cultivated men. He
+took, therefore, little pains to characterize the animals he
+alludes to, otherwise than by their current names; and of his
+descriptions of their habits and peculiarities, much is lost upon
+us from their local character and expression. There is also a total
+absence of systematic form, of any classification or framework to
+express the divisions of the animal kingdom into larger or lesser
+groups. His only divisions are genera and species: classes, orders,
+and families, as we understand them now, are quite foreign to the
+Greek conception of the animal kingdom. Fishes and birds, for
+instance, they considered as genera, and their different
+representatives as species. They grouped together quadrupeds also
+in contradistinction to animals with legs and wings, and they
+distinguished those that bring forth living young from those that
+lay eggs. But though a system of Nature was not familiar even to
+their great philosopher, and Aristotle had not arrived at the idea
+of a classification on general principles, he yet stimulated a
+search into the closer affinities among animals by the differences
+he pointed out. He divided the animal kingdom into two groups,
+which he called <em>Enaima</em> and <em>Anaima</em>, or animals
+with blood and animals without blood. We must remember, however,
+that by the word <em>blood</em> he designated only the red fluid
+circulating in the higher animals; whereas a fluid akin to blood
+exists in all animals, variously colored in some, but colorless in
+a large number of others.</p>
+<p>After Aristotle, a long period elapsed without any addition to
+the information he left us. Rome and the Middle Ages gave us
+nothing, and even Pliny added hardly a fact to those that Aristotle
+recorded. And though the great naturalists of the sixteenth century
+gave a new impulse to this study, their investigations were chiefly
+directed towards a minute acquaintance with the animals they had an
+opportunity of observing, mingled with commentaries upon the
+ancients. Systematic Zo&ouml;logy was but little advanced by their
+efforts.</p>
+<p>We must come down to the last century, to Linn&aelig;us, before
+we find the history taken up where Aristotle had left it, and some
+of his suggestions carried out with new vigor and vitality.
+Aristotle had distinguished only between genera and species;
+Linn&aelig;us took hold of this idea, and gave special names to
+other groups, of different weight and value. Besides species and
+genera, he gives us orders and classes,&mdash;considering classes
+the most comprehensive, then orders, then genera, then species. He
+did not, however, represent these groups as distinguished by their
+nature, but only by their range; they were still to him, as genera
+and species had been to Aristotle, only larger or smaller groups,
+not founded upon and limited by different categories of structure.
+He divided the animal kingdom into six classes, which I give here,
+as we shall have occasion to compare them with other
+classifications:&mdash;<em>Mammalia</em>, <em>Birds</em>,
+<em>Reptiles</em>, <em>Fishes</em>, <em>Insects</em>,
+<em>Worms</em>.</p>
+<p>That this classification should have expressed all that was
+known in the last century of the most general relations among
+animals only shows how difficult it is to generalize on such a
+subject; nor should we expect to find it an easy task, when we
+remember the vast number of species (about a quarter of a million)
+already noticed by naturalists. Linn&aelig;us succeeded, however,
+in finding a common character on which to unite most of his
+classes; but the Mammalia, that group to which we ourselves belong,
+remained very imperfect. Indeed, in the earlier editions of his
+classification, he does not apply the name of Mammalia to this
+class, but calls the higher animals <em>Quadrupedia</em>,
+characterizing them as the animals with four legs and covered with
+fur or hair, that bring forth living young and nurse them with
+milk. In thus admitting external features as class characters, he
+excluded many animals which by their mode of reproduction, as well
+as by their respiration and circulation, belong to this class as
+much as the Quadrupeds,&mdash;as, for instance, all the Cetaceans,
+(Whales, Porpoises, and the like,) which, though they have not
+legs, nor are their bodies covered with hair or fur, yet bring
+forth living young, nurse them with milk, are warm-blooded and
+air-breathing. As more was learned of these animals, there arose
+serious discussion and criticism among contemporary naturalists
+respecting the classification of Linn&aelig;us, all of which led to
+a clearer insight into the true relations among animals.
+Linn&aelig;us himself, in his last edition of the &ldquo;Systema
+Natur&aelig;,&rdquo; shows us what important progress he had made
+since he first announced his views; for he there substitutes for
+the name of <em>Quadrupedia</em> that of <em>Mammalia</em>,
+including among them the Whales, which he characterizes as
+air-breathing, warm-blooded, and bringing forth living young which
+they nurse with milk. Thus the very deficiencies of his
+classification stimulated naturalists to new criticism and
+investigation into the true limits of classes, and led to the
+recognition of one most important principle,&mdash;that such groups
+are founded, not on external appearance, but on internal structure,
+and that internal structure, therefore, is the thing to be studied.
+The group of Quadrupeds was not the only defective one in this
+classification of Linn&aelig;us; his class of Worms, also, was most
+heterogeneous, for he included among them Shell-Fishes, Slugs,
+Star-Fishes, Sea-Urchins, and other animals that bear no relation
+whatever to the class of Worms.</p>
+<p>But whatever its defects, the classification of Linn&aelig;us
+was the first attempt at grouping animals together according to
+certain common structural characters. His followers and pupils
+engaged at once in a scrutiny of the differences and similarities
+among animals, which soon led to a great increase in the number of
+classes: instead of six, there were presently nine, twelve, and
+more. But till Cuvier&rsquo;s time there was no great principle of
+classification. Facts were accumulated and more or less
+systematized, but they were not yet arranged according to law; the
+principle was still wanting by which to generalize them and give
+meaning and vitality to the whole. It was Cuvier who found the key.
+He himself tells us how he first began, in his investigations upon
+the internal organization of animals, to use his dissections with
+reference to finding the true relations between animals, and how,
+ever after, his knowledge of anatomy assisted him in his
+classifications, and his classifications threw new light again on
+his anatomical investigations,&mdash;each science thus helping to
+fertilize the other. He was not one of those superficial observers
+who are in haste to announce every new fact that they chance to
+find, and his first paper<sup>2</sup><span class="sidenote">2. Sur
+un nouveau rapprochement &agrave; &eacute;tablir entre les Classes
+qui composent le R&egrave;gne Animal. <em>Ann. Mus.</em>, Vol.
+XIX.</span> specially devoted to classification gave to the world
+the ripe fruit of years of study. This was followed by his great
+work, &ldquo;Le R&egrave;gne Animal.&rdquo; He said that animals
+were united in their most comprehensive groups, not on special
+characters, but on different <em>plans of
+structure</em>,&mdash;moulds, he called them, in which all animals
+had been cast. He tells us this in such admirable language that I
+must, to do justice to his thought, give it in his own
+words:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;Si l&rsquo;on consid&egrave;re le
+r&egrave;gne animal d&rsquo;apr&egrave;s les principes que nous
+venons de poser en se d&eacute;barrassant des
+pr&eacute;jug&eacute;s &eacute;tablis sur les divisions
+anciennement admises, en n&rsquo;ayant &eacute;gard
+qu&rsquo;&agrave; l&rsquo;organisation et &agrave; la nature des
+animaux, et non pas &agrave; leur grandeur, &agrave; leur
+utilit&eacute;, au plus ou moins de connaissance que nous en avons,
+ni &agrave; toutes les autres circonstances accessoires, on
+trouvera qu&rsquo;il existe quatre formes principales, quatre plans
+g&eacute;n&eacute;raux, si l&rsquo;on peut s&rsquo;exprimer ainsi,
+d&rsquo;apr&egrave;s lesquels tous les animaux semblent avoir
+&eacute;t&eacute; model&eacute;s, et dont les divisions
+ult&eacute;rieures, de quelque titre que les naturalistes les aient
+d&eacute;cor&eacute;es, ne sont que des modifications assez
+l&eacute;g&egrave;res, fond&eacute;es sur le d&eacute;veloppement
+ou l&rsquo;addition de quelques parties, qui ne changent rien
+&agrave; l&rsquo;essence du plan.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The value of this principle was soon tested by its application
+to facts already known, and it was found that animals whose
+affinities had been questionable before were now at once referred
+to their true relations with other animals by ascertaining whether
+they were built on one or another of these plans. Of such plans or
+structural conceptions Cuvier found in the whole animal kingdom
+only four, which he called <em>Vertebrates</em>, <em>Mollusks</em>,
+<em>Articulates</em>, and <em>Radiates</em>.</p>
+<p>With this new principle as the basis of investigation, it was no
+longer enough for the naturalist to know a certain amount of
+features characteristic of a certain number of animals,&mdash;he
+must penetrate deep enough into their organization to find the
+secret of their internal structure. Till he can do this, he is like
+the traveller in a strange city, who looks on the exterior of
+edifices entirely new to him, but knows nothing of the plan of
+their internal architecture. To be able to read in the finished
+structure the plan on which the whole is built is now essential to
+every naturalist.</p>
+<p>There have been many criticisms on this division of
+Cuvier&rsquo;s, and many attempts to change it; but though some
+improvements have been made in the details of his classification,
+all departures from its great fundamental principle are errors, and
+do but lead us away from the recognition of the true affinities
+among animals.</p>
+<p>Each of these plans may be stated in the most general terms. In
+the <em>Vertebrates</em> there is a vertebral column terminating in
+a prominent head; this column has an arch above and an arch below,
+forming a double internal cavity. The parts are symmetrically
+arranged on either side of the longitudinal axis of the body. In
+the <em>Mollusks</em>, also, the parts are arranged according to a
+bilateral symmetry on either side of the body, but the body has but
+one cavity, and is a soft, concentrated mass, without a distinct
+individualization of parts. In the <em>Articulates</em> there is
+but one cavity, and the parts are here again arranged on either
+side of the longitudinal axis, but in these animals the whole body
+is divided from end to end into transverse rings or joints movable
+upon each other. In the <em>Radiates</em> we lose sight of the
+bilateral symmetry so prevalent in the other three, except as a
+very subordinate element of structure; the plan of this lowest type
+is an organic sphere, in which all parts bear definite relations to
+a vertical axis.</p>
+<p>It is not upon any special features, then, that these largest
+divisions of the animal kingdom are based, but simply upon the
+general structural idea. Striking as this statement was, it was
+coldly received at first by contemporary naturalists: they could
+hardly grasp Cuvier&rsquo;s wide generalizations, and perhaps there
+was also some jealousy of the grandeur of his views. Whatever the
+cause, his principle of classification was not fully appreciated;
+but it opened a new road for study, and gave us the keynote to the
+natural affinities among animals. Lamarck, his contemporary, not
+recognizing the truth of this principle, distributed the animal
+kingdom into two great divisions, which he calls
+<em>Vertebrates</em> and <em>Invertebrates</em>. Ehrenberg also, at
+a later period, announced another division under two
+heads,&mdash;those with a continuous solid nervous centre, and
+those with merely scattered nervous
+swellings.<sup>3</sup><span class="sidenote">3. For more details
+upon the different systems of Zo&ouml;logy, see Agassiz's Essay on
+Classification in his <em>Contributions to the Natural History of
+the United States</em>, Vol. I.</span></p>
+<p>But there was no real progress in either of these latter
+classifications, so far as the primary divisions are concerned; for
+they correspond to the old division of Aristotle, under the head of
+animals with or without blood, the <em>Enaima</em> and
+<em>Anaima</em>. This coincidence between systems based on
+different foundations may teach us that every structural
+combination includes certain inherent necessities which will bring
+animals together on whatever set of features we try to classify
+them; so that the division of Aristotle, founded on the circulating
+fluids, or that of Lamarck, on the absence or presence of a
+backbone, or that of Ehrenberg, on the differences of the nervous
+system, cover the same ground. Lamarck attempted also to use the
+faculties of animals as a groundwork for division among them. But
+our knowledge of the psychology of animals is still too imperfect
+to justify any such use of it. His divisions into Apathetic,
+Sensitive, and Intelligent animals are entirely theoretical. He
+places, for instance, Fishes and Reptiles among the Intelligent
+animals, as distinguished from Crustacea and Insects, which he
+refers to the second division. But one would be puzzled to say how
+the former manifest more intelligence than the latter, or why the
+latter should be placed among the Sensitive animals. Again, some of
+the animals that he calls Apathetic have been proved by later
+investigators to show an affection and care for their young,
+seemingly quite inconsistent with the epithet he has applied to
+them. In fact, we know so little of the faculties of animals that
+any classification based upon our present information about them
+must be very imperfect.</p>
+<p>Many modifications of Cuvier&rsquo;s great divisions have been
+attempted. Some naturalists, for instance, have divided off a part
+of the Radiates and Articulates, insisting upon some special
+features of structure, and mistaking these for the more important
+and general characteristics of their respective plans. All
+subsequent investigations of such would-be improvements show them
+to be retrograde movements, only proving more clearly that Cuvier
+detected in his four plans all the great structural ideas on which
+the vast variety of animals is founded. This result is of greater
+importance than may at first appear. Upon it depends the question,
+whether all such classifications represent merely individual
+impressions and opinions of men, or whether there is really
+something in Nature that presses upon us certain divisions among
+animals, certain affinities, certain limitations, founded upon
+essential principles of organization. Are our systems the
+inventions of naturalists, or only their reading of the Book of
+Nature? and can that book have more than one reading? If these
+classifications are not mere inventions, if they are not an attempt
+to classify for our own convenience the objects we study, then they
+are thoughts which, whether we detect them or not, are expressed in
+Nature,&mdash;then Nature is the work of thought, the production of
+intelligence carried out according to plan, therefore
+premeditated,&mdash;and in our study of natural objects we are
+approaching the thoughts of the Creator, reading His conceptions,
+interpreting a system that is His and not ours.</p>
+<p>All the divergence from the simplicity and grandeur of this
+division of the animal kingdom arises from an inability to
+distinguish between a plan and the execution, of a plan. We allow
+the details to shut out the plan itself, which exists quite
+independent of special forms. I hope we shall find a meaning in all
+these plans that will prove them to be the parts of one great
+conception and the work of one Mind.</p>
+<h3>II.</h3>
+<p>Proceeding upon the view that there is a close analogy between
+the way in which every individual student penetrates into Nature
+and the progress of science as a whole in the history of humanity,
+I continue my sketch of the successive steps that have led to our
+present state of knowledge. I began with Aristotle, and showed that
+this great philosopher, though he prepared a digest of all the
+knowledge belonging to his time, yet did not feel the necessity of
+any system or of any scientific language differing from the common
+mode of expression of his day. He presents his information as a man
+with his eyes open narrates in a familiar style what he sees. As
+civilization spread and science had its representatives in other
+countries besides Greece, it became indispensable to have a common
+scientific language, a technical nomenclature, combining many
+objects under common names, and enabling every naturalist to
+express the results of his observations readily and simply in a
+manner intelligible to all other students of Natural History.</p>
+<p>Linn&aelig;us devised such a system, and to him we owe a most
+simple and comprehensive scientific mode of designating animals and
+plants. It may at first seem no advantage to give up the common
+names of the vernacular and adopt the unfamiliar ones, but a word
+of explanation will make the object clear. Perceiving, for
+instance, the close relations between certain members of the larger
+groups, Linn&aelig;us gave to them names that should be common to
+all, and which are called generic names,&mdash;as we speak of
+Ducks, when we would designate in one word the Mallard, the
+Widgeon, the Canvas-Back, etc.; but to these generic names he added
+qualifying epithets, called specific names, to indicate the
+different kinds in each group. For example, the Lion, the Tiger,
+the Panther, the Domestic Cat constitute such a natural group,
+which Linn&aelig;us called <em>Felis</em>, Cat, indicating the
+whole genus; but the species he designates as <em>Felis catus</em>,
+the Domestic Cat,&mdash;<em>Felis leo</em>, the
+Lion,&mdash;<em>Felis tigris</em>, the Tiger,&mdash;<em>Felis
+panthera</em>, the Panther. So he called all the Dogs
+<em>Canis</em>; but for the different kinds we have <em>Canis
+familiaris</em>, the Domestic Dog,&mdash;<em>Canis lupus</em>, the
+Wolf,&mdash;<em>Canis vulpes</em>, the Fox, etc.</p>
+<p>In some families of the vegetable kingdom we can appreciate
+better the application of this nomenclature, because we have
+something corresponding to it in the vernacular. We have, for
+instance, one name for all the Oaks, but we call the different
+kinds Swamp Oak, Red Oak, White Oak, Chestnut Oak, etc. So
+Linn&aelig;us, in his botanical nomenclature, called all the Oaks
+by the generic name <em>Quercus</em>, (characterizing them by their
+fruit, the acorn, common to all,) and qualified them as <em>Quercus
+bicolor</em>, <em>Quercus rubra</em>, <em>Quercus alba</em>,
+<em>Quercus castanea</em>, etc., etc. His nomenclature, being so
+easy of application, became at once exceedingly popular and made
+him the great scientific legislator of his century. He insisted on
+Latin names, because, if every naturalist should use his own
+language, it must lead to great confusion, and this Latin
+nomenclature of double significance was adopted by all. Another
+advantage of this binominal Latin nomenclature consists in
+preventing the confusion frequently arising from the use of the
+same name to designate different animals in different parts of the
+world,&mdash;as, for instance, the name of Robin, used in America
+to designate a bird of the Thrush family, entirely different from
+the Robin of the Old World,&mdash;or of different names for the
+same animal, as Perch or Chogset or Burgall for our Cunner. Nothing
+is more to be deprecated than an over-appreciation of
+technicalities, valuing the name more highly than the thing; but
+some knowledge of this nomenclature is necessary to every student
+of Nature.</p>
+<p>The improvements in science thus far were chiefly verbal. Cuvier
+now came forward and added a principle. He showed that all animals
+are built upon a certain number of definite plans. This momentous
+step, the significance of which is not yet appreciated to its full
+extent; for, had its importance been understood, the efforts of
+naturalists would have been directed toward a further illustration
+of the distinctive characteristics of all the plans,&mdash;instead
+of which, the division of the animal kingdom into larger and
+smaller groups chiefly attracted their attention, and has been
+carried too far by some of them. Linn&aelig;us began with six
+classes, Cuvier brought them up to nineteen, and at last the animal
+kingdom was subdivided by subsequent investigators into
+twenty-eight classes. This multiplication of divisions, however,
+soon suggested an important question: How far are these divisions
+natural or inherent in the objects themselves, and not dependent on
+individual views?</p>
+<p>While Linn&aelig;us pointed out classes, orders, genera, and
+species, other naturalists had detected other divisions among
+animals, called families. Lamarck, who had been a distinguished
+botanist before he began his study of the animal kingdom, brought
+to his zo&ouml;logical researches his previous methods of
+investigation. Families in the vegetable kingdom had long been
+distinguished by French botanists; and one cannot examine the
+groups they call by this name, without perceiving, that, though
+they bring them together and describe them according to other
+characters, they have been unconsciously led to unite them from the
+general similarity of their port and bearing. Take, for instance,
+the families of Pines, Oaks, Beeches, Maples, etc., and you feel at
+once, that, besides the common characters given in the technical
+descriptions of these trees, there is also a general resemblance
+among them that would naturally lead us to associate them together,
+even if we knew nothing of the other features of their structure.
+By an instinctive recognition of this family likeness between
+plants, botanists have been led to seek for structural characters
+on which to unite them, and the groups so founded generally
+correspond with the combinations suggested by their appearance.</p>
+<p>By a like process Lamarck combined animals into families. His
+method was adopted by French naturalists generally, and found favor
+especially with Cuvier, who was particularly successful in limiting
+families among animals, and in naming them happily, generally
+selecting names expressive of the features on which the groups were
+founded, or borrowing them from familiar animals. Much, indeed,
+depends upon the pleasant sound and the significance of a name; for
+an idea reaches the mind more easily when well expressed, and
+Cuvier&rsquo;s names were both simple and significant. His
+descriptions are also remarkable for their graphic
+precision,&mdash;giving all that is essential, omitting all that is
+merely accessory. He has given us the key-note to his progress in
+his own expressive language:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;Je dus donc, et cette obligation me prit un
+temps consid&eacute;rable, je dus faire marcher de front
+l&rsquo;anatomie et la zoologie, les dissections et le classement;
+chercher dans mes premi&egrave;res remarques sur
+l&rsquo;organisation des distributions meilleures; m&rsquo;en
+servir pour arriver &agrave; des remarques nouvelles; employer
+encore ces remarques &agrave; perfectionner les distributions;
+faire sortir enfin de cette f&eacute;condation mutuelle des deux
+sciences, l&rsquo;une par l&rsquo;autre, un syst&egrave;me
+zoologique propre &agrave; servir d&rsquo;introducteur et de guide
+dans le champ de l&rsquo;anatomie, et un corps de doctrine
+anatomique propre &agrave; servir de d&eacute;veloppement et
+d&rsquo;explication au syst&egrave;me zoologique.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It is deeply to be lamented that so many naturalists have
+entirely overlooked this significant advice of Cuvier&rsquo;s, to
+combine zo&ouml;logical and anatomical studies in order to arrive
+at a clearer perception of the true affinities among animals. To
+sum it up in one word, he tells us that the secret of his method is
+&ldquo;comparison,&rdquo;&mdash;ever comparing and comparing
+throughout the enormous range of his knowledge of the organization
+of animals, and founding upon the differences as well as the
+similarities those broad generalizations under which he has
+included all animal structures. And this method, so prolific in his
+hands, has also a lesson for us all. In this country there is a
+growing interest in the study of Nature; but while there exist
+hundreds of elementary works illustrating the native animals of
+Europe, there are few such books here to satisfy the demand for
+information respecting the animals of our land and water. We are
+thus forced to turn more and more to our own investigations and
+less to authority; and the true method of obtaining independent
+knowledge is this very method of
+Cuvier&rsquo;s,&mdash;comparison.</p>
+<p>Let us make the most common application of it to natural
+objects. Suppose we see together a Dog, a Cat, a Bear, a Horse, a
+Cow, and a Deer. The first feature that strikes us as common to any
+two of them is the horn in the Cow and Deer. But how shall we
+associate either of the others with these? We examine the teeth,
+and find those of the Dog, the Cat, and the Bear sharp and cutting,
+while those of the Cow, the Deer, and the Horse have flat surfaces,
+adapted to grinding and chewing, rather than cutting and tearing.
+We compare these features of their structure with the habits of
+these animals, and find that the first are carnivorous, that they
+seize and tear their prey, while the others are herbivorous or
+grazing animals, living only on vegetable substances, which they
+chew and grind. We compare farther the Horse and Cow, and find that
+the Horse has front teeth both in the upper and lower jaw, while
+the Cow has them only in the lower; and going still farther and
+comparing the internal with the external features, we find this
+arrangement of the teeth in direct relation to the different
+structure of the stomach in the two animals,&mdash;the Cow having a
+stomach with four pouches, adapted to a mode of digestion by which
+the food is prepared for the second mastication, while the Horse
+has a simple stomach. Comparing the Cow and the Deer, we find that
+the digestive apparatus is the same in both; but though they both
+have horns, in the Cow the horn is hollow, and remains through life
+firmly attached to the bone, while in the Deer it is solid and is
+shed every year. With these facts before us, we cannot hesitate to
+place the Dog, the Cat, and the Bear in one division, as
+carnivorous animals, and the other three in another division as
+herbivorous animals,&mdash;and looking a little farther, we
+perceive, that, in common with the Cow and the Deer, the Goat and
+the Sheep have cloven feet, and that they are all ruminants, while
+the Horse has a single hoof, does not ruminate, and must therefore
+be separated from them, even though, like them, he is
+herbivorous.</p>
+<p>This is but the simplest illustration, taken from the most
+familiar objects, of this comparative method; but the same process
+is equally applicable to the most intricate problems in animal
+structures, and will give us the clue to all true affinities
+between animals. The education of a naturalist, now, consists
+chiefly in learning how to compare. If he have any power of
+generalization, when he has collected his facts, this habit of
+mental comparison will lead him up to principles, to the great laws
+of combination. It must not discourage us, that the process is a
+slow and laborious one, and the results of one lifetime after all
+very small. It might seem invidious, were I to show here how small
+is the sum total of the work accomplished even by the great
+exceptional men, whose names are known throughout the civilized
+world. But I may at least be permitted to speak of my own efforts,
+and to sum up in the fewest words the result of my life&rsquo;s
+work. I have devoted my whole life to the study of Nature, and yet
+a single sentence may express all that I have done. I have shown
+that there is a correspondence between the succession of Fishes in
+geological times and the different stages of their growth in the
+egg,&mdash;this is all. It chanced to be a result that was found to
+apply to other groups and has led to other conclusions of a like
+nature. But, such as it is, it has been reached by this system of
+comparison, which, though I speak of it now in its application to
+the study of Natural History, is equally important in every other
+branch of knowledge. By the same process the most mature results of
+scientific research in Philology, in Ethnology, and in Physical
+Science are reached. And let me say that the community should
+foster the purely intellectual efforts of scientific men as
+carefully as they do their elementary schools and their practical
+institutions, generally considered so much more useful and
+important to the public. For from what other source shall we derive
+the higher results that are gradually woven into the practical
+resources of our life, except from the researches of those very men
+who study science not for its uses, but for its truth? It is this
+that gives it its noblest interest: it must be for truth&rsquo;s
+sake, and not even for the sake of its usefulness to humanity, that
+the scientific man studies Nature. The application of science to
+the useful arts requires other abilities, other qualities, other
+tools than his; and therefore I say that the man of science who
+follows his studies into their practical application is false to
+his calling. The practical man stands ever ready to take up the
+work where the scientific man leaves it, and to adapt it to the
+material wants and uses of daily life.</p>
+<p>The publication of Cuvier&rsquo;s proposition, that the animal
+kingdom is built on four plans, created an extraordinary excitement
+throughout the scientific world. All naturalists proceeded to test
+it, and many soon recognized in it a great scientific
+truth,&mdash;while others, who thought more of making themselves
+prominent than of advancing science, proposed poor amendments, that
+were sure to be rejected on farther investigation. There were,
+however, some of these criticisms and additions that were truly
+improvements, and touched upon points overlooked by Cuvier.
+Blainville, especially, took up the element of form among
+animals,&mdash;whether divided on two sides, whether radiated,
+whether irregular, etc. He, however, made the mistake of giving
+very elaborate names to animals already known under simpler ones.
+Why, for instance, call all animals with parts radiating in every
+direction <em>Actinomorpha</em> or <em>Actinozoaria</em>, when they
+had received the significant name of <em>Radiates</em>? It seemed,
+to be a new system, when in fact it was only a new name. Ehrenberg,
+likewise, made an important distinction, when he united the animals
+according to the difference in their nervous systems; but he also
+incumbered the nomenclature unnecessarily, when he added to the
+names <em>Anaima</em> and <em>Enaima</em> of Aristotle those of
+<em>Myeloneura</em> and <em>Ganglioneura</em>.</p>
+<p>But it is not my object to give all the classifications of
+different authors here, and I will therefore pass over many noted
+ones, as those of Burmeister, Milne, Edwards, Siebold and Stannius,
+Owen, Leuckart, Vogt, Van Beneden, and others, and proceed to give
+some account of one investigator who did as much for the progress
+of Zo&ouml;logy as Cuvier, though he is comparatively little known
+among us. Karl Ernst von Baer proposed a classification based, like
+Cuvier&rsquo;s, upon plan; but he recognized what Cuvier failed to
+perceive,&mdash;namely, the importance of distinguishing between
+type (by which he means exactly what Cuvier means by plan) and
+complication of structure,&mdash;in other words, between plan and
+the execution of the plan. He recognized four types, which
+correspond exactly to Cuvier&rsquo;s four plans, though he calls
+them by different names. Let us compare them.</p>
+<table summary="classifications" style="margin-left:15%;">
+<tr>
+<td><em>Cuvier</em>.</td>
+<td><em>Baer</em>.</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Radiates,</td>
+<td>Peripheric,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Mollusks,</td>
+<td>Massive,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Articulates,</td>
+<td>Longitudinal,</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Vertebrates.</td>
+<td>Doubly Symmetrical.</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>Though perhaps less felicitous, the names of Baer express the
+same ideas as those of Cuvier. By the <em>Peripheric</em> he
+signified those in which all the parts converge from the periphery
+or circumference of the animal to its centre. Cuvier only reverses
+this definition in his name of <em>Radiates</em>, signifying the
+animals in which all parts radiate from the centre to the
+circumference. By <em>Massive</em>, Baer indicated those animals in
+which the structure is soft and concentrated, without a very
+distinct individualization of parts,&mdash;exactly the animals
+included by Cuvier under his name of <em>Mollusks</em>, or
+soft-bodied animals. In his selection of the epithet
+<em>Longitudinal</em>, Baer was less fortunate; for all animals
+have a longitudinal diameter, and this word was not, therefore,
+sufficiently special. Yet his <em>Longitudinal</em> type answers
+exactly to Cuvier&rsquo;s <em>Articulates</em>,&mdash;animals in
+which all parts are arranged in a succession of articulated joints
+along a longitudinal axis. Cuvier has expressed this jointed
+structure in the name <em>Articulates</em>; whereas Baer, in his
+name of <em>Longitudinal</em>, referred only to the arrangement of
+joints in longitudinal succession, in a continuous string, as it
+were, one after another. For the <em>Doubly Symmetrical</em> type
+his name is the better of the two; for Cuvier&rsquo;s name of
+<em>Vertebrates</em> alludes only to the backbone,&mdash;while
+Baer, who is an embryologist, signifies in his their mode of growth
+also. He knew what Cuvier did not know, that in its first formation
+the germ of the Vertebrate divides in two folds: one turning up
+above the backbone, to inclose all the sensitive Organs,&mdash;the
+spinal marrow, the organs of sense, all those organs by which life
+is expressed; the other turning down below the backbone, and
+inclosing all those organs by which life is maintained,&mdash;the
+organs of digestion, of respiration, of circulation, of
+reproduction, etc. So there is in this type not only an equal
+division of parts on either side, but also a division above and
+below, making thus a double symmetry in the plan, expressed by Baer
+in the name he gave it. Baer was perfectly original in his
+conception of these four types, for his paper was published in the
+very same year with that of Cuvier. But even in Germany, his native
+land, his ideas were not fully appreciated: strange that it should
+be so,&mdash;for, had his countrymen recognized his genius, they
+might have claimed him as the compeer of the great French
+naturalist.</p>
+<p>Baer also founded the science of Embryology, under the guidance
+of his teacher, Dollinger. His researches in this direction showed
+him that animals were not only built on four plans, but that they
+grew according to four modes of development. The Vertebrate arises
+from the egg differently from the Articulate,&mdash;the Articulate
+differently from the Mollusk,&mdash;the Mollusk differently from
+the Radiate. Cuvier only showed us the four plans as they exist in
+the adult; Baer went a step farther, and showed us the four plans
+in the process of formation. But his greatest scientific
+achievement is perhaps the discovery that all animals originate in
+eggs, and that all these eggs are at first identical in substance
+and structure. The wonderful and untiring research condensed into
+this simple statement, that all animals arise from eggs and that
+all those eggs are identical in the beginning, may well excite our
+admiration. This egg consists of an outer envelope, the vitelline
+membrane, containing a fluid more or less dense, the yolk; within
+this is a second envelope, the so-called germinative vesicle,
+containing a somewhat different and more transparent fluid, and in
+the fluid of this second envelope float one or more so-called
+germinative specks. At this stage of their growth all eggs are
+microsopically small, yet each one has such tenacity of its
+individual principle of life that no egg was ever known to swerve
+from the pattern of the parent animal that gave it birth.</p>
+<h3>III.</h3>
+<p>From the time that Linn&aelig;us showed us the necessity of a
+scientific system as a framework for the arrangement of scientific
+facts in Natural History, the number of divisions adopted by
+zo&ouml;logists and botanists increased steadily. Not only were
+families, orders, and classes added to genera and species, but
+these were further multiplied by subdivisions of the different
+groups. But as the number of divisions increased, they lost in
+precise meaning, and it became more and more doubtful how far they
+were true to Nature. Moreover, these divisions were not taken in
+the same sense by all naturalists: what were called families by
+some were called orders by others, while the orders of some were
+the classes of others, till it began to be doubted whether these
+scientific systems had any foundation in Nature, or signified
+anything more than that it had pleased Linn&aelig;us, for instance,
+to call certain groups of animals by one name, while Cuvier had
+chosen to call them by another.</p>
+<p>These divisions are, first, the most comprehensive groups, the
+primary divisions, called branches by some, types by others, and
+divided by some naturalists into so-called sub-types, meaning only
+a more limited circumscription of the same kind of group; next we
+have classes, and these also have been divided into sub-classes,
+then orders and sub-orders, families, sub-families, and tribes;
+then genera, species, and varieties. With reference to the
+question, whether these groups really exist in Nature or are merely
+the expression of individual theories and opinions, it is worth
+while to study the works of the early naturalists, in order to
+trace the natural process by which scientific classification has
+been reached; for in this, as in other departments of learning,
+practice has always preceded theory. We do the thing before we
+understand why we do it: speech precedes grammar, reason precedes
+logic; and so a division of animals into groups, upon an
+instinctive perception of their differences, has preceded all our
+scientific creeds and doctrines. Let us, therefore, proceed to
+examine the meaning of these names as adopted by naturalists.</p>
+<p>When Cuvier proposed his four primary divisions of the animal
+kingdom, he added his argument for their
+adoption,&mdash;<em>because</em>, he said, they are constructed on
+four different plans. All the progress in our science since his
+time confirms this result; and I shall attempt to show that there
+are really four, and only four, such structural ideas at the
+foundation of the animal kingdom, and that all animals are included
+under one or another of them. But it does not follow, that, because
+we have arrived at a sound principle, we are therefore unerring in
+our practice. From ignorance we may misplace animals, and include
+them under the wrong division. This is a mistake, however, which a
+better insight into their organization rectifies; and experience
+constantly proves, that, whenever the structure of an animal is
+perfectly understood, there is no hesitation as to the head under
+which it belongs. We may consequently test the merits of these four
+primary groups on the evidence furnished by investigation. It has
+already been seen that these plans may be presented in the most
+abstract manner without any reference to special animals.
+<em>Radiation</em> expresses in one word the idea on which the
+lowest of these types is based. In <em>Radiates</em> we have no
+prominent bilateral symmetry, as in all other animals, but an
+all-sided symmetry, in which there is no right and left, no
+anterior and posterior extremity, no above and below. They are
+spheroidal bodies; yet, though many of them remind us of a sphere,
+they are by no means to be compared to a mathematical sphere, but
+rather to an organic sphere, so loaded with life, as it were, as to
+produce an infinite variety of radiate symmetry. The whole
+organization is arranged around a centre toward which all the parts
+converge, or, in a reverse sense, from which all the parts radiate.
+In <em>Mollusks</em> there is a longitudinal axis and a bilateral
+symmetry; but the longitudinal axis in these soft concentrated
+bodies is not very prominent; and though the two ends of this axis
+are distinct from each other, the difference is not so marked that
+we can say at once, for all of them, which is the anterior and
+which the posterior extremity. In this type, right and left have
+the preponderance over the other diameters of the body. The sides
+are the prominent parts,&mdash;they are charged with the important
+organs, loaded with those peculiarities of the structure that give
+it character. The Oyster is a good instance of this, with its
+double valve, so swollen on one side, so flat on the other. There
+is an unconscious recognition of this in the arrangement of all
+collections of Mollusks; for, though the collectors do not put up
+their specimens with any intention of illustrating this
+peculiarity, they instinctively give them the position best
+calculated to display their distinctive characteristics, and to
+accomplish this they necessarily place them in such a manner as to
+show the sides. In <em>Articulates</em> there is also a
+longitudinal axis of the body and a bilateral symmetry in the
+arrangement of parts; the head and tail are marked, and the right
+and left sides are distinct. But the prominent tendency in this
+type is the development of the dorsal and ventral region; here
+above and below prevail over right and left. It is the back and the
+lower side that have the preponderance over any other part of the
+structure in Articulates. The body is divided from end to end by a
+succession of transverse constrictions, forming movable rings; but
+the character of the animal, its striking features, are always
+above or below, and especially developed on the back. Any
+collection of Insects or Crustacea is an evidence of this; being
+always instinctively arranged in such a manner as to show the
+predominant features, they uniformly exhibit the back of the
+animal. The profile view of an Articulate has no significance;
+whereas in a Mollusk, on the contrary, the profile view is the most
+illustrative of the structural character. In the highest division,
+the <em>Vertebrates</em>, so characteristically called by Baer the
+<em>Doubly Symmetrical</em> type, a solid column runs through the
+body with an arch above and an arch below, thus forming a double
+internal cavity. In this type, the head is the prominent feature;
+it is, as it were, the loaded end of the longitudinal axis, so
+charged with vitality as to form an intelligent brain, and rising
+in man to such predominance as to command and control the whole
+organism. The structure is arranged above and below this axis, the
+upper cavity containing all the sensitive organs, and the lower
+cavity containing all those by which life is maintained.</p>
+<p>While Cuvier and his followers traced these four distinct plans,
+as shown in the adult animal, Baer opened to us a new field of
+investigation in the embryology of the four types, showing that for
+each there was a special mode of growth in the egg. Looking at them
+from this point of view, we shall see that these four types, with
+their four modes of growth, seem to fill out completely the plan or
+outline of the animal kingdom, and leave no reason to expect any
+further development or any other plan of animal life within these
+limits. The eggs of all animals are spheres, such as I have
+described them; but in the Radiate the whole periphery is
+transformed into the germ, so that it becomes, by the liquefying of
+the yolk, a hollow sphere. In the Mollusks, the germ lies above the
+yolk, absorbing its whole substance through the under side, thus
+forming a massive close body instead of a hollow one. In the
+Articulate, the germ is turned in a position exactly opposite to
+that of the Mollusk, and absorbs the yolk upon the back. In the
+Vertebrate, the germ divides in two folds, one turning upward, the
+other turning downward, above and below the central backbone. These
+four modes of development seem to exhaust the possibilities of the
+primitive sphere, which is the foundation of all animal life, and
+therefore I believe that Cuvier and Baer were right in saying that
+the whole animal kingdom is included under these four structural
+ideas.</p>
+<p>Leuckart proposed to subdivide the Radiates into two groups: the
+Coelenterata, including Polyps and Acalephs or
+Jelly-Fishes,&mdash;and Echinoderms, including Star-Fishes,
+Sea-Urchins, and Holothurians. His reason for this distinction is
+the fact that in the latter the organs are inclosed within walls of
+their own, distinct from the body-wall; whereas in the former the
+organs are formed by internal folds of the outer wall of the body,
+as in the Polyps, or are hollowed out of the substance of the body,
+as in Jelly-Fishes. This implies no difference in the plan, but
+merely a difference in the execution of the plan. Both are equally
+radiate in their structure; and when Leuckart separated them as
+distinct primary types, he mistook a difference in the material
+expression of the plan for a difference in the plan itself. So some
+naturalists have distinguished Worms from the other Articulates as
+a separate division. But the structural plan of this type is a body
+divided by transverse constrictions or joints; and whether those
+joints are uniformly arranged from one end of the body to the
+other, as in the Worms, or whether the front joints are soldered
+together so as to form two regions of the body, as in Crustacea, or
+divided so as to form three regions of the body, as in winged
+Insects, does not in the least affect the typical character of the
+structure, which remains the same in all. Branches or types, then,
+are natural groups of the animal kingdom, founded on plans of
+structure or structural ideas.</p>
+<p>What now are classes? Are they lesser divisions, differing only
+in extent, or are they founded on special characters? I believe the
+latter view to be the true one, and that class characters have a
+significance quite different from that of their mere range or
+extent. These divisions are founded on certain categories of
+structure; and were there but one animal of a class in the world,
+if it had those characters on which a class is founded, it would be
+as distinct from all other animals as if its kind were counted by
+thousands. Baer approached the idea of the classes when he
+discriminated between plan of structure or type and the degree of
+perfection in the structure. But while he understands the
+distinction between a plan and its execution, his ideas respecting
+the different features of structure are not quite so precise. He
+does not, for instance, distinguish between the complication of a
+given structure and the mode of execution of a plan, both of which
+are combined in what he calls degrees of perfection. And yet,
+without this distinction, the difference between classes and orders
+cannot be understood; for classes and orders rest upon a just
+appreciation of these two categories, which are quite distinct from
+each other, and have by no means the same significance. Again,
+quite distinct from both of these is the character of form, not to
+be confounded either with complication of structure, on which
+orders are based, or with the execution of the plan, on which
+classes rest. An example will show that form is no guide for the
+determination of classes or orders. Take, for instance, a
+Beche-de-Mer, a member of the highest class of Radiates, and
+compare it with a Worm. They are both long cylindrical bodies; but
+one has parallel divisions along the length of the body, the other
+has the body divided by transverse rings. Though in external form
+they resemble each other, the one is a worm-like Radiate, the other
+is a worm-like Articulate, each having the structure of its own
+type; so that they do not even belong to the same great division of
+the animal kingdom, much less to the same class. We have a similar
+instance in the Whales and Fishes,&mdash;the Whales having been for
+a long time considered as Fishes, on account of their form, while
+their structural complication shows them to be a low order of the
+class of Mammalia, to which we ourselves belong, that class being
+founded upon a particular mode of execution of the plan
+characteristic of the Vertebrates, while the order to which the
+Whales belong depends upon their complication of structure, as
+compared with other members of the same class. We may therefore say
+that neither form nor complication of structure distinguishes
+classes, but simply the mode of execution of a plan. In
+Vertebrates, for instance, how do we distinguish the class of
+Mammalia from the other classes of the type? By the peculiar
+development of the brain, by their breathing through lungs, by
+their double circulation, by their bringing forth living young and
+nursing them with milk. In this class the beasts of prey form a
+distinct order, superior to the Whales or the herbivorous animals,
+on account of the higher complication of their structure; and for
+the same reason we place the Monkeys above them all. But among the
+beasts of prey we distinguish the Bears, as a family, from the
+family of Dogs, Wolves, and Cats, on account of their different
+form, which does not imply a difference either in the complication
+of their structure or in the mode of execution of their plan.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="agnes" name="agnes">AGNES OF SORRENTO.</a></h2>
+<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3>
+<h4>THE PENANCE.</h4>
+<p>The course of our story requires us to return to the Capuchin
+convent, and to the struggles and trials of its Superior; for in
+his hands is the irresistible authority which must direct the
+future life of Agnes.</p>
+<p>From no guilty compliances, no heedless running into temptation,
+had he come to love her. The temptation had met him in the direct
+path of duty; the poison had been breathed in with the perfume of
+sweetest and most life-giving flowers: nor could he shun that
+temptation, nor cease to inhale that fatal sweetness, without
+confessing himself vanquished in a point where, in his view, to
+yield was to be lost. The subtle and deceitful visit of Father
+Johannes to his cell had the effect of thoroughly rousing him to a
+complete sense of his position, and making him feel the immediate,
+absolute necessity of bringing all the energy of his will, all the
+resources of his nature to bear on its present difficulties. For he
+felt, by a fine intuition, that already he was watched and
+suspected;&mdash;any faltering step now, any wavering, any change
+in his mode of treating his female penitents, would be maliciously
+noted. The military education of his early days had still left in
+his mind a strong residuum of personal courage and honor, which
+made him regard it as dastardly to flee when he ought to conquer,
+and therefore he set his face as a flint for victory.</p>
+<p>But reviewing his interior world, and taking a survey of the
+work before him, he felt that sense of a divided personality which
+often becomes so vivid in the history of individuals of strong will
+and passion. It seemed to him that there were two men within him:
+the one turbulent, passionate, demented; the other vainly
+endeavoring by authority, reason, and conscience to bring the rebel
+to subjection. The discipline of conventual life, the extraordinary
+austerities to which he had condemned himself, the monotonous
+solitude of his existence, all tended to exalt the vivacity of the
+nervous system, which, in the Italian constitution, is at all times
+disproportionately developed; and when those weird harp-strings of
+the nerves are once thoroughly unstrung, the fury and tempest of
+the discord sometimes utterly bewilders the most practised
+self-government.</p>
+<p>But he felt that <em>something</em> must be done with himself,
+and done immediately; for in a few days he must again meet Agnes at
+the confessional. He must meet her, not with weak tremblings and
+passionate fears, but calm as Fate, inexorable as the Judgment-Day.
+He must hear her confession, not as man, but as God; he must
+pronounce his judgments with a divine dispassionateness. He must
+dive into the recesses of her secret heart, and, following with
+subtile analysis all the fine courses of those fibres which were
+feeling their blind way towards an earthly love, must tear them
+remorselessly away. Well could he warn her of the insidiousness of
+earthly affections; better than any one else he could show her how
+a name that was blended with her prayers and borne before the
+sacred shrine in her most retired and solemn hours might at last
+come to fill all her heart with a presence too dangerously dear. He
+must direct her gaze up those mystical heights where an unearthly
+marriage awaited her, its sealed and spiritual bride; he must hurry
+her footsteps onward to the irrevocable issue.</p>
+<p>All this was before him. But ere it could be done, he must
+subdue himself,&mdash;he must become calm and pulseless, in deadly
+resolve; and what prayer, what penance might avail for this? If all
+that he had already tried had so miserably failed, what hope? He
+resolved to quit for a season all human society, and enter upon one
+of those desolate periods of retreat from earthly converse well
+known in the annals of saintship as most prolific in spiritual
+victories.</p>
+<p>Accordingly, on the day after the conversation with Father
+Johannes, he startled the monks by announcing to them that he was
+going to leave them for several days.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My brothers,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the weight of a
+fearful penance is laid upon me, which I must work out alone. I
+leave you today, and charge you not to seek to follow my footsteps;
+but, as you hope to escape hell, watch and wrestle for me and
+yourselves during the time I am gone. Before many days I hope to
+return to you with renewed spiritual strength.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>That evening, while Agnes and her uncle were sitting together in
+their orange-garden, mingling their parting prayers and hymns,
+scenes of a very different description surrounded the Father
+Francesco.</p>
+<p>One who looks on the flowery fields and blue seas of this
+enchanting region thinks that the Isles of the Blest could scarcely
+find on earth a more fitting image; nor can he realize, till
+experience proves it to him, that he is in the immediate vicinity
+of a weird and dreary region which might represent no less the
+goblin horrors of the damned.</p>
+<p>Around the foot of Vesuvius lie fair villages and villas
+garlanded with roses and flushing with grapes whose juice gains
+warmth from the breathing of its subterraneous fires, while just
+above them rises a region more awful than can be created by the
+action of any common causes of sterility. There, immense tracts
+sloping gradually upward show a desolation so peculiar, so utterly
+unlike every common solitude of Nature, that one enters upon it
+with the shudder we give at that which is wholly unnatural. On all
+sides are gigantic serpent convolutions of black lava, their
+immense folds rolled into every conceivable contortion, as if, in
+their fiery agonies, they had struggled and wreathed and knotted
+together, and then grown cold and black with the imperishable signs
+of those terrific convulsions upon them. Not a blade of grass, not
+a flower, not even the hardiest lichen, springs up to relieve the
+utter deathliness of the scene. The eye wanders from one black,
+shapeless mass to another, and there is ever the same suggestion of
+hideous monster life,&mdash;of goblin convulsions and strange
+fiend-like agonies in some age gone by. One&rsquo;s very footsteps
+have an unnatural, metallic clink, and one&rsquo;s garments
+brushing over the rough surface are torn and fretted by its sharp,
+remorseless touch,&mdash;as if its very nature were so pitiless and
+acrid that the slightest contact revealed it.</p>
+<p>The sun was just setting over the beautiful Bay of
+Naples,&mdash;with its enchanted islands, its jewelled city, its
+flowery villages, all bedecked and bedropped with strange shiftings
+and flushes of prismatic light and shade, as if they belonged to
+some fairy-land of perpetual festivity and singing,&mdash;when
+Father Francesco stopped in his toilsome ascent up the mountain,
+and, seating himself on ropy ridges of black lava, looked down on
+the peaceful landscape.</p>
+<p>Above his head, behind him, rose the black cone of the mountain,
+over whose top the lazy clouds of thin white smoke were floating,
+tinged with the evening light; around him the desolate convulsed
+waste,&mdash;so arid, so supernaturally dreary; and below, like a
+soft enchanted dream, the beautiful bay, the gleaming white villas
+and towers, the picturesque islands, the gliding sails, flecked and
+streaked and dyed with the violet and pink and purple of the
+evening sky. The thin new moon and one glittering star trembled
+through the rosy air.</p>
+<p>The monk wiped from his brow the sweat that had been caused by
+the toil of his hurried journey, and listened to the bells of the
+Ave Maria pealing from the different churches of Naples, filling
+the atmosphere with a soft tremble of solemn dropping sound, as if
+spirits in the air took up and repeated over and over the angelic
+salutation which a thousand earthly lips were just then uttering.
+Mechanically he joined in the invocation which at that moment
+united the hearts of all Christians, and as the words passed his
+lips, he thought, with a sad, desolate longing, of the hour of
+death of which they spake.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It must come at last,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Life is but
+a moment. Why am I so cowardly? why so unwilling to suffer and to
+struggle? Am I a warrior of the Lord, and do I shrink from the
+toils of the camp, and long for the ease of the court before I have
+earned it? Why do we clamor for happiness? Why should we sinners be
+happy? And yet, O God, why is the world made so lovely as it lies
+there, why so rejoicing, and so girt with splendor and beauty, if
+we are never to enjoy it? If penance and toil were all we were sent
+here for, why not make a world grim and desolate as this around
+me?&mdash;then there would be nothing to seduce us. But our path is
+a constant fight; Nature is made only to be resisted; we must walk
+the sharp blade of the sword over the fiery chasm to Paradise.
+Come, then!&mdash;no shrinking!&mdash;let me turn my back on
+everything dear and beautiful, as now on this landscape!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He rose and commenced the perpendicular ascent of the cone,
+stumbling and climbing over the huge sliding blocks of broken lava,
+which grated and crunched beneath his feet with a harsh metallic
+ring. Sometimes a broken fragment or two would go tinkling down the
+rough path behind him, and sometimes it seemed as if the whole
+loose black mass from above were about to slide, like an avalanche,
+down upon his head;&mdash;he almost hoped it would. Sometimes he
+would stop, overcome by the toil of the ascent, and seat himself
+for a moment on a black fragment, and then his eye would wander
+over the wide and peaceful panorama below. He seemed to himself
+like a fly perched upon some little roughness of a perpendicular
+wall, and felt a strange airy sense of pleasure in being thus
+between earth and heaven. A sense of relief, of beauty, and
+peacefulness would steal over him, as if he were indeed something
+disfranchised and disembodied, a part of the harmonious and
+beautiful world that lay stretched out beneath him; in a moment
+more he would waken himself with a start, and resume his toilsome
+journey with a sullen and dogged perseverance.</p>
+<p>At last he gained the top of the mountain,&mdash;that weird,
+strange region where the loose, hot soil, crumbling beneath his
+feet, was no honest foodful mother earth, but an acrid mass of
+ashes and corrosive minerals. Arsenic, sulphur, and many a sharp
+and bitter salt were in all he touched, every rift in the ground
+hissed with stifling steam, while rolling clouds of dun sullen
+smoke, and a deep hollow booming, like the roar of an immense
+furnace, told his nearness to the great crater. He penetrated the
+sombre tabernacle, and stood on the very brink of a huge basin,
+formed by a wall of rocks around a sunken plain, the midst of which
+rose the black cone of the subterraneous furnace, which crackled
+and roared and from time to time spit up burning stones and cinders
+or oozed out slow ropy streams of liquid fire.</p>
+<p>The sulphurous cliffs were dyed in many a brilliant shade of
+brown and orange by the admixture of various ores, but their
+brightness seemed strange and unnatural, and the dizzying whirls of
+vapor, now enveloping the whole scene in gloom, now lifting in this
+spot and now in that, seemed to magnify the dismal pit to an
+indefinite size. Now and then there would come up from the very
+entrails of the mountain a sort of convulsed sob of hollow sound,
+and the earth would quiver beneath his feet, and fragments from the
+surrounding rocks would scale off and fall with crashing
+reverberations into the depth beneath; at such moments it would
+seem as if the very mountain were about to crush in and bear him
+down in its ruins.</p>
+<p>Father Francesco, though blinded by the smoke and choked by the
+vapor, could not be content without descending into the abyss and
+exploring the very <em>penetralia</em> of its mysteries. Steadying
+his way by means of a cord which he fastened to a firm projecting
+rock, he began slowly and painfully clambering downward. The wind
+was sweeping across the chasm from behind, bearing the noxious
+vapors away from him, or he must inevitably have been stifled. It
+took him some little time, however, to effect his descent; but at
+length he found himself fairly landed on the dark floor of the
+gloomy inclosure.</p>
+<p>The ropy, pitch-black undulations of lava yawned here and there
+in red-hot cracks and seams, making it appear to be only a crust
+over some fathomless depth of molten fire, whose moanings and
+boilings could be heard below. These dark congealed billows creaked
+and bent as the monk stepped upon them, and burned his feet through
+his coarse sandals; yet he stumbled on. Now and then his foot would
+crush in, where the lava had hardened in a thinner crust, and he
+would draw it suddenly back from the lurid red-hot metal beneath.
+The staff on which he rested was constantly kindling into a light
+blaze as it slipped into some heated hollow, and he was fain to
+beat out the fire upon the cooler surface. Still he went on
+half-stifled by the hot and pungent vapor, but drawn by that
+painful, unnatural curiosity which possesses one in a nightmare
+dream. The great cone in the centre was the point to which he
+wished to attain,&mdash;the nearest point which man can gain to
+this eternal mystery of fire. It was trembling with a perpetual
+vibration, a hollow, pulsating undertone of sound like the surging
+of the sea before a storm, and the lava that boiled over its sides
+rolled slowly down with a strange creaking; it seemed the
+condensed, intensified essence and expression of eternal fire,
+rising and still rising from some inexhaustible fountain of
+burning.</p>
+<p>Father Francesco drew as near as he could for the stifling heat
+and vapor, and, resting on his staff, stood gazing intently. The
+lurid light of the fire fell with an unearthly glare on his pale,
+sunken features, his wild, haggard eyes, and his torn and
+disarranged garments. In the awful solitude and silence of the
+night he felt his heart stand still, as if indeed he had touched
+with his very hand the gates of eternal woe, and felt its fiery
+breath upon his cheek. He half-imagined that the seams and clefts
+which glowed in lurid lines between the dark billows would gape yet
+wider and show the blasting secrets of some world of fiery despair
+below. He fancied that he heard behind and around the mocking laugh
+of fiends, and that confused clamor of mingled shrieks and
+lamentations which Dante describes as filling the dusky approaches
+to that forlorn realm where hope never enters.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, God,&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;for this vain life
+of man! They eat, they drink, they dance, they sing, they marry and
+are given in marriage, they have castles and gardens and villas,
+and the very beauty of Paradise seems over it all,&mdash;and yet
+how close by burns and roars the eternal fire! Fools that we are,
+to clamor for indulgence and happiness in this life, when the
+question is, to escape everlasting burnings! If I tremble at this
+outer court of God&rsquo;s wrath and justice, what must be the
+fires of hell? These are but earthly fires; they can but burn the
+body: those are made to burn the soul; they are undying as the soul
+is. What would it be to be dragged down, down, down, into an abyss
+of soul-fire hotter than this for ages on ages? This might bring
+merciful death in time: that will have no end.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The monk fell on his knees and breathed out piercing
+supplications. Every nerve and fibre within him seemed tense with
+his agony of prayer. It was not the outcry for purity and peace,
+not a tender longing for forgiveness, not a filial remorse for sin,
+but the nervous anguish of him who shrieks in the immediate
+apprehension of an unendurable torture. It was the cry of a man
+upon the rack, the despairing scream of him who feels himself
+sinking in a burning dwelling. Such anguish has found an utterance
+in Stradella&rsquo;s celebrated &ldquo;Piet&agrave;,
+Signore,&rdquo; which still tells to our ears, in its wild moans
+and piteous shrieks, the religious conceptions of his day; for
+there is no phase of the Italian mind that has not found expression
+in its music.</p>
+<p>When the oppression of the heat and sulphurous vapor became too
+dreadful to be borne, the monk retraced his way and climbed with
+difficulty up the steep sides of the crater, till he gained the
+summit above, where a comparatively free air revived him. All night
+he wandered up and down in that dreary vicinity, now listening to
+the mournful roar and crackle of the fire, and now raising his
+voice in penitential psalms or the notes of that terrific
+&ldquo;Dies Ir&aelig;&rdquo; which sums up all the intense fear and
+horror with which the religion of the Middle Ages clothed the idea
+of the final catastrophe of humanity. Sometimes prostrating himself
+with his face towards the stifling soil, he prayed with agonized
+intensity till Nature would sink in a temporary collapse, and
+sleep, in spite of himself, would steal over him.</p>
+<p>So waned the gloomy hours of the night away, till the morning
+broke in the east, turning all the blue wavering floor of the sea
+to crimson brightness, and bringing up, with the rising breeze, the
+barking of dogs, the lowing of kine, the songs of laborers and
+boatmen, all fresh and breezy from the repose of the past
+night.</p>
+<p>Father Francesco heard the sound of approaching footsteps
+climbing the lava path, and started with a nervous trepidation.
+Soon he recognized a poor peasant of the vicinity, whose child he
+had tended during a dangerous illness. He bore with him a little
+basket of eggs, with a melon and a fresh green salad.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good morning, holy father,&rdquo; he said, bowing humbly.
+&ldquo;I saw you coming this way last night, and I could hardly
+sleep for thinking of you; and my good woman, Teresina, would have
+it that I should come out to look after you. I have taken the
+liberty to bring a little offering;&mdash;it was the best we
+had.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, my son,&rdquo; said the monk, looking
+wistfully at the fresh, honest face of the peasant. &ldquo;You have
+taken too much trouble for such a sinner. I must not allow myself
+such indulgences.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But your Reverence must live. Look you,&rdquo; said the
+peasant, &ldquo;at least your Reverence will take an egg. See here,
+how handily I can cook one,&rdquo; he added, striking his stick
+into a little cavity of a rock, from which, as from an
+escape-valve, hissed a jet of hot steam,&mdash;&ldquo;see here, I
+nestle the egg in this little cleft, and it will be done in a
+twinkling. Our good God gives us our fire for nothing
+here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was something wholesomely kindly and cheerful in the
+action and expression of the man, which broke upon the overstrained
+and disturbed musings of the monk like daylight on a ghastly dream.
+The honest, loving heart sees love in everything; even the fire is
+its fatherly helper, and not its avenging enemy.</p>
+<p>Father Francesco took the egg, when it was done, with a silent
+gesture of thanks.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If I might make bold to say,&rdquo; said the peasant,
+encouraged, &ldquo;your Reverence should have some care for
+yourself. If a man will not feed himself, the good God will not
+feed him; and we poor people have too few friends already to let
+such as you die. Your hands are trembling, and you look worn out.
+Surely you should take something more, for the very love of the
+poor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My son, I am bound to do a heavy penance, and to work out
+a great conflict. I thank you for your undeserved kindness. Leave
+me now to myself, and come no more to disturb my prayers. Go, and
+God bless you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the peasant, putting down the basket
+and melon, &ldquo;I shall leave these things here, any way, and I
+beg your Reverence to have a care of yourself. Teresina fretted all
+night for fear something might come to you. The bambino that you
+cured is grown a stout little fellow, and eats enough for
+two,&mdash;and it is all of you; so she cannot forget it. She is a
+busy little woman, is Teresina; and when she gets a thought in her
+head, it buzzes, buzzes, like a fly in a bottle, and she will have
+it your Reverence is killing yourself by inches, and says she,
+&lsquo;What will all the poor do when he is gone?&rsquo; So your
+Reverence must pardon us. We mean it all for the best.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So saying, the man turned and began sliding and slipping down
+the steep ashy sides of the mountain cone with a dexterity which
+carried him to the bottom in a few moments; and on he went, sending
+back after him a cheerful little air, the refrain of which is still
+to be heard in our days in that neighborhood. A word or two of the
+gay song fluttered back on the ear of the monk,&mdash;</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;Tutta gieja, tutta festa.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p>So gay and airy it was in its ringing cadence that it seemed a
+musical laugh springing from sunny skies, and came fluttering into
+the dismal smoke and gloom of the mountain-top like a very
+butterfly of sound. It struck on the sad, leaden ear of the monk
+much as we might fancy the carol of a robin over a grave might
+seem, could the cold sleeper below wake one moment to its
+perception. If it woke one regretful sigh and drew one wandering
+look downward to the elysian paradise that lay smiling at the foot
+of the mountain, he instantly suppressed the feeling, and set his
+face in its old deathly stillness.</p>
+<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3>
+<h4>CLOUDS DEEPENING.</h4>
+<p>After the departure of her uncle to Florence, the life of Agnes
+was troubled and harassed from a variety of causes.</p>
+<p>First, her grandmother was sulky and moody, and though saying
+nothing directly on the topic nearest her heart, yet intimating by
+every look and action that she considered Agnes as a most
+ungrateful and contumacious child. Then there was a constant
+internal perplexity,&mdash;a constant wearying course of
+self-interrogation and self-distrust, the pain of a sensitive
+spirit which doubts at every moment whether it may not be falling
+into sin. The absence of her kind uncle at this time took from her
+the strongest support on which she had leaned in her perplexities.
+Cheerful, airy, and elastic in his temperament, always full of
+fresh-springing and beautiful thoughts, as an Italian dell is of
+flowers, the charming old man seemed, while he stayed with Agnes,
+to be the door of a new and fairer world, where she could walk in
+air and sunshine, and find utterance for a thousand thoughts and
+feelings which at all other times lay in cold repression in her
+heart. His counsels were always so wholesome, his sympathies so
+quick, his devotion so fervent and cheerful, that while with him
+Agnes felt the burden of her life insensibly lifted and carried for
+her as by some angel guide.</p>
+<p>Now they had all come back upon her, heavier a thousand-fold
+than ever they had been before. Never did she so much need counsel
+and guidance,&mdash;never had she so much within herself to be
+solved and made plain to her own comprehension; yet she thought
+with a strange shiver of her next visit to her confessor. That
+austere man, so chilling, so awful, so far above all conception of
+human weaknesses, how should she dare to lay before him all the
+secrets of her breast, especially when she must confess to having
+disobeyed his most stringent commands? She had had another
+interview with this forbidden son of perdition, but how it was she
+knew not. How could such things have happened? Instead of shutting
+her eyes and turning her head and saying prayers, she had listened
+to a passionate declaration of love, and his last word had called
+her his wife. Her heart thrilled every time she thought of it; and
+somehow she could not feel sure that it was exactly a thrill of
+penitence. It was all like a strange dream to her; and sometimes
+she looked at her little brown hands and wondered if he really had
+kissed them,&mdash;he, the splendid strange vision of a man, the
+prince from fairyland! Agnes had never read romances, it is true,
+but she had been brought up on the legends of the saints, and there
+never was a marvel possible to human conception that had not been
+told there. Princes had come from China and Barbary and Abyssinia
+and every other strange out-of-the-way place, to kneel at the feet
+of fair, obdurate saints who would not even turn the head to look
+at them; but she had acted, she was conscious, after a much more
+mortal fashion, and so made herself work for confession and
+penance. Yet certainly she had not meant to do so; the interview
+came on her so suddenly, so unexpectedly; and somehow he
+<em>would</em> speak, and he would not go when she asked him to;
+and she remembered how he looked when he stood right before her in
+the doorway and told her she <em>should</em> hear him,&mdash;how
+the color flushed up in his cheeks, what a fire there was in his
+great dark eyes; he looked as if he were going to do something
+desperate then; it made her hold her breath even now to think of
+it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;These princes and nobles,&rdquo; she thought, &ldquo;are
+so used to command, it is no wonder they make us feel as if they
+must have their will. I have heard grandmother call them wolves and
+vultures, that are ready to tear us poor folk to pieces; but I am
+sure he seems gentle. I&rsquo;m sure it isn&rsquo;t wicked or cruel
+for him to want to make me his wife; and he couldn&rsquo;t know, of
+course, why it wasn&rsquo;t right he should; and it really is
+beautiful of him to love me so. Oh, if I were only a princess, and
+he loved me that way, how glad I should be to give up everything
+and go to him alone! And then we would pray together; and I really
+think that would be much better than praying all alone. He said men
+had so much more to tempt them. Ah, that is true! How can little
+moles that grub in the ground know of the dangers of eagles that
+fly to the very sun? Holy Mother, look mercifully upon him and save
+his soul!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Such were the thoughts of Agnes the day when she was preparing
+for her confession; and all the way to church she found them
+floating and dissolving and reappearing in new forms in her mind,
+like the silvery smoke-clouds which were constantly veering and
+sailing over Vesuvius.</p>
+<p>Only one thing was firm and never changing, and that was the
+purpose to reveal everything to her spiritual director. When she
+kneeled at the confessional with closed eyes, and began her
+whispered acknowledgments, she tried to feel as if she were
+speaking in the ear of God alone,&mdash;that God whose spirit she
+was taught to believe, for the time being, was present in His
+minister before whom her inmost heart was to be unveiled.</p>
+<p>He who sat within had just returned from his lonely retreat with
+his mind and nerves in a state of unnatural tension,&mdash;a sort
+of ecstatic clearness and calmness, which he mistook for victory
+and peace. During those lonely days when he had wandered afar from
+human converse, and was surrounded only by objects of desolation
+and gloom, he had passed through as many phases of strange,
+unnatural experience as there were flitting smoke-wreaths eddying
+about him.</p>
+<p>There are depths in man&rsquo;s nature and his possibilities
+which no plummet has ever sounded,&mdash;the wild, lonely joys of
+fanatical excitement, the perfectly ravenous appetite for
+self-torture, which seems able, in time, to reverse the whole human
+system, and make a heaven of hell. How else can we understand the
+facts related both in Hindoo and in Christian story, of those men
+and women who have found such strange raptures in slow tortures,
+prolonged from year to year, till pain became a habit of body and
+mind? It is said, that, after the tortures of the rack, the
+reaction of the overstrained nerves produces a sense of the most
+exquisite relief and repose; and so when mind and body are
+harrowed, harassed to the very outer verge of endurance, come wild
+throbbings and transports, and strange celestial clairvoyance,
+which the mystic hails as the descent of the New Jerusalem into his
+soul.</p>
+<p>It had seemed to Father Francesco, when he came down from the
+mountain, that he had left his body behind him,&mdash;that he had
+left earth and earthly things; his very feet touching the ground
+seemed to tread not on rough, resisting soil, but upon elastic
+cloud. He saw a strange excess of beauty in every flower, in every
+leaf, in the wavering blue of the sea, in the red grottoed rocks
+that overhung the shore, with their purple, green, orange, and
+yellow hangings of flower-and-leaf-tapestry. The songs of the
+fishermen on the beach, the peasant-girls cutting flowery fodder
+for the cattle, all seemed to him to have an unnatural charm. As
+one looking through a prism sees a fine bordering of rainbow on
+every object, so he beheld a glorified world. His former self
+seemed to him something forever past and gone. He looked at himself
+as at another person, who had sinned and suffered, and was now
+resting in beatified repose; and he fondly thought all this was
+firm reality, and believed that he was now proof against all
+earthly impressions, able to hear and to judge with the
+dispassionate calmness of a disembodied spirit. He did not know
+that this high-strung calmness, this fine clearness, were only the
+most intense form of nervous sensibility, and as vividly
+susceptible to every mortal impression as is the vitalized chemical
+plate to the least action of the sun&rsquo;s rays.</p>
+<p>When Agnes began her confession, her voice seemed to him to pass
+through every nerve; it seemed as if he could feel her presence
+thrilling through the very wood of the confessional. He was
+astonished and dismayed at his own emotion. But when she began to
+speak of the interview with the cavalier, he trembled from head to
+foot with uncontrollable passion. Nature long repressed came back
+in a tempestuous reaction. He crossed himself again and again, he
+tried to pray, and blessed those protecting shadows which concealed
+his emotion from the unconscious one by his side. But he set his
+teeth in deadly resolve, and his voice, as he questioned her, came
+forth cutting and cold as ice crystals.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why did you listen to a word?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My father, it was so sudden. He wakened me from sleep. I
+answered him before I thought.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You should not have been sleeping. It was a sinful
+indolence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my father.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;See now to what it led. The enemy of your soul, ever
+watching, seized this moment to tempt you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my father.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Examine your soul well,&rdquo; said Father Francesco, in
+a tone of austere severity that made Agnes tremble. &ldquo;Did you
+not find a secret pleasure in his words?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My father, I fear I did,&rdquo; said she, with a
+trembling voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I knew it! I knew it!&rdquo; the priest muttered to
+himself, while the great drops started on his forehead, in the
+intensity of the conflict he repressed. Agnes thought the solemn
+pause that followed was caused by the horror that had been inspired
+by her own sinfulness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You did not, then, heartily and truly wish him to go from
+you?&rdquo; pursued the cold, severe voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my father, I did. I wished him to go with all my
+soul.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yet you say you found pleasure in his being near
+you,&rdquo; said Father Francesco, conscious how every string of
+his own being, even in this awful hour, was vibrating with a sort
+of desperate, miserable joy in being once more near to her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; sighed Agnes, &ldquo;that is true, my
+father,&mdash;woe is me! Please tell me how I could have helped it.
+I was pleased before I knew it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you have been thinking of what he said to you with
+pleasure since?&rdquo; pursued the confessor, with an intense
+severity of manner, deepening as he spoke.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I <em>have</em> thought of it,&rdquo; faltered Agnes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Beware how you trifle with the holy sacrament! Answer
+frankly. You have thought of it with <em>pleasure</em>. Confess
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not understand myself exactly,&rdquo; said Agnes.
+&ldquo;I have thought of it partly with pleasure and partly with
+pain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Would you like to go with him and be his wife, as he
+said?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If it were right, father,&mdash;not otherwise.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, foolish child! oh, blinded soul! to think of right in
+connection with an infidel and heretic! Do you not see that all
+this is an artifice of Satan? He can transform himself into an
+angel of light. Do you suppose this heretic would be brought back
+to the Church by a foolish girl? Do you suppose it is your prayers
+he wants? Why does, he not seek the prayers of the Church,&mdash;of
+holy men who have power with God? He would bait his hook with this
+pretence that he may catch your soul. Do you believe me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am bound to believe you, my father.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But you do not. Your heart is going after this wicked
+man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, my father, I do not wish it should. I never wish or
+expect to see him more. I only pray for him that his soul may not
+be lost.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has gone, then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my father. And he went with my uncle, a most holy
+monk, who has undertaken the work of his salvation. He listens to
+my uncle, who has hopes of restoring him to the Church.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That is well. And now, my daughter, listen to me. You
+must root out of your thought every trace and remembrance of these
+words of sinful earthly love which he hath spoken. Such love would
+burn your soul to all eternity with fire that never could be
+quenched. If you can tear away all roots and traces of this from
+your heart, if by fasting and prayer and penance you can become
+worthy to be a bride of your divine Lord, then your prayers will
+gain power, and you may prevail to secure his eternal salvation.
+But listen to me, daughter,&mdash;listen and tremble! If ever you
+should yield to his love and turn back from this heavenly marriage
+to follow him, you will accomplish his damnation and your own; to
+all eternity he will curse you, while the fire rages and consumes
+him,&mdash;he will curse the hour that he first saw you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>These words were spoken with an intense vehemence which seemed
+almost supernatural. Agnes shivered and trembled; a vague feeling
+of guilt overwhelmed and disheartened her; she seemed to herself
+the most lost and abandoned of human beings.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My father, I shall think no penance too severe that may
+restore my soul from this sin. I have already made a vow to the
+blessed Mother that I will walk on foot to the Holy City, praying
+in every shrine and holy place; and I humbly ask your
+approval.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This announcement brought to the mind of the monk a sense of
+relief and deliverance. He felt already, in the terrible storm of
+agitation which this confession had aroused within him, that nature
+was not dead, and that he was infinitely farther from the victory
+of passionless calm than he had supposed. He was still a
+man,&mdash;torn with human passions, with a love which he must
+never express, and a jealousy which burned and writhed at every
+word which he had wrung from its unconscious object. Conscience had
+begun to whisper in his ear that there would be no safety to him in
+continuing this spiritual dictatorship to one whose every word
+unmanned him,&mdash;that it was laying himself open to a ceaseless
+temptation, which in some blinded, dreary hour of evil might hurry
+him into acts of horrible sacrilege; and he was once more feeling
+that wild, stormy revolt of his inner nature that so distressed him
+before he left the convent.</p>
+<p>This proposition of Agnes&rsquo; struck him as a compromise. It
+would take her from him only for a season, she would go under his
+care and direction, and he would gradually recover his calmness and
+self-possession in her absence. Her pilgrimage to the holy places
+would be a most proper and fit preparation for the solemn
+marriage-rite which should forever sunder her from all human ties
+and make her inaccessible to all solicitations of human love.
+Therefore, after an interval of silence, he answered,&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Daughter, your plan is approved. Such pilgrimages have
+ever been held meritorious works in the Church, and there is a
+special blessing upon them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My father,&rdquo; said Agnes, &ldquo;it has always been
+in my heart from my childhood to be the bride of the Lord; but my
+grandmother, who brought me up, and to whom I owe the obedience of
+a daughter, utterly forbids me: she will not hear a word of it. No
+longer ago than last Monday she told me I might as well put a knife
+into her heart as speak of this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you, daughter, do you put the feelings of any earthly
+friend before the love of your Lord and Creator who laid down His
+life for you? Hear what He saith:&mdash;&lsquo;He that loveth
+father or mother more than me is not worthy of
+me.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But my poor old grandmother has no one but me in the
+world, and she has never slept a night without me; she is getting
+old, and she has worked for me all her good days;&mdash;it would be
+very hard for her to lose me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, false, deceitful heart! Has, then, thy Lord not
+labored for thee? Has He not borne thee through all the years of
+thy life? And wilt thou put the love of any mortal before
+His?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied Agnes, with a sort of hardy
+sweetness,&mdash;&ldquo;but my Lord does not need me as grandmother
+does; He is in glory, and will never be old or feeble; I cannot
+work for Him and tend Him as I shall her. I cannot see my way clear
+at present; but when she is gone, or if the saints move her to
+consent, I shall then belong to God alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Daughter, there is some truth in your words; and if your
+Lord accepts you, He will dispose her heart. Will she go with you
+on this pilgrimage?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have prayed that she might, father,&mdash;that her soul
+may be quickened; for I fear me, dear old grandmamma has found her
+love for me a snare,&mdash;she has thought too much of my interests
+and too little of her own soul, poor grandmamma!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, child, I shall enjoin this pilgrimage on her as a
+penance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have grievously offended her lately,&rdquo; said Agnes,
+&ldquo;in rejecting an offer of marriage with a man on whom she had
+set her heart, and therefore she does not listen to me as she is
+wont to do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have done right in refusing, my daughter. I will
+speak to her of this, and show her how great is the sin of opposing
+a holy vocation in a soul whom the Lord calls to Himself, and
+enjoin her to make reparation by uniting with you in this holy
+work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Agnes departed from the confessional without even looking upon
+the face of her director, who sat within listening to the rustle of
+her dress as she rose,&mdash;listening to the soft fall of her
+departing footsteps, and praying that grace might be given him not
+to look after her: and he did not, though he felt as if his life
+were going with her.</p>
+<p>Agnes tripped round the aisle to a little side-chapel where a
+light was always kept burning by her before a picture of Saint
+Agnes, and, kneeling there, waited till her grandmother should be
+through with her confession.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, sweet Saint Agnes,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;pity me! I
+am a poor ignorant young girl, and have been led into grievous sin;
+but I did not mean to do wrong,&mdash;I have been trying to do
+right; pray for me, that I may overcome as you did. Pray our dear
+Lord to send you with us on this pilgrimage, and save us from all
+wicked and brutal men who would do us harm. As the Lord delivered
+you in sorest straits, keeping soul and body pure as a lily, ah,
+pray Him to keep me! I love you dearly,&mdash;watch over me and
+guide me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In those days of the Church, such addresses to the glorified
+saints had become common among all Christians. They were not
+regarded as worship, any more than a similar outpouring of
+confidence to a beloved and revered friend yet in the body. Among
+the hymns of Savonarola is one addressed to Saint Mary Magdalen,
+whom he regarded with an especial veneration. The great truth, that
+God is not the God of the dead, but of the living, that
+<em>all</em> live to Him, was in those ages with the truly
+religious a part of spiritual consciousness. The saints of the
+Church Triumphant, having become one with Christ as he is one with
+the Father, were regarded as invested with a portion of his
+divinity, and as the ministering agency through which his
+mediatorial government on earth was conducted; and it was thought
+to be in the power of the sympathetic heart to attract them by the
+outflow of its affections, so that their presence often
+overshadowed the walks of daily life with a cloud of healing and
+protecting sweetness.</p>
+<p>If the enthusiasm of devotion in regard to these invisible
+friends became extravagant and took the language due to God alone,
+it was no more than the fervid Italian nature was always doing with
+regard to visible objects of affection. Love with an Italian always
+tends to become worship, and some of the language of the poets
+addressed to earthly loves rises into intensities of expression due
+only to the One, Sovereign, Eternal Beauty. One sees even in the
+writings of Cicero that this passionate adoring kind of love is not
+confined to modern times. When he loses the daughter in whom his
+heart is garnered up, he finds no comfort except in building a
+temple to her memory,&mdash;a blind outreaching towards the
+saint-worship of modern times.</p>
+<p>Agnes rose from her devotions, and went with downcast eyes, her
+lips still repeating prayers, to the font of holy water, which was
+in a dim shadowy corner, where a painted window cast a gold and
+violet twilight. Suddenly there was a rustle of garments in the
+dimness, and a jewelled hand essayed to pass holy water to her on
+the tip of its finger. This mark of Christian fraternity, common in
+those times, Agnes almost mechanically accepted, touching her
+slender finger to the one extended, and making the sign of the
+cross, while she raised her eyes to see who stood there. Gradually
+the haze cleared from her mind, and she awoke to the consciousness
+that it was the cavalier! He moved to come towards her, with a
+bright smile on his face; but suddenly she became pale as one who
+has seen a spectre, and, pushing from her with both hands, she said
+faintly, &ldquo;Go, go!&rdquo; and turned and sped up the aisle
+silently as a sunbeam, joining her grandmother, who was coming from
+the confessional with a gloomy and sullen brow.</p>
+<p>Old Elsie had been enjoined to unite with her grandchild in this
+scheme of a pilgrimage, and received the direction with as much
+internal contumacy as would a thriving church-member of Wall Street
+a proposition to attend a protracted meeting in the height of the
+business season. Not but that pilgrimages were holy and gracious
+works,&mdash;she was too good a Christian not to admit
+that,&mdash;but why must holy and gracious works be thrust on her
+in particular? There were saints enough who liked such things; and
+people <em>could</em> get to heaven without,&mdash;if not with a
+very abundant entrance, still in a modest way,&mdash;and
+Elsie&rsquo;s ambition for position and treasure in the spiritual
+world was of a very moderate cast.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, now, I hope you are satisfied,&rdquo; she said to
+Agnes, as she pulled her along with no very gentle hand;
+&ldquo;you&rsquo;ve got me sent off on a pilgrimage,&mdash;and my
+old bones must be rattling up and down all the hills between here
+and Rome,&mdash;and who&rsquo;s to see to the
+oranges?&mdash;they&rsquo;ll all be stolen, every one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Grandmother,&rdquo; began Agnes in a pleading
+voice&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you hush up! I know what you&rsquo;re going to say:
+&lsquo;The good Lord will take care of them.&rsquo; I wish He may!
+He has His hands full, with all the people that go cawing and
+psalm-singing like so many crows, and leave all their affairs to
+Him!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Agnes walked along disconsolate, with her eyes full of tears,
+which coursed one another down her pale cheeks.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s Antonio,&rdquo; pursued Elsie, &ldquo;would
+perhaps look after things a little. He is a good fellow, and only
+yesterday was asking if he couldn&rsquo;t do something for us.
+It&rsquo;s you he does it for,&mdash;but little you care who loves
+you, or what they do for you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At this moment they met old Jocunda, whom we have before
+introduced to the reader as portress of the Convent. She had on her
+arm a large square basket, which she was storing for its practical
+uses.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, well, Saint Agnes be praised, I have found you at
+last,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I was wanting to speak about some of
+your blood-oranges for conserving. An order has come down from our
+dear gracious lady, the Queen, to prepare a lot for her own blessed
+eating, and you may be sure I would get none of anybody but
+you.&mdash;But what&rsquo;s this, my little heart, my little
+lamb?&mdash;crying?&mdash;tears in those sweet eyes? What&rsquo;s
+the matter now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Matter enough for me!&rdquo; said Elsie.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a weary world we live in. A body can&rsquo;t turn
+any way and not meet with trouble. If a body brings up a girl one
+way, why, every fellow is after her, and one has no peace; and if a
+body brings her up another way, she gets her head in the clouds,
+and there&rsquo;s no good of her in this world. Now look at that
+girl,&mdash;doesn&rsquo;t everybody say it&rsquo;s time she were
+married?&mdash;but no marrying for her! Nothing will do but we must
+off to Rome on a pilgrimage,&mdash;and what&rsquo;s the good of
+that, I want to know? If it&rsquo;s praying that&rsquo;s to be
+done, the dear saints know she&rsquo;s at it from morning till
+night,&mdash;and lately she&rsquo;s up and down three or four times
+a night with some prayer or other.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, well,&rdquo; said Jocunda, &ldquo;who started this
+idea?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Father Francesco and she got it up between
+them,&mdash;and nothing will do but I must go, too.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, now, after all, my dear,&rdquo; said Jocunda,
+&ldquo;do you know, I made a pilgrimage once, and it isn&rsquo;t so
+bad. One gets a good deal by it, first and last. Everybody drops
+something into your hand as you go, and one gets treated as if one
+were somebody a little above the common; and then in Rome one has a
+princess or a duchess or some noble lady who washes one&rsquo;s
+feet, and gives one a good supper, and perhaps a new suit of
+clothes, and all that,&mdash;and ten to one there comes a pretty
+little sum of money to boot, if one plays one&rsquo;s cards well. A
+pilgrimage isn&rsquo;t bad, after all;&mdash;one sees a world of
+fine things, and something new every day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But who is to look after our garden and dress our
+trees?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, now, there&rsquo;s Antonio, and old Meta his
+mother,&rdquo; said Jocunda, with a knowing wink at Agnes. &ldquo;I
+fancy there are friends there that would lend a hand to keep things
+together against the little one comes borne. If one is going to be
+married, a pilgrimage brings good luck in the family. All the
+saints take it kindly that one comes so far to see them, and are
+more ready to do a good turn for one when one needs it. The blessed
+saints are like other folks,&mdash;they like to be treated with
+proper attention.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This view of pilgrimages from the material stand-point had more
+effect on the mind of Elsie than the most elaborate appeals of
+Father Francesco. She began to acquiesce, though with a reluctant
+air.</p>
+<p>Jocunda, seeing her words had made some impression, pursued her
+advantage on the spiritual ground.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To be sure,&rdquo; she added, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know
+how it is with you; but I know that <em>I</em> have, one way and
+another, rolled up quite an account of sins in my life. When I was
+tramping up and down with my old man through the country,&mdash;now
+in this castle and then in that camp, and now and then in at the
+sacking of a city or village, or something of the kind,&mdash;the
+saints forgive us!&mdash;it does seem as if one got into things
+that were not of the best sort, in such times. It&rsquo;s true,
+it&rsquo;s been wiped out over and over by the priest; but then a
+pilgrimage is a good thing to make all sure, in case one&rsquo;s
+good works should fall short of one&rsquo;s sins at last. I can
+tell you, a pilgrimage is a good round weight to throw into the
+scale; and when it comes to heaven and hell, you know, my dear,
+why, one cannot be too careful.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, that may be true enough,&rdquo; said
+Elsie,&mdash;&ldquo;though, as to my sins, I have tried to keep
+them regularly squared up and balanced as I went along. I have
+always been regular at confession, and never failed a jot or tittle
+in what the holy father told me. But there may be something in what
+you say; one can&rsquo;t be too sure; and so I&rsquo;ll e&rsquo;en
+school my old bones into taking this tramp.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>That evening, as Agnes was sitting in the garden at sunset, her
+grandmother bustling in and out, talking, groaning, and, hurrying
+in her preparations for the anticipated undertaking, suddenly there
+was a rustling in the branches overhead, and a bouquet of rose-buds
+fell at her feet. Agnes picked it up, and saw a scrip of paper
+coiled among the flowers. In a moment remembering the apparition of
+the cavalier in the church in the morning, she doubted not from
+whom it came. So dreadful had been the effect of the scene at the
+confessional, that the thought of the near presence of her lover
+brought only terror. She turned pale; her hands shook. She shut her
+eyes, and prayed that she might not be left to read the paper; and
+then, summoning all her resolution, she threw the bouquet with
+force over the wall. It dropped down, down, down the gloomy,
+shadowy abyss, and was lost in the damp caverns below.</p>
+<p>The cavalier stood without the wall, waiting for some responsive
+signal in reply to his missive. It had never occurred to him that
+Agnes would not even read it, and he stood confounded when he saw
+it thrown back with such apparent rudeness. He remembered her pale,
+terrified look on seeing him in the morning. It was not
+indifference or dislike, but mortal fear, that had been shown in
+that pale face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;These wretches are practising on her,&rdquo; he said, in
+wrath,&mdash;&ldquo;filling her head with frightful images, and
+torturing her sensitive conscience till she sees sin in the most
+natural and innocent feelings.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He had learned from Father Antonio the intention of Agnes to go
+on a pilgrimage, and he longed to see and talk with her, that he
+might offer her his protection against dangers which he understood
+far better than she. It had never even occurred to him that the
+door for all possible communication would be thus suddenly barred
+in his face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; he said to himself, with a darkening
+brow,&mdash;&ldquo;let them have it their own way here. She must
+pass through my dominions before she can reach Rome, and I will
+find a place where I <em>can</em> be heard, without priest or
+grandmother to let or hinder. She is mine, and I will care for
+her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But poor Agnes had the woman&rsquo;s share of the misery to
+bear, in the fear and self-reproach and distress which every
+movement of this kind cost her. The involuntary thrill at seeing
+her lover, at hearing from him, the conscious struggle which it
+cost her to throw back his gift, were all noted by her accusing
+conscience as so many sins. The next day she sought again her
+confessor, and began an entrance on those darker and more chilly
+paths of penance, by which, according to the opinion of her times,
+the peculiarly elect of the Lord were supposed to be best trained.
+Hitherto her religion had been the cheerful and natural expression
+of her tender and devout nature according to the more beautiful and
+engaging devotional forms of her Church. During the year when her
+confessor had been, unconsciously to himself, led by her instead of
+leading, her spiritual food had been its beautiful old hymns and
+prayers, which she found no weariness in often repeating. But now
+an unnatural conflict was begun in her mind, directed by a
+spiritual guide in whom every natural and normal movement of the
+soul had given way before a succession of morbid and unhealthful
+experiences. From that day Agnes wore upon her heart one of those
+sharp instruments of torture which in those times were supposed to
+be a means of inward grace,&mdash;a cross with seven steel points
+for the seven sorrows of Mary. She fasted with a severity which
+alarmed her grandmother, who in her inmost heart cursed the day
+that ever she had placed her in the way of saintship.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All this will just end in spoiling her
+beauty,&mdash;making her as thin as a shadow,&rdquo;&mdash;said
+Elsie; &ldquo;and she was good enough before.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But it did not spoil her beauty,-it only changed its character.
+The roundness and bloom melted away,&mdash;but there came in their
+stead that solemn, transparent clearness of countenance, that
+spiritual light and radiance, which the old Florentine painters
+gave to their Madonnas.</p>
+<p>It is singular how all religious exercises and appliances take
+the character of the nature that uses them. The pain and penance,
+which so many in her day bore as a cowardly expedient for averting
+divine wrath, seemed, as she viewed them, a humble way of becoming
+associated in the sufferings of her Redeemer. &ldquo;<em>Jesu
+dulcis memoria</em>,&rdquo; was the thought that carried a
+redeeming sweetness with every pain. Could she thus, by suffering
+with her Lord, gain power like Him to save,&mdash;a power which
+should save that soul so dear and so endangered! &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo;
+she thought, &ldquo;I would give my life-blood, drop by drop, if
+only it might avail for his salvation!&rdquo;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="heroine" name="heroine">THE TRUE HEROINE.</a></h2>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>What was she like? I cannot tell.</p>
+<p>I only know God loved her well.</p>
+<p>Two noble sons her gray hairs blest,&mdash;</p>
+<p>And he, their sire, was now at rest.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>And why her children loved her so,</p>
+<p>And called her blessed, all shall know:</p>
+<p>She never had a selfish thought,</p>
+<p>Nor valued what her hand had wrought.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>She could be just in spite of love;</p>
+<p>And cherished hates she dwelt above;</p>
+<p>In sick-rooms they that had her care</p>
+<p>Said she was wondrous gentle there.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>It was a fearful trust, she knew,</p>
+<p>To guide her young immortals through;</p>
+<p>But Love and Truth explained the way,</p>
+<p>And Piety made perfect day.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>She taught them to be pure and true,</p>
+<p>And brave, and strong, and courteous, too;</p>
+<p>She made them reverence silver hairs,</p>
+<p>And feel the poor man&rsquo;s biting cares.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>She won them ever to her side;</p>
+<p><em>Home</em> was their treasure and their pride:</p>
+<p>Its food, drink, shelter pleased them best,</p>
+<p>And there they found the sweetest rest.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>And often, as the shadows fell,</p>
+<p>And twilight had attuned them well,</p>
+<p>She sang of many a noble deed,</p>
+<p>And marked with joy their eager heed.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>And most she marked their kindling eyes</p>
+<p>When telling of the victories</p>
+<p>That made the Stars and Stripes a name,</p>
+<p>Their country rich in honest fame.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>It was a noble land, she said,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Its poorest children lacked not bread;</p>
+<p>It was so broad, so rich, so free,</p>
+<p>They sang its praise beyond the sea;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>And thousands sought its kindly shore,</p>
+<p>And none were poor and friendless more;</p>
+<p>All blessed the name of Washington,</p>
+<p>And loved the Union, every one.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>She made them feel that they were part</p>
+<p>Of a great nation&rsquo;s living heart.&mdash;</p>
+<p>So they grew up, true patriot boys,</p>
+<p>And knew not all their mother&rsquo;s joys.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Sad was the hour when murmurs loud</p>
+<p>From a great black advancing cloud</p>
+<p>Made millions feel the coming breath</p>
+<p>Of maddened whirlwinds, full of death!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>She prayed the skies might soon be bright,</p>
+<p>And made her sons prepare for fight</p>
+<p>Brave youths!&mdash;their zeal proved clearly then</p>
+<p>In such an hour youths can be men!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>By day she went from door to door,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Men caught her soul, unfelt before;</p>
+<p>By night she prayed, and planned, and dreamed,</p>
+<p>Till morn&rsquo;s red light war&rsquo;s lightning seemed.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The cry went forth; forth stepped her sons</p>
+<p>In martial blaze of gleaming guns:</p>
+<p>Still striding on to perils dire,</p>
+<p>They turned to catch her glance of fire.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>No fears, no fond regrets she knew,</p>
+<p>But proudly watched them fade from view:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lord, keep them so!&rdquo; she said, and turned</p>
+<p>To where her lonely hearth-fire burned.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="jefferson" name="jefferson">JEFFERSON AND
+SLAVERY.</a></h2>
+<p>Any one who feels deeply the truths in which our great men of
+old founded this Democracy, and who sees clearly the great lines of
+political architecture by which alone it shall stand firm or rise
+high, finds in the direct plan and work the agency mainly of six
+men.</p>
+<p>These may be set in three groups.</p>
+<p><em>First</em>, three men, who, through a series of earnest
+thoughts, taking shape sometimes in apt words, sometimes in bold
+acts, did most to <em>found</em> the Republic: and these three are
+Washington, Adams, and Jefferson.</p>
+<p><em>Secondly</em>, two men, who, as statesmen, by a healthful
+division between the two great natural policies, and, as
+politicians, by a healthful antagonism between the two great
+natural parties, did most to <em>build</em> the Republic: and these
+two are Jefferson and Hamilton.</p>
+<p><em>Thirdly</em>, three men, who, having a clear theory in their
+heads, and a deep conviction in their hearts, working on the nation
+by sermons, epistles, programmes, hints, quips, innuendoes, by
+every form of winged word, have done most to get this people into
+simple trains of humanitarian thought, and have therefore done most
+to <em>brace</em> the Republic: and these three men are Franklin,
+Jefferson, and Channing.</p>
+<p>So, rising above the dust raised in our old quarrels, and taking
+a broad view over this Democracy, we see Jefferson firmly placed in
+each of these groups.</p>
+<p>If we search in Jefferson&rsquo;s writings and in the
+contemporary records to ascertain what that power was which won him
+these positions, we find that it was no personal skill in cajoling
+friends or scaring enemies. No sound-hearted man ever rose from
+talk with him with a tithe of the veneration felt by those who sat
+at the feet of Washington or Hamilton or Channing. Neither was his
+position due to oratory: he could deal neither in sweet words nor
+in lofty words. Yet, in spite of these wants, he wrought on the
+nation with immense power.</p>
+<p>The real secret of this power was, first of all, that Jefferson
+saw infinitely deeper into the principles of the rising Democracy,
+and infinitely farther into its future working, than any other man
+of his time. Those who earnestly read him will often halt astounded
+at proofs of a foresight in him almost miraculous. Even in masses
+of what men have called his puerility there are often germs of
+immense worth,&mdash;taking years, perhaps, to show life, but sure
+to be alive at last.</p>
+<p>Take, as the latest examples of this, three germ-truths which
+have recently come to full life, after having been trodden under
+foot for fifty years.</p>
+<p>Early in our national life Jefferson declared against the
+usurpations of the national judiciary. Straightway his supporters
+were divided, mainly between those who sorrowed and those who stood
+silent; while his opponents were divided only between those who
+laughed and those who cursed. But who laughs now? Jefferson foresaw
+but too well. The usurpations of the national judiciary have come
+in shapes most hideous,&mdash;in the <em>obiter dicta</em> of the
+Dred Scott decision, and in the use of quibbles to entangle our
+defenders and set loose our traitors.</p>
+<p>Take an example of another kind. In his early career Jefferson
+gave forth a scheme of harbor-defence by gun-boats and floating
+batteries. This was partially carried out, and only partially; so
+it failed. On these gun-boats and batteries his enemies never tired
+of trying their wit, and certainly seemed to make a brilliant point
+against his foresight and economy. But, in these latter years, many
+Americans besides ourself, visiting Cronstadt during the blockade
+by the Allied fleet, saw not only how the Allies failed of a
+conquest, the first summer, for want of gun-boats, but how the
+Russians protected themselves greatly, during the second summer, by
+means of them. We were shown, too, that not only could good work be
+done by those driven by steam, but that the greater number driven
+by oarsmen were of much service, not only in vexing the enemy, but
+in protecting the whole exposed coast. Here was Jefferson&rsquo;s
+scheme to the letter. Here was a despised thought of the past
+become a proud fact of the present. Here had the Autocrat reared a
+monument to our great Democrat,&mdash;gaining praise for Jefferson
+long after his enemies and their factious laughter had died out
+forever.</p>
+<p>But take what the main body of cultured Americans have thought
+Jefferson&rsquo;s chronic whimsey,&mdash;his belief that the heart
+of England must be ever set against all our liberty and prosperity.
+As we now breast the terrific storm which English reasonings and
+taunts had encouraged us to brave, and hear, swelling above the
+faint English God-speed, misstatements, gibes, reproofs, malignant
+prophecies, who of us shall say that the English character and
+policy of 1861 were not better foreknown by Jefferson in 1820 than
+by ourselves In 1860?</p>
+<p>So much for Jefferson&rsquo;s insight and foresight. But there
+was yet a greater quality which gave him a place in each of these
+three great groups,&mdash;his faith in Democracy.</p>
+<p>At a time when the French Revolution had scared even Burke, and
+when the British Constitution was thought by many to have seduced
+even Washington, Jefferson held fast to his great faith in the
+rights and capacities of the people. The only effect on him of the
+shocks and failures of that period was to make his anxiety
+sometimes morbid, and his action sometimes spasmodic. Hence much
+that to many men has seemed unjust suspicion of Adams, and
+persecution of Hamilton, and disrespect for Washington. Yet all
+this was but the jarring of that strong mind in the struggle and
+crash of his times,&mdash;mere spasms of bigotry which prove the
+vigor of his faith in Democracy.</p>
+<p>Jefferson, then, known of all men not fettered by provincial
+traditions as invested with this foresight and this faith, is
+become to a vast party an idol, and from his writings issue
+oracles. But the priests at his shrines, having waxed fat in
+honors, have at last so befogged his sentiments and wrested his
+arguments, that thousands of true men regard him sorrowfully as the
+promoter of that Slavery-Despotism which to-day blooms in treason.
+It is worth our while, therefore, to seek to know whether Jefferson
+the god of the Oligarchs is Jefferson the Democrat. Let us, by the
+simplest and fairest process possible, try to come at his real
+opinions on Slavery,&mdash;just as they grew when he did so much to
+found the Republic,&mdash;just as they flourished when he did so
+much to build the Republic,&mdash;just as they were re-wrought and
+polished when he did so much to brace the Republic.</p>
+<p>The whole culture of Jefferson&rsquo;s youth was, of all things
+in the world, least likely to make him support slavery or apologize
+for it. The man who did most to work into his mind ideas of moral
+and political science was Dr. William Small, a liberal Scotchman;
+the man who did most to direct his studies in law, and his
+grappling with social problems, was George Wythe. To both of these
+Jefferson confessed the deepest debt for their efforts to
+strengthen his mind and make his footing firm. Now, of all men in
+this country at that time, these two were least likely to support
+pro-slavery theories or tolerate pro-slavery cant. For while to
+Small&rsquo;s soundness there is abundance of general testimony,
+there is to Wythe&rsquo;s soundness testimony the most pointed. We
+have but to take the first volume of Jefferson&rsquo;s Works,
+published by order of Congress, and we find Jefferson&rsquo;s
+anti-slavery letter to Dr. Price, written in 1785, urging the
+Doctor to work against pro-slavery ideas in the young men, and to
+exhort the young men of Virginia to the &ldquo;redress of the
+enormity.&rdquo; Incidentally he speaks of Mr. Wythe as already
+doing great good in this direction among these same young men, and
+declares him &ldquo;one of the most virtuous of characters, and
+whose sentiments on the subject of slavery are
+unequivocal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So much for the <em>direct</em> influences on Jefferson&rsquo;s
+early culture.</p>
+<p>Studying, next, the <em>indirect</em> influences on his early
+culture, we see that the reform literature of that time was coming
+almost entirely from France. Active, earnest men everywhere were
+grasping the theories and phrases of Voltaire and Rousseau and
+Montesquieu, to wield them against every tyranny. Terrible weapons
+these,&mdash;often searing and scarring frightfully those who
+brandished them,&mdash;yet there was not one chance in a thousand
+that any man who had once made any considerable number of these
+ideas his own could ever support slavery. Whoever, at that time,
+studied the &ldquo;Contrat Social,&rdquo; or the defence of Jean
+Calas, whatever other sins he might commit, was no more likely to
+advocate systematic oppression than are they who now read with
+reverence Dr. Arnold and Charles Kingsley; and whoever, at that
+time, read earnestly &ldquo;The Spirit of the Laws&rdquo; was as
+sure to fight slavery as any man who to-day reveres Channing or
+Theodore Parker. Those French thinkers threw such heat and light
+into Jefferson&rsquo;s young mind, that every filthy weed of
+tyrannic quibble or pro-slavery paradox must have been
+shrivelled.</p>
+<p>And the young statesman grew under this influence as we should
+expect. In his twenty-seventh year he sat in the Virginia House of
+Burgesses, and his first effort in legislation was, in his own
+words, &ldquo;an effort for the permission of the emancipation of
+slaves, which was rejected, and, indeed, during the regal
+government nothing liberal could expect success.&rdquo; His whole
+career in those years, whether as public man or private man, shows
+that his hatred of slavery was bitter. But there was such a press
+of other work during this founding period, that this hatred took
+shape not so much in a steady siege as in a series of pitched
+battles. The work to be done was immense, and Jefferson bore the
+bulk of it. He took upon himself one-third of the revising and
+codifying of the Virginia laws, and did even more than this. He
+undertook, in his own words, &ldquo;a distinct series of labors
+which formed <em>a system by which every fibre would be eradicated
+of ancient or future aristocracy</em>.&rdquo; He effected the
+repeal of the laws of entail, and this prevented an aristocratic
+absorption of the soil; he effected the abolition of primogeniture,
+and this destroyed all chance of rebuilding feudal families; he
+effected a restoration of the rights of conscience, and this
+overthrew all hope of an Established Church; he forced on the bill
+for general education,&mdash;for thus, he said, would the people be
+&ldquo;qualified to understand their rights, to maintain them, and
+to exercise with intelligence their parts in
+self-government.&rdquo; In all this work his keen common sense
+always cut his way through questions at which other men stopped or
+stumbled. Thus, in the discussion on primogeniture, when Isaac
+Pendleton proposed, as a compromise, that they should adopt the
+Hebrew principle and give a double portion to the eldest son,
+Jefferson cut at once into the heart of the question. As he himself
+relates,&mdash;&ldquo;I observed, that, if the eldest son could eat
+twice as much, or do double work, it might be a natural evidence of
+his right to a double portion; but being on a par in his powers and
+wants with his brothers and sisters, he should be on a par also in
+the partition of the patrimony. And such was the decision of the
+other members.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But such fierceness against the bulwarks of aristocracy, and
+such keenness in cutting through its heavy arguments, carried him
+farther. Logic forced him to pass from the attack on aristocracy to
+the attack on slavery, just as logic forces the Confederate
+oligarchs of to-day to pass from the defence of slavery to the
+defence of aristocracy. He was sure to fight this vilest of
+tyrannies, and he gave quick thrusts and heavy blows. In 1778 he
+brought in a bill to prevent the further importation of slaves into
+Virginia. &ldquo;This,&rdquo; he says, &ldquo;passed without
+opposition, and stopped the increase of the evil by importation,
+leaving to future efforts its final eradication.&rdquo; Years
+afterward he wrote as follows:&mdash;&ldquo;I have sometimes asked
+myself whether my country is better for my having lived at all: I
+do not know that it is. I have been the instrument of doing the
+following things.&rdquo; Of these things there were just ten. Just
+ten great worthy deeds in a life like Jefferson&rsquo;s!&mdash;and
+one of these he declares &ldquo;the act prohibiting the importation
+of slaves.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Close upon this followed a fiercer grapple,&mdash;his third
+great legislative attack on slavery. In his revision of the
+Virginia laws he reported &ldquo;a bill to emancipate all slaves
+born after the passing of the act.&rdquo; Attached to this was a
+plan for the instruction of the young negroes thus set free.</p>
+<p>To follow Jefferson and understand him, we must bear in mind
+that the Virginia which educated him was not behind a dozen smaller
+States in fertility, enterprise, and republican feeling. Its best
+men were haters of slavery. The efforts of its leaders were
+directed to other things than plans for taxing oysters or filching
+the gains of free negroes. Forth from the Virginia of that time
+were hurled against negro slavery the thrilling invectives of
+Patrick Henry, the startling prophecies of Madison, and the
+declaration of Washington, &ldquo;For the abolition of slavery by
+law my vote shall not be wanting.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For a mirror of that Virginia statesmanship, in its dealings
+with human rights, take the &ldquo;Dissertation on Slavery with a
+Proposal for the Gradual Abolition of it in the State of Virginia,
+written by St. George Tucker, Professor of Law in the University of
+William and Mary, and one of the Judges of the General Court in
+Virginia,&rdquo; published in 1791. It proves, that, between the
+passage of the act of 1782 allowing manumission and the year 1791,
+more than ten thousand slaves had been set free. One is tempted to
+believe that the new Massachusetts school caught its fire from this
+old Virginia school; for this friend of Jefferson speaks of
+&ldquo;the inconsistency of invoking God for liberty in our
+Revolution and imposing on our fellow-men who differ from us in
+complexion a slavery ten thousand times more cruel than the
+grievances and oppressions of which we complained.&rdquo; Such was
+the utterance of the Virginia school of statesmanship in which
+Jefferson was trained.</p>
+<p>And his views progressed, as we should expect. On the occasion
+of a call for instructions to the first Virginia delegates to
+Congress respecting an address to the King, Jefferson drew up a
+paper, which, though greatly admired, was thought too bold. In one
+passage he goes beyond his masters, and says,&mdash;&ldquo;For the
+most trifling reasons, and sometimes for no conceivable reasons at
+all, his Majesty has rejected laws of the most salutary tendency.
+<em>The abolition of domestic slavery is the great object of desire
+in these Colonies, where it was unhappily introduced in their
+infant state.</em> But, previous to the enfranchisement of the
+slaves we have, it is necessary to exclude all further importations
+from Africa. Yet our repeated efforts to effect this, by
+prohibiting and by imposing duties which might amount to
+prohibition, have been hitherto defeated by his Majesty&rsquo;s
+negative,&mdash;thus preferring the advantages of a few British
+corsairs to the lasting interests of the American States, and to
+the rights of human nature, deeply wounded by this infamous
+practice.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>These words are hot and bright, but they are mere sparkles
+compared to the full-flaming orb of freedom which our statesman
+gave afterward. For, take the Declaration of Independence, as it
+issued from Carpenter&rsquo;s Hall, after slavery-loving planters
+of the South and money-loving ship-owners of the North had, as they
+thought, made it neutral, and we all, North and South, recognize in
+it the boldest anti-slavery document extant. Why else do Northern
+demagogues ridicule it, and Southern demagogues revile it? Yet
+Jefferson made it far stronger and sharper against negro slavery
+than it is now. Look closely at the well-known
+fac-simile:&mdash;</p>
+<pre style="text-align:center;">
+he has waged cruel war against human nature itself, violating it&rsquo;s most sac-
+-red rights of life &amp; liberty in the persons of a distant people who never of-
+fended him, captivating &amp; carrying them into slavery in another hemis-
+-sphere, or to incur miserable death in their transportation thither, this
+piratical warfare, the opprobrium of <span style=
+"text-decoration:underline;">infidel</span> powers, is the warfare of the
+<span style=
+"text-decoration:underline;">Christian</span> king of Great Britain determined to keep open a market
+<span style="text-decoration:line-through;">and</span>
+where MEN should be bought &amp; sold he has prostituted his negative
+for suppressing every legislative attempt to prohibit or to restrain this
+<span style=
+"text-decoration:line-through;">determining to keep open a market where MEN should be bought &amp; sold:</span>
+execrable commerce: and that this assemblage of horrors might want no fact
+of distinguished die, he is now exciting those very people to rise in arms
+among us, and to purchase that liberty of which <span style=
+"text-decoration:underline;">he</span> has deprived them,
+by murdering the people upon whom <span style=
+"text-decoration:underline;">he</span> also obtruded them: thus paying
+off former crimes committed against the <span style=
+"text-decoration:underline;">liberties</span> of one people, with crimes
+which he urges them to commit against the <span style=
+"text-decoration:underline;">lives</span> of another.
+</pre>
+<p>There stands to this day that precious original,&mdash;hot
+first-thoughts and cold second-thoughts, all in Jefferson&rsquo;s
+own hand. Look for a moment at the rich current of internal
+evidence running through that rough draught, and through all its
+erasures, changes, and emphatic markings,&mdash;evidence of the
+deepest hatred not only of all tyranny, but of all slavery. Thus,
+after he had written the passage, &ldquo;determined to keep open a
+market where MEN should be bought &amp; sold,&rdquo; the idea
+continues hot in his mind; for, after smouldering a few moments, it
+flames forth again, is written again in the same phrasing, with the
+same show of emphasis, before he bethinks himself to erase it.
+Then, too, the words Christian and MEN are the only words
+emphasized by careful pen-printing in large letters;&mdash;and this
+labored movement of his pen marks the injury which he deemed the
+greater; for the largest letters and deepest emphasis are reserved
+for MEN. Evidently, that word points out the wrong which, as
+Jefferson thought, &ldquo;a candid world&rdquo; would forever
+regard as the supreme wrong.</p>
+<p>We have now noted Jefferson&rsquo;s battle against slavery in
+the founding of the Republic: let us go on to his work in the
+building of the Republic.</p>
+<p>In 1782 he gave forth the &ldquo;Notes on Virginia.&rdquo; His
+opposition to slavery is as fierce here as of old, but it takes
+various phases,&mdash;sometimes sweeping against the hated system
+with a torrent of facts,&mdash;sometimes battering it with a hard,
+cold logic,&mdash;sometimes piercing it with deadly queries and
+suggestions,&mdash;and sometimes, with his blazing hate of all
+oppression, biting and burning through every pro-slavery
+theory.</p>
+<p>But in taking up the &ldquo;Notes,&rdquo; we must understand the
+relation of Jefferson&rsquo;s way of thinking to his way of
+working. In his thinking, the slave system was evidently a
+violation of the whole body of good principles, for he calls it an
+&ldquo;<em>evil</em>&rdquo;;&mdash;a violation of morality, for he
+calls it an &ldquo;<em>enormity</em>&rdquo;;&mdash;a violation of
+justice, for he calls it a &ldquo;<em>wrong</em>&rdquo;;&mdash;a
+violation of republican pretensions, for he calls it a
+&ldquo;<em>hideous blot</em>&rdquo;;&mdash;a violation of the
+healthy action of our institutions, for he calls it a
+&ldquo;<em>disease</em>&rdquo;;&mdash;a violation of our whole
+public happiness, for he calls it a &ldquo;<em>curse</em>.&rdquo;
+But his way of working was more calm and cool,&mdash;often
+displeasing those whose plans of action are formed far from any
+direct entanglement in the slave system.</p>
+<p>This union of fervent thought and cool action has, of course,
+brought upon Jefferson the invectives of two great classes. One
+class have looked merely at his thinking, and have distrusted him
+as a dreamer. To these he is a dealer in oracles, at second-hand,
+from Voltaire and Diderot. The other class have studied his plans
+of practical philanthropy, with all his shrewd researches and
+homely discussions in agriculture, finance, mechanics, and
+architecture, and have ridiculed him as a tinker. To such Jefferson
+seems a grandmotherly sort of person,&mdash;riding about in a gig
+arranged to register the length of his rides,&mdash;walking about
+in boots arranged to register the length of his
+walks,&mdash;weatherwise, and profound in dealing with smoky
+chimneys and sheep-breeding.</p>
+<p>But whether men have cavilled at him for a dreamer or laughed at
+him for a tinker, they have been mainly foolish, for they have
+cavilled and laughed at the very combination which made him
+powerful. In no other American have been so happily blended highest
+skill in theory and highest strength in practice.</p>
+<p>The remarks, in the &ldquo;Notes on Virginia,&rdquo; on the
+colored race are clear and fair. He studied carefully and stated
+fully all that could be learned in his time. On the whole, his
+examination greatly encourages those who hope good things for that
+race. But one distinction must be made. As to those profound views
+of the character and destiny of the race which come only by
+observation of a long historic development, in a wide range of
+climate, in great variety of social position, Jefferson could, as
+he confesses, know almost nothing,&mdash;for the same reason that
+the keenest observer of William the Conqueror&rsquo;s Norman
+robbers and Saxon swineherds would have failed to foretell the
+great dominant race which has come from them by free growth and
+good culture. But, on the other hand, of all that comes by
+observation of the daily life of the black race, as it then was, he
+knew almost everything.</p>
+<p>He declares that the black race is inferior to the white in
+mind, but not in heart. The poems of black Phillis Wheatley seem to
+him to prove not much; but the letters of black Ignatius Sancho he
+praises for depth of feeling, happy turn of thought, and ease of
+style, though he finds no depth of reasoning. He does not praise
+the mental capacity of the race, but, at last, as if conscious,
+that, if developed under a free system, it might be far better, he
+quotes the Homeric lines,&mdash;</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;Jove fixed it certain that whatever day</p>
+<p>Makes man a slave takes half his worth away.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p>And shortly after, he declares it &ldquo;a <em>suspicion</em>
+only that the blacks are inferior in the endowments of body or
+mind,&rdquo;&mdash;that &ldquo;in memory they are equal to the
+whites,&rdquo;&mdash;that &ldquo;in music they are more generally
+gifted than the whites with accurate ears for time and
+tune.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But there is one statement which we especially commend to those
+in search of an effective military policy in the present crisis.
+Jefferson declares of the negroes, that they are &ldquo;at least as
+brave as the whites, and more adventuresome.&rdquo; May not this
+truth account for the fact that one of the most daring deeds in the
+present war was done by a black man?</p>
+<p>Still later, Jefferson says,&mdash;&ldquo;Whether further
+observation will or will not verify the conjecture that Nature has
+been less bountiful to them in the endowments of the head, I
+believe that in those of the heart she will be found to have done
+them justice. That disposition to theft with which they have been
+branded must be ascribed to their situation, and not to any
+depravity of the moral sense. The man in whose favor no laws of
+property exist probably feels himself less bound to respect those
+made in favor of others. When arguing for ourselves, we lay it down
+as fundamental, that laws, to be just, must give reciprocation of
+right,&mdash;that, without this, they are mere arbitrary rules of
+conduct, founded in force, and not in conscience; and it is a
+problem which I give to the master to solve, whether the religious
+precepts against the violation of property were not framed for him
+as well as his slave,&mdash;and whether the slave may not as
+justifiably take a little from one who has taken all from him as he
+may slay one who would slay him. That a change in the relations in
+which a man is placed should change his ideas of moral right and
+wrong is neither new, nor peculiar to the color of the
+blacks.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Here Jefferson puts forth that very idea for which Gerrit Smith,
+a few years ago, was threatened with the penalties of treason.</p>
+<p>But to quote further from the same source:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;Notwithstanding these considerations, which
+must weaken their respect for the laws of property, we find among
+them numerous instances of the most rigid integrity, and as many as
+among their instructed masters, of benevolence, gratitude, and
+unshaken fidelity. The opinion that they are inferior in the
+faculties of reason and imagination must be hazarded with great
+diffidence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old hot thought blazes forth again in the chapter on
+&ldquo;Particular Manners and Customs.&rdquo; Can men speak against
+the proclamations of Abolition Conventions after such fiery words
+from Jefferson?</p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;The whole commerce between master and slave
+is a perpetual exercise of the most boisterous passions, the most
+unremitting despotism, on the one part, and degrading submission on
+the other. Our children see this, and learn to imitate it; for man
+is an imitative animal. If a parent could find no motive either in
+his philanthropy or his self-love for restraining the intemperance
+of passion toward his slave, it should always be a sufficient one
+that his child is present. But generally it is not sufficient. The
+parent storms, the child looks on, catches the lineaments of wrath,
+puts on the same airs in the circle of smaller slaves, gives a
+loose rein to the worst of passions, and thus nursed, educated, and
+daily exercised in tyranny, cannot but be stamped by its odious
+peculiarities. The man must be a prodigy who can retain his manners
+and morals undepraved by such circumstances.&rdquo; (Here fire
+begins to flicker up around the words.) &ldquo;And with what
+execration should a statesman be loaded, who, permitting one half
+the <em>citizens</em>&rdquo; (note the word) &ldquo;to trample on
+the <em>rights</em>&rdquo; (note the word) &ldquo;of the other,
+transforms those into despots and these into enemies, destroys the
+morals of the one and the <em>amor patriae</em> of the other! And
+can the liberties of a nation be thought secure, when we have
+removed their only firm basis,&mdash;a conviction in the minds of
+the people that their liberties are the gifts of God, that they are
+not to be violated but with His wrath?&rdquo; (Now bursts forth
+prophecy. The whole page flames in a moment.) &ldquo;Indeed, I
+tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just; that His
+justice cannot sleep forever; that, considering numbers, nature,
+and natural means only, a revolution of the wheel of Fortune, an
+exchange of situation, is among possible events; that it may become
+probable by supernatural interference! The Almighty has no
+attribute which can take side with us in such a contest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Well may Jefferson say, immediately after this, that &ldquo;it
+is impossible to be temperate and to pursue this subject through
+the various considerations of policy, of morals, of history natural
+and civil.&rdquo; For no Abolitionist ever branded the slave-system
+with words more fiery.</p>
+<p>In 1784 Jefferson drew up the ordinance for the government of
+the Western Territory. One famous clause runs thus:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;After the year 1800 of the Christian era
+there shall be neither slavery nor involuntary servitude in any of
+the said States, otherwise than in punishment of crimes whereof the
+party shall have been convicted to be personally guilty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In Randall&rsquo;s &ldquo;Life of Jefferson,&rdquo; a work in
+many respects admirable, this clause is glossed with the
+declaration that Jefferson intended merely to prevent an immense
+new importation of slaves from Africa to fill the Territory; but
+Mr. Randall would have shown far greater insight, had he added to
+this half-truth, that the idea of legally grasping and strangling
+this curse flows from the ideas of the &ldquo;Notes&rdquo; as hot
+metal flows from fiery furnace,&mdash;that the Ordinance of 1784
+was but a minting of that true metal drawn from those old glowing
+thoughts and words.</p>
+<p>But Jefferson&rsquo;s hatred of slavery is not less fierce in
+his letters.</p>
+<p>Dr. Price writes a pamphlet in England against slavery, and
+straightway Jefferson seizes his pen to urge him to write more, and
+more clearly for America, and more directly at American young men,
+saying, in encouragement,&mdash;&ldquo;Northward of the Chesapeake
+you may find, here and there, an opponent to your doctrine, as you
+may find, here and there, a murderer.&rdquo; He speaks hopefully of
+the disposition in Virginia to &ldquo;redress this
+enormity,&rdquo;&mdash;calls the fight against slavery &ldquo;the
+interesting spectacle of justice in conflict with avarice and
+oppression,&rdquo;&mdash;speaks of the side hostile to slavery as
+&ldquo;the sacred side.&rdquo; The date is 1785.</p>
+<p>This welcome to Dr. Price&rsquo;s onslaught will serve as
+antidote to Mr. Randall&rsquo;s poisonous declaration, that
+Jefferson was opposed to interference with slave institutions by
+those living outside of Slave States.</p>
+<p>In 1786 Jefferson wrote to correct M. de Meusnier&rsquo;s
+statement of the efforts already made for emancipation; and,
+referring to the holding of slaves by a people who had clamored
+loudly and fought bravely for freedom, he says,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;What a stupendous, what an incomprehensible
+machine is man,&mdash;who can endure toil, famine, stripes,
+imprisonment, and death itself, in vindication of his own liberty,
+and, in the next moment, be deaf to all those motives whose power
+supported him through his trial, and inflict on his fellow-men
+<em>a bondage one hour of which is fraught with more misery than
+ages of that which he rose in rebellion to oppose</em>!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Here, in Jefferson himself, then, is the source of that venom
+with which earnest men, throughout the land, are stinging to death
+the organization which stole his name to destroy his ideas.</p>
+<p>In 1788, Jefferson, being Minister at Paris, receives a note
+from M. de Warville tendering him membership in the Society for the
+Abolition of the Slave-Trade. Jefferson is forced by his peculiar
+position to decline, but he takes pains to say,&mdash;&ldquo;You
+know that nobody wishes more ardently to see an abolition not only
+of the trade, but of the <em>condition</em> of slavery.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Here is no non-committalism, no wistful casting about for
+loop-holes, no sly putting out of hooks to catch backers, not the
+feeblest germ of quibble or lie. The man answers more than he is
+asked. Is there not, in the present dearth, something refreshing in
+this old candor?</p>
+<p>But some have thought Jefferson&rsquo;s later expressions
+against slavery wanting in heartiness. Let us examine.</p>
+<p>The whole world knows, that, when a wrong stings a man, making
+him fierce and loud, his <em>direct</em> expressions have often
+small value; but that his <em>parenthetical</em> expressions often
+have great value. This is one of the simplest principles in homely
+every-day criticism, serving truth-seekers, wherever wordy war
+rages, whether among statesmen or hackmen.</p>
+<p>Now, in Jefferson&rsquo;s letter to Dr. Gordon,&mdash;written in
+1788,&mdash;he is greatly stirred by his own recital of the
+shameful ravages on his property by the British army. Just at the
+moment when his indignation was at the hottest, there shot out of
+his heart, and off his pen, one of these side-thoughts, one of
+these fragments of the man&rsquo;s ground-idea, which, at such
+moments, truth-seekers always watch for. Jefferson says of
+Cornwallis,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;He destroyed all my growing crops of corn
+and tobacco; he burned all my barns containing the same articles of
+the last year, having first taken what corn he wanted; he used, as
+was to be expected, all my stock of cattle, sheep, and hogs, for
+the sustenance of his army, and carried off all the horses capable
+of service,&mdash;of those too young for service he cut the
+throats; and he burned all the fences in the plantation, so as to
+make it an absolute waste. <em>He carried off also about thirty
+slaves. Had this been to give them their freedom, he would have
+done right</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But we turn to a seeming discrepancy between these thousand
+earnest declarations of Jefferson the private citizen, and the
+cold, formal tone of Jefferson the Secretary of State. In this high
+office he reclaims slaves from the Spanish power in Florida, and
+demands compensation for slaves carried off by the British at the
+evacuation of New York. For a moment that transition from personal
+warmth to diplomatic coolness is as the Russian plunge from
+steam-bath to snow-heap.</p>
+<p>Yet, if truth-seekers do not stop to moan, they may easily find
+a complete explanation. As private citizen, in a State, dealing
+with his home Government, Jefferson had the right to move heaven
+and earth against slavery, and bravely he did it; but, as public
+servant of the nation, dealing with foreign Governments, his rights
+and duties were different, and his tone must be different. As a
+private person, writing for man as man, Jefferson forgot readily
+enough all differences of nation. He wrote as readily and fully of
+the hideousness of slavery to Meusnier and Warville in France, or
+to Price and Priestley in England, as to any of his neighbors; but,
+as public servant of the nation, writing to Hammond or Viar,
+representatives of foreign powers, he made no apology for our
+miseries. England might be ready enough to act the part of Dives,
+but Jefferson was not the statesman to put America in the attitude
+of Lazarus,&mdash;begging, and showing sores.</p>
+<p>But we have to note yet another change in Jefferson&rsquo;s
+modes of work and warfare.</p>
+<p>As he wrought and fought in this second period, which, for easy
+reference, we call the building period, he was forced into new
+methods. In the former period we saw him thinking and speaking and
+working against every effort to found pro-slavery theories or
+practices. Eagerness was then the best quality for work, and
+quickness the best quality for fight. But now the case was
+different. An institution which Jefferson hated had, in spite of
+his struggles, been firmly founded. The land was full of the towers
+of the slave aristocracy. He saw that his mode of warfare must be
+changed. His old way did well in the earlier days, for
+tower-builders may be driven from their work by a sweeping charge
+or sudden volley; but towers, when built, must be treated with
+steady battering and skilful mining.</p>
+<p>In 1797, Jefferson, writing to St. George Tucker, speaks of the
+only possible emancipation as &ldquo;a compromise between the
+passions, prejudices, and real difficulties, which will each have
+their weight in the operation.&rdquo; Afterwards, in his letters to
+Monroe and Rufus King, he advocates a scheme of colonization to
+some point not too distant. But let no man, on this account, claim
+Jefferson as a supporter of the do-nothing school of Northern
+demagogues, or of the mad school of Southern fanatics who proclaim
+this ulcerous mass a beauty, and who howl at all who refuse its
+infection. For, note, in that same letter to St. George Tucker, the
+fervor of the Jeffersonian theory: bitter as Tucker&rsquo;s
+pamphlet against slavery was, he says,&mdash;&ldquo;You know my
+subscription to its doctrines.&rdquo; Note also the vigor of the
+Jeffersonian practice: speaking of emancipation, he
+says,&mdash;&ldquo;The sooner we put some plan under way, the
+greater hope there is that it may be permitted to proceed peaceably
+to its ultimate effect.&rdquo; And now bursts forth prophecy again.
+&ldquo;<em>But if something is not done, and soon done, we shall be
+the murderers of our own children</em>.&rdquo; &ldquo;If we had
+begun sooner, we might probably have been allowed a lengthier
+operation to clear ourselves; but every day&rsquo;s delay lessens
+the time we may take for emancipation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Here is no trace of the theory inflicting a present certain evil
+on a great white population in order to do a future doubtful good
+to a smaller black population. And this has been nowhere better
+understood than among the slave oligarchs of his own time. Note one
+marked example.</p>
+<p>In 1801, Jefferson was elected to the Presidency on the
+thirty-sixth ballot. Thirty-five times Delaware, Maryland, and
+South Carolina voted against him. The following year Mr. Rutledge
+of South Carolina, feeling an itching to specify to Congress his
+interests in Buncombe and his relations to the universe, palavered
+in the usual style, but let out one truth, for which, as
+truth-searchers, we thank him. He said,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;Permit me to state, that, beside the
+objections common to my friend from Delaware and myself, there was
+a strong one which I felt with peculiar force. It resulted from a
+firm belief that the gentleman in question [Jefferson] <em>held
+opinions respecting a certain description of property in my State
+which, should they obtain generally, would endanger
+it</em>.&rdquo;<sup>4</sup><span class="sidenote">4. Benton&rsquo;s
+<em>Abridgment</em>, Vol. II. p. 636.</span></p>
+<p>We come now to Jefferson&rsquo;s Presidency. In this there was
+no great chance to deal an effective blow at slavery; but some have
+grown bitter over a story that he favored the schemes to break the
+slavery-limitation in Ohio. Such writers have not stopped to
+consider that it is more probable that a few Southern members,
+eager to drum in recruits, falsely claimed the favor of the
+President, than that Jefferson broke the slavery-limitation which
+he himself planned. Then, too, came the petitions of the abolition
+societies against slavery in Louisiana; and Hildreth blames
+Jefferson for his slowness to assist; but ought we not here to take
+some account of the difficulties of the situation? Ought not some
+weight to be given to Jefferson&rsquo;s declaration to Kerchival,
+that in his administration his &ldquo;efforts in relation to peace,
+slavery, and religious freedom were all in accordance with
+Quakerism&rdquo;?</p>
+<p>We pass now to the third great period, in which, as thinker and
+writer, he did so much to brace the Republic.</p>
+<p>First of all, in this period we see him revising the translation
+and arranging the publication of De Tracy&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Commentaire sur l&rsquo;Esprit des Lois.&rdquo; He takes
+endless pains to make its hold firm on America; engages his old
+companion in abolitionism, St. George Tucker, to circulate it;
+makes it a text-book in the University of Virginia; tells his
+friend Cabell to read it, for it is &ldquo;the best book on
+government in the world.&rdquo; Now this &ldquo;best book on
+government&rdquo; is killing to every form of tyranny or slavery;
+its arguments pierce all their fallacies and crush all their
+sophistries. That famous plea which makes Alison love Austria and
+Palmer love Louisiana&mdash;the plea that a people can be best
+educated for freedom and religion by dwarfing their minds and tying
+their hands&mdash;is, in this book, shivered by argument and burnt
+by invective.</p>
+<p>As we approach the last years of Jefferson&rsquo;s life we find
+several letters of his on slavery. Some have thought them mere
+heaps of ashes,&mdash;poor remains of the flaming thoughts and
+words of earlier years. This mistake is great. Touch the seeming
+heap of ashes, and those thoughts and words dart forth, fiery as of
+old.</p>
+<p>In 1814, Edward Coles attacks slavery vigorously, and calls on
+the great Democrat to destroy it. Jefferson&rsquo;s approving reply
+is the complete summary of his matured views on slavery. Take a few
+declarations as specimens.<sup>5</sup><span class="sidenote">5.
+Randall, Vol. III., Appendix.</span></p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;The sentiments breathed through the whole
+do honor both to the head and heart of the writer. Mine, on the
+subject of the slavery of negroes, have long since been in
+possession of the public, and time has only served to give them
+stronger proof. The love of justice and the love of country plead
+equally the cause of these people, and it is a mortal reproach to
+us that they should have pleaded so long in vain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;The hour of emancipation is advancing in
+the march of time. It will come; and whether brought on by the
+generous energy of our own minds or by the bloody process of St.
+Domingo &hellip; is a leaf of our history not yet turned
+over.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;As to the method by which this difficult
+work is to be effected, if permitted to be done by ourselves, I
+have seen no proposition so expedient, on the whole, as that of
+emancipation of those born after a given day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;This enterprise is for the young,&mdash;for
+those who can follow it up and bear it through to its consummation.
+It shall have all my prayers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>No wonder that this letter of Jefferson to Coles seems to have
+been carefully suppressed by Southern editors of the Jeffersonian
+writings.</p>
+<p>Take also the letters to Mr. Barrows and to Dr. Humphreys of
+1815-17. Disappointment is expressed at the want of a more general
+anti-slavery feeling among the young men; hope is expressed that
+&ldquo;time will soften down the master and educate the
+slave&rdquo;; faith is expressed that slavery will yield,
+&ldquo;because we are not in a world ungoverned by the laws and
+power of a Supreme Agent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Entering now the stormy period of the Missouri Debate, we have
+one declaration from Jefferson which, at first, surprises and pains
+us,&mdash;the opinion given in a letter to Lafayette, that
+spreading slavery will &ldquo;dilute the evil everywhere, and
+facilitate the means of getting rid of it.&rdquo; The mistake is
+gross indeed. To all of us, with the political knowledge forced
+upon us by events since Jefferson&rsquo;s death, it seems
+atrocious. But unpardonable as such a theory is <em>now</em>, was
+it so <em>then</em>?</p>
+<p>Jefferson had not before him the experience of these last forty
+years of weakness and poverty and barbarism in our new Slave
+States,&mdash;and of that tenacity of life which slavery shares
+with so many other noxious growths. Hastily, then, he broached this
+opinion. Let it stand; and let the remark on &ldquo;geographical
+lines,&rdquo; and the two or three severe criticisms of Northern
+men, wrested from him in the excitement of the Missouri struggle,
+be tied to it and given to the Oligarchs. These expressions were
+drawn from him in his old age,&mdash;in his vexation at unfair
+attacks,&mdash;in his depression at the approach of
+poverty,&mdash;in his suffering under the encroachments of disease.
+Any one of those bold declarations in the vigor of his manhood will
+forever efface all memory of them.</p>
+<p>The opinion expressed by Jefferson, at the same period, that
+&ldquo;the General Government cannot interfere with slavery in the
+States,&rdquo; all our parties now accept&mdash;as a <em>peace</em>
+policy; but if we are forced into an opposite <em>war</em> policy,
+let our generals remember Jefferson&rsquo;s declaration as to the
+taking of his slaves by Cornwallis: &ldquo;<em>Had this been to
+give them their freedom, he would have done right</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But there is one letter which all Northern statesmen should
+ponder. It warns them solemnly, for it was written a very short
+time before Jefferson&rsquo;s death;&mdash;it warns them sharply,
+for it struck one whom the North has especially honored. This son
+of the North had made a well-known unfortunate speech in Congress,
+and had sent it to Jefferson. In his answer the old statesman
+declares,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;On the question of the lawfulness of
+slavery, that is, <em>of the right of one man to appropriate to
+himself the faculties of another without his consent, I certainly
+retain my early opinions</em>. On that, however, of third persons
+to interfere between the parties, and the effect of Constitutional
+modifications of that pretension, we are probably nearer
+together.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a blow well dealt,&mdash;though at one now greatly
+honored. We may refuse the subordinate idea in the letter, but we
+will glory in that main confession of political faith, in the last
+year of Jefferson&rsquo;s life; and we will not forget that the
+last of his letters on slavery chastised the worst sin of Northern
+statesmanship.</p>
+<p>Jefferson, then, in dealing with slavery, was a real political
+seer and giver of oracles,&mdash;always sure to say
+<em>something</em>; whereas the &ldquo;leading men&rdquo; who in
+these latter days have usurped his name are neither political seers
+nor givers of oracles, but mere political fakirs,&mdash;striving,
+their lives long, to enter political blessedness by solemnly doing
+and seeing and saying&mdash;<em>nothing</em>.</p>
+<p>Jefferson was a true political warrior, and his battle for human
+rights compares with the Oligarchist battle against them as the
+warfare of Cort&eacute;s compares with Aztec warfare. He is the man
+full of strong thought backed by civilization: they, the men trying
+to keep up their faith in idols, trying to scare with war-paint,
+trying to startle with war-whoop, trying to vex with showers of
+poor Aztec arrows.</p>
+<p>Jefferson was an orator,&mdash;not in that he fed petty
+assemblages with narcotic words to stupefy conscience, or corrosive
+words to kill conscience, but in that he gave to the world those
+decisive, true words which shall yet pierce all tyranny and
+slavery.</p>
+<p>Jefferson was the founder of a democratic system, strong and
+full-orbed: &ldquo;leading men&rdquo; have fastened his name to an
+aristocratic system with mobocratic cries.</p>
+<p>This great tree of Liberty which we are all trying to plant
+will, of course, not grow as <em>we</em> will, but as God and
+Nature will. Some branches will be exuberant through too great
+wealth of sunshine,&mdash;others gnarled and awry through too great
+fury of storms. We need find no fault with any growth, but we may
+admire some branches and prize some fruits more than others. Some
+grafts set by noblest hands have often blossomed in bad temper and
+borne fruit bitter and sour. Some fruitage has been of that poor
+Dead-Sea sort,&mdash;splendid in coating, but inwardly
+ashes,&mdash;wretched &ldquo;protective&rdquo; schemes and the
+like. The world may yet see that the limbs of toughest fibre and
+fruit of richest flavor have come from grafts set by just such
+strong men in theory and in practice as Thomas Jefferson.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="today" name="today">A STORY OF TO-DAY.</a></h2>
+<h3>PART IV.</h3>
+<p>An hour after, the evening came on sultry, the air murky,
+opaque, with yellow trails of color dragging in the west: a sullen
+stillness in the woods and farms; only, in fact, that dark,
+inexplicable hush that precedes a storm. But Lois, coming down the
+hill-road, singing to herself, and keeping time with her whip-end
+on the wooden measure, stopped when she grew conscious of it. It
+seemed to her blurred fancy more than a deadening sky: a something
+solemn and unknown, hinting of evil to come. The dwarf-pines on the
+road-side scowled weakly at her through the gray; the very silver
+minnows in the pools she passed flashed frightened away, and
+darkened into the muddy niches. There was a vague dread in the
+sudden silence. She called to the old donkey, and went faster down
+the hill, as if escaping from some overhanging peril, unseen. She
+saw Margaret coming up the road. There was a pha&euml;ton behind
+her, and some horsemen: she jolted the cart off into the stones to
+let them pass, seeing Mr. Holmes&rsquo;s face in the carriage as
+she did so. He did not look at her; had his head turned towards the
+gray distance. Lois&rsquo;s vivid eye caught the full meaning of
+the woman beside him. The face hurt her: not fair, as Polston
+called it: vapid and cruel. She was dressed in yellow: the color
+seemed jeering and mocking to the girl&rsquo;s sensitive instinct,
+keenly alive to every trifle. She did not know that it is the color
+of shams, and that women like this are the most deadly of shams. As
+the pha&euml;ton went slowly down, Margaret came nearer, meeting it
+on the road-side, the dust from the wheels stifling the air. Lois
+saw her look up, and then suddenly stand still, holding to the
+fence, as they met her. Holmes&rsquo;s cold, wandering eye turned
+on the little dusty figure standing there, poor and despised.
+Polston called his eyes hungry: it was a savage hunger that sprang
+into them now; a gray shadow creeping over his set face, as he
+looked at her, in that flashing moment. The pha&euml;ton was gone
+in an instant, leaving her alone in the muddy road. One of the men
+looked back, and then whispered something to the lady with a laugh.
+She turned to Holmes, when he had finished, fixing her light,
+confusing eyes on his face, and softening her voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fred swears that woman we passed was your first love.
+Were you, then, so chivalric? Was it to have been a second romaunt
+of &lsquo;King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He met her look, and saw the fierce demand through the softness
+and persiflage. He gave it no answer, but, turning to her, kindled
+into the man whom she was so proud to show as her capture,&mdash;a
+man far off from Stephen Holmes. Brilliant she called
+him,&mdash;frank, winning, generous. She thought she knew him well;
+held him a slave to her fluttering hand. Being proud of her slave,
+she let the hand flutter down now somehow with some flowers it held
+until it touched his hard fingers, her cheek flushing into rose.
+The nerveless, spongy hand,&mdash;what a death-grip it had on his
+life! He did not look back once at the motionless, dusty figure on
+the road. What was that Polston had said about starving to death
+for a kind word? <em>Love?</em> He was sick of the sickly
+talk,&mdash;crushed it out of his heart with a savage scorn. He
+remembered his father, the night he died, had said in his weak
+ravings that God was love. Was He? No wonder, then, He was the God
+of women, and children, and unsuccessful men. For him, he was done
+with it. He was here with stronger purpose than to yield to
+weaknesses of the flesh. He had made his choice,&mdash;a straight,
+hard path upwards; he was deaf now and forever to any word of
+kindness or pity. As for this woman beside him, he would be just to
+her, in justice to himself: she never should know the loathing in
+his heart: just to her as to all living creatures. Some little,
+mean doubt kept up a sullen whisper of bought and
+sold,&mdash;sold,&mdash;but he laughed it down. He sat there with
+his head steadily turned towards her: a kingly face, she called it,
+and she was right,&mdash;it was a kingly face: with the same
+shallow, fixed smile on his mouth,&mdash;no weary cry went up to
+God that day so terrible in its pathos, I think: with the same dull
+consciousness that this was the trial night of his life,&mdash;that
+with the homely figure on the road-side he had turned his back on
+love and kindly happiness and warmth, on all that was weak and
+useless in the world. He had made his choice; he would abide by
+it,&mdash;he would abide by it. He said that over and over again,
+dulling down the death-gnawing of his outraged heart.</p>
+<p>Miss Herne was quite contented, sitting by him, with herself,
+and the admiring world. She had no notion of trial nights in life.
+Not many temptations pierced through her callous, flabby
+temperament to sting her to defeat or triumph. There was for her no
+under-current of conflict, in these people whom she passed, between
+self and the unseen power that Holmes sneered at, whose name was
+love; they were nothing but movables, pleasant or ugly to look at,
+well- or ill-dressed. There were no dark iron bars across her life
+for her soul to clutch and shake madly,&mdash;nothing &ldquo;in the
+world amiss, to be unriddled by-and-by.&rdquo; Little Margaret,
+sitting by the muddy road, digging her fingers dully into the
+clover-roots, while she looked at the spot where the wheels had
+passed, looked at life differently, it may be;&mdash;or old Joe
+Yare by the furnace-fire, his black face and gray hair bent over a
+torn old spelling-book Lois had given him. The night perhaps was
+going to be more to them than so many rainy hours for
+sleeping,&mdash;the time to be looked back on through coming lives
+as the hour when good and ill came to them, and they made their
+choice, and, as Holmes said, did abide by it.</p>
+<p>It grew cool and darker. Holmes left the pha&euml;ton before
+they entered town, and turned back. He was going to see this
+Margaret Howth, tell her what he was going to do. Because he was
+going to leave a clean record. No one should accuse him of want of
+honor. This girl alone of all living beings had a right to see him
+as he stood, justified to himself. Why she had this right, I do not
+think he answered to himself. Besides, he must see her, if only on
+business. She must keep her place at the mill: he would not begin
+his new life by an act of injustice, taking the bread out of
+Margaret&rsquo;s mouth. <em>Little Margaret!</em> He stopped
+suddenly, looking down into a deep pool of water by the road-side.
+What madness of weariness crossed his brain just then I do not
+know. He shook it off. Was he mad? Life was worth more to him than
+to other men, he thought; and perhaps he was right. He went slowly
+through the cool dusk, looking across the fields, up at the pale,
+frightened face of the moon hooded in clouds: he did not dare to
+look, with all his iron nerve, at the dark figure beyond him on the
+road. She was sitting there just where he had left her: be knew she
+would be. When he came closer, she got up, not looking towards him;
+but he saw her clasp her hands behind her, the fingers plucking
+weakly at each other. It was an old, childish fashion of hers, when
+she was frightened or hurt. It would only need a word, and he could
+be quiet and firm,&mdash;she was such a child compared to him: he
+always had thought of her so. He went on up to her slowly, and
+stopped; when she looked at him, he untied the linen bonnet that
+hid her face, and threw it back. How thin and tired the little face
+had grown! Poor child! He put his strong arm kindly about her, and
+stooped to kiss her hand, but she drew it away. God! what did she
+do that for? Did not she know that he could put his head beneath
+her foot then, he was so mad with pity for the woman he had
+wronged? Not love, he thought, controlling himself,&mdash;it was
+only justice to be kind to her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have been ill, Margaret, these two years, while I was
+gone?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He could not hear her answer; only saw that she looked up with a
+white, pitiful smile. Only a word it needed, he thought,&mdash;very
+kind and firm: and he must be quick,&mdash;he could not bear this
+long. But he held the little worn fingers, stroking them with an
+unutterable tenderness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must let these fingers work for me, Margaret,&rdquo;
+he said, at last, &ldquo;when I am master in the mill.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is true, then, Stephen?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is true,&mdash;yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She lifted her hand to her head, uncertainly: he held it
+tightly, and then let it go. What right had he to touch the dust
+upon her shoes,&mdash;he, bought and sold? She did not speak for a
+time; when she did, it was a weak and sick voice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad. I saw her, you know. She is very
+beautiful.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The fingers were plucking at each other again; and a strange,
+vacant smile on her face, trying to look glad.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You love her, Stephen?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was quiet and firm enough now.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I do not. Her money will help me to become what I ought
+to be. She does not care for love. You want me to succeed,
+Margaret? No one ever understood me as you did, child though you
+were.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Her whole face glowed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know! I know! I did understand you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She said, lower, after a little while,&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I knew you did not love her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is no such thing as love in real life,&rdquo; he
+said, in his steeled voice. &ldquo;You will know that, when you
+grow older. I used to believe in it once, myself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She did not speak, only watched the slow motion of his lips, not
+looking into his eyes,&mdash;as she used to do in the old time.
+Whatever secret account lay between the souls of this man and woman
+came out now, and stood bare on their faces.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I used to think that I, too, loved,&rdquo; he went on, in
+his low, hard tone. &ldquo;But it kept me back, Margaret,
+and&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+<p>He was silent.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know, Stephen. It kept you back&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I put it away. I put it away to-night,
+forever.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She did not speak; stood quite quiet, her head bent on her
+breast. His conscience was quite clear now. But he almost wished he
+had not said it, she was such a weak, sickly thing. She sat down at
+last, burying her face in her hands, with a shivering sob. He dared
+not trust himself to speak again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not proud,&mdash;as a woman ought to be,&rdquo; she
+said, wearily, when he wiped her clammy forehead.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You loved me, then?&rdquo; he whispered.</p>
+<p>Her face flashed at the unmanly triumph; her puny frame started
+up, away from him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I did love you, Stephen. I love you now,&mdash;as you
+might be, not as you are,&mdash;not with those cold, inhuman eyes.
+I do understand you,&mdash;I do. I know you for a better man than
+you know yourself this night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She turned to go. He put his hand on her arm; something we have
+never seen on his face struggled up,&mdash;the better soul that she
+knew.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come back,&rdquo; he said, hoarsely; &ldquo;don&rsquo;t
+leave me with myself. Come back, Margaret.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She did not come; stood leaning, her sudden strength gone,
+against the broken wall. There was a heavy silence. The night
+throbbed slow about them. Some late bird rose from the sedges of
+the pool, and with a frightened cry flapped its tired wings, and
+drifted into the dark. His eyes, through the gathering shadow,
+devoured the weak, trembling body, met the soul that looked at him,
+strong as his own. Was it because it knew and trusted him that all
+that was pure and strongest in his crushed nature struggled madly
+to be free? He thrust it down; the self-learned lesson of years was
+not to be conquered in a moment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There have been times,&rdquo; he said, in a smothered,
+restless voice, &ldquo;when I thought you belonged to me. Not here,
+but before this life. My soul and body thirst and hunger for you,
+then, Margaret.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She did not answer; her hands worked feebly together.</p>
+<p>He came nearer, and held up his arras to where she
+stood,&mdash;the heavy, masterful face pale and wet.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I need you, Margaret. I shall be nothing without you,
+now. Come, Margaret, little Margaret!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She came to him, and put her hands in his.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, Stephen,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>If there were any pain in her tone, she kept it down, for his
+sake.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Never, I could never help you,&mdash;as you are. It might
+have been, once. Good-bye, Stephen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Her childish way put him in mind of the old days when this girl
+was dearer to him than his own soul. She was so yet. He held her,
+looking down into her eyes. She moved uneasily; she dared not trust
+her resolution.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You will come?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It might have
+been,&mdash;it shall be again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It may be,&rdquo; she said, humbly. &ldquo;God is good.
+And I believe in you, Stephen. I will be yours some time: we cannot
+help it, if we would: but not as you are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You do not love me?&rdquo; he said, flinging off her
+hand.</p>
+<p>She said nothing, gathered her damp shawl around her, and turned
+to go. Just a moment they stood, looking at each other. If the dark
+square figure standing there had been an iron fate trampling her
+young life down into hopeless wretchedness, she forgot it now.
+Women like Margaret are apt to forget. His eye never abated in its
+fierce question.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will wait for you yonder, if I die first,&rdquo; she
+whispered.</p>
+<p>He came closer, waiting for an answer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And&mdash;I love you, Stephen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He gathered her in his arms, and put his cold lips to hers,
+without a word; then turned and left her slowly.</p>
+<p>She made no sign, shed no tear, as she stood watching him go. It
+was all over: she had willed it, herself, and yet&mdash;he could
+not go! God would not suffer it! Oh, he could not leave
+her,&mdash;he could not!&mdash;He went down the hill, slowly. If it
+were a trial of life and death for her, did he know or
+care?&mdash;He did not look back. What if he did not? his heart was
+true; he suffered in going; even now he walked wearily. God forgive
+her, if she had wronged him!&mdash;What did it matter, if he were
+hard in this life, and it hurt her a little? It would come
+right,&mdash;beyond, some time. But life was long.&mdash;She would
+not sit down, sick as she was: he might turn, and it would vex him
+to see her suffer.&mdash;He walked slowly; once he stopped to pick
+up something. She saw the deep-cut face and half-shut eyes. How
+often those eyes had looked into her soul, and it had answered!
+They never would look so any more.&mdash;There was a tree by the
+place where the road turned into town. If he came back, he would be
+sure to turn there.&mdash;How tired he walked, and slow!&mdash;If
+he was sick, that beautiful woman could be near him,&mdash;help
+him.&mdash;She never would touch his hand again,&mdash;never again,
+never,&mdash;unless he came back now.&mdash;He was near the tree:
+she closed her eyes, turning away. When she looked again, only the
+bare road lay there, yellow and wet. It was over, now.</p>
+<p>How long she sat there she did not know. She tried once or twice
+to go to the house, but the lights seemed so far off that she gave
+it up and sat quiet, unconscious except of the damp stones her head
+leaned on and the stretch of muddy road. Some time, she knew not
+when, there was a heavy step beside her, and a rough hand shook
+hers where she stooped feebly tracing out the lines of mortar
+between the stones. It was Knowles. She looked up, bewildered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hunting catarrhs, eh?&rdquo; he growled, eying her
+keenly. &ldquo;Got your father on the Bourbons, so took the chance
+to come and find you. He&rsquo;ll not miss <em>me</em> for an hour.
+That man has a natural hankering after treason against the people.
+Lord, Margaret! what a stiff old head he&rsquo;d have carried to
+the guillotine! How he&rsquo;d have looked at the
+<em>canaille</em>!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He helped her up gently enough.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Your bonnet&rsquo;s like a wet rag,&rdquo;&mdash;with a
+furtive glance at the worn-out face. A hungry face always, with her
+life unfed by its stingy few crumbs of good; but to-night it was
+vacant with utter loss.</p>
+<p>She got up, trying to laugh cheerfully, and went beside him down
+the road.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You saw that painted Jezebel to-night,
+and&rdquo;&mdash;stopping abruptly.</p>
+<p>She had not heard him, and he followed her doggedly, with an
+occasional snort or grunt or other inarticulate damn at the
+obstinate mud. She stopped at last, with a quick gasp. Looking at
+her, he chafed her limp hands,&mdash;his huge, uncouth face growing
+pale. When she was better, he said, gravely,&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want you, Margaret. Not at home, child. I want to show
+you something.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He turned with her suddenly off the main road into a by-path,
+helping her along, watching her stealthily, but going on with his
+disjointed, bearish growls. If it stung her from her pain, vexing
+her, he did not care.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want to show you a bit of hell: outskirt. You&rsquo;re
+in a fit state: it&rsquo;ll do you good. I&rsquo;m minister there.
+The clergy can&rsquo;t attend to it just now: they&rsquo;re too
+busy measuring God&rsquo;s truth by the States&rsquo;-Rights
+doctrine or the Chicago Platform. Consequence, religion yields to
+majorities. Are you able? It&rsquo;s only a step.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She went on indifferently. The night was breathless and dark.
+Black, wet gusts dragged now and then through the skyless fog,
+striking her face with a chill. The Doctor quit talking, hurrying
+her, watching her anxiously. They came at last to the
+railway-track, with long trains of empty freight-cars.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We are nearly there,&rdquo; he whispered.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s time you knew your work, and forgot your
+weakness. The curse of pampered generations. &lsquo;High Norman
+blood,&rsquo;&mdash;pah!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a broken gap in the fence. He led her through it into
+a muddy yard. Inside was one of those taverns you will find in the
+suburbs of large cities, haunts of the lowest vice. This one was a
+smoky frame standing on piles over an open space where hogs were
+rooting. Half a dozen drunken Irishmen were playing poker with a
+pack of greasy cards in an out-house. He led her up the rickety
+ladder to the one room, where a flaring tallow-dip threw a saffron
+glare into the darkness. A putrid odor met them at the door. She
+drew back, trembling.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come here!&rdquo; he said, fiercely, clutching her hand.
+&ldquo;Women as fair and pure as you have come into dens like
+this,&mdash;and never gone away. Does it make your delicate breath
+faint? And you a follower of the meek and lowly Jesus! Look here!
+and here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The room was swarming with human life. Women, idle trampers,
+whiskey-bloated, filthy, lay half-asleep or smoking on the floor,
+and set up a chorus of whining begging when they entered.
+Half-naked children crawled about in rags. On the damp, mildewed
+walls there was hung a picture of the Benicia Boy, and close by Pio
+Nono, crook in hand, with the usual inscription, &ldquo;Feed my
+sheep.&rdquo; The Doctor looked at it.</p>
+<p>&rdquo;&rsquo;<em>Tu es Petrus, et super
+hanc</em>&lsquo;&mdash;Good God! what is truth?&rdquo; he muttered,
+bitterly.</p>
+<p>He dragged her closer to the women, through the darkness and
+foul smell.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look in their faces,&rdquo; he whispered. &ldquo;There is
+not one of them that is not a living lie. Can they help it? Think
+of the centuries of serfdom and superstition through which their
+blood has crawled. Come closer,&mdash;here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In the corner slept a heap of half-clothed blacks. Going on the
+underground railroad to Canada. Stolid, sensual wretches, with here
+and there a broad, melancholy brow and desperate jaws. One little
+pickaninny rubbed its sleepy eyes and laughed at them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So much flesh and blood out of the market,
+unweighed!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Margaret took up the child, kissing its brown face. Knowles
+looked at her.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Would you touch her? I forgot you were born down South.
+Put it down, and come on.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They went out of the door. Margaret stopped, looking back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did I call it a bit of hell? It&rsquo;s only a glimpse of
+the under-life of America,&mdash;God help us!&mdash;where all men
+are born free and equal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The air in the passage grew fouler. She leaned back faint and
+shuddering. He did not heed her. The passion of the man, the
+terrible pity for these people, came out of his soul now, whitening
+his face and dulling his eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you,&rdquo; he said, savagely, &ldquo;you sit by the
+road-side, with help in your hands, and Christ in your heart, and
+call your life lost, quarrel with your God, because that mass of
+selfishness has left you,&mdash;because you are balked in your puny
+hope! Look at these women. What is their loss, do you think? Go
+back, will you, and drone out your life whimpering over your lost
+dream, and go to Shakspeare for tragedy when you want it? Tragedy!
+Come here,&mdash;let me hear what you call this.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He led her through the passage, up a narrow flight of stairs. An
+old woman in a flaring cap sat at the top, nodding,&mdash;wakening
+now and then, to rock herself to and fro, and give the shrill Irish
+keen.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You know that stoker who was killed in the mill a month
+ago? Of course not,&mdash;what are such people to you? There was a
+girl who loved him,-you know what that is? She&rsquo;s dead now,
+here. She drank herself to death,&mdash;a most unpicturesque
+suicide. I want you to look at her. You need not blush for her life
+of shame, now; she&rsquo;s dead.&mdash;Is Hetty here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The woman got up.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She is, Zur. She is, Mem. She&rsquo;s lookin&rsquo; foine
+in her Sunday suit. Shrouds is gone out, Mem, they say.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She went tipping over the floor to something white that lay on a
+board, a candle at the head, and drew off the sheet. A girl of
+fifteen, almost a child, lay underneath, dead,&mdash;her lithe,
+delicate figure decked out in a barred plaid skirt, and stained,
+faded velvet bodice,&mdash;her neck and arms bare. The small face
+was purely cut, haggard, patient in its sleep,&mdash;the soft, fair
+hair gathered off the tired forehead. Margaret leaned over her
+shuddering, pinning her handkerchief about the child&rsquo;s dead
+neck.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How young she is!&rdquo; muttered Knowles.
+&ldquo;Merciful God, how young she is!&mdash;What is that you
+say?&rdquo; sharply, seeing Margaret&rsquo;s lips move.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;He that is without sin among you, let him first
+cast a stone at her.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, child, that is old-time philosophy. Put your hand
+here, on her dead face. Is your loss like hers?&rdquo; he said
+lower, looking into the dull pain in her eyes. Selfish pain he
+called it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let me go,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I am tired.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He took her out into the cool, open road, leading her tenderly
+enough,&mdash;for the girl suffered, he saw.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What will you do?&rdquo; he asked her then. &ldquo;It is
+not too late,&mdash;will you help me save these people?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She wrung her hands helplessly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you want with me?&rdquo; she cried, weakly.
+&ldquo;I have enough to bear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The burly black figure before her seemed to tower and
+strengthen; the man&rsquo;s face in the wan light showed a terrible
+life-purpose coming out bare.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I want you to do your work. It is hard; it will wear out
+your strength and brain and heart. Give yourself to these people.
+God calls you to it. There is none to help them. Give up love, and
+the petty hopes of women. Help me. God calls you to the
+work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She went on blindly: he followed her. For years he had set apart
+this girl to help him in his scheme: he would not be balked now. He
+had great hopes from his plan: he meant to give all he had: it was
+the noblest of aims. He thought some day it would work like leaven
+through the festering mass under the country he loved so well, and
+raise it to a new life. If it failed,&mdash;if it failed, and saved
+one life, his work was not lost. But it could not fail.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Home!&rdquo; he said, stopping her as she reached the
+stile,&mdash;&ldquo;oh, Margaret, what is home? There is a cry
+going up night and day from homes like that den yonder, for
+help,&mdash;and no man listens.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She was weak; her brain faltered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does God call me to this work? Does He call me?&rdquo;
+she moaned.</p>
+<p>He watched her eagerly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He calls you. He waits for your answer. Swear to me that
+you will help His people. Give up father and mother and love, and
+go down as Christ did. Help me to give liberty and truth and
+Jesus&rsquo; love to these wretches on the brink of hell. Live with
+them, raise them with you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked up, white; she was a weak, weak woman, sick for her
+natural food of love.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is it my work?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is your work. Listen to me, Margaret,&rdquo; softly.
+&ldquo;Who cares for you? You stand alone to-night. There is not a
+single human heart that calls you nearest and best. Shiver, if you
+will,&mdash;it is true. The man you wasted your soul on left you in
+the night and cold to go to his bride,&mdash;is sitting by her now,
+holding her hand in his.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He waited a moment, looking down at her, until she should
+understand.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think you deserved this of God? I know that yonder
+on the muddy road you looked up to Him, and knew it was not just;
+that you had done right, and this was your reward. I know that for
+these two years you have trusted in the Christ you worship to make
+it right, to give you your heart&rsquo;s desire. Did He do it? Did
+He hear your prayer? Does He care for your weak love, when the
+nations of the earth are going down? What is your poor hope to Him,
+when the very land you live in is a wine-press that will be trodden
+some day by the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God? O
+Christ!&mdash;if there be a Christ,&mdash;help me to save
+it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked up,&mdash;his face white with pain. After a time he
+said to her,&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Help me, Margaret! Your prayer was selfish; it was not
+heard. Give up your idle hope that Christ will aid you. Swear to
+me, this night when you have lost all, to give yourself to this
+work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The storm had been dark and windy: it cleared now slowly, the
+warm summer rain falling softly, the fresh blue stealing broadly
+from behind the gray. It seemed to Margaret like a blessing; for
+her brain rose up stronger, more healthful.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will not swear,&rdquo; she said, weakly. &ldquo;I think
+He heard my prayer. I think He will answer it. He was a man, and
+loved as we do. My love is not selfish; it is the best gift God has
+given me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Knowles went slowly with her to the house. He was not baffled.
+He knew that the struggle was yet to come; that, when she was
+alone, her faith in the far-off Christ would falter; that she would
+grasp at this work, to fill her empty hands and starved heart, if
+for no other reason,&mdash;to stifle by a sense of duty her
+unutterable feeling of loss. He was keenly read in woman&rsquo;s
+heart, this Knowles. He left her silently, and she passed through
+the dark passage to her own room.</p>
+<p>Putting her damp shawl off, she sat down on the floor, leaning
+her head on a low chair,&mdash;one her father had given her for a
+Christmas gift when she was little. How fond Holmes and her father
+used to be of each other! Every Christmas he spent with them. She
+remembered them all now. &ldquo;He was sitting by her now, holding
+her hand in his.&rdquo; She said that over to herself, though it
+was not hard to understand.</p>
+<p>After a long time, her mother came with a candle to the
+door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good-night, Margaret. Why, your hair is wet,
+child!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For Margaret, kissing her good-night, had laid her head down a
+minute on her breast. She stroked the hair a moment, and then
+turned away.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mother, could you stay with me to-night?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, no, Maggie,&mdash;your father wants me to read to
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I know. Did he miss me
+to-night,&mdash;father?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not much; we were talking old times over,&mdash;in
+Virginia, you know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know; good-night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She went back to the chair. Tige was there,&mdash;for he used to
+spend half of his time on the farm. She put her arm about his head.
+God knows how lonely the poor child was when she drew the dog so
+warmly to her heart: not for his master&rsquo;s sake alone; but it
+was all she had. He grew tired at last, and whined, trying to get
+out.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you go, Tige?&rdquo; she said, and opened the
+window.</p>
+<p>He jumped out, and she watched him going towards town. Such a
+little thing, it was! But not even a dog &ldquo;called her nearest
+and best.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Let us be silent; the story of the night is not for us to read.
+Do you think that He, who in the far, dim Life holds the worlds in
+His hand, knew or cared how alone the child was? What if she wrung
+her thin hands, grew sick with the slow, mad, solitary
+tears?&mdash;was not the world to save, as Knowles said?</p>
+<p>He, too, had been alone; He had come unto His own, and His own
+received him not: so, while the struggling world rested,
+unconscious, in infinite calm of right, He came close to her with
+human eyes that had loved, and not been loved, and had suffered
+with that pain. And, trusting Him, she only said, &ldquo;Show me my
+work! Thou that takest away the pain of the world, have mercy upon
+me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For that night, at least, Holmes swept his soul clean of doubt
+and indecision; one of his natures was conquered,&mdash;finally, he
+thought. Polston, if he had seen his face as he paced the street
+slowly home to the mill, would have remembered his mother&rsquo;s
+the day she died. How the stern old woman met death half-way! why
+should she fear? she was as strong as he. Wherein had she failed of
+duty? her hands were clean: she was going to meet her just
+reward.</p>
+<p>It was different with Holmes, of course, with his self-existent
+soul. It was life he accepted to-night, he thought,&mdash;a life of
+growth, labor, achievement,&mdash;eternal.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Ohne Hast, aber ohne Rast</em>,&rdquo;&mdash;favorite
+words with him. He liked to study the nature of the man who spoke
+them; because, I think, it was like his own,&mdash;a Titan strength
+of endurance, an infinite capability of love and hate and
+suffering, and over all (the peculiar identity of the man) a cold,
+speculative eye of reason, that looked down into the passion and
+depths of his growing self, and calmly noted them, a lesson for all
+time.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Ohne Hast</em>.&rdquo; Going slowly through the
+night, he strengthened himself by marking how all things in Nature
+accomplish a perfected life through slow, narrow fixedness of
+purpose,&mdash;each life complete in itself: why not his own, then?
+The windless gray, the stars, the stone under his feet, stood alone
+in the universe, each working out its own soul into deed. If there
+were any all-embracing harmony, one soul through all, he did not
+see it. Knowles&mdash;that old skeptic&mdash;believed in it, and
+called it Love. Even Goethe himself, what was it he said?
+&ldquo;<em>Der Allumfasser, der Allerhalter, fasst und erh&auml;lt
+er nicht dich, mich, sich selbst</em>?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a curious power in the words, as he lingered over
+them, like half-comprehended music,&mdash;as simple and tender as
+if they had come from the depths of a woman&rsquo;s heart: it
+touched him deeper than his power of control. Pah! it was a dream
+of Faust&rsquo;s; he, too, had his Margaret; he fell, through that
+love.</p>
+<p>He went on slowly to the mill. If the name or the words woke a
+subtile remorse or longing, he buried them under restful composure.
+Whether they should ever rise like angry ghosts of what might have
+been, to taunt the man, only the future could tell.</p>
+<p>Going through the gas-lit streets, Holmes met some cordial
+greeting at every turn. What a just, clever fellow he was! people
+said: one of those men improved by success: just to the defrauding
+of himself: saw the true worth of everybody, the very lowest:
+hadn&rsquo;t one spark of self-esteem: despised all humbug and
+show, one could see, though he never said it: when he was a boy, he
+was moody, with passionate likes and dislikes; but success had
+improved him, vastly. So Holmes was popular, though the beggars
+shunned him, and the lazy Italian organ-grinders never held their
+tambourines up to him.</p>
+<p>The mill street was dark; the building threw its great shadow
+over the square. It was empty, he supposed; only one hand generally
+remained to keep in the furnace-fires. Going through one of the
+lower passages, he heard voices, and turned aside to examine. The
+management was not strict, and in case of a fire the mill was not
+insured: like Knowles&rsquo;s carelessness.</p>
+<p>It was Lois and her father,&mdash;Joe Yare being feeder that
+night. They were in one of the great furnace-rooms in the
+cellar,&mdash;a very comfortable place that stormy night. Two or
+three doors of the wide brick ovens were open, and the fire threw a
+ruddy glow over the stone floor, and shimmered into the dark
+recesses of the shadows, very home-like after the rain and mud
+without. Lois seemed to think so, at any rate, for she had made a
+table of a store-box, put a white cloth on it, and was busy getting
+up a regular supper for her father,&mdash;down on her knees before
+the red coals, turning something on an iron plate, while some
+slices of ham sent up a cloud of juicy, hungry smell.</p>
+<p>The old stoker had just finished slaking the out-fires, and was
+putting some blue plates on the table, gravely straightening them.
+He had grown old, as Polston said,&mdash;Holmes saw, stooped much,
+with a low, hacking cough; his coarse clothes were curiously clean:
+that was to please Lois, of course. She put the ham on the table,
+and some bubbling coffee, and then, from a hickory board in front
+of the fire, took off, with a jerk, brown, flaky slices of Virginia
+johnny-cake.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ther&rsquo; yoh are, father, hot &lsquo;n&rsquo;
+hot,&rdquo; with her face on
+fire,&mdash;&ldquo;ther&rsquo;&mdash;yoh&mdash;are,&mdash;coaxin&rsquo;
+to be eatin&rsquo;.&mdash;Why, Mr. Holmes! Father! Now, ef yoh
+jes&rsquo; hedn&rsquo;t hed yer supper?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She came up, coaxingly. What brooding brown eyes the poor
+cripple had! Not many years ago he would have sat down with the two
+poor souls and made a hearty meal of it: he had no heart for such
+follies now.</p>
+<p>Old Yare stood in the background, his hat in his hand, stooping
+in his submissive negro fashion, with a frightened watch on
+Holmes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you stay here, Lois?&rdquo; he asked, kindly, turning
+his back on the old man.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On&rsquo;y to bring his supper. I couldn&rsquo;t bide all
+night &rsquo;n th&rsquo; mill,&rdquo;&mdash;the old shadow coming
+on her face,&mdash;&ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t, yoh know. <em>He</em>
+doesn&rsquo;t mind it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She glanced quickly from one to the other in the silence, seeing
+the fear on her father&rsquo;s face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yoh know father, Mr. Holmes? He&rsquo;s back now. This is
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old man came forward, humbly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s me, Master Stephen.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The sullen, stealthy face disgusted Holmes. He nodded,
+shortly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yoh&rsquo;ve been kind to my little girl while I was
+gone,&rdquo; he said, catching his breath. &ldquo;I thank yoh,
+master.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You need not. It was for Lois.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Twas fur her I comed back hyur. &rsquo;Twas a
+resk,&rdquo;&mdash;with a dumb look of entreaty at
+Holmes,&mdash;&ldquo;but fur her I thort I&rsquo;d try it. I know
+&rsquo;twas a resk; but I thort them as cared fur Lo wud be
+merciful. She&rsquo;s a good girl, Lo. She&rsquo;s all I
+hev.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lois brought a box over, lugging it heavily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We hevn&rsquo;t chairs; but yoh&rsquo;ll sit down, Mr.
+Holmes?&rdquo; laughing as she covered it with a cloth.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a warrm place, here. Father studies &lsquo;n his
+watch, &lsquo;n&rsquo; I&rsquo;m teacher,&rdquo;&mdash;showing the
+torn old spelling-book.</p>
+<p>The old man came eagerly forward, seeing the smile flicker on
+Holmes&rsquo;s face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s slow work, master,&mdash;slow. But Lo&rsquo;s
+a good teacher, &rsquo;n&rsquo; I&rsquo;m
+tryin&rsquo;,&mdash;I&rsquo;m tryin&rsquo; hard.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not slow, Sir, seein&rsquo; father
+hedn&rsquo;t &rsquo;dvantages, like me. He was a&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+<p>She stopped, lowering her voice, a hot flush of shame on her
+face.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ben&rsquo;t that &rsquo;n &rsquo;xcuse, master,
+seein&rsquo; I knowed noght at the beginnin&rsquo;? Thenk o&rsquo;
+that, master. I&rsquo;m tryin&rsquo; to be a different man. Fur Lo.
+I <em>am</em> tryin&rsquo;.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Holmes did not notice him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good-night, Lois,&rdquo; he said, kindly, as she lighted
+his lamp.</p>
+<p>He put some money on the table.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You must take it,&rdquo; as she looked uneasy. &ldquo;For
+Tiger&rsquo;s board, say. I never see him now. A bright new frock,
+remember.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She thanked him, her eyes brightening, looking at her
+father&rsquo;s patched coat.</p>
+<p>The old man followed Holmes out.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Master Holmes&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have done with this,&rdquo; said Holmes, sternly.
+&ldquo;Whoever breaks law abides by it. It is no affair of
+mine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The old man clutched his hands together fiercely, struggling to
+be quiet.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ther&rsquo;s none knows it but yoh,&rdquo; he said, in a
+smothered voice. &ldquo;Fur God&rsquo;s sake be merciful!
+It&rsquo;ll kill my girl,&mdash;it&rsquo;ll kill her. Gev me a
+chance, master.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You trouble me. I must do what is just.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not just,&rdquo; he said, savagely.
+&ldquo;What good&rsquo;ll it do me to go back ther&rsquo;? I was
+goin&rsquo; down, down, an&rsquo; bringin&rsquo; th&rsquo; others
+with me. What good&rsquo;ll it do you or the rest to hev me
+ther&rsquo;? To make me afraid? It&rsquo;s poor learnin&rsquo; frum
+fear. Who taught me what was right? Who cared? No man cared fur my
+soul, till I thieved &rsquo;n&rsquo; robbed; &lsquo;n&rsquo; then
+judge &rsquo;n&rsquo; jury &rsquo;n&rsquo; jailers was glad to
+pounce on me. Will yoh gev me a chance? will yoh?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was a desperate face before him; but Holmes never knew
+fear.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stand aside,&rdquo; he said, quietly. &ldquo;To-morrow I
+will see you. You need not try to escape.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He passed him, and went slowly up through the vacant mill to his
+chamber.</p>
+<p>The man sat down on the lower step a few moments, quite quiet,
+crushing his hat up in a slow, steady way, looking up at the mouldy
+cobwebs on the wall. He got up at last, and went in to Lois. Had
+she heard? The old scarred face of the girl looked years older, he
+thought,&mdash;but it might be fancy. She did not say anything for
+a while, moving slowly, with a new gentleness, about him; her very
+voice was changed, older. He tried to be cheerful, eating his
+supper: she need not know until to-morrow. He would get out of the
+town to-night, or&mdash;There were different ways to escape. When
+he had done, he told her to go; but she would not.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let me stay th&rsquo; night,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I
+ben&rsquo;t afraid o&rsquo; th&rsquo; mill.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Lo,&rdquo; he said, laughing, &ldquo;yoh used to say
+yer death was hid here, somewheres.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know. But ther&rsquo;s worse nor death. But it&rsquo;ll
+come right,&rdquo; she said, persistently, muttering to herself, as
+she leaned her face on her knees,
+watching,&mdash;&ldquo;it&rsquo;ll come right.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The glimmering shadows changed and faded for an hour. The man
+sat quiet. There was not much in the years gone to soften his
+thought, as it grew desperate and cruel: there was oppression and
+vice heaped on him, and flung back out of his bitter heart. Nor
+much in the future: a blank stretch of punishment to the end. He
+was an old man: was it easy to bear? What if he were black? what if
+he were born a thief? what if all the sullen revenge of his nature
+had made him an outcast from the poorest poor? Was there no latent
+good in this soul for which Christ died, that a kind hand might not
+have brought to life? None? Something, I think, struggled up in the
+touch of his hand, catching the skirt of his child&rsquo;s dress,
+when it came near him, with the timid tenderness of a mother
+touching her dead baby&rsquo;s hair,&mdash;as something holy, far
+off, yet very near: something in his old crime-marked face,&mdash;a
+look like this dog&rsquo;s, putting his head on my knee,&mdash;a
+dumb, unhelpful love in his eyes, and the slow memory of a wrong
+done to his soul in a day long past. A wrong to both, you say,
+perhaps; but if so, irreparable, and never to be recompensed.
+Never?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yoh must go, my little girl,&rdquo; he said at last.</p>
+<p>Whatever he did must be done quickly. She came up, combing the
+thin gray hairs through her fingers.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Father, I dunnot understan&rsquo; what it is, rightly.
+But stay with me,&mdash;stay, father!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yoh&rsquo;ve a many frien&rsquo;s, Lo,&rdquo; he said,
+with a keen flash of jealousy. &ldquo;Ther&rsquo;s none like
+yoh,&mdash;none.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She put her misshapen head and scarred face down on his hand,
+where he could see them. If it had ever hurt her to be as she was,
+if she had ever compared herself bitterly with fair, beloved women,
+she was glad now and thankful for every fault and deformity that
+brought her nearer to him, and made her dearer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re kind, but ther&rsquo;s not many loves me
+with true love, like yoh. Stay, father! Bear it out, whatever it
+be. Th&rsquo; good time&rsquo;ll come, father.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He kissed her, saying nothing, and went with her down the
+street. When he left her, she waited, and, creeping back, hid near
+the mill. God knows what vague dread was in her brain; but she came
+back to watch and help.</p>
+<p>Old Yare wandered through the great loom-rooms of the mill with
+but one fact clear in his cloudy, faltering perception,&mdash;that
+above him the man lay quietly sleeping who would bring worse than
+death on him to-morrow. Up and down, aimlessly, with his
+stoker&rsquo;s torch in his hand, going over the years gone and the
+years to come, with the dead hatred through all of the pitiless man
+above him,&mdash;with now and then, perhaps, a pleasanter thought
+of things that had been warm and cheerful in his life,&mdash;of the
+corn-huskings long ago, when he was a boy, down in &ldquo;th&rsquo;
+Alabam&rsquo;,&rdquo;&mdash;of the scow his young master gave him
+once, the first thing he really owned: he was almost as proud of it
+as he was of Lois when she was born. Most of all remembering the
+good times in his life, he went back to Lois. It was all good,
+there, to go back to. What a little chub she used to be!
+Remembering, with bitter remorse, how all his life he had meant to
+try and do better, on her account, but had kept putting off and
+putting off until now. And now&mdash;Did nothing lie before him but
+to go back and rot yonder? Was that the end, because he never had
+learned better, and was a &ldquo;dam&rsquo; nigger&rdquo;?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll <em>not</em> leave my girl!&rdquo; he
+muttered, going up and down,&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll <em>not</em>
+leave my girl!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>If Holmes did sleep above him, the trial of the day, of which we
+have seen nothing, came back sharper in sleep. While the strong
+self in the man lay torpid, whatever holier power was in him came
+out, undaunted by defeat, and unwearied, and took the form of
+dreams, those slighted messengers of God, to soothe and charm and
+win him out into fuller, kindlier life. Let us hope that they did
+so win him; let us hope that even in that unreal world the better
+nature of the man triumphed at last, and claimed its reward before
+the terrible reality broke upon him.</p>
+<p>Lois, over in the damp, fresh-smelling lumber-yard, sat coiled
+up in one of the creviced houses made by the jutting boards. She
+remembered how she used to play in them, before she went into the
+mill. The mill,&mdash;even now, with the vague dread of some
+uncertain evil to come, the mill absorbed all fear in its old hated
+shadow. Whatever danger was coming to them lay in it, came from it,
+she knew, in her confused, blurred way of thinking. It loomed up
+now, with the square patch of ashen sky above, black, heavy with
+years of remembered agony and loss. In Lois&rsquo;s hopeful, warm
+life this was the one uncomprehended monster. Her crushed brain,
+her unwakened powers, resented their wrong dimly to the mass of
+iron and work and impure smells, unconscious of any remorseless
+power that wielded it. It was a monster, she thought, through the
+sleepy, dreading night,&mdash;a monster that kept her wakeful with
+a dull, mysterious terror.</p>
+<p>When the night grew sultry and deepest, she started from her
+half-doze to see her father come stealthily out and go down the
+street. She must have slept, she thought, rubbing her eyes, and
+watching him out of sight,&mdash;and then, creeping out, turned to
+glance at the mill. She cried out, shrill with horror. It was a
+live monster now,&mdash;in one swift instant, alive with
+fire,&mdash;quick, greedy fire, leaping like serpents&rsquo;
+tongues out of its hundred jaws, hungry sheets of flame maddening
+and writhing towards her, and under all a dull and hollow roar that
+shook the night. Did it call her to her death? She turned to fly,
+and then&mdash;He was alone, dying! He had been so kind to her! She
+wrung her hands, standing there a moment. It was a brave hope that
+was in her heart, and a prayer on her lips never left unanswered,
+as she hobbled, in her lame, slow way, up to the open black door,
+and, with one backward look, went in.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="cooper" name="cooper">JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.</a></h2>
+<p>The publication, now brought to a close, of a new edition of the
+novels of Cooper<sup>6</sup><span class="sidenote">6. We refer to
+the new edition of the novels of Cooper by Messrs. W.A. Townsend
+&amp; Co., with illustrations by Darley.</span> gives us a fair
+occasion for discharging a duty which Maga has too long neglected,
+and saying something upon the genius of this great writer, and,
+incidentally, upon the character of a man who would have been a
+noticeable, not to say remarkable person, had he never written a
+line. These novels stand before us in thirty-two goodly duodecimo
+volumes, well printed, gracefully illustrated, and, in all external
+aspects, worthy of generous commendation. With strong propriety,
+the publishers dedicate this edition of the &ldquo;first American
+novelist&rdquo; to &ldquo;the American People.&rdquo; No one of our
+great writers is more thoroughly American than Cooper; no one has
+caught and reproduced more broadly and accurately the spirit of our
+institutions, the character of our people, and even the aspects of
+Nature in this our Western world. He was a patriot to the very core
+of his heart; he loved his country with a fervid, but not an
+undiscerning love: it was an intelligent, vigilant, discriminating
+affection that bound his heart to his native land; and thus, while
+no man defended his country more vigorously when it was in the
+right, no one reproved its faults more courageously, or gave
+warning and advice more unreservedly, where he felt that they were
+needed.</p>
+<p>This may be one reason why Cooper has more admirers, or at least
+fewer disparagers, abroad than at home. On the Continent of Europe
+his novels are everywhere read, with an eager, unquestioning
+delight. His popularity is at least equal to that of Scott; and we
+think a considerable amount of testimony could be collected to
+prove that it is even greater. But the fact we have above stated is
+not the only explanation of this. He was the first writer who made
+foreign nations acquainted with the characters and incidents of
+American frontier and woodland life; and his delineations of Indian
+manners and traits were greatly superior in freshness and power, if
+not in truth, to any which had preceded them. His novels opened a
+new and unwrought vein of interest, and were a revelation of
+humanity under aspects and influences hitherto unobserved by the
+ripe civilization of Europe. The taste which had become cloyed with
+endless imitations of the feudal and mediaeval pictures of Scott
+turned with fresh delight to such original figures&mdash;so full of
+sylvan power and wildwood grace&mdash;as Natty Bumppo and Uncas.
+European readers, too, received these sketches with an unqualified,
+because an ignorant admiration. We, who had better knowledge, were
+more critical, and could see that the drawing was sometimes faulty,
+and the colors more brilliant than those of life.</p>
+<p>The acute observer can detect a parallel between the relation of
+Cooper to America and that of Scott to Scotland. Scott was as
+hearty a Scotchman as Cooper an American: but Scott was a Tory in
+politics and an Episcopalian in religion; and the majority of
+Scotchmen are Whigs in politics and Presbyterians in religion. In
+Scott, as in Cooper, the elements of passion and sympathy were so
+strong that he could not be neutral or silent on the great
+questions of his time and place. Thus, while the Scotch are proud
+of Scott, as they well may be,&mdash;while he has among his own
+people most intense and enthusiastic admirers,&mdash;the proportion
+of those who yield to his genius a cold and reluctant homage is
+probably greater in Scotland than in any other country in
+Christendom. &ldquo;The rest of mankind recognize the essential
+truth of his delineations, and his loyalty to all the primal
+instincts and sympathies of humanity&rdquo;; but the Scotch cannot
+forget that he opposed the Reform Bill, painted the Covenanters
+with an Episcopalian pencil, and made a graceful and heroic image
+of the detested Claverhouse.</p>
+<p>The novels of Cooper, in the dates of their publication, cover a
+period of thirty years: beginning with &ldquo;Precaution,&rdquo; in
+1820, and ending with &ldquo;The Ways of the Hour,&rdquo; in 1850.
+The production of thirty-two volumes in thirty years is honorable
+to his creative energy, as well as to the systematic industry of
+his habits. But even these do not constitute the whole of his
+literary labors during these twenty-nine years. We must add five
+volumes of naval history and biography, ten volumes of travels and
+sketches in Europe, and a large amount of occasional and
+controversial writings, most of which is now hidden away in that
+huge wallet wherein Time puts his alms for Oblivion. His literary
+productions other than his novels would alone be enough to save him
+from the reproach of idleness. In estimating a writer&rsquo;s
+claims to honor and remembrance, the quantity as well as the
+quality of his work should surely be taken into account; and in
+summing up the case of our great novelist to the jury of posterity,
+this point should be strongly put.</p>
+<p>Cooper&rsquo;s first novel, &ldquo;Precaution,&rdquo; was
+published when he was in his thirty-first year. It owed its
+existence to an accident, and was but an ordinary production, as
+inferior to the best of his subsequent works as Byron&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Hours of Idleness&rdquo; to &ldquo;Childe Harold.&rdquo; It
+was a languid and colorless copy of exotic forms: a mere scale
+picked from the surface of the writer&rsquo;s mind, with neither
+beauty nor vital warmth to commend it. We speak from the vague
+impressions which many long years have been busy in effacing; and
+we confess that it would require the combined forces of a long
+voyage and a scanty library to constrain us to the task of reading
+it anew.</p>
+<p>And yet, such as it was, it made a certain impression at the
+time of its appearance. The standard by which it was tried was very
+unlike that which would now be applied to it: there was all the
+difference between the two that there is between strawberries in
+December and strawberries in June. American literature was then
+just beginning to &ldquo;glint forth&rdquo; like Burns&rsquo;s
+mountain daisy, and rear its tender form above the parent earth.
+The time had, indeed, gone by&mdash;which a friend of ours, not yet
+venerable, affirms he can well remember&mdash;when school-boys and
+collegians, zealous for the honor of indigenous literature, were
+obliged to cite, by way of illustration, such works as
+Morse&rsquo;s Geography and Hannah Adams&rsquo;s &ldquo;History of
+the Jews&rdquo;; but it was only a faint, crepuscular light, that
+streaked the east, and gave promise of the coming day. Irving had
+just completed his &ldquo;Sketch-Book,&rdquo; which was basking in
+the full sunshine of unqualified popularity. Dana, in the
+thoughtful and meditative beauty of &ldquo;The Idle Man,&rdquo; was
+addressing a more limited public. Percival had just before
+published a small volume of poems; Halleck&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Fanny&rdquo; had recently appeared; and so had a small
+duodecimo volume by Bryant, containing &ldquo;The Ages,&rdquo; and
+half a dozen smaller poems. Miss Sedgwick&rsquo;s &ldquo;New
+England Tale&rdquo; was published about the same time. But a large
+proportion of those who are now regarded as our ablest writers were
+as yet unknown, or just beginning to give sign of what they were.
+Dr. Channing was already distinguished as an eloquent and powerful
+preacher, but the general public had not yet recognized in him that
+remarkable combination of loftiness of thought with magic charm of
+style, which was soon to be revealed in his essays on Milton and
+Napoleon Bonaparte. Ticknor and Everett were professors in Harvard
+College, giving a new impulse to the minds of the students by their
+admirable lectures; and the latter was also conducting the
+&ldquo;North American Review.&rdquo; Neither had as yet attained to
+anything more than a local reputation. Prescott, a gay and
+light-hearted young man,&mdash;gay and light-hearted, in spite of
+partial blindness,&mdash;the darling of society and the idol of his
+home, was silently and resolutely preparing himself for his chosen
+function by a wide and thorough course of patient study. Bancroft
+was in Germany, and working like a German. Emerson was a Junior in
+College. Hawthorne, Longfellow, Holmes, Whittier, and Poe were
+school-boys; Mrs. Stowe was a school-girl; Whipple and Lowell were
+in the nursery, and Motley and the younger Dana had not long been
+out of it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Precaution,&rdquo; though an indifferent novel, was yet a
+novel; of the orthodox length, with plot, characters, and
+incidents; and here and there a touch of genuine power, as in the
+forty-first chapter, where the scene is on board a man-of-war
+bringing her prizes into port. It found many readers, and excited a
+good deal of curiosity as to who the author might be.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Precaution&rdquo; was published on the 25th of August,
+1820, and &ldquo;The Spy&rdquo; on the 17th of September, 1821. The
+second novel was a great improvement upon the first, and fairly
+took the public by storm. We are old enough to remember its first
+appearance; the eager curiosity and keen discussion which it
+awakened; the criticism which it called forth; and, above all, the
+animated delight with which it was received by all who were young
+or not critical. Distinctly, too, can we recall the breathless
+rapture with which we hung over its pages, in those happy days when
+the mind&rsquo;s appetite for books was as ravenous as the
+body&rsquo;s for bread-and-butter, and a novel, with plenty of
+fighting in it, was all we asked at a writer&rsquo;s hands. In
+order to qualify ourselves for the task which we have undertaken in
+this article, we have read &ldquo;The Spy&rdquo; a second time; and
+melancholy indeed was the contrast between the recollections of the
+boy and the impressions of the man. It was the difference between
+the theatre by gas-light and the theatre by day-light: the gold was
+pinchbeck, the gems were glass, the flowers were cambric and
+colored paper, the goblets were gilded pasteboard. Painfully did
+the ideal light fade away, and the well-remembered scene stand
+revealed in disenchanting day. With incredulous surprise, with a
+constant struggle between past images and present revelations, were
+we forced to acknowledge the improbability of the story, the
+clumsiness of the style, the awkwardness of the dialogue, the want
+of Nature in many of the characters, the absurdity of many of the
+incidents, and the painfulness of some of the scenes. But with all
+this, a candid, though critical judgment could not but admit that
+these grave defects were attended by striking merits, which pleaded
+in mitigation of literary sentence. It was stamped with a truth,
+earnestness, and vital power, of which its predecessor gave no
+promise. Though the story was improbable, it seized upon the
+attention with a powerful grasp from the very start, and the hold
+was not relaxed till the end. Whatever criticism it might
+challenge, no one could call it dull: the only offence in a book
+which neither gods nor men nor counters can pardon. If the
+narrative flowed languidly at times, there were moments in which
+the incidents flashed along with such vivid rapidity that the
+susceptible reader held his breath over the page. The character of
+Washington was an elaborate failure, and the author, in his later
+years, regretted that he had introduced this august form into a
+work of fiction; but Harvey Birch was an original sketch, happily
+conceived, and, in the main, well sustained. His mysterious figure
+was recognized as a new accession to the repertory of the novelist,
+and not a mere modification of a pre&euml;xisting type. And, above
+all, &ldquo;The Spy&rdquo; had the charm of reality; it tasted of
+the soil; it was the first successful attempt to throw an
+imaginative light over American history, and to do for our country
+what the author of &ldquo;Waverley&rdquo; had done for Scotland.
+Many of the officers and soldiers of the Revolutionary War were
+still living, receiving the reward of their early perils and
+privations in the grateful reverence which was paid to them by the
+contemporaries of their children and grandchildren. Innumerable
+traditionary anecdotes of those dark days of suffering and
+struggle, unrecorded in print, yet lingered in the memories of the
+people, and were told in the nights of winter around the farm-house
+fire; and of no part of the country was this more true than of the
+region in which the scene of the novel is laid. The enthusiasm with
+which it was there read was the best tribute to the substantial
+fidelity of its delineations. All over the country, it enlisted in
+its behalf the powerful sentiment of patriotism; and whatever the
+critics might say, the author had the satisfaction of feeling that
+the heart of the people was with him.</p>
+<p>Abroad, &ldquo;The Spy&rdquo; was received with equal favor. It
+was soon translated into most of the languages of Europe; and even
+the &ldquo;gorgeous East&rdquo; opened for it its rarely moving
+portals. In 1847, a Persian version was published in Ispahan; and
+by this time it may have crossed the Chinese wall, and be
+delighting the pig-tailed critics and narrow-eyed beauties of
+Pekin.</p>
+<p>The success of &ldquo;The Spy&rdquo; unquestionably determined
+Cooper&rsquo;s vocation, and made him a man of letters. But he had
+not yet found where his true strength lay. His training and
+education had not been such as would seem to be a good preparation
+for a literary career. His reading had been desultory, and not
+extensive; and the habit of composition had not been formed in
+early life. Indeed, in mere style, in the handling of the tools of
+his craft, Cooper never attained a master&rsquo;s ease and power.
+In his first two novels the want of technical skill and literary
+accomplishment was obvious; and the scenery, subjects, and
+characters of these novels did not furnish him with the opportunity
+of turning to account the peculiar advantages which had come to him
+from the events of his childhood and youth. In his infancy he was
+taken to Cooperstown, a spot which his father had just begun to
+reclaim from the dominion of the wilderness. Here his first
+impressions of the external world, as well as of life and manners,
+were received. At the age of sixteen he became a midshipman in the
+United States navy, and remained in the service for six years. A
+father who, in training up his son for the profession of letters,
+should send him into the wilderness in his infancy and to sea at
+sixteen, would seem to be shooting very wide of the mark; but in
+this, as in so many things, there is a divinity that shapes our
+rough-hewn ends. Had Cooper enjoyed the best scholastic advantages
+which the schools and colleges of Europe could have furnished, they
+could not have fitted him for the work he was destined to do so
+well as the apparently untoward elements we have above adverted to;
+for Natty Bumppo was the fruit of his woodland experience, and Long
+Tom Coffin of his sea-faring life.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Pioneers&rdquo; and &ldquo;The Pilot&rdquo; were both
+published in 1823; &ldquo;Lionel Lincoln&rdquo; in 1825; and
+&ldquo;The Last of the Mohicans&rdquo; in 1826. We may put
+&ldquo;Lionel Lincoln&rdquo; aside, as one of his least successful
+productions; but the three others were never surpassed, and rarely
+equalled, by any of his numerous subsequent works. All the
+powerful, and nearly all the attractive, qualities of his genius
+were displayed in these three novels, in their highest degree and
+most ample measure. Had he never written any more,&mdash;though we
+should have missed many interesting narratives, admirable pictures,
+and vigorously drawn characters,&mdash;we are not sure that his
+fame would not have been as great as it is now. From these, and
+&ldquo;The Spy,&rdquo; full materials may be drawn for forming a
+correct estimate of his merits and his defects. In these, his
+strength and weakness, his gifts and deficiencies, are amply shown.
+Here, then, we may pause, and, without pursuing his literary
+biography any farther, proceed to set down our estimate of his
+claims as a writer. Any critic who dips his pen in ink and not in
+gall would rather praise than blame; therefore we will dispose of
+the least gracious part of our task first, and begin with his
+blemishes and defects.</p>
+<p>A skilful construction of the story is a merit which the public
+taste no longer demands, and it is consequently fast becoming one
+of the lost arts. The practice of publishing novels in successive
+numbers, so that one portion is printed before another is written,
+is undoubtedly one cause of this. But English and American readers
+have not been accustomed to this excellence in the works of their
+best writers of fiction; and therefore they are not sensitive to
+the want of it. This is certainly not one of Scott&rsquo;s strong
+points. Fielding&rsquo;s &ldquo;Tom Jones&rdquo; is, in this
+respect, superior to any of the &ldquo;Waverley Novels,&rdquo; and
+without an equal, so far as we know, in English literature. But, in
+sitting in judgment upon a writer of novels, we cannot waive an
+inquiry into his merits on this point. Are his stories, simply as
+stories, well told? Are his plots symmetrically constructed and
+harmoniously evolved? Are his incidents probable? and do they all
+help on the catastrophe? Does he reject all episodical matter which
+would clog the current of the narrative? Do his novels have unity
+of action? or are they merely a series of sketches, strung together
+without any relation of cause and effect? Cooper, tried by these
+rules, can certainly command no praise. His plots are not carefully
+or skilfully constructed. His incidents are not probable in
+themselves, nor do they succeed each other in a natural and
+dependent progression. His characters get into scrapes from which
+the reasonable exercise of common faculties should have saved them;
+and they are rescued by incredible means and impossible
+instruments. The needed man appears as unaccountably and
+mysteriously as if he had dropped from the clouds, or emerged from
+the sea, or crept up through a fissure in the earth. The winding up
+of his stories is often effected by devices nearly as improbable as
+a violation of the laws of Nature. His personages act without
+adequate motives; they rush into needless dangers; they trust their
+fate, with unsuspecting simplicity, to treacherous hands.</p>
+<p>In works of fiction the skill of the writer is most
+conspicuously shown when the progress of the story is secured by
+natural and probable occurrences. Many events take place in history
+and in common life which good taste rejects as inadmissible in a
+work of imagination. Sudden death by disease or casualty is no very
+uncommon occurrence in real life; but it cannot be used in a novel
+to clear up a tangled web of circumstance, without betraying
+something of a poverty of invention in the writer. He is the best
+artist who makes least use of incidents which lie out of the beaten
+path of observation and experience. In constructive skill
+Cooper&rsquo;s rank is not high; for all his novels are more or
+less open to the criticism that too frequent use is made in them of
+events very unlikely to have happened. He leads his characters into
+such formidable perils that the chances are a million to one
+against their being rescued. Such a run is made upon our credulity
+that the fund is soon exhausted, and the bank stops payment.</p>
+<p>For illustration of the above strictures we will refer to a
+single novel, &ldquo;The Last of the Mohicans,&rdquo; which
+everybody will admit to be one of the most interesting of his
+works,&mdash;full of rapid movement, brilliant descriptions,
+hair-breadth escapes, thrilling adventures,&mdash;which young
+persons probably read with more rapt attention than any other of
+his narratives. In the opening chapter we find at Fort Edward, on
+the head-waters of the Hudson, the two daughters of Colonel Munro,
+the commander of Fort William Henry, on the shores of Lake George;
+though why they were at the former post, under the protection of a
+stranger, and not with their father, does not appear. Information
+is brought of the approach of Montcalm, with a hostile army of
+Indians and Frenchmen, from the North; and the young ladies are
+straightway hurried off to the more advanced, and consequently more
+dangerous post, when prudence and affection would have dictated
+just the opposite course. Nor is this all. General Webb, the
+commander of Fort Edward, at the urgent request of Colonel Munro,
+sends him a reinforcement of fifteen hundred men, who march off
+through the woods, by the military road, with drums beating and
+colors flying; and yet, strange to say, the young ladies do not
+accompany the troops, but set off, on the very same day, by a
+by-path, attended by no other escort than Major Heyward, and guided
+by an Indian whose fidelity is supposed to be assured by his having
+been flogged for drunkenness by the orders of Colonel Munro. The
+reason assigned for conduct so absurd that in real life it would
+have gone far to prove the parties having a hand in it not to be
+possessed of that sound and disposing mind and memory which the law
+requires as a condition precedent to making a will is, that hostile
+Indians, in search of chance scalps, would be hovering about the
+column of troops, and so leave the by-path unmolested. But the
+servants of the party follow the route of the column: a measure, we
+are told, dictated by the sagacity of the Indian guide, in order to
+diminish the marks of their trail, if, haply, the Canadian savages
+should be prowling about so far in advance of their army!
+Certainly, all the sagacity of the fort would seem to have been
+concentrated in the person of the Indian. How much of this
+improbability might have been avoided, if the action had been
+reversed, and the young ladies, in view of the gathering cloud of
+war, had been sent from the more exposed and less strongly guarded
+point of Fort William Henry to the safe fortress of Fort Edward!
+Then the smallness of the escort and the risks of the journey would
+have been explained and excused by the necessity of the case; and
+the subsequent events of the novel might have been easily
+accommodated to the change we have indicated.</p>
+<p>One of the best of Cooper&rsquo;s novels&mdash;as a work of art
+perhaps the very best&mdash;is &ldquo;The Bravo.&rdquo; But the
+character of Jacopo Frontoni is a sort of moral impossibility, and
+the clearing up of the mystery which hangs over his life and
+conduct, which is skilfully reserved to the last moment, is
+consequently unsatisfactory. He is represented as a young man of
+the finest qualities and powers, who, in the hope of rescuing a
+father who had been falsely imprisoned by the Senate, consents to
+assume the character, and bear the odium, of a public bravo, or
+assassin, though entirely innocent. This false position gives rise
+to many most effective scenes and incidents, and the character is
+in many respects admirably drawn. But when the end comes, we lay
+down the book and say,&mdash;&ldquo;This could never have been: a
+virtuous and noble young man could not for years have been believed
+to be the most hateful of mankind; the laws of Nature and the laws
+of the human mind forbid it: so vast a web of falsehood could not
+have been woven without a flaw: we can credit much of the organized
+and pitiless despotism of Venice, but could it work
+miracles?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Further illustrations of this same defect might easily be cited,
+if the task were not ungracious. Neither books, nor pictures, nor
+men and women should be judged by their defects. It is enough to
+say that Cooper never wrote a novel in regard to which the reader
+must not lay aside his critical judgment upon the structure of the
+story and the interdependence of the incidents, and let himself be
+borne along by the rapid flow of the narrative, without questioning
+too curiously as to the nature of the means and instruments
+employed to give movement to the stream.</p>
+<p>In the delineation of character, Cooper may claim great, but not
+unqualified praise. This is a vague statement; and to draw a
+sharper line of discrimination, we should say that he is generally
+successful&mdash;sometimes admirably so&mdash;in drawing personages
+in whom strong primitive traits have not been effaced by the
+attritions of artificial life, and generally unsuccessful when he
+deals with those in whom the original characteristics are less
+marked, or who have been smoothed by education and polished by
+society. It is but putting this criticism in another form to say
+that his best characters are persons of humble social position. He
+wields his brush with a vigorous hand, but the brush itself has not
+a fine point. Of all the children of his brain, Natty Bumppo is the
+most universal favorite,&mdash;and herein the popular judgment is
+assuredly right. He is an original conception,&mdash;and not more
+happily conceived than skilfully executed. It was a hazardous
+undertaking to present the character backwards, and let us see the
+closing scenes of his life first,&mdash;like a Hebrew Bible, of
+which the beginning is at the end; but the author&rsquo;s genius
+has triumphed over the perils of the task, and given us a
+delineation as consistent and symmetrical as it is striking and
+vigorous. Ignorant of books, simple, and credulous, guileless
+himself, and suspecting no evil in others, with moderate
+intellectual powers, he commands our admiration and respect by his
+courage, his love of Nature, his skill in woodland lore, his
+unerring moral sense, his strong affections, and the veins of
+poetry that run through his rugged nature like seams of gold in
+quartz. Long Tom Coffin may be described as Leatherstocking
+suffered a sea-change,&mdash;with a harpoon instead of a rifle, and
+a pea-jacket instead of a hunting-shirt. In both the same primitive
+elements may be discerned: the same limited intellectual range
+combined with professional or technical skill; the same generous
+affections and unerring moral instincts; the same religious
+feeling, taking the form at times of fatalism or superstition. Long
+Tom&rsquo;s love of the sea is like Leatherstocking&rsquo;s love of
+the woods; the former&rsquo;s dislike of the land is like the
+latter&rsquo;s dislike of the clearings. Cooper himself, as we are
+told by his daughter, was less satisfied, in his last years, with
+Long Tom Coffin than most of his readers,&mdash;and, of the two
+characters, considered that of Boltrope the better piece of
+workmanship. We cannot assent to this comparative estimate; but we
+admit that Boltrope has not had full justice done to him in popular
+judgment. It is but a slight sketch, but it is extremely well done.
+His death is a bit of manly and genuine pathos; and in his
+conversations with the chaplain there is here and there a touch of
+true humor, which we value the more because humor was certainly not
+one of the author&rsquo;s best gifts.</p>
+<p>Antonio, the old fisherman, in &ldquo;The Bravo,&rdquo; is
+another very well drawn character, in which we can trace something
+of a family likeness to the hunter and sailor above mentioned. The
+scene in which he is shrived by the Carmelite monk, in his boat,
+under the midnight moon, upon the Lagoons, is one of the finest we
+know of in the whole range of the literature of fiction, leaving
+upon the mind a lasting impression of solemn and pathetic beauty.
+In &ldquo;The Chainbearer,&rdquo; the Yankee squatter,
+Thousandacres, is a repulsive figure, but drawn with a powerful
+pencil. The energy of character, or rather of action, which is the
+result of a passionate love of money, is true to human nature. The
+closing scenes of his rough and lawless life, in which his latent
+affection for his faithful wife throws a sunset gleam over his hard
+and selfish nature, and prevents it from being altogether hateful,
+are impressively told, and are touched with genuine tragic
+power.</p>
+<p>On the other hand, Cooper generally fails when he undertakes to
+draw a character which requires for its successful execution a nice
+observation and a delicate hand. His heroes and heroines are apt to
+abuse the privilege which such personages have enjoyed, time out of
+mind, of being insipid. Nor can he catch and reproduce the easy
+grace and unconscious dignity of high-bred men and women. His
+gentlemen, whether young or old, are apt to be stiff, priggish, and
+commonplace; and his ladies, especially his young ladies, are as
+deficient in individuality as the figures and faces of a
+fashion-print. Their personal and mental charms are set forth with
+all the minuteness of a passport; but, after all, we cannot but
+think that these fine creatures, with hair, brow, eyes, and lips of
+the most orthodox and approved pattern, would do very little
+towards helping one through a rainy day in a country-house. Judge
+Temple, in &ldquo;The Pioneers,&rdquo; and Colonel Howard, in
+&ldquo;The Pilot,&rdquo; are highly estimable and respectable
+gentlemen, but, in looking round for the materials of a pleasant
+dinner-party, we do not think they would stand very high on the
+list. They are fair specimens of their class,&mdash;the educated
+gentleman in declining life,&mdash;many of whom are found in the
+subsequent novels. They are wanting in those natural traits of
+individuality by which, in real life, one human being is
+distinguished from another. They are obnoxious to this one general
+criticism, that the author is constantly reminding us of the
+qualities of mind and character on which he rests their claims to
+favor, without causing them to appear naturally and unconsciously
+in the course of the narrative. The defect we are adverting to may
+be illustrated by comparing such personages of this class as Cooper
+has delineated with Colonel Talbot, in &ldquo;Waverley,&rdquo;
+Colonel Mannering and Counsellor Pleydell, in &ldquo;Guy
+Mannering,&rdquo; Monkbarns, in &ldquo;The Antiquary,&rdquo; and
+old Osbaldistone, in &ldquo;Rob Roy.&rdquo; These are all old men:
+they are all men of education, and in the social position of
+gentlemen; but each has certain characteristics which the others
+have not: each has the distinctive individual flavor-perceptible,
+but indescribable, like the savor of a fruit&mdash;which is wanting
+in Cooper&rsquo;s well-dressed and well-behaved lay-figures.</p>
+<p>In the delineation of female loveliness and excellence Cooper is
+generally supposed to have failed,&mdash;at least, comparatively
+so. But in this respect full justice has hardly been done him; and
+this may be explained by the fact that it was from the heroines of
+his earlier novels that this unfavorable judgment was drawn.
+Certainly, such sticks of barley-candy as Frances Wharton, Cecilia
+Howard, and Alice Munro justify the common impression. But it would
+be as unfair to judge of what he can do in this department by his
+acknowledged failures as it would be to form an estimate of the
+genius of Michel Angelo from the easel-picture of the Virgin and
+Child in the Tribune at Florence. No man ever had a juster
+appreciation of, and higher reverence for, the worth of woman than
+Cooper. Towards women his manners were always marked by chivalrous
+deference, blended as to those of his own household with the most
+affectionate tenderness. His own nature was robust, self-reliant,
+and essentially masculine: such men always honor women, but they
+understand them better as they grow older. There is so much
+foundation for the saying, that men are apt to love their first
+wives best, but to treat their second wives best. Thus the reader
+who takes up his works in chronological order will perceive that
+the heroines of his later novels have more spirit and character,
+are drawn with a more discriminating touch, take stronger hold upon
+the interest, than those of his earlier. Ursula Malbone is a finer
+girl than Cecilia Howard, or even Elizabeth Temple. So when he has
+occasion to delineate a woman who, from her position in life, or
+the peculiar circumstances into which she is thrown, is moved by
+deeper springs of feeling, is obliged to put forth sterner
+energies, than are known to females reared in the sheltered air of
+prosperity and civilization,&mdash;when he paints the heart of
+woman roused by great perils, overborne by heavy sorrows, wasted by
+strong passions,&mdash;we recognize the same master-hand which has
+given us such powerful pictures of character in the other sex. In
+other words, Cooper is not happy in representing those shadowy and
+delicate graces which belong exclusively to woman, and distinguish
+her from man; but he is generally successful in sketching in woman
+those qualities which are found in both sexes. In &ldquo;The
+Bravo,&rdquo; Donna Violetta, the heroine, a rich and high-born
+young lady, is not remarkable one way or the other; but Gelsomina,
+the jailer&rsquo;s daughter, born in an inferior position, reared
+in a sterner school of discipline and struggle, is a beautiful and
+consistent creation, constantly showing masculine energy and
+endurance, yet losing nothing of womanly charm. Ruth, in &ldquo;The
+Wept of the Wish-ton-Wish,&rdquo; Hetty Hutter, the weak-minded and
+sound-hearted girl, in &ldquo;The Deerslayer,&rdquo; Mabel Dunham,
+and the young Indian woman, &ldquo;Dew of June,&rdquo; in
+&ldquo;The Pathfinder,&rdquo; are further cases in point. No one
+can read the books in which these women are represented and say
+that Cooper was wanting in the power of delineating the finest and
+highest attributes of womanhood,</p>
+<p>Cooper cannot be congratulated upon his success in the few
+attempts he has made to represent historical personages.
+Washington, as shown to us in &ldquo;The Spy,&rdquo; is a formal
+piece of mechanism, as destitute of vital character as
+Maelzel&rsquo;s automaton trumpeter. This, we admit, was a very
+difficult subject, alike from the peculiar traits of Washington,
+and from the reverence in which his name and memory are held by his
+countrymen. But the sketch, in &ldquo;The Pilot,&rdquo; of Paul
+Jones, a very different person, and a much easier subject, is
+hardly better. In both cases, the failure arises from the fact that
+the author is constantly endeavoring to produce the legitimate
+effect of mental and moral qualities by a careful enumeration of
+external attributes. Harper, under which name Washington is
+introduced, appears in only two or three scenes; but, during these,
+we hear so much of the solemnity and impressiveness of his manner,
+the gravity of his brow, the steadiness of his gaze, that we get
+the notion of a rather oppressive personage, and sympathize with
+the satisfaction of the Whartons, when he retires to his own room,
+and relieves them of his tremendous presence. Mr. Gray, who stands
+for Paul Jones, is more carefully elaborated, but the result is far
+from satisfactory. We are so constantly told of his calmness and
+abstraction, of his sudden starts and bursts of feeling, of his low
+voice, of his fits of musing, that the aggregate impression is that
+of affectation and self-consciousness, rather than of a simple,
+passionate, and heroic nature. Mr. Gray does not seem to us at all
+like the rash, fiery, and dare-devil Scotchman of history. His
+conduct and conversation, as recounted in the fifth chapter of the
+novel, are unnatural and improbable; and we cannot wonder that the
+first lieutenant did not know what to make of so melodramatic and
+sententious a gentleman, in the guise of a pilot.</p>
+<p>Cooper, as we need hardly say, has drawn copiously upon Indian
+life and character for the materials of his novels; and among
+foreign nations much of his reputation is due to this fact.
+Civilized men and women always take pleasure in reading about the
+manners and habits of savage life; and those in whom the shows of
+things are submitted to the desires of the mind delight to invest
+them with those ideal qualities which they do not find, or think
+they do not, in the artificial society around them. Cooper had
+enjoyed no peculiar opportunities of studying by personal
+observation the characteristics of the Indian race, but he had
+undoubtedly read everything he could get hold of in illustration of
+the subject. No one can question the vividness and animation of his
+sketches, or their brilliant tone of color. He paints with a pencil
+dipped in the glow of our sunset skies and the crimson of our
+autumn maples. Whenever he brings Indians upon the stage, we may be
+sure that scenes of thrilling interest are before us: that rifles
+are to crack, tomahawks to gleam, and arrows to dart like sunbeams
+through the air; that a net of peril is to be drawn around his hero
+or heroine, from the meshes of which he or she is to be extricated
+by some unexpected combination of fortunate circumstances. We
+expect a succession of startling incidents, and a rapid course of
+narrative without pauses or languid intervals. We do not object to
+his idealizing his Indians: this is the privilege of the novelist,
+time out of mind. He may make them swift of foot, graceful in
+movement, and give them a form like the Apollo&rsquo;s; he may put
+as much expression as he pleases into their black eyes; he may
+tessellate their speech as freely as he will with poetical and
+figurative expressions, drawn from the aspects of the external
+world: for all this there is authority, and chapter and verse may
+be cited in support of it. But we have a right to ask that he shall
+not transcend the bounds of reason and possibility, and represent
+his red men as moved by motives and guided by sentiments which are
+wholly inconsistent with the inexorable facts of the case. We
+confess to being a little more than skeptical as to the Indian of
+poetry and romance: like the German&rsquo;s camel, he is evolved
+from the depth of the writer&rsquo;s own consciousness. The poet
+takes the most delicate sentiments and the finest emotions of
+civilization and cultivation, and grafts them upon the best
+qualities of savage life; which is as if a painter should represent
+an oak-tree bearing roses. The life of the North-American Indian,
+like that of all men who stand upon the base-line of civilization,
+is a constant struggle, and often a losing struggle, for mere
+subsistence. The sting of animal wants is his chief motive of
+action, and the full gratification of animal wants his highest
+ideal of happiness. The &ldquo;noble savage,&rdquo; as sketched by
+poets, weary of the hollowness, the insincerity, and the meanness
+of artificial life, is really a very ignoble creature, when seen in
+the &ldquo;open daylight&rdquo; of truth. He is selfish, sensual,
+cruel, indolent, and impassive. The highest graces of character,
+the sweetest emotions, the finest sensibilities,&mdash;which make
+up the novelist&rsquo;s stock in trade,&mdash;are not and cannot be
+the growth of a so-called state of Nature, which is an essentially
+unnatural state. We no more believe that Logan ever made the speech
+reported by Jefferson, in so many words, than we believe that
+Chatham ever made the speech in reply to Walpole which begins with,
+&ldquo;The atrocious crime of being a young man&rdquo;; though we
+have no doubt that the reporters in both cases had something fine
+and good to start from. We accept with acquiescence, nay, with
+admiration, such characters as Magua, Chingachgook, Susquesus,
+Tamenund, and Canonchet; but when we come to Uncas, in &ldquo;The
+Last of the Mohicans,&rdquo; we pause and shake our heads with
+incredulous doubt. That a young Indian chief should fall in love
+with a handsome quadroon like Cora Munro&mdash;for she was neither
+more nor less than that&mdash;is natural enough; but that he should
+manifest his passion with such delicacy and refinement is
+impossible. We include under one and the same name all the
+affinities and attractions of sex, but the appetite of the savage
+differs from the love of the educated and civilized man as much as
+charcoal differs from the diamond. The sentiment of love, as
+distinguished from the passion, is one of the last and best results
+of Christianity and civilization: in no one thing does savage life
+differ from civilized more than in the relations between man and
+woman, and in the affections that unite them. Uncas is a graceful
+and beautiful image; but he is no Indian.</p>
+<p>We turn now to a more gracious part of our task, and proceed to
+say something of the many striking excellences which distinguish
+Cooper&rsquo;s writings, and have given him such wide popularity.
+Popularity is but one test of merit, and not the
+highest,&mdash;gauging popularity by the number of readers, at any
+one time, irrespective of their taste and judgment. In this sense,
+&ldquo;The Scottish Chiefs&rdquo; and &ldquo;Thaddeus of
+Warsaw&rdquo; were once as popular as any of the Waverley Novels.
+But Cooper&rsquo;s novels have enduring merit, and will surely keep
+their place in the literature of the language. The manners, habits,
+and costumes of England have greatly changed during the last
+hundred years; but Richardson and Fielding are still read. We must
+expect corresponding changes in this country during the next
+century; but we may confidently predict that in the year 1962 young
+and impressible hearts will be saddened at the fate of Uncas and
+Cora, and exult when Captain Munson&rsquo;s frigate escapes from
+the shoals.</p>
+<p>A few pages back we spoke of Cooper&rsquo;s want of skill in the
+structure of his plots, and his too frequent recurrence to
+improbable incidents to help on the course of his stories. But most
+readers care little about this defect, provided the writer betrays
+no poverty of invention, and succeeds in making his narratives
+interesting. Herein Cooper never lays himself open to that
+instinctive and unconscious criticism, which is the only kind an
+author need dread, because from it there is no appeal. It is bad to
+have a play hissed down, but it is worse to have it yawned down.
+But over Cooper&rsquo;s pages his readers never yawn. They never
+break down in the middle of one of his stories. The fortunes of his
+characters are followed with breathless and accumulating interest
+to the end. In vain does the dinner-bell sound, or the clock strike
+the hour of bed-time: the book cannot be laid down till we know
+whether Elizabeth Temple is to get out of the woods without being
+burned alive, or solve the mystery that hangs over the life of
+Jacopo Frontoni. He has in ample measure that paramount and
+essential merit in a novelist of fertility of invention. The
+resources of his genius, alike in the devising of incidents and the
+creation of character, are inexhaustible. His scenes are laid on
+the sea and in the forest,&mdash;in Italy, Germany, Switzerland,
+and Spain,&mdash;amid the refinements and graces of civilization
+and the rudeness and hardships of frontier and pioneer life; but
+everywhere he moves with an easy and familiar tread, and
+everywhere, though there may be the motive and the cue for minute
+criticism, we recognize the substantial truth of his pictures. In
+all his novels the action is rapid and the movement animated: his
+incidents may not be probable, but they crowd upon each other so
+thickly that we have not time to raise the question: before one
+impression has become familiar, the scene changes, and new objects
+enchain the attention. All rapid motion is exhilarating alike to
+mind and body; and in reading Cooper&rsquo;s novels we feel a
+pleasure analogous to that which stirs the blood when we drive a
+fast horse or sail with a ten-knot breeze. This fruitfulness in the
+invention of incidents is nearly as important an element in the
+composition of a novelist as a good voice in that of a singer. A
+powerful work of fiction may be produced by a writer who has not
+this gift; but such works address a comparatively limited public.
+To the common mind no faculty in the novelist is so fascinating as
+this. &ldquo;Caleb Williams&rdquo; is a story of remarkable power;
+but &ldquo;Ivanhoe&rdquo; has a thousand readers to its one.</p>
+<p>In estimating novelists by the number and variety of characters
+with which they have enriched the repertory of fiction,
+Cooper&rsquo;s place, if not the highest, is very high. The
+fruitfulness of his genius in this regard is kindred to its
+fertility in the invention of incidents. We can pardon in a
+portrait-gallery of such extent here and there an ill-drawn figure
+or a face wanting in expression. With the exception of Scott, and
+perhaps of Dickens, what writer of prose fiction has created a
+greater number of characters such as stamp themselves upon the
+memory so that an allusion to them is well understood in cultivated
+society? Fielding has drawn country squires, and Smollett has drawn
+sailors; but neither has intruded upon the domain of the other, nor
+could he have made the attempt without failure. Some of our living
+novelists have a limited list of characters; they have half a dozen
+types which we recognize as inevitably as we do the face and voice
+of an actor in the king, the lover, the priest, or the bandit: but
+Cooper is not a mere mannerist, perpetually copying from himself.
+His range is very wide: it includes white men, red men, and black
+men,&mdash;sailors, hunters, and soldiers,&mdash;lawyers, doctors,
+and clergymen,&mdash;past generations and present,&mdash;Europeans
+and Americans,&mdash;civilized and savage life. All his
+delineations are not successful; some are even unsuccessful: but
+the aberrations of his genius must be viewed in connection with the
+extent of the orbit through which it moves. The courage which led
+him to expose himself to so many risks of failure is itself a proof
+of conscious power.</p>
+<p>Cooper&rsquo;s style has not the ease, grace, and various power
+of Scott&rsquo;s,&mdash;or the racy, idiomatic character of
+Thackeray&rsquo;s,&mdash;or the exquisite purity and transparency
+of Hawthorne&rsquo;s: but it is a manly, energetic style, in which
+we are sure to find good words, if not the best. It has certain
+wants, but it has no marked defects; if it does not always command
+admiration, it never offends. It has not the highest finish; it
+sometimes betrays carelessness: but it is the natural garb in which
+a vigorous mind clothes its conceptions. It is the style of a man
+who writes from a full mind, without thinking of what he is going
+to say; and this is in itself a certain kind of merit. His
+descriptive powers are of a high order. His love of Nature was
+strong; and, as is generally the case with intellectual men, it
+rather increased than diminished as he grew older. It was not the
+meditative and self-conscious love of a sensitive spirit, that
+seeks in communion with the outward world a relief from the burdens
+and struggles of humanity, but the hearty enjoyment of a thoroughly
+healthy nature, the schoolboy&rsquo;s sense of a holiday dwelling
+in a manly breast. His finest passages are those in which he
+presents the energies and capacities of humanity in combination
+with striking or beautiful scenes in Nature. His genius, which
+sometimes moves with &ldquo;compulsion and laborious flight&rdquo;
+when dealing with artificial life and the manners and speech of
+cultivated men, and women, here recovers all its powers, and sweeps
+and soars with victorious and irresistible wing. The breeze from
+the sea, the fresh air and wide horizon of the prairies, the
+noonday darkness of the forest are sure to animate his drooping
+energies, and breathe into his mind the inspiration of a fresh
+life. Here he is at home, and in his congenial element: he is the
+swan on the lake, the eagle in the air, the deer in the woods. The
+escape of the frigate, in the fifth chapter of &ldquo;The
+Pilot,&rdquo; is a well-known passage of this kind; and nothing can
+be finer. The technical skill, the poetical feeling, the rapidity
+of the narrative, the distinctness of the details, the vividness of
+the coloring, the life, power, and animation which breathe and burn
+in every line, make up a combination of the highest order of
+literary merit. It is as good a sea-piece as the best of
+Turner&rsquo;s; and we cannot give it higher praise. We hear the
+whistling of the wind through the rigging, and the roar of the
+pitiless sea, bellowing for its prey; we see the white caps of the
+waves flashing with spectral light through the darkness, and the
+gallant ship whirled along like a bubble by the irresistible
+current; we hold our breath as we read of the expedients and
+manoeuvres which most of us but half understand, and heave a long
+sigh of relief when the danger is past, and the ship reaches the
+open sea. A similar passage, though of more quiet and gentler
+beauty, is the description of the deer-chase on the lake, in the
+twenty-seventh chapter of &ldquo;The Pioneers.&rdquo; Indeed, this
+whole novel is full of the finest expressions of the author&rsquo;s
+genius. Into none of his works has he put more of the warmth of
+personal feeling and the glow of early recollection. His own heart
+beats through every line. The fresh breezes of the morning of life
+play round its pages, and its unexhaled dew hangs upon them. It is
+colored throughout with the rich hues of sympathetic emotion. All
+that is attractive in pioneer life is reproduced with substantial
+truth; but the pictures are touched with those finer lights which
+time pours over the memories of childhood. With what spirit and
+power all the characteristic incidents and scenes of a new
+settlement are described,&mdash;pigeon-shooting, bass-fishing,
+deer-hunting, the making of maple-sugar, the turkey-shooting at
+Christmas, the sleighing-parties in winter! How distinctly his
+landscapes are painted,&mdash;the deep, impenetrable forest, the
+gleaming lake, the crude aspect and absurd architecture of the
+new-born village! How full of poetry in the ore is the conversation
+of Leatherstocking! The incongruities and peculiarities of social
+life which are the result of a sudden rush of population into the
+wilderness are also well sketched; though with a pencil less free
+and vivid than that with which he paints the aspects of Nature and
+the movements of natural man. As respects the structure of the
+story, and the probability of the incidents, the novel is open to
+criticism; but such is the fascination that hangs over it, that it
+is impossible to criticize. To do this would be as ungracious as to
+correct the language and pronunciation of an old friend who revives
+by his conversation the fading memories of school-boy and college
+life.</p>
+<p>Cooper would have been a better writer, if he had had more of
+the quality of humor, and a keener sense of the ridiculous; for
+these would have saved him from his too frequent practice of
+introducing both into his narrative and his conversations, but more
+often into the latter, scraps of commonplace morality, and bits of
+sentiment so long worn as to have lost all their gloss. In general,
+his genius does not appear to advantage in dialogue. His characters
+have not always a due regard to the brevity of human life. They
+make long speeches, preach dull sermons, and ventilate very
+self-evident propositions with great solemnity of utterance. Their
+discourse wants not only compression, but seasoning. They are
+sometimes made to talk in such a way that the force of caricature
+can hardly go farther. For instance, in &ldquo;The Pioneers,&rdquo;
+Judge Temple, coming into a room in his house, and seeing a fire of
+maple-logs, exclaims to Richard Jones, his kinsman and
+factotum,&mdash;&ldquo;How often have I forbidden the use of the
+sugar-maple in my dwelling! The sight of that sap, as it
+<em>exudes</em> with the heat, is painful to me, Richard.&rdquo;
+And in another place, he is made to say to his
+daughter,&mdash;&ldquo;Remember the heats of July, my daughter; nor
+venture farther than thou canst <em>retrace before the
+meridian</em>.&rdquo; We may be sure that no man of woman born, in
+finding fault about the burning of maple-logs, ever talked of the
+sap&rsquo;s &ldquo;exuding&rdquo;; or, when giving a daughter a
+caution against walking too far, ever translated getting home
+before noon into &ldquo;retracing before the meridian.&rdquo; This
+is almost as bad as Sir Piercie Shafton&rsquo;s calling the cows
+&ldquo;the milky mothers of the herds.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So, too, a lively perception of the ludicrous would have saved
+Cooper from certain peculiarities of phrase and awkwardnesses of
+expression, frequently occurring in his novels, such as might
+easily slip from the pen in the rapidity of composition, but which
+we wonder should have been overlooked in the proof-sheet. A few
+instances will illustrate our meaning. In the elaborate description
+of the personal charms of Cecilia Howard, in the tenth chapter of
+&ldquo;The Pilot,&rdquo; we are told of &ldquo;a small hand which
+<em>seemed to blush at its own naked beauties</em>.&rdquo; In
+&ldquo;The Pioneers,&rdquo; speaking of the head and brow of Oliver
+Edwards, he says,&mdash;&ldquo;The very air and manner with which
+<em>the member haughtily maintained itself</em> over the coarse and
+even wild attire,&rdquo; etc. In &ldquo;The Bravo,&rdquo; we
+read,&mdash;&ldquo;As the stranger passed, his <em>glittering
+organs rolled over</em> the persons of the gondolier and his
+companion,&rdquo; etc.; and again, in the same
+novel,&mdash;&ldquo;The packet was received calmly, though <em>the
+organ</em> which glanced at its seal,&rdquo; etc. In &ldquo;The
+Last of the Mohicans,&rdquo; the complexion of Cora appears
+&ldquo;charged with the color of the rich blood that <em>seemed
+ready to burst its bounds</em>.&rdquo; These are but trivial
+faults; and if they had not been so easily corrected, it would have
+been hypercriticism to notice them.</p>
+<p>Every author in the department of imaginative literature,
+whether of prose or verse, puts more or less of his personal traits
+of mind and character into his writings. This is very true of
+Cooper; and much of the worth and popularity of his novels is to be
+ascribed to the unconscious expressions and revelations they give
+of the estimable and attractive qualities of the man. Bryant, in
+his admirably written and discriminating biographical sketch,
+originally pronounced as a eulogy, and now prefixed to
+&ldquo;Precaution&rdquo; in Townsend&rsquo;s edition, relates that
+a distinguished man of letters, between whom and Cooper an unhappy
+coolness had for some time existed, after reading &ldquo;The
+Pathfinder,&rdquo; remarked,&mdash;&ldquo;They may say what they
+will of Cooper, the man who wrote this book is not only a great
+man, but a good man.&rdquo; This is a just tribute; and the
+impression thus made by a single work is confirmed by all.
+Cooper&rsquo;s moral nature was thoroughly sound, and all his moral
+instincts were right. His writings show in how high regard he held
+the two great guardian virtues of courage in man and purity in
+woman. In all his novels we do not recall a single expression of
+doubtful morality. He never undertakes to enlist our sympathies on
+the wrong side. If his good characters are not always engaging, he
+never does violence to virtue by presenting attractive qualities in
+combination with vices which in real life harden the heart and
+coarsen the taste. We do not find in his pages those moral monsters
+in which the finest sensibilities, the richest gifts, the noblest
+sentiments are linked to heartless profligacy, or not less
+heartless misanthropy. He never palters with right; he enters into
+no truce with wrong; he admits of no compromise on such points. How
+admirable in its moral aspect is the character of Leatherstocking!
+he is ignorant, and of very moderate intellectual range or grasp;
+but what dignity, nay, even grandeur, is thrown around him from his
+noble moral qualities,&mdash;his undeviating rectitude, his
+disinterestedness, his heroism, his warm affections! No writer
+could have delineated such a character so well who had not an
+instinctive and unconscious sympathy with his intellectual
+offspring. Praise of the same kind belongs to Long Tom Coffin, and
+Antonio, the old fisherman. The elements of character&mdash;truth,
+courage, and affection&mdash;are the same in all. Harvey Birch and
+Jacopo Frontoni are kindred conceptions: both are in a false
+relation to those around them; both assume a voluntary load of
+obloquy; both live and move in an atmosphere of suspicion and
+distrust; but in both the end sanctifies and exalts the means; the
+element of deception in both only adds to the admiration finally
+awakened. The carrying out of conceptions like these&mdash;the
+delineation of a character that perpetually weaves a web of
+untruth, and yet through all maintains our respect, and at last
+secures our reverence&mdash;was no easy task; but Cooper&rsquo;s
+success is perfect.</p>
+<p>Cooper was fortunate in having been born with a vigorous
+constitution, and in having kept through life the blessing of
+robust health. He never suffered from remorse of the stomach or
+protest of the brain; and his writings are those of a man who
+always digested his dinner and never had a headache. His novels,
+like those of Scott, are full of the breeze and sunshine of health.
+They breathe of manly tastes, active habits, sound sleep, a relish
+for simple pleasures, temperate enjoyments, and the retention in
+manhood of the fresh susceptibilities of youth. His genius is
+thoroughly masculine. He is deficient in acute perception, in
+delicate discrimination, in fine analysis, in the skill to seize
+and arrest exceptional peculiarities; but he has in large measure
+the power to present the broad characteristics of universal
+humanity. It is to this power that he owes his wide popularity. At
+this moment, in every public and circulating library in England or
+America, the novels of Cooper will be found to be in constant
+demand. He wrote for the many, and not for the few; he hit the
+common mind between wind and water; a delicate and fastidious
+literary appetite may not be attracted to his productions, but the
+healthy taste of the natural man finds therein food alike
+convenient and savory.</p>
+<p>In a manly, courageous, somewhat impulsive nature like
+Cooper&rsquo;s we should expect to find prejudices; and he was a
+man of strong prejudices. Among others, was an antipathy to the
+people of New England. His characters, male and female, are
+frequently Yankees, but they are almost invariably caricatures;
+that is, they have all the unamiable characteristics and
+unattractive traits which are bestowed upon the people of New
+England by their ill-wishers. Had he ever lived among them, with
+his quick powers of observation and essentially kindly judgment of
+men and life, he could not have failed to correct his
+misapprehensions, and to perceive that he had taken the reverse
+side of the tapestry for the face.</p>
+<p>Cooper, with a very keen sense of injustice, conscious of
+inexhaustible power, full of vehement impulses, and not largely
+endowed with that safe quality called prudence, was a man likely to
+get involved in controversies. It was his destiny, and he never
+could have avoided it, to be in opposition to the dominant public
+sentiment around him. Had he been born in Russia, he could hardly
+have escaped a visit to Siberia; had he been born in Austria, he
+would have wasted some of his best years in Spielberg. Under a
+despotic government he would have been a vehement Republican; in a
+Catholic country he would have been the most uncompromising of
+Protestants. He had full faith in the institutions of his own
+country; and his large heart, hopeful temperament, and robust soul
+made him a Democrat; but his democracy had not the least tinge of
+radicalism. He believed that man had a right to govern himself, and
+that he was capable of self-government; but government, the
+subordination of impulse to law, he insisted upon as rigorously as
+the veriest monarchist or aristocrat in Christendom. He would have
+no authority that was not legitimate; but he would tolerate no
+resistance to legitimate authority. All his sentiments, impulses,
+and instincts were those of a gentleman; and vulgar manners, coarse
+habits, and want of respect for the rights of others were highly
+offensive to him. When in Europe, he resolutely, and at no little
+expense of time and trouble, defended America from unjust
+imputations and ignorant criticism; and when at home, with equal
+courage and equal energy, he breasted the current of public Opinion
+where he deemed it to be wrong, and resisted those most formidable
+invasions of right, wherein the many combine to oppress the one.
+His long controversy with the press was too important an episode in
+his life to be passed over by us without mention; though our limits
+will not permit us to make anything more than a passing allusion to
+it. The opinion which will be formed upon Cooper&rsquo;s course in
+this matter will depend, in a considerable degree, upon the
+temperament of the critic. Timid men, cautious men, men who love
+their ease, will call him Quixotic, rash, imprudent, to engage in a
+controversy in which he had much to lose and little to gain; but
+the reply to such suggestions is, that, if men always took counsel
+of indolence, timidity, and selfishness, no good would ever be
+accomplished, and no abuses ever be reformed. Cooper may not have
+been judicious in everything he said and did; but that he was right
+in the main, both in motive and conduct, we firmly believe. He
+acted from a high sense of duty; there was no alloy of
+vindictiveness or love of money in the impulses which moved him.
+Criticism the most severe and unsparing he accepted as perfectly
+allowable, so long as it kept within the limits of literary
+judgment; but any attack upon his personal character, especially
+any imputation or insinuation involving a moral stain, he would not
+submit to. He appealed to the laws of the land to vindicate his
+reputation and punish his assailants. Long and gallant was the
+warfare he maintained,&mdash;a friendless, solitary
+warfare,&mdash;and all the hydra-heads of the press hissing and
+ejaculating their venom upon him,&mdash;with none to stand by his
+side and wish him God-speed. But he persevered, and, what is more,
+he succeeded: that, is to say, he secured all the substantial
+fruits of success. He vindicated the principle for which he
+contended: he compelled the newspapers to keep within the pale of
+literary criticism; he confirmed the saying of President Jackson,
+that &ldquo;desperate courage makes one a majority.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Two of his novels, &ldquo;Homeward Bound&rdquo; and &ldquo;Home
+as Found,&rdquo; bear a strong infusion of the feelings which led
+to his contest with the press. After the publication of these, he
+became much interested in the well-known Anti-Rent agitation by
+which the State of New York was so long shaken; and three of his
+novels, &ldquo;Satanstoe,&rdquo; &ldquo;The Chainbearer,&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;The Redskins,&rdquo; forming one continuous narrative, were
+written with reference to this subject. Many professed
+novel-readers are, we suspect, repelled from these books, partly
+because of this continuity of the story, and partly because they
+contain a moral; but we assure them, that, if on these grounds they
+pass them by, they lose both pleasure and profit. They are written
+with all the vigor and spirit of his prime; they have many powerful
+scenes and admirably drawn characters; the pictures of colonial
+life and manners in &ldquo;Satanstoe&rdquo; are animated and
+delightful; and in all the legal and ethical points for which the
+author contends he is perfectly right. In his Preface to &ldquo;The
+Chainbearer&rdquo; he says,&mdash;&ldquo;In our view, New York is
+at this moment a disgraced State; and her disgrace arises from the
+fact that her laws are trampled under foot, without any
+efforts&mdash;at all commensurate with the object&mdash;being made
+to enforce them.&rdquo; That any commonwealth is a disgraced State
+against which such charges can with truth be made no one will deny;
+and any one who is familiar with the history of that wretched
+business will agree, that, at the time it was made, the charge was
+not too strong. Who can fail to admire the courage of the man who
+ventured to write and print such a judgment as the above against a
+State of which he was a native, a citizen, and a resident, and in
+which the public sentiment was fiercely the other way? Here, too,
+Cooper&rsquo;s motives were entirely unselfish: he had almost no
+pecuniary interest in the question of Anti-Rentism; he wrote all in
+honor, unalloyed by thrift. His very last novel, &ldquo;The Ways of
+the Hour,&rdquo; is a vigorous exposition of the defects of the
+trial by jury in cases where a vehement public sentiment has
+already tried the question, and condemned the prisoner. The story
+is improbable, and the leading character is an impossible being;
+but the interest is kept up to the end,&mdash;it has many most
+impressive scenes,&mdash;it abounds with shrewd and sound
+observations upon life, manners, and politics,&mdash;and all the
+legal portion is stamped with an acuteness and fidelity to truth
+which no professional reader can note without admiration.</p>
+<p>Cooper&rsquo;s character as a man is the more admirable to us
+because it was marked by strong points which are not common in our
+country, and which the institutions of our country do not foster.
+He had the courage to defy the majority: he had the courage to
+confront the press: and not from the sting of ill-success, not from
+mortified vanity, not from wounded self-love, but from an heroic
+sense of duty. How easy a life might he have purchased by the cheap
+virtues of silence, submission, and acquiescence! Booksellers would
+have enriched him; society would have caressed him; political
+distinction would have crowned him: he had only to watch the course
+of public sentiment, and so dispose himself that he should seem to
+lead where he only followed, and all comfortable things would have
+been poured into his lap. But he preferred to breast the stream, to
+speak ungrateful truths. He set a wholesome example in this
+respect; none the less valuable because so few have had the
+manliness and self-reliance to imitate him. More than twenty years
+ago De Tocqueville said,&mdash;&ldquo;I know of no country in which
+there is so little true independence of mind and freedom of
+discussion as in America&rdquo;: words which we fear are not less
+true to-day than when they were written. Cooper&rsquo;s dauntless
+courage would have been less admirable, had he been hard, cold,
+stern, and impassive: but he was none of these. He was full of warm
+affections, cordial, sympathetic, and genial; he had a
+woman&rsquo;s tenderness of heart; he was the most faithful of
+friends; and in his own home no man was ever more gentle, gracious,
+and sweet. The blows he received fell upon a heart that felt them
+keenly; but he bared his breast none the less resolutely to the
+contest because it was not protected by an armor of
+insensibility.</p>
+<p>But we must bring this long paper to a close. We cannot give to
+it the interest which comes from personal recollections. We saw
+Cooper once, and but once. This was the very year before he died,
+in his own home, and amid the scenes which his genius has made
+immortal. It was a bright midsummer&rsquo;s day, and we walked
+together about the village, and around the shores of the lake over
+which the canoe of Indian John had glided. His own aspect was as
+sunny as that of the smiling heavens above us; age had not touched
+him with its paralyzing finger: his vigorous frame, elastic step,
+and animated glance gave promise of twenty years more of energetic
+life. His sturdy figure, healthy face, and a slight bluffness of
+manner reminded one more of his original profession than of the
+life and manners of a man of letters. He looked like a man who had
+lived much in the open air,&mdash;upon whom the rain had fallen,
+and against whom the wind had blown. His conversation was hearty,
+spontaneous, and delightful from its frankness and fulness, but it
+was not pointed or brilliant; you remembered the healthy ring of
+the words, but not the words themselves. We recollect, that, as we
+were standing together on the shores of the lake,&mdash;shores
+which are somewhat tame, and a lake which can claim no higher
+epithet than that of pretty,&mdash;he said: &ldquo;I suppose it
+would be patriotic to say that this is finer than Como, but we know
+that it is not.&rdquo; We found a chord of sympathy in our common
+impressions of the beauty of Sorrento, about which, and his
+residence there, he spoke with contagious animation. Who could have
+thought that that rich and abundant life was so near its close?
+Nothing could be more thoroughly satisfying than the impression he
+left in this brief and solitary interview. His air and movement
+revealed the same manly, brave, true-hearted, warm-hearted man that
+is imaged in his books. Grateful are we for the privilege of having
+seen, spoken with, and taken by the hand the author of &ldquo;The
+Pathfinder&rdquo; and &ldquo;The Pilot&rdquo;: &ldquo;it is a
+pleasure to have seen a great man.&rdquo; Distinctly through the
+gathering mists of years do his face and form rise up before the
+mind&rsquo;s eye: an image of manly self-reliance, of frank
+courage, of generous impulse; a frank friend, an open enemy; a man
+whom many misunderstood, but whom no one could understand without
+honoring and loving.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="tenebras" name="tenebras">PER TENEBRAS, LUMINA.</a></h2>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I know how, through the golden hours</p>
+<p class="i2">When summer sunlight floods the deep,</p>
+<p>The fairest stars of all the heaven</p>
+<p class="i2">Climb up, unseen, the effulgent steep.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Orion girds him with a flame;</p>
+<p class="i2">And, king-like, from the eastward seas,</p>
+<p>Comes Aldebaran, with his train</p>
+<p class="i2">Of Hyades and Pleiades.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>In far meridian pride, the Twins</p>
+<p class="i2">Build, side by side, their luminous thrones;</p>
+<p>And Sirius and Procyon pour</p>
+<p class="i2">A splendor that the day disowns.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>And stately Leo, undismayed,</p>
+<p class="i2">With fiery footstep tracks the Sun,</p>
+<p>To plunge adown the western blaze,</p>
+<p class="i2">Sublimely lost in glories won.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I know, if I were called to keep</p>
+<p class="i2">Pale morning watch with Grief and Pain,</p>
+<p>Mine eyes should see their gathering might</p>
+<p class="i2">Rise grandly through the gloom again.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>And when the Winter Solstice holds</p>
+<p class="i2">In his diminished path the Sun,&mdash;</p>
+<p>When hope, and growth, and joy are o&rsquo;er,</p>
+<p class="i2">And all our harvesting is done,&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When, stricken, like our mortal Life,</p>
+<p class="i2">Darkened and chill, the Year lays down</p>
+<p>The summer beauty that she wore,</p>
+<p class="i2">Her summer stars of Harp and Crown,&mdash;</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Thick trooping with their golden tread</p>
+<p class="i2">They come, as nightfall fills the sky,</p>
+<p>Those strong and solemn sentinels,</p>
+<p class="i2">To hold their mightier watch on high.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah, who shall shrink from dark and cold,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or fear the sad and shortening days,</p>
+<p>Since God doth only so unfold</p>
+<p class="i2">The wider glory to his gaze?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Since loyal Truth, and holy Trust,</p>
+<p class="i2">And kingly Strength defying Pain,</p>
+<p>Stern Courage, and sure Brotherhood</p>
+<p class="i2">Are born from out the depths again?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Dear Country of our love and pride!</p>
+<p class="i2">So is thy stormy winter given!</p>
+<p>So, through the terrors that betide,</p>
+<p class="i2">Look up, and hail thy kindling heaven!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="skates" name="skates">LOVE AND SKATES.</a></h2>
+<h4>IN TWO PARTS.</h4>
+<hr class="short" />
+<h3>PART I.</h3>
+<h4>CHAPTER I.</h4>
+<h5>A KNOT AND A MAN TO CUT IT.</h5>
+<p>Consternation! Consternation in the back office of Benjamin
+Brummage, Esq., banker in Wall Street.</p>
+<p>Yesterday down came Mr. Superintendent Whiffler, from
+Dunderbunk, up the North River, to say, that, &ldquo;unless
+something be done, <em>at once</em>, the Dunderbunk Foundry and
+Iron-Works must wind up.&rdquo; President Brummage forthwith
+convoked his Directors. And here they sat around the green table,
+forlorn as the guests at a Barmecide feast.</p>
+<p>Well they might be forlorn! It was the rosy summer solstice, the
+longest and fairest day of all the year. But rose-color and
+sunshine had fled from Wall Street. Noisy Crisis towing black
+Panic, as a puffing steam-tug drags a three-decker cocked and
+primed for destruction, had suddenly sailed in upon Credit.</p>
+<p>As all the green inch-worms vanish on the tenth of every June,
+so on the tenth of that June all the money in America had buried
+itself and was as if it were not. Everybody and everything was
+ready to fail. If the hindmost brick went, down would go the whole
+file.</p>
+<p>There were ten Directors of the Dunderbunk Foundry.</p>
+<p>Now, not seldom, of a Board of ten Directors, five are wise and
+five are foolish: five wise, who bag all the Company&rsquo;s funds
+in salaries and commissions for indorsing its paper; five foolish,
+who get no salaries, no commissions, no dividends,&mdash;nothing,
+indeed, but abuse from the stockholders, and the reputation of
+thieves. That is to say, five of the ten are pick-pockets; the
+other five, pockets to be picked.</p>
+<p>It happened that the Dunderbunk Directors were all honest and
+foolish but one. He, John Churm, honest and wise, was off at the
+West, with his Herculean shoulders at the wheels of a dead-locked
+railroad. These honest fellows did not wish Dunderbunk to fail for
+several reasons. First, it was not pleasant to lose their
+investment. Second, one important failure might betray Credit to
+Crisis with Panic at its heels, whereupon every investment would be
+in danger. Third, what would become of their Directorial
+reputations? From President Brummage down, each of these gentlemen
+was one of the pockets to be picked in a great many companies. Each
+was of the first Wall-Street fashion, invited to lend his name and
+take stock in every new enterprise. Any one of them might have
+walked down town in a long patchwork toga made of the newspaper
+advertisements of boards in which his name proudly figured. If
+Dunderbunk failed, the toga was torn, and might presently go to
+rags beyond repair. The first rent would inaugurate universal
+rupture. How to avoid this disaster?&mdash;that was the
+question.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;State the case, Mr. Superintendent Whiffler,&rdquo; said
+President Brummage, in his pompous manner, with its pomp a little
+collapsed, <em>pro tempore</em>.</p>
+<p>Inefficient Whiffler whimpered out his story.</p>
+<p>The confessions of an impotent executive are sorry stuff to
+read. Whiffler&rsquo;s long, dismal complaint shall not be
+repeated. He had taken a prosperous concern, had carried on things
+in his own way, and now failure was inevitable. He had bought raw
+material lavishly, and worked it badly into half-ripe material,
+which nobody wanted to buy. He was in arrears to his hands. He had
+tried to bully them, when they asked for their money. They had
+insulted him, and threatened to knock off work, unless they were
+paid at once. &ldquo;A set of horrid ruffians,&rdquo; Whiffler
+said,&mdash;&ldquo;and his life wouldn&rsquo;t be safe many days
+among them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Withdraw, if you please, Mr. Superintendent,&rdquo;
+President Brummage requested. &ldquo;The Board will discuss
+measures of relief.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The more they discussed, the more consternation. Nobody said
+anything to the purpose, except Mr. Sam Gwelp, his late
+father&rsquo;s lubberly son and successor.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Blast!&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;we shall have to let it
+slide!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Into this assembly of imbeciles unexpectedly entered Mr. John
+Churm. He had set his Western railroad trains rolling, and was just
+returned to town. Now he was ready to put those Herculean shoulders
+at any other bemired and rickety no-go-cart.</p>
+<p>Mr. Churm was not accustomed to be a Director in feeble
+companies. He came into Dunderbunk recently as executor of his
+friend Damer, a year ago bored to death by a silly wife.</p>
+<p>Churm&rsquo;s bristly aspect and incisive manner made him a
+sharp contrast to Brummage. The latter personage was flabby in
+flesh, and the oppressively civil counter-jumper style of his youth
+had grown naturally into a deportment of most imposing
+pomposity.</p>
+<p>The Tenth Director listened to the President&rsquo;s recitative
+of their difficulties, chorused by the Board.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; said Director Churm, &ldquo;you want
+two things. The first is Money!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He pronounced this cabalistic word with such magic power that
+all the air seemed instantly filled with a cheerful flight of gold
+American eagles, each carrying a double eagle on its back and a
+silver dollar in its claws; and all the soil of America seemed to
+sprout with coin, as after a shower a meadow sprouts with the
+yellow buds of the dandelion.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Money! yes, Money!&rdquo; murmured the Directors.</p>
+<p>It seemed a word of good omen, now.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The second thing,&rdquo; resumed the newcomer, &ldquo;is
+a Man!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Directors looked at each other and did not see such a
+being.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The actual Superintendent of Dunderbunk is a
+dunderhead,&rdquo; said Churm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pun!&rdquo; cried Sam Gwelp, waking up from a snooze.</p>
+<p>Several of the Directors, thus instructed, started a
+complimentary laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Order, gentlemen! Orrderr!&rdquo; said the President,
+severely, rapping with a paper-cutter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must have a Man, not a Whiffler!&rdquo; Churm
+continued. &ldquo;And I have one in my eye.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Everybody examined his eye.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Would you be so good as to name him?&rdquo; said Old
+Brummage, timidly.</p>
+<p>He wanted to see a Man, but feared the strange creature might be
+dangerous.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Richard Wade,&rdquo; says Churm. They did not know him.
+The name sounded forcible.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has been in California,&rdquo; the nominator said.</p>
+<p>A shudder ran around the green table. They seemed to see a
+frowzy desperado, shaggy as a bison, in a red shirt and jackboots,
+hung about the waist with an assortment of six-shooters and
+bowie-knives, and standing against a background of mustangs,
+monte-banks, and lynch-law.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must get Wade,&rdquo; Churm says, with authority.
+&ldquo;He knows Iron by heart. He can handle Men. I will back him
+with my blank check, to any amount, to his order.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Here a murmur of applause, swelling to a cheer, burst from the
+Directors.</p>
+<p>Everybody knew that the Geological Bank deemed Churm&rsquo;s
+deposits the fundamental stratum of its wealth. They lay there in
+the vaults, like underlying granite. When hot times came, they
+boiled up in a mountain to buttress the world.</p>
+<p>Churm&rsquo;s blank check seemed to wave in the air like an
+oriflamme of victory. Its payee might come from Botany Bay; he
+might wear his beard to his knees, and his belt stuck full of
+howitzers and boomerangs; he might have been repeatedly hung by
+Vigilance Committees, and as often cut down and revived by
+galvanism; but brandishing that check, good for anything less than
+a million, every Director in Wall Street was his slave, his friend,
+and his brother.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let us vote Mr. Wade in by acclamation,&rdquo; cried the
+Directors.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But, gentlemen,&rdquo; Churm interposed, &ldquo;if I give
+him my blank check, he must have <em>carte blanche</em>, and no one
+to interfere in his management.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Every Director, from President Brummage down, drew a long face
+at this condition.</p>
+<p>It was one of their great privileges to potter in the Dunderbunk
+affairs and propose ludicrous impossibilities.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just as you please,&rdquo; Churm continued. &ldquo;I name
+a competent man, a gentleman and fine fellow. I back him with all
+the cash he wants. But he must have his own way. Now take him, or
+leave him!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Such despotic talk had never been heard before in that
+Directors&rsquo; Room. They relucted a moment. But they thought of
+their togas of advertisements in danger. The blank check shook its
+blandishments before their eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We take him,&rdquo; they said, and Richard Wade was the
+new Superintendent unanimously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He shall be at Dunderbunk to take hold to-morrow
+morning,&rdquo; said Churm, and went off to notify him.</p>
+<p>Upon this, Consternation sailed out of the hearts of Brummage
+and associates.</p>
+<p>They lunched with good appetites over the green table, and the
+President confidently remarked,&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe there is going much of a crisis,
+after all.&rdquo;</p>
+<h4>CHAPTER II.</h4>
+<h5>BARRACKS FOR THE HERO.</h5>
+<p>Wade packed his kit, and took the Hudson-River train for
+Dunderbunk the same afternoon.</p>
+<p>He swallowed his dust, he gasped for his fresh air, he wept over
+his cinders, he refused his &ldquo;lozengers,&rdquo; he was admired
+by all the pretty girls and detested by all the puny men in the
+train, and in good time got down at his station.</p>
+<p>He stopped on the platform to survey the land&mdash;and
+water-privileges of his new abode.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The June sunshine is unequalled,&rdquo; he soliloquized,
+&ldquo;the river is splendid, the hills are pretty, and the
+Highlands, north, respectable; but the village has gone to seed.
+Place and people look lazy, vicious, and ashamed. I suppose those
+chimneys are my Foundry. The smoke rises as if the furnaces were
+ill-fed and weak in the lungs. Nothing, I can see, looks alive,
+except that queer little steamboat coming in,&mdash;the &lsquo;I.
+Ambuster,&rsquo;&mdash;jolly name for a boat!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Wade left his traps at the station, and walked through the
+village. All the gilding of a golden sunset of June could not make
+it anything but commonplace. It would be forlorn on a gray day, and
+utterly dismal in a storm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I must look up a civilized house to lodge in,&rdquo;
+thought the stranger. &ldquo;I cannot possibly camp at the tavern.
+Its offence is rum, and smells to heaven.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Presently our explorer found a neat, white, two-story, home-like
+abode on the upper street, overlooking the river.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This promises,&rdquo; he thought. &ldquo;Here are roses
+on the porch, a piano, or at least a melodeon, by the
+parlor-window, and they are insured in the Mutual, as the
+Mutual&rsquo;s plate announces. Now, if that nice-looking person in
+black I see setting a table in the back-room is a widow, I will
+camp here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Perry Purtett was the name on the door, and opposite the sign of
+an <em>omnium-gatherum</em> country-store hinted that Perry was
+deceased. The hint was a broad one. Wade read, &ldquo;Ringdove,
+Successor to late P. Purtett.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s worth a try to get in here out of the pagan
+barbarism around. I&rsquo;ll propose&mdash;as a lodger&mdash;to the
+widow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So said Wade, and rang the bell under the roses. A pretty, slim,
+delicate, fair-haired maiden answered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This explains the roses and the melodeon,&rdquo; thought
+Wade, and asked, &ldquo;Can I see your mother?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mamma came. &ldquo;Mild, timid, accustomed to depend on the late
+Perry, and wants a friend,&rdquo; Wade analyzed, while he bowed. He
+proposed himself as a lodger.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know it was talked of generally,&rdquo;
+replied the widow, plaintively; &ldquo;but I have said that we felt
+lonesome, Mr. Purtett bein&rsquo; gone, and if the new
+minister&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Here she paused. The cut of Wade&rsquo;s jib was unclerical. He
+did not stoop, like a new minister. He was not pallid, meagre, and
+clad in unwholesome black, like the same. His bronzed face was
+frank and bold and unfamiliar with speculations on Original Sin or
+Total Depravity.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am not the new minister,&rdquo; said Wade, smiling
+slightly over his moustache; &ldquo;but a new Superintendent for
+the Foundry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Whiffler is goin&rsquo;?&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs.
+Purtett.</p>
+<p>She looked at her daughter, who gave a little sob and ran out of
+the room.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What makes my daughter Belle feel bad,&rdquo; says the
+widow, &ldquo;is, that she had a friend,&mdash;well, it isn&rsquo;t
+too much to say that they was as good as engaged,&mdash;and he was
+foreman of the Foundry finishin&rsquo;-shop. But somehow Whiffler
+spoilt him, just as he spoils everything he touches; and last
+winter, when Belle was away, William Tarbox&mdash;that&rsquo;s his
+name, and his head is runnin&rsquo; over with inventions&mdash;took
+to spreein&rsquo; and liquor, and got ashamed of himself, and let
+down from a foreman to a hand, and is all the while lettin&rsquo;
+down lower.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The widow&rsquo;s heart thus opened, Wade walked in as consoler.
+This also opened the lodgings to him. He was presently installed in
+the large and small front-rooms up-stairs, unpacking his traps, and
+making himself permanently at home.</p>
+<p>Superintendent Whiffler came over, by-and-by, to see his
+successor. He did not like his looks. The new man should have
+looked mean or weak or rascally, to suit the outgoer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How long do you expect to stay?&rdquo; asks Whiffler,
+with a half-sneer, watching Wade hanging a map and a print
+<em>vis-&agrave;-vis</em>.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Until the men and I, or the Company and I, cannot pull
+together.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll give you a week to quarrel with both, and
+another to see the whole concern go to everlasting smash. And now,
+if you&rsquo;re ready, I&rsquo;ll go over the accounts with you and
+prove it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Whiffler himself, insolent, cowardly, and a humbug, if not a
+swindler, was enough, Wade thought, to account for any failure. But
+he did not mention this conviction.</p>
+<h4>CHAPTER III.</h4>
+<h5>HOW TO BEHEAD A HYDRA!</h5>
+<p>At ten next morning, Whiffler handed over the safe-key to Wade,
+and departed to ruin some other property, if he could get one to
+ruin. Wade walked with him to the gate.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad to be out of a sinking ship,&rdquo; said
+the ex-boss. &ldquo;The Works will go down, sure as shooting. And I
+think myself well out of the clutches of these men. They&rsquo;re a
+bullying, swearing, drinking set of infernal ruffians. Foremen are
+just as bad as hands. I never felt safe of my life with
+&lsquo;em.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A bad lot, are they?&rdquo; mused Wade, as he returned to
+the office. &ldquo;I must give them a little sharp talk by way of
+Inaugural.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He had the bell tapped and the men called together in the main
+building.</p>
+<p>Much work was still going on in an inefficient, unsystematic
+way.</p>
+<p>While hot fires were roaring in the great furnaces, smoke rose
+from the dusty beds where Titanic castings were cooling. Great
+cranes, manacled with heavy chains, stood over the furnace-doors,
+ready to lift steaming jorums of melted metal, and pour out, hot
+and hot, for the moulds to swallow.</p>
+<p>Raw material in big heaps lay about, waiting for the fire to
+ripen it. Here was a stack of long, rough, rusty pigs, clumsy as
+the shillelabs of the Anakim. There was a pile of short, thick
+masses, lying higgledy-piggledy, stuff from the neighboring mines,
+which needed to be crossed with foreign stock before it could be of
+much use in civilization.</p>
+<p>Here, too, was raw material organized: a fly-wheel, large enough
+to keep the knobbiest of asteroids revolving without a wabble; a
+cross-head, cross-tail, and piston-rod, to help a great sea-going
+steamer breast the waves; a light walking-beam, to whirl the
+paddles of a fast boat on the river; and other members of machines,
+only asking to be put together and vivified by steam and they would
+go at their work with a will.</p>
+<p>From the black rafters overhead hung the heavy folds of a dim
+atmosphere, half dust, half smoke. A dozen sunbeams, forcing their
+way through the grimy panes of the grimy upper windows, found this
+compound quite palpable and solid, and they moulded out of it a
+series of golden bars set side by side aloft, like the pipes of an
+organ out of its perpendicular.</p>
+<p>Wade grew indignant, as he looked about him and saw so much good
+stuff and good force wasting for want of a little will and skill to
+train the force and manage the stuff. He abhorred bankruptcy and
+chaos.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All they want here is a head,&rdquo; he thought.</p>
+<p>He shook his own. The brain within was well developed with
+healthy exercise. It filled its case, and did not rattle like a
+withered kernel, or sound soft like a rotten one. It was a
+vigorous, muscular brain. The owner felt that he could trust it for
+an effort, as he could his lungs for a shout, his legs for a leap,
+or his fist for a knock-down argument.</p>
+<p>At the tap of the bell, the &ldquo;bad lot&rdquo; of men came
+together. They numbered more than two hundred, though the Foundry
+was working short. They had been notified that &ldquo;that gonoph
+of a Whiffler was kicked out, and a new feller was in, who looked
+cranky enough, and wanted to see &lsquo;em and tell &lsquo;em
+whether he was a damn&rsquo; fool or not.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So all hands collected from the different parts of the Foundry
+to see the head.</p>
+<p>They came up with easy and somewhat swaggering bearing,&mdash;a
+good many roughs, with here and there a ruffian. Several, as they
+approached, swung and tossed, for mere overplus of strength, the
+sledges with which they had been tapping at the bald shiny pates of
+their anvils. Several wielded their long pokers like lances.</p>
+<p>Grimy chaps, all with their faces streaked, like Blackfeet in
+their warpaint. Their hairy chests showed, where some men parade
+elaborate shirt-bosoms. Some had their sleeves pushed up to the
+elbow to exhibit their compact flexors and extensors. Some had
+rolled their flannel up to the shoulder, above the bulging muscles
+of the upper arm. They wore aprons tied about the neck, like the
+bibs of our childhood,&mdash;or about the waist, like the
+coquettish articles which young housewives affect. But there was no
+coquetry in these great flaps of leather or canvas, and they were
+besmeared and rust-stained quite beyond any bib that ever suffered
+under bread-and-molasses or mud-pie treatment.</p>
+<p>They lounged and swaggered up, and stood at ease, not without
+rough grace, in a sinuous line, coiled and knotted like a
+snake.</p>
+<p>Ten feet back stood the new Hercules who was to take down that
+Hydra&rsquo;s two hundred crests of insubordination.</p>
+<p>They inspected him, and he them as coolly. He read and ticketed
+each man, as he came up,&mdash;good, bad, or on the
+fence,&mdash;and marked each so that he would know him among a
+myriad.</p>
+<p>The Hands faced the Head. It was a question whether the two
+hundred or the one would be master in Dunderbunk.</p>
+<p>Which was boss? An old question.</p>
+<p>It has to be settled whenever a new man claims power, and there
+is always a struggle until it is fought out by main force of brain
+or muscle.</p>
+<p>Wade had made up his mind on this subject. He waited a moment
+until the men were still. He was a Saxon six-footer of thirty. He
+stood easily on his pins, as if he had eyed men and facts before.
+His mouth looked firm, his brow freighted, his nose
+clipper,&mdash;that the hands could see. But clipper noses are not
+always backed by a stout hull. Seemingly freighted brows sometimes
+carry nothing but ballast and dunnage. The firmness may be all in
+the moustache, while the mouth hides beneath, a mere silly slit.
+All which the hands knew.</p>
+<p>Wade began, short and sharp as a trip-hammer, when it has a bar
+to shape.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m the new Superintendent. Richard Wade is my
+name. I rang the bell because I wanted to see you and have you see
+me. You know as well as I do that these Works are in a bad way.
+They can&rsquo;t stay so. They must come up and pay you regular
+wages and the Company profits. Every man of you has got to be here
+on the spot when the bell strikes, and up to the mark in his work.
+You haven&rsquo;t been,&mdash;and you know it. You&rsquo;ve turned
+out rotten iron,&mdash;stuff that any honest shop would be ashamed
+of. Now there&rsquo;s to be a new leaf turned over here.
+You&rsquo;re to be paid on the nail; but you&rsquo;ve got to earn
+your money. I won&rsquo;t have any idlers or shirkers or rebels
+about me. I shall work hard myself, and every man of you will, or
+he leaves the shop. Now, if anybody has a complaint to make,
+I&rsquo;ll hear him before you all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The men were evidently impressed with Wade&rsquo;s Inaugural. It
+meant something. But they were not to be put down so easily, after
+long misrule. There began to be a whisper,&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;B&rsquo;il in, Bill Tarbox! and talk up to
+him!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Presently Bill shouldered forward and faced the new ruler.</p>
+<p>Since Bill took to drink and degradation, he had been the
+butt-end of riot and revolt at the Foundry. He had had his own way
+with Whiffler. He did not like to abdicate and give in to this new
+chap without testing him.</p>
+<p>In a better mood, Bill would have liked Wade&rsquo;s looks and
+words; but today he had a sore head, a sour face, and a bitter
+heart from last night&rsquo;s spree. And then he had heard&mdash;it
+was as well known already in Dunderbunk as if the town-crier had
+cried it&mdash;that Wade was lodging at Mrs. Purtett&rsquo;s, where
+poor Bill was excluded. So Bill stepped forward as spokesman of the
+ruffianly element, and the immoral force gathered behind and backed
+him heavily.</p>
+<p>Tarbox, too, was a Saxon six-footer of thirty. But he had sagged
+one inch for want of self-respect. He had spoilt his color and dyed
+his moustache. He wore foxy-black pantaloons tucked into red-topped
+boots, with the name of the maker on a gilt shield. His red flannel
+shirt was open at the neck and caught with a black handkerchief.
+His damaged tile was in permanent crape for the late lamented
+Poole.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We allow,&rdquo; says Bill, in a tone halfway between
+Lablache&rsquo;s <em>De profundis</em> and a burglar&rsquo;s
+bull-dog&rsquo;s snarl, &ldquo;that we&rsquo;ve did our work as
+good as need to be did. We &lsquo;xpect we know our rights. We
+ha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t ben treated fair, and I&rsquo;m damned if
+we&rsquo;re go&rsquo;n&rsquo; to stan&rsquo; it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; says Wade. &ldquo;No swearing in this
+shop!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who the Devil is go&rsquo;n&rsquo; to stop it?&rdquo;
+growled Tarbox.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am. Do you step back now, and let some one come out who
+can talk like a gentleman!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m damned if I stir till I&rsquo;ve had my say
+out,&rdquo; says Bill, shaking himself up and looking
+dangerous.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Go back!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Wade moved close to him, also looking dangerous.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t tech me!&rdquo; Bill threatened, squaring
+off.</p>
+<p>He was not quick enough. Wade knocked him down flat on a heap of
+moulding-sand. The hat in mourning for Poole found its place in a
+puddle.</p>
+<p>Bill did not like the new Emperor&rsquo;s method of compelling
+<em>kotou</em>. Round One of the mill had not given him enough.</p>
+<p>He jumped up from his soft bed and made a vicious rush at Wade.
+But he was damaged by evil courses. He was fighting against law and
+order, on the side of wrong and bad manners.</p>
+<p>The same fist met him again, and heavier.</p>
+<p>Up went his heels! Down went his head! It struck the ragged edge
+of a fresh casting, and there he lay stunned and bleeding on his
+hard black pillow.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ring the bell to go to work!&rdquo; said Wade, in a tone
+that made the ringer jump. &ldquo;Now, men, take hold and do your
+duty and everything will go smooth!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The bell clanged in. The line looked at its prostrate champion,
+then at the new boss standing there, cool and brave, and not afraid
+of a regiment of sledge-hammers.</p>
+<p>They wanted an Executive. They wanted to be well governed, as
+all men do. They wanted disorder out and order in. The new man
+looked like a man, talked fair, hit hard. Why not all hands give in
+with a good grace and go to work like honest fellows?</p>
+<p>The line broke up. The hands went off to their duty. And there
+was never any more insubordination at Dunderbunk.</p>
+<p>This was June.</p>
+<p>Skates in the next chapter.</p>
+<p>Love in good time afterward shall glide upon the scene.</p>
+<h4>CHAPTER IV.</h4>
+<h5>A CHRISTMAS GIFT.</h5>
+<p>The pioneer sunbeam of next Christmas morning rattled over the
+Dunderbunk hills, flashed into Richard Wade&rsquo;s eyes, waked
+him, and was off, ricochetting across the black ice of the
+river.</p>
+<p>Wade jumped up, electrified and jubilant. He had gone to bed,
+feeling quite too despondent for so healthy a fellow. Christmas
+Eve, the time of family-meetings, reminded him how lonely he was.
+He had not a relative in the world, except two little
+nieces,&mdash;one as tall as his knee, the other almost up to his
+waist; and them he had safely bestowed in a nook of New England, to
+gain wit and virtues as they gained inches.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have had a stern and lonely life,&rdquo; thought Wade,
+as he blew out his candle last night, &ldquo;and what has it
+profited me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Perhaps the pioneer sunbeam answered this question with a
+truism, not always as applicable as in this case,&mdash;&ldquo;A
+brave, able, self-respecting manhood is fair profit for any
+man&rsquo;s first thirty years of life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But, answered or not, the question troubled Wade no more. He
+shot out of bed in tip-top spirits; shouted &ldquo;Merry
+Christmas!&rdquo; at the rising disk of the sun; looked over the
+black ice; thrilled with the thought of a long holiday for skating;
+and proceeded to dress in a knowing suit of rough clothes, singing,
+&ldquo;<em>Ah, non giunge</em>!&rdquo; as he slid into them.</p>
+<p>Presently, glancing from his south window, he observed several
+matinal smokes rising from the chimneys of a country-house a mile
+away, on a slope fronting the river.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Peter Skerrett must be back from Europe at last,&rdquo;
+he thought. &ldquo;I hope he is as fine a fellow as he was ten
+years ago. I hope marriage has not made him a muff, and wealth a
+weakling.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Wade went down to breakfast with an heroic appetite. His
+&ldquo;Merry Christmas&rdquo; to Mrs. Purtett was followed up by a
+ravished kiss and the gift of a silver butter-knife. The good widow
+did not know which to be most charmed with. The butter-knife was
+genuine, shining, solid silver, with her initials, M.B.P., Martha
+Bilsby Purtett, given in luxuriant flourishes; but then the kiss
+had such a fine twang, such an exhilarating titillation! The late
+Perry&rsquo;s kisses, from first to last, had wanted point. They
+were, as the Spanish proverb would put it, unsavory as unsalted
+eggs, for want of a moustache. The widow now perceived, with mild
+regret, how much she had missed when she married &ldquo;a man all
+shaven and shorn.&rdquo; Her cheek, still fair, though forty,
+flushed with novel delight, and she appreciated her lodger more
+than ever.</p>
+<p>Wade&rsquo;s salutation to Belle Purtett was more distant. There
+must be a little friendly reserve between a handsome young man and
+a pretty young woman several grades lower in the social scale,
+living in the same house. They were on the most cordial terms,
+however; and her gift&mdash;of course embroidered
+slippers&mdash;and his to her&mdash;of course &ldquo;The
+Illustrated Poets,&rdquo; in Turkey morocco&mdash;were exchanged
+with tender good-will on both sides.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We shall meet on the ice, Miss Belle,&rdquo; said Wade.
+&ldquo;It is a day of a thousand for skating.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Ringdove says you are a famous skater,&rdquo; Belle
+rejoined. &ldquo;He saw you on the river yesterday
+evening.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; Tarbox and I were practising to exhibit to-day; but
+I could not do much with my dull old skates.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Wade breakfasted deliberately, as a holiday morning allowed, and
+then walked down to the Foundry. There would be no work done
+to-day, except by a small gang keeping up the fires. The
+Superintendent wished only to give his First Semi-Annual Report an
+hour&rsquo;s polishing, before he joined all Dunderbunk on the
+ice.</p>
+<p>It was a halcyon day, worthy of its motto, &ldquo;Peace on
+earth, good-will to men.&rdquo; The air was electric, the sun
+overflowing with jolly shine, the river smooth and sheeny from the
+hither bank to the snowy mountains opposite.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I were Rembrandt, to paint this grand shadowy
+interior,&rdquo; thought Wade, as he entered the silent, deserted
+Foundry. &ldquo;With the gleam of the snow in my eyes, it looks
+deliciously warm and <em>chiaroscuro</em>. When the men are here
+and &lsquo;<em>fervet opus</em>,&rsquo;&mdash;the pot
+boils,&mdash;I cannot stop to see the picturesque.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He opened his office, took his Report and began to complete it
+with ,s, ;s, and .s in the right places.</p>
+<p>All at once the bell of the Works rang out loud and clear.
+Presently the Superintendent became aware of a tramp and a bustle
+in the building. By-and-by came a tap at the office-door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come in,&rdquo; said Wade, and, enter young Perry
+Purtett.</p>
+<p>Perry was a boy of fifteen, with hair the color of fresh
+sawdust, white eyebrows, and an uncommonly wide-awake look.
+Ringdove, his father&rsquo;s successor, could never teach Perry the
+smirk, the grace, and the seductiveness of the counter, so the boy
+had found his place in the finishing-shop of the Foundry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Some of the hands would like to see you for half a jiff,
+Mr. Wade,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Will you come along, if you
+please?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There was a good deal of easy swagger about Perry, as there is
+always in boys and men whose business is to watch the lunging of
+steam-engines. Wade followed him. Perry led the way with a jaunty
+air that said,&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Room here! Out of the way, you lubberly bits of
+cast-iron! Be careful, now, you big derricks, or I&rsquo;ll walk
+right over you! Room now for Me and My suite!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This pompous usher conducted the Superintendent to the very spot
+in the main room of the Works where, six months before, the
+Inaugural had been pronounced and the first Veto spoken and
+enacted.</p>
+<p>And there, as six months before, stood the Hands awaiting their
+Head. But the aprons, the red shirts, and the grime of working-days
+were off, and the whole were in holiday rig,&mdash;as black and
+smooth and shiny from top to toe as the members of a Congress of
+Undertakers.</p>
+<p>Wade, following in the wake of Perry, took his stand facing the
+rank, and waited to see what he was summoned for. He had not long
+to wait.</p>
+<p>To the front stepped Mr. William Tarbox, foreman of the
+finishing-shop, no longer a boy, but an erect, fine-looking fellow,
+with no nitrate in his moustache, and his hat permanently out of
+mourning for the late Mr. Poole.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; said Bill, &ldquo;I move that this
+meeting organize by appointing Mr. Smith Wheelwright Chairman. As
+many as are in favor of this motion, please to say
+&lsquo;Aye.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Aye!&rdquo; said the crowd, very loud and big. And then
+every man looked at his neighbor, a little abashed, as if he
+himself had made all the noise.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is a free country,&rdquo; continues Bill.
+&ldquo;Every woter has a right to a fair shake. Contrary minds,
+&lsquo;No.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>No contrary minds. The crowd uttered a great silence. Every man
+looked at his neighbor, surprised to find how well they agreed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Unanimous!&rdquo; Tarbox pronounced. &ldquo;No fractious
+minorities <em>here</em>, to block the wheels of
+legislation!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The crowd burst into a roar at this significant remark, and,
+again abashed, dropped portcullis on its laughter, cutting off the
+flanks and tail of the sound.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Purtett, will you please conduct the Chairman to the
+Chair,&rdquo; says Bill, very stately.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Make way here!&rdquo; cried Perry, with the manner of a
+man seven feet high. &ldquo;Step out now, Mr. Chairman!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He took a big, grizzled, docile-looking fellow patronizingly by
+the arm, led him forward, and chaired him on a large cylinder-head,
+in the rough, just hatched out of its mould.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bang away with that, and sing out,
+&lsquo;Silence!&rsquo;&rdquo; says the knowing boy, handing
+Wheelwright an iron bolt, and taking his place beside him, as
+prompter.</p>
+<p>The docile Chairman obeyed. At his breaking silence by hooting
+&ldquo;Silence!&rdquo; the audience had another mighty bob-tailed
+laugh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Say, &lsquo;Will some honorable member state the object
+of this meeting?&rsquo;&rdquo; whispered the prompter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will some honorable mumbler state the subject of this
+&lsquo;ere meetin&rsquo;?&rdquo; says Chair, a little bashful and
+confused.</p>
+<p>Bill Tarbox advanced, and, with a formal bow, began,&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Chairman&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Say, &lsquo;Mr. Tarbox has the floor,&rsquo;&rdquo; piped
+Perry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Tarbox has the floor,&rdquo; diapasoned the
+Chair.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen&rdquo;&mdash;Bill began, and
+stopped.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Say, &lsquo;Proceed, Sir!&rsquo;&rdquo; suggested Perry,
+which the senior did, magnifying the boy&rsquo;s whisper a dozen
+times.</p>
+<p>Again Bill began and stopped.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Boys,&rdquo; said he, dropping grandiloquence,
+&ldquo;when I accepted the office of Orator of the Day at our
+primary, and promised to bring forward our Resolutions in honor of
+Mr. Wade with my best speech, I didn&rsquo;t think I was going to
+have such a head of steam on that the walves would get stuck and
+the piston jammed and I couldn&rsquo;t say a word.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; he continued, warming up, &ldquo;when I think
+of the Indian powwow we had in this very spot six months
+ago,&mdash;and what a mean bloat I was, going to the stub-tail dogs
+with my hat over my eyes,&mdash;and what a hard lot we were all
+round, livin&rsquo; on nothing but argee whiskey, and rampin&rsquo;
+off on benders, instead of makin&rsquo; good iron,&mdash;and how
+the Works was flat broke,&mdash;and how Dunderbunk was full of
+women crying over their husbands and mothers ashamed of their
+sons,&mdash;boys, when I think how things was, and see how they
+are, and look at Mr. Wade standing there like a&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Bill hesitated for a comparison.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Like a thousand of brick,&rdquo; Perry Purtett suggested,
+<em>sotto voce</em>.</p>
+<p>The Chairman took this as a hint to himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Like a thousand of brick,&rdquo; he said, with the voice
+of a Stentor.</p>
+<p>Here the audience roared and cheered, and the Orator got a fresh
+start.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When you came, Mr. Wade,&rdquo; he resumed, &ldquo;we was
+about sick of putty-heads and sneaks that didn&rsquo;t know enough
+or didn&rsquo;t dare to make us stand round and bone in. You walked
+in, b&rsquo;ilin&rsquo; over with grit. You took hold as if you
+belonged here. You made things jump like a two-headed tarrier. All
+we wanted was a live man, to say, &lsquo;Here, boys, all together
+now! You&rsquo;ve got your stint, and I&rsquo;ve got mine.
+I&rsquo;m boss in this shop,&mdash;but I can&rsquo;t do the first
+thing, unless every man pulls his pound. Now, then, my hand is on
+the throttle, grease the wheels, oil the walves, poke the fires,
+hook on, and let&rsquo;s yank her through with a
+will!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At this figure the meeting showed a tendency to cheer.
+&ldquo;Silence!&rdquo; Perry sternly suggested.
+&ldquo;Silence!&rdquo; repeated the Chair.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; continued the Orator, &ldquo;you
+wasn&rsquo;t one of the uneasy kind, always fussin&rsquo; and
+cussin&rsquo; round. You wasn&rsquo;t always spyin&rsquo; to see we
+didn&rsquo;t take home a cross-tail or a hundred-weight of
+cast-iron in our pants&rsquo; pockets, or go to swiggin&rsquo; hot
+metal out of the ladles on the sly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Here an enormous laugh requited Bill&rsquo;s joke. Perry
+prompted, the Chair banged with his bolt and cried,
+&ldquo;Order!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, now, boys,&rdquo; Tarbox went on, &ldquo;what has
+come of having one of the right sort to be boss? Why, this. The
+Works go ahead, stiddy as the North River. We work full time and
+full-handed. We turn out stuff that no shop needs to be ashamed of.
+Wages is on the nail. We have a good time generally. How is that,
+boys,&mdash;Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s so!&rdquo; from everybody.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And there&rsquo;s something better yet,&rdquo; Bill
+resumed. &ldquo;Dunderbunk used to be full of crying women.
+They&rsquo;ve stopped crying now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Here the whole assemblage, Chairman and all, burst into an
+irrepressible cheer.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I&rsquo;m making my speech as long as a
+lightning-rod,&rdquo; said the speaker. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll put on
+the brakes, short. I guess Mr. Wade understands pretty well, now,
+how we feel; and if he don&rsquo;t, here it all is in shape, in
+this document, with &lsquo;Whereas&rsquo; at the top and
+&lsquo;Resolved&rsquo; entered along down in five places. Mr.
+Purtett, will you hand the Resolutions to the
+Superintendent?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Perry advanced and did his office loftily, much to the amusement
+of Wade and the workmen.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; Bill resumed, &ldquo;we wanted, besides, to
+make you a little gift, Mr. Wade, to remember the day by. So we got
+up a subscription, and every man put in his dime. Here&rsquo;s the
+present,&mdash;hand &lsquo;em over, Perry!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There, Sir, is THE BEST PAIR OF SKATES to be had in York
+City, made for work, and no nonsense about &lsquo;em. We Dunderbunk
+boys give &lsquo;em to you, one for all, and hope you&rsquo;ll like
+&lsquo;em and beat the world skating, as you do in all the things
+we&rsquo;ve knowed you try.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, boys,&rdquo; Bill perorated, &ldquo;before I retire
+to the shades of private life, I motion we give Three
+Cheers&mdash;regular Toplifters&mdash;for Richard Wade!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hurrah! Wade and Good Government!&rdquo; &ldquo;Hurrah!
+Wade and Prosperity!&rdquo; &ldquo;Hurrah! Wade and the
+Women&rsquo;s Tears Dry!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cheers like the shout of Achilles! Wielding sledges is good for
+the bellows, it appears. Toplifters! Why, the smoky black rafters
+overhead had to tug hard to hold the roof on. Hurrah! From every
+corner of the vast building came back rattling echoes. The Works,
+the machinery, the furnaces, the stuff, all had their voice to add
+to the verdict.</p>
+<p>Magnificent music! and our Anglo-Saxon is the only race in the
+world civilized enough to join in singing it. We are the only
+hurrahing people,&mdash;the only brood hatched in a
+&ldquo;Hurrah&rsquo;s nest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Silence restored, the Chairman, prompted by Perry, said,
+&ldquo;Gentlemen, Mr. Wade has the floor for a few
+remarks.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Of course Wade had to speak, and did. He would not have been an
+American in America else. But his heart was too full to say more
+than a few hearty and earnest words of good feeling.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, men,&rdquo; he closed, &ldquo;I want to get away on
+the river and see if my skates will go as they look; so I&rsquo;ll
+end by proposing three cheers for Smith Wheelwright, our Chairman,
+three for our Orator, Tarbox, three for Old
+Dunderbunk,&mdash;Works, Men, Women, and Children; and one big
+cheer for Old Father Iron, as rousing a cheer as ever was
+roared.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they gave their three times three with enormous enthusiasm.
+The roof shook, the furnaces rattled, Perry Purtett banged with the
+Chairman&rsquo;s hammer, the great echoes thundered through the
+Foundry.</p>
+<p>And when they ended with one gigantic cheer for IRON, tough and
+true, the weapon, the tool, and the engine of all
+civilization,&mdash;it seemed as if the uproar would never cease
+until Father Iron himself heard the call in his smithy away under
+the magnetic pole, and came clanking up, to return thanks in
+person.</p>
+<h4>CHAPTER V.</h4>
+<h5>SKATING AS A FINE ART.</h5>
+<p>Of all the plays that are played by this playful world on its
+play-days, there is no play like Skating.</p>
+<p>To prepare a board for the moves of this game of games, a panel
+for the drawings of this Fine Art, a stage for the
+<em>entrechats</em> and <em>pirouettes</em> of its graceful adepts,
+Zero, magical artificer, had been, for the last two nights, sliding
+at full speed up and down the North River.</p>
+<p>We have heard of Midas, whose touch made gold, and of the virgin
+under whose feet sprang roses; but Zero&rsquo;s heels and toes were
+armed with more precious influences. They left a diamond way, where
+they slid,&mdash;a hundred and fifty miles of diamond, half a mile
+wide and six inches thick.</p>
+<p>Diamond can only reflect sunlight; ice can contain it.
+Zero&rsquo;s product, finer even than diamond, was filled&mdash;at
+the rate of a million to the square foot&mdash;with bubbles
+immeasurably little, and yet every one big enough to comprise the
+entire sun in small, but without alteration or abridgment. When the
+sun rose, each of these wonderful cells was ready to catch the tip
+of a sunbeam and house it in a shining abode.</p>
+<p>Besides this, Zero had inlaid its work, all along shore, with
+exquisite marquetry of leaves, brown and evergreen, of sprays and
+twigs, reeds and grasses. No parquet in any palace from
+Fontainebleau to St. Petersburg could show such delicate patterns,
+or could gleam so brightly, though polished with all the wax in
+Christendom.</p>
+<p>On this fine pavement, all the way from Cohoes to Spuyten
+Duyvil, Jubilee was sliding without friction, the Christmas morning
+of these adventures.</p>
+<p>Navigation was closed. Navigators had leisure. The sloops and
+schooners were frozen in along shore, the tugs and barges were laid
+up in basins, the floating palaces were down at New York,
+deodorizing their bar-rooms, regilding their bridal chambers, and
+enlarging their spittoon accommodations alow and aloft, for next
+summer. All the population was out on the ice, skating, sliding,
+sledding, slipping, tumbling, to its heart&rsquo;s content.</p>
+<p>One person out of every Dunderbunk family was of course at home,
+roasting Christmas turkey. The rest were already at high jinks on
+Zero&rsquo;s Christmas present, when Wade and the men came down,
+from the meeting.</p>
+<p>Wade buckled on his new skates in a jiffy. He stamped to settle
+himself, and then flung off half a dozen circles on the right leg,
+half a dozen with the left, and the same with either leg
+backwards.</p>
+<p>The ice, traced with these white peripheries, showed like a
+blackboard where a school has been chalking diagrams of Euclid, to
+point at with the &ldquo;slow unyielding finger&rdquo; of
+demonstration.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hurrah!&rdquo; cries Wade, halting in front of the men,
+who, some on the Foundry wharf, some on the deck of our first
+acquaintance at Dunderbunk, the tug &ldquo;L Ambuster,&rdquo; were
+putting on their skates or watching him, &ldquo;Hurrah! the skates
+are perfection! Are you ready, Bill?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; says Tarbox, whizzing off rings, as exact as
+Giotto&rsquo;s autograph.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, then,&rdquo; Wade said, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ll give
+Dunderbunk a laugh, as we practised last night.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They got under full headway, Wade backwards, Bill forwards,
+holding hands. When they were near enough to the merry throng out
+in the stream, both dropped into a sitting posture, with the left
+knee bent, and each with his right leg stretched out parallel to
+the ice and fitting compactly by the other man&rsquo;s leg. In this
+queer figure they rushed through the laughing crowd.</p>
+<p>Then all Dunderbunk formed a ring, agog for a grand show of</p>
+<p class="cen">SKATING AS A FINE ART.</p>
+<p>The world loves to see Great Artists, and expects them to do
+their duty.</p>
+<p>It is hard to treat of this Fine Art by the Art of Fine Writing.
+Its eloquent motions must be seen.</p>
+<p>To skate Fine Art, you must have a Body and a Soul, each of the
+First Order; otherwise you will never get out of coarse art and
+skating in one syllable. So much for yourself, the motive power.
+And your machinery,&mdash;your smooth-bottomed rockers, the same
+shape stem and stern,&mdash;this must be as perfect as the man it
+moves, and who moves it.</p>
+<p>Now suppose you wish to skate so that the critics will say,
+&ldquo;See! this athlete docs his work as Church paints, as Darley
+draws, as Palmer chisels, as Wittier strikes the lyre, and
+Longfellow the dulcimer; he is as terse as Emerson, as clever as
+Holmes, as graceful as Curtis; he is as calm as Seward, as keen as
+Phillips, as stalwart as Beecher; be is Garibaldi, he is Kit
+Carson, he is Blondin; he is as complete as the steamboat
+Metropolis, as Steers&rsquo;s yacht, as Singer&rsquo;s
+sewing-machine, as Colt&rsquo;s revolver, as the steam-plough, as
+Civilization.&rdquo; You wish to be so ranked among the people and
+things that lead the age;&mdash;consider the qualities you must
+have, and while you consider, keep your eye on Richard Wade, for he
+has them all in perfection.</p>
+<p>First,&mdash;of your physical qualities. You must have lungs,
+not bellows; and an active heart, not an assortment of sluggish
+auricles and ventricles. You must have legs, not shanks. Their
+shape is unimportant, except that they must not interfere at the
+knee. You must have muscles, not flabbiness; sinews like wire;
+nerves like sunbeams; and a thin layer of flesh to cushion the
+gable-ends, where you will strike, if you tumble,&mdash;which, once
+for all be it said, you must never do. You must be all
+<em>momentum</em>, and no <em>inertia</em>. You must be one part
+grace, one force, one agility, and the rest caoutchouc, Manila
+hemp, and watch-spring. Your machine, your body, must be thoroughly
+obedient. It must go just so far and no farther. You have got to be
+as unerring as a planet holding its own, emphatically, between
+forces centripetal and centrifugal. Your <em>aplomb</em> must be as
+absolute as the pounce of a falcon.</p>
+<p>So much for a few of the physical qualities necessary to be a
+Great Artist in Skating. See Wade, how be shows them!</p>
+<p>Now for the moral and intellectual. Pluck is the first;&mdash;it
+always is the first quality. Then enthusiasm. Then patience. Then
+pertinacity. Then a fine aesthetic faculty,&mdash;in short, good
+taste. Then an orderly and submissive mind, that can consent to act
+in accordance with the laws of Art. Circumstances, too, must have
+been reasonably favorable. That well-known skeptic, the King of
+tropical Bantam, could not skate, because he had never seen ice and
+doubted even the existence of solid water. Widdrington, after the
+Battle of Chevy Chace, could not have skated, because he had no
+legs,&mdash;poor fellow!</p>
+<p>But granted the ice and the legs, then if you begin in the
+elastic days of youth, when cold does not sting, tumbles do not
+bruise, and duckings do not wet; if you have pluck and ardor enough
+to try everything; if you work slowly ahead and stick to it; if you
+have good taste and a lively invention; if you are a man, and not a
+lubber;&mdash;then, in fine, you may become a Great Skater, just as
+with equal power and equal pains you may put your grip on any kind
+of Greatness.</p>
+<p>The technology of skating is imperfect. Few of the great feats,
+the Big Things, have admitted names. If I attempted to catalogue
+Wade&rsquo;s achievements, this chapter might become an
+unintelligible rhapsody. A sheet of paper and a pen-point cannot
+supply the place of a sheet of ice and a skate-edge. Geometry must
+have its diagrams, Anatomy its <em>corpus</em> to carve. Skating
+also refuses to be spiritualized into a Science; it remains an Art,
+and cannot be expressed in a formula.</p>
+<p>Skating has its Little Go, its Great Go, its Baccalaureate, its
+M.A., its F.S.D., (Doctor of Frantic Skipping,) its A.G.D., (Doctor
+of Airy Gliding,) its N.T.D., (Doctor of No Tumbles,) and finally
+its highest degree, U.P. (Unapproachable Podographer).</p>
+<p>Wade was U.P.</p>
+<p>There were a hundred of Dunderbunkers who had passed their
+Little Go and could skate forward and backward easily. A
+half-hundred, perhaps, were through the Great Go; these could do
+outer edge freely. A dozen had taken the Baccalaureate, and were
+proudly repeating the pirouettes and spread-eagles of that degree.
+A few could cross their feet, on the edge, forward and backward,
+and shift edge on the same foot, and so were <em>Magistri
+Artis</em>.</p>
+<p>Wade, U.P., added to these an indefinite list of combinations
+and fresh contrivances. He spun spirals slow, and spirals neck or
+nothing. He pivoted on one toe, with the other foot cutting rings,
+inner and outer edge, forward and back, He skated on one foot
+better than the M.A.s could on both. He ran on his toes; he slid on
+his heels; he cut up shines like a sunbeam on a bender; he swung,
+light as if he could fly, if he pleased, like a wing-footed
+Mercury; he glided as if will, not muscle, moved him; he tore about
+in frenzies; his pivotal leg stood firm, his balance leg flapped
+like a graceful pinion; he turned somersets; he jumped, whirling
+backward as he went, over a platoon of boys laid flat on the
+ice;&mdash;the last boy winced, and thought he was amputated; but
+Wade flew over, and the boy still holds together as well as most
+boys. Besides this, he could write his name, with a flourish at the
+end, like the <em>rubrica</em> of a Spanish <em>hidalgo</em>. He
+could podograph any letter, and multitudes of ingenious curlicues
+which might pass for the alphabets of the unknown tongues. He could
+<em>not</em> tumble.</p>
+<p>It was Fine Art.</p>
+<p>Bill Tarbox sometimes pressed the champion hard. But Bill
+stopped just short of Fine Art, in High Artisanship.</p>
+<p>How Dunderbunk cheered this wondrous display! How delighted the
+whole population was to believe they possessed the best skater on
+the North River! How they struggled to imitate! How they tumbled,
+some on their backs, some on their faces, some with dignity like
+the dying Caesar, some rebelliously like a cat thrown out of a
+garret, some limp as an ancient acrobate! How they laughed at
+themselves and at each other!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s all in the new skates,&rdquo; says Wade,
+apologizing for his unapproachable power and finish.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s suthin&rsquo; in the man,&rdquo; says Smith
+Wheelwright.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now chase me, everybody,&rdquo; said Wade.</p>
+<p>And, for a quarter of an hour, he dodged the merry crowd, until
+at last, breathless, he let himself be touched by pretty Belle
+Purtett, rosiest of all the Dunderbunk bevy of rosy maidens on the
+ice.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He rayther beats Bosting,&rdquo; says Captain Isaac
+Ambuster to Smith Wheelwright. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s so cold there that
+they can skate all the year round; but he beats them, all the
+same.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Captain was sitting in a queer little bowl of a skiff on the
+deck of his tug, and rocking it like a cradle, as he talked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bosting&rsquo;s always hard to beat in anything,&rdquo;
+rejoined the ex-Chairman. &ldquo;But if Bosting is to be beat,
+here&rsquo;s the man to do it.&rdquo;</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>And now, perhaps, gentle reader, you think I have said enough in
+behalf of a limited fraternity, the Skaters.</p>
+<p>The next chapter, then, shall take up the cause of the Lovers, a
+more numerous body, and we will see whether True Love, which never
+makes &ldquo;smooth running,&rdquo; can help its progress by a
+skate-blade.</p>
+<h4>CHAPTER VI.</h4>
+<h5>&ldquo;GO NOT, HAPPY DAY, TILL THE MAIDEN YIELDS.&rdquo;</h5>
+<p>Christmas noon at Dunderbunk. Every skater was in galloping
+glee,&mdash;as the electric air, and the sparkling sun, and the
+glinting ice had a right to expect that they all should be.</p>
+<p>Belle Purtett, skating simply and well, had never looked so
+pretty and graceful. So thought Bill Tarbox.</p>
+<p>He had not spoken to her, nor she to him, for more than six
+months. The poor fellow was ashamed of himself and penitent for his
+past bad courses. And so, though he longed to have his old flame
+recognize him again, and though he was bitterly jealous and
+miserably afraid he should lose her, he had kept away and consumed
+his heart like a true despairing lover.</p>
+<p>But to-day Bill was a lion, only second to Wade, the
+unapproachable lion-in-chief. Bill was reinstated in public esteem,
+and had won back his standing in the Foundry. He had to-day made a
+speech which Perry Purtett gave everybody to understand &ldquo;none
+of Senator Bill Seward&rsquo;s could hold the tallow to.&rdquo;
+Getting up the meeting and presenting Wade with the skates was
+Bill&rsquo;s own scheme, and it had turned out an eminent success.
+Everything began to look bright to him. His past life drifted out
+of his mind like the rowdy tales he used to read in the Sunday
+newspapers.</p>
+<p>He had watched Belle Purtett all the morning, and saw that she
+distinguished nobody with her smiles, not even that <em>coq du
+village</em>, Ringdove. He also observed that she was furtively
+watching him.</p>
+<p>By-and-by she sailed out of the crowd, and went off a little way
+to practise.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said he to himself, &ldquo;sail in, Bill
+Tarbox!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Belle heard the sharp strokes of a powerful skater coming after
+her. Her heart divined who this might be. She sped away like the
+swift Camilla, and her modest drapery showed just enough and
+&ldquo;<em>ne quid nimis</em>&rdquo; of her ankles.</p>
+<p>Bill admired the grace and the ankles immensely. But his hopes
+sank a little at the flight,&mdash;for he thought she perceived his
+chase and meant to drop him. Bill had not bad a classical
+education, and knew nothing of Galatea in the Eclogue,&mdash;how
+she did not hide, until she saw her swain was looking fondly
+after.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She wants to get away,&rdquo; he thought &ldquo;But she
+sha&rsquo;n&rsquo;t,&mdash;no, not if I have to follow her to
+Albany.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He struck out mightily. Presently the swift Camilla let herself
+be overtaken.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good morning, Miss Purtett.&rdquo; (Dogged air.)</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good morning, Mr. Tarbox.&rdquo; (Taken-by-surprise
+air.)</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been admiring your skating,&rdquo; says Bill,
+trying to be cool.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you?&rdquo; rejoins Belle, very cool and
+distant.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you been long on the ice?&rdquo; he inquired,
+hypocritically.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I came on two hours ago with Mr. Ringdove and the
+girls,&rdquo; returned she, with a twinkle which said, &ldquo;Take
+that, Sir, for pretending you did not see me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve seen Mr. Wade skate, then,&rdquo; Bill said,
+ignoring Ringdove.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; isn&rsquo;t it splendid?&rdquo; Belle replied,
+kindling.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Tip-top!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But then he does everything better than
+anybody.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So he does!&rdquo; Bill said,&mdash;true to his friend,
+and yet beginning to be jealous of this enthusiasm. It was not the
+first time he had been jealous of Wade; but he had quelled his
+fears, like a good fellow.</p>
+<p>Belle perceived Bill&rsquo;s jealousy, and could have cried for
+joy. She had known as little of her once lover&rsquo;s heart as he
+of hers. She only knew that he stopped coming to see her when he
+fell, and had not renewed his visits now that he was risen again.
+If she had not been charmingly ruddy with the brisk air and
+exercise, she would have betrayed her pleasure at Bill&rsquo;s
+jealousy with a fine blush.</p>
+<p>The sense of recovered power made her wish to use it again. She
+must tease him a little. So she continued, as they skated on in
+good rhythm,&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mother and I wouldn&rsquo;t know what to do without Mr.
+Wade. We like him <em>so</em> much,&rdquo;&mdash;said ardently.</p>
+<p>What Bill feared was true, then, he thought. Wade, noble fellow,
+worthy to win any woman&rsquo;s heart, had fascinated his
+landlady&rsquo;s daughter.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t wonder you like him,&rdquo; said he.
+&ldquo;He deserves it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Belle was touched by her old lover&rsquo;s forlorn tone.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He does indeed,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;He has helped and
+taught us all so much. He has taken such good care of Perry. And
+then&rdquo;&mdash;here she gave her companion a little look and a
+little smile&mdash;&ldquo;he speaks so kindly of you, Mr.
+Tarbox.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Smile, look, and words electrified Bill. He gave such a spring
+on his skates that he shot far ahead of the lady. He brought
+himself back with a sharp turn.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He has done kinder than he can speak,&rdquo; says Bill.
+&ldquo;He has made a man of me again, Miss Belle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know it. It makes me very happy to hear you able to say
+so of yourself.&rdquo; She spoke gravely.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very happy&rdquo;&mdash;about anything that concerned
+him? Bill had to work off his overjoy at this by an exuberant
+flourish. He whisked about Belle,&mdash;outer edge backward. She
+stopped to admire. He finished by describing on the virgin ice,
+before her, the letters B.P., in his neatest style of
+podography,&mdash;easy letters to make, luckily.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Beautiful!&rdquo; exclaimed Belle. &ldquo;What are those
+letters? Oh! B.P.! What do they stand for?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Guess!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m so dull,&rdquo; said she, looking bright as a
+diamond. &ldquo;Let me think! B.P.? British Poets,
+perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Try nearer home!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What are you likely to be thinking of that begins with
+B.P.?&mdash;Oh, I know! Boiler Plates!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She looked at him,&mdash;innocent as a lamb. Bill looked at her,
+delighted with her little coquetry. A woman without coquetry is
+insipid as a rose without scent, as Champagne without bubbles, or
+as corned beef without mustard.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s something I&rsquo;m thinking of most of the
+time,&rdquo; says he; &ldquo;but I hope it&rsquo;s softer than
+Boiler Plates. B.P. stands for Miss Isabella Purtett.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; says Belle, and she skated on in silence.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You came down with Alonzo Ringdove?&rdquo; Bill asked,
+suddenly, aware of another pang after a moment of peace.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He came with me and his sisters,&rdquo; she replied.</p>
+<p>Yes; poor Ringdove had dressed himself in his shiniest black,
+put on his brightest patent-leather boots, with his new swan-necked
+skates newly strapped over them, and wore his new dove-colored
+overcoat with the long skirts, on purpose to be lovely in the eyes
+of Belle on this occasion. Alas, in vain!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Ringdove is a great friend of yours, isn&rsquo;t
+he?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If you ever came to see me now, you would know who my
+friends are, Mr. Tarbox.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Would you be my friend again, if I came, Miss
+Belle?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Again? I have always been so,&mdash;always,
+Bill.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, something more than my friend,&mdash;now that
+I am trying to be worthy of more, Belle?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What more can I be?&rdquo; she said, softly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My wife.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She curved to the right. He followed. To the left. He was not to
+be shaken off.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will you promise me not to say <em>walves</em> instead of
+<em>valves</em>, Bill?&rdquo; she said, looking pretty and saucy as
+could be. &ldquo;I know, to say W for V is fashionable in the iron
+business; but I don&rsquo;t like it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What a thing a woman is to dodge!&rdquo; says Bill.
+&ldquo;Suppose I told you that men brought up inside of boilers,
+hammering on the inside against twenty hammering like Wulcans on
+the outside, get their ears so dumfounded that they can&rsquo;t
+tell whether they are saying <em>valves</em> or <em>walves</em>,
+<em>wice</em> or <em>virtue</em>,&mdash;suppose I told you
+that,&mdash;what would you say, Belle?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps I&rsquo;d say that you pronounce <em>virtue</em>
+so well, and act it so sincerely, that I can&rsquo;t make any
+objection to your other words. If you&rsquo;d asked me to be your
+<em>vife</em>, Bill, I might have said I didn&rsquo;t understand;
+but <em>wife</em> I do understand, and I say&rdquo;&mdash;</p>
+<p>She nodded, and tried to skate off. Bill stuck close to her
+side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is this true, Belle?&rdquo; he said, almost
+doubtfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;True as truth!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She put out her hand. He took it, and they skated on
+together,&mdash;hearts beating to the rhythm of their movements.
+The uproar and merriment of the village came only faintly to them.
+It seemed as if all Nature was hushed to listen to their plighted
+troth, their words of love renewed, more earnest for long
+suppression. The beautiful ice spread before them, like their life
+to come, a pathway untouched by any sorrowful or weary footstep.
+The blue sky was cloudless. The keen air stirred the pulses like
+the vapor of frozen wine. The benignant mountains westward kindly
+surveyed the happy pair, and the sun seemed created to warm and
+cheer them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And you forgive me, Belle?&rdquo; said the lover.
+&ldquo;I feel as if I had only gone bad to make me know how much
+better going right is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I always knew you would find it out. I never stopped
+hoping and praying for it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That must have been what brought Mr. Wade
+here.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I did hate him so, Bill, when I heard of something
+that happened between you and him! I thought him a brute and a
+tyrant. I never could get over it, until he told mother that you
+were the best machinist he ever knew, and would some time grow to
+be a great inventor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad you hated him. I suffered rattlesnakes and
+collapsed flues for fear you&rsquo;d go and love him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My affections were engaged,&rdquo; she said, with simple
+seriousness.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, if I&rsquo;d only thought so long ago! How lovely you
+are!&rdquo; exclaims Bill, in an ecstasy. &ldquo;And how refined!
+And how good! God bless you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He made up such a wishful mouth,&mdash;so wishful for one of the
+pleasurable duties of mouths, that Belle blushed, laughed, and
+looked down, and as she did so saw that one of her straps was
+trailing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Please fix it, Bill,&rdquo; she said, stopping and
+kneeling.</p>
+<p>Bill also knelt, and his wishful mouth immediately took its
+chance.</p>
+<p>A manly smack and sweet little feminine chirp sounded as their
+lips met.</p>
+<p>Boom! twanging gay as the first tap of a marriage-bell, a loud
+crack in the ice rang musically for leagues up and down the river.
+&ldquo;Bravo!&rdquo; it seemed to say. &ldquo;Well done, Bill
+Tarbox! Try again!&rdquo; Which the happy fellow did, and the happy
+maiden permitted.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Bill, &ldquo;let us go and hug Mr.
+Wade!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What! Both of us?&rdquo; Belle protested. &ldquo;Mr.
+Tarbox, I am ashamed of you!&rdquo;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="light" name="light">LIGHT LITERATURE.</a></h2>
+<p>Though the smallest boulder is heavy, and even the merest pebble
+has a perceptible weight, yet the entire planet, toward which both
+gravitate, floats more lightly than any feather. In literature
+somewhat analogous may be observed. Here also are found the
+insignificant lightness of the pebble and the mighty lightness of
+the planet; while between them range the weighty masses, superior
+to the petty ponderability of the one, and unequal to the
+firmamental float of the other. Accordingly, setting out from the
+mote-and-pebble extreme, you find, that, up to a certain point,
+increasing values of thought are commonly indicated by increasing
+gravity, by more and more of state-paper weightiness; but beyond
+this the rule is reversed, and lightness becomes the sign and
+measure of excellence. Bishop Butler and Richard
+Hooker&mdash;especially the latter, the first book of whose
+&ldquo;Ecclesiastical Polity&rdquo; is a truly noble piece of
+writing&mdash;stand, perhaps, at the head of the weighty class of
+writers in our language; but going beyond these to the
+&ldquo;Areopagitica&rdquo; of Milton, or even to the powerful prose
+of Raleigh, you pass the boundary-line, and are touched with the
+buoyant influences of the Muse. Shakspeare and Plato are lighter
+than levity; they are lifting forces, and weigh <em>less</em> than
+nothing. The novelette of the season, or any finest and flimsiest
+gossamer that is fabricated in our literary looms, compares with
+&ldquo;Lear,&rdquo; with &ldquo;Prometheus Bound,&rdquo; with any
+supreme work, only as cobwebs and thistle-down, that are easily
+borne by the breeze, may compare with sparrows and thrushes, that
+can fly and withal sing.</p>
+<p>There is a call for &ldquo;light reading,&rdquo; and I for one
+applaud the demand. A lightening influence is the best that books
+or men can bestow upon us. Information is good, but invigoration is
+a thousand times better. Cheer, cheer and vigor for the
+world&rsquo;s heart! It is because man&rsquo;s hope is so low, and
+his imaginations so poor, that he is earthly and evil. Wings for
+these unfledged hearts! Transformation for these grubs! Give us
+animation, inspiration, joy, faith! Give us enlivening, lightsome
+airs, to which our souls shall, on a sudden, begin to dance,
+keeping step with the angels! What else is worth having? Each one
+of these sordid sons of men&mdash;is he not a new-born Apollo, who
+waits only for the ambrosia from Olympus, to spring forth in
+divineness of beauty and strength?</p>
+<p>Nevertheless, I know not of any reading so hopelessly heavy as
+large portions of that which claims the name of light. Light
+writing it may be; but, considered as reading, one would be unjust
+to charge upon it any lack of avoirdupois. It is like the bran of
+wheat, which, though of little weight in the barrel, is heavy
+enough in the stomach,&mdash;Dr. Sylvester Graham to the contrary
+notwithstanding. It is related of an Italian culprit, that, being
+required, in punishment of his crime, to make choice between lying
+in prison for a term of years and reading the history of
+Guicciardini, he chose the latter, but, after a brief trial,
+petitioned for leave to reverse his election. I never attempted
+Guicciardini; but I <em>did</em> once attempt Pope&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Dunciad.&rdquo; And was it really the doom of a generation
+of readers to find delight in this book? One must suppose so. There
+are those in our day whose hard fate it is to read and to like
+James&rsquo;s and Bulwer&rsquo;s novels. But greatly mistaken is
+the scholar who, for relief from severe studies, goes to an empty
+or insincere book. It is like saying money, after large and worthy
+expenditures, by purchasing at a low price that which is worth
+nothing,&mdash;buying &ldquo;gold&rdquo; watches at a mock-auction
+room.</p>
+<p>Indeed, no book, however witty, lively, saltatory, can have the
+volant effects we covet, if it want substance and seriousness.
+Substance, however, is to be widely distinguished from
+ponderability. Oxygen is not so ponderous as lead or granite, but
+it is far more substantial than either, and, as every one knows,
+infinitely more serviceable to life. The distinction is equally
+valid when applied to books and to men. The &ldquo;airy
+nothings&rdquo; of imagination prove to be the most enduring
+somethings of the world&rsquo;s literature; and the last lightness
+of heart may go with the purest truth of soul and the most precious
+virtue of intelligence. All expressions carry the perpetual savors
+of their origin; and as brooks that dance and frolic with the
+sunbeams and murmur to the birds, light-hearted forever, will yet
+bear sands of gold, if they flow from auriferous hills, so any
+bubble and purl of laughter, proceeding from a wise and wealthy
+soul, will bear a noble significance. In point of fact, some of the
+merriest books in the world are among the most richly freighted.
+And as airy and mirthful books may be substantial and serious, so
+it is an effect very similar to that of noble and significant mirth
+that is produced upon us by the grandest pieces of serious writing.
+Thus, he who rightly reads the &ldquo;Phaedon&rdquo; or
+&ldquo;Phaedrus&rdquo; of Plato smiles through all the depths of
+his brain, though no pronounced smile show on his face; and he who
+rightly reads the book of Cervantes, though the laughters plunge,
+as it were, in cascades from his lips, is earnest at heart, and
+full of sound and tender meditations.</p>
+<p>If now, setting aside all books, whether pretending to gayety or
+gravity, that are simply empty and ineffectual, we inquire for the
+prime distinction between books light in a worthy and unworthy
+sense, it will appear to be the distinction between inspiration and
+alcohol,&mdash;between effects divinely real and effects illusory
+and momentary. The drunkard dreams of flying, and fancies the stars
+themselves left below him, while he is really lying in the gutter.
+There are those, and numbers of those, who in reading seek no more
+than to be cheated in a similar way. Indeed, to acknowledge a
+disagreeable fact, there is a very great deal of reading in our day
+that is simply a substitute for the potations and
+&ldquo;heavy-handed revel&rdquo; of our Saxon ancestors. In both
+cases it is a spurious exaltation of feeling that is sought; in
+both cases those who for a moment seem to themselves larks
+ascending to meet the sun are but worms eating earth.</p>
+<p>This celestial lightness, which constitutes the last praise and
+causes the purest benefit of books, comes not of any manner of
+writing; no mere vivacity, though that of a French writer of
+memoirs, though that of Ars&egrave;ne Houssaye himself, can compass
+it; by no knack or talents is it to be attained. Perfect style has,
+indeed, many allurements, and is of exceeding price; but it is no
+chariot of Elijah, nevertheless. Was ever style more delightful, of
+its kind, than Dryden&rsquo;s? Was ever style more heavy and
+monotonous than that of Swedenborg in his theological works? But I
+have read Dryden, not indeed without pleasure in his masterly
+exquisite ease and sureness of statement and his occasional touches
+of admirable good sense, yet with no slightest liberation of
+spirit, with no degree, greater or less, of that magical and
+marvellous evocation, of inward resource, whose blessed surprise
+now and then in life makes for us angelic moments, and feelingly
+persuades us that our earth also is a star and in the sky. On the
+other hand, I once read Swedenborg&rsquo;s &ldquo;Angelic Wisdom
+concerning the Divine Love and the Divine Wisdom&rdquo; with such
+enticement, such afflatus, such quickening and heightening of soul,
+as I cannot describe without seeming excessive. Until half through
+the book, I turned every page with the feeling that before another
+page I might see the chasm between the real and phenomenal worlds
+fairly bridged over. Of course, it disappointed me in the end; but
+what of that? To have kindled and for a time sustained the
+expectation which should render possible such disappointment was a
+benefit that a whole Bodleian Library might fail to confer. These
+benefits come to us not from the writer as such, but from the man
+behind the writer. He who dwells aloft amid the deathless orient
+imaginations of the human race, easily inhabiting their atmosphere
+as his native element,&mdash;about him, and him only, are the halos
+and dawns of immortal youth; and his speech, though with many
+babyish or barbarous fancies, many melancholies and vices of the
+blood compounded, carries nevertheless some refrain of divine
+hilarity, that beguiles men of their sordidness, their sullenness,
+and low cares, they know not how nor why.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="boston" name="boston">PILGRIMAGE TO OLD BOSTON.</a></h2>
+<p>We set out at a little past eleven, and made our first stage to
+Manchester. We were by this time sufficiently Anglicized to reckon
+the morning a bright and sunny one; although the May sunshine was
+mingled with water, as it were, and distempered with a very bitter
+east-wind.</p>
+<p>Lancashire is a dreary county, (all, at least, except its hilly
+portions,) and I have never passed through it without wishing
+myself anywhere but in that particular spot where I then happened
+to be. A few places along our route were historically interesting;
+as, for example, Bolton, which was the scene of many remarkable
+events in the Parliamentary War, and in the market-square of which
+one of the Earls of Derby was beheaded. We saw, along the way-side,
+the never-failing green fields, hedges, and other monotonous
+features of an ordinary English landscape. There were little
+factory villages, too, or larger towns, with their tall chimneys,
+and their pennons of black smoke, their uglinesses of brick-work,
+and their heaps of refuse matter from the furnace, which seems to
+be the only kind of stuff which Nature cannot take back to herself
+and resolve into the elements, when man has thrown it aside. These
+hillocks of waste and effete mineral always disfigure the
+neighborhood of ironmongering towns, and, even after a considerable
+antiquity, are hardly made decent with a little grass.</p>
+<p>At a quarter to two we left Manchester by the Sheffield and
+Lincoln Railway. The scenery grew rather better than that through
+which we had hitherto passed, though still by no means very
+striking; for (except in the show-districts, such as the Lake
+country, or Derbyshire) English scenery is not particularly well
+worth looking at, considered as a spectacle or a picture. It has a
+real, homely charm of its own, no doubt; and the rich verdure, and
+the thorough finish added by human, art, are perhaps as attractive
+to an American eye as any stronger feature could be. Our journey,
+however, between Manchester and Sheffield was not through a rich
+tract of country, but along a valley walled in by bleak, ridgy
+hills extending straight as a rampart, and across black moorlands
+with here and there a plantation of trees. Sometimes there were
+long and gradual ascents, bleak, windy, and desolate, conveying the
+very impression which the reader gets from many passages of Miss
+Bront&eacute;&rsquo;s novels, and still more from those of her two
+sisters. Old stone or brick farm-houses, and, once in a while, an
+old church-tower, were visible: but these are almost too common
+objects to be noticed in an English landscape.</p>
+<p>On a railway, I suspect, what little we do see of the country is
+seen quite amiss, because it was never intended to be looked at
+from any point of view in that straight line; so that it is like
+looking at the wrong side of a piece of tapestry. The old highways
+and footpaths were as natural as brooks and rivulets, and adapted
+themselves by an inevitable impulse to the physiognomy of the
+country; and, furthermore, every object within view of them had
+some subtile reference to their curves and undulations: but the
+line of a railway is perfectly artificial, and puts all precedent
+things at sixes-and-sevens. At any rate, be the cause what it may,
+there is seldom anything worth seeing&mdash;within the scope of a
+railway traveller&rsquo;s eye; and if there were, it requires an
+alert marksman to take a flying shot at the picturesque.</p>
+<p>At one of the stations, (it was near a village of ancient
+aspect, nestling round a church, on a wide Yorkshire moor,) I saw a
+tall old lady in black, who seemed to have just alighted from the
+train. She caught my attention by a singular movement of the head,
+not once only, but continually repeated, and at regular intervals,
+as if she were making a stern and solemn protest against some
+action that developed itself before her eyes, and were foreboding
+terrible disaster, if it should be persisted in. Of course, it was
+nothing more than a paralytic or nervous affection; yet one might
+fancy that it had its origin in some unspeakable wrong, perpetrated
+half a lifetime ago in this old gentlewoman&rsquo;s presence,
+either against herself or somebody whom she loved still better. Her
+features had a wonderful sternness, which, I presume, was caused by
+her habitual effort to compose and keep them quiet, and thereby
+counteract the tendency to paralytic movement. The slow, regular,
+and inexorable character of the motion,&mdash;her look of force and
+self-control, which had the appearance of rendering it voluntary,
+while yet it was so fateful,&mdash;have stamped this poor
+lady&rsquo;s face and gesture into my memory; so that, some dark
+day or other, I am afraid she will reproduce herself in a dismal
+romance.</p>
+<p>The train stopped a minute or two, to allow the tickets to be
+taken, just before entering the Sheffield station, and thence I had
+a glimpse of the famous town of razors and penknives, enveloped in
+a cloud of its own diffusing. My impressions of it are extremely
+vague and misty,&mdash;or, rather, smoky: for Sheffield seems to me
+smokier than Manchester, Liverpool, or Birmingham,&mdash;smokier
+than all England besides, unless Newcastle be the exception. It
+might have been Pluto&rsquo;s own metropolis, shrouded in
+sulphurous vapor; and, indeed, our approach to it had been by the
+Valley of the Shadow of Death, through a tunnel three miles in
+length, quite traversing the breadth and depth of a mountainous
+hill.</p>
+<p>After passing Sheffield, the scenery became softer, gentler, yet
+more picturesque. At one point we saw what I believe to be the
+utmost northern verge of Sherwood Forest,&mdash;not consisting,
+however, of thousand-year oaks, extant from Robin Hood&rsquo;s
+days, but of young and thriving plantations, which will require a
+century or two of slow English growth to give them much breadth of
+shade. Earl Fitzwilliam&rsquo;s property lies in this neighborhood,
+and probably his castle was hidden among some soft depth of foliage
+not far off. Farther onward the country grew quite level around us,
+whereby I judged that we must now be in Lincolnshire; and shortly
+after six o&rsquo;clock we caught the first glimpse of the
+Cathedral towers, though they loomed scarcely huge enough for our
+preconceived idea of them. But, as we drew nearer, the great
+edifice began to assert itself, making us acknowledge it to be
+larger than our receptivity could take in.</p>
+<p>At the railway-station we found no cab, (it being an unknown
+vehicle in Lincoln,) but only an omnibus belonging to the
+Saracen&rsquo;s Head, which the driver recommended as the best
+hotel in the city, and took us thither accordingly. It received us
+hospitably, and looked comfortable enough; though, like the hotels
+of most old English towns, it had a musty fragrance of antiquity,
+such as I have smelt in a seldom-opened London church where the
+broad-aisle is paved with tombstones. The house was of an ancient
+fashion, the entrance into its interior court-yard being through an
+arch, in the side of which is the door of the hotel. There are long
+corridors, an intricate arrangement of passages, and an up-and-down
+meandering of staircases, amid which it would be no marvel to
+encounter some forgotten guest who had gone astray a hundred years
+ago, and was still seeking for his bed-room while the rest of his
+generation were in their graves. There is no exaggerating the
+confusion of mind that seizes upon a stranger in the bewildering
+geography of a great old-fashioned English inn.</p>
+<p>This hotel stands in the principal street of Lincoln, and within
+a very short distance of one of the ancient city-gates, which is
+arched across the public way, with a smaller arch for
+foot-passengers on either side; the whole, a gray, time-gnawn,
+ponderous, shadowy structure, through the dark vista of which you
+look into the Middle Ages. The street is narrow, and retains many
+antique peculiarities; though, unquestionably, English domestic
+architecture has lost its most impressive features, in the course
+of the last century. In this respect, there are finer old towns
+than Lincoln: Chester, for instance, and Shrewsbury,&mdash;which
+last is unusually rich in those quaint and stately edifices where
+the gentry of the shire used to make their winter-abodes, in a
+provincial metropolis. Almost everywhere, nowadays, there is a
+monotony of modern brick or stuccoed fronts, hiding houses that are
+older than ever, but obliterating the picturesque antiquity of the
+street.</p>
+<p>Between seven and eight o&rsquo;clock (it being still broad
+daylight in these long English days) we set out to pay a
+preliminary visit to the exterior of the Cathedral. Passing through
+the Stone Bow, as the city-gate close by is called, we ascended a
+street which grew steeper and narrower as we advanced, till at last
+it got to be the steepest street I ever climbed,&mdash;so steep
+that any carriage, if left to itself, would rattle downward much
+faster than it could possibly be drawn up. Being almost the only
+hill in Lincolnshire, the inhabitants seem disposed to make the
+most of it. The houses on each side had no very remarkable aspect,
+except one with a stone portal and carved ornaments, which is now a
+dwelling-place for poverty-stricken people, but may have been an
+aristocratic abode in the days of the Norman kings, to whom its
+style of architecture dates back. This is called the Jewess&rsquo;s
+House, having been inhabited by a woman of that faith who was
+hanged six hundred years ago.</p>
+<p>And still the street grew steeper and steeper. Certainly, the
+Bishop and clergy of Lincoln ought not to be fat men, but of very
+spiritual, saint-like, almost angelic habit, if it be a frequent
+part of their ecclesiastical duty to climb this hill; for it is a
+real penance, and was probably performed as such, and groaned over
+accordingly, in monkish times. Formerly, on the day of his
+installation, the Bishop used to ascend the hill barefoot, and was
+doubtless cheered and invigorated by looking upward to the grandeur
+that was to console him for the humility of his approach. We,
+likewise, were beckoned onward by glimpses of the Cathedral towers,
+and, finally, attaining an open square on the summit, we saw an old
+Gothic gateway to the left hand, and another to the right. The
+latter had apparently been a part of the exterior defences of the
+Cathedral, at a time when the edifice was fortified. The west front
+rose behind. We passed through one of the side-arches of the Gothic
+portal, and found ourselves in the Cathedral Close, a wide, level
+space, where the great old Minster has fair room to sit, looking
+down on the ancient structures that surround it, all of which, in
+former days, were the habitations of its dignitaries and officers.
+Some of them are still occupied as such, though others are in too
+neglected and dilapidated a state to seem worthy of so splendid an
+establishment. Unless it be Salisbury Close, however, (which is
+incomparably rich as regards the old residences that belong to it,)
+I remember no more comfortably picturesque precincts round any
+other cathedral. But, in, truth, almost every cathedral close, in
+turn, has seemed to me the loveliest, coziest, safest, least
+wind-shaken, most decorous, and most enjoyable shelter that ever
+the thrift and selfishness of mortal man contrived for himself. How
+delightful, to combine all this with the service of the temple!</p>
+<p>Lincoln Cathedral is built of a yellowish brown-stone, which
+appears either to have been largely restored, or else does not
+assume the hoary, crumbly surface that gives such a venerable
+aspect to most of the ancient churches and castles in England. In
+many parts, the recent restorations are quite evident; but other,
+and much the larger portions, can scarcely have been touched for
+centuries: for there are still the gargoyles, perfect, or with
+broken noses, as the case may be, but showing that variety and
+fertility of grotesque extravagance which no modern imitation can
+effect. There are innumerable niches, too, up the whole height of
+the towers, above and around the entrance, and all over the walls:
+most of them empty, but a few containing the lamentable remnants of
+headless saints and angels. It is singular what a native animosity
+lives in the human heart against carved images, insomuch that,
+whether they represent Christian saint or Pagan deity, all
+unsophisticated men seize the first safe opportunity to knock off
+their heads! In spite of all dilapidations, however, the effect of
+the west front of the Cathedral is still exceedingly rich, being
+covered from massive base to airy summit with the minutest details
+of sculpture and carving: at least, it was so once; and even now
+the spiritual impression of its beauty remains so strong, that we
+have to look twice to see that much of it has been obliterated. I
+have seen a cherry-stone carved all over by a monk, so minutely
+that it must have cost him half a lifetime of labor; and this
+cathedral front seems to have been elaborated in a monkish spirit,
+like that cherry-stone. Not that the result is in the least petty,
+but miraculously grand, and all the more so for the faithful beauty
+of the smallest details.</p>
+<p>An elderly man, seeing us looking up at the west front, came to
+the door of an adjacent house, and called to inquire if we wished
+to go into the Cathedral; but as there would have been a dusky
+twilight beneath its roof, like the antiquity that has sheltered
+itself within, we declined for the present. So we merely walked
+round the exterior, and thought it more beautiful than that of
+York; though, on recollection, I hardly deem it so majestic and
+mighty as that. It is vain to attempt a description, or seek even
+to record the feeling which the edifice inspires. It does not
+impress the beholder as an inanimate object, but as something that
+has a vast, quiet, long-enduring life of its own,&mdash;a creation
+which man did not build, though in some way or other it is
+connected with him, and kindred to human nature. In short, I fall
+straightway to talking nonsense, when I try to express my inner
+sense of this and other cathedrals.</p>
+<p>While we stood in the close, at the eastern end of the Minster,
+the clock chimed the quarters; and then Great Tom, who hangs in the
+Rood Tower, told us it was eight o&rsquo;clock, in far the sweetest
+and mightiest accents that I ever heard from any bell,&mdash;slow,
+and solemn, and allowing the profound reverberations of each stroke
+to die away before the next one fell. It was still broad daylight
+in that upper region of the town, and would be so for some time
+longer; but the evening atmosphere was getting sharp and cool. We
+therefore descended the steep street,&mdash;our younger companion
+running before us, and gathering such headway that I fully expected
+him to break his head against some projecting wall.</p>
+<p>In the morning we took a fly, (an English term for an
+exceedingly sluggish vehicle,) and drove up to the Minster by a
+road rather less steep and abrupt than the one we had previously
+climbed. We alighted before the west front, and sent our charioteer
+in quest of the verger; but, as he was not immediately to be found,
+a young girl let us into the nave. We found it very grand, it is
+needless to say, but not so grand, methought, as the vast nave of
+York Cathedral, especially beneath the great central tower of the
+latter. Unless a writer intends a professedly architectural
+description, there is but one set of phrases in which to talk of
+all the cathedrals in England, and elsewhere. They are alike in
+their great features: an acre or two of stone flags for a pavement;
+rows of vast columns supporting a vaulted roof at a dusky height;
+great windows, sometimes richly bedimmed with ancient or modern
+stained glass; an elaborately carved screen between the nave and
+chancel, breaking the vista that might else be of such glorious
+length, and which is further choked up by a massive organ,&mdash;in
+spite of which obstructions, you catch the broad, variegated
+glimmer of the painted east window, where a hundred saints wear
+their robes of transfiguration. Within the screen are the carved
+oaken stalls of the Chapter and Prebendaries, the Bishop&rsquo;s
+throne, the pulpit, the altar, and whatever else may furnish out
+the Holy of Holies. Nor must we forget the range of chapels, (once
+dedicated to Catholic saints, but which have now lost their
+individual consecration,) nor the old monuments of kings, warriors,
+and prelates, in the side-aisles of the chancel. In close
+contiguity to the main body of the Cathedral is the Chapter-House,
+which, here at Lincoln, as at Salisbury, is supported by one
+central pillar rising from the floor, and putting forth branches
+like a tree, to hold up the roof. Adjacent to the Chapter-House are
+the cloisters, extending round a quadrangle, and paved with
+lettered tombstones, the more antique of which have had their
+inscriptions half obliterated by the feet of monks taking their
+noontide exercise in these sheltered walks, five hundred years ago.
+Some of these old burial-stones, although with ancient crosses
+engraved upon them, have been made to serve as memorials to dead
+people of very recent date.</p>
+<p>In the chancel, among the tombs of forgotten bishops and
+knights, we saw an immense slab of stone purporting to be the
+monument of Catherine Swineferd, wife of John of Gaunt; also, here
+was the shrine of the little Saint Hugh, that Christian child who
+was fabled to have been crucified by the Jews of Lincoln. The
+Cathedral is not particularly rich in monuments; for it suffered
+grievous outrage and dilapidation, both at the Reformation and in
+Cromwell&rsquo;s time. This latter iconoclast is in especially bad
+odor with the sextons and vergers of most of the old churches which
+I have visited. His soldiers stabled their steeds in the nave of
+Lincoln Cathedral, and hacked and hewed the monkish sculptures, and
+the ancestral memorials of great families, quite at their wicked
+and plebeian pleasure. Nevertheless, there are some most exquisite
+and marvellous specimens of flowers, foliage, and grape-vines, and
+miracles of stone-work twined about arches, as if the material had
+been as soft as wax in the cunning sculptor&rsquo;s
+hands,&mdash;the leaves being represented with all their veins, so
+that you would almost think it petrified Nature, for which he
+sought to steal the praise of Art. Here, too, were those grotesque
+faces which always grin at you from the projections of monkish
+architecture, as if the builders had gone mad with their own deep
+solemnity, or dreaded such a catastrophe, unless permitted to throw
+in something ineffably absurd.</p>
+<p>Originally, it is supposed, all the pillars of this great
+edifice, and all these magic sculptures, were polished to the
+utmost degree of lustre; nor is it unreasonable to think that the
+artists would have taken these further pains, when they had already
+bestowed so much labor in working out their conceptions to the
+extremest point. But, at present, the whole interior of the
+Cathedral is smeared over with a yellowish wash, the very meanest
+hue imaginable, and for which somebody&rsquo;s soul has a bitter
+reckoning to undergo.</p>
+<p>In the centre of the grassy quadrangle about which the cloisters
+perambulate is a small, mean, brick building, with a locked door.
+Our guide,&mdash;I forgot to say that we had been captured by a
+verger, in black, and with a white tie, but of a lusty and jolly
+aspect,&mdash;our guide unlocked this door, and disclosed a flight
+of steps. At the bottom appeared what I should have taken to be a
+large square of dim, worn, and faded oil-carpeting, which might
+originally have been painted of a rather gaudy pattern. This was a
+Roman tessellated pavement, made of small colored bricks, or pieces
+of burnt clay. It was accidentally discovered here, and has not
+been meddled with, further than by removing the superincumbent
+earth and rubbish.</p>
+<p>Nothing else occurs to me, just now, to be recorded about the
+interior of the Cathedral, except that we saw a place where the
+stone pavement had been worn away by the feet of ancient pilgrims
+scraping upon it, as they knelt down before a shrine of the
+Virgin.</p>
+<p>Leaving the Minster, we now went along a street of more
+venerable appearance than we had heretofore seen, bordered with
+houses, the high, peaked roofs of which were covered with red
+earthen tiles. It led us to a Roman arch, which was once the
+gateway of a fortification, and has been striding across the
+English street ever since the latter was a faint village-path, and
+for centuries before. The arch is about four hundred yards from the
+Cathedral; and it is to be noticed that there are Roman remains in
+all this neighborhood, some above ground, and doubtless innumerable
+more beneath it; for, as in ancient Rome itself, an inundation of
+accumulated soil seems to have swept over what was the surface of
+that earlier day. The gateway which I am speaking about is probably
+buried to a third of its height, and perhaps has as perfect a Roman
+pavement (if sought for at the original depth) as that which runs
+beneath the Arch of Titus. It is a rude and massive structure, and
+seems as stalwart now as it could have been two thousand years ago;
+and though Time has gnawed it externally, he has made what amends
+he could by crowning its rough and broken summit with grass and
+weeds, and planting tufts of yellow flowers on the projections up
+and down the sides.</p>
+<p>There are the ruins of a Norman castle, built by the Conqueror,
+in pretty close proximity to the Cathedral; but the old gateway is
+obstructed by a modern door of wood, and we were denied admittance
+because some part of the precincts are used as a prison. We now
+rambled about on the broad back of the hill, which, besides the
+Minster and ruined castle, is the site of some stately and queer
+old houses, and of many mean little hovels. I suspect that all or
+most of the life of the present day has subsided into the lower
+town, and that only priests, poor people, and prisoners dwell in
+these upper regions. In the wide, dry moat at the base of the
+castle-wall are clustered whole colonies of small houses, some of
+brick, but the larger portion built of old stones which once made
+part of the Norman keep, or of Roman structures that existed before
+the Conqueror&rsquo;s castle was ever dreamed about. They are like
+toadstools that spring up from the mould of a decaying tree. Ugly
+as they are, they add wonderfully to the picturesqueness of the
+scene, being quite as valuable, in that respect, as the great,
+broad, ponderous ruin of the castle-keep, which rose high above our
+heads, heaving its huge gray mass out of a bank of green foliage
+and ornamental shrubbery, such as lilacs and other
+flowering-plants, in which its foundations were completely
+hidden.</p>
+<p>After walking quite round the castle, I made an excursion
+through the Roman gateway, along a pleasant and level road bordered
+with dwellings of various character. One or two were houses of
+gentility, with delightful and shadowy lawns before them; many had
+those high, red-tiled roofs, ascending into acutely pointed gables,
+which seem to belong to the same epoch as some of the edifices in
+our own earlier towns; and there were pleasant-looking cottages,
+very sylvan and rural, with hedges so dense and high, fencing them
+in, as almost to hide them up to the eaves of their thatched roofs.
+In front of one of these I saw various images, crosses, and relics
+of antiquity, among which were fragments of old Catholic
+tombstones, disposed by way of ornament.</p>
+<p>We now went home to the Saracen&rsquo;s Head; and as the weather
+was very unpropitious, and it sprinkled a little now and then, I
+would gladly have felt myself released from further thraldom to the
+Cathedral. But it had taken possession of me, and would not let me
+be at rest; so at length I found myself compelled to climb the hill
+again, between daylight and dusk. A mist was now hovering about the
+upper height of the great central tower, so as to dim and half
+obliterate its battlements and pinnacles, even while I stood in the
+close beneath it. It was the most impressive view that I had had.
+The whole lower part of the structure was seen with perfect
+distinctness; but at the very summit the mist was so dense as to
+form an actual cloud, as well denned as ever I saw resting on a
+mountain-top. Really and literally, here was a &ldquo;cloud-capt
+tower.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The entire Cathedral, too, transfigured itself into a richer
+beauty and more imposing majesty than ever. The longer I looked,
+the better I loved it. Its exterior is certainly far more beautiful
+than that of York Minster; and its finer effect is due, I think, to
+the many peaks in which the structure ascends, and to the pinnacles
+which, as it were, repeat and re-echo them into the sky. York
+Cathedral is comparatively square and angular in its general
+effect; but here there is a continual mystery of variety, so that
+at every glance you are aware of a change, and a disclosure of
+something new, yet working an harmonious development of what you
+have heretofore seen. The west front is unspeakably grand, and may
+be read over and over again forever, and still show undetected
+meanings, like a great, broad page of marvellous writing in
+black-letter,&mdash;so many sculptured ornaments there are,
+blossoming out before your eyes, and gray statues that have grown
+there since you looked last, and empty niches, and a hundred airy
+canopies beneath which carved images used to be, and where they
+will show themselves again, if you gaze long enough.&mdash;But I
+will not say another word about the Cathedral.</p>
+<p>We spent the rest of the day within the sombre precincts of the
+Saracen&rsquo;s Head, reading yesterday&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Times,&rdquo; &ldquo;The Guide-Book of Lincoln,&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;The Directory of the Eastern Counties.&rdquo; Dismal as the
+weather was, the street beneath our window was enlivened with a
+great bustle and turmoil of people all the evening, because it was
+Saturday night, and they had accomplished their week&rsquo;s toil,
+received their wages, and were making their small purchases against
+Sunday, and enjoying themselves as well as they knew how. A band of
+music passed to and fro several times, with the rain-drops falling
+into the mouth of the brazen trumpet and pattering on the
+bass-drum; a spirit-shop, opposite the hotel, had a vast run of
+custom; and a coffee-dealer, in the open air, found occasional vent
+for his commodity, in spite of the cold water that dripped into the
+cups. The whole breadth of the street, between the Stone Bow and
+the bridge across the Witham, was thronged to overflowing, and
+humming with human life.</p>
+<p>Observing in the Guide-Book that a steamer runs on the River
+Witham between Lincoln and Boston, I inquired of the waiter, and
+learned that she was to start on Monday, at ten o&rsquo;clock.
+Thinking it might be an interesting trip, and a pleasant variation
+of our customary mode of travel, we determined to make the voyage.
+The Witham flows through Lincoln, crossing the main street under an
+arched bridge of Gothic construction, a little below the
+Saracen&rsquo;s Head. It has more the appearance of a canal than of
+a river, in its passage through the town,&mdash;being bordered with
+hewn stone mason-work on each side, and provided with one or two
+locks. The steamer proved to be small, dirty, and altogether
+inconvenient. The early morning had been bright; but the sky now
+lowered upon us with a sulky English temper, and we had not long
+put off before we felt an ugly wind from the German Ocean blowing
+right in our teeth. There were a number of passengers on board,
+country-people, such as travel by third-class on the railway; for,
+I suppose, nobody but ourselves ever dreamt of voyaging, by the
+steamer for the sake of what he might happen upon in the way of
+river-scenery.</p>
+<p>We bothered a good while about getting through a preliminary
+lock; nor, when fairly under way, did we ever accomplish, I think,
+six miles an hour. Constant delays were caused, moreover, by
+stopping to take up passengers and freight,&mdash;not at regular
+landing-places, but anywhere along the green banks. The scenery was
+identical with that of the railway, because the latter runs along
+by the river-side through the whole distance, or nowhere departs
+from it except to make a short cut across some sinuosity; so that
+our only advantage lay in the drawling, snail-like slothfulness of
+our progress, which allowed us time enough and to spare for the
+objects along the shore. Unfortunately, there was nothing, or next
+to nothing, to be seen,&mdash;the country being one unvaried level
+over the whole thirty miles of our voyage,&mdash;not a hill in
+sight, either near or far, except that solitary one on the summit
+of which we had left Lincoln Cathedral. And the Cathedral was our
+landmark for four hours or more, and at last rather faded out than
+was hidden by any intervening object.</p>
+<p>It would have been a pleasantly lazy day enough, if the rough
+and bitter wind had not blown directly in our faces, and chilled us
+through, in spite of the sunshine that soon succeeded a sprinkle or
+two of rain. These English east-winds, which prevail from February
+till June, are greater nuisances than the east-wind of our own
+Atlantic coast, although they do not bring mist and storm, as with
+us, but some of the sunniest weather that England sees. Under their
+influence, the sky smiles and is villanous.</p>
+<p>The landscape was tame to the last degree, but had an English
+character that was abundantly worth our looking at. A green
+luxuriance of early grass; old, high-roofed farm-houses, surrounded
+by their stone barns and ricks of bay and grain; ancient villages,
+with the square, gray tower of a church seen afar over the level
+country, amid the cluster of red roofs; here and there a shadowy
+grove of venerable trees, surrounding what was perhaps an
+Elizabethan ball, though it looked more like the abode of some rich
+yeoman. Once, too, we saw the tower of a mediaeval castle, that of
+Tattershall, built by a Cromwell, but whether of the
+Protector&rsquo;s family I cannot tell. But the gentry do not
+appear to have settled multitudinously in this tract of country;
+nor is it to be wondered at, since a lover of the picturesque would
+as soon think of settling in Holland. The river retains its
+canal-like aspect all along; and only in the latter part of its
+course does it become more than wide enough for the little steamer
+to turn itself round,&mdash;at broadest, not more than twice that
+width.</p>
+<p>The only memorable incident of our voyage happened when a
+mother-duck was leading her little fleet of five ducklings across
+the river, just as our steamer went swaggering by, stirring the
+quiet stream into great waves that lashed the banks on either side.
+I saw the imminence of the catastrophe, and hurried to the stern of
+the boat to witness, since I could not possibly avert it. The poor
+ducklings had uttered their baby-quacks, and striven with all their
+tiny might to escape: four of them, I believe, were washed aside
+and thrown off unhurt from the steamer&rsquo;s prow; but the fifth
+must have gone under the whole length of the keel, and never could
+have come up alive.</p>
+<p>At last, in, mid-afternoon, we beheld the tall tower of Saint
+Botolph&rsquo;s Church (three hundred feet high, the same elevation
+as the tallest tower of Lincoln Cathedral) looming in the distance.
+At about half-past four we reached Boston, (which name has been
+shortened, in the course of ages, by the quick and slovenly English
+pronunciation, from Botolph&rsquo;s town,) and were taken by a cab
+to the Peacock, in the market-place. It was the best hotel in town,
+though a poor one enough; and we were shown into a small, stilled
+parlor, dingy, musty, and scented with stale
+tobacco-smoke,&mdash;tobacco-smoke two days old, for the waiter
+assured us that the room had not more recently been fumigated. An
+exceedingly grim waiter he was, apparently a genuine descendant of
+the old Puritans of this English Boston, and quite as sour as those
+who peopled the daughter-city in New England. Our parlor had the
+one recommendation of looking into the market-place, and affording
+a sidelong glimpse of the tail spire and noble old church.</p>
+<p>In my first ramble about the town, chance led me to the
+river-side, at that quarter where the port is situated. Here were
+long buildings of an old-fashioned aspect, seemingly warehouses,
+with windows in the high, steep roofs. The Custom-House found ample
+accommodation within an ordinary dwelling-house. Two or three large
+schooners were moored along the river&rsquo;s brink, which had here
+a stone margin; another large and handsome schooner was evidently
+just finished, rigged and equipped for her first voyage; the
+rudiments of another were on the stocks, in a ship-yard bordering
+on the river. Still another, while I was looking on, came up the
+stream, and lowered her main-sail, from a foreign voyage. An old
+man on the bank hailed her and inquired about her cargo; but the
+Lincolnshire people have such a queer way of talking English that I
+could not understand the reply. Farther down the river, I saw a
+brig, approaching rapidly under sail. The whole scene made an odd
+impression of bustle, and sluggishness, and decay, and a remnant of
+wholesome life; and I could not but contrast it with the mighty and
+populous activity of our own Boston, which was once the feeble
+infant of this old English town;&mdash;the latter, perhaps, almost
+stationary ever since that day, as if the birth of such an
+offspring had taken away its own principle of growth. I thought of
+Long Wharf, and Faneuil Hall, and Washington Street, and the Great
+Elm, and the State-House, and exulted lustily,&mdash;but yet began
+to feel at home in this good old town, for its very name&rsquo;s
+sake, as I never had before felt, in England.</p>
+<p>The next morning we came out in the early sunshine, (the sun
+must have been shining nearly four hours, however, for it was after
+eight o&rsquo;clock,) and strolled about the streets, like people
+who had a right to be there. The market-place of Boston is an
+irregular square, into one end of which the chancel of the church
+slightly projects. The gates of the church-yard were open and free
+to all passengers, and the common footway of the towns-people seems
+to lie to and fro across it. It is paved, according to English
+custom, with flat tombstones; and there are also raised, or
+altar-tombs, some of which have armorial bearings on them. One
+clergyman has caused himself and his wife to be buried right in the
+middle of the stone-bordered path that traverses the church-yard;
+so that not an individual of the thousands who pass along this
+public way can help trampling over him or her. The scene,
+nevertheless, was very cheerful in the morning sun: people going
+about their business in the day&rsquo;s primal freshness, which was
+just as fresh here as in younger villages; children, with
+milk-pails, loitering over the burial-stones; school-boys playing
+leap-frog with the altar-tombs; the simple old town preparing
+itself for the day, which would be like myriads of other days that
+had passed over it, but yet would be worth living through. And down
+on the church-yard, where were buried many generations whom it
+remembered in their time, looked the stately tower of Saint
+Botolph; and it was good to see and think of such an age-long
+giant, intermarrying the present epoch with a distant past, and
+getting quite imbued with human nature by being so immemorially
+connected with men&rsquo;s familiar knowledge and homely interests.
+It is a noble tower; and the jackdaws evidently have pleasant homes
+in their hereditary nests among its topmost windows, and live
+delightful lives, flitting and cawing about its pinnacles and
+flying-buttresses. I should almost like to be a jackdaw myself, for
+the sake of living up there.</p>
+<p>In front of the church, not more than twenty yards off, and with
+a low brick wall between, flows the River Witham. On the hither
+bank a fisherman was washing his boat; and another skiff, with her
+sail lazily half-twisted, lay on the opposite strand. The stream,
+at this point, is about of such width, that, if the tall tower were
+to tumble over flat on its face, its top-stone might perhaps reach
+to the middle of the channel. On the farther shore there is a line
+of antique-looking houses, with roofs of red tile, and windows
+opening out of them,&mdash;some of these dwellings being so
+ancient, that the Reverend Mr. Cotton, subsequently our first
+Boston minister, must have seen them with his own bodily eyes, when
+he used to issue from the front-portal after service. Indeed, there
+must be very many houses here, and even some streets, that bear
+much the aspect that they did when the Puritan divine paced
+solemnly among them.</p>
+<p>In our rambles about town, we went into a bookseller&rsquo;s
+shop to inquire if he had any description of Boston for sale. He
+offered me (or, rather, produced for inspection, not supposing that
+I would buy it) a quarto history of the town, published by
+subscription, nearly forty years ago. The bookseller showed himself
+a well-informed and affable man, and a local antiquary, to whom a
+party of inquisitive strangers were a godsend. He had met with
+several Americans, who, at various times, had come on pilgrimages
+to this place, and had been in correspondence with others.
+Happening to have heard the name of one member of our party, he
+showed us great courtesy and kindness, and invited us into his
+inner domicile, where, as he modestly intimated, he kept a few
+articles which it might interest us to see. So we went with him
+through the shop, up-stairs, into the private part of his
+establishment; and, really, it was one of the rarest adventures I
+ever met with, to stumble upon this treasure of a man, with his
+treasury of antiquities and curiosities, veiled behind the
+unostentatious front of a bookseller&rsquo;s shop, in a very
+moderate line of village-business. The two up-stair rooms into
+which he introduced us were so crowded with inestimable articles,
+that we were almost afraid to stir, for fear of breaking some
+fragile thing that had been accumulating value for unknown
+centuries.</p>
+<p>The apartment was hung round with pictures and old engravings,
+many of which were extremely rare. Premising that he was going to
+show us something very curious, Mr. Porter went into the next room
+and returned with a counterpane of fine linen, elaborately
+embroidered with silk, which so profusely covered the linen that
+the general effect was as if the main texture were silken. It was
+stained, and seemed very old, and had an ancient fragrance. It was
+wrought all over with birds and flowers in a most delicate style of
+needle-work, and among other devices, more than once repeated, was
+the cipher, M.S.,&mdash;being the initials of one of the most
+unhappy names that ever a woman bore. This quilt was embroidered by
+the hands of Mary-Queen of Scots, during her imprisonment at
+Fotheringay Castle; and having evidently been a work of years, she
+had doubtless shed many tears over it, and wrought many doleful
+thoughts and abortive schemes into its texture, along with the
+birds and flowers. As a counterpart to this most precious relic,
+our friend produced some of the handiwork of a former Queen of
+Otaheite, presented by her to Captain Cook: it was a bag, cunningly
+made of some delicate vegetable stuff, and ornamented with
+feathers. Next, he brought out a green silk waistcoat of very
+antique fashion, trimmed about the edges and pocket-holes with a
+rich and delicate embroidery of gold and silver. This (as the
+possessor of the treasure proved, by tracing its pedigree till it
+came into his hands) was once the vestment of Queen
+Elizabeth&rsquo;s Lord Burleigh: but that great statesman must have
+been a person of very moderate girth in the chest and waist; for
+the garment was hardly more than a comfortable fit for a boy of
+eleven, the smallest American of our party, who tried on the
+gorgeous waistcoat. Then, Mr. Porter produced some curiously
+engraved drinking-glasses, with a view of Saint Botolph&rsquo;s
+steeple on one of them, and other Boston edifices, public or
+domestic, on the remaining two, very admirably done. These crystal
+goblets had been a present, long ago, to an old master of the Free
+School from his pupils; and it is very rarely, I imagine, that a
+retired schoolmaster can exhibit such trophies of gratitude and
+affection, won from the victims of his birch rod.</p>
+<p>Our kind friend kept bringing out one unexpected and wholly
+unexpectable thing after another, as if he were a magician, and had
+only to fling a private signal into the air, and some attendant imp
+would hand forth any strange relic we might choose to ask for. He
+was especially rich in drawings by the Old Masters, producing two
+or three, of exquisite delicacy, by Raphael, one by Salvator, a
+head by Rembrandt, and others, in chalk or pen-and-ink, by
+Giordano, Benvenuto Cellini, and hands almost as famous; and
+besides what were shown us, there seemed to be an endless supply of
+these art-treasures in reserve. On the wall hung a crayon-portrait
+of Sterne, never engraved, representing him as a rather young man,
+blooming, and not uncomely: it was the worldly face of a man fond
+of pleasure, but without that ugly, keen, sarcastic, odd expression
+that we see in his only engraved portrait. The picture is an
+original, and must needs be very valuable; and we wish it might be
+prefixed to some new and worthier biography of a writer whose
+character the world has always treated with singular harshness,
+considering how much it owes him. There was likewise a
+crayon-portrait of Sterne&rsquo;s wife, looking so haughty and
+unamiable, that the wonder is, how he ever contrived to live a week
+with such an awful woman.</p>
+<p>After looking at these, and a great many more things than I can
+remember, above stairs, we went down to a parlor, where this
+wonderful bookseller opened an old cabinet, containing numberless
+drawers, and looking just fit to be the repository of such
+knick-knacks as were stored up in it. He appeared to possess more
+treasures than he himself knew of, or knew where to find; but,
+rummaging here and there, he brought forth things new and old:
+rose-nobles, Victoria crowns, gold angels, double-sovereigns of
+George IV., two-guinea pieces of George II.; a marriage-medal of
+the first Napoleon, only forty-five of which were ever struck off,
+and of which even the British Museum does not contain a specimen
+like this, in gold; a brass medal, three or four inches in
+diameter, of a Roman Emperor; together with buckles, bracelets,
+amulets, and I know not what besides. There was a green silk tassel
+from the fringe of Queen Mary&rsquo;s bed at Holyrood Palace. There
+were illuminated missals, antique Latin Bibles, and (what may seem
+of especial interest to the historian) a Secret-Book of Queen
+Elizabeth, written, for aught I know, by her own hand. On
+examination, however, it proved to contain, not secrets of State,
+but recipes for dishes, drinks, medicines, washes, and all such
+matters of housewifery, the toilet, and domestic quackery, among
+which we were horrified by the title of one of the nostrums,
+&ldquo;How to kill a Fellow quickly&rdquo;! We never doubted that
+bloody Queen Bess might often have had occasion for such a recipe,
+but wondered at her frankness, and at her attending to these
+anomalous necessities in such a methodical way. The truth is, we
+had read amiss, and the Queen had spelt amiss: the word was
+&ldquo;Fellon,&rdquo;&mdash;a sort of whitlow,&mdash;not
+&ldquo;Fellow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Our hospitable friend now made us drink a glass of wine, as old
+and genuine as the curiosities of his cabinet; and while sipping
+it, we ungratefully tried to excite his envy, by telling of various
+things, interesting to an antiquary and virtuoso, which we had seen
+in the course of our travels about England. We spoke, for instance,
+of a missal bound in solid gold and set round with jewels, but of
+such intrinsic value as no setting could enhance, for it was
+exquisitely illuminated, throughout, by the hand of Raphael
+himself. We mentioned a little silver case which once contained a
+portion of the heart of Louis XIV, nicely done up in spices, but,
+to the owner&rsquo;s horror and astonishment, Dean Buckland popped
+the kingly morsel into his mouth, and swallowed it. We told about
+the black-letter prayer-book of King Charles the Martyr, used by
+him upon the scaffold, taking which into our hands, it opened of
+itself at the Communion Service; and there, on the left-hand page,
+appeared a spot about as large as a sixpence, of a yellowish or
+brownish hue: a drop of the King&rsquo;s blood had fallen
+there.</p>
+<p>Mr. Porter now accompanied us to the church, but first leading
+us to a vacant spot of ground where old John Cotton&rsquo;s
+vicarage had stood till a very short time since. According to our
+friend&rsquo;s description, it was a humble habitation, of the
+cottage order, built of brick, with a thatched roof. The site is
+now rudely fenced in, and cultivated as a vegetable garden. In the
+right-hand aisle of the church there is an ancient chapel, which,
+at the time of our visit, was in process of restoration, and was to
+be dedicated to Cotton, whom these English people consider as the
+founder of our American Boston. It would contain a painted
+memorial-window, in honor of the old Puritan minister. A festival
+in commemoration of the event was to take place in the ensuing
+July, to which I had myself received an invitation, but I knew too
+well the pains and penalties incurred by an invited guest at public
+festivals in England to accept it. It ought to be recorded, (and it
+seems to have made a very kindly impression on our kinsfolk here,)
+that five hundred pounds had been contributed by persons in the
+United States, principally in Boston, towards the cost of the
+memorial-window, and the repair and restoration of the chapel.</p>
+<p>After we emerged from the chapel, Mr. Porter approached us with
+the vicar, to whom he kindly introduced us, and then took his
+leave. May a stranger&rsquo;s benediction rest upon him! He is a
+most pleasant man; rather, I imagine, a virtuoso than an antiquary;
+for he seemed to value the Queen of Otaheite&rsquo;s bag as highly
+as Queen Mary&rsquo;s embroidered quilt, and to have an omnivorous
+appetite for everything strange and rare. Would that we could fill
+up his shelves and drawers (if there are any vacant spaces left)
+with the choicest trifles that have dropped out of Time&rsquo;s
+carpet-bag, or give him the carpet-bag itself, to take out what he
+will!</p>
+<p>The vicar looked about thirty years old, a gentleman, evidently
+assured of his position, (as clergymen of the Established Church
+invariably are,) comfortable and well-to-do, a scholar and a
+Christian, and fit to be a bishop, knowing how to make the most of
+life without prejudice to the life to come. I was glad to see such
+a model English priest so suitably accommodated with an old English
+church. He kindly and courteously did the honors, showing us quite
+round the interior, giving us all the information that we required,
+and then leaving us to the quiet enjoyment of what we came to
+see.</p>
+<p>The interior of Saint Botolph&rsquo;s is very fine and
+satisfactory, as stately, almost, as a cathedral, and has been
+repaired&mdash;so far as repairs were necessary&mdash;in a chaste
+and noble style. The great eastern window is of modern painted
+glass, but is the richest, mellowest, and tenderest modern window
+that I have ever seen: the art of painting these glowing
+transparencies in pristine perfection being one that the world has
+lost. The vast, clear space, of the interior church delighted me.
+There was no screen,&mdash;nothing between the vestibule and the
+altar to break the long vista; even the organ stood
+aside,&mdash;though it by-and-by made us aware of its presence by a
+melodious roar. Around the walls there were old engraved brasses,
+and a stone coffin, and an alabaster knight of Saint John, and an
+alabaster lady, each recumbent at full length, as large as life,
+and in perfect preservation, except for a slight modern touch at
+the tips of their noses. In the chancel we saw a great deal of
+oaken work, quaintly and admirably carved, especially about the
+seats formerly appropriated to the monks, which were so contrived
+as to tumble down with a tremendous crash, if the occupant happened
+to fall asleep.</p>
+<p>We now essayed to climb into the upper regions. Up we went,
+winding and still winding round the circular stairs, till we came
+to the gallery beneath the stone roof of the tower, whence we could
+look down and see the raised Fort, and my Talma lying on one of the
+steps, and looking about as big as a pocket-handkerchief. Then up
+again, up, up, up, through a yet smaller staircase, till we emerged
+into another stone gallery, above the jackdaws, and far above the
+roof beneath which we had before made a halt. Then up another
+flight, which led us into a pinnacle of the temple, but not the
+highest; so, retracing our steps, we took the right turret this
+time, and emerged into the loftiest lantern, where we saw level
+Lincolnshire, far and near, though with a haze on the distant
+horizon. There were dusty roads, a river, and canals, converging
+towards Boston, which&mdash;a congregation of red-tiled
+roofs&mdash;lay beneath our feet, with pigmy people creeping about
+its narrow streets. We were three hundred feet aloft, and the
+pinnacle on which we stood is a landmark forty miles at sea.</p>
+<p>Content, and weary of our elevation, we descended the corkscrew
+stairs and left the church; the last object that we noticed in the
+interior being a bird, which appeared to be at home there, and
+responded with its cheerful notes to the swell of the organ.
+Pausing on the church-steps, we observed that there were formerly
+two statues, one on each side of the door-way; the canopies still
+remaining, and the pedestals being about a yard from the ground.
+Some of Mr. Cotton&rsquo;s Puritan parishioners are probably
+responsible for the disappearance of these stone saints. This
+door-way at the base of the tower is now much dilapidated, but must
+once have been very rich and of a peculiar fashion. It opens its
+arch through a great square tablet of stone, reared against the
+front of the tower. On most of the projections, whether on the
+tower or about the body of the church, there are gargoyles of
+genuine Gothic grotesqueness,&mdash;fiends, beasts, angels, and
+combinations of all three; and where portions of the edifice are
+restored, the modern sculptors have tried to imitate these wild
+fantasies, but with very poor success. Extravagance and absurdity
+have still their law, and should pay as rigid obedience to it as
+the primmest things on earth.</p>
+<p>In our further rambles about Boston, we crossed the river by a
+bridge, and observed that the larger part of the town seems to lie
+on that side of its navigable stream. The crooked streets and
+narrow lanes reminded me much of Hanover Street, Ann Street, and
+other portions of the North End of our American Boston, as I
+remember that picturesque region in my boyish days. It is not
+unreasonable to suppose that the local habits and recollections of
+the first settlers may have had some influence on the physical
+character of the streets and houses in the New-England metropolis;
+at any rate, here is a similar intricacy of bewildering lanes, and
+numbers of old peaked and projecting-storied dwellings, such as I
+used to see there. It is singular what a home-feeling and sense of
+kindred I derived from this hereditary connection and fancied
+physiognomical resemblance between the old town and its well-grown
+daughter, and how reluctant I was, after chill years of banishment,
+to leave this hospitable place, on that account. Moreover, it
+recalled some of the features of another American town, my own dear
+native place, when I saw the seafaring people leaning against
+posts, and sitting on planks, under the lee of warehouses,&mdash;or
+lolling on long-boats, drawn up high and dry, as sailors and old
+wharf-rats are accustomed to do, in seaports of little business. In
+other respects, the English town is more village-like than either
+of the American ones. The women and budding girls chat together at
+their doors, and exchange merry greetings with young men; children
+chase one another in the summer twilight; school-boys sail little
+boats on the river, or play at marbles across the flat tombstones
+in the churchyard; and ancient men, in breeches and long
+waistcoats, wander slowly about the streets, with a certain
+familiarity of deportment, as if each one were everybody&rsquo;s
+grandfather. I have frequently observed, in old English towns, that
+Old Age comes forth more cheerfully, and genially into the sunshine
+than among ourselves, where the rush, stir, bustle, and irreverent
+energy of youth are so preponderant, that the poor, forlorn
+grandsires begin to doubt whether they have a right to breathe in
+such a world any longer, and so hide their silvery heads in
+solitude. Speaking of old men, I am reminded of the scholars of the
+Boston Charity-School, who walk about in antique, long-skirted blue
+coats, and knee-breeches, and with bands at their
+necks,&mdash;perfect and grotesque pictures of the costume of three
+centuries ago.</p>
+<p>On the morning of our departure, I looked from the parlor-window
+of the Peacock into the market-place, and beheld its irregular
+square already well-covered with booths, and more in process of
+being put up, by stretching tattered sail-cloth on poles. It was
+market-day. The dealers were arranging their commodities,
+consisting chiefly of vegetables, the great bulk of which seemed to
+be cabbages. Later in the forenoon there was a much greater variety
+of merchandise: basket-work, both for fancy and use; twig-brooms,
+beehives, oranges, rustic attire; all sorts of things, in short,
+that are commonly sold at a rural fair. I heard the lowing of
+cattle, too, and the bleating of sheep, and found that there was a
+market for cows, oxen, and pigs, in another part of the town. A
+crowd of towns-people and Lincolnshire yeomen elbowed one another
+in the square; Mr. Punch was squeaking in one corner, and a
+vagabond juggler tried to find space for his exhibition in another:
+so that my final glimpse of Boston was calculated to leave a
+livelier impression than my former ones. Meanwhile the tower of
+Saint Botolph&rsquo;s looked benignantly down; and I fancied that
+it was bidding me farewell, as it did Mr. Cotton, two or three
+hundred years ago, and telling me to describe its venerable height,
+and the town beneath it, to the people of the American city, who
+are partly akin, if not to the living inhabitants of Old Boston,
+yet to some of the dust that lies in its churchyard.</p>
+<p>One thing more. They have a Bunker Hill in the vicinity of their
+town; and (what could hardly be expected of an English community)
+seem proud to think that their neighborhood has given name to our
+first and most widely celebrated and best-remembered
+battle-field.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="strength" name="strength">AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF A
+STRENGTH-SEEKER.</a></h2>
+<p>&ldquo;There goes the smallest fellow in our class.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I was crossing one of the paths that intersect the college green
+of old Harvard when this remark fell upon my ears. Looking up, I
+saw two stalwart Freshmen on their way to recitation, one of whom
+had called the other&rsquo;s attention to my humble self by this
+observation, reminding me of a distinction which I did not
+covet.</p>
+<p>It was not quite true. There was one, and only one, member of
+the class of &lsquo;54 who was as small as I. Some consolation,
+though not much, in that! But the air of amused compassion with
+which the lusty Down-Easter, who had made me feel what the
+<em>digito monstrari</em> was, now looked down on me, raised a
+feeling of resentment and self-depreciation which left me in no
+mood to make a brilliant show of scholarship in construing my
+&ldquo;Isocrates&rdquo; that morning.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;True, I am small, nay, diminutive,&rdquo; I soliloquized,
+as I wended my way homeward under the classic umbrage of venerable
+elms. &ldquo;But surely this is no fault of mine.&mdash;Hold there!
+Are you quite sure it&rsquo;s no fault of yours? Are we not
+responsible to a much greater extent than we imagine for our
+physical condition? After making all abatement for insurmountable
+hereditary influences upon organization,&mdash;after granting to
+that remorseless law of genealogical transmission its proper
+weight,&mdash;after admitting the seemingly capricious facts of
+what the modern French physiologists call <em>atavism</em>, under
+which we are made drunkards or consumptives, lunatics or wise men,
+short or tall, because of certain dominant traits in some remote
+ancestor,&mdash;after conceding all this, does not Nature leave it
+largely in our own power to counteract both physical and moral
+tendencies, and to mould the body as well as the mind, if we will
+only put forth in action the requisite energy of will?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This disposition to cavil at received axioms has beset me
+through life. No sooner does a truth present itself than I want to
+see it on its other side. If I hear the Devil spoken ill of, I
+puzzle myself to find what can be said in his favor. The man who
+thus halts between conflicting opinions, solicitous to give both
+their due, and to see the truth, pure and simple and entire, may
+miss laying hold of great convictions till it is too late for him
+to act on them; but what he accepts he generally holds.</p>
+<p>My meditations on the subject of my inferior stature led me to a
+determination to try what gymnastic practice could do to remedy the
+defect. For some thirty years, gymnastics, first introduced into
+this country, I believe, at the Round-Hill School at Northampton,
+then under the charge of Messrs. Cogswell and Bancroft, had
+languished and revived fitfully at Cambridge. It was during one of
+the languishing periods that I began my practice. For some five or
+six weeks I kept it up with enthusiasm. Then I began to grow less
+methodical and regular in my habits of exercise; and then to find
+excuses for my delinquencies.</p>
+<p>After all, what matter, if, like Paul&rsquo;s, my &ldquo;bodily
+presence is weak&rdquo;? Were not Alexander the Great and Napoleon
+small men? Were not Pope, and Dr. Watts, and Moore, and Campbell,
+and a long list of authors, artists, and philosophers, considerably
+under medium height? Were not Garrick and Kean and the elder Booth
+all under five feet four or five? Is there not a volume somewhere
+in our college library, written by a learned Frenchman, devoted
+exclusively to the biography of men who have been great in mind,
+though diminutive in stature? Is not Lord John Russell as small
+almost as I? Have I many inches to grow before I shall be as tall
+as Dr. Holmes?</p>
+<p>These consolatory considerations softened my chagrin at the
+contemplation of my height. &ldquo;Care I for the limb, the thews,
+the stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man? Give me the
+spirit, Master Shallow,&mdash;the spirit!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And so my gymnastic ardor, after a brief blaze, flickered, fell,
+was ashes. But it was destined to be soon revived by an incident,
+trifling in itself, though of a character to assume exaggerated
+proportions in the mind of a sensitive boy. A youth, who had
+considerably the advantage of me both in inches and in years, and
+whose overflow of animal spirits required some object to vent
+itself upon, selected me as the victim of his ebullient vivacity.
+He began by tossing my book down stairs. This seemed to me rather
+rough play, especially from one with whom I was not, at the time,
+on terms of intimacy; but, making allowance for the hilarity of
+classmates just let loose from recitation, I picked up, without a
+thought of resentment, the abused volume, and took no further
+notice of the matter. I subsequently found that it was merely the
+commencement of a series of similar annoyances. This lively
+classmate would even play tricks on me at the dinner table.</p>
+<p>What was to be done? I mentioned the grievance to a friend, and
+he remonstrated with my lively classmate, threatening him with my
+serious displeasure. &ldquo;Pooh! how can he help himself?&rdquo;
+was the reply which came duly to my ears.</p>
+<p>Sure enough! How could I help myself? The aggressor was my
+superior in weight and size. It was a plain case that I should get
+badly and ridiculously whipped, if I attempted to cope with him in
+any pugilistic encounter. But how would it do to demand of him the
+satisfaction of a gentleman? True, I knew nothing of
+pistol-shooting, and had never handled a small-sword. No matter for
+that!</p>
+<p>But another consideration speedily drove this scheme of
+vengeance <em>&agrave; l&rsquo;outrance</em> out of my head. Not
+many years before, a peppery little Freshman had been insulted, as
+he thought, by a Sophomore. The Soph, I believe, had knocked the
+young one&rsquo;s hat over his eyes, as they were kicking foot-ball
+in the Delta. Freshman sent a challenge, the effect of which was to
+excite inextinguishable laughter among the Sophs convened over
+their cigars in the aggressor&rsquo;s room. Amid roars, one of the
+conspirators penned an acceptance, fixing as the weapon, hair
+triggers,&mdash;time, five o&rsquo;clock in the
+morning,&mdash;place, the Delta,&mdash;second, the bearer, Mr.
+M&mdash;&mdash;, the writer of this reply.</p>
+<p>It was a cruel business. A sham second was imposed on poor
+little Fresh. Brave as Julius Caesar, he sat up all night writing
+letters and preparing his will. Prompt to the moment, he was on the
+chosen ground. An unusually large delegation for such a delicate
+affair seemed to be present. One rascal who wore enormous green
+goggles was pointed out to the innocent as Dr. Von Guldenstubbe, a
+celebrated German surgeon, just from Leipsic. Little Fresh shook
+hands with him gravely, amid the smothered laughter of the
+conspirators. The distance was to be five paces; for it was
+whispered so as to reach the ear of Fresh, that Soph was thirsting
+for his heart&rsquo;s blood. They take their places,&mdash;the
+signal is given,&mdash;they fire,&mdash;and with a hideous groan
+and a wild pirouette, the Soph falls to the ground.</p>
+<p>The Freshman is led up near enough to see the fellow&rsquo;s
+face covered with blood, and to hear his cries to his friends to
+put him out of his misery. Intensely agitated, poor little Fresh is
+hurried by pretended friends into a carriage, and driven off; and
+it is not till a week afterwards that he learns he has been the
+victim of a hoax.</p>
+<p>No! it would never answer for me to run the risk of being
+<em>sold</em> in any such way as this. I must select a surer and
+more practical vengeance. I thought the matter over intently, and
+finally resolved that I would put myself on a physical equality
+with my persecutor, and then meet him in a fair fight with such
+weapons as Nature had given us both. I accordingly said to the
+friend and classmate who had played the part of intercessor,
+&ldquo;Wait two years, and I promise you I will either make my
+tormentor apologize or give him such a thrashing as he will
+remember for the rest of his life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Thus was my resolve renewed to accomplish myself as a gymnast,
+and, above all, to develop my physical strength. My previous
+attempts in the gymnasium had been spasmodic and irregular. Having
+now a definite object in view, I set about my work in earnest, and
+went through a daily systematic practice of a little more than an
+hour&rsquo;s duration.</p>
+<p>The gymnasium was kept by a Mr. Law, and, though ordinary in its
+accommodations, had a good arrangement of apparatus, of which I
+faithfully availed myself. The spring-board, horse,
+vaulting-apparatus, parallel bars, suspended rings, horizontal and
+inclined ladders, pulley-weights, pegs, climbing-rope, trapezoid,
+etc., were all put in frequent requisition. My time for exercise
+was generally in the evening, when I would find myself almost
+alone,&mdash;while the clicking of balls from the billiard-rooms
+and bowling-alleys down-stairs announced that a busy crowd&mdash;if
+amusement may be called a business&mdash;were there assembled.</p>
+<p>Naturally indolent, it was not without a severe struggle that I
+overcame a besetting propensity to confine myself to sedentary
+pursuits. The desire of retaliation soon became extinct. My pledge
+to my friend and sympathizer, that in two years I would cry
+<em>quittance</em> to my foe, would occasionally act as a spur in
+the side of my intent; but my two best aids in supplying me with
+the motive power to keep up my gymnastic practice were
+<em>habit</em> and <em>progress</em>. What will not habit make easy
+to us, whether it be for good or for evil? And what an incentive we
+have to renewed effort in finding that we are making actual
+progress,&mdash;that we can do with comparative facility to-day
+what we could do only with difficulty yesterday!</p>
+<p>Two years, while we are yet on the sunny side of twenty, are no
+trifle; but for two years I persistently and methodically went
+through the exercises of the gymnasium. At the end of that time I
+had quite lost sight of my original object in cultivating my
+athletic powers; for all annoyances towards me had long since been
+dropped by my old enemy. But punctually on the day of expiration,
+the friend who had listened to my pledge came to me and claimed its
+fulfilment. From some evidences which he had recently had of my
+strength he felt a soothing assurance that I should have no
+difficulty in making good my promise.</p>
+<p>I accordingly called on the lively young gentleman who two years
+before had indulged in those little frolics at my expense. With
+diplomatic ceremony and circumlocution I introduced the object of
+my visit, and wound up with an <em>ultimatum</em> to this effect:
+There must either be a frank apology for past indignities, or he
+must accompany me, each with a friend, to some suitable spot, and
+there decide which was &ldquo;the better man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>If he had been called on to expiate an offence committed before
+he was breeched, the young gentleman could not have been more
+astounded. Two years had made some change in our relative
+positions. I was now about his equal in size, and felt a
+comfortable sense of my superiority, so far as strength was
+concerned. My shoulders had broadened, and my muscles been
+developed, so as to present to the critical and interested observer
+a somewhat threatening appearance. Mr. &mdash;&mdash; (who, by the
+way, was a good fellow in the main) protested that he had never
+intended to give me any offence,&mdash;that he, in fact, did not
+remember the circumstances to which I referred,&mdash;and finished
+by peremptorily declining my proposal. When I reflected on the
+disparity between us in strength, which my two years&rsquo;
+practice had established, I felt that it would be cowardly for me
+to urge the matter further, especially as it was so long a time
+since he had given me cause of complaint. I have only to add, that
+we parted without a collision, and that, in my heart, I could not
+help thanking him for the service he had rendered in inciting me to
+the regimen which had resulted so beneficially to my health.</p>
+<p>The impetus given to my gymnastic education by the little
+incident I have just related was continued without abatement
+through my whole college life. Gradually I acquired the reputation
+of being the strongest man in my class. I discovered that with
+every day&rsquo;s development of my strength there was an increase
+of my ability to resist and overcome all fleshly ailments, pains,
+and infirmities,&mdash;a discovery which subsequent experience has
+so amply confirmed, that, if I were called on to condense the
+proposition which sums it up into a formula, it would be in these
+words: <em>Strength is Health</em>.</p>
+<p>Until I had renovated my bodily system by a faithful gymnastic
+training, I had been subject to nervousness, headache, indigestion,
+rush of blood to the head, and a weak circulation. It was torture
+to me to have to listen to the grating of a slate-pencil, the
+filing of a saw, or the scratching of glass. As I grew in strength,
+my nerves ceased to be impressible to such annoyances. Another good
+effect was to take away all appetite for any stimulating food or
+drink. Although I had never applied &ldquo;rebellious
+liquors&rdquo; to my blood, I had been in the habit of taking a
+bowl of strong coffee morning and night. Now a craving for milk
+took the place of this want, and my coffee was gradually diminished
+to less than a fourth of what had been a customary indulgence.</p>
+<p>At last arrived the eagerly looked-for day of release from
+collegiate restrictions and labors. I graduated, and the question,
+so momentous in the history of all adolescents, &ldquo;What shall I
+be?&rdquo; addressed itself seriously to my mind. My father was
+desirous that I should choose medicine for a profession, and become
+the fourth physician, in lineal sequence, of my family on the
+paternal side.</p>
+<p>Medicine. I cavilled at it awhile, that I might bring out to
+view its grimmest and most discouraging aspect The cares, trials,
+humiliations of a young physician, his months and years of
+uncompensated drudgery, passed in awful review before me. I thought
+of his toils among the poor and lowly, the vicious and
+depraved,&mdash;of his broken sleep,&mdash;the interruptions of his
+social ease,&mdash;and then of the many scenes so repugnant to
+delicate nerves which he has to pass through,&mdash;scenes of pain
+and insanity, of maimed and severed limbs, and all the
+eccentricities and fearful forms of disease. These considerations
+pressed with such weight on my mind that for a time my ancestral
+craft was in danger of being ignominiously rejected by me. Indeed,
+I began to think seriously of adopting a very different vocation.
+And here I will make a confession, if the gentle reader will take
+it confidentially.</p>
+<p>It is a familiar fact, that every college-boy has to pass
+through an attack of the rhyming frenzy as regularly as the child
+has to submit to measles and the whooping-cough. A less frequent,
+but not less trying complaint, is that which manifests itself in a
+passion for the stage and in an espousal of the delusion that one
+was born for a great actor. At any rate, this last was the type
+which my juvenile <em>malaise-du-coeur</em> finally assumed.</p>
+<p>I have heard of a young gentleman who, whenever he was hard up
+for money, went to his nearest relatives and threatened them with
+the publication of a volume of his original poems. This threat
+never failed to open the paternal purse. I do not know what effect
+the intimation of my histrionic aspirations would have had; but one
+fine day I found myself on my way to Rochester, in the State of New
+York.</p>
+<p>My <em>r&ocirc;le</em> of dramatic characters was a very modest
+one for a beginner. It embraced only Richelieu, Bertram, Brutus,
+Lear, Richard, Shylock, Sir Giles Overreach, Hamlet, Othello, and
+Macbeth. My principal literary recreation for several years had
+been in studying these parts; and as I knew them by heart, I did
+not doubt that a few rehearsals would put me in possession of the
+requisite stage-business. And yet my familiarity with the theatre
+was very limited. I had never been behind the scenes. Once, with a
+classmate, I had penetrated in the daytime to the stage of the old
+Federal-Street Theatre, and looked with awe on the boards formerly
+trodden by the elder Kean; but a growl from that august
+functionary, the prompter, sent us back in quick retreat, and I had
+never ventured again into those sacred precincts.</p>
+<p>Arrived at Rochester,&mdash;which place I had selected for my
+<em>d&eacute;but</em> because of its remoteness from home,&mdash;I
+looked in, the evening of my arrival, to see the performances at
+the theatre. It was a hall of humble dimensions, seating an
+audience of five or six hundred. The piece was a travesty of
+&ldquo;Hamlet,&rdquo; neither edifying nor amusing. A little of the
+<em>couleur-de-rose</em> which had flushed my prospect faded that
+night; but the few friends at home to whom I had confided my plans
+had so pertinaciously assured me that I&mdash;the most diffident
+man in the world&mdash;could never appear before an audience
+without letting them see I was shaky in the knees, that I resolved
+to do what I could to show my depreciators they were false
+prophets.</p>
+<p>And so I called on the manager,&mdash;with a beating heart, as
+you may suppose. He was a small, quiet, gentlemanly person, whom I
+regret I cannot, consistently with historical truth, show up as a
+Crummles. But not even Dickens could have found any salient trait
+for ridicule in the man. Frankly and kindly he went into the
+statistics of the theatrical business, and showed me, that, unless
+I was rich, and could afford to play for my own amusement, the
+stage held out few inducements; it was barren of promise to a young
+man anxious to make himself independent of the world.</p>
+<p>I did not reply, &ldquo;Perish the lucre!&rdquo; but said that I
+would be content, in the early part of my career, to labor for
+reputation. He soon satisfied me that he could not give up his
+stage to an experimentalist, and I did not urge my suit; but bade
+Mr. S. good morning, and, a day or two afterwards, started for
+Niagara. Here, wet by the mist and listening to the roar of the
+great cataract, I speedily forgot my chagrin, and took a not
+unfriendly leave of the illusions which had lured me on to try my
+fortune on the stage. Even now they return occasionally with all
+their fascination.</p>
+<p>While at Rochester, as I was passing through the principal
+street, I met a crowd assembled about a lifting-machine. On making
+trial of it, I found I could lift four hundred and twenty pounds. I
+had then been for four years a gymnast, and I supposed my practice
+would have qualified me to make the crowd stare at my achievement.
+But the result was far from triumphant. I found what many other
+gymnasts will find, that <em>main strength</em>, by which I mean
+the strength of the truckman and the porter, cannot be acquired in
+the ordinary exercises of the gymnasium.</p>
+<p>Returning home, I began the study of anatomy and physiology, and
+in the autumn of 1854 entered the Harvard Medical School. The
+question of the extent to which human strength can be developed had
+long been invested with a scientific interest to my mind. One of
+the greatest lifting feats on authentic record is that of Thomas
+Topham, an Englishman, who in Bath Street, Cold Bath Fields,
+London, on the 28th of May, 1741, lifted three hogsheads of water,
+said to weigh, with the connections, <em>eighteen hundred and
+thirty-six pounds</em>. In the performance of this feat, Topham
+stood on a raised platform, his hands grasping a fixture on either
+side, and a broad strap over his shoulders communicating with the
+weight. An immense concourse of persons was assembled on the
+occasion,&mdash;the performance having been announced as &ldquo;in
+honor of Admiral Vernon,&rdquo; or rather, &ldquo;in commemoration
+of his taking Porto Bello with six ships only.&rdquo; Being a
+descendant myself from the Vernon family of Haddon Hall,
+Derbyshire, England, I have reserved it for future genealogical
+inquiry to learn whether the Admiral was connected with that branch
+of the Vernons. If so, a somewhat remarkable coincidence is
+involved.</p>
+<p>I now informed my father that I intended to go through a series
+of experiments in lifting. He was afraid I should injure myself,
+and expressly forbade any such practice on his premises. To gratify
+him, I gave up testing the question for a whole year.</p>
+<p>But the desire re-awoke, and I had frequent arguments with my
+father in the endeavor to overcome his objections.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look at that man,&rdquo; he said to me one
+day,&mdash;pointing to a large, stout individual in front of
+us,&mdash;&ldquo;you might practise lifting all your life, and
+never be able to lift as much as that big fellow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let me construct a lifting-apparatus in the back-yard,
+and I will soon prove to you that you are mistaken,&rdquo; I
+replied.</p>
+<p>Finding that I was bent on the experiment, he at length gave a
+reluctant consent.</p>
+<p>It was now the August of 1855, and I was in my twenty-second
+year. My first lifting-apparatus was constructed in the following
+manner. I first sank into the ground a hogshead, and into the
+hogshead a flour-barrel. Then I lowered to the bottom of the barrel
+a rope having at the end a round stick transversely balanced, about
+four inches in diameter and fifteen inches long. A quantity of
+gravel, nearly sufficient to bury the stick, was then thrown into
+the barrel; some oblong stones were placed across the stick and
+across and between one another, and the interstices filled with
+smaller stones and gravel. When I had by this method about
+two-thirds filled the barrel, taking care to keep the axis of the
+rope in correspondence with the long axis of the barrel, I judged I
+had a sufficient weight for a first trial. I now formed a loop in
+the end of the rope over the top of the barrel, and put through it
+a piece of a hoe-handle, about two feet long; and standing astride
+of the hogshead, and holding the handle with one hand before me and
+the other behind,&mdash;straightening my body, previously a little
+flexed,&mdash;with mouth closed, head up, chest out, and shoulders
+down,&mdash;I succeeded in lifting the barrel, containing a weight
+of between four and five hundred pounds, some five or six inches
+from the bottom of the hogshead.</p>
+<p>It was no great feat, after all, considering that I had been for
+five years a gymnast. I found that I was inharmoniously developed
+in many points of my frame,&mdash;was perilously weak in the sides,
+between the shoulders, and at the back of the head. However, the
+day after this trial, I succeeded in lifting the same weight with
+somewhat less difficulty. This induced me to add on a few pounds;
+and in three or four weeks I could lift between six and seven
+hundred. I now had the satisfaction of seeing the stout gentleman,
+whom a few months before my father had pointed out as possessed of
+a strength I could never attain to, introduced to an inspection of
+my apparatus. Through the blinds of a back-parlor window I watched
+his movements, as, encouraged by <em>pater-familias</em>, he drew
+off his coat, moistened his hands, and undertook to &ldquo;snake
+up&rdquo; the big weight. An ignominious failure to start the
+barrel was the result. The stout gentleman tugged till he was so
+red in the face that apoplexy seemed imminent, and then he
+dejectedly gave it up. The reputation he had long enjoyed of being
+one of the &ldquo;strongest men about&rdquo; must henceforth be a
+thing of the past till it fades into a myth.</p>
+<p>In the December of 1855 I was admitted to the arcana of the
+dissecting-room, and forthwith commenced some experiments with the
+view of testing the sustaining power of human bones. Some one had
+told me, that, in lifting a heavy weight, there was danger of
+fracturing the neck of the thigh-bone; but my experiments satisfied
+me, that, if properly positioned, it would safely bear a strain of
+two or three thousand pounds. And so I concluded that I might
+securely continue my practice of lifting till I reached the
+last-named limit.</p>
+<p>In order to get all possible hints from the inspiration and
+experience of the past, I studied some of the ancient statues. The
+specimens of Grecian statuary at the Boston Athen&aelig;um were
+objects of my frequent contemplation,&mdash;especially the
+Farnesian Hercules. From this I derived a proper conception of the
+bodily outline compatible with the exercise of the greatest amount
+of strength. I was particularly struck by the absence of all
+exaggeration in the muscular developments as represented. I saw by
+this statue that a Hercules must be free from superfluous flesh,
+neatly made, and finely organized,&mdash;that form and quality were
+of more account than quantity in his formation. Some years earlier
+I might have been more attracted by the Apollo Belvedere; but it
+was a Hercules I dreamed of becoming, and the Apollo was but the
+incipient and potential Hercules. Two other statues that shared my
+admiration and study were the Quoit-Thrower and the Dying
+Gladiator. From the careful inspection of all these relics of
+ancient Art I obtained some valuable hints as to my own physical
+deficiencies. I learned that the upper region of my chest needed
+developing, and that in other points I had not yet reached the
+artist&rsquo;s ideal of a strong man.</p>
+<p>Good casts of these and other masterpieces in statuary may be
+had at a trifling cost. Why are they not generally introduced into
+the gymnasia attached to our colleges and schools? The habitual
+contemplation of such works could not fail to have a good effect
+upon the physical bearing and development of the young. We are the
+creatures of imitation. I remember, at the school I attended in my
+seventh year, the strongest boy among my mates was quite
+round-shouldered. Fancying that he derived his strength from his
+stoop, I began to imitate him; and it was not till I learned that
+he was strong in spite of his round shoulders, and not because of
+them, that I gave up aping his peculiarity.</p>
+<p>On the 29th of January, 1856, I lifted seven hundred pounds in
+Bailey&rsquo;s Gymnasium, Franklin Street, Boston. The exhibition
+created great surprise among the lookers-on; and at that time it
+was, perhaps, an extraordinary feat; but since the extension and
+growth of the lifting mania, it would not be regarded by the
+knowing ones as anything to marvel at. The fourth of April
+following, my lifting capacity had reached eight hundred and forty
+pounds.</p>
+<p>On Fast-Day of that year, two Irishmen knocked at my door and
+asked to see the strong man. I presented myself, and they told me
+there was great curiosity among the &ldquo;ould counthrymen&rdquo;
+in the vicinity to ascertain if one Pat Farren, the strongest
+Irishman in Roxbury, could lift my weight. &ldquo;Would it be
+convanient for me to let him thry?&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Certainly,&mdash;and I think he&rsquo;ll lift it,&rdquo; I
+modestly added.</p>
+<p>Soon afterwards a delegation of Irishmen, rather startling from
+its numbers, entered the yard. Among them was Mr. Farren. They
+surrounded my lifting-apparatus, while I, unseen, surveyed them
+from a back window. I saw Mr. Farren take the handle, straddle the
+hogshead, throw himself into a lifting posture, and, straining
+every muscle to its utmost tension, give a tremendous pull. But the
+weight made no sign; and his friends, thinking he was merely
+feeling it, said, &ldquo;Wait a bit,&mdash;Pat&rsquo;ll have it up
+the next pull.&rdquo; Mr. Farren rested a moment,&mdash;then threw
+off his coat, rubbed his hands, and, seizing the handle a second
+time, tugged away at it till his muscles swelled and his frame
+quivered. But he failed in starting the barrel, and a burst of
+laughter from his friends and backers announced his defeat.</p>
+<p>It is now but justice to Mr. Farren to say that it could hardly
+be expected of him to lift such a weight at either the first trial
+or the second. A want of confidence, or the maladjustment of the
+rope, might have interfered with the full exercise of his strength.
+I need not say that his discomfiture was witnessed by me from my
+hiding-place with the liveliest satisfaction; for I had begun to
+pride myself on being able to outlift any man in the country.</p>
+<p>In May, 1856, I received the appointment of medical assistant to
+Dr. Walker, at the Lunatic Hospital, South Boston, and gave up for
+a couple of months my practice of lifting. The consequence was a
+rapid diminution of strength, which suggested to me a return to the
+lifting exercise. Near the hospital was a large unoccupied
+building, formerly the House of Industry. In the cellar of this
+building I put a barrel, and loaded it with rocks and gravel as I
+had done in Roxbury. Immediately overhead, on the first floor, I
+cut a hole, about six inches square, and passed up a rope attached
+to the barrel. This rope I looped at the end, for the reception of
+a handle. On the floor I nailed two cleats between three and four
+feet apart, as guards to keep my feet from slipping. Beginning with
+about six hundred pounds, I added a few pounds daily, till I was
+able, in November, 1856, to lift with my hands alone nine hundred
+pounds.</p>
+<p>Returning home the ensuing winter, I attended a second course of
+medical lectures, and, in the routine of labors incident to a
+medical student&rsquo;s life, omitted to develop further my powers
+as a lifter. In the summer of 1857 I became a practitioner of
+medicine. In the autumn of that year, a gentleman, who had been
+looking at my lifting-apparatus, remarked to me, &ldquo;If you are
+as strong as they tell me, what is to prevent your seizing hold of
+me, (I weigh only a hundred and eighty pounds) holding me at
+arm&rsquo;s-length over your head, and pitching me over that
+fence?&rdquo; To this I replied, that, if he would give me six
+weeks for practice, I would satisfy him the thing could be done. He
+agreed to be on hand at the end of the time named.</p>
+<p>In order to be sure of the muscles that would be brought into
+play by the feat, I procured an oblong box with a handle on either
+side running the whole length. Into the box I threw a number of
+brick-bats,&mdash;then raised the box at arm&rsquo;s-length above
+my head, and threw it over my vaulting-pole, which was at an
+elevation of six and a half feet from the ground. Subsequently I
+added more brick-bats, till gradually their weight amounted to
+precisely one hundred and eighty pounds. Having practised till I
+could easily handle and throw the box thus charged, I informed my
+challenger that I was ready for him. He came, when, seizing him by
+the middle, I lifted him struggling above my head, and threw him
+over the fence before he was hardly aware of my intent. As he was
+somewhat corpulent and puffy, and the act involved an abdominal
+pressure which was by no means agreeable, he expressed himself
+perfectly satisfied with the experiment, but objected very
+decidedly to its repetition.</p>
+<p>In June, 1858, I commenced practising with two fifty-pound
+dumb-bells, and subsequently added one of a hundred pounds, which I
+was prompted to get from hearing that one of that weight was used
+by Mr. James Montgomery, at that time a celebrated gymnast of New
+York City, and afterwards a successful teacher at the Albany
+Gymnasium. Not having given much attention to the development of
+the extensor muscles of the arms for several months previous, it
+was a number of weeks before I could put this dumb-bell up at
+arm&rsquo;s-length above my head with one hand. As soon as I
+succeeded in doing this with comparative ease, I procured another
+hundred-pound dumb-bell, and in a few months succeeded in
+exercising with both of the instruments at the same time, raising
+each alternately above my head. I then commenced practice with a
+dumb-bell weighing one hundred and forty-one pounds. It consisted
+of two shells connected by a handle, which, being removable,
+allowed me to introduce shot, from time to time, into the cavities
+of the shells. After a few months of practice, I could, with a
+jerk, raise the instrument from my shoulder to arm&rsquo;s-length
+above my head. My first public exhibition of this feat took place
+in Philadelphia, in April, 1860.</p>
+<p>The spring of 1859 was now drawing nigh, and I began to think of
+giving a public lecture on Physical Culture, illustrating it with
+some exhibitions of the strength to which I had attained. My father
+approved the venture, but, bethinking himself of my extreme
+diffidence, significantly asked, <em>when</em> I would be ready to
+permit a public announcement of my intention. &ldquo;Oh, in a few
+days,&rdquo; I replied, as if it were as small a matter for me to
+lecture in public as to lift a thousand pounds in a gymnasium.
+Weeks flew by, and still to the galling inquiry,
+&ldquo;<em>When?</em>&rdquo; I could only answer, &ldquo;Soon, but
+not just yet.&rdquo; February and March had come and gone, and
+still I was not ready. Finally, to the oft-renewed interrogatory, I
+made this reply: &ldquo;As soon as I can shoulder a barrel of
+flour, a feat which I am determined to accomplish before an
+audience, you may announce my lecture.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I had then been practising some two months with a loaded barrel,
+so contrived that it should weigh a little more each succeeding
+day; and it had now reached a hundred and ninety pounds. About this
+time it occurred to me, that, among my many experiments, I had
+never fairly tried that of a vegetable diet. I read anew the works
+of Graham and Alcott; and conceiving that my strength had reached a
+stagnation-point, I gave up meat, and restricted my animal diet to
+milk.</p>
+<p>A barrel of flour weighs on an average two hundred and sixteen
+pounds. I therefore could not succeed in shouldering one until
+twenty-six pounds had been added to my loaded barrel. Day after day
+I shouldered my one hundred and ninety pounds, but could not get an
+ounce beyond that limit. My grand theory of the possible
+development of a man&rsquo;s strength began to look somewhat
+insecure.</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;So fares the system-building sage,</p>
+<p>Who, plodding on from youth to age,</p>
+<p>Has proved all other reasoners fools,</p>
+<p>And bound all Nature by his rules,&mdash;</p>
+<p>So fares he in that dreadful hour</p>
+<p>When injured Truth exerts her power</p>
+<p>Some new phenomenon to raise,</p>
+<p>Which, bursting on his frighted gaze,</p>
+<p>From its proud summit to the ground,</p>
+<p>Proves the whole edifice unsound.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+<p>JAMES BEATTIE</p>
+</div>
+<p>The shouldering of a barrel of flour is a feat, by the way,
+which many an old inhabitant will tell you that he, or some friend
+of his, could accomplish in his eighteenth year. Why it should
+always be among the <em>res gest&aelig; temporis acti</em> cannot
+be readily explained. It is a common belief that any stout truckman
+can do the thing; but I have been assured by one of the leading
+truckmen of Boston, that there are not, probably, three individuals
+in the city who are equal to the accomplishment.</p>
+<p>The mode of life that I had hitherto found essential to the
+keeping up of my strength was quite simple, and rather negative
+than positive. From tobacco and all ardent spirits, including wine,
+I had to abstain as a matter of course. Beer and all fermented
+liquors had also been ruled out. Impure air must be avoided like
+poison. Summer and winter I slept with my windows open. Badly
+ventilated apartments were scrupulously shunned. Cold bathing of
+the entire person was rarely practised oftener than once a week in
+cold weather or twice a week in warm weather. A more frequent
+ablution seemed to over-stimulate the excretory functions of the
+skin, so that excessive bathing defeated its very object. The
+&ldquo;tranquil mind&rdquo; must be preserved with little or no
+interruption. Great physical strength cannot coexist with an
+unhappy, discontented temper. You must be habitually cheerful, if
+you would be strong. With regard to diet,&mdash;that was the very
+experiment I was trying,&mdash;the experiment, namely, of going
+without solid animal food. With me it did not succeed. So far from
+gaining in strength, hardly did I hold my own. Suddenly I resolved
+to give up my vegetable diet, and return to beef-steaks,
+mutton-chops, and loins of veal. A daily appreciable increase of
+strength was soon the consequence. Within ten days I succeeded in
+shouldering the loaded barrel weighing two hundred and sixteen
+pounds; and a day or two after I shouldered, in the presence of our
+grocer himself, a barrel of flour.</p>
+<p>I had now no further excuse for deferring my promised lecture.
+The month of May had arrived. My father delicately broached the
+subject of the announcement. Being a little fractious, perhaps from
+some ebb in my strength, I hastily replied,&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Announce it for the 30th of May.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What hall shall I engage?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Any hall in Boston. Why not the Music Hall?&rdquo; I
+added, affecting a valor I was far from feeling; but, like Macbeth,
+I now realized that &ldquo;returning were as tedious as go
+o&rsquo;er.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mercantile Hall, in Summer Street, was engaged for me,&mdash;it
+being central, modest in point of size, commodious, and favorably
+known. At this time I was in excellent health and weighed one
+hundred and forty-three pounds. But from the moment of the public
+announcement of my lecture, my appetite for food, for meat
+particularly, began to fail me. &ldquo;How peevish and irritable he
+is growing!&rdquo; I heard one member of the family remark to
+another. Soon the grocer&rsquo;s scales indicated that my weight
+was diminishing. It fell to one hundred and forty-one,&mdash;then
+to one hundred and forty,&mdash;then to one hundred and
+thirty-eight,&mdash;and finally, when the 30th of May arrived, I
+found I weighed only one hundred and thirty-four pounds!</p>
+<p>The crisis was now at hand. Do not laugh at me, ye self-assured
+ones, with your comfortable sense of your own powers,&mdash;ye who
+care as little for an audience as for a field of cabbages,&mdash;do
+not jeer at one who has felt the pangs of shyness and quailed under
+the imaginary terrors of a first public appearance. For you it may
+be a small matter to face an audience,&mdash;that nearest
+approximation to the many-headed monster which we can palpably
+encounter; but for one whose diffidence had become the standard of
+that quality to his acquaintances the venture was perilous and
+desperate, as the sequel showed.</p>
+<p>Never had time rolled by with such fearful velocity as on that
+eventful day. Breakfast was hardly over before preparations were
+being made for dinner. Small appetite had I for either. Before I
+had finished pacing the parlor there was a summons to tea. It was
+like the summons to the criminal: &ldquo;Rise up, Master
+Barnardine, and be hanged.&rdquo; With a most shallow affectation
+of <em>nonchalance</em> I sat down at the table. A child might have
+detected my agitation; and yet, with horrible insincerity, I
+alluded to the news of the day, and asked the family why they were
+all so silent. They saw from my look that they might as well have
+joked with a man on his way to execution.</p>
+<p>Having dressed and adorned myself for the sacrifice, I returned
+to the parlor, when the rumbling of coach-wheels, the sudden
+letting down of steps, and then a frightfully discordant ring of
+the doorbell, sent the blood from my cheeks and made my heart
+palpitate like a trip-hammer. &ldquo;Is th-th-that the
+off-officer,&mdash;I mean the coachman?&rdquo; I stammered. Yes,
+there was no doubt about it.</p>
+<p>Straightening my person, I affected a dignified calmness, and
+assured my dear, anxious mother that I was not in the least
+nervous,&mdash;oh, not in the least!</p>
+<p>It was a gloomy night, and the streets wore a dismal aspect. The
+hall was distant about three miles; but in some mysterious manner,
+or by some route which I have never been able to discover, the
+coachman seemed to abridge the distance to less than half a mile.
+We are in Summer Street,&mdash;before the door. Some juvenile
+amateurs, attracted by stories of the strong man, surround the
+carriage to get a sight of him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ha! what are these? Sure, hangmen, That come to bind my
+hands, and then to drag me Before the judgment-seat: now they are
+new shapes, And do appear like Furies!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The words of Sir Giles Overreach, one of the parts I had studied
+during my histrionic <em>acc&egrave;s</em>, were not at all
+inappropriate to the state of mind in which, with knee-joints
+slipping from under me, I now made my way up-stairs. Having reached
+the upper entry, I paused, and glanced at the audience through the
+windows, before entering the little retiring-room behind the stage.
+With an inward groan at my presumption, I passed on. To think,
+that, but for my own madness, I might have been at that moment
+comfortably at home, reading the evening paper! Nay, were it not
+better to be tossing on stormy seas, driving on a lee-shore,
+toiling as a slave under a tropic sun, than here, with a gaping
+audience waiting to devour me with their eyes and ears?</p>
+<p>The first thing I did, on reaching the retiring-room, was to
+give way to a fearful fascination and take another peep at the
+audience from behind a curtain at the side-entrance. I then looked
+at my watch. Twenty minutes to eight! People were pouring in,
+notwithstanding the inclement weather. The hall was nearly crowded
+already. One familiar face after another was recognized. Surely
+everybody I know is present.</p>
+<p>Another look at my watch. Quarter to eight! Suddenly the frantic
+thought occurred to me, What if I have lost my manuscript? Where
+did I put it? &lsquo;Tis in none of my pockets! Good gracious! Has
+any one seen my manuscript? Come, Jerome, no fooling at a time like
+this! Where have you hidden it? What! You know nothing about it?
+<em>Hunt</em> for it, then! Wouldn&rsquo;t it be a charming scrape,
+if I couldn&rsquo;t find my lecture? Isn&rsquo;t this it, in the
+drawer? Oh, yes! I must have put it there unconsciously.</p>
+<p>Being in a high state of perspiration, and wiping my forehead
+incessantly, I disarrange my hair. Where&rsquo;s that brush? No one
+can tell. Agony! Where&rsquo;s the brush? Here on the floor. Oh,
+yes! There! What a blaze my cheeks are in! The audience will think
+they are flushed with Bourbon. No matter. That manuscript has
+disappeared again. Confusion! Where is it? Here in your
+overcoat-pocket. All right.</p>
+<p>Five minutes to eight. Grasping the scroll, I rush to the
+side-entrance. The audience begin to manifest their impatience by
+applause. Suddenly I hear the bell of the Old South Church strike
+eight. The last vibration passes like an ice-bolt through my heart.
+Wrought up to desperation, I thrust aside the curtain. This gives a
+portion of the audience a sight of me, and I hear some one exclaim,
+&ldquo;There he is!&rdquo; Horrible exposure! I dodge back out of
+view, as if to escape the discharge of a battery. A round of
+impatient applause rouses me. I count three, and precipitate myself
+forward to the centre of the stage.</p>
+<p>The hall is filled,&mdash;all the seats and most of the
+standing-places occupied. But I can no longer recognize any one.
+Friend and foe are confounded in an undistinguishable mass; or,
+rather, they are but parts and members of one hideous monster,
+moving itself by one volition, winking its thousand eyes all at
+once, and ready to swallow me with a single deglutition. However,
+the plunge is made. The worst is over. I rallied from the shock,
+and in a clear, but unnecessarily loud and ponderous voice, pitched
+many degrees too high, I commenced my lecture.</p>
+<p>For some ten minutes, if I may believe the tender reports in the
+newspapers the next day, I got on very respectably. I had won the
+attention of the audience. But, at an unlucky moment, a fresh
+arrival of persons at the door made the monster turn his thousand
+eyes in that direction. I mistook it for an indication that he was
+getting weary of my talk. My attention was distracted. Then came a
+suspension of all thought, an appalling paralysis of memory. Having
+learnt the first part of my discourse by heart, I had been reciting
+it without turning over the leaves of the manuscript; and now I was
+unable to recollect at what point I had left off, or whether I had
+given five pages or ten.</p>
+<p>Frightful dilemma! Stupefied with horror, I gazed intently on
+the page before me till the lines became all blurred, and a blue
+mist wavered before my eyes. Then came a pause of intensest
+silence. The monster lying in wait for me evidently began to
+anticipate that his victim&rsquo;s time was come, and so, like a
+crafty monster, he remained still and patient. Who could endure a
+nightmare like this? I felt myself reeling to and fro. Then a
+pleasant thrill, like that, perhaps, which drowning men feel, ran
+through my frame. All became dark,&mdash;and the strong man
+dropped, like a felled ox, senseless on the stage.</p>
+<p>When consciousness returned I was lying flat on my back, and
+several persons were bending over me.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Keep down,&mdash;don&rsquo;t rise,&rdquo; some one
+said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What has happened?&rdquo; I asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing,&mdash;only you were a little faint.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Faint? A man who can lift a thousand pounds
+faint&mdash;at the sight of an audience? Absurd! Let me
+rise.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And in spite of all opposition I rose, grasped my manuscript,
+walked to the front of the stage, and resumed my lecture. Alas!</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;Reaching above our nature does no good;</p>
+<p>We must sink back into our own flesh and blood.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p>I had not proceeded far before I felt symptoms of a repetition
+of the calamity; and lest I should be overtaken before I could
+retreat, I stammered a few words of apology, and withdrew
+ingloriously from public view. Fresh air and a draught of water,
+which some obliging friend had dashed with <em>eau-de-vie</em>,
+soon restored me. But I took the advice of friends and did not make
+a third attempt that evening.</p>
+<p>The audience, had it been wholly composed of brothers and
+sisters, could not have been more indulgent and considerate. One
+skeptical gentleman was heard to say,&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe he can lift nine hundred
+pounds.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And another added,&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nor I,&mdash;any more than that he can shoulder a barrel
+of flour.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Or raise his body by the little finger of one
+hand,&rdquo; said another.</p>
+<p>Whereupon a venerable citizen, a gentleman long known and
+respected as the very soul of honor, truthfulness, and uprightness,
+came forward on the stage before the audience, and with emphatic
+earnestness, and in a loud, intrepid tone of voice,
+exclaimed,&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ladies and gentlemen,&mdash;The heat of the room was too
+much for the lecturer; but he can easily do all the feats announced
+in the bills. <em>I&rsquo;ve seen him do them twenty
+times</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The dear, but infatuated old gentleman! He had never seen me do
+anything of the kind. He hardly knew me by sight. He thought only
+of coming to the rescue of an unfortunate lecturer, prostrated on
+the very threshold of his career; and a friendly hallucination made
+him for the moment really believe what he said. His unpremeditated
+assertion must have been set down by the recording angel on the
+same page with Uncle Toby&rsquo;s oath, and then obliterated in the
+same manner.</p>
+<p>Ten days after the above-mentioned catastrophe, having engaged
+the largest hall in Boston, (the Music Hall,) I delivered my
+lecture&mdash;in the words of the newspapers&mdash;&ldquo;with
+<em>&eacute;clat</em>.&rdquo; The illustrations of strength which I
+exhibited on the occasion, though far inferior to subsequent
+efforts, were looked on as most extraordinary. The weight I lifted
+before the audience, with my hands alone, was nine hundred and
+twenty-nine pounds. This was testified to by the City Sealer of
+Weights and Measures, Mr. Moulton. My success induced me to repeat
+my lecture in other places. Invitations and liberal offers poured
+in upon me from all directions; and during the ensuing seasons, I
+lectured in Baltimore, Philadelphia, Cincinnati, Albany, and many
+of the principal cities throughout the Northern States and the
+Canadas.</p>
+<p>To return to my lifting experiments. I had promised my father to
+&ldquo;stop at a thousand pounds.&rdquo; In the autumn of 1859 I
+had reached ten hundred and thirty-two pounds. An incident now
+occurred that induced me to reconsider my promise and get
+absolution from it. One day, while engaged in lifting, I had a
+visit from two powerful-looking men who asked permission to try my
+weight. One of them was five feet ten inches in height, and a
+hundred and ninety-two pounds in weight. The other was fully six
+feet in his stockings, and two hundred and twelve pounds in
+weight,&mdash;a fearful superiority in the eyes of a man, under
+five feet seven and weighing less than a hundred and fifty pounds.
+The smaller of these men failed to lift eight of my iron disks,
+which, with the connections, amounted to eight hundred and
+twenty-seven pounds. The larger individual fairly lifted them at
+the second or third trial, but declined to attempt an increase.
+They left me, and I soon, afterward heard that they were practising
+with a view of &ldquo;outlifting Dr. Windship.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>My father had incautiously remarked to me, &ldquo;Those huge
+fellows, with a little practice, can lift your weight and you on
+top of it. You can&rsquo;t expect to compete with giants.&rdquo;
+This decided me to test the question whether five feet seven must
+necessarily yield to mere bulk in the attainment of the maximum of
+human strength. I had the start of my competitors by some two
+hundred pounds, and I determined to preserve that distance between
+us. In the autumn of that year I advanced to lifting with the hands
+eleven hundred and thirty-three pounds, and in the spring of 1860
+to twelve hundred and eight. I have had no evidence that my
+competitors ever got beyond a thousand pounds; though I doubt not,
+if they had had my leisure for practice, they might have surpassed
+me.</p>
+<p>In July, 1860, I commenced lifting by means of a padded rope
+over my shoulders,&mdash;my body, during the act of lifting, being
+steadied and partly supported by my hands grasping a stout frame at
+each side. After a few unsuccessful preliminary trials, I quickly
+advanced to fourteen hundred pounds. The stretching of the rope now
+proved so great an annoyance, that I substituted for it a stout
+leather band of double thickness, about two inches and a half wide,
+and which had been subjected to a process which was calculated to
+render it proof against stretching more than half an inch under any
+weight it was capable of sustaining. But on trial, I found, almost
+to my despair, that it was of a far more yielding nature than the
+rope, and consequently the rope was again brought into requisition.
+A few weeks of unsatisfactory practice followed, when it occurred
+to me that an iron chain, inasmuch as it could not stretch, might
+be advantageously used, provided it could be so padded as not to
+chafe my shoulders. After many experiments I succeeded in this
+substitution; but the chain had yet one objection in common with
+the rope and the strap, arising from the difficulty of getting it
+properly adjusted. I contented myself with its use, however, until
+the spring of 1861, when I hit upon a contrivance which has proved
+a complete success. It consists of a wooden yoke fitting across my
+shoulders, and having two chains connected with it in such a manner
+as to enable me to lift on every occasion to the most advantage.
+With this contrivance my lifting-power has advanced with
+mathematical certainty, slowly, but surely, to <em>two thousand and
+seven pounds</em>, up to this twenty-third day of November,
+1861.</p>
+<p>In my public experiments in lifting, when I have not used the
+iron weights cast for the purpose, I have, as a convenient
+substitute, used kegs of nails. It recently occurred to me, that,
+if, instead of these kegs, I could employ a number of men selected
+from the audience, the spectacle would he still more satisfactory
+to the skeptical. Accordingly I contrived an apparatus by means of
+which I have been able to present this convincing proof of the
+actual weight lifted. I introduced it after my lecture at the
+Town-Hall in Brighton, Massachusetts, on the 9th of October, 1861;
+and the following account of the result appeared in one of the city
+papers:&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Standing upon a staging at an elevation of about eight or
+ten feet from the floor, the Doctor lifted and sustained, for a
+considerable time and without apparent difficulty, a platform
+suspended beneath him on which stood twelve gentlemen, all heavier
+individually than the Doctor himself, and weighing, inclusive of
+the entire apparatus lifted with them, <em>nearly nineteen hundred
+pounds avoirdupois</em>. In the performance of this tremendous
+feat, Dr. W. employed neither straps, bands, nor
+girdle,&mdash;nothing in short but a stout oaken stick fitting
+across his shoulders, and having attached to it a couple of rather
+formidable-looking chains. At his request, a committee, appointed
+by the audience, and furnished with one of Fairbanks&rsquo;s
+scales, superintended all the experiments.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The exact weight lifted on this occasion was eighteen hundred
+and thirty-six pounds. A few evenings after, I lifted, in the same
+way, in Lynn, eighteen hundred and sixty; in Brookline, eighteen
+hundred and ninety; in Medford, nineteen hundred and thirty-four;
+in Maiden, nineteen hundred and two; and in Charlestown, nineteen
+hundred and forty.</p>
+<p>As my strength is still increasing in an undiminished ratio, I
+am fairly beginning to wonder where the limit will be; and the old
+adage of the camel&rsquo;s back and the last feather occasionally
+suggests itself. I have fixed three thousand pounds as my <em>ne
+plus ultra</em>.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="fremont" name="fremont">FREMONT&rsquo;S HUNDRED DAYS IN
+MISSOURI.</a></h2>
+<h3>I.</h3>
+<p>The narrative we propose to give of events in Missouri is not
+intended to be a defence of General Fremont, nor in any respect an
+answer to the charges which have been made against him. Our purpose
+is the more humble one of presenting a hasty sketch of the
+expedition to Springfield, confining ourselves almost entirely to
+the incidents which came under the observation of an officer of the
+General&rsquo;s staff.</p>
+<p>General Fremont was in command of the Western Department
+precisely One Hundred Days. He assumed the command at the time when
+the army with which Lyon had captured Camp Jackson and won the
+Battle of Booneville was on the point of dissolution. The enemy,
+knowing that the term for which our soldiers had been enlisted was
+near its close, began offensive movements along their whole line.
+Cairo, Bird&rsquo;s Point, Ironton, and Springfield were
+simultaneously threatened. Jeff Thompson wrote to his friends in
+St. Louis, promising to be in that city in a month. The sad, but
+glorious day upon Wilson&rsquo;s Creek defeated the Rebel designs,
+and compelled McCulloch, Pillow, Hardee, and Thompson to
+retire.</p>
+<p>Relieved from immediate danger, General Fremont found an
+opportunity to organize the expedition down the Mississippi. Won by
+the magic of his name and the ceaseless energy of his action, the
+hardy youth of the Northwest, flocked into St. Louis, eager to
+share his labors and his glory. There was little time for
+organization and discipline. They were armed with such weapons as
+could be procured against the competition of the General
+Government, and at once forwarded to the exposed points. History
+can furnish few parallels to the hasty levy and organization of the
+Army of the West. When suddenly required to defend Washington, the
+Government was able to summon the equipped and disciplined militia
+of the East, and could call upon the inexhaustible resources of a
+wealthy and skilful people. But in the West there was neither a
+disciplined militia nor trained mechanics. Men, indeed, brave,
+earnest, patriotic men, were plenty,&mdash;men who appreciated the
+magnitude and importance of the task before them, and who were
+confident of their ability to accomplish it. But to introduce order
+into their tumultuous ranks, to place arms in their eager hands, to
+clothe and feed them, to provide them with transportation and
+equipage for the march, and inspire them with confidence for the
+siege and the battle,&mdash;this labor the General, almost unaided,
+was called upon to perform. Like all the rest of our generals, he
+was without experience in military affairs of such magnitude and
+urgency, and he was compelled to rely chiefly upon the assistance
+of men entirely without military training and knowledge. The
+general staff and the division and brigade staffs were, from the
+necessity of the case, made up mainly of civilians. A small number
+of foreign officers brought to his aid their learning and
+experience, and a still smaller number of West-Point officers gave
+him their invaluable assistance. In spite of all difficulties the
+work proceeded. In six weeks the strategic positions were placed in
+a state of defence, and an army of sixty thousand men, with a
+greater than common proportion of cavalry and artillery, stood
+ready to clear Missouri of the invader and to open the valley of
+the Mississippi. At this time the sudden appearance of Price in the
+West, and the fall of Lexington, compelled the General to take the
+field.</p>
+<p>We will now confine ourselves to the narrative of the incidents
+of the march to Springfield, as it is given in the journal which
+has been placed in our hands.</p>
+<h4>FROM ST. LOUIS TO WARSAW.</h4>
+<p><em>St. Louis, September 27th, 1861.</em> For four days the
+head-quarters have been ready to take the field at an hour&rsquo;s
+notice. The baggage has been packed, the wagons loaded, horses have
+stood saddled all through the day, and the officers have been
+sitting at their desks, booted and spurred, awaiting the order for
+their departure. It is not unlikely that the suspense in which they
+are held and the constant condition of readiness which is required
+of them are a sort of preliminary discipline to which the General
+is subjecting them. Yesterday the body-guard left by the river, and
+the staff-horses went upon the same steamer, so that we cannot be
+detained much longer.</p>
+<p><em>Jefferson City, September 28th.</em> Yesterday, at eleven
+o&rsquo;clock, we were informed that the General would leave for
+Jefferson City at noon; and that those members of the staff who
+were not ready would be left behind, and their places filled in the
+field. At the appointed hour we were all gathered at the depot. The
+General drove down entirely unattended. Most of the train was
+occupied by a battalion of sharp-shooters, but in the rear car the
+General and his staff found seats. The day was cloudy and damp;
+there was no one to say farewell; and as the train passed through
+the cold hills, a feeling of gloom seemed to pervade the company.
+Nature was in harmony with the clouded fortunes of our General, and
+the laboring locomotive dragged us at a snail&rsquo;s pace, as if
+it were unwilling to assist us in our adventure.</p>
+<p>Those who were strangers in the West looked out eagerly for the
+Missouri, hoping to find the valley of the river rich in scenery
+which would relieve the tedium of the journey. But when we came out
+upon the river-bank and looked at the dull shores, and the sandy
+bed, which the scant stream does not cover, but through which it
+creeps, treacherous and slimy, in half a dozen channels, there was
+no pleasure to the eye, no relief for the spirit. Late in the
+afternoon we approached a little village, and were greeted with
+music and hearty cheers,&mdash;the first sign of hospitality the
+day had furnished. It was the German settlement of Hermann, famous
+for good cheer and good wines. The Home-Guard was drawn up at the
+station, files of soldiers kept the passage clear to the
+dining-room, and through an avenue of muskets, and amidst the
+shouts of an enthusiastic little crowd, the General passed into a
+room decorated with flowers, through the centre of which was
+stretched a table groaning under the weight of delicious fruits and
+smoking viands. With little ceremony the hungry company seated
+themselves, and vigorously assailed the tempting array, quite
+unconscious of the curious glances of a motley assemblage of men,
+women, and children who assisted at the entertainment. The day had
+been dark, the journey dull, and the people we had seen silent and
+sullen; but here was a welcome, the hearty, generous welcome of
+sympathizing friends, who saw in their guests the defenders of
+their homes. They were Germans, and our language came broken from
+their lips. But they are Germans who fill the ranks of our
+regiments. Look where you will, and the sturdy Teuton meets your
+eye. If Missouri shall be preserved for the Union and civilization,
+it will be by the valor of men who learned their lessons of
+American liberty and glory upon the banks of the Rhine and the
+Elbe. We think of this at Hermann, and we pledge our German hosts
+and our German fellow-soldiers in strong draughts of delicious
+Catawba,&mdash;not such Catawba as is sent forth from the slovenly
+manufactories of Cincinnati, for the careful vintners of Hermann
+select the choice grapes, and in the quiet cellars of Hermann the
+Catawba has time to grow old and to ripen.</p>
+<p>We at length extricate ourselves from the maze of corn-cakes and
+pancakes, waffles and muffins and pies without number, with which
+our kind friends of Hermann tempt and tantalize our satiated
+palates, and once more set forth after the wheezing, reluctant
+locomotive, over the rough road, through the dreary hills, along
+the bank of the treacherous river.</p>
+<p>At ten o&rsquo;clock, in ten weary hours, we have accomplished
+one hundred and twenty miles, and have reached Jefferson City. The
+train backs and starts ahead, halts and backs and jerks, and
+finally, with a long sigh of relief, the locomotive stops, and a
+gentleman in citizen&rsquo;s dress enters the car, carrying a
+lantern in his hand. It was Brigadier-General Price, commanding at
+Jefferson City. He took possession of the General, and, with us
+closely following, left the car. But leaving the train was a
+somewhat more difficult matter. We went along-side the train, over
+the train, under the train, but still those cars seemed to surround
+us like a corral. We at length outflanked the train, but still
+failed to extricate ourselves from the labyrinth. Informed, or
+rather deluded, by the &ldquo;lantern dimly burning,&rdquo; we
+floundered into ditches and scrambled out of them, we waded
+mud-puddles and stumbled over boulders, until finally the
+ever-present train disappeared in the darkness, we rushed up a
+steep hill, heard the welcome sound as our feet touched a brick
+walk, and, after turning two or three corners, found ourselves in
+the narrow hall of the &ldquo;principal hotel.&rdquo; We were tired
+and disgusted, and no one stood upon the order of his going, but
+went at once to sleep upon whatever floor, table, or bed offered
+itself.</p>
+<p>This morning we are pleased to hear that the General has
+resolved to go into camp. Of course the best houses in the place
+are at our disposal, but it is wisely thought that our soldier-life
+will not begin until we are fairly under canvas.</p>
+<p>All day we have had an exhibition of a Missouri crowd. The
+sidewalk has been fringed with curious gazers waiting to catch a
+glimpse of the General. Foote, the comedian, said, that, until he
+landed on the quays at Dublin, he never knew what the London
+beggars did with their old clothes. One should go to Missouri to
+see what the New-York beggars do with their old clothes. But it is
+not the dress alone. Such vacant, listless faces, with laziness
+written in every line, and ignorance seated upon every feature! Is
+it for these that the descendants of New England and the thrifty
+Germans are going forth to battle? If Missouri depended upon the
+Missourians, there would be little chance for her safety, and,
+indeed, not very much to save.</p>
+<p><em>October 4th.</em> We have been in camp since Sunday, the
+29th of September. Our tents are pitched upon abroad shelf half-way
+down a considerable hill. Behind us the hill rises a hundred feet
+or more, shutting us in from the south; in front, to the north, the
+hill inclines to a ravine which separates us from other less lofty
+hills. Our camp is upon open ground, but there is a fine forest to
+the east and west.</p>
+<p>In a few days we have all become very learned in camp-life. We
+have found out what we want and what we do not want. Fortunately,
+St. Louis is near at hand, and we send there to provide for our
+necessities, and also to get rid of our superfluities. The troops
+have been gathering all the week. There are several regiments in
+front of us, and batteries of artillery behind us. Go where you
+will, spread out upon the plain or shining amidst the trees you
+will see the encampments. Head-quarters are busy providing for the
+transportation and the maintenance of this great force; and as
+rapidly as the railway can carry them, regiment after regiment is
+sent west. There is plenty of work for the staff-officers; and yet
+our life is not without its pleasures. The horses and their riders
+need training. This getting used to the saddle is no light matter
+for the civilian spoiled by years of ease and comfort. But the
+General gives all his officers plenty of horseback discipline. Then
+there is the broadsword exercise to fill up the idle time. Evening
+is the festive hour in camp; though I judge, from what I have seen
+and heard, that our camp has little of the gayety which is commonly
+associated with the soldier&rsquo;s life. We are too busy for
+merrymaking, but in the evening there are pleasant little circles
+around the fires or in the snug tents. There are old campaigners
+among us, men who have served in Mexico and Utah, and others whose
+lives have been passed upon the Plains; they tell us campaign
+stories, and teach the green hands the slang and the airs of the
+camp. But the unfailing amusement is the band. This is the special
+pride of the General, and soon after nightfall the musicians appear
+upon the little <em>plaza</em> around which the tents are grouped.
+At the first note the audience gather. The guardsmen come up from
+their camp on the edge of the ravine, the negro-quarter is
+deserted, the wagoners flock in from the surrounding forest, the
+officers stroll out of their tents,&mdash;a picturesque crowd
+stands around the huge camp-fire. The programme is simple and not
+often varied. It uniformly opens with &ldquo;The Star-Spangled
+Banner,&rdquo; and closes with &ldquo;Home, Sweet Home.&rdquo; By
+way of a grand <em>finale</em>, a procession is organized every
+night, led by some score of negro torch-bearers, which makes the
+circuit of the camp,&mdash;a performance which never fails to
+produce something of a stampede among the animals.</p>
+<p>Last night we had an alarm. About eleven o&rsquo;clock, when the
+camp was fairly asleep, some one tried to pass a picket half a mile
+west of us. The guard fired at the intruder, and in an instant the
+regimental drums sounded the long roll. We started from our beds,
+with frantic haste buckled on swords, spurs, and pistols, hurried
+servants after the horses, and hastened to report for duty to the
+General. The officer who was first to appear found him standing in
+front of his tent, himself the first man in camp who was ready for
+service. Presently a messenger came with information as to the
+cause of the alarm, and we were dismissed.</p>
+<p>At two o&rsquo;clock in the morning there was another alarm.
+Again the body-guard bugles sounded and the drums rolled. Again
+soldiers sprang to their arms, and officers rushed to report to the
+General,&mdash;the first man finding him, as before, leaning upon
+his sword in front of his tent. But, alas for the reputation of our
+mess, not one of its number appeared. In complete unconsciousness
+of danger or duty, we slept on. Colonel S. said he heard &ldquo;the
+music, but thought it was a continuation of the evening&rsquo;s
+serenade,&rdquo; and went to sleep again. It was not long before we
+discovered that the General knew that four members of his staff did
+not report to him when the long roll was sounded.</p>
+<p>There are several encampments on the hill-sides north of us
+which are in full view from our quarters, and it is not the least
+of our amusements to watch the regiments going through the
+afternoon drill. In the soft light of these golden days we see the
+long blue lines, silver-tipped, wheel and turn, scatter and form,
+upon the brown hill-sides. Now the slopes are dotted with
+skirmishers, and puffs of gray smoke rise over the kneeling
+figures; again a solid wall of bayonets gleams along the crest of
+the hill, and peals of musketry echo through the woods in the
+ravines.</p>
+<p>Colonel Myscall Johnson, a Methodist exhorter and formidable
+Rebel marauder, is said to be forty miles south of us with a small
+force, and some of the Union farmers came into camp to-day asking
+for protection. Zagonyi, the commander of the body-guard, is
+anxious to descend upon Johnson and scatter his thieving crew; but
+it is not probable he will obtain permission. The Union men of
+Missouri are quite willing to have you fight for them, but their
+patriotism does not go farther than this. These people represent
+that three-fourths of the inhabitants of Miller County are loyal.
+The General probably thinks, if this be true, they ought to be able
+to take care of Johnson&rsquo;s men. But a suggestion that they
+should defend their own homes and families astonishes our Missouri
+friends. General Lyon established Home-Guards throughout the State,
+and armed them with several thousand Springfield muskets taken from
+the arsenal at St. Louis. Most of these muskets are now in
+Price&rsquo;s army, and are the most formidable weapons he has. In
+some instances the Rebels enlisted in the Home-Guards and thus
+controlled the organization, carrying whole companies into
+Price&rsquo;s ranks. In other cases bands of Rebels scoured the
+country, went to the house of every Home-Guard, and took away his
+musket. In the German settlements alone the Guards still preserve
+their organization and their arms.</p>
+<p>A few days ago it fell to the lot of our mess to entertain a
+Rebel officer who had come in with a flag of truce. Strange to say,
+he was a New-Yorker, and had a younger brother in one of the
+Indiana regiments. He was a pleasant and courteous gentleman,
+albeit his faded dress, with its red-flannel trimmings, did not
+indicate great prosperity in the enemy&rsquo;s camp. We gave him
+the best meal we could command. I apologized because it was no
+better. He replied,&mdash;&ldquo;Make no apology, Sir. It is the
+best dinner I have eaten these three months. I have campaigned it a
+good deal this summer upon three ears of roast corn a day.&rdquo;
+He added,&mdash;&ldquo;I never have received a cent of pay. None of
+us have. We never expect to receive any.&rdquo; This captain has
+already seen considerable service. He was at Booneville, Carthage,
+Wilson&rsquo;s Creek, and Lexington. His descriptions of these
+engagements were animated and interesting, his point of view
+presenting matters in a novel light. He spoke particularly of a
+gunner stationed at the first piece in Totten&rsquo;s battery,
+saying that his energy and coolness made him one of the most
+conspicuous figures of the day. &ldquo;Our sharp-shooters did their
+best, but they failed to bring him down. There he was all day long,
+doing his duty as if on parade.&rdquo; He also told us there was no
+hard fighting at Lexington. &ldquo;We knew,&rdquo; said he,
+&ldquo;the place was short of water, and so we spared our men, and
+waited for time to do the work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><em>Camp Lovejoy, October 7th.</em> For the last two days the
+troops have been leaving Jefferson City, and the densely peopled
+hills are bare. This morning, at seven o&rsquo;clock, we began to
+break camp. There was no little trouble and confusion in lowering
+the tents and packing the wagons. It took us a long time to-day,
+but we shall soon get accustomed to it, and become able to move
+more quickly. At noon we left Jefferson City, going due west.</p>
+<p>Out little column consists of three companies of the body-guard,
+numbering about two hundred and fifty men, a battalion of
+sharp-shooters (infantry) under Major Holman, one hundred and
+eighty strong, and the staff. The march is in the following order.
+The first company of the guard act as advance-guard; then comes the
+General, followed by his staff, riding by twos, according to rank;
+the other two companies of the guard come next. The sharp-shooters
+accompany and protect the train. Our route lay through a broken and
+heavily wooded region. The roads were very bad, but the day was
+bright, and the march was a succession of beautiful pictures, of
+which the long and brilliant line of horsemen winding through the
+forest was the chief ornament.</p>
+<p>We reached camp at three o&rsquo;clock. It is a lovely spot,
+upon a hill-side, with a clear, swift-running brook washing the
+foot of the hill. Presently the horses are tied along the fences,
+riders are lounging under the trees, the kitchen-fires are lighted,
+guardsmen are scattered along the banks of the stream bathing, the
+wagons roll heavily over the prairie and are drawn up along the
+edge of the wood, tents are raised, tent-furniture is hastily
+arranged, and the camp looks as if it had been there a month.
+Before dark a regiment of infantry and two batteries of artillery
+come up. The men sleep in the open air without tents, and
+innumerable fires cover the hill-sides.</p>
+<p>We are upon land which is owned by an influential and wealthy
+citizen, who is an open Secessionist in opinion, though he has had
+the prudence not to take up arms. By way of a slight punishment,
+the General has annoyed the old man by naming his farm &ldquo;Camp
+Owen Lovejoy,&rdquo; a name which the Union neighbors will not fail
+to make perpetual.</p>
+<p><em>California, October 8th.</em> This morning we broke camp at
+six o&rsquo;clock and marched at eight. The road was bad, for which
+the beauty of the scenery did not entirely compensate.
+To-day&rsquo;s experience has taught us how completely an army is
+tied to the wheels of the wagons. Tell a general how fast the train
+can travel and he will know how long the journey will be. We passed
+our wagons in a terrible plight: some upset, some with balky mules,
+some stuck in the mud, and some broken down. The loud-swearing
+drivers, and the stubborn, patient, hard-pulling mules did not fail
+to vary and enliven the scene.</p>
+<p>A journey of eighteen miles brought us to this place, where we
+are encamped upon the county fair-ground. California is a mean,
+thriftless village; there are no trees shading the cottages, no
+shrubbery in the yards. The place is only two or three years old,
+but already wears a slovenly air of decay.</p>
+<p>I set out with Colonel L. upon a foraging expedition. We passed
+a small house, in front of which a fat little negro-girl was
+drawing a bucket of water from the well, the girl puffing and the
+windlass creaking.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will Massa have a drink of water?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was the first token of hospitality since Hermann. We stopped
+and drank from the bucket, but had not been there a minute before
+the mistress ran out, with suspicion in her face, to protect her
+property. A single question sufficed to show the politics of that
+house.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where is your husband?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He went off a little while ago.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This was the Missouri way of informing us that he was in the
+Rebel army.</p>
+<p>A little farther on we came to what was evidently the chief
+house of the place. A bevy of maidens stood at the gate, supported
+by a pleasant matron, fair and fat.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can you sell us some bread?&rdquo; was our rather
+practical inquiry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We have none baked, but will bake you some by
+sundown,&rdquo; was the answer, given in a hearty, generous
+voice.</p>
+<p>The bargain was soon made. Our portly dame proved to be a
+Virginian, who still cherished a true Virginian love for the
+Union.</p>
+<p><em>Tipton, October 9th.</em> The General was in the saddle very
+early, and left camp before the staff was ready. I was fortunate
+enough to be on hand, and indulged in some excusable banter when
+the tardy members of our company rode up after we were a mile or
+two on the way. We have marched twelve miles to-day through a
+lovely country. We have left the hills and stony roads behind us,
+and now we pass over beautiful little prairies, bordered by forests
+blazing with the crimson and gold of autumn. The day&rsquo;s ride
+has been delightful, the atmosphere soft and warm, the sky
+cloudless, and the prairie firm and hard under our horses&rsquo;
+feet. We passed several regiments on the road, who received the
+General with unbounded enthusiasm; and when we entered Tipton, we
+found the country covered with tents, and alive with men and
+horses. Amidst the cheers of the troops, we passed through the
+camps, and settled down upon a fine prairie-farm a mile to the
+southwest of Tipton. The divisions of Asboth and Hunter are here,
+not less than twelve thousand men, and from this point our course
+is to be southward.</p>
+<p><em>Camp Asboth, near Tipton, October 11th.</em> For the last
+twenty-four hours it has rained violently, and the prairie upon
+which we are encamped is a sea of black mud. But the tents are
+tight, and inside we contrive to keep comparatively warm.</p>
+<p>The camp is filled with speculations as to our future course.
+Shall we follow Price, who is crossing the Osage now, or are we to
+garrison the important positions upon this line and return to St.
+Louis and prepare for the expedition down the river? The General is
+silent, his reserve is never broken, and no one knows what his
+plans are, except those whose business it is to know. I will here
+record the plan of the campaign.</p>
+<p>Our campaign has been in some measure decided by the movements
+of the Rebels. The sudden appearance of Price in the West,
+gathering to his standard many thousands of the disaffected, has
+made it necessary for the General to check his bold and successful
+progress. Carthage, Wilson&rsquo;s Creek, and Lexington have given
+to Price a prestige which it is essential to destroy. The gun-boats
+cannot be finished for two months or more, and we cannot go down
+the Mississippi until the flotilla is ready; and from the character
+of the country upon each side of the river it will be difficult to
+operate there with a large body of men. In Southwestern Missouri we
+are sure of fine weather till the last of November, the prairies
+are high and dry, and there are no natural obstacles except such as
+it will excite the enthusiasm of the troops to overcome. Therefore
+the General has determined to pursue Price until he catches him. He
+can march faster than we can now, but we shall soon be able to move
+faster than it is possible for him to do. The Rebels have no base
+of operations from which to draw supplies; they depend entirely
+upon foraging; and for this reason Price has to make long halts
+wherever he finds mills, and grind the flour. He is so deficient in
+equipage, also, that it will be impossible for him to carry his
+troops over great distances. But we can safely calculate that Price
+and Rains will not leave the State; their followers are enlisted
+for six months, and are already becoming discontented at their
+continued retreat, and will not go with them beyond the borders.
+This is the uniform testimony of deserters and scouts. Price
+disposed of, either by a defeat or by the dispersal of his army, we
+are to proceed to Bird&rsquo;s Point, or into Arkansas, according
+to circumstances. A blow at Little Rock seems now the wisest, as it
+is the boldest plan. We can reach that place by the middle of
+November; and if we obtain possession of it, the position of the
+enemy upon the Mississippi will be completely turned. The
+communications of Pillow, Hardee, and Thompson, who draw their
+supplies through Arkansas, will be cut off, they will be compelled
+to retreat, and our flotilla and the reinforcements can descend the
+river to assist in the operations against Memphis and the attack
+upon New Orleans.</p>
+<p>This campaign may be difficult, the army will have to encounter
+hardships and perils, but, unless defeated in the field, the
+enterprise will be successful. No hardships or perils can daunt the
+spirit of the General, or arrest the march of the enthusiastic army
+his genius has created.</p>
+<p>Our column is composed of five divisions, under Generals Hunter,
+Pope, Sigel, McKinstry, and Asboth, and numbers about thirty
+thousand men, including over five thousand cavalry and eighty-six
+pieces of artillery, a large proportion of which are rifled. The
+infantry is generally well, though not uniformly armed. But the
+cavalry is very badly armed. Colonel Carr&rsquo;s regiment has no
+sabres, except for the commissioned and non-commissioned officers.
+The men carry Hall&rsquo;s carbines and revolvers. Major
+Waring&rsquo;s fine corps, the Fremont Hussars, is also deficient
+in sabres, and some of the companies are provided with
+lances,&mdash;formidable weapons in skilful bands, but only an
+embarrassment to our raw troops.</p>
+<p>Lane and Sturgis are to come from Kansas and join us on the
+Osage, and Wyman is to bring his command from Rolla and meet us
+south of that river.</p>
+<p>Paducah, Cairo, Bird&rsquo;s Point, Cape Girardeau, and Ironton
+are well protected against attack, and the commanders at those
+posts are ordered to engage the enemy as soon as we catch Price;
+and if the Rebels retreat, they are to pursue them. Thus our
+expedition is part of a combined and extended movement, and,
+instead of having no purpose except the defeat of Price, we are on
+the road to New Orleans.</p>
+<p>Next Monday we are to start. Asboth will go from here, Hunter by
+way of Versailles, McKinstry from Syracuse, Pope from his present
+position in the direction of Booneville, and Sigel from Sedalia. We
+are to cross the Osage at Warsaw; and as Sigel has the shortest
+distance to march, he is expected to reach that town first.</p>
+<p>Precious time has already been lost because of a lack of
+transportation and supplies. Foraging parties have been scouring
+the country, and large numbers of wagons, horses, and mules have
+been brought in. This property is all appraised, and when taken
+from Union men it is paid for. In doubtful cases a certificate is
+given to the owner, which recites that he is to be paid in case he
+shall continue to be loyal to the Government. We thus obtain a hold
+upon these people which an oath of allegiance every day would not
+give us.</p>
+<p><em>Camp Asboth, October 13th.</em> Mr. Cameron, Senator
+Chandler of Michigan, and Adjutant-General Thomas arrived at an
+early hour this morning; and at eight o&rsquo;clock, the General,
+attended by his staff and body-guard, repaired to the
+Secretary&rsquo;s quarters. After a short stay there, the whole
+party, except General Thomas, set out for Syracuse to review the
+division of General McKinstry. The day was fine, and we proceeded
+at a hand gallop until we reached a prairie some three or four
+miles wide. Here the Secretary set spurs to his horse, and we tore
+across the plain as fast as our animals could be driven. Passing
+from the open plain into a forest, the whole cortege dashed over a
+very rough road with but little slackening of our pace; nor did we
+draw rein until we reached Syracuse. A few moments were passed in
+the interchange of the usual civilities, and we then went a mile
+farther on, to a large prairie upon which the division was drawn
+up. McKinstry has the flower of the army. He has in his ranks some
+regular infantry, cavalry, and artillery, and among his subordinate
+officers are Totten, Steele, Kelton, and Stanley, all distinguished
+in the regular service. There was no time for the observance of the
+usual forms of a review. The Secretary passed in front and behind
+the lines, made a short address, and left immediately by rail for
+St. Louis, stopping at Tipton to review Asboth&rsquo;s division.
+The staff and guard rode slowly back to camp, both men and animals
+having had quite enough of the day&rsquo;s work. It is said, that
+Adjutant-General Thomas has expressed the opinion that we shall not
+be able to move from here, because we have no transportation. As we
+are ordered to march to-morrow, the prediction will soon be
+tested.</p>
+<p><em>Camp Zagonyi, October 14th.</em> We were in the saddle this
+morning at nine o&rsquo;clock, A short march of eleven miles, in a
+south-westerly direction, and through a prairie country, brought us
+to our camp. As we came upon the summit of a hill which lies to the
+west of our present position, our attention was directed to a group
+standing in front of a house about a mile distant. We had hardly
+caught sight of them when half a dozen men and three women mounted
+their horses and started at full speed towards the northeast, each
+man leading a horse. The General ordered some of the body-guard to
+pursue and try to stop the fugitives. We eagerly watched the chase.
+A narrow valley separated us from the elevation upon which the
+farm-house stood, and a small stream with low banks ran through the
+bottom of the valley. The pursuit was active, the guardsmen ran
+their horses down the slope, leaped the pool, and rushed up the
+opposite hill; but the runaways were on fresh horses, and had no
+rough ground to pass, and so they escaped. One of them lost the
+horse he was leading, and it was caught by a guardsman. This was
+the first exhibition we have seen of a desire on the part of the
+inhabitants to avoid us.</p>
+<p>The General established head-quarters along-side the house where
+we first discovered the Rebel party. Our position is the most
+beautiful one we have yet found. To the west stretches an
+undulating prairie, separated from us by a valley, into which our
+camping-ground subsides with a mild declivity; to the north is a
+range of low hills, their round sides unbroken by shrub or tree;
+while to the south stretches an extensive tract of low land,
+densely covered with timber, and resplendent with the colors of
+autumn.</p>
+<p>Before dark the whole of Asboth&rsquo;s division came up and
+encamped on the slopes to the west and north: not less than seven
+thousand men are here. This evening the scene is beautiful. I sit
+in the door of my lodge, and as far as the eye can reach the
+prairie is dotted with tents, the dark forms of men and horses, the
+huge white-topped wagons,&mdash;and a thousand fires gleam through
+the faint moonlight. Our band is playing near the General&rsquo;s
+quarters, its strains are echoed by a score of regimental bands,
+and their music is mingled with the numberless noises of camp, the
+hum of voices, the laughter from the groups around the fires, the
+clatter of hoofs as some rider hurries to the General, the distant
+challenges of the sentries, the neighing of horses, the hoarse
+bellowing of the mules, and the clinking of the cavalry anvils.
+This, at last, is the romance of war. How soon will our ears be
+saluted by sterner music?</p>
+<p><em>Camp Hudson, October 15th.</em> We moved at seven
+o&rsquo;clock this morning. For the first four miles the road ran
+through woods intersected by small streams. The ground was as rough
+as it could well be, and the teams which had started before us were
+struggling through the mire and over the rocks. We dashed past them
+at a fast trot, and in half an hour came upon a high prairie. The
+prairies of Southern Missouri are not large and flat, like the
+monotonous levels of Central Illinois, but they are rolling,
+usually small, and broken by frequent narrow belts of timber. In
+the woods there are hills, rocky soil, and always one, often two
+streams, clear and rapid as a mountain-brook in New England.</p>
+<p>The scenery to-day was particularly attractive, a constant
+succession of prairies surrounded by wooded hills. As we go south,
+the color of the forest becomes richer, and the atmosphere more
+mellow and hazy.</p>
+<p>During the first two hours we passed several regiments of foot.
+The men were nearly all Germans, and I scanned the ranks carefully,
+longing to see an American countenance. I found none, but caught
+sight of one arch-devil-may-care Irish face. I doubt whether there
+is a company in the army without an Irishman in it, though the
+proportion of Irishmen in our ranks is not so great as at the
+East.</p>
+<p>Early in the afternoon we rode up to a farm-house, at the gate
+of which a middle-aged woman was standing, crying bitterly. The
+General stopped, and the woman at once assailed him vehemently. She
+told him the soldiers had that day taken her husband and his team
+away with them. She said that there was no one left to take care of
+her old blind mother,&mdash;at which allusion, the blind mother
+tottered down the walk and took a position in the rear of the
+attacking party,&mdash;that they had two orphan girls, the children
+of a deceased sister, and the orphans had lost their second father.
+The assailants were here reinforced by the two orphan girls. She
+protested that her husband was loyal,&mdash;&ldquo;Truly, Sir, he
+was a Union man and voted for the Union, and always told his
+neighbors Disunion would do nothing except bring trouble upon
+innocent people, as indeed it has,&rdquo; said she, with a fresh
+flood of tears. The General was moved by her distress, and ordered
+Colonel E. to have the man, whose name is Rutherford, sent back at
+once.</p>
+<p>A few rods farther on we came to another house, in front of
+which was another weeping woman afflicted in the same way. Several
+little flaxen-haired children surrounded her, and a white-bearded
+man, trembling with age, stood behind, leaning upon a staff. Her
+earnestness far surpassed that of Mrs. Rutherford. She wrung her
+hands, and could hardly speak for her tears. She seized the
+General&rsquo;s hand and entreated him to return her husband, with
+an expression of distress which the hardest heart could not resist.
+The General comforted the poor woman with a few kind words, and
+promised to grant what she asked.</p>
+<p>It is very difficult to refuse such requests, and yet, in point
+of fact, no great hardship or sacrifice is required of these men.
+They profess to be Union men, but they are not in arms for the
+Union, and a Federal general now asks of them that they shall help
+the army for a day with their teams. To those who come here from
+all parts of the nation to defend these homes this does not appear
+to be a harsh demand.</p>
+<p>We arrived at camp about five o&rsquo;clock. Our day&rsquo;s
+march was twenty-two miles, and the wagons were far behind. A
+neighboring farm-house afforded the General and a few of his
+officers a dinner, but it was late in the evening before the tents
+were pitched.</p>
+<p><em>Warsaw, October 17th.</em> Yesterday we made our longest
+march, making twenty-five miles, and encamped three miles north of
+this place.</p>
+<p>It is a problem, why riding in a column should be so much more
+wearisome than riding alone, but so it undeniably is. Men who would
+think little of a sixty-mile ride were quite broken down by
+to-day&rsquo;s march.</p>
+<p>As soon as we reached camp, the General asked for volunteers
+from the staff to ride over to Warsaw: of course the whole staff
+volunteered. On the way we met General Sigel. This very able and
+enterprising officer is a pleasant, scholarly-looking gentleman,
+his studious air being increased by the spectacles he always wears.
+His figure is light, active, and graceful, and he is an excellent
+horseman. The country has few better heads than his. Always on the
+alert, he is full of resources, and no difficulties daunt him.
+Planter, Pope, and McKinstry are behind, waiting for tea and
+coffee, beans and flour, and army-wagons. Sigel gathered the
+ox-team and the farmers&rsquo; wagons and brought his division
+forward with no food for his men but fresh beef. His advance-guard
+is already across the Osage, and in a day or two his whole division
+will be over.</p>
+<p>Guided by General Sigel, we rode down to the ford across the
+Osage. The river here is broad and rapid, and its banks are immense
+bare cliffs rising one hundred feet perpendicularly from the
+water&rsquo;s edge. The ford is crooked, uncertain, and never
+practicable except for horsemen. The ferry is an old flat-boat
+drawn across by a rope, and the ascent up the farther bank is steep
+and rocky. It will not answer to leave in our rear this river,
+liable to be changed by a night&rsquo;s rain into a fierce torrent,
+with no other means of crossing it than the rickety ferry. A bridge
+must at once be built, strong and firm, a safe road for the army in
+case of disaster. So decides the General. And as we look upon the
+swift-running river and its rocky shores, cold and gloomy in the
+twilight, every one agrees that the General is right. His decision
+has since been strongly supported, for to-day two soldiers of the
+Fremont Hussars were drowned in trying to cross the ford, and the
+water is now rising rapidly.</p>
+<p>This morning we moved into Warsaw, and for the first time the
+staff is billeted in the Secession houses of the town; but the
+General clings to his tent. Our mess is quartered in the house of
+the county judge, who says his sympathies are with the South. But
+the poor man is so frightened, that we pity and protect him.</p>
+<p>Bridge-building is now the sole purpose of the army. There is no
+saw-mill here, nor any lumber. The forest must be cut down and
+fashioned into a bridge, as well as the tools and the skill at
+command will permit. Details are already told off from the
+sharp-shooters, the cadets, and even the body-guard, and the banks
+of the river now resound with the quick blows of their axes.</p>
+<p><em>Warsaw, October 21st.</em> Four days we have been waiting
+for the building of the bridge. By night and by day the work goes
+on, and now the long black shape is striding slowly across the
+stream. In a few hours it will have gained the opposite bank, and
+then, Ho, for Springfield!</p>
+<p>Our scouts have come in frequently the last few days. They tell
+us Price is at Stockton, and is pushing rapidly on towards the
+southwest. He has been grinding corn near Stockton, and has now
+food enough for another journey. His army numbers twenty thousand
+men, of whom five thousand have no arms. The rest carry everything,
+from double-barrelled shot-guns to the Springfield muskets taken
+from the Home-Guards. They load their shot-guns with a
+Mini&eacute;-ball and two buck-shot, and those who have had
+experience say that at one hundred yards they are very effective
+weapons. There is little discipline in the Rebel army, and the only
+organization is by companies. The men are badly clothed, and
+without shoes, and often without food. The deserters say that those
+who remain are waiting only to get the new clothes which McCulloch
+is expected to bring from the South.</p>
+<p>McCulloch, the redoubtable Ben, does not seem to be held in high
+esteem by the Rebel soldiers. They say he lacks judgment and
+self-command. But all speak well of Price. No one can doubt that he
+is a man of unusual energy and ability. McCulloch will increase
+Price&rsquo;s force to about thirty-five thousand, which number we
+must expect to meet.</p>
+<p>Hunter and McKinstry have not yet appeared, but Pope reported
+himself last night, and some of his men came in to-day.</p>
+<p><em>Camp White, October 22d.</em> The bridge is built, and the
+army is now crossing the Osage. In five days a firm road has been
+thrown across the river, over which our troops may pass in a day.
+The General and staff crossed by the ferry, and are now encamped
+two miles south of the Pomme-de-Terre.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="birdofredum" name="birdofredum">BIRDOFREDUM SAWIN, ESQ.,
+TO MR. HOSEA BIGLOW.</a></h2>
+<p class="note"><em>Letter from the REVEREND HOMER WILBUR, A.M.,
+inclosing the Epistle aforesaid.</em></p>
+<p class="rgt">Jaalam, 15th Nov., 1861.</p>
+<p>It is not from any idle wish to obtrude my humble person with
+undue prominence upon the publick view that I resume my pen upon
+the present occasion. <em>Juniores ad labores.</em> But having been
+a main instrument in rescuing the talent of my young parishioner
+from being buried in the ground, by giving it such warrant with the
+world as would be derived from a name already widely known by
+several printed discourses, (all of which I maybe permitted without
+immodesty to state have been deemed worthy of preservation in the
+Library of Harvard College by my esteemed friend Mr. Sibley,) it
+seemed becoming that I should not only testify to the genuineness
+of the following production, but call attention to it, the more as
+Mr. Biglow had so long been silent as to be in danger of absolute
+oblivion. I insinuate no claim to any share in the authourship
+(<em>vix ea nostra voco</em>) of the works already published by Mr.
+Biglow, but merely take to myself the credit of having fulfilled
+toward them the office of taster, (<em>experto crede</em>,) who,
+having first tried, could afterward bear witness,&mdash;an office
+always arduous, and sometimes even dangerous, as in the ease of
+those devoted persons who venture their lives in the deglutition of
+patent medicines (<em>dolus latet in generalibus</em>, there is
+deceit in the most of them) and thereafter are wonderfully
+preserved long enough to append their signatures to testimonials in
+the diurnal and hebdomadal prints. I say not this as covertly
+glancing at the authours of certain manuscripts which have been
+submitted to my literary judgment, (though an epick in twenty-four
+books on the &ldquo;Taking of Jericho&rdquo; might, save for the
+prudent forethought of Mrs. Wilbur in secreting the same just as I
+had arrived beneath the walls and was beginning a catalogue of the
+various horns and their blowers, too ambitiously emulous in
+longanimity of Homer&rsquo;s list of ships, might, I say, have
+rendered frustrate any hope I could entertain <em>vacare Musis</em>
+for the small remainder of my days,) but only further to secure
+myself against any imputation of unseemly forthputting. I will
+barely subjoin, in this connection, that, whereas Job was left to
+desire, in the soreness of his heart, that his adversary had
+written a book, as perchance misanthropically wishing to indite a
+review thereof, yet was not Satan allowed so far to tempt him as to
+send Bildad, Eliphaz, and Zophar each with an unprinted work in his
+wallet to be submitted to his censure. But of this enough. Were I
+in need of other excuse, I might add that I write by the express
+desire of Mr. Biglow himself, whose entire winter leisure is
+occupied, as he assures me, in answering demands for autographs, a
+labour exacting enough in itself, and egregiously so to him, who,
+being no ready penman, cannot sign so much as his name without
+strange contortions of the face (his nose, even, being essential to
+complete success) and painfully suppressed Saint-Vitus-dance of
+every muscle in his body. This, with his having been put in the
+Commission of the Peace by our excellent Governour (<em>O, si sic
+omnes!</em>) immediately on his accession to office, keeps him
+continually employed. <em>Haud inexpertus loquor,</em> having for
+many years written myself J.P., and being not seldom applied to for
+specimens of my chirography, a request to which I have sometimes
+too weakly assented, believing as I do that nothing written of set
+purpose can properly be called an autograph, but only those
+unpremeditated sallies and lively runnings which betray the
+fireside Man instead of the hunted Notoriety doubling on his
+pursuers. But it is time that I should bethink me of Saint
+Austin&rsquo;s prayer, <em>Libera me a meipso,</em> if I would
+arrive at the matter in hand.</p>
+<p>Moreover, I had yet another reason for taking up the pen myself.
+I am informed that the &ldquo;Atlantic Monthly&rdquo; is mainly
+indebted for its success to the contributions and editorial
+supervision of Dr. Holmes, whose excellent &ldquo;Annals of
+America&rdquo; occupy an honoured place upon my shelves. The
+journal itself I have never seen; but if this be so, it should seem
+that the recommendation of a brother-clergyman (though <em>par
+magis quam similis</em>) would carry a greater weight. I suppose
+that you have a department for historical lucubrations, and should
+be glad, if deemed desirable, to forward for publication my
+&ldquo;Collections for the Antiquities of Jaalam&rdquo; and my (now
+happily complete) pedigree of the Wilbur family from <em>fons et
+origo</em>, the Wild-Boar of Ardennes. Withdrawn from the active
+duties of my profession by the settlement of a colleague-pastor,
+the Reverend Jeduthun Hitchcock, formerly of Brutus Four-Corners, I
+might find time for further contributions to general literature on
+similar topicks. I have made large advances toward a completer
+genealogy of Mrs. Wilbur&rsquo;s family, the Pilcoxes, not, if I
+know myself, from any idle vanity, but with the sole desire of
+rendering myself useful in my day and generation. <em>Nulla dies
+sine line&acirc;.</em> I inclose a meteorological register, a list
+of the births, deaths, and marriages, and a few
+<em>memorabilia</em>, of longevity in Jaalam East Parish for the
+last half-century. Though spared to the unusual period of more than
+eighty years, I find no diminution of my faculties or abatement of
+my natural vigour, except a scarcely sensible decay of memory and a
+necessity of recurring to younger eyesight for the finer print in
+Cruden. It would gratify me to make some further provision for
+declining years from the emoluments of my literary labours. I had
+intended to effect an insurance on my life, but was deterred
+therefrom by a circular from one of the offices, in which the
+sudden deaths of so large a proportion of the insured was set forth
+as an inducement, that it seemed to me little less than a tempting
+of Providence. <em>Neque in summ&acirc; inopi&acirc; levis esse
+senectus potest, ne sapienti quidem.</em></p>
+<p>Thus far concerning Mr. Biglow; and so much seemed needful
+(<em>brevis esse laboro</em>) by way of preliminary, after a
+silence of fourteen years. He greatly fears lest he may in this
+essay have fallen below himself, well knowing, that, if exercise be
+dangerous on a full stomach, no less so is writing on a full
+reputation. Beset as he has been on all sides, he could not
+refrain, and would only imprecate patience till he shall again have
+&ldquo;got the hang&rdquo; (as he calls it) of an accomplishment
+long disused. The letter of Mr. Sawin was received some time in
+last June, and others have followed which will in due season be
+submitted to the publick. How largely his statements are to be
+depended on, I more than merely dubitate. He was always
+distinguished for a tendency to exaggeration,&mdash;it might almost
+be qualified by a stronger term. <em>Fortiter mentire, aliquid
+h&aelig;ret</em>, seemed to be his favourite rule of rhetorick.
+That he is actually where he says he is the post-mark would seem to
+confirm; that he was received with the publick demonstrations he
+describes would appear consonant with what we know of the habits of
+those regions; but further than this I venture not to decide. I
+have sometimes suspected a vein of humour in him which leads him to
+speak by contraries; but since, in the unrestrained intercourse of
+private life, I have never observed in him any striking powers of
+invention, I am the more willing to put a certain qualified faith
+in the incidents and the details of life and manners which give to
+his narratives some of the interest and entertainment which
+characterize a Century Sermon.</p>
+<p>It may be expected of me that I should say something to justify
+myself with the world for a seeming inconsistency with my
+well-known principles in allowing my youngest son to raise a
+company for the war, a fact known to all through the medium of the
+publick prints. I did reason with the young man, but <em>expellas
+naturam furc&acirc;, tamenusque recurrit</em>. Having myself been a
+chaplain in 1812, I could the less wonder that a man of war had
+sprung from my loins. It was, indeed, grievous to send my Benjamin,
+the child of my old age; but after the discomfiture of Manassas, I
+with my own hands did buckle on his armour, trusting in the great
+Comforter for strength according to my need. For truly the memory
+of a brave son dead in his shroud were a greater staff of my
+declining years than a coward, though his days might be long in the
+land and he should get much goods. It is not till our earthen
+vessels are broken that we find and truly possess the treasure that
+was laid up in them. <em>Migravi in animam meam</em>, I have sought
+refuge in my own soul; nor would I be shamed by the heathen
+comedian with his <em>Nequam illud verbum, bene vult, nisi bene
+facit</em>. During our dark days, I read constantly in the inspired
+book of Job, which I believe to contain more food to maintain the
+fibre of the soul for right living and high thinking than all pagan
+literature together, though I would by no means vilipend the study
+of the classicks. There I read that Job said in his despair, even
+as the fool saith in his heart there is no God,&mdash;&ldquo;The
+tabernacles of robbers prosper, and they that provoke God are
+secure.&rdquo; <em>Job</em> xii. 6. But I sought farther till I
+found this Scripture also, which I would have those perpend who
+have striven to turn our Israel aside to the worship of strange
+gods:&mdash;&ldquo;If I did despise the cause of my man-servant or
+of my maid-servant when they contended with me, what then shall I
+do when God riseth up? and when he visiteth, what shall I answer
+him?&rdquo; <em>Job</em> xxxi. 13-14. On this text I preached a
+discourse on the last day of Fasting and Humiliation with general
+acceptance, though there were not wanting one or two Laodiceans who
+said that I should have waited till the President announced his
+policy. But let us hope and pray, remembering this of Saint
+Gregory, <em>Vult Deus rogari, vult cogi, vult qu&acirc;dam
+importunitate vinci</em>.</p>
+<p>We had our first fall of snow on Friday last. Frosts have been
+unusually backward this fall. A singular circumstance occurred in
+this town on the 20th October, in the family of Deacon Pelatiah
+Tinkham. On the previous evening, a few moments before
+family-prayers,</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p class="note">[The editors of the &ldquo;Atlantic&rdquo; find it
+necessary here to cut short the letter of their valued
+correspondent, which seemed calculated rather on the rates of
+longevity in Jaalam than for less favored localities. They have
+every encouragement to hope that he will write again.]</p>
+<p class="rgt">With esteem and respect,<br />
+Your obedient servant<br />
+HOMER WILBUR, A.M.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>It&rsquo;s some consid&rsquo;ble of a spell sence I hain&rsquo;t
+writ no letters,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; ther&rsquo; &rsquo;s gret changes hez took place in
+all polit&rsquo;cle metters:</p>
+<p>Some canderdates air dead an&rsquo; gone, an&rsquo; some hez ben
+defeated,</p>
+<p>Which &rsquo;mounts to pooty much the same; fer it&rsquo;s ben
+proved repeated</p>
+<p>A betch o&rsquo; bread thet hain&rsquo;t riz once ain&rsquo;t
+goin&rsquo; to rise agin,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; it&rsquo;s jest money throwed away to put the emptins
+in:</p>
+<p>But thet&rsquo;s wut folks wun&rsquo;t never larn; they dunno
+how to go,</p>
+<p>Arter you want their room, no more &rsquo;n a bullet-headed
+beau;</p>
+<p>Ther&rsquo; &rsquo;s ollers chaps a-hangin&rsquo; roun&rsquo;
+thet can&rsquo;t see pea-time&rsquo;s past,</p>
+<p>Mis&rsquo;ble as roosters in a rain, heads down an&rsquo; tails
+half-mast:</p>
+<p>It ain&rsquo;t disgraceful bein&rsquo; beat, when a holl nation
+doos it,</p>
+<p>But Chance is like an amberill,&mdash;it don&rsquo;t take twice
+to lose it.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I spose you&rsquo;re kin&rsquo; o&rsquo; cur&rsquo;ous, now, to
+know why I hain&rsquo;t writ.</p>
+<p>Wal, I&rsquo;ve ben where a litt&rsquo;ry taste don&rsquo;t
+somehow seem to git</p>
+<p>Th&rsquo; encouragement a feller&rsquo;d think, thet&rsquo;s
+used to public schools,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; where sech things ez paper &rsquo;n&rsquo; ink air
+clean agin the rules:</p>
+<p>A kind o&rsquo; vicyvarsy house, built dreffle strong an&rsquo;
+stout,</p>
+<p>So &rsquo;s &rsquo;t honest people can&rsquo;t git in, ner
+t&rsquo; other sort git out,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; with the winders so contrived, you&rsquo;d
+prob&rsquo;ly like the view</p>
+<p>Better a-lookin&rsquo; in than out, though it seems
+sing&rsquo;lar, tu;</p>
+<p>But then the landlord sets by ye, can&rsquo;t bear ye out
+o&rsquo; sight,</p>
+<p>And locks ye up ez reg&rsquo;lar ez an outside door at
+night.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>This world is awfle contrary: the rope may stretch your neck</p>
+<p>Thet mebby kep&rsquo; another chap frum washin&rsquo; off a
+wreck;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; you will see the taters grow in one poor
+feller&rsquo;s patch,</p>
+<p>So small no self-respectin&rsquo; hen thet vallied time
+&rsquo;ould scratch,</p>
+<p>So small the rot can&rsquo;t find &rsquo;em out, an&rsquo; then
+agin, nex&rsquo; door,</p>
+<p>Ez big ez wut hogs dream on when they&rsquo;re &rsquo;most too
+fat to snore.</p>
+<p>But groutin&rsquo; ain&rsquo;t no kin&rsquo; o&rsquo; use;
+an&rsquo; ef the fust throw fails,</p>
+<p>Why, up an&rsquo; try agin, thet&rsquo;s all,&mdash;the coppers
+ain&rsquo;t all tails;</p>
+<p>Though I <em>hev</em> seen &rsquo;em when I thought they hed
+n&rsquo;t no more head</p>
+<p>Than&rsquo;d sarve a nussin&rsquo; Brigadier thet gits some ink
+to shed.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When I writ last, I&rsquo;d ben turned loose by thet blamed
+nigger, Pomp,</p>
+<p>Ferlorner than a musquash, ef you&rsquo;d took an&rsquo; dreened
+his swamp:</p>
+<p>But I ain&rsquo;t o&rsquo; the meechin&rsquo; kind, thet sets
+an&rsquo; thinks fer weeks</p>
+<p>The bottom&rsquo;s out o&rsquo; th&rsquo; univarse coz their own
+gillpot leaks.</p>
+<p>I hed to cross bayous an&rsquo; criks, (wal, it did beat all
+natur&rsquo;,)</p>
+<p>Upon a kin&rsquo; o&rsquo; corderoy, fust log, then
+alligator:</p>
+<p>Luck&rsquo;ly the critters warn&rsquo;t sharp-sot; I
+guess&rsquo;t wuz overruled</p>
+<p>They&rsquo;d done their mornin&rsquo;s marketin&rsquo; an&rsquo;
+gut their hunger cooled;</p>
+<p>Fer missionaries to the Creeks an&rsquo; runaway&rsquo;s air
+viewed</p>
+<p>By them an&rsquo; folks ez sent express to be their
+reg&rsquo;lar food:</p>
+<p>Wutever &rsquo;t wuz, they laid an&rsquo; snoozed ez peacefully
+ez sinners,</p>
+<p>Meek ez disgestin&rsquo; deacons be at ordination dinners;</p>
+<p>Ef any on &rsquo;em turned an&rsquo; snapped, I let &rsquo;em
+kin&rsquo; o&rsquo; taste</p>
+<p>My live-oak leg, an&rsquo; so, ye see, ther&rsquo; warn&rsquo;t
+no gret o&rsquo; waste,</p>
+<p>Fer they found out in quicker time than ef they&rsquo;d ben to
+college</p>
+<p>&rsquo;T warn&rsquo;t heartier food than though &rsquo;t wuz
+made out o&rsquo; the tree o&rsquo; knowledge.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But <em>I</em> tell <em>you</em> my other leg hed larned wut
+pizon-nettle meant,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; var&rsquo;ous other usefle things, afore I reached a
+settlement,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; all o&rsquo; me thet wuz n&rsquo;t sore an&rsquo;
+sendin&rsquo; prickles thru me</p>
+<p>Wuz jest the leg I parted with in lickin&rsquo; Montezumy:</p>
+<p>A usefle limb it &rsquo;s ben to me, an&rsquo; more of a
+support</p>
+<p>Than wut the other hez ben,&mdash;coz I dror my pension for
+&rsquo;t.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Wal, I gut in at last where folks wuz civerlized an&rsquo;
+white,</p>
+<p>Ez I diskivered to my cost afore &rsquo;t wuz hardly night;</p>
+<p>Fer &rsquo;z I wuz settin&rsquo; in the bar a-takin&rsquo;
+sunthin&rsquo; hot,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; feelin&rsquo; like a man agin, all over in one
+spot,</p>
+<p>A feller thet sot opposite, arter a squint at me,</p>
+<p>Lep up an&rsquo; drawed his peacemaker, an&rsquo;, &ldquo;Dash
+it, Sir,&rdquo; suz he,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m doubledashed if you ain&rsquo;t him thet stole
+my yaller chettle,</p>
+<p>(You&rsquo;re all the stranger thet&rsquo;s around,) so now
+you&rsquo;ve gut to settle;</p>
+<p>It ain&rsquo;t no use to argerfy ner try to cut up frisky,</p>
+<p>I know ye ez I know the smell o&rsquo; ole chain-lightnin&rsquo;
+whiskey;</p>
+<p>We&rsquo;re lor-abidin&rsquo; folks down here, we&rsquo;ll fix
+ye so &rsquo;s &rsquo;t a bar</p>
+<p>Wouldn&rsquo; tech ye with a ten-foot pole; (Jedge, you jest
+warm the tar;)</p>
+<p>You&rsquo;ll think you&rsquo;d better ha&rsquo; gut among a
+tribe o&rsquo; Mongrel Tartars,</p>
+<p>&rsquo;Fore we&rsquo;ve done showin&rsquo; how we raise our
+Southun prize tar-martyrs;</p>
+<p>A moultin&rsquo; fallen cherubim, ef he should see ye, &rsquo;d
+snicker,</p>
+<p>Thinkin&rsquo; he hedn&rsquo;t nary chance. Come, genlemun,
+le&rsquo; &rsquo;s liquor;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo;, Gin&rsquo;ral, when you &lsquo;ve mixed the drinks
+an&rsquo; chalked &rsquo;em up, tote roun&rsquo;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; see ef ther&rsquo; &rsquo;s a feather-bed
+(thet&rsquo;s borryable) in town.</p>
+<p>We&rsquo;ll try ye fair, Ole Grafted-Leg, an&rsquo; ef the tar
+wun&rsquo;t stick,</p>
+<p>Th&rsquo; ain&rsquo;t not a juror here but wut&rsquo;ll
+&rsquo;quit ye double-quick.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>To cut it short, I wun&rsquo;t say sweet, they gi&rsquo; me a
+good dip,</p>
+<p>(They ain&rsquo;t <em>perfessin&rsquo;</em> Bahptists here,)
+then give the bed a rip,&mdash;</p>
+<p>The jury &rsquo;d sot, an&rsquo; quicker &rsquo;n a flash they
+hetched me out, a livin&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Extemp&rsquo;ry mammoth turkey-chick fer a Feejee
+Thanksgivin&rsquo;.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Thet I felt some stuck up is wut it&rsquo;s nat&rsquo;ral to
+suppose,</p>
+<p>When poppylar enthusiasm hed furnished me sech clo&rsquo;es;</p>
+<p>(Ner &rsquo;t ain&rsquo;t without edvantiges, this kin&rsquo;
+o&rsquo; suit, ye see,</p>
+<p>It&rsquo;s water-proof, an&rsquo; water&rsquo;s wut I like
+kep&rsquo; out o&rsquo; me;)</p>
+<p>But nut content with thet, they took a kerridge from the
+fence</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; rid me roun&rsquo; to see the place, entirely free
+&lsquo;f expense,</p>
+<p>With forty-&rsquo;leven new kines o&rsquo; sarse without no
+charge acquainted me,</p>
+<p>Gi&rsquo; me three cheers, an&rsquo; vowed thet I wuz all their
+fahncy painted me;</p>
+<p>They treated me to all their eggs; (they keep &rsquo;em, I
+should think,</p>
+<p>Fer sech ovations, pooty long, for they wuz mos&rsquo;
+distinc&rsquo;;)</p>
+<p>They starred me thick &rsquo;z the Milky-Way with
+indiscrim&rsquo;nit cherity,</p>
+<p>For wut we call reception eggs air sunthin&rsquo; of a
+rerity;</p>
+<p>Green ones is plentifle anough, skurce wuth a nigger&rsquo;s
+getherin&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>But your dead-ripe ones ranges high fer treatin&rsquo; Nothun
+bretherin:</p>
+<p>A spotteder, ringstreakeder child the&rsquo; warn&rsquo;t in
+Uncle Sam&rsquo;s</p>
+<p>Holl farm,&mdash;a cross of strip&egrave;d pig an&rsquo; one
+o&rsquo; Jacob&rsquo;s lambs;</p>
+<p>&rsquo;T wuz Dannil in the lions&rsquo; den, new an&rsquo;
+enlarged edition,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; everythin&rsquo; fust-rate o&rsquo; &rsquo;ts kind,
+the&rsquo; warn&rsquo;t no impersition.</p>
+<p>People&rsquo;s impulsiver down here than wut our folks to home
+be,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; kin&rsquo; o&rsquo; go it &rsquo;ith a resh in
+raisin&rsquo; Hail Columby:</p>
+<p>Thet&rsquo;s <em>so</em>: an&rsquo; they swarmed out like bees,
+for your real Southun men&rsquo;s</p>
+<p>Time isn&rsquo;t o&rsquo; much more account than an ole
+settin&rsquo; hen&rsquo;s;</p>
+<p>(They jest work semioccashnally, or else don&rsquo;t work at
+all,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; so their time an&rsquo; &rsquo;tention both air et
+saci&rsquo;ty&rsquo;s call.)</p>
+<p>Talk about hospitality! wut Nothun town d&rsquo; ye know</p>
+<p>Would take a totle stranger up an&rsquo; treat him gratis
+so?</p>
+<p>You&rsquo;d better b&rsquo;lieve ther&rsquo; &rsquo;s
+nothin&rsquo; like this spendin&rsquo; days an&rsquo; nights</p>
+<p>Along &rsquo;ith a dependent race fer civerlizin&rsquo;
+whites.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But this wuz all prelim&rsquo;nary; it&rsquo;s so Gran&rsquo;
+Jurors here</p>
+<p>Fin&rsquo; a true bill, a hendier way than ourn, an&rsquo; nut
+so dear;</p>
+<p>So arter this they sentenced me, to make all tight
+&rsquo;n&rsquo; snug,</p>
+<p>Afore a reg&rsquo;lar court o&rsquo; law, to ten years in the
+Jug.</p>
+<p>I didn&rsquo; make no gret defence: you don&rsquo;t feel much
+like speakin&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>When, ef you let your clamshells gape, a quart o&rsquo; tar will
+leak in:</p>
+<p>I <em>hev</em> hearn tell o&rsquo; wing&egrave;d words, but pint
+o&rsquo; fact it tethers</p>
+<p>The spoutin&rsquo; gift to hev your words tu thick sot on with
+feathers,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; Choate ner Webster wouldn&rsquo;t ha&rsquo; made an A
+1 kin&rsquo; o&rsquo; speech,</p>
+<p>Astride a Southun chestnut horse sharper &rsquo;n a baby&rsquo;s
+screech.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Two year ago they ketched the thief, &rsquo;n&rsquo;
+seein&rsquo; I wuz innercent,</p>
+<p>They jest oncorked an&rsquo; le&rsquo; me run, an&rsquo; in my
+stid the sinner sent</p>
+<p>To see how <em>he</em> liked pork &rsquo;n&rsquo; pone flavored
+with wa&rsquo;nut saplin&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; nary social priv&rsquo;ledge but a one-hoss,
+starn-wheel chaplin.</p>
+<p>When I come out, the folks behaved mos&rsquo; gen&rsquo;manly
+an&rsquo; harnsome;</p>
+<p>They &rsquo;lowed it wouldn&rsquo;t be more &rsquo;n right, ef I
+should cuss &rsquo;n&rsquo; darn some:</p>
+<p>The Cunnle he apolergized; suz he, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll du wut
+&rsquo;s right,</p>
+<p>I&rsquo;ll give ye settisfection now by shootin&rsquo; ye at
+sight,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; give the nigger, (when he&rsquo;s caught,) to pay him
+fer his trickin&rsquo;</p>
+<p>In gittin&rsquo; the wrong man took up, a most H fired
+lickin&rsquo;,&mdash;</p>
+<p>It&rsquo;s jest the way with all on &rsquo;em, the inconsistent
+critters,</p>
+<p>They&rsquo;re &rsquo;most enough to make a man blaspheme his
+mornin&rsquo; bitters;</p>
+<p>I&rsquo;ll be your frien&rsquo; thru thick an&rsquo; thin
+an&rsquo; in all kines o&rsquo; weathers,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; all you&rsquo;ll hev to pay fer &rsquo;s jest the
+waste o&rsquo; tar an&rsquo; feathers:</p>
+<p>A lady owned the bed, ye see, a widder, tu, Miss Shennon;</p>
+<p>It wuz her mite; we would ha&rsquo; took another, ef ther
+&rsquo;d ben one:</p>
+<p>We don&rsquo;t make <em>no</em> charge for the ride an&rsquo;
+all the other fixins.</p>
+<p>Le&rsquo; &rsquo;s liquor; Gin&rsquo;ral, you can chalk our
+friend for all the mixins.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A meetin&rsquo; then wuz called, where they &ldquo;RESOLVED,
+Thet we respec&rsquo;</p>
+<p>B.S. Esquire for quallerties o&rsquo; heart an&rsquo;
+intellec&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Peculiar to Columby&rsquo;s sile, an&rsquo; not to no one
+else&rsquo;s,</p>
+<p>Thet makes Eur&oacute;pean tyrans scringe in all their gilded
+pel&rsquo;ces,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; doos gret honor to our race an&rsquo; Southun
+institootions&rdquo;:</p>
+<p>(I give ye jest the substance o&rsquo; the leadin&rsquo;
+resolootions:)</p>
+<p>&ldquo;RESOLVED, Thet we revere in him a soger &rsquo;thout a
+flor,</p>
+<p>A martyr to the princerples o&rsquo; libbaty an&rsquo; lor:</p>
+<p>RESOLVED, Thet other nations all, ef sot &rsquo;longside
+o&rsquo; us,</p>
+<p>For vartoo, larnin&rsquo;, chivverlry, ain&rsquo;t noways wuth a
+cuss.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They gut up a subscription, tu, but no gret come o&rsquo;
+<em>that</em>;</p>
+<p>I &rsquo;xpect in cairin&rsquo; of it roun&rsquo; they took a
+leaky hat;</p>
+<p>Though Southun genelmun ain&rsquo;t slow at puttin&rsquo; down
+their name,</p>
+<p>(When they can write,) fer in the eend it comes to jest the
+same,</p>
+<p>Because, ye see, &rsquo;t &rsquo;s the fashion here to sign
+an&rsquo; not to think</p>
+<p>A critter&rsquo;d be so sordid ez to ax &rsquo;em for the
+chink:</p>
+<p>I didn&rsquo;t call but jest on one, an&rsquo; <em>he</em>
+drawed toothpick on me,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; reckoned he warn&rsquo;t goin&rsquo; to stan&rsquo; no
+sech dog-gauned econ&rsquo;my;</p>
+<p>So nothin&rsquo; more wuz realized, &rsquo;ceptin&rsquo; the
+good-will shown,</p>
+<p>Than ef &rsquo;t had ben from fust to last a reg&rsquo;lar
+Cotton Loan.</p>
+<p>It&rsquo;s a good way, though, come to think, coz ye enjy the
+sense</p>
+<p>O&rsquo; lendin&rsquo; lib&rsquo;rally to the Lord, an&rsquo;
+nary red o&rsquo; &rsquo;xpense:</p>
+<p>Sence then I&rsquo;ve gut my name up for a
+gin&rsquo;rous-hearted man</p>
+<p>By jes&rsquo; subscribin&rsquo; right an&rsquo; left on this
+high-minded plan;</p>
+<p>I&rsquo;ve gin away my thousans so to every Southun sort</p>
+<p>O&rsquo; missions, colleges, an&rsquo; sech, ner ain&rsquo;t no
+poorer for &rsquo;t.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I warn&rsquo;t so bad off, arter all; I needn&rsquo;t hardly
+mention</p>
+<p>That Guv&rsquo;ment owed me quite a pile for my arrears o&rsquo;
+pension,&mdash;</p>
+<p>I mean the poor, weak thing we <em>hed</em>: we run a new one
+now,</p>
+<p>Thet strings a feller with a claim up tu the nighest bough,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; <em>prectises</em> the rights o&rsquo; man, purtects
+down-trodden debtors,</p>
+<p>Ner wun&rsquo;t hev creditors about a-scrougin&rsquo; o&rsquo;
+their betters:</p>
+<p>Jeff&rsquo;s gut the last idees ther&rsquo; is, poscrip&rsquo;,
+fourteenth edition,</p>
+<p>He knows it takes some enterprise to run an oppersition;</p>
+<p>Ourn&rsquo;s the fust thru-by-daylight train, with all
+ou&rsquo;doors for deepot,</p>
+<p>Yourn goes so slow you&rsquo;d think &rsquo;t wuz drawed by a
+last cent&rsquo;ry teapot;&mdash;</p>
+<p>Wal, I gut all on &rsquo;t paid in gold afore our State
+seceded,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; done wal, for Confed&rsquo;rit bonds warn&rsquo;t jest
+the cheese I needed:</p>
+<p>Nut but wut they&rsquo;re ez <em>good</em> ez gold, but then
+it&rsquo;s hard a-breakin&rsquo; on &rsquo;em,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; ignorant folks is ollers sot an&rsquo; wun&rsquo;t git
+used to takin&rsquo; on &rsquo;em;</p>
+<p>They&rsquo;re wuth ez much ez wut they wuz afore ole
+Mem&rsquo;nger signed &rsquo;em,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; go off middlin&rsquo; wal for drinks, when ther&rsquo;
+&rsquo;s a knife behind &rsquo;em:</p>
+<p>We <em>du</em> miss silver, jest fer thet an&rsquo; ridin&rsquo;
+in a bus,</p>
+<p>Now we&rsquo;ve shook off the despots thet wuz suckin&rsquo; at
+our pus;</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; it&rsquo;s <em>because</em> the South&rsquo;s so rich;
+&rsquo;t wuz nat&rsquo;ral to expec&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Supplies o&rsquo; change wuz jest the things we shouldn&rsquo;t
+recollec&rsquo;;</p>
+<p>We&rsquo;d ough&rsquo; to ha&rsquo; thought aforehan&rsquo;,
+though, o&rsquo; thet good rule o&rsquo; Crockett&rsquo;s,</p>
+<p>For &rsquo;t &rsquo;s tiresome cairin&rsquo; cotton-bales
+an&rsquo; niggers in your pockets,</p>
+<p>Ner &rsquo;t ain&rsquo;t quite hendy to pass off one o&rsquo;
+your six-foot Guineas</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; git your halves an&rsquo; quarters back in gals
+an&rsquo; pickaninnies:</p>
+<p>Wal, &rsquo;t ain&rsquo;t quite all a feller &rsquo;d ax, but
+then ther&rsquo; &rsquo;s this to say,</p>
+<p>It&rsquo;s on&rsquo;y jest among ourselves thet we expec&rsquo;
+to pay;</p>
+<p>Our system would ha&rsquo; caird us thru in any Bible
+cent&rsquo;ry,</p>
+<p>&rsquo;Fore this onscripted plan come up o&rsquo; books by
+double entry;</p>
+<p>We go the patriarkle here out o&rsquo; all sight an&rsquo;
+hearin&rsquo;,</p>
+<p>For Jacob warn&rsquo;t a circumstance to Jeff at
+financierin&rsquo;;</p>
+<p><em>He</em> never &rsquo;d thought o&rsquo; borryin&rsquo; from
+Esau like all nater</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; then cornfiscatin&rsquo; all debts to sech a small
+pertater;</p>
+<p>There&rsquo;s p&rsquo;litickle econ&rsquo;my, now, combined
+&rsquo;ith morril beauty</p>
+<p>Thet saycrifices privit eends (your in&rsquo;my&rsquo;s, tu) to
+dooty!</p>
+<p>Wy, Jeff&rsquo;d ha&rsquo; gin him five an&rsquo; won his
+eye-teeth &rsquo;fore he knowed it,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo;, slid o&rsquo; wastin&rsquo; pottage, he&rsquo;d
+ha&rsquo; eat it up an&rsquo; owed it.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But I wuz goin&rsquo; on to say how I come here to
+dwall;&mdash;</p>
+<p>&rsquo;Nough said, thet, arter lookin&rsquo; roun&rsquo;, I
+liked the place so wal,</p>
+<p>Where niggers doos a double good, with us atop to stiddy
+&rsquo;em,</p>
+<p>By bein&rsquo; proofs o&rsquo; prophecy an&rsquo;
+cirkleatin&rsquo; medium,</p>
+<p>Where a man&rsquo;s sunthin&rsquo; coz he&rsquo;s white,
+an&rsquo; whiskey&rsquo;s cheap ez fleas,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; the financial pollercy jest sooted my idees,</p>
+<p>Thet I friz down right where I wuz, merried the Widder
+Shennon,</p>
+<p>(Her thirds wuz part in cotton-land, part in the curse o&rsquo;
+Canaan,)</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; here I be ez lively ez a chipmunk on a wall,</p>
+<p>With nothin&rsquo; to feel riled about much later &rsquo;n
+Eddam&rsquo;s fall.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ez fur ez human foresight goes, we made an even trade:</p>
+<p>She gut an overseer, an&rsquo; I a fem&rsquo;ly ready-made,</p>
+<p>(The youngest on &rsquo;em&rsquo;s &rsquo;most growed up,)
+rugged an&rsquo; spry ez weazles,</p>
+<p>So&rsquo;s &rsquo;t ther&rsquo; &rsquo;s no resk o&rsquo;
+doctors&rsquo; bills fer hoopin&rsquo;-cough an&rsquo; measles.</p>
+<p>Our farm&rsquo;s at Turkey-Buzzard Roost, Little Big Boosy
+River,</p>
+<p>Wal located in all respex,&mdash;fer &rsquo;t ain&rsquo;t the
+chills &rsquo;n&rsquo; fever</p>
+<p>Thet makes my writin&rsquo; seem to squirm; a Southuner&rsquo;d
+allow I&rsquo;d</p>
+<p>Some call to shake, for I&rsquo;ve jest hed to meller a new
+cowhide.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Miss S. is all &rsquo;f a lady; th&rsquo; ain&rsquo;t no better
+on Big Boosy,</p>
+<p>Ner one with more accomplishmunts &rsquo;twixt here an&rsquo;
+Tuscaloosy;</p>
+<p>She&rsquo;s an F.F., the tallest kind, an&rsquo; prouder
+&rsquo;n the Gran&rsquo; Turk,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; never hed a relative thet done a stroke o&rsquo;
+work;</p>
+<p>Hern ain&rsquo;t a scrimpin&rsquo; fem&rsquo;ly sech ez
+<em>you</em> git up Down East,</p>
+<p>Th&rsquo; ain&rsquo;t a growed member on &rsquo;t but owes his
+thousuns et the least:</p>
+<p>She <em>is</em> some old; but then agin ther&rsquo; &rsquo;s
+drawbacks in my sheer;</p>
+<p>Wut&rsquo;s left o&rsquo; me ain&rsquo;t more &rsquo;n enough to
+make a Brigadier:</p>
+<p>The wust is, she hez tantrums; she is like Seth Moody&rsquo;s
+gun</p>
+<p>(Him thet wuz nicknamed frum his limp Ole Dot an&rsquo; Kerry
+One);</p>
+<p>He&rsquo;d left her loaded up a spell, an&rsquo; hed to git her
+clear,</p>
+<p>So he onhitched,&mdash;Jeerusalem! the middle o&rsquo; last
+year</p>
+<p>Wuz right nex&rsquo; door compared to where she kicked the
+critter tu</p>
+<p>(Though <em>jest</em> where he brought up wuz wut no human never
+knew);</p>
+<p>His brother Asaph picked her up an&rsquo; tied her to a
+tree,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; then she kicked an hour &rsquo;n&rsquo; a half afore
+she&rsquo;d let it be:</p>
+<p>Wal, Miss S. <em>doos</em> hev cuttins-up an&rsquo; pourins-out
+o&rsquo; vials,</p>
+<p>But then she hez her widder&rsquo;s thirds, an&rsquo; all on us
+hez trials.</p>
+<p>My objec&rsquo;, though, in writin&rsquo; now warn&rsquo;t to
+allude to sech,</p>
+<p>But to another suckemstance more dellykit to tech,&mdash;</p>
+<p>I want thet you should grad&rsquo;lly break my merriage to
+Jerushy,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; ther&rsquo; &rsquo;s a heap of argymunts thet&rsquo;s
+emple to indooce ye:</p>
+<p>Fust place, State&rsquo;s Prison,&mdash;wal, it&rsquo;s true it
+warn&rsquo;t fer crime, o&rsquo; course,</p>
+<p>But then it&rsquo;s jest the same fer her in gittin&rsquo; a
+disvorce;</p>
+<p>Nex&rsquo; place, my State&rsquo;s secedin&rsquo; out hez
+leg&rsquo;lly lef&rsquo; me free</p>
+<p>To merry any one I please, pervidin&rsquo; it&rsquo;s a she;</p>
+<p>Fin&rsquo;lly, I never wun&rsquo;t come back, she needn&rsquo;t
+hev no fear on &rsquo;t,</p>
+<p>But then it &rsquo;s wal to fix things right fer fear Miss S.
+should hear on &rsquo;t;</p>
+<p>Lastly, I&rsquo;ve gut religion South, an&rsquo; Rushy
+she&rsquo;s a pagan</p>
+<p>Thet sets by th&rsquo; graven imiges o&rsquo; the gret Nothun
+Dagon;</p>
+<p>(Now I hain&rsquo;t seen one in six munts, for, sence our
+Treasury Loan,</p>
+<p>Though yaller boys is thick anough, eagles hez kind o&rsquo;
+flown;)</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; ef J. wants a stronger pint than them thet I hev
+stated,</p>
+<p>Wy, she&rsquo;s an aliun in&rsquo;my now, an&rsquo; I&rsquo;ve
+ben cornfiscated,&mdash;</p>
+<p>For sence we&rsquo;ve entered on th&rsquo; estate o&rsquo; the
+late nayshnul eagle,</p>
+<p>She hain&rsquo;t no kin&rsquo; o&rsquo; right but jest wut I
+allow ez legle:</p>
+<p>Wut <em>doos</em> Secedin&rsquo; mean, ef&rsquo;t ain&rsquo;t
+thet nat&rsquo;rul rights hez riz, &rsquo;n&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Thet wut is mine&rsquo;s my own, but wut&rsquo;s another
+man&rsquo;s ain&rsquo;t his&rsquo;n?</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Bersides, I couldn&rsquo;t do no else; Miss S. suz she to
+me,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve sheered my bed,&rdquo; [Thet&rsquo;s when I
+paid my interdiction fee</p>
+<p>To Southun rites,] &ldquo;an&rsquo; kep&rsquo; your
+sheer,&rdquo; [Wal, I allow it sticked</p>
+<p>So&rsquo;s &rsquo;t I wuz most six weeks in jail afore I gut me
+picked,]</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ner never paid no demmiges; but thet wun&rsquo;t do no
+harm,</p>
+<p>Pervidin&rsquo; thet you&rsquo;ll ondertake to oversee the
+farm;</p>
+<p>(My eldes&rsquo; boy is so took up, wut with the Ringtail
+Rangers</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; settin&rsquo; in the Jestice-Court for welcomin&rsquo;
+o&rsquo; strangers&rdquo;;)</p>
+<p>[He sot on <em>me</em>;] &ldquo;an&rsquo; so, ef you&rsquo;ll
+jest ondertake the care</p>
+<p>Upon a mod&rsquo;rit sellery, we&rsquo;ll up an&rsquo; call it
+square;</p>
+<p>But ef you <em>can&rsquo;t</em> conclude,&rdquo; suz she,
+an&rsquo; give a kin&rsquo; o&rsquo; grin,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wy, the Gran&rsquo; Jury, I expect, &lsquo;ll hev to set
+agin.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Thet&rsquo;s the way metters stood at fust; now wut wuz I to
+du,</p>
+<p>But jest to make the best on&rsquo;t an&rsquo; off coat
+an&rsquo; buckle tu?</p>
+<p>Ther&rsquo; ain&rsquo;t a livin&rsquo; man thet finds an income
+necessarier</p>
+<p>Than me,&mdash;bimeby I&rsquo;ll tell ye how I fin&rsquo;lly
+come to merry her.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>She hed another motive, tu: I mention of it here</p>
+<p>T&rsquo; encourage lads thet&rsquo;s growin&rsquo; up to study
+&rsquo;n&rsquo; persevere,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; show &rsquo;em how much better &rsquo;t pays to mind
+their winter-schoolin&rsquo;</p>
+<p>Than to go off on benders &rsquo;n&rsquo; sech, an&rsquo; waste
+their time in foolin&rsquo;;</p>
+<p>Ef &rsquo;t warn&rsquo;t for studyin&rsquo;, evening, I never
+&rsquo;d ha&rsquo; ben here</p>
+<p>An orn&rsquo;ment o&rsquo; saciety, in my approprut spear:</p>
+<p>She wanted somebody, ye see, o&rsquo; taste an&rsquo;
+cultivation,</p>
+<p>To talk along o&rsquo; preachers when they stopt to the
+plantation;</p>
+<p>For folks in Dixie th&rsquo;t read an&rsquo; write, onless it is
+by jarks,</p>
+<p>Is skurce ez wut they wuz among th&rsquo; oridgenal
+patriarchs;</p>
+<p>To fit a feller f&rsquo; wut they call the soshle
+higherarchy,</p>
+<p>All thet you&rsquo;ve gut to know is jest beyund an evrage
+darky;</p>
+<p>Schoolin&rsquo; &rsquo;s wut they can&rsquo;t seem to
+stan&rsquo;, they&rsquo;re tu consarned high-pressure,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; knowin&rsquo; t&rsquo; much might spile a boy for
+bein&rsquo; a Secesher.</p>
+<p>We hain&rsquo;t no settled preachin&rsquo; here, ner ministeril
+taxes;</p>
+<p>The min&rsquo;ster&rsquo;s only settlement &rsquo;s the
+carpet-bag he packs his</p>
+<p>Razor an&rsquo; soap-brush intu, with his hymbook an&rsquo; his
+Bible,&mdash;</p>
+<p>But they <em>du</em> preach, I swan to man, it&rsquo;s
+puf&rsquo;kly indescrib&rsquo;le!</p>
+<p>They go it like an Ericsson&rsquo;s ten-hoss-power coleric
+ingine,</p>
+<p>An&rsquo; make Ole Split-Foot winch an&rsquo; squirm, for all
+he&rsquo;s used to singein&rsquo;;</p>
+<p>Hawkins&rsquo;s whetstone ain&rsquo;t a pinch o&rsquo;
+primin&rsquo; to the innards</p>
+<p>To hearin&rsquo; on &rsquo;em put free grace t&rsquo; a lot
+o&rsquo; tough old sin-hards!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But I must eend this letter now: &rsquo;fore long I&rsquo;ll
+send a fresh un;</p>
+<p>I&rsquo;ve lots o&rsquo; things to write about, perticklerly
+Seceshun:</p>
+<p>I&rsquo;m called off now to mission-work, to let a leetle law
+in</p>
+<p>To Cynthy&rsquo;s hide: an&rsquo; so, till death,</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p class="rgt">Yourn,<br />
+BIRDOFREDUM SAWIN.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="oldage" name="oldage">OLD AGE</a>.</h2>
+<p>On the last anniversary of the Phi Beta Kappa Society at
+Cambridge, the venerable President Quincy, senior member of the
+Society, as well as senior alumnus of the University, was received
+at the dinner with peculiar demonstrations of respect. He replied
+to these compliments in a speech, and, gracefully claiming the
+privileges of a literary society, entered at some length into an
+Apology for Old Age, and, aiding himself by notes in his hand, made
+a sort of running commentary on Cicero&rsquo;s chapter &ldquo;De
+Senectute.&rdquo; The character of the speaker, the transparent
+good faith of his praise and blame, and the
+<em>na&iuml;vet&eacute;</em> of his eager preference of
+Cicero&rsquo;s opinions to King David&rsquo;s, gave unusual
+interest to the College festival. It was a discourse full of
+dignity, honoring him who spoke and those who heard.</p>
+<p>The speech led me to look over at home&mdash;an easy
+task&mdash;Cicero&rsquo;s famous essay, charming by its uniform
+rhetorical merit; heroic with Stoical precepts; with a Roman eye to
+the claims of the State; happiest, perhaps, in his praise of life
+on the farm; and rising, at the conclusion, to a lofty strain. But
+he does not exhaust the subject; rather invites the attempt to add
+traits to the picture from our broader modern life.</p>
+<p>Cicero makes no reference to the illusions which cling to the
+element of time, and in which Nature delights. Wellington, in
+speaking of military men, said,&mdash;&ldquo;What masks are these
+uniforms to hide cowards! When our journal is published, many
+statues must come down.&rdquo; I have often detected the like
+deception in the cloth shoe, wadded pelisse, wig and spectacles,
+and padded chair of Age. Nature lends herself to these illusions,
+and adds dim sight, deafness, cracked voice, snowy hair, short
+memory, and sleep. These also are masks, and all is not Age that
+wears them. Whilst we yet call ourselves young, and all our mates
+are yet youths and boyish, one good fellow in the set prematurely
+sports a gray or a bald head, which does not impose on us who know
+how innocent of sanctity or of Platonism he is, but does not less
+deceive his juniors and the public, who presently distinguish him
+with a most amusing respect: and this lets us into the secret, that
+the venerable forms that so awed our childhood were just such
+impostors. Nature is full of freaks, and now puts an old head on
+young shoulders, and then a young heart beating under fourscore
+winters.</p>
+<p>For if the essence of age is not present, these signs, whether
+of Art or Nature, are counterfeit and ridiculous: and the essence
+of age is intellect. Wherever that appears, we call it old. If we
+look into the eyes of the youngest person, we sometimes discover
+that here is one who knows already what you would go about with
+much pains to teach him; there is that in him which is the ancestor
+of all around him: which fact the Indian Vedas express, when they
+say, &ldquo;He that can discriminate is the father of his
+father.&rdquo; And in our old British legends of Arthur and the
+Round-Table, his friend and counsellor, Merlin the Wise, is a babe
+found exposed in a basket by the river-side, and, though an infant
+of only a few days, he speaks to those who discover him, tells his
+name and history, and presently foretells the fate of the
+by-standers. Wherever there is power, there is age. Don&rsquo;t be
+deceived by dimples and curls. I tell you that babe is a thousand
+years old.</p>
+<p>Time is, indeed, the theatre and seat of illusion. Nothing is so
+ductile and elastic. The mind stretches an hour to a century, and
+dwarfs an age to an hour. Saadi found in a mosque at Damascus an
+old Persian of a hundred and fifty years who was dying, and was
+saying to himself, &ldquo;I said, coming into the world by birth,
+&lsquo;I will enjoy myself for a few moments.&rsquo; Alas! at the
+variegated table of life I partook of a few mouthfuls, and the
+Fates said, &lsquo;<em>Enough!</em>&rsquo;&rdquo; That which does
+not decay is so central and controlling in us, that, as long as one
+is alone by himself, he is not sensible of the inroads of time,
+which always begin at the surface-edges. If, on a winter day, you
+should stand within a bell-glass, the face and color of the
+afternoon clouds would not indicate whether it were June or
+January; and if we did not find the reflection of ourselves in the
+eyes of the young people, we could not know that the century-clock
+had struck seventy instead of twenty. How many men habitually
+believe that each chance passenger with whom they converse is of
+their own age, and presently find it was his father, and not his
+brother, whom they knew!</p>
+<p>But, not to press too hard on these deceits and illusions of
+Nature, which are inseparable from our condition, and looking at
+age under an aspect more conformed to the common sense, if the
+question be the felicity of age, I fear the first popular judgments
+will be unfavorable. From the point of sensuous experience, seen
+from the streets and markets and the haunts of pleasure and gain,
+the estimate of age is low, melancholy, and skeptical. Frankly face
+the facts, and see the result. Tobacco, coffee, alcohol, hashish,
+prussic acid, strychnine, are weak dilutions: the surest poison is
+time. This cup, which Nature puts to our lips, has a wonderful
+virtue, surpassing that of any other draught. It opens the senses,
+adds power, fills us with exalted dreams, which we call hope, love,
+ambition, science: especially, it creates a craving for larger
+draughts of itself. But they who take the larger draughts are drunk
+with it, lose their stature, strength, beauty, and senses, and end
+in folly and delirium. We postpone our literary work until we have
+more ripeness and skill to write, and we one day discover that our
+literary talent was a youthful effervescence which we have now
+lost. We had a judge in Massachusetts who at sixty proposed to
+resign, alleging that he perceived a certain decay in his
+faculties: he was dissuaded by his friends, on account of the
+public convenience at that time. At seventy it was hinted to him
+that it was time to retire; but he now replied, that he thought his
+judgment as robust, and all his faculties as good as ever they
+were. But besides the self-deception, the strong and hasty laborers
+of the street do not work well with the chronic valetudinarian.
+Youth is everywhere in place. Age, like woman, requires fit
+surroundings. Age is comely in coaches, in churches, in chairs of
+state and ceremony, in council-chambers, in courts of justice, and
+historical societies. Age is becoming in the country. But in the
+rush and uproar of Broadway, if you look into the faces of the
+passengers, there is dejection or indignation in the seniors, a
+certain concealed sense of injury, and the lip made up with a
+heroic determination not to mind it. Few envy the consideration
+enjoyed by the oldest inhabitant. We do not count a man&rsquo;s
+years, until he has nothing else to count. The vast inconvenience
+of animal immortality was told in the fable of Tithonus. In short,
+the creed of the street is, Old Age is not disgraceful, but
+immensely disadvantageous. Life is well enough, but we shall all be
+glad to get out of it, and they will all be glad to have us.</p>
+<p>This is odious on the face of it. Universal convictions are not
+to be shaken by the whimseys of overfed butchers and firemen, or by
+the sentimental fears of girls who would keep the infantile bloom
+on their cheeks. We know the value of experience. Life and art are
+cumulative; and he who has accomplished something in any department
+alone deserves to be heard on that subject. A man of great
+employments and excellent performance used to assure me that he did
+not think a man worth anything until he was sixty; although this
+smacks a little of the resolution of a certain &ldquo;Young
+Men&rsquo;s Republican Club,&rdquo; that all men should be held
+eligible who were under seventy. But in all governments, the
+councils of power were held by the old; and patricians or
+<em>patres</em>, senate or <em>senes</em>, <em>seigneurs</em> or
+seniors, <em>gerousia</em>, the senate of Sparta, the presbytery of
+the Church, and the like, all signify simply old men.</p>
+<p>This cynical lampoon is refuted by the universal prayer for long
+life, which is the verdict of Nature, and justified by all history.
+We have, it is true, examples of an accelerated pace, by which
+young men achieved grand works; as in the Macedonian Alexander, in
+Raffaelle, Shakspeare, Pascal, Burns, and Byron; but these are rare
+exceptions. Nature, in the main, vindicates her law. Skill to do
+comes of doing; knowledge comes by eyes always open, and working
+hands; and there is no knowledge that is not power. And if the life
+be true and noble, we have quite another sort of seniors than the
+frowzy, timorous, peevish dotards who are falsely
+old,&mdash;namely, the men who fear no city, but by whom cities
+stand; who appearing in any street, the people empty their houses
+to gaze at and obey them: as at &ldquo;My Cid, with the fleecy
+beard,&rdquo; in Toledo; or Bruce, as Barbour reports him; as blind
+old Dandolo, elected Doge at eighty-four years, storming
+Constantinople at ninety-four, and after the revolt again
+victorious, and elected at the age of ninety-six to the throne of
+the Eastern Empire, which he declined, and died Doge at
+ninety-seven. We still feel the force of Socrates, &ldquo;whom
+well-advised the oracle pronounced wisest of men&rdquo;; of
+Archimedes, holding Syracuse against the Romans by his wit, and
+himself better than all their nation; of Michel Angelo, wearing the
+four crowns of architecture, sculpture, painting, and poetry; of
+Galileo, of whose blindness Castelli said, &ldquo;The noblest eye
+is darkened that Nature ever made,&mdash;an eye that hath seen more
+than all that went before him, and hath opened the eyes of all that
+shall come after him&rdquo;; of Newton, who made an important
+discovery for every one of his eighty-five years; of Bacon, who
+&ldquo;took all knowledge to be his province&rdquo;; of Fontenelle,
+&ldquo;that precious porcelain vase laid up in the centre of France
+to be guarded with the utmost care for a hundred years&rdquo;; of
+Franklin, Jefferson, and Adams, the wise and heroic statesmen; of
+Washington, the perfect citizen; of Wellington, the perfect
+soldier; of Goethe, the all-knowing poet; of Humboldt, the
+encyclop&aelig;dia of science.</p>
+<p>Under the general assertion of the well-being of age, we can
+easily count particular benefits of that condition. It has
+weathered the perilous capes and shoals in the sea whereon we sail,
+and the chief evil of life is taken away in removing the grounds of
+fear. The insurance of a ship expires as she enters the harbor at
+home. It were strange, if a man should turn his sixtieth year
+without a feeling of immense relief from the number of dangers he
+has escaped. When the old wife says, &ldquo;Take care of that tumor
+in your shoulder, perhaps it is cancerous,&rdquo;&mdash;he replies,
+&ldquo;What if it is?&rdquo; The humorous thief who drank a pot of
+beer at the gallows blew off the froth because he had heard it was
+unhealthy; but it will not add a pang to the prisoner marched out
+to be shot, to assure him that the pain in his knee threatens
+mortification. When the pleuro-pneumonia of the cows raged, the
+butchers said, that, though the acute degree was novel, there never
+was a time when this disease did not occur among cattle. All men
+carry seeds of all distempers through life latent, and we die
+without developing them: such is the affirmative force of the
+constitution. But if you are enfeebled by any cause, the disease
+becomes strong. At every stage we lose a foe. At fifty years,
+&lsquo;t is said, afflicted citizens lose their sick-headaches. I
+hope this <em>hegira</em> is not as movable a feast as that one I
+annually look for, when the horticulturists assure me that the
+rose-bugs in our gardens disappear on the tenth of July: they stay
+a fortnight later in mine. But be it as it may with the
+sick-headache,&mdash;&lsquo;t is certain that graver headaches and
+heart-aches are lulled, once for all, as we come up with certain
+goals of time. The passions have answered their purpose: that
+slight, but dread overweight, with which, in each instance, Nature
+secures the execution of her aim, drops off. To keep man in the
+planet, she impresses the terror of death. To perfect the
+commisariat, she implants in each a little rapacity to get the
+supply, and a little over-supply, of his wants. To insure the
+existence of the race, she reinforces the sexual instinct, at the
+risk of disorder, grief, and pain. To secure strength, she plants
+cruel hunger and thirst, which so easily overdo their office, and
+invite disease. But these temporary stays and shifts for the
+protection of the young animal are shed as fast as they can be
+replaced by nobler resources. We live in youth amidst this rabble
+of passions, quite too tender, quite too hungry and irritable.
+Later, the interiors of mind and heart open, and supply grander
+motives. We learn the fatal compensations that wait on every act.
+Then,&mdash;one mischief at a time,&mdash;this riotous
+time-destroying crew disappear.</p>
+<p>I count it another capital advantage of age, this, that a
+success more or less signifies nothing. Little by little, it has
+amassed such a fund of merit, that it can very well afford to go on
+its credit when it will. When I chanced to meet the poet
+Wordsworth, then sixty-three years old, he told me, &ldquo;that he
+had just had a fall and lost a tooth, and, when his companions were
+much concerned for the mischance, he had replied, that he was glad
+it had not happened forty years before.&rdquo; Well, Nature takes
+care that we shall not lose our organs forty years too soon. A
+lawyer argued a cause yesterday in the Supreme Court, and I was
+struck with a certain air of levity and defiance which vastly
+became him. Thirty years ago it was a serious concern to him
+whether his pleading was good and effective. Now it is of
+importance to his client, but of none to himself. It is long
+already fixed what he can do and cannot do, and his reputation does
+not gain or suffer from one or a dozen new performances. If he
+should, on a new occasion, rise quite beyond his mark, and do
+somewhat extraordinary and great, that, of course, would instantly
+tell; but he may go below his mark with impunity, and people will
+say, &ldquo;Oh, he had headache,&rdquo; or, &ldquo;He lost his
+sleep for two nights.&rdquo; What a lust of appearance, what a load
+of anxieties that once degraded him, he is thus rid of! Every one
+is sensible of this cumulative advantage in living. All the good
+days behind him are sponsors, who speak for him when he is silent,
+pay for him when he has no money, introduce him where he has no
+letters, and work for him when he sleeps.</p>
+<p>A third felicity of age is, that it has found expression. Youth
+suffers not only from ungratified desires, but from powers untried,
+and from a picture in his mind of a career which has, as yet, no
+outward reality. He is tormented with the want of correspondence
+between things and thoughts. Michel Angelo&rsquo;s head is full of
+masculine and gigantic figures as gods walking, which make him
+savage until his furious chisel can render them into marble; and of
+architectural dreams, until a hundred stone-masons can lay them in
+courses of travertine. There is the like tempest in every good head
+in which some great benefit for the world is planted. The throes
+continue until the child is born. Every faculty new to each man
+thus goads him and drives him out into doleful deserts, until it
+finds proper vent. All the functions of human duty irritate and
+lash him forward, bemoaning and chiding, until they are performed.
+He wants friends, employment, knowledge, power, house and land,
+wife and children, honor and fame; he has religious wants,
+aesthetic wants, domestic, civil, humane wants. One by one, day
+after day, he learns to coin his wishes into facts. He has his
+calling, homestead, social connection, and personal power, and
+thus, at the end of fifty years, his soul is appeased by seeing
+some sort of correspondence between his wish and his possession.
+This makes the value of age, the satisfaction it slowly offers to
+every craving. He is serene who does not feel himself pinched and
+wronged, but whose condition, in particular and in general, allows
+the utterance of his mind. In old persons, when thus fully
+expressed, we often observe a fair, plump, perennial, waxen
+complexion, which indicates that all the ferment of earlier days
+has subsided into serenity of thought and behavior.</p>
+<p>For a fourth benefit, age sets its house in order, and finishes
+its works, which to every artist is a supreme pleasure. Youth has
+an excess of sensibility, to which every object glitters and
+attracts. We leave one pursuit for another, and the young
+man&rsquo;s year is a heap of beginnings. At the end of a
+twelvemonth, he has nothing to show for it, not one completed work.
+But the time is not lost. Our instincts drove us to hive
+innumerable experiences, that are yet of no visible value, and
+which we may keep for twice seven years before they shall be
+wanted. The best things are of secular growth. The instinct of
+classifying marks the wise and healthy mind. Linn&aelig;us projects
+his system, and lays out his twenty-four classes of plants, before
+yet he has found in Nature a single plant to justify certain of his
+classes. His seventh class has not one. In process of time, he
+finds with delight the little white <em>Trientalis</em>, the only
+plant with seven petals and sometimes seven stamens, which
+constitutes a seventh class in conformity with his system. The
+conchologist builds his cabinet whilst as yet he has few shells. He
+labels shelves for classes, cells for species: all but a few are
+empty. But every year fills some blanks, and with accelerating
+speed as he becomes knowing and known. An old scholar finds keen
+delight in verifying all the impressive anecdotes and citations he
+has met with in miscellaneous reading and hearing, in all the years
+of youth. We carry in memory important anecdotes, and have lost all
+clue to the author from whom we had them. We have a heroic speech
+from Rome or Greece, but cannot fix it on the man who said it. We
+have an admirable line worthy of Horace, ever and anon resounding
+in our mind&rsquo;s ear, but have searched all probable and
+improbable books for it in vain. We consult the reading men: but,
+strangely enough, they who know everything know not this. But
+especially we have a certain insulated thought, which haunts us,
+but remains insulated and barren. Well, there is nothing for all
+this but patience and time. Time, yes, that is the finder, the
+unweariable explorer, not subject to casualties, omniscient at
+last. The day comes when the hidden author of our story is found;
+when the brave speech returns straight to the hero who said it;
+when the admirable verse finds the poet to whom it belongs; and
+best of all, when the lonely thought, which seemed so wise, yet
+half-wise, half-thought, because it cast no light abroad, is
+suddenly matched in our mind by its twin, by its sequence, or next
+related analogy, which gives it instantly radiating power, and
+justifies the superstitious instinct with which we had hoarded it.
+We remember our old Greek Professor at Cambridge, an ancient
+bachelor, amid his folios, possessed by this hope of completing a
+task, with nothing to break his leisure after the three hours of
+his daily classes, yet ever restlessly stroking his leg, and
+assuring himself &ldquo;he should retire from the University and
+read the authors.&rdquo; In Goethe&rsquo;s Romance, Makaria, the
+central figure for wisdom and influence, pleases herself with
+withdrawing into solitude to astronomy and epistolary
+correspondence. Goethe himself carried this completion of studies
+to the highest point. Many of his works hung on the easel from
+youth to age, and received a stroke in every month or year of his
+life. A literary astrologer, he never applied himself to any task
+but at the happy moment when all the stars consented. Bentley
+thought himself likely to live till fourscore,&mdash;long enough to
+read everything that was worth reading,&mdash;&rdquo;<em>Et tunc
+magna mei sub terris ibit imago</em>.&rdquo; Much wider is spread
+the pleasure which old men take in completing their secular
+affairs, the inventor his inventions, the agriculturist his
+experiments, and all old men in finishing their houses, rounding
+their estates, clearing their titles, reducing tangled interests to
+order, reconciling enmities, and leaving all in the best posture
+for the future. It must be believed that there is a proportion
+between the designs of a man and the length of his life: there is a
+calendar of his years, so of his performances.</p>
+<p>America is the country of young men, and too full of work
+hitherto for leisure and tranquillity; yet we have had robust
+centenarians, and examples of dignity and wisdom. I have lately
+found in an old note-book a record of a visit to Ex-President John
+Adams, in 1825, soon after the election of his <em>son</em> to the
+Presidency. It is but a sketch, and nothing important passed in the
+conversation; but it reports a moment in the life of a heroic
+person, who, in extreme old age, appeared still erect, and worthy
+of his fame.</p>
+<p class="quote">&mdash;&mdash;, <em>Feb.</em>, 1825. To-day, at
+Quincy, with my brother, by invitation of Mr. Adams&rsquo;s family.
+The old President sat in a large stuffed arm-chair, dressed in a
+blue coat, black small-clothes, white stockings, and a cotton cap
+covered his bald head. We made our compliment, told him he must let
+us join our congratulations to those of the nation on the happiness
+of his house. He thanked us, and said, &ldquo;I am rejoiced,
+because the nation is happy. The time of gratulation and
+congratulations is nearly over with me: I am astonished that I have
+lived to see and know of this event. I have lived now nearly a
+century: [he was ninety in the following October:] a long,
+harassed, and distracted life.&rdquo;&mdash;I said, &ldquo;The
+world thinks a good deal of joy has been mixed with
+it.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;The world does not know,&rdquo; he replied,
+&ldquo;how much toil, anxiety, and sorrow I have
+suffered.&rdquo;&mdash;I asked if Mr. Adams&rsquo;s letter of
+acceptance had been read to him.&mdash;&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said,
+and added, &ldquo;My son has more political prudence than any man
+that I know who has existed in my time; he never was put off his
+guard: and I hope he will continue such; but what effect age may
+work in diminishing the power of his mind, I do not know; it has
+been very much on the stretch, ever since he was born. He has
+always been laborious, child and man, from
+infancy.&rdquo;&mdash;When Mr. J.Q. Adams&rsquo;s age was
+mentioned, he said, &ldquo;He is now fifty-eight, or will be in
+July&rdquo;; and remarked that &ldquo;all the Presidents were of
+the same age: General Washington was about fifty-eight, and I was
+about fifty-eight, and Mr. Jefferson, and Mr. Madison, and Mr.
+Monroe.&rdquo;&mdash;We inquired, when he expected to see Mr.
+Adams.&mdash;He said, &ldquo;Never: Mr. Adams will not come to
+Quincy, but to my funeral. It would be a great satisfaction to me
+to see him, but I don&rsquo;t wish him to come on my
+account.&rdquo;&mdash;He spoke of Mr. Lechmere, whom &ldquo;he well
+remembered to have seen come down daily, at a great age, to walk in
+the old town-house,&rdquo;&mdash;adding, &ldquo;And I wish I could
+walk as well as he did. He was Collector of the Customs for many
+years, under the Royal Government&rdquo;&mdash;E. said, &ldquo;I
+suppose, Sir, you would not have taken his place, even to walk as
+well as he.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;that
+was not what I wanted.&rdquo;&mdash;He talked of Whitefield, and
+&ldquo;remembered, when he was a Freshman in college, to have come
+in to the <em>Old South</em>, [I think,] to hear him, but could not
+get into the house;&mdash;I, however, saw him,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;through a window, and distinctly heard all. He had a voice
+such as I never heard before or since. He cast it out so that you
+might hear it at the meeting-house, [pointing towards the Quincy
+meeting-house,] and he had the grace of a dancing-master, of an
+actor of plays. His voice and manner helped him more than his
+sermons. I went with Jonathan Sewall.&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;And you
+were pleased with him, Sir?&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;Pleased! I was
+delighted beyond measure.&rdquo;&mdash;We asked, if at
+Whitefield&rsquo;s return the same popularity
+continued.&mdash;&ldquo;Not the same fury,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;not the same wild enthusiasm as before, but a greater
+esteem, as he became more known. He did not terrify, but was
+admired.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We spent about an hour in his room. He speaks very distinctly
+for so old a man, enters bravely into long sentences, which are
+interrupted by want of breath, but carries them invariably to a
+conclusion, without ever correcting a word.</p>
+<p>He spoke of the new novels of Cooper, and &ldquo;Peep at the
+Pilgrims,&rdquo; and &ldquo;Saratoga,&rdquo; with praise, and named
+with accuracy the characters in them. He likes to have a person
+always reading to him, or company talking in his room, and is
+better the next day after having visitors in his chamber from
+morning to night.</p>
+<p>He received a premature report of his son&rsquo;s election, on
+Sunday afternoon, without any excitement, and told the reporter he
+had been hoaxed, for it was not yet time for any news to arrive.
+The informer, something damped in his heart, insisted on repairing
+to the meeting-house, and proclaimed it aloud to the congregation,
+who were so overjoyed that they rose in their seats and cheered
+thrice. The Reverend Mr. Whitney dismissed them immediately.</p>
+<p>When life has been well spent, age is a loss of what it can well
+spare,&mdash;muscular strength, organic instincts, gross bulk, and
+works that belong to these. But the central wisdom, which was old
+in infancy, is young in fourscore years, and, dropping off
+obstructions, leaves in happy subjects the mind purified and wise.
+I have heard that whoever loves is in no condition old. I have
+heard, that, whenever the name of man is spoken, the doctrine of
+immortality is announced; it cleaves to his constitution. The mode
+of it baffles our wit, and no whisper comes to us from the other
+side. But the inference from the working of intellect, hiving
+knowledge, hiving skill,&mdash;at the end of life just ready to be
+born,&mdash;affirms the inspirations of affection and of the moral
+sentiment.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.</h2>
+<p class="note"><a id="mueller" name="mueller"><em>Lectures on the
+Science of Languages</em></a>, delivered at the Royal Institution
+of Great Britain in April, May, and June, 1861. By MAX M&Uuml;LLER,
+M.A., Fellow of All-Souls College, Oxford; Corresponding Member of
+the Imperial Institute of France. London: Longman, Green, Longman,
+&amp; Roberts. 1861. 8vo. pp. xii., 399.</p>
+<p>The name of Mr. Max M&uuml;ller is familiar to American students
+as that of a man who, learned in the high German fashion, has the
+pleasant faculty, unhappily too rare among Germans, of
+communicating his erudition in a way not only comprehensible, but
+agreeable to the laity. The Teutonic <em>Gelehrte</em>, gallantly
+devoting a half-century to his pipe and his locative case, fencing
+the result of his labors with a bristling hedge of abbreviations,
+cross-references, and untranslated citations that take panglottism
+for granted as an ordinary incident of human culture, too hastily
+assumes a tenacity of life on the part of his reader as great as
+his own. All but those with whom the study of language is a
+specialty pass him by as Dante does Nimrod, gladly concluding</p>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>&ldquo;Che cos&igrave; &egrave; a lui ciascun linguaggio,</p>
+<p>Come il suo ad altrui, che a nullo &egrave; noto.&rdquo;</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p>The brothers Grimm are known to what is called the reading
+public chiefly as contributors to the literature of the nursery;
+and as for Bopp, Pott, Zeuss, Lassen, Diefenbach, and the rest, men
+who look upon the curse of Babel as the luckiest event in human
+annals, their names and works are terrors to the uninitiated. They
+are the giants of these latter days, of whom all we know is that
+they now and then snatch up some unhappy friend of ours and
+imprison him in their terrible castle of Nongtongpaw, whence, if he
+ever escape, he comes back to us emaciated, unintelligible, and
+with a passion for roots that would make him an ornament of society
+among the Digger Indians.</p>
+<p>Yet though in metaphor giants of learning, their office seems
+practically rather that of the dwarfs, as gatherers and guardians
+of treasure useless to themselves, but with which some
+luck&rsquo;s-child may enrich himself and his neighbors. Other
+analogies between them and the dwarfs, such as their accomplishing
+superhuman things and being prematurely subject to the dryness of
+old ago, (&ldquo;<em>Der Zwerg ist schon im siebenten Jahr ein
+Greis</em>,&rdquo; says Grimm,) will at once suggest
+themselves.</p>
+<p>Mr. M&uuml;ller is one of the agreeable luck&rsquo;s-children
+who lay these swarthy miners under contribution for us, understand
+their mystic sign-language, and save us the trouble of climbing the
+mountain and scratching through the thickets for ourselves. Happy
+the man who can make knowledge entertaining! Thrice happy his
+readers! The author of these Lectures is already well known as not
+only, perhaps, the best living scholar of Sanscrit literature, (and
+by scholar we mean one who regards study as a means, not an end,
+and who is capable of drawing original conclusions,) but a
+<em>savant</em> who can teach without tiring, and can administer
+learning as if it were something else than medicine. Whoever reads
+this volume will regret that Mr. M&uuml;ller&rsquo;s eminent
+qualifications for the Boden Professorship at Oxford should have
+failed to turn the scale against the assumed superior orthodoxy of
+his competitor. Was it in Sanscrit that he was heterodox? or in
+Hindoo mythology?</p>
+<p>The Lectures are nine in number. The titles of them will show
+the range and nature of Mr. M&uuml;ller&rsquo;s dissertations. They
+are, (1.) On the science of language as one of the physical
+sciences; (2.) On the growth of language in contradistinction to
+the history of language; (3.) On the empirical stage in the science
+of language; (4.) On the classificatory stage in the same; (5.) On
+the genealogical classification of languages; (6.) On comparative
+grammar; (7.) On the constituent elements of language; (8.) On the
+morphological classification of languages; (9.) On the theoretical
+stage in the science of languages and the origin of language. An
+Appendix contains a genealogical table of languages; and an ample
+Index (why have authors forgotten, what was once so well known,
+that an index is all that saves the contents of a book from being
+mere birds in the bush?) makes the volume as useful on the shelf as
+it is interesting and instructive in the hand. Of the catholic
+spirit in which Mr. M&uuml;ller treats his various topics of
+discussion and illustration, his own theory of the true method of
+investigation is the best proof.</p>
+<p class="quote">&ldquo;There are two ways,&rdquo; he says, in
+discussing the origin of language, &ldquo;of judging of former
+philosophers. One is, to put aside their opinions as simply
+erroneous, where they differ from our own. This is the least
+satisfactory way of studying ancient philosophy. Another way is, to
+try to enter into the opinions of those from whom we differ, to
+make them, our a time at least, our own, till at least we discover
+the point of view from which each philosopher looked at the facts
+before him and catch the light in which he regarded them. We shall
+then find that there is much less of downright error in the history
+of philosophy than is commonly supposed; nay, <em>we shall find
+nothing so conducive to a right appreciation of truth as a right
+appreciation of the error by which it is surrounded</em>.&rdquo;
+(p. 360. The Italics are ours.)</p>
+<p>A mere philologist might complain that the book contained
+nothing new. And this is in the main true, though by no means
+altogether so, especially as regards the nomenclature of
+classification, and the illustration of special points by pertinent
+examples. In this last respect Mr. M&uuml;ller is particularly
+happy, as, for instance, in what he says of &ldquo;Yes &rsquo;r and
+Yes &rsquo;m.&rdquo; (pp. 210 ff.) And as regards originality in
+the treatment of a purely scientific subject, a good deal depends
+on the meaning we attach to the term. If we understand by it
+striking conclusions drawn from theoretic premises, (as in
+Knox&rsquo;s &ldquo;Races of Man,&rdquo;) clever generalizations
+from fortuitous analogies and coincidences insufficiently weighed,
+(as in Pococke&rsquo;s &ldquo;India in Greece,&rdquo;) or, to take
+a philologic example, speculations suggestive of thought, it may
+be, but too insecurely based on positive data, (as in Rapp&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Physiologie der Sprache,&rdquo;) we shall vainly seek for
+such originality in Mr. M&uuml;ller&rsquo;s Lectures. But if we
+take it to mean, as we certainly prefer to do, safety of conclusion
+founded on thorough knowledge and comparison, clear statement
+guarded on all sides by long intimacy with the subject, and theory
+the result of legitimate deduction and judicial weighing of
+evidence, we shall find enough in the book to content us. Mr.
+M&uuml;ller does not now enter the lists for the first time to win
+his spurs as an original writer. The plan of the work before us
+necessarily excluded any great display of recondite learning or of
+profound speculation. Delivered at first as popularly scientific
+lectures, and now published for the general reader, it seems to us
+admirably conceived and executed. Easily comprehensible, and yet
+always pointing out the sources of fuller investigation, it is
+ample both to satisfy the desire of those who wish to get the
+latest results of philology and to stimulate the curiosity of
+whoever wishes to go farther and deeper. It is by far the best and
+clearest summing-up of the present condition of the Science of
+Language that we have ever seen, while the liveliness of the style
+and the variety and freshness of illustration make it exceedingly
+entertaining.</p>
+<p>We hope that a book of such slight assumption and such solid
+merit, a model of clear arrangement and popular treatment, may be
+widely read in this country, where the ignorance, carelessness, or
+dishonest good-nature even of journals professedly literary is apt
+to turn over the unlearned reader to such blind guides as
+Swinton&rsquo;s &ldquo;Rambles among Words,&rdquo; compounds of
+plagiarism and pretension. Philology as a science is but just
+beginning to assert its claims in America, though we may already
+point with satisfaction to several distinguished workers in the
+field. The names of Professor Sophocles, at Cambridge, and
+Professor Whitney, at New Haven, rank with those of European
+scholars; and we have already borne the warmest testimony in these
+pages to the value of Mr. Marsh&rsquo;s contributions to the study
+of English, a judgment which we are glad to see confirmed by the
+weighty authority of Mr, M&uuml;ller.</p>
+<hr />
+<ol>
+<li style="padding-bottom:1em;"><a id="arnold" name="arnold"><em>On
+Translating Homer</em></a>. Three Lectures given at Oxford by
+MATTHEW ARNOLD, M.A., Professor of Poetry in the University of
+Oxford, and formerly Fellow of Oriel College. London: Longmans.
+1861. pp. 104.</li>
+<li><a id="newman" name="newman"><em>Homeric Translation in Theory
+and Practice</em></a>. A Reply to Matthew Arnold, Esq., Professor
+of Poetry at Oxford. By FRANCIS W. NEWMAN, a Translator of the
+Iliad. London: Williams &amp; Norgate. 1801. pp. 104.</li>
+</ol>
+<p>MR. F.W. NEWMAN, Professor of Latin in the University of London,
+probably without much hope of satisfying himself, and certain to
+dissatisfy every one who could read, or pretend to read, the
+original, did nevertheless complete and publish a translation of
+the &ldquo;Iliad.&rdquo; And now, unmindful of Bentley&rsquo;s
+<em>dictum</em>, that no man was ever written down but by himself,
+he has published an answer to Mr. Arnold&rsquo;s criticism of his
+work. Thackeray has said that it is of no use pretending not to
+care if your book is cut up by the &ldquo;Times&rdquo;; and it is
+not surprising that Mr. Newman should be uneasy at being first held
+up as an awful example to the youth of Oxford in academical
+lectures, and then to the public of England in a printed monograph,
+by a man of so much reputation for scholarship and taste as the
+present incumbent of Thomas Warton&rsquo;s chair.</p>
+<p>Mr. Arnold&rsquo;s little book is, we need scarcely say, full of
+delicate criticism and suggestion. He treats his subject with great
+cleverness, and on many points carries the reader along with him.
+Especially good is all that he says about the &ldquo;grand
+style,&rdquo; so far as his general propositions are concerned. But
+when he comes to apply his criticisms, he instinctively feels the
+want of an absolute standard of judgment in aesthetic matters, and
+accordingly appeals to the verdict of
+&ldquo;scholars,&rdquo;&mdash;a somewhat vague term, to be sure,
+but by which he evidently understands men not merely of learning,
+but of taste. Of course, his reasoning is all <em>a
+posteriori</em>, and from the narrowest premises,&mdash;namely,
+from an unpleasant effect on his own nerves, to an efficient cause
+in the badness of Mr. Newman&rsquo;s translation.</p>
+<p>No quarrels, perhaps, are so bitter as those about matters of
+taste: hardly even is the <em>odium theologicum</em>, so profound
+as the <em>odium &aelig;stheticum</em>. A man, perhaps, will more
+easily forgive another for disbelieving his own total depravity
+than for believing that Guido is a great painter or Tupper an
+inspiring poet. The present dispute, therefore, tenderly personal
+as it is on the part of one of the pleaders, is especially
+interesting as showing a very decided and gratifying advance in the
+civilization of literary men to-day as compared with that of a
+century or indeed half a century ago. If we go back still farther,
+matters were still worse, and we find Luther and even Milton raking
+the kennel for dirt dirty enough to fling at an antagonist. But
+even within the memory of man, the style of the
+&ldquo;Dunciad&rdquo; was hardly obsolete in
+&ldquo;Blackwood&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Quarterly.&rdquo; It is very
+pleasant, in the present case, to see both attack and defence
+conducted with so gentlemanlike a reserve,&mdash;and the latter,
+which is even more surprising, with an approach to amenity.</p>
+<p>In Mr. Newman the Professor of Poetry finds an able and wary
+antagonist, and one who, in point of learning, carries heavier
+metal than himself. The dispute turns partly on the character of
+Homer&rsquo;s poetry, partly on the true method of translation,
+(especially Homeric translation,) and partly on the particular
+merits of Mr. Newman&rsquo;s attempt as compared with those of
+others. Of course, many side-topics are incidentally touched upon,
+among others, the English hexameter, Mr. Newman&rsquo;s objections
+to which are particularly worthy of attention.</p>
+<p>Mr. Newman instantly sees and strikes at the weak point of his
+adversary&rsquo;s argument. &ldquo;You appeal to scholars,&rdquo;
+he says in substance; &ldquo;you admit that I am one; now you
+<em>don&rsquo;t</em> like my choice of words or metre; I
+<em>do</em>; who, then, shall decide? Why, the public, of course,
+which is the court of last appeal in such cases.&rdquo; It appears
+to us, that, on most of the points at issue, the truth lies
+somewhere between the two disputants. We do not think that Mr.
+Newman has made out his case that Homer was antiquated, quaint, and
+even grotesque to the Greeks themselves because his cast of thought
+and his language were archaic, or strange to them because he wrote
+in a dialect almost as different from Attic as Scotch from English.
+The Bible is as far from us in language and in the Orientalism of
+its thought and expression as Homer was from them; yet we are so
+familiar with it that it produces on us no impression of being
+antiquated or quaint, seldom of being grotesque, and what is still
+more to the purpose, produces that impression as little on
+illiterate persons to whom many of the words are incomprehensible.
+So, too, it seems to us, no part of Burns is alien to a man whose
+mother-tongue is English, in the same sense that some parts of
+B&eacute;ranger are; because Burns, though a North Briton, was
+still a Briton, as Homer, though an Ionian, was still a Greek. We
+think he does prove that neither Mr. Arnold nor any other scholar
+can form any adequate conception of the impression which the poems
+of Homer produced either on the ear or the mind of a Greek; but in
+doing this he proves too much for his own case, where it turns upon
+the class of words proper to be used in translating him. Mr. Newman
+says he sometimes used low words; and since his theory of the duty
+of a translator is, that he should reproduce the moral effect of
+his author,&mdash;be noble where he is noble, barbarous, if he be
+barbarous, and quaint, if quaint,&mdash;so he should render low
+words by words as low. But here his own dilemma meets him: how does
+he know that Homer&rsquo;s words <em>did</em> seem low to a Greek?
+We agree with him in refusing to be conventional; so would Mr.
+Arnold; only one would call conventional what the other would call
+elegant, the question again resolving itself into one of personal
+taste. We agree with him also in his preference for words that have
+it certain strangeness and antique dignity about them, but think he
+should stop short of anything that needs a glossary. He might learn
+from Chapman&rsquo;s version, however, that it is not the widest
+choice of archaic words, but intensity of conception and phrase,
+that gives a poem life, and keeps it living, in spite of grave
+defects. Where Chapman, in a famous passage,
+(&ldquo;Odyssey,&rdquo; v. 612,) tells us, that, when Ulysses
+crawled ashore after his shipwreck, &ldquo;<em>the sea had soaked
+his heart through</em>,&rdquo; it is not the mere simplicity of the
+language, but the vivid conception which went before and compelled
+the simplicity, that is impressive. We believe Mr. Newman is right
+in refusing to sacrifice a good word because it may be pronounced
+mean by individual caprice, wrong in attempting the fatal
+impossibility of rescuing a word which to all minds alike conveys a
+low or ludicrous meaning, as, for example, <em>pate</em>, and
+<em>dopper</em>, for which he does battle doughtily. Mr. Newman is
+guilty of a fallacy when he brings up <em>brick, sell</em>, and
+<em>cut</em> as instances in support of his position, for in these
+cases Mr. Arnold would only object to his use of them in their
+<em>slang</em> sense. He himself would hardly venture to say that
+Hector was a <em>brick</em>, that Achilles <em>cut</em> Agamemnon,
+or that Ulysses <em>sold</em> Polyphemus. It is precisely because
+Hobbes used language in this way that his translation of Homer is
+so ludicrous. Wordsworth broke down in his theory, that the
+language of poetry should be the every-day speech of men and women,
+though he nearly succeeded in finally extirpating &ldquo;poetic
+diction.&rdquo; We think the proper antithesis is not between
+prosaic and poetic words, nor between the speech of actual life and
+a conventionalized diction, but between the language of
+<em>real</em> life (which is something different from the actual,
+or matter-of-fact) and that of <em>artificial</em> life, or
+society,&mdash;that is, between phrases fit to express the highest
+passion, feeling, aspiration, and those adapted to the intercourse
+of polite life, whence all violent emotion, or, at least, the
+expression of it, is excluded. This latter highly artificial and
+polished dialect is accordingly as suitable to the Mock-Heroic
+(like &ldquo;The Rape of the Lock&rdquo;) as it is inefficient and
+even distasteful when employed for the higher and more serious
+purposes of poetry. It was most fortunate for English poetry that
+our translation of the Bible and Shakspeare arrested our language,
+and, as it were, crystallized it, precisely at its freshest and
+most vigorous period, giving us an inexhaustible mine of words
+familiar to the heart and mind, yet unvulgarized to the ear by
+trivial associations.</p>
+<p>The whole question of Homeric translation in its entire range,
+between Chapman on the one hand and Pope and Cowper on the other,
+is opened afresh by this controversy. The difficulty of the
+undertaking, and still more of dogmatizing on the proper mode of
+executing it, is manifest from the fact that Mr. Newman is quite as
+successful in turning some specimens of Mr. Arnold&rsquo;s into
+ridicule as the latter had been with his. Meanwhile we commend the
+two little books to our readers as containing an able and
+entertaining discussion on a question of general and permanent
+interest, and as showing that the &ldquo;Quarrels of Authors&rdquo;
+may be conducted in a dignified and scholarly way.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2><a id="obit" name="obit">OBITUARY.</a></h2>
+<p>The last English steamer brings us the sad news of the death of
+Arthur Hugh Clough. Mr. Clough had so many personal friends, as
+well as warm admirers, in America, that his death will be felt by
+numbers of our readers both as a private grief and a public loss.
+The earth will not soon close over a man of more lovely character
+or more true and delicate genius. This is not the place or the
+occasion to do justice to the many eminent qualities of his heart
+and mind, and we only allude to his death at all because in him the
+&ldquo;Atlantic&rdquo; has lost one of its most valued
+contributors.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No.
+51, January, 1862, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/old/13924.txt b/old/13924.txt
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+++ b/old/13924.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 51,
+January, 1862, 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: The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 51, January, 1862
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: November 2, 2004 [EBook #13924]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Barbara Tozier and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders. Produced from Page Scans Provided by Cornell University.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
+
+A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VOLUME IX.
+
+M DCCC LXII.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+    [Transcriber's note: Converted page numbers to issue numbers.]
+
+
+CONTENTS.                                         ISSUE.
+
+A.C., The Experiences of the,                     52.
+Agnes of Sorrento,                                51, 52, 53, 54.
+American Civilization,                            54.
+Author of "Charles Auchester," The,               56.
+Autobiographical Sketches of a Strength-Seeker,   51.
+
+Childhood, Concerning the Sorrows of,             53.
+Clough, Arthur Hugh,                              54.
+Cooper, James Fenimore,                           52.
+
+Ease in Work,                                     52.
+
+Forester, The,                                    54.
+Fremont's Hundred Days in Missouri,               51, 52, 53.
+Fruits of Free Labor in the Smaller Islands
+  of the British West Indies,                     53.
+
+German Burns, The,                                54.
+
+Health of Our Girls, The,                         56.
+Hindrance,                                        55.
+Horrors of San Domingo, The,                      56.
+
+Individuality,                                    54.
+
+Jefferson and Slavery,                            51.
+John Lamar,                                       54.
+
+Letter to a Young Contributor,                    54.
+Light Literature,                                 51.
+Love and Skates,                                  51, 52.
+
+Man under Sealed Orders,                          55.
+Methods of Study in Natural History,              51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56.
+My Garden,                                        55.
+
+Old Age,                                          51.
+Our Artists in Italy,                             52.
+
+Pere Antoine's Date-Palm,                         56.
+Pilgrimage to Old Boston,                         51.
+
+Raft that no Man made, A,                         53.
+Richelieu, The Statesmanship of,                  55.
+Rifle, The Use of the,                            53.
+
+Saltpetre as a Source of Power,                   55.
+Sam Adams Regiments in the Town of Boston, The,   56.
+Slavery, in its Principles, Development,
+  and Expedients,                                 55.
+Snow,                                             52.
+"Solid Operations in Virginia",                   56.
+South Breaker, The,                               55, 56.
+Spain, The Rehabilitation of,                     53.
+Spirits,                                          55.
+Story of To-Day, A,                               51, 52, 53.
+
+Taxation,                                         53.
+Then and Now in the Old Dominion,                 54.
+
+Walking,                                          56.
+War and Literature,                               56.
+Weather in War,                                   55.
+What shall We do with Them?,                      54.
+
+
+POETRY.
+
+Astraea at the Capitol,                           56.
+At Port Royal, 1861,                              52.
+
+Battle-Hymn of the Republic,                      52.
+Birdofredum Sawin, Esq., to Mr. Hosea Biglow,     51, 53.
+
+Compensation,                                     54.
+
+Exodus,                                           54.
+
+Lines written under a Portrait of Theodore
+  Winthrop,                                       55.
+Lyrics of the Street,                             55.
+
+Mason and Slidell: A Yankee Idyl,                 52.
+Message of Jeff Davis in Secret Session, A,       54.
+Midwinter,                                        52.
+Mountain Pictures,                                53, 54.
+
+Order for a Picture, An,                          56.
+Out of the Body to God,                           56.
+
+Per Tenebras, Lumina,                             51.
+
+Sonnet,                                           56.
+Southern Cross, The,                              53.
+Speech of Hon'ble Preserved Doe in Secret
+  Caucus,                                         55.
+Strasburg Clock, The,                             54.
+Sunthin' in the Pastoral Line,                    56.
+
+Titmouse, The,                                    55.
+True Heroine, The,                                51.
+
+Under the Snow,                                   55.
+
+Volunteer, The,                                   55.
+Voyage of the Good Ship Union,                    53.
+
+
+REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+Arnold's Lectures on translating Homer,           51.
+
+Book about Doctors, A,                            54.
+Botta's Discourse on the Life, Character,
+  and Policy of Count Cavour,                     55.
+
+Cloister and the Hearth, The,                     52.
+
+De Vere, Aubrey, Poems by,                        54.
+Dickens's Works, Household Edition,               55.
+
+Harris's Insects Injurious to Vegetation,         55.
+
+John Brent,                                       54.
+
+Leigh Hunt, Correspondence of,                    55.
+Lessons in Life,                                  51.
+
+Mueller's Lectures on the Science of Language,     51.
+
+Newman's Homeric Translation in Theory and
+  in Practice,                                    51.
+
+Pauli's Pictures of Old England,                  55.
+
+Record of an Obscure Man,                         55.
+
+Tragedy of Errors,                                55.
+
+Willmott's English Sacred Poetry,                 52.
+
+
+FOREIGN LITERATURE,                               54, 55.
+
+
+OBITUARY,                                         51.
+
+
+RECENT AMERICAN PUBLICATIONS,                     52, 53, 54, 55.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
+
+A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+VOL. IX.--JANUARY, 1862.--NO. LI.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+METHODS OF STUDY IN NATURAL HISTORY.
+
+
+I.
+
+It is my intention, in this series of papers, to give the history of the
+progress in Natural History from the beginning,--to show how men first
+approached Nature,--how the facts of Natural History have been
+accumulated, and how those facts have been converted into science. In so
+doing, I shall present the methods employed in Natural History on a wider
+scale and with broader generalizations than if I limited myself to the
+study as it exists to-day. The history of humanity, in its efforts to
+understand the Creation, resembles the development of any individual mind
+engaged in the same direction. It has its infancy, with the first
+recognition of surrounding objects; and, indeed, the early observers seem
+to us like children in their first attempts to understand the world in
+which they live. But these efforts, that appear childish to us now, were
+the first steps in that field of knowledge which is so extensive that all
+our progress seems only to show us how much is left to do.
+
+Aristotle is the representative of the learning of antiquity in Natural
+Science. The great mind of Greece in his day, and a leader in all the
+intellectual culture of his time, he was especially a naturalist, and his
+work on Natural History is a record not only of his own investigations,
+but of all preceding study in this department. It is evident that even
+then much had been done, and, in allusion to certain peculiarities of the
+human frame, which he does not describe in full, he refers his readers to
+familiar works, saying, that illustrations in point may be found in
+anatomical text-books.[1]
+
+    [1] See Aristotle's _Zooelogy_, Book I., Chapter xiv.
+
+Strange that in Aristotle's day, two thousand years ago, such books should
+have been in general use, and that in our time we are still in want of
+elementary text-books of Natural History, having special reference to the
+animals of our own country, and adapted to the use of schools. One fact in
+Aristotle's "History of Animals" is very striking, and makes it difficult
+for us to understand much of its contents. It never occurs to him that a
+time may come when the Greek language--the language of all culture and
+science in his time--would not be the language of all cultivated men. He
+took, therefore, little pains to characterize the animals he alludes to,
+otherwise than by their current names; and of his descriptions of their
+habits and peculiarities, much is lost upon us from their local character
+and expression. There is also a total absence of systematic form, of any
+classification or framework to express the divisions of the animal kingdom
+into larger or lesser groups. His only divisions are genera and species:
+classes, orders, and families, as we understand them now, are quite
+foreign to the Greek conception of the animal kingdom. Fishes and birds,
+for instance, they considered as genera, and their different
+representatives as species. They grouped together quadrupeds also in
+contradistinction to animals with legs and wings, and they distinguished
+those that bring forth living young from those that lay eggs. But though a
+system of Nature was not familiar even to their great philosopher, and
+Aristotle had not arrived at the idea of a classification on general
+principles, he yet stimulated a search into the closer affinities among
+animals by the differences he pointed out. He divided the animal kingdom
+into two groups, which he called _Enaima_ and _Anaima_, or animals with
+blood and animals without blood. We must remember, however, that by the
+word _blood_ he designated only the red fluid circulating in the higher
+animals; whereas a fluid akin to blood exists in all animals, variously
+colored in some, but colorless in a large number of others.
+
+After Aristotle, a long period elapsed without any addition to the
+information he left us. Rome and the Middle Ages gave us nothing, and even
+Pliny added hardly a fact to those that Aristotle recorded. And though the
+great naturalists of the sixteenth century gave a new impulse to this
+study, their investigations were chiefly directed towards a minute
+acquaintance with the animals they had an opportunity of observing,
+mingled with commentaries upon the ancients. Systematic Zooelogy was but
+little advanced by their efforts.
+
+We must come down to the last century, to Linnaeus, before we find the
+history taken up where Aristotle had left it, and some of his suggestions
+carried out with new vigor and vitality. Aristotle had distinguished only
+between genera and species; Linnaeus took hold of this idea, and gave
+special names to other groups, of different weight and value. Besides
+species and genera, he gives us orders and classes,--considering classes
+the most comprehensive, then orders, then genera, then species. He did
+not, however, represent these groups as distinguished by their nature, but
+only by their range; they were still to him, as genera and species had
+been to Aristotle, only larger or smaller groups, not founded upon and
+limited by different categories of structure. He divided the animal
+kingdom into six classes, which I give here, as we shall have occasion to
+compare them with other classifications:--_Mammalia_, _Birds_, _Reptiles_,
+_Fishes_, _Insects_, _Worms_.
+
+That this classification should have expressed all that was known in the
+last century of the most general relations among animals only shows how
+difficult it is to generalize on such a subject; nor should we expect to
+find it an easy task, when we remember the vast number of species (about a
+quarter of a million) already noticed by naturalists. Linnaeus succeeded,
+however, in finding a common character on which to unite most of his
+classes; but the Mammalia, that group to which we ourselves belong,
+remained very imperfect. Indeed, in the earlier editions of his
+classification, he does not apply the name of Mammalia to this class, but
+calls the higher animals _Quadrupedia_, characterizing them as the animals
+with four legs and covered with fur or hair, that bring forth living young
+and nurse them with milk. In thus admitting external features as class
+characters, he excluded many animals which by their mode of reproduction,
+as well as by their respiration and circulation, belong to this class as
+much as the Quadrupeds,--as, for instance, all the Cetaceans, (Whales,
+Porpoises, and the like,) which, though they have not legs, nor are their
+bodies covered with hair or fur, yet bring forth living young, nurse them
+with milk, are warm-blooded and air-breathing. As more was learned of
+these animals, there arose serious discussion and criticism among
+contemporary naturalists respecting the classification of Linnaeus, all of
+which led to a clearer insight into the true relations among animals.
+Linnaeus himself, in his last edition of the "Systema Naturae," shows us
+what important progress he had made since he first announced his views;
+for he there substitutes for the name of _Quadrupedia_ that of _Mammalia_,
+including among them the Whales, which he characterizes as air-breathing,
+warm-blooded, and bringing forth living young which they nurse with milk.
+Thus the very deficiencies of his classification stimulated naturalists to
+new criticism and investigation into the true limits of classes, and led
+to the recognition of one most important principle,--that such groups are
+founded, not on external appearance, but on internal structure, and that
+internal structure, therefore, is the thing to be studied. The group of
+Quadrupeds was not the only defective one in this classification of
+Linnaeus; his class of Worms, also, was most heterogeneous, for he included
+among them Shell-Fishes, Slugs, Star-Fishes, Sea-Urchins, and other
+animals that bear no relation whatever to the class of Worms.
+
+But whatever its defects, the classification of Linnaeus was the first
+attempt at grouping animals together according to certain common
+structural characters. His followers and pupils engaged at once in a
+scrutiny of the differences and similarities among animals, which soon led
+to a great increase in the number of classes: instead of six, there were
+presently nine, twelve, and more. But till Cuvier's time there was no
+great principle of classification. Facts were accumulated and more or less
+systematized, but they were not yet arranged according to law; the
+principle was still wanting by which to generalize them and give meaning
+and vitality to the whole. It was Cuvier who found the key. He himself
+tells us how he first began, in his investigations upon the internal
+organization of animals, to use his dissections with reference to finding
+the true relations between animals, and how, ever after, his knowledge of
+anatomy assisted him in his classifications, and his classifications threw
+new light again on his anatomical investigations,--each science thus
+helping to fertilize the other. He was not one of those superficial
+observers who are in haste to announce every new fact that they chance to
+find, and his first paper[2] specially devoted to classification gave to
+the world the ripe fruit of years of study. This was followed by his great
+work, "Le Regne Animal." He said that animals were united in their most
+comprehensive groups, not on special characters, but on different _plans
+of structure_,--moulds, he called them, in which all animals had been
+cast. He tells us this in such admirable language that I must, to do
+justice to his thought, give it in his own words:--
+
+    "Si l'on considere le regne animal d'apres les principes que nous
+    venons de poser en se debarrassant des prejuges etablis sur les
+    divisions anciennement admises, en n'ayant egard qu'a
+    l'organisation et a la nature des animaux, et non pas a leur
+    grandeur, a leur utilite, au plus ou moins de connaissance que
+    nous en avons, ni a toutes les autres circonstances accessoires,
+    on trouvera qu'il existe quatre formes principales, quatre plans
+    generaux, si l'on peut s'exprimer ainsi, d'apres lesquels tous les
+    animaux semblent avoir ete modeles, et dont les divisions
+    ulterieures, de quelque titre que les naturalistes les aient
+    decorees, ne sont que des modifications assez legeres, fondees sur
+    le developpement ou l'addition de quelques parties, qui ne
+    changent rien a l'essence du plan."
+
+    [2] Sur un nouveau rapprochement a etablir entre les Classes qui
+        composent le Regne Animal.  _Ann. Mus._, Vol. XIX.
+
+The value of this principle was soon tested by its application to facts
+already known, and it was found that animals whose affinities had been
+questionable before were now at once referred to their true relations with
+other animals by ascertaining whether they were built on one or another of
+these plans. Of such plans or structural conceptions Cuvier found in the
+whole animal kingdom only four, which he called _Vertebrates_, _Mollusks_,
+_Articulates_, and _Radiates_.
+
+With this new principle as the basis of investigation, it was no longer
+enough for the naturalist to know a certain amount of features
+characteristic of a certain number of animals,--he must penetrate deep
+enough into their organization to find the secret of their internal
+structure. Till he can do this, he is like the traveller in a strange
+city, who looks on the exterior of edifices entirely new to him, but knows
+nothing of the plan of their internal architecture. To be able to read in
+the finished structure the plan on which the whole is built is now
+essential to every naturalist.
+
+There have been many criticisms on this division of Cuvier's, and many
+attempts to change it; but though some improvements have been made in the
+details of his classification, all departures from its great fundamental
+principle are errors, and do but lead us away from the recognition of the
+true affinities among animals.
+
+Each of these plans may be stated in the most general terms. In the
+_Vertebrates_ there is a vertebral column terminating in a prominent head;
+this column has an arch above and an arch below, forming a double internal
+cavity. The parts are symmetrically arranged on either side of the
+longitudinal axis of the body. In the _Mollusks_, also, the parts are
+arranged according to a bilateral symmetry on either side of the body, but
+the body has but one cavity, and is a soft, concentrated mass, without a
+distinct individualization of parts. In the _Articulates_ there is but one
+cavity, and the parts are here again arranged on either side of the
+longitudinal axis, but in these animals the whole body is divided from end
+to end into transverse rings or joints movable upon each other. In the
+_Radiates_ we lose sight of the bilateral symmetry so prevalent in the
+other three, except as a very subordinate element of structure; the plan
+of this lowest type is an organic sphere, in which all parts bear definite
+relations to a vertical axis.
+
+It is not upon any special features, then, that these largest divisions of
+the animal kingdom are based, but simply upon the general structural idea.
+Striking as this statement was, it was coldly received at first by
+contemporary naturalists: they could hardly grasp Cuvier's wide
+generalizations, and perhaps there was also some jealousy of the grandeur
+of his views. Whatever the cause, his principle of classification was not
+fully appreciated; but it opened a new road for study, and gave us the
+keynote to the natural affinities among animals. Lamarck, his
+contemporary, not recognizing the truth of this principle, distributed the
+animal kingdom into two great divisions, which he calls _Vertebrates_ and
+_Invertebrates_. Ehrenberg also, at a later period, announced another
+division under two heads,--those with a continuous solid nervous centre,
+and those with merely scattered nervous swellings.[3]
+
+    [3] For more details upon the different systems of Zooelogy, see
+        Agassiz's Essay on Classification in his _Contributions to the
+        Natural History of the United States_, Vol. I.
+
+But there was no real progress in either of these latter classifications,
+so far as the primary divisions are concerned; for they correspond to the
+old division of Aristotle, under the head of animals with or without
+blood, the _Enaima_ and _Anaima_. This coincidence between systems based
+on different foundations may teach us that every structural combination
+includes certain inherent necessities which will bring animals together on
+whatever set of features we try to classify them; so that the division of
+Aristotle, founded on the circulating fluids, or that of Lamarck, on the
+absence or presence of a backbone, or that of Ehrenberg, on the
+differences of the nervous system, cover the same ground. Lamarck
+attempted also to use the faculties of animals as a groundwork for
+division among them. But our knowledge of the psychology of animals is
+still too imperfect to justify any such use of it. His divisions into
+Apathetic, Sensitive, and Intelligent animals are entirely theoretical. He
+places, for instance, Fishes and Reptiles among the Intelligent animals,
+as distinguished from Crustacea and Insects, which he refers to the second
+division. But one would be puzzled to say how the former manifest more
+intelligence than the latter, or why the latter should be placed among the
+Sensitive animals. Again, some of the animals that he calls Apathetic have
+been proved by later investigators to show an affection and care for their
+young, seemingly quite inconsistent with the epithet he has applied to
+them. In fact, we know so little of the faculties of animals that any
+classification based upon our present information about them must be very
+imperfect.
+
+Many modifications of Cuvier's great divisions have been attempted. Some
+naturalists, for instance, have divided off a part of the Radiates and
+Articulates, insisting upon some special features of structure, and
+mistaking these for the more important and general characteristics of
+their respective plans. All subsequent investigations of such would-be
+improvements show them to be retrograde movements, only proving more
+clearly that Cuvier detected in his four plans all the great structural
+ideas on which the vast variety of animals is founded. This result is of
+greater importance than may at first appear. Upon it depends the question,
+whether all such classifications represent merely individual impressions
+and opinions of men, or whether there is really something in Nature that
+presses upon us certain divisions among animals, certain affinities,
+certain limitations, founded upon essential principles of organization.
+Are our systems the inventions of naturalists, or only their reading of
+the Book of Nature? and can that book have more than one reading? If these
+classifications are not mere inventions, if they are not an attempt to
+classify for our own convenience the objects we study, then they are
+thoughts which, whether we detect them or not, are expressed in
+Nature,--then Nature is the work of thought, the production of
+intelligence carried out according to plan, therefore premeditated,--and
+in our study of natural objects we are approaching the thoughts of the
+Creator, reading His conceptions, interpreting a system that is His and
+not ours.
+
+All the divergence from the simplicity and grandeur of this division of
+the animal kingdom arises from an inability to distinguish between a plan
+and the execution, of a plan. We allow the details to shut out the plan
+itself, which exists quite independent of special forms. I hope we shall
+find a meaning in all these plans that will prove them to be the parts of
+one great conception and the work of one Mind.
+
+
+II.
+
+Proceeding upon the view that there is a close analogy between the way in
+which every individual student penetrates into Nature and the progress of
+science as a whole in the history of humanity, I continue my sketch of the
+successive steps that have led to our present state of knowledge. I began
+with Aristotle, and showed that this great philosopher, though he prepared
+a digest of all the knowledge belonging to his time, yet did not feel the
+necessity of any system or of any scientific language differing from the
+common mode of expression of his day. He presents his information as a man
+with his eyes open narrates in a familiar style what he sees. As
+civilization spread and science had its representatives in other countries
+besides Greece, it became indispensable to have a common scientific
+language, a technical nomenclature, combining many objects under common
+names, and enabling every naturalist to express the results of his
+observations readily and simply in a manner intelligible to all other
+students of Natural History.
+
+Linnaeus devised such a system, and to him we owe a most simple and
+comprehensive scientific mode of designating animals and plants. It may at
+first seem no advantage to give up the common names of the vernacular and
+adopt the unfamiliar ones, but a word of explanation will make the object
+clear. Perceiving, for instance, the close relations between certain
+members of the larger groups, Linnaeus gave to them names that should be
+common to all, and which are called generic names,--as we speak of Ducks,
+when we would designate in one word the Mallard, the Widgeon, the
+Canvas-Back, etc.; but to these generic names he added qualifying
+epithets, called specific names, to indicate the different kinds in each
+group. For example, the Lion, the Tiger, the Panther, the Domestic Cat
+constitute such a natural group, which Linnaeus called _Felis_, Cat,
+indicating the whole genus; but the species he designates as _Felis
+catus_, the Domestic Cat,--_Felis leo_, the Lion,--_Felis tigris_, the
+Tiger,--_Felis panthera_, the Panther. So he called all the Dogs _Canis_;
+but for the different kinds we have _Canis familiaris_, the Domestic
+Dog,--_Canis lupus_, the Wolf,--_Canis vulpes_, the Fox, etc.
+
+In some families of the vegetable kingdom we can appreciate better the
+application of this nomenclature, because we have something corresponding
+to it in the vernacular. We have, for instance, one name for all the Oaks,
+but we call the different kinds Swamp Oak, Red Oak, White Oak, Chestnut
+Oak, etc. So Linnaeus, in his botanical nomenclature, called all the Oaks
+by the generic name _Quercus_, (characterizing them by their fruit, the
+acorn, common to all,) and qualified them as _Quercus bicolor_, _Quercus
+rubra_, _Quercus alba_, _Quercus castanea_, etc., etc. His nomenclature,
+being so easy of application, became at once exceedingly popular and made
+him the great scientific legislator of his century. He insisted on Latin
+names, because, if every naturalist should use his own language, it must
+lead to great confusion, and this Latin nomenclature of double
+significance was adopted by all. Another advantage of this binominal Latin
+nomenclature consists in preventing the confusion frequently arising from
+the use of the same name to designate different animals in different parts
+of the world,--as, for instance, the name of Robin, used in America to
+designate a bird of the Thrush family, entirely different from the Robin
+of the Old World,--or of different names for the same animal, as Perch or
+Chogset or Burgall for our Cunner. Nothing is more to be deprecated than
+an over-appreciation of technicalities, valuing the name more highly than
+the thing; but some knowledge of this nomenclature is necessary to every
+student of Nature.
+
+The improvements in science thus far were chiefly verbal. Cuvier now came
+forward and added a principle. He showed that all animals are built upon a
+certain number of definite plans. This momentous step, the significance of
+which is not yet appreciated to its full extent; for, had its importance
+been understood, the efforts of naturalists would have been directed
+toward a further illustration of the distinctive characteristics of all
+the plans,--instead of which, the division of the animal kingdom into
+larger and smaller groups chiefly attracted their attention, and has been
+carried too far by some of them. Linnaeus began with six classes, Cuvier
+brought them up to nineteen, and at last the animal kingdom was subdivided
+by subsequent investigators into twenty-eight classes. This multiplication
+of divisions, however, soon suggested an important question: How far are
+these divisions natural or inherent in the objects themselves, and not
+dependent on individual views?
+
+While Linnaeus pointed out classes, orders, genera, and species, other
+naturalists had detected other divisions among animals, called families.
+Lamarck, who had been a distinguished botanist before he began his study
+of the animal kingdom, brought to his zooelogical researches his previous
+methods of investigation. Families in the vegetable kingdom had long been
+distinguished by French botanists; and one cannot examine the groups they
+call by this name, without perceiving, that, though they bring them
+together and describe them according to other characters, they have been
+unconsciously led to unite them from the general similarity of their port
+and bearing. Take, for instance, the families of Pines, Oaks, Beeches,
+Maples, etc., and you feel at once, that, besides the common characters
+given in the technical descriptions of these trees, there is also a
+general resemblance among them that would naturally lead us to associate
+them together, even if we knew nothing of the other features of their
+structure. By an instinctive recognition of this family likeness between
+plants, botanists have been led to seek for structural characters on which
+to unite them, and the groups so founded generally correspond with the
+combinations suggested by their appearance.
+
+By a like process Lamarck combined animals into families. His method was
+adopted by French naturalists generally, and found favor especially with
+Cuvier, who was particularly successful in limiting families among
+animals, and in naming them happily, generally selecting names expressive
+of the features on which the groups were founded, or borrowing them from
+familiar animals. Much, indeed, depends upon the pleasant sound and the
+significance of a name; for an idea reaches the mind more easily when well
+expressed, and Cuvier's names were both simple and significant. His
+descriptions are also remarkable for their graphic precision,--giving all
+that is essential, omitting all that is merely accessory. He has given us
+the key-note to his progress in his own expressive language:--
+
+    "Je dus donc, et cette obligation me prit un temps considerable,
+    je dus faire marcher de front l'anatomie et la zoologie, les
+    dissections et le classement; chercher dans mes premieres
+    remarques sur l'organisation des distributions meilleures; m'en
+    servir pour arriver a des remarques nouvelles; employer encore ces
+    remarques a perfectionner les distributions; faire sortir enfin de
+    cette fecondation mutuelle des deux sciences, l'une par l'autre,
+    un systeme zoologique propre a servir d'introducteur et de guide
+    dans le champ de l'anatomie, et un corps de doctrine anatomique
+    propre a servir de developpement et d'explication au systeme
+    zoologique."
+
+It is deeply to be lamented that so many naturalists have entirely
+overlooked this significant advice of Cuvier's, to combine zooelogical and
+anatomical studies in order to arrive at a clearer perception of the true
+affinities among animals. To sum it up in one word, he tells us that the
+secret of his method is "comparison,"--ever comparing and comparing
+throughout the enormous range of his knowledge of the organization of
+animals, and founding upon the differences as well as the similarities
+those broad generalizations under which he has included all animal
+structures. And this method, so prolific in his hands, has also a lesson
+for us all. In this country there is a growing interest in the study of
+Nature; but while there exist hundreds of elementary works illustrating
+the native animals of Europe, there are few such books here to satisfy the
+demand for information respecting the animals of our land and water. We
+are thus forced to turn more and more to our own investigations and less
+to authority; and the true method of obtaining independent knowledge is
+this very method of Cuvier's,--comparison.
+
+Let us make the most common application of it to natural objects. Suppose
+we see together a Dog, a Cat, a Bear, a Horse, a Cow, and a Deer. The
+first feature that strikes us as common to any two of them is the horn in
+the Cow and Deer. But how shall we associate either of the others with
+these? We examine the teeth, and find those of the Dog, the Cat, and the
+Bear sharp and cutting, while those of the Cow, the Deer, and the Horse
+have flat surfaces, adapted to grinding and chewing, rather than cutting
+and tearing. We compare these features of their structure with the habits
+of these animals, and find that the first are carnivorous, that they seize
+and tear their prey, while the others are herbivorous or grazing animals,
+living only on vegetable substances, which they chew and grind. We compare
+farther the Horse and Cow, and find that the Horse has front teeth both in
+the upper and lower jaw, while the Cow has them only in the lower; and
+going still farther and comparing the internal with the external features,
+we find this arrangement of the teeth in direct relation to the different
+structure of the stomach in the two animals,--the Cow having a stomach
+with four pouches, adapted to a mode of digestion by which the food is
+prepared for the second mastication, while the Horse has a simple stomach.
+Comparing the Cow and the Deer, we find that the digestive apparatus is
+the same in both; but though they both have horns, in the Cow the horn is
+hollow, and remains through life firmly attached to the bone, while in the
+Deer it is solid and is shed every year. With these facts before us, we
+cannot hesitate to place the Dog, the Cat, and the Bear in one division,
+as carnivorous animals, and the other three in another division as
+herbivorous animals,--and looking a little farther, we perceive, that, in
+common with the Cow and the Deer, the Goat and the Sheep have cloven feet,
+and that they are all ruminants, while the Horse has a single hoof, does
+not ruminate, and must therefore be separated from them, even though, like
+them, he is herbivorous.
+
+This is but the simplest illustration, taken from the most familiar
+objects, of this comparative method; but the same process is equally
+applicable to the most intricate problems in animal structures, and will
+give us the clue to all true affinities between animals. The education of
+a naturalist, now, consists chiefly in learning how to compare. If he have
+any power of generalization, when he has collected his facts, this habit
+of mental comparison will lead him up to principles, to the great laws of
+combination. It must not discourage us, that the process is a slow and
+laborious one, and the results of one lifetime after all very small. It
+might seem invidious, were I to show here how small is the sum total of
+the work accomplished even by the great exceptional men, whose names are
+known throughout the civilized world. But I may at least be permitted to
+speak of my own efforts, and to sum up in the fewest words the result of
+my life's work. I have devoted my whole life to the study of Nature, and
+yet a single sentence may express all that I have done. I have shown that
+there is a correspondence between the succession of Fishes in geological
+times and the different stages of their growth in the egg,--this is all.
+It chanced to be a result that was found to apply to other groups and has
+led to other conclusions of a like nature. But, such as it is, it has been
+reached by this system of comparison, which, though I speak of it now in
+its application to the study of Natural History, is equally important in
+every other branch of knowledge. By the same process the most mature
+results of scientific research in Philology, in Ethnology, and in Physical
+Science are reached. And let me say that the community should foster the
+purely intellectual efforts of scientific men as carefully as they do
+their elementary schools and their practical institutions, generally
+considered so much more useful and important to the public. For from what
+other source shall we derive the higher results that are gradually woven
+into the practical resources of our life, except from the researches of
+those very men who study science not for its uses, but for its truth? It
+is this that gives it its noblest interest: it must be for truth's sake,
+and not even for the sake of its usefulness to humanity, that the
+scientific man studies Nature. The application of science to the useful
+arts requires other abilities, other qualities, other tools than his; and
+therefore I say that the man of science who follows his studies into their
+practical application is false to his calling. The practical man stands
+ever ready to take up the work where the scientific man leaves it, and to
+adapt it to the material wants and uses of daily life.
+
+The publication of Cuvier's proposition, that the animal kingdom is built
+on four plans, created an extraordinary excitement throughout the
+scientific world. All naturalists proceeded to test it, and many soon
+recognized in it a great scientific truth,--while others, who thought more
+of making themselves prominent than of advancing science, proposed poor
+amendments, that were sure to be rejected on farther investigation. There
+were, however, some of these criticisms and additions that were truly
+improvements, and touched upon points overlooked by Cuvier. Blainville,
+especially, took up the element of form among animals,--whether divided on
+two sides, whether radiated, whether irregular, etc. He, however, made the
+mistake of giving very elaborate names to animals already known under
+simpler ones. Why, for instance, call all animals with parts radiating in
+every direction _Actinomorpha_ or _Actinozoaria_, when they had received
+the significant name of _Radiates_? It seemed, to be a new system, when in
+fact it was only a new name. Ehrenberg, likewise, made an important
+distinction, when he united the animals according to the difference in
+their nervous systems; but he also incumbered the nomenclature
+unnecessarily, when he added to the names _Anaima_ and _Enaima_ of
+Aristotle those of _Myeloneura_ and _Ganglioneura_.
+
+But it is not my object to give all the classifications of different
+authors here, and I will therefore pass over many noted ones, as those of
+Burmeister, Milne, Edwards, Siebold and Stannius, Owen, Leuckart, Vogt,
+Van Beneden, and others, and proceed to give some account of one
+investigator who did as much for the progress of Zooelogy as Cuvier, though
+he is comparatively little known among us. Karl Ernst von Baer proposed a
+classification based, like Cuvier's, upon plan; but he recognized what
+Cuvier failed to perceive,--namely, the importance of distinguishing
+between type (by which he means exactly what Cuvier means by plan) and
+complication of structure,--in other words, between plan and the execution
+of the plan. He recognized four types, which correspond exactly to
+Cuvier's four plans, though he calls them by different names. Let us
+compare them.
+
+    _Cuvier_.           _Baer_.
+    Radiates,           Peripheric,
+    Mollusks,           Massive,
+    Articulates,        Longitudinal,
+    Vertebrates.        Doubly Symmetrical.
+
+Though perhaps less felicitous, the names of Baer express the same ideas
+as those of Cuvier. By the _Peripheric_ he signified those in which all
+the parts converge from the periphery or circumference of the animal to
+its centre. Cuvier only reverses this definition in his name of
+_Radiates_, signifying the animals in which all parts radiate from the
+centre to the circumference. By _Massive_, Baer indicated those animals in
+which the structure is soft and concentrated, without a very distinct
+individualization of parts,--exactly the animals included by Cuvier under
+his name of _Mollusks_, or soft-bodied animals. In his selection of the
+epithet _Longitudinal_, Baer was less fortunate; for all animals have a
+longitudinal diameter, and this word was not, therefore, sufficiently
+special. Yet his _Longitudinal_ type answers exactly to Cuvier's
+_Articulates_,--animals in which all parts are arranged in a succession of
+articulated joints along a longitudinal axis. Cuvier has expressed this
+jointed structure in the name _Articulates_; whereas Baer, in his name of
+_Longitudinal_, referred only to the arrangement of joints in longitudinal
+succession, in a continuous string, as it were, one after another. For the
+_Doubly Symmetrical_ type his name is the better of the two; for Cuvier's
+name of _Vertebrates_ alludes only to the backbone,--while Baer, who is an
+embryologist, signifies in his their mode of growth also. He knew what
+Cuvier did not know, that in its first formation the germ of the
+Vertebrate divides in two folds: one turning up above the backbone, to
+inclose all the sensitive Organs,--the spinal marrow, the organs of sense,
+all those organs by which life is expressed; the other turning down below
+the backbone, and inclosing all those organs by which life is
+maintained,--the organs of digestion, of respiration, of circulation, of
+reproduction, etc. So there is in this type not only an equal division of
+parts on either side, but also a division above and below, making thus a
+double symmetry in the plan, expressed by Baer in the name he gave it.
+Baer was perfectly original in his conception of these four types, for his
+paper was published in the very same year with that of Cuvier. But even in
+Germany, his native land, his ideas were not fully appreciated: strange
+that it should be so,--for, had his countrymen recognized his genius, they
+might have claimed him as the compeer of the great French naturalist.
+
+Baer also founded the science of Embryology, under the guidance of his
+teacher, Dollinger. His researches in this direction showed him that
+animals were not only built on four plans, but that they grew according to
+four modes of development. The Vertebrate arises from the egg differently
+from the Articulate,--the Articulate differently from the Mollusk,--the
+Mollusk differently from the Radiate. Cuvier only showed us the four plans
+as they exist in the adult; Baer went a step farther, and showed us the
+four plans in the process of formation. But his greatest scientific
+achievement is perhaps the discovery that all animals originate in eggs,
+and that all these eggs are at first identical in substance and structure.
+The wonderful and untiring research condensed into this simple statement,
+that all animals arise from eggs and that all those eggs are identical in
+the beginning, may well excite our admiration. This egg consists of an
+outer envelope, the vitelline membrane, containing a fluid more or less
+dense, the yolk; within this is a second envelope, the so-called
+germinative vesicle, containing a somewhat different and more transparent
+fluid, and in the fluid of this second envelope float one or more
+so-called germinative specks. At this stage of their growth all eggs are
+microsopically small, yet each one has such tenacity of its individual
+principle of life that no egg was ever known to swerve from the pattern of
+the parent animal that gave it birth.
+
+
+III.
+
+From the time that Linnaeus showed us the necessity of a scientific system
+as a framework for the arrangement of scientific facts in Natural History,
+the number of divisions adopted by zooelogists and botanists increased
+steadily. Not only were families, orders, and classes added to genera and
+species, but these were further multiplied by subdivisions of the
+different groups. But as the number of divisions increased, they lost in
+precise meaning, and it became more and more doubtful how far they were
+true to Nature. Moreover, these divisions were not taken in the same sense
+by all naturalists: what were called families by some were called orders
+by others, while the orders of some were the classes of others, till it
+began to be doubted whether these scientific systems had any foundation in
+Nature, or signified anything more than that it had pleased Linnaeus, for
+instance, to call certain groups of animals by one name, while Cuvier had
+chosen to call them by another.
+
+These divisions are, first, the most comprehensive groups, the primary
+divisions, called branches by some, types by others, and divided by some
+naturalists into so-called sub-types, meaning only a more limited
+circumscription of the same kind of group; next we have classes, and these
+also have been divided into sub-classes, then orders and sub-orders,
+families, sub-families, and tribes; then genera, species, and varieties.
+With reference to the question, whether these groups really exist in
+Nature or are merely the expression of individual theories and opinions,
+it is worth while to study the works of the early naturalists, in order to
+trace the natural process by which scientific classification has been
+reached; for in this, as in other departments of learning, practice has
+always preceded theory. We do the thing before we understand why we do it:
+speech precedes grammar, reason precedes logic; and so a division of
+animals into groups, upon an instinctive perception of their differences,
+has preceded all our scientific creeds and doctrines. Let us, therefore,
+proceed to examine the meaning of these names as adopted by naturalists.
+
+When Cuvier proposed his four primary divisions of the animal kingdom, he
+added his argument for their adoption,--_because_, he said, they are
+constructed on four different plans. All the progress in our science since
+his time confirms this result; and I shall attempt to show that there are
+really four, and only four, such structural ideas at the foundation of the
+animal kingdom, and that all animals are included under one or another of
+them. But it does not follow, that, because we have arrived at a sound
+principle, we are therefore unerring in our practice. From ignorance we
+may misplace animals, and include them under the wrong division. This is a
+mistake, however, which a better insight into their organization
+rectifies; and experience constantly proves, that, whenever the structure
+of an animal is perfectly understood, there is no hesitation as to the
+head under which it belongs. We may consequently test the merits of these
+four primary groups on the evidence furnished by investigation. It has
+already been seen that these plans may be presented in the most abstract
+manner without any reference to special animals. _Radiation_ expresses in
+one word the idea on which the lowest of these types is based. In
+_Radiates_ we have no prominent bilateral symmetry, as in all other
+animals, but an all-sided symmetry, in which there is no right and left,
+no anterior and posterior extremity, no above and below. They are
+spheroidal bodies; yet, though many of them remind us of a sphere, they
+are by no means to be compared to a mathematical sphere, but rather to an
+organic sphere, so loaded with life, as it were, as to produce an infinite
+variety of radiate symmetry. The whole organization is arranged around a
+centre toward which all the parts converge, or, in a reverse sense, from
+which all the parts radiate. In _Mollusks_ there is a longitudinal axis
+and a bilateral symmetry; but the longitudinal axis in these soft
+concentrated bodies is not very prominent; and though the two ends of this
+axis are distinct from each other, the difference is not so marked that we
+can say at once, for all of them, which is the anterior and which the
+posterior extremity. In this type, right and left have the preponderance
+over the other diameters of the body. The sides are the prominent
+parts,--they are charged with the important organs, loaded with those
+peculiarities of the structure that give it character. The Oyster is a
+good instance of this, with its double valve, so swollen on one side, so
+flat on the other. There is an unconscious recognition of this in the
+arrangement of all collections of Mollusks; for, though the collectors do
+not put up their specimens with any intention of illustrating this
+peculiarity, they instinctively give them the position best calculated to
+display their distinctive characteristics, and to accomplish this they
+necessarily place them in such a manner as to show the sides. In
+_Articulates_ there is also a longitudinal axis of the body and a
+bilateral symmetry in the arrangement of parts; the head and tail are
+marked, and the right and left sides are distinct. But the prominent
+tendency in this type is the development of the dorsal and ventral region;
+here above and below prevail over right and left. It is the back and the
+lower side that have the preponderance over any other part of the
+structure in Articulates. The body is divided from end to end by a
+succession of transverse constrictions, forming movable rings; but the
+character of the animal, its striking features, are always above or below,
+and especially developed on the back. Any collection of Insects or
+Crustacea is an evidence of this; being always instinctively arranged in
+such a manner as to show the predominant features, they uniformly exhibit
+the back of the animal. The profile view of an Articulate has no
+significance; whereas in a Mollusk, on the contrary, the profile view is
+the most illustrative of the structural character. In the highest
+division, the _Vertebrates_, so characteristically called by Baer the
+_Doubly Symmetrical_ type, a solid column runs through the body with an
+arch above and an arch below, thus forming a double internal cavity. In
+this type, the head is the prominent feature; it is, as it were, the
+loaded end of the longitudinal axis, so charged with vitality as to form
+an intelligent brain, and rising in man to such predominance as to command
+and control the whole organism. The structure is arranged above and below
+this axis, the upper cavity containing all the sensitive organs, and the
+lower cavity containing all those by which life is maintained.
+
+While Cuvier and his followers traced these four distinct plans, as shown
+in the adult animal, Baer opened to us a new field of investigation in the
+embryology of the four types, showing that for each there was a special
+mode of growth in the egg. Looking at them from this point of view, we
+shall see that these four types, with their four modes of growth, seem to
+fill out completely the plan or outline of the animal kingdom, and leave
+no reason to expect any further development or any other plan of animal
+life within these limits. The eggs of all animals are spheres, such as I
+have described them; but in the Radiate the whole periphery is transformed
+into the germ, so that it becomes, by the liquefying of the yolk, a hollow
+sphere. In the Mollusks, the germ lies above the yolk, absorbing its whole
+substance through the under side, thus forming a massive close body
+instead of a hollow one. In the Articulate, the germ is turned in a
+position exactly opposite to that of the Mollusk, and absorbs the yolk
+upon the back. In the Vertebrate, the germ divides in two folds, one
+turning upward, the other turning downward, above and below the central
+backbone. These four modes of development seem to exhaust the
+possibilities of the primitive sphere, which is the foundation of all
+animal life, and therefore I believe that Cuvier and Baer were right in
+saying that the whole animal kingdom is included under these four
+structural ideas.
+
+Leuckart proposed to subdivide the Radiates into two groups: the
+Coelenterata, including Polyps and Acalephs or Jelly-Fishes,--and
+Echinoderms, including Star-Fishes, Sea-Urchins, and Holothurians. His
+reason for this distinction is the fact that in the latter the organs are
+inclosed within walls of their own, distinct from the body-wall; whereas
+in the former the organs are formed by internal folds of the outer wall of
+the body, as in the Polyps, or are hollowed out of the substance of the
+body, as in Jelly-Fishes. This implies no difference in the plan, but
+merely a difference in the execution of the plan. Both are equally radiate
+in their structure; and when Leuckart separated them as distinct primary
+types, he mistook a difference in the material expression of the plan for
+a difference in the plan itself. So some naturalists have distinguished
+Worms from the other Articulates as a separate division. But the
+structural plan of this type is a body divided by transverse constrictions
+or joints; and whether those joints are uniformly arranged from one end of
+the body to the other, as in the Worms, or whether the front joints are
+soldered together so as to form two regions of the body, as in Crustacea,
+or divided so as to form three regions of the body, as in winged Insects,
+does not in the least affect the typical character of the structure, which
+remains the same in all. Branches or types, then, are natural groups of
+the animal kingdom, founded on plans of structure or structural ideas.
+
+What now are classes? Are they lesser divisions, differing only in extent,
+or are they founded on special characters? I believe the latter view to be
+the true one, and that class characters have a significance quite
+different from that of their mere range or extent. These divisions are
+founded on certain categories of structure; and were there but one animal
+of a class in the world, if it had those characters on which a class is
+founded, it would be as distinct from all other animals as if its kind
+were counted by thousands. Baer approached the idea of the classes when he
+discriminated between plan of structure or type and the degree of
+perfection in the structure. But while he understands the distinction
+between a plan and its execution, his ideas respecting the different
+features of structure are not quite so precise. He does not, for instance,
+distinguish between the complication of a given structure and the mode of
+execution of a plan, both of which are combined in what he calls degrees
+of perfection. And yet, without this distinction, the difference between
+classes and orders cannot be understood; for classes and orders rest upon
+a just appreciation of these two categories, which are quite distinct from
+each other, and have by no means the same significance. Again, quite
+distinct from both of these is the character of form, not to be confounded
+either with complication of structure, on which orders are based, or with
+the execution of the plan, on which classes rest. An example will show
+that form is no guide for the determination of classes or orders. Take,
+for instance, a Beche-de-Mer, a member of the highest class of Radiates,
+and compare it with a Worm. They are both long cylindrical bodies; but one
+has parallel divisions along the length of the body, the other has the
+body divided by transverse rings. Though in external form they resemble
+each other, the one is a worm-like Radiate, the other is a worm-like
+Articulate, each having the structure of its own type; so that they do not
+even belong to the same great division of the animal kingdom, much less to
+the same class. We have a similar instance in the Whales and Fishes,--the
+Whales having been for a long time considered as Fishes, on account of
+their form, while their structural complication shows them to be a low
+order of the class of Mammalia, to which we ourselves belong, that class
+being founded upon a particular mode of execution of the plan
+characteristic of the Vertebrates, while the order to which the Whales
+belong depends upon their complication of structure, as compared with
+other members of the same class. We may therefore say that neither form
+nor complication of structure distinguishes classes, but simply the mode
+of execution of a plan. In Vertebrates, for instance, how do we
+distinguish the class of Mammalia from the other classes of the type? By
+the peculiar development of the brain, by their breathing through lungs,
+by their double circulation, by their bringing forth living young and
+nursing them with milk. In this class the beasts of prey form a distinct
+order, superior to the Whales or the herbivorous animals, on account of
+the higher complication of their structure; and for the same reason we
+place the Monkeys above them all. But among the beasts of prey we
+distinguish the Bears, as a family, from the family of Dogs, Wolves, and
+Cats, on account of their different form, which does not imply a
+difference either in the complication of their structure or in the mode of
+execution of their plan.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+AGNES OF SORRENTO.
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE PENANCE.
+
+
+The course of our story requires us to return to the Capuchin convent, and
+to the struggles and trials of its Superior; for in his hands is the
+irresistible authority which must direct the future life of Agnes.
+
+From no guilty compliances, no heedless running into temptation, had he
+come to love her. The temptation had met him in the direct path of duty;
+the poison had been breathed in with the perfume of sweetest and most
+life-giving flowers: nor could he shun that temptation, nor cease to
+inhale that fatal sweetness, without confessing himself vanquished in a
+point where, in his view, to yield was to be lost. The subtle and
+deceitful visit of Father Johannes to his cell had the effect of
+thoroughly rousing him to a complete sense of his position, and making him
+feel the immediate, absolute necessity of bringing all the energy of his
+will, all the resources of his nature to bear on its present difficulties.
+For he felt, by a fine intuition, that already he was watched and
+suspected;--any faltering step now, any wavering, any change in his mode
+of treating his female penitents, would be maliciously noted. The military
+education of his early days had still left in his mind a strong residuum
+of personal courage and honor, which made him regard it as dastardly to
+flee when he ought to conquer, and therefore he set his face as a flint
+for victory.
+
+But reviewing his interior world, and taking a survey of the work before
+him, he felt that sense of a divided personality which often becomes so
+vivid in the history of individuals of strong will and passion. It seemed
+to him that there were two men within him: the one turbulent, passionate,
+demented; the other vainly endeavoring by authority, reason, and
+conscience to bring the rebel to subjection. The discipline of conventual
+life, the extraordinary austerities to which he had condemned himself, the
+monotonous solitude of his existence, all tended to exalt the vivacity of
+the nervous system, which, in the Italian constitution, is at all times
+disproportionately developed; and when those weird harp-strings of the
+nerves are once thoroughly unstrung, the fury and tempest of the discord
+sometimes utterly bewilders the most practised self-government.
+
+But he felt that _something_ must be done with himself, and done
+immediately; for in a few days he must again meet Agnes at the
+confessional. He must meet her, not with weak tremblings and passionate
+fears, but calm as Fate, inexorable as the Judgment-Day. He must hear her
+confession, not as man, but as God; he must pronounce his judgments with a
+divine dispassionateness. He must dive into the recesses of her secret
+heart, and, following with subtile analysis all the fine courses of those
+fibres which were feeling their blind way towards an earthly love, must
+tear them remorselessly away. Well could he warn her of the insidiousness
+of earthly affections; better than any one else he could show her how a
+name that was blended with her prayers and borne before the sacred shrine
+in her most retired and solemn hours might at last come to fill all her
+heart with a presence too dangerously dear. He must direct her gaze up
+those mystical heights where an unearthly marriage awaited her, its sealed
+and spiritual bride; he must hurry her footsteps onward to the irrevocable
+issue.
+
+All this was before him. But ere it could be done, he must subdue
+himself,--he must become calm and pulseless, in deadly resolve; and what
+prayer, what penance might avail for this? If all that he had already
+tried had so miserably failed, what hope? He resolved to quit for a season
+all human society, and enter upon one of those desolate periods of retreat
+from earthly converse well known in the annals of saintship as most
+prolific in spiritual victories.
+
+Accordingly, on the day after the conversation with Father Johannes, he
+startled the monks by announcing to them that he was going to leave them
+for several days.
+
+"My brothers," he said, "the weight of a fearful penance is laid upon me,
+which I must work out alone.  I leave you today, and charge you not to
+seek to follow my footsteps; but, as you hope to escape hell, watch and
+wrestle for me and yourselves during the time I am gone. Before many days
+I hope to return to you with renewed spiritual strength."
+
+That evening, while Agnes and her uncle were sitting together in their
+orange-garden, mingling their parting prayers and hymns, scenes of a very
+different description surrounded the Father Francesco.
+
+One who looks on the flowery fields and blue seas of this enchanting
+region thinks that the Isles of the Blest could scarcely find on earth a
+more fitting image; nor can he realize, till experience proves it to him,
+that he is in the immediate vicinity of a weird and dreary region which
+might represent no less the goblin horrors of the damned.
+
+Around the foot of Vesuvius lie fair villages and villas garlanded with
+roses and flushing with grapes whose juice gains warmth from the breathing
+of its subterraneous fires, while just above them rises a region more
+awful than can be created by the action of any common causes of sterility.
+ There, immense tracts sloping gradually upward show a desolation so
+peculiar, so utterly unlike every common solitude of Nature, that one
+enters upon it with the shudder we give at that which is wholly unnatural.
+On all sides are gigantic serpent convolutions of black lava, their
+immense folds rolled into every conceivable contortion, as if, in their
+fiery agonies, they had struggled and wreathed and knotted together, and
+then grown cold and black with the imperishable signs of those terrific
+convulsions upon them.  Not a blade of grass, not a flower, not even the
+hardiest lichen, springs up to relieve the utter deathliness of the scene.
+ The eye wanders from one black, shapeless mass to another, and there is
+ever the same suggestion of hideous monster life,--of goblin convulsions
+and strange fiend-like agonies in some age gone by. One's very footsteps
+have an unnatural, metallic clink, and one's garments brushing over the
+rough surface are torn and fretted by its sharp, remorseless touch,--as if
+its very nature were so pitiless and acrid that the slightest contact
+revealed it.
+
+The sun was just setting over the beautiful Bay of Naples,--with its
+enchanted islands, its jewelled city, its flowery villages, all bedecked
+and bedropped with strange shiftings and flushes of prismatic light and
+shade, as if they belonged to some fairy-land of perpetual festivity and
+singing,--when Father Francesco stopped in his toilsome ascent up the
+mountain, and, seating himself on ropy ridges of black lava, looked down
+on the peaceful landscape.
+
+Above his head, behind him, rose the black cone of the mountain, over
+whose top the lazy clouds of thin white smoke were floating, tinged with
+the evening light; around him the desolate convulsed waste,--so arid, so
+supernaturally dreary; and below, like a soft enchanted dream, the
+beautiful bay, the gleaming white villas and towers, the picturesque
+islands, the gliding sails, flecked and streaked and dyed with the violet
+and pink and purple of the evening sky. The thin new moon and one
+glittering star trembled through the rosy air.
+
+The monk wiped from his brow the sweat that had been caused by the toil of
+his hurried journey, and listened to the bells of the Ave Maria pealing
+from the different churches of Naples, filling the atmosphere with a soft
+tremble of solemn dropping sound, as if spirits in the air took up and
+repeated over and over the angelic salutation which a thousand earthly
+lips were just then uttering. Mechanically he joined in the invocation
+which at that moment united the hearts of all Christians, and as the words
+passed his lips, he thought, with a sad, desolate longing, of the hour of
+death of which they spake.
+
+"It must come at last," he said. "Life is but a moment. Why am I so
+cowardly? why so unwilling to suffer and to struggle? Am I a warrior of
+the Lord, and do I shrink from the toils of the camp, and long for the
+ease of the court before I have earned it? Why do we clamor for happiness?
+Why should we sinners be happy? And yet, O God, why is the world made so
+lovely as it lies there, why so rejoicing, and so girt with splendor and
+beauty, if we are never to enjoy it? If penance and toil were all we were
+sent here for, why not make a world grim and desolate as this around
+me?--then there would be nothing to seduce us. But our path is a constant
+fight; Nature is made only to be resisted; we must walk the sharp blade of
+the sword over the fiery chasm to Paradise. Come, then!--no
+shrinking!--let me turn my back on everything dear and beautiful, as now
+on this landscape!"
+
+He rose and commenced the perpendicular ascent of the cone, stumbling and
+climbing over the huge sliding blocks of broken lava, which grated and
+crunched beneath his feet with a harsh metallic ring. Sometimes a broken
+fragment or two would go tinkling down the rough path behind him, and
+sometimes it seemed as if the whole loose black mass from above were about
+to slide, like an avalanche, down upon his head;--he almost hoped it
+would. Sometimes he would stop, overcome by the toil of the ascent, and
+seat himself for a moment on a black fragment, and then his eye would
+wander over the wide and peaceful panorama below. He seemed to himself
+like a fly perched upon some little roughness of a perpendicular wall, and
+felt a strange airy sense of pleasure in being thus between earth and
+heaven. A sense of relief, of beauty, and peacefulness would steal over
+him, as if he were indeed something disfranchised and disembodied, a part
+of the harmonious and beautiful world that lay stretched out beneath him;
+in a moment more he would waken himself with a start, and resume his
+toilsome journey with a sullen and dogged perseverance.
+
+At last he gained the top of the mountain,--that weird, strange region
+where the loose, hot soil, crumbling beneath his feet, was no honest
+foodful mother earth, but an acrid mass of ashes and corrosive minerals.
+Arsenic, sulphur, and many a sharp and bitter salt were in all he touched,
+every rift in the ground hissed with stifling steam, while rolling clouds
+of dun sullen smoke, and a deep hollow booming, like the roar of an
+immense furnace, told his nearness to the great crater. He penetrated the
+sombre tabernacle, and stood on the very brink of a huge basin, formed by
+a wall of rocks around a sunken plain, the midst of which rose the black
+cone of the subterraneous furnace, which crackled and roared and from time
+to time spit up burning stones and cinders or oozed out slow ropy streams
+of liquid fire.
+
+The sulphurous cliffs were dyed in many a brilliant shade of brown and
+orange by the admixture of various ores, but their brightness seemed
+strange and unnatural, and the dizzying whirls of vapor, now enveloping
+the whole scene in gloom, now lifting in this spot and now in that, seemed
+to magnify the dismal pit to an indefinite size. Now and then there would
+come up from the very entrails of the mountain a sort of convulsed sob of
+hollow sound, and the earth would quiver beneath his feet, and fragments
+from the surrounding rocks would scale off and fall with crashing
+reverberations into the depth beneath; at such moments it would seem as if
+the very mountain were about to crush in and bear him down in its ruins.
+
+Father Francesco, though blinded by the smoke and choked by the vapor,
+could not be content without descending into the abyss and exploring the
+very _penetralia_ of its mysteries. Steadying his way by means of a cord
+which he fastened to a firm projecting rock, he began slowly and painfully
+clambering downward. The wind was sweeping across the chasm from behind,
+bearing the noxious vapors away from him, or he must inevitably have been
+stifled. It took him some little time, however, to effect his descent; but
+at length he found himself fairly landed on the dark floor of the gloomy
+inclosure.
+
+The ropy, pitch-black undulations of lava yawned here and there in red-hot
+cracks and seams, making it appear to be only a crust over some fathomless
+depth of molten fire, whose moanings and boilings could be heard below.
+These dark congealed billows creaked and bent as the monk stepped upon
+them, and burned his feet through his coarse sandals; yet he stumbled on.
+Now and then his foot would crush in, where the lava had hardened in a
+thinner crust, and he would draw it suddenly back from the lurid red-hot
+metal beneath. The staff on which he rested was constantly kindling into a
+light blaze as it slipped into some heated hollow, and he was fain to beat
+out the fire upon the cooler surface. Still he went on half-stifled by the
+hot and pungent vapor, but drawn by that painful, unnatural curiosity
+which possesses one in a nightmare dream. The great cone in the centre was
+the point to which he wished to attain,--the nearest point which man can
+gain to this eternal mystery of fire. It was trembling with a perpetual
+vibration, a hollow, pulsating undertone of sound like the surging of the
+sea before a storm, and the lava that boiled over its sides rolled slowly
+down with a strange creaking; it seemed the condensed, intensified essence
+and expression of eternal fire, rising and still rising from some
+inexhaustible fountain of burning.
+
+Father Francesco drew as near as he could for the stifling heat and vapor,
+and, resting on his staff, stood gazing intently. The lurid light of the
+fire fell with an unearthly glare on his pale, sunken features, his wild,
+haggard eyes, and his torn and disarranged garments. In the awful solitude
+and silence of the night he felt his heart stand still, as if indeed he
+had touched with his very hand the gates of eternal woe, and felt its
+fiery breath upon his cheek. He half-imagined that the seams and clefts
+which glowed in lurid lines between the dark billows would gape yet wider
+and show the blasting secrets of some world of fiery despair below. He
+fancied that he heard behind and around the mocking laugh of fiends, and
+that confused clamor of mingled shrieks and lamentations which Dante
+describes as filling the dusky approaches to that forlorn realm where hope
+never enters.
+
+"Ah, God," he exclaimed, "for this vain life of man! They eat, they drink,
+they dance, they sing, they marry and are given in marriage, they have
+castles and gardens and villas, and the very beauty of Paradise seems over
+it all,--and yet how close by burns and roars the eternal fire! Fools that
+we are, to clamor for indulgence and happiness in this life, when the
+question is, to escape everlasting burnings! If I tremble at this outer
+court of God's wrath and justice, what must be the fires of hell? These
+are but earthly fires; they can but burn the body: those are made to burn
+the soul; they are undying as the soul is. What would it be to be dragged
+down, down, down, into an abyss of soul-fire hotter than this for ages on
+ages? This might bring merciful death in time: that will have no end."
+
+The monk fell on his knees and breathed out piercing supplications. Every
+nerve and fibre within him seemed tense with his agony of prayer. It was
+not the outcry for purity and peace, not a tender longing for forgiveness,
+not a filial remorse for sin, but the nervous anguish of him who shrieks
+in the immediate apprehension of an unendurable torture. It was the cry of
+a man upon the rack, the despairing scream of him who feels himself
+sinking in a burning dwelling. Such anguish has found an utterance in
+Stradella's celebrated "Pieta, Signore," which still tells to our ears, in
+its wild moans and piteous shrieks, the religious conceptions of his day;
+for there is no phase of the Italian mind that has not found expression in
+its music.
+
+When the oppression of the heat and sulphurous vapor became too dreadful
+to be borne, the monk retraced his way and climbed with difficulty up the
+steep sides of the crater, till he gained the summit above, where a
+comparatively free air revived him. All night he wandered up and down in
+that dreary vicinity, now listening to the mournful roar and crackle of
+the fire, and now raising his voice in penitential psalms or the notes of
+that terrific "Dies Irae" which sums up all the intense fear and horror
+with which the religion of the Middle Ages clothed the idea of the final
+catastrophe of humanity. Sometimes prostrating himself with his face
+towards the stifling soil, he prayed with agonized intensity till Nature
+would sink in a temporary collapse, and sleep, in spite of himself, would
+steal over him.
+
+So waned the gloomy hours of the night away, till the morning broke in the
+east, turning all the blue wavering floor of the sea to crimson
+brightness, and bringing up, with the rising breeze, the barking of dogs,
+the lowing of kine, the songs of laborers and boatmen, all fresh and
+breezy from the repose of the past night.
+
+Father Francesco heard the sound of approaching footsteps climbing the
+lava path, and started with a nervous trepidation. Soon he recognized a
+poor peasant of the vicinity, whose child he had tended during a dangerous
+illness. He bore with him a little basket of eggs, with a melon and a
+fresh green salad.
+
+"Good morning, holy father," he said, bowing humbly. "I saw you coming
+this way last night, and I could hardly sleep for thinking of you; and my
+good woman, Teresina, would have it that I should come out to look after
+you. I have taken the liberty to bring a little offering;--it was the best
+we had."
+
+"Thank you, my son," said the monk, looking wistfully at the fresh, honest
+face of the peasant. "You have taken too much trouble for such a sinner. I
+must not allow myself such indulgences."
+
+"But your Reverence must live. Look you," said the peasant, "at least your
+Reverence will take an egg. See here, how handily I can cook one," he
+added, striking his stick into a little cavity of a rock, from which, as
+from an escape-valve, hissed a jet of hot steam,--"see here, I nestle the
+egg in this little cleft, and it will be done in a twinkling. Our good God
+gives us our fire for nothing here."
+
+There was something wholesomely kindly and cheerful in the action and
+expression of the man, which broke upon the overstrained and disturbed
+musings of the monk like daylight on a ghastly dream. The honest, loving
+heart sees love in everything; even the fire is its fatherly helper, and
+not its avenging enemy.
+
+Father Francesco took the egg, when it was done, with a silent gesture of
+thanks.
+
+"If I might make bold to say," said the peasant, encouraged, "your
+Reverence should have some care for yourself. If a man will not feed
+himself, the good God will not feed him; and we poor people have too few
+friends already to let such as you die. Your hands are trembling, and you
+look worn out. Surely you should take something more, for the very love of
+the poor."
+
+"My son, I am bound to do a heavy penance, and to work out a great
+conflict. I thank you for your undeserved kindness. Leave me now to
+myself, and come no more to disturb my prayers. Go, and God bless you!"
+
+"Well," said the peasant, putting down the basket and melon, "I shall
+leave these things here, any way, and I beg your Reverence to have a care
+of yourself. Teresina fretted all night for fear something might come to
+you. The bambino that you cured is grown a stout little fellow, and eats
+enough for two,--and it is all of you; so she cannot forget it. She is a
+busy little woman, is Teresina; and when she gets a thought in her head,
+it buzzes, buzzes, like a fly in a bottle, and she will have it your
+Reverence is killing yourself by inches, and says she, 'What will all the
+poor do when he is gone?' So your Reverence must pardon us. We mean it all
+for the best."
+
+So saying, the man turned and began sliding and slipping down the steep
+ashy sides of the mountain cone with a dexterity which carried him to the
+bottom in a few moments; and on he went, sending back after him a cheerful
+little air, the refrain of which is still to be heard in our days in that
+neighborhood. A word or two of the gay song fluttered back on the ear of
+the monk,--
+
+  "Tutta gieja, tutta festa."
+
+So gay and airy it was in its ringing cadence that it seemed a musical
+laugh springing from sunny skies, and came fluttering into the dismal
+smoke and gloom of the mountain-top like a very butterfly of sound. It
+struck on the sad, leaden ear of the monk much as we might fancy the carol
+of a robin over a grave might seem, could the cold sleeper below wake one
+moment to its perception. If it woke one regretful sigh and drew one
+wandering look downward to the elysian paradise that lay smiling at the
+foot of the mountain, he instantly suppressed the feeling, and set his
+face in its old deathly stillness.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+CLOUDS DEEPENING.
+
+
+After the departure of her uncle to Florence, the life of Agnes was
+troubled and harassed from a variety of causes.
+
+First, her grandmother was sulky and moody, and though saying nothing
+directly on the topic nearest her heart, yet intimating by every look and
+action that she considered Agnes as a most ungrateful and contumacious
+child. Then there was a constant internal perplexity,--a constant wearying
+course of self-interrogation and self-distrust, the pain of a sensitive
+spirit which doubts at every moment whether it may not be falling into
+sin. The absence of her kind uncle at this time took from her the
+strongest support on which she had leaned in her perplexities. Cheerful,
+airy, and elastic in his temperament, always full of fresh-springing and
+beautiful thoughts, as an Italian dell is of flowers, the charming old man
+seemed, while he stayed with Agnes, to be the door of a new and fairer
+world, where she could walk in air and sunshine, and find utterance for a
+thousand thoughts and feelings which at all other times lay in cold
+repression in her heart. His counsels were always so wholesome, his
+sympathies so quick, his devotion so fervent and cheerful, that while with
+him Agnes felt the burden of her life insensibly lifted and carried for
+her as by some angel guide.
+
+Now they had all come back upon her, heavier a thousand-fold than ever
+they had been before. Never did she so much need counsel and
+guidance,--never had she so much within herself to be solved and made
+plain to her own comprehension; yet she thought with a strange shiver of
+her next visit to her confessor. That austere man, so chilling, so awful,
+so far above all conception of human weaknesses, how should she dare to
+lay before him all the secrets of her breast, especially when she must
+confess to having disobeyed his most stringent commands? She had had
+another interview with this forbidden son of perdition, but how it was she
+knew not. How could such things have happened? Instead of shutting her
+eyes and turning her head and saying prayers, she had listened to a
+passionate declaration of love, and his last word had called her his wife.
+Her heart thrilled every time she thought of it; and somehow she could not
+feel sure that it was exactly a thrill of penitence. It was all like a
+strange dream to her; and sometimes she looked at her little brown hands
+and wondered if he really had kissed them,--he, the splendid strange
+vision of a man, the prince from fairyland! Agnes had never read romances,
+it is true, but she had been brought up on the legends of the saints, and
+there never was a marvel possible to human conception that had not been
+told there. Princes had come from China and Barbary and Abyssinia and
+every other strange out-of-the-way place, to kneel at the feet of fair,
+obdurate saints who would not even turn the head to look at them; but she
+had acted, she was conscious, after a much more mortal fashion, and so
+made herself work for confession and penance. Yet certainly she had not
+meant to do so; the interview came on her so suddenly, so unexpectedly;
+and somehow he _would_ speak, and he would not go when she asked him to;
+and she remembered how he looked when he stood right before her in the
+doorway and told her she _should_ hear him,--how the color flushed up in
+his cheeks, what a fire there was in his great dark eyes; he looked as if
+he were going to do something desperate then; it made her hold her breath
+even now to think of it.
+
+"These princes and nobles," she thought, "are so used to command, it is no
+wonder they make us feel as if they must have their will. I have heard
+grandmother call them wolves and vultures, that are ready to tear us poor
+folk to pieces; but I am sure he seems gentle. I'm sure it isn't wicked or
+cruel for him to want to make me his wife; and he couldn't know, of
+course, why it wasn't right he should; and it really is beautiful of him
+to love me so. Oh, if I were only a princess, and he loved me that way,
+how glad I should be to give up everything and go to him alone! And then
+we would pray together; and I really think that would be much better than
+praying all alone. He said men had so much more to tempt them. Ah, that is
+true! How can little moles that grub in the ground know of the dangers of
+eagles that fly to the very sun? Holy Mother, look mercifully upon him and
+save his soul!"
+
+Such were the thoughts of Agnes the day when she was preparing for her
+confession; and all the way to church she found them floating and
+dissolving and reappearing in new forms in her mind, like the silvery
+smoke-clouds which were constantly veering and sailing over Vesuvius.
+
+Only one thing was firm and never changing, and that was the purpose to
+reveal everything to her spiritual director. When she kneeled at the
+confessional with closed eyes, and began her whispered acknowledgments,
+she tried to feel as if she were speaking in the ear of God alone,--that
+God whose spirit she was taught to believe, for the time being, was
+present in His minister before whom her inmost heart was to be unveiled.
+
+He who sat within had just returned from his lonely retreat with his mind
+and nerves in a state of unnatural tension,--a sort of ecstatic clearness
+and calmness, which he mistook for victory and peace. During those lonely
+days when he had wandered afar from human converse, and was surrounded
+only by objects of desolation and gloom, he had passed through as many
+phases of strange, unnatural experience as there were flitting
+smoke-wreaths eddying about him.
+
+There are depths in man's nature and his possibilities which no plummet
+has ever sounded,--the wild, lonely joys of fanatical excitement, the
+perfectly ravenous appetite for self-torture, which seems able, in time,
+to reverse the whole human system, and make a heaven of hell. How else can
+we understand the facts related both in Hindoo and in Christian story, of
+those men and women who have found such strange raptures in slow tortures,
+prolonged from year to year, till pain became a habit of body and mind? It
+is said, that, after the tortures of the rack, the reaction of the
+overstrained nerves produces a sense of the most exquisite relief and
+repose; and so when mind and body are harrowed, harassed to the very outer
+verge of endurance, come wild throbbings and transports, and strange
+celestial clairvoyance, which the mystic hails as the descent of the New
+Jerusalem into his soul.
+
+It had seemed to Father Francesco, when he came down from the mountain,
+that he had left his body behind him,--that he had left earth and earthly
+things; his very feet touching the ground seemed to tread not on rough,
+resisting soil, but upon elastic cloud. He saw a strange excess of beauty
+in every flower, in every leaf, in the wavering blue of the sea, in the
+red grottoed rocks that overhung the shore, with their purple, green,
+orange, and yellow hangings of flower-and-leaf-tapestry. The songs of the
+fishermen on the beach, the peasant-girls cutting flowery fodder for the
+cattle, all seemed to him to have an unnatural charm. As one looking
+through a prism sees a fine bordering of rainbow on every object, so he
+beheld a glorified world. His former self seemed to him something forever
+past and gone. He looked at himself as at another person, who had sinned
+and suffered, and was now resting in beatified repose; and he fondly
+thought all this was firm reality, and believed that he was now proof
+against all earthly impressions, able to hear and to judge with the
+dispassionate calmness of a disembodied spirit. He did not know that this
+high-strung calmness, this fine clearness, were only the most intense form
+of nervous sensibility, and as vividly susceptible to every mortal
+impression as is the vitalized chemical plate to the least action of the
+sun's rays.
+
+When Agnes began her confession, her voice seemed to him to pass through
+every nerve; it seemed as if he could feel her presence thrilling through
+the very wood of the confessional. He was astonished and dismayed at his
+own emotion. But when she began to speak of the interview with the
+cavalier, he trembled from head to foot with uncontrollable passion.
+Nature long repressed came back in a tempestuous reaction. He crossed
+himself again and again, he tried to pray, and blessed those protecting
+shadows which concealed his emotion from the unconscious one by his side.
+But he set his teeth in deadly resolve, and his voice, as he questioned
+her, came forth cutting and cold as ice crystals.
+
+"Why did you listen to a word?"
+
+"My father, it was so sudden. He wakened me from sleep. I answered him
+before I thought."
+
+"You should not have been sleeping. It was a sinful indolence."
+
+"Yes, my father."
+
+"See now to what it led. The enemy of your soul, ever watching, seized
+this moment to tempt you."
+
+"Yes, my father."
+
+"Examine your soul well," said Father Francesco, in a tone of austere
+severity that made Agnes tremble. "Did you not find a secret pleasure in
+his words?"
+
+"My father, I fear I did," said she, with a trembling voice.
+
+"I knew it! I knew it!" the priest muttered to himself, while the great
+drops started on his forehead, in the intensity of the conflict he
+repressed. Agnes thought the solemn pause that followed was caused by the
+horror that had been inspired by her own sinfulness.
+
+"You did not, then, heartily and truly wish him to go from you?" pursued
+the cold, severe voice.
+
+"Yes, my father, I did. I wished him to go with all my soul."
+
+"Yet you say you found pleasure in his being near you," said Father
+Francesco, conscious how every string of his own being, even in this awful
+hour, was vibrating with a sort of desperate, miserable joy in being once
+more near to her.
+
+"Ah," sighed Agnes, "that is true, my father,--woe is me! Please tell me
+how I could have helped it. I was pleased before I knew it."
+
+"And you have been thinking of what he said to you with pleasure since?"
+pursued the confessor, with an intense severity of manner, deepening as he
+spoke.
+
+"I _have_ thought of it," faltered Agnes.
+
+"Beware how you trifle with the holy sacrament! Answer frankly. You have
+thought of it with _pleasure_. Confess it."
+
+"I do not understand myself exactly," said Agnes. "I have thought of it
+partly with pleasure and partly with pain."
+
+"Would you like to go with him and be his wife, as he said?"
+
+"If it were right, father,--not otherwise."
+
+"Oh, foolish child! oh, blinded soul! to think of right in connection with
+an infidel and heretic! Do you not see that all this is an artifice of
+Satan? He can transform himself into an angel of light. Do you suppose
+this heretic would be brought back to the Church by a foolish girl? Do you
+suppose it is your prayers he wants? Why does, he not seek the prayers of
+the Church,--of holy men who have power with God? He would bait his hook
+with this pretence that he may catch your soul. Do you believe me?"
+
+"I am bound to believe you, my father."
+
+"But you do not. Your heart is going after this wicked man."
+
+"Oh, my father, I do not wish it should. I never wish or expect to see him
+more. I only pray for him that his soul may not be lost."
+
+"He has gone, then?"
+
+"Yes, my father. And he went with my uncle, a most holy monk, who has
+undertaken the work of his salvation. He listens to my uncle, who has
+hopes of restoring him to the Church."
+
+"That is well. And now, my daughter, listen to me. You must root out of
+your thought every trace and remembrance of these words of sinful earthly
+love which he hath spoken. Such love would burn your soul to all eternity
+with fire that never could be quenched. If you can tear away all roots and
+traces of this from your heart, if by fasting and prayer and penance you
+can become worthy to be a bride of your divine Lord, then your prayers
+will gain power, and you may prevail to secure his eternal salvation. But
+listen to me, daughter,--listen and tremble! If ever you should yield to
+his love and turn back from this heavenly marriage to follow him, you will
+accomplish his damnation and your own; to all eternity he will curse you,
+while the fire rages and consumes him,--he will curse the hour that he
+first saw you."
+
+These words were spoken with an intense vehemence which seemed almost
+supernatural. Agnes shivered and trembled; a vague feeling of guilt
+overwhelmed and disheartened her; she seemed to herself the most lost and
+abandoned of human beings.
+
+"My father, I shall think no penance too severe that may restore my soul
+from this sin. I have already made a vow to the blessed Mother that I will
+walk on foot to the Holy City, praying in every shrine and holy place; and
+I humbly ask your approval."
+
+This announcement brought to the mind of the monk a sense of relief and
+deliverance. He felt already, in the terrible storm of agitation which
+this confession had aroused within him, that nature was not dead, and that
+he was infinitely farther from the victory of passionless calm than he had
+supposed. He was still a man,--torn with human passions, with a love which
+he must never express, and a jealousy which burned and writhed at every
+word which he had wrung from its unconscious object. Conscience had begun
+to whisper in his ear that there would be no safety to him in continuing
+this spiritual dictatorship to one whose every word unmanned him,--that it
+was laying himself open to a ceaseless temptation, which in some blinded,
+dreary hour of evil might hurry him into acts of horrible sacrilege; and
+he was once more feeling that wild, stormy revolt of his inner nature that
+so distressed him before he left the convent.
+
+This proposition of Agnes' struck him as a compromise. It would take her
+from him only for a season, she would go under his care and direction, and
+he would gradually recover his calmness and self-possession in her
+absence. Her pilgrimage to the holy places would be a most proper and fit
+preparation for the solemn marriage-rite which should forever sunder her
+from all human ties and make her inaccessible to all solicitations of
+human love. Therefore, after an interval of silence, he answered,--
+
+"Daughter, your plan is approved. Such pilgrimages have ever been held
+meritorious works in the Church, and there is a special blessing upon
+them."
+
+"My father," said Agnes, "it has always been in my heart from my childhood
+to be the bride of the Lord; but my grandmother, who brought me up, and to
+whom I owe the obedience of a daughter, utterly forbids me: she will not
+hear a word of it. No longer ago than last Monday she told me I might as
+well put a knife into her heart as speak of this."
+
+"And you, daughter, do you put the feelings of any earthly friend before
+the love of your Lord and Creator who laid down His life for you? Hear
+what He saith:--'He that loveth father or mother more than me is not
+worthy of me.'"
+
+"But my poor old grandmother has no one but me in the world, and she has
+never slept a night without me; she is getting old, and she has worked for
+me all her good days;--it would be very hard for her to lose me."
+
+"Ah, false, deceitful heart! Has, then, thy Lord not labored for thee? Has
+He not borne thee through all the years of thy life? And wilt thou put the
+love of any mortal before His?"
+
+"Yes," replied Agnes, with a sort of hardy sweetness,--"but my Lord does
+not need me as grandmother does; He is in glory, and will never be old or
+feeble; I cannot work for Him and tend Him as I shall her. I cannot see my
+way clear at present; but when she is gone, or if the saints move her to
+consent, I shall then belong to God alone."
+
+"Daughter, there is some truth in your words; and if your Lord accepts
+you, He will dispose her heart. Will she go with you on this pilgrimage?"
+
+"I have prayed that she might, father,--that her soul may be quickened;
+for I fear me, dear old grandmamma has found her love for me a snare,--she
+has thought too much of my interests and too little of her own soul, poor
+grandmamma!"
+
+"Well, child, I shall enjoin this pilgrimage on her as a penance."
+
+"I have grievously offended her lately," said Agnes, "in rejecting an
+offer of marriage with a man on whom she had set her heart, and therefore
+she does not listen to me as she is wont to do."
+
+"You have done right in refusing, my daughter. I will speak to her of
+this, and show her how great is the sin of opposing a holy vocation in a
+soul whom the Lord calls to Himself, and enjoin her to make reparation by
+uniting with you in this holy work."
+
+Agnes departed from the confessional without even looking upon the face of
+her director, who sat within listening to the rustle of her dress as she
+rose,--listening to the soft fall of her departing footsteps, and praying
+that grace might be given him not to look after her: and he did not,
+though he felt as if his life were going with her.
+
+Agnes tripped round the aisle to a little side-chapel where a light was
+always kept burning by her before a picture of Saint Agnes, and, kneeling
+there, waited till her grandmother should be through with her confession.
+
+"Ah, sweet Saint Agnes," she said, "pity me! I am a poor ignorant young
+girl, and have been led into grievous sin; but I did not mean to do
+wrong,--I have been trying to do right; pray for me, that I may overcome
+as you did. Pray our dear Lord to send you with us on this pilgrimage, and
+save us from all wicked and brutal men who would do us harm. As the Lord
+delivered you in sorest straits, keeping soul and body pure as a lily, ah,
+pray Him to keep me! I love you dearly,--watch over me and guide me."
+
+In those days of the Church, such addresses to the glorified saints had
+become common among all Christians. They were not regarded as worship, any
+more than a similar outpouring of confidence to a beloved and revered
+friend yet in the body. Among the hymns of Savonarola is one addressed to
+Saint Mary Magdalen, whom he regarded with an especial veneration. The
+great truth, that God is not the God of the dead, but of the living, that
+_all_ live to Him, was in those ages with the truly religious a part of
+spiritual consciousness. The saints of the Church Triumphant, having
+become one with Christ as he is one with the Father, were regarded as
+invested with a portion of his divinity, and as the ministering agency
+through which his mediatorial government on earth was conducted; and it
+was thought to be in the power of the sympathetic heart to attract them by
+the outflow of its affections, so that their presence often overshadowed
+the walks of daily life with a cloud of healing and protecting sweetness.
+
+If the enthusiasm of devotion in regard to these invisible friends became
+extravagant and took the language due to God alone, it was no more than
+the fervid Italian nature was always doing with regard to visible objects
+of affection. Love with an Italian always tends to become worship, and
+some of the language of the poets addressed to earthly loves rises into
+intensities of expression due only to the One, Sovereign, Eternal Beauty.
+One sees even in the writings of Cicero that this passionate adoring kind
+of love is not confined to modern times. When he loses the daughter in
+whom his heart is garnered up, he finds no comfort except in building a
+temple to her memory,--a blind outreaching towards the saint-worship of
+modern times.
+
+Agnes rose from her devotions, and went with downcast eyes, her lips still
+repeating prayers, to the font of holy water, which was in a dim shadowy
+corner, where a painted window cast a gold and violet twilight. Suddenly
+there was a rustle of garments in the dimness, and a jewelled hand essayed
+to pass holy water to her on the tip of its finger. This mark of Christian
+fraternity, common in those times, Agnes almost mechanically accepted,
+touching her slender finger to the one extended, and making the sign of
+the cross, while she raised her eyes to see who stood there. Gradually the
+haze cleared from her mind, and she awoke to the consciousness that it was
+the cavalier! He moved to come towards her, with a bright smile on his
+face; but suddenly she became pale as one who has seen a spectre, and,
+pushing from her with both hands, she said faintly, "Go, go!" and turned
+and sped up the aisle silently as a sunbeam, joining her grandmother, who
+was coming from the confessional with a gloomy and sullen brow.
+
+Old Elsie had been enjoined to unite with her grandchild in this scheme of
+a pilgrimage, and received the direction with as much internal contumacy
+as would a thriving church-member of Wall Street a proposition to attend a
+protracted meeting in the height of the business season. Not but that
+pilgrimages were holy and gracious works,--she was too good a Christian
+not to admit that,--but why must holy and gracious works be thrust on her
+in particular? There were saints enough who liked such things; and people
+_could_ get to heaven without,--if not with a very abundant entrance,
+still in a modest way,--and Elsie's ambition for position and treasure in
+the spiritual world was of a very moderate cast.
+
+"Well, now, I hope you are satisfied," she said to Agnes, as she pulled
+her along with no very gentle hand; "you've got me sent off on a
+pilgrimage,--and my old bones must be rattling up and down all the hills
+between here and Rome,--and who's to see to the oranges?--they'll all be
+stolen, every one."
+
+"Grandmother," began Agnes in a pleading voice--
+
+"Oh, you hush up! I know what you're going to say: 'The good Lord will
+take care of them.' I wish He may! He has His hands full, with all the
+people that go cawing and psalm-singing like so many crows, and leave all
+their affairs to Him!"
+
+Agnes walked along disconsolate, with her eyes full of tears, which
+coursed one another down her pale cheeks.
+
+"There's Antonio," pursued Elsie, "would perhaps look after things a
+little. He is a good fellow, and only yesterday was asking if he couldn't
+do something for us. It's you he does it for,--but little you care who
+loves you, or what they do for you!"
+
+At this moment they met old Jocunda, whom we have before introduced to the
+reader as portress of the Convent. She had on her arm a large square
+basket, which she was storing for its practical uses.
+
+"Well, well, Saint Agnes be praised, I have found you at last," she said.
+"I was wanting to speak about some of your blood-oranges for conserving.
+An order has come down from our dear gracious lady, the Queen, to prepare
+a lot for her own blessed eating, and you may be sure I would get none of
+anybody but you.--But what's this, my little heart, my little
+lamb?--crying?--tears in those sweet eyes? What's the matter now?"
+
+"Matter enough for me!" said Elsie. "It's a weary world we live in. A body
+can't turn any way and not meet with trouble. If a body brings up a girl
+one way, why, every fellow is after her, and one has no peace; and if a
+body brings her up another way, she gets her head in the clouds, and
+there's no good of her in this world. Now look at that girl,--doesn't
+everybody say it's time she were married?--but no marrying for her!
+Nothing will do but we must off to Rome on a pilgrimage,--and what's the
+good of that, I want to know? If it's praying that's to be done, the dear
+saints know she's at it from morning till night,--and lately she's up and
+down three or four times a night with some prayer or other."
+
+"Well, well," said Jocunda, "who started this idea?"
+
+"Oh, Father Francesco and she got it up between them,--and nothing will do
+but I must go, too."
+
+"Well, now, after all, my dear," said Jocunda, "do you know, I made a
+pilgrimage once, and it isn't so bad. One gets a good deal by it, first
+and last. Everybody drops something into your hand as you go, and one gets
+treated as if one were somebody a little above the common; and then in
+Rome one has a princess or a duchess or some noble lady who washes one's
+feet, and gives one a good supper, and perhaps a new suit of clothes, and
+all that,--and ten to one there comes a pretty little sum of money to
+boot, if one plays one's cards well. A pilgrimage isn't bad, after
+all;--one sees a world of fine things, and something new every day."
+
+"But who is to look after our garden and dress our trees?"
+
+"Ah, now, there's Antonio, and old Meta his mother," said Jocunda, with a
+knowing wink at Agnes. "I fancy there are friends there that would lend a
+hand to keep things together against the little one comes borne. If one is
+going to be married, a pilgrimage brings good luck in the family. All the
+saints take it kindly that one comes so far to see them, and are more
+ready to do a good turn for one when one needs it. The blessed saints are
+like other folks,--they like to be treated with proper attention."
+
+This view of pilgrimages from the material stand-point had more effect on
+the mind of Elsie than the most elaborate appeals of Father Francesco. She
+began to acquiesce, though with a reluctant air.
+
+Jocunda, seeing her words had made some impression, pursued her advantage
+on the spiritual ground.
+
+"To be sure," she added, "I don't know how it is with you; but I know that
+_I_ have, one way and another, rolled up quite an account of sins in my
+life. When I was tramping up and down with my old man through the
+country,--now in this castle and then in that camp, and now and then in at
+the sacking of a city or village, or something of the kind,--the saints
+forgive us!--it does seem as if one got into things that were not of the
+best sort, in such times. It's true, it's been wiped out over and over by
+the priest; but then a pilgrimage is a good thing to make all sure, in
+case one's good works should fall short of one's sins at last. I can tell
+you, a pilgrimage is a good round weight to throw into the scale; and when
+it comes to heaven and hell, you know, my dear, why, one cannot be too
+careful."
+
+"Well, that may be true enough," said Elsie,--"though, as to my sins, I
+have tried to keep them regularly squared up and balanced as I went along.
+I have always been regular at confession, and never failed a jot or tittle
+in what the holy father told me. But there may be something in what you
+say; one can't be too sure; and so I'll e'en school my old bones into
+taking this tramp."
+
+That evening, as Agnes was sitting in the garden at sunset, her
+grandmother bustling in and out, talking, groaning, and, hurrying in her
+preparations for the anticipated undertaking, suddenly there was a
+rustling in the branches overhead, and a bouquet of rose-buds fell at her
+feet. Agnes picked it up, and saw a scrip of paper coiled among the
+flowers. In a moment remembering the apparition of the cavalier in the
+church in the morning, she doubted not from whom it came. So dreadful had
+been the effect of the scene at the confessional, that the thought of the
+near presence of her lover brought only terror. She turned pale; her hands
+shook. She shut her eyes, and prayed that she might not be left to read
+the paper; and then, summoning all her resolution, she threw the bouquet
+with force over the wall. It dropped down, down, down the gloomy, shadowy
+abyss, and was lost in the damp caverns below.
+
+The cavalier stood without the wall, waiting for some responsive signal in
+reply to his missive. It had never occurred to him that Agnes would not
+even read it, and he stood confounded when he saw it thrown back with such
+apparent rudeness. He remembered her pale, terrified look on seeing him in
+the morning. It was not indifference or dislike, but mortal fear, that had
+been shown in that pale face.
+
+"These wretches are practising on her," he said, in wrath,--"filling her
+head with frightful images, and torturing her sensitive conscience till
+she sees sin in the most natural and innocent feelings."
+
+He had learned from Father Antonio the intention of Agnes to go on a
+pilgrimage, and he longed to see and talk with her, that he might offer
+her his protection against dangers which he understood far better than
+she. It had never even occurred to him that the door for all possible
+communication would be thus suddenly barred in his face.
+
+"Very well," he said to himself, with a darkening brow,--"let them have it
+their own way here. She must pass through my dominions before she can
+reach Rome, and I will find a place where I _can_ be heard, without priest
+or grandmother to let or hinder. She is mine, and I will care for her."
+
+But poor Agnes had the woman's share of the misery to bear, in the fear
+and self-reproach and distress which every movement of this kind cost her.
+The involuntary thrill at seeing her lover, at hearing from him, the
+conscious struggle which it cost her to throw back his gift, were all
+noted by her accusing conscience as so many sins. The next day she sought
+again her confessor, and began an entrance on those darker and more chilly
+paths of penance, by which, according to the opinion of her times, the
+peculiarly elect of the Lord were supposed to be best trained. Hitherto
+her religion had been the cheerful and natural expression of her tender
+and devout nature according to the more beautiful and engaging devotional
+forms of her Church. During the year when her confessor had been,
+unconsciously to himself, led by her instead of leading, her spiritual
+food had been its beautiful old hymns and prayers, which she found no
+weariness in often repeating. But now an unnatural conflict was begun in
+her mind, directed by a spiritual guide in whom every natural and normal
+movement of the soul had given way before a succession of morbid and
+unhealthful experiences. From that day Agnes wore upon her heart one of
+those sharp instruments of torture which in those times were supposed to
+be a means of inward grace,--a cross with seven steel points for the seven
+sorrows of Mary. She fasted with a severity which alarmed her grandmother,
+who in her inmost heart cursed the day that ever she had placed her in the
+way of saintship.
+
+"All this will just end in spoiling her beauty,--making her as thin as a
+shadow,"--said Elsie; "and she was good enough before."
+
+But it did not spoil her beauty,-it only changed its character. The
+roundness and bloom melted away,--but there came in their stead that
+solemn, transparent clearness of countenance, that spiritual light and
+radiance, which the old Florentine painters gave to their Madonnas.
+
+It is singular how all religious exercises and appliances take the
+character of the nature that uses them. The pain and penance, which so
+many in her day bore as a cowardly expedient for averting divine wrath,
+seemed, as she viewed them, a humble way of becoming associated in the
+sufferings of her Redeemer. "_Jesu dulcis memoria_," was the thought that
+carried a redeeming sweetness with every pain. Could she thus, by
+suffering with her Lord, gain power like Him to save,--a power which
+should save that soul so dear and so endangered! "Ah," she thought, "I
+would give my life-blood, drop by drop, if only it might avail for his
+salvation!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+THE TRUE HEROINE.
+
+  What was she like? I cannot tell.
+  I only know God loved her well.
+  Two noble sons her gray hairs blest,--
+  And he, their sire, was now at rest.
+
+  And why her children loved her so,
+  And called her blessed, all shall know:
+  She never had a selfish thought,
+  Nor valued what her hand had wrought.
+
+  She could be just in spite of love;
+  And cherished hates she dwelt above;
+  In sick-rooms they that had her care
+  Said she was wondrous gentle there.
+
+  It was a fearful trust, she knew,
+  To guide her young immortals through;
+  But Love and Truth explained the way,
+  And Piety made perfect day.
+
+  She taught them to be pure and true,
+  And brave, and strong, and courteous, too;
+  She made them reverence silver hairs,
+  And feel the poor man's biting cares.
+
+  She won them ever to her side;
+  _Home_ was their treasure and their pride:
+  Its food, drink, shelter pleased them best,
+  And there they found the sweetest rest.
+
+  And often, as the shadows fell,
+  And twilight had attuned them well,
+  She sang of many a noble deed,
+  And marked with joy their eager heed.
+
+  And most she marked their kindling eyes
+  When telling of the victories
+  That made the Stars and Stripes a name,
+  Their country rich in honest fame.
+
+  It was a noble land, she said,--
+  Its poorest children lacked not bread;
+  It was so broad, so rich, so free,
+  They sang its praise beyond the sea;
+
+  And thousands sought its kindly shore,
+  And none were poor and friendless more;
+  All blessed the name of Washington,
+  And loved the Union, every one.
+
+  She made them feel that they were part
+  Of a great nation's living heart.--
+  So they grew up, true patriot boys,
+  And knew not all their mother's joys.
+
+  Sad was the hour when murmurs loud
+  From a great black advancing cloud
+  Made millions feel the coming breath
+  Of maddened whirlwinds, full of death!
+
+  She prayed the skies might soon be bright,
+  And made her sons prepare for fight
+  Brave youths!--their zeal proved clearly then
+  In such an hour youths can be men!
+
+  By day she went from door to door,--
+  Men caught her soul, unfelt before;
+  By night she prayed, and planned, and dreamed,
+  Till morn's red light war's lightning seemed.
+
+  The cry went forth; forth stepped her sons
+  In martial blaze of gleaming guns:
+  Still striding on to perils dire,
+  They turned to catch her glance of fire.
+
+  No fears, no fond regrets she knew,
+  But proudly watched them fade from view:
+  "Lord, keep them so!" she said, and turned
+  To where her lonely hearth-fire burned.
+
+         *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+JEFFERSON AND SLAVERY.
+
+
+Any one who feels deeply the truths in which our great men of old founded
+this Democracy, and who sees clearly the great lines of political
+architecture by which alone it shall stand firm or rise high, finds in the
+direct plan and work the agency mainly of six men.
+
+These may be set in three groups.
+
+_First_, three men, who, through a series of earnest thoughts, taking
+shape sometimes in apt words, sometimes in bold acts, did most to _found_
+the Republic: and these three are Washington, Adams, and Jefferson.
+
+_Secondly_, two men, who, as statesmen, by a healthful division between
+the two great natural policies, and, as politicians, by a healthful
+antagonism between the two great natural parties, did most to _build_ the
+Republic: and these two are Jefferson and Hamilton.
+
+_Thirdly_, three men, who, having a clear theory in their heads, and a
+deep conviction in their hearts, working on the nation by sermons,
+epistles, programmes, hints, quips, innuendoes, by every form of winged
+word, have done most to get this people into simple trains of humanitarian
+thought, and have therefore done most to _brace_ the Republic: and these
+three men are Franklin, Jefferson, and Channing.
+
+So, rising above the dust raised in our old quarrels, and taking a broad
+view over this Democracy, we see Jefferson firmly placed in each of these
+groups.
+
+If we search in Jefferson's writings and in the contemporary records to
+ascertain what that power was which won him these positions, we find that
+it was no personal skill in cajoling friends or scaring enemies. No
+sound-hearted man ever rose from talk with him with a tithe of the
+veneration felt by those who sat at the feet of Washington or Hamilton or
+Channing. Neither was his position due to oratory: he could deal neither
+in sweet words nor in lofty words. Yet, in spite of these wants, he
+wrought on the nation with immense power.
+
+The real secret of this power was, first of all, that Jefferson saw
+infinitely deeper into the principles of the rising Democracy, and
+infinitely farther into its future working, than any other man of his
+time. Those who earnestly read him will often halt astounded at proofs of
+a foresight in him almost miraculous. Even in masses of what men have
+called his puerility there are often germs of immense worth,--taking
+years, perhaps, to show life, but sure to be alive at last.
+
+Take, as the latest examples of this, three germ-truths which have
+recently come to full life, after having been trodden under foot for fifty
+years.
+
+Early in our national life Jefferson declared against the usurpations of
+the national judiciary. Straightway his supporters were divided, mainly
+between those who sorrowed and those who stood silent; while his opponents
+were divided only between those who laughed and those who cursed. But who
+laughs now? Jefferson foresaw but too well. The usurpations of the
+national judiciary have come in shapes most hideous,--in the _obiter
+dicta_ of the Dred Scott decision, and in the use of quibbles to entangle
+our defenders and set loose our traitors.
+
+Take an example of another kind. In his early career Jefferson gave forth
+a scheme of harbor-defence by gun-boats and floating batteries. This was
+partially carried out, and only partially; so it failed. On these
+gun-boats and batteries his enemies never tired of trying their wit, and
+certainly seemed to make a brilliant point against his foresight and
+economy. But, in these latter years, many Americans besides ourself,
+visiting Cronstadt during the blockade by the Allied fleet, saw not only
+how the Allies failed of a conquest, the first summer, for want of
+gun-boats, but how the Russians protected themselves greatly, during the
+second summer, by means of them. We were shown, too, that not only could
+good work be done by those driven by steam, but that the greater number
+driven by oarsmen were of much service, not only in vexing the enemy, but
+in protecting the whole exposed coast. Here was Jefferson's scheme to the
+letter. Here was a despised thought of the past become a proud fact of the
+present. Here had the Autocrat reared a monument to our great
+Democrat,--gaining praise for Jefferson long after his enemies and their
+factious laughter had died out forever.
+
+But take what the main body of cultured Americans have thought Jefferson's
+chronic whimsey,--his belief that the heart of England must be ever set
+against all our liberty and prosperity. As we now breast the terrific
+storm which English reasonings and taunts had encouraged us to brave, and
+hear, swelling above the faint English God-speed, misstatements, gibes,
+reproofs, malignant prophecies, who of us shall say that the English
+character and policy of 1861 were not better foreknown by Jefferson in
+1820 than by ourselves In 1860?
+
+So much for Jefferson's insight and foresight. But there was yet a greater
+quality which gave him a place in each of these three great groups,--his
+faith in Democracy.
+
+At a time when the French Revolution had scared even Burke, and when the
+British Constitution was thought by many to have seduced even Washington,
+Jefferson held fast to his great faith in the rights and capacities of the
+people. The only effect on him of the shocks and failures of that period
+was to make his anxiety sometimes morbid, and his action sometimes
+spasmodic. Hence much that to many men has seemed unjust suspicion of
+Adams, and persecution of Hamilton, and disrespect for Washington. Yet all
+this was but the jarring of that strong mind in the struggle and crash of
+his times,--mere spasms of bigotry which prove the vigor of his faith in
+Democracy.
+
+Jefferson, then, known of all men not fettered by provincial traditions as
+invested with this foresight and this faith, is become to a vast party an
+idol, and from his writings issue oracles. But the priests at his shrines,
+having waxed fat in honors, have at last so befogged his sentiments and
+wrested his arguments, that thousands of true men regard him sorrowfully
+as the promoter of that Slavery-Despotism which to-day blooms in treason.
+It is worth our while, therefore, to seek to know whether Jefferson the
+god of the Oligarchs is Jefferson the Democrat. Let us, by the simplest
+and fairest process possible, try to come at his real opinions on
+Slavery,--just as they grew when he did so much to found the
+Republic,--just as they flourished when he did so much to build the
+Republic,--just as they were re-wrought and polished when he did so much
+to brace the Republic.
+
+The whole culture of Jefferson's youth was, of all things in the world,
+least likely to make him support slavery or apologize for it. The man who
+did most to work into his mind ideas of moral and political science was
+Dr. William Small, a liberal Scotchman; the man who did most to direct his
+studies in law, and his grappling with social problems, was George Wythe.
+To both of these Jefferson confessed the deepest debt for their efforts to
+strengthen his mind and make his footing firm. Now, of all men in this
+country at that time, these two were least likely to support pro-slavery
+theories or tolerate pro-slavery cant. For while to Small's soundness
+there is abundance of general testimony, there is to Wythe's soundness
+testimony the most pointed. We have but to take the first volume of
+Jefferson's Works, published by order of Congress, and we find Jefferson's
+anti-slavery letter to Dr. Price, written in 1785, urging the Doctor to
+work against pro-slavery ideas in the young men, and to exhort the young
+men of Virginia to the "redress of the enormity." Incidentally he speaks
+of Mr. Wythe as already doing great good in this direction among these
+same young men, and declares him "one of the most virtuous of characters,
+and whose sentiments on the subject of slavery are unequivocal."
+
+So much for the _direct_ influences on Jefferson's early culture.
+
+Studying, next, the _indirect_ influences on his early culture, we see
+that the reform literature of that time was coming almost entirely from
+France. Active, earnest men everywhere were grasping the theories and
+phrases of Voltaire and Rousseau and Montesquieu, to wield them against
+every tyranny. Terrible weapons these,--often searing and scarring
+frightfully those who brandished them,--yet there was not one chance in a
+thousand that any man who had once made any considerable number of these
+ideas his own could ever support slavery. Whoever, at that time, studied
+the "Contrat Social," or the defence of Jean Calas, whatever other sins he
+might commit, was no more likely to advocate systematic oppression than
+are they who now read with reverence Dr. Arnold and Charles Kingsley; and
+whoever, at that time, read earnestly "The Spirit of the Laws" was as sure
+to fight slavery as any man who to-day reveres Channing or Theodore
+Parker. Those French thinkers threw such heat and light into Jefferson's
+young mind, that every filthy weed of tyrannic quibble or pro-slavery
+paradox must have been shrivelled.
+
+And the young statesman grew under this influence as we should expect. In
+his twenty-seventh year he sat in the Virginia House of Burgesses, and his
+first effort in legislation was, in his own words, "an effort for the
+permission of the emancipation of slaves, which was rejected, and, indeed,
+during the regal government nothing liberal could expect success." His
+whole career in those years, whether as public man or private man, shows
+that his hatred of slavery was bitter. But there was such a press of other
+work during this founding period, that this hatred took shape not so much
+in a steady siege as in a series of pitched battles. The work to be done
+was immense, and Jefferson bore the bulk of it. He took upon himself
+one-third of the revising and codifying of the Virginia laws, and did even
+more than this. He undertook, in his own words, "a distinct series of
+labors which formed _a system by which every fibre would be eradicated of
+ancient or future aristocracy_." He effected the repeal of the laws of
+entail, and this prevented an aristocratic absorption of the soil; he
+effected the abolition of primogeniture, and this destroyed all chance of
+rebuilding feudal families; he effected a restoration of the rights of
+conscience, and this overthrew all hope of an Established Church; he
+forced on the bill for general education,--for thus, he said, would the
+people be "qualified to understand their rights, to maintain them, and to
+exercise with intelligence their parts in self-government." In all this
+work his keen common sense always cut his way through questions at which
+other men stopped or stumbled. Thus, in the discussion on primogeniture,
+when Isaac Pendleton proposed, as a compromise, that they should adopt the
+Hebrew principle and give a double portion to the eldest son, Jefferson
+cut at once into the heart of the question. As he himself relates,--"I
+observed, that, if the eldest son could eat twice as much, or do double
+work, it might be a natural evidence of his right to a double portion; but
+being on a par in his powers and wants with his brothers and sisters, he
+should be on a par also in the partition of the patrimony. And such was
+the decision of the other members."
+
+But such fierceness against the bulwarks of aristocracy, and such keenness
+in cutting through its heavy arguments, carried him farther. Logic forced
+him to pass from the attack on aristocracy to the attack on slavery, just
+as logic forces the Confederate oligarchs of to-day to pass from the
+defence of slavery to the defence of aristocracy. He was sure to fight
+this vilest of tyrannies, and he gave quick thrusts and heavy blows. In
+1778 he brought in a bill to prevent the further importation of slaves
+into Virginia. "This," he says, "passed without opposition, and stopped
+the increase of the evil by importation, leaving to future efforts its
+final eradication." Years afterward he wrote as follows:--"I have
+sometimes asked myself whether my country is better for my having lived at
+all: I do not know that it is. I have been the instrument of doing the
+following things." Of these things there were just ten. Just ten great
+worthy deeds in a life like Jefferson's!--and one of these he declares
+"the act prohibiting the importation of slaves."
+
+Close upon this followed a fiercer grapple,--his third great legislative
+attack on slavery. In his revision of the Virginia laws he reported "a
+bill to emancipate all slaves born after the passing of the act." Attached
+to this was a plan for the instruction of the young negroes thus set free.
+
+To follow Jefferson and understand him, we must bear in mind that the
+Virginia which educated him was not behind a dozen smaller States in
+fertility, enterprise, and republican feeling. Its best men were haters of
+slavery. The efforts of its leaders were directed to other things than
+plans for taxing oysters or filching the gains of free negroes. Forth from
+the Virginia of that time were hurled against negro slavery the thrilling
+invectives of Patrick Henry, the startling prophecies of Madison, and the
+declaration of Washington, "For the abolition of slavery by law my vote
+shall not be wanting."
+
+For a mirror of that Virginia statesmanship, in its dealings with human
+rights, take the "Dissertation on Slavery with a Proposal for the Gradual
+Abolition of it in the State of Virginia, written by St. George Tucker,
+Professor of Law in the University of William and Mary, and one of the
+Judges of the General Court in Virginia," published in 1791. It proves,
+that, between the passage of the act of 1782 allowing manumission and the
+year 1791, more than ten thousand slaves had been set free. One is tempted
+to believe that the new Massachusetts school caught its fire from this old
+Virginia school; for this friend of Jefferson speaks of "the inconsistency
+of invoking God for liberty in our Revolution and imposing on our
+fellow-men who differ from us in complexion a slavery ten thousand times
+more cruel than the grievances and oppressions of which we complained."
+Such was the utterance of the Virginia school of statesmanship in which
+Jefferson was trained.
+
+And his views progressed, as we should expect. On the occasion of a call
+for instructions to the first Virginia delegates to Congress respecting an
+address to the King, Jefferson drew up a paper, which, though greatly
+admired, was thought too bold. In one passage he goes beyond his masters,
+and says,--"For the most trifling reasons, and sometimes for no
+conceivable reasons at all, his Majesty has rejected laws of the most
+salutary tendency. _The abolition of domestic slavery is the great object
+of desire in these Colonies, where it was unhappily introduced in their
+infant state._ But, previous to the enfranchisement of the slaves we have,
+it is necessary to exclude all further importations from Africa. Yet our
+repeated efforts to effect this, by prohibiting and by imposing duties
+which might amount to prohibition, have been hitherto defeated by his
+Majesty's negative,--thus preferring the advantages of a few British
+corsairs to the lasting interests of the American States, and to the
+rights of human nature, deeply wounded by this infamous practice."
+
+These words are hot and bright, but they are mere sparkles compared to the
+full-flaming orb of freedom which our statesman gave afterward. For, take
+the Declaration of Independence, as it issued from Carpenter's Hall, after
+slavery-loving planters of the South and money-loving ship-owners of the
+North had, as they thought, made it neutral, and we all, North and South,
+recognize in it the boldest anti-slavery document extant. Why else do
+Northern demagogues ridicule it, and Southern demagogues revile it? Yet
+Jefferson made it far stronger and sharper against negro slavery than it
+is now. Look closely at the well-known fac-simile:--
+
+    [Transcriber's note: in this quotation, _text_ is underlined;
+    #text# is struck through]
+
+  he has waged cruel war against human nature itself, violating it's most sac-
+  -red rights of life & liberty in the persons of a distant people who never of-
+  fended him, captivating & carrying them into slavery in another hemis-
+  -sphere, or to incur miserable death in their transportation thither, this
+  piratical warfare, the opprobrium of _infidel_ powers, is the warfare of the
+  _Christian_ king of Great Britain determined to keep open a market
+                                  #and#
+  where MEN should be bought & sold he has prostituted his negative
+  for suppressing every legislative attempt to prohibit or to restrain this
+    #determining to keep open a market where MEN should be bought & sold:#
+  execrable commerce: and that this assemblage of horrors might want no fact
+  of distinguished die, he is now exciting those very people to rise in arms
+  among us, and to purchase that liberty of which _he_ has deprived them,
+  by murdering the people upon whom _he_ also obtruded them: thus paying
+  off former crimes committed against the _liberties_ of one people, with crimes
+  which he urges them to commit against the _lives_ of another.]
+
+There stands to this day that precious original,--hot first-thoughts and
+cold second-thoughts, all in Jefferson's own hand. Look for a moment at
+the rich current of internal evidence running through that rough draught,
+and through all its erasures, changes, and emphatic markings,--evidence of
+the deepest hatred not only of all tyranny, but of all slavery. Thus,
+after he had written the passage, "determined to keep open a market where
+MEN should be bought & sold," the idea continues hot in his mind; for,
+after smouldering a few moments, it flames forth again, is written again
+in the same phrasing, with the same show of emphasis, before he bethinks
+himself to erase it. Then, too, the words Christian and MEN are the only
+words emphasized by careful pen-printing in large letters;--and this
+labored movement of his pen marks the injury which he deemed the greater;
+for the largest letters and deepest emphasis are reserved for MEN.
+Evidently, that word points out the wrong which, as Jefferson thought, "a
+candid world" would forever regard as the supreme wrong.
+
+We have now noted Jefferson's battle against slavery in the founding of
+the Republic: let us go on to his work in the building of the Republic.
+
+In 1782 he gave forth the "Notes on Virginia." His opposition to slavery
+is as fierce here as of old, but it takes various phases,--sometimes
+sweeping against the hated system with a torrent of facts,--sometimes
+battering it with a hard, cold logic,--sometimes piercing it with deadly
+queries and suggestions,--and sometimes, with his blazing hate of all
+oppression, biting and burning through every pro-slavery theory.
+
+But in taking up the "Notes," we must understand the relation of
+Jefferson's way of thinking to his way of working. In his thinking, the
+slave system was evidently a violation of the whole body of good
+principles, for he calls it an "_evil_";--a violation of morality, for he
+calls it an "_enormity_";--a violation of justice, for he calls it a
+"_wrong_";--a violation of republican pretensions, for he calls it a
+"_hideous blot_";--a violation of the healthy action of our institutions,
+for he calls it a "_disease_";--a violation of our whole public happiness,
+for he calls it a "_curse_." But his way of working was more calm and
+cool,--often displeasing those whose plans of action are formed far from
+any direct entanglement in the slave system.
+
+This union of fervent thought and cool action has, of course, brought upon
+Jefferson the invectives of two great classes. One class have looked
+merely at his thinking, and have distrusted him as a dreamer. To these he
+is a dealer in oracles, at second-hand, from Voltaire and Diderot. The
+other class have studied his plans of practical philanthropy, with all his
+shrewd researches and homely discussions in agriculture, finance,
+mechanics, and architecture, and have ridiculed him as a tinker. To such
+Jefferson seems a grandmotherly sort of person,--riding about in a gig
+arranged to register the length of his rides,--walking about in boots
+arranged to register the length of his walks,--weatherwise, and profound
+in dealing with smoky chimneys and sheep-breeding.
+
+But whether men have cavilled at him for a dreamer or laughed at him for a
+tinker, they have been mainly foolish, for they have cavilled and laughed
+at the very combination which made him powerful. In no other American have
+been so happily blended highest skill in theory and highest strength in
+practice.
+
+The remarks, in the "Notes on Virginia," on the colored race are clear and
+fair. He studied carefully and stated fully all that could be learned in
+his time. On the whole, his examination greatly encourages those who hope
+good things for that race. But one distinction must be made. As to those
+profound views of the character and destiny of the race which come only by
+observation of a long historic development, in a wide range of climate, in
+great variety of social position, Jefferson could, as he confesses, know
+almost nothing,--for the same reason that the keenest observer of William
+the Conqueror's Norman robbers and Saxon swineherds would have failed to
+foretell the great dominant race which has come from them by free growth
+and good culture. But, on the other hand, of all that comes by observation
+of the daily life of the black race, as it then was, he knew almost
+everything.
+
+He declares that the black race is inferior to the white in mind, but not
+in heart. The poems of black Phillis Wheatley seem to him to prove not
+much; but the letters of black Ignatius Sancho he praises for depth of
+feeling, happy turn of thought, and ease of style, though he finds no
+depth of reasoning. He does not praise the mental capacity of the race,
+but, at last, as if conscious, that, if developed under a free system, it
+might be far better, he quotes the Homeric lines,--
+
+  "Jove fixed it certain that whatever day
+  Makes man a slave takes half his worth away."
+
+And shortly after, he declares it "a _suspicion_ only that the blacks are
+inferior in the endowments of body or mind,"--that "in memory they are
+equal to the whites,"--that "in music they are more generally gifted than
+the whites with accurate ears for time and tune."
+
+But there is one statement which we especially commend to those in search
+of an effective military policy in the present crisis. Jefferson declares
+of the negroes, that they are "at least as brave as the whites, and more
+adventuresome." May not this truth account for the fact that one of the
+most daring deeds in the present war was done by a black man?
+
+Still later, Jefferson says,--"Whether further observation will or will
+not verify the conjecture that Nature has been less bountiful to them in
+the endowments of the head, I believe that in those of the heart she will
+be found to have done them justice. That disposition to theft with which
+they have been branded must be ascribed to their situation, and not to any
+depravity of the moral sense. The man in whose favor no laws of property
+exist probably feels himself less bound to respect those made in favor of
+others. When arguing for ourselves, we lay it down as fundamental, that
+laws, to be just, must give reciprocation of right,--that, without this,
+they are mere arbitrary rules of conduct, founded in force, and not in
+conscience; and it is a problem which I give to the master to solve,
+whether the religious precepts against the violation of property were not
+framed for him as well as his slave,--and whether the slave may not as
+justifiably take a little from one who has taken all from him as he may
+slay one who would slay him. That a change in the relations in which a man
+is placed should change his ideas of moral right and wrong is neither new,
+nor peculiar to the color of the blacks."
+
+Here Jefferson puts forth that very idea for which Gerrit Smith, a few
+years ago, was threatened with the penalties of treason.
+
+But to quote further from the same source:--
+
+    "Notwithstanding these considerations, which must weaken their
+    respect for the laws of property, we find among them numerous
+    instances of the most rigid integrity, and as many as among their
+    instructed masters, of benevolence, gratitude, and unshaken
+    fidelity. The opinion that they are inferior in the faculties of
+    reason and imagination must be hazarded with great diffidence."
+
+The old hot thought blazes forth again in the chapter on "Particular
+Manners and Customs." Can men speak against the proclamations of Abolition
+Conventions after such fiery words from Jefferson?
+
+    "The whole commerce between master and slave is a perpetual
+    exercise of the most boisterous passions, the most unremitting
+    despotism, on the one part, and degrading submission on the other.
+    Our children see this, and learn to imitate it; for man is an
+    imitative animal. If a parent could find no motive either in his
+    philanthropy or his self-love for restraining the intemperance of
+    passion toward his slave, it should always be a sufficient one
+    that his child is present. But generally it is not sufficient. The
+    parent storms, the child looks on, catches the lineaments of
+    wrath, puts on the same airs in the circle of smaller slaves,
+    gives a loose rein to the worst of passions, and thus nursed,
+    educated, and daily exercised in tyranny, cannot but be stamped by
+    its odious peculiarities. The man must be a prodigy who can retain
+    his manners and morals undepraved by such circumstances." (Here
+    fire begins to flicker up around the words.) "And with what
+    execration should a statesman be loaded, who, permitting one half
+    the _citizens_" (note the word) "to trample on the _rights_" (note
+    the word) "of the other, transforms those into despots and these
+    into enemies, destroys the morals of the one and the _amor
+    patriae_ of the other! And can the liberties of a nation be
+    thought secure, when we have removed their only firm basis,--a
+    conviction in the minds of the people that their liberties are the
+    gifts of God, that they are not to be violated but with His
+    wrath?" (Now bursts forth prophecy. The whole page flames in a
+    moment.) "Indeed, I tremble for my country when I reflect that God
+    is just; that His justice cannot sleep forever; that, considering
+    numbers, nature, and natural means only, a revolution of the wheel
+    of Fortune, an exchange of situation, is among possible events;
+    that it may become probable by supernatural interference! The
+    Almighty has no attribute which can take side with us in such a
+    contest."
+
+Well may Jefferson say, immediately after this, that "it is impossible to
+be temperate and to pursue this subject through the various considerations
+of policy, of morals, of history natural and civil." For no Abolitionist
+ever branded the slave-system with words more fiery.
+
+In 1784 Jefferson drew up the ordinance for the government of the Western
+Territory. One famous clause runs thus:--
+
+    "After the year 1800 of the Christian era there shall be neither
+    slavery nor involuntary servitude in any of the said States,
+    otherwise than in punishment of crimes whereof the party shall
+    have been convicted to be personally guilty."
+
+In Randall's "Life of Jefferson," a work in many respects admirable, this
+clause is glossed with the declaration that Jefferson intended merely to
+prevent an immense new importation of slaves from Africa to fill the
+Territory; but Mr. Randall would have shown far greater insight, had he
+added to this half-truth, that the idea of legally grasping and strangling
+this curse flows from the ideas of the "Notes" as hot metal flows from
+fiery furnace,--that the Ordinance of 1784 was but a minting of that true
+metal drawn from those old glowing thoughts and words.
+
+But Jefferson's hatred of slavery is not less fierce in his letters.
+
+Dr. Price writes a pamphlet in England against slavery, and straightway
+Jefferson seizes his pen to urge him to write more, and more clearly for
+America, and more directly at American young men, saying, in
+encouragement,--"Northward of the Chesapeake you may find, here and there,
+an opponent to your doctrine, as you may find, here and there, a
+murderer." He speaks hopefully of the disposition in Virginia to "redress
+this enormity,"--calls the fight against slavery "the interesting
+spectacle of justice in conflict with avarice and oppression,"--speaks of
+the side hostile to slavery as "the sacred side." The date is 1785.
+
+This welcome to Dr. Price's onslaught will serve as antidote to Mr.
+Randall's poisonous declaration, that Jefferson was opposed to
+interference with slave institutions by those living outside of Slave
+States.
+
+In 1786 Jefferson wrote to correct M. de Meusnier's statement of the
+efforts already made for emancipation; and, referring to the holding of
+slaves by a people who had clamored loudly and fought bravely for freedom,
+he says,--
+
+    "What a stupendous, what an incomprehensible machine is man,--who
+    can endure toil, famine, stripes, imprisonment, and death itself,
+    in vindication of his own liberty, and, in the next moment, be
+    deaf to all those motives whose power supported him through his
+    trial, and inflict on his fellow-men _a bondage one hour of which
+    is fraught with more misery than ages of that which he rose in
+    rebellion to oppose_!"
+
+Here, in Jefferson himself, then, is the source of that venom with which
+earnest men, throughout the land, are stinging to death the organization
+which stole his name to destroy his ideas.
+
+In 1788, Jefferson, being Minister at Paris, receives a note from M. de
+Warville tendering him membership in the Society for the Abolition of the
+Slave-Trade. Jefferson is forced by his peculiar position to decline, but
+he takes pains to say,--"You know that nobody wishes more ardently to see
+an abolition not only of the trade, but of the _condition_ of slavery."
+
+Here is no non-committalism, no wistful casting about for loop-holes, no
+sly putting out of hooks to catch backers, not the feeblest germ of
+quibble or lie. The man answers more than he is asked. Is there not, in
+the present dearth, something refreshing in this old candor?
+
+But some have thought Jefferson's later expressions against slavery
+wanting in heartiness. Let us examine.
+
+The whole world knows, that, when a wrong stings a man, making him fierce
+and loud, his _direct_ expressions have often small value; but that his
+_parenthetical_ expressions often have great value. This is one of the
+simplest principles in homely every-day criticism, serving truth-seekers,
+wherever wordy war rages, whether among statesmen or hackmen.
+
+Now, in Jefferson's letter to Dr. Gordon,--written in 1788,--he is greatly
+stirred by his own recital of the shameful ravages on his property by the
+British army. Just at the moment when his indignation was at the hottest,
+there shot out of his heart, and off his pen, one of these side-thoughts,
+one of these fragments of the man's ground-idea, which, at such moments,
+truth-seekers always watch for. Jefferson says of Cornwallis,--
+
+    "He destroyed all my growing crops of corn and tobacco; he burned
+    all my barns containing the same articles of the last year, having
+    first taken what corn he wanted; he used, as was to be expected,
+    all my stock of cattle, sheep, and hogs, for the sustenance of his
+    army, and carried off all the horses capable of service,--of those
+    too young for service he cut the throats; and he burned all the
+    fences in the plantation, so as to make it an absolute waste. _He
+    carried off also about thirty slaves. Had this been to give them
+    their freedom, he would have done right_."
+
+But we turn to a seeming discrepancy between these thousand earnest
+declarations of Jefferson the private citizen, and the cold, formal tone
+of Jefferson the Secretary of State. In this high office he reclaims
+slaves from the Spanish power in Florida, and demands compensation for
+slaves carried off by the British at the evacuation of New York. For a
+moment that transition from personal warmth to diplomatic coolness is as
+the Russian plunge from steam-bath to snow-heap.
+
+Yet, if truth-seekers do not stop to moan, they may easily find a complete
+explanation. As private citizen, in a State, dealing with his home
+Government, Jefferson had the right to move heaven and earth against
+slavery, and bravely he did it; but, as public servant of the nation,
+dealing with foreign Governments, his rights and duties were different,
+and his tone must be different. As a private person, writing for man as
+man, Jefferson forgot readily enough all differences of nation. He wrote
+as readily and fully of the hideousness of slavery to Meusnier and
+Warville in France, or to Price and Priestley in England, as to any of his
+neighbors; but, as public servant of the nation, writing to Hammond or
+Viar, representatives of foreign powers, he made no apology for our
+miseries. England might be ready enough to act the part of Dives, but
+Jefferson was not the statesman to put America in the attitude of
+Lazarus,--begging, and showing sores.
+
+But we have to note yet another change in Jefferson's modes of work and
+warfare.
+
+As he wrought and fought in this second period, which, for easy reference,
+we call the building period, he was forced into new methods. In the former
+period we saw him thinking and speaking and working against every effort
+to found pro-slavery theories or practices. Eagerness was then the best
+quality for work, and quickness the best quality for fight. But now the
+case was different. An institution which Jefferson hated had, in spite of
+his struggles, been firmly founded. The land was full of the towers of the
+slave aristocracy. He saw that his mode of warfare must be changed. His
+old way did well in the earlier days, for tower-builders may be driven
+from their work by a sweeping charge or sudden volley; but towers, when
+built, must be treated with steady battering and skilful mining.
+
+In 1797, Jefferson, writing to St. George Tucker, speaks of the only
+possible emancipation as "a compromise between the passions, prejudices,
+and real difficulties, which will each have their weight in the
+operation." Afterwards, in his letters to Monroe and Rufus King, he
+advocates a scheme of colonization to some point not too distant. But let
+no man, on this account, claim Jefferson as a supporter of the do-nothing
+school of Northern demagogues, or of the mad school of Southern fanatics
+who proclaim this ulcerous mass a beauty, and who howl at all who refuse
+its infection. For, note, in that same letter to St. George Tucker, the
+fervor of the Jeffersonian theory: bitter as Tucker's pamphlet against
+slavery was, he says,--"You know my subscription to its doctrines." Note
+also the vigor of the Jeffersonian practice: speaking of emancipation, he
+says,--"The sooner we put some plan under way, the greater hope there is
+that it may be permitted to proceed peaceably to its ultimate effect." And
+now bursts forth prophecy again. "_But if something is not done, and soon
+done, we shall be the murderers of our own children_." "If we had begun
+sooner, we might probably have been allowed a lengthier operation to clear
+ourselves; but every day's delay lessens the time we may take for
+emancipation."
+
+Here is no trace of the theory inflicting a present certain evil on a
+great white population in order to do a future doubtful good to a smaller
+black population. And this has been nowhere better understood than among
+the slave oligarchs of his own time. Note one marked example.
+
+In 1801, Jefferson was elected to the Presidency on the thirty-sixth
+ballot. Thirty-five times Delaware, Maryland, and South Carolina voted
+against him. The following year Mr. Rutledge of South Carolina, feeling an
+itching to specify to Congress his interests in Buncombe and his relations
+to the universe, palavered in the usual style, but let out one truth, for
+which, as truth-searchers, we thank him. He said,--
+
+    "Permit me to state, that, beside the objections common to my
+    friend from Delaware and myself, there was a strong one which I
+    felt with peculiar force. It resulted from a firm belief that the
+    gentleman in question [Jefferson] _held opinions respecting a
+    certain description of property in my State which, should they
+    obtain generally, would endanger it_."[4]
+
+    [4] Benton's _Abridgment_, Vol. II. p. 636.
+
+We come now to Jefferson's Presidency. In this there was no great chance
+to deal an effective blow at slavery; but some have grown bitter over a
+story that he favored the schemes to break the slavery-limitation in Ohio.
+Such writers have not stopped to consider that it is more probable that a
+few Southern members, eager to drum in recruits, falsely claimed the favor
+of the President, than that Jefferson broke the slavery-limitation which
+he himself planned. Then, too, came the petitions of the abolition
+societies against slavery in Louisiana; and Hildreth blames Jefferson for
+his slowness to assist; but ought we not here to take some account of the
+difficulties of the situation? Ought not some weight to be given to
+Jefferson's declaration to Kerchival, that in his administration his
+"efforts in relation to peace, slavery, and religious freedom were all in
+accordance with Quakerism"?
+
+We pass now to the third great period, in which, as thinker and writer, he
+did so much to brace the Republic.
+
+First of all, in this period we see him revising the translation and
+arranging the publication of De Tracy's "Commentaire sur l'Esprit des
+Lois." He takes endless pains to make its hold firm on America; engages
+his old companion in abolitionism, St. George Tucker, to circulate it;
+makes it a text-book in the University of Virginia; tells his friend
+Cabell to read it, for it is "the best book on government in the world."
+Now this "best book on government" is killing to every form of tyranny or
+slavery; its arguments pierce all their fallacies and crush all their
+sophistries. That famous plea which makes Alison love Austria and Palmer
+love Louisiana--the plea that a people can be best educated for freedom
+and religion by dwarfing their minds and tying their hands--is, in this
+book, shivered by argument and burnt by invective.
+
+As we approach the last years of Jefferson's life we find several letters
+of his on slavery. Some have thought them mere heaps of ashes,--poor
+remains of the flaming thoughts and words of earlier years. This mistake
+is great. Touch the seeming heap of ashes, and those thoughts and words
+dart forth, fiery as of old.
+
+In 1814, Edward Coles attacks slavery vigorously, and calls on the great
+Democrat to destroy it. Jefferson's approving reply is the complete
+summary of his matured views on slavery. Take a few declarations as
+specimens.[5]
+
+    [5] Randall, Vol. III., Appendix.
+
+    "The sentiments breathed through the whole do honor both to the
+    head and heart of the writer. Mine, on the subject of the slavery
+    of negroes, have long since been in possession of the public, and
+    time has only served to give them stronger proof. The love of
+    justice and the love of country plead equally the cause of these
+    people, and it is a mortal reproach to us that they should have
+    pleaded so long in vain."
+
+    "The hour of emancipation is advancing in the march of time. It
+    will come; and whether brought on by the generous energy of our
+    own minds or by the bloody process of St. Domingo ... is a leaf of
+    our history not yet turned over."
+
+    "As to the method by which this difficult work is to be effected,
+    if permitted to be done by ourselves, I have seen no proposition
+    so expedient, on the whole, as that of emancipation of those born
+    after a given day."
+
+    "This enterprise is for the young,--for those who can follow it up
+    and bear it through to its consummation. It shall have all my
+    prayers."
+
+No wonder that this letter of Jefferson to Coles seems to have been
+carefully suppressed by Southern editors of the Jeffersonian writings.
+
+Take also the letters to Mr. Barrows and to Dr. Humphreys of 1815-17.
+Disappointment is expressed at the want of a more general anti-slavery
+feeling among the young men; hope is expressed that "time will soften down
+the master and educate the slave"; faith is expressed that slavery will
+yield, "because we are not in a world ungoverned by the laws and power of
+a Supreme Agent."
+
+Entering now the stormy period of the Missouri Debate, we have one
+declaration from Jefferson which, at first, surprises and pains us,--the
+opinion given in a letter to Lafayette, that spreading slavery will
+"dilute the evil everywhere, and facilitate the means of getting rid of
+it." The mistake is gross indeed. To all of us, with the political
+knowledge forced upon us by events since Jefferson's death, it seems
+atrocious. But unpardonable as such a theory is _now_, was it so _then_?
+
+Jefferson had not before him the experience of these last forty years of
+weakness and poverty and barbarism in our new Slave States,--and of that
+tenacity of life which slavery shares with so many other noxious growths.
+Hastily, then, he broached this opinion. Let it stand; and let the remark
+on "geographical lines," and the two or three severe criticisms of
+Northern men, wrested from him in the excitement of the Missouri struggle,
+be tied to it and given to the Oligarchs. These expressions were drawn
+from him in his old age,--in his vexation at unfair attacks,--in his
+depression at the approach of poverty,--in his suffering under the
+encroachments of disease. Any one of those bold declarations in the vigor
+of his manhood will forever efface all memory of them.
+
+The opinion expressed by Jefferson, at the same period, that "the General
+Government cannot interfere with slavery in the States," all our parties
+now accept--as a _peace_ policy; but if we are forced into an opposite
+_war_ policy, let our generals remember Jefferson's declaration as to the
+taking of his slaves by Cornwallis: "_Had this been to give them their
+freedom, he would have done right_."
+
+But there is one letter which all Northern statesmen should ponder. It
+warns them solemnly, for it was written a very short time before
+Jefferson's death;--it warns them sharply, for it struck one whom the
+North has especially honored. This son of the North had made a well-known
+unfortunate speech in Congress, and had sent it to Jefferson. In his
+answer the old statesman declares,--
+
+    "On the question of the lawfulness of slavery, that is, _of the
+    right of one man to appropriate to himself the faculties of
+    another without his consent, I certainly retain my early
+    opinions_. On that, however, of third persons to interfere between
+    the parties, and the effect of Constitutional modifications of
+    that pretension, we are probably nearer together."
+
+There was a blow well dealt,--though at one now greatly honored. We may
+refuse the subordinate idea in the letter, but we will glory in that main
+confession of political faith, in the last year of Jefferson's life; and
+we will not forget that the last of his letters on slavery chastised the
+worst sin of Northern statesmanship.
+
+Jefferson, then, in dealing with slavery, was a real political seer and
+giver of oracles,--always sure to say _something_; whereas the "leading
+men" who in these latter days have usurped his name are neither political
+seers nor givers of oracles, but mere political fakirs,--striving, their
+lives long, to enter political blessedness by solemnly doing and seeing
+and saying--_nothing_.
+
+Jefferson was a true political warrior, and his battle for human rights
+compares with the Oligarchist battle against them as the warfare of Cortes
+compares with Aztec warfare. He is the man full of strong thought backed
+by civilization: they, the men trying to keep up their faith in idols,
+trying to scare with war-paint, trying to startle with war-whoop, trying
+to vex with showers of poor Aztec arrows.
+
+Jefferson was an orator,--not in that he fed petty assemblages with
+narcotic words to stupefy conscience, or corrosive words to kill
+conscience, but in that he gave to the world those decisive, true words
+which shall yet pierce all tyranny and slavery.
+
+Jefferson was the founder of a democratic system, strong and full-orbed:
+"leading men" have fastened his name to an aristocratic system with
+mobocratic cries.
+
+This great tree of Liberty which we are all trying to plant will, of
+course, not grow as _we_ will, but as God and Nature will. Some branches
+will be exuberant through too great wealth of sunshine,--others gnarled
+and awry through too great fury of storms. We need find no fault with any
+growth, but we may admire some branches and prize some fruits more than
+others. Some grafts set by noblest hands have often blossomed in bad
+temper and borne fruit bitter and sour. Some fruitage has been of that
+poor Dead-Sea sort,--splendid in coating, but inwardly ashes,--wretched
+"protective" schemes and the like. The world may yet see that the limbs of
+toughest fibre and fruit of richest flavor have come from grafts set by
+just such strong men in theory and in practice as Thomas Jefferson.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+A STORY OF TO-DAY.
+
+
+PART IV.
+
+An hour after, the evening came on sultry, the air murky, opaque, with
+yellow trails of color dragging in the west: a sullen stillness in the
+woods and farms; only, in fact, that dark, inexplicable hush that precedes
+a storm. But Lois, coming down the hill-road, singing to herself, and
+keeping time with her whip-end on the wooden measure, stopped when she
+grew conscious of it. It seemed to her blurred fancy more than a deadening
+sky: a something solemn and unknown, hinting of evil to come. The
+dwarf-pines on the road-side scowled weakly at her through the gray; the
+very silver minnows in the pools she passed flashed frightened away, and
+darkened into the muddy niches. There was a vague dread in the sudden
+silence. She called to the old donkey, and went faster down the hill, as
+if escaping from some overhanging peril, unseen. She saw Margaret coming
+up the road. There was a phaeton behind her, and some horsemen: she jolted
+the cart off into the stones to let them pass, seeing Mr. Holmes's face in
+the carriage as she did so. He did not look at her; had his head turned
+towards the gray distance. Lois's vivid eye caught the full meaning of the
+woman beside him. The face hurt her: not fair, as Polston called it: vapid
+and cruel. She was dressed in yellow: the color seemed jeering and mocking
+to the girl's sensitive instinct, keenly alive to every trifle. She did
+not know that it is the color of shams, and that women like this are the
+most deadly of shams. As the phaeton went slowly down, Margaret came
+nearer, meeting it on the road-side, the dust from the wheels stifling the
+air. Lois saw her look up, and then suddenly stand still, holding to the
+fence, as they met her. Holmes's cold, wandering eye turned on the little
+dusty figure standing there, poor and despised. Polston called his eyes
+hungry: it was a savage hunger that sprang into them now; a gray shadow
+creeping over his set face, as he looked at her, in that flashing moment.
+The phaeton was gone in an instant, leaving her alone in the muddy road.
+One of the men looked back, and then whispered something to the lady with
+a laugh. She turned to Holmes, when he had finished, fixing her light,
+confusing eyes on his face, and softening her voice.
+
+"Fred swears that woman we passed was your first love. Were you, then, so
+chivalric? Was it to have been a second romaunt of 'King Cophetua and the
+Beggar Maid'?"
+
+He met her look, and saw the fierce demand through the softness and
+persiflage. He gave it no answer, but, turning to her, kindled into the
+man whom she was so proud to show as her capture,--a man far off from
+Stephen Holmes. Brilliant she called him,--frank, winning, generous. She
+thought she knew him well; held him a slave to her fluttering hand. Being
+proud of her slave, she let the hand flutter down now somehow with some
+flowers it held until it touched his hard fingers, her cheek flushing into
+rose. The nerveless, spongy hand,--what a death-grip it had on his life!
+He did not look back once at the motionless, dusty figure on the road.
+What was that Polston had said about starving to death for a kind word?
+_Love?_ He was sick of the sickly talk,--crushed it out of his heart with
+a savage scorn. He remembered his father, the night he died, had said in
+his weak ravings that God was love. Was He? No wonder, then, He was the
+God of women, and children, and unsuccessful men. For him, he was done
+with it. He was here with stronger purpose than to yield to weaknesses of
+the flesh. He had made his choice,--a straight, hard path upwards; he was
+deaf now and forever to any word of kindness or pity. As for this woman
+beside him, he would be just to her, in justice to himself: she never
+should know the loathing in his heart: just to her as to all living
+creatures. Some little, mean doubt kept up a sullen whisper of bought and
+sold,--sold,--but he laughed it down. He sat there with his head steadily
+turned towards her: a kingly face, she called it, and she was right,--it
+was a kingly face: with the same shallow, fixed smile on his mouth,--no
+weary cry went up to God that day so terrible in its pathos, I think: with
+the same dull consciousness that this was the trial night of his
+life,--that with the homely figure on the road-side he had turned his back
+on love and kindly happiness and warmth, on all that was weak and useless
+in the world. He had made his choice; he would abide by it,--he would
+abide by it. He said that over and over again, dulling down the
+death-gnawing of his outraged heart.
+
+Miss Herne was quite contented, sitting by him, with herself, and the
+admiring world. She had no notion of trial nights in life. Not many
+temptations pierced through her callous, flabby temperament to sting her
+to defeat or triumph. There was for her no under-current of conflict, in
+these people whom she passed, between self and the unseen power that
+Holmes sneered at, whose name was love; they were nothing but movables,
+pleasant or ugly to look at, well- or ill-dressed. There were no dark iron
+bars across her life for her soul to clutch and shake madly,--nothing "in
+the world amiss, to be unriddled by-and-by." Little Margaret, sitting by
+the muddy road, digging her fingers dully into the clover-roots, while she
+looked at the spot where the wheels had passed, looked at life
+differently, it may be;--or old Joe Yare by the furnace-fire, his black
+face and gray hair bent over a torn old spelling-book Lois had given him.
+The night perhaps was going to be more to them than so many rainy hours
+for sleeping,--the time to be looked back on through coming lives as the
+hour when good and ill came to them, and they made their choice, and, as
+Holmes said, did abide by it.
+
+It grew cool and darker. Holmes left the phaeton before they entered town,
+and turned back. He was going to see this Margaret Howth, tell her what he
+was going to do. Because he was going to leave a clean record. No one
+should accuse him of want of honor. This girl alone of all living beings
+had a right to see him as he stood, justified to himself. Why she had this
+right, I do not think he answered to himself. Besides, he must see her, if
+only on business. She must keep her place at the mill: he would not begin
+his new life by an act of injustice, taking the bread out of Margaret's
+mouth. _Little Margaret!_ He stopped suddenly, looking down into a deep
+pool of water by the road-side. What madness of weariness crossed his
+brain just then I do not know. He shook it off. Was he mad? Life was worth
+more to him than to other men, he thought; and perhaps he was right. He
+went slowly through the cool dusk, looking across the fields, up at the
+pale, frightened face of the moon hooded in clouds: he did not dare to
+look, with all his iron nerve, at the dark figure beyond him on the road.
+She was sitting there just where he had left her: be knew she would be.
+When he came closer, she got up, not looking towards him; but he saw her
+clasp her hands behind her, the fingers plucking weakly at each other. It
+was an old, childish fashion of hers, when she was frightened or hurt. It
+would only need a word, and he could be quiet and firm,--she was such a
+child compared to him: he always had thought of her so. He went on up to
+her slowly, and stopped; when she looked at him, he untied the linen
+bonnet that hid her face, and threw it back. How thin and tired the little
+face had grown! Poor child! He put his strong arm kindly about her, and
+stooped to kiss her hand, but she drew it away. God! what did she do that
+for? Did not she know that he could put his head beneath her foot then, he
+was so mad with pity for the woman he had wronged? Not love, he thought,
+controlling himself,--it was only justice to be kind to her.
+
+"You have been ill, Margaret, these two years, while I was gone?"
+
+He could not hear her answer; only saw that she looked up with a white,
+pitiful smile. Only a word it needed, he thought,--very kind and firm: and
+he must be quick,--he could not bear this long. But he held the little
+worn fingers, stroking them with an unutterable tenderness.
+
+"You must let these fingers work for me, Margaret," he said, at last,
+"when I am master in the mill."
+
+"It is true, then, Stephen?"
+
+"It is true,--yes."
+
+She lifted her hand to her head, uncertainly: he held it tightly, and then
+let it go. What right had he to touch the dust upon her shoes,--he, bought
+and sold? She did not speak for a time; when she did, it was a weak and
+sick voice.
+
+"I am glad. I saw her, you know. She is very beautiful."
+
+The fingers were plucking at each other again; and a strange, vacant smile
+on her face, trying to look glad.
+
+"You love her, Stephen?"
+
+He was quiet and firm enough now.
+
+"I do not. Her money will help me to become what I ought to be. She does
+not care for love. You want me to succeed, Margaret? No one ever
+understood me as you did, child though you were."
+
+Her whole face glowed.
+
+"I know! I know! I did understand you!"
+
+She said, lower, after a little while,--
+
+"I knew you did not love her."
+
+"There is no such thing as love in real life," he said, in his steeled
+voice. "You will know that, when you grow older. I used to believe in it
+once, myself."
+
+She did not speak, only watched the slow motion of his lips, not looking
+into his eyes,--as she used to do in the old time. Whatever secret account
+lay between the souls of this man and woman came out now, and stood bare
+on their faces.
+
+"I used to think that I, too, loved," he went on, in his low, hard tone.
+"But it kept me back, Margaret, and"--
+
+He was silent.
+
+"I know, Stephen. It kept you back"--
+
+"And I put it away. I put it away to-night, forever."
+
+She did not speak; stood quite quiet, her head bent on her breast. His
+conscience was quite clear now. But he almost wished he had not said it,
+she was such a weak, sickly thing. She sat down at last, burying her face
+in her hands, with a shivering sob. He dared not trust himself to speak
+again.
+
+"I am not proud,--as a woman ought to be," she said, wearily, when he
+wiped her clammy forehead.
+
+"You loved me, then?" he whispered.
+
+Her face flashed at the unmanly triumph; her puny frame started up, away
+from him.
+
+"I did love you, Stephen. I love you now,--as you might be, not as you
+are,--not with those cold, inhuman eyes. I do understand you,--I do. I
+know you for a better man than you know yourself this night."
+
+She turned to go. He put his hand on her arm; something we have never seen
+on his face struggled up,--the better soul that she knew.
+
+"Come back," he said, hoarsely; "don't leave me with myself. Come back,
+Margaret."
+
+She did not come; stood leaning, her sudden strength gone, against the
+broken wall. There was a heavy silence. The night throbbed slow about
+them. Some late bird rose from the sedges of the pool, and with a
+frightened cry flapped its tired wings, and drifted into the dark. His
+eyes, through the gathering shadow, devoured the weak, trembling body, met
+the soul that looked at him, strong as his own. Was it because it knew and
+trusted him that all that was pure and strongest in his crushed nature
+struggled madly to be free? He thrust it down; the self-learned lesson of
+years was not to be conquered in a moment.
+
+"There have been times," he said, in a smothered, restless voice, "when I
+thought you belonged to me. Not here, but before this life. My soul and
+body thirst and hunger for you, then, Margaret."
+
+She did not answer; her hands worked feebly together.
+
+He came nearer, and held up his arras to where she stood,--the heavy,
+masterful face pale and wet.
+
+"I need you, Margaret. I shall be nothing without you, now. Come,
+Margaret, little Margaret!"
+
+She came to him, and put her hands in his.
+
+"No, Stephen," she said.
+
+If there were any pain in her tone, she kept it down, for his sake.
+
+"Never, I could never help you,--as you are. It might have been, once.
+Good-bye, Stephen."
+
+Her childish way put him in mind of the old days when this girl was dearer
+to him than his own soul. She was so yet. He held her, looking down into
+her eyes. She moved uneasily; she dared not trust her resolution.
+
+"You will come?" he said. "It might have been,--it shall be again."
+
+"It may be," she said, humbly. "God is good. And I believe in you,
+Stephen. I will be yours some time: we cannot help it, if we would: but
+not as you are."
+
+"You do not love me?" he said, flinging off her hand.
+
+She said nothing, gathered her damp shawl around her, and turned to go.
+Just a moment they stood, looking at each other. If the dark square figure
+standing there had been an iron fate trampling her young life down into
+hopeless wretchedness, she forgot it now. Women like Margaret are apt to
+forget. His eye never abated in its fierce question.
+
+"I will wait for you yonder, if I die first," she whispered.
+
+He came closer, waiting for an answer.
+
+"And--I love you, Stephen."
+
+He gathered her in his arms, and put his cold lips to hers, without a
+word; then turned and left her slowly.
+
+She made no sign, shed no tear, as she stood watching him go. It was all
+over: she had willed it, herself, and yet--he could not go! God would not
+suffer it! Oh, he could not leave her,--he could not!--He went down the
+hill, slowly. If it were a trial of life and death for her, did he know or
+care?--He did not look back. What if he did not? his heart was true; he
+suffered in going; even now he walked wearily. God forgive her, if she had
+wronged him!--What did it matter, if he were hard in this life, and it
+hurt her a little? It would come right,--beyond, some time. But life was
+long.--She would not sit down, sick as she was: he might turn, and it
+would vex him to see her suffer.--He walked slowly; once he stopped to
+pick up something. She saw the deep-cut face and half-shut eyes. How often
+those eyes had looked into her soul, and it had answered! They never would
+look so any more.--There was a tree by the place where the road turned
+into town. If he came back, he would be sure to turn there.--How tired he
+walked, and slow!--If he was sick, that beautiful woman could be near
+him,--help him.--She never would touch his hand again,--never again,
+never,--unless he came back now.--He was near the tree: she closed her
+eyes, turning away. When she looked again, only the bare road lay there,
+yellow and wet. It was over, now.
+
+How long she sat there she did not know. She tried once or twice to go to
+the house, but the lights seemed so far off that she gave it up and sat
+quiet, unconscious except of the damp stones her head leaned on and the
+stretch of muddy road. Some time, she knew not when, there was a heavy
+step beside her, and a rough hand shook hers where she stooped feebly
+tracing out the lines of mortar between the stones. It was Knowles. She
+looked up, bewildered.
+
+"Hunting catarrhs, eh?" he growled, eying her keenly. "Got your father on
+the Bourbons, so took the chance to come and find you. He'll not miss _me_
+for an hour. That man has a natural hankering after treason against the
+people. Lord, Margaret! what a stiff old head he'd have carried to the
+guillotine! How he'd have looked at the _canaille_!"
+
+He helped her up gently enough.
+
+"Your bonnet's like a wet rag,"--with a furtive glance at the worn-out
+face. A hungry face always, with her life unfed by its stingy few crumbs
+of good; but to-night it was vacant with utter loss.
+
+She got up, trying to laugh cheerfully, and went beside him down the road.
+
+"You saw that painted Jezebel to-night, and"--stopping abruptly.
+
+She had not heard him, and he followed her doggedly, with an occasional
+snort or grunt or other inarticulate damn at the obstinate mud. She
+stopped at last, with a quick gasp. Looking at her, he chafed her limp
+hands,--his huge, uncouth face growing pale. When she was better, he said,
+gravely,--
+
+"I want you, Margaret. Not at home, child. I want to show you something."
+
+He turned with her suddenly off the main road into a by-path, helping her
+along, watching her stealthily, but going on with his disjointed, bearish
+growls. If it stung her from her pain, vexing her, he did not care.
+
+"I want to show you a bit of hell: outskirt. You're in a fit state: it'll
+do you good. I'm minister there. The clergy can't attend to it just now:
+they're too busy measuring God's truth by the States'-Rights doctrine or
+the Chicago Platform. Consequence, religion yields to majorities. Are you
+able? It's only a step."
+
+She went on indifferently. The night was breathless and dark. Black, wet
+gusts dragged now and then through the skyless fog, striking her face with
+a chill. The Doctor quit talking, hurrying her, watching her anxiously.
+They came at last to the railway-track, with long trains of empty
+freight-cars.
+
+"We are nearly there," he whispered. "It's time you knew your work, and
+forgot your weakness. The curse of pampered generations. 'High Norman
+blood,'--pah!"
+
+There was a broken gap in the fence. He led her through it into a muddy
+yard. Inside was one of those taverns you will find in the suburbs of
+large cities, haunts of the lowest vice. This one was a smoky frame
+standing on piles over an open space where hogs were rooting. Half a dozen
+drunken Irishmen were playing poker with a pack of greasy cards in an
+out-house. He led her up the rickety ladder to the one room, where a
+flaring tallow-dip threw a saffron glare into the darkness. A putrid odor
+met them at the door. She drew back, trembling.
+
+"Come here!" he said, fiercely, clutching her hand. "Women as fair and
+pure as you have come into dens like this,--and never gone away. Does it
+make your delicate breath faint? And you a follower of the meek and lowly
+Jesus! Look here! and here!"
+
+The room was swarming with human life. Women, idle trampers,
+whiskey-bloated, filthy, lay half-asleep or smoking on the floor, and set
+up a chorus of whining begging when they entered. Half-naked children
+crawled about in rags. On the damp, mildewed walls there was hung a
+picture of the Benicia Boy, and close by Pio Nono, crook in hand, with the
+usual inscription, "Feed my sheep." The Doctor looked at it.
+
+"'_Tu es Petrus, et super hanc_'--Good God! what is truth?" he muttered,
+bitterly.
+
+He dragged her closer to the women, through the darkness and foul smell.
+
+"Look in their faces," he whispered. "There is not one of them that is not
+a living lie. Can they help it? Think of the centuries of serfdom and
+superstition through which their blood has crawled. Come closer,--here."
+
+In the corner slept a heap of half-clothed blacks. Going on the
+underground railroad to Canada. Stolid, sensual wretches, with here and
+there a broad, melancholy brow and desperate jaws. One little pickaninny
+rubbed its sleepy eyes and laughed at them.
+
+"So much flesh and blood out of the market, unweighed!"
+
+Margaret took up the child, kissing its brown face. Knowles looked at her.
+
+"Would you touch her? I forgot you were born down South. Put it down, and
+come on."
+
+They went out of the door. Margaret stopped, looking back.
+
+"Did I call it a bit of hell? It's only a glimpse of the under-life of
+America,--God help us!--where all men are born free and equal."
+
+The air in the passage grew fouler. She leaned back faint and shuddering.
+He did not heed her. The passion of the man, the terrible pity for these
+people, came out of his soul now, whitening his face and dulling his eyes.
+
+"And you," he said, savagely, "you sit by the road-side, with help in your
+hands, and Christ in your heart, and call your life lost, quarrel with
+your God, because that mass of selfishness has left you,--because you are
+balked in your puny hope! Look at these women. What is their loss, do you
+think? Go back, will you, and drone out your life whimpering over your
+lost dream, and go to Shakspeare for tragedy when you want it? Tragedy!
+Come here,--let me hear what you call this."
+
+He led her through the passage, up a narrow flight of stairs. An old woman
+in a flaring cap sat at the top, nodding,--wakening now and then, to rock
+herself to and fro, and give the shrill Irish keen.
+
+"You know that stoker who was killed in the mill a month ago? Of course
+not,--what are such people to you? There was a girl who loved him,-you
+know what that is? She's dead now, here. She drank herself to death,--a
+most unpicturesque suicide. I want you to look at her. You need not blush
+for her life of shame, now; she's dead.--Is Hetty here?"
+
+The woman got up.
+
+"She is, Zur. She is, Mem. She's lookin' foine in her Sunday suit. Shrouds
+is gone out, Mem, they say."
+
+She went tipping over the floor to something white that lay on a board, a
+candle at the head, and drew off the sheet. A girl of fifteen, almost a
+child, lay underneath, dead,--her lithe, delicate figure decked out in a
+barred plaid skirt, and stained, faded velvet bodice,--her neck and arms
+bare. The small face was purely cut, haggard, patient in its sleep,--the
+soft, fair hair gathered off the tired forehead. Margaret leaned over her
+shuddering, pinning her handkerchief about the child's dead neck.
+
+"How young she is!" muttered Knowles. "Merciful God, how young she
+is!--What is that you say?" sharply, seeing Margaret's lips move.
+
+"'He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.'"
+
+"Ah, child, that is old-time philosophy. Put your hand here, on her dead
+face. Is your loss like hers?" he said lower, looking into the dull pain
+in her eyes. Selfish pain he called it.
+
+"Let me go," she said. "I am tired."
+
+He took her out into the cool, open road, leading her tenderly
+enough,--for the girl suffered, he saw.
+
+"What will you do?" he asked her then. "It is not too late,--will you help
+me save these people?"
+
+She wrung her hands helplessly.
+
+"What do you want with me?" she cried, weakly. "I have enough to bear."
+
+The burly black figure before her seemed to tower and strengthen; the
+man's face in the wan light showed a terrible life-purpose coming out
+bare.
+
+"I want you to do your work. It is hard; it will wear out your strength
+and brain and heart. Give yourself to these people. God calls you to it.
+There is none to help them. Give up love, and the petty hopes of women.
+Help me. God calls you to the work."
+
+She went on blindly: he followed her. For years he had set apart this girl
+to help him in his scheme: he would not be balked now. He had great hopes
+from his plan: he meant to give all he had: it was the noblest of aims. He
+thought some day it would work like leaven through the festering mass
+under the country he loved so well, and raise it to a new life. If it
+failed,--if it failed, and saved one life, his work was not lost. But it
+could not fail.
+
+"Home!" he said, stopping her as she reached the stile,--"oh, Margaret,
+what is home? There is a cry going up night and day from homes like that
+den yonder, for help,--and no man listens."
+
+She was weak; her brain faltered.
+
+"Does God call me to this work? Does He call me?" she moaned.
+
+He watched her eagerly.
+
+"He calls you. He waits for your answer. Swear to me that you will help
+His people. Give up father and mother and love, and go down as Christ did.
+Help me to give liberty and truth and Jesus' love to these wretches on the
+brink of hell. Live with them, raise them with you."
+
+She looked up, white; she was a weak, weak woman, sick for her natural
+food of love.
+
+"Is it my work?"
+
+"It is your work. Listen to me, Margaret," softly. "Who cares for you? You
+stand alone to-night. There is not a single human heart that calls you
+nearest and best. Shiver, if you will,--it is true. The man you wasted
+your soul on left you in the night and cold to go to his bride,--is
+sitting by her now, holding her hand in his."
+
+He waited a moment, looking down at her, until she should understand.
+
+"Do you think you deserved this of God? I know that yonder on the muddy
+road you looked up to Him, and knew it was not just; that you had done
+right, and this was your reward. I know that for these two years you have
+trusted in the Christ you worship to make it right, to give you your
+heart's desire. Did He do it? Did He hear your prayer? Does He care for
+your weak love, when the nations of the earth are going down? What is your
+poor hope to Him, when the very land you live in is a wine-press that will
+be trodden some day by the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God? O
+Christ!--if there be a Christ,--help me to save it!"
+
+He looked up,--his face white with pain. After a time he said to her,--
+
+"Help me, Margaret! Your prayer was selfish; it was not heard. Give up
+your idle hope that Christ will aid you. Swear to me, this night when you
+have lost all, to give yourself to this work."
+
+The storm had been dark and windy: it cleared now slowly, the warm summer
+rain falling softly, the fresh blue stealing broadly from behind the gray.
+It seemed to Margaret like a blessing; for her brain rose up stronger,
+more healthful.
+
+"I will not swear," she said, weakly. "I think He heard my prayer. I think
+He will answer it. He was a man, and loved as we do. My love is not
+selfish; it is the best gift God has given me."
+
+Knowles went slowly with her to the house. He was not baffled. He knew
+that the struggle was yet to come; that, when she was alone, her faith in
+the far-off Christ would falter; that she would grasp at this work, to
+fill her empty hands and starved heart, if for no other reason,--to stifle
+by a sense of duty her unutterable feeling of loss. He was keenly read in
+woman's heart, this Knowles. He left her silently, and she passed through
+the dark passage to her own room.
+
+Putting her damp shawl off, she sat down on the floor, leaning her head on
+a low chair,--one her father had given her for a Christmas gift when she
+was little. How fond Holmes and her father used to be of each other! Every
+Christmas he spent with them. She remembered them all now. "He was sitting
+by her now, holding her hand in his." She said that over to herself,
+though it was not hard to understand.
+
+After a long time, her mother came with a candle to the door.
+
+"Good-night, Margaret. Why, your hair is wet, child!"
+
+For Margaret, kissing her good-night, had laid her head down a minute on
+her breast. She stroked the hair a moment, and then turned away.
+
+"Mother, could you stay with me to-night?"
+
+"Why, no, Maggie,--your father wants me to read to him."
+
+"Oh, I know. Did he miss me to-night,--father?"
+
+"Not much; we were talking old times over,--in Virginia, you know."
+
+"I know; good-night."
+
+She went back to the chair. Tige was there,--for he used to spend half of
+his time on the farm. She put her arm about his head. God knows how lonely
+the poor child was when she drew the dog so warmly to her heart: not for
+his master's sake alone; but it was all she had. He grew tired at last,
+and whined, trying to get out.
+
+"Will you go, Tige?" she said, and opened the window.
+
+He jumped out, and she watched him going towards town. Such a little
+thing, it was! But not even a dog "called her nearest and best."
+
+Let us be silent; the story of the night is not for us to read. Do you
+think that He, who in the far, dim Life holds the worlds in His hand, knew
+or cared how alone the child was? What if she wrung her thin hands, grew
+sick with the slow, mad, solitary tears?--was not the world to save, as
+Knowles said?
+
+He, too, had been alone; He had come unto His own, and His own received
+him not: so, while the struggling world rested, unconscious, in infinite
+calm of right, He came close to her with human eyes that had loved, and
+not been loved, and had suffered with that pain. And, trusting Him, she
+only said, "Show me my work! Thou that takest away the pain of the world,
+have mercy upon me!"
+
+For that night, at least, Holmes swept his soul clean of doubt and
+indecision; one of his natures was conquered,--finally, he thought.
+Polston, if he had seen his face as he paced the street slowly home to the
+mill, would have remembered his mother's the day she died. How the stern
+old woman met death half-way! why should she fear? she was as strong as
+he. Wherein had she failed of duty? her hands were clean: she was going to
+meet her just reward.
+
+It was different with Holmes, of course, with his self-existent soul. It
+was life he accepted to-night, he thought,--a life of growth, labor,
+achievement,--eternal.
+
+"_Ohne Hast, aber ohne Rast_,"--favorite words with him. He liked to study
+the nature of the man who spoke them; because, I think, it was like his
+own,--a Titan strength of endurance, an infinite capability of love and
+hate and suffering, and over all (the peculiar identity of the man) a
+cold, speculative eye of reason, that looked down into the passion and
+depths of his growing self, and calmly noted them, a lesson for all time.
+
+"_Ohne Hast_." Going slowly through the night, he strengthened himself by
+marking how all things in Nature accomplish a perfected life through slow,
+narrow fixedness of purpose,--each life complete in itself: why not his
+own, then? The windless gray, the stars, the stone under his feet, stood
+alone in the universe, each working out its own soul into deed. If there
+were any all-embracing harmony, one soul through all, he did not see it.
+Knowles--that old skeptic--believed in it, and called it Love. Even Goethe
+himself, what was it he said? "_Der Allumfasser, der Allerhalter, fasst
+und erhaelt er nicht dich, mich, sich selbst_?"
+
+There was a curious power in the words, as he lingered over them, like
+half-comprehended music,--as simple and tender as if they had come from
+the depths of a woman's heart: it touched him deeper than his power of
+control. Pah! it was a dream of Faust's; he, too, had his Margaret; he
+fell, through that love.
+
+He went on slowly to the mill. If the name or the words woke a subtile
+remorse or longing, he buried them under restful composure. Whether they
+should ever rise like angry ghosts of what might have been, to taunt the
+man, only the future could tell.
+
+Going through the gas-lit streets, Holmes met some cordial greeting at
+every turn. What a just, clever fellow he was! people said: one of those
+men improved by success: just to the defrauding of himself: saw the true
+worth of everybody, the very lowest: hadn't one spark of self-esteem:
+despised all humbug and show, one could see, though he never said it: when
+he was a boy, he was moody, with passionate likes and dislikes; but
+success had improved him, vastly. So Holmes was popular, though the
+beggars shunned him, and the lazy Italian organ-grinders never held their
+tambourines up to him.
+
+The mill street was dark; the building threw its great shadow over the
+square. It was empty, he supposed; only one hand generally remained to
+keep in the furnace-fires. Going through one of the lower passages, he
+heard voices, and turned aside to examine. The management was not strict,
+and in case of a fire the mill was not insured: like Knowles's
+carelessness.
+
+It was Lois and her father,--Joe Yare being feeder that night. They were
+in one of the great furnace-rooms in the cellar,--a very comfortable place
+that stormy night. Two or three doors of the wide brick ovens were open,
+and the fire threw a ruddy glow over the stone floor, and shimmered into
+the dark recesses of the shadows, very home-like after the rain and mud
+without. Lois seemed to think so, at any rate, for she had made a table of
+a store-box, put a white cloth on it, and was busy getting up a regular
+supper for her father,--down on her knees before the red coals, turning
+something on an iron plate, while some slices of ham sent up a cloud of
+juicy, hungry smell.
+
+The old stoker had just finished slaking the out-fires, and was putting
+some blue plates on the table, gravely straightening them. He had grown
+old, as Polston said,--Holmes saw, stooped much, with a low, hacking
+cough; his coarse clothes were curiously clean: that was to please Lois,
+of course. She put the ham on the table, and some bubbling coffee, and
+then, from a hickory board in front of the fire, took off, with a jerk,
+brown, flaky slices of Virginia johnny-cake.
+
+"Ther' yoh are, father, hot 'n' hot," with her face on
+fire,--"ther'--yoh--are,--coaxin' to be eatin'.--Why, Mr. Holmes! Father!
+Now, ef yoh jes' hedn't hed yer supper?"
+
+She came up, coaxingly. What brooding brown eyes the poor cripple had! Not
+many years ago he would have sat down with the two poor souls and made a
+hearty meal of it: he had no heart for such follies now.
+
+Old Yare stood in the background, his hat in his hand, stooping in his
+submissive negro fashion, with a frightened watch on Holmes.
+
+"Do you stay here, Lois?" he asked, kindly, turning his back on the old
+man.
+
+"On'y to bring his supper. I couldn't bide all night 'n th' mill,"--the
+old shadow coming on her face,--"I couldn't, yoh know. _He_ doesn't mind
+it."
+
+She glanced quickly from one to the other in the silence, seeing the fear
+on her father's face.
+
+"Yoh know father, Mr. Holmes? He's back now. This is him."
+
+The old man came forward, humbly.
+
+"It's me, Master Stephen."
+
+The sullen, stealthy face disgusted Holmes. He nodded, shortly.
+
+"Yoh've been kind to my little girl while I was gone," he said, catching
+his breath. "I thank yoh, master."
+
+"You need not. It was for Lois."
+
+"'Twas fur her I comed back hyur. 'Twas a resk,"--with a dumb look of
+entreaty at Holmes,--"but fur her I thort I'd try it. I know 'twas a
+resk; but I thort them as cared fur Lo wud be merciful. She's a good girl,
+Lo. She's all I hev."
+
+Lois brought a box over, lugging it heavily.
+
+"We hevn't chairs; but yoh'll sit down, Mr. Holmes?" laughing as she
+covered it with a cloth. "It's a warrm place, here. Father studies 'n his
+watch, 'n' I'm teacher,"--showing the torn old spelling-book.
+
+The old man came eagerly forward, seeing the smile flicker on Holmes's
+face.
+
+"It's slow work, master,--slow. But Lo's a good teacher, 'n' I'm
+tryin',--I'm tryin' hard."
+
+"It's not slow, Sir, seein' father hedn't 'dvantages, like me. He was a"--
+
+She stopped, lowering her voice, a hot flush of shame on her face.
+
+"I know."
+
+"Ben't that 'n 'xcuse, master, seein' I knowed noght at the beginnin'?
+Thenk o' that, master. I'm tryin' to be a different man. Fur Lo. I _am_
+tryin'."
+
+Holmes did not notice him.
+
+"Good-night, Lois," he said, kindly, as she lighted his lamp.
+
+He put some money on the table.
+
+"You must take it," as she looked uneasy. "For Tiger's board, say. I never
+see him now. A bright new frock, remember."
+
+She thanked him, her eyes brightening, looking at her father's patched
+coat.
+
+The old man followed Holmes out.
+
+"Master Holmes"--
+
+"Have done with this," said Holmes, sternly. "Whoever breaks law abides by
+it. It is no affair of mine."
+
+The old man clutched his hands together fiercely, struggling to be quiet.
+
+"Ther's none knows it but yoh," he said, in a smothered voice. "Fur God's
+sake be merciful! It'll kill my girl,--it'll kill her. Gev me a chance,
+master."
+
+"You trouble me. I must do what is just."
+
+"It's not just," he said, savagely. "What good'll it do me to go back
+ther'? I was goin' down, down, an' bringin' th' others with me. What
+good'll it do you or the rest to hev me ther'? To make me afraid? It's
+poor learnin' frum fear. Who taught me what was right? Who cared? No man
+cared fur my soul, till I thieved 'n' robbed; 'n' then judge 'n' jury 'n'
+jailers was glad to pounce on me. Will yoh gev me a chance? will yoh?"
+
+It was a desperate face before him; but Holmes never knew fear.
+
+"Stand aside," he said, quietly. "To-morrow I will see you. You need not
+try to escape."
+
+He passed him, and went slowly up through the vacant mill to his chamber.
+
+The man sat down on the lower step a few moments, quite quiet, crushing
+his hat up in a slow, steady way, looking up at the mouldy cobwebs on the
+wall. He got up at last, and went in to Lois. Had she heard? The old
+scarred face of the girl looked years older, he thought,--but it might be
+fancy. She did not say anything for a while, moving slowly, with a new
+gentleness, about him; her very voice was changed, older. He tried to be
+cheerful, eating his supper: she need not know until to-morrow. He would
+get out of the town to-night, or--There were different ways to escape.
+When he had done, he told her to go; but she would not.
+
+"Let me stay th' night," she said. "I ben't afraid o' th' mill."
+
+"Why, Lo," he said, laughing, "yoh used to say yer death was hid here,
+somewheres."
+
+"I know. But ther's worse nor death. But it'll come right," she said,
+persistently, muttering to herself, as she leaned her face on her knees,
+watching,--"it'll come right."
+
+The glimmering shadows changed and faded for an hour. The man sat quiet.
+There was not much in the years gone to soften his thought, as it grew
+desperate and cruel: there was oppression and vice heaped on him, and
+flung back out of his bitter heart. Nor much in the future: a blank
+stretch of punishment to the end. He was an old man: was it easy to bear?
+What if he were black? what if he were born a thief? what if all the
+sullen revenge of his nature had made him an outcast from the poorest
+poor? Was there no latent good in this soul for which Christ died, that a
+kind hand might not have brought to life? None? Something, I think,
+struggled up in the touch of his hand, catching the skirt of his child's
+dress, when it came near him, with the timid tenderness of a mother
+touching her dead baby's hair,--as something holy, far off, yet very near:
+something in his old crime-marked face,--a look like this dog's, putting
+his head on my knee,--a dumb, unhelpful love in his eyes, and the slow
+memory of a wrong done to his soul in a day long past. A wrong to both,
+you say, perhaps; but if so, irreparable, and never to be recompensed.
+Never?
+
+"Yoh must go, my little girl," he said at last.
+
+Whatever he did must be done quickly. She came up, combing the thin gray
+hairs through her fingers.
+
+"Father, I dunnot understan' what it is, rightly. But stay with me,--stay,
+father!"
+
+"Yoh've a many frien's, Lo," he said, with a keen flash of jealousy.
+"Ther's none like yoh,--none."
+
+She put her misshapen head and scarred face down on his hand, where he
+could see them. If it had ever hurt her to be as she was, if she had ever
+compared herself bitterly with fair, beloved women, she was glad now and
+thankful for every fault and deformity that brought her nearer to him, and
+made her dearer.
+
+"They're kind, but ther's not many loves me with true love, like yoh.
+Stay, father! Bear it out, whatever it be. Th' good time'll come, father."
+
+He kissed her, saying nothing, and went with her down the street. When he
+left her, she waited, and, creeping back, hid near the mill. God knows
+what vague dread was in her brain; but she came back to watch and help.
+
+Old Yare wandered through the great loom-rooms of the mill with but one
+fact clear in his cloudy, faltering perception,--that above him the man
+lay quietly sleeping who would bring worse than death on him to-morrow. Up
+and down, aimlessly, with his stoker's torch in his hand, going over the
+years gone and the years to come, with the dead hatred through all of the
+pitiless man above him,--with now and then, perhaps, a pleasanter thought
+of things that had been warm and cheerful in his life,--of the
+corn-huskings long ago, when he was a boy, down in "th' Alabam',"--of the
+scow his young master gave him once, the first thing he really owned: he
+was almost as proud of it as he was of Lois when she was born. Most of all
+remembering the good times in his life, he went back to Lois. It was all
+good, there, to go back to. What a little chub she used to be!
+Remembering, with bitter remorse, how all his life he had meant to try and
+do better, on her account, but had kept putting off and putting off until
+now. And now--Did nothing lie before him but to go back and rot yonder?
+Was that the end, because he never had learned better, and was a "dam'
+nigger"?
+
+"I'll _not_ leave my girl!" he muttered, going up and down,--"I'll _not_
+leave my girl!"
+
+If Holmes did sleep above him, the trial of the day, of which we have seen
+nothing, came back sharper in sleep. While the strong self in the man lay
+torpid, whatever holier power was in him came out, undaunted by defeat,
+and unwearied, and took the form of dreams, those slighted messengers of
+God, to soothe and charm and win him out into fuller, kindlier life. Let
+us hope that they did so win him; let us hope that even in that unreal
+world the better nature of the man triumphed at last, and claimed its
+reward before the terrible reality broke upon him.
+
+Lois, over in the damp, fresh-smelling lumber-yard, sat coiled up in one
+of the creviced houses made by the jutting boards. She remembered how she
+used to play in them, before she went into the mill. The mill,--even now,
+with the vague dread of some uncertain evil to come, the mill absorbed all
+fear in its old hated shadow. Whatever danger was coming to them lay in
+it, came from it, she knew, in her confused, blurred way of thinking. It
+loomed up now, with the square patch of ashen sky above, black, heavy with
+years of remembered agony and loss. In Lois's hopeful, warm life this was
+the one uncomprehended monster. Her crushed brain, her unwakened powers,
+resented their wrong dimly to the mass of iron and work and impure smells,
+unconscious of any remorseless power that wielded it. It was a monster,
+she thought, through the sleepy, dreading night,--a monster that kept her
+wakeful with a dull, mysterious terror.
+
+When the night grew sultry and deepest, she started from her half-doze to
+see her father come stealthily out and go down the street. She must have
+slept, she thought, rubbing her eyes, and watching him out of sight,--and
+then, creeping out, turned to glance at the mill. She cried out, shrill
+with horror. It was a live monster now,--in one swift instant, alive with
+fire,--quick, greedy fire, leaping like serpents' tongues out of its
+hundred jaws, hungry sheets of flame maddening and writhing towards her,
+and under all a dull and hollow roar that shook the night. Did it call her
+to her death? She turned to fly, and then--He was alone, dying! He had
+been so kind to her! She wrung her hands, standing there a moment. It was
+a brave hope that was in her heart, and a prayer on her lips never left
+unanswered, as she hobbled, in her lame, slow way, up to the open black
+door, and, with one backward look, went in.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.
+
+
+The publication, now brought to a close, of a new edition of the novels of
+Cooper[6] gives us a fair occasion for discharging a duty which Maga has
+too long neglected, and saying something upon the genius of this great
+writer, and, incidentally, upon the character of a man who would have been
+a noticeable, not to say remarkable person, had he never written a line.
+These novels stand before us in thirty-two goodly duodecimo volumes, well
+printed, gracefully illustrated, and, in all external aspects, worthy of
+generous commendation. With strong propriety, the publishers dedicate this
+edition of the "first American novelist" to "the American People." No one
+of our great writers is more thoroughly American than Cooper; no one has
+caught and reproduced more broadly and accurately the spirit of our
+institutions, the character of our people, and even the aspects of Nature
+in this our Western world. He was a patriot to the very core of his heart;
+he loved his country with a fervid, but not an undiscerning love: it was
+an intelligent, vigilant, discriminating affection that bound his heart to
+his native land; and thus, while no man defended his country more
+vigorously when it was in the right, no one reproved its faults more
+courageously, or gave warning and advice more unreservedly, where he felt
+that they were needed.
+
+    [6] We refer to the new edition of the novels of Cooper by Messrs.
+        W.A. Townsend & Co., with illustrations by Darley.
+
+This may be one reason why Cooper has more admirers, or at least fewer
+disparagers, abroad than at home. On the Continent of Europe his novels
+are everywhere read, with an eager, unquestioning delight. His popularity
+is at least equal to that of Scott; and we think a considerable amount of
+testimony could be collected to prove that it is even greater. But the
+fact we have above stated is not the only explanation of this. He was the
+first writer who made foreign nations acquainted with the characters and
+incidents of American frontier and woodland life; and his delineations of
+Indian manners and traits were greatly superior in freshness and power, if
+not in truth, to any which had preceded them. His novels opened a new and
+unwrought vein of interest, and were a revelation of humanity under
+aspects and influences hitherto unobserved by the ripe civilization of
+Europe. The taste which had become cloyed with endless imitations of the
+feudal and mediaeval pictures of Scott turned with fresh delight to such
+original figures--so full of sylvan power and wildwood grace--as Natty
+Bumppo and Uncas. European readers, too, received these sketches with an
+unqualified, because an ignorant admiration. We, who had better knowledge,
+were more critical, and could see that the drawing was sometimes faulty,
+and the colors more brilliant than those of life.
+
+The acute observer can detect a parallel between the relation of Cooper to
+America and that of Scott to Scotland. Scott was as hearty a Scotchman as
+Cooper an American: but Scott was a Tory in politics and an Episcopalian
+in religion; and the majority of Scotchmen are Whigs in politics and
+Presbyterians in religion. In Scott, as in Cooper, the elements of passion
+and sympathy were so strong that he could not be neutral or silent on the
+great questions of his time and place. Thus, while the Scotch are proud of
+Scott, as they well may be,--while he has among his own people most
+intense and enthusiastic admirers,--the proportion of those who yield to
+his genius a cold and reluctant homage is probably greater in Scotland
+than in any other country in Christendom. "The rest of mankind recognize
+the essential truth of his delineations, and his loyalty to all the primal
+instincts and sympathies of humanity"; but the Scotch cannot forget that
+he opposed the Reform Bill, painted the Covenanters with an Episcopalian
+pencil, and made a graceful and heroic image of the detested Claverhouse.
+
+The novels of Cooper, in the dates of their publication, cover a period of
+thirty years: beginning with "Precaution," in 1820, and ending with "The
+Ways of the Hour," in 1850. The production of thirty-two volumes in thirty
+years is honorable to his creative energy, as well as to the systematic
+industry of his habits. But even these do not constitute the whole of his
+literary labors during these twenty-nine years. We must add five volumes
+of naval history and biography, ten volumes of travels and sketches in
+Europe, and a large amount of occasional and controversial writings, most
+of which is now hidden away in that huge wallet wherein Time puts his alms
+for Oblivion. His literary productions other than his novels would alone
+be enough to save him from the reproach of idleness. In estimating a
+writer's claims to honor and remembrance, the quantity as well as the
+quality of his work should surely be taken into account; and in summing up
+the case of our great novelist to the jury of posterity, this point should
+be strongly put.
+
+Cooper's first novel, "Precaution," was published when he was in his
+thirty-first year. It owed its existence to an accident, and was but an
+ordinary production, as inferior to the best of his subsequent works as
+Byron's "Hours of Idleness" to "Childe Harold." It was a languid and
+colorless copy of exotic forms: a mere scale picked from the surface of
+the writer's mind, with neither beauty nor vital warmth to commend it. We
+speak from the vague impressions which many long years have been busy in
+effacing; and we confess that it would require the combined forces of a
+long voyage and a scanty library to constrain us to the task of reading it
+anew.
+
+And yet, such as it was, it made a certain impression at the time of its
+appearance. The standard by which it was tried was very unlike that which
+would now be applied to it: there was all the difference between the two
+that there is between strawberries in December and strawberries in June.
+American literature was then just beginning to "glint forth" like Burns's
+mountain daisy, and rear its tender form above the parent earth. The time
+had, indeed, gone by--which a friend of ours, not yet venerable, affirms
+he can well remember--when school-boys and collegians, zealous for the
+honor of indigenous literature, were obliged to cite, by way of
+illustration, such works as Morse's Geography and Hannah Adams's "History
+of the Jews"; but it was only a faint, crepuscular light, that streaked
+the east, and gave promise of the coming day. Irving had just completed
+his "Sketch-Book," which was basking in the full sunshine of unqualified
+popularity. Dana, in the thoughtful and meditative beauty of "The Idle
+Man," was addressing a more limited public. Percival had just before
+published a small volume of poems; Halleck's "Fanny" had recently
+appeared; and so had a small duodecimo volume by Bryant, containing "The
+Ages," and half a dozen smaller poems. Miss Sedgwick's "New England Tale"
+was published about the same time. But a large proportion of those who are
+now regarded as our ablest writers were as yet unknown, or just beginning
+to give sign of what they were. Dr. Channing was already distinguished as
+an eloquent and powerful preacher, but the general public had not yet
+recognized in him that remarkable combination of loftiness of thought with
+magic charm of style, which was soon to be revealed in his essays on
+Milton and Napoleon Bonaparte. Ticknor and Everett were professors in
+Harvard College, giving a new impulse to the minds of the students by
+their admirable lectures; and the latter was also conducting the "North
+American Review." Neither had as yet attained to anything more than a
+local reputation. Prescott, a gay and light-hearted young man,--gay and
+light-hearted, in spite of partial blindness,--the darling of society and
+the idol of his home, was silently and resolutely preparing himself for
+his chosen function by a wide and thorough course of patient study.
+Bancroft was in Germany, and working like a German. Emerson was a Junior
+in College. Hawthorne, Longfellow, Holmes, Whittier, and Poe were
+school-boys; Mrs. Stowe was a school-girl; Whipple and Lowell were in the
+nursery, and Motley and the younger Dana had not long been out of it.
+
+"Precaution," though an indifferent novel, was yet a novel; of the
+orthodox length, with plot, characters, and incidents; and here and there
+a touch of genuine power, as in the forty-first chapter, where the scene
+is on board a man-of-war bringing her prizes into port. It found many
+readers, and excited a good deal of curiosity as to who the author might
+be.
+
+"Precaution" was published on the 25th of August, 1820, and "The Spy" on
+the 17th of September, 1821. The second novel was a great improvement upon
+the first, and fairly took the public by storm. We are old enough to
+remember its first appearance; the eager curiosity and keen discussion
+which it awakened; the criticism which it called forth; and, above all,
+the animated delight with which it was received by all who were young or
+not critical. Distinctly, too, can we recall the breathless rapture with
+which we hung over its pages, in those happy days when the mind's appetite
+for books was as ravenous as the body's for bread-and-butter, and a novel,
+with plenty of fighting in it, was all we asked at a writer's hands. In
+order to qualify ourselves for the task which we have undertaken in this
+article, we have read "The Spy" a second time; and melancholy indeed was
+the contrast between the recollections of the boy and the impressions of
+the man. It was the difference between the theatre by gas-light and the
+theatre by day-light: the gold was pinchbeck, the gems were glass, the
+flowers were cambric and colored paper, the goblets were gilded
+pasteboard. Painfully did the ideal light fade away, and the
+well-remembered scene stand revealed in disenchanting day. With
+incredulous surprise, with a constant struggle between past images and
+present revelations, were we forced to acknowledge the improbability of
+the story, the clumsiness of the style, the awkwardness of the dialogue,
+the want of Nature in many of the characters, the absurdity of many of the
+incidents, and the painfulness of some of the scenes. But with all this, a
+candid, though critical judgment could not but admit that these grave
+defects were attended by striking merits, which pleaded in mitigation of
+literary sentence. It was stamped with a truth, earnestness, and vital
+power, of which its predecessor gave no promise. Though the story was
+improbable, it seized upon the attention with a powerful grasp from the
+very start, and the hold was not relaxed till the end. Whatever criticism
+it might challenge, no one could call it dull: the only offence in a book
+which neither gods nor men nor counters can pardon. If the narrative
+flowed languidly at times, there were moments in which the incidents
+flashed along with such vivid rapidity that the susceptible reader held
+his breath over the page. The character of Washington was an elaborate
+failure, and the author, in his later years, regretted that he had
+introduced this august form into a work of fiction; but Harvey Birch was
+an original sketch, happily conceived, and, in the main, well sustained.
+His mysterious figure was recognized as a new accession to the repertory
+of the novelist, and not a mere modification of a preexisting type. And,
+above all, "The Spy" had the charm of reality; it tasted of the soil; it
+was the first successful attempt to throw an imaginative light over
+American history, and to do for our country what the author of "Waverley"
+had done for Scotland. Many of the officers and soldiers of the
+Revolutionary War were still living, receiving the reward of their early
+perils and privations in the grateful reverence which was paid to them by
+the contemporaries of their children and grandchildren. Innumerable
+traditionary anecdotes of those dark days of suffering and struggle,
+unrecorded in print, yet lingered in the memories of the people, and were
+told in the nights of winter around the farm-house fire; and of no part of
+the country was this more true than of the region in which the scene of
+the novel is laid. The enthusiasm with which it was there read was the
+best tribute to the substantial fidelity of its delineations. All over the
+country, it enlisted in its behalf the powerful sentiment of patriotism;
+and whatever the critics might say, the author had the satisfaction of
+feeling that the heart of the people was with him.
+
+Abroad, "The Spy" was received with equal favor. It was soon translated
+into most of the languages of Europe; and even the "gorgeous East" opened
+for it its rarely moving portals. In 1847, a Persian version was published
+in Ispahan; and by this time it may have crossed the Chinese wall, and be
+delighting the pig-tailed critics and narrow-eyed beauties of Pekin.
+
+The success of "The Spy" unquestionably determined Cooper's vocation, and
+made him a man of letters. But he had not yet found where his true
+strength lay. His training and education had not been such as would seem
+to be a good preparation for a literary career. His reading had been
+desultory, and not extensive; and the habit of composition had not been
+formed in early life. Indeed, in mere style, in the handling of the tools
+of his craft, Cooper never attained a master's ease and power. In his
+first two novels the want of technical skill and literary accomplishment
+was obvious; and the scenery, subjects, and characters of these novels did
+not furnish him with the opportunity of turning to account the peculiar
+advantages which had come to him from the events of his childhood and
+youth. In his infancy he was taken to Cooperstown, a spot which his father
+had just begun to reclaim from the dominion of the wilderness. Here his
+first impressions of the external world, as well as of life and manners,
+were received. At the age of sixteen he became a midshipman in the United
+States navy, and remained in the service for six years. A father who, in
+training up his son for the profession of letters, should send him into
+the wilderness in his infancy and to sea at sixteen, would seem to be
+shooting very wide of the mark; but in this, as in so many things, there
+is a divinity that shapes our rough-hewn ends. Had Cooper enjoyed the best
+scholastic advantages which the schools and colleges of Europe could have
+furnished, they could not have fitted him for the work he was destined to
+do so well as the apparently untoward elements we have above adverted to;
+for Natty Bumppo was the fruit of his woodland experience, and Long Tom
+Coffin of his sea-faring life.
+
+"The Pioneers" and "The Pilot" were both published in 1823; "Lionel
+Lincoln" in 1825; and "The Last of the Mohicans" in 1826. We may put
+"Lionel Lincoln" aside, as one of his least successful productions; but
+the three others were never surpassed, and rarely equalled, by any of his
+numerous subsequent works. All the powerful, and nearly all the
+attractive, qualities of his genius were displayed in these three novels,
+in their highest degree and most ample measure. Had he never written any
+more,--though we should have missed many interesting narratives, admirable
+pictures, and vigorously drawn characters,--we are not sure that his fame
+would not have been as great as it is now. From these, and "The Spy," full
+materials may be drawn for forming a correct estimate of his merits and
+his defects. In these, his strength and weakness, his gifts and
+deficiencies, are amply shown. Here, then, we may pause, and, without
+pursuing his literary biography any farther, proceed to set down our
+estimate of his claims as a writer. Any critic who dips his pen in ink and
+not in gall would rather praise than blame; therefore we will dispose of
+the least gracious part of our task first, and begin with his blemishes
+and defects.
+
+A skilful construction of the story is a merit which the public taste no
+longer demands, and it is consequently fast becoming one of the lost arts.
+The practice of publishing novels in successive numbers, so that one
+portion is printed before another is written, is undoubtedly one cause of
+this. But English and American readers have not been accustomed to this
+excellence in the works of their best writers of fiction; and therefore
+they are not sensitive to the want of it. This is certainly not one of
+Scott's strong points. Fielding's "Tom Jones" is, in this respect,
+superior to any of the "Waverley Novels," and without an equal, so far as
+we know, in English literature. But, in sitting in judgment upon a writer
+of novels, we cannot waive an inquiry into his merits on this point. Are
+his stories, simply as stories, well told? Are his plots symmetrically
+constructed and harmoniously evolved? Are his incidents probable? and do
+they all help on the catastrophe? Does he reject all episodical matter
+which would clog the current of the narrative? Do his novels have unity of
+action? or are they merely a series of sketches, strung together without
+any relation of cause and effect? Cooper, tried by these rules, can
+certainly command no praise. His plots are not carefully or skilfully
+constructed. His incidents are not probable in themselves, nor do they
+succeed each other in a natural and dependent progression. His characters
+get into scrapes from which the reasonable exercise of common faculties
+should have saved them; and they are rescued by incredible means and
+impossible instruments. The needed man appears as unaccountably and
+mysteriously as if he had dropped from the clouds, or emerged from the
+sea, or crept up through a fissure in the earth. The winding up of his
+stories is often effected by devices nearly as improbable as a violation
+of the laws of Nature. His personages act without adequate motives; they
+rush into needless dangers; they trust their fate, with unsuspecting
+simplicity, to treacherous hands.
+
+In works of fiction the skill of the writer is most conspicuously shown
+when the progress of the story is secured by natural and probable
+occurrences. Many events take place in history and in common life which
+good taste rejects as inadmissible in a work of imagination. Sudden death
+by disease or casualty is no very uncommon occurrence in real life; but it
+cannot be used in a novel to clear up a tangled web of circumstance,
+without betraying something of a poverty of invention in the writer. He is
+the best artist who makes least use of incidents which lie out of the
+beaten path of observation and experience. In constructive skill Cooper's
+rank is not high; for all his novels are more or less open to the
+criticism that too frequent use is made in them of events very unlikely to
+have happened. He leads his characters into such formidable perils that
+the chances are a million to one against their being rescued. Such a run
+is made upon our credulity that the fund is soon exhausted, and the bank
+stops payment.
+
+For illustration of the above strictures we will refer to a single novel,
+"The Last of the Mohicans," which everybody will admit to be one of the
+most interesting of his works,--full of rapid movement, brilliant
+descriptions, hair-breadth escapes, thrilling adventures,--which young
+persons probably read with more rapt attention than any other of his
+narratives. In the opening chapter we find at Fort Edward, on the
+head-waters of the Hudson, the two daughters of Colonel Munro, the
+commander of Fort William Henry, on the shores of Lake George; though why
+they were at the former post, under the protection of a stranger, and not
+with their father, does not appear. Information is brought of the approach
+of Montcalm, with a hostile army of Indians and Frenchmen, from the North;
+and the young ladies are straightway hurried off to the more advanced, and
+consequently more dangerous post, when prudence and affection would have
+dictated just the opposite course. Nor is this all. General Webb, the
+commander of Fort Edward, at the urgent request of Colonel Munro, sends
+him a reinforcement of fifteen hundred men, who march off through the
+woods, by the military road, with drums beating and colors flying; and
+yet, strange to say, the young ladies do not accompany the troops, but set
+off, on the very same day, by a by-path, attended by no other escort than
+Major Heyward, and guided by an Indian whose fidelity is supposed to be
+assured by his having been flogged for drunkenness by the orders of
+Colonel Munro. The reason assigned for conduct so absurd that in real life
+it would have gone far to prove the parties having a hand in it not to be
+possessed of that sound and disposing mind and memory which the law
+requires as a condition precedent to making a will is, that hostile
+Indians, in search of chance scalps, would be hovering about the column of
+troops, and so leave the by-path unmolested. But the servants of the party
+follow the route of the column: a measure, we are told, dictated by the
+sagacity of the Indian guide, in order to diminish the marks of their
+trail, if, haply, the Canadian savages should be prowling about so far in
+advance of their army! Certainly, all the sagacity of the fort would seem
+to have been concentrated in the person of the Indian. How much of this
+improbability might have been avoided, if the action had been reversed,
+and the young ladies, in view of the gathering cloud of war, had been sent
+from the more exposed and less strongly guarded point of Fort William
+Henry to the safe fortress of Fort Edward! Then the smallness of the
+escort and the risks of the journey would have been explained and excused
+by the necessity of the case; and the subsequent events of the novel might
+have been easily accommodated to the change we have indicated.
+
+One of the best of Cooper's novels--as a work of art perhaps the very
+best--is "The Bravo." But the character of Jacopo Frontoni is a sort of
+moral impossibility, and the clearing up of the mystery which hangs over
+his life and conduct, which is skilfully reserved to the last moment, is
+consequently unsatisfactory. He is represented as a young man of the
+finest qualities and powers, who, in the hope of rescuing a father who had
+been falsely imprisoned by the Senate, consents to assume the character,
+and bear the odium, of a public bravo, or assassin, though entirely
+innocent. This false position gives rise to many most effective scenes and
+incidents, and the character is in many respects admirably drawn. But when
+the end comes, we lay down the book and say,--"This could never have been:
+a virtuous and noble young man could not for years have been believed to
+be the most hateful of mankind; the laws of Nature and the laws of the
+human mind forbid it: so vast a web of falsehood could not have been woven
+without a flaw: we can credit much of the organized and pitiless despotism
+of Venice, but could it work miracles?"
+
+Further illustrations of this same defect might easily be cited, if the
+task were not ungracious. Neither books, nor pictures, nor men and women
+should be judged by their defects. It is enough to say that Cooper never
+wrote a novel in regard to which the reader must not lay aside his
+critical judgment upon the structure of the story and the interdependence
+of the incidents, and let himself be borne along by the rapid flow of the
+narrative, without questioning too curiously as to the nature of the means
+and instruments employed to give movement to the stream.
+
+In the delineation of character, Cooper may claim great, but not
+unqualified praise. This is a vague statement; and to draw a sharper line
+of discrimination, we should say that he is generally successful--sometimes
+admirably so--in drawing personages in whom strong primitive traits have
+not been effaced by the attritions of artificial life, and generally
+unsuccessful when he deals with those in whom the original characteristics
+are less marked, or who have been smoothed by education and polished by
+society. It is but putting this criticism in another form to say that his
+best characters are persons of humble social position. He wields his brush
+with a vigorous hand, but the brush itself has not a fine point. Of all
+the children of his brain, Natty Bumppo is the most universal
+favorite,--and herein the popular judgment is assuredly right. He is an
+original conception,--and not more happily conceived than skilfully
+executed. It was a hazardous undertaking to present the character
+backwards, and let us see the closing scenes of his life first,--like a
+Hebrew Bible, of which the beginning is at the end; but the author's
+genius has triumphed over the perils of the task, and given us a
+delineation as consistent and symmetrical as it is striking and vigorous.
+Ignorant of books, simple, and credulous, guileless himself, and
+suspecting no evil in others, with moderate intellectual powers, he
+commands our admiration and respect by his courage, his love of Nature,
+his skill in woodland lore, his unerring moral sense, his strong
+affections, and the veins of poetry that run through his rugged nature
+like seams of gold in quartz. Long Tom Coffin may be described as
+Leatherstocking suffered a sea-change,--with a harpoon instead of a rifle,
+and a pea-jacket instead of a hunting-shirt. In both the same primitive
+elements may be discerned: the same limited intellectual range combined
+with professional or technical skill; the same generous affections and
+unerring moral instincts; the same religious feeling, taking the form at
+times of fatalism or superstition. Long Tom's love of the sea is like
+Leatherstocking's love of the woods; the former's dislike of the land is
+like the latter's dislike of the clearings. Cooper himself, as we are told
+by his daughter, was less satisfied, in his last years, with Long Tom
+Coffin than most of his readers,--and, of the two characters, considered
+that of Boltrope the better piece of workmanship. We cannot assent to this
+comparative estimate; but we admit that Boltrope has not had full justice
+done to him in popular judgment. It is but a slight sketch, but it is
+extremely well done. His death is a bit of manly and genuine pathos; and
+in his conversations with the chaplain there is here and there a touch of
+true humor, which we value the more because humor was certainly not one of
+the author's best gifts.
+
+Antonio, the old fisherman, in "The Bravo," is another very well drawn
+character, in which we can trace something of a family likeness to the
+hunter and sailor above mentioned. The scene in which he is shrived by the
+Carmelite monk, in his boat, under the midnight moon, upon the Lagoons, is
+one of the finest we know of in the whole range of the literature of
+fiction, leaving upon the mind a lasting impression of solemn and pathetic
+beauty. In "The Chainbearer," the Yankee squatter, Thousandacres, is a
+repulsive figure, but drawn with a powerful pencil. The energy of
+character, or rather of action, which is the result of a passionate love
+of money, is true to human nature. The closing scenes of his rough and
+lawless life, in which his latent affection for his faithful wife throws a
+sunset gleam over his hard and selfish nature, and prevents it from being
+altogether hateful, are impressively told, and are touched with genuine
+tragic power.
+
+On the other hand, Cooper generally fails when he undertakes to draw a
+character which requires for its successful execution a nice observation
+and a delicate hand. His heroes and heroines are apt to abuse the
+privilege which such personages have enjoyed, time out of mind, of being
+insipid. Nor can he catch and reproduce the easy grace and unconscious
+dignity of high-bred men and women. His gentlemen, whether young or old,
+are apt to be stiff, priggish, and commonplace; and his ladies, especially
+his young ladies, are as deficient in individuality as the figures and
+faces of a fashion-print. Their personal and mental charms are set forth
+with all the minuteness of a passport; but, after all, we cannot but think
+that these fine creatures, with hair, brow, eyes, and lips of the most
+orthodox and approved pattern, would do very little towards helping one
+through a rainy day in a country-house. Judge Temple, in "The Pioneers,"
+and Colonel Howard, in "The Pilot," are highly estimable and respectable
+gentlemen, but, in looking round for the materials of a pleasant
+dinner-party, we do not think they would stand very high on the list. They
+are fair specimens of their class,--the educated gentleman in declining
+life,--many of whom are found in the subsequent novels. They are wanting
+in those natural traits of individuality by which, in real life, one human
+being is distinguished from another. They are obnoxious to this one
+general criticism, that the author is constantly reminding us of the
+qualities of mind and character on which he rests their claims to favor,
+without causing them to appear naturally and unconsciously in the course
+of the narrative. The defect we are adverting to may be illustrated by
+comparing such personages of this class as Cooper has delineated with
+Colonel Talbot, in "Waverley," Colonel Mannering and Counsellor Pleydell,
+in "Guy Mannering," Monkbarns, in "The Antiquary," and old Osbaldistone,
+in "Rob Roy." These are all old men: they are all men of education, and in
+the social position of gentlemen; but each has certain characteristics
+which the others have not: each has the distinctive individual
+flavor-perceptible, but indescribable, like the savor of a fruit--which is
+wanting in Cooper's well-dressed and well-behaved lay-figures.
+
+In the delineation of female loveliness and excellence Cooper is generally
+supposed to have failed,--at least, comparatively so. But in this respect
+full justice has hardly been done him; and this may be explained by the
+fact that it was from the heroines of his earlier novels that this
+unfavorable judgment was drawn. Certainly, such sticks of barley-candy as
+Frances Wharton, Cecilia Howard, and Alice Munro justify the common
+impression. But it would be as unfair to judge of what he can do in this
+department by his acknowledged failures as it would be to form an estimate
+of the genius of Michel Angelo from the easel-picture of the Virgin and
+Child in the Tribune at Florence. No man ever had a juster appreciation
+of, and higher reverence for, the worth of woman than Cooper. Towards
+women his manners were always marked by chivalrous deference, blended as
+to those of his own household with the most affectionate tenderness. His
+own nature was robust, self-reliant, and essentially masculine: such men
+always honor women, but they understand them better as they grow older.
+There is so much foundation for the saying, that men are apt to love their
+first wives best, but to treat their second wives best. Thus the reader
+who takes up his works in chronological order will perceive that the
+heroines of his later novels have more spirit and character, are drawn
+with a more discriminating touch, take stronger hold upon the interest,
+than those of his earlier. Ursula Malbone is a finer girl than Cecilia
+Howard, or even Elizabeth Temple. So when he has occasion to delineate a
+woman who, from her position in life, or the peculiar circumstances into
+which she is thrown, is moved by deeper springs of feeling, is obliged to
+put forth sterner energies, than are known to females reared in the
+sheltered air of prosperity and civilization,--when he paints the heart of
+woman roused by great perils, overborne by heavy sorrows, wasted by strong
+passions,--we recognize the same master-hand which has given us such
+powerful pictures of character in the other sex. In other words, Cooper is
+not happy in representing those shadowy and delicate graces which belong
+exclusively to woman, and distinguish her from man; but he is generally
+successful in sketching in woman those qualities which are found in both
+sexes. In "The Bravo," Donna Violetta, the heroine, a rich and high-born
+young lady, is not remarkable one way or the other; but Gelsomina, the
+jailer's daughter, born in an inferior position, reared in a sterner
+school of discipline and struggle, is a beautiful and consistent creation,
+constantly showing masculine energy and endurance, yet losing nothing of
+womanly charm. Ruth, in "The Wept of the Wish-ton-Wish," Hetty Hutter, the
+weak-minded and sound-hearted girl, in "The Deerslayer," Mabel Dunham, and
+the young Indian woman, "Dew of June," in "The Pathfinder," are further
+cases in point. No one can read the books in which these women are
+represented and say that Cooper was wanting in the power of delineating
+the finest and highest attributes of womanhood,
+
+Cooper cannot be congratulated upon his success in the few attempts he has
+made to represent historical personages. Washington, as shown to us in
+"The Spy," is a formal piece of mechanism, as destitute of vital character
+as Maelzel's automaton trumpeter. This, we admit, was a very difficult
+subject, alike from the peculiar traits of Washington, and from the
+reverence in which his name and memory are held by his countrymen. But the
+sketch, in "The Pilot," of Paul Jones, a very different person, and a much
+easier subject, is hardly better. In both cases, the failure arises from
+the fact that the author is constantly endeavoring to produce the
+legitimate effect of mental and moral qualities by a careful enumeration
+of external attributes. Harper, under which name Washington is introduced,
+appears in only two or three scenes; but, during these, we hear so much of
+the solemnity and impressiveness of his manner, the gravity of his brow,
+the steadiness of his gaze, that we get the notion of a rather oppressive
+personage, and sympathize with the satisfaction of the Whartons, when he
+retires to his own room, and relieves them of his tremendous presence. Mr.
+Gray, who stands for Paul Jones, is more carefully elaborated, but the
+result is far from satisfactory. We are so constantly told of his calmness
+and abstraction, of his sudden starts and bursts of feeling, of his low
+voice, of his fits of musing, that the aggregate impression is that of
+affectation and self-consciousness, rather than of a simple, passionate,
+and heroic nature. Mr. Gray does not seem to us at all like the rash,
+fiery, and dare-devil Scotchman of history. His conduct and conversation,
+as recounted in the fifth chapter of the novel, are unnatural and
+improbable; and we cannot wonder that the first lieutenant did not know
+what to make of so melodramatic and sententious a gentleman, in the guise
+of a pilot.
+
+Cooper, as we need hardly say, has drawn copiously upon Indian life and
+character for the materials of his novels; and among foreign nations much
+of his reputation is due to this fact. Civilized men and women always take
+pleasure in reading about the manners and habits of savage life; and those
+in whom the shows of things are submitted to the desires of the mind
+delight to invest them with those ideal qualities which they do not find,
+or think they do not, in the artificial society around them. Cooper had
+enjoyed no peculiar opportunities of studying by personal observation the
+characteristics of the Indian race, but he had undoubtedly read everything
+he could get hold of in illustration of the subject. No one can question
+the vividness and animation of his sketches, or their brilliant tone of
+color. He paints with a pencil dipped in the glow of our sunset skies and
+the crimson of our autumn maples. Whenever he brings Indians upon the
+stage, we may be sure that scenes of thrilling interest are before us:
+that rifles are to crack, tomahawks to gleam, and arrows to dart like
+sunbeams through the air; that a net of peril is to be drawn around his
+hero or heroine, from the meshes of which he or she is to be extricated by
+some unexpected combination of fortunate circumstances. We expect a
+succession of startling incidents, and a rapid course of narrative without
+pauses or languid intervals. We do not object to his idealizing his
+Indians: this is the privilege of the novelist, time out of mind. He may
+make them swift of foot, graceful in movement, and give them a form like
+the Apollo's; he may put as much expression as he pleases into their black
+eyes; he may tessellate their speech as freely as he will with poetical
+and figurative expressions, drawn from the aspects of the external world:
+for all this there is authority, and chapter and verse may be cited in
+support of it. But we have a right to ask that he shall not transcend the
+bounds of reason and possibility, and represent his red men as moved by
+motives and guided by sentiments which are wholly inconsistent with the
+inexorable facts of the case. We confess to being a little more than
+skeptical as to the Indian of poetry and romance: like the German's camel,
+he is evolved from the depth of the writer's own consciousness. The poet
+takes the most delicate sentiments and the finest emotions of civilization
+and cultivation, and grafts them upon the best qualities of savage life;
+which is as if a painter should represent an oak-tree bearing roses. The
+life of the North-American Indian, like that of all men who stand upon the
+base-line of civilization, is a constant struggle, and often a losing
+struggle, for mere subsistence. The sting of animal wants is his chief
+motive of action, and the full gratification of animal wants his highest
+ideal of happiness. The "noble savage," as sketched by poets, weary of the
+hollowness, the insincerity, and the meanness of artificial life, is
+really a very ignoble creature, when seen in the "open daylight" of truth.
+He is selfish, sensual, cruel, indolent, and impassive. The highest graces
+of character, the sweetest emotions, the finest sensibilities,--which make
+up the novelist's stock in trade,--are not and cannot be the growth of a
+so-called state of Nature, which is an essentially unnatural state. We no
+more believe that Logan ever made the speech reported by Jefferson, in so
+many words, than we believe that Chatham ever made the speech in reply to
+Walpole which begins with, "The atrocious crime of being a young man";
+though we have no doubt that the reporters in both cases had something
+fine and good to start from. We accept with acquiescence, nay, with
+admiration, such characters as Magua, Chingachgook, Susquesus, Tamenund,
+and Canonchet; but when we come to Uncas, in "The Last of the Mohicans,"
+we pause and shake our heads with incredulous doubt. That a young Indian
+chief should fall in love with a handsome quadroon like Cora Munro--for
+she was neither more nor less than that--is natural enough; but that he
+should manifest his passion with such delicacy and refinement is
+impossible. We include under one and the same name all the affinities and
+attractions of sex, but the appetite of the savage differs from the love
+of the educated and civilized man as much as charcoal differs from the
+diamond. The sentiment of love, as distinguished from the passion, is one
+of the last and best results of Christianity and civilization: in no one
+thing does savage life differ from civilized more than in the relations
+between man and woman, and in the affections that unite them. Uncas is a
+graceful and beautiful image; but he is no Indian.
+
+We turn now to a more gracious part of our task, and proceed to say
+something of the many striking excellences which distinguish Cooper's
+writings, and have given him such wide popularity. Popularity is but one
+test of merit, and not the highest,--gauging popularity by the number of
+readers, at any one time, irrespective of their taste and judgment. In
+this sense, "The Scottish Chiefs" and "Thaddeus of Warsaw" were once as
+popular as any of the Waverley Novels. But Cooper's novels have enduring
+merit, and will surely keep their place in the literature of the language.
+The manners, habits, and costumes of England have greatly changed during
+the last hundred years; but Richardson and Fielding are still read. We
+must expect corresponding changes in this country during the next century;
+but we may confidently predict that in the year 1962 young and impressible
+hearts will be saddened at the fate of Uncas and Cora, and exult when
+Captain Munson's frigate escapes from the shoals.
+
+A few pages back we spoke of Cooper's want of skill in the structure of
+his plots, and his too frequent recurrence to improbable incidents to help
+on the course of his stories. But most readers care little about this
+defect, provided the writer betrays no poverty of invention, and succeeds
+in making his narratives interesting. Herein Cooper never lays himself
+open to that instinctive and unconscious criticism, which is the only kind
+an author need dread, because from it there is no appeal. It is bad to
+have a play hissed down, but it is worse to have it yawned down. But over
+Cooper's pages his readers never yawn. They never break down in the middle
+of one of his stories. The fortunes of his characters are followed with
+breathless and accumulating interest to the end. In vain does the
+dinner-bell sound, or the clock strike the hour of bed-time: the book
+cannot be laid down till we know whether Elizabeth Temple is to get out of
+the woods without being burned alive, or solve the mystery that hangs over
+the life of Jacopo Frontoni. He has in ample measure that paramount and
+essential merit in a novelist of fertility of invention. The resources of
+his genius, alike in the devising of incidents and the creation of
+character, are inexhaustible. His scenes are laid on the sea and in the
+forest,--in Italy, Germany, Switzerland, and Spain,--amid the refinements
+and graces of civilization and the rudeness and hardships of frontier and
+pioneer life; but everywhere he moves with an easy and familiar tread, and
+everywhere, though there may be the motive and the cue for minute
+criticism, we recognize the substantial truth of his pictures. In all his
+novels the action is rapid and the movement animated: his incidents may
+not be probable, but they crowd upon each other so thickly that we have
+not time to raise the question: before one impression has become familiar,
+the scene changes, and new objects enchain the attention. All rapid motion
+is exhilarating alike to mind and body; and in reading Cooper's novels we
+feel a pleasure analogous to that which stirs the blood when we drive a
+fast horse or sail with a ten-knot breeze. This fruitfulness in the
+invention of incidents is nearly as important an element in the
+composition of a novelist as a good voice in that of a singer. A powerful
+work of fiction may be produced by a writer who has not this gift; but
+such works address a comparatively limited public. To the common mind no
+faculty in the novelist is so fascinating as this. "Caleb Williams" is a
+story of remarkable power; but "Ivanhoe" has a thousand readers to its
+one.
+
+In estimating novelists by the number and variety of characters with which
+they have enriched the repertory of fiction, Cooper's place, if not the
+highest, is very high. The fruitfulness of his genius in this regard is
+kindred to its fertility in the invention of incidents. We can pardon in a
+portrait-gallery of such extent here and there an ill-drawn figure or a
+face wanting in expression. With the exception of Scott, and perhaps of
+Dickens, what writer of prose fiction has created a greater number of
+characters such as stamp themselves upon the memory so that an allusion to
+them is well understood in cultivated society? Fielding has drawn country
+squires, and Smollett has drawn sailors; but neither has intruded upon the
+domain of the other, nor could he have made the attempt without failure.
+Some of our living novelists have a limited list of characters; they have
+half a dozen types which we recognize as inevitably as we do the face and
+voice of an actor in the king, the lover, the priest, or the bandit: but
+Cooper is not a mere mannerist, perpetually copying from himself. His
+range is very wide: it includes white men, red men, and black
+men,--sailors, hunters, and soldiers,--lawyers, doctors, and
+clergymen,--past generations and present,--Europeans and
+Americans,--civilized and savage life. All his delineations are not
+successful; some are even unsuccessful: but the aberrations of his genius
+must be viewed in connection with the extent of the orbit through which it
+moves. The courage which led him to expose himself to so many risks of
+failure is itself a proof of conscious power.
+
+Cooper's style has not the ease, grace, and various power of Scott's,--or
+the racy, idiomatic character of Thackeray's,--or the exquisite purity and
+transparency of Hawthorne's: but it is a manly, energetic style, in which
+we are sure to find good words, if not the best. It has certain wants, but
+it has no marked defects; if it does not always command admiration, it
+never offends. It has not the highest finish; it sometimes betrays
+carelessness: but it is the natural garb in which a vigorous mind clothes
+its conceptions. It is the style of a man who writes from a full mind,
+without thinking of what he is going to say; and this is in itself a
+certain kind of merit. His descriptive powers are of a high order. His
+love of Nature was strong; and, as is generally the case with intellectual
+men, it rather increased than diminished as he grew older. It was not the
+meditative and self-conscious love of a sensitive spirit, that seeks in
+communion with the outward world a relief from the burdens and struggles
+of humanity, but the hearty enjoyment of a thoroughly healthy nature, the
+schoolboy's sense of a holiday dwelling in a manly breast. His finest
+passages are those in which he presents the energies and capacities of
+humanity in combination with striking or beautiful scenes in Nature. His
+genius, which sometimes moves with "compulsion and laborious flight" when
+dealing with artificial life and the manners and speech of cultivated men,
+and women, here recovers all its powers, and sweeps and soars with
+victorious and irresistible wing. The breeze from the sea, the fresh air
+and wide horizon of the prairies, the noonday darkness of the forest are
+sure to animate his drooping energies, and breathe into his mind the
+inspiration of a fresh life. Here he is at home, and in his congenial
+element: he is the swan on the lake, the eagle in the air, the deer in the
+woods. The escape of the frigate, in the fifth chapter of "The Pilot," is
+a well-known passage of this kind; and nothing can be finer. The technical
+skill, the poetical feeling, the rapidity of the narrative, the
+distinctness of the details, the vividness of the coloring, the life,
+power, and animation which breathe and burn in every line, make up a
+combination of the highest order of literary merit. It is as good a
+sea-piece as the best of Turner's; and we cannot give it higher praise. We
+hear the whistling of the wind through the rigging, and the roar of the
+pitiless sea, bellowing for its prey; we see the white caps of the waves
+flashing with spectral light through the darkness, and the gallant ship
+whirled along like a bubble by the irresistible current; we hold our
+breath as we read of the expedients and manoeuvres which most of us but
+half understand, and heave a long sigh of relief when the danger is past,
+and the ship reaches the open sea. A similar passage, though of more quiet
+and gentler beauty, is the description of the deer-chase on the lake, in
+the twenty-seventh chapter of "The Pioneers." Indeed, this whole novel is
+full of the finest expressions of the author's genius. Into none of his
+works has he put more of the warmth of personal feeling and the glow of
+early recollection. His own heart beats through every line. The fresh
+breezes of the morning of life play round its pages, and its unexhaled dew
+hangs upon them. It is colored throughout with the rich hues of
+sympathetic emotion. All that is attractive in pioneer life is reproduced
+with substantial truth; but the pictures are touched with those finer
+lights which time pours over the memories of childhood. With what spirit
+and power all the characteristic incidents and scenes of a new settlement
+are described,--pigeon-shooting, bass-fishing, deer-hunting, the making of
+maple-sugar, the turkey-shooting at Christmas, the sleighing-parties in
+winter! How distinctly his landscapes are painted,--the deep, impenetrable
+forest, the gleaming lake, the crude aspect and absurd architecture of the
+new-born village! How full of poetry in the ore is the conversation of
+Leatherstocking! The incongruities and peculiarities of social life which
+are the result of a sudden rush of population into the wilderness are also
+well sketched; though with a pencil less free and vivid than that with
+which he paints the aspects of Nature and the movements of natural man. As
+respects the structure of the story, and the probability of the incidents,
+the novel is open to criticism; but such is the fascination that hangs
+over it, that it is impossible to criticize. To do this would be as
+ungracious as to correct the language and pronunciation of an old friend
+who revives by his conversation the fading memories of school-boy and
+college life.
+
+Cooper would have been a better writer, if he had had more of the quality
+of humor, and a keener sense of the ridiculous; for these would have saved
+him from his too frequent practice of introducing both into his narrative
+and his conversations, but more often into the latter, scraps of
+commonplace morality, and bits of sentiment so long worn as to have lost
+all their gloss. In general, his genius does not appear to advantage in
+dialogue. His characters have not always a due regard to the brevity of
+human life. They make long speeches, preach dull sermons, and ventilate
+very self-evident propositions with great solemnity of utterance. Their
+discourse wants not only compression, but seasoning. They are sometimes
+made to talk in such a way that the force of caricature can hardly go
+farther. For instance, in "The Pioneers," Judge Temple, coming into a room
+in his house, and seeing a fire of maple-logs, exclaims to Richard Jones,
+his kinsman and factotum,--"How often have I forbidden the use of the
+sugar-maple in my dwelling! The sight of that sap, as it _exudes_ with the
+heat, is painful to me, Richard." And in another place, he is made to say
+to his daughter,--"Remember the heats of July, my daughter; nor venture
+farther than thou canst _retrace before the meridian_." We may be sure
+that no man of woman born, in finding fault about the burning of
+maple-logs, ever talked of the sap's "exuding"; or, when giving a daughter
+a caution against walking too far, ever translated getting home before
+noon into "retracing before the meridian." This is almost as bad as Sir
+Piercie Shafton's calling the cows "the milky mothers of the herds."
+
+So, too, a lively perception of the ludicrous would have saved Cooper from
+certain peculiarities of phrase and awkwardnesses of expression,
+frequently occurring in his novels, such as might easily slip from the pen
+in the rapidity of composition, but which we wonder should have been
+overlooked in the proof-sheet. A few instances will illustrate our
+meaning. In the elaborate description of the personal charms of Cecilia
+Howard, in the tenth chapter of "The Pilot," we are told of "a small hand
+which _seemed to blush at its own naked beauties_." In "The Pioneers,"
+speaking of the head and brow of Oliver Edwards, he says,--"The very air
+and manner with which _the member haughtily maintained itself_ over the
+coarse and even wild attire," etc. In "The Bravo," we read,--"As the
+stranger passed, his _glittering organs rolled over_ the persons of the
+gondolier and his companion," etc.; and again, in the same novel,--"The
+packet was received calmly, though _the organ_ which glanced at its seal,"
+etc. In "The Last of the Mohicans," the complexion of Cora appears
+"charged with the color of the rich blood that _seemed ready to burst its
+bounds_." These are but trivial faults; and if they had not been so easily
+corrected, it would have been hypercriticism to notice them.
+
+Every author in the department of imaginative literature, whether of prose
+or verse, puts more or less of his personal traits of mind and character
+into his writings. This is very true of Cooper; and much of the worth and
+popularity of his novels is to be ascribed to the unconscious expressions
+and revelations they give of the estimable and attractive qualities of the
+man. Bryant, in his admirably written and discriminating biographical
+sketch, originally pronounced as a eulogy, and now prefixed to
+"Precaution" in Townsend's edition, relates that a distinguished man of
+letters, between whom and Cooper an unhappy coolness had for some time
+existed, after reading "The Pathfinder," remarked,--"They may say what
+they will of Cooper, the man who wrote this book is not only a great man,
+but a good man." This is a just tribute; and the impression thus made by a
+single work is confirmed by all. Cooper's moral nature was thoroughly
+sound, and all his moral instincts were right. His writings show in how
+high regard he held the two great guardian virtues of courage in man and
+purity in woman. In all his novels we do not recall a single expression of
+doubtful morality. He never undertakes to enlist our sympathies on the
+wrong side. If his good characters are not always engaging, he never does
+violence to virtue by presenting attractive qualities in combination with
+vices which in real life harden the heart and coarsen the taste. We do not
+find in his pages those moral monsters in which the finest sensibilities,
+the richest gifts, the noblest sentiments are linked to heartless
+profligacy, or not less heartless misanthropy. He never palters with
+right; he enters into no truce with wrong; he admits of no compromise on
+such points. How admirable in its moral aspect is the character of
+Leatherstocking! he is ignorant, and of very moderate intellectual range
+or grasp; but what dignity, nay, even grandeur, is thrown around him from
+his noble moral qualities,--his undeviating rectitude, his
+disinterestedness, his heroism, his warm affections! No writer could have
+delineated such a character so well who had not an instinctive and
+unconscious sympathy with his intellectual offspring. Praise of the same
+kind belongs to Long Tom Coffin, and Antonio, the old fisherman. The
+elements of character--truth, courage, and affection--are the same in all.
+Harvey Birch and Jacopo Frontoni are kindred conceptions: both are in a
+false relation to those around them; both assume a voluntary load of
+obloquy; both live and move in an atmosphere of suspicion and distrust;
+but in both the end sanctifies and exalts the means; the element of
+deception in both only adds to the admiration finally awakened. The
+carrying out of conceptions like these--the delineation of a character
+that perpetually weaves a web of untruth, and yet through all maintains
+our respect, and at last secures our reverence--was no easy task; but
+Cooper's success is perfect.
+
+Cooper was fortunate in having been born with a vigorous constitution, and
+in having kept through life the blessing of robust health. He never
+suffered from remorse of the stomach or protest of the brain; and his
+writings are those of a man who always digested his dinner and never had a
+headache. His novels, like those of Scott, are full of the breeze and
+sunshine of health. They breathe of manly tastes, active habits, sound
+sleep, a relish for simple pleasures, temperate enjoyments, and the
+retention in manhood of the fresh susceptibilities of youth. His genius is
+thoroughly masculine. He is deficient in acute perception, in delicate
+discrimination, in fine analysis, in the skill to seize and arrest
+exceptional peculiarities; but he has in large measure the power to
+present the broad characteristics of universal humanity. It is to this
+power that he owes his wide popularity. At this moment, in every public
+and circulating library in England or America, the novels of Cooper will
+be found to be in constant demand. He wrote for the many, and not for the
+few; he hit the common mind between wind and water; a delicate and
+fastidious literary appetite may not be attracted to his productions, but
+the healthy taste of the natural man finds therein food alike convenient
+and savory.
+
+In a manly, courageous, somewhat impulsive nature like Cooper's we should
+expect to find prejudices; and he was a man of strong prejudices. Among
+others, was an antipathy to the people of New England. His characters,
+male and female, are frequently Yankees, but they are almost invariably
+caricatures; that is, they have all the unamiable characteristics and
+unattractive traits which are bestowed upon the people of New England by
+their ill-wishers. Had he ever lived among them, with his quick powers of
+observation and essentially kindly judgment of men and life, he could not
+have failed to correct his misapprehensions, and to perceive that he had
+taken the reverse side of the tapestry for the face.
+
+Cooper, with a very keen sense of injustice, conscious of inexhaustible
+power, full of vehement impulses, and not largely endowed with that safe
+quality called prudence, was a man likely to get involved in
+controversies. It was his destiny, and he never could have avoided it, to
+be in opposition to the dominant public sentiment around him. Had he been
+born in Russia, he could hardly have escaped a visit to Siberia; had he
+been born in Austria, he would have wasted some of his best years in
+Spielberg. Under a despotic government he would have been a vehement
+Republican; in a Catholic country he would have been the most
+uncompromising of Protestants. He had full faith in the institutions of
+his own country; and his large heart, hopeful temperament, and robust soul
+made him a Democrat; but his democracy had not the least tinge of
+radicalism. He believed that man had a right to govern himself, and that
+he was capable of self-government; but government, the subordination of
+impulse to law, he insisted upon as rigorously as the veriest monarchist
+or aristocrat in Christendom. He would have no authority that was not
+legitimate; but he would tolerate no resistance to legitimate authority.
+All his sentiments, impulses, and instincts were those of a gentleman; and
+vulgar manners, coarse habits, and want of respect for the rights of
+others were highly offensive to him. When in Europe, he resolutely, and at
+no little expense of time and trouble, defended America from unjust
+imputations and ignorant criticism; and when at home, with equal courage
+and equal energy, he breasted the current of public Opinion where he
+deemed it to be wrong, and resisted those most formidable invasions of
+right, wherein the many combine to oppress the one. His long controversy
+with the press was too important an episode in his life to be passed over
+by us without mention; though our limits will not permit us to make
+anything more than a passing allusion to it. The opinion which will be
+formed upon Cooper's course in this matter will depend, in a considerable
+degree, upon the temperament of the critic. Timid men, cautious men, men
+who love their ease, will call him Quixotic, rash, imprudent, to engage in
+a controversy in which he had much to lose and little to gain; but the
+reply to such suggestions is, that, if men always took counsel of
+indolence, timidity, and selfishness, no good would ever be accomplished,
+and no abuses ever be reformed. Cooper may not have been judicious in
+everything he said and did; but that he was right in the main, both in
+motive and conduct, we firmly believe. He acted from a high sense of duty;
+there was no alloy of vindictiveness or love of money in the impulses
+which moved him. Criticism the most severe and unsparing he accepted as
+perfectly allowable, so long as it kept within the limits of literary
+judgment; but any attack upon his personal character, especially any
+imputation or insinuation involving a moral stain, he would not submit to.
+He appealed to the laws of the land to vindicate his reputation and punish
+his assailants. Long and gallant was the warfare he maintained,--a
+friendless, solitary warfare,--and all the hydra-heads of the press
+hissing and ejaculating their venom upon him,--with none to stand by his
+side and wish him God-speed. But he persevered, and, what is more, he
+succeeded: that, is to say, he secured all the substantial fruits of
+success. He vindicated the principle for which he contended: he compelled
+the newspapers to keep within the pale of literary criticism; he confirmed
+the saying of President Jackson, that "desperate courage makes one a
+majority."
+
+Two of his novels, "Homeward Bound" and "Home as Found," bear a strong
+infusion of the feelings which led to his contest with the press. After
+the publication of these, he became much interested in the well-known
+Anti-Rent agitation by which the State of New York was so long shaken; and
+three of his novels, "Satanstoe," "The Chainbearer," and "The Redskins,"
+forming one continuous narrative, were written with reference to this
+subject. Many professed novel-readers are, we suspect, repelled from these
+books, partly because of this continuity of the story, and partly because
+they contain a moral; but we assure them, that, if on these grounds they
+pass them by, they lose both pleasure and profit. They are written with
+all the vigor and spirit of his prime; they have many powerful scenes and
+admirably drawn characters; the pictures of colonial life and manners in
+"Satanstoe" are animated and delightful; and in all the legal and ethical
+points for which the author contends he is perfectly right. In his Preface
+to "The Chainbearer" he says,--"In our view, New York is at this moment a
+disgraced State; and her disgrace arises from the fact that her laws are
+trampled under foot, without any efforts--at all commensurate with the
+object--being made to enforce them." That any commonwealth is a disgraced
+State against which such charges can with truth be made no one will deny;
+and any one who is familiar with the history of that wretched business
+will agree, that, at the time it was made, the charge was not too strong.
+Who can fail to admire the courage of the man who ventured to write and
+print such a judgment as the above against a State of which he was a
+native, a citizen, and a resident, and in which the public sentiment was
+fiercely the other way? Here, too, Cooper's motives were entirely
+unselfish: he had almost no pecuniary interest in the question of
+Anti-Rentism; he wrote all in honor, unalloyed by thrift. His very last
+novel, "The Ways of the Hour," is a vigorous exposition of the defects of
+the trial by jury in cases where a vehement public sentiment has already
+tried the question, and condemned the prisoner. The story is improbable,
+and the leading character is an impossible being; but the interest is kept
+up to the end,--it has many most impressive scenes,--it abounds with
+shrewd and sound observations upon life, manners, and politics,--and all
+the legal portion is stamped with an acuteness and fidelity to truth which
+no professional reader can note without admiration.
+
+Cooper's character as a man is the more admirable to us because it was
+marked by strong points which are not common in our country, and which the
+institutions of our country do not foster. He had the courage to defy the
+majority: he had the courage to confront the press: and not from the sting
+of ill-success, not from mortified vanity, not from wounded self-love, but
+from an heroic sense of duty. How easy a life might he have purchased by
+the cheap virtues of silence, submission, and acquiescence! Booksellers
+would have enriched him; society would have caressed him; political
+distinction would have crowned him: he had only to watch the course of
+public sentiment, and so dispose himself that he should seem to lead where
+he only followed, and all comfortable things would have been poured into
+his lap. But he preferred to breast the stream, to speak ungrateful
+truths. He set a wholesome example in this respect; none the less valuable
+because so few have had the manliness and self-reliance to imitate him.
+More than twenty years ago De Tocqueville said,--"I know of no country in
+which there is so little true independence of mind and freedom of
+discussion as in America": words which we fear are not less true to-day
+than when they were written. Cooper's dauntless courage would have been
+less admirable, had he been hard, cold, stern, and impassive: but he was
+none of these. He was full of warm affections, cordial, sympathetic, and
+genial; he had a woman's tenderness of heart; he was the most faithful of
+friends; and in his own home no man was ever more gentle, gracious, and
+sweet. The blows he received fell upon a heart that felt them keenly; but
+he bared his breast none the less resolutely to the contest because it was
+not protected by an armor of insensibility.
+
+But we must bring this long paper to a close. We cannot give to it the
+interest which comes from personal recollections. We saw Cooper once, and
+but once. This was the very year before he died, in his own home, and amid
+the scenes which his genius has made immortal. It was a bright midsummer's
+day, and we walked together about the village, and around the shores of
+the lake over which the canoe of Indian John had glided. His own aspect
+was as sunny as that of the smiling heavens above us; age had not touched
+him with its paralyzing finger: his vigorous frame, elastic step, and
+animated glance gave promise of twenty years more of energetic life. His
+sturdy figure, healthy face, and a slight bluffness of manner reminded one
+more of his original profession than of the life and manners of a man of
+letters. He looked like a man who had lived much in the open air,--upon
+whom the rain had fallen, and against whom the wind had blown. His
+conversation was hearty, spontaneous, and delightful from its frankness
+and fulness, but it was not pointed or brilliant; you remembered the
+healthy ring of the words, but not the words themselves. We recollect,
+that, as we were standing together on the shores of the lake,--shores
+which are somewhat tame, and a lake which can claim no higher epithet than
+that of pretty,--he said: "I suppose it would be patriotic to say that
+this is finer than Como, but we know that it is not." We found a chord of
+sympathy in our common impressions of the beauty of Sorrento, about which,
+and his residence there, he spoke with contagious animation. Who could
+have thought that that rich and abundant life was so near its close?
+Nothing could be more thoroughly satisfying than the impression he left in
+this brief and solitary interview. His air and movement revealed the same
+manly, brave, true-hearted, warm-hearted man that is imaged in his books.
+Grateful are we for the privilege of having seen, spoken with, and taken
+by the hand the author of "The Pathfinder" and "The Pilot": "it is a
+pleasure to have seen a great man." Distinctly through the gathering mists
+of years do his face and form rise up before the mind's eye: an image of
+manly self-reliance, of frank courage, of generous impulse; a frank
+friend, an open enemy; a man whom many misunderstood, but whom no one
+could understand without honoring and loving.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+PER TENEBRAS, LUMINA.
+
+  I know how, through the golden hours
+    When summer sunlight floods the deep,
+  The fairest stars of all the heaven
+    Climb up, unseen, the effulgent steep.
+
+  Orion girds him with a flame;
+    And, king-like, from the eastward seas,
+  Comes Aldebaran, with his train
+    Of Hyades and Pleiades.
+
+  In far meridian pride, the Twins
+    Build, side by side, their luminous thrones;
+  And Sirius and Procyon pour
+    A splendor that the day disowns.
+
+  And stately Leo, undismayed,
+    With fiery footstep tracks the Sun,
+  To plunge adown the western blaze,
+    Sublimely lost in glories won.
+
+  I know, if I were called to keep
+    Pale morning watch with Grief and Pain,
+  Mine eyes should see their gathering might
+    Rise grandly through the gloom again.
+
+  And when the Winter Solstice holds
+    In his diminished path the Sun,--
+  When hope, and growth, and joy are o'er,
+    And all our harvesting is done,--
+
+  When, stricken, like our mortal Life,
+    Darkened and chill, the Year lays down
+  The summer beauty that she wore,
+    Her summer stars of Harp and Crown,--
+
+  Thick trooping with their golden tread
+    They come, as nightfall fills the sky,
+  Those strong and solemn sentinels,
+    To hold their mightier watch on high.
+
+  Ah, who shall shrink from dark and cold,
+    Or fear the sad and shortening days,
+  Since God doth only so unfold
+    The wider glory to his gaze?
+
+  Since loyal Truth, and holy Trust,
+    And kingly Strength defying Pain,
+  Stern Courage, and sure Brotherhood
+    Are born from out the depths again?
+
+  Dear Country of our love and pride!
+    So is thy stormy winter given!
+  So, through the terrors that betide,
+    Look up, and hail thy kindling heaven!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LOVE AND SKATES.
+
+IN TWO PARTS.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A KNOT AND A MAN TO CUT IT.
+
+
+Consternation! Consternation in the back office of Benjamin Brummage,
+Esq., banker in Wall Street.
+
+Yesterday down came Mr. Superintendent Whiffler, from Dunderbunk, up the
+North River, to say, that, "unless something be done, _at once_, the
+Dunderbunk Foundry and Iron-Works must wind up." President Brummage
+forthwith convoked his Directors. And here they sat around the green
+table, forlorn as the guests at a Barmecide feast.
+
+Well they might be forlorn! It was the rosy summer solstice, the longest
+and fairest day of all the year. But rose-color and sunshine had fled from
+Wall Street. Noisy Crisis towing black Panic, as a puffing steam-tug drags
+a three-decker cocked and primed for destruction, had suddenly sailed in
+upon Credit.
+
+As all the green inch-worms vanish on the tenth of every June, so on the
+tenth of that June all the money in America had buried itself and was as
+if it were not. Everybody and everything was ready to fail. If the
+hindmost brick went, down would go the whole file.
+
+There were ten Directors of the Dunderbunk Foundry.
+
+Now, not seldom, of a Board of ten Directors, five are wise and five are
+foolish: five wise, who bag all the Company's funds in salaries and
+commissions for indorsing its paper; five foolish, who get no salaries, no
+commissions, no dividends,--nothing, indeed, but abuse from the
+stockholders, and the reputation of thieves. That is to say, five of the
+ten are pick-pockets; the other five, pockets to be picked.
+
+It happened that the Dunderbunk Directors were all honest and foolish but
+one. He, John Churm, honest and wise, was off at the West, with his
+Herculean shoulders at the wheels of a dead-locked railroad. These honest
+fellows did not wish Dunderbunk to fail for several reasons. First, it was
+not pleasant to lose their investment. Second, one important failure might
+betray Credit to Crisis with Panic at its heels, whereupon every
+investment would be in danger. Third, what would become of their
+Directorial reputations? From President Brummage down, each of these
+gentlemen was one of the pockets to be picked in a great many companies.
+Each was of the first Wall-Street fashion, invited to lend his name and
+take stock in every new enterprise. Any one of them might have walked down
+town in a long patchwork toga made of the newspaper advertisements of
+boards in which his name proudly figured. If Dunderbunk failed, the toga
+was torn, and might presently go to rags beyond repair. The first rent
+would inaugurate universal rupture. How to avoid this disaster?--that was
+the question.
+
+"State the case, Mr. Superintendent Whiffler," said President Brummage, in
+his pompous manner, with its pomp a little collapsed, _pro tempore_.
+
+Inefficient Whiffler whimpered out his story.
+
+The confessions of an impotent executive are sorry stuff to read.
+Whiffler's long, dismal complaint shall not be repeated. He had taken a
+prosperous concern, had carried on things in his own way, and now failure
+was inevitable. He had bought raw material lavishly, and worked it badly
+into half-ripe material, which nobody wanted to buy. He was in arrears to
+his hands. He had tried to bully them, when they asked for their money.
+They had insulted him, and threatened to knock off work, unless they were
+paid at once. "A set of horrid ruffians," Whiffler said,--"and his life
+wouldn't be safe many days among them."
+
+"Withdraw, if you please, Mr. Superintendent," President Brummage
+requested. "The Board will discuss measures of relief."
+
+The more they discussed, the more consternation. Nobody said anything to
+the purpose, except Mr. Sam Gwelp, his late father's lubberly son and
+successor.
+
+"Blast!" said he; "we shall have to let it slide!"
+
+Into this assembly of imbeciles unexpectedly entered Mr. John Churm. He
+had set his Western railroad trains rolling, and was just returned to
+town. Now he was ready to put those Herculean shoulders at any other
+bemired and rickety no-go-cart.
+
+Mr. Churm was not accustomed to be a Director in feeble companies. He came
+into Dunderbunk recently as executor of his friend Damer, a year ago bored
+to death by a silly wife.
+
+Churm's bristly aspect and incisive manner made him a sharp contrast to
+Brummage. The latter personage was flabby in flesh, and the oppressively
+civil counter-jumper style of his youth had grown naturally into a
+deportment of most imposing pomposity.
+
+The Tenth Director listened to the President's recitative of their
+difficulties, chorused by the Board.
+
+"Gentlemen," said Director Churm, "you want two things. The first is
+Money!"
+
+He pronounced this cabalistic word with such magic power that all the air
+seemed instantly filled with a cheerful flight of gold American eagles,
+each carrying a double eagle on its back and a silver dollar in its claws;
+and all the soil of America seemed to sprout with coin, as after a shower
+a meadow sprouts with the yellow buds of the dandelion.
+
+"Money! yes, Money!" murmured the Directors.
+
+It seemed a word of good omen, now.
+
+"The second thing," resumed the newcomer, "is a Man!"
+
+The Directors looked at each other and did not see such a being.
+
+"The actual Superintendent of Dunderbunk is a dunderhead," said Churm.
+
+"Pun!" cried Sam Gwelp, waking up from a snooze.
+
+Several of the Directors, thus instructed, started a complimentary laugh.
+
+"Order, gentlemen! Orrderr!" said the President, severely, rapping with a
+paper-cutter.
+
+"We must have a Man, not a Whiffler!" Churm continued. "And I have one in
+my eye."
+
+Everybody examined his eye.
+
+"Would you be so good as to name him?" said Old Brummage, timidly.
+
+He wanted to see a Man, but feared the strange creature might be
+dangerous.
+
+"Richard Wade," says Churm. They did not know him. The name sounded
+forcible.
+
+"He has been in California," the nominator said.
+
+A shudder ran around the green table. They seemed to see a frowzy
+desperado, shaggy as a bison, in a red shirt and jackboots, hung about the
+waist with an assortment of six-shooters and bowie-knives, and standing
+against a background of mustangs, monte-banks, and lynch-law.
+
+"We must get Wade," Churm says, with authority. "He knows Iron by heart.
+He can handle Men. I will back him with my blank check, to any amount, to
+his order."
+
+Here a murmur of applause, swelling to a cheer, burst from the Directors.
+
+Everybody knew that the Geological Bank deemed Churm's deposits the
+fundamental stratum of its wealth. They lay there in the vaults, like
+underlying granite. When hot times came, they boiled up in a mountain to
+buttress the world.
+
+Churm's blank check seemed to wave in the air like an oriflamme of
+victory. Its payee might come from Botany Bay; he might wear his beard to
+his knees, and his belt stuck full of howitzers and boomerangs; he might
+have been repeatedly hung by Vigilance Committees, and as often cut down
+and revived by galvanism; but brandishing that check, good for anything
+less than a million, every Director in Wall Street was his slave, his
+friend, and his brother.
+
+"Let us vote Mr. Wade in by acclamation," cried the Directors.
+
+"But, gentlemen," Churm interposed, "if I give him my blank check, he must
+have _carte blanche_, and no one to interfere in his management."
+
+Every Director, from President Brummage down, drew a long face at this
+condition.
+
+It was one of their great privileges to potter in the Dunderbunk affairs
+and propose ludicrous impossibilities.
+
+"Just as you please," Churm continued. "I name a competent man, a
+gentleman and fine fellow. I back him with all the cash he wants. But he
+must have his own way. Now take him, or leave him!"
+
+Such despotic talk had never been heard before in that Directors' Room.
+They relucted a moment. But they thought of their togas of advertisements
+in danger. The blank check shook its blandishments before their eyes.
+
+"We take him," they said, and Richard Wade was the new Superintendent
+unanimously.
+
+"He shall be at Dunderbunk to take hold to-morrow morning," said Churm,
+and went off to notify him.
+
+Upon this, Consternation sailed out of the hearts of Brummage and
+associates.
+
+They lunched with good appetites over the green table, and the President
+confidently remarked,--
+
+"I don't believe there is going much of a crisis, after all."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+BARRACKS FOR THE HERO.
+
+
+Wade packed his kit, and took the Hudson-River train for Dunderbunk the
+same afternoon.
+
+He swallowed his dust, he gasped for his fresh air, he wept over his
+cinders, he refused his "lozengers," he was admired by all the pretty
+girls and detested by all the puny men in the train, and in good time got
+down at his station.
+
+He stopped on the platform to survey the land--and water-privileges of his
+new abode.
+
+"The June sunshine is unequalled," he soliloquized, "the river is
+splendid, the hills are pretty, and the Highlands, north, respectable; but
+the village has gone to seed. Place and people look lazy, vicious, and
+ashamed. I suppose those chimneys are my Foundry. The smoke rises as if
+the furnaces were ill-fed and weak in the lungs. Nothing, I can see, looks
+alive, except that queer little steamboat coming in,--the 'I.
+Ambuster,'--jolly name for a boat!"
+
+Wade left his traps at the station, and walked through the village. All
+the gilding of a golden sunset of June could not make it anything but
+commonplace. It would be forlorn on a gray day, and utterly dismal in a
+storm.
+
+"I must look up a civilized house to lodge in," thought the stranger. "I
+cannot possibly camp at the tavern. Its offence is rum, and smells to
+heaven."
+
+Presently our explorer found a neat, white, two-story, home-like abode on
+the upper street, overlooking the river.
+
+"This promises," he thought. "Here are roses on the porch, a piano, or at
+least a melodeon, by the parlor-window, and they are insured in the
+Mutual, as the Mutual's plate announces. Now, if that nice-looking person
+in black I see setting a table in the back-room is a widow, I will camp
+here."
+
+Perry Purtett was the name on the door, and opposite the sign of an
+_omnium-gatherum_ country-store hinted that Perry was deceased. The hint
+was a broad one. Wade read, "Ringdove, Successor to late P. Purtett."
+
+"It's worth a try to get in here out of the pagan barbarism around. I'll
+propose--as a lodger--to the widow."
+
+So said Wade, and rang the bell under the roses. A pretty, slim, delicate,
+fair-haired maiden answered.
+
+"This explains the roses and the melodeon," thought Wade, and asked, "Can
+I see your mother?"
+
+Mamma came. "Mild, timid, accustomed to depend on the late Perry, and
+wants a friend," Wade analyzed, while he bowed. He proposed himself as a
+lodger.
+
+"I didn't know it was talked of generally," replied the widow,
+plaintively; "but I have said that we felt lonesome, Mr. Purtett bein'
+gone, and if the new minister"--
+
+Here she paused. The cut of Wade's jib was unclerical. He did not stoop,
+like a new minister. He was not pallid, meagre, and clad in unwholesome
+black, like the same. His bronzed face was frank and bold and unfamiliar
+with speculations on Original Sin or Total Depravity.
+
+"I am not the new minister," said Wade, smiling slightly over his
+moustache; "but a new Superintendent for the Foundry."
+
+"Mr. Whiffler is goin'?" exclaimed Mrs. Purtett.
+
+She looked at her daughter, who gave a little sob and ran out of the room.
+
+"What makes my daughter Belle feel bad," says the widow, "is, that she had
+a friend,--well, it isn't too much to say that they was as good as
+engaged,--and he was foreman of the Foundry finishin'-shop. But somehow
+Whiffler spoilt him, just as he spoils everything he touches; and last
+winter, when Belle was away, William Tarbox--that's his name, and his head
+is runnin' over with inventions--took to spreein' and liquor, and got
+ashamed of himself, and let down from a foreman to a hand, and is all the
+while lettin' down lower."
+
+The widow's heart thus opened, Wade walked in as consoler. This also
+opened the lodgings to him. He was presently installed in the large and
+small front-rooms up-stairs, unpacking his traps, and making himself
+permanently at home.
+
+Superintendent Whiffler came over, by-and-by, to see his successor. He did
+not like his looks. The new man should have looked mean or weak or
+rascally, to suit the outgoer.
+
+"How long do you expect to stay?" asks Whiffler, with a half-sneer,
+watching Wade hanging a map and a print _vis-a-vis_.
+
+"Until the men and I, or the Company and I, cannot pull together."
+
+"I'll give you a week to quarrel with both, and another to see the whole
+concern go to everlasting smash. And now, if you're ready, I'll go over
+the accounts with you and prove it."
+
+Whiffler himself, insolent, cowardly, and a humbug, if not a swindler, was
+enough, Wade thought, to account for any failure. But he did not mention
+this conviction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+HOW TO BEHEAD A HYDRA!
+
+
+At ten next morning, Whiffler handed over the safe-key to Wade, and
+departed to ruin some other property, if he could get one to ruin. Wade
+walked with him to the gate.
+
+"I'm glad to be out of a sinking ship," said the ex-boss. "The Works will
+go down, sure as shooting. And I think myself well out of the clutches of
+these men. They're a bullying, swearing, drinking set of infernal
+ruffians. Foremen are just as bad as hands. I never felt safe of my life
+with 'em."
+
+"A bad lot, are they?" mused Wade, as he returned to the office. "I must
+give them a little sharp talk by way of Inaugural."
+
+He had the bell tapped and the men called together in the main building.
+
+Much work was still going on in an inefficient, unsystematic way.
+
+While hot fires were roaring in the great furnaces, smoke rose from the
+dusty beds where Titanic castings were cooling. Great cranes, manacled
+with heavy chains, stood over the furnace-doors, ready to lift steaming
+jorums of melted metal, and pour out, hot and hot, for the moulds to
+swallow.
+
+Raw material in big heaps lay about, waiting for the fire to ripen it.
+Here was a stack of long, rough, rusty pigs, clumsy as the shillelabs of
+the Anakim. There was a pile of short, thick masses, lying
+higgledy-piggledy, stuff from the neighboring mines, which needed to be
+crossed with foreign stock before it could be of much use in civilization.
+
+Here, too, was raw material organized: a fly-wheel, large enough to keep
+the knobbiest of asteroids revolving without a wabble; a cross-head,
+cross-tail, and piston-rod, to help a great sea-going steamer breast the
+waves; a light walking-beam, to whirl the paddles of a fast boat on the
+river; and other members of machines, only asking to be put together and
+vivified by steam and they would go at their work with a will.
+
+From the black rafters overhead hung the heavy folds of a dim atmosphere,
+half dust, half smoke. A dozen sunbeams, forcing their way through the
+grimy panes of the grimy upper windows, found this compound quite palpable
+and solid, and they moulded out of it a series of golden bars set side by
+side aloft, like the pipes of an organ out of its perpendicular.
+
+Wade grew indignant, as he looked about him and saw so much good stuff and
+good force wasting for want of a little will and skill to train the force
+and manage the stuff. He abhorred bankruptcy and chaos.
+
+"All they want here is a head," he thought.
+
+He shook his own. The brain within was well developed with healthy
+exercise. It filled its case, and did not rattle like a withered kernel,
+or sound soft like a rotten one. It was a vigorous, muscular brain. The
+owner felt that he could trust it for an effort, as he could his lungs for
+a shout, his legs for a leap, or his fist for a knock-down argument.
+
+At the tap of the bell, the "bad lot" of men came together. They numbered
+more than two hundred, though the Foundry was working short. They had been
+notified that "that gonoph of a Whiffler was kicked out, and a new feller
+was in, who looked cranky enough, and wanted to see 'em and tell 'em
+whether he was a damn' fool or not."
+
+So all hands collected from the different parts of the Foundry to see the
+head.
+
+They came up with easy and somewhat swaggering bearing,--a good many
+roughs, with here and there a ruffian. Several, as they approached, swung
+and tossed, for mere overplus of strength, the sledges with which they had
+been tapping at the bald shiny pates of their anvils. Several wielded
+their long pokers like lances.
+
+Grimy chaps, all with their faces streaked, like Blackfeet in their
+warpaint. Their hairy chests showed, where some men parade elaborate
+shirt-bosoms. Some had their sleeves pushed up to the elbow to exhibit
+their compact flexors and extensors. Some had rolled their flannel up to
+the shoulder, above the bulging muscles of the upper arm. They wore aprons
+tied about the neck, like the bibs of our childhood,--or about the waist,
+like the coquettish articles which young housewives affect. But there was
+no coquetry in these great flaps of leather or canvas, and they were
+besmeared and rust-stained quite beyond any bib that ever suffered under
+bread-and-molasses or mud-pie treatment.
+
+They lounged and swaggered up, and stood at ease, not without rough grace,
+in a sinuous line, coiled and knotted like a snake.
+
+Ten feet back stood the new Hercules who was to take down that Hydra's two
+hundred crests of insubordination.
+
+They inspected him, and he them as coolly. He read and ticketed each man,
+as he came up,--good, bad, or on the fence,--and marked each so that he
+would know him among a myriad.
+
+The Hands faced the Head. It was a question whether the two hundred or the
+one would be master in Dunderbunk.
+
+Which was boss? An old question.
+
+It has to be settled whenever a new man claims power, and there is always
+a struggle until it is fought out by main force of brain or muscle.
+
+Wade had made up his mind on this subject. He waited a moment until the
+men were still. He was a Saxon six-footer of thirty. He stood easily on
+his pins, as if he had eyed men and facts before. His mouth looked firm,
+his brow freighted, his nose clipper,--that the hands could see. But
+clipper noses are not always backed by a stout hull. Seemingly freighted
+brows sometimes carry nothing but ballast and dunnage. The firmness may be
+all in the moustache, while the mouth hides beneath, a mere silly slit.
+All which the hands knew.
+
+Wade began, short and sharp as a trip-hammer, when it has a bar to shape.
+
+"I'm the new Superintendent. Richard Wade is my name. I rang the bell
+because I wanted to see you and have you see me. You know as well as I do
+that these Works are in a bad way. They can't stay so. They must come up
+and pay you regular wages and the Company profits. Every man of you has
+got to be here on the spot when the bell strikes, and up to the mark in
+his work. You haven't been,--and you know it. You've turned out rotten
+iron,--stuff that any honest shop would be ashamed of. Now there's to be a
+new leaf turned over here. You're to be paid on the nail; but you've got
+to earn your money. I won't have any idlers or shirkers or rebels about
+me. I shall work hard myself, and every man of you will, or he leaves the
+shop. Now, if anybody has a complaint to make, I'll hear him before you
+all."
+
+The men were evidently impressed with Wade's Inaugural. It meant
+something. But they were not to be put down so easily, after long misrule.
+There began to be a whisper,--
+
+"B'il in, Bill Tarbox! and talk up to him!"
+
+Presently Bill shouldered forward and faced the new ruler.
+
+Since Bill took to drink and degradation, he had been the butt-end of riot
+and revolt at the Foundry. He had had his own way with Whiffler. He did
+not like to abdicate and give in to this new chap without testing him.
+
+In a better mood, Bill would have liked Wade's looks and words; but today
+he had a sore head, a sour face, and a bitter heart from last night's
+spree. And then he had heard--it was as well known already in Dunderbunk
+as if the town-crier had cried it--that Wade was lodging at Mrs.
+Purtett's, where poor Bill was excluded. So Bill stepped forward as
+spokesman of the ruffianly element, and the immoral force gathered behind
+and backed him heavily.
+
+Tarbox, too, was a Saxon six-footer of thirty. But he had sagged one inch
+for want of self-respect. He had spoilt his color and dyed his moustache.
+He wore foxy-black pantaloons tucked into red-topped boots, with the name
+of the maker on a gilt shield. His red flannel shirt was open at the neck
+and caught with a black handkerchief. His damaged tile was in permanent
+crape for the late lamented Poole.
+
+"We allow," says Bill, in a tone halfway between Lablache's _De profundis_
+and a burglar's bull-dog's snarl, "that we've did our work as good as need
+to be did. We 'xpect we know our rights. We ha'n't ben treated fair, and
+I'm damned if we're go'n' to stan' it."
+
+"Stop!" says Wade. "No swearing in this shop!"
+
+"Who the Devil is go'n' to stop it?" growled Tarbox.
+
+"I am. Do you step back now, and let some one come out who can talk like a
+gentleman!"
+
+"I'm damned if I stir till I've had my say out," says Bill, shaking
+himself up and looking dangerous.
+
+"Go back!"
+
+Wade moved close to him, also looking dangerous.
+
+"Don't tech me!" Bill threatened, squaring off.
+
+He was not quick enough. Wade knocked him down flat on a heap of
+moulding-sand. The hat in mourning for Poole found its place in a puddle.
+
+Bill did not like the new Emperor's method of compelling _kotou_. Round
+One of the mill had not given him enough.
+
+He jumped up from his soft bed and made a vicious rush at Wade. But he was
+damaged by evil courses. He was fighting against law and order, on the
+side of wrong and bad manners.
+
+The same fist met him again, and heavier.
+
+Up went his heels! Down went his head! It struck the ragged edge of a
+fresh casting, and there he lay stunned and bleeding on his hard black
+pillow.
+
+"Ring the bell to go to work!" said Wade, in a tone that made the ringer
+jump. "Now, men, take hold and do your duty and everything will go
+smooth!"
+
+The bell clanged in. The line looked at its prostrate champion, then at
+the new boss standing there, cool and brave, and not afraid of a regiment
+of sledge-hammers.
+
+They wanted an Executive. They wanted to be well governed, as all men do.
+They wanted disorder out and order in. The new man looked like a man,
+talked fair, hit hard. Why not all hands give in with a good grace and go
+to work like honest fellows?
+
+The line broke up. The hands went off to their duty. And there was never
+any more insubordination at Dunderbunk.
+
+This was June.
+
+Skates in the next chapter.
+
+Love in good time afterward shall glide upon the scene.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+A CHRISTMAS GIFT.
+
+
+The pioneer sunbeam of next Christmas morning rattled over the Dunderbunk
+hills, flashed into Richard Wade's eyes, waked him, and was off,
+ricochetting across the black ice of the river.
+
+Wade jumped up, electrified and jubilant. He had gone to bed, feeling
+quite too despondent for so healthy a fellow. Christmas Eve, the time of
+family-meetings, reminded him how lonely he was. He had not a relative in
+the world, except two little nieces,--one as tall as his knee, the other
+almost up to his waist; and them he had safely bestowed in a nook of New
+England, to gain wit and virtues as they gained inches.
+
+"I have had a stern and lonely life," thought Wade, as he blew out his
+candle last night, "and what has it profited me?"
+
+Perhaps the pioneer sunbeam answered this question with a truism, not
+always as applicable as in this case,--"A brave, able, self-respecting
+manhood is fair profit for any man's first thirty years of life."
+
+But, answered or not, the question troubled Wade no more. He shot out of
+bed in tip-top spirits; shouted "Merry Christmas!" at the rising disk of
+the sun; looked over the black ice; thrilled with the thought of a long
+holiday for skating; and proceeded to dress in a knowing suit of rough
+clothes, singing, "_Ah, non giunge_!" as he slid into them.
+
+Presently, glancing from his south window, he observed several matinal
+smokes rising from the chimneys of a country-house a mile away, on a slope
+fronting the river.
+
+"Peter Skerrett must be back from Europe at last," he thought. "I hope he
+is as fine a fellow as he was ten years ago. I hope marriage has not made
+him a muff, and wealth a weakling."
+
+Wade went down to breakfast with an heroic appetite. His "Merry Christmas"
+to Mrs. Purtett was followed up by a ravished kiss and the gift of a
+silver butter-knife. The good widow did not know which to be most charmed
+with. The butter-knife was genuine, shining, solid silver, with her
+initials, M.B.P., Martha Bilsby Purtett, given in luxuriant flourishes;
+but then the kiss had such a fine twang, such an exhilarating titillation!
+The late Perry's kisses, from first to last, had wanted point. They were,
+as the Spanish proverb would put it, unsavory as unsalted eggs, for want
+of a moustache. The widow now perceived, with mild regret, how much she
+had missed when she married "a man all shaven and shorn." Her cheek, still
+fair, though forty, flushed with novel delight, and she appreciated her
+lodger more than ever.
+
+Wade's salutation to Belle Purtett was more distant. There must be a
+little friendly reserve between a handsome young man and a pretty young
+woman several grades lower in the social scale, living in the same house.
+They were on the most cordial terms, however; and her gift--of course
+embroidered slippers--and his to her--of course "The Illustrated Poets,"
+in Turkey morocco--were exchanged with tender good-will on both sides.
+
+"We shall meet on the ice, Miss Belle," said Wade. "It is a day of a
+thousand for skating."
+
+"Mr. Ringdove says you are a famous skater," Belle rejoined. "He saw you
+on the river yesterday evening."
+
+"Yes; Tarbox and I were practising to exhibit to-day; but I could not do
+much with my dull old skates."
+
+Wade breakfasted deliberately, as a holiday morning allowed, and then
+walked down to the Foundry. There would be no work done to-day, except by
+a small gang keeping up the fires. The Superintendent wished only to give
+his First Semi-Annual Report an hour's polishing, before he joined all
+Dunderbunk on the ice.
+
+It was a halcyon day, worthy of its motto, "Peace on earth, good-will to
+men." The air was electric, the sun overflowing with jolly shine, the
+river smooth and sheeny from the hither bank to the snowy mountains
+opposite.
+
+"I wish I were Rembrandt, to paint this grand shadowy interior," thought
+Wade, as he entered the silent, deserted Foundry. "With the gleam of the
+snow in my eyes, it looks deliciously warm and _chiaroscuro_. When the men
+are here and '_fervet opus_,'--the pot boils,--I cannot stop to see the
+picturesque."
+
+He opened his office, took his Report and began to complete it with ,s,
+;s, and .s in the right places.
+
+All at once the bell of the Works rang out loud and clear. Presently the
+Superintendent became aware of a tramp and a bustle in the building.
+By-and-by came a tap at the office-door.
+
+"Come in," said Wade, and, enter young Perry Purtett.
+
+Perry was a boy of fifteen, with hair the color of fresh sawdust, white
+eyebrows, and an uncommonly wide-awake look. Ringdove, his father's
+successor, could never teach Perry the smirk, the grace, and the
+seductiveness of the counter, so the boy had found his place in the
+finishing-shop of the Foundry.
+
+"Some of the hands would like to see you for half a jiff, Mr. Wade," said
+he. "Will you come along, if you please?"
+
+There was a good deal of easy swagger about Perry, as there is always in
+boys and men whose business is to watch the lunging of steam-engines. Wade
+followed him. Perry led the way with a jaunty air that said,--
+
+"Room here! Out of the way, you lubberly bits of cast-iron! Be careful,
+now, you big derricks, or I'll walk right over you! Room now for Me and My
+suite!"
+
+This pompous usher conducted the Superintendent to the very spot in the
+main room of the Works where, six months before, the Inaugural had been
+pronounced and the first Veto spoken and enacted.
+
+And there, as six months before, stood the Hands awaiting their Head. But
+the aprons, the red shirts, and the grime of working-days were off, and
+the whole were in holiday rig,--as black and smooth and shiny from top to
+toe as the members of a Congress of Undertakers.
+
+Wade, following in the wake of Perry, took his stand facing the rank, and
+waited to see what he was summoned for. He had not long to wait.
+
+To the front stepped Mr. William Tarbox, foreman of the finishing-shop, no
+longer a boy, but an erect, fine-looking fellow, with no nitrate in his
+moustache, and his hat permanently out of mourning for the late Mr. Poole.
+
+"Gentlemen," said Bill, "I move that this meeting organize by appointing
+Mr. Smith Wheelwright Chairman. As many as are in favor of this motion,
+please to say 'Aye.'"
+
+"Aye!" said the crowd, very loud and big. And then every man looked at his
+neighbor, a little abashed, as if he himself had made all the noise.
+
+"This is a free country," continues Bill. "Every woter has a right to a
+fair shake. Contrary minds, 'No.'"
+
+No contrary minds. The crowd uttered a great silence. Every man looked at
+his neighbor, surprised to find how well they agreed.
+
+"Unanimous!" Tarbox pronounced. "No fractious minorities _here_, to block
+the wheels of legislation!"
+
+The crowd burst into a roar at this significant remark, and, again
+abashed, dropped portcullis on its laughter, cutting off the flanks and
+tail of the sound.
+
+"Mr. Purtett, will you please conduct the Chairman to the Chair," says
+Bill, very stately.
+
+"Make way here!" cried Perry, with the manner of a man seven feet high.
+"Step out now, Mr. Chairman!"
+
+He took a big, grizzled, docile-looking fellow patronizingly by the arm,
+led him forward, and chaired him on a large cylinder-head, in the rough,
+just hatched out of its mould.
+
+"Bang away with that, and sing out, 'Silence!'" says the knowing boy,
+handing Wheelwright an iron bolt, and taking his place beside him, as
+prompter.
+
+The docile Chairman obeyed. At his breaking silence by hooting "Silence!"
+the audience had another mighty bob-tailed laugh.
+
+"Say, 'Will some honorable member state the object of this meeting?'"
+whispered the prompter.
+
+"Will some honorable mumbler state the subject of this 'ere meetin'?" says
+Chair, a little bashful and confused.
+
+Bill Tarbox advanced, and, with a formal bow, began,--
+
+"Mr. Chairman"--
+
+"Say, 'Mr. Tarbox has the floor,'" piped Perry.
+
+"Mr. Tarbox has the floor," diapasoned the Chair.
+
+"Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen"--Bill began, and stopped.
+
+"Say, 'Proceed, Sir!'" suggested Perry, which the senior did, magnifying
+the boy's whisper a dozen times.
+
+Again Bill began and stopped.
+
+"Boys," said he, dropping grandiloquence, "when I accepted the office of
+Orator of the Day at our primary, and promised to bring forward our
+Resolutions in honor of Mr. Wade with my best speech, I didn't think I was
+going to have such a head of steam on that the walves would get stuck and
+the piston jammed and I couldn't say a word.
+
+"But," he continued, warming up, "when I think of the Indian powwow we had
+in this very spot six months ago,--and what a mean bloat I was, going to
+the stub-tail dogs with my hat over my eyes,--and what a hard lot we were
+all round, livin' on nothing but argee whiskey, and rampin' off on
+benders, instead of makin' good iron,--and how the Works was flat
+broke,--and how Dunderbunk was full of women crying over their husbands
+and mothers ashamed of their sons,--boys, when I think how things was, and
+see how they are, and look at Mr. Wade standing there like a"--
+
+Bill hesitated for a comparison.
+
+"Like a thousand of brick," Perry Purtett suggested, _sotto voce_.
+
+The Chairman took this as a hint to himself.
+
+"Like a thousand of brick," he said, with the voice of a Stentor.
+
+Here the audience roared and cheered, and the Orator got a fresh start.
+
+"When you came, Mr. Wade," he resumed, "we was about sick of putty-heads
+and sneaks that didn't know enough or didn't dare to make us stand round
+and bone in. You walked in, b'ilin' over with grit. You took hold as if
+you belonged here. You made things jump like a two-headed tarrier. All we
+wanted was a live man, to say, 'Here, boys, all together now! You've got
+your stint, and I've got mine. I'm boss in this shop,--but I can't do the
+first thing, unless every man pulls his pound. Now, then, my hand is on
+the throttle, grease the wheels, oil the walves, poke the fires, hook on,
+and let's yank her through with a will!'"
+
+At this figure the meeting showed a tendency to cheer. "Silence!" Perry
+sternly suggested. "Silence!" repeated the Chair.
+
+"Then," continued the Orator, "you wasn't one of the uneasy kind, always
+fussin' and cussin' round. You wasn't always spyin' to see we didn't take
+home a cross-tail or a hundred-weight of cast-iron in our pants' pockets,
+or go to swiggin' hot metal out of the ladles on the sly."
+
+Here an enormous laugh requited Bill's joke. Perry prompted, the Chair
+banged with his bolt and cried, "Order!"
+
+"Well, now, boys," Tarbox went on, "what has come of having one of the
+right sort to be boss? Why, this. The Works go ahead, stiddy as the North
+River. We work full time and full-handed. We turn out stuff that no shop
+needs to be ashamed of. Wages is on the nail. We have a good time
+generally. How is that, boys,--Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen?"
+
+"That's so!" from everybody.
+
+"And there's something better yet," Bill resumed. "Dunderbunk used to be
+full of crying women. They've stopped crying now."
+
+Here the whole assemblage, Chairman and all, burst into an irrepressible
+cheer.
+
+"But I'm making my speech as long as a lightning-rod," said the speaker.
+"I'll put on the brakes, short. I guess Mr. Wade understands pretty well,
+now, how we feel; and if he don't, here it all is in shape, in this
+document, with 'Whereas' at the top and 'Resolved' entered along down in
+five places. Mr. Purtett, will you hand the Resolutions to the
+Superintendent?"
+
+Perry advanced and did his office loftily, much to the amusement of Wade
+and the workmen.
+
+"Now," Bill resumed, "we wanted, besides, to make you a little gift, Mr.
+Wade, to remember the day by. So we got up a subscription, and every man
+put in his dime. Here's the present,--hand 'em over, Perry!
+
+"There, Sir, is THE BEST PAIR OF SKATES to be had in York City, made for
+work, and no nonsense about 'em. We Dunderbunk boys give 'em to you, one
+for all, and hope you'll like 'em and beat the world skating, as you do in
+all the things we've knowed you try.
+
+"Now, boys," Bill perorated, "before I retire to the shades of private
+life, I motion we give Three Cheers--regular Toplifters--for Richard
+Wade!"
+
+"Hurrah! Wade and Good Government!" "Hurrah! Wade and Prosperity!"
+"Hurrah! Wade and the Women's Tears Dry!"
+
+Cheers like the shout of Achilles! Wielding sledges is good for the
+bellows, it appears. Toplifters! Why, the smoky black rafters overhead had
+to tug hard to hold the roof on. Hurrah! From every corner of the vast
+building came back rattling echoes. The Works, the machinery, the
+furnaces, the stuff, all had their voice to add to the verdict.
+
+Magnificent music! and our Anglo-Saxon is the only race in the world
+civilized enough to join in singing it. We are the only hurrahing
+people,--the only brood hatched in a "Hurrah's nest."
+
+Silence restored, the Chairman, prompted by Perry, said, "Gentlemen, Mr.
+Wade has the floor for a few remarks."
+
+Of course Wade had to speak, and did. He would not have been an American
+in America else. But his heart was too full to say more than a few hearty
+and earnest words of good feeling.
+
+"Now, men," he closed, "I want to get away on the river and see if my
+skates will go as they look; so I'll end by proposing three cheers for
+Smith Wheelwright, our Chairman, three for our Orator, Tarbox, three for
+Old Dunderbunk,--Works, Men, Women, and Children; and one big cheer for
+Old Father Iron, as rousing a cheer as ever was roared."
+
+So they gave their three times three with enormous enthusiasm. The roof
+shook, the furnaces rattled, Perry Purtett banged with the Chairman's
+hammer, the great echoes thundered through the Foundry.
+
+And when they ended with one gigantic cheer for IRON, tough and true, the
+weapon, the tool, and the engine of all civilization,--it seemed as if the
+uproar would never cease until Father Iron himself heard the call in his
+smithy away under the magnetic pole, and came clanking up, to return
+thanks in person.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+SKATING AS A FINE ART.
+
+
+Of all the plays that are played by this playful world on its play-days,
+there is no play like Skating.
+
+To prepare a board for the moves of this game of games, a panel for the
+drawings of this Fine Art, a stage for the _entrechats_ and _pirouettes_
+of its graceful adepts, Zero, magical artificer, had been, for the last
+two nights, sliding at full speed up and down the North River.
+
+We have heard of Midas, whose touch made gold, and of the virgin under
+whose feet sprang roses; but Zero's heels and toes were armed with more
+precious influences. They left a diamond way, where they slid,--a hundred
+and fifty miles of diamond, half a mile wide and six inches thick.
+
+Diamond can only reflect sunlight; ice can contain it. Zero's product,
+finer even than diamond, was filled--at the rate of a million to the
+square foot--with bubbles immeasurably little, and yet every one big
+enough to comprise the entire sun in small, but without alteration or
+abridgment. When the sun rose, each of these wonderful cells was ready to
+catch the tip of a sunbeam and house it in a shining abode.
+
+Besides this, Zero had inlaid its work, all along shore, with exquisite
+marquetry of leaves, brown and evergreen, of sprays and twigs, reeds and
+grasses. No parquet in any palace from Fontainebleau to St. Petersburg
+could show such delicate patterns, or could gleam so brightly, though
+polished with all the wax in Christendom.
+
+On this fine pavement, all the way from Cohoes to Spuyten Duyvil, Jubilee
+was sliding without friction, the Christmas morning of these adventures.
+
+Navigation was closed. Navigators had leisure. The sloops and schooners
+were frozen in along shore, the tugs and barges were laid up in basins,
+the floating palaces were down at New York, deodorizing their bar-rooms,
+regilding their bridal chambers, and enlarging their spittoon
+accommodations alow and aloft, for next summer. All the population was out
+on the ice, skating, sliding, sledding, slipping, tumbling, to its heart's
+content.
+
+One person out of every Dunderbunk family was of course at home, roasting
+Christmas turkey. The rest were already at high jinks on Zero's Christmas
+present, when Wade and the men came down, from the meeting.
+
+Wade buckled on his new skates in a jiffy. He stamped to settle himself,
+and then flung off half a dozen circles on the right leg, half a dozen
+with the left, and the same with either leg backwards.
+
+The ice, traced with these white peripheries, showed like a blackboard
+where a school has been chalking diagrams of Euclid, to point at with the
+"slow unyielding finger" of demonstration.
+
+"Hurrah!" cries Wade, halting in front of the men, who, some on the
+Foundry wharf, some on the deck of our first acquaintance at Dunderbunk,
+the tug "L Ambuster," were putting on their skates or watching him,
+"Hurrah! the skates are perfection! Are you ready, Bill?"
+
+"Yes," says Tarbox, whizzing off rings, as exact as Giotto's autograph.
+
+"Now, then," Wade said, "we'll give Dunderbunk a laugh, as we practised
+last night."
+
+They got under full headway, Wade backwards, Bill forwards, holding hands.
+When they were near enough to the merry throng out in the stream, both
+dropped into a sitting posture, with the left knee bent, and each with his
+right leg stretched out parallel to the ice and fitting compactly by the
+other man's leg. In this queer figure they rushed through the laughing
+crowd.
+
+Then all Dunderbunk formed a ring, agog for a grand show of
+
+SKATING AS A FINE ART.
+
+The world loves to see Great Artists, and expects them to do their duty.
+
+It is hard to treat of this Fine Art by the Art of Fine Writing. Its
+eloquent motions must be seen.
+
+To skate Fine Art, you must have a Body and a Soul, each of the First
+Order; otherwise you will never get out of coarse art and skating in one
+syllable. So much for yourself, the motive power. And your
+machinery,--your smooth-bottomed rockers, the same shape stem and
+stern,--this must be as perfect as the man it moves, and who moves it.
+
+Now suppose you wish to skate so that the critics will say, "See! this
+athlete docs his work as Church paints, as Darley draws, as Palmer
+chisels, as Wittier strikes the lyre, and Longfellow the dulcimer; he is
+as terse as Emerson, as clever as Holmes, as graceful as Curtis; he is as
+calm as Seward, as keen as Phillips, as stalwart as Beecher; be is
+Garibaldi, he is Kit Carson, he is Blondin; he is as complete as the
+steamboat Metropolis, as Steers's yacht, as Singer's sewing-machine, as
+Colt's revolver, as the steam-plough, as Civilization." You wish to be so
+ranked among the people and things that lead the age;--consider the
+qualities you must have, and while you consider, keep your eye on Richard
+Wade, for he has them all in perfection.
+
+First,--of your physical qualities. You must have lungs, not bellows; and
+an active heart, not an assortment of sluggish auricles and ventricles.
+You must have legs, not shanks. Their shape is unimportant, except that
+they must not interfere at the knee. You must have muscles, not
+flabbiness; sinews like wire; nerves like sunbeams; and a thin layer of
+flesh to cushion the gable-ends, where you will strike, if you
+tumble,--which, once for all be it said, you must never do. You must be
+all _momentum_, and no _inertia_. You must be one part grace, one force,
+one agility, and the rest caoutchouc, Manila hemp, and watch-spring. Your
+machine, your body, must be thoroughly obedient. It must go just so far
+and no farther. You have got to be as unerring as a planet holding its
+own, emphatically, between forces centripetal and centrifugal. Your
+_aplomb_ must be as absolute as the pounce of a falcon.
+
+So much for a few of the physical qualities necessary to be a Great Artist
+in Skating. See Wade, how be shows them!
+
+Now for the moral and intellectual. Pluck is the first;--it always is the
+first quality. Then enthusiasm. Then patience. Then pertinacity. Then a
+fine aesthetic faculty,--in short, good taste. Then an orderly and
+submissive mind, that can consent to act in accordance with the laws of
+Art. Circumstances, too, must have been reasonably favorable. That
+well-known skeptic, the King of tropical Bantam, could not skate, because
+he had never seen ice and doubted even the existence of solid water.
+Widdrington, after the Battle of Chevy Chace, could not have skated,
+because he had no legs,--poor fellow!
+
+But granted the ice and the legs, then if you begin in the elastic days of
+youth, when cold does not sting, tumbles do not bruise, and duckings do
+not wet; if you have pluck and ardor enough to try everything; if you work
+slowly ahead and stick to it; if you have good taste and a lively
+invention; if you are a man, and not a lubber;--then, in fine, you may
+become a Great Skater, just as with equal power and equal pains you may
+put your grip on any kind of Greatness.
+
+The technology of skating is imperfect. Few of the great feats, the Big
+Things, have admitted names. If I attempted to catalogue Wade's
+achievements, this chapter might become an unintelligible rhapsody. A
+sheet of paper and a pen-point cannot supply the place of a sheet of ice
+and a skate-edge. Geometry must have its diagrams, Anatomy its _corpus_ to
+carve. Skating also refuses to be spiritualized into a Science; it remains
+an Art, and cannot be expressed in a formula.
+
+Skating has its Little Go, its Great Go, its Baccalaureate, its M.A., its
+F.S.D., (Doctor of Frantic Skipping,) its A.G.D., (Doctor of Airy
+Gliding,) its N.T.D., (Doctor of No Tumbles,) and finally its highest
+degree, U.P. (Unapproachable Podographer).
+
+Wade was U.P.
+
+There were a hundred of Dunderbunkers who had passed their Little Go and
+could skate forward and backward easily. A half-hundred, perhaps, were
+through the Great Go; these could do outer edge freely. A dozen had taken
+the Baccalaureate, and were proudly repeating the pirouettes and
+spread-eagles of that degree. A few could cross their feet, on the edge,
+forward and backward, and shift edge on the same foot, and so were
+_Magistri Artis_.
+
+Wade, U.P., added to these an indefinite list of combinations and fresh
+contrivances. He spun spirals slow, and spirals neck or nothing. He
+pivoted on one toe, with the other foot cutting rings, inner and outer
+edge, forward and back, He skated on one foot better than the M.A.s could
+on both. He ran on his toes; he slid on his heels; he cut up shines like a
+sunbeam on a bender; he swung, light as if he could fly, if he pleased,
+like a wing-footed Mercury; he glided as if will, not muscle, moved him;
+he tore about in frenzies; his pivotal leg stood firm, his balance leg
+flapped like a graceful pinion; he turned somersets; he jumped, whirling
+backward as he went, over a platoon of boys laid flat on the ice;--the
+last boy winced, and thought he was amputated; but Wade flew over, and the
+boy still holds together as well as most boys. Besides this, he could
+write his name, with a flourish at the end, like the _rubrica_ of a
+Spanish _hidalgo_. He could podograph any letter, and multitudes of
+ingenious curlicues which might pass for the alphabets of the unknown
+tongues. He could _not_ tumble.
+
+It was Fine Art.
+
+Bill Tarbox sometimes pressed the champion hard. But Bill stopped just
+short of Fine Art, in High Artisanship.
+
+How Dunderbunk cheered this wondrous display! How delighted the whole
+population was to believe they possessed the best skater on the North
+River! How they struggled to imitate! How they tumbled, some on their
+backs, some on their faces, some with dignity like the dying Caesar, some
+rebelliously like a cat thrown out of a garret, some limp as an ancient
+acrobate! How they laughed at themselves and at each other!
+
+"It's all in the new skates," says Wade, apologizing for his
+unapproachable power and finish.
+
+"It's suthin' in the man," says Smith Wheelwright.
+
+"Now chase me, everybody," said Wade.
+
+And, for a quarter of an hour, he dodged the merry crowd, until at last,
+breathless, he let himself be touched by pretty Belle Purtett, rosiest of
+all the Dunderbunk bevy of rosy maidens on the ice.
+
+"He rayther beats Bosting," says Captain Isaac Ambuster to Smith
+Wheelwright. "It's so cold there that they can skate all the year round;
+but he beats them, all the same."
+
+The Captain was sitting in a queer little bowl of a skiff on the deck of
+his tug, and rocking it like a cradle, as he talked.
+
+"Bosting's always hard to beat in anything," rejoined the ex-Chairman.
+"But if Bosting is to be beat, here's the man to do it."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now, perhaps, gentle reader, you think I have said enough in behalf of
+a limited fraternity, the Skaters.
+
+The next chapter, then, shall take up the cause of the Lovers, a more
+numerous body, and we will see whether True Love, which never makes
+"smooth running," can help its progress by a skate-blade.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+"GO NOT, HAPPY DAY, TILL THE MAIDEN YIELDS."
+
+
+Christmas noon at Dunderbunk. Every skater was in galloping glee,--as the
+electric air, and the sparkling sun, and the glinting ice had a right to
+expect that they all should be.
+
+Belle Purtett, skating simply and well, had never looked so pretty and
+graceful. So thought Bill Tarbox.
+
+He had not spoken to her, nor she to him, for more than six months. The
+poor fellow was ashamed of himself and penitent for his past bad courses.
+And so, though he longed to have his old flame recognize him again, and
+though he was bitterly jealous and miserably afraid he should lose her, he
+had kept away and consumed his heart like a true despairing lover.
+
+But to-day Bill was a lion, only second to Wade, the unapproachable
+lion-in-chief. Bill was reinstated in public esteem, and had won back his
+standing in the Foundry. He had to-day made a speech which Perry Purtett
+gave everybody to understand "none of Senator Bill Seward's could hold the
+tallow to." Getting up the meeting and presenting Wade with the skates was
+Bill's own scheme, and it had turned out an eminent success. Everything
+began to look bright to him. His past life drifted out of his mind like
+the rowdy tales he used to read in the Sunday newspapers.
+
+He had watched Belle Purtett all the morning, and saw that she
+distinguished nobody with her smiles, not even that _coq du village_,
+Ringdove. He also observed that she was furtively watching him.
+
+By-and-by she sailed out of the crowd, and went off a little way to
+practise.
+
+"Now," said he to himself, "sail in, Bill Tarbox!"
+
+Belle heard the sharp strokes of a powerful skater coming after her. Her
+heart divined who this might be. She sped away like the swift Camilla, and
+her modest drapery showed just enough and "_ne quid nimis_" of her ankles.
+
+Bill admired the grace and the ankles immensely. But his hopes sank a
+little at the flight,--for he thought she perceived his chase and meant to
+drop him. Bill had not bad a classical education, and knew nothing of
+Galatea in the Eclogue,--how she did not hide, until she saw her swain was
+looking fondly after.
+
+"She wants to get away," he thought "But she sha'n't,--no, not if I have
+to follow her to Albany."
+
+He struck out mightily. Presently the swift Camilla let herself be
+overtaken.
+
+"Good morning, Miss Purtett." (Dogged air.)
+
+"Good morning, Mr. Tarbox." (Taken-by-surprise air.)
+
+"I've been admiring your skating," says Bill, trying to be cool.
+
+"Have you?" rejoins Belle, very cool and distant.
+
+"Have you been long on the ice?" he inquired, hypocritically.
+
+"I came on two hours ago with Mr. Ringdove and the girls," returned she,
+with a twinkle which said, "Take that, Sir, for pretending you did not see
+me."
+
+"You've seen Mr. Wade skate, then," Bill said, ignoring Ringdove.
+
+"Yes; isn't it splendid?" Belle replied, kindling.
+
+"Tip-top!"
+
+"But then he does everything better than anybody."
+
+"So he does!" Bill said,--true to his friend, and yet beginning to be
+jealous of this enthusiasm. It was not the first time he had been jealous
+of Wade; but he had quelled his fears, like a good fellow.
+
+Belle perceived Bill's jealousy, and could have cried for joy. She had
+known as little of her once lover's heart as he of hers. She only knew
+that he stopped coming to see her when he fell, and had not renewed his
+visits now that he was risen again. If she had not been charmingly ruddy
+with the brisk air and exercise, she would have betrayed her pleasure at
+Bill's jealousy with a fine blush.
+
+The sense of recovered power made her wish to use it again. She must tease
+him a little. So she continued, as they skated on in good rhythm,--
+
+"Mother and I wouldn't know what to do without Mr. Wade. We like him _so_
+much,"--said ardently.
+
+What Bill feared was true, then, he thought. Wade, noble fellow, worthy to
+win any woman's heart, had fascinated his landlady's daughter.
+
+"I don't wonder you like him," said he. "He deserves it."
+
+Belle was touched by her old lover's forlorn tone.
+
+"He does indeed," she said. "He has helped and taught us all so much. He
+has taken such good care of Perry. And then"--here she gave her companion
+a little look and a little smile--"he speaks so kindly of you, Mr.
+Tarbox."
+
+Smile, look, and words electrified Bill. He gave such a spring on his
+skates that he shot far ahead of the lady. He brought himself back with a
+sharp turn.
+
+"He has done kinder than he can speak," says Bill. "He has made a man of
+me again, Miss Belle."
+
+"I know it. It makes me very happy to hear you able to say so of
+yourself." She spoke gravely.
+
+"Very happy"--about anything that concerned him? Bill had to work off his
+overjoy at this by an exuberant flourish. He whisked about Belle,--outer
+edge backward. She stopped to admire. He finished by describing on the
+virgin ice, before her, the letters B.P., in his neatest style of
+podography,--easy letters to make, luckily.
+
+"Beautiful!" exclaimed Belle. "What are those letters? Oh! B.P.! What do
+they stand for?"
+
+"Guess!"
+
+"I'm so dull," said she, looking bright as a diamond. "Let me think! B.P.?
+British Poets, perhaps."
+
+"Try nearer home!"
+
+"What are you likely to be thinking of that begins with B.P.?--Oh, I know!
+Boiler Plates!"
+
+She looked at him,--innocent as a lamb. Bill looked at her, delighted with
+her little coquetry. A woman without coquetry is insipid as a rose without
+scent, as Champagne without bubbles, or as corned beef without mustard.
+
+"It's something I'm thinking of most of the time," says he; "but I hope
+it's softer than Boiler Plates. B.P. stands for Miss Isabella Purtett."
+
+"Oh!" says Belle, and she skated on in silence.
+
+"You came down with Alonzo Ringdove?" Bill asked, suddenly, aware of
+another pang after a moment of peace.
+
+"He came with me and his sisters," she replied.
+
+Yes; poor Ringdove had dressed himself in his shiniest black, put on his
+brightest patent-leather boots, with his new swan-necked skates newly
+strapped over them, and wore his new dove-colored overcoat with the long
+skirts, on purpose to be lovely in the eyes of Belle on this occasion.
+Alas, in vain!
+
+"Mr. Ringdove is a great friend of yours, isn't he?"
+
+"If you ever came to see me now, you would know who my friends are, Mr.
+Tarbox."
+
+"Would you be my friend again, if I came, Miss Belle?"
+
+"Again? I have always been so,--always, Bill."
+
+"Well, then, something more than my friend,--now that I am trying to be
+worthy of more, Belle?"
+
+"What more can I be?" she said, softly.
+
+"My wife."
+
+She curved to the right. He followed. To the left. He was not to be shaken
+off.
+
+"Will you promise me not to say _walves_ instead of _valves_, Bill?" she
+said, looking pretty and saucy as could be. "I know, to say W for V is
+fashionable in the iron business; but I don't like it."
+
+"What a thing a woman is to dodge!" says Bill. "Suppose I told you that
+men brought up inside of boilers, hammering on the inside against twenty
+hammering like Wulcans on the outside, get their ears so dumfounded that
+they can't tell whether they are saying _valves_ or _walves_, _wice_ or
+_virtue_,--suppose I told you that,--what would you say, Belle?"
+
+"Perhaps I'd say that you pronounce _virtue_ so well, and act it so
+sincerely, that I can't make any objection to your other words. If you'd
+asked me to be your _vife_, Bill, I might have said I didn't understand;
+but _wife_ I do understand, and I say"--
+
+She nodded, and tried to skate off. Bill stuck close to her side.
+
+"Is this true, Belle?" he said, almost doubtfully.
+
+"True as truth!"
+
+She put out her hand. He took it, and they skated on together,--hearts
+beating to the rhythm of their movements. The uproar and merriment of the
+village came only faintly to them. It seemed as if all Nature was hushed
+to listen to their plighted troth, their words of love renewed, more
+earnest for long suppression. The beautiful ice spread before them, like
+their life to come, a pathway untouched by any sorrowful or weary
+footstep. The blue sky was cloudless. The keen air stirred the pulses like
+the vapor of frozen wine. The benignant mountains westward kindly surveyed
+the happy pair, and the sun seemed created to warm and cheer them.
+
+"And you forgive me, Belle?" said the lover. "I feel as if I had only gone
+bad to make me know how much better going right is."
+
+"I always knew you would find it out. I never stopped hoping and praying
+for it."
+
+"That must have been what brought Mr. Wade here."
+
+"Oh, I did hate him so, Bill, when I heard of something that happened
+between you and him! I thought him a brute and a tyrant. I never could get
+over it, until he told mother that you were the best machinist he ever
+knew, and would some time grow to be a great inventor."
+
+"I'm glad you hated him. I suffered rattlesnakes and collapsed flues for
+fear you'd go and love him."
+
+"My affections were engaged," she said, with simple seriousness.
+
+"Oh, if I'd only thought so long ago! How lovely you are!" exclaims Bill,
+in an ecstasy. "And how refined! And how good! God bless you!"
+
+He made up such a wishful mouth,--so wishful for one of the pleasurable
+duties of mouths, that Belle blushed, laughed, and looked down, and as she
+did so saw that one of her straps was trailing.
+
+"Please fix it, Bill," she said, stopping and kneeling.
+
+Bill also knelt, and his wishful mouth immediately took its chance.
+
+A manly smack and sweet little feminine chirp sounded as their lips met.
+
+Boom! twanging gay as the first tap of a marriage-bell, a loud crack in
+the ice rang musically for leagues up and down the river. "Bravo!" it
+seemed to say. "Well done, Bill Tarbox! Try again!" Which the happy fellow
+did, and the happy maiden permitted.
+
+"Now," said Bill, "let us go and hug Mr. Wade!"
+
+"What! Both of us?" Belle protested. "Mr. Tarbox, I am ashamed of you!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+LIGHT LITERATURE.
+
+
+Though the smallest boulder is heavy, and even the merest pebble has a
+perceptible weight, yet the entire planet, toward which both gravitate,
+floats more lightly than any feather. In literature somewhat analogous may
+be observed. Here also are found the insignificant lightness of the pebble
+and the mighty lightness of the planet; while between them range the
+weighty masses, superior to the petty ponderability of the one, and
+unequal to the firmamental float of the other. Accordingly, setting out
+from the mote-and-pebble extreme, you find, that, up to a certain point,
+increasing values of thought are commonly indicated by increasing gravity,
+by more and more of state-paper weightiness; but beyond this the rule is
+reversed, and lightness becomes the sign and measure of excellence. Bishop
+Butler and Richard Hooker--especially the latter, the first book of whose
+"Ecclesiastical Polity" is a truly noble piece of writing--stand, perhaps,
+at the head of the weighty class of writers in our language; but going
+beyond these to the "Areopagitica" of Milton, or even to the powerful
+prose of Raleigh, you pass the boundary-line, and are touched with the
+buoyant influences of the Muse. Shakspeare and Plato are lighter than
+levity; they are lifting forces, and weigh _less_ than nothing. The
+novelette of the season, or any finest and flimsiest gossamer that is
+fabricated in our literary looms, compares with "Lear," with "Prometheus
+Bound," with any supreme work, only as cobwebs and thistle-down, that are
+easily borne by the breeze, may compare with sparrows and thrushes, that
+can fly and withal sing.
+
+There is a call for "light reading," and I for one applaud the demand. A
+lightening influence is the best that books or men can bestow upon us.
+Information is good, but invigoration is a thousand times better. Cheer,
+cheer and vigor for the world's heart! It is because man's hope is so low,
+and his imaginations so poor, that he is earthly and evil. Wings for these
+unfledged hearts! Transformation for these grubs! Give us animation,
+inspiration, joy, faith! Give us enlivening, lightsome airs, to which our
+souls shall, on a sudden, begin to dance, keeping step with the angels!
+What else is worth having? Each one of these sordid sons of men--is he not
+a new-born Apollo, who waits only for the ambrosia from Olympus, to spring
+forth in divineness of beauty and strength?
+
+Nevertheless, I know not of any reading so hopelessly heavy as large
+portions of that which claims the name of light. Light writing it may be;
+but, considered as reading, one would be unjust to charge upon it any lack
+of avoirdupois. It is like the bran of wheat, which, though of little
+weight in the barrel, is heavy enough in the stomach,--Dr. Sylvester
+Graham to the contrary notwithstanding. It is related of an Italian
+culprit, that, being required, in punishment of his crime, to make choice
+between lying in prison for a term of years and reading the history of
+Guicciardini, he chose the latter, but, after a brief trial, petitioned
+for leave to reverse his election. I never attempted Guicciardini; but I
+_did_ once attempt Pope's "Dunciad." And was it really the doom of a
+generation of readers to find delight in this book? One must suppose so.
+There are those in our day whose hard fate it is to read and to like
+James's and Bulwer's novels. But greatly mistaken is the scholar who, for
+relief from severe studies, goes to an empty or insincere book. It is like
+saying money, after large and worthy expenditures, by purchasing at a low
+price that which is worth nothing,--buying "gold" watches at a
+mock-auction room.
+
+Indeed, no book, however witty, lively, saltatory, can have the volant
+effects we covet, if it want substance and seriousness. Substance,
+however, is to be widely distinguished from ponderability. Oxygen is not
+so ponderous as lead or granite, but it is far more substantial than
+either, and, as every one knows, infinitely more serviceable to life. The
+distinction is equally valid when applied to books and to men. The "airy
+nothings" of imagination prove to be the most enduring somethings of the
+world's literature; and the last lightness of heart may go with the purest
+truth of soul and the most precious virtue of intelligence. All
+expressions carry the perpetual savors of their origin; and as brooks that
+dance and frolic with the sunbeams and murmur to the birds, light-hearted
+forever, will yet bear sands of gold, if they flow from auriferous hills,
+so any bubble and purl of laughter, proceeding from a wise and wealthy
+soul, will bear a noble significance. In point of fact, some of the
+merriest books in the world are among the most richly freighted. And as
+airy and mirthful books may be substantial and serious, so it is an effect
+very similar to that of noble and significant mirth that is produced upon
+us by the grandest pieces of serious writing. Thus, he who rightly reads
+the "Phaedon" or "Phaedrus" of Plato smiles through all the depths of his
+brain, though no pronounced smile show on his face; and he who rightly
+reads the book of Cervantes, though the laughters plunge, as it were, in
+cascades from his lips, is earnest at heart, and full of sound and tender
+meditations.
+
+If now, setting aside all books, whether pretending to gayety or gravity,
+that are simply empty and ineffectual, we inquire for the prime
+distinction between books light in a worthy and unworthy sense, it will
+appear to be the distinction between inspiration and alcohol,--between
+effects divinely real and effects illusory and momentary. The drunkard
+dreams of flying, and fancies the stars themselves left below him, while
+he is really lying in the gutter. There are those, and numbers of those,
+who in reading seek no more than to be cheated in a similar way. Indeed,
+to acknowledge a disagreeable fact, there is a very great deal of reading
+in our day that is simply a substitute for the potations and "heavy-handed
+revel" of our Saxon ancestors. In both cases it is a spurious exaltation
+of feeling that is sought; in both cases those who for a moment seem to
+themselves larks ascending to meet the sun are but worms eating earth.
+
+This celestial lightness, which constitutes the last praise and causes the
+purest benefit of books, comes not of any manner of writing; no mere
+vivacity, though that of a French writer of memoirs, though that of Arsene
+Houssaye himself, can compass it; by no knack or talents is it to be
+attained. Perfect style has, indeed, many allurements, and is of exceeding
+price; but it is no chariot of Elijah, nevertheless. Was ever style more
+delightful, of its kind, than Dryden's? Was ever style more heavy and
+monotonous than that of Swedenborg in his theological works? But I have
+read Dryden, not indeed without pleasure in his masterly exquisite ease
+and sureness of statement and his occasional touches of admirable good
+sense, yet with no slightest liberation of spirit, with no degree, greater
+or less, of that magical and marvellous evocation, of inward resource,
+whose blessed surprise now and then in life makes for us angelic moments,
+and feelingly persuades us that our earth also is a star and in the sky.
+On the other hand, I once read Swedenborg's "Angelic Wisdom concerning the
+Divine Love and the Divine Wisdom" with such enticement, such afflatus,
+such quickening and heightening of soul, as I cannot describe without
+seeming excessive. Until half through the book, I turned every page with
+the feeling that before another page I might see the chasm between the
+real and phenomenal worlds fairly bridged over. Of course, it disappointed
+me in the end; but what of that? To have kindled and for a time sustained
+the expectation which should render possible such disappointment was a
+benefit that a whole Bodleian Library might fail to confer. These benefits
+come to us not from the writer as such, but from the man behind the
+writer. He who dwells aloft amid the deathless orient imaginations of the
+human race, easily inhabiting their atmosphere as his native
+element,--about him, and him only, are the halos and dawns of immortal
+youth; and his speech, though with many babyish or barbarous fancies, many
+melancholies and vices of the blood compounded, carries nevertheless some
+refrain of divine hilarity, that beguiles men of their sordidness, their
+sullenness, and low cares, they know not how nor why.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+PILGRIMAGE TO OLD BOSTON.
+
+
+We set out at a little past eleven, and made our first stage to
+Manchester. We were by this time sufficiently Anglicized to reckon the
+morning a bright and sunny one; although the May sunshine was mingled with
+water, as it were, and distempered with a very bitter east-wind.
+
+Lancashire is a dreary county, (all, at least, except its hilly portions,)
+and I have never passed through it without wishing myself anywhere but in
+that particular spot where I then happened to be. A few places along our
+route were historically interesting; as, for example, Bolton, which was
+the scene of many remarkable events in the Parliamentary War, and in the
+market-square of which one of the Earls of Derby was beheaded. We saw,
+along the way-side, the never-failing green fields, hedges, and other
+monotonous features of an ordinary English landscape. There were little
+factory villages, too, or larger towns, with their tall chimneys, and
+their pennons of black smoke, their uglinesses of brick-work, and their
+heaps of refuse matter from the furnace, which seems to be the only kind
+of stuff which Nature cannot take back to herself and resolve into the
+elements, when man has thrown it aside. These hillocks of waste and effete
+mineral always disfigure the neighborhood of ironmongering towns, and,
+even after a considerable antiquity, are hardly made decent with a little
+grass.
+
+At a quarter to two we left Manchester by the Sheffield and Lincoln
+Railway. The scenery grew rather better than that through which we had
+hitherto passed, though still by no means very striking; for (except in
+the show-districts, such as the Lake country, or Derbyshire) English
+scenery is not particularly well worth looking at, considered as a
+spectacle or a picture. It has a real, homely charm of its own, no doubt;
+and the rich verdure, and the thorough finish added by human, art, are
+perhaps as attractive to an American eye as any stronger feature could be.
+Our journey, however, between Manchester and Sheffield was not through a
+rich tract of country, but along a valley walled in by bleak, ridgy hills
+extending straight as a rampart, and across black moorlands with here and
+there a plantation of trees. Sometimes there were long and gradual
+ascents, bleak, windy, and desolate, conveying the very impression which
+the reader gets from many passages of Miss Bronte's novels, and still more
+from those of her two sisters. Old stone or brick farm-houses, and, once
+in a while, an old church-tower, were visible: but these are almost too
+common objects to be noticed in an English landscape.
+
+On a railway, I suspect, what little we do see of the country is seen
+quite amiss, because it was never intended to be looked at from any point
+of view in that straight line; so that it is like looking at the wrong
+side of a piece of tapestry. The old highways and footpaths were as
+natural as brooks and rivulets, and adapted themselves by an inevitable
+impulse to the physiognomy of the country; and, furthermore, every object
+within view of them had some subtile reference to their curves and
+undulations: but the line of a railway is perfectly artificial, and puts
+all precedent things at sixes-and-sevens. At any rate, be the cause what
+it may, there is seldom anything worth seeing--within the scope of a
+railway traveller's eye; and if there were, it requires an alert marksman
+to take a flying shot at the picturesque.
+
+At one of the stations, (it was near a village of ancient aspect, nestling
+round a church, on a wide Yorkshire moor,) I saw a tall old lady in black,
+who seemed to have just alighted from the train. She caught my attention
+by a singular movement of the head, not once only, but continually
+repeated, and at regular intervals, as if she were making a stern and
+solemn protest against some action that developed itself before her eyes,
+and were foreboding terrible disaster, if it should be persisted in. Of
+course, it was nothing more than a paralytic or nervous affection; yet one
+might fancy that it had its origin in some unspeakable wrong, perpetrated
+half a lifetime ago in this old gentlewoman's presence, either against
+herself or somebody whom she loved still better. Her features had a
+wonderful sternness, which, I presume, was caused by her habitual effort
+to compose and keep them quiet, and thereby counteract the tendency to
+paralytic movement. The slow, regular, and inexorable character of the
+motion,--her look of force and self-control, which had the appearance of
+rendering it voluntary, while yet it was so fateful,--have stamped this
+poor lady's face and gesture into my memory; so that, some dark day or
+other, I am afraid she will reproduce herself in a dismal romance.
+
+The train stopped a minute or two, to allow the tickets to be taken, just
+before entering the Sheffield station, and thence I had a glimpse of the
+famous town of razors and penknives, enveloped in a cloud of its own
+diffusing. My impressions of it are extremely vague and misty,--or,
+rather, smoky: for Sheffield seems to me smokier than Manchester,
+Liverpool, or Birmingham,--smokier than all England besides, unless
+Newcastle be the exception. It might have been Pluto's own metropolis,
+shrouded in sulphurous vapor; and, indeed, our approach to it had been by
+the Valley of the Shadow of Death, through a tunnel three miles in length,
+quite traversing the breadth and depth of a mountainous hill.
+
+After passing Sheffield, the scenery became softer, gentler, yet more
+picturesque. At one point we saw what I believe to be the utmost northern
+verge of Sherwood Forest,--not consisting, however, of thousand-year oaks,
+extant from Robin Hood's days, but of young and thriving plantations,
+which will require a century or two of slow English growth to give them
+much breadth of shade. Earl Fitzwilliam's property lies in this
+neighborhood, and probably his castle was hidden among some soft depth of
+foliage not far off. Farther onward the country grew quite level around
+us, whereby I judged that we must now be in Lincolnshire; and shortly
+after six o'clock we caught the first glimpse of the Cathedral towers,
+though they loomed scarcely huge enough for our preconceived idea of them.
+But, as we drew nearer, the great edifice began to assert itself, making
+us acknowledge it to be larger than our receptivity could take in.
+
+At the railway-station we found no cab, (it being an unknown vehicle in
+Lincoln,) but only an omnibus belonging to the Saracen's Head, which the
+driver recommended as the best hotel in the city, and took us thither
+accordingly. It received us hospitably, and looked comfortable enough;
+though, like the hotels of most old English towns, it had a musty
+fragrance of antiquity, such as I have smelt in a seldom-opened London
+church where the broad-aisle is paved with tombstones. The house was of an
+ancient fashion, the entrance into its interior court-yard being through
+an arch, in the side of which is the door of the hotel. There are long
+corridors, an intricate arrangement of passages, and an up-and-down
+meandering of staircases, amid which it would be no marvel to encounter
+some forgotten guest who had gone astray a hundred years ago, and was
+still seeking for his bed-room while the rest of his generation were in
+their graves. There is no exaggerating the confusion of mind that seizes
+upon a stranger in the bewildering geography of a great old-fashioned
+English inn.
+
+This hotel stands in the principal street of Lincoln, and within a very
+short distance of one of the ancient city-gates, which is arched across
+the public way, with a smaller arch for foot-passengers on either side;
+the whole, a gray, time-gnawn, ponderous, shadowy structure, through the
+dark vista of which you look into the Middle Ages. The street is narrow,
+and retains many antique peculiarities; though, unquestionably, English
+domestic architecture has lost its most impressive features, in the course
+of the last century. In this respect, there are finer old towns than
+Lincoln: Chester, for instance, and Shrewsbury,--which last is unusually
+rich in those quaint and stately edifices where the gentry of the shire
+used to make their winter-abodes, in a provincial metropolis. Almost
+everywhere, nowadays, there is a monotony of modern brick or stuccoed
+fronts, hiding houses that are older than ever, but obliterating the
+picturesque antiquity of the street.
+
+Between seven and eight o'clock (it being still broad daylight in these
+long English days) we set out to pay a preliminary visit to the exterior
+of the Cathedral. Passing through the Stone Bow, as the city-gate close by
+is called, we ascended a street which grew steeper and narrower as we
+advanced, till at last it got to be the steepest street I ever
+climbed,--so steep that any carriage, if left to itself, would rattle
+downward much faster than it could possibly be drawn up. Being almost the
+only hill in Lincolnshire, the inhabitants seem disposed to make the most
+of it. The houses on each side had no very remarkable aspect, except one
+with a stone portal and carved ornaments, which is now a dwelling-place
+for poverty-stricken people, but may have been an aristocratic abode in
+the days of the Norman kings, to whom its style of architecture dates
+back. This is called the Jewess's House, having been inhabited by a woman
+of that faith who was hanged six hundred years ago.
+
+And still the street grew steeper and steeper. Certainly, the Bishop and
+clergy of Lincoln ought not to be fat men, but of very spiritual,
+saint-like, almost angelic habit, if it be a frequent part of their
+ecclesiastical duty to climb this hill; for it is a real penance, and was
+probably performed as such, and groaned over accordingly, in monkish
+times. Formerly, on the day of his installation, the Bishop used to ascend
+the hill barefoot, and was doubtless cheered and invigorated by looking
+upward to the grandeur that was to console him for the humility of his
+approach. We, likewise, were beckoned onward by glimpses of the Cathedral
+towers, and, finally, attaining an open square on the summit, we saw an
+old Gothic gateway to the left hand, and another to the right. The latter
+had apparently been a part of the exterior defences of the Cathedral, at a
+time when the edifice was fortified. The west front rose behind. We passed
+through one of the side-arches of the Gothic portal, and found ourselves
+in the Cathedral Close, a wide, level space, where the great old Minster
+has fair room to sit, looking down on the ancient structures that surround
+it, all of which, in former days, were the habitations of its dignitaries
+and officers. Some of them are still occupied as such, though others are
+in too neglected and dilapidated a state to seem worthy of so splendid an
+establishment. Unless it be Salisbury Close, however, (which is
+incomparably rich as regards the old residences that belong to it,) I
+remember no more comfortably picturesque precincts round any other
+cathedral. But, in, truth, almost every cathedral close, in turn, has
+seemed to me the loveliest, coziest, safest, least wind-shaken, most
+decorous, and most enjoyable shelter that ever the thrift and selfishness
+of mortal man contrived for himself. How delightful, to combine all this
+with the service of the temple!
+
+Lincoln Cathedral is built of a yellowish brown-stone, which appears
+either to have been largely restored, or else does not assume the hoary,
+crumbly surface that gives such a venerable aspect to most of the ancient
+churches and castles in England. In many parts, the recent restorations
+are quite evident; but other, and much the larger portions, can scarcely
+have been touched for centuries: for there are still the gargoyles,
+perfect, or with broken noses, as the case may be, but showing that
+variety and fertility of grotesque extravagance which no modern imitation
+can effect. There are innumerable niches, too, up the whole height of the
+towers, above and around the entrance, and all over the walls: most of
+them empty, but a few containing the lamentable remnants of headless
+saints and angels. It is singular what a native animosity lives in the
+human heart against carved images, insomuch that, whether they represent
+Christian saint or Pagan deity, all unsophisticated men seize the first
+safe opportunity to knock off their heads! In spite of all dilapidations,
+however, the effect of the west front of the Cathedral is still
+exceedingly rich, being covered from massive base to airy summit with the
+minutest details of sculpture and carving: at least, it was so once; and
+even now the spiritual impression of its beauty remains so strong, that we
+have to look twice to see that much of it has been obliterated. I have
+seen a cherry-stone carved all over by a monk, so minutely that it must
+have cost him half a lifetime of labor; and this cathedral front seems to
+have been elaborated in a monkish spirit, like that cherry-stone. Not that
+the result is in the least petty, but miraculously grand, and all the more
+so for the faithful beauty of the smallest details.
+
+An elderly man, seeing us looking up at the west front, came to the door
+of an adjacent house, and called to inquire if we wished to go into the
+Cathedral; but as there would have been a dusky twilight beneath its roof,
+like the antiquity that has sheltered itself within, we declined for the
+present. So we merely walked round the exterior, and thought it more
+beautiful than that of York; though, on recollection, I hardly deem it so
+majestic and mighty as that. It is vain to attempt a description, or seek
+even to record the feeling which the edifice inspires. It does not impress
+the beholder as an inanimate object, but as something that has a vast,
+quiet, long-enduring life of its own,--a creation which man did not build,
+though in some way or other it is connected with him, and kindred to human
+nature. In short, I fall straightway to talking nonsense, when I try to
+express my inner sense of this and other cathedrals.
+
+While we stood in the close, at the eastern end of the Minster, the clock
+chimed the quarters; and then Great Tom, who hangs in the Rood Tower, told
+us it was eight o'clock, in far the sweetest and mightiest accents that I
+ever heard from any bell,--slow, and solemn, and allowing the profound
+reverberations of each stroke to die away before the next one fell. It was
+still broad daylight in that upper region of the town, and would be so for
+some time longer; but the evening atmosphere was getting sharp and cool.
+We therefore descended the steep street,--our younger companion running
+before us, and gathering such headway that I fully expected him to break
+his head against some projecting wall.
+
+In the morning we took a fly, (an English term for an exceedingly sluggish
+vehicle,) and drove up to the Minster by a road rather less steep and
+abrupt than the one we had previously climbed. We alighted before the west
+front, and sent our charioteer in quest of the verger; but, as he was not
+immediately to be found, a young girl let us into the nave. We found it
+very grand, it is needless to say, but not so grand, methought, as the
+vast nave of York Cathedral, especially beneath the great central tower of
+the latter. Unless a writer intends a professedly architectural
+description, there is but one set of phrases in which to talk of all the
+cathedrals in England, and elsewhere. They are alike in their great
+features: an acre or two of stone flags for a pavement; rows of vast
+columns supporting a vaulted roof at a dusky height; great windows,
+sometimes richly bedimmed with ancient or modern stained glass; an
+elaborately carved screen between the nave and chancel, breaking the vista
+that might else be of such glorious length, and which is further choked up
+by a massive organ,--in spite of which obstructions, you catch the broad,
+variegated glimmer of the painted east window, where a hundred saints wear
+their robes of transfiguration. Within the screen are the carved oaken
+stalls of the Chapter and Prebendaries, the Bishop's throne, the pulpit,
+the altar, and whatever else may furnish out the Holy of Holies. Nor must
+we forget the range of chapels, (once dedicated to Catholic saints, but
+which have now lost their individual consecration,) nor the old monuments
+of kings, warriors, and prelates, in the side-aisles of the chancel. In
+close contiguity to the main body of the Cathedral is the Chapter-House,
+which, here at Lincoln, as at Salisbury, is supported by one central
+pillar rising from the floor, and putting forth branches like a tree, to
+hold up the roof. Adjacent to the Chapter-House are the cloisters,
+extending round a quadrangle, and paved with lettered tombstones, the more
+antique of which have had their inscriptions half obliterated by the feet
+of monks taking their noontide exercise in these sheltered walks, five
+hundred years ago. Some of these old burial-stones, although with ancient
+crosses engraved upon them, have been made to serve as memorials to dead
+people of very recent date.
+
+In the chancel, among the tombs of forgotten bishops and knights, we saw
+an immense slab of stone purporting to be the monument of Catherine
+Swineferd, wife of John of Gaunt; also, here was the shrine of the little
+Saint Hugh, that Christian child who was fabled to have been crucified by
+the Jews of Lincoln. The Cathedral is not particularly rich in monuments;
+for it suffered grievous outrage and dilapidation, both at the Reformation
+and in Cromwell's time. This latter iconoclast is in especially bad odor
+with the sextons and vergers of most of the old churches which I have
+visited. His soldiers stabled their steeds in the nave of Lincoln
+Cathedral, and hacked and hewed the monkish sculptures, and the ancestral
+memorials of great families, quite at their wicked and plebeian pleasure.
+Nevertheless, there are some most exquisite and marvellous specimens of
+flowers, foliage, and grape-vines, and miracles of stone-work twined about
+arches, as if the material had been as soft as wax in the cunning
+sculptor's hands,--the leaves being represented with all their veins, so
+that you would almost think it petrified Nature, for which he sought to
+steal the praise of Art. Here, too, were those grotesque faces which
+always grin at you from the projections of monkish architecture, as if the
+builders had gone mad with their own deep solemnity, or dreaded such a
+catastrophe, unless permitted to throw in something ineffably absurd.
+
+Originally, it is supposed, all the pillars of this great edifice, and all
+these magic sculptures, were polished to the utmost degree of lustre; nor
+is it unreasonable to think that the artists would have taken these
+further pains, when they had already bestowed so much labor in working out
+their conceptions to the extremest point. But, at present, the whole
+interior of the Cathedral is smeared over with a yellowish wash, the very
+meanest hue imaginable, and for which somebody's soul has a bitter
+reckoning to undergo.
+
+In the centre of the grassy quadrangle about which the cloisters
+perambulate is a small, mean, brick building, with a locked door. Our
+guide,--I forgot to say that we had been captured by a verger, in black,
+and with a white tie, but of a lusty and jolly aspect,--our guide unlocked
+this door, and disclosed a flight of steps. At the bottom appeared what I
+should have taken to be a large square of dim, worn, and faded
+oil-carpeting, which might originally have been painted of a rather gaudy
+pattern. This was a Roman tessellated pavement, made of small colored
+bricks, or pieces of burnt clay. It was accidentally discovered here, and
+has not been meddled with, further than by removing the superincumbent
+earth and rubbish.
+
+Nothing else occurs to me, just now, to be recorded about the interior of
+the Cathedral, except that we saw a place where the stone pavement had
+been worn away by the feet of ancient pilgrims scraping upon it, as they
+knelt down before a shrine of the Virgin.
+
+Leaving the Minster, we now went along a street of more venerable
+appearance than we had heretofore seen, bordered with houses, the high,
+peaked roofs of which were covered with red earthen tiles. It led us to a
+Roman arch, which was once the gateway of a fortification, and has been
+striding across the English street ever since the latter was a faint
+village-path, and for centuries before. The arch is about four hundred
+yards from the Cathedral; and it is to be noticed that there are Roman
+remains in all this neighborhood, some above ground, and doubtless
+innumerable more beneath it; for, as in ancient Rome itself, an inundation
+of accumulated soil seems to have swept over what was the surface of that
+earlier day. The gateway which I am speaking about is probably buried to a
+third of its height, and perhaps has as perfect a Roman pavement (if
+sought for at the original depth) as that which runs beneath the Arch of
+Titus. It is a rude and massive structure, and seems as stalwart now as it
+could have been two thousand years ago; and though Time has gnawed it
+externally, he has made what amends he could by crowning its rough and
+broken summit with grass and weeds, and planting tufts of yellow flowers
+on the projections up and down the sides.
+
+There are the ruins of a Norman castle, built by the Conqueror, in pretty
+close proximity to the Cathedral; but the old gateway is obstructed by a
+modern door of wood, and we were denied admittance because some part of
+the precincts are used as a prison. We now rambled about on the broad back
+of the hill, which, besides the Minster and ruined castle, is the site of
+some stately and queer old houses, and of many mean little hovels. I
+suspect that all or most of the life of the present day has subsided into
+the lower town, and that only priests, poor people, and prisoners dwell in
+these upper regions. In the wide, dry moat at the base of the castle-wall
+are clustered whole colonies of small houses, some of brick, but the
+larger portion built of old stones which once made part of the Norman
+keep, or of Roman structures that existed before the Conqueror's castle
+was ever dreamed about. They are like toadstools that spring up from the
+mould of a decaying tree. Ugly as they are, they add wonderfully to the
+picturesqueness of the scene, being quite as valuable, in that respect, as
+the great, broad, ponderous ruin of the castle-keep, which rose high above
+our heads, heaving its huge gray mass out of a bank of green foliage and
+ornamental shrubbery, such as lilacs and other flowering-plants, in which
+its foundations were completely hidden.
+
+After walking quite round the castle, I made an excursion through the
+Roman gateway, along a pleasant and level road bordered with dwellings of
+various character. One or two were houses of gentility, with delightful
+and shadowy lawns before them; many had those high, red-tiled roofs,
+ascending into acutely pointed gables, which seem to belong to the same
+epoch as some of the edifices in our own earlier towns; and there were
+pleasant-looking cottages, very sylvan and rural, with hedges so dense and
+high, fencing them in, as almost to hide them up to the eaves of their
+thatched roofs. In front of one of these I saw various images, crosses,
+and relics of antiquity, among which were fragments of old Catholic
+tombstones, disposed by way of ornament.
+
+We now went home to the Saracen's Head; and as the weather was very
+unpropitious, and it sprinkled a little now and then, I would gladly have
+felt myself released from further thraldom to the Cathedral. But it had
+taken possession of me, and would not let me be at rest; so at length I
+found myself compelled to climb the hill again, between daylight and dusk.
+A mist was now hovering about the upper height of the great central tower,
+so as to dim and half obliterate its battlements and pinnacles, even while
+I stood in the close beneath it. It was the most impressive view that I
+had had. The whole lower part of the structure was seen with perfect
+distinctness; but at the very summit the mist was so dense as to form an
+actual cloud, as well denned as ever I saw resting on a mountain-top.
+Really and literally, here was a "cloud-capt tower."
+
+The entire Cathedral, too, transfigured itself into a richer beauty and
+more imposing majesty than ever. The longer I looked, the better I loved
+it. Its exterior is certainly far more beautiful than that of York
+Minster; and its finer effect is due, I think, to the many peaks in which
+the structure ascends, and to the pinnacles which, as it were, repeat and
+re-echo them into the sky. York Cathedral is comparatively square and
+angular in its general effect; but here there is a continual mystery of
+variety, so that at every glance you are aware of a change, and a
+disclosure of something new, yet working an harmonious development of what
+you have heretofore seen. The west front is unspeakably grand, and may be
+read over and over again forever, and still show undetected meanings, like
+a great, broad page of marvellous writing in black-letter,--so many
+sculptured ornaments there are, blossoming out before your eyes, and gray
+statues that have grown there since you looked last, and empty niches, and
+a hundred airy canopies beneath which carved images used to be, and where
+they will show themselves again, if you gaze long enough.--But I will not
+say another word about the Cathedral.
+
+We spent the rest of the day within the sombre precincts of the Saracen's
+Head, reading yesterday's "Times," "The Guide-Book of Lincoln," and "The
+Directory of the Eastern Counties." Dismal as the weather was, the street
+beneath our window was enlivened with a great bustle and turmoil of people
+all the evening, because it was Saturday night, and they had accomplished
+their week's toil, received their wages, and were making their small
+purchases against Sunday, and enjoying themselves as well as they knew
+how. A band of music passed to and fro several times, with the rain-drops
+falling into the mouth of the brazen trumpet and pattering on the
+bass-drum; a spirit-shop, opposite the hotel, had a vast run of custom;
+and a coffee-dealer, in the open air, found occasional vent for his
+commodity, in spite of the cold water that dripped into the cups. The
+whole breadth of the street, between the Stone Bow and the bridge across
+the Witham, was thronged to overflowing, and humming with human life.
+
+Observing in the Guide-Book that a steamer runs on the River Witham
+between Lincoln and Boston, I inquired of the waiter, and learned that she
+was to start on Monday, at ten o'clock. Thinking it might be an
+interesting trip, and a pleasant variation of our customary mode of
+travel, we determined to make the voyage. The Witham flows through
+Lincoln, crossing the main street under an arched bridge of Gothic
+construction, a little below the Saracen's Head. It has more the
+appearance of a canal than of a river, in its passage through the
+town,--being bordered with hewn stone mason-work on each side, and
+provided with one or two locks. The steamer proved to be small, dirty, and
+altogether inconvenient. The early morning had been bright; but the sky
+now lowered upon us with a sulky English temper, and we had not long put
+off before we felt an ugly wind from the German Ocean blowing right in our
+teeth. There were a number of passengers on board, country-people, such as
+travel by third-class on the railway; for, I suppose, nobody but ourselves
+ever dreamt of voyaging, by the steamer for the sake of what he might
+happen upon in the way of river-scenery.
+
+We bothered a good while about getting through a preliminary lock; nor,
+when fairly under way, did we ever accomplish, I think, six miles an hour.
+Constant delays were caused, moreover, by stopping to take up passengers
+and freight,--not at regular landing-places, but anywhere along the green
+banks. The scenery was identical with that of the railway, because the
+latter runs along by the river-side through the whole distance, or nowhere
+departs from it except to make a short cut across some sinuosity; so that
+our only advantage lay in the drawling, snail-like slothfulness of our
+progress, which allowed us time enough and to spare for the objects along
+the shore. Unfortunately, there was nothing, or next to nothing, to be
+seen,--the country being one unvaried level over the whole thirty miles of
+our voyage,--not a hill in sight, either near or far, except that solitary
+one on the summit of which we had left Lincoln Cathedral. And the
+Cathedral was our landmark for four hours or more, and at last rather
+faded out than was hidden by any intervening object.
+
+It would have been a pleasantly lazy day enough, if the rough and bitter
+wind had not blown directly in our faces, and chilled us through, in spite
+of the sunshine that soon succeeded a sprinkle or two of rain. These
+English east-winds, which prevail from February till June, are greater
+nuisances than the east-wind of our own Atlantic coast, although they do
+not bring mist and storm, as with us, but some of the sunniest weather
+that England sees. Under their influence, the sky smiles and is villanous.
+
+The landscape was tame to the last degree, but had an English character
+that was abundantly worth our looking at. A green luxuriance of early
+grass; old, high-roofed farm-houses, surrounded by their stone barns and
+ricks of bay and grain; ancient villages, with the square, gray tower of a
+church seen afar over the level country, amid the cluster of red roofs;
+here and there a shadowy grove of venerable trees, surrounding what was
+perhaps an Elizabethan ball, though it looked more like the abode of some
+rich yeoman. Once, too, we saw the tower of a mediaeval castle, that of
+Tattershall, built by a Cromwell, but whether of the Protector's family I
+cannot tell. But the gentry do not appear to have settled multitudinously
+in this tract of country; nor is it to be wondered at, since a lover of
+the picturesque would as soon think of settling in Holland. The river
+retains its canal-like aspect all along; and only in the latter part of
+its course does it become more than wide enough for the little steamer to
+turn itself round,--at broadest, not more than twice that width.
+
+The only memorable incident of our voyage happened when a mother-duck was
+leading her little fleet of five ducklings across the river, just as our
+steamer went swaggering by, stirring the quiet stream into great waves
+that lashed the banks on either side. I saw the imminence of the
+catastrophe, and hurried to the stern of the boat to witness, since I
+could not possibly avert it. The poor ducklings had uttered their
+baby-quacks, and striven with all their tiny might to escape: four of
+them, I believe, were washed aside and thrown off unhurt from the
+steamer's prow; but the fifth must have gone under the whole length of the
+keel, and never could have come up alive.
+
+At last, in, mid-afternoon, we beheld the tall tower of Saint Botolph's
+Church (three hundred feet high, the same elevation as the tallest tower
+of Lincoln Cathedral) looming in the distance. At about half-past four we
+reached Boston, (which name has been shortened, in the course of ages, by
+the quick and slovenly English pronunciation, from Botolph's town,) and
+were taken by a cab to the Peacock, in the market-place. It was the best
+hotel in town, though a poor one enough; and we were shown into a small,
+stilled parlor, dingy, musty, and scented with stale
+tobacco-smoke,--tobacco-smoke two days old, for the waiter assured us that
+the room had not more recently been fumigated. An exceedingly grim waiter
+he was, apparently a genuine descendant of the old Puritans of this
+English Boston, and quite as sour as those who peopled the daughter-city
+in New England. Our parlor had the one recommendation of looking into the
+market-place, and affording a sidelong glimpse of the tail spire and noble
+old church.
+
+In my first ramble about the town, chance led me to the river-side, at
+that quarter where the port is situated. Here were long buildings of an
+old-fashioned aspect, seemingly warehouses, with windows in the high,
+steep roofs. The Custom-House found ample accommodation within an ordinary
+dwelling-house. Two or three large schooners were moored along the river's
+brink, which had here a stone margin; another large and handsome schooner
+was evidently just finished, rigged and equipped for her first voyage; the
+rudiments of another were on the stocks, in a ship-yard bordering on the
+river. Still another, while I was looking on, came up the stream, and
+lowered her main-sail, from a foreign voyage. An old man on the bank
+hailed her and inquired about her cargo; but the Lincolnshire people have
+such a queer way of talking English that I could not understand the reply.
+Farther down the river, I saw a brig, approaching rapidly under sail. The
+whole scene made an odd impression of bustle, and sluggishness, and decay,
+and a remnant of wholesome life; and I could not but contrast it with the
+mighty and populous activity of our own Boston, which was once the feeble
+infant of this old English town;--the latter, perhaps, almost stationary
+ever since that day, as if the birth of such an offspring had taken away
+its own principle of growth. I thought of Long Wharf, and Faneuil Hall,
+and Washington Street, and the Great Elm, and the State-House, and exulted
+lustily,--but yet began to feel at home in this good old town, for its
+very name's sake, as I never had before felt, in England.
+
+The next morning we came out in the early sunshine, (the sun must have
+been shining nearly four hours, however, for it was after eight o'clock,)
+and strolled about the streets, like people who had a right to be there.
+The market-place of Boston is an irregular square, into one end of which
+the chancel of the church slightly projects. The gates of the church-yard
+were open and free to all passengers, and the common footway of the
+towns-people seems to lie to and fro across it. It is paved, according to
+English custom, with flat tombstones; and there are also raised, or
+altar-tombs, some of which have armorial bearings on them. One clergyman
+has caused himself and his wife to be buried right in the middle of the
+stone-bordered path that traverses the church-yard; so that not an
+individual of the thousands who pass along this public way can help
+trampling over him or her. The scene, nevertheless, was very cheerful in
+the morning sun: people going about their business in the day's primal
+freshness, which was just as fresh here as in younger villages; children,
+with milk-pails, loitering over the burial-stones; school-boys playing
+leap-frog with the altar-tombs; the simple old town preparing itself for
+the day, which would be like myriads of other days that had passed over
+it, but yet would be worth living through. And down on the church-yard,
+where were buried many generations whom it remembered in their time,
+looked the stately tower of Saint Botolph; and it was good to see and
+think of such an age-long giant, intermarrying the present epoch with a
+distant past, and getting quite imbued with human nature by being so
+immemorially connected with men's familiar knowledge and homely interests.
+It is a noble tower; and the jackdaws evidently have pleasant homes in
+their hereditary nests among its topmost windows, and live delightful
+lives, flitting and cawing about its pinnacles and flying-buttresses. I
+should almost like to be a jackdaw myself, for the sake of living up
+there.
+
+In front of the church, not more than twenty yards off, and with a low
+brick wall between, flows the River Witham. On the hither bank a fisherman
+was washing his boat; and another skiff, with her sail lazily
+half-twisted, lay on the opposite strand. The stream, at this point, is
+about of such width, that, if the tall tower were to tumble over flat on
+its face, its top-stone might perhaps reach to the middle of the channel.
+On the farther shore there is a line of antique-looking houses, with roofs
+of red tile, and windows opening out of them,--some of these dwellings
+being so ancient, that the Reverend Mr. Cotton, subsequently our first
+Boston minister, must have seen them with his own bodily eyes, when he
+used to issue from the front-portal after service. Indeed, there must be
+very many houses here, and even some streets, that bear much the aspect
+that they did when the Puritan divine paced solemnly among them.
+
+In our rambles about town, we went into a bookseller's shop to inquire if
+he had any description of Boston for sale. He offered me (or, rather,
+produced for inspection, not supposing that I would buy it) a quarto
+history of the town, published by subscription, nearly forty years ago.
+The bookseller showed himself a well-informed and affable man, and a local
+antiquary, to whom a party of inquisitive strangers were a godsend. He had
+met with several Americans, who, at various times, had come on pilgrimages
+to this place, and had been in correspondence with others. Happening to
+have heard the name of one member of our party, he showed us great
+courtesy and kindness, and invited us into his inner domicile, where, as
+he modestly intimated, he kept a few articles which it might interest us
+to see. So we went with him through the shop, up-stairs, into the private
+part of his establishment; and, really, it was one of the rarest
+adventures I ever met with, to stumble upon this treasure of a man, with
+his treasury of antiquities and curiosities, veiled behind the
+unostentatious front of a bookseller's shop, in a very moderate line of
+village-business. The two up-stair rooms into which he introduced us were
+so crowded with inestimable articles, that we were almost afraid to stir,
+for fear of breaking some fragile thing that had been accumulating value
+for unknown centuries.
+
+The apartment was hung round with pictures and old engravings, many of
+which were extremely rare. Premising that he was going to show us
+something very curious, Mr. Porter went into the next room and returned
+with a counterpane of fine linen, elaborately embroidered with silk, which
+so profusely covered the linen that the general effect was as if the main
+texture were silken. It was stained, and seemed very old, and had an
+ancient fragrance. It was wrought all over with birds and flowers in a
+most delicate style of needle-work, and among other devices, more than
+once repeated, was the cipher, M.S.,--being the initials of one of the
+most unhappy names that ever a woman bore. This quilt was embroidered by
+the hands of Mary-Queen of Scots, during her imprisonment at Fotheringay
+Castle; and having evidently been a work of years, she had doubtless shed
+many tears over it, and wrought many doleful thoughts and abortive schemes
+into its texture, along with the birds and flowers. As a counterpart to
+this most precious relic, our friend produced some of the handiwork of a
+former Queen of Otaheite, presented by her to Captain Cook: it was a bag,
+cunningly made of some delicate vegetable stuff, and ornamented with
+feathers. Next, he brought out a green silk waistcoat of very antique
+fashion, trimmed about the edges and pocket-holes with a rich and delicate
+embroidery of gold and silver. This (as the possessor of the treasure
+proved, by tracing its pedigree till it came into his hands) was once the
+vestment of Queen Elizabeth's Lord Burleigh: but that great statesman must
+have been a person of very moderate girth in the chest and waist; for the
+garment was hardly more than a comfortable fit for a boy of eleven, the
+smallest American of our party, who tried on the gorgeous waistcoat. Then,
+Mr. Porter produced some curiously engraved drinking-glasses, with a view
+of Saint Botolph's steeple on one of them, and other Boston edifices,
+public or domestic, on the remaining two, very admirably done. These
+crystal goblets had been a present, long ago, to an old master of the Free
+School from his pupils; and it is very rarely, I imagine, that a retired
+schoolmaster can exhibit such trophies of gratitude and affection, won
+from the victims of his birch rod.
+
+Our kind friend kept bringing out one unexpected and wholly unexpectable
+thing after another, as if he were a magician, and had only to fling a
+private signal into the air, and some attendant imp would hand forth any
+strange relic we might choose to ask for. He was especially rich in
+drawings by the Old Masters, producing two or three, of exquisite
+delicacy, by Raphael, one by Salvator, a head by Rembrandt, and others, in
+chalk or pen-and-ink, by Giordano, Benvenuto Cellini, and hands almost as
+famous; and besides what were shown us, there seemed to be an endless
+supply of these art-treasures in reserve. On the wall hung a
+crayon-portrait of Sterne, never engraved, representing him as a rather
+young man, blooming, and not uncomely: it was the worldly face of a man
+fond of pleasure, but without that ugly, keen, sarcastic, odd expression
+that we see in his only engraved portrait. The picture is an original, and
+must needs be very valuable; and we wish it might be prefixed to some new
+and worthier biography of a writer whose character the world has always
+treated with singular harshness, considering how much it owes him. There
+was likewise a crayon-portrait of Sterne's wife, looking so haughty and
+unamiable, that the wonder is, how he ever contrived to live a week with
+such an awful woman.
+
+After looking at these, and a great many more things than I can remember,
+above stairs, we went down to a parlor, where this wonderful bookseller
+opened an old cabinet, containing numberless drawers, and looking just fit
+to be the repository of such knick-knacks as were stored up in it. He
+appeared to possess more treasures than he himself knew of, or knew where
+to find; but, rummaging here and there, he brought forth things new and
+old: rose-nobles, Victoria crowns, gold angels, double-sovereigns of
+George IV., two-guinea pieces of George II.; a marriage-medal of the first
+Napoleon, only forty-five of which were ever struck off, and of which even
+the British Museum does not contain a specimen like this, in gold; a brass
+medal, three or four inches in diameter, of a Roman Emperor; together with
+buckles, bracelets, amulets, and I know not what besides. There was a
+green silk tassel from the fringe of Queen Mary's bed at Holyrood Palace.
+There were illuminated missals, antique Latin Bibles, and (what may seem
+of especial interest to the historian) a Secret-Book of Queen Elizabeth,
+written, for aught I know, by her own hand. On examination, however, it
+proved to contain, not secrets of State, but recipes for dishes, drinks,
+medicines, washes, and all such matters of housewifery, the toilet, and
+domestic quackery, among which we were horrified by the title of one of
+the nostrums, "How to kill a Fellow quickly"! We never doubted that bloody
+Queen Bess might often have had occasion for such a recipe, but wondered
+at her frankness, and at her attending to these anomalous necessities in
+such a methodical way. The truth is, we had read amiss, and the Queen had
+spelt amiss: the word was "Fellon,"--a sort of whitlow,--not "Fellow."
+
+Our hospitable friend now made us drink a glass of wine, as old and
+genuine as the curiosities of his cabinet; and while sipping it, we
+ungratefully tried to excite his envy, by telling of various things,
+interesting to an antiquary and virtuoso, which we had seen in the course
+of our travels about England. We spoke, for instance, of a missal bound in
+solid gold and set round with jewels, but of such intrinsic value as no
+setting could enhance, for it was exquisitely illuminated, throughout, by
+the hand of Raphael himself. We mentioned a little silver case which once
+contained a portion of the heart of Louis XIV, nicely done up in spices,
+but, to the owner's horror and astonishment, Dean Buckland popped the
+kingly morsel into his mouth, and swallowed it. We told about the
+black-letter prayer-book of King Charles the Martyr, used by him upon the
+scaffold, taking which into our hands, it opened of itself at the
+Communion Service; and there, on the left-hand page, appeared a spot about
+as large as a sixpence, of a yellowish or brownish hue: a drop of the
+King's blood had fallen there.
+
+Mr. Porter now accompanied us to the church, but first leading us to a
+vacant spot of ground where old John Cotton's vicarage had stood till a
+very short time since. According to our friend's description, it was a
+humble habitation, of the cottage order, built of brick, with a thatched
+roof. The site is now rudely fenced in, and cultivated as a vegetable
+garden. In the right-hand aisle of the church there is an ancient chapel,
+which, at the time of our visit, was in process of restoration, and was to
+be dedicated to Cotton, whom these English people consider as the founder
+of our American Boston. It would contain a painted memorial-window, in
+honor of the old Puritan minister. A festival in commemoration of the
+event was to take place in the ensuing July, to which I had myself
+received an invitation, but I knew too well the pains and penalties
+incurred by an invited guest at public festivals in England to accept it.
+It ought to be recorded, (and it seems to have made a very kindly
+impression on our kinsfolk here,) that five hundred pounds had been
+contributed by persons in the United States, principally in Boston,
+towards the cost of the memorial-window, and the repair and restoration of
+the chapel.
+
+After we emerged from the chapel, Mr. Porter approached us with the vicar,
+to whom he kindly introduced us, and then took his leave. May a stranger's
+benediction rest upon him! He is a most pleasant man; rather, I imagine, a
+virtuoso than an antiquary; for he seemed to value the Queen of Otaheite's
+bag as highly as Queen Mary's embroidered quilt, and to have an omnivorous
+appetite for everything strange and rare. Would that we could fill up his
+shelves and drawers (if there are any vacant spaces left) with the
+choicest trifles that have dropped out of Time's carpet-bag, or give him
+the carpet-bag itself, to take out what he will!
+
+The vicar looked about thirty years old, a gentleman, evidently assured of
+his position, (as clergymen of the Established Church invariably are,)
+comfortable and well-to-do, a scholar and a Christian, and fit to be a
+bishop, knowing how to make the most of life without prejudice to the life
+to come. I was glad to see such a model English priest so suitably
+accommodated with an old English church. He kindly and courteously did the
+honors, showing us quite round the interior, giving us all the information
+that we required, and then leaving us to the quiet enjoyment of what we
+came to see.
+
+The interior of Saint Botolph's is very fine and satisfactory, as stately,
+almost, as a cathedral, and has been repaired--so far as repairs were
+necessary--in a chaste and noble style. The great eastern window is of
+modern painted glass, but is the richest, mellowest, and tenderest modern
+window that I have ever seen: the art of painting these glowing
+transparencies in pristine perfection being one that the world has lost.
+The vast, clear space, of the interior church delighted me. There was no
+screen,--nothing between the vestibule and the altar to break the long
+vista; even the organ stood aside,--though it by-and-by made us aware of
+its presence by a melodious roar. Around the walls there were old engraved
+brasses, and a stone coffin, and an alabaster knight of Saint John, and an
+alabaster lady, each recumbent at full length, as large as life, and in
+perfect preservation, except for a slight modern touch at the tips of
+their noses. In the chancel we saw a great deal of oaken work, quaintly
+and admirably carved, especially about the seats formerly appropriated to
+the monks, which were so contrived as to tumble down with a tremendous
+crash, if the occupant happened to fall asleep.
+
+We now essayed to climb into the upper regions. Up we went, winding and
+still winding round the circular stairs, till we came to the gallery
+beneath the stone roof of the tower, whence we could look down and see the
+raised Fort, and my Talma lying on one of the steps, and looking about as
+big as a pocket-handkerchief. Then up again, up, up, up, through a yet
+smaller staircase, till we emerged into another stone gallery, above the
+jackdaws, and far above the roof beneath which we had before made a halt.
+Then up another flight, which led us into a pinnacle of the temple, but
+not the highest; so, retracing our steps, we took the right turret this
+time, and emerged into the loftiest lantern, where we saw level
+Lincolnshire, far and near, though with a haze on the distant horizon.
+There were dusty roads, a river, and canals, converging towards Boston,
+which--a congregation of red-tiled roofs--lay beneath our feet, with pigmy
+people creeping about its narrow streets. We were three hundred feet
+aloft, and the pinnacle on which we stood is a landmark forty miles at
+sea.
+
+Content, and weary of our elevation, we descended the corkscrew stairs and
+left the church; the last object that we noticed in the interior being a
+bird, which appeared to be at home there, and responded with its cheerful
+notes to the swell of the organ. Pausing on the church-steps, we observed
+that there were formerly two statues, one on each side of the door-way;
+the canopies still remaining, and the pedestals being about a yard from
+the ground. Some of Mr. Cotton's Puritan parishioners are probably
+responsible for the disappearance of these stone saints. This door-way at
+the base of the tower is now much dilapidated, but must once have been
+very rich and of a peculiar fashion. It opens its arch through a great
+square tablet of stone, reared against the front of the tower. On most of
+the projections, whether on the tower or about the body of the church,
+there are gargoyles of genuine Gothic grotesqueness,--fiends, beasts,
+angels, and combinations of all three; and where portions of the edifice
+are restored, the modern sculptors have tried to imitate these wild
+fantasies, but with very poor success. Extravagance and absurdity have
+still their law, and should pay as rigid obedience to it as the primmest
+things on earth.
+
+In our further rambles about Boston, we crossed the river by a bridge, and
+observed that the larger part of the town seems to lie on that side of its
+navigable stream. The crooked streets and narrow lanes reminded me much of
+Hanover Street, Ann Street, and other portions of the North End of our
+American Boston, as I remember that picturesque region in my boyish days.
+It is not unreasonable to suppose that the local habits and recollections
+of the first settlers may have had some influence on the physical
+character of the streets and houses in the New-England metropolis; at any
+rate, here is a similar intricacy of bewildering lanes, and numbers of old
+peaked and projecting-storied dwellings, such as I used to see there. It
+is singular what a home-feeling and sense of kindred I derived from this
+hereditary connection and fancied physiognomical resemblance between the
+old town and its well-grown daughter, and how reluctant I was, after chill
+years of banishment, to leave this hospitable place, on that account.
+Moreover, it recalled some of the features of another American town, my
+own dear native place, when I saw the seafaring people leaning against
+posts, and sitting on planks, under the lee of warehouses,--or lolling on
+long-boats, drawn up high and dry, as sailors and old wharf-rats are
+accustomed to do, in seaports of little business. In other respects, the
+English town is more village-like than either of the American ones. The
+women and budding girls chat together at their doors, and exchange merry
+greetings with young men; children chase one another in the summer
+twilight; school-boys sail little boats on the river, or play at marbles
+across the flat tombstones in the churchyard; and ancient men, in breeches
+and long waistcoats, wander slowly about the streets, with a certain
+familiarity of deportment, as if each one were everybody's grandfather. I
+have frequently observed, in old English towns, that Old Age comes forth
+more cheerfully, and genially into the sunshine than among ourselves,
+where the rush, stir, bustle, and irreverent energy of youth are so
+preponderant, that the poor, forlorn grandsires begin to doubt whether
+they have a right to breathe in such a world any longer, and so hide their
+silvery heads in solitude. Speaking of old men, I am reminded of the
+scholars of the Boston Charity-School, who walk about in antique,
+long-skirted blue coats, and knee-breeches, and with bands at their
+necks,--perfect and grotesque pictures of the costume of three centuries
+ago.
+
+On the morning of our departure, I looked from the parlor-window of the
+Peacock into the market-place, and beheld its irregular square already
+well-covered with booths, and more in process of being put up, by
+stretching tattered sail-cloth on poles. It was market-day. The dealers
+were arranging their commodities, consisting chiefly of vegetables, the
+great bulk of which seemed to be cabbages. Later in the forenoon there was
+a much greater variety of merchandise: basket-work, both for fancy and
+use; twig-brooms, beehives, oranges, rustic attire; all sorts of things,
+in short, that are commonly sold at a rural fair. I heard the lowing of
+cattle, too, and the bleating of sheep, and found that there was a market
+for cows, oxen, and pigs, in another part of the town. A crowd of
+towns-people and Lincolnshire yeomen elbowed one another in the square;
+Mr. Punch was squeaking in one corner, and a vagabond juggler tried to
+find space for his exhibition in another: so that my final glimpse of
+Boston was calculated to leave a livelier impression than my former ones.
+Meanwhile the tower of Saint Botolph's looked benignantly down; and I
+fancied that it was bidding me farewell, as it did Mr. Cotton, two or
+three hundred years ago, and telling me to describe its venerable height,
+and the town beneath it, to the people of the American city, who are
+partly akin, if not to the living inhabitants of Old Boston, yet to some
+of the dust that lies in its churchyard.
+
+One thing more. They have a Bunker Hill in the vicinity of their town; and
+(what could hardly be expected of an English community) seem proud to
+think that their neighborhood has given name to our first and most widely
+celebrated and best-remembered battle-field.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF A STRENGTH-SEEKER.
+
+
+"There goes the smallest fellow in our class."
+
+I was crossing one of the paths that intersect the college green of old
+Harvard when this remark fell upon my ears. Looking up, I saw two stalwart
+Freshmen on their way to recitation, one of whom had called the other's
+attention to my humble self by this observation, reminding me of a
+distinction which I did not covet.
+
+It was not quite true. There was one, and only one, member of the class of
+'54 who was as small as I. Some consolation, though not much, in that! But
+the air of amused compassion with which the lusty Down-Easter, who had
+made me feel what the _digito monstrari_ was, now looked down on me,
+raised a feeling of resentment and self-depreciation which left me in no
+mood to make a brilliant show of scholarship in construing my "Isocrates"
+that morning.
+
+"True, I am small, nay, diminutive," I soliloquized, as I wended my way
+homeward under the classic umbrage of venerable elms. "But surely this is
+no fault of mine.--Hold there! Are you quite sure it's no fault of yours?
+Are we not responsible to a much greater extent than we imagine for our
+physical condition? After making all abatement for insurmountable
+hereditary influences upon organization,--after granting to that
+remorseless law of genealogical transmission its proper weight,--after
+admitting the seemingly capricious facts of what the modern French
+physiologists call _atavism_, under which we are made drunkards or
+consumptives, lunatics or wise men, short or tall, because of certain
+dominant traits in some remote ancestor,--after conceding all this, does
+not Nature leave it largely in our own power to counteract both physical
+and moral tendencies, and to mould the body as well as the mind, if we
+will only put forth in action the requisite energy of will?"
+
+This disposition to cavil at received axioms has beset me through life. No
+sooner does a truth present itself than I want to see it on its other
+side. If I hear the Devil spoken ill of, I puzzle myself to find what can
+be said in his favor. The man who thus halts between conflicting opinions,
+solicitous to give both their due, and to see the truth, pure and simple
+and entire, may miss laying hold of great convictions till it is too late
+for him to act on them; but what he accepts he generally holds.
+
+My meditations on the subject of my inferior stature led me to a
+determination to try what gymnastic practice could do to remedy the
+defect. For some thirty years, gymnastics, first introduced into this
+country, I believe, at the Round-Hill School at Northampton, then under
+the charge of Messrs. Cogswell and Bancroft, had languished and revived
+fitfully at Cambridge. It was during one of the languishing periods that I
+began my practice. For some five or six weeks I kept it up with
+enthusiasm. Then I began to grow less methodical and regular in my habits
+of exercise; and then to find excuses for my delinquencies.
+
+After all, what matter, if, like Paul's, my "bodily presence is weak"?
+Were not Alexander the Great and Napoleon small men? Were not Pope, and
+Dr. Watts, and Moore, and Campbell, and a long list of authors, artists,
+and philosophers, considerably under medium height? Were not Garrick and
+Kean and the elder Booth all under five feet four or five? Is there not a
+volume somewhere in our college library, written by a learned Frenchman,
+devoted exclusively to the biography of men who have been great in mind,
+though diminutive in stature? Is not Lord John Russell as small almost as
+I? Have I many inches to grow before I shall be as tall as Dr. Holmes?
+
+These consolatory considerations softened my chagrin at the contemplation
+of my height. "Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big
+assemblance of a man? Give me the spirit, Master Shallow,--the spirit!"
+
+And so my gymnastic ardor, after a brief blaze, flickered, fell, was
+ashes. But it was destined to be soon revived by an incident, trifling in
+itself, though of a character to assume exaggerated proportions in the
+mind of a sensitive boy. A youth, who had considerably the advantage of me
+both in inches and in years, and whose overflow of animal spirits required
+some object to vent itself upon, selected me as the victim of his
+ebullient vivacity. He began by tossing my book down stairs. This seemed
+to me rather rough play, especially from one with whom I was not, at the
+time, on terms of intimacy; but, making allowance for the hilarity of
+classmates just let loose from recitation, I picked up, without a thought
+of resentment, the abused volume, and took no further notice of the
+matter. I subsequently found that it was merely the commencement of a
+series of similar annoyances. This lively classmate would even play tricks
+on me at the dinner table.
+
+What was to be done? I mentioned the grievance to a friend, and he
+remonstrated with my lively classmate, threatening him with my serious
+displeasure. "Pooh! how can he help himself?" was the reply which came
+duly to my ears.
+
+Sure enough! How could I help myself? The aggressor was my superior in
+weight and size. It was a plain case that I should get badly and
+ridiculously whipped, if I attempted to cope with him in any pugilistic
+encounter. But how would it do to demand of him the satisfaction of a
+gentleman? True, I knew nothing of pistol-shooting, and had never handled
+a small-sword. No matter for that!
+
+But another consideration speedily drove this scheme of vengeance _a
+l'outrance_ out of my head. Not many years before, a peppery little
+Freshman had been insulted, as he thought, by a Sophomore. The Soph, I
+believe, had knocked the young one's hat over his eyes, as they were
+kicking foot-ball in the Delta. Freshman sent a challenge, the effect of
+which was to excite inextinguishable laughter among the Sophs convened
+over their cigars in the aggressor's room. Amid roars, one of the
+conspirators penned an acceptance, fixing as the weapon, hair
+triggers,--time, five o'clock in the morning,--place, the Delta,--second,
+the bearer, Mr. M----, the writer of this reply.
+
+It was a cruel business. A sham second was imposed on poor little Fresh.
+Brave as Julius Caesar, he sat up all night writing letters and preparing
+his will. Prompt to the moment, he was on the chosen ground. An unusually
+large delegation for such a delicate affair seemed to be present. One
+rascal who wore enormous green goggles was pointed out to the innocent as
+Dr. Von Guldenstubbe, a celebrated German surgeon, just from Leipsic.
+Little Fresh shook hands with him gravely, amid the smothered laughter of
+the conspirators. The distance was to be five paces; for it was whispered
+so as to reach the ear of Fresh, that Soph was thirsting for his heart's
+blood. They take their places,--the signal is given,--they fire,--and with
+a hideous groan and a wild pirouette, the Soph falls to the ground.
+
+The Freshman is led up near enough to see the fellow's face covered with
+blood, and to hear his cries to his friends to put him out of his misery.
+Intensely agitated, poor little Fresh is hurried by pretended friends into
+a carriage, and driven off; and it is not till a week afterwards that he
+learns he has been the victim of a hoax.
+
+No! it would never answer for me to run the risk of being _sold_ in any
+such way as this. I must select a surer and more practical vengeance. I
+thought the matter over intently, and finally resolved that I would put
+myself on a physical equality with my persecutor, and then meet him in a
+fair fight with such weapons as Nature had given us both. I accordingly
+said to the friend and classmate who had played the part of intercessor,
+"Wait two years, and I promise you I will either make my tormentor
+apologize or give him such a thrashing as he will remember for the rest of
+his life."
+
+Thus was my resolve renewed to accomplish myself as a gymnast, and, above
+all, to develop my physical strength. My previous attempts in the
+gymnasium had been spasmodic and irregular. Having now a definite object
+in view, I set about my work in earnest, and went through a daily
+systematic practice of a little more than an hour's duration.
+
+The gymnasium was kept by a Mr. Law, and, though ordinary in its
+accommodations, had a good arrangement of apparatus, of which I faithfully
+availed myself. The spring-board, horse, vaulting-apparatus, parallel
+bars, suspended rings, horizontal and inclined ladders, pulley-weights,
+pegs, climbing-rope, trapezoid, etc., were all put in frequent
+requisition. My time for exercise was generally in the evening, when I
+would find myself almost alone,--while the clicking of balls from the
+billiard-rooms and bowling-alleys down-stairs announced that a busy
+crowd--if amusement may be called a business--were there assembled.
+
+Naturally indolent, it was not without a severe struggle that I overcame a
+besetting propensity to confine myself to sedentary pursuits. The desire
+of retaliation soon became extinct. My pledge to my friend and
+sympathizer, that in two years I would cry _quittance_ to my foe, would
+occasionally act as a spur in the side of my intent; but my two best aids
+in supplying me with the motive power to keep up my gymnastic practice
+were _habit_ and _progress_. What will not habit make easy to us, whether
+it be for good or for evil? And what an incentive we have to renewed
+effort in finding that we are making actual progress,--that we can do with
+comparative facility to-day what we could do only with difficulty
+yesterday!
+
+Two years, while we are yet on the sunny side of twenty, are no trifle;
+but for two years I persistently and methodically went through the
+exercises of the gymnasium. At the end of that time I had quite lost sight
+of my original object in cultivating my athletic powers; for all
+annoyances towards me had long since been dropped by my old enemy. But
+punctually on the day of expiration, the friend who had listened to my
+pledge came to me and claimed its fulfilment. From some evidences which he
+had recently had of my strength he felt a soothing assurance that I should
+have no difficulty in making good my promise.
+
+I accordingly called on the lively young gentleman who two years before
+had indulged in those little frolics at my expense. With diplomatic
+ceremony and circumlocution I introduced the object of my visit, and wound
+up with an _ultimatum_ to this effect: There must either be a frank
+apology for past indignities, or he must accompany me, each with a friend,
+to some suitable spot, and there decide which was "the better man."
+
+If he had been called on to expiate an offence committed before he was
+breeched, the young gentleman could not have been more astounded. Two
+years had made some change in our relative positions. I was now about his
+equal in size, and felt a comfortable sense of my superiority, so far as
+strength was concerned. My shoulders had broadened, and my muscles been
+developed, so as to present to the critical and interested observer a
+somewhat threatening appearance. Mr. ---- (who, by the way, was a good
+fellow in the main) protested that he had never intended to give me any
+offence,--that he, in fact, did not remember the circumstances to which I
+referred,--and finished by peremptorily declining my proposal. When I
+reflected on the disparity between us in strength, which my two years'
+practice had established, I felt that it would be cowardly for me to urge
+the matter further, especially as it was so long a time since he had given
+me cause of complaint. I have only to add, that we parted without a
+collision, and that, in my heart, I could not help thanking him for the
+service he had rendered in inciting me to the regimen which had resulted
+so beneficially to my health.
+
+The impetus given to my gymnastic education by the little incident I have
+just related was continued without abatement through my whole college
+life. Gradually I acquired the reputation of being the strongest man in my
+class. I discovered that with every day's development of my strength there
+was an increase of my ability to resist and overcome all fleshly ailments,
+pains, and infirmities,--a discovery which subsequent experience has so
+amply confirmed, that, if I were called on to condense the proposition
+which sums it up into a formula, it would be in these words: _Strength is
+Health_.
+
+Until I had renovated my bodily system by a faithful gymnastic training, I
+had been subject to nervousness, headache, indigestion, rush of blood to
+the head, and a weak circulation. It was torture to me to have to listen
+to the grating of a slate-pencil, the filing of a saw, or the scratching
+of glass. As I grew in strength, my nerves ceased to be impressible to
+such annoyances. Another good effect was to take away all appetite for any
+stimulating food or drink. Although I had never applied "rebellious
+liquors" to my blood, I had been in the habit of taking a bowl of strong
+coffee morning and night. Now a craving for milk took the place of this
+want, and my coffee was gradually diminished to less than a fourth of what
+had been a customary indulgence.
+
+At last arrived the eagerly looked-for day of release from collegiate
+restrictions and labors. I graduated, and the question, so momentous in
+the history of all adolescents, "What shall I be?" addressed itself
+seriously to my mind. My father was desirous that I should choose medicine
+for a profession, and become the fourth physician, in lineal sequence, of
+my family on the paternal side.
+
+Medicine. I cavilled at it awhile, that I might bring out to view its
+grimmest and most discouraging aspect The cares, trials, humiliations of a
+young physician, his months and years of uncompensated drudgery, passed in
+awful review before me. I thought of his toils among the poor and lowly,
+the vicious and depraved,--of his broken sleep,--the interruptions of his
+social ease,--and then of the many scenes so repugnant to delicate nerves
+which he has to pass through,--scenes of pain and insanity, of maimed and
+severed limbs, and all the eccentricities and fearful forms of disease.
+These considerations pressed with such weight on my mind that for a time
+my ancestral craft was in danger of being ignominiously rejected by me.
+Indeed, I began to think seriously of adopting a very different vocation.
+And here I will make a confession, if the gentle reader will take it
+confidentially.
+
+It is a familiar fact, that every college-boy has to pass through an
+attack of the rhyming frenzy as regularly as the child has to submit to
+measles and the whooping-cough. A less frequent, but not less trying
+complaint, is that which manifests itself in a passion for the stage and
+in an espousal of the delusion that one was born for a great actor. At any
+rate, this last was the type which my juvenile _malaise-du-coeur_ finally
+assumed.
+
+I have heard of a young gentleman who, whenever he was hard up for money,
+went to his nearest relatives and threatened them with the publication of
+a volume of his original poems. This threat never failed to open the
+paternal purse. I do not know what effect the intimation of my histrionic
+aspirations would have had; but one fine day I found myself on my way to
+Rochester, in the State of New York.
+
+My _role_ of dramatic characters was a very modest one for a beginner. It
+embraced only Richelieu, Bertram, Brutus, Lear, Richard, Shylock, Sir
+Giles Overreach, Hamlet, Othello, and Macbeth. My principal literary
+recreation for several years had been in studying these parts; and as I
+knew them by heart, I did not doubt that a few rehearsals would put me in
+possession of the requisite stage-business. And yet my familiarity with
+the theatre was very limited. I had never been behind the scenes. Once,
+with a classmate, I had penetrated in the daytime to the stage of the old
+Federal-Street Theatre, and looked with awe on the boards formerly trodden
+by the elder Kean; but a growl from that august functionary, the prompter,
+sent us back in quick retreat, and I had never ventured again into those
+sacred precincts.
+
+Arrived at Rochester,--which place I had selected for my _debut_ because
+of its remoteness from home,--I looked in, the evening of my arrival, to
+see the performances at the theatre. It was a hall of humble dimensions,
+seating an audience of five or six hundred. The piece was a travesty of
+"Hamlet," neither edifying nor amusing. A little of the _couleur-de-rose_
+which had flushed my prospect faded that night; but the few friends at
+home to whom I had confided my plans had so pertinaciously assured me that
+I--the most diffident man in the world--could never appear before an
+audience without letting them see I was shaky in the knees, that I
+resolved to do what I could to show my depreciators they were false
+prophets.
+
+And so I called on the manager,--with a beating heart, as you may suppose.
+He was a small, quiet, gentlemanly person, whom I regret I cannot,
+consistently with historical truth, show up as a Crummles. But not even
+Dickens could have found any salient trait for ridicule in the man.
+Frankly and kindly he went into the statistics of the theatrical business,
+and showed me, that, unless I was rich, and could afford to play for my
+own amusement, the stage held out few inducements; it was barren of
+promise to a young man anxious to make himself independent of the world.
+
+I did not reply, "Perish the lucre!" but said that I would be content, in
+the early part of my career, to labor for reputation. He soon satisfied me
+that he could not give up his stage to an experimentalist, and I did not
+urge my suit; but bade Mr. S. good morning, and, a day or two afterwards,
+started for Niagara. Here, wet by the mist and listening to the roar of
+the great cataract, I speedily forgot my chagrin, and took a not
+unfriendly leave of the illusions which had lured me on to try my fortune
+on the stage. Even now they return occasionally with all their
+fascination.
+
+While at Rochester, as I was passing through the principal street, I met a
+crowd assembled about a lifting-machine. On making trial of it, I found I
+could lift four hundred and twenty pounds. I had then been for four years
+a gymnast, and I supposed my practice would have qualified me to make the
+crowd stare at my achievement. But the result was far from triumphant. I
+found what many other gymnasts will find, that _main strength_, by which I
+mean the strength of the truckman and the porter, cannot be acquired in
+the ordinary exercises of the gymnasium.
+
+Returning home, I began the study of anatomy and physiology, and in the
+autumn of 1854 entered the Harvard Medical School. The question of the
+extent to which human strength can be developed had long been invested
+with a scientific interest to my mind. One of the greatest lifting feats
+on authentic record is that of Thomas Topham, an Englishman, who in Bath
+Street, Cold Bath Fields, London, on the 28th of May, 1741, lifted three
+hogsheads of water, said to weigh, with the connections, _eighteen hundred
+and thirty-six pounds_. In the performance of this feat, Topham stood on a
+raised platform, his hands grasping a fixture on either side, and a broad
+strap over his shoulders communicating with the weight. An immense
+concourse of persons was assembled on the occasion,--the performance
+having been announced as "in honor of Admiral Vernon," or rather, "in
+commemoration of his taking Porto Bello with six ships only." Being a
+descendant myself from the Vernon family of Haddon Hall, Derbyshire,
+England, I have reserved it for future genealogical inquiry to learn
+whether the Admiral was connected with that branch of the Vernons. If so,
+a somewhat remarkable coincidence is involved.
+
+I now informed my father that I intended to go through a series of
+experiments in lifting. He was afraid I should injure myself, and
+expressly forbade any such practice on his premises. To gratify him, I
+gave up testing the question for a whole year.
+
+But the desire re-awoke, and I had frequent arguments with my father in
+the endeavor to overcome his objections.
+
+"Look at that man," he said to me one day,--pointing to a large, stout
+individual in front of us,--"you might practise lifting all your life, and
+never be able to lift as much as that big fellow."
+
+"Let me construct a lifting-apparatus in the back-yard, and I will soon
+prove to you that you are mistaken," I replied.
+
+Finding that I was bent on the experiment, he at length gave a reluctant
+consent.
+
+It was now the August of 1855, and I was in my twenty-second year. My
+first lifting-apparatus was constructed in the following manner. I first
+sank into the ground a hogshead, and into the hogshead a flour-barrel.
+Then I lowered to the bottom of the barrel a rope having at the end a
+round stick transversely balanced, about four inches in diameter and
+fifteen inches long. A quantity of gravel, nearly sufficient to bury the
+stick, was then thrown into the barrel; some oblong stones were placed
+across the stick and across and between one another, and the interstices
+filled with smaller stones and gravel. When I had by this method about
+two-thirds filled the barrel, taking care to keep the axis of the rope in
+correspondence with the long axis of the barrel, I judged I had a
+sufficient weight for a first trial. I now formed a loop in the end of the
+rope over the top of the barrel, and put through it a piece of a
+hoe-handle, about two feet long; and standing astride of the hogshead, and
+holding the handle with one hand before me and the other
+behind,--straightening my body, previously a little flexed,--with mouth
+closed, head up, chest out, and shoulders down,--I succeeded in lifting
+the barrel, containing a weight of between four and five hundred pounds,
+some five or six inches from the bottom of the hogshead.
+
+It was no great feat, after all, considering that I had been for five
+years a gymnast. I found that I was inharmoniously developed in many
+points of my frame,--was perilously weak in the sides, between the
+shoulders, and at the back of the head. However, the day after this trial,
+I succeeded in lifting the same weight with somewhat less difficulty. This
+induced me to add on a few pounds; and in three or four weeks I could lift
+between six and seven hundred. I now had the satisfaction of seeing the
+stout gentleman, whom a few months before my father had pointed out as
+possessed of a strength I could never attain to, introduced to an
+inspection of my apparatus. Through the blinds of a back-parlor window I
+watched his movements, as, encouraged by _pater-familias_, he drew off his
+coat, moistened his hands, and undertook to "snake up" the big weight. An
+ignominious failure to start the barrel was the result. The stout
+gentleman tugged till he was so red in the face that apoplexy seemed
+imminent, and then he dejectedly gave it up. The reputation he had long
+enjoyed of being one of the "strongest men about" must henceforth be a
+thing of the past till it fades into a myth.
+
+In the December of 1855 I was admitted to the arcana of the
+dissecting-room, and forthwith commenced some experiments with  the view
+of testing the sustaining power of human bones. Some one had told me,
+that, in lifting a heavy weight, there was danger of fracturing the neck
+of the thigh-bone; but my experiments satisfied me, that, if properly
+positioned, it would safely bear a strain of two or three thousand pounds.
+And so I concluded that I might securely continue my practice of lifting
+till I reached the last-named limit.
+
+In order to get all possible hints from the inspiration and experience of
+the past, I studied some of the ancient statues. The specimens of Grecian
+statuary at the Boston Athenaeum were objects of my frequent
+contemplation,--especially the Farnesian Hercules. From this I derived a
+proper conception of the bodily outline compatible with the exercise of
+the greatest amount of strength. I was particularly struck by the absence
+of all exaggeration in the muscular developments as represented. I saw by
+this statue that a Hercules must be free from superfluous flesh, neatly
+made, and finely organized,--that form and quality were of more account
+than quantity in his formation. Some years earlier I might have been more
+attracted by the Apollo Belvedere; but it was a Hercules I dreamed of
+becoming, and the Apollo was but the incipient and potential Hercules. Two
+other statues that shared my admiration and study were the Quoit-Thrower
+and the Dying Gladiator. From the careful inspection of all these relics
+of ancient Art I obtained some valuable hints as to my own physical
+deficiencies. I learned that the upper region of my chest needed
+developing, and that in other points I had not yet reached the artist's
+ideal of a strong man.
+
+Good casts of these and other masterpieces in statuary may be had at a
+trifling cost. Why are they not generally introduced into the gymnasia
+attached to our colleges and schools? The habitual contemplation of such
+works could not fail to have a good effect upon the physical bearing and
+development of the young. We are the creatures of imitation. I remember,
+at the school I attended in my seventh year, the strongest boy among my
+mates was quite round-shouldered. Fancying that he derived his strength
+from his stoop, I began to imitate him; and it was not till I learned that
+he was strong in spite of his round shoulders, and not because of them,
+that I gave up aping his peculiarity.
+
+On the 29th of January, 1856, I lifted seven hundred pounds in Bailey's
+Gymnasium, Franklin Street, Boston. The exhibition created great surprise
+among the lookers-on; and at that time it was, perhaps, an extraordinary
+feat; but since the extension and growth of the lifting mania, it would
+not be regarded by the knowing ones as anything to marvel at. The fourth
+of April following, my lifting capacity had reached eight hundred and
+forty pounds.
+
+On Fast-Day of that year, two Irishmen knocked at my door and asked to see
+the strong man. I presented myself, and they told me there was great
+curiosity among the "ould counthrymen" in the vicinity to ascertain if one
+Pat Farren, the strongest Irishman in Roxbury, could lift my weight.
+"Would it be convanient for me to let him thry?" "Certainly,--and I think
+he'll lift it," I modestly added.
+
+Soon afterwards a delegation of Irishmen, rather startling from its
+numbers, entered the yard. Among them was Mr. Farren. They surrounded my
+lifting-apparatus, while I, unseen, surveyed them from a back window. I
+saw Mr. Farren take the handle, straddle the hogshead, throw himself into
+a lifting posture, and, straining every muscle to its utmost tension, give
+a tremendous pull. But the weight made no sign; and his friends, thinking
+he was merely feeling it, said, "Wait a bit,--Pat'll have it up the next
+pull." Mr. Farren rested a moment,--then threw off his coat, rubbed his
+hands, and, seizing the handle a second time, tugged away at it till his
+muscles swelled and his frame quivered. But he failed in starting the
+barrel, and a burst of laughter from his friends and backers announced his
+defeat.
+
+It is now but justice to Mr. Farren to say that it could hardly be
+expected of him to lift such a weight at either the first trial or the
+second. A want of confidence, or the maladjustment of the rope, might have
+interfered with the full exercise of his strength. I need not say that his
+discomfiture was witnessed by me from my hiding-place with the liveliest
+satisfaction; for I had begun to pride myself on being able to outlift any
+man in the country.
+
+In May, 1856, I received the appointment of medical assistant to Dr.
+Walker, at the Lunatic Hospital, South Boston, and gave up for a couple of
+months my practice of lifting. The consequence was a rapid diminution of
+strength, which suggested to me a return to the lifting exercise. Near the
+hospital was a large unoccupied building, formerly the House of Industry.
+In the cellar of this building I put a barrel, and loaded it with rocks
+and gravel as I had done in Roxbury. Immediately overhead, on the first
+floor, I cut a hole, about six inches square, and passed up a rope
+attached to the barrel. This rope I looped at the end, for the reception
+of a handle. On the floor I nailed two cleats between three and four feet
+apart, as guards to keep my feet from slipping. Beginning with about six
+hundred pounds, I added a few pounds daily, till I was able, in November,
+1856, to lift with my hands alone nine hundred pounds.
+
+Returning home the ensuing winter, I attended a second course of medical
+lectures, and, in the routine of labors incident to a medical student's
+life, omitted to develop further my powers as a lifter. In the summer of
+1857 I became a practitioner of medicine. In the autumn of that year, a
+gentleman, who had been looking at my lifting-apparatus, remarked to me,
+"If you are as strong as they tell me, what is to prevent your seizing
+hold of me, (I weigh only a hundred and eighty pounds) holding me at
+arm's-length over your head, and pitching me over that fence?" To this I
+replied, that, if he would give me six weeks for practice, I would satisfy
+him the thing could be done. He agreed to be on hand at the end of the
+time named.
+
+In order to be sure of the muscles that would be brought into play by the
+feat, I procured an oblong box with a handle on either side running the
+whole length. Into the box I threw a number of brick-bats,--then raised
+the box at arm's-length above my head, and threw it over my vaulting-pole,
+which was at an elevation of six and a half feet from the ground.
+Subsequently I added more brick-bats, till gradually their weight amounted
+to precisely one hundred and eighty pounds. Having practised till I could
+easily handle and throw the box thus charged, I informed my challenger
+that I was ready for him. He came, when, seizing him by the middle, I
+lifted him struggling above my head, and threw him over the fence before
+he was hardly aware of my intent. As he was somewhat corpulent and puffy,
+and the act involved an abdominal pressure which was by no means
+agreeable, he expressed himself perfectly satisfied with the experiment,
+but objected very decidedly to its repetition.
+
+In June, 1858, I commenced practising with two fifty-pound dumb-bells, and
+subsequently added one of a hundred pounds, which I was prompted to get
+from hearing that one of that weight was used by Mr. James Montgomery, at
+that time a celebrated gymnast of New York City, and afterwards a
+successful teacher at the Albany Gymnasium. Not having given much
+attention to the development of the extensor muscles of the arms for
+several months previous, it was a number of weeks before I could put this
+dumb-bell up at arm's-length above my head with one hand. As soon as I
+succeeded in doing this with comparative ease, I procured another
+hundred-pound dumb-bell, and in a few months succeeded in exercising with
+both of the instruments at the same time, raising each alternately above
+my head. I then commenced practice with a dumb-bell weighing one hundred
+and forty-one pounds. It consisted of two shells connected by a handle,
+which, being removable, allowed me to introduce shot, from time to time,
+into the cavities of the shells. After a few months of practice, I could,
+with a jerk, raise the instrument from my shoulder to arm's-length above
+my head. My first public exhibition of this feat took place in
+Philadelphia, in April, 1860.
+
+The spring of 1859 was now drawing nigh, and I began to think of giving a
+public lecture on Physical Culture, illustrating it with some exhibitions
+of the strength to which I had attained. My father approved the venture,
+but, bethinking himself of my extreme diffidence, significantly asked,
+_when_ I would be ready to permit a public announcement of my intention.
+"Oh, in a few days," I replied, as if it were as small a matter for me to
+lecture in public as to lift a thousand pounds in a gymnasium. Weeks flew
+by, and still to the galling inquiry, "_When?_" I could only answer,
+"Soon, but not just yet." February and March had come and gone, and still
+I was not ready. Finally, to the oft-renewed interrogatory, I made this
+reply: "As soon as I can shoulder a barrel of flour, a feat which I am
+determined to accomplish before an audience, you may announce my lecture."
+
+I had then been practising some two months with a loaded barrel, so
+contrived that it should weigh a little more each succeeding day; and it
+had now reached a hundred and ninety pounds. About this time it occurred
+to me, that, among my many experiments, I had never fairly tried that of a
+vegetable diet. I read anew the works of Graham and Alcott; and conceiving
+that my strength had reached a stagnation-point, I gave up meat, and
+restricted my animal diet to milk.
+
+A barrel of flour weighs on an average two hundred and sixteen pounds. I
+therefore could not succeed in shouldering one until twenty-six pounds had
+been added to my loaded barrel. Day after day I shouldered my one hundred
+and ninety pounds, but could not get an ounce beyond that limit. My grand
+theory of the possible development of a man's strength began to look
+somewhat insecure.
+
+  "So fares the system-building sage,
+  Who, plodding on from youth to age,
+  Has proved all other reasoners fools,
+  And bound all Nature by his rules,--
+  So fares he in that dreadful hour
+  When injured Truth exerts her power
+  Some new phenomenon to raise,
+  Which, bursting on his frighted gaze,
+  From its proud summit to the ground,
+  Proves the whole edifice unsound."
+                    JAMES BEATTIE
+
+The shouldering of a barrel of flour is a feat, by the way, which many an
+old inhabitant will tell you that he, or some friend of his, could
+accomplish in his eighteenth year. Why it should always be among the _res
+gestae temporis acti_ cannot be readily explained. It is a common belief
+that any stout truckman can do the thing; but I have been assured by one
+of the leading truckmen of Boston, that there are not, probably, three
+individuals in the city who are equal to the accomplishment.
+
+The mode of life that I had hitherto found essential to the keeping up of
+my strength was quite simple, and rather negative than positive. From
+tobacco and all ardent spirits, including wine, I had to abstain as a
+matter of course. Beer and all fermented liquors had also been ruled out.
+Impure air must be avoided like poison. Summer and winter I slept with my
+windows open. Badly ventilated apartments were scrupulously shunned. Cold
+bathing of the entire person was rarely practised oftener than once a week
+in cold weather or twice a week in warm weather. A more frequent ablution
+seemed to over-stimulate the excretory functions of the skin, so that
+excessive bathing defeated its very object. The "tranquil mind" must be
+preserved with little or no interruption. Great physical strength cannot
+coexist with an unhappy, discontented temper. You must be habitually
+cheerful, if you would be strong. With regard to diet,--that was the very
+experiment I was trying,--the experiment, namely, of going without solid
+animal food. With me it did not succeed. So far from gaining in strength,
+hardly did I hold my own. Suddenly I resolved to give up my vegetable
+diet, and return to beef-steaks, mutton-chops, and loins of veal. A daily
+appreciable increase of strength was soon the consequence. Within ten days
+I succeeded in shouldering the loaded barrel weighing two hundred and
+sixteen pounds; and a day or two after I shouldered, in the presence of
+our grocer himself, a barrel of flour.
+
+I had now no further excuse for deferring my promised lecture. The month
+of May had arrived. My father delicately broached the subject of the
+announcement. Being a little fractious, perhaps from some ebb in my
+strength, I hastily replied,--
+
+"Announce it for the 30th of May."
+
+"What hall shall I engage?"
+
+"Any hall in Boston. Why not the Music Hall?" I added, affecting a valor I
+was far from feeling; but, like Macbeth, I now realized that "returning
+were as tedious as go o'er."
+
+Mercantile Hall, in Summer Street, was engaged for me,--it being central,
+modest in point of size, commodious, and favorably known. At this time I
+was in excellent health and weighed one hundred and forty-three pounds.
+But from the moment of the public announcement of my lecture, my appetite
+for food, for meat particularly, began to fail me. "How peevish and
+irritable he is growing!" I heard one member of the family remark to
+another. Soon the grocer's scales indicated that my weight was
+diminishing. It fell to one hundred and forty-one,--then to one hundred
+and forty,--then to one hundred and thirty-eight,--and finally, when the
+30th of May arrived, I found I weighed only one hundred and thirty-four
+pounds!
+
+The crisis was now at hand. Do not laugh at me, ye self-assured ones, with
+your comfortable sense of your own powers,--ye who care as little for an
+audience as for a field of cabbages,--do not jeer at one who has felt the
+pangs of shyness and quailed under the imaginary terrors of a first public
+appearance. For you it may be a small matter to face an audience,--that
+nearest approximation to the many-headed monster which we can palpably
+encounter; but for one whose diffidence had become the standard of that
+quality to his acquaintances the venture was perilous and desperate, as
+the sequel showed.
+
+Never had time rolled by with such fearful velocity as on that eventful
+day. Breakfast was hardly over before preparations were being made for
+dinner. Small appetite had I for either. Before I had finished pacing the
+parlor there was a summons to tea. It was like the summons to the
+criminal: "Rise up, Master Barnardine, and be hanged." With a most shallow
+affectation of _nonchalance_ I sat down at the table. A child might have
+detected my agitation; and yet, with horrible insincerity, I alluded to
+the news of the day, and asked the family why they were all so silent.
+They saw from my look that they might as well have joked with a man on his
+way to execution.
+
+Having dressed and adorned myself for the sacrifice, I returned to the
+parlor, when the rumbling of coach-wheels, the sudden letting down of
+steps, and then a frightfully discordant ring of the doorbell, sent the
+blood from my cheeks and made my heart palpitate like a trip-hammer. "Is
+th-th-that the off-officer,--I mean the coachman?" I stammered. Yes, there
+was no doubt about it.
+
+Straightening my person, I affected a dignified calmness, and assured my
+dear, anxious mother that I was not in the least nervous,--oh, not in the
+least!
+
+It was a gloomy night, and the streets wore a dismal aspect. The hall was
+distant about three miles; but in some mysterious manner, or by some route
+which I have never been able to discover, the coachman seemed to abridge
+the distance to less than half a mile. We are in Summer Street,--before
+the door. Some juvenile amateurs, attracted by stories of the strong man,
+surround the carriage to get a sight of him.
+
+"Ha! what are these? Sure, hangmen, That come to bind my hands, and then
+to drag me Before the judgment-seat: now they are new shapes, And do
+appear like Furies!"
+
+The words of Sir Giles Overreach, one of the parts I had studied during my
+histrionic _acces_, were not at all inappropriate to the state of mind in
+which, with knee-joints slipping from under me, I now made my way
+up-stairs. Having reached the upper entry, I paused, and glanced at the
+audience through the windows, before entering the little retiring-room
+behind the stage. With an inward groan at my presumption, I passed on. To
+think, that, but for my own madness, I might have been at that moment
+comfortably at home, reading the evening paper! Nay, were it not better to
+be tossing on stormy seas, driving on a lee-shore, toiling as a slave
+under a tropic sun, than here, with a gaping audience waiting to devour me
+with their eyes and ears?
+
+The first thing I did, on reaching the retiring-room, was to give way to a
+fearful fascination and take another peep at the audience from behind a
+curtain at the side-entrance. I then looked at my watch. Twenty minutes to
+eight! People were pouring in, notwithstanding the inclement weather. The
+hall was nearly crowded already. One familiar face after another was
+recognized. Surely everybody I know is present.
+
+Another look at my watch. Quarter to eight! Suddenly the frantic thought
+occurred to me, What if I have lost my manuscript? Where did I put it?
+'Tis in none of my pockets! Good gracious! Has any one seen my manuscript?
+Come, Jerome, no fooling at a time like this! Where have you hidden it?
+What! You know nothing about it? _Hunt_ for it, then! Wouldn't it be a
+charming scrape, if I couldn't find my lecture? Isn't this it, in the
+drawer? Oh, yes! I must have put it there unconsciously.
+
+Being in a high state of perspiration, and wiping my forehead incessantly,
+I disarrange my hair. Where's that brush? No one can tell. Agony! Where's
+the brush? Here on the floor. Oh, yes! There! What a blaze my cheeks are
+in! The audience will think they are flushed with Bourbon. No matter. That
+manuscript has disappeared again. Confusion! Where is it? Here in your
+overcoat-pocket. All right.
+
+Five minutes to eight. Grasping the scroll, I rush to the side-entrance.
+The audience begin to manifest their impatience by applause. Suddenly I
+hear the bell of the Old South Church strike eight. The last vibration
+passes like an ice-bolt through my heart. Wrought up to desperation, I
+thrust aside the curtain. This gives a portion of the audience a sight of
+me, and I hear some one exclaim, "There he is!" Horrible exposure! I dodge
+back out of view, as if to escape the discharge of a battery. A round of
+impatient applause rouses me. I count three, and precipitate myself
+forward to the centre of the stage.
+
+The hall is filled,--all the seats and most of the standing-places
+occupied. But I can no longer recognize any one. Friend and foe are
+confounded in an undistinguishable mass; or, rather, they are but parts
+and members of one hideous monster, moving itself by one volition, winking
+its thousand eyes all at once, and ready to swallow me with a single
+deglutition. However, the plunge is made. The worst is over. I rallied
+from the shock, and in a clear, but unnecessarily loud and ponderous
+voice, pitched many degrees too high, I commenced my lecture.
+
+For some ten minutes, if I may believe the tender reports in the
+newspapers the next day, I got on very respectably. I had won the
+attention of the audience. But, at an unlucky moment, a fresh arrival of
+persons at the door made the monster turn his thousand eyes in that
+direction. I mistook it for an indication that he was getting weary of my
+talk. My attention was distracted. Then came a suspension of all thought,
+an appalling paralysis of memory. Having learnt the first part of my
+discourse by heart, I had been reciting it without turning over the leaves
+of the manuscript; and now I was unable to recollect at what point I had
+left off, or whether I had given five pages or ten.
+
+Frightful dilemma! Stupefied with horror, I gazed intently on the page
+before me till the lines became all blurred, and a blue mist wavered
+before my eyes. Then came a pause of intensest silence. The monster lying
+in wait for me evidently began to anticipate that his victim's time was
+come, and so, like a crafty monster, he remained still and patient. Who
+could endure a nightmare like this? I felt myself reeling to and fro. Then
+a pleasant thrill, like that, perhaps, which drowning men feel, ran
+through my frame. All became dark,--and the strong man dropped, like a
+felled ox, senseless on the stage.
+
+When consciousness returned I was lying flat on my back, and several
+persons were bending over me.
+
+"Keep down,--don't rise," some one said.
+
+"What has happened?" I asked.
+
+"Nothing,--only you were a little faint."
+
+"Faint? A man who can lift a thousand pounds faint--at the sight of an
+audience? Absurd! Let me rise."
+
+And in spite of all opposition I rose, grasped my manuscript, walked to
+the front of the stage, and resumed my lecture. Alas!
+
+  "Reaching above our nature does no good;
+  We must sink back into our own flesh and blood."
+
+I had not proceeded far before I felt symptoms of a repetition of the
+calamity; and lest I should be overtaken before I could retreat, I
+stammered a few words of apology, and withdrew ingloriously from public
+view. Fresh air and a draught of water, which some obliging friend had
+dashed with _eau-de-vie_, soon restored me. But I took the advice of
+friends and did not make a third attempt that evening.
+
+The audience, had it been wholly composed of brothers and sisters, could
+not have been more indulgent and considerate. One skeptical gentleman was
+heard to say,--
+
+"I don't believe he can lift nine hundred pounds."
+
+And another added,--
+
+"Nor I,--any more than that he can shoulder a barrel of flour."
+
+"Or raise his body by the little finger of one hand," said another.
+
+Whereupon a venerable citizen, a gentleman long known and respected as the
+very soul of honor, truthfulness, and uprightness, came forward on the
+stage before the audience, and with emphatic earnestness, and in a loud,
+intrepid tone of voice, exclaimed,--
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen,--The heat of the room was too much for the
+lecturer; but he can easily do all the feats announced in the bills. _I've
+seen him do them twenty times_."
+
+The dear, but infatuated old gentleman! He had never seen me do anything
+of the kind. He hardly knew me by sight. He thought only of coming to the
+rescue of an unfortunate lecturer, prostrated on the very threshold of his
+career; and a friendly hallucination made him for the moment really
+believe what he said. His unpremeditated assertion must have been set down
+by the recording angel on the same page with Uncle Toby's oath, and then
+obliterated in the same manner.
+
+Ten days after the above-mentioned catastrophe, having engaged the largest
+hall in Boston, (the Music Hall,) I delivered my lecture--in the words of
+the newspapers--"with _eclat_." The illustrations of strength which I
+exhibited on the occasion, though far inferior to subsequent efforts, were
+looked on as most extraordinary. The weight I lifted before the audience,
+with my hands alone, was nine hundred and twenty-nine pounds. This was
+testified to by the City Sealer of Weights and Measures, Mr. Moulton. My
+success induced me to repeat my lecture in other places. Invitations and
+liberal offers poured in upon me from all directions; and during the
+ensuing seasons, I lectured in Baltimore, Philadelphia, Cincinnati,
+Albany, and many of the principal cities throughout the Northern States
+and the Canadas.
+
+To return to my lifting experiments. I had promised my father to "stop at
+a thousand pounds." In the autumn of 1859 I had reached ten hundred and
+thirty-two pounds. An incident now occurred that induced me to reconsider
+my promise and get absolution from it. One day, while engaged in lifting,
+I had a visit from two powerful-looking men who asked permission to try my
+weight. One of them was five feet ten inches in height, and a hundred and
+ninety-two pounds in weight. The other was fully six feet in his
+stockings, and two hundred and twelve pounds in weight,--a fearful
+superiority in the eyes of a man, under five feet seven and weighing less
+than a hundred and fifty pounds. The smaller of these men failed to lift
+eight of my iron disks, which, with the connections, amounted to eight
+hundred and twenty-seven pounds. The larger individual fairly lifted them
+at the second or third trial, but declined to attempt an increase. They
+left me, and I soon, afterward heard that they were practising with a view
+of "outlifting Dr. Windship."
+
+My father had incautiously remarked to me, "Those huge fellows, with a
+little practice, can lift your weight and you on top of it. You can't
+expect to compete with giants." This decided me to test the question
+whether five feet seven must necessarily yield to mere bulk in the
+attainment of the maximum of human strength. I had the start of my
+competitors by some two hundred pounds, and I determined to preserve that
+distance between us. In the autumn of that year I advanced to lifting with
+the hands eleven hundred and thirty-three pounds, and in the spring of
+1860 to twelve hundred and eight. I have had no evidence that my
+competitors ever got beyond a thousand pounds; though I doubt not, if they
+had had my leisure for practice, they might have surpassed me.
+
+In July, 1860, I commenced lifting by means of a padded rope over my
+shoulders,--my body, during the act of lifting, being steadied and partly
+supported by my hands grasping a stout frame at each side. After a few
+unsuccessful preliminary trials, I quickly advanced to fourteen hundred
+pounds. The stretching of the rope now proved so great an annoyance, that
+I substituted for it a stout leather band of double thickness, about two
+inches and a half wide, and which had been subjected to a process which
+was calculated to render it proof against stretching more than half an
+inch under any weight it was capable of sustaining. But on trial, I found,
+almost to my despair, that it was of a far more yielding nature than the
+rope, and consequently the rope was again brought into requisition. A few
+weeks of unsatisfactory practice followed, when it occurred to me that an
+iron chain, inasmuch as it could not stretch, might be advantageously
+used, provided it could be so padded as not to chafe my shoulders. After
+many experiments I succeeded in this substitution; but the chain had yet
+one objection in common with the rope and the strap, arising from the
+difficulty of getting it properly adjusted. I contented myself with its
+use, however, until the spring of 1861, when I hit upon a contrivance
+which has proved a complete success. It consists of a wooden yoke fitting
+across my shoulders, and having two chains connected with it in such a
+manner as to enable me to lift on every occasion to the most advantage.
+With this contrivance my lifting-power has advanced with mathematical
+certainty, slowly, but surely, to _two thousand and seven pounds_, up to
+this twenty-third day of November, 1861.
+
+In my public experiments in lifting, when I have not used the iron weights
+cast for the purpose, I have, as a convenient substitute, used kegs of
+nails. It recently occurred to me, that, if, instead of these kegs, I
+could employ a number of men selected from the audience, the spectacle
+would he still more satisfactory to the skeptical. Accordingly I contrived
+an apparatus by means of which I have been able to present this convincing
+proof of the actual weight lifted. I introduced it after my lecture at the
+Town-Hall in Brighton, Massachusetts, on the 9th of October, 1861; and the
+following account of the result appeared in one of the city papers:--
+
+"Standing upon a staging at an elevation of about eight or ten feet from
+the floor, the Doctor lifted and sustained, for a considerable time and
+without apparent difficulty, a platform suspended beneath him on which
+stood twelve gentlemen, all heavier individually than the Doctor himself,
+and weighing, inclusive of the entire apparatus lifted with them, _nearly
+nineteen hundred pounds avoirdupois_. In the performance of this
+tremendous feat, Dr. W. employed neither straps, bands, nor
+girdle,--nothing in short but a stout oaken stick fitting across his
+shoulders, and having attached to it a couple of rather formidable-looking
+chains. At his request, a committee, appointed by the audience, and
+furnished with one of Fairbanks's scales, superintended all the
+experiments."
+
+The exact weight lifted on this occasion was eighteen hundred and
+thirty-six pounds. A few evenings after, I lifted, in the same way, in
+Lynn, eighteen hundred and sixty; in Brookline, eighteen hundred and
+ninety; in Medford, nineteen hundred and thirty-four; in Maiden, nineteen
+hundred and two; and in Charlestown, nineteen hundred and forty.
+
+As my strength is still increasing in an undiminished ratio, I am fairly
+beginning to wonder where the limit will be; and the old adage of the
+camel's back and the last feather occasionally suggests itself. I have
+fixed three thousand pounds as my _ne plus ultra_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+FREMONT'S HUNDRED DAYS IN MISSOURI.
+
+
+I.
+
+The narrative we propose to give of events in Missouri is not intended to
+be a defence of General Fremont, nor in any respect an answer to the
+charges which have been made against him. Our purpose is the more humble
+one of presenting a hasty sketch of the expedition to Springfield,
+confining ourselves almost entirely to the incidents which came under the
+observation of an officer of the General's staff.
+
+General Fremont was in command of the Western Department precisely One
+Hundred Days. He assumed the command at the time when the army with which
+Lyon had captured Camp Jackson and won the Battle of Booneville was on the
+point of dissolution. The enemy, knowing that the term for which our
+soldiers had been enlisted was near its close, began offensive movements
+along their whole line. Cairo, Bird's Point, Ironton, and Springfield were
+simultaneously threatened. Jeff Thompson wrote to his friends in St.
+Louis, promising to be in that city in a month. The sad, but glorious day
+upon Wilson's Creek defeated the Rebel designs, and compelled McCulloch,
+Pillow, Hardee, and Thompson to retire.
+
+Relieved from immediate danger, General Fremont found an opportunity to
+organize the expedition down the Mississippi. Won by the magic of his name
+and the ceaseless energy of his action, the hardy youth of the Northwest,
+flocked into St. Louis, eager to share his labors and his glory. There was
+little time for organization and discipline. They were armed with such
+weapons as could be procured against the competition of the General
+Government, and at once forwarded to the exposed points. History can
+furnish few parallels to the hasty levy and organization of the Army of
+the West. When suddenly required to defend Washington, the Government was
+able to summon the equipped and disciplined militia of the East, and could
+call upon the inexhaustible resources of a wealthy and skilful people. But
+in the West there was neither a disciplined militia nor trained mechanics.
+Men, indeed, brave, earnest, patriotic men, were plenty,--men who
+appreciated the magnitude and importance of the task before them, and who
+were confident of their ability to accomplish it. But to introduce order
+into their tumultuous ranks, to place arms in their eager hands, to clothe
+and feed them, to provide them with transportation and equipage for the
+march, and inspire them with confidence for the siege and the
+battle,--this labor the General, almost unaided, was called upon to
+perform. Like all the rest of our generals, he was without experience in
+military affairs of such magnitude and urgency, and he was compelled to
+rely chiefly upon the assistance of men entirely without military training
+and knowledge. The general staff and the division and brigade staffs were,
+from the necessity of the case, made up mainly of civilians. A small
+number of foreign officers brought to his aid their learning and
+experience, and a still smaller number of West-Point officers gave him
+their invaluable assistance. In spite of all difficulties the work
+proceeded. In six weeks the strategic positions were placed in a state of
+defence, and an army of sixty thousand men, with a greater than common
+proportion of cavalry and artillery, stood ready to clear Missouri of the
+invader and to open the valley of the Mississippi. At this time the sudden
+appearance of Price in the West, and the fall of Lexington, compelled the
+General to take the field.
+
+We will now confine ourselves to the narrative of the incidents of the
+march to Springfield, as it is given in the journal which has been placed
+in our hands.
+
+
+FROM ST. LOUIS TO WARSAW.
+
+_St. Louis, September 27th, 1861._ For four days the head-quarters have
+been ready to take the field at an hour's notice. The baggage has been
+packed, the wagons loaded, horses have stood saddled all through the day,
+and the officers have been sitting at their desks, booted and spurred,
+awaiting the order for their departure. It is not unlikely that the
+suspense in which they are held and the constant condition of readiness
+which is required of them are a sort of preliminary discipline to which
+the General is subjecting them. Yesterday the body-guard left by the
+river, and the staff-horses went upon the same steamer, so that we cannot
+be detained much longer.
+
+_Jefferson City, September 28th._ Yesterday, at eleven o'clock, we were
+informed that the General would leave for Jefferson City at noon; and that
+those members of the staff who were not ready would be left behind, and
+their places filled in the field. At the appointed hour we were all
+gathered at the depot. The General drove down entirely unattended. Most of
+the train was occupied by a battalion of sharp-shooters, but in the rear
+car the General and his staff found seats. The day was cloudy and damp;
+there was no one to say farewell; and as the train passed through the cold
+hills, a feeling of gloom seemed to pervade the company. Nature was in
+harmony with the clouded fortunes of our General, and the laboring
+locomotive dragged us at a snail's pace, as if it were unwilling to assist
+us in our adventure.
+
+Those who were strangers in the West looked out eagerly for the Missouri,
+hoping to find the valley of the river rich in scenery which would relieve
+the tedium of the journey. But when we came out upon the river-bank and
+looked at the dull shores, and the sandy bed, which the scant stream does
+not cover, but through which it creeps, treacherous and slimy, in half a
+dozen channels, there was no pleasure to the eye, no relief for the
+spirit. Late in the afternoon we approached a little village, and were
+greeted with music and hearty cheers,--the first sign of hospitality the
+day had furnished. It was the German settlement of Hermann, famous for
+good cheer and good wines. The Home-Guard was drawn up at the station,
+files of soldiers kept the passage clear to the dining-room, and through
+an avenue of muskets, and amidst the shouts of an enthusiastic little
+crowd, the General passed into a room decorated with flowers, through the
+centre of which was stretched a table groaning under the weight of
+delicious fruits and smoking viands. With little ceremony the hungry
+company seated themselves, and vigorously assailed the tempting array,
+quite unconscious of the curious glances of a motley assemblage of men,
+women, and children who assisted at the entertainment. The day had been
+dark, the journey dull, and the people we had seen silent and sullen; but
+here was a welcome, the hearty, generous welcome of sympathizing friends,
+who saw in their guests the defenders of their homes. They were Germans,
+and our language came broken from their lips. But they are Germans who
+fill the ranks of our regiments. Look where you will, and the sturdy
+Teuton meets your eye. If Missouri shall be preserved for the Union and
+civilization, it will be by the valor of men who learned their lessons of
+American liberty and glory upon the banks of the Rhine and the Elbe. We
+think of this at Hermann, and we pledge our German hosts and our German
+fellow-soldiers in strong draughts of delicious Catawba,--not such Catawba
+as is sent forth from the slovenly manufactories of Cincinnati, for the
+careful vintners of Hermann select the choice grapes, and in the quiet
+cellars of Hermann the Catawba has time to grow old and to ripen.
+
+We at length extricate ourselves from the maze of corn-cakes and pancakes,
+waffles and muffins and pies without number, with which our kind friends
+of Hermann tempt and tantalize our satiated palates, and once more set
+forth after the wheezing, reluctant locomotive, over the rough road,
+through the dreary hills, along the bank of the treacherous river.
+
+At ten o'clock, in ten weary hours, we have accomplished one hundred and
+twenty miles, and have reached Jefferson City. The train backs and starts
+ahead, halts and backs and jerks, and finally, with a long sigh of relief,
+the locomotive stops, and a gentleman in citizen's dress enters the car,
+carrying a lantern in his hand. It was Brigadier-General Price, commanding
+at Jefferson City. He took possession of the General, and, with us closely
+following, left the car. But leaving the train was a somewhat more
+difficult matter. We went along-side the train, over the train, under the
+train, but still those cars seemed to surround us like a corral. We at
+length outflanked the train, but still failed to extricate ourselves from
+the labyrinth. Informed, or rather deluded, by the "lantern dimly
+burning," we floundered into ditches and scrambled out of them, we waded
+mud-puddles and stumbled over boulders, until finally the ever-present
+train disappeared in the darkness, we rushed up a steep hill, heard the
+welcome sound as our feet touched a brick walk, and, after turning two or
+three corners, found ourselves in the narrow hall of the "principal
+hotel." We were tired and disgusted, and no one stood upon the order of
+his going, but went at once to sleep upon whatever floor, table, or bed
+offered itself.
+
+This morning we are pleased to hear that the General has resolved to go
+into camp. Of course the best houses in the place are at our disposal, but
+it is wisely thought that our soldier-life will not begin until we are
+fairly under canvas.
+
+All day we have had an exhibition of a Missouri crowd. The sidewalk has
+been fringed with curious gazers waiting to catch a glimpse of the
+General. Foote, the comedian, said, that, until he landed on the quays at
+Dublin, he never knew what the London beggars did with their old clothes.
+One should go to Missouri to see what the New-York beggars do with their
+old clothes. But it is not the dress alone. Such vacant, listless faces,
+with laziness written in every line, and ignorance seated upon every
+feature! Is it for these that the descendants of New England and the
+thrifty Germans are going forth to battle? If Missouri depended upon the
+Missourians, there would be little chance for her safety, and, indeed, not
+very much to save.
+
+_October 4th._ We have been in camp since Sunday, the 29th of September.
+Our tents are pitched upon abroad shelf half-way down a considerable hill.
+Behind us the hill rises a hundred feet or more, shutting us in from the
+south; in front, to the north, the hill inclines to a ravine which
+separates us from other less lofty hills. Our camp is upon open ground,
+but there is a fine forest to the east and west.
+
+In a few days we have all become very learned in camp-life. We have found
+out what we want and what we do not want. Fortunately, St. Louis is near
+at hand, and we send there to provide for our necessities, and also to get
+rid of our superfluities. The troops have been gathering all the week.
+There are several regiments in front of us, and batteries of artillery
+behind us. Go where you will, spread out upon the plain or shining amidst
+the trees you will see the encampments. Head-quarters are busy providing
+for the transportation and the maintenance of this great force; and as
+rapidly as the railway can carry them, regiment after regiment is sent
+west. There is plenty of work for the staff-officers; and yet our life is
+not without its pleasures. The horses and their riders need training. This
+getting used to the saddle is no light matter for the civilian spoiled by
+years of ease and comfort. But the General gives all his officers plenty
+of horseback discipline. Then there is the broadsword exercise to fill up
+the idle time. Evening is the festive hour in camp; though I judge, from
+what I have seen and heard, that our camp has little of the gayety which
+is commonly associated with the soldier's life. We are too busy for
+merrymaking, but in the evening there are pleasant little circles around
+the fires or in the snug tents. There are old campaigners among us, men
+who have served in Mexico and Utah, and others whose lives have been
+passed upon the Plains; they tell us campaign stories, and teach the green
+hands the slang and the airs of the camp. But the unfailing amusement is
+the band. This is the special pride of the General, and soon after
+nightfall the musicians appear upon the little _plaza_ around which the
+tents are grouped. At the first note the audience gather. The guardsmen
+come up from their camp on the edge of the ravine, the negro-quarter is
+deserted, the wagoners flock in from the surrounding forest, the officers
+stroll out of their tents,--a picturesque crowd stands around the huge
+camp-fire. The programme is simple and not often varied. It uniformly
+opens with "The Star-Spangled Banner," and closes with "Home, Sweet Home."
+By way of a grand _finale_, a procession is organized every night, led by
+some score of negro torch-bearers, which makes the circuit of the camp,--a
+performance which never fails to produce something of a stampede among the
+animals.
+
+Last night we had an alarm. About eleven o'clock, when the camp was fairly
+asleep, some one tried to pass a picket half a mile west of us. The guard
+fired at the intruder, and in an instant the regimental drums sounded the
+long roll. We started from our beds, with frantic haste buckled on swords,
+spurs, and pistols, hurried servants after the horses, and hastened to
+report for duty to the General. The officer who was first to appear found
+him standing in front of his tent, himself the first man in camp who was
+ready for service. Presently a messenger came with information as to the
+cause of the alarm, and we were dismissed.
+
+At two o'clock in the morning there was another alarm. Again the
+body-guard bugles sounded and the drums rolled. Again soldiers sprang to
+their arms, and officers rushed to report to the General,--the first man
+finding him, as before, leaning upon his sword in front of his tent. But,
+alas for the reputation of our mess, not one of its number appeared. In
+complete unconsciousness of danger or duty, we slept on. Colonel S. said
+he heard "the music, but thought it was a continuation of the evening's
+serenade," and went to sleep again. It was not long before we discovered
+that the General knew that four members of his staff did not report to him
+when the long roll was sounded.
+
+There are several encampments on the hill-sides north of us which are in
+full view from our quarters, and it is not the least of our amusements to
+watch the regiments going through the afternoon drill. In the soft light
+of these golden days we see the long blue lines, silver-tipped, wheel and
+turn, scatter and form, upon the brown hill-sides. Now the slopes are
+dotted with skirmishers, and puffs of gray smoke rise over the kneeling
+figures; again a solid wall of bayonets gleams along the crest of the
+hill, and peals of musketry echo through the woods in the ravines.
+
+Colonel Myscall Johnson, a Methodist exhorter and formidable Rebel
+marauder, is said to be forty miles south of us with a small force, and
+some of the Union farmers came into camp to-day asking for protection.
+Zagonyi, the commander of the body-guard, is anxious to descend upon
+Johnson and scatter his thieving crew; but it is not probable he will
+obtain permission. The Union men of Missouri are quite willing to have you
+fight for them, but their patriotism does not go farther than this. These
+people represent that three-fourths of the inhabitants of Miller County
+are loyal. The General probably thinks, if this be true, they ought to be
+able to take care of Johnson's men. But a suggestion that they should
+defend their own homes and families astonishes our Missouri friends.
+General Lyon established Home-Guards throughout the State, and armed them
+with several thousand Springfield muskets taken from the arsenal at St.
+Louis. Most of these muskets are now in Price's army, and are the most
+formidable weapons he has. In some instances the Rebels enlisted in the
+Home-Guards and thus controlled the organization, carrying whole companies
+into Price's ranks. In other cases bands of Rebels scoured the country,
+went to the house of every Home-Guard, and took away his musket. In the
+German settlements alone the Guards still preserve their organization and
+their arms.
+
+A few days ago it fell to the lot of our mess to entertain a Rebel officer
+who had come in with a flag of truce. Strange to say, he was a New-Yorker,
+and had a younger brother in one of the Indiana regiments. He was a
+pleasant and courteous gentleman, albeit his faded dress, with its
+red-flannel trimmings, did not indicate great prosperity in the enemy's
+camp. We gave him the best meal we could command. I apologized because it
+was no better. He replied,--"Make no apology, Sir. It is the best dinner I
+have eaten these three months. I have campaigned it a good deal this
+summer upon three ears of roast corn a day." He added,--"I never have
+received a cent of pay. None of us have. We never expect to receive any."
+This captain has already seen considerable service. He was at Booneville,
+Carthage, Wilson's Creek, and Lexington. His descriptions of these
+engagements were animated and interesting, his point of view presenting
+matters in a novel light. He spoke particularly of a gunner stationed at
+the first piece in Totten's battery, saying that his energy and coolness
+made him one of the most conspicuous figures of the day. "Our
+sharp-shooters did their best, but they failed to bring him down. There he
+was all day long, doing his duty as if on parade." He also told us there
+was no hard fighting at Lexington. "We knew," said he, "the place was
+short of water, and so we spared our men, and waited for time to do the
+work."
+
+_Camp Lovejoy, October 7th._ For the last two days the troops have been
+leaving Jefferson City, and the densely peopled hills are bare. This
+morning, at seven o'clock, we began to break camp. There was no little
+trouble and confusion in lowering the tents and packing the wagons. It
+took us a long time to-day, but we shall soon get accustomed to it, and
+become able to move more quickly. At noon we left Jefferson City, going
+due west.
+
+Out little column consists of three companies of the body-guard, numbering
+about two hundred and fifty men, a battalion of sharp-shooters (infantry)
+under Major Holman, one hundred and eighty strong, and the staff. The
+march is in the following order. The first company of the guard act as
+advance-guard; then comes the General, followed by his staff, riding by
+twos, according to rank; the other two companies of the guard come next.
+The sharp-shooters accompany and protect the train. Our route lay through
+a broken and heavily wooded region. The roads were very bad, but the day
+was bright, and the march was a succession of beautiful pictures, of which
+the long and brilliant line of horsemen winding through the forest was the
+chief ornament.
+
+We reached camp at three o'clock. It is a lovely spot, upon a hill-side,
+with a clear, swift-running brook washing the foot of the hill. Presently
+the horses are tied along the fences, riders are lounging under the trees,
+the kitchen-fires are lighted, guardsmen are scattered along the banks of
+the stream bathing, the wagons roll heavily over the prairie and are drawn
+up along the edge of the wood, tents are raised, tent-furniture is hastily
+arranged, and the camp looks as if it had been there a month. Before dark
+a regiment of infantry and two batteries of artillery come up. The men
+sleep in the open air without tents, and innumerable fires cover the
+hill-sides.
+
+We are upon land which is owned by an influential and wealthy citizen, who
+is an open Secessionist in opinion, though he has had the prudence not to
+take up arms. By way of a slight punishment, the General has annoyed the
+old man by naming his farm "Camp Owen Lovejoy," a name which the Union
+neighbors will not fail to make perpetual.
+
+_California, October 8th._ This morning we broke camp at six o'clock and
+marched at eight. The road was bad, for which the beauty of the scenery
+did not entirely compensate. To-day's experience has taught us how
+completely an army is tied to the wheels of the wagons. Tell a general how
+fast the train can travel and he will know how long the journey will be.
+We passed our wagons in a terrible plight: some upset, some with balky
+mules, some stuck in the mud, and some broken down. The loud-swearing
+drivers, and the stubborn, patient, hard-pulling mules did not fail to
+vary and enliven the scene.
+
+A journey of eighteen miles brought us to this place, where we are
+encamped upon the county fair-ground. California is a mean, thriftless
+village; there are no trees shading the cottages, no shrubbery in the
+yards. The place is only two or three years old, but already wears a
+slovenly air of decay.
+
+I set out with Colonel L. upon a foraging expedition. We passed a small
+house, in front of which a fat little negro-girl was drawing a bucket of
+water from the well, the girl puffing and the windlass creaking.
+
+"Will Massa have a drink of water?"
+
+It was the first token of hospitality since Hermann. We stopped and drank
+from the bucket, but had not been there a minute before the mistress ran
+out, with suspicion in her face, to protect her property. A single
+question sufficed to show the politics of that house.
+
+"Where is your husband?"
+
+"He went off a little while ago."
+
+This was the Missouri way of informing us that he was in the Rebel army.
+
+A little farther on we came to what was evidently the chief house of the
+place. A bevy of maidens stood at the gate, supported by a pleasant
+matron, fair and fat.
+
+"Can you sell us some bread?" was our rather practical inquiry.
+
+"We have none baked, but will bake you some by sundown," was the answer,
+given in a hearty, generous voice.
+
+The bargain was soon made. Our portly dame proved to be a Virginian, who
+still cherished a true Virginian love for the Union.
+
+_Tipton, October 9th._ The General was in the saddle very early, and left
+camp before the staff was ready. I was fortunate enough to be on hand, and
+indulged in some excusable banter when the tardy members of our company
+rode up after we were a mile or two on the way. We have marched twelve
+miles to-day through a lovely country. We have left the hills and stony
+roads behind us, and now we pass over beautiful little prairies, bordered
+by forests blazing with the crimson and gold of autumn. The day's ride has
+been delightful, the atmosphere soft and warm, the sky cloudless, and the
+prairie firm and hard under our horses' feet. We passed several regiments
+on the road, who received the General with unbounded enthusiasm; and when
+we entered Tipton, we found the country covered with tents, and alive with
+men and horses. Amidst the cheers of the troops, we passed through the
+camps, and settled down upon a fine prairie-farm a mile to the southwest
+of Tipton. The divisions of Asboth and Hunter are here, not less than
+twelve thousand men, and from this point our course is to be southward.
+
+_Camp Asboth, near Tipton, October 11th._ For the last twenty-four hours
+it has rained violently, and the prairie upon which we are encamped is a
+sea of black mud. But the tents are tight, and inside we contrive to keep
+comparatively warm.
+
+The camp is filled with speculations as to our future course. Shall we
+follow Price, who is crossing the Osage now, or are we to garrison the
+important positions upon this line and return to St. Louis and prepare for
+the expedition down the river? The General is silent, his reserve is never
+broken, and no one knows what his plans are, except those whose business
+it is to know. I will here record the plan of the campaign.
+
+Our campaign has been in some measure decided by the movements of the
+Rebels. The sudden appearance of Price in the West, gathering to his
+standard many thousands of the disaffected, has made it necessary for the
+General to check his bold and successful progress. Carthage, Wilson's
+Creek, and Lexington have given to Price a prestige which it is essential
+to destroy. The gun-boats cannot be finished for two months or more, and
+we cannot go down the Mississippi until the flotilla is ready; and from
+the character of the country upon each side of the river it will be
+difficult to operate there with a large body of men. In Southwestern
+Missouri we are sure of fine weather till the last of November, the
+prairies are high and dry, and there are no natural obstacles except such
+as it will excite the enthusiasm of the troops to overcome. Therefore the
+General has determined to pursue Price until he catches him. He can march
+faster than we can now, but we shall soon be able to move faster than it
+is possible for him to do. The Rebels have no base of operations from
+which to draw supplies; they depend entirely upon foraging; and for this
+reason Price has to make long halts wherever he finds mills, and grind the
+flour. He is so deficient in equipage, also, that it will be impossible
+for him to carry his troops over great distances. But we can safely
+calculate that Price and Rains will not leave the State; their followers
+are enlisted for six months, and are already becoming discontented at
+their continued retreat, and will not go with them beyond the borders.
+This is the uniform testimony of deserters and scouts. Price disposed of,
+either by a defeat or by the dispersal of his army, we are to proceed to
+Bird's Point, or into Arkansas, according to circumstances. A blow at
+Little Rock seems now the wisest, as it is the boldest plan. We can reach
+that place by the middle of November; and if we obtain possession of it,
+the position of the enemy upon the Mississippi will be completely turned.
+The communications of Pillow, Hardee, and Thompson, who draw their
+supplies through Arkansas, will be cut off, they will be compelled to
+retreat, and our flotilla and the reinforcements can descend the river to
+assist in the operations against Memphis and the attack upon New Orleans.
+
+This campaign may be difficult, the army will have to encounter hardships
+and perils, but, unless defeated in the field, the enterprise will be
+successful. No hardships or perils can daunt the spirit of the General, or
+arrest the march of the enthusiastic army his genius has created.
+
+Our column is composed of five divisions, under Generals Hunter, Pope,
+Sigel, McKinstry, and Asboth, and numbers about thirty thousand men,
+including over five thousand cavalry and eighty-six pieces of artillery, a
+large proportion of which are rifled. The infantry is generally well,
+though not uniformly armed. But the cavalry is very badly armed. Colonel
+Carr's regiment has no sabres, except for the commissioned and
+non-commissioned officers. The men carry Hall's carbines and revolvers.
+Major Waring's fine corps, the Fremont Hussars, is also deficient in
+sabres, and some of the companies are provided with lances,--formidable
+weapons in skilful bands, but only an embarrassment to our raw troops.
+
+Lane and Sturgis are to come from Kansas and join us on the Osage, and
+Wyman is to bring his command from Rolla and meet us south of that river.
+
+Paducah, Cairo, Bird's Point, Cape Girardeau, and Ironton are well
+protected against attack, and the commanders at those posts are ordered to
+engage the enemy as soon as we catch Price; and if the Rebels retreat,
+they are to pursue them. Thus our expedition is part of a combined and
+extended movement, and, instead of having no purpose except the defeat of
+Price, we are on the road to New Orleans.
+
+Next Monday we are to start. Asboth will go from here, Hunter by way of
+Versailles, McKinstry from Syracuse, Pope from his present position in the
+direction of Booneville, and Sigel from Sedalia. We are to cross the Osage
+at Warsaw; and as Sigel has the shortest distance to march, he is expected
+to reach that town first.
+
+Precious time has already been lost because of a lack of transportation
+and supplies. Foraging parties have been scouring the country, and large
+numbers of wagons, horses, and mules have been brought in. This property
+is all appraised, and when taken from Union men it is paid for. In
+doubtful cases a certificate is given to the owner, which recites that he
+is to be paid in case he shall continue to be loyal to the Government. We
+thus obtain a hold upon these people which an oath of allegiance every day
+would not give us.
+
+_Camp Asboth, October 13th._ Mr. Cameron, Senator Chandler of Michigan,
+and Adjutant-General Thomas arrived at an early hour this morning; and at
+eight o'clock, the General, attended by his staff and body-guard, repaired
+to the Secretary's quarters. After a short stay there, the whole party,
+except General Thomas, set out for Syracuse to review the division of
+General McKinstry. The day was fine, and we proceeded at a hand gallop
+until we reached a prairie some three or four miles wide. Here the
+Secretary set spurs to his horse, and we tore across the plain as fast as
+our animals could be driven. Passing from the open plain into a forest,
+the whole cortege dashed over a very rough road with but little slackening
+of our pace; nor did we draw rein until we reached Syracuse. A few moments
+were passed in the interchange of the usual civilities, and we then went a
+mile farther on, to a large prairie upon which the division was drawn up.
+McKinstry has the flower of the army. He has in his ranks some regular
+infantry, cavalry, and artillery, and among his subordinate officers are
+Totten, Steele, Kelton, and Stanley, all distinguished in the regular
+service. There was no time for the observance of the usual forms of a
+review. The Secretary passed in front and behind the lines, made a short
+address, and left immediately by rail for St. Louis, stopping at Tipton to
+review Asboth's division. The staff and guard rode slowly back to camp,
+both men and animals having had quite enough of the day's work. It is
+said, that Adjutant-General Thomas has expressed the opinion that we shall
+not be able to move from here, because we have no transportation. As we
+are ordered to march to-morrow, the prediction will soon be tested.
+
+_Camp Zagonyi, October 14th._ We were in the saddle this morning at nine
+o'clock, A short march of eleven miles, in a south-westerly direction, and
+through a prairie country, brought us to our camp. As we came upon the
+summit of a hill which lies to the west of our present position, our
+attention was directed to a group standing in front of a house about a
+mile distant. We had hardly caught sight of them when half a dozen men and
+three women mounted their horses and started at full speed towards the
+northeast, each man leading a horse. The General ordered some of the
+body-guard to pursue and try to stop the fugitives. We eagerly watched the
+chase. A narrow valley separated us from the elevation upon which the
+farm-house stood, and a small stream with low banks ran through the bottom
+of the valley. The pursuit was active, the guardsmen ran their horses down
+the slope, leaped the pool, and rushed up the opposite hill; but the
+runaways were on fresh horses, and had no rough ground to pass, and so
+they escaped. One of them lost the horse he was leading, and it was caught
+by a guardsman. This was the first exhibition we have seen of a desire on
+the part of the inhabitants to avoid us.
+
+The General established head-quarters along-side the house where we first
+discovered the Rebel party. Our position is the most beautiful one we have
+yet found. To the west stretches an undulating prairie, separated from us
+by a valley, into which our camping-ground subsides with a mild declivity;
+to the north is a range of low hills, their round sides unbroken by shrub
+or tree; while to the south stretches an extensive tract of low land,
+densely covered with timber, and resplendent with the colors of autumn.
+
+Before dark the whole of Asboth's division came up and encamped on the
+slopes to the west and north: not less than seven thousand men are here.
+This evening the scene is beautiful. I sit in the door of my lodge, and as
+far as the eye can reach the prairie is dotted with tents, the dark forms
+of men and horses, the huge white-topped wagons,--and a thousand fires
+gleam through the faint moonlight. Our band is playing near the General's
+quarters, its strains are echoed by a score of regimental bands, and their
+music is mingled with the numberless noises of camp, the hum of voices,
+the laughter from the groups around the fires, the clatter of hoofs as
+some rider hurries to the General, the distant challenges of the sentries,
+the neighing of horses, the hoarse bellowing of the mules, and the
+clinking of the cavalry anvils. This, at last, is the romance of war. How
+soon will our ears be saluted by sterner music?
+
+_Camp Hudson, October 15th._ We moved at seven o'clock this morning. For
+the first four miles the road ran through woods intersected by small
+streams. The ground was as rough as it could well be, and the teams which
+had started before us were struggling through the mire and over the rocks.
+We dashed past them at a fast trot, and in half an hour came upon a high
+prairie. The prairies of Southern Missouri are not large and flat, like
+the monotonous levels of Central Illinois, but they are rolling, usually
+small, and broken by frequent narrow belts of timber. In the woods there
+are hills, rocky soil, and always one, often two streams, clear and rapid
+as a mountain-brook in New England.
+
+The scenery to-day was particularly attractive, a constant succession of
+prairies surrounded by wooded hills. As we go south, the color of the
+forest becomes richer, and the atmosphere more mellow and hazy.
+
+During the first two hours we passed several regiments of foot. The men
+were nearly all Germans, and I scanned the ranks carefully, longing to see
+an American countenance. I found none, but caught sight of one
+arch-devil-may-care Irish face. I doubt whether there is a company in the
+army without an Irishman in it, though the proportion of Irishmen in our
+ranks is not so great as at the East.
+
+Early in the afternoon we rode up to a farm-house, at the gate of which a
+middle-aged woman was standing, crying bitterly. The General stopped, and
+the woman at once assailed him vehemently. She told him the soldiers had
+that day taken her husband and his team away with them. She said that
+there was no one left to take care of her old blind mother,--at which
+allusion, the blind mother tottered down the walk and took a position in
+the rear of the attacking party,--that they had two orphan girls, the
+children of a deceased sister, and the orphans had lost their second
+father. The assailants were here reinforced by the two orphan girls. She
+protested that her husband was loyal,--"Truly, Sir, he was a Union man and
+voted for the Union, and always told his neighbors Disunion would do
+nothing except bring trouble upon innocent people, as indeed it has," said
+she, with a fresh flood of tears. The General was moved by her distress,
+and ordered Colonel E. to have the man, whose name is Rutherford, sent
+back at once.
+
+A few rods farther on we came to another house, in front of which was
+another weeping woman afflicted in the same way. Several little
+flaxen-haired children surrounded her, and a white-bearded man, trembling
+with age, stood behind, leaning upon a staff. Her earnestness far
+surpassed that of Mrs. Rutherford. She wrung her hands, and could hardly
+speak for her tears. She seized the General's hand and entreated him to
+return her husband, with an expression of distress which the hardest heart
+could not resist. The General comforted the poor woman with a few kind
+words, and promised to grant what she asked.
+
+It is very difficult to refuse such requests, and yet, in point of fact,
+no great hardship or sacrifice is required of these men. They profess to
+be Union men, but they are not in arms for the Union, and a Federal
+general now asks of them that they shall help the army for a day with
+their teams. To those who come here from all parts of the nation to defend
+these homes this does not appear to be a harsh demand.
+
+We arrived at camp about five o'clock. Our day's march was twenty-two
+miles, and the wagons were far behind. A neighboring farm-house afforded
+the General and a few of his officers a dinner, but it was late in the
+evening before the tents were pitched.
+
+_Warsaw, October 17th._ Yesterday we made our longest march, making
+twenty-five miles, and encamped three miles north of this place.
+
+It is a problem, why riding in a column should be so much more wearisome
+than riding alone, but so it undeniably is. Men who would think little of
+a sixty-mile ride were quite broken down by to-day's march.
+
+As soon as we reached camp, the General asked for volunteers from the
+staff to ride over to Warsaw: of course the whole staff volunteered. On
+the way we met General Sigel. This very able and enterprising officer is a
+pleasant, scholarly-looking gentleman, his studious air being increased by
+the spectacles he always wears. His figure is light, active, and graceful,
+and he is an excellent horseman. The country has few better heads than
+his. Always on the alert, he is full of resources, and no difficulties
+daunt him. Planter, Pope, and McKinstry are behind, waiting for tea and
+coffee, beans and flour, and army-wagons. Sigel gathered the ox-team and
+the farmers' wagons and brought his division forward with no food for his
+men but fresh beef. His advance-guard is already across the Osage, and in
+a day or two his whole division will be over.
+
+Guided by General Sigel, we rode down to the ford across the Osage. The
+river here is broad and rapid, and its banks are immense bare cliffs
+rising one hundred feet perpendicularly from the water's edge. The ford is
+crooked, uncertain, and never practicable except for horsemen. The ferry
+is an old flat-boat drawn across by a rope, and the ascent up the farther
+bank is steep and rocky. It will not answer to leave in our rear this
+river, liable to be changed by a night's rain into a fierce torrent, with
+no other means of crossing it than the rickety ferry. A bridge must at
+once be built, strong and firm, a safe road for the army in case of
+disaster. So decides the General. And as we look upon the swift-running
+river and its rocky shores, cold and gloomy in the twilight, every one
+agrees that the General is right. His decision has since been strongly
+supported, for to-day two soldiers of the Fremont Hussars were drowned in
+trying to cross the ford, and the water is now rising rapidly.
+
+This morning we moved into Warsaw, and for the first time the staff is
+billeted in the Secession houses of the town; but the General clings to
+his tent. Our mess is quartered in the house of the county judge, who says
+his sympathies are with the South. But the poor man is so frightened, that
+we pity and protect him.
+
+Bridge-building is now the sole purpose of the army. There is no saw-mill
+here, nor any lumber. The forest must be cut down and fashioned into a
+bridge, as well as the tools and the skill at command will permit. Details
+are already told off from the sharp-shooters, the cadets, and even the
+body-guard, and the banks of the river now resound with the quick blows of
+their axes.
+
+_Warsaw, October 21st._ Four days we have been waiting for the building of
+the bridge. By night and by day the work goes on, and now the long black
+shape is striding slowly across the stream. In a few hours it will have
+gained the opposite bank, and then, Ho, for Springfield!
+
+Our scouts have come in frequently the last few days. They tell us Price
+is at Stockton, and is pushing rapidly on towards the southwest. He has
+been grinding corn near Stockton, and has now food enough for another
+journey. His army numbers twenty thousand men, of whom five thousand have
+no arms. The rest carry everything, from double-barrelled shot-guns to the
+Springfield muskets taken from the Home-Guards. They load their shot-guns
+with a Minie-ball and two buck-shot, and those who have had experience say
+that at one hundred yards they are very effective weapons. There is little
+discipline in the Rebel army, and the only organization is by companies.
+The men are badly clothed, and without shoes, and often without food. The
+deserters say that those who remain are waiting only to get the new
+clothes which McCulloch is expected to bring from the South.
+
+McCulloch, the redoubtable Ben, does not seem to be held in high esteem by
+the Rebel soldiers. They say he lacks judgment and self-command. But all
+speak well of Price. No one can doubt that he is a man of unusual energy
+and ability. McCulloch will increase Price's force to about thirty-five
+thousand, which number we must expect to meet.
+
+Hunter and McKinstry have not yet appeared, but Pope reported himself last
+night, and some of his men came in to-day.
+
+_Camp White, October 22d._ The bridge is built, and the army is now
+crossing the Osage. In five days a firm road has been thrown across the
+river, over which our troops may pass in a day. The General and staff
+crossed by the ferry, and are now encamped two miles south of the
+Pomme-de-Terre.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+BIRDOFREDUM SAWIN, ESQ., TO MR. HOSEA BIGLOW.
+
+
+    _Letter from the REVEREND HOMER WILBUR, A.M., inclosing the
+    Epistle aforesaid._
+
+
+Jaalam, 15th Nov., 1861.
+
+It is not from any idle wish to obtrude my humble person with undue
+prominence upon the publick view that I resume my pen upon the present
+occasion. _Juniores ad labores._ But having been a main instrument in
+rescuing the talent of my young parishioner from being buried in the
+ground, by giving it such warrant with the world as would be derived from
+a name already widely known by several printed discourses, (all of which I
+maybe permitted without immodesty to state have been deemed worthy of
+preservation in the Library of Harvard College by my esteemed friend Mr.
+Sibley,) it seemed becoming that I should not only testify to the
+genuineness of the following production, but call attention to it, the
+more as Mr. Biglow had so long been silent as to be in danger of absolute
+oblivion. I insinuate no claim to any share in the authourship (_vix ea
+nostra voco_) of the works already published by Mr. Biglow, but merely
+take to myself the credit of having fulfilled toward them the office of
+taster, (_experto crede_,) who, having first tried, could afterward bear
+witness,--an office always arduous, and sometimes even dangerous, as in
+the ease of those devoted persons who venture their lives in the
+deglutition of patent medicines (_dolus latet in generalibus_, there is
+deceit in the most of them) and thereafter are wonderfully preserved long
+enough to append their signatures to testimonials in the diurnal and
+hebdomadal prints. I say not this as covertly glancing at the authours of
+certain manuscripts which have been submitted to my literary judgment,
+(though an epick in twenty-four books on the "Taking of Jericho" might,
+save for the prudent forethought of Mrs. Wilbur in secreting the same just
+as I had arrived beneath the walls and was beginning a catalogue of the
+various horns and their blowers, too ambitiously emulous in longanimity of
+Homer's list of ships, might, I say, have rendered frustrate any hope I
+could entertain _vacare Musis_ for the small remainder of my days,) but
+only further to secure myself against any imputation of unseemly
+forthputting. I will barely subjoin, in this connection, that, whereas Job
+was left to desire, in the soreness of his heart, that his adversary had
+written a book, as perchance misanthropically wishing to indite a review
+thereof, yet was not Satan allowed so far to tempt him as to send Bildad,
+Eliphaz, and Zophar each with an unprinted work in his wallet to be
+submitted to his censure. But of this enough. Were I in need of other
+excuse, I might add that I write by the express desire of Mr. Biglow
+himself, whose entire winter leisure is occupied, as he assures me, in
+answering demands for autographs, a labour exacting enough in itself, and
+egregiously so to him, who, being no ready penman, cannot sign so much as
+his name without strange contortions of the face (his nose, even, being
+essential to complete success) and painfully suppressed Saint-Vitus-dance
+of every muscle in his body. This, with his having been put in the
+Commission of the Peace by our excellent Governour (_O, si sic omnes!_)
+immediately on his accession to office, keeps him continually employed.
+_Haud inexpertus loquor,_ having for many years written myself J.P., and
+being not seldom applied to for specimens of my chirography, a request to
+which I have sometimes too weakly assented, believing as I do that nothing
+written of set purpose can properly be called an autograph, but only those
+unpremeditated sallies and lively runnings which betray the fireside Man
+instead of the hunted Notoriety doubling on his pursuers. But it is time
+that I should bethink me of Saint Austin's prayer, _Libera me a meipso,_
+if I would arrive at the matter in hand.
+
+Moreover, I had yet another reason for taking up the pen myself. I am
+informed that the "Atlantic Monthly" is mainly indebted for its success to
+the contributions and editorial supervision of Dr. Holmes, whose excellent
+"Annals of America" occupy an honoured place upon my shelves. The journal
+itself I have never seen; but if this be so, it should seem that the
+recommendation of a brother-clergyman (though _par magis quam similis_)
+would carry a greater weight. I suppose that you have a department for
+historical lucubrations, and should be glad, if deemed desirable, to
+forward for publication my "Collections for the Antiquities of Jaalam" and
+my (now happily complete) pedigree of the Wilbur family from _fons et
+origo_, the Wild-Boar of Ardennes. Withdrawn from the active duties of my
+profession by the settlement of a colleague-pastor, the Reverend Jeduthun
+Hitchcock, formerly of Brutus Four-Corners, I might find time for further
+contributions to general literature on similar topicks. I have made large
+advances toward a completer genealogy of Mrs. Wilbur's family, the
+Pilcoxes, not, if I know myself, from any idle vanity, but with the sole
+desire of rendering myself useful in my day and generation. _Nulla dies
+sine linea._ I inclose a meteorological register, a list of the births,
+deaths, and marriages, and a few _memorabilia_, of longevity in Jaalam
+East Parish for the last half-century. Though spared to the unusual period
+of more than eighty years, I find no diminution of my faculties or
+abatement of my natural vigour, except a scarcely sensible decay of memory
+and a necessity of recurring to younger eyesight for the finer print in
+Cruden. It would gratify me to make some further provision for declining
+years from the emoluments of my literary labours. I had intended to effect
+an insurance on my life, but was deterred therefrom by a circular from one
+of the offices, in which the sudden deaths of so large a proportion of the
+insured was set forth as an inducement, that it seemed to me little less
+than a tempting of Providence. _Neque in summa inopia levis esse senectus
+potest, ne sapienti quidem._
+
+Thus far concerning Mr. Biglow; and so much seemed needful (_brevis esse
+laboro_) by way of preliminary, after a silence of fourteen years. He
+greatly fears lest he may in this essay have fallen below himself, well
+knowing, that, if exercise be dangerous on a full stomach, no less so is
+writing on a full reputation. Beset as he has been on all sides, he could
+not refrain, and would only imprecate patience till he shall again have
+"got the hang" (as he calls it) of an accomplishment long disused. The
+letter of Mr. Sawin was received some time in last June, and others have
+followed which will in due season be submitted to the publick. How largely
+his statements are to be depended on, I more than merely dubitate. He was
+always distinguished for a tendency to exaggeration,--it might almost be
+qualified by a stronger term. _Fortiter mentire, aliquid haeret_, seemed to
+be his favourite rule of rhetorick. That he is actually where he says he
+is the post-mark would seem to confirm; that he was received with the
+publick demonstrations he describes would appear consonant with what we
+know of the habits of those regions; but further than this I venture not
+to decide. I have sometimes suspected a vein of humour in him which leads
+him to speak by contraries; but since, in the unrestrained intercourse of
+private life, I have never observed in him any striking powers of
+invention, I am the more willing to put a certain qualified faith in the
+incidents and the details of life and manners which give to his narratives
+some of the interest and entertainment which characterize a Century
+Sermon.
+
+It may be expected of me that I should say something to justify myself
+with the world for a seeming inconsistency with my well-known principles
+in allowing my youngest son to raise a company for the war, a fact known
+to all through the medium of the publick prints. I did reason with the
+young man, but _expellas naturam furca, tamenusque recurrit_. Having
+myself been a chaplain in 1812, I could the less wonder that a man of war
+had sprung from my loins. It was, indeed, grievous to send my Benjamin,
+the child of my old age; but after the discomfiture of Manassas, I with my
+own hands did buckle on his armour, trusting in the great Comforter for
+strength according to my need. For truly the memory of a brave son dead in
+his shroud were a greater staff of my declining years than a coward,
+though his days might be long in the land and he should get much goods. It
+is not till our earthen vessels are broken that we find and truly possess
+the treasure that was laid up in them. _Migravi in animam meam_, I have
+sought refuge in my own soul; nor would I be shamed by the heathen
+comedian with his _Nequam illud verbum, bene vult, nisi bene facit_.
+During our dark days, I read constantly in the inspired book of Job, which
+I believe to contain more food to maintain the fibre of the soul for right
+living and high thinking than all pagan literature together, though I
+would by no means vilipend the study of the classicks. There I read that
+Job said in his despair, even as the fool saith in his heart there is no
+God,--"The tabernacles of robbers prosper, and they that provoke God are
+secure." _Job_ xii. 6. But I sought farther till I found this Scripture
+also, which I would have those perpend who have striven to turn our Israel
+aside to the worship of strange gods:--"If I did despise the cause of my
+man-servant or of my maid-servant when they contended with me, what then
+shall I do when God riseth up? and when he visiteth, what shall I answer
+him?" _Job_ xxxi. 13-14. On this text I preached a discourse on the last
+day of Fasting and Humiliation with general acceptance, though there were
+not wanting one or two Laodiceans who said that I should have waited till
+the President announced his policy. But let us hope and pray, remembering
+this of Saint Gregory, _Vult Deus rogari, vult cogi, vult quadam
+importunitate vinci_.
+
+We had our first fall of snow on Friday last. Frosts have been unusually
+backward this fall. A singular circumstance occurred in this town on the
+20th October, in the family of Deacon Pelatiah Tinkham. On the previous
+evening, a few moments before family-prayers,
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[The editors of the "Atlantic" find it necessary here to cut short the
+letter of their valued correspondent, which seemed calculated rather on
+the rates of longevity in Jaalam than for less favored localities. They
+have every encouragement to hope that he will write again.]
+
+                    With esteem and respect,
+
+                              Your obedient servant,
+
+                                        HOMER WILBUR, A.M.
+
+
+  It's some consid'ble of a spell sence I hain't writ no letters,
+  An' ther' 's gret changes hez took place in all polit'cle metters:
+  Some canderdates air dead an' gone, an' some hez ben defeated,
+  Which 'mounts to pooty much the same; fer it's ben proved repeated
+  A betch o' bread thet hain't riz once ain't goin' to rise agin,
+  An' it's jest money throwed away to put the emptins in:
+  But thet's wut folks wun't never larn; they dunno how to go,
+  Arter you want their room, no more 'n a bullet-headed beau;
+  Ther' 's ollers chaps a-hangin' roun' thet can't see pea-time's past,
+  Mis'ble as roosters in a rain, heads down an' tails half-mast:
+  It ain't disgraceful bein' beat, when a holl nation doos it,
+  But Chance is like an amberill,--it don't take twice to lose it.
+
+  I spose you're kin' o' cur'ous, now, to know why I hain't writ.
+  Wal, I've ben where a litt'ry taste don't somehow seem to git
+  Th' encouragement a feller'd think, thet's used to public schools,
+  An' where sech things ez paper 'n' ink air clean agin the rules:
+  A kind o' vicyvarsy house, built dreffle strong an' stout,
+  So 's 't honest people can't git in, ner t' other sort git out,
+  An' with the winders so contrived, you'd prob'ly like the view
+  Better a-lookin' in than out, though it seems sing'lar, tu;
+  But then the landlord sets by ye, can't bear ye out o' sight,
+  And locks ye up ez reg'lar ez an outside door at night.
+
+  This world is awfle contrary: the rope may stretch your neck
+  Thet mebby kep' another chap frum washin' off a wreck;
+  An' you will see the taters grow in one poor feller's patch,
+  So small no self-respectin' hen thet vallied time 'ould scratch,
+  So small the rot can't find 'em out, an' then agin, nex' door,
+  Ez big ez wut hogs dream on when they're 'most too fat to snore.
+  But groutin' ain't no kin' o' use; an' ef the fust throw fails,
+  Why, up an' try agin, thet's all,--the coppers ain't all tails;
+  Though I _hev_ seen 'em when I thought they hed n't no more head
+  Than'd sarve a nussin' Brigadier thet gits some ink to shed.
+
+  When I writ last, I'd ben turned loose by thet blamed nigger, Pomp,
+  Ferlorner than a musquash, ef you'd took an' dreened his swamp:
+  But I ain't o' the meechin' kind, thet sets an' thinks fer weeks
+  The bottom's out o' th' univarse coz their own gillpot leaks.
+  I hed to cross bayous an' criks, (wal, it did beat all natur',)
+  Upon a kin' o' corderoy, fust log, then alligator:
+  Luck'ly the critters warn't sharp-sot; I guess't wuz overruled
+  They'd done their mornin's marketin' an' gut their hunger cooled;
+  Fer missionaries to the Creeks an' runaway's air viewed
+  By them an' folks ez sent express to be their reg'lar food:
+  Wutever 't wuz, they laid an' snoozed ez peacefully ez sinners,
+  Meek ez disgestin' deacons be at ordination dinners;
+  Ef any on 'em turned an' snapped, I let 'em kin' o' taste
+  My live-oak leg, an' so, ye see, ther' warn't no gret o' waste,
+  Fer they found out in quicker time than ef they'd ben to college
+  'T warn't heartier food than though 't wuz made out o' the tree o'
+          knowledge.
+
+  But _I_ tell _you_ my other leg hed larned wut pizon-nettle meant,
+  An' var'ous other usefle things, afore I reached a settlement,
+  An' all o' me thet wuz n't sore an' sendin' prickles thru me
+  Wuz jest the leg I parted with in lickin' Montezumy:
+  A usefle limb it 's ben to me, an' more of a support
+  Than wut the other hez ben,--coz I dror my pension for 't.
+
+  Wal, I gut in at last where folks wuz civerlized an' white,
+  Ez I diskivered to my cost afore 't wuz hardly night;
+  Fer 'z I wuz settin' in the bar a-takin' sunthin' hot,
+  An' feelin' like a man agin, all over in one spot,
+  A feller thet sot opposite, arter a squint at me,
+  Lep up an' drawed his peacemaker, an', "Dash it, Sir," suz he,
+  "I'm doubledashed if you ain't him thet stole my yaller chettle,
+  (You're all the stranger thet's around,) so now you've gut to settle;
+  It ain't no use to argerfy ner try to cut up frisky,
+  I know ye ez I know the smell o' ole chain-lightnin' whiskey;
+  We're lor-abidin' folks down here, we'll fix ye so 's 't a bar
+  Wouldn' tech ye with a ten-foot pole; (Jedge, you jest warm the tar;)
+  You'll think you'd better ha' gut among a tribe o' Mongrel Tartars,
+  'Fore we've done showin' how we raise our Southun prize tar-martyrs;
+  A moultin' fallen cherubim, ef he should see ye, 'd snicker,
+  Thinkin' he hedn't nary chance. Come, genlemun, le' 's liquor;
+  An', Gin'ral, when you 've mixed the drinks an' chalked 'em up, tote
+          roun'
+  An' see ef ther' 's a feather-bed (thet's borryable) in town.
+  We'll try ye fair, Ole Grafted-Leg, an' ef the tar wun't stick,
+  Th' ain't not a juror here but wut'll 'quit ye double-quick."
+  To cut it short, I wun't say sweet, they gi' me a good dip,
+  (They ain't _perfessin'_ Bahptists here,) then give the bed a rip,--
+  The jury 'd sot, an' quicker 'n a flash they hetched me out, a livin'
+  Extemp'ry mammoth turkey-chick fer a Feejee Thanksgivin'.
+
+  Thet I felt some stuck up is wut it's nat'ral to suppose,
+  When poppylar enthusiasm hed furnished me sech clo'es;
+  (Ner 't ain't without edvantiges, this kin' o' suit, ye see,
+  It's water-proof, an' water's wut I like kep' out o' me;)
+  But nut content with thet, they took a kerridge from the fence
+  An' rid me roun' to see the place, entirely free 'f expense,
+  With forty-'leven new kines o' sarse without no charge acquainted me,
+  Gi' me three cheers, an' vowed thet I wuz all their fahncy painted me;
+  They treated me to all their eggs; (they keep 'em, I should think,
+  Fer sech ovations, pooty long, for they wuz mos' distinc';)
+  They starred me thick 'z the Milky-Way with indiscrim'nit cherity,
+  For wut we call reception eggs air sunthin' of a rerity;
+  Green ones is plentifle anough, skurce wuth a nigger's getherin',
+  But your dead-ripe ones ranges high fer treatin' Nothun bretherin:
+  A spotteder, ringstreakeder child the' warn't in Uncle Sam's
+  Holl farm,--a cross of striped pig an' one o' Jacob's lambs;
+  'T wuz Dannil in the lions' den, new an' enlarged edition,
+  An' everythin' fust-rate o' 'ts kind, the' warn't no impersition.
+  People's impulsiver down here than wut our folks to home be,
+  An' kin' o' go it 'ith a resh in raisin' Hail Columby:
+  Thet's _so_: an' they swarmed out like bees, for your real Southun
+          men's
+  Time isn't o' much more account than an ole settin' hen's;
+  (They jest work semioccashnally, or else don't work at all,
+  An' so their time an' 'tention both air et saci'ty's call.)
+  Talk about hospitality! wut Nothun town d' ye know
+  Would take a totle stranger up an' treat him gratis so?
+  You'd better b'lieve ther' 's nothin' like this spendin' days an'
+          nights
+  Along 'ith a dependent race fer civerlizin' whites.
+
+  But this wuz all prelim'nary; it's so Gran' Jurors here
+  Fin' a true bill, a hendier way than ourn, an' nut so dear;
+  So arter this they sentenced me, to make all tight 'n' snug,
+  Afore a reg'lar court o' law, to ten years in the Jug.
+  I didn' make no gret defence: you don't feel much like speakin',
+  When, ef you let your clamshells gape, a quart o' tar will leak in:
+  I _hev_ hearn tell o' winged words, but pint o' fact it tethers
+  The spoutin' gift to hev your words tu thick sot on with feathers,
+  An' Choate ner Webster wouldn't ha' made an A 1 kin' o' speech,
+  Astride a Southun chestnut horse sharper 'n a baby's screech.
+
+  Two year ago they ketched the thief, 'n' seein' I wuz innercent,
+  They jest oncorked an' le' me run, an' in my stid the sinner sent
+  To see how _he_ liked pork 'n' pone flavored with wa'nut saplin',
+  An' nary social priv'ledge but a one-hoss, starn-wheel chaplin.
+  When I come out, the folks behaved mos' gen'manly an' harnsome;
+  They 'lowed it wouldn't be more 'n right, ef I should cuss 'n' darn
+          some:
+  The Cunnle he apolergized; suz he, "I'll du wut 's right,
+  I'll give ye settisfection now by shootin' ye at sight,
+  An' give the nigger, (when he's caught,) to pay him fer his trickin'
+  In gittin' the wrong man took up, a most H fired lickin',--
+  It's jest the way with all on 'em, the inconsistent critters,
+  They're 'most enough to make a man blaspheme his mornin' bitters;
+  I'll be your frien' thru thick an' thin an' in all kines o' weathers,
+  An' all you'll hev to pay fer 's jest the waste o' tar an' feathers:
+  A lady owned the bed, ye see, a widder, tu, Miss Shennon;
+  It wuz her mite; we would ha' took another, ef ther 'd ben one:
+  We don't make _no_ charge for the ride an' all the other fixins.
+  Le' 's liquor; Gin'ral, you can chalk our friend for all the mixins."
+  A meetin' then wuz called, where they "RESOLVED, Thet we respec'
+  B.S. Esquire for quallerties o' heart an' intellec'
+  Peculiar to Columby's sile, an' not to no one else's,
+  Thet makes European tyrans scringe in all their gilded pel'ces,
+  An' doos gret honor to our race an' Southun institootions":
+  (I give ye jest the substance o' the leadin' resolootions:)
+  "RESOLVED, Thet we revere in him a soger 'thout a flor,
+  A martyr to the princerples o' libbaty an' lor:
+  RESOLVED, Thet other nations all, ef sot 'longside o' us,
+  For vartoo, larnin', chivverlry, ain't noways wuth a cuss."
+  They gut up a subscription, tu, but no gret come o' _that_;
+  I 'xpect in cairin' of it roun' they took a leaky hat;
+  Though Southun genelmun ain't slow at puttin' down their name,
+  (When they can write,) fer in the eend it comes to jest the same,
+  Because, ye see, 't 's the fashion here to sign an' not to think
+  A critter'd be so sordid ez to ax 'em for the chink:
+  I didn't call but jest on one, an' _he_ drawed toothpick on me,
+  An' reckoned he warn't goin' to stan' no sech dog-gauned econ'my;
+  So nothin' more wuz realized, 'ceptin' the good-will shown,
+  Than ef 't had ben from fust to last a reg'lar Cotton Loan.
+  It's a good way, though, come to think, coz ye enjy the sense
+  O' lendin' lib'rally to the Lord, an' nary red o' 'xpense:
+  Sence then I've gut my name up for a gin'rous-hearted man
+  By jes' subscribin' right an' left on this high-minded plan;
+  I've gin away my thousans so to every Southun sort
+  O' missions, colleges, an' sech, ner ain't no poorer for 't.
+
+  I warn't so bad off, arter all; I needn't hardly mention
+  That Guv'ment owed me quite a pile for my arrears o' pension,--
+  I mean the poor, weak thing we _hed_: we run a new one now,
+  Thet strings a feller with a claim up tu the nighest bough,
+  An' _prectises_ the rights o' man, purtects down-trodden debtors,
+  Ner wun't hev creditors about a-scrougin' o' their betters:
+  Jeff's gut the last idees ther' is, poscrip', fourteenth edition,
+  He knows it takes some enterprise to run an oppersition;
+  Ourn's the fust thru-by-daylight train, with all ou'doors for deepot,
+  Yourn goes so slow you'd think 't wuz drawed by a last cent'ry
+          teapot;--
+  Wal, I gut all on 't paid in gold afore our State seceded,
+  An' done wal, for Confed'rit bonds warn't jest the cheese I needed:
+  Nut but wut they're ez _good_ ez gold, but then it's hard a-breakin'
+          on 'em,
+  An' ignorant folks is ollers sot an' wun't git used to takin' on 'em;
+  They're wuth ez much ez wut they wuz afore ole Mem'nger signed 'em,
+  An' go off middlin' wal for drinks, when ther' 's a knife behind 'em:
+  We _du_ miss silver, jest fer thet an' ridin' in a bus,
+  Now we've shook off the despots thet wuz suckin' at our pus;
+  An' it's _because_ the South's so rich; 't wuz nat'ral to expec'
+  Supplies o' change wuz jest the things we shouldn't recollec';
+  We'd ough' to ha' thought aforehan', though, o' thet good rule o'
+          Crockett's,
+  For 't 's tiresome cairin' cotton-bales an' niggers in your pockets,
+  Ner 't ain't quite hendy to pass off one o' your six-foot Guineas
+  An' git your halves an' quarters back in gals an' pickaninnies:
+  Wal, 't ain't quite all a feller 'd ax, but then ther' 's this to say,
+  It's on'y jest among ourselves thet we expec' to pay;
+  Our system would ha' caird us thru in any Bible cent'ry,
+  'Fore this onscripted plan come up o' books by double entry;
+  We go the patriarkle here out o' all sight an' hearin',
+  For Jacob warn't a circumstance to Jeff at financierin';
+  _He_ never 'd thought o' borryin' from Esau like all nater
+  An' then cornfiscatin' all debts to sech a small pertater;
+  There's p'litickle econ'my, now, combined 'ith morril beauty
+  Thet saycrifices privit eends (your in'my's, tu) to dooty!
+  Wy, Jeff'd ha' gin him five an' won his eye-teeth 'fore he knowed it,
+  An', slid o' wastin' pottage, he'd ha' eat it up an' owed it.
+
+  But I wuz goin' on to say how I come here to dwall;--
+  'Nough said, thet, arter lookin' roun', I liked the place so wal,
+  Where niggers doos a double good, with us atop to stiddy 'em,
+  By bein' proofs o' prophecy an' cirkleatin' medium,
+  Where a man's sunthin' coz he's white, an' whiskey's cheap ez fleas,
+  An' the financial pollercy jest sooted my idees,
+  Thet I friz down right where I wuz, merried the Widder Shennon,
+  (Her thirds wuz part in cotton-land, part in the curse o' Canaan,)
+  An' here I be ez lively ez a chipmunk on a wall,
+  With nothin' to feel riled about much later 'n Eddam's fall.
+
+  Ez fur ez human foresight goes, we made an even trade:
+  She gut an overseer, an' I a fem'ly ready-made,
+  (The youngest on 'em's 'most growed up,) rugged an' spry ez weazles,
+  So's 't ther' 's no resk o' doctors' bills fer hoopin'-cough an'
+          measles.
+  Our farm's at Turkey-Buzzard Roost, Little Big Boosy River,
+  Wal located in all respex,--fer 't ain't the chills 'n' fever
+  Thet makes my writin' seem to squirm; a Southuner'd allow I'd
+  Some call to shake, for I've jest hed to meller a new cowhide.
+
+  Miss S. is all 'f a lady; th' ain't no better on Big Boosy,
+  Ner one with more accomplishmunts 'twixt here an' Tuscaloosy;
+  She's an F.F., the tallest kind, an' prouder 'n the Gran' Turk,
+  An' never hed a relative thet done a stroke o' work;
+  Hern ain't a scrimpin' fem'ly sech ez _you_ git up Down East,
+  Th' ain't a growed member on 't but owes his thousuns et the least:
+  She _is_ some old; but then agin ther' 's drawbacks in my sheer;
+  Wut's left o' me ain't more 'n enough to make a Brigadier:
+  The wust is, she hez tantrums; she is like Seth Moody's gun
+  (Him thet wuz nicknamed frum his limp Ole Dot an' Kerry One);
+  He'd left her loaded up a spell, an' hed to git her clear,
+  So he onhitched,--Jeerusalem! the middle o' last year
+  Wuz right nex' door compared to where she kicked the critter tu
+  (Though _jest_ where he brought up wuz wut no human never knew);
+  His brother Asaph picked her up an' tied her to a tree,
+  An' then she kicked an hour 'n' a half afore she'd let it be:
+  Wal, Miss S. _doos_ hev cuttins-up an' pourins-out o' vials,
+  But then she hez her widder's thirds, an' all on us hez trials.
+  My objec', though, in writin' now warn't to allude to sech,
+  But to another suckemstance more dellykit to tech,--
+  I want thet you should grad'lly break my merriage to Jerushy,
+  An' ther' 's a heap of argymunts thet's emple to indooce ye:
+  Fust place, State's Prison,--wal, it's true it warn't fer crime, o'
+          course,
+  But then it's jest the same fer her in gittin' a disvorce;
+  Nex' place, my State's secedin' out hez leg'lly lef' me free
+  To merry any one I please, pervidin' it's a she;
+  Fin'lly, I never wun't come back, she needn't hev no fear on 't,
+  But then it 's wal to fix things right fer fear Miss S. should hear
+          on 't;
+  Lastly, I've gut religion South, an' Rushy she's a pagan
+  Thet sets by th' graven imiges o' the gret Nothun Dagon;
+  (Now I hain't seen one in six munts, for, sence our Treasury Loan,
+  Though yaller boys is thick anough, eagles hez kind o' flown;)
+  An' ef J. wants a stronger pint than them thet I hev stated,
+  Wy, she's an aliun in'my now, an' I've ben cornfiscated,--
+  For sence we've entered on th' estate o' the late nayshnul eagle,
+  She hain't no kin' o' right but jest wut I allow ez legle:
+  Wut _doos_ Secedin' mean, ef't ain't thet nat'rul rights hez riz, 'n'
+  Thet wut is mine's my own, but wut's another man's ain't his'n?
+
+  Bersides, I couldn't do no else; Miss S. suz she to me,
+  "You've sheered my bed," [Thet's when I paid my interdiction fee
+  To Southun rites,] "an' kep' your sheer," [Wal, I allow it sticked
+  So's 't I wuz most six weeks in jail afore I gut me picked,]
+  "Ner never paid no demmiges; but thet wun't do no harm,
+  Pervidin' thet you'll ondertake to oversee the farm;
+  (My eldes' boy is so took up, wut with the Ringtail Rangers
+  An' settin' in the Jestice-Court for welcomin' o' strangers";)
+  [He sot on _me_;] "an' so, ef you'll jest ondertake the care
+  Upon a mod'rit sellery, we'll up an' call it square;
+  But ef you _can't_ conclude," suz she, an' give a kin' o' grin,
+  "Wy, the Gran' Jury, I expect, 'll hev to set agin."
+  Thet's the way metters stood at fust; now wut wuz I to du,
+  But jest to make the best on't an' off coat an' buckle tu?
+  Ther' ain't a livin' man thet finds an income necessarier
+  Than me,--bimeby I'll tell ye how I fin'lly come to merry her.
+
+  She hed another motive, tu: I mention of it here
+  T' encourage lads thet's growin' up to study 'n' persevere,
+  An' show 'em how much better 't pays to mind their winter-schoolin'
+  Than to go off on benders 'n' sech, an' waste their time in foolin';
+  Ef 't warn't for studyin', evening, I never 'd ha' ben here
+  An orn'ment o' saciety, in my approprut spear:
+  She wanted somebody, ye see, o' taste an' cultivation,
+  To talk along o' preachers when they stopt to the plantation;
+  For folks in Dixie th't read an' write, onless it is by jarks,
+  Is skurce ez wut they wuz among th' oridgenal patriarchs;
+  To fit a feller f' wut they call the soshle higherarchy,
+  All thet you've gut to know is jest beyund an evrage darky;
+  Schoolin' 's wut they can't seem to stan', they're tu consarned
+          high-pressure,
+  An' knowin' t' much might spile a boy for bein' a Secesher.
+  We hain't no settled preachin' here, ner ministeril taxes;
+  The min'ster's only settlement 's the carpet-bag he packs his
+  Razor an' soap-brush intu, with his hymbook an' his Bible,--
+  But they _du_ preach, I swan to man, it's puf'kly indescrib'le!
+  They go it like an Ericsson's ten-hoss-power coleric ingine,
+  An' make Ole Split-Foot winch an' squirm, for all he's used to
+          singein';
+  Hawkins's whetstone ain't a pinch o' primin' to the innards
+  To hearin' on 'em put free grace t' a lot o' tough old sin-hards!
+
+  But I must eend this letter now: 'fore long I'll send a fresh un;
+  I've lots o' things to write about, perticklerly Seceshun:
+  I'm called off now to mission-work, to let a leetle law in
+  To Cynthy's hide: an' so, till death,
+
+                                        Yourn,
+
+                                              BIRDOFREDUM SAWIN.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+OLD AGE.
+
+
+On the last anniversary of the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Cambridge, the
+venerable President Quincy, senior member of the Society, as well as
+senior alumnus of the University, was received at the dinner with peculiar
+demonstrations of respect. He replied to these compliments in a speech,
+and, gracefully claiming the privileges of a literary society, entered at
+some length into an Apology for Old Age, and, aiding himself by notes in
+his hand, made a sort of running commentary on Cicero's chapter "De
+Senectute." The character of the speaker, the transparent good faith of
+his praise and blame, and the _naivete_ of his eager preference of
+Cicero's opinions to King David's, gave unusual interest to the College
+festival. It was a discourse full of dignity, honoring him who spoke and
+those who heard.
+
+The speech led me to look over at home--an easy task--Cicero's famous
+essay, charming by its uniform rhetorical merit; heroic with Stoical
+precepts; with a Roman eye to the claims of the State; happiest, perhaps,
+in his praise of life on the farm; and rising, at the conclusion, to a
+lofty strain. But he does not exhaust the subject; rather invites the
+attempt to add traits to the picture from our broader modern life.
+
+Cicero makes no reference to the illusions which cling to the element of
+time, and in which Nature delights. Wellington, in speaking of military
+men, said,--"What masks are these uniforms to hide cowards! When our
+journal is published, many statues must come down." I have often detected
+the like deception in the cloth shoe, wadded pelisse, wig and spectacles,
+and padded chair of Age. Nature lends herself to these illusions, and adds
+dim sight, deafness, cracked voice, snowy hair, short memory, and sleep.
+These also are masks, and all is not Age that wears them. Whilst we yet
+call ourselves young, and all our mates are yet youths and boyish, one
+good fellow in the set prematurely sports a gray or a bald head, which
+does not impose on us who know how innocent of sanctity or of Platonism he
+is, but does not less deceive his juniors and the public, who presently
+distinguish him with a most amusing respect: and this lets us into the
+secret, that the venerable forms that so awed our childhood were just such
+impostors. Nature is full of freaks, and now puts an old head on young
+shoulders, and then a young heart beating under fourscore winters.
+
+For if the essence of age is not present, these signs, whether of Art or
+Nature, are counterfeit and ridiculous: and the essence of age is
+intellect. Wherever that appears, we call it old. If we look into the eyes
+of the youngest person, we sometimes discover that here is one who knows
+already what you would go about with much pains to teach him; there is
+that in him which is the ancestor of all around him: which fact the Indian
+Vedas express, when they say, "He that can discriminate is the father of
+his father." And in our old British legends of Arthur and the Round-Table,
+his friend and counsellor, Merlin the Wise, is a babe found exposed in a
+basket by the river-side, and, though an infant of only a few days, he
+speaks to those who discover him, tells his name and history, and
+presently foretells the fate of the by-standers. Wherever there is power,
+there is age. Don't be deceived by dimples and curls. I tell you that babe
+is a thousand years old.
+
+Time is, indeed, the theatre and seat of illusion. Nothing is so ductile
+and elastic. The mind stretches an hour to a century, and dwarfs an age to
+an hour. Saadi found in a mosque at Damascus an old Persian of a hundred
+and fifty years who was dying, and was saying to himself, "I said, coming
+into the world by birth, 'I will enjoy myself for a few moments.' Alas! at
+the variegated table of life I partook of a few mouthfuls, and the Fates
+said, '_Enough!_'" That which does not decay is so central and controlling
+in us, that, as long as one is alone by himself, he is not sensible of the
+inroads of time, which always begin at the surface-edges. If, on a winter
+day, you should stand within a bell-glass, the face and color of the
+afternoon clouds would not indicate whether it were June or January; and
+if we did not find the reflection of ourselves in the eyes of the young
+people, we could not know that the century-clock had struck seventy
+instead of twenty. How many men habitually believe that each chance
+passenger with whom they converse is of their own age, and presently find
+it was his father, and not his brother, whom they knew!
+
+But, not to press too hard on these deceits and illusions of Nature, which
+are inseparable from our condition, and looking at age under an aspect
+more conformed to the common sense, if the question be the felicity of
+age, I fear the first popular judgments will be unfavorable. From the
+point of sensuous experience, seen from the streets and markets and the
+haunts of pleasure and gain, the estimate of age is low, melancholy, and
+skeptical. Frankly face the facts, and see the result. Tobacco, coffee,
+alcohol, hashish, prussic acid, strychnine, are weak dilutions: the surest
+poison is time. This cup, which Nature puts to our lips, has a wonderful
+virtue, surpassing that of any other draught. It opens the senses, adds
+power, fills us with exalted dreams, which we call hope, love, ambition,
+science: especially, it creates a craving for larger draughts of itself.
+But they who take the larger draughts are drunk with it, lose their
+stature, strength, beauty, and senses, and end in folly and delirium. We
+postpone our literary work until we have more ripeness and skill to write,
+and we one day discover that our literary talent was a youthful
+effervescence which we have now lost. We had a judge in Massachusetts who
+at sixty proposed to resign, alleging that he perceived a certain decay in
+his faculties: he was dissuaded by his friends, on account of the public
+convenience at that time. At seventy it was hinted to him that it was time
+to retire; but he now replied, that he thought his judgment as robust, and
+all his faculties as good as ever they were. But besides the
+self-deception, the strong and hasty laborers of the street do not work
+well with the chronic valetudinarian. Youth is everywhere in place. Age,
+like woman, requires fit surroundings. Age is comely in coaches, in
+churches, in chairs of state and ceremony, in council-chambers, in courts
+of justice, and historical societies. Age is becoming in the country. But
+in the rush and uproar of Broadway, if you look into the faces of the
+passengers, there is dejection or indignation in the seniors, a certain
+concealed sense of injury, and the lip made up with a heroic determination
+not to mind it. Few envy the consideration enjoyed by the oldest
+inhabitant. We do not count a man's years, until he has nothing else to
+count. The vast inconvenience of animal immortality was told in the fable
+of Tithonus. In short, the creed of the street is, Old Age is not
+disgraceful, but immensely disadvantageous. Life is well enough, but we
+shall all be glad to get out of it, and they will all be glad to have us.
+
+This is odious on the face of it. Universal convictions are not to be
+shaken by the whimseys of overfed butchers and firemen, or by the
+sentimental fears of girls who would keep the infantile bloom on their
+cheeks. We know the value of experience. Life and art are cumulative; and
+he who has accomplished something in any department alone deserves to be
+heard on that subject. A man of great employments and excellent
+performance used to assure me that he did not think a man worth anything
+until he was sixty; although this smacks a little of the resolution of a
+certain "Young Men's Republican Club," that all men should be held
+eligible who were under seventy. But in all governments, the councils of
+power were held by the old; and patricians or _patres_, senate or _senes_,
+_seigneurs_ or seniors, _gerousia_, the senate of Sparta, the presbytery
+of the Church, and the like, all signify simply old men.
+
+This cynical lampoon is refuted by the universal prayer for long life,
+which is the verdict of Nature, and justified by all history. We have, it
+is true, examples of an accelerated pace, by which young men achieved
+grand works; as in the Macedonian Alexander, in Raffaelle, Shakspeare,
+Pascal, Burns, and Byron; but these are rare exceptions. Nature, in the
+main, vindicates her law. Skill to do comes of doing; knowledge comes by
+eyes always open, and working hands; and there is no knowledge that is not
+power. And if the life be true and noble, we have quite another sort of
+seniors than the frowzy, timorous, peevish dotards who are falsely
+old,--namely, the men who fear no city, but by whom cities stand; who
+appearing in any street, the people empty their houses to gaze at and obey
+them: as at "My Cid, with the fleecy beard," in Toledo; or Bruce, as
+Barbour reports him; as blind old Dandolo, elected Doge at eighty-four
+years, storming Constantinople at ninety-four, and after the revolt again
+victorious, and elected at the age of ninety-six to the throne of the
+Eastern Empire, which he declined, and died Doge at ninety-seven. We still
+feel the force of Socrates, "whom well-advised the oracle pronounced
+wisest of men"; of Archimedes, holding Syracuse against the Romans by his
+wit, and himself better than all their nation; of Michel Angelo, wearing
+the four crowns of architecture, sculpture, painting, and poetry; of
+Galileo, of whose blindness Castelli said, "The noblest eye is darkened
+that Nature ever made,--an eye that hath seen more than all that went
+before him, and hath opened the eyes of all that shall come after him"; of
+Newton, who made an important discovery for every one of his eighty-five
+years; of Bacon, who "took all knowledge to be his province"; of
+Fontenelle, "that precious porcelain vase laid up in the centre of France
+to be guarded with the utmost care for a hundred years"; of Franklin,
+Jefferson, and Adams, the wise and heroic statesmen; of Washington, the
+perfect citizen; of Wellington, the perfect soldier; of Goethe, the
+all-knowing poet; of Humboldt, the encyclopaedia of science.
+
+Under the general assertion of the well-being of age, we can easily count
+particular benefits of that condition. It has weathered the perilous capes
+and shoals in the sea whereon we sail, and the chief evil of life is taken
+away in removing the grounds of fear. The insurance of a ship expires as
+she enters the harbor at home. It were strange, if a man should turn his
+sixtieth year without a feeling of immense relief from the number of
+dangers he has escaped. When the old wife says, "Take care of that tumor
+in your shoulder, perhaps it is cancerous,"--he replies, "What if it is?"
+The humorous thief who drank a pot of beer at the gallows blew off the
+froth because he had heard it was unhealthy; but it will not add a pang to
+the prisoner marched out to be shot, to assure him that the pain in his
+knee threatens mortification. When the pleuro-pneumonia of the cows raged,
+the butchers said, that, though the acute degree was novel, there never
+was a time when this disease did not occur among cattle. All men carry
+seeds of all distempers through life latent, and we die without developing
+them: such is the affirmative force of the constitution. But if you are
+enfeebled by any cause, the disease becomes strong. At every stage we lose
+a foe. At fifty years, 't is said, afflicted citizens lose their
+sick-headaches. I hope this _hegira_ is not as movable a feast as that one
+I annually look for, when the horticulturists assure me that the rose-bugs
+in our gardens disappear on the tenth of July: they stay a fortnight later
+in mine. But be it as it may with the sick-headache,--'t is certain that
+graver headaches and heart-aches are lulled, once for all, as we come up
+with certain goals of time. The passions have answered their purpose: that
+slight, but dread overweight, with which, in each instance, Nature secures
+the execution of her aim, drops off. To keep man in the planet, she
+impresses the terror of death. To perfect the commisariat, she implants in
+each a little rapacity to get the supply, and a little over-supply, of his
+wants. To insure the existence of the race, she reinforces the sexual
+instinct, at the risk of disorder, grief, and pain. To secure strength,
+she plants cruel hunger and thirst, which so easily overdo their office,
+and invite disease. But these temporary stays and shifts for the
+protection of the young animal are shed as fast as they can be replaced by
+nobler resources. We live in youth amidst this rabble of passions, quite
+too tender, quite too hungry and irritable. Later, the interiors of mind
+and heart open, and supply grander motives. We learn the fatal
+compensations that wait on every act. Then,--one mischief at a time,--this
+riotous time-destroying crew disappear.
+
+I count it another capital advantage of age, this, that a success more or
+less signifies nothing. Little by little, it has amassed such a fund of
+merit, that it can very well afford to go on its credit when it will. When
+I chanced to meet the poet Wordsworth, then sixty-three years old, he told
+me, "that he had just had a fall and lost a tooth, and, when his
+companions were much concerned for the mischance, he had replied, that he
+was glad it had not happened forty years before." Well, Nature takes care
+that we shall not lose our organs forty years too soon. A lawyer argued a
+cause yesterday in the Supreme Court, and I was struck with a certain air
+of levity and defiance which vastly became him. Thirty years ago it was a
+serious concern to him whether his pleading was good and effective. Now it
+is of importance to his client, but of none to himself. It is long already
+fixed what he can do and cannot do, and his reputation does not gain or
+suffer from one or a dozen new performances. If he should, on a new
+occasion, rise quite beyond his mark, and do somewhat extraordinary and
+great, that, of course, would instantly tell; but he may go below his mark
+with impunity, and people will say, "Oh, he had headache," or, "He lost
+his sleep for two nights." What a lust of appearance, what a load of
+anxieties that once degraded him, he is thus rid of! Every one is sensible
+of this cumulative advantage in living. All the good days behind him are
+sponsors, who speak for him when he is silent, pay for him when he has no
+money, introduce him where he has no letters, and work for him when he
+sleeps.
+
+A third felicity of age is, that it has found expression. Youth suffers
+not only from ungratified desires, but from powers untried, and from a
+picture in his mind of a career which has, as yet, no outward reality. He
+is tormented with the want of correspondence between things and thoughts.
+Michel Angelo's head is full of masculine and gigantic figures as gods
+walking, which make him savage until his furious chisel can render them
+into marble; and of architectural dreams, until a hundred stone-masons can
+lay them in courses of travertine. There is the like tempest in every good
+head in which some great benefit for the world is planted. The throes
+continue until the child is born. Every faculty new to each man thus goads
+him and drives him out into doleful deserts, until it finds proper vent.
+All the functions of human duty irritate and lash him forward, bemoaning
+and chiding, until they are performed. He wants friends, employment,
+knowledge, power, house and land, wife and children, honor and fame; he
+has religious wants, aesthetic wants, domestic, civil, humane wants. One
+by one, day after day, he learns to coin his wishes into facts. He has his
+calling, homestead, social connection, and personal power, and thus, at
+the end of fifty years, his soul is appeased by seeing some sort of
+correspondence between his wish and his possession. This makes the value
+of age, the satisfaction it slowly offers to every craving. He is serene
+who does not feel himself pinched and wronged, but whose condition, in
+particular and in general, allows the utterance of his mind. In old
+persons, when thus fully expressed, we often observe a fair, plump,
+perennial, waxen complexion, which indicates that all the ferment of
+earlier days has subsided into serenity of thought and behavior.
+
+For a fourth benefit, age sets its house in order, and finishes its works,
+which to every artist is a supreme pleasure. Youth has an excess of
+sensibility, to which every object glitters and attracts. We leave one
+pursuit for another, and the young man's year is a heap of beginnings. At
+the end of a twelvemonth, he has nothing to show for it, not one completed
+work. But the time is not lost. Our instincts drove us to hive innumerable
+experiences, that are yet of no visible value, and which we may keep for
+twice seven years before they shall be wanted. The best things are of
+secular growth. The instinct of classifying marks the wise and healthy
+mind. Linnaeus projects his system, and lays out his twenty-four classes of
+plants, before yet he has found in Nature a single plant to justify
+certain of his classes. His seventh class has not one. In process of time,
+he finds with delight the little white _Trientalis_, the only plant with
+seven petals and sometimes seven stamens, which constitutes a seventh
+class in conformity with his system. The conchologist builds his cabinet
+whilst as yet he has few shells. He labels shelves for classes, cells for
+species: all but a few are empty. But every year fills some blanks, and
+with accelerating speed as he becomes knowing and known. An old scholar
+finds keen delight in verifying all the impressive anecdotes and citations
+he has met with in miscellaneous reading and hearing, in all the years of
+youth. We carry in memory important anecdotes, and have lost all clue to
+the author from whom we had them. We have a heroic speech from Rome or
+Greece, but cannot fix it on the man who said it. We have an admirable
+line worthy of Horace, ever and anon resounding in our mind's ear, but
+have searched all probable and improbable books for it in vain. We consult
+the reading men: but, strangely enough, they who know everything know not
+this. But especially we have a certain insulated thought, which haunts us,
+but remains insulated and barren. Well, there is nothing for all this but
+patience and time. Time, yes, that is the finder, the unweariable
+explorer, not subject to casualties, omniscient at last. The day comes
+when the hidden author of our story is found; when the brave speech
+returns straight to the hero who said it; when the admirable verse finds
+the poet to whom it belongs; and best of all, when the lonely thought,
+which seemed so wise, yet half-wise, half-thought, because it cast no
+light abroad, is suddenly matched in our mind by its twin, by its
+sequence, or next related analogy, which gives it instantly radiating
+power, and justifies the superstitious instinct with which we had hoarded
+it. We remember our old Greek Professor at Cambridge, an ancient bachelor,
+amid his folios, possessed by this hope of completing a task, with nothing
+to break his leisure after the three hours of his daily classes, yet ever
+restlessly stroking his leg, and assuring himself "he should retire from
+the University and read the authors." In Goethe's Romance, Makaria, the
+central figure for wisdom and influence, pleases herself with withdrawing
+into solitude to astronomy and epistolary correspondence. Goethe himself
+carried this completion of studies to the highest point. Many of his works
+hung on the easel from youth to age, and received a stroke in every month
+or year of his life. A literary astrologer, he never applied himself to
+any task but at the happy moment when all the stars consented. Bentley
+thought himself likely to live till fourscore,--long enough to read
+everything that was worth reading,--"_Et tunc magna mei sub terris ibit
+imago_." Much wider is spread the pleasure which old men take in
+completing their secular affairs, the inventor his inventions, the
+agriculturist his experiments, and all old men in finishing their houses,
+rounding their estates, clearing their titles, reducing tangled interests
+to order, reconciling enmities, and leaving all in the best posture for
+the future. It must be believed that there is a proportion between the
+designs of a man and the length of his life: there is a calendar of his
+years, so of his performances.
+
+America is the country of young men, and too full of work hitherto for
+leisure and tranquillity; yet we have had robust centenarians, and
+examples of dignity and wisdom. I have lately found in an old note-book a
+record of a visit to Ex-President John Adams, in 1825, soon after the
+election of his _son_ to the Presidency. It is but a sketch, and nothing
+important passed in the conversation; but it reports a moment in the life
+of a heroic person, who, in extreme old age, appeared still erect, and
+worthy of his fame.
+
+    ----, _Feb._, 1825. To-day, at Quincy, with my brother, by
+    invitation of Mr. Adams's family. The old President sat in a large
+    stuffed arm-chair, dressed in a blue coat, black small-clothes,
+    white stockings, and a cotton cap covered his bald head. We made
+    our compliment, told him he must let us join our congratulations
+    to those of the nation on the happiness of his house. He thanked
+    us, and said, "I am rejoiced, because the nation is happy. The
+    time of gratulation and congratulations is nearly over with me: I
+    am astonished that I have lived to see and know of this event. I
+    have lived now nearly a century: [he was ninety in the following
+    October:] a long, harassed, and distracted life."--I said, "The
+    world thinks a good deal of joy has been mixed with it."--"The
+    world does not know," he replied, "how much toil, anxiety, and
+    sorrow I have suffered."--I asked if Mr. Adams's letter of
+    acceptance had been read to him.--"Yes," he said, and added, "My
+    son has more political prudence than any man that I know who has
+    existed in my time; he never was put off his guard: and I hope he
+    will continue such; but what effect age may work in diminishing
+    the power of his mind, I do not know; it has been very much on the
+    stretch, ever since he was born. He has always been laborious,
+    child and man, from infancy."--When Mr. J.Q. Adams's age was
+    mentioned, he said, "He is now fifty-eight, or will be in July";
+    and remarked that "all the Presidents were of the same age:
+    General Washington was about fifty-eight, and I was about
+    fifty-eight, and Mr. Jefferson, and Mr. Madison, and Mr.
+    Monroe."--We inquired, when he expected to see Mr. Adams.--He
+    said, "Never: Mr. Adams will not come to Quincy, but to my
+    funeral. It would be a great satisfaction to me to see him, but I
+    don't wish him to come on my account."--He spoke of Mr. Lechmere,
+    whom "he well remembered to have seen come down daily, at a great
+    age, to walk in the old town-house,"--adding, "And I wish I could
+    walk as well as he did. He was Collector of the Customs for many
+    years, under the Royal Government"--E. said, "I suppose, Sir, you
+    would not have taken his place, even to walk as well as
+    he."--"No," he replied, "that was not what I wanted."--He talked
+    of Whitefield, and "remembered, when he was a Freshman in college,
+    to have come in to the _Old South_, [I think,] to hear him, but
+    could not get into the house;--I, however, saw him," he said,
+    "through a window, and distinctly heard all. He had a voice such
+    as I never heard before or since. He cast it out so that you might
+    hear it at the meeting-house, [pointing towards the Quincy
+    meeting-house,] and he had the grace of a dancing-master, of an
+    actor of plays. His voice and manner helped him more than his
+    sermons. I went with Jonathan Sewall."--"And you were pleased with
+    him, Sir?"--"Pleased! I was delighted beyond measure."--We asked,
+    if at Whitefield's return the same popularity continued.--"Not the
+    same fury," he said, "not the same wild enthusiasm as before, but
+    a greater esteem, as he became more known. He did not terrify, but
+    was admired."
+
+We spent about an hour in his room. He speaks very distinctly for so old a
+man, enters bravely into long sentences, which are interrupted by want of
+breath, but carries them invariably to a conclusion, without ever
+correcting a word.
+
+He spoke of the new novels of Cooper, and "Peep at the Pilgrims," and
+"Saratoga," with praise, and named with accuracy the characters in them.
+He likes to have a person always reading to him, or company talking in his
+room, and is better the next day after having visitors in his chamber from
+morning to night.
+
+He received a premature report of his son's election, on Sunday afternoon,
+without any excitement, and told the reporter he had been hoaxed, for it
+was not yet time for any news to arrive. The informer, something damped in
+his heart, insisted on repairing to the meeting-house, and proclaimed it
+aloud to the congregation, who were so overjoyed that they rose in their
+seats and cheered thrice. The Reverend Mr. Whitney dismissed them
+immediately.
+
+When life has been well spent, age is a loss of what it can well
+spare,--muscular strength, organic instincts, gross bulk, and works that
+belong to these. But the central wisdom, which was old in infancy, is
+young in fourscore years, and, dropping off obstructions, leaves in happy
+subjects the mind purified and wise. I have heard that whoever loves is in
+no condition old. I have heard, that, whenever the name of man is spoken,
+the doctrine of immortality is announced; it cleaves to his constitution.
+The mode of it baffles our wit, and no whisper comes to us from the other
+side. But the inference from the working of intellect, hiving knowledge,
+hiving skill,--at the end of life just ready to be born,--affirms the
+inspirations of affection and of the moral sentiment.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+
+    _Lectures on the Science of Languages_, delivered at the Royal
+    Institution of Great Britain in April, May, and June, 1861. By MAX
+    MUeLLER, M.A., Fellow of All-Souls College, Oxford; Corresponding
+    Member of the Imperial Institute of France. London: Longman,
+    Green, Longman, & Roberts. 1861. 8vo. pp. xii., 399.
+
+The name of Mr. Max Mueller is familiar to American students as that of a
+man who, learned in the high German fashion, has the pleasant faculty,
+unhappily too rare among Germans, of communicating his erudition in a way
+not only comprehensible, but agreeable to the laity. The Teutonic
+_Gelehrte_, gallantly devoting a half-century to his pipe and his locative
+case, fencing the result of his labors with a bristling hedge of
+abbreviations, cross-references, and untranslated citations that take
+panglottism for granted as an ordinary incident of human culture, too
+hastily assumes a tenacity of life on the part of his reader as great as
+his own. All but those with whom the study of language is a specialty pass
+him by as Dante does Nimrod, gladly concluding
+
+  "Che cosi e a lui ciascun linguaggio,
+  Come il suo ad altrui, che a nullo e noto."
+
+The brothers Grimm are known to what is called the reading public chiefly
+as contributors to the literature of the nursery; and as for Bopp, Pott,
+Zeuss, Lassen, Diefenbach, and the rest, men who look upon the curse of
+Babel as the luckiest event in human annals, their names and works are
+terrors to the uninitiated. They are the giants of these latter days, of
+whom all we know is that they now and then snatch up some unhappy friend
+of ours and imprison him in their terrible castle of Nongtongpaw, whence,
+if he ever escape, he comes back to us emaciated, unintelligible, and with
+a passion for roots that would make him an ornament of society among the
+Digger Indians.
+
+Yet though in metaphor giants of learning, their office seems practically
+rather that of the dwarfs, as gatherers and guardians of treasure useless
+to themselves, but with which some luck's-child may enrich himself and his
+neighbors. Other analogies between them and the dwarfs, such as their
+accomplishing superhuman things and being prematurely subject to the
+dryness of old ago, ("_Der Zwerg ist schon im siebenten Jahr ein Greis_,"
+says Grimm,) will at once suggest themselves.
+
+Mr. Mueller is one of the agreeable luck's-children who lay these swarthy
+miners under contribution for us, understand their mystic sign-language,
+and save us the trouble of climbing the mountain and scratching through
+the thickets for ourselves. Happy the man who can make knowledge
+entertaining! Thrice happy his readers! The author of these Lectures is
+already well known as not only, perhaps, the best living scholar of
+Sanscrit literature, (and by scholar we mean one who regards study as a
+means, not an end, and who is capable of drawing original conclusions,)
+but a _savant_ who can teach without tiring, and can administer learning
+as if it were something else than medicine. Whoever reads this volume will
+regret that Mr. Mueller's eminent qualifications for the Boden
+Professorship at Oxford should have failed to turn the scale against the
+assumed superior orthodoxy of his competitor. Was it in Sanscrit that he
+was heterodox? or in Hindoo mythology?
+
+The Lectures are nine in number. The titles of them will show the range
+and nature of Mr. Mueller's dissertations. They are, (1.) On the science of
+language as one of the physical sciences; (2.) On the growth of language
+in contradistinction to the history of language; (3.) On the empirical
+stage in the science of language; (4.) On the classificatory stage in the
+same; (5.) On the genealogical classification of languages; (6.) On
+comparative grammar; (7.) On the constituent elements of language; (8.) On
+the morphological classification of languages; (9.) On the theoretical
+stage in the science of languages and the origin of language. An Appendix
+contains a genealogical table of languages; and an ample Index (why have
+authors forgotten, what was once so well known, that an index is all that
+saves the contents of a book from being mere birds in the bush?) makes the
+volume as useful on the shelf as it is interesting and instructive in the
+hand. Of the catholic spirit in which Mr. Mueller treats his various topics
+of discussion and illustration, his own theory of the true method of
+investigation is the best proof.
+
+    "There are two ways," he says, in discussing the origin of
+    language, "of judging of former philosophers. One is, to put aside
+    their opinions as simply erroneous, where they differ from our
+    own. This is the least satisfactory way of studying ancient
+    philosophy. Another way is, to try to enter into the opinions of
+    those from whom we differ, to make them, our a time at least, our
+    own, till at least we discover the point of view from which each
+    philosopher looked at the facts before him and catch the light in
+    which he regarded them. We shall then find that there is much less
+    of downright error in the history of philosophy than is commonly
+    supposed; nay, _we shall find nothing so conducive to a right
+    appreciation of truth as a right appreciation of the error by
+    which it is surrounded_." (p. 360. The Italics are ours.)
+
+A mere philologist might complain that the book contained nothing new. And
+this is in the main true, though by no means altogether so, especially as
+regards the nomenclature of classification, and the illustration of
+special points by pertinent examples. In this last respect Mr. Mueller is
+particularly happy, as, for instance, in what he says of "Yes 'r and Yes
+'m." (pp. 210 ff.) And as regards originality in the treatment of a purely
+scientific subject, a good deal depends on the meaning we attach to the
+term. If we understand by it striking conclusions drawn from theoretic
+premises, (as in Knox's "Races of Man,") clever generalizations from
+fortuitous analogies and coincidences insufficiently weighed, (as in
+Pococke's "India in Greece,") or, to take a philologic example,
+speculations suggestive of thought, it may be, but too insecurely based on
+positive data, (as in Rapp's "Physiologie der Sprache,") we shall vainly
+seek for such originality in Mr. Mueller's Lectures. But if we take it to
+mean, as we certainly prefer to do, safety of conclusion founded on
+thorough knowledge and comparison, clear statement guarded on all sides by
+long intimacy with the subject, and theory the result of legitimate
+deduction and judicial weighing of evidence, we shall find enough in the
+book to content us. Mr. Mueller does not now enter the lists for the first
+time to win his spurs as an original writer. The plan of the work before
+us necessarily excluded any great display of recondite learning or of
+profound speculation. Delivered at first as popularly scientific lectures,
+and now published for the general reader, it seems to us admirably
+conceived and executed. Easily comprehensible, and yet always pointing out
+the sources of fuller investigation, it is ample both to satisfy the
+desire of those who wish to get the latest results of philology and to
+stimulate the curiosity of whoever wishes to go farther and deeper. It is
+by far the best and clearest summing-up of the present condition of the
+Science of Language that we have ever seen, while the liveliness of the
+style and the variety and freshness of illustration make it exceedingly
+entertaining.
+
+We hope that a book of such slight assumption and such solid merit, a
+model of clear arrangement and popular treatment, may be widely read in
+this country, where the ignorance, carelessness, or dishonest good-nature
+even of journals professedly literary is apt to turn over the unlearned
+reader to such blind guides as Swinton's "Rambles among Words," compounds
+of plagiarism and pretension. Philology as a science is but just beginning
+to assert its claims in America, though we may already point with
+satisfaction to several distinguished workers in the field. The names of
+Professor Sophocles, at Cambridge, and Professor Whitney, at New Haven,
+rank with those of European scholars; and we have already borne the
+warmest testimony in these pages to the value of Mr. Marsh's contributions
+to the study of English, a judgment which we are glad to see confirmed by
+the weighty authority of Mr, Mueller.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    1. _On Translating Homer_. Three Lectures given at Oxford by
+    MATTHEW ARNOLD, M.A., Professor of Poetry in the University of
+    Oxford, and formerly Fellow of Oriel College. London: Longmans.
+    1861. pp. 104.
+
+    2. _Homeric Translation in Theory and Practice_. A Reply to
+    Matthew Arnold, Esq., Professor of Poetry at Oxford. By FRANCIS W.
+    NEWMAN, a Translator of the Iliad. London: Williams & Norgate.
+    1801. pp. 104.
+
+MR. F.W. NEWMAN, Professor of Latin in the University of London, probably
+without much hope of satisfying himself, and certain to dissatisfy every
+one who could read, or pretend to read, the original, did nevertheless
+complete and publish a translation of the "Iliad." And now, unmindful of
+Bentley's _dictum_, that no man was ever written down but by himself, he
+has published an answer to Mr. Arnold's criticism of his work. Thackeray
+has said that it is of no use pretending not to care if your book is cut
+up by the "Times"; and it is not surprising that Mr. Newman should be
+uneasy at being first held up as an awful example to the youth of Oxford
+in academical lectures, and then to the public of England in a printed
+monograph, by a man of so much reputation for scholarship and taste as the
+present incumbent of Thomas Warton's chair.
+
+Mr. Arnold's little book is, we need scarcely say, full of delicate
+criticism and suggestion. He treats his subject with great cleverness, and
+on many points carries the reader along with him. Especially good is all
+that he says about the "grand style," so far as his general propositions
+are concerned. But when he comes to apply his criticisms, he instinctively
+feels the want of an absolute standard of judgment in aesthetic matters,
+and accordingly appeals to the verdict of "scholars,"--a somewhat vague
+term, to be sure, but by which he evidently understands men not merely of
+learning, but of taste. Of course, his reasoning is all _a posteriori_,
+and from the narrowest premises,--namely, from an unpleasant effect on his
+own nerves, to an efficient cause in the badness of Mr. Newman's
+translation.
+
+No quarrels, perhaps, are so bitter as those about matters of taste:
+hardly even is the _odium theologicum_, so profound as the _odium
+aestheticum_. A man, perhaps, will more easily forgive another for
+disbelieving his own total depravity than for believing that Guido is a
+great painter or Tupper an inspiring poet. The present dispute, therefore,
+tenderly personal as it is on the part of one of the pleaders, is
+especially interesting as showing a very decided and gratifying advance in
+the civilization of literary men to-day as compared with that of a century
+or indeed half a century ago. If we go back still farther, matters were
+still worse, and we find Luther and even Milton raking the kennel for dirt
+dirty enough to fling at an antagonist. But even within the memory of man,
+the style of the "Dunciad" was hardly obsolete in "Blackwood" and the
+"Quarterly." It is very pleasant, in the present case, to see both attack
+and defence conducted with so gentlemanlike a reserve,--and the latter,
+which is even more surprising, with an approach to amenity.
+
+In Mr. Newman the Professor of Poetry finds an able and wary antagonist,
+and one who, in point of learning, carries heavier metal than himself. The
+dispute turns partly on the character of Homer's poetry, partly on the
+true method of translation, (especially Homeric translation,) and partly
+on the particular merits of Mr. Newman's attempt as compared with those of
+others. Of course, many side-topics are incidentally touched upon, among
+others, the English hexameter, Mr. Newman's objections to which are
+particularly worthy of attention.
+
+Mr. Newman instantly sees and strikes at the weak point of his adversary's
+argument. "You appeal to scholars," he says in substance; "you admit that
+I am one; now you _don't_ like my choice of words or metre; I _do_; who,
+then, shall decide? Why, the public, of course, which is the court of last
+appeal in such cases." It appears to us, that, on most of the points at
+issue, the truth lies somewhere between the two disputants. We do not
+think that Mr. Newman has made out his case that Homer was antiquated,
+quaint, and even grotesque to the Greeks themselves because his cast of
+thought and his language were archaic, or strange to them because he wrote
+in a dialect almost as different from Attic as Scotch from English. The
+Bible is as far from us in language and in the Orientalism of its thought
+and expression as Homer was from them; yet we are so familiar with it that
+it produces on us no impression of being antiquated or quaint, seldom of
+being grotesque, and what is still more to the purpose, produces that
+impression as little on illiterate persons to whom many of the words are
+incomprehensible. So, too, it seems to us, no part of Burns is alien to a
+man whose mother-tongue is English, in the same sense that some parts of
+Beranger are; because Burns, though a North Briton, was still a Briton, as
+Homer, though an Ionian, was still a Greek. We think he does prove that
+neither Mr. Arnold nor any other scholar can form any adequate conception
+of the impression which the poems of Homer produced either on the ear or
+the mind of a Greek; but in doing this he proves too much for his own
+case, where it turns upon the class of words proper to be used in
+translating him. Mr. Newman says he sometimes used low words; and since
+his theory of the duty of a translator is, that he should reproduce the
+moral effect of his author,--be noble where he is noble, barbarous, if he
+be barbarous, and quaint, if quaint,--so he should render low words by
+words as low. But here his own dilemma meets him: how does he know that
+Homer's words _did_ seem low to a Greek? We agree with him in refusing to
+be conventional; so would Mr. Arnold; only one would call conventional
+what the other would call elegant, the question again resolving itself
+into one of personal taste. We agree with him also in his preference for
+words that have it certain strangeness and antique dignity about them, but
+think he should stop short of anything that needs a glossary. He might
+learn from Chapman's version, however, that it is not the widest choice of
+archaic words, but intensity of conception and phrase, that gives a poem
+life, and keeps it living, in spite of grave defects. Where Chapman, in a
+famous passage, ("Odyssey," v. 612,) tells us, that, when Ulysses crawled
+ashore after his shipwreck, "_the sea had soaked his heart through_," it
+is not the mere simplicity of the language, but the vivid conception which
+went before and compelled the simplicity, that is impressive. We believe
+Mr. Newman is right in refusing to sacrifice a good word because it may be
+pronounced mean by individual caprice, wrong in attempting the fatal
+impossibility of rescuing a word which to all minds alike conveys a low or
+ludicrous meaning, as, for example, _pate_, and _dopper_, for which he
+does battle doughtily. Mr. Newman is guilty of a fallacy when he brings up
+_brick, sell_, and _cut_ as instances in support of his position, for in
+these cases Mr. Arnold would only object to his use of them in their
+_slang_ sense. He himself would hardly venture to say that Hector was a
+_brick_, that Achilles _cut_ Agamemnon, or that Ulysses _sold_ Polyphemus.
+It is precisely because Hobbes used language in this way that his
+translation of Homer is so ludicrous. Wordsworth broke down in his theory,
+that the language of poetry should be the every-day speech of men and
+women, though he nearly succeeded in finally extirpating "poetic diction."
+We think the proper antithesis is not between prosaic and poetic words,
+nor between the speech of actual life and a conventionalized diction, but
+between the language of _real_ life (which is something different from the
+actual, or matter-of-fact) and that of _artificial_ life, or
+society,--that is, between phrases fit to express the highest passion,
+feeling, aspiration, and those adapted to the intercourse of polite life,
+whence all violent emotion, or, at least, the expression of it, is
+excluded. This latter highly artificial and polished dialect is
+accordingly as suitable to the Mock-Heroic (like "The Rape of the Lock")
+as it is inefficient and even distasteful when employed for the higher and
+more serious purposes of poetry. It was most fortunate for English poetry
+that our translation of the Bible and Shakspeare arrested our language,
+and, as it were, crystallized it, precisely at its freshest and most
+vigorous period, giving us an inexhaustible mine of words familiar to the
+heart and mind, yet unvulgarized to the ear by trivial associations.
+
+The whole question of Homeric translation in its entire range, between
+Chapman on the one hand and Pope and Cowper on the other, is opened afresh
+by this controversy. The difficulty of the undertaking, and still more of
+dogmatizing on the proper mode of executing it, is manifest from the fact
+that Mr. Newman is quite as successful in turning some specimens of Mr.
+Arnold's into ridicule as the latter had been with his. Meanwhile we
+commend the two little books to our readers as containing an able and
+entertaining discussion on a question of general and permanent interest,
+and as showing that the "Quarrels of Authors" may be conducted in a
+dignified and scholarly way.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+OBITUARY.
+
+
+The last English steamer brings us the sad news of the death of Arthur
+Hugh Clough. Mr. Clough had so many personal friends, as well as warm
+admirers, in America, that his death will be felt by numbers of our
+readers both as a private grief and a public loss. The earth will not soon
+close over a man of more lovely character or more true and delicate
+genius. This is not the place or the occasion to do justice to the many
+eminent qualities of his heart and mind, and we only allude to his death
+at all because in him the "Atlantic" has lost one of its most valued
+contributors.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No.
+51, January, 1862, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY ***
+
+***** This file should be named 13924.txt or 13924.zip *****
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